Wren Wilson's Story

When Xavier is back in his own room, he changed his attires into something else that is more informal and suitable for socializing. While most of the time what he prefers are suits and professional choices of wardrobes, it doesn't mean that he is not up to something more fashionable and 'updated'. There's a lot for others to find out about this old man, after all, and it wouldn't be so interesting as to show them all in one go, isn't it? All the chatteries and fussing about how untrustworthy of an individual he is, but if people can truly read his thoughts, they would know that he much enjoys things to be that way.

Glancing at the invitation for the gala, Xavier couldn't helped mustering over what can possibly happen when it actually occurs. It is quite obvious that unlike some of the others, he was born for these kinds of events. This is a known fact even to the mentors that most of the infiltration missions they sent him to before are mostly to be an attendant of these refined activities. And as the saying goes, there is always a party crasher for any parties. It is not entirely a bad thing, in fact, for recently there hasn't been so many occasions where Xavier can stretch his muscles just a little bit more.


Xavier almost chuckled at the message he received from Ross, his all-time favorite drinking buddy. It seemed that others have already started having quite a bit of a get-together in Jack's place, so he figures he should be leaving before he miss all the amusing things that can be already happening there. Usually he would just pop in from thin air and make an entrance but he doesn't feel like doing the same thing twice today, so Xavier summoned a rather exquisite-looking bottle of wine before heading to the literal 'lair of the Devil' in a normal human way.

---

Disembarking the plane that had just arrived at Connecticut with his shades on, Zachary made his way to the parking lot of the airport where he left his car before he left for a trip to Xavier's Institution. He is invited there on behalf of his daddy, who once was a super famous X-Man and a former faculty of the school, to give lectures and teaches lessons for the newly recruited mutants in utilization of their gifts. Well, while a 32-year-old gal like him is still a student spending his days away at the prestigious Descendant Academy, Zachary still takes his pride in his career as a lecturer. So, he enjoys teaching and showing the kids of what wondrous things they can do. A good thing that afterwards he had managed to earn himself a small fanclub.

Speaking of lecturers, Zachary clearly saw the discontented look on Mycroft's face when he handed his leave of absence notice. He always knew the old man hated it when any of the students take a leave on his many 'precious' lessons, whether for an acceptable reason or not. Of course, he respected him and the other mentors for their abilities and experiences, but just like the others, Zachary found them to be a real hassle, or in a cruder way to put it, a pain in the ass. But having stayed there for the past 6 years, it's the least of things that he is already used to already. They are not the best of teachers in the world but, as a student under them and a fellow lecturer, Zachary acknowledges their efforts, nonetheless.

Striding his Rolls-Royce through the residential streets of Bridgeport, he kept himself low as he enters the suburb area where the Academy situated. Passing through all the security protocols and parking his car where it meant to be, Zachary just casually strolling his way up the escalator to his own room, hoping to have nice day off while planning what should he be doing for the day, until a message popped up in his phone.


Frankie is a good friend of Zachary. He pretty much considers her as a younger sister of sorts and is actually thinking about her, since he brought gifts back from his trip to Xavier's for a handful of people who are his friends and acquaintances, which included the daughter of Spidey. "They just had a practical session or something...?" He ponders over the probable reason why they are having a get-together. Seemed like he missed quite a bit during his absence too, which is actually a pity for someone who enjoys working like him. But at least he doesn't have to think over what he is going to do now, so he texted back.


Upon returning to his penthouse, Zachary unpacked and got changing real quick, bringing with him the gifts for his friends before leaving for Frankie's place.

---

"Hey there, Xavie. Where ya heading to?" Zachary caught sight of the son of Dr. Strange on his way, who is also in his usual informal attires and was heading somewhere, rather than in his usual professional suits. For some reasons he doesn't know the man is walking rather than just teleporting like he does usually.

"Good morning, my dear Zach. It seemed that your trip to Xavier's Institute was uneventful." Xavier turned his head and greeted Zachary, a fellow descendant couple of years younger than him and one of the few friends he had, "I'm heading to the so-called Hell's Kitchen of Jack for breakfast, as I was invited earlier. Looks like a band had already gathered there though. Do you want to tag along?"

"Ah, that sounds good. Murdock's always been a dab hand in the kitchen. Though I'm heading to Frankie's place now, actually. A get-together is also happening there. Seems like everyone just in the mood to chill out, huh? Lemme guess, a practical session just took place this morning while everyone was still wandering in the dreamworld or tending to their owns?"

Xavier nodded, "A simulation session after a Hydra base. I thought we would be trifling with the beasts, but in the end it was not as much as striding through a field." He chuckled, "Still, it was a fun one. We had to recover what the mentors specifically noted as of great importance, but the prize is but merely a gala with all the big boys present that is about to take place in this very humble campus, soon."

"Well, I suppose we're both used to the not-so-surprising exercises already." Zachary grinned, "A pity though, I have always enjoyed simulations. But a gala though? This is too good of an opportunity for oppressors to wreck havoc. No altitudes of security could hope to absolutely prevent that. More so if the 'big boys' are going to be there as you say. Don't we all know that already?"

"That is exactly my thought, dearest Zach. But still, a gala is a gala, nonetheless. It's exactly where both of us are meant to be whereas others just didn't seem to be so enthusiastic. At least we can play tag and see to it while it lasts. I don't think my partner for the simulation earlier is up to it, so do I have the pleasure with you?"

"The pleasure is always mine, Xavie. Now I got another thing to think about." Zachary laughed, "And before I forgot. Here's the 'souvenir' for you. Took me a bit of effort and some persuasion but nothing too hard." He took out a small wooden box carved with sophisticated carvings and handed it to Xavier.

"Reliable as always, Zach. If there's any chances to return the favor, let me know." Xavier took the box from his fellow guardian with a nod, and transporting it to his reservoir. They are about to part ways, "I'll catch you up later before the event then."

"Later it is then, amigos."

---

Standing in front of Jack Murdock's penthouse, Xavier called out to inform others of his presence, "Hope everyone's okay in there, I'm coming in." Doesn't even bother to open the door, the scenery changed in a heartbeat and before anyone knows it, Xavier had already been sitting next to Ross. Gazing around, he saw that quite a handful of individuals are here.

Caitria, Jensen and Riley had already made themselves at home, while Jack and Wren are conversing privately, probably something others would be teasing about. Petra, though, is unexpected for someone who doesn't seem like much of a social animal. After acknowledging all of them, he placed the bottle he brought along on the counter and turned to Ross, "Romanee-Conti DRC 1990?" It's already a little bit over a week ago since they hang out to get drunk, so hopefully Ross wouldn't turn it down.

Meanwhile, Zachary had just also made it to Frankie's penthouse. Knocking on the door, he informed whoever inside of his presence, "Frankie, I'm coming in." He opened the door to the place and allowed himself in. Upon entering, he saw both Frankie and Nathaniel seemingly enjoying themselves. He is friends with Frankie but isn't particularly too close with the son of Bane, as he usually keeps to himself most of the time. But he also strikes him as someone who is not only a walking tower, but also a respectable genius as well. And it also occurs to Zachary that Nathaniel is seemingly what they would call 'a hunk with a heart of gold'.

"Glad to see you, little Spidey. Same to you, Nate. How's the simulation been for both of you? Too bad I miss it though." Zachary was quick to make himself comfortable as he approached the two. It was nice to have some moments to chill out before the grandeur, after all.

Caitria raised an eyebrow at the silence that followed her arrival. Jack looked like he didn't have a clue what was going on or why the blonde just strutted into his penthouse. Suddenly, Caitria caught a flicker of realization on Murdock's face. "What did you do now, McCulloch?" he groaned. Ross probably invited the entire academy to Jack's penthouse, Caitria realized. How did Jack not predict that out of Ross McCulloch?

Caitria caught sight of a familiar ginger as Jack started a short little spiel. "This isn't IHop, Ross! You can't just expect me to prepare breakfast for the whole academy! I have no qualms with more guests, but you should've asked before-"

Caitria winced as Wren spoke up, which resulted with Jack slamming into refrigerator. He quickly attempted to gather his composure. "Heyyyyy..." Caitria realized what was happening, praying that this would work out for Murdock and hopefully, he would have his ass brutally rejected.

Caitria snatched up one of the eggs benedict, spearing her fork through the egg and English muffin. The blonde heard the door open as someone new arrived. She turned around, stealing a glance at the newcomer. Caitria wasn't going to lie, she was definitely surprised when she saw Petra walk into the penthouse next. "Hey, Petra," she greeted. Caitria thought it was a bit awkward; she and Petra didn't talk to each other much.

"Yeah, that sounds like an understatement," Ulrich agreed.

There was a short moment of silence before Ulrich brought up a topic that Andrew, in all honesty, was expecting. "So this beast form of yours...is it insatiable for blood and destruction? I don't know much about this other form of yours. I kind of only have myths to go off so sorry if it seems...." Ulrich paused for a moment, "...intrusive? And is it really true there's no way to call you back? That once this other thing takes over, Andrew as we know him is gone?"

Andrew sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's a bit difficult to explain," Andrew told the other man, "but I can try. I can't blame you for being curious.

"My father is Patrick Mulligan, but at the same time, my father is Toxin. Patrick Mulligan and Toxin are two different beings, but that does not mean I have two fathers; I only have one. Patrick Mulligan is a host for Toxin, but since both are my one father, it doesn't work like that for me. My body isn't a host for another being. When my beast form is triggered, I'm not in the right mind, but I'm still Andrew Mulligan. Unfortunately, I can't control myself when my beast form is activated. I've always wanted to learn how to control it, but that takes trial and error, and that process...well, I'm not going to lie, it does kind of freak me out. I have to trigger my beast form with absolutely no control over it, in order to train for having control over my beast form." Andrew laughed. "That's a big contradiction."

Ulrich stayed silent for a couple seconds before changing the topic. "So what's on your agenda? Are you going to Jack's breakfast thing? I think he's having an open breakfast club thing. I'll go if you go. But if you don't go, I might look like less of a pretentious jerk." Ulrich flashed a smile.

Andrew chuckled. "You bet I'm gonna go," he said. "I have a feeling that McCulloch invited everybody to Jack's place without him knowing. It's too late to take that message back, though. Half the academy is probably already flocking to Murdock's penthouse as we speak."

"And me," Thaleia furrowed her brows with displeasure at Zoltar Zatara's energetic smile. "Good evening-morning Thaleia."

"It's just morning," Thaleia deadpanned. She disdainfully watched Zozo clear the liquid out of his waterlogged phone with a spell, a faint scowl on her lips. She wasn't too fond of people who constantly used their magic or superpowers; Thaleia felt that it made them either lazy, flippant, or both. Thaleia nursed her beer as Zozo checked his device.

"OH MY GOD WHAT THERE'S A PARTY AT MURDOCK'S!" Thaleia cringed at the volume. "What else happened while I was asleep? Why is everyone up so goddamn early this morning?"

Thaleia raised an eyebrow, scoffing slightly. How could Zozo not know what happened?

Just as Thaleia thought that, realization flickered over Zatara's face. "Wait. Don't tell me," he slapped his forehead. "There was a simulation wasn't there? And I missed it..." the brunette man groaned, sinking beneath the water.

Thaleia took a swig of her beer before staring down at where wisps of Zozo's brown hair floated to the surface of the pool. "How could you not know about the simulation?" she commented dryly. "JARVIS was the messenger...and you know. Computer systems."

Caitria pursed her lips, staring at the clothing choices she had set out before her. She supposed that most people like her (read: anybody at the academy who wasn't as rich as Bill Gates) wouldn't have enough Gucci or Prada or whatever in their closets to set up a small store, but this was not the time for Caitria to finally realize how little formal wear she owned.

She had two choices, and due to her lack of experience in anything resembling a dress or skirt, Caitria had no idea which one was worse. One of them was colored with the purplish gray hue Caitra was practically obsessed with her whole life (hey, people had theme colors). The blonde speedster was sure that it was a least a size too big. It looked like the kind of dress she would've worn to prom in her innocent high school days if she actually went to prom.

The other one was a true red color, with a relatively simple design. At least it looked like Caitria could walk in it. She didn't remember when she bought these dresses, or if she even bought them at all, but the red one looked like it could still fit her since Caitra (unfortunately) didn't grow much from high school onwards.

It was just when Caitria felt like ripping her hair out did she receive a message. She grabbed her cellphone, hoping for some relief from this dress fiasco.


After reading that text, Caitria grabbed her red dress, tossing the purple-gray one back into the closet. She never like dresses or skirts or any clothing deemed "feminine"; Caitria thought than shorts and pants allowed for freer movement.

Next step: hair. Strangely, Caitria rarely put her hair up. People thought that it might slow her down while running, but once you start going fast enough, that kind of stuff is disregarded. The blonde felt like she couldn't pull off putting her hair up without making it look unprofessional to the extreme. She combed her hair quickly, leaving it at that. Caitria made an attempt at eyeshadow (which went pretty well, surprisingly), but didn't even spare a glance at the other makeup products she really should use before they expire.

Lastly, the shoes. Caitria despised high heels like they were the devil themselves - excuse me, have you tried running in them? - but Wren was a little taller than her, and if the redhead wore heels... to put it simply, Caitria was going to stay on the safe side. The blonde wasn't really taking going with a "date" to the gala that seriously - after all, it was just mutual support between friends to keep each other standing - but Caitria really did not want to seem like an elf standing next to Wren Wilson.

Caitria slipped on the tallest shoes she owned (they had two inch heels) just as she heard a knock on the door. "Your knight in plush velvet gown is here," Wren called out. "Ready to break hearts and be bored out of our minds?"

"Yup, though I sort of wish I wasn't," Caitria responded, opening her door. She wasn't the ideal choice to plop in front of U.N. officials - someone like Frankie was better suited for that. "Let's go and try not to fall asleep."

As it turns out, Wren was indeed wearing heels, and was now towering over the blonde speedster. Oh, well. It wasn't like Caitria and her two-inch heels were going to stand up to Wren anytime soon.

The two headed back towards the elevator, (unfortunately) beginning their descent. "Hopefully, we can stay out of those officials' gray hairs for the entire night," Caitria joked.

Andrew stepped out of the shower, rapidly attempting to dry his brunette locks with his hand towel. He exhaled, staring into his fogged up mirror. Right. The gala.

The brunette man slipped on his clothes, opting for boring black slacks and a plain white button-up shirt instead of something more flamboyant. His choice of clothing for the gala was the typical thing you'd expect for men's formal wear - white shirt, black slacks, black shoes, black overcoat, and a single color tie either red, blue, dark gray, or black. In Andrew's case, the tie was red.

Andrew let out a soft sigh as he stared into the mirror. The silence and tranquility in the room was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. Andrew peered down at the device, face visibly brightening as he caught sight of the caller ID.

"Hey, Mom," Andrew breathed, a grin slowly appearing on his face. "How's it going?"

Andrew patiently waited through the rustling on the other side of the line. Finally, a slightly distorted version of Gina Mulligan's voice crackled through the phone. "Andrew," she sounded busy at the moment. "Things have been lovely, darling. How is life at school? Are you getting into any trouble?"

"Mom, I'm not a kid," Andrew tried not to whine. "I know how to stay out of trouble."

Gina Mulligan chuckled quietly. "There are times," she began dryly, "where you could be a little bit more convincing about that."

"Mom! I'm twenty-six, you know." Definitely getting Gangsta Sexy vibes. "Anyway, Mom, I really have to go. There's this really, really, really important gala I can't be late to."

"Ooh, a gala? My little boy is all grown up now!"

"Mom, like I said, I'm twenty-six."

"Of course, darling. Good luck!"

Andrew opened his mouth to respond, but the beep that signaled his mom hanging up interrupted him. He set his phone in his pocket, checking his hair once more before heading out the door. As he entered the elevator, the lift started to descend while Andrew quickly checked his phone for any notifications. Nothing.

"Thanks, JARVIS! Andrew called out a little bit too late; the elevator had almost reached its destination.

"Of course, Mr. Mulligan. It's my pleasure. Have a wonderful gala."

Andrew smiled brilliantly at the computer system's words just as the elevator doors opened.

Thaleia scowled, clutching one of her rifles as she fiddled with the safety. Why would she have to go to this fucked up gala? It wasn't like Thaleia Castle could make a good impression in a million years. Besides, she wasn't someone with superpowers who could save to world or whatever shit the higher-ups wanted. Thaleia wasn't powerful enough for them to even want her to do their bidding or some shit, so why would it matter?

"Ms. Castle, I know that this may not be the ideal situation for you, but I'm afraid that you must start getting ready for the gala."

Thaleia didn't change what she was doing. Her fingers were still toying with the safety on her rifle, and she was still glaring coldly at the table in front of her.

"Ms. Castle. I understand how your childhood may have -"

"No, you can't," Thaleia interrupted JARVIS, her voice cool and even. "You're a computer system. You're just programmed to do this kind of shit. You aren't advanced enough for true empathy." Thaleia tilted her head upwards, staring at the ceiling. "Then again, I'm not either."

There was a short silence before JARVIS spoke again. "Perhaps you are correct," the automated voice was the only sound in Thaleia's penthouse. "Or perhaps you underestimate me, Ms. Castle. It is not my place to say. However, it is my place to inform you that it is absolutely required for all students at the academy to go to the gala."

"Not Maggie Junior."

"... Ms. Castle, please get ready. You do not have to dance or speak to anyone at the gala -" "- unless one of those fuckers approaches me first -" "- all you have to do is act civil, Ms. Castle. It's not bad. And please, formal attire only. It is not obligated to wear gowns or heels, but you merely have to appear like you tried."

Thaleia continued fiddling with the safety of her gun, before she finally spoke. "All right," she said, tone completely neutral. "I'll humor you, and the UN officials, and the mentors."

"Thank you, Ms. Castle."

Thaleia let out a quiet groan, before standing up to retrieve the one set of formal clothing she kept for the most horrendous of emergencies. She slipped on her trusty tux, before pulling her hair up into a ponytail she commonly wore for training. Who cares, really. Thaleia was sure none of the higher-ups did, at least about what she wore.

Thaleia blindly grabbed for her black flats with just the tiniest one-inch heel to elevate her height. She really goddamn needed it.

As Thaleia headed to the elevator, JARVIS just had to interrupt the peaceful silence. "I'm really quite glad you have agreed to go, Ms. Castle. I'm sure everyone will truly appreciate it."

Thaleia let out a scoff that was a borderline laugh; that was the stupidest statement she has heard to date.

As the elevator stopped at the correct floor, Thaleia practically stormed out of the lift, edging away from everybody else in the gala, wincing. Parties were not her scene.

Wren laughed at Caitria's comment. "I doubt Wade Wilson's daughter is first on their list of friends to make. A fucking leash..." Caitria sympathized with Wren as her friend scoffed under her breath, clacking her heel against the ground. "Five bucks says if the U.N. gets their way, they'll stick trackers in us... give us a serial number."

Caitria chuckled. "No bet. I don't have that much faith in the U.N."

The elevator arrived at the correct floor, letting out a soft ding! as the doors opened. Caitria watched Wren curiously as the latter took a deep breath. "Positive note... no matter how much I drink, I can't get drunk."

The two exited the elevator simultaneously. "Same 'ere. Ultrafast metabolism does that to you."

"I wonder if I slept with Thaddeus Ross, if that'd be enough and we can all go home?" Wren commented sardonically, chuckling as she glanced at Caitria. The blonde scoffed good-naturedly.

"Probably not. They all have a stick shoved up their asses."

Caitria glanced around the room warily - since when did that many politicians invest their time in the academy?

"... or him," Caitria turned to her redhead friend, who had a playful smirk on her face as she gazed across the room at a tall man who had definitely caught her eye. Wren turned around to face her blonde friend as she began walking in the man's direction. "Don't hate me." Wren blew Caitria a kiss and turned around, facing forward as she headed to the bar.

"Have fun," the blonde speedster's lips quirked into a smile as she gestured for her friend to approach the man.

Caitria turned in the direction of Thaddeus Ross as he began to speak. She raised an eyebrow, intrigued at the fact that a United Nations agent was joining the academy. She was sure that there were some out there who weren't very happy with the arrangement, but to be honest, Caitria herself couldn't care less whether or not this Wynne Worthington was a student.

Thaleia decided to get a glass of Campari from the bar - after all, she really should take advantage of the gala's amenities. The brunette tilted the glass back as the bitter liqueur's flavor flooded her senses.

Unfortunately, the world wasn't going to spare Thaleia from the pain of the UN.

"Hello." Thaleia did all she could not to slam the glass on the bar and glare daggers at the woman who approached her. She couldn't possibly have seemed interesting enough to be approached by a goddamned UN official. Of course, the universe had to prove her wrong once again.

Thaleia nodded curtly at the woman, knowing it would be unwise for her to open her mouth. The redhead who had approached her (she probably towered a least a foot over Thaleia, considering those monster heels) wouldn't take it, however, and continued speaking. She sat down next to Thaleia at the bar, extending a hand as she introduced herself.

Thaleia glanced around her (she already forgot the official's name); was anyone else getting treatment like hers?

Thaleia was forced to swallow down the bitter taste in her mouth that most certainly did not come from her Italian liqueur. "Thaleia Castle," she muttered darkly, stiffly shaking the UN official's hand.

The redhead (seriously, what is her name?) paid no attention to Thaleia's rather brutish handshake, instead wrinkling her nose at the brunette's name. "Castle," she mused, an undertone in her voice Thaleia certainly did not appreciate. "Is your father Francis Castle?"

Thaleia stubbornly refused to reply, instead taking a long sip of her drink. Unfortunately, the UN official took that as a yes, and rambled on, disgust clear in her voice. "I heard about your father's death from... seven years ago? Poor girl, losing your parents at such a young age. But to be perfectly honest, Francis Castle never had the most pure intentions. He committed assassinations unapproved by the United Nations. He had enemies in the wrong places, and had to be stopped before he could get himself into a situation he could wouldn't be able to get out of."

At this point, Thaleia felt sorry for the poor glass that was clenched in her fist. How dare this woman say that. Thaleia might be distant, cold, and not your perfect chummy friend, but she did care. She cared about her friends, and her deceased father, who was more of a mentor resembling a military officer rather than a loving father. Thaleia upheld a code of honor, and she wasn't going to allow someone she considered scum to speak of someone the brunette respected like they were worse than the bullshit that came out of said scum's mouths.

"Are you insulting my father in my face?" she seethed, trying to keep her cool. "Saying that he deserved to be murdered?" Thaleia slammed her glass down with a thud, shooting the UN official a look that could kill. "Let me tell you this - I know my father had many enemies. I know that he was considered evil by the greater part of society." Thaleia narrowed her eyes. "But he got rid of those who he considered evil. That was his job, and that duty has been passed to me. If you say what he did was wrong, than you should consider his death wrong as well."