|
      |
After the… incident with the Danger Room earlier, the Professor retired to his office. Because frankly, the surfacing of some things he's been repressing couldn't have come at a worse time. So he's doing the time honored tradition of meditation.
Or rather, the Upstate New York version of it, which involves aspirin, a glass of bourbon on the rocks, and the Marriage of Figaro playing on his record player. The music is soothing, allowing him to focus and sort those memories out in his head so they are properly contained. Then he takes a deep breath, some time having passed as he gets ready for the arrival of the other students and/or faculty, to solve the problem of their missing Canadian Samurai.
Perhaps it was the way it was supposed to happen, right when Charles was about to take his first drink, Jean enters like a storm, fresh from the shower, her hair still wet with water that stained her gray shirt. Stopping at his desk, she leans over to try to take the drink from his fingers, clearly intending to talk about what they both saw.. perhaps through a form of psychic-link due to matters that press. "Charles.." She finally states, hopping upon his desk with a knock of pens and pencils over, scooting back some so that she could cross her legs upon it. Her feet were bare, which wiggle a hello, and her finger scratches at a red brow.
"We're going out tomorrow night." That was all that was said, though she does give the nod to put out the call.
Meditation lessons might be called for from the resident yoga master, one taught by some of the finest gurus New York and the entire Tibetan plateau can offer. Scarlett's calm in recent days and months has taken a noted uptick, much to the gratitude of all living creatures in short-sleeves weather. Her attire is decidedly different, notably given the abundance of leather straps bound in such a fashion to allow maximum flexibility while grappling alligators. The redhead's serenity will be at odds with Jean, as much as one of them is very dressed and the other haphazardly. "Allo, allo," she calls, a finger wriggle most decidedly in common with Team Redhead. "What shall the adventure be over that horizon?"
At least one of them is going to provide the sunny optimism necessary to alleviate a fraction of worry, fear, and suffering.
It's not been the quietest month or so for Illyana. There have been… issues in Limbo. Somebody's riling up the demons. S'ym seems able to keep them in hand, but Illyana worries she's going to have to go kick some heads in.
They're demons. They'll live. More's the pity.
But when she receives a message, through whatever channels, that the X-Men need her help, Illyana's not going to shirk such responsibilities. She doesn't come instantly, of course, but she shows up at about this time, teleporting directly into Xavier's office. A large green head appears from the stepping disk as well, its oversized jowls making it look like the world's ugliest bulldog. "Did I say you could come? No! Get back in there, Stinky!"
The demon says something completely garbled.
"I said go!" Illyana raises one booted foot and stomps on the demon's head. The creature sinks slowly back down into the disk, grumbling, but leaving only its acrid stench behind. Finally Illyana steps out of the portal, raises her head and looks around as the bright disk of light blinks out.
"Sorry about that, kids. I know it's always awkward when the grown-ups fight."
Julie is coming along up the hallway, perhaps having cleaned up after that Danger Room session, …she happens to know a few lines to the song herself, singing along quietly, as she comes around the door to the office, peeking in. "Oh. Hey," she says, not sure whether she's interrupting something, there. Glances about for cues to that effect and gives Illy a little wave. "Oh, hey, long time no see."
Charles looks over at Jean, "Tomorrow night? Er, wait, hey, that was only one…" However, he does look rather more relaxed than he did before, "I'm fine, I just needed a bit of time to put things in the proper place is all. Really, Jean." He sighs, shaking his head a bit as he looks over at Rogue, "Actually, the technique you showed me the other day helped quite a bit, so thank you for that. And wait, out?" He looks a bit confused at first, then smiles, "Ah, out. Yes, that would be good I…"
He then breaks off as Illyana just appears, the man blinking in surprise, "Oh, you should have been here for the barbeque, Illyana. But I'm glad that you were able to make it. And hello, Julie." He then looks at Illyana, "I'm going to cut right to the chase, Illyana. Logan has gone missing, and the nature of the attackers we found at his cabin are making us think that this might be some sort of… well, magical thing." It's not that he doesn't believe in magic. Magic works whether he believes it or not. It's just the unexplainable that worries him.
Jean looks at Scarlett, then back towards Charles then towards Scarlett again. One brow raises, and right when she was about to speak.. Illyana and.. something bursts through the reality. Her nose wrinkles ever so slightly as she leans back, her eyes squinting towards the window to allow the curtains to draw back, and the windows themselves to rise so that the stench could find it's way outdoors. "Looking for Logan." Jean says to Rogue, but not much else, the glass she holds in her hand was nursed and toyed with..
By taking small little bubbles, wrapping them within her TK, a fine thread to allow them to flex, fold.. shape themselves, and float through the air.
"Out. As in, me and you big brother. Lunch or other things that we will not mention, but out.."
As Julie enters and Charles addresses the room, she leaves it to him to explain the situation in it's entirety. Jean was here to be support. Or play..
The spark that precedes the lightning storm of an arrival, comparatively, does not quite shock Scarlett the way it should. Illyana's arrival brings a smile to her lips, the inclination of her head a warm greeting as they go for all the incoming teammates and fellow class members marked off one by one. She pulls the thick braid over her shoulder and rolls her shoulders to ease up the tension gathered in her muscles, four rotations forward and equally many back. Such when Charles announces the problem, her overly luminous green eyes fix upon the professor and that smile dims to a thoughtful gleam.
"I see. Define the nature that would lead you to believe it? Can you describe the phenomenon encountered?" She edges closer to Jean, matter of habit. Team Redhead stands together, many days.
"And good afternoon to you too, Prof," says Illyana, nodding greetings to the others before her blue eye turn to gaze at Charles steadily for a few moments. She nods, though, quickly enough. "He smells almost as bad as Stinky, but this place wouldn't be the same without Logan around. I'll see what I can find out — but I'll have to do that from Limbo. That's where my pool is." She pauses a moment. "And we can go there, do that now, if people want to — but I won't blame anybody who doesn't feel like spending the evening in Hell."
Julie offers to Scarlett, whom she hasn't really met, a prelude to an explanation, accent all of Brooklyn Italians. "Pretty creepshow stuff, whatever you call it. Looked like they got in, then, whichever of em Logan didn't… get, seems they got out without leaving tracks or using a motor, not so's any of us could tell."
The Professor nods, and says, "Well, lunch does sound like a good idea for tomorrow, thankfully the summer means the school is pretty much out of session anyway." He sounds perfectly professional, and if he's irked at the commandeering of his bourbon for TK practice, he hides it perfectly as he then nods at Julie's explanation to Scarlett, "Precisely. Whatever those… things were, they had long stopped being human. Or anything remotely like it."
He then looks over towards Illyana, "Yes, well, considering what Logan has done for the school, I would go with you to Limbo while you did your scrying." He then glances at the rest of the room, "And do keep in mind that this is volunteers, and no one would think less of you by electing to stay here."
Jean was careful with the prized liquor, both hands now drawing up to shape and tune the liquid, matching the constellation with little gobules of stars that surround. It was a small feat, but it was soon carefully spilled back into the glass with a few droplets lingering upon the desk. Those were wiped up with the leg of her pants. Since Jean herself wasn't there and only heard second hand, she shrugs her shoulders towards Rogue, favoring for the story as is. And yet, the offer was made to go to Limbo, and it takes Jean a moment to think with a slight glance towards Charles.
~So soon? You just had an episode..~
Says Jean, Jean who had her own episode in response.
"I'll go. If only to keep an eye out for you lot." She put on her best hackneyed accent for this, playfully mocking Charles' delivery into seriousness. But she meant it, even Charles needed a guardian or someone to look after him.
Illyana nods to both Jean and Charles. "Fine by me. You'll certainly be able to keep demons at bay, Jean. Just try not to splatter them on the furniture. It takes -forever- to get out the innards." She glances about. "Right now, then? If you're all done with the silly accents."
Julie says, "Sorry, lady, my funny accent come standard." She winks, then looks between the Professor and Illyana, considering. "And, err, I'll go if it'll do any good, I guess. But, err, this that place that actually threw my balance off? That ain't happened since I was in bobbie socks.""
And with that, the Professor stands up and smiles at the group, "Alright then, I suppose a trip to Limbo is in order." He's still wearing the X-uniform from earlier, looking at the rest of the group, before he flashes Illyana a wry expression, "There's nothing silly about my accent. I picked it up from Oxford, after all… a decidedly unsilly place." He quips a bit, but Jean can sense a little bit of the tension underneath. It's not that he wants to go to a place like Limbo, so much that he has to go.
Jean grins, hopping down from the desk and moving to the corner to pick out a pair of boots that look.. a little bit too worn for comfort. But she slides in them anyways, kneeling down to strap herself in, her head nodding as she draws in a breath. "Alright, no demons on the furniture.." She was mentally getting herself ready.
And yet, the connection to Charles was a bit unnerving, she never really let him go since the first time they met, so to feel the tension was an understatement. "First time to limbo.." She says to herself and Charles, unknowing of what Julie and Rogue have done. "..should be a hoot." She too, wasn't so sure..
"Nothing like the experience of crossing planes." Scarlett tips her head, a smile gracing her expression to those who might hold a doubt. She reaches up to pull her hood over her braided hair, leaving her face in shadow but for the lower half. "I have faith it will be an experience to remember." In lieu of Charles' doubt, her optimism is something enduring as the sun and the moon.
Illyana regards the others with a wry look. "I'm the queen there, she observes, "and I'd rather stay here, where mutants are being killed. A 'hoot' is not the first term I'd use to describe it." But really, there isn't much choice at the moment, is there? Logan needs help, and she, it seems, can provide it. She's never been that close to Wolverine, but Kitty always seemed fond of him. That's enough for her.
A large disk of white light opens from nothing, casting a cool radiance into the office. "All aboard for Limbo," she announces, waving the group into the portal like a train conductor. "Next stop, Limbo, Hell, Hades."
The ride, of course, is nearly instantaneous. The portal closes once more, and those along for the ride are deposited around a pool of water. Rocks jut up from the ground around it, all tinted red. Torches burn around them, and the sky is an unsettling mix of black and crimson.
Julie nods, then, pulling on some gloves: they're driving gloves, but perhaps better than nothing. "Here goes nothing, then," she says, wincing a bit, as she'd been through this ride once before, if perhaps rather more wrenchingly-and briefly. Once through, she whoas a bit, and stumbles, rather like the last time she abruptly changed latitude via this place. "Mammamia," she murmurs, "Pretty wild." Tests the ground with a foot a little, and hrms, pulling out that shiny clutch bearing she likes to play with, and holds it in hand, the thing spinning with a quiet 'vrrrr'.
Charles looks unfazed, though he flashes Jean a smile, and then they arrive. He glances around the hellish landscape, and shrugs a bit, "Well, as the depths of Hell goes… this isn't too horrible. Though I think I'd refrain from putting a winter cottage here." He quips, mainly to show that he's cool (probably not) and relaxed (probably not either, but it's more likely the students would believe that one.)
Off off off to Limbo they go!
Even though it was quick, the change of atmosphere and basically -everything- does send Jean for a row. It was bad enough that she doesn't eat, but once they do land? She casts a smile to all that were gathered and.. compounded with the various feelings and sorts? She dashes off to the side into a very, very safe spot.. and throws up. Yup. Jean loses her lunch-that-she-didn't-but-thought-about-eating. Two day old food, or was it three. Maybe it's been four days? Who knows! Were they even upside down right now? Clearly one shouldn't travel so much.
From where ever she hid, a thumbs up is given. She's cool! It's all good!
One-way ticket to Limbo, coming right up. Scarlett steps rather fearlessly into the oval that links the realms, forming the third point of a triangle behind Jean and Charles. Not that either of them need the least bit of assistance, except for a handkerchief of all things, kept in one of the pockets secreted into a leather band angling across her waist. It smells faintly of citrus, lemony verbena a clean, familiar anchorage to the world. "Darling, here. It will help. Breathe easy." It may well be a matter of thumbs-uppery, but one doesn't abandon the person they swore to protect oh so long ago. Okay, long ago by Scarlett's muted historical standards.
There's also the delicate aroma of brimstone. That rarely helps with nausea. Illyana glances over to the nearest demon, points at Jean's mess, snaps her fingers, and the creature hurries over to clean up the pool area. "Afraid there isn't much in the way of antacids here. Or even Milk of Magnesia," she says apologetically. "But we'll make this as quick as we can. Professor?" She indicates a spot on the other side of the pool from her. "Stand there, please. The rest of you, feel free to join us, or keep an eye out for demons. They're unlikely to bother us, but if they do you can smack them."
And now the blonde turns her attention to the pool. She plucks up a dagger, its hilt made of some sort of bone, draws the blade across her finger and spills the results into the water. Her next words are in a language that nobody is likely to understand, though one of them is 'Logan' — commanding the water to display the man, his location, his state of health, any information it can give.
Julie hrms, there, hanging onto the spinning bearing a little while longer and taking a couple of steps, letting the thing spin down as she suspects she's used to the fact there doesn't really seem to be the whole *Earth* turning under her. Glances over to the professor. "Ah, is that what this is," she glances about. Lake, torches. "If this is yer lake of fire, guess that's why I gave up listening to the Sisters a long time ago."
The pool shows a place of shadow, cast deep in darkness and, thus, difficult to identify. His surroundings seem to be damp and either stone or concrete, the difference difficult to discern through the murky exposure of the pool.
His state of health does not seem to be good. His head has been placed within a metallic cage of rather Byzantine design, like an ancient implement of torture. Needle-like implements along the inside pierce his flesh from every side, leaving blood running down his chest and shoulders. From the amount of dried gore on his body - which appears to be nude - he's been bleeding quite a bit and for quite a while. His arms and legs are shackled in such a way as to limit his movement and prevent any attempts at escape.
The only other creature in the room is of indeterminate gender and wearing some sort of ragged cloak. Yellow eyes gleam in the light and there's a glimpse of a mangled face. A walking stick leans against the side of the chair in which it sits. It lifts a long, sallow-skinned finger and slashes through the air. As it does, a similar slash appears across Logan's chest, drawing a snarling howl from Logan. He can manage no more, for the needles impale his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
Charles moves into position at Illyana's direction, and looks a bit skeptical… until the pool reveals the imagery of Logan being tortured at the hands of… something. His eyes harden a bit, as he keeps himself calm, unable to look away from what's happening as he says, "Please tell me we can figure out where this is." His voice is even, but Jean can sense the surge of anger that Charles suppresses at the sight of one of his students being tormented in such a manner.
From her side, the cloth that Rogue offers was carefully plucked from her fingers, pressed to her mouth with a muffled 'thank you' and nod. She keeps it pressed there, immediately moving out of the way of the demon who came to clean, then takes up position by the pool with a wandering eye in amazement. This was certainly something for the books!
What isn't for the books, was the sight that she sees in the pool. Blood runs cold as she watches the scene play out, her own anger building and coupled with what she sees and feels? It was not good.
"If we know where it is, take me there." Jean says with a certain coldness. As far as Logan was concerned, everything had come full circle. He was prepared to ruin the world for her, and now? She was prepared to see it burn.
With a slight step away from the pool, she draws her hair into a ponytail again as if the trip were to take place right that instant, her teeth gritted to bite back the venom that would come from her lips, her chest heaving as if she were prepared for a fight. And she was. She'll fight everyone in the room just to get -there-.
"Illy. I'll do whatever it takes. If I have to plunge a dagger into my heart or sell my soul to some goddamned devil and open up the gates of hell again in Central Park. I'll do it. If I have to throw someone into a firepit or skewer a legion of demons, I'll do it. But I need to get there, I don't care how!"
The waters reflect their truth and Scarlett keeps closeby to catch the details, given a fairly good view from her own two feet rather than floating. Her thumb runs along the edge of the belt spanning her waist, the lone indicator of something being out of sorts. Otherwise, she stays quiet in her contemplative regard of what's there. "With so few indicators, I am limited on that front. Though I've a library I can check."
"I will try," Illyana says at the Professor's question, though she can't promise success. She commands the pool in demonic once more, demanding that it zoom out and away, show them some idea of where Wolverine is being held. She's not positive she'll succeed — and she's a little disturbed by the things that Jean is willing to do to get to Logan, not least because she's pretty sure Logan would kill somebody (possibly Illyana herself) for letting Jean do any of them. "If I had his blood, it might make things easier," she adds, mostly to herself.
Julie covers her mouth a little, there, glancing back toward Jean, having been about to commiserate as best as she can. She might be essentially immune to motion sickness, but this, on the other hand, has her looking a bit green again. "Yeah, it was more like that," she says, finally, when the view changes.
Julie covers her mouth a little, there, glancing back toward Jean, having been about to commiserate as best as she can. She might be essentially immune to motion sickness, but this, on the other hand, has her looking a bit green again. "Yeah, they said it was more like that," she says, finally, when the view changes.
There's a great confusion in regards to a precise location. It's like a thousand wards have been layered on one another over centuries, by many hands and many hearts, good and evil, angel and demon, sorceror, witch and arcanist.
Above those layers, though, lays a city. New York City, to be precise. Wherever Logan has been taken is under the city, in the labyrinthine levels of undercity that dwell below the surface.
Charles looks over at Jean, "That's not an opt…" Then he catches what Illyana says, even if it was under her breath, and tilts his head, "Wait, this is… like, what, sympathetic magic? So if we had something that was close to him, or something from him…" He thinks quickly, though he blinks in surprise as the prison reveals itself to be deep below New York City. Then he nods, "That must be why Cerebro didn't detect him down there. And now we need to get him back." He glances over at Jean, looking to be in complete agreement, "We will get him out." And he's going over a mental list of who exactly would be best for the rescue mission, subduing his anger in favor of making plans to retrieve Logan from captivity.
It was as ready as she could get. Not in uniform, but in a grey t-shirt, a pair of jeans that barely fit and boots that do not. She didn't care. But Illy's mumbled words gave her an idea, an idea that -no one- would possibly like. Not at all. So she keeps it to herself for now, her teeth gritting, jaw tensing, her fingers mashing and squeezing against each other as she looks into the pool again. Her head shakes slowly towards Julie, and again.. there were no words that would comfort anyone in this moment. As the scene itself changes, Jean's eyes narrow, committing what she sees to memory as she finally speaks.
"You can't say it's not an option because you didn't explore it all." Casual as it was, Jean looks towards Charles. "Logan has a son. That is his blood coursing through that boys veins. We find him, and we bring him here." She didn't want to say 'by any means necessary', but by the gods, she would. "And if you want something close to him? Me. I pulled him out of the very same shackles he was in, and he walked me out of that mental institution and made sure I got to you safely. Ever since.." Her voice cuts off, then glances back towards the city proper that displays upon the water.
Something bad was brewing. For her eyes slowly begin to bleed a fire red as her hands drop to her sides. "Take me home."
"Dakon?" The name lilts off the redhead's lips, carefully shaped. "I remember…" She remembers many a thing, but her fingertips practically itch for the prospect of memory. Scarlett exhales slightly. "I have something of his, nothing particularly important. Also, a metallic scorpion he crushed at one point when it tried to cut him. That may be a longshot, but you have more than one option there. I imagine that Jean herself would be a better route in, especially as the connections and sympathetic bonds between them would be nearly parallel. If they've spent any degree of time together recently, her aura should still carry something of the fingerprint of him, if I had to guess."
"That's helpful," says Illyana. "Even if they didn't want it to be. There aren't going to be that many places in New York that have so many wards on them — and most of the ones that are warded so heavily will be ones we know. Doctor Strange's sanctum. That sort of thing. We've narrowed it down to one city, albeit a large one, and if I can't narrow it down further I suspect Strange could." Illyana's a hell of a sorceress in Limbo, but on Earth Strange holds the gold medal.
She glances toward the Professor. "It's demon magic," she says. "That makes it anything but sympathetic — but they have things in common. It would not be sufficient to bring Logan's favorite pillow. We would need a part of him. Blood, flesh, tears, hair… But it will be easier, I think, to find his location based on the dead zones of the city. Those places where I, or Doctor Strange, can find no magic, where you can find no minds." She pauses a moment. "If that doesn't work we'll go vacuum his cottage. I imagine there will be no shortage of hair.
"Jean, a child's flesh is not the flesh of the father," she adds. "We say 'he has his father's blood' the same way we say 'he has his father's eyes'. I don't think it would be sufficient." That and, while she doesn't know Logan's kid, she's very much against kidnapping, all things considered.
Julie ohs, "So that guy's for real though, is he? I could …Just ask, if anyone knows where he is, and it'd help. A few of us kinda helped him out this one time, you see, not a big deal, but yaknow." She does have a face to mind, if any telepaths are looking.
Charles looks over at Jean, "So no kidnapping, since it won't do any good, and, as Illyana has noted, we'll talk to Strange. And then we can find him and get him back." He frowns a bit, "And figure out who these people are that took him, because the fact that they've been lurking under the city this long…"
Shaking his head, he actually seems fully recovered from the earlier misadventure in the Danger Room. Possibly because the threat to a friend and student has him focused, formulating a plan even as he picks up the stray thought from Julie, "Wait, what was that?"
Jean looks towards Rogue as she speaks the name. "Is that what he's been going by? Akihiro?" She didn't know. But Rogue guessed right, Dakon. But all ideas were good, there as always a trace of Logan somewhere, and it was a good thing that Jean didn't go back to the cabin to scrub it down until she herself painted it red with her blood. But even still, her gaze never faltered from Rogue, a quiet communication filtering through the ethers, blocking out others and leaving the other half of team-redhead connected.
~I picked a spot in the city. We'll start in Manhattan. At least I think that's where the view originated. Suit up and we'll leave when you're ready, but there's someone I need to talk to first.~ And Rogue could get the feeling that it was -not- Strange at all.
Her teeth grit and unclench again as she draws her shoulders down. "Fine. I'm not skilled enough to separate the blood from the man.." She blinks, one eye drawing its natural green as the other retains it's red. They both were in control, but the look.. however near scathing, goes to Charles. "You do that."
She's going her own way. "Illyana. Send me home. I'm ready to go."
And probably rip the city to shreds. It's going to be a long night..
Illyana's a touch wary, but things in Limbo have gone as far as they can — and even if the others aren't requesting it, she does not like to keep people in Limbo longer than necessary. "Home again, home again, jiggity jog," she says, casting a look at the Professor before a stepping disk returns them all to his office.
Julie hrms to the Prof. Nods to Lorna at the mention of the alias. "We met that guy, I think Lorna was there, too. Some guys was after him in Mutant Town, threw him off a roof or something. A few of us girls just kinda played it cool for him while the mooks were looking for him, so well, he was kinda thankful. I guess he and Logan maybe don't get along, but I don't think *no one's* as far on the outs with their Pops as *this.*" She points at the pool of water, to indicate what 'this' is. "Could be he wants to help."
The Professor nods towards Julie, "Alright, especially if he's from this place underground, you start with that. We'll speak to Strange." He looks back at Jean, his gaze even, "Remember what I taught you." Because, well, he knows fighting her isn't going to be a winning proposition, even if he does win, but appealing to that side of her has a far better chance to work.
Rogue goes home.
Home home home! They were home.. in the office.. and that was so.. so fast. Thankfully Jean still held ahold of the cloth, which was soon pressed to her lips to contain the urge to let loose more bile. Despite her pale disposition, she was still fired up and ready to go. There were things that need doing.. and she was going to do it.
Right as she steps out of Charles' boots she heads straight for the door, only stopping once she hears the words in her direction. Her lips curl, a hint of anger flashing through as she looks to the professor over her shoulder. "There's no turning the other cheek in this, big brother.." It was too late. They had messed with the wrong one. But there was still some lingering sadness, a slight reluctance. She was going to remember definitely, but was going to do this her own way.
Illyana watches Jean go, her affect as flat as it ever has been, but after a few moments, after Jean has left the room, the corners of her mouth slowly curve downward. "I think," she says, "that New York is not going to be terribly safe until Wolverine is. And perhaps — just perhaps — somebody should be warned."
Julie lurches a bit as she finds herself back on normal terra-firma. She closes her eyes a moment before she takes a step again, but here she is. "Yeah, I dunno if he knows anything about that, but you never know. Guess I ought to get some stuff to make some lights and stuff with. Make some tools for sewer and subway stuff, too, so I'll get into town and ask around. I guess maybe see what I can get hold of for maps, but I know nobody really knows everything that's down there by now."
The Professor sighs, "Quite right. We need to let the others know. Frankly, I might have been able to stop her, but that would have been a far worse conflict. As it is, we need to make sure innocents aren't caught in the crossfire." He picks up the glass of bourbon, then downs it in a swallow as… well, an experience with Hell and an argument with Jean means that he needs it, watered down or not.
He says absently to Rogue, "Keep her safe. And if you can contact your other 'friends', that could also be helpful given the situation." Then he sits down behind the desk, suddenly looking… tired. Which is an unusual look for the Professor in general as he just watches the shadows, making plans to get Logan back as he starts creating an action team in his head. For some of the students, it might even be Graduation Day.