AoA: Airship to New York

September 25, 2017:

Jean awakes in a different world. Lorna brings her up to date and they spot the Alias, an airship commanded by Captain Jessica Jones. It is time to go to the city. (Emits by Nate).

AoA Xavier's estate. Also the airship Alias

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: AoA Xavier, AoA Magneto, AoA William Stryker, AoA Apocalypse

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

At the end the X-Men had to leave the underground complex, there was no way to bring light down there once their flashlight ran out of batteries. The previous inhabitants were very throughout at savaging all the equipment. Certainly nothing like a generator was left. Or food.

They did found a well, and fortunately the water pumps could be activated mechanically. Logan pronounced the water to be safe, but since they have no food the X-Men went exploring in small groups, taking turns to watch the injured and unconscious X-Men. Lorna got the first shift, although there is a Jamie dupe somewhere in the estate. He is probably still looking for booze down in the bunker.

Surprisingly Jean was one of the unconscious mutants. She didn't hit her head, and she has nothing broken, so the reason why she is still knocked out was a bit of a mystery for her teammates.

Not so for Jean, though…

TWELVE HOURS AGO - EARTH 626

The grueling Danger Room session has been going for a couple hours. The program, a souped-up Murderworld Simulation designed by Xavier himself keeps trying to divide the team, and destroys those insulted by hitting their weak points. Robots, monsters, mechanical traps, and the kitchen sink. There have been ‘casualties’ and mutants are angry and tired.

What seems to work best is teamwork. Which was the whole point. Interesting combinations of powers have been tried and used successfully.

But the DR keeps pushing, neutering their powers, forcing them to work harder with less tools.

In this setting Rachel, Illyana and Nate really shine. Tough kids, stubborn, trained as warriors since their childhood and they refuse to give up no matter what. Rachel and Illyana hate losing with passion. So they combined their powers, trying to boost Illyana's teleporting to punch through the simulation defenses.

Only at some point it was not the simulation, but the Danger Room itself hitting its limit, trying to work beyond its normal capabilities and unable to compensate the variables.

Jean sensed it coming. Maybe because a tiny remnant of the cosmic awareness she had once as the Phoenix host. Maybe because those high end psychic powers are within her capabilities, if an unexplored facet of her abilities. Rachel can bend time, Nate can travel between worlds, Illyana's teleporting is wrapped by magic and hard to analyze, but she can probably do both things.

== Alert! Alert! Gravitational integrity compromised. Tachyon fugue in progress. Shutdown-Shugrrrrzzz… ==

Jean felt it coming, she tried to stop it. But they had built too much power. Stopping Nate or Rachel alone would have been hard enough. This was like trying to stop an speeding freight train.

Which is why Jean wakes up now, after twelve hours of much needed sleep. She is laying on an old and decrepit mattress, in what seems to be Xavier's old office. Except there is no furniture, and it is pretty cold. Outside it is dark, but the night is fading, it will be dawning in an hour.


Jean's sleep had been fitful and troubled, images and memories she was unsure of; dreams she wasn't even sure were her own as she lay unconscious in the office. When she awoke, she instinctively clutched the black and yellow jacket she was wearing tightly around herself, the chill in the air that she felt touching her very soul.

"Hello?" She called out into the darkness as she began to sit up and try to regain her bearings, recalling in a haze what had happened in the danger room and her folly in attempting to stop it.


Lorna had stood watch over the sleeping figures. The cool, quiet of the tomb like environment of the basement allowed her to stretch her magnetic senses far and wide. But she only kept coming up with the disjointed, broken feeling of the injured magnetic fields high above. Frustration had turned her attention to the doors, the steel door with its perfect alloyed form that just made her senses sing.

She knew she'd felt its like before, but couldn't put a finger on where. So to entertain herself, she'd spent the hours on watch playing with the metal. She'd teased out a few chunks, spinning the metal globules in the air, and slowly was shaping them into a few steel bottles for water.

At least it was useful.

Then she heard Jean's call in the darkness and she got up, switching on the flashlight as she came over. "Hey, you feeling okay Jean?" She crouched down beside the redhead.


"Lorna." Jean replied softly as she reached up to rub her forehead, "I'm alive, I feel like I had my skull crushed in by the Hulk though." Blinking a few times as she looked around the mostly empty darkened room, she asked, "Where are we?" In her heart and head, she knew they were far from home, but hearing it from someone else was always a reassurance of sanity.


Lorna exhaled a breath, reaching out a hard to summon one of the filled steel bottles and bringing it over and holding it out to Jean. "You might want to stay sitting down." She murmured softly. "Also have some water. Should be good. Logan said it was anyways." Her nose wrinkled and she sat back. Her metal-fiber reinforced suit creaked slightly as she moved.

The girl had clearly been playing with metal and the cool scent of it filled the air. She was uncomfortable breaking the news to Jean, but either way, it had to be done. She heaved a sigh. "Logan also said we've somehow slipped into another world. I dunno. I didn't really get that far into the chapter of my textbooks that explains the 'how'. But it lines up. This isn't our Earth." Her lips thinned into a line.

"The Magnetic fields are wrong. Damaged somehow. I duno how it's possible, but they are. And .. and this is the mansion.. Jean." Her voice dropped low and her brows pinched. "There are graves outside.."


There are few people around, most X-Men didn't return from the exploring. The night/morning is quiet, as animal life seems scarce in the area. Even the mice they have seen looked hungry and sickly.

But now a low hum can be heard outside. Muted and distant, perhaps an airplane.


Jean accepted the steel bottle with a nod and began to drink thirstily from it, trying her best not to gulp it down as she cradled the bottle and looked at Lorna while she spoke. Reaching out with her senses, she tried to get a sense of what Lorna had seen even if her powers seemed somehow diminished after the incident in the danger room.

"Another world.. I knew it felt wrong, everything about this place, it feels wrong, Lorna. It gives me the chills." Jean whispered before standing up despite the advice to the contrary, she was shaky but she would manage. Moving to look out the nearest window, she asked, "Graves? For who?" Deep down her heart sunk because she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

The sound of the possible airplane caused her to look towards the sky as she stood by the window.


Lorna pursed her lips, her mind lingering on how the Magnetic fields had felt. Where once had been smooth ribbons of power, constant and secure, a security blanket to the magnokinetic.. now the ribbons of the magnetic fields had been stretched thin in places. To Lorna's senses, it was like someone smashing the keys of a piano, irritating in the extreme.

She rose as Jean got up, mirroring her movements. "The Professor's.." She started off, her brows pinched and her expression pained. "He died in the 50s here. And a lot of others.." She hesitated, but only for a beat. "Your grave.." She exhaled a breath.
"So the X-men must've existed in some form. I dunno who or how though. Nothing adds up."


At the pale light of the pre-dawn the source of the noise is barely visible among the clouds. But it is flying low. It is not a plane, but a rather large airship flying relatively low about a mile east. Modern in style; and it spot machine gun turrets at the sides and over the airbag.


Jean couldn't help but frown at the news, whether it was there world or not there was something uncomfortable about knowing you were dead, along with those you loved the most. At the very least, she knew why she was constantly feeling at-ease, "An alternate reality, like the kind Nate or Rachel might have come from…" She didn't want to be trapped here, in a place that looked like hell to her. A world without Xavier, without the X-Men.

Jean looked far more troubled by what she was seeing and hearing then Lorna would have noted was usual, her complexion unusually pale.

If her powers had not felt so weak, she would have reached out to the strange approaching airship and tried to get a sense of it. She found that she couldn't though and she lowered her hand, "What do you make of it?" Jean asked of Lorna, hoping that the green-haired magnetic goddess would have some sort of answers.


Lorna frowned, stepping closer to Jean and settling a hand on the telepath's shoulder. It was a small comfort, but it was all that Lorna had to offer. 'Hey I just told you this world's version of you is dead and we might be trapped here', really doesn't have a set rule for how to break it to people. She pursed her lips, exhaling a breath.

"Yeah. I hope that we can do something. Maybe find some tech like the danger-room back home. Or round up some of this world's versions of people that could help." If they were still alive. At this point that was looking like a rather slim hope.

Of course, then her focus was drawn to the mass of metal that was the airship approaching and she frowned. Her eyes narrowed as she stretched her senses as far as she was able to try to get a read on the flying thing. "I dunno.. Give me a minute. We might have to get closer. I dunno how well I can fly with the fields out of wack.."


There is little iron in the airship, since most of the metals onboard are from light allows and not particularly magnetic. But the guns are steel, so Lorna might be able to sense them.

The airship moves slowly, maybe 30-35 mph. Moving southwards, towards New York. Or the place where New York should be if it exists in this reality.


Jean smiled just a little bit at Lorna's comforting assurance and reached up with the hand that was not holding the steel water bottle; resting it upon her friends hand, drawing a bit of strength from that contact, "We'll find a way, we have to." Trying to reach out with her telepathy again she found the astral plane full of static, like a dead television set; a graveyard.

"Better not to try flying, even if you can, we don't know those people are and what they might do." The tactical side of Scott had rubbed off on her and she was cautious to risk any harm coming to anyone in a situation like this.

"Can you see any markings? Something to identify it?" She squinted as if it would help her see better, but super-sight was not among her powers or even abilities.

With the range of powers so diminished, she felt almost blind.


Lorna shook her head, "Unless they used lead paint, which I doubt.. and most of the thing isn't an iron-alloy. I dunno what they built it out of." She frowned, giving Jean's hand a squeeze and retracting it after a moment.

"But the guns on it.. those are all iron-based. Steel." She pursed her lips together, leaning forward as she tried to strain further as the thing continued its flight. Desperately trying to push her powers beyond her usual range. Trying to get a sense of anything else. Anything at all, despite the ringing in her head with the damaged fields.

"I doubt they're friendly, Jean." She whispered, her jaw squared. "But they're the only signs of life we've seen here.."


Without enhanced vision or maybe binoculars it is impossible to see labels of flags in the airship, and although it is not flying fast, it is certainly flying faster any of the women could run. Fortunately Lorna can indeed fly. Maybe not as fast as she could in the more familiar magnetic field of her native reality, but it is hardly beyond her powers.


"Alright. You can check it out." Jean said to Lorna as she continued to stare out the window before turning her head away from the window, "Get an idea of what we're dealing with. I need to see the graves for myself though, if I'm going to be able to focus, at all."

Taking one last sip of the water bottle before capping it and handing it back to Lorna, she took a deep breath and pulled her jacket around herself tightly.

Looking around the haunting room one last time, she headed through the Institute, determined to go outside and see what Lorna had been talking about for herself.


Lorna nodded, her expression serious and pale as she followed Jean up and out of the house to the lawn. It took her a few moments of experimentation before she was happy with her balance in the air. "Wish me luck Jean." She called, but then she was off, flying toward the airship. Little balls of metal she'd scrapped from the doors to the basement at her waist and at the ready.

There was always a chance they'd have weapons she couldn't handle after all and a shield was useful.


On board the airship, Captain Jones scowls down at an instrument read-out and pulls the cigarette out of her mouth. "Helm, adjust course three degrees starboard, I'm seeing some weather patterns I don't like." Her hard-bitten alto is cold and professional, and the scowl doesn't really leave her face as she addresses her crew. She sits all but flopped into her seat at the bridge, but anyone who didn't think she was paying attention to every last bit of everything going on with the Alias would be in for a nasty surprise indeed.

That is not to say, given the darkness, that she has any clue they're about to receive any kind of a visitor. The instruments are only designed to pick up certain things. That's not one of them.


Lorna caught up with the aircraft after an interesting few moments midflight. Still, she managed, even if it wasn't her best. Her green hair whipped around her as she circled around for a place to set down, choosing the platforms where the guns were mounted first. They were metal that she could sense, and automated system or not, she could use them.

She touched down, gingerly, her eyes narrowed and her hands at her sides lifted up as she went for the doors. At first she'd knock at least, or try to get someone's attention before breaking in.

Maybe there were cameras or something.


"Good Luck." Jean said as she walked out the room, making her way through the empty hallways and running her hands along walls that had once been familiar; trying to get a sense of what had happened here.

"Where did everyone go?" Jean asked aloud of herself, expecting no reply as she heard her voice echo through the lonely corridors. Reaching up to activate the little communications device in her ear, she checked in with Lorna, "Hey Lorna, just letting you know, my radio works."

Stepping outside and breathing in the foul air, she headed for the area that felt the most off to her, the palpable aura of death touching upon her empathy.

The graves belonging to her friends and loved ones. She took time to stop by each one, reading the names and dates. It was rare she felt the stirrings of feelings such as a desire for vengeance, but she couldn't help but feel that someone had to pay for this.

Fists clenched, she felt a psychic tremor as she looked upon her own desecrated grave with horror.


There is something in that desecrated grave that resonates within Jean's mind. Or perhaps it is her soul. Even more than a 'someone is walking on my grave' feeling. A flash of intuition, or maybe inspiration. A great wrong was committed here about five years ago. A psychometric reading would reveal much more, but the only psychometric in the X-Men is Nate.

And as Lorna would know Nate, Rachel and Illyana are MIA. None of them arrived with the others to the abandoned mansion.


There are, in fact cameras, and Jones' eyes widen as she catches sight of someone knocking on one of the entry doors midflight. There's not much of a place to stand there, really, just a little sort of step. "What fresh fucking nonsense is this," she growls.

"Ma'am, she could be hostile…"

"Walker, hostile people don't knock on the goddamn door. Quartermain, take the bridge."

She does not in fact open the door to answer. That would be dangerous to her passengers. Instead, she pops an emergency hatch on the floor of the bridge and closes it behind her. A brief ladder down brings her to another emergency exterior maintenance hatch.

In the universe Jean and Lorna are native to, Jessica Jones has not figured out she can fly. Like. Really really fly. She thinks what she does is just a power leap, just her strength in action. Here, not so much. She zips down, pauses to close that hatch, then flies behind Lorna. The wind whips at her stacked bob, a cut for her pitch black hair as severe as her expression. She's dressed in a flight jacket, jeans, and she crosses her arms as she hovers there.

"Can I help you?" she demands sourly, raising her voice to be heard over the wind.


Lorna stood, waiting, her senses humming as she kept them flung out, waiting to see what would happen. Of course Jean's voice over the comms startled her enough that she jumped, and caught herself with her powers. "Damnit Jean, don't scare me like that." She grumbled. Then, of course, she didn't have to wait long. As soon Jessica came flying down the side Lorna spun around.

The green haired mutant crossed her arms, trying for all the world to look somewhat intimidating. She just imagined her father and ran with it.

A green jumpsuit that had once been an X-man uniform was the main bit of her outfit, but plates of metal had fused over it, and in a suitably dramatic fashion, given her family, a short green fabric snapped in the wind around her shoulders. "Hope so." She exhaled a breath. Here's hoping her alternative self wasn't a pyscho wanted for something horrible. "My name is Lorna Dane. Bit lost actually. I was hoping that your carrier here might be able to help.."


Jean's strength floundered for a moment and she fought to stay standing, resting a hand on the desecrated memorial that was the grave in this world. Even if it wasn't literally her, she couldn't but feel like she was in a nightmare seeing it.

Xavier's grave was the last one she saw, kneeling down in front of it to rub her hand along the stone, fingers tracing out the name as a tear rolled down her cheek before being hastily wiped away.

"Lorna, is it safe to join you?" Jean asked over the radio before sighing and rising to her feet.


Attempts to intimidate Jessica Jones just cause an incredulous look to come over her face. Incredulous and mildly disgusted. She studies Lorna, sizing her up through narrowed brown eyes. She takes a final drag on the cigarette which had still been clenched between her teeth, then puts it out between two fingers and lets the butt spiral away and away into oblivion below. The X-man symbol is noted, but that's not what moves her. It's the request for help that softens those features just a little bit, but only marginally, for there is a great deal of suspicion in her posture.

"Ground rules," she says at last. "I got a ship full of desperate people here. They are my first, last, and only fucking priority. You do one damn thing that I think will potentially harm them in any way and you and I will have a real lethal problem real fast. You come peacefully cause you really do need help, I'll let you on board and you can tell me your sob story."


Lorna's posture eased somewhat at the woman's words, and she nodded. Her hands dropping loosely to her sides. Of course, then came Jean's voice on the comms and she sighed. "Then in the interest in one hundred percent disclosure.. can my friends come aboard? They traveled with me. We didn't exactly have a choice on where we ended up or anything. We have no supplies. I have one on the radio now. Can I give her the go ahead to come on up?" She asked, a green eyebrow lifting upwards.

She hadn't particularly wanted to invite Jean up just yet. She wasn't a telepath and had no idea if the woman was going to shoot her in the back yet or not.. but still.


"Good creaking Christ," Jessica says, eyes widening in alarm. "Fucking hell. Yes. Let's get them up here. How many? Fuck me. That's nothing but nuclear wasteland down there. Stay down there much longer and their hair's going to start falling out in goddamn clumps. Unless they have a 'suck on radiation and be fine' ability. No supplies, good god damn, how the fuck did you end up there in the— you know what, nevermind. I'll help fly anyone up who needs it unless you got it taken care of. We'll talk when we're on board."

Still, full disclosure goes a long way with this crusty woman, it seems, because a lot of the suspicion ebbs. No supplies in nuclear wasteland sort of offers a change in perspective too.


Lorna's eyes widened and she shifted in the air. Her lips forming a surprised 'o' as she gaped at Jessica. Well, at least she had protection from radiation. She mentally did a run through of who was down there and nodded, "Jean, you can bring everyone up. The sooner the better. The area is a nuclear wasteland, apparently." It explained so much. But at least the exposure had to be less having kept people in a basement.. right?

She winced. "We've got a few that can fly. They can make it up here with those that can't. Thank you." She fought off the urge to blush, but only just. She must sound like a complete idoit to the woman.


To be fair.

Most people sound like god damn idiots to Jones, so at least Lorna hasn't put herself in any sort of an exclusive club. She nods curtly and goes to open the hatch. "Bring them in through here," she yells, and opens the second one. She'll crouch by there to help pull people in.

"We got incoming, crew. All stop and enter hover mode. Someone comm into the passenger area and let them know all's well. I don't need them panicking in there. No, Quartermain, you stay there, I'm going to usher these folks straight into my ready room, it sounds like they've got a Hell of a story to tell me."


Lifting people into the air with her currently weakened state seemed like a marvelous idea to Jean, an idea which she was quick to begin banishing the doubt from her mind lest it lead her to make any mistakes. Fear, was the mindkiller after-all.

"I'm pretty fond of my hair, I'll help get everyone up there who needs it and see you in a bit." Jean then went to the fun task of using her telekinesis to lift people up to the airship, giving them the vaguest sensation that they could fly if they could not do so themselves.

No doubt, Darcy was among those people!


Darcy was totally among those people. And given that she's had only the experience of Rogue snatching her out of the air as she fell off a tumbling pyramid to compare this to, this was the BEST EVAR! She reached up for the hand up into the airship as she was pushed toward it, letting Jean's powers get her up, and Jess's hand to steady herself, and then beaming as she was back on her own two feet.

"Fuck yes. I would totes ride again. Shit, man!" Darcy crows as she gets settled, stepping from the hatch for the next person up. Sure, she might be a bit dirty and low of spirit at seeing the gravemarker of a close friend (read: former boyfriend's sister) but flying, even if under another's power, put her ina good mood for the moment.

Darcy loves to live for the moment.


Once everyone is on board the ship the woman who greeted Lorna ushers them back to her ready room. It's not that big, but it's private. A long couch rings a small cabin with a little desk attached to it. The couch could be slept on. It's where she sits to use the desk, too. Everything is bolted down, just like it might be on a seafaring vessel. There's plenty of room for everyone who wants to come in to sit down, though some people might have to get cozy.

"Now," she says, once they're settled. "I'm Captain Jessica Jones of the airship Alias, Lorna there has the ground rules if you want them. I'm sure you can guess 'em for yourselves though."

She reaches into a desk drawer. Withdraws a bunch of shot glasses and a bottle of Scotch. She pours one for everyone and nods to them; taking one for herself and tossing it down.

"So. What's the story? You all look awfully clean and healthy for people who have been wandering around the No-Man's zone with no supplies."

Of course, Darcy met Jessica. The PI. But this Jessica certainly gives no indication she knows any of these people from Adam.


Jean didn't take a seat once they were in the ready-room even if she wanted to, nothing about this world would allow her to feel comfortable enough to relax or let her guard down. She didn't intend to allow herself or any of the X-Men that had come through the 'breach' to fall victim to the same fates their counterparts here had.

She would be on guard at all times.

"Doctor Jean Grey." Jean replied to Jessica, hesitant about the drink until she saw Jessica take one for herself. Downing the shot poured for her, she attempted to lightly probe Jessica with her telepathy to get a sense of the other woman as she set the glass down.

"The truth would sound crazy I think, but something tells me this world has known nothing but crazy for a very long time." Drawing a deep breath, Jean just let it fall on Jessica, "We're not from this place. We're from another Earth. We didn't intend to come here, and we'll be heading back home as soon as we find the rest of our friends."

Reaching up to brush some of hair away from her face, she asked, "What happened here? Nuclear wasteland? The X-men dead? We need to know."


Caught up int he thrill of 'flight' and then the ‘pirate’ air ship, it's not until she's seated in the Ready Room, reaching for a shot glass while Jessica introduces herself that Darcy double takes.

"Jess? Holy fuck, dude. Captain? You're shitting me, right? What the hell," Darcy blurts out just before turning to whomever is next to her. She leans toward said person while pointing back at Jess.

"I fucking know her," is the remark, a stage-not-whisper, before Darcy straightens back at Jess.

"Okay. Stop me if you don't get the reference, but I don't think we're in Kansas. We were on School Grounds, doing our thing. Alarms went off, up went down and down when yesterday, and then all fuck give out. Most of the others woke up first, but when I came to, we were not in the Mansion we were originally in, and outside there was a fucking cemetery." This makes Darcy frown, her expression more serious.

"I'd say it was a Time Warp, but that's a dance and the years on the markers don't line up with what I remember. So… maybe like… a fucking new dimension or something else equally scifi-fucked up." Darcy downs her drink to stop the word vomit so Jean can explains things more precisely and get some real questioning in. Darcy, not in her element. Oh well. There were shots.


Probing Jessica Jones means that Jean Grey runs into some sort of hard wall, one that produces a tiny twinge of pain for her efforts, as if some sort of passive defense has been activated. And it gets Jones' immediate attention. Her eyes narrow, and she looks right at Jean, holding up her hand to forestall the explanation long enough to say: "Stay out of my brain, Dr. Grey. The person who set those protections for me was serious, and I've had some real shitty experiences."

Some things, some touchpoints in a person's destiny, are exactly the same no matter what universe one is in.

But then she drops the hand and pours another glass of Scotch. She downs that too, eyes narrowing as she listens to the explanation. She doesn't look taken aback exactly, or disbelieving. She just watches them, with the keen, discerning gaze of someone who…

Well. Who would have been a great detective in some other life, probably. She listens to all of it before she speaks again.

"Huh," she grunts. "Well, stranger shit has happened. Let me see if I can catch you up. X-Men aren't dead though. Not all of 'em. Lots of them bit the dust while we all tangled with Apocalypse."

"Few famous ones are running around. Storm, some joker calling himself the Silver Samurai, dude called Quicksilver. Don't know who is leading them now that Magneto's the Veep."


Jean winced in noticeable pain at the psychic resistance, taking an instinctive step back, "Sorry. I meant no offense, I just wanted to get a sense of what kind of person you were. It's my responsibility to make sure every single one of us gets home." To emphasize her point, she stepped closer to Darcy who seemed to share some kind of familiarity with the Captain somehow, "Safely. These are my students, my friends, and my teammates. I'm sure you have the same kind of responsibility for your crew."

"I presume Veep is Vice President, instead of a cute nickname." She was filled with a sense of dread at the thought of Magneto being one of the leaders of this world, he was a villain where she came from; an enemy of humanity and a champion for mutant supremacy.

"Please, don't tell me that Apocalypse is the President." It came out far snarkier then she intended.


"Dude! Eavesdropping's fucking rude," Darcy quips at Jean the moment Jess tells the Doctor to stay out of her mind. Ther's a notable frown on the human's face, admonishing the telepath before her attention is returned to Jessica.

There are two names that cause a reaction: Apocalypse and Quicksilver.

The first reaction is complete and absolute anger and hatred. It doesn't take a telepathy, empthy, or detective to see just how pissed off Darcy gets at the mere mention of that name. Shaking, Darcy puts her shot glass on the desk with a noticeable thump.
"Fucker's kicking here? Took over? Fuck that noise. Tell me where he is. I'll put another bullet between his fucking, no-good, god-wannabe, man-stealing, bitch-ass pussy-shit eyes; the sorry little fucktard."

Someone has a huge hate-on for En Sabah Nur.

As for the other name, it rides on a high of anticipation. Eager, hopeful longing that's wrapped up in that hate for the Would Be God who's taken the very human concept of Survival of the Fittest and twisted for his own jerk-off material.

Darcy is visibly shaking, the usual warm candor gone under the feel of this wrath she had thought she'd gotten over. Looks like she was too slow to run away from it all.


"I'll just tell you straight out what kind of person I am. You don't gotta read my brain for that. I'm a total shithead," Jessica grunts, pouring her third glass of Scotch and tossing it down. "But I'm only a threat to you people if you threaten my passengers or crew."

Jean reacts to Magneto's name with snark, and she gives a hard smirk. But misunderstands the source. "Yeah, I dunno why he still uses that fucking name either. I mean you're a god damn world leader, use your own fucking name, not your fucking cape name. And what? No. Prez is William Stryker—"

And then Darcy is off to the races. "Guys. Chill. Have more Scotch. Apocalypse died 5 years ago. Magneto wouldn't serve with him, he was Apocalypse's Enemy Numero Uno. I told you, he was the leader of the X-Men. Problem is, the world got awful fucked up in the process. Nukes flew. It sucked ass. Aftermath still kind of sucks ass, but New York's safe enough."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License