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Riley Barton

"Are we living a life that is safe from harm? Of course not. We never are. But that's not the right question. The question is: are we living a life that is worth the harm?"

0 · 2,971 views · located in Descendant Tower

a character in “Descendant Academy”, as played by barnes

Description

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xxxxxxxxxR I L E Y x B A R T O Nxxx• x p r o t e g e x o f x h a w k e y e x •




"Are we living a life that is safe from harm? Of course not. We never are. But that's not the right question. The question is: are we living a life that is worth the harm?"
- Cecil Palmer




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n i c k n a m e s x // x ryebread , baby hawk , hawkling

a g e x // xtwenty-three

g e n d e r x // xcis male

s e x u a l i t y x // xhomosexual

o r i g i n x // xcarlisle, pennsylvania

s p e c i e s x // xhuman

c l a s s i f i c a t i o n x // xlevel 4—artificial






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D E M E A N O R


h e i g h t x // x191cm / 6'3

w e i g h t x // x89kg / 196lbs

h a i r x // xRiley's hair is a dark walnut brown, almost black indoors, shot through with streaks of lighter auburn in the sun. He prefers to keep it long, swept upward every which way—as long as it's out of his eyes he doesn't care much how it falls. Occasionally, when he needs to look more put together, he'll run a comb and some gel through it to keep it down, but the truth is he prefers its natural unruly state.

e y e s x // xHazel, and with lashes darker and longer than is usual for his sex, Riley's eyes hold tints of green and honey brown swirled together.

o d d i t i e s x // xRiley's left eyebrow is marked through with a small scar, and the pads of his hands and fingers are marked with small, faded scars from the many bowstrings he's gone through over the years. He has a tattoo of an arrow on his left forearm, and "volant ad astra" in small, neat script on his right forearm.

a p p e a r a n c e x // xIt's easy to pinpoint him as an intimidating man, towering at over six feet tall, and with a natural intense scowl to complement his unfriendly image. However, he more than makes up for this with an easygoing smile, always ready to flash it at anyone he speaks to. He tends to keep something of a messy beard, or leave his jaw marked with stubble. His posture is usually casual and relaxed, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes fixed on whoever has his attention. He has the habit of worrying at his lips with his teeth, biting into them unconsciously whenever he gets nervous or upset, as well as a habit of running his hand through his hair. He prefers comfortable clothing over fancy clothes, choosing soft sweaters and loosely-fitting shirts to match with an array of pants and sneakers. During training, he tends to wear a version of the original Hawkeye's protective vest, modified for his own use, and uses his own bow, arrows, and quiver, all engineered to suit his needs.






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P O W E R S

n o n e x // x Riley is human—unaltered, unenhanced.


P R O F I C I E N C I E S

a r c h e r y x // x Riley is trained in archery, specialising in the use of regular bows, longbows, compound bows, and crossbows with near-perfect accuracy. He is capable of firing multiple arrows at a single target within seconds, hitting multiple targets in a few or even singular stroke, and hitting targets from a distance away.
m a r k s m a n s h i p x // x Skilled in the utilisation of other throwing weapons, such as throwing blades, boomerangs, or throwing stars, although his weapon of choice would still be the bow and arrow. He is also capable of shooting using various types of firearms with a high accuracy and lethality rate.
a c r o b a t i c s x // x He possesses exceptional human strength, endurance, and stamina. His good reflexes and agility, coupled with athletic training, allow him to execute numerous complex acrobatic maneuvers.
m a r t i a l x a r t s x // x Trained in various forms of hand-to-hand combat, Riley demonstrates great skill in his overall martial ability.
s t r a t e g y x // x While not exactly leader material, Riley is a highly competent strategist, tactician, and field commander.
w e a p o n s x p r o f i c i e n c y x // x Riley's incredible reflexes and hand-eye coordination allow him to wield most weapons with relative ease. He is skilled in swordsmanship and the use of knives and staffs.
w e a p o n s x e n g i n e e r i n g x // x He doesn't rely solely on established weapons engineers like Tony Stark to create the specialised-use arrows his father was known for using—he's able to design and engineer his own arrows, improving on previous designs and coming up with new designs of his own to better suit his needs.
p e a k x h u m a n x c o n d i t i o n x // x In terms of strength, speed, stamina, senses, agility, reflexes, longevity, endurance, and healing, his stats sit somewhere beyond the average human's, but still remains, like any other human, mortal.
l a n g u a g e s x // x He is able to speak a number of languages fluently, including German, and Russian, and sign language.



G A D G E T S

p a d d e d x a r m o u r x // x Riley's vest doubles as armour, essentially functioning as a lightweight Kevlar vest.
b o w x // x Coupled with a quick-release quiver, it's enhanced to shoot with maximum accuracy, and shaped to give Riley the most comfortable shoot without overstretching himself.
t r i c k x a r r o w s x // x Aside from the typical arrows he uses, he also employs the use of trick weaponry, specialised to perform a variety of functions. His arsenal of arrows include cable arrows, electromagnetic pulse arrows, explosive arrows, magnetic arrowheads, taser arrows, etc.
c o m b a t x k n i v e s x // x He carries a number of combat knives on his person, should his bow fail him.



W E A K N E S S E S

m o r t a l i t y x // x Under all the high-tech equipment and the fancy moves, Riley is still human. A few blows in the right spots and he'd be easy to take down, though he'd fight like hell to keep his greatest weakness from ever showing.
i n a d e q u a c y x // x Given that the average classification among the academy is a level 6, as a level 4 Riley feels deep-seated doubt at his own ability. He's constantly worrying that the students don't think he's as good as the rest of them, or that he won't fit in because he amounts to less.
a n x i e t y x // x Diagnosed with high-functioning anxiety at the age of nineteen, Riley fights every day to quash the feelings of stress and worry that are constantly threatening to overwhelm him. Nineteen was already too late a diagnosis, though, as he'd been living with it for almost six years by then, having first developed it when he began training to follow in his father's footsteps at the age of thirteen.



F E A R S

f a i l u r e x // x He's afraid of failing his father, of failing the Hawkeye name, of being a failure to the entire academy.
f a l l i n g x // x It's just a silly little fear, maybe a byproduct of his anxiety, but he's always worried whenever he jumps from a high point or practices flipping around like the little acrobat he is that he won't be able to catch himself in time and he'll fall thirty feet and break his neck.
t h e x d a r k x // x More specifically, he's afraid of being alone in the dark with his anxiety and his thoughts. So he always keeps a light on in his room.






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P E R S O N A L I T Y
xxxxxxxxxxxx• x easygoing x • x energetic x • x thorough x • x guileless x •


Riley is incredibly easy to make friends with. He's a people-oriented person who genuinely cares for others, and who doesn't expect much in return for his friendship. This is why he's always the first to say hi, the first to introduce himself, the first to offer an ear if the other party needs it. That is not to say he can't read others; he can, but he will always choose to see the better side of people, to give them the benefit of the doubt and believe that they are good people until they prove to him otherwise.

He likes to keep himself busy, always rushing around to occupy his time with things to do, sometimes even taking on extra tasks to make himself useful to others. He finds joy in being able to help people whenever they need it. Unfortunately, this opens him up easily to being used by others, a concept he doesn't seem to be able to grasp. An idealistic man, Riley likes to believe that many people share his innocence and openness, and this often offers him the opportunity to be let down or hurt when people invariably end up taking advantage of him.

A teacher's idea of the perfect student—he doesn't just do his work, he takes the time to go above and beyond by practicing relentlessly outside of classes, as he believes that as long as he possesses the ability, he should always try to perform to the best of his abilities. He's methodical in his approaches, which explains why he's such a good engineer—he has the patience to take the time and effort to analyse not only his work, but also his mistakes, in order to understand how he can better himself.

He's likely to believe most things he's told, because he doesn't quite understand the concept of lying. He's used to being entirely truthful with others, and even if he has to admit to something bad, he'll try to soften the blow so that he doesn't hurt feelings too badly. He's genuine in all his interactions, and will expect nothing less than the same from everyone.

However, under all his smiles and jokes, Riley's anxiety pervades every moment of his life, his negative thoughts pervading every interaction he has. He's constantly doubting himself and worrying that others truly think that he will never amount to much, which is why he makes an extra effort to be nice to everyone, in an attempt to redeem his perceived flaws by presenting himself as a good person to everyone. In order to avoid having to listen to his brain, he also strives to fill all his moments, as being busy helps him to avoid the opportunity for his thoughts to take over and remind him just how worthless he is.







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H I S T O R Y


Behind all the glamour of living as a top-level assassin and spy, all Clint Barton really wanted was a civilian's life, one where he wouldn't have to be constantly looking over his shoulder for enemies, where he could put down his work at the end of the day and go home to a loving wife and the embrace of his kids. So he tried to live that dream—with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s blessing and help, he had a civilian identity set up in a small city, put down the Hawkeye mantle for a little while, and went off the grid.

Civilian life was monotonous, but calming. Clint settled down, bought his own groceries, met a girl. Anna Cavallaro was beautiful, fiery, and utterly in love with Clint, and they tied the knot barely a year after they met. Soon after that they had a son, a little boy with a shock of dark hair just like his mother's. Riley was quiet and sensitive, nothing like his mother, and his parents learned to adopt a gentler approach in raising him.

Clint loved his family, and would have killed to keep them safe. But S.H.I.E.L.D. could not go without his skills for long, and tried to work out a deal where he would return to work on missions every now and then in exchange for their continued, invisible protection over Anna and Riley. Clint tried to balance both, he really did, but trouble has a way of following a man, and there came a night when Clint, returning home from another trip to Headquarters in Washington, D.C., was followed by a handful of enemies. And of course it was that night that Anna was waiting in the living room, half asleep in an armchair. Clint had barely closed the front door behind him and turned on the lights when armed men burst into his house, catching him off guard. Running on pure instinct, he was able to defend himself and disarm his attackers, but it was too late for Anna.

There was nowhere else Clint could turn to. It was clear that his life would never be fully his as long as he remained in the service of his employer, and so instead of trying to keep Riley away from a life of heroics Clint went back to S.H.I.E.L.D., went back to everything he had tried so hard to escape. It was no place for a child, but Clint thought maybe he could start anew with his son. Maybe this way he could keep Riley safe.

But of course there was no protecting Riley from the realities of Clint's job. He was always there to see the bruises and the aches that Hawkeye returned from missions with, always there to help patch up his father at the end of the day. And with Clint getting older S.H.I.E.L.D. was eager to continue the Hawkeye legacy, and offered Riley the chance to train to follow in his father's footsteps. He accepted that offer readily, although Clint had his own reservations. But it was Riley's choice, and his mind was made up.

Training with all those enhanced heroes, Riley began to understand what kind of a position his father held amongst them. He could see that Hawkeye was less like the rest of them, always just a little lacking, and though he said nothing to anyone, he began to harbour the doubt that he could not be as good a Hawkeye as his father hoped he would be.

For a while, Riley struggled to juggle his training and school. He didn't enter Xavier's School, but continued to practice and train alongside Clint's colleagues. He left for a few years to study law at Stanford, but when he returned it was to resume the life of an agent, not a lawyer.

Then Riley received the invitation to enter Descendant Academy. Word had reached them of his abilities and his ceaseless efforts to better himself at his craft, and besides he was already acquainted with Tony Stark. Clint felt it would be a good opportunity for him to meet other protĂŠgĂŠs and train with them, and Riley couldn't argue. So he packed up his life with his father and left for the Academy, ready for a new stage of his life.





h e x c o d e x // x #7d7990 x // x f a c e c l a i m x // x matthew daddario x // x c r e a t o r x // x barnes x // x c s x // x mjolnir



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xxxR I L E Y x B A R T O Nxxx• x p r o t e g e x o f x h a w k e y e x •




"Are we living a life that is safe from harm? Of course not. We never are. But that's not the right question. The question is: are we living a life that is worth the harm?"
- Cecil Palmer




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n a m e
riley barton

n i c k n a m e s
ryebread / baby hawk

a g e
twenty-three

g e n d e r
male

s e x u a l i t y
homosexual

o r i g i n
carlisle, pennsylvania

s p e c i e s
human

c l a s s i f i c a t i o n
level 4 — artificial



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h e i g h t
191cm / 6' 3"

w e i g h t
89kg / 196lbs

h a i r
Riley's hair is a dark walnut brown, almost black indoors, shot through with streaks of lighter auburn in the sun. His Italian ancestry is evident in its thickness, and he prefers to keep it long, swept upward every which way—as long as it's out of his eyes he doesn't care much how it falls. Occasionally, when he needs to look more put together, he'll run a comb and some gel through it to keep it down, but the truth is he prefers its natural unruly state.

e y e s
Hazel, and with lashes darker and longer than is usual for his sex, Riley's eyes hold tints of green and honey brown swirled together.

m a r k i n g s
Riley's left eyebrow is marked through with a small scar, and the pads of his hands and fingers are marked with small, faded scars from the many bowstrings he's gone through over the years. He has a tattoo of an arrow on his left forearm, and "volant" (fly) and "ad astra" (to the stars) in small, neat script on his right forearm—the arrow seems cliche, but it serves as a reminder of the responsibility he took upon himself, and the Latin a reminder to stay true to himself.


a p p e a r a n c e
At first sight, Riley seems a rather intimidating man, towering at over six feet tall, and with a natural intense scowl to complement his unfriendly image. However, he more than makes up for this with an easygoing smile, always ready to flash it at anyone he speaks to. He tends to keep something of a messy beard, or leave his jaw marked with stubble. His posture is usually casual and relaxed, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes fixed on whoever has his attention. He has the habit of worrying at his lips with his teeth, biting into them unconsciously whenever he gets nervous or upset, as well as a habit of running his hand through his hair. He prefers comfortable clothing over fancy clothes, choosing soft sweaters and loosely-fitting shirts to match with an array of pants and sneakers. During training, he tends to wear a version of the original Hawkeye's protective vest, modified for his own use, and uses his own bow, arrows, and quiver, all engineered to suit his needs.





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P O W E R S

n o n e x // x Riley is human—unaltered, unenhanced.


P R O F I C I E N C I E S

m a s t e r x a r c h e r x // x Riley is trained in archery, specialising in the use of regular bows, longbows, compound bows, and crossbows with near-perfect accuracy (at present, calculated to be a 95% accuracy rate). He is capable of firing multiple arrows at a single target within seconds, hitting multiple targets in a few or even singular stroke, and hitting targets from a distance away.
e x p e r t x m a r k s m a n x // x Skilled in the utilisation of other throwing weapons, such as throwing blades, boomerangs, or throwing stars, although his weapon of choice would still be the bow and arrow. He is also capable of shooting using various types of firearms with a high accuracy and lethality rate.
e x p e r t x a c r o b a t x // x He possesses exceptional human strength, endurance, and stamina. His good reflexes and agility, coupled with athletic training, allow him to execute numerous complex acrobatic maneuvers.
s k i l l e d x m a r t i a l x a r t i s t x // x Trained in various forms of hand-to-hand combat, Riley demonstrates great skill in his overall martial ability.
s k i l l e d x t a c t i c i a n x // x While not exactly leader material, Riley is a highly competent strategist, tactician, and field commander.
w e a p o n s x p r o f i c i e n c y x // x Riley's incredible reflexes and hand-eye coordination allow him to wield most weapons with relative ease. He is skilled in swordsmanship and the use of knives and staffs.
w e a p o n s x e n g i n e e r i n g x // x He doesn't rely solely on established weapons engineers like Tony Stark to create the specialised-use arrows his father was known for using—he's able to design and engineer his own arrows, improving on previous designs and coming up with new designs of his own to better suit his needs.
p e a k x h u m a n x c o n d i t i o n x // x In terms of strength, speed, stamina, senses, agility, reflexes, longevity, endurance, and healing, he has enhanced them to beyond the average human's, but still remains, like any other human, mortal.
s k i l l e d x l i n g u i s t x // x He is able to speak a number of languages fluently, including Arabic, German, Spanish, and Russian, and sign language.



G A D G E T S

p a d d e d x a r m o u r x // x Riley's vest doubles as armour, essentially functioning as a lightweight Kevlar vest.
b o w x // x Coupled with a quick-release quiver, it's enhanced to shoot with maximum accuracy, and shaped to give Riley the most comfortable shoot wihtout overstretching himself.
t r i c k x a r r o w s x // x Aside from the typical arrows he uses, he also employs the use of trick weaponry, specialised to perform a variety of functions. His arsenal of arrows include cable arrows, electromagnetic pulse arrows, explosive arrows, magnetic arrowheads, taser arrows, etc.
c o m b a t x k n i v e s x // x He carries a number of combat knives on his person, should his bow fail him.



W E A K N E S S E S

m o r t a l i t y x // x Under all the high-tech equipment and the fancy moves, Riley is still human. A few blows in the right spots and he'd be easy to take down, though he'd fight like hell to keep his greatest weakness from ever showing.
i n a d e q u a c y x // x Given that the average classification among the academy is a level 6, as a level 4 Riley feels deep-seated doubt at his own ability. He's constantly worrying that the students don't think he's as good as the rest of them, or that he won't fit in because he amounts to less.
a n x i e t y x // x Diagnosed with high-functioning anxiety at the age of nineteen, Riley fights every day to quash the feelings of stress and worry that are constantly threatening to overwhelm him. Nineteen was already too late a diagnosis, though, as he'd been living with it for almost six years by then, having first developed it when he began training to follow in his father's footsteps at the age of thirteen.
p a r a n o i a x // x He's utterly paranoid that everyone secretly hates him or thinks that he's a joke, and the worst part is that he can't even say for sure that it's baseless paranoia.
f a l s e x f r o n t x // x To combat his anxiety, he strives to present a sunshiny, friendly front to everyone. He refuses to share his problems with anyone aside from his closest friends—even his father knows little about it aside from the details, which Riley's therapist had attempted to share with him when she first diagnosed his son. The solitude wears down on Riley's mind, to the point where he often stays up at night unable to let go of his thoughts.



F E A R S

f a i l u r e x // x He's afraid of failing his father, of failing the Hawkeye name, of being a failure to the entire academy.
f a l l i n g x // x It's just a silly little fear, maybe a byproduct of his anxiety, but he's always worried whenever he jumps from a high point or practices flipping around like the little acrobat he is that he won't be able to catch himself in time and he'll fall thirty feet and break his neck.
d a r k x // x More specifically, he's afraid of being alone in the dark, something that's happened far too often, especially when his anxiety decides to plague him with bad thoughts when he's trying to sleep. So he always keeps a light on in his room.
b e i n g x o u t x o f x t h e x c l o s e t x // x He's gay, but no one knows that about him. He wants to have the freedom to love and chase the boys he's attracted to, but he's terrified that it'll become another aspect of himself used against him.




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P E R S O N A L I T Y
• x easygoing x • x energetic x • x thorough x • x guileless x •


Riley is incredibly easy to make friends with. He's a people-oriented person who genuinely cares for others, and who doesn't expect much in return for his friendship. This is why he's always the first to say hi, the first to introduce himself, the first to offer an ear if the other party needs it. That is not to say he can't read others; he can, but he will always choose to see the better side of people, to give them the benefit of the doubt and believe that they are good people until they prove to him otherwise.

He likes to keep himself busy, always rushing around to occupy his time with things to do, sometimes even taking on extra tasks to make himself useful to others. He finds joy in being able to help people whenever they need it. Unfortunately, this opens him up easily to being used by others, a concept he doesn't seem to be able to grasp. An idealistic man, Riley likes to believe that many people share his innocence and openness, and this often offers him the opportunity to be let down or hurt when people invariably end up taking advantage of him.

A teacher's idea of the perfect student—he doesn't just do his work, he takes the time to go above and beyond by practicing relentlessly outside of classes, as he believes that as long as he possesses the ability, he should always try to perform to the best of his abilities. He's methodical in his approaches, which explains why he's such a good engineer—he has the patience to take the time and effort to analyse not only his work, but also his mistakes, in order to understand how he can better himself.

He's likely to believe most things he's told, because he doesn't quite understand the concept of lying. He's used to being entirely truthful with others, and even if he has to admit to something bad, he'll try to soften the blow so that he doesn't hurt feelings too badly. He's genuine in all his interactions, and will expect nothing less than the same from everyone.

However, under all his smiles and jokes, Riley's anxiety pervades every moment of his life, his negative thoughts pervading every interaction he has. He's constantly doubting himself and worrying that others truly think that he will never amount to much, which is why he makes an extra effort to be nice to everyone, in an attempt to redeem his perceived flaws by presenting himself as a good person to everyone. In order to avoid having to listen to his brain, he also strives to fill all his moments, as being busy helps him to avoid the opportunity for his thoughts to take over and remind him just how worthless he is.





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H I S T O R Y


Behind all the glamour of living as a top-level assassin and spy, all Hawkeye really wanted was a civilian's life, one where he wouldn't have to be constantly looking over his shoulder for enemies, where he could put down his work at the end of the day and go home to a loving wife and the embrace of his kids. So he tried to live that dream—he left SHIELD for a while, went off the grid, and while living in Pennsylvania, fell in love with a woman named Anna Elena and had a kid with her—Riley. For a few years the three of them lived in relative peace, until circumstances forced Hawkeye to reveal his true identity to his wife. She, furious about being lied to, told him to "Go! Just go!" He left, and Riley was given the explanation that his father had to leave for work. In order to protect her son, Anna never told him about his father's true identity. For nearly eight years Riley waited and pined for his father's return, always wondering why their phone calls were short and stilted, why neither of his parents would tell him anything about what his father was doing wherever he was, filled with a sense of loss and resentment at the deception that had been woven around him.

And then the accident happened. A drunk driver hit Anna going up the sidewalk as she was heading home to her son, after a long day of work. Riley, who had already gone to bed, was woken at just past one in the morning by a knock at the door, by a kind policeman with the news that his mother was dead within minutes of arriving at the hospital. The knowledge soon reached Hawkeye, back in his position at SHIELD, and he was left with no choice but to bring his son back into his life, and explain why he'd left them in the first place. It was no place for a child, but Clint thought maybe he could start anew with his son.

At thirteen, Riley was offered the chance to begin training to follow in his father's footsteps as Hawkeye—an offer which he accepted readily, and began working with his father and his father's colleagues. Training with all those enhanced heroes, Riley began to understand what kind of a position his father held amongst them. He could see that Hawkeye was less like the rest of them, always just a little lacking, and though he said nothing to anyone, he began to harbour the doubt that he could not be as good a Hawkeye as his father hoped he would be.

For a while, Riley struggled to juggle his training and school. He didn't enter Xavier's School, but continued to practice and train alongside Clint's colleagues. Eventually, he qualified to study law at Stanford, but continued his training. It was around this period that he finally pulled himself together and went to seek a therapist, who diagnosed him with anxiety. Due to its high-functioning nature, though, she didn't quite grasp how bad he'd had it, and in her explanation to Riley's dad underplayed his condition. Both of them chalked it up to him having issues managing his work and stress levels, and eventually Riley just accepted that he'd have to live with it in silence. Life went on.

Then Riley received the invitation to enter Descendant Academy. Word had reached them of his abilities and his ceaseless efforts to better himself at his craft, probably. In any case, he agreed pretty quickly, and his father felt it would be a good opportunity for him. So he left everything he'd built together with his father behind, and headed for the academy.





h e x c o d e x // x #7A378B x // x f a c e c l a i m x // x matthew daddario x // x c r e a t o r x // x barnes x // x c s x // x mjolnir



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So begins...

Riley Barton's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wren Wilson Character Portrait: Frankie Parker Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Lilith Isley Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch
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#, as written by mjolnir
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wren wilson
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Wren was happy that she managed to make Lilith smile. Considering their situation, a smile wasn't something to be expected of anyone. “Thank you,” Lilith said quietly. It was obvious the choke hold from the night prior took more of a toll on her than what met the eyes. “He was a monster in size so I look forward to your teachings,” she croaked.

The red head chuckled weakly, followed by a groan as she tried to break free of her binds yet again. "Eh, you have nothing to worry about. Getting out of a choke hold isn't about strength or their size... It's all about body movement." Wren probably would have wiggled her hips seductively at the comment of body movement, but she wasn't moving anything anytime soon restrained the way she was.

Her brows knit together as she tried not to look too sullen at the sight of Cas. Wren couldn't imagine having her voice taken from her. Everyone knew she rarely ever shut up, it wasn't a special ability, just her annoying quirk. But God did she wish he listened to her. No one knew who he was, and there was no way Hydra knew. He could have hid under a table and waited it out. But that didn't happen, and here he was.

Cassius nodded in response to her question. He might say he's ok, but to Wren's eyes he didn't look ok. Not that he would die from blood loss from a wound there. But there was still the possibility of infection. She studied his face for a moment, noticing his gaze fell to the whole in her gown and the remnants of the harpoon that skewered her like a wild boar. The spider legs of the wound stretched across her abdomen. They were blue and purple surrounded by a halo of sickly yellow. It was healing, but far slower than she usually healed. She sighed softly, looking up at Cas. "I'm ok... 'Tis but a scratch," Wren said with her best British accent and a weak smile.

Wren sighed, glancing around at the others. Then her eyes stopped on Alec who sat across from her. She pursed her lips, stretching her legs to try and bump his foot with her own, but he was too far away. "Hey," she said quietly to get his attention. Wren could tell by the look on his face that he was a deer in headlights. Somehow, someone as cool and collected as Alec seemed more freaked out than Frankie... Who honestly always seemed level headed as well. "Alec... It's going to be ok. We'll get out of—"

Her attention was drawn toward the entrance of the cell when a group of three Hydra soldiers, unlocked the door. One by one they filed into the small quarters, sizing up each and every one of them. Wren watched as they seemed to be deciding which one of them they wanted. "Those two look like they're ready to break right now," one said motioning toward Alec and Frankie.

"Yeah but that one," another added pointing at Cassius. "If we broke him first, he could help with the others. It'd make our job much easier." He hooked his fingers on his belt. "Then we can just kill them all and be done with it."

The other guard nodded his head, and started to walk toward Cas, reaching for the keys hooked to his belt. "Looks like you get to go first, Mr. Thompson."

Wren didn't like the sound of anything the Hydra soldiers were saying. Her hands began to tug against her restraints as they started to walk past her and go for Cas. They were right. If they broke Cas, all he'd have to do is say the right words to each of them... And they'd have no choice but to obey. But more than that... She feared for him. Why though? She barely knew him, yet the thought of those Hydra fucks taking him boiled her blood.

Before she could help it, Wren was shouting out toward the guards. "Hey!" She aggressively thrashed in her binds, kicking and groaning. "Miserable pieces of shit! You can't even handle us! You have to drug us and chain us up... Then go after the one person who'd make your jobs easier!? You're all fucking pathetic!"

The solider froze just before he went to unlock Cas' binds, turning his head toward Wren. "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"

"You, ya fuckin' pussy!" Wren hissed at him, then spat in his face.

Without hesitation, the solider had his hand around Wren's throat. But she only laughed and smiled up at him as his grip tightened, making it harder for her to breath. "Listen here you little whore," he growled down at her with his face close to hers. "Say one more thing, and I'll drag that perky little ass of yours out by your hair."

Wren smirked through her strained breathing, not showing her strain. She stretched her neck, leaning her head up to meet the solider's as best as she could until her face was an inch from hers. "Go. Fuck. Yourself." Wren then lunged forward. Her teeth snapped around the tip of the man's nose. As he pulled away, she bit down harder until a piece of his flesh tore from his face, caught between her canines. She then spit the skin back at him, her mouth stained by his blood.

"You bitch!" he screamed out, bringing his hands to cup his nose. A crimson tide slowly started to flow from between his fingers, and stream down his neck.

Wren grinned as the blood clung to her gums and dripped from her bottom lip. Out of anger, the Hydra soldier raised his leg, landing a loud and forceful kick to her jaw, breaking it on contact. She let her head dangle as she tried to catch her breath. Wren was no longer able to talk, barely able to move her mouth. A broken jaw was a new one for her, no doubt it'd heal soon, but it didn't feel good. With her jaw cocked to the right, drooping low and at an awkward, unnatural angle, she tried her best to smile up at him.

"Get her!" He ordered the other soldiers as his hand still held his nose.

"But, what about Kilgrave?" one asked, motioning over his shoulder toward Cas.

"Fuck him. Obviously, Ms. Wilson here wants to be first."

"But she heals... Torturing her would be pointless. If we took Cassius first—"

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE! GET HER!"

Without anymore hesitation, the other two soldiers scurried over to Wren. She had their attention, and after all that was what she wanted. She hoped that maybe she could see something about this place that would give her insight on how to get out or something. Worse comes to worse... At least she was the one being tortured and not the others. Wren knew it'd hurt. Just because she could heal, didn't mean she didn't feel it like everyone else. But, out of everyone there, she was the one that could handle it.

She couldn't fight, even if she wanted to. Her jaw snapped back in place just before she looked around at the others. Wren's gaze locked on Alec's and then Cas'. She gave her bravest smile and a wink just before one of the solider's grabbed her head, and snapped her neck. The guard with the bleeding nose grabbed a fist full of Wren's hair and began to drag her unconscious body out of the cell. The other two locked the door behind them as he took her like a hunter dragging his trophy.




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frankie parker
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"Only those that deserved it or weren't smart enough to duck," Ulrich responded. That wasn't the answer Frankie was hoping for, nor did that really answer her question. She tensed, as much as humanly possible being restrained and chained to the wall.

"That's not what I meant... Did anyone of us die?" Would any of them know? Frankie could barely keep herself conscious, let alone notice what was happening beyond...

"From what I heard, Nathaniel ripped up some of the men. Literally I heard it. The crack, snap and screams of agony."

Frankie frowned slightly, her gaze falling to her lap, fixated on the torn and tattered fabric of her gown. She didn't notice the screams or anything. But she knew why Nathaniel did it. Everything he did, and everyone he killed was to try to get to her... To try and save her before the Hydra soldiers took her away. And he would have been successful if it weren't for the gun they held to her head. Her stomach turned and knotted at the thought of him falling to his knees with tears streaming down his cheeks.

How in the hell did all of this happen? Where did the academy go wrong? Frankie couldn't wrap her mind around what Hydra wanted, especially with those of them currently locked in that cell. From what she could tell, all of them weren't human. Although she didn't know about the unknown stranger that seemed to know Wren. Everyone that she did know had completely different abilities, and they were all significantly powerful. Why were they wanted though? Hydra had to see how this was a ticking time bomb. All they needed was one of them to get the upper leg and make the right move. Then it'd just be like another one of their simulations... Hydra didn't stand a chance... Or so she hoped.

Frankie was about to ask Wren who this other guy was, but before any words could even threaten to leave her lips hydra soldiers appeared. She tried to remain quiet and brave, even when they pointed at herself and Alec claiming that they were the easiest targets of the group. She wouldn't admit it, but it was probably true. Frankie was on the verge of a mental and emotional break down, and Alec didn't look to be doing any better.

What happened next left her completely and utterly speechless. Frankie just sat in awe as Wren taunted and insulted the hydra soldiers. She didn't know if it was to protect the guy or maybe because in the end... It was nearly impossible to kill her. But, Frankie wanted to tell her to shut up and just be obedient. Wren wasn't like that though. She was never the type to follow the rules. The blonde flinched, looking away when Wren took a piece of the guy's nose between her teeth and tore it off. Frankie coughed, trying not to gag from the sight.

Frankie watched, stunned as they broke her jaw and pried her from her binds against the wall. But of course, in a Wren like fashion, she winked towards them before they snapped her neck. All Frankie could do was watch in horrified silence as they dragged her away by her hair. She could only hope that the next time she saw Wren, she was running back to the cell with keys, a gun... Or something.

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ross mcculloch
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When Ross felt Petra's hand grasp his own, he pulled her through the mirror until she was standing in the rubble that was the ballroom. He glanced down at their hands as he felt a wave of warmth pass from her to him. He didn't know what she was doing. But, whatever it was, it had a slight calming feeling. Kind of like standing under a hot shower after along day. Then she let go of his hand and took a step back. His hand remained frozen and outstretched for a moment, before falling down to his side.

"Are you - okay?" Ross was going to answer. He was fine. A little worse for the wear, but he was alive and would heal. But, when he parted his lips she just continued speaking. "You didn't have to do that. I'm more than capable of looking after myself, and you got yourself hurt for it. That was completely unnecessary." He sighed, but didn't divert his gaze. After all, Ross expected an angry rant from her. It could be expected of anyone at the academy. No one likes being saved because it either makes them feel weak, or think that others perceive them as weak. Of course, it was neither in his eyes, but she didn't know that.

"I could have helped. I could have done something, but you decided to put me in your stupid mirror -" Her words stopped as she sobbed. She then turned her back on him and started to head out of the ballroom.

Ross clenched his jaw, and quickly followed after her. Her caught up with Petra when she was in the hallway. "No. Ya don’ get ta do that!" He gently grabbed her arm, stopping her where she was and forcing her to face him. Ross couldn't give a rat's ass if she was mad at him, but if she was going to be mad at him... She was going to know why he did it. Not whatever she wanted to think.

"Ya think I don’ know that ya could’ve helped? Yeh could kill me with a bat of those gorgeous eyes of yers. ‘Em not a hero. ‘Em not gonna save da world some day. People like meh er insignificant compared ta gods like ya." Ross motioned his hand toward her. "Aye would have let ya blast those Hydra fuckers right out da hole they came in through. But, ya didn’t hear what I heard. They were lookin’ for ya. They called out yer fuckin’ name when they saw ya! You were on their list!

"Do ya know who da first person they took was?… Wren Wilson. Wren mother fuckin’ Wilson."
He paused for a moment. Ross didn't look away from Petra, but let that thought truly sink in. Wren Wilson, someone who could take on one hundred people without breaking a sweat was the first person kidnapped. "She didn’t get two hits in before they shot a harpoon through her like she was a roast pig. They knew what they were doin’. If they had a way to capture all da others, ya think they didn’t have a way to get ya too?"

Ross sighed, shaking his head slightly while running his hands back through his messy hair. "I don’ care if ya hate me for the rest of yer life, because at least you’d be alive. I did what was in me power to do. Because I couldn’t look at Tobias and tell ‘em yer gone…" It was only then that he looked away, his gaze fixated on his feet. "’N fuck Tobias, I couldn’t let ya be taken!" Ross looked back up at her. He wasn't yelling at her or angry, but almost like he was begging her to understand. "I wouldn’t! ‘Em not important, but you are. I’m sorry, Petra… But, I won’t apologize for what I did. ’N I’d do it again without a moment’s hesitation, even if it meant me life for yers."

With nothing more to say, Ross inhaled a shaky breath, no longer able to hold her gaze. He lingered there for a moment, before pivoting on his heels and slowly trudging his way back to the infirmary. As he stepped through the doorway, he was instantly met by Tobias' gaze. Ross didn't really have words, but gave the man a nod of his head in reassurance as he walked past him.

Nurses instantly drew to him like moths to a flame. "Mr. McCulloch, you must rest. You could rupture an organ with your broken ribs if you aren't careful."

"Yeah, yeah," Ross waved them off, walking past his own bed. "I know."

"Where are you going?"

"Over here," he groaned, slowly lowering himself to sit at the foot of Jensen's bed. Ross' hand held his side as he tried to relax. His whole escape attempt quickly catching up with him.

The nurses didn't quite know how to react to that. One stood there, staring at Ross in confusion, while the other seemed unamused, crossing her arms over her chest. "That bed is occupied..."

Ross rolled his eyes. "She won't mind," He said as he laid back in Jensen's bed so that they were shoulder to shoulder. He looked over at his friend from the corner of his eyes, then back at the nurse. Ross didn't feel like being alone at the current moment. Although they technically weren't alone in the infirmary, he wanted to be with a friend. Plus, his bed was next to Tobias' and that was no doubt where Petra would head. Just because he's accepted that she is mad at him, didn't make it any easier for him to handle.

"And what about your IV?"

"Fer the love of God, woman. Its on wheels int it?" The nurse huffed, realizing it was a losing battle. She rolled his IV stand over to him. Without any form of nurse gentleness, she grabbed his arm and practically stabbed the needle back into his arm. But Ross refused to give her the satisfaction of wincing. Once he was set back up, he waved her off not wanting to deal with anyone he didn't have to.

Ross didn't have to be a genius to know that Jensen needed a friend. From the looks of things her two closest friends were gone. He saw the rubble that was the bed stand next to her and the blood in her palm. "Ey!" he called out to the retreating nurse who begrudgingly turned to face him. "I need bandages." The woman shoved her hand into the pocket of her scrubs, pulling out a small spool of bandage wrap. She then threw it at him and walked away before he could ask for anything else.

"Bitch," Ross mumbled under his breath as he sat up slowly. "Lemme see it," He wiggled his fingers, asking for Jensen's injured hand. He carefully and quietly picked any pieces of glass from her palm, then wrapped her hand. Once he was done, he laid back down beside her, staring up at the ceiling. "Don' worry, Jones. Wren is tough. She'll take care 'o Alec." He looked around the room, then back at Jensen. "Aye give it a day before Wilson struts back in 'ere wit one of their heads on a spike."




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tobias lehnsherr
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"Um. Hi," Tobias heard sheepishly behind his own thrashing and fighting against the nurses. No one came to see if he was ok. No one in the school cared if he was alive or dead except Petra, which was the entire reason he was freaking out in the first place. He froze when his gaze was met by grey blue eyes and blonde hair. His attention was then quickly drawn toward the shirtless Scot that trudged back into the infirmary. Ross gave him a nod which set Tobias at ease, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief.

He motioned the nurses away, allowing himself to slink back into his bed. Tobias took a moment to catch his breath, his right hand cupping his bandaged wound. He slowly looked back up toward Wynne, noticing the bandages on her wings. "I thought I blocked you?" he asked, confused. Honestly, Tobias had no idea how to talk to anyone, because they never talked to him. And after the events of last night, surliness wasn't going to help any of them cope.

He was going to attempt some light hearted sarcastic comment about her sticking around at the academy after everything, but a loud slam got his attention. Tobias sat up in his bed, seeing the after math of nurses being pushed in every direction away from a distraught Nathaniel. He then stepped forward, addressing them all as they laid half beaten to death in beds. "We obviously need to find them and work together. Does anyone have any ideas on a plan?"

Tobias carefully stood up and walked over toward the distraught giant. Today seemed to be a day of firsts for a lot of them. Nathaniel was talking to more than just one person, and Tobias... was actually going to go initiate a conversation with someone else instead of the opposite. He slowly raised his hand to rest it on Nathaniel's shoulder. He might be a powerful man, but he was as transparent as glass. It didn't take a genius to know that he was upset and out of sorts because of Frankie's capture. Tobias didn't blame him, he'd be the same way if Petra was gone.

"I'll help you, Nathaniel," he said, looking up into the man's eyes. "And I'm sure everyone else wants revenge too. But, we need to heal first or we'll be useless and our friends will die." Well, no one was friends with Tobias, but that wasn't the point. None of them could go rushing into battle right now. No one could even rush if they wanted to. Plus, they had no idea where to start.

Tobias quickly began to feel light headed, and let himself stumble back until he was sitting at the foot of his bed. He looked over at Wynne, and motioned for her to take a seat if she wanted. There was no point in standing around, she had to be tired like the rest of them. He tried to think of something to say, but the mentors finally decided to grace them all with their presence.

Alfred looked nearly on the edge of tears and like he hadn't gotten a single minute of sleep. Knowing the man, he probably helped nurse them all while they laid unconscious in the infirmary. Even Phil seemed a bit sullen, struggling to find something to say. But, to no surprise, Mycroft seemed completely indifferent, stepping forward while clearing his throat. "It's nice to see that you all are well. As—"

"Are ya fuckin' mad?!" Ross chimed in from the far side of the room. "We're half dead 'n half of us are gone!"

"Yes, Mr. McCulloch." It looked as though the mentor was trying not to roll his eyes, like Ross' reaction was an inconvenience.

Alfred spoke up, his voice even cracking in a few instances. "He just means, we're very happy that you all survived the attack. It was a horrible situation and we're all so proud of how you all fought to protect each other and the academy."

"But, they didn't." Mycroft interjected. "Wren Wilson, Alec Constantine, Petra Max—" He froze mid-sentence seeing Petra amongst the other descendants. He cleared his throat and continued on. "Lilith Isley, Ulrich Zod, Caitria Allen, Francis Parker and Cassius Thompson were all taken hostage last night like it was nothing." He spoke as if he was reading off the results of a simulation, like they weren't victims of a real threat. "If you all would have fought as a team, like we've been trying to tell you for years now... None of this would have happened. Hydra would have been stopped before they laid a hand on anyone."

"Mycroft," Phil interjected with a sharp bite in his words. "They were unarmed and unprepared. They fought admirably, all things considered."

"Hydra walked in and walked out like they were invited. Leaving with seven... Seven of the most powerful Descendants in their clutches. There is no excuse for this."

"Hydra came prepared," Phil argued. "They came for a purpose. To take those Descendants and leave. It's not their fault that they couldn't fight off weapons specifically designed to exploit their weaknesses, Mycroft. They saved countless lives last night. Not a single person, aside from Hydra soldiers, were killed" He then stepped forward, motioning his hand toward Tobias. "Even Tobias single handedly save Thaddeus Ross' life. This all won't go unnoticed by the U.N., the academy or anyone else."

Tobias shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Don't placate me," he mumbled under his breath. He didn't do it for the glory or to be called a hero. He definitely didn't want the attention or gazes of the others either. What they didn't know was his decision to save Thaddeus Ross probably just killed them all in the end. Magneto wasn't going to be happy that Tobias let Thaddeus live, and he knew it.

Mycroft shrugged off everything Phil said, continuing forward. "J.A.R.V.I.S. is currently working to compile every piece of information from the attack that he can to try and find out where the other Descendants were taken. Once he is finished, we will use the data to form our next plan of attack. We can only hope we reach them before Hydra kills the Descendants... Or worse, before they find a way to exploit their powers to make their own super mutant weapons." With nothing more to say, he turned on his heels and exited the infirmary. He stopped when he reached the doors, not seeing Phil or Alfred following behind him. "Let's go."

Phil turned halfway to face Mycroft, visually upset at the man's cold behaviors in the face of everything that happened. "Alfred and I are going to stay and help nurse them back to health."

"Have fun with J.A.R.V.I.S., Mr. Xavier," Alfred added coldly, before getting back to work, helping aid the nurses.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch Character Portrait: Tobias Lehnsherr Character Portrait: Jensen Jones Character Portrait: Wynne Worthington
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Image Image ImagexxxxxP E T R A x M A X I M O F F x • x h e x x // x b22222 x •




ImagePetra would have been content to stew in her own emotions and get over her anger alone, but Ross's shoes sounded down the hall behind her, and before she'd really registered it his hand was on her arm, not tight, but unyielding. "No. Ya don't get ta do that!"

"Ya think I don' know that ya could've helped? Yeh could kill me with a bat of those gorgeous eyes of yers. 'Em not a hero. 'Em not gonna save da world some day. People like meh er insignificant compared ta gods like ya."

She had prepared herself for insults and anger. She had not prepared herself for this. Taken aback, all she could do was stare dumbly at him as he talked, waving his other hand around. She listened as he talked about the agenda he'd overheard, about how Wren had been taken. "I - I had no idea," she tried to say, but her throat had gone dry at knowing how close she had been to being a prisoner were it not for Ross's quick thinking, and she couldn't form the words.

He'd let go of her, but she remained frozen where she stood, letting him talk. Somewhere, through the haze of shock blurring her thoughts, an irrepressibly sensible part of her spoke up: Stay. You must not waver. Even like this, she couldn't break free of the automatic defense mechanisms she'd built around herself since forever.

"'N fuck Tobias, I couldn't let ya be taken!" His eyes were almost painful to look into, burning into her, but she stood steady, her face carefully schooled blank. "I wouldn't! 'Em not important, but you are. I'm sorry, Petra... But, I won't apologise for what I did. 'N I'd do it again without a moment's hesitation, even if it meant me life for yers."

He looked away, and the spell broke. Her feet suddenly unglued from the floor, she shuffled a little, one heel clicking impossibly loud in the ensuing silence. She couldn't respond in defense, only watch as Ross left her, heading back for the infirmary. "But you are important," she murmured to the now-empty hall.

Unwilling to go in, where Ross might be waiting, Petra lingered in the hall, pacing a few steps up and down to help clear her head. Eventually the mentors arrived, and she slipped in after them to stand in a corner, mostly unnoticed. A nurse hurried over, clearly alarmed, but Petra reassured her she was fine, asking instead for a glass of water. Tutting about stubborn students, the nurse left, presumably to find her new charge water.

"It's nice to see you all are well," Mycroft began. Petra respected him, but that had to be a joke, surely. Hardly any of the students looked well by any standards, lying bruised and bandaged and in a state of panic following the Hydra attack.

"Wren Wilson, Alec Constantine, Petra Max--" Mycroft's eyes widened slightly as he met her gaze, and she raised a hand and wiggled her fingers in his direction, coupled with an ironic smile. Far friendlier than she'd ever been with any of the mentors, but then again this was an unusual situation. As he continued reciting the list of those taken hostage, a few heads swivelled in her direction, attention drawn by Mycroft's words, and she was suddenly acutely aware of how awful she must look, still in her dress and heels, her hair coming loose, blood and dust staining her skin and dress. Not to mention that she had gone missing shortly after the attack began, and presumed taken hostage. How could she face her fellow students? She had little right to stand there while the others were experiencing god-knows-what at Hydra's hands.

"...Even Tobias singlehandedly saved Thaddeus Ross's life." Hearing Tobias's name snapped Petra out of her inner turmoil. Gratitude towards Coulson for taking notice of and mentioning Tobias's actions filled her. He probably wouldn't agree with her view, but it showed everyone what she had always believed of him - that he wasn't a villain. Mycroft could go fuck himself.

She wove past students and nurses, squeezing through the chaos that was a roomful of agitated mutants to get to Tobias. One of the mentors passed her - Coulson. In an uncharacteristic show of affection, she reached out to clasp one of his hands between her own, looking up at the older man earnestly. "Sir - if there's anything I can do to aid in the search for the others..." She trailed off, unsure how to finish the offer. Powerful though she was, at the end of the day she was really just a frightened child, unable to step up to fulfill the role of adversary or friend where she was needed. And the mentors likely had a wider range of resources at their disposal, but she wanted to make sure they knew they had her, if they felt she was worth anything.

"And thank you, for, for Tobias. He's not a bad person. Thank you for seeing that." Having said what she had to say, she let go of him, moving towards where Tobias sat on his bed, accompanied by the Worthington girl.

Stealing a chair from beside the next bed, Petra dropped down beside Tobias's bed, kicking her heels off and crossing her legs at the knee, heedless of her decorum. "Hey. How are you feeling? I'm sorry I disappeared. I was - preoccupied elsewhere."


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ImageRiley didn't notice as Andrew struggled to reunite his mind and body, but his attention was regained the moment Andrew shot upright, almost the same way Riley had when he'd woken earlier.

"Whoa, dude. It's okay. Just breathe, yeah?" He leaned forward to place a hand on Andrew's shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"What the hell happened?"

Riley let his hand drop back into his lap, sighing. "After you helped me with Sol, I passed out... I'm assuming you did too, after. Hydra kidnapped some of our number while we were trying to fight them off. " He shrugged. "I doubt any of us could have stopped Hydra, they knew what they wanted and they caught us unprepared. But, oh god, Andrew, Frankie... they took Frankie."

There it was, the emotion that he'd been unable to feel earlier. Maybe telling Andrew what happened, it was as if he'd finally passed all opportunities for denial, as if he'd just opened the door and stared the truth in the eye, with nowhere to hide from it. Frankie was gone, and he hadn't been able to do anything.

The buzzing began in his chest, his heart jackrabbiting with a ceaseless anxiety. Coming to the Academy and accepting his destiny as a Barton, he'd always known he might get hurt, maybe face mortal danger. What he'd never considered was that any friends he made there would be equally susceptible to the same time risk. And of all of them, it had to be Frankie...

When Riley finally raised his head to look at Andrew again, he realised that his eyes had filled with tears, and he was shaking, gripped by a chill that he couldn't get rid of. He ran both hands over his face, drawing in a deep, rasping breath. "Sorry. It's probably, ah, shock." In an attempt to turn the focus away from him, he struggled to find a new conversation topic. "How are you feeling?"


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Image"I thought I blocked you?"

Wynne almost laughed out loud. It seemed absurd that, in all the carnage and chaos, he'd remembered that one tiny act of heroism. "You did, but there was a lot flying around." She was cut off by a loud sound - Santos. Still she lingered there, standing by his bed as she watched Tobias speak to him, ruffling her wings a little to try to find a position that would alleviate the pain. It didn't quite work, more pinpricks of pain jabbing into them as the feathers shifted.

Tobias staggered backward towards her. Instinctively she reached out, intending to catch him if the need arose, but he sat down on his bed instead. She withdrew her hands, clenching and unclenching them awkwardly, hoping he hadn't seen the aborted attempt at help. Here, among people like her who'd had the chance to train and improve themselves, she felt out of place, weaker and less useful. He motioned at the chair, and Wynne sat down gratefully. At least she knew he didn't want her gone, which she had been anticipating.

The mentors filed in just then. If any of them had noticed Wynne among their number, they didn't seem surprised, nor did they comment on it. Hopefully they realised her commitment to her duty... or they just didn't care, which was fine by her either way.

"...taken hostage last night like it was nothing." That seemed rather an unfair statement, knowing the fight that had been put up, however stacked the odds against them were. Still, she made note of those who had been taken, should it come in handy later. The mentors' quibbling before their students seemed hardly professional, but then again it was a stressful situation for everyone.

"Even Tobias singlehandedly saved Thaddeus Ross's life. This all won't go unnoticed by the U.N., the academy, or anyone else." No, it wouldn't. That was news to her - she hadn't seen it take place - but it certainly put Tobias in a much better light. All the more reason to stand up for his trustworthiness to the U.N., should the need arise.

"Don't placate me." The words came low, but Wynne heard them all the same. That was surprising. Did he not want to be recognised for his deeds? Surely the acknowledgement would help his standing among his peers, or did he not care?

After Mycroft Xavier left, Wynne turned to Tobias. It would mean putting aside her pride, but in this case she didn't mind, not at all. "I just wanted to..."

She never got to finish her sentence. Petra Maximoff sat down on the opposite side of the bed, and Wynne shut her mouth with a snap. It could wait. She didn't want to reveal herself in front of anyone else.


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Image"Over here."

The voice was accompanied by pressure on the bed, just by her right leg. Jensen looked up, too numb to even be surprised. She let Ross lie down beside her, shifting to her left a little so that they could both fit side by side, not uncomfortably.

Turning her face away, she stared unblinking at the ceiling, listening to the nurse enquire after Ross's IV. Considering the state of his face - worse than hers, somehow - she wondered how an IV could seem like the most important thing right now. "Fer the love of God, woman. It's on wheels int it?" Jensen exhaled shakily, making a noise that could almost be a chuckle. Good old Ross.

She drifted off for a little after that, only coming back when Ross sat up and reached a hand towards her. "Lemme see it."

"See what," she mumbled, before realising that he meant her injured left hand. She stretched it across her body to him, noticing as it passed her line of vision that blood was still leaking from the cuts, and that the side, which she'd hit the stand with, was beginning to swell and bruise.

Ross was efficient, plucking the remaining shards out of her flesh quickly. For a moment, all she heard was his breathing and the tapping of shoes around the infirmary. Then he wrapped her hand in bandages, and gentle though he was, it still stung, and she sucked in a breath, hissing.

Ross let go and lay down again. She let her bandaged hand drop, resting it on her stomach. "Thanks."

"Don' worry, Jones. Wren is tough. She'll take care 'o Alec." Jensen turned her head to the side to face him, meeting his earnest gaze. "Aye give it a day before Wilson struts back in 'ere with one of their heads on a spike."

Jensen made that weird shaky chuckling sound again. "Better be at least three heads. That girl's got more fight in her big toe than any of you in this room combined." She paused to think. Her usual brand of snarky wouldn't work right now. "I know she's probably fine. I'm just terrified for her right now," she admitted, her voice soft in her exceptional moment of weakness.

Luckily, the mentors' arrival saved her from having to say more. "Are ya fuckin' mad?! We're half dead 'n half of us are gone!" Jensen jumped, startled by Ross's loud voice in her ear. She placed her uninjured hand on his arm, trying to calm him. "That's not going to bring them back, as admirable as your fire is."

It wouldn't, but she bet it felt good. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to throw what was remaining of the bedside stand at Mycroft's stupid bald head for putting the blame on them. She wanted to scream and cry and wreck things. But what good would that do? She barely had the energy to think, much less feel.

It was easier to think about inane things. Something to take their mind off the people they couldn't help lying cold and hungry and in pain somewhere.

Jensen turned towards Ross again. "So... how's your girlfriend?" She nodded towards Petra on the other side of the room, as though he needed any clarification. There weren't that many girls his eyeballs were popping out of his skull for.

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Character Portrait: Wren Wilson Character Portrait: Frankie Parker Character Portrait: Lilith Isley Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Caitria Allen Character Portrait: Ulrich Zod
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Caitria glanced at the three Hydra soldiers entering the room out of the corner of her eye; they looked at the descendants as if they were evaluating who to take first. "Those two look like they're ready to break right now," one of them spoke up, gesturing towards Alec and Frankie. Why are they talking about their master plan out loud? Are they that cocky?

"Yeah but that one," another of them added, jabbing a finger in the new guy's direction, "if we broke him first, he could help with the others. It'd make our job much easier. Then we can just kill them all and be done with it."

That seemed to convince the other two. One of them approached, reaching for the keys attached to his belt. "Looks like you get to go first, Mr. Thompson."

Caitria wasn't selfless enough to offer herself in the place of someone she didn't know, but she knew the situation wasn't going to end like the silent, pathetic cooling of a white dwarf star.

It seemed that Caitria would be proven correct. As if on impulse (it probably was), Wren yelled at the guards. "Hey!" She kicked and thrashed, but the soldiers didn't turn their heads. "Miserable pieces of shit! You can't even handle us! You have to drug us and chain us up... then go after the one person who'd make your jobs easier!? You're all fucking pathetic!"

Now that certainly caught the soldiers' attention. "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"

"You, ya fuckin' pussy!" Wren hissed at him shamelessly, spitting in his face.

The brutal exchange between Wren and the Hydra soldiers continued, with one of the soldiers' nose bleeding and a broken jaw for Wren.

"Get her!" the soldier with the bloody nose barked.

"But, what about Kilgrave?" one of the others asked, motioning towards the new guy.

"Fuck him. Obviously, Ms. Wilson here wants to be first."

"But she heals . . . torturing her would be pointless. If we took Cassius first—"

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE! GET HER!"


Wren turned her head towards the other descendants, winking as the Hydra soldiers dragged her away. Caitria knew that, as a supposedly sentimental and empathetic being, she should feel quite a bit more concerned for her friend. But while Caitria feared the pain Wren was about to experience, she also understood the logic of the situation; the person being tortured would be able to try to get more information on the situation, and Wren, with her powerful healing, would be the best option for that. However, Caitria knew that Wren would undoubtedly feel pain - a necessary sacrifice, but one that lit a faint spark of worry in the blonde nonetheless.

There was a short moment of shocked silence amongst the group before Caitria spoke up. "Well, at least we know that one guard has quite the temper and is easily provoked," the blonde mused in a somberly dry tone. "Guess that's a good thing to be aware of; emotionally manipulating someone can prove to be a powerful tactic."
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Riley sighed at Andrew's inquiry, dropping his hand from the other brunette's shoulder. "After you helped me with Sol, I passed out... I'm assuming you did too, after. Hydra kidnapped some of our number while we were trying to fight them off. I doubt any of us could have stopped Hydra, they knew what they wanted and they caught us unprepared. But, oh god, Andrew, Frankie... they took Frankie."

Andrew placed a hand on the younger man's back, rubbing it gently in soothing circles. He never had anything personal against Frankie, but there was an inborn rivalry Andrew felt with her due to their parentage. But he was aware of the closeness between Riley and Frankie. Andrew felt like something was punching him in the heart as his friend tried to hide his tears.

"We'll get her back," Andrew stated strongly with much conviction. "We'll get all of them back."

Riley raised his head, eyes filled with tears. He breathed deeply, running his hands over his face as Andrew continued rubbing his back soothingly. "Sorry. It's probably, ah, shock. How are you feeling?"

Andrew knew Riley was trying to change the topic, but didn't comment on it. "I mean, considering all that's happened, I can't possible say that I feel great," Andrew commented, a faint note of bitterness behind his words. "But for the situation, I'm doing pretty well." There's was a pause of silence between the two before Andrew spoke again. "So, uh, who else was taken? I know Mycroft just said it, but I wasn't... paying attention."
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Thaleia's verbal assault of the nurse was interrupted by Mycroft's lofty, unusually casual voice. "It's nice to see that you all are well. As -"

"Are ya fuckin' mad?!" Ross interrupted unabashedly. "We're half dead 'n half of us are gone!" Thaleia wasn't the fondest of her fellow descendants, but she wholeheartedly agreed with McCulloch on this occasion. Besides, she hated Mycroft more than any of her peers.

"Yes, Mr. McCulloch," Mycroft was too fucking nonchalant, rolling his eyes, as if the situation was another one of the Academy's simulations.

Alfred spoke up in a cracking voice. "He just means, we're very happy that you all survived the attack. It was a horrible situation and we're all so proud of how you all fought to protect each other and the academy."

"But, they didn't,"
Mycroft shot Alfred's attempt at gentle words down. "Wren Wilson, Alec Constantine, Petra Max -" Mycroft halted in his speaking when he noticed said redhead in the crowd. Thaleia raised an eyebrow as Mycroft continued. "- Lilith Isley, Ulrich Zod, Caitria Allen, Francis Parker and Cassius Thompson were all taken hostage last night like it was nothing. If you all would have fought as a team, like we've been trying to tell you for years now... none of this would have happened. Hydra would have been stopped before they laid a hand on anyone."

Thaleia clenched her jaw. The fucktwat could fight off Hydra himself with the shit attitude he had. "Mycroft," Phil interjected, clearly not agreeing with the other man's words. "They were unarmed and unprepared. They fought admirably, all things considered."

The two mentors went on arguing. "Even Tobias singlehandedly saved Thaddeus Ross' life," Phil commented, which did cause a flicker of surprise in Thaleia, although it really shouldn't have.

Mycroft blatantly ignored Phil's argument, speaking up once again. "J.A.R.V.I.S. is currently working to compile every piece of information from the attack that he can to try and find out where the other Descendants were taken. Once he is finished, we will use the data to form our next plan of attack. We can only hope we reach them before Hydra kills the Descendants... Or worse, before they find a way to exploit their powers to make their own super mutant weapons."

Mycroft urged the other mentors to take their leave with him, but Phil and Alfred refused in favor of helping the nurses. Thaleia's cold eyes followed Mycroft as he exited the room. "Wow," she muttered under her breath. "What a prissy bitch - get your own damn army to fight your battles if you wanna have such demanding expectations."

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Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch Character Portrait: Tobias Lehnsherr Character Portrait: Astrid Rogers Character Portrait: Jensen Jones
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Kezia could hardly contain her own excitement over meeting the other students. She kept skipping down ahead of Nathaniel and Roman only to return gushing over how amazing it was going to be. "I'm gonna have all new sparring partners and maybe this time they won't break so easily!" She skipped away again adding in a twirl for a little flare. She returned yet again to inquire the boys over what it might be like. "Do you think they'll like the flowers? I wonder if they'll like my knife collection. Maybe we can even compare. I bet they'll love the flowers because I picked them out all by myself to make them feel better." She couldn't help but giggle as she skipped away again.

Despite whatever was troubling Roman, this was an amazing opportunity for her. She couldn't wait for the chance to make all new friends and have a great time at this school. It certainly would beat having to spar humans all day or listen to Roman complain about her methods. Maybe she'll even find someone who likes her methods like her friend Lilith. Lilith always encouraged her antics. Even Nathaniel accepted what made her different form everyone else.

The truth was, Kezia found it hard to keep friends. Making them was the simple part. She was an easily likable person. It was once people noticed her inability to cater to emotional needs that she lost them. It also didn't help that many people were not a fan of her enjoyment of assassination missions. She just couldn't help who she was and didn't even know how to change. Though it did help to have people like Cas, Lilith, and Nathaniel around. After all, they still stick around.

Once they arrived at the infirmary, Kezia was quick to make her rounds to every student in a bed. She handed them each a flower with a childish grin plaster across her face as she repeated the same line, "Hi, I'm Kizzy! This is for you!"




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It took all restraint for Roman not to yell at his sister to settle down as they made their way through the halls. He understood her behavior but that didn't mean he condoned it. After all, he was looking to make a good impression on the group with all things considered. So it was only natural for him to worry the entire trip there over how he'd be able to do such a task.

Unlike Kezia, Roman didn't falter so heavily in the friend department. It came natural for him to draw people in and keep them there. Though he was quite picky with whom he chose to keep around. He simply didn't desire to force anyone to put up with the lifestyle he had no choosing in. This was why he chose to keep his friend group rather select. There was less damage control this way. And even less chances of him getting hurt emotionally by what Ra's may do to those he cares about if he ever falls out of line again.

It seemed as if ages had passed before they arrived in the infirmary. Of course Kezia wasted no time in thrusting herself as the center of attention. She went around introducing herself to each student while Roman screamed internally. He kept himself composed while he pitched in his own proper introduction, "Hello, my name is Roman Black and this is my sister, Kezia..."

"But you can call me Kizzy!"

"I understand this may seem a bit odd considering recent events but we are the two newest students to your academy. We wanted to extend our apologizes over what had unfolded last night and would like to offer our hand in anything you may need. We hope you can welcome us in so we can assist you in returning your fellow teammates."

Yes, it was a bit formal but it was all he could come up with. After all, it was the truth. Roman wanted to help. Though he specifically wanted to make sure Lilith was back safe form wherever she'd been taken.

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Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch Character Portrait: Jensen Jones Character Portrait: Andrew Mulligan Character Portrait: Gwen Queen-Lance Character Portrait: Kezia Black
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Whatever had happened, whatever was happening at the Academy was enough to send an alert out to the Arrowcave. Gwen couldn't even imagine what would have had to happen for an alert to be sent out. She'd always thought the Academy was inpenetrable, but apparently someone managed to penetrate it and on the night of the Gala to. Thankfully, her father had snatched a Javelin-7 from the Watchtower and used it for long distance missions or if he ever had to visit the Watchtower, so she stole it and instructed the autopilot to take her to the Academy.

On a commercial airline or in her father's private jet, it may have taken her five to six hours to get back to Connecticut, but in the Javelin-7 she made it there in just two hours. On her approach, she could see the large hole in the side of the building. "Get to a height I can drop from and return to the Arrowcave." She instructed the autopilot, whilst cringing at the word Arrowcave, her father wasn't very original or creative and it just sounded wrong anyway.

After exiting the aircraft, Gwen ran for the main entrance of the Academy, she spotted several people in gowns in several different states of shock or being attended to by the Academy's medical staff. She spotted two guards near the entrance and dashed up to them.
"What happened?" She barked at them, out of worry instead of anger.
"There was an attack during the Gala, Hydra assaulted the event and took a few of the students." The guard's debrief was brief and blunt, and Gwen just stood with her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape, she blinked as her eyes slowly looked everywhere bar at the guard, her mind was racing with who could have been taken. A short time passed before the guard brought her attention back to the moment. "Ma'am?"
Gwen just blinked up at him before shaking herself out of her daze and rushing to the ballroom, hopefully, there were still people there.

Upon entering the ballroom, she could see the true extent of the damage, a hole in the wall, debris and blood everywhere, a few limbs remained near a sizeable amount of debris. Gwen swallowed hard in an attempt to keep herself from wretching, it was then someone noticed her standing by the door. "Ma'am, you're not allowed in here."
"Trust me, I'm leaving. Is everyone in the Infirmary?"
"Everyone that's left, ma'am." Gwen didn't even have a response to that, the staff must have been pretty shaken up if that was how they were responding.

Gwen ran directly to the infirmary, opting for the stairs instead of the lift, she couldn't stand still worrying about her friends like this. She arrived just in time for Mycroft to list of those who were taken,
"Wren Wilson, Alec Constantine, Petra Max—" Gwen narrowed her eyes at him, she could see the redhead from where she stood. "Lilith Isley, Ulrich Zod, Caitria Allen, Francis Parker and Cassius Thompson were all taken hostage last night like it was nothing. If you all would have fought as a team like we've been trying to tell you for years now... None of this would have happened. Hydra would have been stopped before they laid a hand on anyone." Gwen clenched her fist, her friends were kidnapped after failings by his security team and he had the audacity to blame the students, she could feel herself getting angry, and she'd happily let herself scream in his ear if it didn't risk everyone else. Luckily, Phil interjected before Mycroft could say any more.
"Mycroft, they were unarmed and unprepared. They fought admirably, all things considered." As Phil interrupted Mycroft, Gwen looked around for her remaining friends.

Ross was with Jensen and two people she'd never seen before, whilst Andrew was with Riley. She spotted Ross getting up and announcing he needed a drink. She weaved her way through the infirmary to him. "With wounds like them, Rossy, you might not want to thin your old blood." She teased him, before nodding to Jensen and looking at the pair with them. "Hey, Jensen, and you two?" She pointed at the two in sort of drumming motion, a bit like finger guns but without the thumb extended. "Are you guys okay?" She asked, her tone more serious than most were used to her being.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch Character Portrait: Tobias Lehnsherr Character Portrait: Jensen Jones Character Portrait: Wynne Worthington
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ImageFar from her usual observant self, Petra hardly noticed what she'd interrupted. She spared Wynne a glance, noting her injuries. So their mole hadn't stood by while the rest were attacked.

"Ross's mirror dimension," she turned back to Tobias, letting the tone of bitterness in her thoughts bleed through into her speech. "I only wish I could have done more... At the very least, I could have sucked the gas out of the room and given everyone a better fighting chance. But Ross saw them targeting me and - well, he just acted, I suppose."

She shifted in her chair, turning more towards the other boy. "But, what you did for Thaddeus Ross... your mom would be proud of you. I know that."

Anything else she was going to say was cut off by the arrival of a couple of people, one skipping around, the other seeming to understand a little better the decorum expected of one in an infirmary.

"Hi, I'm Kizzy!"

Petra accepted the flower thrust at her without complaint, although her expression made it clear she was distinctly unimpressed. "Thanks." In her hands, lined and roughened by her violent childhood, the flower seemed pathetic and out of place. Uncertain what to do with it, she let her hands fall into her lap again, shielding the flower from view, turning to follow the newcomers with her eyes as Tobias did... whatever he was doing with Wynne. Petra had not known him to be particularly fond of being openly kind, but maybe this was a start.

"I'll be alright. You both can go help with the search effort, if you want. Or check on others." Tobias's voice called her attention back, and Petra tore her eyes away from the two white-blonde heads to meet his gaze again.

"I'm not exactly Miss Congeniality here," she pointed out. "But I'll let you heal in peace. Rest up." So saying, she reached out to touch his shoulder gently. "You too," she directed at Wynne. "I hope you're both feeling better soon." Pushing her chair back, she rose, leaving the infirmary. No one stopped her to ask where she was headed, so instead of seeking out further company, she headed for the lift, intending to go back to her flat and collapse into bed. Maybe take a hot shower. Everything was suddenly so exhausting.


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ImageIt took some amount of effort to squash down all the emotions threatening to spill over - this wasn't like having an anxiety attack, not when it was someone else's life at stake - but Andrew's comforting presence helped. Riley focused on his light touch, warmth radiating through the thin fabric of his shirt, and after a minute felt more confident in his emotional stability.

"I mean, considering all that's happened, I can't possible say that I feel great. But for the situation, I'm doing pretty well." Riley could hear the bitter undertone in Andrew's voice. He smiled, a sardonic twist marring it. "For the situation," he repeated to himself. And what a situation it was. Training had always been about what if you're on enemy territory, what if you have to protect someone. It had never asked what if the enemy was on home territory and they had failed to protect those dear to them.

"So, uh, who else was taken?"

The names came like clockwork to Riley. Every name a reminder of how they'd failed in their duty, not just to protect the people but to protect themselves. "Wren, Caitria, Lilith, Ulrich, Constantine, and... some guy named Cassius?" He shrugged. "With the number of students joining us, I can't really say I'm surprised to hear an unfamiliar name." He glanced over his shoulder at the two currently making their rounds around the room. "I don't suppose you know who they are...?"

The pair reached them soon enough, and the girl held out flowers to both of them. "Welcome to the Academy," Riley greeted them. As soon as they moved on he placed his flower on Andrew's bedside stand. "For you. Could spruce up your place."

As he set it down he glanced over at Andrew, noting with a pang of guilt how tired the other man looked. He'd just regained consciousness, and instead of letting him rest Riley was jabbering away about his own concerns - so incredibly selfish, as usual, Barton.

He stood abruptly, eager to prevent any further mistakes of the same sort. "I'm, uh. I'm sorry, I'm going to let you rest now. You probably really need it," he blurted. Reaching over to pat Andrew's shoulder, he turned away, heading back for his own bed, where he could pick up his things and go back to his penthouse where he could freak out in private.


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ImageMaximoff's less-than-cursory glance didn't escape Wynne. Funny, how she could see so many of her own qualities in the other girl, yet neither trusted the other, instead choosing to remain wary and assume the worst until proven otherwise. She could be good, if she ever chose to work with me instead of against me, Wynne mused.

Instead of eavesdropping on their conversation, Wynne shifted her attention to the brother and sister. Kezia and Roman Black... she had little information on them. Some, but not enough. Switching her phone on, she typed a quick update email to the U.N., adding a little note at the end requesting for the twins' files. That was the best she could manage for now.

When she looked up, the girl was standing in front of Tobias's chair, beaming at her. Returning the smile (which didn't reach her eyes), Wynne took the flower, twirling it idly in her hands. "Nice to meet you," she murmured as they passed by. Pointless, but a nice gesture all the same, she supposed.

Movement towards her face. She looked up quickly, just as Tobias slid the flower behind her ear. Surprised, she raised a hand, brushing the petals with her fingertips. "Thank you." Another thing to thank him about. She did not expect to find him this willingly heroic, or so gentle - Tobias Lehnsherr was turning out to be a very unexpected character.

"I'll be alright. You both can go help with the search effort, if you want." He lay back, looking between her and Petra. Well, there was no need for Wynne to offer. If not her father, then some other higher-ranking official would have already made clear the U.N.'s stance on the Academy accessing their resources. It wasn't her place to decide. She nodded at Petra as she left, mildly surprised at her comment.

"I'll let you recuperate," she told Tobias. "But before I do... I just wanted to thank you for what you did earlier. I know that you're likely cautious of me and my motives here, and I cannot blame you for it. But I hope we can start again, as classmates instead of people caught on opposite sides of a war, which was never my view. And after today... I owe you my life. I think that's enough reason for me to doubt your reputation, even just a little. I'll see you around." Having said what she wanted to say, she got to her feet, shaking her wings out behind her briefly to unruffle them. She left the infirmary, taking the stairs up as far as they would let her, all the way to the roof.


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ImageJensen could read the tension in Ross's body the moment she mentioned Maximoff. With this proximity, how could she not? "She's not me girl -" He cut himself off with a sigh. Jensen had to restrain herself from chuckling. It was rare her readings of relationships were wrong, and this was just another little mark in her list of successes.

"She's fine." Jensen waited. Sometimes the best way to get more from people was to stay silent. Although she had to feel a little bad for him - he was a genuinely nice person, and Jensen wasn't yet entirely certain Maximoff was a girl worth hurting over. "She's mad at meh."

Jensen sighed sympathetically. "That's gotta be hard." Ross didn't respond, however, preoccupied with looking around the infirmary at something. Jensen remained lying down, staring at the ceiling, her hands folded over her stomach.

"Hi, I'm Kizzy! This is for you!"

Jensen raised her head off the pillow a little, looking at the bug-eyed blonde standing by her bed. Ross's expression said exactly what she was thinking, albeit with a little less cursing. "Eh what?"

God, there was no end to the freaks entering this place. She recognised the irony in calling some among their number freaks, but honestly. Some of these people had never grown up around normal folk. The best greeting she could manage was a half-grimace, half-smile, nodding as the boy spoke. "Right. Uh, glad to see you're having fun here." She could hardly keep the disdain out of her voice.

"Wanna go get drunk? Aye need me a fuckin' drink." Jensen let her head drop back onto the pillow, groaning. "And here I thought you were going to sit here blabbering all day, McCulloch. That's the stupidest question you've ever asked me, and I'm pretty sure you say a lot of dumb stuff." She pushed herself upright, ignoring the way her bones creaked. "Absolutely."

Before she could get out of bed, though, another blonde, this one familiar, stepped towards them. "Hey, Jensen, and you two?" Jensen's eyebrows shot up. "Are you guys okay?"

"All sorts of surprises today, but I think I'll survive," she responded. "Didn't expect to see you back here today, Gwen."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch Character Portrait: Tobias Lehnsherr Character Portrait: Jensen Jones Character Portrait: Wynne Worthington
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#, as written by barnes
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ImagePetra enjoyed some thirty minutes of solitude - proper, comfortable solitude, none of that sitting on a cold floor in a thin dress shit - letting the hot water run until the bathroom was filled with steam. With a warm mug of tea on her bedside stand and an old book in her arms, still unfinished from before the training exercise that now seemed a year ago, she settled on her bed, dressed in a warm sweater and jeans. She had no plans to emerge from her apartment before the next day dawned.

Or so she thought. After seven pages, her phone buzzed.

From: Tobias

There's a drunk Scot in an elevator. Maybe you were too hard on him? He just wanted you safe.

...

Just a thought.


Petra exhaled a long breath through her nose, lips pursed. She tried not to shake her head. As there wasn't really anyone around to judge her for physically expressing her frustration, she didn't mind so much that the attempt to suppress herself failed. Ross was a grown man, he could deal with himself. She typed a quick message back, then set her phone to silent and tossed it back on the stand.

To: Tobias

I'm not his chaperone.


But she couldn't get the image out of her head. Not for lack of trying, but the book couldn't hold her attention - not even with an explanation of old, fairly obscure chaos magic theory. Eventually she set the book aside with a sigh, pushing herself off the bed. Her tea would probably go cold. She might not finish the book until she was eighty. It hadn't even been three hours, and she was already breaking her vow of not leaving her apartment.

Gods damn Ross.


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ImageAs per Riley's luck, upon returning to his bed, he suffered another attack of dizziness that had him sinking to his knees, gasping for breath, almost knocking his IV stand over as his hands scrabbled for purchase on the nearest surface. Having been helped up and back into bed by a couple of nurses, he forgot about heading back to his apartment, instead drifting in and out of wakefulness for a period of time. Every time he closed his eyes he had a fresh nightmare about his dad and friends, all of which he promptly forgot upon waking.

He awoke proper some time later, staring blankly at the ceiling of the infirmary. The drip had been finished and removed sometime while he was asleep, so he presumed he was free to go. With a groan, he pushed himself upright and looked around. Already some of the students had taken their leave, judging by the relative quiet of the infirmary and the empty, as-yet-unmade beds. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Riley gathered his things from the bedside stand, making sure his watch was tucked carefully away, and left.

His head was heavy. If a concussion was all it took to fix anxiety-induced insomnia, Riley would have run headfirst into a wall years ago.

The elevator doors slid open, and a pair of feet came into view. Riley glanced up, startled, to see Ross sitting in the elevator, his eyes closed.

"Oh boy." Riley hurried forward, bending down by his friend. "As if getting your entire face rearranged wasn't enough, Ross? What the hell?" He slipped an arm under his friend's shoulders, trying to heave Ross's dead weight upright and press the button for Ross's floor at the same time.. "Let's take you back, yeah?"

The elevator doors slid open, far earlier than Riley had expected. Petra stood there, her arms crossed, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. "Give him here."

"What?"

Instead of repeating herself, she stepped into the elevator with them, pressing the button for Riley's floor, then adding her support to Ross's other side. "He's like this because of me. I'll take care of him. You should go back and rest."

Ross is my friend, Riley wanted to say, but he caught the dangerous glint in her eyes. Trust me, I'd rather be doing anything else right now, it said, and so he backed off. "Alright. Thanks."

They reached his floor, and he tried, as gently as possible, to slip out from under Ross's weight. "Feel better soon."


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ImageShe was flying. The sun was warm on her skin, her stitches were screaming, and she was soaring.

Wynne couldn't help herself. She'd just popped into her assigned apartment briefly - bare, boring, and a really weird shade of beige - dumped her stuff, and then gone up to the roof. Warren Worthington could make all the threats he wanted, but the world knew she was a mutant, and here no one would try to rein her in like fucking Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.

She pretty much looked like him, though. On the ground - or even the roof - the temperature was mild, but up in the air, doing acrobatics like she'd never tried before, the speed and the wind chill brought a pretty flush to her cheeks. Her braid had pulled loose, and pretty much half her hair was now blowing by her face, but she didn't care. Despite her lack of experience, flying was incredibly freeing, and came to her easily.

After amusing herself by tailing a flock of birds (and scaring the hell out of them), Wynne tried a few midair loops, then turned and dove into a barrel roll, ending it with a headlong spiral down towards the roof of the Academy. Just before she slammed headfirst into the concrete, she pulled up, slowing abruptly, and did a final midair backflip, landing lightly on her bare feet. Blood beaded below her stitches and slid thickly through the feathers, not enough to cause alarm. Still, she shuddered. It felt weird - both the pulled stitches and her wings stretched out.

Movement caught her eye, and she whipped around, her wings folding up behind her on instinct. She hadn't expected anyone else to come up here, which was the main reason she'd let herself loose.

Tobias Lehnsherr. Even when she wasn't looking for him, he turned up anyway. Wynne tugged the rubber band out of her hair, trying to smooth her hair back into something vaguely presentable. Dear Lord, that she might be acting like a wild teenager again, and this time in front of people much more important than a handful of university students. It was embarrassing.


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ImageJensen had to hurry to catch Ross. No way he was going to be steady on his feet, not after the beating he'd taken and the meds they'd probably pumped into him.

She was proved right when he wobbled and grabbed at her, letting him lean on her shoulder until he found his legs. "Whoa there, tiger. Take it easy."

"Let's get da fuck outta 'ere. I wanna drink 'til I'm pretteh again."

She laughed, despite herself. "You said it. Let's go." She crooked a finger at Gwen, a silent invitation. They weren't the closest, but she'd take whatever drinking buddies came her way.

The stairs weren't a problem for Jensen. She didn't say anything when they rounded the corner and familiar red tresses came into view, only continued supporting Ross up until they stumbled across the bar. In this mood, she wasn't eager to argue with anyone, least of all the one person who'd been kind enough to offer her a listening ear in the usual gang's absence.

She made good work on the bar almost immediately. At her request, the bartender kept the alcohol coming, seeing her through multiple whiskey shots until her vision was pleasantly blurry. Not enough to fuzz her thinking over, but enough that her pain had dulled considerably. She barely even noticed when Ross left, deciding at the last moment to let him leave. He needed the bed rest more than she did, although if he made it back to his apartment in one piece she'd be surprised. Didn't go after him, though, just remained where she was, smiling to herself.

After a little while she realised that Gwen had posed a question. Running back through her memory, she recalled it and finally turned to the other girl. "I dunno, like some giant clusterfuck. You seen the hole in the side of the building?" After downing another shot she sighed, trying to find the words.

"So there's this... gala, right, there's United Nations and bloody Thaddeus Ross, some winged gal joining us from the U.N. Temporarily. Whatever. If she's a spy, she's doing a shit job of it because she just went up on stage and announced it to the entire ballroom that she was joining as a student. Then these goons fuckin' blast a hole into the ballroom. Boom." She pushed air out from pursed lips, raising her hands to mimic an explosion. Probably almost hit Gwen in the face, but who cared. She downed another shot and continued.

"And they have these gas... things. They're grabbing students. Shot a claw right through Wren's chest like Moby Dick." Her voice faltered, grew sombre even through the alcohol. "Couldn't stop them, you know. They were prepared for us. I watched them pull Wren into a waiting helicopter. Then some bastard whacked me in the face - pow - and jabbed me with a needle. Next thing I know, I wake up feeling like shit." She laughed, a wet, choking sound, and rested her forehead on her hand, closing her eyes. "But when don't I feel like shit? I'm used to it. I'm worried about Wren. Pretty, tough, dangerous Wren... at least they can't kill her. Well, they could. But she'll be back. Hasta la vista, baby." She started cackling again, hardly able to control herself. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was very, very drunk. But it didn't really matter, not just then.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wren Wilson Character Portrait: Frankie Parker Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Lilith Isley Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch
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Frankie quickly shut her mouth when Wren snapped toward her. Part of her wanted to argue, but she simply sighed, leaning back against the concrete wall. The sound of Wren breaking the bones in her hand one by one turned her stomach. If there was something in there Frankie might have gotten sick but she couldn’t even recall the last time she ate or drank something.

“She’ll recover,” Lilith spoke up in regards to Wren’s actions. She didn’t seem like she believed the words coming out of her own mouth, but Frankie accepted them in silence. What else could they do? But part of her wished there was a different way… Because one thing Frankie knew was that if they were going to break out of here they’d need Wren at 110% and she was barely at 20%.

"Your dad's Kilgrave, right?” Caitria asked the new man in the group with the mouth guard. "Which means you can control minds, if I'm not mistaken. That would certainly be helpful. And unless someone has the ability to break through vibranium, or if they have a secret stash of adamantium they carry with them at all times, then breaking our hands like Wren is doing in attempt to relieve ourselves of these restraints is, unfortunately, the best option we have.”

"Ladies first," Ulrich added after Caitria was done. Frankie didn't like the sound of that. If her own hands were broken she'd be useless. Wren didn't look like she could carry the fighting herself, and they were no match without their hands. If they had a Wren at full capacity then Frankie would gladly stand back while the Wilson prowess took over. But there was no time for such luxuries.

”Oh, shut up,” Wren groaned as she yanked her broken and mangled hand from the restraint on the wall. She was surprised how much that little act took out of her. Wren let her broken hand rest in her lap. She could feel the effects of whatever drug they gave her wearing off slowly. Her body was healing, but not fast enough.

”If you all break your hands… We’re fucked. Just rest… while you can.” Wren didn’t have to say her meaning… Hopefully. Regardless, she wasn't going to. Whatever energy she had left, she was saving. She let her eyes close as she steadied her breathing, focusing most of her attention toward her hand. Of course, her abilities have always been subconscious but sometimes if she focused enough Wren could make it work a little faster. Honestly, she had no idea if it was working or not, but she still tried.

Frankie felt herself growing antsy. She sat there silent yet staring at Wren waiting for whatever the woman was going to do next. The red head just sat there and for all she knew she could have been asleep. Finally, Frankie spoke up unable to bear the silence, "...Now what?"

Wren sighed softly as she opened her eyes looking down at her hand in her lap. After a moment she slowly flexed her fingers continually until it no longer hurt or made unnatural noises. She then looked up toward Frankie, then parted her lips. "Hey! Asshole!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, jingling the shackles of her restraints against the wall as loud as she could manage. "MOTHER FUCKERS!! I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU! HEY!" Her voice already started to grow horse as she took a deep breath between words. "Fucking pussies! HEY!"

Frankie's eyes widened like a deer in headlights when Wren began to scream and shout. Had she gone crazy!? What was she doing. "Wren!? Shut up!"

Wren ignored her and continued to shout profanities until a guard showed up at the door to their cell. "Would you shut up? Or was 6 hours not enough?"

"Blow it out your ass!" Wren yelled at the guard before she spat at him.

The guard didn't need anymore provocation. He pulled out his keys, unlocking the door and walked over toward her. Once he was close enough, his eyes widened when he noticed Wren's left hand holding the cuff but not in it. She smirked up toward him before raising her leg and slamming her foot into his knee full force. The joint snapped backward and the man fell to the ground. Wren tried to reach him with her free hand but he was too far. She shifted her body, hooking her foot under his jaw and jerked him closer. Her long legs quickly wrapped around his neck before he could call out. Her thighs constricted around his neck while her free hand grabbed his flailing arm, snapping it backwards so he couldn't fight.

Frankie watched in admiration and horror as Wren not only attracted a guard into the cell but knocked him down to her level. She made it look effortless, like she hadn't been tortured for hours. But the look on the red head's face was horrifying. It wasn't the look of desperation to survive, or break out, but revenge. She was angry and wanted blood. Frankie knew Wren, along with many of her other companions, had taken lives, but seeing it was completely different. "Wren... Stop! You're killing him!" She hissed just above a whisper.

Wren tightened her legs. "Exactly," she replied glaring up from the guard at the blonde. Her gaze was enough of a silent threat that the spider girl finally stopped trying to argue. There was no saving lives at this point. She wanted revenge and blood... And if Ms. Perfect alerted the guards then Wren would go through her as well if it meant getting out.

When the guard stopped fighting and his face turned blue, Wren let his head slip from her thighs. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him closer so that she could reach his keys. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the physical exertion taking its toll but she pushed it back, refusing to succumb to the fatigue. It took a couple tries to unlock her other cuff, but once she did she couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips. Before Wren moved onto the others, she grabbed the strangled guard's head and gave it a quick jerk, snapping his neck. At this point, she'd rather be cautious.

It took a moment for Wren to get the energy to stand up and move over to Lilith. She unlocked her binds one at a time, then handed the blonde the keys. "Can you finish?" she asked as she allowed herself to slide back down to the ground, leaning against the wall.

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ross mcculloch
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Ross might have fallen asleep, or was he resting his eyes? It didn't matter. He heard the elevator doors open. He let his head roll against the wall as he slowly opened his eyes finding Riley standing before him. "Oh boy." Riley hurried to his side, bending down to meet him. "As if getting your entire face rearranged wasn't enough, Ross? What the hell?"

He chuckled, waving his friend off. "Did y'know alcohol and morphine don' mix?" Ross smiled at Riley as slid his arm under him pulling him up to his feet. Ross let himself lean against his friend, smiling up at him. "You, sir... Are a wonnerful mate. D'you know that?"

"Let's take you back, yeah?"

Ross pouted slightly, poking Riley's cheek. "Ooookay. Parteh pooper."

The doors opened again. Ross kicked out his leg preparing to start walking but realized Riley didn't move. He looked up finding none other than his Red standing before him. God did she look beautiful, even with her arms crossed over her chest. Why ya so angry, beautiful? He smiled weakly between the beauty and his friend.

"Give him here."

"What?"

Ross looked between the two lethargically. Petra entered the elevator, pressing a button, then took Ross' other side for support. He was content as a cucumber standing between the two of them. His smile stretched ear to ear so much that it squinted his eyes like a doped up puppy.

"He's like this because of me. I'll take care of him. You should go back and rest."

"Alright. Thanks," Riley said as he backed away. "Feel better soon."

Ross' brows furrowed, confused as to why Riley was leaving him. He reached out after him as he left. "Aye luv ya mate... Don' ferget it!" he called after him as the doors started to close and he was left with his arm draped over Petra's shoulders. After a moment, he looked over at her. His hand that rested on her shoulder raised as his fingers started to twirl a lock of her hair. "Yer so beautiful... Even when yer angry... Soooo angry." He smiled the best he could toward her as he let his hand fall from her shoulder, moving to support himself against the side of the elevator. He raised his hand to rub his nose and winced the second he did, forgetting it was broken. "Shite."




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tobias lehnsherr
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Tobia's phone buzzed shortly after he sent the text. He illuminated the screen to read over the message.

Message from : Petra Maximoff

"I'm not his chaperone."

He sighed, locking his phone and sliding it back into his pocket. It wasn't his place to tell her what she should or shouldn't do. He figured eventually she would understand why Ross did what he did. Or hopefully she would. Tobias would have done the same thing if he had the power. He set his phone down on the table and just as he did so, something caught his eye up in the sky above the tower.

Tobias rested his hands in his lap as he willed the metal in the wheelchairs wheels to roll him out from under the umbrella. He looked up into the sky, surprised to see none other than Wynne flying above. Regardless of her wounds or anything else she seemed light as air and free, he could see the blood stained her white feathers. He found himself smiling slightly at the sight, not of the blood but of her freedom. He was able to make himself levitate on the occasion and knew the weightless sensation of it.

Then everything in her flipped like a switch when she saw him. She quickly landed on the rooftop, and pulled the tie of her hair. He couldn't help but chuckle slightly as she was evidently embarrassed by him seeing her.

"... I can leave. Didn't mean to interrupt." He motioned his thumb over his shoulder as he commented about leaving. Tobias' gaze fell to her wing where she was bleeding, her stitches having being ripped out. "You should get that cleaned up before you're infected. I can do it if you don't want to go back to the hovering nurses." He gave a sympathetic smile.

After a moment, he tapped his fingers on the armrest of the chair. Tobias nodded his head toward her and willed the chair to turn and start back toward the elevator. He always loved the roof, but it looked like someone else needed it more than him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch Character Portrait: Tobias Lehnsherr Character Portrait: Jensen Jones Character Portrait: Wynne Worthington
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ImagePetra felt like calling after Riley's retreating back. Not really, he's your friend. Get back here and help me. At the very least, What am I supposed to do with a drunk person? But she kept her mouth shut, watched the lift doors slide closed.

"Yer so beautiful... Even when yer angry... Soooo angry."

There it was. The lack of inhibition she hated so much. Petra closed her eyes, exhaling a slow breath through her nose. "...Thanks. I think." But he wasn't done - a moment passed, then he started tugging at her hair. Frowning, she let him, then patted his fingers, trying to quiet him. "Alright, that's -" "Shite." "Hey. Don't do that. Come on." She turned to see him reaching for his face, and, reacting on instinct, she grabbed his hand to stop him from touching his face again, her hold lingering for a moment.

"Why are you always hurting yourself? First getting your face beat in, then drinking yourself stupid when you're in this state? Do you not think before you act? What did you say - even if it meant your life for mine? Do you really think you're worth that little?" She couldn't help the frustration colouring her tone, and as she spoke she shook his hand a little, still grasped firmly in hers. Her grip grew warm, magic rising to bubble beneath her skin with this display of emotion.

She paused, rethinking what she'd just said, and dropped his hand. "I'm not angry. At you." Her voice was lower, tired, the accent she'd picked up from her mother stronger when she wasn't suppressing it. "I just don't agree with what you think, about either of us." The lift doors slid open at Ross's floor, and she helped him out without another word.

Once Petra managed to wrangle Ross inside and - after taking a moment to goggle at the interior and mumble "why don't you have a proper couch like normal people" - find an empty seat to deposit him in, she went hunting for a kitchen. It was a fairly small room, almost hidden from sight, and it didn't take long digging before she found a mug, some hot chocolate, and a small carton of milk in the fridge.

No hot water kettle though. Unwilling to leave Ross unattended for much longer (worried as she was about spending too much time around him with no filter), she filled the mug and rolled it between her palms, channelling heat energy through her hands until the mug's contents were steaming, then went back out to Ross. "Take this. It's hot," she warned, bending down beside him. She guided his hands around the mug, her hands pressed over his to ensure he wouldn't drop it. Once she was satisfied, she let go and stood up, leaning against whatever game machine he was sitting at. "Are you going to throw up, should I get a bucket?"


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Image"Aye luv ya mate... Don' ferget it!" Riley saluted Ross's passing shout over his shoulder. "Love you too, you mess of a human being."

He pushed open the door to his penthouse. "Hello, J.A.R.V.I.S.," he said automatically, without really thinking. The moment the words left his lips, he stopped dead, one foot in the threshold. Would he get a response? It seemed silly to get attached to the an AI, but if J.A.R.V.I.S. wasn't functional because of the attack... well, everything would be different.

"Hello, Mr. Barton." Riley sighed, relieved. Was it his imagination, or did the response sound tired? Low and drawn out - Riley felt like he was stepping into someone else's room. Stupid, since it was the room he'd spent so many of his nights arranging and rearranging, cleaning, trying to make his own. But it didn't seem the same anymore.

Stopping only to kick his shoes off, he collapsed onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. He didn't feel like sleeping, not when he felt this unsafe, but he was too exhausted to do anything else. Maybe he could spend the rest of the day like this, just thinking about nothing.


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Image"...I can leave. Didn't mean to interrupt." Was it her imagination, or did he seem amused? Wynne, silent, remained where she stood, the concrete roof burning the soft soles of her feet. "You should get that cleaned up before you're infected. I can do it if you don't want to go back to the hovering nurses."

He turned to leave, and she found her tongue. "Stay," she blurted. When he turned back she cleared her throat, trying to look warm instead of coldly neutral. "Please, don't go on my account. There's enough space for both of us. And I... might need an extra pair of eyes." Tilting her head towards her wings to illustrate her point. "I mean - if you want to go, you know... I just meant you don't have to mind my presence..." She turned away, giving him the space to go if he wanted to. Maybe he really didn't want to be there with her, but was too polite to say so.

By the pool stood a lone showerhead, higher than Wynne would perhaps have liked, but good enough for her purpose. She moved to stand under it, her wings stretched out as far as she could, and cupped her hands to direct the water over the pulled stitches. The flow of blood thinned, red-tinged water splattering the floor until the worst of it had gone down the drain. After trying to shake some of the water off, she lowered herself into a chair, trying not to ruffle the feathers too much as she arranged them over the back so they would dry off in the sun. She'd deal with the stitches themselves later.

"Sorry you had to see that," she began, "I don't get much chance to stretch these and practice, and keeping them folded up all the time, uh... It gets tiring, you know? Like if your hands were constantly bound behind your back." Maybe it was the sense of freedom she'd gained from her short flight, but it suddenly seemed easier to talk to him, now that she knew he wasn't going to go. Or maybe it was because she'd thanked him and gotten that load off her chest. "This is a very peaceful spot. Do you come up here often?"


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Image Image ImagexxxxxxxxxJ E N S E N x J O N E S x • x h e x x // x 2b4f81 x •




ImageJensen couldn't count how many shots she'd had. Did it matter? Not unless she was thinking about the resulting hangover, and that had never really been one of her concerns. She slammed another one back, and the bartender winced at Gwen as he refilled it, no doubt thinking of how she was probably going to be saddled with a very drunk Jensen very soon. "An alert? What, we've got Mycroft sending out newsletters to old students now?" She laughed loudly, obnoxiously, clearly amused by her own joke. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're back. Glad you're back... Good to have you back. One just wishes it wasn't under these circumstances, y'know."

She turned her head, just in time to see Gwen check her phone. "Somewhere important you have to be?" A thought struck her. "Shit!" If an alert had been sent to Gwen, then her mother would definitely have gotten wind of what had happened. Jessica Jones was an alert mother, if not a very loving one.

Sure enough, when Jensen checked her phone, there were a handful of new messages and missed calls.

From: Mom
I heard about the gala. Call me back.

From: Mom
You're tough. I know you're ok. Call me back.

From: Mom
JJ. Please just let me know if you're fine. If anyone's reading this, please call me.


It was almost enough to make Jensen sober up immediately. She hit the dial button, and her mother picked up immediately. "It's me. Don't cry." Her voice was still slurred, and she laughed a little at Jessica's reply. "Didn't drink that much. 'm still in the Tower, I'll be fine. Could probably drink my weight right now. You know me." It continued that way for a while, back and forth until Jensen eventually hung up with a final loud "You love me!" and slammed the phone down on the bar.

She waved a hand at Gwen. "If you have to go, go. Don't let ol' Smashed Jen here keep you down."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wren Wilson Character Portrait: Frankie Parker Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch Character Portrait: Caitria Allen
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wren wilson
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frankie parker
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"Where exactly are we heading to?" One of the newcomers questioned them as everyone piled into the bed of the truck. "Do you even know where we are?"

"Does it matter?!"Wren didn’t lift her cheek from the butt of the rifle as she kept picking off Hydra soldiers as the as they filed out of the facility. There was only a few of them at first, but more and more started to flood out like rats away from a fire. She did what she could, but there was only so many bullets and she could only shoot so fast. Wren could understand the concern in him, he’s following a bunch of enhanced people he doesn’t know just go somewhere. But it was a better option than staying and hanging out with Hydra anyway you slice it.

Wren’s brows raised when a purple ball of something flew the guy and slammed into a crowd of soldiers, lighting them all up in a column of violet flames. She glanced over her shoulder toward the culprit giving him a slight smile and a nod of her head.

On cue from inside the cabin, Frankie honked the horn hurrying everyone into the truck. The blonde poked her head out of the driver side window to look back at Wren. She hollered something about needing to go that the red head couldn’t hear over the rain and loud rumble of the truck. Wren put one more shot between the eyes of an approaching guard before sliding the gun into the bed of the truck.

She was about to climb into the bed, but stopped when she saw the bazooka. Wren could have left it. They all could have left everything the way it was and still gotten away in one piece. But that wasn’t enough for her. With her back to the facility, a force slammed her from behind. She glanced down to see a bullet right through her left shoulder before lodging itself in the side of the vehicle. Her left arm was weakened, but she pushed past the pain and hefted the bazooka up onto her right shoulder. "Go fuck yourself," she said as she pulled the trigger.

The recoil made her falter backward as the projectile flew toward the base. Like the thunder, the impact at first was quiet then rippled through the ground like a wave. The explosion light up the sky and the sound was like a physical wave that pushed her back. For good measure, Wren flipped the bird toward what remained of the Hydra facility before climbing up into the bed of the truck. She gave two smacks to the side to signal she was in and Frankie didn’t hesitate to floor it out of there.

***

Frankie drove the truck through the night. Surprisingly, the base wasn’t on another continent halfway around the world. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Attacking the Academy is a risky move, and the longer amount of time they spent in the air with all of them that they kidnapped, the easier it would have been for the other Descendants, heroes or whatever else to hunt them down. It took Frankie the better part of an hour or two of driving to see roads signs that told her she was in Canada and figure out the right way to travel.

It was a long drive and for the tail end of it, she could feel her eyelids getting heavier. Frankie thought about pulling over and asking one of the others to drive, but they all looked worse for the wear. So, she pushed through it, driving the army trunk down freeways until they arrived back in Bridgeport. At first she saw the Descendent tower peeking out over the horizon just past dawn. The sun glistened off the windows making the building shimmer like the Emerald City.

Frankie felt a knot twist in her gut as tears formed in her eyes. There is nothing that can quite describe the fear one feels when they are so close to something they fought for. She wanted to feel relief but until she was inside and could see her friends’ faces, the pit would only grow. So often people are torn from what they want just shy and she’d be damned if that would stop her now.

She pulled the truck down the long narrow driveway that lead up to the tower, her hands white knuckling the steering wheel as they grew closer. Frankie hadn’t thought about it until that moment… But the fact that they were pulling up to a building filled with some of the world’s most powerful people in a foreign truck, shortly after an attack wasn’t the smartest. But she didn’t care.

The truck came to an abrupt stop before the tower, Frankie all but slamming on the breaks to stop the truck. She didn’t even waste the time to turn off the engine. The blonde stumbled out of the driver’s seat, nearly falling to her knees on the pavement. She couldn’t fight the tears that fell from her eyes nor the sobs that climbed up her throat.

Frankie made her way to the entrance and pushed open the large entry doors into the tower, desperate for a familiar face.

***

Wren was awoken when the truck came to quick stop causing her to slide along the bed of the truck until she collided with the back of the cabin. She groaned as she sat up, her hand cupping the gunshot wound in her shoulder that had only healed a fraction as much as it would have on a normal day. Wren raised her fist and banged it on the back of the truck’s cabin. "What in the hell is going on?"

When she didn’t get a response, Wren open her eyes only to have the breath taken from her as she saw a familiar skyline. She all but shoved past the others to climb out of the back of the truck. Unfortunately for her, when her feet hit the ground, her body was not prepared to catch her.

She remained there, frozen on the concrete under the early morning sunlight. Red locks fell around her head like a veil while she was on her hands and knees. Wren was never the type to cry, anger was always her go to emotion in most situations, but it rose up through her like a wave. Then there at that moment on the ground, so close to the academy she wept. Her body heaved with every sob as her head fell into the palms of her hands upon the ground.




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"Mother? Do you mean... Mystique?" Wynne asked.

Tobias’ brows raised as he looked at her in curiosity before it had sunken in. Of course, Wynne, might not have known about his connection to Raven like some of the other people at the academy. It wasn’t something that he openly broadcasted or anything, but like any building with a lot of busy bodies, information spreads fast.

He adjust in his wheelchair, holding his bandaged wound with his right hand as he did. Tobias sighed at his own incapacitation before looking over at Wynne and nodding his head. "Yes. She’s not actually my mother. I never knew my mother. But where my father didn’t raise me… Raven did."

Tobias never liked the negative outlook people had on his mother. He knew her true nature that no one else got to see and he was always willing to speak about her in a new light. Sadly, most people didn’t believe him that his mother was a good person beneath everything else. But when Magneto wants you to do something you do it… Or you die.

***

He hadn’t been in bed long. Surprisingly, Wynne and Tobias spent a better part of the evening on the roof talking… About anything, everything. It was so rare that anyone went out of their way to speak to him as an equal, beside Petra. But she was family.

Tobias had just reached a deeper slumber when a loud alarm and bright lights woke him. He sat up so quickly in his bed that he nearly popped a stitch. His hand quickly moving to his side to cup his wound as he groaned. J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice echoed throughout the tower, "This is not a drill. Approaching foreign vehicle. All hands to the main floor."

As quickly as he could manage, Tobias climbed out of bed and into his wheelchair. Before he exited his room, he rolled over to the window looking out to see a large military truck approaching the tower. None of them had their strength back to handle another Hydra attack, especially himself. He cursed under his breath and used his abilities to move his chair far faster than his hands could.

He contemplated diverting to Petra’s room. But instead, Tobias tried to be one of the first to the lobby, hoping that maybe it took her too long to get down here or she slept through the alarms. Then, she’d be out of harm’s way. Instead of pressing the button for the elevator, he willed it to his floor only and forced it down to ground level.

Tobias rolled into the main lobby to be met by Mycroft, Coulson and Alfred. It was the first time he ever saw the trio prepared for a real attack… Not scolding the about their simulations. They all stood there like sentries in Kevlar vests. For the first time in his life, they all seemed almost relieved that he was there with them in the academy. If the situation wasn’t so dire he might have even commented on it. Instead his gaze focused on the approaching truck, trying to muster whatever energy he had.

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ross mcculloch
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It was a rude awakening for a drunk and injured man. If he wasn’t sunken into a beanbag chair like quicksand, Ross might have fallen on the floor from the shock of it all. He tried to find something to throw at… Well, he didn’t know, but something but came up short handed.

It took Ross a few moments to fully comprehend what J.A.R.V.I.S. was saying over the alarms but once it registered, he nearly jumped up from his place in the beanbag chair. He grabbed his backpack which held his mirror gun and a large arrangements of mirrors, then headed out the door. Barefoot, still in his hospital pants and shirtless, he ran as fast as he could down the hallway.

In a quick decision, Ross turned to the stairs rather than waiting on the elevator. This time he refused to be taken by surprise. He hated how he wasn’t powerful like most of the other students here, but he earned his place and he would protect his friends. So many of them were already taken, that he wouldn’t let whomever was rolling right up to their door take anyone else.

He ran into the lobby, slowing to a halt along with the others. Ross looked like an idiot holding a mirror gun in his hands while he was barely dressed. The skills he inherited from his father were a joke, but nonetheless, he intended to use every trick he had up his sleeve if he had to. Then the driver’s side door opened…

Ross got ready to shoot, but when the blonde came into view, his gun fell from his hands as he stood there in shock. It clattered to the ground, the sound echoing off the walls of the large foyer. "Oh m’god… Ets Frankie!"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wren Wilson Character Portrait: Frankie Parker Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch Character Portrait: Jensen Jones
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#, as written by barnes
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It had been easy to busy herself with various little tasks concerning the tidying of her penthouse, but Petra's thoughts were occupied elsewhere through the rest of the evening. She drifted through her apartment quietly, not quite paying attention to anything, just thinking about the attack they'd recently survived.

Everything is different now. Everyone knew it, but it was a thought she couldn't shake. Up until then, Hydra had always been something lurking just out of sight, like a scary story you told a child to make them behave. Sure, it wasn't a real threat, but as long as the child believed that a monster would rise up out of the sea and take them away if they strayed out too far they would never face the danger of drowning for fear of the monster. And likewise the threat of Hydra kept the Descendants on their toes, motivated them to train and fight for good. But Hydra had attacked once, and it would attack again. And unless there was some way to keep it at bay it would keep coming until it had achieved its goal. That was how organisations like that worked.

So Petra worried, for more than just the taken students. She worried for the students left behind, for the mentors who would no doubt have to put together some plan of attack to guide their students through... she highly doubted any of the Descendants were at their peak, strategy- and battle-wise. Not that she would ever say it to anyone's face, lest it set off new accusations of her being a bitch for no good reason.

Still, it was enough to tire her out, and by the time the alarm sounded she had attempted to settle down a little, tucking herself into bed and getting comfortable. As it had just two mornings ago, the alarm startled her, and she sat bolt upright, trying to understand the alert. "This is not a drill. Approaching foreign vehicle. All hands to the main floor."

Petra paused to grab her robe, pulling it on over her nightgown, but did not bother to put shoes on. She ignored the lift entirely; she took the stairs three at a time until she skidded barefoot into the lobby, almost colliding with Tobias's wheelchair. It seemed the other students had been similarly caught off guard - Wynne was already there, pale and wide-eyed, her jacket buttoned up wrongly and her wings trailing on the floor; Jensen Jones was stumbling out of the lift, still wearing the infirmary pajamas, her hair curling every which way. In her hands she clutched a heavy-looking bat with spikes driven through the end, the wood at the end stained and worn (whether from actual blood or for effect Petra was unsure).

"More Hydra, perfect," she snarled, clearly not in a playing mood. Last time they'd caught her off guard and in a dress. This time she was ready to beat some skulls in with her weapon, and she'd take every one of them down with her if she had to. Already her hangover was ebbing away with the adrenaline, replaced only by a single burning desire to murder whoever she could get her hands on.

Wynne was not so sure. Talking to Tobias earlier had made her realise many things, chief of which was how tiny her position in the universe was. She was well aware of her status as a liability to the academy, and was hardly equipped to defend it against its enemies. But she thought she should be standing here with the rest of them as well, at least making an effort. If Hydra managed to take them down tonight... at least she had gone down fighting.

But there was no need for it. A voice rang through the foyer, cutting clear through the room. "Oh m’god… Ets Frankie!"

"If this is a joke, McCulloch, you're going first," Jensen started angrily, taking a step forward, but she found herself being pushed aside by a pair of heavy hands on her shoulders. Riley moved past her, ignoring even the mentors, until he'd reached Frankie's side, putting his arms around her. His face was frozen in shock, mouth opening and closing as he tried to find something to say. But no words came to him, and eventually he settled for pulling her into a tight hug, cradling his best friend against his chest.

"How... we thought you... you're safe," he managed as he finally pulled away, holding her at arm's length. "Frankie, oh god, you're back." He finally took in her sorry state, eyes widening as he tried to understand. "You can - you can tell us what happened later. We gotta get you to the infirmary first. Is everyone back?" They had to have rescued everyone. Frankie would never stand for leaving a fellow student behind. Looping his arm around her waist, he began to help her into the building, intent on getting medical help as soon as he could.

Petra was not so sentimental. Once she'd ascertained for herself it really was Frankie at the door, she moved quickly, squeezing past the reunited students into the cold outside, past the huge vehicle parked right in front of the school. If they had been followed back... But there was no one. No armies thundering down the driveway to meet them, no helicopters hovering ahead. Aside from the clamour coming from the school behind her, the night was cold and quiet - almost too peaceful, in contrast to what they'd experienced earlier. The sky stretched dark and empty above their heads, and a lump began to form in Petra's throat, though no tears came. She stood alone in the driveway, looking around, and only when she had convinced herself that they were safe did she begin to head back inside, holding her robe closed against the wind.

A couple of unfamiliar faces stood amongst the students moving into the school. Her guard up again, Petra moved to stop them - three students, two male and one female. Looking at their injuries, she felt a small twinge of guilt before reminding herself of the danger the academy had just faced. She couldn't risk letting threats in. "You'll forgive me for being suspicious, I hope. Who are you, and can anyone vouch for you?"

Jensen threw her bat aside, surging forward. She let Riley and Frankie have their reunion. Behind Frankie, the others were beginning to clamber out of a truck, but Jensen didn't have eyes for any of them, her eyes searching the faces - some familiar, some unfamiliar - until she spotted the redheaded figure on the ground. She knelt down beside Wren, ducking her head to meet Wren's gaze. "Didn't bring me a bouquet of Hydra heads?" she asked, almost conversationally. "How're you doing, baby?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wren Wilson Character Portrait: Frankie Parker Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ulrich Zod Character Portrait: Gwen Queen-Lance
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Image Image Image H A R L E Y x W I L L I A M S
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Harley dropped down next to Anastasia, she hadn't stirred much during the escape but she did drowsily lift her head to look at her surrounds, in the safety of the van, which was travelling to God only knows were and Harley suddenly wondered, if the people who had saved him were really much better than their own kidnappers... After all, both parties didn't seem to mind killing, not that he could judge after melting half a dozen men, but that was an accident, his rescuers killed on purpose, some of them even seemed to enjoy it. Harley's mind raced as such for the rest of the journey, he reached out for the nearest comfort and that was Anastasia, he wrapped his arm around her and let her head rest on his shoulder. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep, exhausted from everything, it felt like the first proper sleep he'd had since being taken.

The van stopped rather sharply and the red-headed woman slammed the wall of the van, the noise waking Harley from his sleep.
"What in the hell is going on?" Harley lifted his head to look at her, but she was shoving past the others to get out of the van as if she saw something. Harley gave Anastasia a slight shake, cautiously checking her pulse just to make sure she wasn't dead.
"I think we're here... Wherever here is." He helped Anastasia up and got her out of the van, he looked at the behemoth of a tower that stood before them. His father had mentioned the Descendant's initiative to him before, in passing, but he didn't believe it was real. He looked at the others who seemed to just wander into the building before following after them, albeit slightly slower due to Anastasia's weakened state.

Before he could enter the building, another red-headed woman, different from the one who saved them stepped in his way.
"You'll forgive me for being suspicious, I hope. Who are you, and can anyone vouch for you?" Harley's eyebrows knotted in anger, all three of the newcomers had just been tortured, beaten and experimented on and brought here against their own will. They were civilians caught up in their world, not threats to it, but thankfully before Harley could say as much, the dark-haired man he'd seemingly pissed off before stepped in.
"I can. They had these beaten and bruised faces before we got to them, and they helped us escape hydra." Harley thanked him with a nod before looking at the red-head.
"We were kidnapped by whoever those people were and experimented on, even tortured." Harley restrained himself from getting hysterical. "Now I have powers that melt people! I'm a nurse! Not some freak that melts people's faces off!" He wasn't very successful at restraining himself.


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Gwen doesn't remember how, but at some point, she made it back to her apartment and changed into some lingerie that was in no way comfortable. Her head was fuzzy but she wasn't hungover, she could at least say that Jensen won their drinking game for sure. Before Gwen could gather herself, J.A.R.V.I.S rang throughout her apartment.
"This is not a drill. Approaching foreign vehicle. All hands to the main floor." Fuzzy headed or not, Gwen leapt toward her wardrobe, grabbing her signature leather jacket, which she pulled on with ease, she thanked all the gods that she'd been wearing a full bodice and not just some revealing bra and thong. She grabbed her sonic amplifier and put it around her neck, as she put her boots on she could see the van from her window driving down the road. Gwen ran for the lift, the lift seemed to move even faster during emergency situations and Gwen felt as if she was been hurled down to the main floor, but that could have been the alcohol that her metabolism had yet to flush from her system.

"Oh m’god… Ets Frankie!" Gwen joined the others guarding the lobby, just as Ross announced who was driving the van. She looked up at the blonde figure stumbling through the lobby doors before anyone else could react Riley shoved past the crowd and dashed over to her, the mentors shouting instruction for him to come back until it's safe. Petra soon joined him past the defence line, but she went straight out the door and rounded the corner. Gwen followed after her.

The cool morning breeze hit her as she exited the building, Petra was standing in front of 3 unfamiliar faces, given what had happened within the past 24 hours, she understood but the 3 stood in front of her looked to be in worse states than anybody else. Just as Gwen was going to come to their defence, a familiar face pulled up next to Petra and did it for her.
"Ulrich!" Gwen ran at him and when she collided with him, her arms reached around him pulled him in tight. "Are you okay? They didn't use kryptonite on you, did they? Are you hurt anywhere?" The guilt Gwen felt for not putting 2 and 2 together and recognising that Ulrich had been taken with the others, only made her hold him tighter.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Wren Wilson Character Portrait: Frankie Parker Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch
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#, as written by mjolnir
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wren wilson
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frankie parker
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ross mcculloch
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tobias lehnsherr
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“If this is a joke, McCulloch, you're going first,” Jensen snarled angrily toward Ross.

“Fuck you. It’s not—“ For the first time, probably ever, Ross shut up when Riley pushed past him and Jensen.

Frankie was barely through the doors when she felt a force like a train collide with her and envelope her. She blinked her eyes as if in a daze while her mind caught up. Then it clicked. The brunette hair and familiar arms. She let out a ragged gasp as her arms wrapped around Riley, bringing him even closer if it were possible. “How... we thought you... you're safe.” Frankie had hardly realized she was crying until he pulled away from her to hold her at an arm’s length. “Frankie, oh god, you're back.” She gave her bravest smile, but it lacked and barely passed for more than a frown. “You can - you can tell us what happened later. We gotta get you to the infirmary first. Is everyone back?”

The blonde’s gaze fell slightly as she shook her head. “Most… Not all.” She didn’t argue or turn down Riley’s help as he guided her inside. Frankie smiled somberly as she took in everyones’ faces. Most of them looked worse for the ware as well. How many of them had to spend their night in the infirmary under medical attention. No doubt Ross. His face was black and blue, but the Scot still managed to smile and hug her once she was inside.

Wren glanced up briefly when she saw feet move around her. She caught a brief glimpse of Ulrich as he seemed to eye his jacket she still wore while also tiptoeing around her like she was a lion waiting to pounce. She sighed out of annoyance, sniffling back her tears as she yanked the jacket from her arms and threw it at his feet. Wren didn’t say anything, honestly she could go a decade without seeing Ulrich again and it’d be too much.

Tobias watched Petra quickly make her way outside. He didn’t know what she was doing, but similarly the tender reunions were lost on him. Not one of them was on more than a first name basis with him. Instead his brows furrowed as his gaze focused on the truck. It seemed easy… too easy. Something in his gut twisted telling him that he needed to search the vehicle, if anything, for his own piece of mind.

He didn’t mean to break up the reunions, but this was more important, there would be more time to catch up. Tobias rolled his wheel chair forward, lightly placing his hand on Ross’ shoulder to get his attention. “Apologies, but I need your help.” He nodded his head towards the Scot’s bag as a silent signal that he should bring it along.

“Alright,” Ross replied, giving Frankie a final pat on the shoulder. He then moved behind Tobias’ wheelchair and began pushing it. He knew the man didn’t need help in that way. After all, his abilities let him move it without risk of popping a stitch. But regardless, he moved the chair forward mumbling a quiet ’excuse us’ whenever they moved past someone.

Tobias waved his index and middle finger at the doors, opening them for Ross as he wheeled him outside. He held up his hand to stop Ross when he noticed the unfamiliar faces, but the chair was already slowing at that point, coming to a rest beside Petra.

“You'll forgive me for being suspicious, I hope. Who are you, and can anyone vouch for you?”

Ross and Tobias stood there silently, looking between Petra and the new comers. It was a good question, especially with the uneasy feeling Tobias had rising in his gut.

“I can,” Ulrich said as he stepped forward. “They had these beaten and bruised faces before we got to them, and they helped us escape hydra.”

“We were kidnapped by whoever those people were and experimented on, even tortured.” The new arrival stepped forward, speaking for himself. He seemed unhinged, for good reason. Anyone who had gone through torture and imprisonment would be less than stable. “Now I have powers that melt people! I'm a nurse! Not some freak that melts people's faces off!”

“It’s alright, mate,” Ross said, exchanging sideways glances with Petra. He then gave the stranger a pat on the shoulder and nodded his head toward the doors. “If he wasn’t ok, I doubt they would have kept him alive for the ride.”

Wren’s face was buried in her hands as she tried to calm herself, to breathe. Her body still hurt, healing slower and more painfully than she had ever experienced. It almost felt like it was ripping itself back open before it fused together. She only looked up when a figured knelt down beside her.

Jensen’s head dipped down to look at Wren from beneath the veil of crimson hair that blocked her face. “Didn't bring me a bouquet of Hydra heads?” Wren’s jaw dropped slightly as her brows furrowed. A weak, annoyed laugh escaped her lips. “How're you doing, baby?”

“How the fuck do you think I’m doing?” Wren practically growled. “I was shish kabob-ed by a harpoon, my neck broken, beaten, shot… tortured,” her voice cracked on the last word. She pushes off the ground and weakly moved to her feet. Wren wobbled as she pushed her way past everyone to get into the tower. For a moment, she froze like a deer in headlights at the sight of everyone in the lobby. They all hugged each other in reunions, but no one came to hug her. No one cared that she looked like death twice over. Wren wiped away a tear then continued to push past the others, making her way toward the elevator.

Tobias motioned toward Ross toward the side of the large truck. “I’m assuming you have a mirror on you?”

Ross scoffed as he pulled his pack from his back and unzipped it. After a moment he pulled out a compact mirror and held it out to Tobias. “I could’ve told ya that ya look like shite. Didn’t need a mirror for dat.”

“Last I checked, you look worse than me,” Tobias jested. He then levitated the mirror from his hand, slowly guiding it underneath the truck. He moved it slowly making sure the reflective surface was angled partly toward him. For awhile the search showed no results… Until he caught a glimpse of a flashing red light in the undercarriage. Tobias quickly brought back the mirror and shoved it into Ross’ hand, before he pushed off the armrests of the wheelchair and began to stand.

“Woah woah tiger, da hell do ya think you’re doin’?” Ross said as he moved before Tobias holding out his hands to stop him.

“There’s something under there… I need to look.”

“I’ll look.” Ross pushed the mirror against Tobias’ chest until he took it in his hand and sat back down. “What am I looking for?”

“A red light.”

”Like a bomb?”

“Could you say that any louder?! Just look… If it is, I’ll take care of it.”

“Fackin’ hell,” Ross grumbled under his breath as he lowered himself until he was sitting on the ground. He took a deep breath then carefully scooted underneath on his back. It took him a moment before he found the light. “Found it! There’s no timer… Just numbers… Looks like coordinates.”

“J.A.R.V.I.S. can you scan those coordinates?”

“Of course, Mr. Lehnsherr… The coordinates are for our current location. It looks as though the truck has a tracking device.”

“God dammit,” Tobias groaned under his breath as he threw the mirror at the side of the truck, the small fragile compact shattering on impact.

“Aye, mate! That was a good mirror!”

“J.A.R.V.I.S. can you jam the signal and scatter it so that it shows different locations around the globe every few seconds?”

“It is done.”



“Don’t lift it until I return,” Tobias ordered the computer as he stood up from his wheelchair unsteadily. He slipped his arm from Ross’ grasp when the Scot tried to stop him and continued back into the tower. He was careful not to move his right arm too much and pop a stitch, using his left arm to wedge space between the others and make his way to the elevator. He came to a stop beside Wren who looked desperate to get away from the crowd and the lift was crawling its way down the tower to the lobby. Impatient Tobias raised his hand and willed the elevator down to their floor, bypassing any other stops.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wren Wilson Character Portrait: Frankie Parker Character Portrait: Petra Maximoff Character Portrait: Riley Barton Character Portrait: Ross McCulloch Character Portrait: Tobias Lehnsherr
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"We were kidnapped by whoever those people were and experimented on, even tortured. Now I have powers that melt people! I'm a nurse! Not some freak that melts people's faces off!"

Petra took a step hand, holding her hands up to calm him down. She hadn't quite expected to meet borderline-hysterical fresh mutants - nor did she quite appreciate the usage of the word "freak" - but everyone had their coping mechanisms. Ross gave her a sideways look, and she nodded, allowing him to step in. Ross was always better with people. "If he wasn’t ok, I doubt they would have kept him alive for the ride."

It might not have been the most appropriate thing to say about someone who had evidently just survived Hydra, but Petra wasn't going to be picky about it. To Harley she said, "I understand. Take a moment to breathe. You're safe here." She paused for a moment, letting the brunet collect himself. Maybe they weren't as safe as she hoped, but at least for the time being the newcomers would need medical attention and a place to stay. "If you go indoors someone will show you to the infirmary. Let's not stand out here for too long." The air was cold, and though they were warm with adrenaline shock could set in any time, and the worst place to be when that happened was outdoors. Trusting that the other students would help out, she pointed Harley and Anastasia, who had not yet spoken, towards the front doors.

Riley, on his part, was already ushering Frankie towards the infirmary. The pain in her eyes was clear to him, and he didn't probe further, instead being as comforting a presence as he could. "Could someone help us, please?" he called as he pushed open the doors of the infirmary. It looked mostly tidy again, the nurses no doubt having changed the sheets once some of their previous occupants had left, and one nurse now came up on Frankie's other side, directing them towards an empty bed. Riley dropped into a chair by Frankie's side, his eyes fixed on her like he was worried she would disappear again if he looked away. For once he couldn't find anything to say, taking in her messy hair and torn dress quietly.

Voices rose and fell around Wynne while the students reunited, and still she was acutely aware of the small space that had been established around her, the invisible barrier that no one would cross because she was still a stranger. Watching Riley put his arms around Frankie, Wynne felt abjectly lonely. She could not remember the last time she had held someone close like that - not even her parents.

But there was one person she knew, and he had already gone outside. So she followed, stepping tentatively out into the night air. It took her a moment to realise that someone was seated on the ground beside the vehicle, and she made her way over - only to realise, too late, that it was Ross and not Tobias, who had slipped past her on his way back inside without either of them realising it. "Hello," she said awkwardly, looking down at Ross on the ground. "Sorry, I was looking for Tobias. I'll leave you to... whatever it is you're doing." Instead of going back inside, with its bright lights and its overwhelming sense of solitude, Wynne shuffled off to the side of the driveway, the gravel introducing some dust to the material of her room slippers. She did not seem to notice, looking away into the distance as activity swirled behind her.

Jensen did not seem to notice the pair of fuzzy slippers that had walked past her. Wren had left her kneeling on the gravel, and only now did she raise her head to gape at the space where Wren had been standing right before she'd gone indoors. What the fuck was her problem? Aware that she probably looked stupid, Jensen got up quickly, brushing gravel off her knees. She'd go yell at Wren later. Maybe. At least when Wren wasn't being such a pissbaby. Jensen couldn't help herself, though - she turned and punched the vehicle, hard, leaving a sizeable dent in its side. Still on a high, she placed both hands firmly around a panel on the back of the truck and ripped it off, tossing it down the length of the driveway.

She would have continued taking out her anger on the truck, but something else caught her eye when she turned back to it. Something was curled in a back corner of what looked like a cargo box, something that looked very much like a human body. Jensen paused, leaning closer to look. Yeah, that was definitely a person, judging by the slight rising and falling movement that indicated breathing. A stowaway.

Her hand shot out, grabbing the body's shoulder, and she dragged them out from their hiding place. "Over here!" she called at the same time, letting the person fall to the ground. Jensen's shout caught Petra's attention, and the redhead moved towards the two of them, looking down at the person on the ground.

"Found him in the back of the truck," Jensen continued, wiping her wet hand on her pajama pants. She hoped maybe he had just been caught in the rain or something similar, although of course the water on his skin could have been anything.

He didn't look armed to Petra, who circled him warily. He wasn't even wearing a shirt. "We'll need to get him inside, Hydra or not."

cron