edge_of_forever | Entries tagged with pc:charles xavier

It was the light that woke him. Just a slight change in the brightness of the room, but it was enough to draw Erik from sleep. He blinked, his eyes still blurry, at first only able to register the blinking.

He sat up, frowning, rubbing hard at his eyes with the heels of his hands, twisting to look over at his window with a sense of dread slowly building in his stomach.

107:53:05... 04... 03...

The sight of the countdown put Erik in motion instinctively, almost mindlessly. He vaulted to his feet, grabbed a shirt and tugged it on, calling his communicator to him with a wave of his hand. As soon as it smacked into his palm, he pressed his thumb to the screen and dialed Mystique, heading for the door while it rang. No sooner had he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway than someone smacked into him, sending him reeling, the communicator bouncing out of his hand onto the floor.

sharpshooting

Since Pullo's party it had felt to John like the entire station was holding its breath. Waiting for what, he couldn't be sure, but he was certain the monsters hadn't been the end of whatever the station was building towards. He went about with that nagging sensation of having forgotten something, and he didn't think he was the only one. Everyone seemed subdued; not quite nervous, but never entirely relaxed.

Well, John had had quite enough of tiptoeing around. Back home it would be the height of summer-time, and it seemed stupid not to enjoy it. At this point even fake sunlight was better than none, and he said as much in his invitation. The arboretum provided more than enough space for everyone to gather, and it wasn't hard to enlist a few people to help put up a few tent poles and a sheet for a makeshift canopy. Tea, lemonade and a boozy punch of dubious colour (but refreshing taste) were set out, along with a very random assortment of biscuits which he hoped would be augmented by people bringing their own offerings.

Soon the space was buzzing with people, and John sat contentedly on the grass, sipping a glass of lemonade. It may have been a frivolous way to spend an afternoon, but there was an old saying (one almost as British as tea-time itself) about gathering rosebuds which John thought was all the justification he would ever need.

[You know the drill; tag in, tag each other, tag everyone!]

Current Location: the arboretum

xiii_legion

Once all the bodies are disposed of and the station is hammered (more or less) back into place Pullo figures it's time for a celebration. Everybody seems a bit down in the dumps, which is understandable - there's nothing left to kill, and that can make anyone a bit grumpy. But they had been stunningly successful at the killing they did do, and that deserves a party.

After a few days of preparation the hall is ready. The theme, if it could be said to have one, seems to be meat - there's a large variety of roasted and smoked meats threatening to buckle a table along with various other fruits, fish and breads, and enough scarves and tapestries adorning the walls to keep even Lady Troi happy. Most importantly, there's amphoras of wine all over the place as well as copious amounts of the harder spirits he liberated from some of the busted-open tavern rooms on the upper floors of the station. A makeshift altar to Fortuna stands along one wall - he has no idea how observant people are and whether they'll be smart enough to leave offerings to the goddess, but might as well give them the chance, eh?

Pullo was meant to be a legionary, there's no doubt about that. But as far as other careers go, party-planner wouldn't be the worst option... as long as you're happy with a bacchanal for every occasion.

sharpshooting

The tray full of hyposprays looked grim in the soft lighting of their imagined sick bay. John had to admit the holodeck had proven useful beyond his expectations-- even if the end result they'd reached was less of a sure thing than he was really comfortable with.

This is going to work, he told himself for the hundredth time. It was a far cry from a guarantee, but the results had been promising with Forge. Really, Lauren and Sherlock had been right: they didn't have the time to spend on being completely sure. It was their last hope. They had to take it.

He picked up the first vial and slid it into its casing, bending over his first patient-- Mrs. Troi, as it happened-- and pressing it to her neck. She stirred, and John began to speak in a quiet tone that effectively masked the relief he felt. "You're waking up now, Mrs. Troi. Take slow breaths, don't move around too much just yet, and I'll be by with a glass of water for you in just a moment."

John looked up and met Lauren's eyes where she stood giving a similar speech to Dr. Banner. She returned his little smile in wordless acknowledgment: the antidote was working, at least for now.

[see the OOC post here for more info.]

proserpinian

<5:01:ψ | 24:00:00:0000> INITIATE PROGRAM< HEMLOCK.EXE
<24:00:00:0001> PROGRAM INITIATED< HEMLOCK.EXE
PROGRAM LAUNCH< 5:01:ψ | 09:00:00:0000>
PRIME DIRECTIVES:<
> [ CLIMATIZATION : < O2:20.94% > < N:78.08% > < +CCl₈O | “HEMLOCK” > < TEMP: 19ºC>

<5:01:ψ | 08:00:00:0000> LAUNCH PROGRAM< HEMLOCK.EXE
<08:00:00:0001> PROGRAM INITIATED<
RUN<
> ALL DIRECTIVES:)

MAY 1 | 8:00 A.M. :

At 08:00 on the Proserpina, a colorless gas begins pumping through the air vents of Floors 1-5, initially detectable only by the inconspicuous but distinct smell of freshly cut grass.

Any subjects containing the specific nanites which restrain preternatural ability will experience a gradual decline in health, beginning with a vasovagal syncope response and followed by cardiac arrest within several hours. These subjects will find themselves experiencing a range of typical presyncope symptoms such as dizziness, blurred vision, muscle weakness, hallucinations and lightheadedness for their remaining two-to-three minutes of consciousness.

Subjects without the aforementioned nanites will be unaffected by CCl₈O.

As of HEMLOCK.EXE’s program launch, CCl₈O will be a standard element in the Proserpina’s air mix.

xiii_legion

"...well okay," Pullo was saying, "I'm sure you think that's true, but you have to admit, my explanation makes just as much sense." 'Giant balls of gas' indeed. He snorted as he dealt out the cards - one, two to them both - and then laid the next three face-up on the table. A three, eight, and a King, which didn't do much with the five and Jack that he held. He narrowed his eyes at his opponent, then reached out and tossed two bottlecaps into the pile in the middle of the table.

The table in the rec room was more 'authentic', Mystique said, though there didn't seem to be anything authentic about the bright green fuzz coating it. The lighting was certainly atmospheric, and he had hauled along several bottles of what the replicators had gifted him when he asked for bourbon, though Mystique had made a face when she tasted it. They were playing there instead of her room because supposedly there were going to be more players tonight, an eventuality that Pullo relished. Not that he didn't like playing with her, but damnit, she knew all his tells.

Which was probably why she called his bluff, and his next two bluffs, and probably why the pile of bottlecaps was much bigger on her side of the table than his, and growing.

"Godsdamnit, woman, stop taking all my money! How am I going to pay the dancing girls if you keep robbing me blind!"

[tag into any TL you like - there's no posting order, just go nuts! wheeee!]

vivat_regina

The first thing that hit one on entering the holodeck was the smell of fresh air, grass and trees - in short, spring. There was a light breeze in the air, though the sun was warm, and there was even the gentle sound of birdsong off in the distance. Off to the right was an inviting looking evergreen wood with spires of long, straight pines, the distinctive brown, needle-cushioned floor of a coniferous forest, and shafts of light filtering between the wide-spaced trees. Off to the left was a picturesque little stableblock, apparently standing all alone in the middle of nowhere, some horses milling around in the pasture surrounding it. Off in front were rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

Inside the stable, what Regina couldn't believe was the smell. Fresh forage, clean horses, oiled leather - it was all just as it should be, warm light filtering in through the slatted stable block windows, the sounds of the horses shuffling and nickering to one another in their stalls.

She understood illusion - all too well. But the ability to fool the senses so completely on such a scale was simply remarkable - all the moreso that it was done not with magic, but with science.

"Computer, I'd like a palfrey mare, chestnut with a white blaze, a little over fifteen hands."

"There are six varieties of palfrey available: the single-foot, the stepping pace, the tolt, the rack, the-"

"Forget it," she interrupted. "Just give me a big black Thoroughbred."

And there she was standing in front of her, a living, breathing, and yet apparently non-existent horse. She was even a little antsy, snorting and picking her feet up in her eagerness to get going. Regina was no less eager.

"Computer: flat saddle, curb bit and bridle, please."

"There are four varieties of English saddle available: close contact, dressage-"

"All-purpose, computer, give me a break here."

Trying something a little different for this EP. Since it seems weird to me everyone coming upon a person at a given moment, particularly when it's a time like saddling up, I've also put two TLs in comments marking other points later in the same general timeframe and location, also open to everyone. Pick whichever setting you fancy; spread things about a bit - think of it as three EPs for the price of one!

princess_bruiser

The thing about a ninja is, a ninja doesn't need a superhero name.

A ninja is just a ninja. A ninja is a force of nature. The wind doesn't have a name, the darkness doesn't have a name, and vengeance doesn't have a name...

(But if she had a ninja name, she thinks it would probably be Kimiko Shadowborn, like the awesome girl ninja from Magic Teen Warriors : Xtreme because that is a really cool ninja name.)

And after she sneaks out of the wardrobe, she knows just who her first target is.

One of the bad mutants. She's not going to hurt them, because she's not a bad guy. She just wants them to know that the station has eyes. ...HER eyes. And that she's got their number, and they better not try anything bad. Also, she's got this costume and she just had her first ninja class with Wolverine-sensei, so she really wants to do something.

So: Magneto and Mystique. Time to track them down... ninja style.

- - -

Mystique's on her way back from a swim, wrapped in a terry robe and wearing flip-flops, when she sees something familiar-looking on the ground, just outside the Arboretum.

It's a bullet. An AK-47 shell, to be precise. Just sitting there. She looks up from where she's crouched and sees another one, farther down the hall.

What the hell...

She thinks of the block of rooms up ahead, half of which lock sporadically, and wonders if it's even remotely possible that the armory has opened up.

Later, in retrospect, the fact that a child set her up with a breadcrumb-style bullet trail and she fell for it calls for some serious self-examination.

---

Bam! Mystique walks in, and the door shuts behind her. Molly-- err, the faceless ninja-- presses a button on the wall and locks it. There's a mirror in Mystique's room, so she can see Mystique, but Mystique can't see... the ninja.

Mystique's face is priceless.

"What the #$@%?!"

"Hello, Mystique," says the ninja in her most mysterious, loudest whisper. "I think we should have a talk. ...and no more swears."

"Molly," Raven says through her teeth, looking like she's about to try busting through the glass. "Unlock the door. Now."

[ C'mon, tag in and be party to Mystique's fury and humiliation or Molly's mysterious admonishments of a former X-villain!! xD Depending on your tag-in, I'll give you one, the other, or both (and let you know via IM or email) at least until your character either frees Mystique or encourages Molly to get a new hobby. Feel free to pretend your character got the wrong door and stumble into Mystique's side, or see Molly's door open a crack. ]

Current Location: interrogation rooms; 5th floor.

withmyshield

Sharon marches into the holodeck, which is empty [apparently there aren't any takers for her challenge, and it's probably for the best -grown men crying isn't the most fun way to start a beach day] and plunks her bag down in the middle of the empty space. She looks pretty hysterical dressed the way she is standing in the middle of an empty room on a space station, but Sharon doesn't give a damn about that right now.

"OK." She puts on her sunglasses. Let's do this.

"So, I want a beach. The best one you've got, preferably from Earth. I'm talking white sand, palm trees, blue skies, possibly a bar serving nothing but drinks with little umbrellas in them. Out of coconuts. There better not be any wildlife bigger than a starfish, either. Seriously. I see a single wild boar or the suggestion of a shark and I will flip out. Your little sweeper bots will blow all their circuits cleaning up the mess I'll make." The threat sounds pathetic even as she says it, but her powerlessness has become something of a joke even to her.

"Oh yeah, we're gonna need some chairs. Maybe a hammock."

Every time she speaks, there's a soft noise as the room reconfigures to her design. In the end, Sharon is standing on a stretch of beach that seems to go on for miles, not far from a long dock at the end of which she thinks she can make out a grass-hut bar. Next to her is a canvas chair with a big red umbrella. Thoughtful. It reminds her of a vacation she took in Aruba a few years back. Well, she almost got there. Rerouted to Cuba at the last minute, but Fury had been really apologetic about it.

She sits down and pops open the sunscreen. She also doesn't care that fake sun probably isn't harmful to her skin -it's all about the smell.

morethanhuman

[March 16]

Charles finds Erik trying to push his power past its current limits and tries to offer some friendly advice.

[Here|Rated G]

commanderbond

Bond actually really bloody hated this station. The people were fine for the most part, some more than others, but the idea of being trapped for so long had really started to grate, especially on the heels of having had a taste of freedom in Jurassic Park. He could do without the dinosaurs, certainly, but he could do with more freedom.

He'd explored the fifth level to some extent but even that lost its appeal after a few days. Today, he'd decided to train - on the off chance he did end up back home eventually, he didn't want M drumming him out of MI-6 solely because he'd let his physical fitness standards go downhill.

Running first (which was less satisfying in place), then push-ups and maybe combat training if he could find a willing partner. He didn't know if there would be many on his level but certainly Barton might be, or Rogers.

It wasn't the excessively large bottle of scotch he wanted but it was possibly a wiser choice all around.

[[Find him in the sparring room!]]

morethanhuman

[March 14, 9:30 PM]

Erik goes to the kitchen for a snack. Charles finds him there. It isn't quite the reunion either of them had imagined.

[Here]

inhishead

There were no signs, but the woman in the projection had referenced the "Porta Ianualis" as the next room he'd see after his precautionary quarantine had ended. So when Charles jolted awake [out of a doze, sitting on his little bunk], that was how he identified the room he found himself in. The Latin didn't bode well, of course, but at least it was familiar. How bad could it be if his abductors knew the Romance languages? The room was larger by half than any cathedral or sporting arena he'd ever seen, and he turned in place, goggling.

This will certainly teach me to involve myself with covert agencies...

Nothing about this experience thusfar screamed "American", but what else was he to think? Certainly an Oxford academic didn't garner attention from...well, any sort of people who orchestrated abductions and cells with energy fields for bars, with his scholarly works.

He didn't sense anyone nearby, and hadn't for as long as he'd been here, wherever here was. That almost certainly meant he was alone, unless his captors were also telepaths, or employing the skills of one, which would certainly be an interesting development. It was far too quiet for his taste, accustomed as he was to hearing the thoughts of others almost without interruption.

"Hello!" he called out, both hands cupped to his mouth.

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the city on the edge of forever

[[ a pan-fandom roleplaying game ]]

Entries tagged with pc:charles xavier

The Final Countdown [August 1, 6:07 AM]

like a tea-tray in the sky

Fors Fortuna (GP)

wake-up call [gathering post]

(no subject)

Ante up!

Fact: girls love horses

The rise of the mutant ninja.

Beach Party GP

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3.14 | 20:22

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November 2013

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