Futuristic the institute

[Walliver]

Arc 1 Summary:

It was an eventful morning at the Institute. The students, residents, and faculty were woken up early in the morning for an emergency drill to make sure they were prepared for any situation. The students paired off and started sparring. In the midst of this, a student was critically injured, and a dark secret of one of the faculty was revealed.

The Institute was in chaos.

Afterwards, the staff held a meeting about what should be done, and others made their plans for the political rally the next day. New residents arrived at the Institute and went into processing.

Arc 2 Starts Here

 

[Walliver]

Lurch never liked the political rallies. Just another day of his dad telling the public that his son was dead, killed by mutant rioters. It was furthest thing from the truth, the same lie his father had always told. In reality, Eric Vaughn was too ashamed to admit that his pure bloodline was corrupted, that somewhere in their lineage was the gene to produce a mutant. Even worse, that the mutant black sheep of their family had mercilessly killed a civilian in an emotional outburst.

Now that…that part was true.

Anyway.

He was only at the rally because it was for the Andrew Solomon. It was the closest a pro-mutant candidate had gotten to actually being president. Usually there were one or two, but they were out of the running by the time anyone could vote. Probably his father’s work. It was the first time an anti-mutant and pro-mutant candidate were actually running against each other; it was the first time a pro-mutant candidate had any chance at winning as well. Andrew Solomon was famous famous. His list of credits was a mile long, and there was a dedicated fanbase for all of them.

Well, not so much anymore. Lots of so-called fans had called it quits when Solomon announced that he was very pro-mutant at the beginning of his campaign. At the same time, hordes of mutants started to watch his shows, almost enough to replace the fans he had lost in the first place. How did Lurch know all this? Lots of reading. People in chat rooms were very willing to talk to someone posed as a naive girl.

In addition to that, Lurch was a dedicated researcher. No, he definitely hadn’t binge-watched all seven seasons of Summer Doesn’t Last Forever for fun. It was for research. Definitely research. And the hundreds of movies? Also research. Definitely research.

Needless to say, he was excited to be at the rally. Looking at him, one would think he was actually quite bored, but that was the opposite of the truth. He was ecstatic. Sure, the rally was loud and there was a high chance that something would go wrong, but he was living in the moment. This was literal history that he was experiencing. He was witnessing something that would be in history books for future generations- no matter the outcome of the election.

His theory was only solidified when several shots rang out and the crowd devolved into screams. Yeah, definitely one for the history books.

 

[.empathogen.]

C H A N G E

i'm cast away, but it's fate's hand and sword I carry to cut you down

break the void

shift it

the reflection shows too little fear

the pretender

— foo fighters

mood: protective
location: Capitol Building, Salem OR
interactions: Noah

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10:15 AM, September 23rd
Of course, there would be the ones there out of protest against the pro-mutant contender for the seat of Chief Executive. As if to match, there were plenty of pro-mutant supporters on the equal footing that was the State Capitol Building in Salem. Leander was sure he'd be a little more than hoarse after the day was over. The inner crowd quieted as Mr. Andrew Solomon himself approached the podium and tapped the microphone.

"Hi everyone," he greeted the crowd, gaining a few shrieks as they listened closely to the air that hung on that man's lips.

"Today, I stand before you to speak about a group of remarkable individuals who have been misunderstood and marginalized for far too long. I speak of mutants - individuals with extraordinary abilities and powers that set them apart from the rest of us. It is time for us to embrace, celebrate, and stand in solidarity with our mutant brothers and sisters. Mutants are not to be feared or shunned; they are to be admired and respected. Their unique gifts and talents have the potential to enrich our society in ways we have yet to imagine. Imagine a world where telepaths can bridge the gaps of miscommunication, where healers can mend the wounds of the sick and injured, where shapeshifters can inspire creativity and adaptability."

Leander felt seen, for the first time in a long time after hearing those words. His hands in tight fists, he struggled not to weep at Andrew's sincerity. He felt the urge to turn around and see his found family's reaction to the words presented. Either way, Solomon had his vote now, for sure. But, when he turned, he had to shield his eyes from a strange glinting in the distance. It would flash on from his eyes, then across the crowd, ever so slowly. Leander kept his eyes on the beaming, red light as he made his way from the center of the crowd to the position of Andrew Solomon.

"Noah," Leander said aloud as well as in his head, frying his inhibitor again, "We might have an issue."

"The possibilities are endless. It is a travesty that mutants have been subjected to discrimination and persecution simply because they are different. It is our duty as a compassionate and progressive society to advocate for the rights and acceptance of all individuals, regardless of their genetic makeup. We must recognize that diversity is our strength, and that includes embracing the diversity of mutant abilities. Instead of viewing mutants as threats, let us recognize them as valuable members of our global community. Let us provide them with the support and resources they need to thrive and contribute positively to the world. My campaign is focused on improving the quality of life for all members of the United States, including 1 out of every 5 people who are differently abled than us. Through education, understanding, and empathy, we can foster an environment where mutants are empowered to use their gifts for the betterment of all. In closing, I implore you to join me in--"

The first shot tore right from the sky and hit the stone wall behind Andrew. The second and third one stopped right before hitting his forehead and chest. The reason why they were suspended in the air? Leander had his hands held out, eyes glowing a deep gold as he shifted the projectiles, until something clicked in his mind and they dissipated into corroded ash. The crowd was scattered in all directions, leaving room for Leander to make it to Solomon with ease.

"Hi, Oleander Cruz, BIG fan. Let's get you the fuck out of here, yeah?" He asked, taking the governor's hand.

"Thank God." Andrew replied, following Leander to a less open location.
Walliver

© reveriee

 

[Walliver]

• ?????
• Andrew

• 
  The sniper swore, watching three shots miss. Well, one of them missed. Two of them were definite hits, but they disintegrated before they made contact with the presidential candidate. There must have been a counter-agent somewhere in the crowd. Maybe a Metal Elemental or a Telekinetic, someone working for the other side. Did the other side hire a merc too? Or was this just one of her employer’s enemies trying to undermine them again?
  
  “Boss, what are we doing?” She tapped the button on her earpiece, tuning in. For a moment, there was only breathing and the sound of someone taking a long drag of a cigarette. She waited impatiently, her eyes scanning the crowd as it parted. Some stranger was leading Andrew Solomon off the stage. “Boss, we’re losing him!” She whispered harshly.
  
  “Follow him.” The voice in her ear, one she knew reeked of nicotine and blood. “Follow him, but keep quiet. No more shooting. Poison his food, quietly stab him, smother him in his sleep, I don’t care. No more big displays. If anyone finds out who’s behind this-”
  
  “-we’re all dead and buried, I know.” She rolled her eyes, packing up her guns before quickly conjuring a clone to take them away. “What about the other side? The pro-mutants, what if they get in the way?”
  
  Her boss took another long drag of their cigarette.
  
  “Slaughter them like the pigs they are.”
  
  
• 
  Andrew gratefully took the man’s hand, letting the stranger guide him out of the crowd and somewhere more secluded. Why he trusted him…well Andrew didn’t quite know. It was probably shock, he had just narrowly avoided death, as it were.
  
  “Who- uh- who are you with? Did Douglas- shoot- Mr. Abbott send you?” He asked, the weight of the situation finally setting in. He was normally an incredibly smooth conversationalist. It was probably still the shock, yeah, probably. “I don’t recognize you from the security team.”
  
  I would have remembered a face that handsome. He thought quietly, to himself.
  
  .empathogen.
  
  

 

[.empathogen.]

OH FUCK

the need to save you is bigger than the need to save me

you're my conviction

hello nurse!

take it all in, then let it go

candy paint

— post malone

mood: "...because I got high..."
location: Art Museum
interactions: Leander, Andrew

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(tw: substance use)
Whichever company she ordered these gummies from was about to get her entire next check. Nat could feel it, like a relaxing drive or sitting at the dock, fishing. Relaxing and only slightly trippy as she looked at the select pieces in the Hallie Ford Museum of Art. She barely heard the three gunshots go off in the distance.

'As long as it's not happening here.' she silently thought, looking at the curvature of a brush stroke on the canvas. This was her day off, not to say she took any time to herself in the first place. This field trip was a great way for her to get that and still be on the clock. Nat absentmindedly reached into her hoodie pocket, pulled out a package of Cheez-Its, opened them, and began eating them while walking to the next piece.

"Thanks, Mr. Solomon, but I'm sure you think that about every guy who saves your life."

Nat turned around to see Leander and Andrew Friggin Solomon crouched down and hurriedly rushing their way through the museum.

"Ollie...is that you with your dream man? What'd you do, kidnap the poor sap?" She asked, dumping the rest of the packet into her mouth and giggling with a snort at the end.

"I told you not to call me that! And, no...I'm not that crazy," Leander replied, standing up and helping Solomon onto his feet. They were holding hands. Nat was impressed. 'Once Leander puts his mind to something, its was a matter of time,' she guessed. Leander frowned, tapping his temple.

"I can hear you, both of you. Can you help me get the students and staff together and get Mr. Solomon back to you-know-where?" He asked her.

"You're a mutant?" Andrew asked, then crossed his arms and smiled. "That's so cool." he followed up, which made Leander do a double take. Nat sighed, then stretched and put her hands on her hips.

"Well, first we need to get Noah and Edie in on what's going on...Wait...were you two followed?" She asked, hoping to the goddess that they weren't.
Walliver

© reveriee

 

[Simon Strut]

Martha Madden
The outfit she wore underneath her clothes felt like it was made of chicken wire. Just something Hileena's cooked up for you, Alexander had told her. Ugh, couldn't she have made it more comfortable? Or not this horrendous shade of yellow? She puffed out her cheeks with a sigh.

Alexander had met her in a remote area of the mountains, then paid for her transport to the rally. He said that he and the other members of the Institute would meet her there, but there was no sign of them yet. Not that that was a surprise: this place was packed so full, finding anyone would be a pretty close to impossible.

Solomon was giving his speech. She wasn't really listening to the words as much as she was listening to the voice. It was like butter. And not a bad set of glutes either. Yeah, just keep standing there, looking pretty... We're all enjoying the view. Martha almost zoned out before she heard the shots. One, two, three, all in quick succession. Instinctively, she checked her own body for injury, before realising the crowd was dispersing, panicking. Screaming, was more fitting actually. The crowd became a herd, became a stampede.

"Fuck's sake!" She shoved one person off her, racing toward the stage and jumping up on her toes to try and see above the heads. Someone else was rushing towards Solomon's side, only to usher him away. Okay, he was safe. Looks like the Institute showed up after all.

She spun around, scanning the buildings for a vantage point. It was only a split second, but she noticed it—a glint of light from an open window. Gotcha. The crowd had dispersed enough that there was no one in her immediate vicinity. Perfect. She took a deep breath in, held it, and concentrated, feeling the warmth trace across her veins. When she exhaled, she exploded into a pillar of fire and shot towards the building. She brought herself to a halt just before the window, to peer in. Even at this distance, the glass was beginning to glow orange, threatening to melt out of the window-frame if she got any closer.

Martha gave herself a brief look in the reflection before the window was no more. Her outfit was holding up to the heat. Guess Hileena really did know what she was doing. The sound of glass smashing interrupted her thoughts. A couple floors down, someone had jumped out of the window and was climbing down a scaffold. In one hand she held a large case. Someone suspiciously fleeing the scene of the crime, ignoring the floating woman literally made of fire above her? Yep, that's the culprit.

She flew down to the woman's level, folding her arms. "You know that you aren't getting away, right?" Completely oblivious, the woman continued to scramble down. Martha sighed. The metal scaffolding was turning red-hot now too, just from the proximity to Martha in her fire form. If she stayed like this, the entire scaffolding could come down, and from this height that'd spell instant death for this would-be assassin. Now we can't have that, can we?

Martha flew to a couple beams below the woman, then quenched her flames, quickly stamping out a small fire that had started on the wooden plank beneath her. She readied a fireball to threaten the woman with, who was just about to drop down to her level when...

Bang!

Martha furrowed her brow. The fireball disappeared. Without even so much as a glance in Martha's direction, the woman brushed right past her, then continued on her way down. Meanwhile, Martha's hand was clutching the spot below her sternum. What was that sharp pain? Why couldn't she breathe? Why couldn't she move? Her whole body shook as she let go of her chest, only to see blood pooling up beneath the yellow fabric. Her hand was soaked.

She blinked quickly, trying to breathe, trying to do anything, but her body wouldn't move. She'd been shot. That... That bitch!

Then she was falling.

 

[Simon Strut]

Hileena Akhtar
"This is the first time I've been out in the open since I joined the Institute."

"How does it feel?"

Hileena took a sip of her matcha latte and watched passers-by through the window of the café. She turned back to Sonia. "To be honest, it has me on edge." She couldn't stop thinking about her imprisonment at the MNTF. She found herself holding her breath every time she walked around a corner, always expecting an ambush.

The husky sitting beneath the table gave her leg a boop. She broke off a piece of a cookie for him.

"Now you know how I feel being away from Andy," Sonia said. "I just have this feeling that something's going to go wrong at the rally. He's not a mutant, he can't protect himself from an attack the same way we can. Sure, virtually the entire Institute will be there, so he's far from unprotected, but I still worry." She stirred her black coffee, then used the spoon to point at Hileena. "Still... it's our day out, we should relax!"

They both stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"How's research progressing?" Sonia asked.

Hileena sighed. She'd told Sonia about her research, but had left out many of the details, for obvious reasons. "I've hit a bump in the road, to be honest. I don't think Nat would be of any help, unfortunately. But there's another student, so full of potential—she's amazing, really. Sage. Her powers are similar to mine, but different enough that I think she could be a huge asset in my work."

"Hearing you speak about your students like that makes me almost wish I'd stayed at the Institute." She smiled. "But, you know me, I hate kids. Boof is more than enough responsibility." Hearing his name, the husky poked his head out from under the table. Hileena handed him another piece of a cookie. Instead of eating it, he dropped it on the ground and perked up, looking off into the distance. "Anyway, I make a much better secretary-slash-bodyguard to the most notorious man in America, than I ever did a librarian."

Hileena chuckled. She wasn't wrong. The library had been a mess under Sonia's supervision. After she had left and they had replaced her with an automated system, things had never ran so efficiently.

"So, any men in your life?"

Hileena almost choked on her latte. "For me? No." She wiped her mouth with a napkin. "After Karan, I think I'm done with men."

"Can't fault you there. What about women?"

Before Hileena could answer, someone sprinted past the window. Then a cluster of people ran past. Hileena looked back at Sonia, brow furrowed. Both their eyes slowly went to the television mounted opposite the counter. It was showing a live broadcast of the rally. Except the crowd was no longer there. The text at the bottom of the screen read: Three shots fired.

Sonia shot to her feet. "Something's wrong, Andy's not there. Let's go!"

Boof spun in a circle as Hileena grabbed her bag from the table. She patted her belt, making sure that the vials hidden beneath her trenchcoat were still there.

"Ready?" asked Sonia. Hileena nodded. Sonia knelt down to Boof and fussed him. "Hey, buddy. Do you wanna find dad? Yeah? Find dad!"

The husky panted and Hileena could have sworn he nodded, before he let out a bark and bolted out of the café.

"We're following your dog?!"

"Yes!"

---

Hileena gasped, clutching at her side. She was in good shape, but she hadn't ran that fast in a few years. Boof had beat the two of them to the back door of a museum, and was furiously scratching and biting at the handle. Sonia whistled and the dog immediately ceased, trotting to her side.

"Can we assume Andrew is inside?"

Sonia nodded. She had her serious face on, jaw clenched. Not much for words in a serious situation. Hileena should probably take a leaf out of her book. She pulled two vials out of her belt and followed Sonia into the museum, Boof close behind.

"Daira." Sonia whispered. A box appeared out of thin air in her hand, giving off a dim red glow. Looking at it more closely, it resembled a cage, containing floating pieces of what looked like glass. Hileena vaguely remembered her powers. The box gave her impressive defensive and offensive abilities, but not in conjunction. She'd have to be the one watching her back.

As they rounded a corner, Sonia raised the box and shouted. "Don't move!"

Hileena almost jumped out of her boots, but steeled herself and followed suit. It was definitely Andrew Solomon. Hileena dropped her shoulders and sighed in relief. Beside him were Leander and Nat. Crisis averted.

 

[.empathogen.]

FRACTAL

Split second decisions lead to splitting headaches on your lap, in Ohio

pass up time

zoomies

if only I could afford to give a fuck

Tell Em (SLOWED)

— james blake

mood: hero-mode
location: Rooftop Near Capitol
interactions: Martha

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Kenny stood on the corner of NE Waverly and State, eating a Portland-style hotdog and wondering what the hell to do on this trip. He'd opted not to go to the speech. It wasn't like he didn't care to be there, but he was still a tourist at heart and he was sure that he'd get to know the person running for the presidency well enough through a tv screen. The wind flickered in his hair and Kenny zipped his hoodie up to the bottom of his chin. Maybe it was because they were so close to the Pacific, but Kenny missed the humid, southern weather a bit more than he thought he would. When the gun fire went off, the speedster did what he did best: he reacted before thinking.

He was on the scene instantaneously, the rubber on his custom made shoes smoking slightly. The crowd was utter chaos, everyone rushing to get out of range. As for the target of the botched assassination, Kenny watched as the Power Training instructor from the school shielded a well suited man and ran off into the distance with him. Just as he was getting ready to go help them out, he heard another powerful gunshot. This time, he heard where it came from--and saw the bright flash of fire burn out. It's source was a young woman, and she was falling. He dug his feet into the ground hard, then took off. In a mere blink of an eye, he was running up the wall and jumping from that surface to catch the woman, mid air.

They crashed on a rooftop, at a lower level. Kenny had wrapped his body around hers to protect her from the worst of it. Upon impact, he was sure he had fractured a rib or two and and sprained his left ankle, again. Once they'd stopped rolling he made quick work to assess the damage. He could feel the murky, warm wetness of blood on his hands. He wasn't sure if she could heal or not, but he knew she shouldn't do that with a bullet in her chest.

He shook out his hands, clapped them together, then started vibrating one to the point of phasing. He wasn't good at completely phasing through walls with his whole body, but he could do single limbs. The hand began to blur, then fade into being in the 3rd and fourth dimension at the same time. Then, he reached in. It was slightly squishy, and all kinds of wrong feeling, but after 30 seconds or so, he found the foreign object and slowly pulled his phased hand out. He threw the metal away, then cradled the mysterious woman's face in his lap and prayed that there was some way for them to make it out of this in one piece.
Simon Strut

© reveriee

 

[Walliver]

• Lurch
• Andrew + Douglas

• 
  Loud, too loud. Gunshots and everyone screaming. People rushing past him, touching, grabbing, trying to knock him over in their rush. Lurch closed his eyes, hands clenched into fists.
  
  In for three, out for four, in for three-
  
  A force knocked him over, probably some scared civilian. With all the grace of an untrained dancer, Lurch fell to the sidewalk, his skull making an ominous crunch noise. In the split second it took for a headache to set in, it was gone. Some other poor soul crashed to the ground, clutching their head in pain. Normally, he would have cared a lot more. Now, he just wanted to get out of there.
  
  The crowd had dispersed to let Leander through, but then descended into chaos. Everywhere he looked, there was just an endless sea of moving bodies. Briefly, he saw the flash of fire and a gunshot. Then a sharp whoosh as someone ran by.
  
  Lurch sighed, rubbing his eyes. Just when he was thinking this couldn’t get any worse.
  
  
• 
  “Boof!” Andrew let the designated “happiness officer” rush over to him, happy to see a familiar face. The dog promptly licked him on the cheek, barking affectionately. “Yeah, I missed you too, buddy.” He looked up and saw Sonia.
  
  “Sonia! Hey, pardon my French and remember that I love you, but what in the literal hell is going on out there?” He was tempted to put his hands on his hips to emphasize the point. “I thought we had eyes on any potential threats.”
  
  “I think we did.”
  
  Andrew turned to the familiar voice with a wide grin.
  
  “Hey! I think a hello of some sort is in order, I haven’t seen you all morning.” He grinned, but his vice president just shook his head.
  
  “I was watching. Whoever was in the crowd to help, I think they either got lost in the crowd or got shot.” He explained. “After Mr. Solomon left the stage, I heard a gunshot close to the same building the sniper would have been at.”
  
  Andrew paled.
  
  “Please don’t tell me I just got someone killed.”
  
  Simon Strut .empathogen.
  
  

 

[.empathogen.]

C H A N G E

i'm cast away, but it's fate's hand and sword I carry to cut you down

break the void

shift it

the reflection shows too little fear

whistle for the choir

— the fratellis'

mood: ready for anything
location: Art Museum
interactions: Hileena, Nat, Andrew and Co.

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THE Andrew Solomon was holding Leander's hand and all he could think about was not broadcasting his inner thoughts about the situation to everyone in the tri-state area. So, instead, he focused on the most adorable husky pup he'd ever seen. The grown-ups seemed to be having a discussion about the fact that there was another shot off in the distance, which worried Leander. The world was going to shit around them, once again, and Leander wasn't too keen on letting that be his focus at the moment. He tentatively held his hand out to the doggo, who cocked his head at the gesture. Boof sniffed his hand, then licked it. Leander gave him an ear scratch, which led to the dog hopping up onto him and licking his face.

"Mmfph, Hi boy! You like scratchies?" Leander asked, very open to the warm reception. Andrew and the others looked at the two interacting, with Andrew putting on a goofy grin--like he didn't almost lose his life less than 20 minutes ago. Leander got up, with Boof being a good boy and returning to Andrew's side.

"Should we get everyone together and leave?" Leander asked, making Andrew raise an eyebrow at him. "I'm S-Tier, so you're probably safest with me--even if the MNTF gets involved. Though, I must tell you: I'm wanted in 37 states. You'd be putting a big ass target on your back if you stick with me." he joked. True, he was WANTED in 37 states, but what were they gonna do? He could walk out of the prison anytime he wanted to.

"Actually, you're the best thing to happen to this campaign," Sonia chimed in, making Leander's jaw drop for a second. "We need America to see that mutants are not a threat, but an advantage. You, saving a government official, may have just secured that narrative. I say we get to your place of operation to verify that no other threats are aimed at Andrew, let the heat die a little, then we arrange a press meeting at a neutral venue to confirm Andrew is still in the running. Agreed?" she asked her colleagues.

"Agreed." Abbott and Solomon said together, which made Leander think of a American football, back when it was legal. He nodded toward Hileena. 'Get the students together,' he said to her, telepathically, as Nat poked him in the side with her elbow, smiling.

"Hope you have an extra set of pajamas for your boo thang." She said, giggling.

"I don't wear pajamas." Leander said, rolling his eyes, looking for a back exit for them to slip out of. But first, they'd need to round up the kids and get them on the bus that was parked a couple of blocks away. So much for a decent outing.
Walliver Simon Strut

© reveriee

 

[Walliver]

• .
• .

• filler tab! ignore
• 
  
  
  

  master of disguise

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  Dhariya did not operate well under pressure.
  
  Actually, for at least the first few minutes, Dhariya didn’t operate at all under pressure. As the crowd moved, they only stood there in shock, watching the scene unfold. The future president was ushered off the stage, people running all around. Another shot fired and there was the sound of someone crashing to the ground. Then, a sharp whoosh as someone ran past- too fast for a normal human.
  
  He turned, trying to concentrate through the noise. There, a faint buzzing, like a humming bird or a bee next to his ear. A squelch, like something going through flesh, and then nothing.
  
  “Dolores.” Dhariya turned to the person next to them, tapping her on the arm. “I think someone’s in trouble.” Not that Dhariya cared or…whatever. But he’d take any opportunity for adventure (not really) and he loved being in the spotlight (dear lord no).
  
  “We should go help. They’re on the rooftop…” Dhariya’s eyes drifted towards where he had heard the noise. If they were mutants, then maybe they were from that mysterious Institute he had been hearing about. Maybe…maybe they would finally have a safe place to stay. And if they weren’t…well Dhariya would help anyway.
  
  A person’s a person, mutant or not. He grabbed Dolores’ hand.
  
  “C’mon, let’s go.”
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

• .
• .

• h
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  text text

feeling…

scared, determined

located…

the rally

outfit

crop top, jeans

interacting with

Dolores

tagging

Buho .empathogen.

Dhariya

nine lives

 

[Buho]

Content warning: drug use

Dolores Peña​

Dolores, like all mutants with a healthy sense of self-preservation, had known full well that the rally would be trouble.

Andrew Solomon was compelling and charismatic, but he was still a radical in the current climate. His campaign was already being met with fierce opposition and it would be naïve to think the rally would be a smooth and pleasant affair. When Dhariya had suggested that the two of them make the drive out to see the controversial candidate in person, Lorrie had been understandably hesitant.

She would mail in her ballot in Solomon's favor, there was no doubt about that. But beyond that, she wasn't exactly what you would call an activist. What good would it do her or anyone for her to march around with a pro-mutant picket line or add a "Mutant Equality Now" frame to her social media profile pictures? The issue was so much bigger than her. Her time would be better spent keeping her head down, working on her degree, and just...surviving, really.

But it was good to see Dhariya so fired up about something. So she'd agreed, figuring that they'd cheer at the speech, boo at some anti-mutant protestors, stop at a drive-thru on the way home, and spend the rest of the evening splitting an edible and making fun of old arthouse films.

But this? She couldn't have predicted this.

When the first shot rang out, Dolores should have thought a million better things: run, take cover, call 911. But all that came to mind was her mother's voice on the phone that morning when Lorrie had told her what she was doing today. "What?! Why would you want to do something so dangerous?!" She exclaimed in rapid-fire Spanish, not letting her daughter get a word in. "That's not what you're going to school for! You better hope I don't find out that you're going out and fighting criminals in heels and lycra!"

Sorry, Mom, Dolores thought as she let Dhariya pull her along, chasing after whoever it was that they had heard in the commotion. They arrived at the foot of an apartment building three blocks away from the rally, where presumably someone was in trouble about six stories above them.

Dolores trotted onto the sidewalk, sitting with her back up against the wall. "Cover me," she said, closing her eyes. "I'll see what's going on. Maybe you can get one of the residents to let us onto the roof when I get back."

Astral projection was never as graceful for her as actors made it seem in the movies. It wasn't as simple as a deep breath and a big interdimensional whoosh sound effect. She couldn't rise gently out of herself like an ethereal being of light. It was a lot more like ripping a cooked mussel out of its shell with a fork. Her soul was, for better or for worse, quite firmly attached to her body. Tearing her consciousness away from the earth and into the ether took effort and she often had to strain to do so. Of course, It was easier when she was under the influence, but unfortunately there wasn't any time for that.

She concentrated outward, not upward as most tended to think about the cosmos. The greater universe was always outward, no matter what direction "up" was relative to your position on the planet. It was by reaching out that Dolores could always separate her Self from her Being. Despite the severe levels of existential dread that this could provoke, she had to focus on an ultimate truth: even if she lost all Self, she would still Be. In that way, she could shake off her connection to the ground and join the everything.

Then she was over the roof. There, inches and also somehow lightyears below her, she could see a man holding a wounded woman whose essence was draining away through the hole in her abdomen. Dolores watched as the man laid his patient's head in his lap. His hands began to move at an impossible rate, and then, they were completely still and perfectly precise. With a start, Dolores realized that the man's hands had ceased to exist on the plane that the rest of his body existed on and had entered the astral space she herself was occupying.

He drew a small object, dull and misshapen, from the woman's body. A bullet, Lorrie thought. Then the procedure was over. But the woman was still bleeding.

Dolores turned her focus to the ground. She strained to hear the sounds of traffic, the police and ambulance sirens racing to the rally site, the rubbernecking neighbors opening their windows to find the source of the commotion. She thought of lox bagels and booming fireworks. She played her mother's voice in her mind like a tape; she was scolding Dolores for not flossing.

Slowly, achingly, she returned to her Self. Her eyes opened and she raised her gaze to meet Dhariya's. "You were right -- she's on the roof and she's been shot. There's a guy with her but I can't tell if he knows first aid. We've gotta get up there."

Walliver .empathogen. Simon Strut

 

[Hvnny-Bvns0]

Out of all the things Jack-Dane wanted to do that day, fighting was pretty high up there. Having just had to listen to hours of his little sister rant about her friend‘s cousin’s sibling’s ex-boyfriend’s dog’s house plant’s recent husband? Wife, maybe? It was hard to remember. But then being forced to listen to a few anti-mutant speeches on the radio (not by his choice, public transport was just a bitch)… well, he was pissed. Which wasn’t saying much. It didn’t take a lot to make him upset.
But, in this scenario, that boded pretty well for him, considering the assassination he just saw try to take place. If it came down to a fight, Jack-Dane was riled up enough to take on anyone.
Leander was easy to see, given how the whole crowd parted for him, and Jack didn’t know where else to go. The crowd was far too thick for even his slender frame to slide through, which- at the very least- meant he was able to transport himself without trouble. He followed Leander and Andrew to the best of his ability, disappearing and reappearing in people’s shadows when he got the chance. I already hate this job, he thought, following the two men into the art museum.
Well, he almost did. And then he misstepped, panicked, and teleported himself to one of the museum’s many exhibits: the only other place with a shadow he could reappear from. Wasn’t this just a lovely day?
He slammed his fist into a wall, yelled out in frustration, and sprinted down to the entrance- skittering to a halt when he found the people he was looking for.
“Leander!” He yelled, fuming. “What the fuck!? Hi, Solomon. But what the fuck do we- I dunno, do!?”
He would have elaborated further, but that would have taken all the breath he still had from his run around the museum-maze.

 

[Simon Strut]

Martha Madden
He was fit. Like, ridiculously fit. Like Russel Brand if he was twenty years younger. And hot.

The pain was still there, but the stranger holding her brought some comfort. Enough for her to hold back a wince as she pushed herself into a sitting position. That was a mistake, her side exploded in agony. Every time she tried to get a word out, it was as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

Martha fumbled for a small metal container strapped to the side of her waist. It was the same kind of metal used in rockets to absorb heat, or that's what Alexander said anyway. Her hands were slick with blood but she managed to undo the clasp and pull out an auto-injector. Epinep... Something, and a cocktail of painkillers. Her fire form would heal her from almost any wound but the sensation of pain prevented her from activating it. She couldn't bend her arm into the right spot to press the injector into her thigh though, so she motioned for the stranger to help.


.empathogen.

 

[Simon Strut]

Alexander Blackthorne
Things had been so busy, he didn't have a chance to catch up with Thomas. He spent a lot of the previous day avoiding his colleagues and students, then welcomed Martha as she landed a few miles west of the Institute. He'd asked her to check up on his parents in Portugal because the cameras he'd installed in their villa had stopped working. Turns out they just needed to be charged so that was a relief.

"Bernie and Jim are fine," Martha said, "They kept going on about this new dog shelter they were opening up, but I wasn't really paying attention. Did you know your mum makes homemade eclairs? Fucking divine. She wanted me to bring some back for you, but they'd have burned up. So I ate them."

Alexander shook his head and chuckled. Martha always had far too much energy for him, but maybe that'd mean she'd fit right in at the Institute. If they could convince her to stay, that is. "Bernadette. She doesn't let anyone call her Bernie."

"She lets me."

After catching up, and giving her the suit Hileena had been working on, he bid her farewell and made his way back to the Institute.

Thomas was on his mind. He certainly needed to apologise to the lad but, more importantly, he wanted to see if he remembered anything about what he'd seen. Alexander had only ever had visions like those when he slept, this was the first time he'd been conscious. He could never remember the details though, even in this recent vision. The scene, sure, he could remember that, as well as everything that had been said, but when it came to the Gilded Mother, Va'Hargal, his mind was blank. It was as if the image of her had been purged from his mind, as if it refused to keep a hold of it. Thomas supposedly had a photographic memory, so he wondered if the boy could remember what he'd seen. Perhaps he could sketch something.

But that was a thought for another day. He had to get ready for the rally, and at least try to get some sleep.

---

He'd made his own way to the rally. Some of the others used their powers to travel, while most of the students were driven in a minibus. Alexander rode a bike, of course. The rally itself was nothing special. Leander and a few of the others seemed starstruck, but a fair few of the them weren't present, opting to explore what else the city had to offer instead. Alexander was decidedly on the fence on the whole matter. He stood at the edge of the crowd, not particularly interested in what Solomon had to say, nor what recreational activities the city presented.

It was an unmistakeable feeling. The back of his neck ached, and just as he went to rub it, Syfa hissed. Someone was trying to read his mind. His eyes immediately shot to Leander, but Syfa didn't react, and he was otherwise engaged anyway. He scanned the crowd. Nothing. That feeling was still there, though.

Alexander frowned. It could be nothing, but... He still needed to check. No reason to alarm the others though. He slipped away from the rally, through some alleyways, following the sounds Syfa made. And then, there, turning a corner was a man...

No.

He stopped in his tracks, breath catching in his throat. That was impossible. Except, it wasn't. There was no mistaking it, Alexander would recognise that tweed jacket anywhere. One of its kind. Morgan.

Without a second thought, he let his rage take control of his body, sprinting around the corner. The man slipped into another alleyway.

"Syfa, to me!" Shadows erupted out of Alexander's body, coalescing to form the Shadow. She clung weightlessly to his body, like a cloak straight out of nightmares. "Daven... Kill."

The second Shadow burst forth, running ahead of him. It smashed straight through a wall rather than take the corner, and Alexander followed. I've got the bastard. This time, he'll stay dead!

The man turned around to the noise just in time, just as Daven raised a fist and would have obliterated his body. Alexander saw the flash of fear in the stranger's eyes. No! He reached out with both hands, stopping Daven as the creature was inches away from its victim. The man scrambled backwards, tripped, fell, then stumbled back to his feet. He was too panicked to even scream, he just ran.

It wasn't Morgan, just some poor guy with terrible fashion choices. Alexander squeezed his temples. What was he doing?! Fuck. He'd almost killed a man, just for having the gall to wear tweed and have brown hair. Still, he could have sworn that jacket was supposed to be bespoke, and it looked identical. Alexander shook his head. That feeling from earlier had gone, and Syfa was silent. Maybe it was just Leander, multi-tasking.

That's when he heard the gunfire. Seriously? He couldn't have one minute to himself. With haste, he made his way back to the rally, dismissing Daven but keeping Syfa out. People were running in the opposite direction, though some started running from him instead. That was sensible, he supposed. But by the time he'd gotten back to the rally, the place was practically empty. His Institute fellows and Solomon had disappeared. Alexander sighed. If the others needed him, they had ways of contacting him. He'd stay here for now, in case the attackers came back or the authorities show up.

And if those authorities happened to be the MNTF? Well, Alexander and his Shadows were itching for a fight.

 

[Walliver]

“Alexander.”

Lurch turned to see the older man standing in the almost empty space where the rally had been. One of those Shadows, the eerie looking one they had seen the other day, was wrapped around him. He seemed…disturbed, somehow. Had something happened? The gunfire, before, did it have anything to do with him.

Lurch refrained from asking any questions, looking around for other members of the Institute. The speedster that had come through was probably Kenny, one of the new arrivals. Although the pair he saw tearing after him…well Lurch had never seen them before. It was all so disorganized, messy. He hated it.

He hated his father and his father’s supporters, since it was probably the man’s fault that everything had gone wrong. Eric Vaughn was notorious for doing anything to get what he wanted, what he felt he deserved. His clothes felt itchy, his skin tight against his bones- not now, he shook his head, not now.

“The bus.” Lurch gestured vaguely in the direction of the vehicle, parked far away from the rally. Words felt heavy in his mouth, like trying to spit out honey and molasses- congealed on his tongue, like the faint taste of blood.

“Do you…the others…” Lurch struggled, gesturing vaguely again. Hopefully Alexander would catch his meaning. They needed to gather up the others, get on the bus, and get the hell out. Before more of Eric Vaughn’s lackeys showed up, or worse, the MNTF.

Simon Strut

 

[.empathogen.]

FRACTAL

Split second decisions lead to splitting headaches on your lap, in Ohio

pass up time

zoomies

if only I could afford to give a fuck

Coming Undone(REMIX)

— korn

mood: "keep it together..."
location: Rooftop Near Capitol
interactions: Martha

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Kenny watched as the mystery girl strained to sit up. He stayed motionless as she fumbled with an attachment on her suit. It was an injectable, which piqued his interest. But, it could be the very thing to save her life. He wasted no time helping her with the process. He took the item and stabbed it into her body: blue to the sky, orange to the thigh--like he was taught in Health class. Pushing down on the stopper, he observed as she relaxed as the drugs began working their way in her system. Kenny continued to hold her, grasping her hand and waiting for whatever was to come of the situation.
Simon Strut Buho

© reveriee

 

[.empathogen.]

C H A N G E

i'm cast away, but it's fate's hand and sword I carry to cut you down

break the void

shift it

the reflection shows too little fear

Pull Me Through

— royal blood

mood: frisky
location: Art Museum Entrance
interactions: Jack-Dane, Hileena, Nat, Andrew and Co.

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Leander focused himself as J.D. came to him, questions blazing. Taking in the surroundings, he let the full scope of his telepathy run free. He could feel them all, like little hubs and connections in a large network. When he felt as if he'd gotten all his students and colleauges within range--except for Alexander, but he was with Lurch--he spoke, clear and low.

"Everyone, get to the bus before the Task Force operatives get here. If you are encountered, defend yourself without casualties on either side. We don't want them thinking we staged the assassination attempt." As he said the words, he could see what they saw and feel what they felt. It wasn't a textbook hive mind though. He wasn't controlling their autonomy, out of respect. He was just guiding them to the needed destination--a nudge, if you will.

Leander looked to Hileena, who was slightly afraid of him but more fearful of the MNTF at the moment. "Get Mr. Solomon, his team, and our people the hell out of here. Me and Jack are going to stay and give you some time. Nat knows the best route out of here, so let her drive." He walked to Andrew, with a frown on his face. "Talk about bad timing, but...thanks for the compliments you're thinking of me. We should do this again." He scratched his head, then face-palmed himself. "Not the shooting thing, but we should hang out. If I make it home. I will make it-"

"Say no more, Mr. Cruz." Andrew said, then leaned in. "You better make it back..." He whispered, making the blood flush up to Leander's head in one shot. Hileena and Nat ushered the man away as Leander stood there, slightly dazed.

"I will, Andrew." He said to himself as he started making his way to the front entrance. "Hurry your ass up, JD!" he called out, feeling the operatives of the task force--with their dampeners-- approaching the area.
Walliver Simon Strut Hvnny-Bvns0

© reveriee

 

[Simon Strut]

Martha Madden
There. The rush was almost instant. The sharp pain from her wound went from being all she could think about, to just a minor inconvenience in the back of her mind. It was as if she'd bundled up all the pain, thrown it into a room, and slammed the door shut.

She could focus now.

With the stranger's help, she managed to get into a standing position. "You might want to give me some room." She took a deep breath in. "Yeah... Maybe a bit more."

When there was enough space, Martha closed her eyes and reached into herself. There was a core of fire, breathing in sync with her heartbeat. All she had to do was pull it out, let it consume her.

It was one of the loudest sounds she ever heard. The boom when she entered her fire form, almost like a bomb had gone off. One had, pretty much. To this day, it always gave her a little jumpscare. The explosion shot a pillar of fire into the sky, turning her into literal sentient fire.

That's the best way she could describe it, at least. The fire form was her most powerful, and dangerous, ability. Her true self. It didn't feel... Human.

She only stayed in that form for a few seconds. The heat radiating off her was a threat to everything around her, even though she'd dialed it down as much as she could. When she quenched the flames. Her wound was gone, as well as all the blood, replaced with a tiny hole in her outfit.

She turned to the stranger. "Thanks for the save." She shuffled her feet. She very rarely needed help, and having it thrust upon her was a bit uncomfortable, regardless of how welcome it was. And how hot the guy was. Whatever. "But what... What's going on?"

.empathogen.

 

[Walliver]

“Right.”

Dhariya shook off any lingering anxiety and got to work. She rushed to the door of the building, hoping there wasn’t anyone going to stop her. He pulled the door open and, no such luck, there was a security guard there. In a split second, Dhariya shifted into Nadia, one of his friends. Nadia was a well proportioned woman, average height with- well, with no other words to describe it, very large breasts. Her black hair was usually tied up in a bun, but Dhariya let it fall over her shoulders.

“Hello, officer.” Dhariya spoke seductively. The security guard’s gaze was immediately drawn to their chest, then back up to their eyes. “Would you kindly let myself and my friend up to the roof? We’ve got some very
important business to attend to, and-“ Dhariya stopped, waving his hand about. The guard immediately nodded.

“We’re in, come on.” Dhariya dragged Dolores up the stairs, bringing them to the roof in no time. Before reaching the strangers, he shifted back into himself, a sudden change that left his skin feeling tingly. He shuddered briefly before opening up the door to the roof.

“Umm, hi! Hello.” They approached the pair. “I’m Dhariya, this is Dolores.” They looked over the two individuals. One of them appeared to be wearing a garish yellow suit, perhaps a superhero of some kind? The other- wow- was a handsome individual, based on the sharp whoosh from earlier maybe that was a speedster.

“Are you…do you need any help?” Dhariya felt a little awkward asking, but it was the only thing they could think of. “I’m…it’s not much, but I can lie my way out of here if you need it.”

Buho Simon Strut .empathogen.

 

[Simon Strut]

Hileena Akhtar
Great, she was with the (hopefully) future-president. No pressure.

Sonia took charge, which certainly helped ease Hileena's tension. She kept Mr. Solomon close to her back. He seemed almost comfortable... Perhaps this wasn't the first time he'd been in such a situation.

Hileena tapped Nat on the shoulder. "Not the best time, I know, but it's melting in my bag." She pulled out the large mocha caramel frappe she'd bought from the café before leaving, and handed it to her colleague.

Boof let out a bark, and both Sonia and Mr. Solomon came to a halt, prompting Hileena to do the same.

"What's wrong?"

The emergency exit was within sight, just at the end of a corridor. Sonia stayed quiet, eyes darting back and forth. Hileena could almost see the plan formulating in her head.

"We need another way out."

Just as the words left her mouth, a door burst open to their right. Hileena grabbed Nat and ducked behind a wall, as gunfire went off. But Sonia was faster, expanding her 'Daira box' in front of herself, which deflected the bullets. The woman didn't even flinch, firmly grasping Mr Solomon's arm. Boof let out a series of barks, drowned out by the gunfire, but thankfully didn't run out of cover.

The walls of the Daira box were translucent enough that Hileena could see their attackers. All clad in black, gas masks and body armour, with no discerning logos or insignia. MNTF? Probably. They definitely knew about Sonia's powers, because they took it in turns to empty their clips into her barrier, forcing her to stay on the defensive.

You're up, Hileena. You've planned for this!

Her hands still shook, but she was determined. Pulling a vial about the size of her index finger from her belt, she cracked it open and flung it towards their assailants. It passed right through Sonia's barrier. God, that woman was fast— she could decide what would and wouldn't pass through the walls of the box, but to make a decision that quickly was impressive.

The vial landed between the agents, then explodes into a near colourless gas. Hileena bunched her hands into fists, straining with her power.

She could control any manner of virus and bacteria, but the MNTF often used gas masks and never left any skin exposed, which would normally render her powers useless against them. But she knew all about their tricks, and she had some of her own. C-CRESVEN-30. A completely unnatural disease; an abomination, only made possible through manipulating anthrax spores until they were barely recognisable. And that was only made possible by combining Hileena's powers with Nat's superior technology.

The molecules were so miniscule, that they slipped right through the gas masks. Hileena's body began to shake with exertion as she pushed the disease straight into their airways. The agents began to cough uncontrollably, falling to their knees, and within a few seconds they were unconscious.

C-CRESVEN-30 wasn't fatal. Usually. All tests and simulations had resulted in the subjects waking up within the hour, their bodies successfully fighting off the infection. They'd usually be bedridden for a couple days, then good as new. And, unfortunately, armed with new anti-bodies that would make them effectively immune. No doubt the MNTF would synthesise a vaccine from their blood-samples later, but for now it was a solution.

Sonia clapped Hileena on the back, dropping her barrier. "Well done."

She nodded, her head swimming. Controlling something like that disease was taxing. If fixing a common cold or patching up a small wound took the same amount of effort as going up a flight of stairs, manipulating C-CRESVEN-30 was like running a marathon.

"Thanks," she gasped, "but I'm spent. I don't think I'll be of much use to anyone for a while."

"You've done enough." Sonia led the group away from the exit. "How did they manage to find us, though?"

Hileena winced. "Short range trackers. They can pick up on unique mutant signatures within roughly a mile's radius." She sighed. She and her ex-husband, Karan, had practically built the technology. It was no secret.

"I'm not sure if they're MNTF though. Did anyone else notice the lack of power-suppressants?" Sonia came to a stop in the middle of a corridor. "Either way, it doesn't matter. Everyone, stick together. More could be on the way."

The Daira Box flew out of Sonia's hands, sticking to a nearby wall, then quickly expanded and retracted, cutting a perfectly square hole in the concrete. Talk about property damage... But at least there was a brand new exit.

Hileena braced herself against the edge of the hole, trying to catch her breath.

"Nat, was it?" Sonia asked. "You know the way from here?"

.empathogen. Walliver

 

[Buho]

Dolores Peña​

As they made their way up to the roof, Dolores heard a deep, rumbling boom from somewhere above them and felt the building shake ever-so-slightly. Oh god, she thought, already picturing MNTF goons rapelling down to the rooftop from military-grade helicoptors. Ok, just get up, give help, go home. She repeated the impromptu mantra, trying to steady her pounding heart. Get up, give help, go home...

Dolores burst onto the roof behind Dhariya. She had expected to see a woman at death's door and a panicked man with interdimensional hands trying to pack a bullet wound, but of course, today nothing was as expected. Instead, the woman was on her feet, as alive as ever. She was wearing what looked like a high tech jumpsuit, and on her torso where a massive bloodstain should have been, there was just a small round hole in the fabric.

The man was standing too, and they both took quick stock of the newcomers. Dhariya spoke first. "Um, hi! Hello. I'm Dhariya, this is Dolores," she said, sounding as awkward as Lorrie felt. She gave a quick wave (oh my god why would you WAVE, she would kick herself later) before her friend continued.

"Are you... do you need any help? I'm... it's not much, but I can lie my way out of here if you need it," Dhariya offered.

Dolores glanced back and forth between the two strangers. In the time it took for Dhariya to introduce them and offer assistance, Lorrie came to a realization. The strange suit, the bullet wound, the miraculous healing...

"You're mutants," she said before she could stop herself. "You're heroes. You came because of the shooting." She said all this as a statement, not a question.

Jumpsuit looked them up and down, possibly trying to determine if they were a threat. Magic Hands looked a bit more relaxed, but for a second he seemed to get distracted, glancing over his shoulder back toward the rally site, as if he had heard someone calling his name.

Dolores spoke quickly. "We're mutants too! We came for the rally. We saw what happened. Well, they heard it," she corrected herself, gesturing to Dhariya. "I saw it, with my..." She waved her hands vaguely. "I have a... thing - anyway, we came to see if we could help, but you - well, you don't really look like you need help, but...yeah." She finished sheepishly.



Walliver .empathogen. Simon Strut

 

[.empathogen.]

FRACTAL

Split second decisions lead to splitting headaches on your lap, in Ohio

pass up time

zoomies

if only I could afford to give a fuck

Two Weeks

— Grizzly Bear

mood: "hmmm"
location: Rooftop Near Capitol
interactions: Martha, Dolores, Dhariya

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Kenny pulled his hair back, using a random hair tie that hung on his left wrist to fix the style into a messy bun. He was about to ask his newfound party members where they came from when he heard Oleander's voice in his head. He reflexively looked over his shoulder, as if the psionic celestial was there, with him. The connection felt like a warm hug. 'So, this is what he does...' Kenny thought to himself. He figured they were all gunning for the same thing: to get the hell out off dodge while they still had the opportunity.

"Right now," he said aloud, acknowledging them all, "We need to get with my people. I'm a resident of the Institute." he said, not wanting to give much more away, in case one of them was the opposition. Fat chance on that, but he wanted less of a risk of a rat amongst his companions. "We have a vehicle a couple of blocks from here." His eyes met his mystery girl's and he noted that they had a lovely fire to them that burned brighter than her flame-form ever could. "You said you could get us out of here?" he asked the one who said they could lie their way out of the building. Kenny was ready to put that confidence to the test.
Simon Strut Buho Walliver

© reveriee

 

[.empathogen.]

OH FUCK

the need to save you is bigger than the need to save me

you're my conviction

hello nurse!

take it all in, then let it go

lovin' on me

— jack harlow

mood: useful
location: Alleyways
interactions: Hileena and group

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Nat sipped on her dessertcoffee as she led the way to the bus. A few of the kids crouched behind her, knowing that they were safest near her. As if to demonstrate that very fact, three armed MNTF operatives rounded the corner when they were halfway close to the minibus. Nat took a big sip of her drink as they approached with the standard "cattle-prods", which were given to the lowest of their ranks. Nat swiped a few times on her smartwatch, then pressed the screen. The weapons started to overload, quickly zapping their owners and causing them to fall over, unconscious.

"Lena, where did you get this?" she asked Hileena asked the group stepped over the bodies, "This is top-notch coffee. Too bad we won't ever come here again." she prattled on, snickering to herself."
Walliver Simon Strut

© reveriee

 

[Walliver]

“That’s what I do.” Dhariya nodded, turning back to the access door to the roof. In a building like this, in this area of town, it was unlikely that the guard had changed. He nodded again, taking a breath.

“It’s easier if the person is extremely gullible- like that guard down there. Although…” They rubbed at their chest, frowning at the memory of the previous transformation. Nadia was an effective disguise, just uncomfortable. Perhaps Tonya or Madeline, or even Ash would work. Dhariya didn’t want to chance any of their masculine façades, just in case the guard didn’t swing that way. They settled on a transformation: a tall, pale woman with short black hair. She was wearing a crisp pantsuit with heels, and a copious amount of eyeliner.

“This one should work.” He mumbled, tugging at the lapels of the pantsuit. “Follow me.” He waved them over to the access door, beginning his descent down the stairs. The guard looked up from whatever he was doing, uttering a shout of protest.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be up there-“

“Sorry, darling. My coworkers and I are just heading out, thank you for your time.” The lie slid off their tongue, smooth as butter. The guard stuttered for a moment before going quiet.

“Alright. Have a nice day, ma’am.” The guard waved as Dhariya ushered the group out the door.

“Okay, where’s that vehicle you mentioned?”

.empathogen. Simon Strut Buho