[CUTSCENE] Brotherhood Recon

April 08, 2018:

Cable searches out the Brotherhood.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

X-FORCE LOG, APRIL 8 2018: The Brotherhood’s attack on TRASK has altered operational parameters. Sole reconnaissance and infiltration of existing labs will not be feasible under the increase in facility security and government scrutiny. I have determined a course of action for which I will likely face censure by the X-Men. This is problematic as the need to maintain relations is important for future events. It is certain that the attack upon TRASK was orchestrated to gain intelligence. A shared goal which now requires a negotiation to gain whatever information was acquired.

Surveillance of “Mutant Town” has uncovered Brotherhood sympathizers. I believe I have located the appropriate informant who will be able to provide information on the Maximoff’s means of operations.

INTERIOR – Mutant Town – Londale Bldg, Apt 302 B.

The sound of a key sliding into a lock. Tumblers turning. The door opens.

With a long sigh Karen Watson has ended her shift in Hell’s Kitchen and returned home. Closing the door behind her she twists the deadbolt and then tosses her keys into the small porcelain bowl that rests upon the table aside her door. As she moves deeper into the living room she notes a breeze and the sound of traffic and she sees that her window is slightly ajar. Shivering slightly, she walks over intent upon closing it.

As she reaches high to push it down she notes a soft impact upon her abdomen. Looking down she notes a small circular device about the size of a quarter affixed to her blouse. She reacts by reflex simultaneously backpedaling and swatting at the device. The moment her finger touches it..

..there comes a sudden discomfort as her body is disassembled to its genetic foundation, digitized, and then reassembled elsewhere..


In a flash Karen is deposited into blackness hands and feet scrambling upon a cold metal surface with a sound that echoes hollowly around her. Sheer terror, as the nightmare confusion of her situation overwhelms her in a sickening feeling that travels from the pit of her stomach, to tighten in her chest, and becomes of ice in her veins. All she can do is scream and scramble around in the darkness and so that is exactly what she does for nearly twenty seconds until hands find what it believes is the corner of the space and she curls into it with her back to the wall.

It is only as her own ragged breathing slows that she hears the slow even breathing of another. In the blackness a pin-prick of red light glows, “It doesn’t matter who,” a voice, gravelly baritone, dismisses her first question before it is even asked, "the only thing you need to know is that if you fight me this will be far more uncomfortable."

The glow begins forward with the cadence of foot-steps – the soft whine of advanced servo motors; one step heavier than the other. She wants to scream again but cannot find the will to do so. She wants to crawl away but cannot so much as move. How could she possibly fight?

A wide hand palms her forehead and then it happens — something more invasive than everything that has occurred so far; Her captor’s mind fuses with her own to know every intimate secret she has ever held.

INTERIOR – Mutant Town – Londale Bldg, Apt 302 B.

The alarm on Karen Watson’s cell phone erupts in ‘Panic! At the Disco’s I Write Sin’s not Tragedies’. Fumbling she reaches to put it into snooze. She feels as if she’s barely slept. It’s going to be a long day..


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