zehara el sayid
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xZehara barely had a chance to lean back in her seat and get comfortable before another joined them. He was well dressed, like his parents came from money or he grew up in one of those snobby areas in Manhattan. She couldn't recall the name of the area. She tried her best not to familiarize herself with popular places, especially those that bred walks of life she wasn't keen on. He seemed jovial... almost too much so. She couldn't help but wonder if the gravity of the situation was lost on the boy.
"Why all the long faces? Is this a funeral?" Zehara's brows furrowed as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.
Then he turned all his attention on her. Zehara inhaled sharply, crossing her arms over her chest as she sat more erect. He wiggled his brows like he was some casanova and while some girls might swoon at the attention, she rolled her eyes and scoffed. He then leaned down close, far too close for comfort. His presence made the real predator alert beneath her skin.
"I come in a lot of different sizes. Sometimes, I drip a little. If you blow me, it feels really good. What am I?"
A growl emanated from her chest. Zehara moved at an inhuman speed, something a person like him wouldn't have seen. Before he got the chance to spit out the answer to the riddle, be it innocent or inappropriate, she had shifted in her seat. She was leaning forward in a protective stance. Her eyes shifted orange like the beast's within. But the important thing wasn't what she looked or sounded like, but her right hand... Which hovered a few inches below the boy's family jewels, claws extended. "A eunuch?" She raised a challenging brow. Your move. her gaze said in the silence.
"Your nose!" He laughed and retreated. Then he proceeded to act like nothing happened and addressed the two older men. "Josiah. Josiah Dalinski."
Luckily, another man came bursting through the doors in quite a rush, thinking he might have been late. Jameson Blaze, he called himself, a name she wasn't familiar with like everyone else in the lobby.
Then there was a quiet, mousy girl who looked terrified to be in their presence. Zehara felt for the girl. It was a strange situation. But even in strange situations you have to keep your wits about you, and your fears close to your heart because they'll be used against you. That girl looked like a doormat to anyone with a single vertebrae more than her.
The girl's anxiousness quickly escalated. As she began to retreat, she stumbled her way right into an, all too eager, Josiah. The girl found herself in his lap, and his slithery appendages wasted no time in wrapping around her. Zehara quickly hopped up to her feet, crossing the lobby toward the creep like a predator closing in on its prey. I make you weak at the worst of all times. I keep you safe, I keep you fine. I make your hands sweat—"
"No. No!" She interjected. Zehara wasn't about making a good impression for these people. She could handle creeps all day long, but not someone like Aria. Men like Josiah preyed on naive girls all too often. It's just lucky for the girl that she was here to put a stop to it... Abruptly.
Zehara's right hand took ahold of Josiah's face and shoved it backwards. Her left pried his arms off of Aria, all the while claws threatened to penetrate his skin if he so much as fought against it in the slightest. She gently pulled the girl from Josiah's lap and motioned to Zehara's now available seat. It wasn't a sofa and sat next to Jameson, who seemed content in keeping to himself. And she took it upon herself to take the other half of the couch next to Mr. Hands.
While she shared a seat, Zehara sat as far away as possible crossing her arms and legs. She was content with waiting in silence. But just for good measure, she held up her index finger stopping Josiah from talking regardless if he was going to or not. "Don't talk to me. Don't touch me. And if you bother any other lady here I will break your hands and rip out your tongue." She squinted her eyes slightly, before turning to face forward, proceeding to act like he didn't exist.
Once it seemed the influx of people had come to a halt, Alfred and Phil moved to stand before the small semi-circle of chairs and sofas. "Thank you all for coming," Alfred began. "I don't know what kind of turn out we were expecting, more or less. But regardless, we appreciate that you all came nonetheless."
Phil then sighed and took over the conversation. "We're not going to beat around the bush. We," he motioned to himself and Alfred. "We're the ones who sent out the distress signal. For the past year, as you all are aware of, Heroes have been disappearing left and right. We tried, on multiple occasions, to reach out to the I.H.A. and were met with the same response. 'There is an ongoing investigation. Details are classified.' No one has been in direct contact with anyone from I.H.A. for months, facilities are locked down, phone lines are dead, no public appearances and all digital correspondences are met with the same response."
"We have reason to believe that the I.H.A. could be compromised."
None of this was news to Zehara. She also had tried reaching out to the organization. She wasn't registered under the I.H.A., which was part of the reason she preferred laying low and keeping to herself. But even she couldn't turn a blind eye. And part of her hoped that she'd get some answers about Monet St. Croix, although deep down she knew it was a dead end.
"We couldn't risk sending the message through the I.H.A. network. If it is compromised, sending a message calling everyone to a single location wouldn't end well. We decided to use an older network that veteran Heroes kept a secret, for emergency purposes... It seems more of the veterans have been taken than we previously thought."
Zehara remained quiet and attentive through the explanation, but her patience was growing a bit thin. Her leg began to bounce as her eyes scanned the room and the windows. She couldn't help but worry, after everything they said, that having this many gifted individuals gathered was a recipe for disaster.
"We called whomever we could here... To try and solve this before it gets worse. I know some of you have personal stakes in this. But we feel like our best chances are doing this together. A strength in number, of sorts."
"We know it's not easy to trust strangers. Ourselves or each other. If you don't wish to stay, we won't stop you. But know that this facility has the highest security protocols and protection. The Descendant Academy has been shut down for a decade, so no one comes around here or knows it's anything more than abandoned. We have cloaking procedures that make the building look uninhabited, and there is no one else who knows of it's current functionality besides us in this room."
Alfred tried to give his most reassuring smile. "This isn't an easy decision and not one to be made lightly." He set down a silver platter that held eight room keys, each of which were adorned in a keychain with a number. "You will be safe here, with your own private penthouse. Phil and I will aid in your training. It won't be easy, Mr. Richards can attest to that. But we'll do our best to help you prepare, hone your skills and work together as a team."
Everyone else sat around in silence, contemplating the offer at hand or perhaps leaving. No one wanted to be the first that stepped forward. Zehara didn't blame them. She had no allegiance to these heroes and no one she was close to had been taken, but it didn't help the nagging feeling in her gut telling her that this was where she was needed. For years she'd be trying to remove the tarnish her mother's reputation bestowed upon her. Perhaps this was her chance. Either way, this was her best chance to find answers about Monet St. Croix.
Zehara had no issue being the first to make a move or fill a silence. She leaned forward and grabbed the closest key. She then stood up and threw her bag over her shoulder.
Alfred looked to be relieved that at least one person took the offer. He smiled and offered her his hand. "Thank you, miss?"
She took his hand and shook it. "I guess we should introduce ourselves, shouldn't we?" She sighed, adjusting her bag. "Zehara El Sayid." She would have refrained entirely from explaining anything else about herself, but it'd come out one way or another. And the least she could do was prepare any others for what they might be getting into with her by their side. "I am the avatar to The Cheetah Goddess," Zehara said nonchalantly with a click of her tongue. Sure there were more details, plenty. Like her hunger for human flesh that is tamed by the eating of wildlife, or the fact that her mother was a piece of shit, or that she killed said piece of shit. That was none of their business.
Once all the introductions were over, Zehara turned her attention to Phil and Alfred. "Is there a bar? I don't know about anyone else, but I could use a drink..." If they all, or at least some of them, were going to have to play twenty questions like it was the first day in college, she'd need liquor. People didn't often take the truth of who she was lightly and if there was even a fraction of a chance Josiah would be staying, alcohol might be the only way she doesn't kill him.
Phil pointed to a doorway, down the hall on the left. Without another word she strutted in that direction, quickly making herself at home in her new abode.
jameson blaze
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xEven though Jameson arrived late, it seemed he didn't miss any of the excitement. He was happy to remain invisible as he took a seat, which wasn't hard when a very anxious girl entered shortly after him. Aria Munroe, Alfred called her. A name he hadn't heard before, but to be honest, he didn't know anyone there. She seemed terrified to be there, which only made him wonder why in the hell she came in the first place.
"Who are you, and why did Cable send me here?" Another name he wasn't familiar with. But James wasn't his father. He didn't know many heroes by name or even face. He just traveled the countryside and went wherever the demon lead him. Perhaps it was the fact that he disappointed his father? Part of him wanted to prove him wrong, but how does one do that? His dad didn't want him to be like him, and it wasn't like there were many other options available at the time. So, he chose the longer life, which by default left him in the blue when it came to most things, especially heroes.
No matter how much Alfred tried to placate her, it didn't work. She was a nervous mess that backed her way into a guy who seemed all to eager to take advantage on a pretty lady on his lap. James had half a mind to intervene, but before he could even stand up, a sharp tongued brunette took care of it. He found himself almost impressed with her tenacity and quickness to action. He didn't know if anyone else planned to jump in, but either way, the dark foreign beauty didn't let anyone have a chance.
Phil managed to get the girl to take the empty seat beside him. James wouldn't say she was calmed by any measure. Even part of her hair had gone white. Which only made him curious and his brows furrow. But it seemed when she sat down, she also wanted nothing to do with him. Once she found the seat, she proceeded to scoot it away as much as possible. If it was possible for his expression to scrunch up more it did. What in the hell did he do? He hasn't said or done a damn thing since he sat down.
James tried to sneak a sniff under his leather jacket to see if he maybe smelled. But he had showered that morning in a truck stopped, and smelled like... well normal. Not funky. He probably would have sat there and mulled it over in his head for several minutes. But luckily enough Alfred and Phil began to divulge the reason behind them all being there, which was a distraction, not a happy one, but a distraction nonetheless.
"Thank you all for coming.I don't know what kind of turn out we were expecting, more or less. But regardless, we appreciate that you all came nonetheless." And so began it all, the explanations, the reason they were all there, everything.
Jameson listened, perhaps not as intently as some of the others, but he paid attention. He was not one of the people with personal stakes in the current situation. He did not have his father's connections with other heroes. And, sure, James was registered through the I.H.A., but they learned years ago that he wouldn't follow their orders and went where he pleased. So rather than deal with their bullshit, he hid his tracker in the small trailer he owned, yet rarely visited. And honestly, to the best of their knowledge, he too had gone missing. He wasn't too pressed about that.
"This isn't an easy decision and not one to be made lightly." Then, presented before all of them was a tray filled with keys. This building probably had broom closets that were nicer than Jame's trailer. That offer alone was tempting. He didn't find himself as eager as some of the others, he wasn't missing family or friends. To be honest, he didn't really have either of those. But this was also about being better, better than what his father saw him as, better than what was expected of him and maybe better enough to prove his dad wrong.
With a sigh, James pushed off his knees and moved to his feet. He tucked his helmet under his arm before grabbing a key. "I uh... am Jameson Blaze, er James." He gave an awkward smile, running his hand back through his messy hair. "I'm Ghost Rider." His face instantly scrunched up as he nodded his head to the side before correcting himself. "Not that one... That was my father." His voice trailed off as he tried to think of an easy, short way to explain it. He came up blank. "It's a long story."
Once all the introductions had finished, and it seemed they all would be able to do as they pleased, James made his way over to Alfred and Phil. "Is there somewhere I can park my bike? I'm assuming you don't want a bunch of vehicles parked in front of an abandoned building."
"Very good thought, sir," Alfred applauded him. "For those of you with vehicles, around back is an entrance to a garage underneath the building. Your key has a sensor in it. The doors should open right up when you get close enough."
James gave Alfred a pat on the shoulder before heading back outside. He hopped on his bike, not bothering to put his helmet on and proceeded to take the machine into the garage. As the large door opened, he found himself in a bit of awe at the wide array of vehicles housed under the tower, everything from everyday cars, to ambulances, police cars and he could have sworn he saw a couple bat mobiles toward the back. The garage was massive. It had to be home to at least fifty vehicles, and could easily hold another hundred.
Surprisingly, or honestly, unsurprising, James found motorcycle parking next to the elevators. There were dozens of bikes lined up, with room for more. He did his best to line his up with the others before getting off and leaving his helmet on the seat. This definitely wasn't the type of place where he had to worry about his bike or helmet being stolen. He probably owned the cheapest thing in that garage. He took a moment or two to admire some of the other bikes and vehicles, then took the elevator back up and joined the others in the bar.
myla murdock
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xOnce other people began to arrive, story time with Jr. Fantastic had to come to an end. Not that Myla's story was interesting in the slightest. But, she isn't surprised that when she openly showed herself to be blind... People were curious. That was something she could share at a later date, if that knowledge was prudent. She saw no reason to share more details than necessary at the current time and was more interested in finding her father's whereabouts over anything else.
Whether or not Myla wished to hear everything that was going on as the others joined them, she did. A woman who smelled and sounded foreign arrived next. Middle eastern, maybe? She couldn't quite place the accent. Unlike herself though, the woman was investigating the disappearances and that's what brought her there, rather than directly receiving the call herself. While, evidence would point to the fact that the woman could just be that... a woman hired to investigate, something about her was different. The air around her seemed the feintest bit warmer than it did around the others in the room. And her heart beat was faster, although everything else about her seemed calm. It reminded her more of an animal, rather than a human.
The next to join them just... made Myla uncomfortable, although she couldn't quit figure out why. One of those gut feelings perhaps? Or maybe it was simply because he thought his first words to them all should be, "Why all the long faces? Is this a funeral?" She didn't find it very humorous, especially with the fate of her father unknown. Then he approached the foreign girl, and while others might not have heard what he said, she did. It made her uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat slightly, hoping that this man didn't set his sights on her next.
Myla heard the motorcycle approach several moments before another came bursting through the doors. And not shortly after him came in a girl who seemed half scared to death to even step foot within the building. Myla could hear the girls racing heart beat. It was so loud it nearly drowned out all other noise. She wanted to console the girl, maybe reassure her that everything was fine... But she didn't know that for sure and by the state of Aria, no one's words of comfort would be of help. Unlucky for her, she moused her way into Josiah's lap. But thankfully, the foreign woman was quick to the draw. A woman that protects other women is something to be admired.
The next person peaked Myla's interest a bit more than the others. He moved far more quiet than most people. But it didn't seem to be intentional or strained, like that was his natural walk. She found herself leaning forward to get a better sense of the man. And the sensation of feeling one's gaze rang true in the moment, although she had no way of telling he did, in fact, look in her direction. He didn't say much compared to everyone else, which was both a relief and... a bit curious. He spoke with a heavy accent, far different than the foreign woman's. His seemed more Asian in origin, but again she could not place it. She subconsciously found herself, following his steps, deeply fascinated by his lightness of foot.
"I can't believe it!" The loud voice made Myla jump. It nearly made her ears ring and she tried her best not to flinch at the excited woman. Lexa, like any fan girl, shoved her way onto the couch. Unfortunately for Myla, she was practically invisible next to William. She managed to hop up from her seat just before the giddy girl sat on top of her. She scoffed at the forceful relinquishing of her seat. That didn't leave much else available. The only other openly available seat was besides Josiah, which she had no desire to take... For obvious reasons.
Instead she headed toward the quiet man, who sat half sprawled out on a sofa all to himself. Myla could have asked for a seat, but she wasn't going to impose on anyone because one girl evicted her. So rather, she took a seat on the armrest of the couch near Kane's feet. She crossed her right leg over her left and draped her things across her lap. It wasn't bad, all things considered. Myla found herself sitting in far less comfortable places for longer. And at least there, no one would try to sit on her.
With no other commotion or additions to the unique group. Alfred and Phil proceed to address them all behind the meaning of their arrival. Nothing so far was new news. She herself had tried to contact the I.H.A. to no avail. Every turn and every lead was cold before she even got it. Part of her had hoped the message was from her father, but even that was a pipe dream and she knew it. But like they said, some of them had personal stakes... And she was one of them.
It wasn't an easy decision. Myla wanted more than anything to find her father, and at the time this looked to be her best chance. But another part of her worried about leaving Hell's Kitchen. Crime was at an all time high, so much so that she was struggling to keep up. She had no idea how much more it would spiral if she left, or how much trouble that might put her Uncle Foggy in. But she also knew what he'd tell her... And he'd want her to stay, for her Father... because that's what he would do too.
With a soft sigh, she leaned forward and grabbed a key. "I am Myla... Myla Murdock." She shrugged her shoulders slightly trying to think of whatever vital information she should probably share. "My father, Daredevil, was one of the first heroes to go missing." Her head fell slightly as she bounced her crossed leg. "I don't have any powers or Goddesses inside me... I guess by most definitions I am a vigilante." She gave a weak smile. "Oh!" she added nearly forgetting. "And I'm blind." She raised her brows slightly, half waiting for an onslaught of questions. She always seemed to forget how important that information was to other people, even though she can live alongside a person with eyesight and they'd never know.
Myla's thumb traced the engraved numbers on the key. It took her a few passes before putting together the number... 80. As everyone started to get up and go there separate ways... Which all seemed to point to the bar, she held out her key toward the quiet man she shared a couch with. "Here. Pretty sure I got the top penthouse. A view like that should go to someone who can appreciate it." She gave him a friendly smile and took his key. Her fingertips traced the numbers again, revealing a 73. "Ha," she mused quietly, just to him. "I was right."
She tucked the key into her bag before slipping off the armrest of the couch. With items clutched in her arms, Myla made her way over towards Alfred and Phil. "I need to return to Manhattan to gather some of my things. I didn't come prepared for a long stay as the others did."
"Of course," Alfred replied kindly. "Perhaps someone else should go with you. It's probably best that no one travels alone, given the state of things. And you wouldn't have to wait on a taxi." He smiled.
Myla nodded her head, then slowly walked to a far side of the lobby where no one happened to be standing. She pursed her lips slightly as she ran through all the names, personalities... and to be honest, vibes, of the others who decided to stay. She wasn't a particularly shy person, but it wasn't every day that you walk up to a near stranger and ask them to go on a tiny road trip. Sure, it was only an hour and a half drive. But that was long enough to get tired of anyone... quickly.
william richards
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xWilliam was far more interested in hearing the vast capabilities of a woman who was blind, but seemed to function better than most people with eyes. So much so, he didn't pay much attention as others began to join them. Sure, he passed them a glance, sized them up, but Will was not the best judge of character and his social skills were a bit on the lacking and awkward side. If he paid more attention, he might have noticed familiarity with some of them from the vast files in the Baxter building, but putting faces with names was not one of his skills.
There was a feisty girl, who easily could have been Catwoman, that arrived shortly after Myla. Nothing about her gave off any red flags or anything to be concerned about. And until Josiah arrived, he would have believed that she was a P.I. in a room full of supes. But when Josiah decided to get a little too suggestive, Will could have swore he saw a glint of a talon extend from her finger and her eyes shift color. Either way, she made it very apparent she didn't need any help when it came to keeping guys like that in check. So much so, she intervened when Josiah tried a similar, albeit far more inappropriate move on the skittish girl.
William would have intervene, much like the rest of the room probably would have. But the feisty foreigner was happy to oblige when it came to putting the guy in his place. It was endearing and intimidating. Strong willed woman often intimidated him, maybe because they were so damn hard to talk to. He could be awkward and his curiosity always took the driver seat which was often off putting for some.
Somewhere in the middle of the chaos two men with motorcycles came in and took their seat with little to no show. Which is probably why, until he actually looked at them, that he nearly forgot they were there in the first place. He was fortunate that none of them had introduced themselves to Will, because given the excitement of it all, he probably would have forgotten and had to ask for their names at least 2 more times.
The last person to arrive was an attractive brunette who looked somewhere between a hipster and tomboy southern girl. It seemed the second she turned around her eyes instantly fell on William. He was never good at the whole fans thing. Sure, he always obliged, pictures, autographs, etc. But it was the saying no, or trying not to be mean, but moving on with whatever he needed to do, that he struggled with. It was probably one of the reasons he went up to the Arctic Ocean in the first place.
Lexa beelined straight for him, all but shoving Myla out of the way to get a seat beside him. "I can't believe it! William Richards. Wow! Can you take a picture with me?" Her cellphone was out and ready before Will had a chance to respond. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't used to it, just a bit out of practice. Lexa's cheek smushed against his as she held up the phone, and in typical Jr. Fantastic way he made a peace sign, but let his fingers stretch in all weird ways. People always wanted to see the powers.
Once the picture was taken, she bounced in her seat like a giddy child and flashed him a smile. Will reciprocated. "My friends are gonna freak out." Honestly, he was happy that he only had to do this once and that none of the others reacted the same way. So, it was a small victory.
"Any—No problem," he corrected himself before she stood up. Will nearly said anytime and that could have opened an entire bag of worms he was not wanting to deal with. Thankfully he caught himself before the words slipped out. And then before anymore pictures or word slips, Alfred and Phil got up and proceeded with their little speech.
Of course, none of this was new to William. He had been monitoring the situation very closely once he got the news of his parent's disappearance. The message that was sent out caught him by surprise, but he wasn't going to go to unknown coordinates without research. Once he saw that they came from the Academy, he was almost certain it had to be Alfred and Phil's doing. Really quite simple to piece together, but he wouldn't say that out loud. He's often been told that when he finds things to be easy or common knowledge he comes off arrogant or belittling because apparently it's not as easy for everyone else.
William wasn't going to say no to returning to Academy, especially when it meant finding his family. He took the key for floor 77, which was his room the last time he was here. He then stood up and followed suit as everyone before him. "I am William Richards... Will. You probably know me as the son of Reed Richards and Sue Storm, or uh, Mister Fantastic and The Invisible Woman." He lightly clapped his hands together trying to think of what else to share. "Oh, and my body is elastic, or more plastic..." He began to ramble about the science of it, but cut himself off not long into the drawn out definition of what he was. "Cliffnotes, I can stretch and change the shape of my body."
Everyone started breaking off, a majority moving towards the bar. Will intended to join them, but overhearing Alfred's comment about the cars, he headed outside. There was another car parked alarmingly close to his that he actually went around to the other side to make sure it wasn't hit. He had to back up very carefully, but managed to get out of the predicament and get his tesla to the garage. Just like he remembered, it was like nothing had aged a day. He could nearly believe it was a decade ago. There wasn't even dust on the hoods... But he had to assume J.A.R.V.I.S. has something to do with that.
At almost like the A.I. had ESP, J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice echoed throughout the garage. "Welcome back, Mr. Richards."
"Happy to be back." Maybe not under these circumstances, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't missed the place. Will smiled, giving a friendly pat to the wall before entering the elevator and heading up to the bar.
