Since Aiden had been forced out from/quit his previous band and the requisite depressed waffling until his mother got him some session jobs as a drummer, his next band bore the brunt of his concentration and will to succeed. Not that they minded. All of them had been cast offs from other bands. Not bad, but not gelling well with the others. Since New Brunswick had a large live music scene, it was only a matter of time until Dire Rainbow pulled together.

They had practiced relentlessly. Sometimes Aiden barely got sleep between practices, New Mutants activities, time with Angel, teaching Zip, and working as a bartender. Thankfully, he needed less sleep than normal human-like people. But it was all about to be worth it, to his mind. They had entered a local contest and made the cut to perform.

They had a half-hour set-list to pull together. Aiden put in some cover songs along with a few songs he had written himself. (He hadn't told his parents about this facet yet. If the songs came out like crap and couldn't get the audience into it, he wouldn't have to claim them in front of a certified popstar and entertainment king.) Aiden had invited his teammates and anyone else he could think of to be at the show. He wanted some support, and possibly somebody to teleport if there were thrown beer bottles.

And they crammed as much rock into that thirty minutes as they possibly could. Thankfully, the lead singer did not wail like Banshee, so everyone still had their eardrums when she went after it. Aiden attacked his drums like he had everything to prove. Mostly because he did. His former band was in the contest as well.
The decrepit-looking hotel near a waterfall in Colombia was a case of the facade not quite matching the interior. Early 20th century grandeur fought against years of disuse and nature's reclamation. While the first floor retained some of it's moldy and waterlogged appearance, it was a deception to keep the local guerillas uninterested in the goings on inside the building. With late night experiments leading to flashing lights in some of the windows, the locals, gun-toting or not, spoke about the old hotel as a haunted location.

The head of that nest was counting on interlopers of the goody-two-shoe variety. Though the planned team wasn't the ones in blue and white. Either way, Huntress 19 had called in assistance from extra nests.
Ilya stood in the lobby of the mansion, attempting not to panic. While his SHIELD handler worked out the final paperwork, she'd benignly told him to stay there. The thing of it was, though, he was pretty sure that an entire apartment complex from home could fit in here. He tried not to fidget as it continued to hit home just how far away from, well, home that he was. The world seemed suddenly much too big, leaving him motionless as he tried to figure out what to do. He looked at his bags and wondered if he should take them up to his room... except he had no idea where his room was. And despite SHIELD having taught him fluent English, the Russian was loathe to call out for help and say something stupid and grammatically incorrect. He didn't want to look like an idiot right after he'd walked through the door.

So the fifteen year old stood there, glancing around awkwardly, silent as a mouse.
The American Museum of Natural History was set ablaze with lights and the mingling scents of exotic flowers perfumed the cool evening air. Brooke Wyngarde had put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into arranging for this soirée, and she was going to be damned if anyone was going to ruin it for her. After all, this was to welcome Stephanie Shaw da Silva and Marcelo Alencar da Silva back to Manhattan and, most importantly, receive them as a newly wedded couple.

Thus, Brooke had pulled out all the stops. Everyone who was anyone who knew the Shaws or the da Silvas had been invited (though Brooke had also dutifully chopped some of the more unsavory names off of her list). The food was a delightful blend of American-Brazilian-Spanish fusion. The cocktails were some of the most popular ones from Brazil, and only the finest Spanish wines were served. The music was live, big band-style stuff, because this was not some hideous high school Kiss on the Lips party. 

Brooke herself, being the hostess of the event, may have gone just a tad bit overglam when it came to her look for the night, but then she was certain that she was going to be gracing many a society page the next morning.

She needed to look great, and she certainly did as she stood next to the entrance of the Arthur Ross Terrace, receiving guests for the cocktail hour which would precede that night's dinner, directing them towards the guest sign-in book, the gift table, and everything else. 

She hoped, she prayed, that everything that night went off without a hitch.

After all, the supervillains only crash the weddings of the A-List superheroes, right? 
Alexa had been attempting to take it easy following her caffinated adventures with the Tiki Freaks. It wasn't all that difficult, really, especially since Remi had finally opened up with the l-bomb and she decided to take full advantage of it by spending extra time with him, even joining him in his tank--which had the interesting side effect of making the baby kick her harder and be generally more belligerent inside her. Alexa wondered exactly how much of the Atlantean genes were going to end up expressed in the baby, just like she wondered if the world was really ready for an Atlantean Stark. Remi's sister, Kassi, seemed to think so. Remi seemed horrified by the idea a little. The only person who hadn't weighed in was the original Stark himself.

Alexa hadn't really talked to him since they argued after rescuing Remi from cross dimensional insanity. She hadn't really seen him since her return from coffee hell and she realized that she needed to change that, even if to just stop in and notify him that she was fine. Her mother had asked her to do at least that.

So mid-morning on a Tuesday Alexa shuffled her overly pregnant self to Tony's office.
WHO: Kayla, Hana, others likely
WHERE: Mansion, kitchens, etc
WHEN: Wee hours of the morning on Friday night
WHAT: Kayla hits bottom.
WARNING: Pretty unpleasant, self-harming behaviour, near-suicidal ideation

Seriously, this is not happy stuff )

WHO: Kayla, other peeps
WHAT: Kayla is not herself.
WHERE: The Mansion
WHEN: About a week after the Hellfire Club soiree

It had been understandable enough that Kayla had been tired after the party, even though it didn't seem right that the girl who normally got by fine on five hours of sleep in the night almost slept through her lunch shift. She'd got up just in time to help prepare that, and then had a nap before it was time to help with dinner. Then she'd gone right to bed. Not too many people had thought too much of it. Until that had become the shape of Kayla's day almost in its entirety.

From sleeping maybe five or six hours in a night and being full of energy, she'd gone to sleeping at least twice that amount of time and never seeming to have much energy for anything. She'd never lost her pallor and somewhere around day three or four, she'd mostly stopped eating, only consuming something when she noticed people were watching. She just didn't feel hungry.

From being a strong performer in her Danger Room lessons, she'd slipped enormously. From being fiery and passionate about all things great and small, she'd become strangely apathetic. She'd offer people little tired smiles, but she wasn't nearly as quick with giant grins or nearly crushing hugs as normally. It was good that she'd pretty much finished her schoolwork before the party had happened, because while she'd been physically present at her last few classes, she seemed a million miles away.

They'd tested for mono- a reasonable enough guess, but it'd come back negative. There was no real explanation for the seeming lack of motivation, spark and life in Kayla. It was as if something vital to her had been drained away. She had no memory of anything strange happeneing at the party, but she was pretty sure it'd happened there. Whether she'd caught something or it had gone out of incubation yet, she didn't know.

When she wasn't sleeping, or doing things that she was absolutely required to, she mostly just sat at the window, looking outside at nothing in particular. It didn't feel bad. There was a strange serenity about it, really. Sometimes she got a really distracted smile on her face, her eyes focused on nothing at all.

She was doing that right now, looking out the window at the landscape. It all seemed pretty enough, but it was like it was a million miles away. It never occurred to her that she could actually go outside and do things. More and more, she was content to just sit and observe.


Danged child services watching the place like a hawk. Even when they weren't actually there, the threat of them dropping by had turned the school in general, and Rose's life in particular, into a far more boring place. She understood the precautions: she, David, and Em were still all underage and no one needed to be giving the appearance of an unsafe environment for kid raising.

But it was making it a heck of a lot harder for her to get her hands on any alcohol.

The alcohol, she could live without. She enjoyed her beer, but it wasn't an absolute requirement. But giving up her cigarettes was another matter entirely. Her healing factor made addiction impossible, as did any other adverse effects of it. But the tobacco smell helped dull her super-sense of smell just a little, just enough to keep it from being overwhelming. Her super-hearing, she could train to filter, but her sense of smell was harder to tame.

She was out on the back patio for now. Her senses would alert her if anyone unfamiliar was coming long ahead of time and she could hightail it and not leave a trace.

A few moments peace, at least.

And maybe some time away from the thoughts that still plagued her.
Mrs. Mary MacNeilly's report to the New York State Education Department was far from glowing. Her report caused a lot more concern and shock than normal process usually allowed. They did their research on previous inspections just to see how long this mutant school problem had been going on. Despite their research showing there had never been an issue as large as what was put before them, they had to take action on what Mrs. MacNeilly had reported.

The NYSED informed the superintendent in the district Xavier's was located in of the issue. They also got in touch with Westchester County's office about Xavier's certificate of occupancy due to the structural damage Mrs. MacNeilly had witnessed happening to the school building. With the report of mutants on the grounds the state and county governments got their information squared away before sending representatives to the school with protection from law enforcement. Child Protective Services got into the loop after being informed of a young girl living at the school surrounded by mutants who quite possibly could not control their powers.

As the media got wind of what was coming to a quiet yet secretive school in upstate New York, TV stations sent crews out. Some of the government representatives were glad to talk vaguely about what was happening at the school live. With the cameras aimed to put the people going into the school on film, a TV reporter stepped into the frame.

"This is Samantha Boulevard here not far from the town of Salem Center in Westchester County. Government officials from the New York State Education Department are here delivering a notice of probation for the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. The school came under scrutiny recently during an inspection by a certified educational inspector. My sources have told me that this school poses as a private institution for education but has been revealed to be habitat for mutants."
It was a chilly March night as Vesper took wing over the skies of New York City. He had a vacation coming up from his day job soon, but he couldn't put off patrolling the skies until then. Though the most he had done lately was stop a couple purse-snatchers. Things were too quiet.

He was more suspicious than ever. So, with his ears attuned to searching the streets for something that sounded more sinister than a purse snatching, the bat-suited Brazilian started his patrol in earnest.
Even graduated students still need homework from time to time. The problem for Hana was finding time for it. Her life was hopping busy, but she believed that skills went sour if they weren't used. Besides, there were some she had yet to learn and the more she knew, the better she'd be for her family and for the team.

She made an appointment with Rachel for some additional training during a few hours after she'd whisked the boys off to school. Logan would pick them up along with Emily and keep an eye on them for her until the training session was done. He was pretty big on skill honing, too, so it wasn't hard to convince him to keep an eye on the kids for a while. Might have been harder if she had girls, but fortunately, Logan was pretty good with boys.

There was a definite excited spring to her step as she headed down to the Danger Room in her team uniform to meet Rachel. Every once in a while, a girl just needed to work up a good, old fashioned sweat.

"Hi, Rachel!" She greeted the redhead when she entered the room. "I appreciate your time. I know you're busy."
Cape Citadel, Florida, was home to a portion of the United States' nuclear arsenal.  As such, it was one of the most heavily guarded military bases in the country.  Decades ago, it had been attacked by Magneto, the sight of the first public demonstration of so-called "evil mutants" and the first time the X-Men had gone into action publicly.  It had been a day when history had changed.  

History, it seemed, was about to repeat itself.

She carried her followers in a sphere of magnetic energy, her cloak billowing around her as she set them down, blowing away the fences around the base with a single wave of her hand.

Guards rushed them, but were blown back by her powers, even as the others--Mercury and the Red Witch, Heavyweight, Lady Mastermind, and Frogg, conducted their own assaults.

"Here me, humans," Magneta, Mistress of Magnetism, heir to Magneto's mutant throne, declared.  "I have come to claim your weapons for my own.  Are we not the Children of the Atom?  Then the weapons of the Atomic Age belong to mutants!"


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The Next Generation of Marvel Heroes

Current Game Date

June, 2013


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