Big Game Hunters

May 08, 2015:

A group of mercenaries led by an apex predator closes in on the X-Men's mission in Kenya.

The edge of Lake Victoria

A massive lake that's gradually getting less massive.


NPCs: Matthew the Insect Guy, some mercenaries


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…


"These architectual plans are shit. I didn't pay you thirty thousand goddamned dollars for a fucking three-hundred dollar job."
"It's the best we could do in so little time. The cost of—"
"Fuck the costs, if we're trying to build a city, then we need PROPER PLANS."
"But Sir, once most of the Architects we've hired figured out what we were going to do, we had to-.."
"Yeah, yeah. We could probably work with this piece of shits you call drawings. Get the mechanical and the inspectors on the line and try to push this through."
"Even while they're there?"
"It won't be long. Those people are going to be done, so we need to get started right away."
"And Creed?"
"He's been on the sidelines for too long."

The man scribbles a few numbers down, the paper soon pushed towards his underling.

"Woah.. Sir, that's.."
"..what he'll receive upon completion. Soon as those fucks at Worthington Industries are going to know what's up, they're going to call in help. That's all there is to it."


Curich and Pettigrew headed back towards the lab to continue to work upon their duties, while Matthew, Ororo and Jean's path would take them towards Lake Victoria. Warren had taken to the skies for now, the overview of the village was vast enough to provide the image of a large city, schools surrounded by dust and dirt due to the children who made the surrounding areas their playground.

Surely, humanitarians brought about swings and playsets for the children to play on, but they couldn't help but track paths, favoring the open fields for their endeavors.

There were bits of trees smattering across the hot plains and a few buildings here and there, as well as a rather large hospital that employs a number of professionally trained individuals; it was Lwak's only and official teaching hospital, Doctors Without Borders often come to visit with slides of rare diseases and some most common for them to learn from.

Side huts carried food that was specially grown from other villages, while the villagers themselves sold trinkets that was made from their bare hands. There was no signs of distress here; almost everything seemed to be a tight, running ship.

Perhaps they didn't know of the future problems they'll face?


Jean gives Ororo a wary look as she follows close to the woman, allowing her shoulder to touch hers as they create the path that leads them from the village proper and through the trees. "I'm unsure of Mimic's reach when it comes to contacting him. But I suppose a phone call to Scott and the others wouldn't hurt."

"Given that we may be entering Cerebro-or-Henry territory," Ororo replies, "I'm inclined to agree."

Warren isn't the only one who's taken to the air, but he has the luxury of only needing to worry about keeping himself afloat. Ororo, on the other hand, volunteered herself to bring herself, Jean, and Matt to Lake Victoria instead of making the other two doctors give up their vehicle and walk. It could be worse, of course - one of them could be made of metal, or have metal bones, or incessantly shed blue fur into the group's travel-sized wind tunnel - but the harsh light of the sun isn't the only reason she's sweating.

Sand and dirt swirl around the group in loose ribbons, always held several feet back from actually coating hair, spraying into eyes, or slipping into clothes. A few leaves get mixed in too when they approach the tree-line, though she tries to compensate for this by bringing them up higher.

Which makes the heat worse, of course, but given the water situation here… a little extra sweat is worth preserving what foliage remains.


Warren likes to have an idea of the surroundings early on. Although it would have been nice to spot something alarming from the sky and so be able to solve the problem quickly. It rarely happens that way, though.

Lwak doesn't seem much different than the poor city-sized towns of many other underdeveloped countries. He has seen a few already. They need everything, but a good start is providing the cities with more cheap electric power. That is why Worthington Enterprises is here. If electric windmills are feasible, the city will have more than a couple hours of light every day. It means industry could develop, it means schools can open after dusk, the hospitals do not have to rely so much on expensive fuel-based generators.

A full circle around the city and Warren sees Jean and Ororo flying towards the lake. He beats his wings faster, calculating their flight path so he can join them when they touch the ground.


"Ground-breaking needs to happen soon. I have all of the contracts lined up so that we can get started making the new mecca."
"Is that what we're going to call it?"
"No, it's just a place holder for now, at least until those people can be va.."
"But they won't leave, not without a fight."
"Contingency. I have everything set in place."
"Oh? And how are you.."
"Mutant town."
"Are you fuc
"Yes, I'm fucking serious."


It was a good thing that Jean was the only empath upon their radius. While she was good at masking emotions that would cross features, there was still a touch of fear buried within her belly at using her gifts so carelessly. After giving glimpses into her own past and shared with another, the fear that they had mingled along with her own and brought them to light again. Nothing, however, but a little therapy with Professor X wouldn't fix. If only..

"Mm? Perhaps when we touch down and find out the problems of the Lake, yes. I'm doubtful that we may need more assistance on this.." But she was unsure, she knew what she felt, but that doesn't mean that she couldn't have hope.

There was a little something that Jean could do; push back the debris and leaves with a telekinetic field, not encasing but picking them apart so that none of them manages to hit nor stick to them, boistering Storm's efforts.

"We are almost there." Matt speaks up, his hand lifting to point in the general direction of the lake. "Just a few more paces and we'll be able to land."

Jean glances back to catch sight of Warren, her hand lifting up in a slight finger wave as she looks on. The sun was slowly beginning to set, and flying gave them time enough to save the daylight should they need it.

"Down here." Matt quietly suggests, looking blow his feet to see the open space that lines the lake itself…

..the lake that is slowly draining. It was obvious where the lake started to flow over before the issues started; scores of dead florae line the edges, small cliffs and jagged shores of rock seen, how some of the salt stained and marked it's presence leaving almost nothing behind.

There were a few dead and rotten fish that littled a part of the shore, along with a particular scent that carries evaporation along with it. And if they look hard enough? Small little mists rises from the surface of the lake itself to vanish into the thin air.

Jean and Matt are set down when Matt indicates; Storm waits a few moments longer so she can touch down right by the edge of the water. The unnatural movement of moisture from it, into the air, then to— well, nowhere, by all appearances is difficult for a woman with her connection to natural systems to miss, almost as much so as the smell of rotting fish and plant matter.

A shiver passes through her body when her feet first settle on the parched earth. Pain both remembered and resurgent due to their proximity to this ecological misfortune blooms in her chest, but she kneels, dips her fingers in the water, and lets Mother Nature's tears flow through her in an effort to get a better sense of their cause. Maybe being this close to one of the trauma spots will make it easier to pinpoint something— or, at least, identify it.

Maybe it'll backfire and leave her agonized or dessicated.

Either way, it's a risk that her lengthy tenure in the X-Men has prepared her for, even if the connection between battling evil mutants and splashing around a lake might seem tenuous.

Before making contact, she looks over her shoulder to say, "Let us pray that we - and Lwak - won't need more than just us," to the trio(hi, Warren!) nearby.


"I had missundertood," states Warren upon landing. "The lake being drained is Victoria? In that case the ecosystems of three countries and the Nile River are in danger. It is an international problem." Also, it seems impossible a single mutant could do this… well, no. Ororo could do this. Sometimes it is worrisome to even consider the destructive power of some of the X-Men.

"I didn't see anything unusual from the air," admits the winged mutant. "But if it is a single person altering the lake, then I don't think I would. Have the waters been analyzed for strange substances?"

The cause was as clear as day. Storm could feel it, just as Matt begins to speak upon the matter.

"From what Pettigrew has gathered here, she found that the water itself was being broken down to various states that would cause the water itself to boil and evaporate. To the start, it is not as hot to the touch, but somehow, small layer by layer is lifted from the.." He pauses as he watches Ororo, a little frown upon his features. "Indeed. Let us pray."

Jean glances back towards Warren now, taking a step aside as to allow him further chance to examine the waters himself, his knowledge of the location of the Nile and Lake Victoria itself valuable. As well as the assesement.

"I'm going to call Cyclops. While I have faith in our abilities, I think we need to access cerebro right away. If this is in fact a mutant, then we need to locate him or her as soon as possible."

And there she was, stating the obvious.

Matt nods slightly. "Yes, the waters have been analyzed and the results are back with Pettigrew and Curich. So far, we've found strains of adipocere, which is odd considering it's location. On top of that, there is a lacking of magnesium and calcium. High concentrations of sodium, chloride and amino acids found in.." He almost looks a little bit sick. "Stomach acid."

Jean wrinkles her nose as she reaches towards her hip to pull out her phone, swiping her fingers against the screen as she speaks up, while mid-dial. "That.. almost sounds like a parasite that's eating the water."

"Could be." Matt confesses. "We thought that there was a machine installed deep within the waters that pumped the water itself out to another preserve, but our local divers are unable to find a thing at the bottom."


"I'm in position. The freaks are at the water."

The unknown gunman zooms in his telescope, catching the four of the 'explorers' in his sights.

"Say the word, and I'll line 'em up and knock them the fuck down."


The question is several seconds late; Storm's mind was elsewhere throughout and after the explanation, but key words were caught. As soon as she withdraws, stray droplets are shaken or blown free from her fingers and another shiver passes through her.

"A— parasite?" Storm's eyes turn between Jean and Matt as she idly rubs her arms, uncertain as to whether the subtle creeping sensation she's feeling just beneath her skin is a psychosomatic reaction to the suggestion her teammate's made, or— well.

Something worse.

"Call him. Call Henry, as well." Her eyes return to Matt. "Can you call them? Do they have access to a secure mail server? Do you think they'd mind sharing their findings with another set of eyes?"


"That sounds like the cause is organic, really," but Warren is not a scientist, he can't be sure. Maybe there are monsters under the water, as an X-Men ha has seen his share of bizarre, Twilight Zone-worthy events. "Hmm, yeah. Beast would know. But he is not around. How could we clean the lake?"

"Do I have the shot? Can I take the fucking shot?"
"We need confirmation.."
"There's four of them. In some weird looking suits."
"Who are they?"
"Maggot feed."

Matt glances towards Storm, nodding his head briefly. "Adipocere. Derived from dead bodies." He does take a step closer to the shore, bending to dip his fingers in, rubbing it against the pad of them as he draws his hand to his nose to sniff. "Of course!" He perks up, standing to his full height, hands immediately rubbing the water off upon the pants of his legs. "This is why we called you guys in! The more help the merrier. We need to find the source of this issue soon."

Jean draws her phone towards the air, taking a few steps away to search for a decent enough signal to place the call. "Perhaps we can get Calvin to send Henry out? I think that would be.." She was obviously murmuring to herself..

"Perhaps." Matt directs towards Warren. "Curich is attempting to derive a solution from the samples we've collected. So far, what we've tested on the water stores isn't enough to cure the whole lake, given it's size. But if there is a way to fashion a solution that we could apply to the waters that would keep it from evaporating as well as the unknown minerals at bay, /without/ poisoning Lwak's people as a whole.."

"I'm taking the fucking shot. I didn't come here to bitch watch."


The phone within Jean's hands explodes, the sniper pulling up at the last second, missing the kill-shot but catching the phone in the process. Jean immediately drops, her hand stinging, little shards of metal and plastic lightly cutting her skin but causing no harsh damage to the flesh.


Creed, along with a flanking group of hard-nosed mercenaries, six in all, come down at the group in a rapid-assault formation, Creed and two of the mercs leading the way on a motorcycle while the rest pile into a jeep. A jeep, incidentally, with a mounted M-60 machine gun. The others are helmeted, clad in khaki and camo, jacked up with weapons.

Creed's armed, too, with an AK-47 diagonally strapped onto his back, a pistol on his hip, and a couple of long knives jutting out of his boot. But he has no intention of using them, not unless they make him. Takes all the fun out of it, if he can't rip a little flesh off the bone by hand. His grin widens as he spots the mutants, his obvious fangs showing brutally as he kicks off his bike to leap and land in front of them in a crouch, his nails elongating into razored claws, shoulders bunched on his massive frame as he tries to pick who to pounce.

"Eenie, meeney, miney, moat, rip a hero at the throat," he laughs, "If she hollers, pin her down and keep rippin'. Hollerin' makes it fun."

"Protect Matthew!" Storm exclaims with her next breath post-phone explosion. Dust stirs around them as she prepares to hunt for the shooters from above, but roaring engines and a cackling beast make splitting the party a less immediately attractive proposition. Instead, she lunges to close any distance between herself and Matthew, then seizes his arm and jerks him back so that she's closer to Creed than he is. Sparks dance in her snow-white eyes, but much like Creed, she'd rather hold off on going there until she absolutely has to.

Not because it's more fun to fight a crew of heavily armed psychopaths sans electricity, but because the climate isn't remotely favorable towards major lightning displays, and her best options for using what energy she can draw from herelf to efficiently dispatch them very well may kill them, what with the gas tanks and ammunition.

Hands rise, feet slide apart, and the goddess drops into a defensive posture, eyes narrowing on Creed. A few grains of sand swirl around her forearms and dance between her fingers. "That doesn't quite scan, I'm afraid," she notes while warily shifting back a step.

As her feet settle, a sudden gale sends dirt exploding from the riverbed and bank into the air around them. Most is hurled directly at Creed's face in the hopes of imparing his senses and slowing him down; the rest scatters all around to throw off the mercenaries' aim for a few moments and give Jean a opportunity to erect more solid protective measures.


Warren reacts quickly, pushing Matt down and stepping forward, to take off. But he changes his mind seeing the armed men coming. "Jean, please shield us," he requests, his wings changing from white feathers to grey metal razors, and spreading to block the line of sight of the machine gun.

The second the redhead raises her telekinetic shields, Archangel jumps to the sky. He can see the sniper easily enough and aims for him, quickly accelerating to several hundred miles per hour.

Storm's words drew Warren into action. Even though Matthew was stunned by word of ambush and a shove from the dark lady, he rightly curls himself, preparing himself to land upon his side as Warren pushed him out of the way. He wasn't hurt, but he was adamant at staying down. He -was- a student of those gathered, after all, he knows when there's a fight to be had and a fight to steer clear from.

The roar of the machine causes Jean to take a step back, dropping into stance as she keeps her place a little behind Ororo.

There was no need for her to be in front when the debris began to fly.

The call to shield draws her into action, however, both hands lifting to press fingers to temple as she focuses her essenses upon those gathered. It wasn't a personal bubble that she gave them, a shield that was close to the body to protect their whole selves from being damaged.


"On it!" He calls out, scrambling to his feet as he begins to work his hands..

..and in the distance?

..a faint sound of buzzing…

The blast of dust and dirt into his face makes Creed snarl, thrashing his head and spitting out muddy gunk, his eyes and nose irritated. That snarl turns truly bestial, something close to a lion's roar, the kind of things that raises the hackles on the back of your neck, a primitive response to the presence of an apex predator. Frustrated, though he is, he leaps blindly, going on the locations they had before, lashing out with his razored claws…only to find them deflected by the personal shields Jean has built around them, the gutting stroke that would've taken Jean's liver straight from her body skittering to the side as he finds himself moved past them.

The other mercs open fire, several taking shots up at Warren as he flies overhead, while the others unload futilely at Storm, Jean and Matthew. THey don't worry about hitting Creed. Creed doesn't mind a little friendly fire in the pursuit of a good murder.

The beast-man looks back over his shoulder, his healing factor finally clearing the grit from his eyes and throat, and he starts to laugh, "Forget 'em boys. Let 'em hide in their little bubbles and watch. Scorched earth, burn this place to the fuckin' ground and use the bodies fer tinder!"

Now that they're covered, Storm has a little more room to put the environment to work without having to worry about ruining everyone's eyes, throats, et cetera.

She just has to keep an eye on Warren, who might not entirely appreciate what she has in mind.

"Phoenix! How long?" the goddess presses while drawing her hands so close that they nearly knit together in front of her. Whatever hasn't already been ingested by Creed joins sediment already spinning through the air, or picked up fresh from the ground in flowing flowing along the edges of the barrier on the way to the jeep. Depending on how alert they are, the mercenaries have plenty of signs pointing to what happens next between the rush of wind being stirred into a vortex and the unnatural dance of dirt through the air.

How useful the warning is when Storm thrusts her arms skywards and whips wind and dirt into a localized dust devil around the jeep is a whole other story, though.

A moment after it begins, the goddess lets out a long, shuddering breath, squares her eyes on Creed, and wonders, "Surely, it isn't you who's depriving this village of water, is it? Who paid you to do this?" Without shifting her gaze, she restates the question in a louder, almost thundering voice: "Who is responsible for this atrocity you've dedicated yourselves to furthering?!"


Archangel spins in the air, offering his back to the shooters. Few can hit someone moving so fast, but a couple bullets bounce off his metal wings. And then he is on the sniper. He spreads the wings for a second, losing most of his speed, and sweeping cutting the man's weapon in two. The assassin is also hit, a bone-deep gash through his upper shoulder that will ensure he can't shoot anything heavy for the next few months.

"Don't even attempt to run," he warns him, turning back to see how his teammates are doing. The warning is mostly unnecessary, as the neurotoxin in his wings is going to keep the gunman paralyzed for a few minutes.

Storm is bringing down a whirlwind, but as Archangel Warren has more in common with a jet fighter than with a bird. The high speed winds hinder him some, but they are not going to ground him or make him crash.

"As long as…"

The swarm begins to fly overhead, making it's way towards Creed, Matthew cackling like a mad-man as the african hornets brush along his body in greeting.

"…needed?" Jean was really in shock, she didn't expect the swarm, but that was Matthew, she nearly had forgotten his powers and treated him as a normal human being. Good. Good people.

The following slash to her mid-section throws her off, but she was still able to keep her shields up, that hit knocking her back a few paces as she re-fortifies herself, but she was obviously distracted. Something was coming.. something that wasn't there..

The sniper screams out in pain as he falls to the ground, his weapon sheared in half which was reached for, and tossed aside. He was bleeding; and there was no where for him to run. But that didn't mean he couldn't crawl. And so he did! One arm-to-elbow pressed to the ground as he tries to drag himself away, stopping long enough to tear shreds out of his pants to try to bind his leg one handedly.. but it was futile.

"Assess the situation."
"They're fucking mutants!"
"Send their faces to command."
"My fucking arm is dead!"
"I can't feel anything!"

The sniper was set to a full panic as the fray was continuing, Creed facing off with Storm, Warren within the sky and Jean upon the ground. Her eyes dart towads the sky as she herself sees a flash of red, the phoenix bird echoing through the skies with a scream that shakes her soul to the core…

..which drops the shields..

..and her in rapid succession.

Creed grins up at Storm as she screams down at him, "Sorry, hot chocolate, I'm afraid I'm gonna have t'invoke my Constitutional right to gut you like a fish," he says, leaping up in the air and slashing out at her with his claws. The turbulence is enough to keep his aim off as the shields drop, though, but his powerful muscles carry him higher in the air than you'd think and he lands with an acrobatic crouch, sniffing the air as he scents the fear coming off of Jean.

"Somethin' wicked this way comes," he mutters under his breath. What, he can read Shakespeare. Okay, Ray Bradbury. Still respectable.

He watches as the jeep gets sideswiped by the weather, dumping his extra muscle on their over-armed asses, his cat-slit eyes narrowing as he watches the operation fall apart. When the swarm hits him, he laughs, the stinging sinking into his skin and muscles, but his just grins, even as blood runs down his face in a slowly spready crimson mask, turning, 'You call this pain, boy? Come give Uncle Creed a hug an' we'll compare notes while I rip yer skin off the bone."

Staying aloft would have been the safest approach to dealing with someone like Creed. He's strapped, sure, but bullets can be misdirected; given enough height, Storm may have been able to keep herself entirely out of his reach while his back-up was handled.

But there was a shield around them for 'as long as they needed'.

And there was a student — no, ex-student — to consider.

And Jean is struggling; going airborne would mean leaving the two of them alone, maybe even with him.

Ororo's too occupied with trying to subdue the mercenaries to anticipate, much less react to Creed's sudden assault. Apparently, they don't need the shield anymore; that must be why she's stumbling to her knees as blood gushes from long, ragged furrows etched down her chest and pools on the parched earth.

"J— Phoenix— " the goddess gasps, drawing a trembling hand from her fresh wounds to see just how bloody it is after a few moments of contact. The dust devil howls, momentarily threatening to slip its leash and scour over everyone before Storm manages to scatter its energies. Wide, white eyes eyes dart from Creed to Jean to Creed to the air to Creed.

"Are— are you well?"

The hornets gave her - all of them, really - a reprieve that might not last long, judging from the sadist's taunts. If Jean is down, it's up to she and Warren to keep Creed under control; Matt might be an ex-student, but he is not an X-Man. Her blood-soaked hand stretches towards the feral mercenary and the sparks that were dancing in her eyes bloom into a crackling crown of electricity as ozone and sizzling blood fill the air.

As she struggles to retake her feet, lightning lances from her fingertips, powerful enough to sear, rather than stun. The loss of so many local hornets will surely be a blow to the local ecosystem, but Creed can probably take it, and she's bleeding the hell out.


Warren spots the firebird too, but he gauges distances and well, it is very high, in the upper layers of atmosphere. Not their problem. If he had a few spare second he would realize its trajectory will lead it to the American East Coast.

But there is no time for that. Somehow Jean is down, and Ororo got hit! Snarling in rage, the metal-winged mutant flies back at top speed, aiming to cut Creed in two using his wings like a giant axe.

Fire in the sky.

That feeling that something or someone was coming was realized, burned to the bone with the need of that cosmic power pulsing through her systems. But she wouldn't dare touch it, even if it was so close within her grasp, it kept her eyes upon the sky with a daring taunt, her hand reaching up towards the cloud with tremors until it just.. collapses.

It took the wind out of her sails..

Much like the wind was reaped from the mercenaries who tried to flee for the village. They take off in another direction, those who weren't hurt or injured abandoning Creed, leaving him to his fate.

Jean didn't speak, only laying upon the ground.. the situation sinking in as her come to jesus moment was realized.. a slow drawing up towards a sitting upright to spy the wound upon Ororo, sudden alarm marking her face.

"Storm!" Matthew cries out, rushing his way towards her aid to try to grasp her arm to hold her steady, if it was allowed. Jean herself? She tries to scramble to her feet, the wind blown from her sails..

The only one left? Is Warren..

Ororo's lightning blast hits Creed square on, sending him flying just out of the pathway of Warren's diving strike, the lightning charring flesh from bone, smoke coming off of him as he flies nearly twenty feet. He lands in a heap, a sick thud coming off him as he hits the hard dirt, probably several bones getting snapped in the process.

And yet…he slowly gets up…he reaches up and peels off layers of burned skin and scab, exposing the meat on the left side of his face, blood and muscle oozing momentarily even as fresh skin starts to spread, the eyeballs melted in its socket starting to reform.

He brings a hand to his mouth and licks some of Storm's blood off his claws, "Oooooooooooooh, some of that tastes arterial. We can dance if you want, pretty boy, but yer girl there prob'ly needs a bit more help than the skittish redhead and Bugboy c'n provide. Or you can fight me an' join her in the bleedin' to death club. Your call, junior."

Storm allows herself to be aided for exactly as long as it takes for her to finish discharging. Afterwards, her head flicks towards Matt, and then she pushes against him, both to try and move him behind herself and use him for one last boost in forcing herself upright.

"Hnggh— "

The goddess' eyes flutter, but down't quite shut as the scent of burning flesh wafts around her and joins the aroma already rolling off of Creed. Sparks fly through the narrow spaces between her hand and her chest.

She simply doesn't have time to bleed to death right now, though unless Jean manages to pull herself together or Warren is able to get another, better pass at the beast, she may not have a choice.

She hurls another bolt Creed's way, but physical trauma and the stress of leaning so heavily on her powers in these tortured environs mean that it doesn't have the punch of the first.

And that means that as soon as it's thrown, she turns and runs— hobbles— whichever, really, at this point— towards Jean, stumbling into a slide on her knees that brings her within arm's reach of the psychic instead of braking smoothly. If she had to, she'd face him alone until one of them killed the other, if that's what it took to keep him from taking anyone else, but—

"Phoenix!" the goddess screams, grabbing the redhead's shoulder and shaking her fiercely. "PHOENIX! I do not know what ails you, my friend, but I know that you DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!"

— she'd really rather it didn't come to that.


Archangel clenches his jaw as he misses Creed for a few inches. His wings spread wide, turning into six pairs of metal sheets which make him lose most of his speed in a few seconds. "Bleeding. And death," he agrees with un-Warren-like grimness. He lurches forward, but this time the wings are not only to provide him thrust, they also launch a hundred metal flechettes on Creed direction. Extreme overkill if Creed was not a hyperfast regenerator. But Archangel is a killer.

There were flashes.. a white room.. soon divulging into a black sky giving birth to a smattering of stars.. the light of the sun..

It all was hazy.. but the sound of Ororo's voice brings her back to her freak out moment, a shrill breath shuddering as she tries to breathe through her mental moment, a nod straight as she looks into the womans eyes. There was clear distress there, but pushed aside for the moment..

Locked down. Buried.

Warren's alarming actions strike true, Creed pincushioned to hell and back as Jean screams out, her hand lashing out towards Creed a moment too late, that force gripping him light a tight whip which flings him far.. far.. far into the middle of Lake Victoria.

Matthew rushes towards Ororo's side yet again, panic clear within his features. "We need to get to the hospital, NOW!" Sure, Ororo could have fixed herself, but Worthington industries has the best medical teachers/doctors in place.

"Al…alr..alright.." Jean stammers out, mustering enough nerves to draw her friend upright, one arm slung over her shoulders as she glances back towards Warren. "Lets get out of here!" She calls out towards him, keeping Matthew and Ororo near to her as she lifts up light a forceful rocket back towards the village.


"Recover the Asset. I don't care what you do or how you do it. It needs to be done."

The man hangs up the phone as he spins around within his desk, his fingers tensing against the other as elbows press against the arms of the leathered chair. The door suddenly opens up to a woman, clad in black business suit with red pumps, dark brown hair tied into a bun, file folders gripped within her dainty hands which were soon lain upon the desk in front of him.

"Is this everything?"
"Yes. Our contact within NSA managed to give us these satellite images of the people within Lwak. Intel suggest that these.. people originate from somewhere within the states."

The man looks over the pictures, flipping them off one by one upon the desk. Photos show Matthew, Pettigrew and Curich, the arrival of the three.. and various parts within the village that shows children, women.. men hard at work. Until it stops on one.

"Kick the program into high gear. And send Rothschild out into the field. I want a documentation of what these people can do and how they can do it. They -could- possibly prove useful."

He leans back within his chair in thought, fingers idly reaching up to scratch beneath the chin.

"Fuck it. Kill them all. Make it look like an accident."
"The entire villiage Sir? Or just those four."

He grins, just a little, leaning forward within his chair..

"…I want…"

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