A Plead to (Nu)Humanity

February 17, 2017:

Barry Allen visits Xavier's Institute - and discovers that the road to helping those affected with the Mists won't be as easy or as cooperative as he hoped.

1407 Graymalkin Lane

Xavier's Institute grounds are located on 1407 Graymalkin Lane in
Westchester County between Graymalkin Lane itself and Breakstone Lake (30
miles outside of NYC itself). A large portion of this is acres upon acres of
woodland forest. To the farthest eastern portion of the Institute's grounds
there is a stretch of low foothills.
Upon entering the Institute grounds immediately past the heavy
gated entrance one finds themselves on a carefully paved road that splices
in two directions, west and east.
The west leads to the School for Higher Learning where gifted
youngsters are educated and taught to use their unique talents. Here almost
year around children and teachers are housed.
To the east miles away lies Xavier's Mansion where Professor Xavier
himself and some faculty members of the school live. These "special"
individuals are those aware of Xavier's more clandestine operations, the
administration and training of the X-Men.
Beyond the neatly walled mansion's yard in those foothills is an
obscure landing strip that leads to a hangar complex and a subtly hidden
facility. A facility that houses underground sub-levels, a danger room,
Cerebro and the training halls of one of the most advanced mutant fighting
teams in the world.
An underground monorail connects the School for Higher Learning
with the Charles Xavier's Mansion and the X-Men's Hidden Complex. Security
is tight in this region, by means of limited magical warding, advanced
future tech security systems and telepathic sweeps. Tread carefully.


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Joker, Darcy Lewis

Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Storm had offered Reader a place and some solace with people who were of a "like mind" and sought to hep the Inhumans, but they needed to understand them. Especially after the shoot out by the Revenants that killed many and left a lab in Xavier's recked when they tried to help, and a corpse to bury with a sorrow thy did not even truly know to feel. At least for Storm…

She had tried, and only wanted to try harder in this (Nu)Volution.

So after meeting with The Flash she called for Reader and filled him in abut the Justice League, and the Mists in Metropolis and how they too, sought to help, but needed understanding.

"I cannot word it like he did. I told him how this is reverent in a way to you and your people, I understand. I wish him to and the League to as well, but you are the only one who has stepped forward, and we need you to help everyone understand as well, so we can help you and yours. The Revenants are not the only ones after your people that have yet to birth…"

The final said with a sorrow she could not fully release, but in that meeting room she remains, the long mahogany polished table a stretch of empty chairs while she claims the one beside Reader and pours them water…

A third cup filled.

"Will you? Help us, help you?"

The blind man reaches for the cup of water, amazing how these blind guys manage to find cups and stuff you know. He takes a sip, "I will do whatever is in my power to do to help. But as I have said, we are a secretative and isolated race. Having us exposed like this was never part of the plans that I know of. These events have caught us all by surprise. Most are still unsure of how to handle it." Plus there is the rumors that he has heard about the best suited to help have been scattered, and well his mostly former group have decided to keep themselves hidden for now. "My own roll was always that of a recruiter, so I have been trying to do that even now."

The non-descript black vehicle that pulls up to the Institute bears a single passenger. Stepping out of the vehicle, Barry Allen is dressed in a tweed jacket, bow tie, white button down shirt and dark slacks. A white lab coat is pulled around him and he wears the nametag and Allen, Barry, SHIELD WAND division.

Passing through security, the scientist is shown to the seating area where Storm and Reader wait and knocks on the door as he pushes his glass on the door. "Afternoon." he greets. "Uh, my name's Barry Allen. I'm a forensic scientist with SHIELD. Flash is working with us on the Terrigen Mists, and I was recommended to come check out a person that was affected by it?" he asks, a little smile pulling on his features.

He tears his eyes away from the Nubian princess after a moment of staring to look down at his briefcase. "I'd be willing to answer any questions you may have, and exactly what it is I'm looking to do."

"As such, you can help us all. I recruit. I lead. We give answers, but only if they are fitting. I offered you solace and safe haven, not to be pushed. This is for you and yours and helping those meant to help you and understand. But if you choose to leave, then it is yours." Storm assures Reader as she lowers her own glass and eyes it speculatively, leaning back, but not enough to lack her posture, just to relax a moment before she is warned of the arrival and Barry is brought in.

A pale brow rises over arctic-blue eye and she watches him in turn as he speaks, inspects and takes a seat. "He is not affected. He is true…" A bite of tongue and Storm withdraws her hand from the glass now laden in a layer of frost. Without Darcy here, Storm is leery and suddenly on edge, caught off guard, but none of it effects her voice for the blind partner. Let him make his own assumptions, for now.

Now Storm's recline brings the chair to moan in pressure asserted while she watches between the two.

"I will try. These young ones that are emerging have no where else to go for now, they will need people to help them, and teach them. And any that have decided to hurt them will also need to pay. And for that I will do what I can."

And then the new guy shows up, the Blind Man turns his head towards the sound of the guys voice and nods, "I am an Inhuman. But I was changed before the mists ever escaped into the world." One of his hands goes down and gives his dog a scritch, cause Forey is always there. "So why are you here? Would be my first question."

Barry draws in a breath as he takes a seat and considers the cup of water before he takes a drink from it. "Flash briefed me on what he and you spoke on, Headmistress Storm." he offers as he turns his attention back to Reader. "There are several schools of thought on the Mists. That it was meant to be - that it's the next step in our evolution. Or that it's another deadly plague - forcing those that would otherwise be normal, as much as one without powers would be, to have to accept a life altered."

"As he said.. we're not looking for a cure. Those that have been affected will come to accept their powers, for good or ill. What I want to do.. is to come up with a way to prevent the spread of these Mists to those that do not want to be affected. Those that are coccooned, and lose their livelihoods, their innocence, their childhoods. I was told of a mere toddler that was aged dramatically by these Mists just to bring her powers into fruition. She had her choice taken away from her. I want to give that back. Choice is a powerful and singular thing, and it is the one that any man - be it human, mutant, nuhuman, or meta, is allowed to control for themselves. I am not asking you to give up who you are, or helping those that are affected. But I would ask for a sample of your blood so that I can work it against that which I have collected from the chrysallis form of the Mists and the hopeful recovery of pure Mist from Apokolips' ship to find a way to reverse what he forced upon the world, and let people decide - is this the life they want."

Storm remains where she is while the glass she had held slowly forms a puddle beneath its base.

One leg crosses over the other in her shift of posture, but fingers curl over the ends of the arm rests, contouring them perfectly with a white-knuckled grip. Consider Storm untrusting, but she did not know who was delivered, let alone the speaker… Until he retold a story and her head lightly tilts, spilling white strands of mohawk over bare shoulder.

"Do any of us ~choose~ the life we live?" Inquired with a seeming innocence, but the prod is there with the pierce of those chilled blue eyes. "How much blood must be spilled?" Those words spoken in not only Reader's defense, but their own.

.. What kind of war had she welcomed? What mistake did she make?

But in all of her self doubt and query, Storm remained stoic and hoping..

"The mists are a gift, they have always been viewed that way amongst are people. They are what make us. Only those that have Inhuman genes will be affected by the mists. Or race is an old race, over the years many of our people have ventured out into the world, and have had relations with others. What we are seeing now is the result of that."

Once that piece is said he stands up and starts the pace a little, with Forey following right behind him, "Would you ask Storm if she wants you to cure mutants? That is basically what you are asking me to do. You say that you are not looking for a cure, and that may be true. But can you speak for others of your own race? How long before they are looking for a cure, looking for a weapon that can be used against us?"

Reader stops the pacing for the moment and looks at where Barry is, "This is just what the Inhumans are. We are given our powers for the betterment of our own race, and now we will be given them to help yours. That is what we do. Sadly there is no way to tell what will happen with a person when they undergo the…Mists." Yes is one is observant, they can see that Reader is trying to use the words that others are familiar with, not using the ones that his own race does. "That is the price of being an Inhuman though. You undergo a great transformation, but no idea on what you will become."

Once his own little speech is done, Reader sits back down and takes a sip of water, "I can help you with some information, and even be willing to help you reach out to those that have undergone the mists. But beyond that I do not know what else I can help you with."

"It's one thing to be born with the genetic markers, Storm." Barry says, holding up his hands in a moment of self-defense as she comes out swinging. "It's entirely another for Cynthia Williams, age 22, a pharmaceutical major who was a second chair violin player, until the Mists decided to move into Gotham, previously thought to be untouched territory. Considering your skillset and the command of your powers, you of all know how fickle and random that nature can be. Are we supposed to say 'there is no safety, if the Mists come for you, there is no hope'."

He sighs, and rubs a hand over his face, the fingers moving against his skin. He's not a traitor to the idea of metas. But.. "To sit idly by and allow the Mists to pick and choose who is changed without rhyme or reason? Is that not against our own principles? We speak of it hear, in a civilized country with the infrastructure that can handle what happens - and yet, we still have little control. Cocoons are taken, stolen by force, at gunpoint. Or by a deranged madman who will do who knows what with them. Is this your idea of 'betterment'?" he asks quietly, honestly.

"And what of the countries that cannot handle what happened to them. Buranda, Nyasir? Or Khartoum, Sudan?" he asks the two.

"I will do all I can to keep the research proprietary." he says, though he can understand where they are coming from. "I can help you with those that we have recovered - but the ones that others have taken? The ones we can no longer track? What rights do they have in this?"

Storm then rocks forward at Barry's words, that de-frosting glass gathered and drug closer but not partaken from, leaving a sparkling path of moisture behind. "We offer them hope, then. Barry Allen, of SHIELD." She states, hands extending out and those wings unfurling with extension, the dark fabric falling beneath either extension of arms, laden to fingers by silver loops that match attire.

Word like violence,
break the silence…

"I promised home and reprieve. The Flash, he is of the League. They can help, can they not?" Her eyes now land on Barry, cold-blue and stoic.

Feeling are intense,
Words are trivial.

There is a deeper passion in her voice, as she had no choice, neither did Flash, in his birthright, and seemingly… nor did Reader. Once he seats back down her hand reaches towards him and his companion, palm up.

"They have rights. Just as all of us do. They will not be abandoned if we can help it." A pause and Storm looks between the two.

"This is part why Xaviers can no longer hide, and won't. So help us find them and show them a kindness?"

As for Reader's part, that is up to him. This was offered as home and is his to do as he pleases to feel safe.

"There is a reason though, they are Inhuman. They all have whatever it is that makes them an Inhuman. Much like there are those out there that are born with what is called the mutant gene, there are those that will be born with the Inhuman gene so to speak." There is a pause as he takes another sip of his water. "That is not my idea of betterment, but it was not my idea, nor my race's idea to be attacked, and have something sacred to us spread among the world."

"You will do what you can, but it will still be made a weapon. I have studied your race, as one who has ventured out to visit it many times. You weaponize everything great that you find. Just look at your own history, and you can see that I am right on that. Someone will find your information, and they will turn it into a weapon against us."

There is another pause and then another scritch to Forey. "If you want to help, tell them that we are here and we will welcome them. The one Inhuman who has decided to come out of hiding will do all that he can protect them. And I will teach them to accept their gifts, and how to better use them. Also what is this Cynthia Miller now?"

"We don't know. She was one of the two taken by Joker." Barry responds honestly as he draws in a breath. "Those that are currently under the protection of Princess Diana of Themyscaria, I will let her know. However, the ones taken from the Slums? The ones that have been taken at gunpoint? Noone knows where they are. You talk of our history, yet at the moment, we are sitting here and allowing it to be repeated." There's a momentary pause as Barry draws it back in.

"Then you say this was a rite of passage stolen from you. Yet you will do nothing to help bring it back under control?" he actually looks stricken by this. "I suppose there is little else I can say." he says as he moves to stand up. "I'll have someone in touch with you, perhaps the liaison, Darcy Lewis. But.. if we don't figure out a way to bring this under some kind of control, the very weaponization you speak of? Will be allowed to happen unchecked. Would it rather be with someone trusted.." he says as he pauses by the door. "Or someone that has little care for you or yours?" he asks Reader directly as he moves to depart.

A dance of finger go over Forey if he allows, as he goes to Reader's side when the Inhuman settles back in. Her eyes look tired finally, as they go to Barry, apology in them… But a calm beneath it all. A "must be calm".

"Please," that word breathed out to Barry as he rises and makes his leave.

"Understand, all of us have undergone persecution, even your Cynthia. Or Diana's, Cynthia." Storm stands then, those wings slipping over the chair to fall at her back, along the regal posture she had learned.

"But we do not refuse a helping hand. We just need a plan, and I will gladly sit at a table of equal minds, like this, to hear one out and help…" A hand lowers to Reader's shoulder, reassuring him if need be…

"None of us are weapons, Barry. We all started the same…" Human

There it was, the reason for that look that follows him out.

"I do not want war, Reader…" Storm utters to the blind man she holds lightly in her assuring grip. "Not again."

"I am one person sadly. If you want to talk about history repeating, l would suggest you find the so called King of the Inhumans. But he has abandoned his own people." He sighs at that, "There are others, and they are doing what they can. But none can do as much as he would be able to do. Just a few words from him is all it would take for everyone to realize what we can do." Yes he does give a slight smile on his face as he says that one.

Reader says, “It was a right of passage to some, to others well it was not. I have felt that we were hidden for too long, and I have welcomed this." Friends are always allowed to pet Forey, and then the hand on his shoulder, "I do not want a war either, none of us do. But also let it be known, I have decided to start taking an active roll now in protecting other Inhumans. I have decided I can not just be a recruiter, I will protect those that I can. And I will not care who are the ones hurting them."

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