September 02, 2018:

The X-Men return home after the events of Walk All Over You 1 and Walk All Over You 2. There is a brief discussion on what happened, and talk about next steps.

Hangar and Medbay, X-Men Base


NPCs: Savin

Mentions: Tony Stark, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Frenzy, Faora, Scott Summers, Illyana Rasputina

Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Stark's tower is alive.

This becomes apparent in the moments after the Brotherhood leaves. With Stark stabilized by desperation and quick thinking, Rachel finds herself in the awkward position of best helping further by getting out of the way. Stark is too weak to have an extended conversation, and the emergency response teams both internal and external need access to the tower. The all-call for help that Pepper sent, at very least, means that the next few hours will feature a parade of different team and organization representatives coming back to check in and get the story.

Rachel finds herself in the lobby, shattered as it is by Frenzy's frontal assault. It was a quiet and vaguely surreal elevator ride. It would be a quiet and vaguely surreal walk out to the street if Rachel didn't need to wave her Stark ID card every few feet and repeat that it's fine, they're allowed to leave, it's fine.

After clearing the police line (which required the most amount of ID waving and reassurance of all), Rachel walks down the sidewalk with the numb mindlessness that shock breeds even in the experienced.

Eventually: "So, do you two want to fly back, or should I try to call for another portal."

Lorna had powered what she could immediately during and after the arc-reactor had been connected up and Tony was stable. It was electromagnetic after all, and that was her domain. In the aftermath she'd fallen silent and withdrawn as much as Rachel. Though the amount of side eye she'd gotten from cops and others as they left made her twitchy and she followed along in Rachel's shadow to just get out of the tower. The green haired mutant didn't break the silence as they made their way out and onto the city sidewalks. Her metallic armor sinking and pooling into something less armor like and more like an overcoat before they stepped into the public eye. The chaos had drawn quite the crowd of curious onlookers.

It was only the offer of the portal that drew her gaze upwards, lost in her own thoughts as she was, and a faint, tired smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "A portal would be great. Thanks."

There's a ringing in her ears she just can't quite shake.

It's been there since she regained consciousness in the waning moments after Pietro and Wanda Maximoff's escape. It's stayed there since the elevator onward. She thinks it's tinnitus. It feels like it. But there's something about it she just can't shake that leaves her feeling unsteady and uncomfortable in a way that the damage of war on her ear drums never quite did. For some reason, the ringing tastes like red. She swears she can feel it as whispers, sometimes, as the elevator sinks into the lobby.

Shoulder slumped against the wall, Hope Summers decides it's tinnitus, as the elevator doors ding themselves open.

She doesn't particularly like to think about the alternatives, despite the fact that they're all that plague her thoughts.

"… mmf, ffuh muh wah to fly back, or should I try to…"

"Huh?" Her right eye blinks from its glazed apathy, the left still swollen shut in an ugly smear of purple. She looks up, and the slightest shift makes her realize her third upper right rib is bruised or broken. She hadn't even realized. A second passes by, before she pieces together the context of Rachel's question to realize what she's asking as they clear the sidewalk, pawning Rachel's powers to help hold herself internals together for the interim. Green eyes fall on Lorna in quiet contemplation.

"… Oh. Whichever, I guess." She sounds distant, detached. Distracted. As if to say, maybe the method of getting home really doesn't matter anymore. She feels the sting of her split, puffy lower lip as she asks, abruptly:

"Did you two know him?"

A glance followed Hope's figure, concern etched in the lines of Lorna's jaw as she watched the young red head continue to forward in that muted, stumbling manner. She didn't say anything in regards to it, simply kept along side in the event that she might stumble and fall. Or collapse. Her attention shifted as Rachel pulled out her phone to message Illyana briefly and she slowed her steps to match as they paused. Stopping was likely a good idea, considering both Hope and Rachel had gone through the ringer..

Lorna had escaped most physical damage, save being bumped and bruised and being emotionally wrung out.. She was fine.

It took a moment for Hope's question to register and she shoved her hands into the pocket of the jacket she'd just made. "He came to Genosha," She murmured, "He was told that the Magistrates were using his tech to kill people. He wanted to put a stop to it, so we worked together a few times to get them back. Pepper and I haven actually sat and talked several times. We worked to try to figure a work around on the UN embargo to get medical supplies and food to people." She shrugged, she liked Pepper more than Tony, but she figured most people did.

In some ways, falling apart at the seams in a physical way is a small comfort at a time like this.

It's more familiar, and thus so much more preferable, than to think about the rest of the ways things went south today.

So Hope just focuses on flicking the mental off switch on her nociceptors, killing her pain into a comfortably numbness as she slumps her cloak-clad back against the smooth pane of glass of that storefront's window. There's a lot of convenience to having the power to control your nervous system on demand; one of them is a distinct lack of need for drugs when you are your own living breathing pharmacy.

For as given to that childlike wonderment over the world as she can be, it can be hard to remember that the girl is a soldier through and through, until moments like this. She doesn't complain. Doesn't talk about herself. Doesn't ask for help. She just leans herself into the cool glass, heaves a sigh at the sensation of it all clashing against the inflammation of her skin… and listens.

"Mm," she voices, after a moment, a little sound laced in quiet contemplation as she knots her fingers up behind her back. Her stare tilts, towards the shattered glass and scream of sirens just beyond. Knew him by reputation, says Rachel.

"I've never met him, before today," she echoes, after a moment. "But it's hard not to live in the times I've lived without knowing him. One way or another, Starks leave their mark. You know?" Lorna mentions his time in Genosha. Hope's brow creases; her lips feel numb, as she twists them into a frown that isn't quite sure what it's frowning for.

"… I thought so." Her voice is a little quiet, a little cracked. Certain things manipulating neurons just can't control. "He didn't really seem the type."

To be like what they saw.

"I didn't think so, either," says Rachel. Her voice can sound so small sometimes in these tired moments.

For a long moment, Rachel finds it good enough that they can all simply exist. Even if it's with some difficulties. The growing storm of emotions coalescing around Stark Tower does its best to remind her that nothing is ever simple. Those knots reach forward and back in time.

"When we get back to the mansion, I'm going to make sure Savin is in lockup and then try to get the data processing. We need to move faster than FuturePharm can. What we have right now can probably take them all down."

Rachel reaches up with both hands to rub at her eyes. "Maybe those registration marches will have to change their signs."

The elder redhead hesitates a moment, and then drops her hands so that she can look in Lorna's direction. She waits to see if it gets the other woman's attention.

"Hey," she says, needlessly save to fuss around the hole where the tension used to be. "Thank you. For giving this a chance, I mean."

A shrug, and Lorna shifted as she leaned back against the building's side like the other two. Her gaze lingering on the street beyond and unfocused as she shifted her focus to the magnetic fields instead. It was like a security blanket, to see the world through the electromagnetic fields instead of the boring grey and dullness of the New York pavement. She glanced distractedly back at the two redheads, her lips pursing together as she considered Hope's words. She nodded, her brows furrowing faintly in thought.

Rachel's continued commentary of what to do when they got back to the mansion had her exhaling a breath, her hands rising to press the heel of her palms against her eyes. There was a thrumming back there, stress of the emotional kind leaving its mark. "I wasn't on board with killing him without confronting him first. It's not like we have a shortage of telepaths. I have no patience for those that want to use our people, but I'm not my father." She dropped her hands, glancing back at Rachel with a twist of her lips.

"We will have to confront him about it. It's not over."

Head tilting upward, Hope turns her one-eyed stare to the sky; it's probably the least unpleasant thing to be looking at, right now. There's not a lot of things in this world she has difficulty speaking about, for good or for ill. Call it a consequence of how she was raised.

This might be one of them.

There are, however, easier things to focus on: "… Hey. Those other two in that holo. The woman, and the one who wasn't Savin or Stark. Do we know them?" Cold sweat clings to her paled brow as she poses the question. She wipes it away, almost thoughtlessly, with the back of her hand as she squeezes her good eye open and closed. It's an easier thing to focus on — but it doesn't stop the way her thoughts keep drifting back to Stark, and what she almost did in that lab.

So she just falls silent as the other two women discuss Stark, discuss what they could have, should have, done. She takes a shallow breath, feeling the way her lungs strain her rib cage like an outside observer. Numbness, it's a hell of a thing.

"They'll change it," she remarks instead of the marchers, voice mildly breathless. "After today, they'll change it." She doesn't seem to be talking about it like it's a positive thing, though. Not all change is a good thing.

"Once we get our notes together, there's going to be a whole lot of confronting people," says Rachel. The usual cavalier confidence in her tone is coming back, even as the lack of specificity in her words hints at the looming conclusion: bringing the truth, whatever it is, to the Brotherhood.

She falls silent as Hope works through some topics. Rachel is generous with the pauses when they're necessary. TK-stapling yourself together isn't a great time.

"The other guy was Killian Aldrich," says Rachel. "He seems to be their… salesman, ringleader, I don't know. He's a public face and I've seen him calling shots for the project. I don't remember the woman." Rachel furrows her brow. "Maybe she's in my notes somewhere. Sometimes my memory gets… weird."

The air splits before the trio as another disc opens. Rachel steps forward, tugging on her gloves. "That's us."

One trip through Limbo later, the group is deposited in the hangar. The Blackbird, still hot from gunning it all the way from Ohio, rests nearby. Rachel looks it over as she waits for the other two to join her. She's not moving far from Hope until they're in the medbay.

"It got here in one piece. I don't sense any anguish, so I guess no one died."

A glance was spared toward Hope and Lorna could only nod, "Yeah, what Rachel said. I looked over the notes we have on file.. but I dunno exactly." She huffed, a creak of her boots against the concrete of the sidewalk followed as she pushed off the side of the building she'd been leaning against. "Thing were already changing Hope, today might be a tipping point, but they were already changing.." She offered softly, her gaze swinging back to Rachel as the portal opened and they made the short trip through Limbo back to the mansion proper.

Green eyes scanned the room around her, a sigh pulling from her lips as whatever tension had remained in her shoulders eased. They were off the street. Away from the public eyes and ears and back to the relative safety of the mansion.

"Well, that's something at least."

Sometimes my memory gets… weird.

Hope Summers' nose crinkles. She considers the jumbled mess of her own memories, tumbled through a mixer of chaotic probability. She's still sorting out which are hers and which might just be another hers and which might just be nothing but make believe made real.

It winnows that expression down into something sympathetic from the softening of her brows to the crease of her smile.

"Yeah," she commiserates, when she can find the voice to. "I get that."

The rest of the information is something she can mull over later, when she has the time to. For now, she takes in the sight of a disc cleaving air open before her with pale-faced stoicism. She steps forward… and then hesitates at Lorna's words. She looks back at her, with something that tries to be apologetic in her eyes. She doesn't really know what it's like to have brothers or sisters. So she just tries to temper her expression and tone through her haze of fatigue with what she thinks it'd be like, as best she can.

"It could have been a tipping point one way or the other. Now it's the other. We'll just have to deal with that fallout now."

… and then wordlessly makes her way through the jaunt to Limbo (which feels like the worst idea for quick transport she's ever heard of, still) all the way into stumbling onto the hangar flooring with a sharp suck of breath that goes to deep for all the pain to be dulled.

Her vision swims. She slaps a hand against the Blackbird's hull; the heat of it reminds her how little time has actually passed since they left. In some ways, that brings everything into some sort of sharp relief.

I guess no one died.

"Don't worry," she exhales, finding some measure of grim humor in the quiver of her voice. Fingers tremble as she pushes off her leaning post, slowly dragging her way towards the unfamiliar comforts of the medbay.

"I'm working on it."

There is a familiar aura approaching. All children instinctively know this aura. It unfolds wings as it draws closer, cloaking a radiant warmth down over the spirits of all the returning, limping people, a beacon that feels of mother and home.

Jean Grey's outward demeanor — an unassuming redhead, hurrying through the hangar — doesn't wholly reflect the scope of that aura, but something in the way she carries herself comes pretty close.

Her hair is bound up haphazardly, the way it usually is when some sudden crisis necessitates her to have it out of the way as quickly as possible, and the faint smell of lemon verbena that usually attends her has been replaced with the sharp sting of antiseptic that suggests she was in the medbay immediately prior to this.

Her gaze sweeps the arrivals, worried on the surface but with a dark sort of undercurrent that suggests anger beneath the surface. It sharpens when she sees Hope's state.

"Come," she says, hurrying forward to take Hope by the arm. "Medbay, now. I want to hear everything."

Rachel's expression softens with a smile as Hope commiserates. Nathan — Cable — means more to her than most things in life. Knowing his daughter makes her feel like maybe she's a part of the world.

And then Hope looks like she barely avoided passing out into a face full of hot airplane parts. Rachel rushes forward to support the younger redhead, her telekinetic power reaching out to doctor up what Hope is already holding together inside.

"Hope, seriously, let me help you —"

And then that aura comes. Rachel looks up before Jean enters, transfixed where she stands by that old inner debate. She's not mom. She's not mom. She's not mom, it's not fair to make her be mom.

"DAD! Rachel screams, splitting rubble in a telekinetic sprint to save a Scott Summers who isn't hers.

Rachel shakes her head, hoping to shake the memory loose with it.

"Yes, ma'am."


Rachel stayed with Hope until the other woman was stable. It gave her time to accept some minor tending to her own injuries before begging off to go take care of other problems. She's been gone since then, spending the rest of the witching hours dealing with the fallout of the mission. In this condition, sleep for her comes in the form of a meditative healing trance that has her shut away in the room she's crashing in upstairs.

The green haired mutant vacated the group of redheads as soon as she was able to. Bumps and bruises did not merit a check in the med bay, there were others that needed the bed space and the quiet. Instead she'd fled to the room Rogue had vacated that she'd taken over. A hot shower, discarding dusty armor into the corner and rather than attempt to sleep, she fell into the new routine of meditation she'd learned in Genosha from Magneto.

Lorna found comfort in losing herself in the magnetic fields that surrounded the Earth. To wrap her mind in the currents and stretch out her senses around her. To every burst of electricity and firing of synapses that happened in the Mansion around her was by far more comforting than trying to lie down and trying to sleep only to fail.

It was some time after, with coffee and left overs raided from the fridge that Lorna returned to the med bay per Jean's request for them to rejoin and discuss the happenings from the mission.

The door swung open as Lorna approached, stepping into the space and sweeping her gaze over the room and its occupants. A cup of coffee in one hand, her steel toed boots clicking against the tiles as she moved. "Right… so, are we covering basics of what we just went through, or are we discussing options going forward?"

Moonstar's stint in the medbay isn't terribly long.

At least, not once she wakes up.

Once the Cheyenne woman is awake it takes a matter of minutes for her sluggish brain to figure out she's in a safe place. That the group isn't under attack. That everyone is safe.

Relatively safe.

Okay, some people were really hurt, but not Dani.

Either way, it only took less than an hour for the woman to get cleaned up, read some of the after-action reports, and turn to something close to brooding. Stark Towers demolished. Stark himself hurt. 'Earthquakes' in Ohio from their battle that's caused damage and potential loss of life. Clearly, this particular round is X-Men 0 and Brotherhood 1.

Which only deepens the frown on Danielle Moonstar's face and it's still there as she returns to the main room of the medbay, freshly scrubbed and clothed in Mansion sweats. Automatically her gaze flicks around the room, before settling upon Lorna when the green-haired mutant arrives. "Probably a little bit of both. Catch up all of us who were out and then determine next steps."


Hisako Ichiki was not on that mission. Hisako did not get tagged, and so Hisako got to bed at a reasonable hour, got up at 0615, and slapped her VHS tape of Wolverine's training routine into the machine. She did every move and she did them hard.

OK, there was no VHS tape.



Hisako is in civilian trainer clothes as she comes down into the medical bay. Her hair is pinned up and back in a double-bun style. Tucked under her arm is a composition notebook labelled on the front (in Japanese) 'Case Notes - Hisako Ichiki - ARMOR - Vol 6 - Noriko get your own'. The contents are in a squiggling deranged lunatic of a calque script based on hiragana that she put together in a seminar on telepathic code-switching a year and a half ago. It is way more secure than a data file, even if a hypothetical Purifier spy team did have a fluent Japanese speaker on staff— which, to be fair, is pretty likely.

She comes in after Lorna, swerving around and moving towards a seating posture. "If I can review from the night crew notes… It sounds like we have someone in containment, we've informed SHIELD. It seems like everyone's receiving treatment." The notebook opens and Hisako clicks a pen with emphatic force. "It's pretty nuts out there," she says. "Over eight thousand head of livestock got loose when they busted open some factory farm. Pigs, mostly."

Meanwhile Nate landed the Blackbird and immediately left to look for Hulk, Stark, the Kryptonian and that Killian person. In no particular order, being a telepath he can multitask (some).

Did you know Nate can fly from New York to London in less than 15 minutes. That is quite impressive, maybe twice as fast as the Blackbird if he has a good day, and still he can't catch Quicksilver, who travels on *foot*. That is damn crazy speed there.

It angers him to no end Pietro is now his enemy. Because they were friends a couple years ago. He remembers how Quicksilver, Iron Man and he took down Apocalypse. It was glorious. Then came the Omega Shift. History got rewritten.

And now Quicksilver almost murdered Iron Man.

Nate has not been in the school much, he had to go and look for something to break. He had no luck in that side either. Now he is back, anger cooling due to exhaustion, his psionic presence in the Astral somewhat more subdued than usual. "How is everyone?" He asks, stepping in the medbay and looking around for the wounded and the visitors.

"It's — okay, really, Nathan would just call this a flesh wound—"

These are the increasingly feeble protests of an increasingly feeble Hope Summers, trying to shrug off her state with humor. Part of her wants to make her way to the medbay herself. To prove she can stand on her own two feet. That she's a survivor. That Nathan taught her well.

The other part, the part that becomes more prominent when she feels the support of the women who are supposed to be, by some definition, her aunt and grandmother, just feels a certain sense of warmth past the exhaustion that is hard to quantify.

And as she finds support against Rachel and guidance in Jean's grip, a tiny smile dares itself into tentative existence on her lips between the closing drift of her good eye.

"… This isn't all that bad, huh…" is the last thing she remembers saying.


Medbays are a convenient comfort that Hope Summers still finds herself at least partially uncomfortable with.

Sporadic visits to the Graymalkin aside when things got truly bad, Hope has mostly known a life of patchwork field repairs and jury-rigged medical work that makes relative luxuries like this hard to fully adjust to. Usually, she feels a subconscious leeriness like one gets when waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Right now, though? The red-haired future-soldier looks, for once, at ease resting on designated medical bed. Bandaged up, gauze pad comfortably secured to her left eye, her head lilts quietly to her left as she sleeps, breathing coming in slow, gentle rhythms. She looks peaceful there in a way she usually doesn't, even in her enthusiasm over the wonders of the modern world (of the past); more than that, she actually looks her age.

Just another kid, exhausted and vulnerable like everyone else.

Of course, it doesn't last. As voices start to filter in to the bleary processes of her waking mind, that uncovered eye slowly opens with a groggy flutter of lashes. She stares at the people gathered with some dawning awareness; the first thing she sees is Jean, sitting next to her.

"g'mornin" she mumbles, half-awake, before she realizes they're not alone. She blinks, and then slowly squints, lips pursing faintly as if trying to parse all the faces of the newcomers.

"'m awake," is her answer for Nate, as she slowly starts to drag her exhaustion-stiff body up into a sitting position with a grimace. Her head tilts, just slightly.

"… so we wanna do this now, huh?" It doesn't sound like a complaint, at least.

"Okay. Let's get into it then." And once more, it is back to soldier mode.

Did you know that Nathan would just call this a flesh wound?

"Nathan," Jean says gently, "can be a bit of an idiot."

Jean stays at Hope's bedside, as the rest beg off and go to decompress for a few hours. She may even occasionally hold her hand, but only when the younger woman is drifting in sleep. Hours pass in this way, and people trickle back, and Jean mindfully lets Hope's hand go before anyone can come in — or Hope can wake up. She's found most soldiers need to keep up their appearances.

Her hands fold into her lap instead as she thinks. Her hair, once again unbound, drifts over a shoulder.

"Some of us were not there, and some not conscious for all of what happened," she says, her voice quiet. "Let's review, and develop a course of action from the full picture. No doubt the attack on Stark will have mobilized the appropriate authorities to assist with the situation in Ohio, adding onto the emergency response already there, so at the least the situation there will be under control quite quickly without our input."

"Nathan," Hisako greets as she gets ready to write down recaps of the situation. She gives Hope an encouraging look but this is the most that she has to offer… for she left her opiate drugs upstairs.

"If anyone objects to notes?" Hisako pauses, because otherwise there is hella stenography going on.

"I don't object to notes." Dani states to Hisako, a faint note of appreciation to her tone, "It was a busy battle."

Or so it felt at the end there, for Danielle Moonstar. All flash, bang, pop, OHMYGODWHATJUSTHITME.

"I suppose cliff notes version first -" And here Moonstar marshals her thoughts, "We had evidence of a group experimenting on mutants and when we went to check in on the latest location we found a bit more than anticipated." She glances aside to Lorna and Hope, "Getting in was relatively easy, but then the man named Savin greeted us, as well as Grey. At that point the shit just hit the fan."

"I heard we captured Savin." Dani asks, her gaze seeking out Lorna and Hope again for confirmation. "We should interrogate him. Find out everything he knows. We'll need Illyana too - there's magic surrounding him. Familiar magic." Her voice turns tight now, "She should be able to pull it apart or get to the heart of how he obtained it."

"Do we know what hit us in the end? All I saw was a blur and then my face was meeting a wall which was lights out for me."

"I wouldn't say we got a real opposition," adds Nate gruffly, double-checking Hope is well enough with a glance to Jean. Do they need a recap. Scott is not here, after all. Telepathic dumps work. Hisako? Who is that girl? She is really following the procedures to the letter.

"Two of the men in the facility were enhanced, only two, against so many X-Men, they had no chance. The mercenaries were pretty much irrelevant," so why so many injured? "There were some difficulties, mostly because Hulk is hard to handle and Molly, Bruiser need more training." Yeah, and if his namesake was not an Extremis-enhanced Molly would have murdered him. For a hat. It is not just training she need.

"It was the Brotherhood, and our mistake was thinking we could talk with them," like they have been doing for months. Just talking, trying to convince them. "Their Kryptonian ally hit us. Half the team was incapacitated outright. Then she engaged Hulk, who actually was more than able to physically match her, but the collateral was considerable". "And…" he looks at Rachel. "I suppose we made a hard call, withdraw and try to save Stark instead of fighting and maybe capture the Kryptonian." He was perhaps not fully convinced, but older sister and all that. Just try to find anyone else that can command Nate to withdraw from a fight. There are maybe two or three more people in the whole universe.

Nathan being a bit of an idiot is a point Hope would readily concede.

Score one for Jean Grey.

There's a strange feeling of the absence of another layer of warmth on her hand that Hope can't quite put her finger on; she only dwells on the comforting oddness of it for a moment, stifling a yawn and resisting the urge to rub at her eyes as she takes stock of everyone present. A few familiar faces, a few unfamiliar. It feels, a bit, like watching a tight-knit club of people from outside a window pane. It's not entirely a bad thing. In a way, it's revitalizing seeing how things were, are, with her own eyes.

"We got Savin," she confirms after a moment, wincing only mildly as she reaches behind her to rub at the back of her neck. "And the data that he tried to scrub out. Rachel and I are handling that." Tired as she is, new and peripheral to the team as she is, Hope seems very insistent on this point if only in the subtle firmness of her tone.

"It was some… one, I think. I didn't get a good look before they went to town on the Hulk. I went in pursuit of the Maximoffs." Her brows furrow inward, lips twisting into a pensive frown. "They decided that Stark was a threat that had to be eliminated thanks to that holorecording. Rachel and Lorna tried to talk them out of it, but…" Well, they all should know by now what happened with that. Her eye squeezes in a slow blink that threatens continued sleep before she fights it off.

"… Well, if they weren't there, he would have been definitely dead instead of mostly there." It's about the best she can say about what happened there.

"We don't have confirmation one way or another about whether it was really Stark in that recording." A slow exhale shudders its way past her lips. Her shoulders lift, stiffly, in a shrug. "I don't think it was him, though. People like Stark don't screw the world over for profit." Maybe that's a vote of confidence, or faint praise; it's hard to say, by the content of her voice alone.

"… either way, the Maximoffs and their wrecking ball got away and left us to pick up all the pieces of their mess."

Hisako scribbles in her book. Her crabbed glyphs record truth. Even if they all get killed, even Doug, the records will survive and can probably get decrypted in the future… or perhaps, the future past.

Dani goes first. "Some kind of wizard stuff," Hisako says, noting about 'Savin' and apparently underlining it. The talk about Illyana is pretty routine so she makes her estimate of what Savin looks like. It resembles a rat. She is totally wrong.

"I did get the impression you had them outmatched," Hisako comments. "Bruiser needs to get on her cardio, that's like her big weak spot."

She pauses. "Oh, crap - a Kryptonian? Like those are like Superman, right? Geez!" Scribble scribble scribble. "I think that was a good call because I do /not/ think we could've held someone like that. Like, maybe in the Danger Room?" scribble scribble scribble

"We got the data," Hisako says, drawing double rectangles around what is probably 'The Data'. "Awesome. Is it in the Blackbird? I saw they synched the drives." A pause, an anxious clicking of the pen. "What was the recording - was he saying like, 'Fudge mutants' or something?"

Lorna settled on a chair in the med bay, her legs crossed as she reclined and sipped at her coffee. As others funneled in after her, she waited for questions and details on what people wanted to cover before she decided to launch into anything. Better to let others figure out where the gaps needed to be. A glance was spared for Hope, one of sympathy for being stuck in bed. She knew that frustration.

Dani's questions earned a nod, "We were able to get into the facility's computers. Pietro and Wanda arrived.. They didn't attack us. And we found a holographic video of Stark saying more or less, that he was using mutants in the experiments as lab rats and was funding the facilities we've been hitting." Her lips twisted, and she glanced at the others and back to Nate with a faint frown marring her expression. There was a defensiveness about how he spoke about her half-siblings in her posture and in her gaze.

"The twins left, and that's when we got knocked around and pursued them to Stark's tower. In holorecording mentioned a collar specifically to block Wanda's powers. Considering what they've gone through," Her voice was clipped and thick with tension. "They took it as a direct threat." Understandably. Was left out, but lingered in her mind. Hope's commentary about not having confirmation either way about Stark had the green haired mutant nodding her head.

"I for one would like confirmation either way. Sooner than later."

Hisako makes the :grimacing: emoji in real life as Lorna fills in her gap in knowledge. She also draws it in the book next to the notarization.

"Notes are fine," Jean says, with a faint smile towards Hisako.

She lapses into silence after as people offer their various viewpoints, opinions, and concerns. The woman processes it all with a weary look, her green eyes lifted as she regards the ceiling — or something beyond.

"Stark is stable?" Jean eventually asks. "Verifying the holorecording should be a top priority, but in the sense of vindication for Stark. I do not believe he would do this. He alone has been responsible for many of the advances that have been made against collar technology, and has presented us his information and his work when he did not have to. I think you were correct to prioritize him over what was very obviously a stalling tactic. Partially because he is a resource we cannot afford to lose… but mostly because that is what we are, what we should be about.

"We will not leave someone to die if we can save them."

She looks back down, around the room. Lorna's insistence on confirmation draws a nod. "We need whatever information we can pry out of this Savin, to put a stop to this for good," she adds. "At the least, we have a clearer picture of who we oppose now. Has someone contacted Illyana about the captive? Where are we on processing the data from the servers?"

No real opposition. That earns a sharp look from Danielle Moonstar and the expression on her face only worsens when the Brotherhood is mentioned, specifically the Twins. A sharp look enters her eyes, along with a small point of confusion, but mostly her expression hits incensed at this point.

Her expression only eases when Lorna speaks up in defense of Pietro and Wanda. A look is sent over to the green-haired mutant, even as some of the tension Moonstar oddly feels begins to ease. "Agreed." Moonstar says, "Pietro was scared. People often do incredibly stupid things when they're scared."

When Hope speaks, Moonstar shifts her attention to the bed bound red-head. "I'm in the same mindset. I don't think that was the real Tony. Sure, he sometimes does incredibly dumb shit too, but he has ethics." No matter that she herself silently questioned those ethics when she watched the video. "All who fight for us have ethics." Murmurs the black-haired woman, then it's to Jean, when the other red-head speaks up.

"I'm sure Rachel or I can get word to Illyana. Or even Kitty or Piotr. Consider that done." The question of data and servers and just where they're at causes Moonstar to look back to Hope.

Nate didn't remember that small detail in the holo. "Could it have been specifically setup for Quicksilver to see it? To provoke a rash action?" He thinks a moment. "So far the Brotherhood has been in three of our operations against this group, arriving shortly after we did. Why?"

He leans against the wall, trying to push past his exhausting to think. "Could be they are watching us, or they were watching the places and our presence triggered theirs. But I think the first time they were quite surprised. I should have checked." Ah, hindsight and all that.

"Yeah, the holo would not have worked on the X-men," he decides. Even if some of the X-Men dislike Stark and believed it, Scott or Rachel wouldn't have anyone go to attack him. And Rachel could easily verify if Stark is clean, since she has been 'seeing' him so often. "So they knew the Brotherhood would see it."

On the topic of STARK LIES, Hisako says, "Could it be Mystique? I guess if it was, the Maximoffs would know." Notes keep getting taken. She seems neutral on the topic of Tony Stark, a neutrality that she hopes will one day be repaid with free technological goodies that are not evil.

She will be waiting a while.

The video comes up and Hisako makes more notes. "I haven't heard anything other than the backup," Hisako reports to Jean, leaning back in her chair. She pushes out a breath.

"Why would they need to build an installation in Ohio to show the Maximoffs a video like this? Why not leak it online?" Hisako says after Nate speaks.

Fingertips scratch softly at the gauze strapped to her left arm as Hope listens. The entirety of this supernatural element to the Extremis is met with a healthy dose of skepticism on her part — but then, she's been to Limbo. There's really not time for questioning things like that, at this point.

And frankly… she's just too tired to devote any energy to anything other than the mission breakdown. She has a sublime poker face — Cable is an excellent teacher for that — but she's still a bit sluggish to act. Just a little bit slow on her reactions. Like she was registering the entire conversation at a half-step behind everyone else. She'd like to get up, to move, and that frustrates her. Being powerless.

She hates it.

"… the data? It's with Rachel. I entrusted her with it before trying to head off the twins." She chews at the inside of her cheek, her green gaze vaguely unfocused as she stares at a patch of wall. "It's going to stay with her until we figure out everything that's in it. It shouldn't be too long for us to sort it all out. If there's anything in there worth anything at all, we'll find it."

Green gaze squeezes in a blink. Her vision grows a bit blurry. She doesn't show it, even as she tilts her head back against her pillows. "If they just leaked it, it'd be more suspicious. This is more natural, in the heat of the moment, it…"

She shakes her head as if to dismiss a thought, and not shake off weariness. She smiles a small, hapless smile as she listens to Jean talk about saving lives.

"It's nice to… be in a place where we have that option…"

Her eye shutters closed again, and yet even as it does, she still talks, as if not even cognizant of how she's slowly drifting off…

"'m gonna… leave the weird demon crap t'you guys… just kinda freaks me o…"

… until she just quietly lapses back into sleep again.

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