X-Men: A Bright New World (IC)

This will be the NEW IC thread for the X-Men: A Bright New World roleplay(continued from the old thread), which I took over from "Felix80" awhile ago.



In tribute to him and his original idea -- most of his 'stuff'/world/thoughts will remain the same(and have up to this point)

Being the new GM though, of course and having only so much information passed down to me, I reserve the right to go in new directions as I see fit.

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For the RULES, please check out the X-Men: A Bright New World (OOC) thread.

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X-men Roster*

Colossus - member/TA(gone since one month ago -- see IC post)
Cannonball - member(on a 'mission')
Multiple Man - newest member(present)
Gambit - newest member(present)
Rogue - not yet a member
X-23 - not yet a member
Shadowcat - member(on a 'mission')
Nightcrawler - member(on a 'mission')
Deadpool - not yet a member
Iceman - member(on a 'mission')
Wolverine - member/TA
Storm - not yet a member(coming soon)
Surge - member(coming soon)

Professor Xavier is now an NPC, at least for the time being(away)
* - this list is not finite

Inactive(s)/Pulled(temporarily?)

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Character Location Breakdown

A)Xavier sent the following on a 'mission' to RUSSIA to go find Colossus:

Cannonball
Shadowcat
Nightcrawler
Iceman


B)The personal assistant to Sebastian Shaw, at his estate in London has 'intercepted' a telepathic message from a stranger(Psylocke). And is soon to be joined by a former Hellion team mate:

Jean Grey
X-23


C)The two newest members of the X-Men, plus Senior T/A are following a lead from within the City[Lower Manhattan], due to the 'mysterious disappearance' of one of their own. After a hired gun setup a trap for them -- one which nearly brought a whole building down -- they all escaped alive. It's hot on her trail, they are headed:

Wolverine(in charge)
Gambit
Multiple Man
Deadpool


D)Heading from an unknown location to the Big Apple[Lower Manhattan]. In the company of Mystique and others. Things are getting really interesting at the World Trade Center:

Rogue

(this section will probably be susceptible to change as the story unfolds)
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X-Mansion Maps


(#5 and #16 are non-existent; also #9 and #15 belong to Xavier, of which he has dedicated partly to his TA's as in necessity)


(please disregard the labeled literature)
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Shadowcat.

The cold Russian air was rather chilly outside, and Kitty hugged her jacket tighter to her body. If Betsy had wanted to, she could have just used her powers to see how Kitty truly felt. But she couldn't have been more convinced that Betsy was around about her being too close to Piotr to be in her right mind. If anything, she couldn't have been seeing things more clearly.

“Just for the record, I think you’re a spoil brat who’s acting like she’s 5 instead of the age she actually is. Yes, the professor wanted us to go on this mission together and we have. Frankly your attitude is the reason you’re not going with them, combined with the fact that you can’t separate your feelings from Piotr from the task at hand.”

Katherine Pryde stared back at Betsy incredulously. How dare she call her a child, and accuse her of still not being able to separate her personal feelings from this mission. If anything, those personal feelings and her personal knowledge of Piotr would help them. Her love for her best friend was what kept her determined. And her closeness with the big Russian was what helped the team learn very important information, and without it, Sam wouldn't be on his way to that farm right now. Without her knowledge, knowing Piotr better than anyone else there, they'd all still be twiddling their thumbs at the table in the cafe, trying to figure out what to do and where to go. They needed her, whether Betsy wanted to admit it or not.

"I should send you home for questioning authority. I should send you home for disrespecting me…"

Kitty had always been a calm, sweet person, but she didn't take threats lightly. In her eyes, Psyclocke was taking this 'in charge' business a little too heavily, and it was getting to her head. She couldn't take orders from someone who was so clearly making everything personal, instead of thinking things through rationally.

"You can take me off this mission, if that's what you want, Betsy. You have that power. But you can't force me to go back to the mansion. No one can." Her eyes started glistening, but she stared back at the other girl, unashamed. "I'm staying here, and I'm not leaving until we find Piotr, even if I have to do it alone."

“And…little girl…as far as Piotr goes…you have no idea what my relationship is with him. You really want to know? I fucked him. Down by the lake at the mansion. Now you tell me, how well do you truly know Piotr?”

Kitty gasped, wide eyed. She was lying. Piotr would never have sex with her. Her hardly even talked about her! When did this happen? How? Why? What did Betsy have that he didn't see in his own best friend?

Kitty had never felt more betrayed. Jealous, yes, but betrayed.

She wasn't good enough.

Maybe she was just a little girl.

Wide, teary eyes stared at Betsy's back as she walked away to make the call, and Kitty didn't know how long she stood there before her own cold fingers were fishing through her coat pocket. Without even thinking, she called Sam's phone that they gave them all.

"Sam? It's Kitty." She cleared her throat, trying not to show any signs of still being upset. She didn't want to answer questions. In fact, she didn't want to talk about her confrontation with Betsy at all. "Wait for me at the farm, I'm taking a cab and I'll meet you there."

Sam/Cannonball

With no immediate response to either choice, Sam pulled their rented vehicle off to what passed for the edge of the road to the farm. He made sure to line it up so it presented the smallest of silhouettes to the main roadway, and trusted that the farm's location and a lack of reason for anyone to be looking towards it would suffice to keep things hidden. "Well, walking it is, then," he announced as he unbuckled and got out. The drier than usual dirt of the roadway confirmed what he thought about the condition of the fields.

Somethin' ain't right. Not by a longshot.

He had just told Theresa and Wanda they should all move down the road when his phone buzzed inside the interior pocket of his jacket. Sam stopped and looked at it. "It's Kitty," he said to the others. "Wonder if her and Betsy found out anything or if she's just checking in. Go on ahead, Ah'll catch up in a moment."

Sam took a breath to calm himself. He knew it was silly, they were all at least semi-professionals, right? But something about how it felt to talk to a pretty girl...especially a smart, pretty girl...always got him nervous and jittery. Even over the phone. "Hello?" he said.

"Sam? It's Kitty. Wait for me at the farm, I'm taking a cab and I'll meet you there."

"Oh? Change of plans, eh? Sure, no problem," Sam told Kitty. He then gave her the rundown on what the actual address of the turn-off to the farm had been from the map he and the others had followed. "We'll just be...um...Kitty, make it a fast cab. Theresa and Wanda have disappeared on me. Talk to you when you get here."

He hung up and stowed his phone back in the pocket it had come from, then proceeded to cautiously approach where he had last seen the two women. Even in the hard, frozen dirt of the roadway, he was abnle to make out signs of their footsteps. They just ended, without any change in depth like Siryn had taken to the air (And, ah'd have heard that, anyway.) or signs that anything had happened while his back had been turned.

Maybe Wanda dropped a hex for some reason and they teleported off?

Sam shook his head and went to wait and watch for Kitty or anything unusual about the Rasputin farm. Anything else unusual.

Gambit

Less Than Nine and a Half Months Ago.

Enough. C'est fini. It was time, to let. It, be. Too long, the. Darkness. Too many, days to have gone. By. The emotions -- feelings -- had coursed through, him. And all but, burnt him. To cinder, searing him even. At the core. It must be, he rationalized. The LEAST to experience, he justified. And whilst, the culmination had threatened. More than once. to swallow him. The whole. He endured, if only. Just barely. And continued, as such. For the sake, not of his. It's....never...something, easy to. LOSE something, so. Unattainable, like...like that of true love. Not because one -- he -- didn't try hard. The 'nough. Not because, in any other verse. Upon in the other reality. Things -- events -- could have been PLAYED out differently. One -- he -- just could. Not. Escape, the impossible. They couldn't. Death's cold, embrace....

But again, it's over. And now? Now, the only logical thing that could be accomplished. Needed be. To say...

Goodbye, to her....

Breathe in. And. Release.

How. In the world. Does one, bid. Farewell, to. To love...?

He could only, pretend. To try. "Chere, you always be 'side dis. Beating 'eart. No matter. But de time come. For Gambit -- your Remy -- to live life 'gain. Not sit back, an' feel sorry. Be tormented. Dat jus' not dat good for de soul. If...if dat is w'at dis Cajun can call it. Need t' do. Need..." A pause. Was this even coming out the way, it. Should be?

"Dis not easy, for sure. Guess it come down t' movin' de forward. Continue down de pat'way. Spirits up, eh?" He allowed his eyes to shut. Closed, removing the world's distractions. From his vision. Words. Would follow. Softly.

"Repose en paix chere. Love you, no matter de w'at. Dat...Remy swear."

When one, should. Dare, communicate with. Another, through means of the heart. Was it even, remotely. Possible, to consider. That she, whom would be. Receptive, well. Could she. HEAR, him. With such, the tiny. Barrier, like. The after life, betwixt. Them?

He couldn't be sure. Not even close. But the notion of doing so, seemed to help. "Adieu Celeste. Dat was, an' always be....magical."
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Thursday. Now.

"Aucune femme saine d'esprit m'aimera." The almost, stub-like. Man, seemingly. Declared to him. Which Gambit, certainly. Had not intended. What could make someone, any the. One, even the likes of this. Old guy, so freely state such. About himself? Love was...everywhere. And could be, given. To any, and all. The someone. So, what was his hangup? Could...the...teacher, need actually. Truly, be. Taught. In the art of love? Had the dwarf, never. Actually, felt that of a. Woman's touch? He laughed at the improbable of prospects. But still, there was something. And perhaps, he just might. Stick around, to discover. Exactly, what...

Logan was going on. About something, "...the only person to not actually show me what he can do is you. Now I know that while Allison and I had our little dance, you did something behind my back. I saw a flare of color, but I felt nothing..."

He retorted, freely. Unaffected. "You ever play cards, homme? Poker? De trick den. Never reveal de 'and you keep. 'Til dat 'xact moment, you believe. Be perfect, no? Plus..." He allowed the smug, of a. Smirk, to appear. On his face. "..Gambit don't play. Or pretend, 'specially wit'out any. Real danger. Maybe you see 'im in action. One of dese days. If you lucky, oui?" A chuckle. Or the couplement.

" I can assure you, even though you do not trust me." Animalistically, the little man twitched nostrils. Flaring them, toward his direction. "I do not trust you either, but I have a little something to show you." As a photograph was dug out -- he just barely caught a glance -- it was obvious. That the intent, here. Was to "prove" to the Cajun, something. Justify a slot, on the team. Any claims to this, teaching. Business. Or that..."The professor is the one to give me the tag with Wolverine on it, I lost it during a rather heated scuffle. Somebody gave it to you didn't they?" Well, maybe there was more to what was being said here. That carrot top, did not run the. Resemblance of a sister, for instance. As he did notice her, before the booklet. Closed. She didn't have, unkempt. Facial hair, notably. Merde. Did she know, that. He, existed? Or worse. Was he STALKING her? That wasn't a way to love. At all. Much to teach this one, indeed...

Buzzzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Remy shot his red gaze, over. To the source, of the sound. In the direction of Alison and young Jamie Madrox, thus. Somewhat, 'ignoring' any other claims. Of conversing, Wolverine may have had. With him. And just as well, as the Multiple Man(Men) moved. Forth, before the former. Male individual. And still...

Buzz. Buzz.

The vibration sounded. He came to the dazzling woman's side. Whilst, the noise grew.
Insistent.

Buzzzz. Buzz. Buzz!

Almost as if, it were. Emitting, from. The one, of her. Pockets! Then he inclined his head, motioning. "You goin' get dat, chere?" He cast a peak, over at the other two. Play-fighting, together. Witnessing, now. SEVEN Jamies. Present and accounted for. He laughed at this, still speaking to her. "De suspense. It almost too much!" Sure enough, an old. Cellular, phone.(not the newer iPhone) Was crying its. Heart out. Lighting up. Trembling. Anything, to get her attention. From within that pocket...

Buzz...
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Wolverine

James grunted and was instantly on the attack, but this time there was no punching, he slipped passed attacks and latched onto Jamie himself, still able to pick out the original from the duplicates. His arms slid around Jamie's torso, hard, fast and secure, his arms secured Jamie's arms, his hands fastened around Jamie's neck, not squeezing, just showing.

"And if I were to break your neck without using kinetic energy?"

He chuckled softly, then released Jamie,

"But we can cover that later on, for now I want you to do what Jubilation did. Practice what I taught you. Class dismissed."

He picked up his jacket and slipped it back on, the burn spot gaped open and he fingered it, then looked at Madrox,

"Say bub, you got a lift for me to get to town? I think I need a new jacket..."

Madrox

Whoa...what...how does he...owowowowowow

Logan's lesson had been swift and thorough, to be sure. Jamie and all his selves had found that it was harder than they thought to tag Wolverine in a way that made any dent in the older man's defenses. Or, more importantly, in slowing up or halting his offenses.

In what seemed like moments, Jamie found himself bound and helpless in some sort of wrestling hold. "And if I were to break your neck without using kinetic energy?" Logan was asking in that ultra quiet way he seemed to use while teaching. The first thing that Jamie thought was that he'd be dead, but then he thought that the actual break was probably enough concussive force to let him make a duplicate. But, that duplicate would have to become him--if he failed to survive the broken neck--and, he wasn't in any hurry to test out the theory.

He nodded as Logan dismissed everyone. I wonder if Jubilation would want to practice together? Or if those adoring puppy dog eyes watching Logan makes all the rest of us guys unappetizing?

"Say bub, you got a lift for me to get to town? I think I need a new jacket...", Logan was asking.

"No, I took a cab to get out here for my appointment with Professor Xavier," Jamie said. "If we only knew someone with a car," he added as he turned slightly to look towards Alison.

Dazzler.

Alison was enjoying watching Jamie and his...others, with Logan. What did he call them, anyway? God, what would the world be like if Alison could duplicate herself? Perhaps she'd send one of herself to the strip club, so she could remain here at the mansion, with people just like her. Where she could learn more about her abilities and just how far she could push and bend them. Yes, if there was more than one Alison Blaire in the world, she could get a hell of a lot more done.

But alas, her genetics gave her the gift of light.

Gift.

Funny, how just weeks ago, she'd called it a curse.

"You goin' get dat, chere?"

"Hm?" Suddenly, Remy was at her side, staring at her patiently. Waiting. For what?

Bzzzzzz...

"Oh," Quickly, Alison snatched up her phone from the tight back pocket of her jeans and looked at the caller ID. It was the club. Of course it was. She had 14 missed calls from them over the course of a week, and there was no way she could avoid them any longer. It wasn't the best time or place to answer, but her gut told her that she should. If she pulled it off any longer, she feared what would happen to her if she did.

"H--hello?" She spoke softly, a nervous tone in her voice.

"Alison, The low voice on the other end spoke, and she imagined the club manager exhaling a thick line of smoke from his lungs. "I don't know where you've been, but you're needed at the club. Today."

"Today? I told your assistant that I've been sick, I thought it was best that I wasn't around customers." She lied, looking away from the boys and taking a step back incase they were listening in. Only Remy knew where she worked as a stripper. Although, he had no idea of the contract she'd signed at the club to make her shows with the customers a little more...personable. It wasn't exactly something she was proud of, but they had promised to pay her well, and connect her to a few people in the city who could help her get her feet off the ground with a singing career.

"We stopped by your apartment," Alison's heart sank. "I know someone who is very good at...healing illnesses, so to speak. And you weren't there. Infact, you haven't been there from some time, from what I can tell."

They went to her place? Alison's heart began to race so fast in her chest that the pressure of it was almost painful. She already knew that she was in over her head, she'd just never really exactly how much.

"Wherever you are, you need to get back to the club. Today, Alison. My boss is already asking questions, and we have customers waiting. We're very disappointed in you. If you're not here before nightfall, we'll send someone to come get you. This isn't just some job you can walk away from. Did you forget the contract you signed?"

"Nn-No, of course not." She shook her head, her voice shaking just as much. And what did he mean his boss? Wasn't he the boss? Well, no, he was the manager. The owner, she'd never really met. "I'll be there." She agreed solemnly, and she brought the phone down from her ear when she heard the sound of a click on the other end.

Lost in thoughts, Alison had barely heard the conversation with the boys about needing to get to the city. Well, it seemed they all had something in common right now. Would she go back, and beg her way out of the contract? Or would she be trapped there, never to stay at the mansion or see her new friends again? She frowned, not wanting to think about that just yet. She'd have to wait and figure it out once she got there.

"I need to go back to town, for business." She shrugged, looking at Remy, the only one who really knew her line of work. It wasn't some big secret, but she didn't want her new friends to think any less of her, especially Jamie. "I have a car," She announced when she found out that the others had business of their own to attend to. "But, uh, it's a Beetle. We'll all have to squeeze. Sorry, Jamie. Only one of you can come." She teased, hoping her small smile would show that she was okay, so they didn't ask questions.

Madrox

Jamie caught a slight touch of worry on Alison's face before she got off her cell and joined the conversation. "Sorry, Jamie. Only one of you can come," she had said as she apologized for the size of her vehicle. He laughed and nodded.

"Not a problem," he told her.

Then he turned to regard his duplicates. He pointed to the two who had come along during the lesson with Logan. "You guys work out together and practice dealing with someone using indirect tactics on you, you can give me the information later on. Maybe, if you ask nice, Jubilee will join your combat practice. The rest of you, with me." He turned back to Logan and Alison and momentarily paused in his movement and speech as his duplicates were reabsorbed. The process took mere moments, but Jamie's eyes rolled back and he stood totally still for the whole thing.

When finished, he rolled his head and cracked his neck, then met Alison's eyes. "Ready when you are," he told her. His eyes cut to Logan and he raised an eyebrow, "Objections to me riding shotgun?"

The thought that Jubilee and Gambit might want to come with had not even occurred to Jamie.

Russia - Sam

Communism.

A lifestyle, wherein the government monitors, the control of all. Production, and thus transport. From the state.(thus removing the need for one in the first place) Oft and at times almost, to a totalitarian extent. It was most prevalent within Советский Союз. The Soviet Union. Which of course, Mother Russia embraced. Whole heartedly. Until that was finally. Overthrown, and. Crumbled. Some...

Twenty plus years ago.

But could any the. Idea, have survived. All these years. And maybe, slipped. Through the cracks?

Sometimes. In order to, exterminate. What, clearly, had been. Proven, harmful. Even perhaps, dangerous. It's implored to, seek out the. Nests. Home bases. By which, congregation(s) took place. For even, if the couplement. Few. The minor bit, to the masses. At large, have escaped. Be forewarned. There very much. CAN, and. WILL be. More harm and danger. To come to pass...
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Now. [Closeby to the Rasputin Farm, within Siberia, Russia]

The aged little roadway, led. Toward an incline, up the bit of a. Hill, which to one familiar. Might have signaled, he or she. Was close, to the appropriate. Destination. Curious, however. On the ground. Atop the dirt, as one neared the. Slope. The brown earth, became discolored. With gray, and black. Substance. Flakes. Powder. Slowly, at first. Sprinkled upon the pathway. Before, completely covering all in its. Accumulation.

Sam, in the company of two. Of his teammates. Now, so abruptly, no longer. In the presence of them. Huh? Too, was distracted. Momentarily, by the vibrating of his. Smart phone device. Keep in contact, always, right? He could make out, that Kitty was. Attempting. To reach out, and. Communicate with him. But, to go perhaps with his circumstance. There seemed to be, some. Interference. Static. Her voice was not, clearly. Able to be, received. He could only make out, a word. Every, here and there. Garbled. Noise. And choppy! Did he just hear something, about a cab? He tried to, let her know of his. Situation. That he could no longer see, Theresa or Wanda? Whomever could be sure, what it was SHE was able to. Pick up, on her end? What could be causing, the break in the cellular correspondence? Was it possibly, because---

"добрый день." A voice. Male. Behind him! Uhm...speaking...Russian? "Mister Guthrie, it is?" There were two men. Covered, from neck to toe. In what appeared to be, a scarlet red. Armor of some sort. A visor shielded their eyes, and helmet. Protected the top of their heads. The only skin, visible. Was the lower half of their faces, including nose and mouth. No visible weapons were displayed. It was apparent, however. These guys were of the militia type. Upon each left breast. An emblem. Depicted a sword over a shield. A five pointed star in the center, and within that. Was a hammer crossed over with a sickle. Toward the bottom of the insignia, read КГБ. The one speaking to him, gesticulated. With his left hand. Something, which was unfamiliar. Before nodding. That's when he heard more. Individuals. People. Coming, from over the hill. A small group of five. Wearing the same, hard covering. Over their beings. Having the same, symbol. Upon each, of them. No weapons, at all. It wasn't long before, the others joined their companions. To somewhat. Flank. A Southern mutant, the long way from home. And all alone.

The person that addressed Sam initially, allowed another question. To slip out. The accent thick like, "What could American boy be. Out here for?"
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Wolverine

Along with his healing factor he had enhanced senses, one of those senses including hearing. He followed Allison's conversation, reading her body language through sight and smell as easily as one would read a book. The kid was in deep, of course it was of her own making and the taller man clearly had marked Allison as his own, though she didn't act that way. Logan looked at Jamie and shrugged,

"I don't care, I'll sit on the roof if need be. But perhaps Remy might want to sit there and I doubt Jubes will stay behind, so that means a lap will have to come into use."

He grinned

"You will have to dispute shotgun with the short tempered non-believer."

He leaned against the wall nect to the stairs and crossed his arms, he glanced at Jubilee, she had really grown up. This just made him feel old, but then again...he was old

Betsy had left the café in search of a secure phone, which was probably easier said then done. She didn’t trust cell phones and she knew that anyone could be listening any time she picked up a land line. She had the idea to get to the American Embassy and make a call from there. It would be her best bet in the bastion of what had been communist Russia just a short time ago.

She paused as she felt the mental signal from Kitty growing weaker and as she turned to look over her shoulder, she let out a long sigh. The girl had disappeared on her, no doubt on her way out to the farm to help in the search for Piotr. That was it, she thought. The girl was going back to the states. Defying an order was one thing, but running off without a word was completely uncalled for.

Betsy pulled out her cell phone and typed in coordinates for Piotr’s farmhouse, finding the directions easily and then hailing a cab to take her out there. It would cost her an arm and a leg, but luckily it would all from the pocket of Xavier. If there was one thing she didn’t need, it was spending her own money chasing down wayward mutants.

Russia - Kitty/Betsy

Now. [Closer-by to the Airport, within Siberia, Russia]

Little. Girl. In, foreign a. Country. With a heart, so. Heavy, and. Tears, aplenty. Little, the girl. Following, her. Calm, rational. Mind, as opposed to. The cyclone of emotions, that could churn. Her being. Right?

Little. Indeed....

When Kitty sought out Sam, through. The means of the smart phone. Perhaps. It wasn't until, in the midst. Of her, speaking. Into the receiver. That maybe, she. Could acknowledge. A clear conversation was NOT, to be. Shared. His voice, it. Wasn't coming through. Properly enough. There seemed to be. Noise. Interference. Monopolizing, within her ear. Only to pick up a word or two. Disappeared, being one of the few. Which she registered. Loud and clear! What...was going on here? Why couldn't she hear him?

Not a moment passed, before. The communication, and call. Ended, and. An orange vehicle pulled up, in front. Of her. Checkered designs, decorated. The bottom side, and. The toplight, which also included. Numbers. On both sections. Сибирский такси, advertised. Upon the doors, and the. Hood of the car. Having gotten her attention, the driver got out. A taller man, adorned in a thick, hooded. Parka, which covered the mite of his. Hair. Quickly hustled, over to her side. Opening the rear, entry way. Thereby, escorting her. Inside. Once seated, in the back. She noticed someone, else. In the front passenger area. As the driver returned, to his spot. And the automobile, moved off. "Как восхитительно, чтобы встретиться с вами. Miss Pryde..." The other passenger called out. Short, spiked. Platinum blonde hair. As he shifted, angling his head back. Toward her. Light blue irises regarded her, cooly. She could see a scarlet red. Headband, upon his forehead. Within, a symbol of. A sword over a shield, and a star. In the center. Within that, something else. Which she couldn't make out....

And whilst, a little. Girl opts to, run off. It's, the. Smart. Woman. In charge. For whom, plans -- calculations -- in. Abundance. Nothing hasn't, all ready. Been learned. Everything, too. Experienced. Errors, a farce. Mistakes, a non. Occurence. Well. Except, for. The present?

Smart. Mmm....

Tapping, into the technology. Of the smart, cellular. Device, Betsy was able. To receive some, legible. Directions, to this farm locale. Which belonged to her, teammate. Seemingly, the split of a moment. After. From when she signaled, for. Vehicle assistance. One appeared! Little to her knowledge, it was almost. Identical, to the one. Which picked up her. Younger companion. Same color, design. Same writing. Slightly different numbers, however. Door clicking, open. A wide, shouldered man. In a parka, too. With a Mouton, atop his. Head. He rotated the door handle, and pulled. Providing her. Passage, unto his. Car service. A person was in the backseat, as well. Another in front. Both turned, their. Attention, to her. The minute she got in, and the. Door shut behind her. Two sets of pale, blue. Orbs, gazing. Blond, flat tops. And both wore, headbands. On it, depicted. A sword atop a shield. With a star in the middle. The rest, indistinguishable. Men. The one in back, beside her. Had a reddish-brown, leather. Coat on. He addressed her, "Хороший день для вас."

By this time, the driver returned. And the passenger, up front. Boomed some, with laughter. "Она не может понять, русский, болван." Shaking his head, he offered her. "E-liz-beth, okay? You come. What say it. Vacation now?" His plump lips, curled up. For her. The other one, watched her. Intently. And the vehicle started moving...
========================================================================

Gambit

Yesterday Morning.

"Let's go over this. One more time, Monsieur LeBeau. Shall we?" Three days had passed. Since. The two had...exchanged, pleasantries. Behind closed doors. Much, indeed, happened. In so little, the time. "Your level of understanding and awareness. As it relates to your powers. Far exceeds these other two you are training with. Would you care to explain how that is?"

It was, whilst Alison and Jamie were...in the midst of physically exerting themselves(as per the rigorous scheduling Xavier set), that the Cajun found himself. Standing aside, with the bald man. "Maybe jus' bit a luck, no?" He proposed, though the mirth could not be contained. Completely.

"I suspect...not. But then again, you most certainly are...proving to be a very resourceful man. And Miss Blaire told me, of your spectacular heroics. Which saved her..." just MENTIONING her name, could certainly send shivers up his spine. The fact that, because of what was to come to pass -- mostly, business sending him out of town -- they had decided to pump the breaks....before the gas pedal, had even really. Been allowed to be, pushed. Charles was anything, but not blind to the. Almost bizarre chemistry, that she seemed to have. With the mysterious man. That she was, in and out of his life. He certainly wasn't going to, enable just. ANYONE to, burrow themself unto her. Especially when she was so vulnerable right now. And not this, very elusive guy! "...be that as it may, Gambit. I'd like to impress it upon you. To NOT 'crowd' her. Give her space. In fact, I'd find it particularly beneficial for you, if you. Just left her alone. Entirely." Instincts, or. Jealously? It didn't matter...and before the man could react. Xavier was quick to, make an additive statement. "You are of course, still welcome here. As I can sense, some of your good intention here..."

"Tell you de w'at. Per'aps we let de gal decide. All for 'erself. Gambit don't go, w'ere de man not wanted." He, too, could spot some history. Between her and the Professor. It wasn't something he'd pry and probe about. With her. That just wasn't his style. Nor of interest. "Everyt'ing else. It all fell into. Place. Like it suppose to, eh?" He bowed, with a flourish. And a smirk. His red hot gaze, fixated. With Charles', "...prob'ly time t'get back in dere. Don't want lose de...teachin's -- heh -- while dey still fresh. In de mind!" With a wave, he spun and was off. To join the hustle of the other two...

"...." Why did it always feel like verbal sparring, conversing with him like that? Let her instinct be right about him. You'd best never cross me, Monsieur LeBeau---! Still. Bigger fish to fry...
========================================================================
Now.

A feeling -- an inclination -- began, from. Inside. As his red hot orbs, scooped her up. In anticipation. Of perhaps, just who. Might be, on the other. End, of that. Call....

"I need to go back to town, for business." She could only, simply. State, to him.

And, there it was. Back. She -- her presence, her countenance -- was in necessity. Unto the Danger of the City, the. Same place. which he had. Plucked her from. Four sets of grabbing paws, even more. Degrading(?) intentions. Upon their first, meeting. All...just, one week ago? He had figured out, in some. Clever fashion, how. To get her. Away, from. That locale. Rescue her, from the. Proposed lifestyle. And yet....

But. To be sure. SHE, would. NOT, be. Alone....

No. Not this time. Not now, and not ever....

"I have a car. But, uh, its a Beetle. We'll all have to squeeze..." Alison made it, known. To all, of the vehicle she owned. One, he...may have been. Familiar, with. To say the least. Hmm, to give some thought, to the subject. Might his trench coat, still be. Thrown, in the. Back seat? Heh.

The Multiple Man, now reduced. To just one, himself. Jamie Madrox verbally notated, his readiness. Then, eagerly requested. "Objections to me riding shotgun?" It was meant for the ears of, Logan. The Wolverine. Yet, it wasn't challenging for the others to pick up. As, they were all. Within the vicinity of. One another.

This made him, chuckle. Reactively. Before he was able to do, the anything else. The older man acknowledged the youth, and huffed out. "I don't care, I'll sit on the roof if need be. But perhaps Remy might want to sit there and I doubt Jubes will stay behind..."

One mention of the other girl, and the Cajun. Cast, himself. Quickly, to Jubilee. Whom was backing away, uncertainly. She threw her arms, around Logan and couldn't maintain herself. Any longer. Uneven speech broke, from her. As she wheezed out. "I'm sorry! I just CAN'T. Not...not there, not after he left. I....won't. I'm sorry, Logan!" And with that, the young girl squeezed him. Tightly. Before, letting go. And. Dashing. Away, to the. Protective and elusive, interior. Of the School....

He hadn't the notion what that might, have been. About. It was true. She wasn't one, that he really had. Gotten to know. Although, she had been around. There weren't too many, the moment. Shared, betwixt him and her. And now, wasn't the time either...

His red irises, returned. Sweeping past Jamie and Logan. For the younger student's part, he allowed some more amusement. Upon, his face. Relating to the question of seating. Within Alison's automobile. "'sfine by de Cajun. Maybe you help de gal not miss a turn. Once in de city. Eyes a' peeled an' all. 'Course wit' 'er drivin'....heh heh...de entire gang could be in for it, no?" He allowed the easysome jest, to seep out. From his mouth. As he gave the go ahead nod, to Jamie and grinned. Reassuredly, whilst throwing Alison a playful wink. As for Logan..."If you can 'andle not playin' footsies in the backseat. Dere may very well be a beer to be 'ad, de sooner. Den de later!" Laughing, he opened the door for Alison, before. Maneuvering himself, unto the confines. Of the back....

Sure enough. Therein lie, his brown trench coat. "Heh. 'slike it was jus' yesteday, when dat was left 'ere..."
========================================================================

Logan blinked at Jubilee's outburst, "he"? Was there something going on here that he had to know about? He paused as Remy helped Allison into the car, taking up a space in the backseat. He looked into the mansion, would Jubes want to talk about it? He grinned to himself, if she did, he wasn't the logical choice to conduct this emotional talking to, he had enough inner turmoil to rend anybody else insane.

He sauntered over, relaxed and graceful even for his short frame, an animal some would say, a warrior others would say, just me being me he would say. Perhaps he was insane already? He shook his head, no. If he was he would be deadly to all, not just his enemies. He opened the door, tilted the passenger seat forward and slid into the backseat. He favored the Cajun with a glare, obviously not impressed with the sudden change in attitude, then he cracked half a smile,

"I don't drink alone, especially if it's bought f'r me, better strap on y'r money belt Frenchie."

He knew the man was not French, most probably he came from a gypsy group. Though the man had in no uncertain terms prove himself to be very much attracted to Allison, James decided to keep an eye on them all as much as he could, he didn't think he could trust Remy to act responsible when it came to Allison, his actions towards Logan have given away that much already. As Jamie entered the vehicle, James spoke up once more.

"Okay since we are all going into the city and since we all have powers that can cause havok if noticed, do not use any powers, if you reveal to the outside world who and what we are it places everybody in the mansion and tied to it in danger. If you end up in a situation where you have to fight, don't. Placate and if that fails, run, if that fails, scream and shout."

He gave a grim grin,

"I will hear and come f'r you. That is one of the things charlie did ask of me."

Dazzler.

That Beetle sure was a tight fit. With two grown men in her back seat, Alison slid up her chair as far as possible to give the bigger men some leg room. If her experience with driving in New York told her anything, it was that they would likely fall into traffic, so they may as well get comfortable now. Jamie took the passenger seat, and Alison smiled over at him as she stared the car and Logan warned them that they shouldn't use their powers out in public.

"Fine by me," She mumbled, shrugging her shoulders and strapping her seat belt over her chest. Before coming to the mansion, she rarely ever used her mutant powers or experimented with them much. Not unless she was working, of course. Her abilities with sound and light proved to work beautiful while both singing and performing on stage at the strip club. The customers loved it, even if they thought it was all just some special effect that it made it look like she was doing it herself.

But...she wasn't going back to the city to work. Alison Blaire was going back to the city to quit her job and break a contract. No matter what the price.

"But I don't think I'm the one you guys should be worried about. You boys are the one with the mood lately, it seems." She teased, smirking at the guys and the rather comical image of them sitting in her backseat through her rearview mirror, and then she put her car in Drive and drove toward the gate so they could leave.

"Also, where am I going, anyway? Do I need to drop you off somewhere, or should I just park in some central location, have us all split off, and meet up later?" She asked, looking to Jamie, knowing he had somewhere to be as well. Alison personally preferred to split up, mostly because she didn't want the others to know where she worked. What she did for a living. She was new at the mansion and didn't really want a reputation going around about her that was only half true.

"I need to go downtown, to stop by work and give my notice in person. I'd prefer to do that alone. Once I finish here, I hope to stop by my apartment to grab a few things, and that should be it. My place is within walking distance, so if someone needs my car, you're welcome to use it." She shrugged, giving Remy a weary look through the mirror as she began to drive toward the city. He was the only one who knew her secret, but she was certain that he would keep it.

Russia--Cannonball/Sam

The problem with the communications had bothered Sam, but he let it drop to the back of his mind since he had more pressing issues to deal with. The two women who had been with him were not in evidence, but he found himself surrounded by locals who may or not be of a governmental nature.

He did not answer the question of his identity, with the carried implication that they knew exactly who he was and probably all manner of things about his background. But maybe not, maybe they just have a name from an auto rental agreement and are looking into what I would need a vehicle for and why am I out here in the middle of seeming nowhere? He tried to rack his memory from the mission briefing Xavier had given them as to what these uniforms and insignia might mean as far the affiliations of these people, but was not making the connection right away.

"What could American boy be. Out here for?" the man had continued.

“Well,” Sam answered in English, his Russian not up for any sort of interrogation. “Me and some friends of mine thought we would pay a visit to a mutual friend from school. His family owned and ran a farm at this location and we figured he was here as well.” He knew he was under orders to keep his powers as low-key and unconfirmed as possible, but Sam took a single step back from the pair of men and braced himself to launch into the sky should either of them—or the small crown fanning out about him—attempt anything beyond talking or suggesting they return to town.

While he waited and watched, Sam took in a deep, calming breath and tried to connect to the psychic connection the Professor had had Betsy establish with them all. [[BETSY??]]

Madrox

"I'm sorry! I just CAN'T. Not...not there, not after he left. I....won't. I'm sorry, Logan!"

Jubliee’s outburst and dash into the building had seemed to come from nowhere. The two Jamies who were going to remain and work on the martial arts material Logan had shown them looked to their originator and raised a pair of eyebrows. Jamie rolled his eyes and gave them a shrug. “Just work like I told you, “ he whispered to them, “if she wants to talk about whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll come find one or both of you. If she does, pay attention so you can give me the details when I get back. ‘Kay?”

They nodded and he turned his attention to the trip to town.

When he had called shotgun, Jamie had mostly been joking. It would be a nicer ride, of course, both considering the legroom of the backseat of a Beetle as well as the much improved scenery that would come from riding side-be-side with Alison. Jamie didn’t have a lot of experience with women so he didn’t think of himself as having a type beyond pretty, smart, and female—all categories that the last week of tests, workouts, and the like had shown Alison to fit quite well.

"I need to go downtown, to stop by work and give my notice in person. I'd prefer to do that alone,” Alison was saying. “Once I finish here, I hope to stop by my apartment to grab a few things, and that should be it. My place is within walking distance, so if someone needs my car, you're welcome to use it.”

“I don’t need to drive anywhere,” Jamie said. “Just have to close out an account at the hotel, pick up the rest of my belongings, and maybe a few odds and ends around town. Y’know, personal stash of snacks, maybe a couple novels and a puzzlebook or two from the bookstore or newsstand.”

And, of course, to retrieve the duplicate I left there to explore life in a moderately small town in more detail and give me some memories and experiences to shelf. Although, if we stay too late, I wouldn’t mind checking out that club firsthand—we’ll just keep that to ourselves, though.

Jamie grinned and headed towards the car. “Are we ready to go, then?”

Betsy

They thought that she couldn't understand. That was where they were wrong. When Betsy had just started out as a model, some of her best paying jobs had been in Moscow. She understood them perfectly, but she kept her features schooled. It wouldn't do to freak out over nothing. She needed a level head.

Elizabeth. They called her Elizabeth, not Betsy. That was certainly another sign that they didn't know exactly everything about her. What kind of kidnapping was this, she asked herself as the taxi pulled away from the curb, heading towards parts unknown. They seemed to be back of the same organization, the matching outfits and haircuts told her that much. What they didn't know was that while she stared at them with that spoiled little rich girl face, she was carefully orchestrating something behind the scenes.

"A vacation? Unless it's a five star resort with a spa and a pool I think I'll decline." She said as she looked at the men, the smiles still plastered on their faces.

'Everyone just keep calm.' She projected as Sam sent her a frantic message. 'We don't know who they are or what they want. If things get too out of control, do whatever you can in your power to get away.'

Gathering all of her energy, she prepared to send a message all the way back to New York, the longest distance she'd ever projected anything. "This whole thing has gone pear shaped, Logan."

James

"This whole thing has gone pear shaped Logan."

He grimaced at the faint whisper in his mind, there was only two people who could speak to him like that and the one would have been a normal conversational tone for professor Xavier, that left only Betsy. Weren't they in Russia? What on earth could he do from where he was? He grinned inwardly, given his training he could do much more than anybody would believe.

But why didn't Betsy rather contact Prof X? He would be easier to reach for her, especially when you take into account the distance. James looked at the other three, with Jubilation having up and disappeared the number of available able bodies quickly lowered and in his mind dwindled to nothing. Betsy needed help though, problem was...would it be wise to take a group over to face a threat that they knew nothing about? To take rookies on a mission that could challenge even him?

He sighed, apparantly he only had two options, take the kids along or go alone. He tapped Jamie on the shoulder,

"Hey Multi-man, you have a typer, send a message to ol' Charlie, tell him that Betsy and her group is in trouble. Should we go now?"

He glanced at Allison,

"Or first get blondie out of her tight spot with a contract?"

......

Russia - Wanda

Friends. Companions. Team mates. One, the 'nother. Two, they. Do NOT 'let' each. Out. Of their sight. Do NOT 'let' them down. Especially, when. The need, when. The one, when. It could be clear. Clearer than clear, that. That trouble...

Is present! And has been, for a good time. One just needs to open one's eyes, to see. Right? Indeed. At least for one, the. Scarlet-like of a witch. For she was certainly, present. And on a mission, but. But not alone. No. Classmates. Team mates. Friends, even. Were at her side. Theresa and Samuel. And they had parted, from two others. Here, in. Siberia. To...to what, really? To find peace of mind....body and soul? To be one with the universe? To go hunting -- just what did people do out here, in this part of the world anyway?

No. No, no, no. The mission. The issue with a...a class mate. A team mate. A...friend. It. It was Piotr, and. THIS, well. He originated from this area. This was his home, of sorts. So then, what. Happened? One moment, she was WITH the other two. And, the next? The next...

Did she slip, did. She fall? Because she was, reclined. On her back. The...the sky was, before her. It. It was moving. No, wait. She was moving. Or, being moved. Carried? She could, feel. Herself, being. Moved, along. But to where? And did whomever, know. That she was. Awake? As if in answer...

"Американские шевелится." One spoke out, in the native dialect.

"It good, now. Miss Wanda. You lost your...way. We help you, okay?" The second voice, acknowledged her. Pronouncing itself, with a tap. On her right shoulder.

Lastly, she heard the psychic. Projected message, from Betsy. That was meant, to be heard. Reassuring, perhaps?

And wait! Did she just, possibly. HEAR, some voices. Distant ones, at that. Somewhere oft, and from the. Behind? Or...was that her. Imagination, getting the best of her? Once again...
========================================================================

Mission - Kurt

Mutant.

Carrying the gene, meant. Something. Promised, more. It was, something. Simple, and yet. It couldn't be explained. The how's, and the. Why's. What was known, concise. And realized. Those that WERE, that. HAD, this. Gene. They, whom could be called. Mutants. Well, for better or worse. Definitely were...

Different. Yes. THAT was certainly, one. A way, to come at. And describe, him. Another, hmm. Something, not unlike...the Devil? Let's be, very honest. Here, no holding back. Forked tail, pointed ears. Fangs to match. Why, all need be substituted. Perhaps, the. Darkened blue fur, for more. Crimson red? Or, was he just. A varied sort of. Demon. The different Devil, than be written. Unto the pages of, The Bible?

Wait. Was he practiced, in Religion. Had he known, the any better? Spiritually enlightened? Did this Crawler of the night, did he. Presume to think, that. He could bring, any. The way, to the table. Other than, his being DIFFERENT. Because of him being a mutant. And unexplained....Devil-creature?

Professor Charles Frances Xavier seemed, to think so. In fact, he banked on it. And welcomed the individual, with open arms. Unto his home. To be part of, the family therein. The question's pointed then: was Charles duped, in taking HIM in? Because, what could HE hope to. Bring with him, besides. Trouble? Was there anything, else to consider?

When the professor had gathered, his students to him. In preparation of something, vastly important. Kurt hadn't been around. At least, not in the most. Local of sentiments. He was off, on one of his. Meditative endeavors, which. Called for, the mite of all. His concentration, his. Focus. And when, he did 'return'? The professor, gone. And his peers, also. No longer present.

In the private, of his own. Quarters', however. Lay, one. Singular, plane ticket. Destination -- Russia. No doubt, purchased in his name. Should he come to, just. In time. A small of a note, attached...


Kurt --

Join Betsy and the others, when you're able. For Piotr!

Charles


So, then. Did the professor have, this mindset. In dealing with this particular individual: Better the Devil you know, than the Devil you don't know? Hmm...
========================================================================

Russia - Sam

Once he responded, to the one man's. Inquiry, referencing his personal presence. On foreign, the soil. More specifically, when Sam let slip. That he wasn't by himself. That prompted a comment, from the group. Ahead...

"Есть более! Сколько?"

The man, of the two. Behind him, whom. Originally spoke, the English language. Nodded. His piercing red, visor. Catching a glint, of the sun. Just now. Reflected, back to. The young mutant. "You have..."

Hold on. Did he just. Could he just hear. Some...thing, muddled. Some voices, in the distance. From the far, ahead of him? Wha...in the world, was that?

"....more comrades, here. With you? It is true?" Did the guy, in the armor. Just completely ignore, the part about. The farm, Piotr, and the whole. Point to coming here, intentionally?

He was able to receive, fully. Betsy's projected. Psychic message, meant. For his mind, and those of. His friends. At least, some communication. Appeared, to be successfully. Working. Thus far...

As it was, still. To this point. All, seven. Of the individuals. Two behind, five before. Did not, look to be. Taking measures, if any. To a hostile like, extent. That...was a good thing. Yes?

Lastly, that same. Heavily accented, voice. One more time, for his ears. "Mister Guthrie, where. These comrades are?" He took one step forward, and. So did everyone else. The 'circle' surrounding him, enclosing...
========================================================================

A mosaic moving past above her, grey, and a faint greyish blue peeking occasionally between the tiles. It made no familiar shape except that which she perceived in her minds eye, following invisible lines amidst the underbellies of the dark clouds. The harsh tones cut into her thoughts soon enough however, and she recognised Russian. She could understand one or two words, but her Russian was less than basic, she spoke several eastern European languages, but her parents, her adoptive parents had wisely chosen to avoid Russia.

Although it appeared one of them knew who she was, and spoke in broken English to her, accompanied by a tap on the shoulder. She twisted her neck to look up at a man she didn't recognise. Who were these men? And what on earth had happened to her? Where was Theresa?

And then the mental whisper 'Everyone just keep calm. We don't know who they are or what they want. If things get too out of control, do whatever you can in your power to get away.'

She frowned, that was reassuring. She twisted and somehow made her way to her feet, swaying for a moment as the blood rushed to her head. She heard more voices from behind her, and turned to confront whatever was coming...

Russia--Cannonball/Sam

Sam sighed inwardly as he picked up on Betsy's message, and picked a spot over the roof of the distant farmhouse as the place he was aiming for if he needed to blast off. He would rather not, since he was sure the strangers in their armor were probably waiting for a reason to aggressively take him into custody. Ah just wish Ah remembered what that insignia stood for on their outfits.

He let his eyes flit from one group to the other and back as they spoke in their native tongue. And that Ah'd done more practicing at speaking Russian or Ukrainian or whatever. Next mission, if there is one, Ah'm gonna bust the books, but good.

"Where are my friends?" Sam asked, trying to make it seem as if he was unsure what the man wanted to know. "Ah don't know, to be honest. The ones who were with me wandered off, maybe to use the little girl's tree." He gave a shrug and smiled in that gee-whiz way that passed for charm back home. "The others were still in town, squaring away something at the hotel, I think. Are we in the wrong place? Is this not the Rasputin farm?"

Sam watched as many of the strangers as he could quietly fit into his field of vision as he spoke, prepared to either take flight or simply throw up his blast field to repel bodies...or bullets, as the case might be.