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AKUREYRI, ICELAND:
The engines of the Blackbird creates a dull roar as it slowly begins to descend upon quite only the flattest space that could be found in the now 'sleepy' town of Akureyri, the landing gear extending and allowing the bird to bounce gently upon the ground as the engine themselves soon quiet with a flick of the wrist. There need not be any reason as to why she called these particular few with their skill-sets, maybe it was because the obscene nature of what had happened in this small town or the fact that she felt they had the worth to withstand such..
..oddities.
But there they landed as the door extends for their exit, Jean doesn't bother putting on her uniform fully because she was clear that she was not to get out of the ship under any circumstances. Even life or death. They were the elders (and one very capable younger!), they could do this. There was faith in it this time than it was last night.
Plus she's jetlagged.
"Alright, so we've gotten the reports. People are.. frozen. We're suspecting either a mutant or some odd device that was powered up and turned on and unleashed upon the people here. I think it's too late to find the missing citizens, but it's not too late to help the people who are already there."
She wrinkles her nose.
"And .. small reminder. It's been five days since anyones moved an inch. I'm.. almost certain that.. things happened while they were standing still." In other words, Jean is pretty sure they peed and pooped their pants as most normals would, but that was something that would go without mention for now.
"Find the mutant or the device, turn it off, and try to keep the casualties to a minimum."
They had their marching orders, it was time for them to go.
Logan doesn't wear a uniform. Something of a sticking point for him, but he just doesn't feel comfortable putting on a monkey suit and a mask to play superhero. He ain't no hero, as recent events have so bloodily reminded him.
This is his first mission out since his return, his first time in the field with the X-men in a while altogether. He's mostly kept to himself, friendly and polite, but distant. He did make a point to thank Rogue for her help in freeing him when they first got on the plane.
As they step out, Logan's all business, "I'll keep my sniffer open for anything ungracious," he says. "You telepathic types feelin' anybody up ahead or all the brains frozen along wit' the bodies?"
Welcome to North Iceland where volcanic fields dip into the sea. Akureyri fascinates the redhead peering out over the town from the security of the Blackbird. What appears tremendously peaceful, nigh sleepy, likely remains anything but if they require the likes of Daire, Emma Frost, and Logan. Scarlett herself is the least likely wildcard in the mix. One advantage is her command over Icelandic. A bit of alteration might be called on to adjust for its forerunner she can manage competently in.
"I will see if I can bring you back a sweater. They have the loveliest knitwear here," she asides to their pilot and captain. Team Redhead might be splitting up, but only physically and never in spirit. Besides, she has a smile for Logan and an eye out for him just in case. "Stay tucked in and thaw me out if I turn into a popsicle."
The only option now is out and down, wrapped up in a casual coat and nothing screaming 'crazy mutant team uniform.' The midnight sun leaves long hours and shadows scattered over the ground, and she stretches out her arms. Been a few months since she was last in Iceland, but the surreal environment appeals to her. "I'll keep an eye out for strange signs."
Emma was wearing one of the snug-fitting uniforms, making an effort to show that she was here to be part of the team but she was regretting not just showing up in some lingerie, "It sounds as if they're a bunch of stiffs, shouldn't be any trouble at all if that's the kind of company our target likes to keep." Emma replied to Jean as she began to walk down the ramp.
"I'll see what I can pick-up in the area, you, yes, see what you can smell…" Immediately she was reaching out with her telepathic senses trying to see what she could sense in the area, as well as trying to determine if the very frozen people were still alive.
Daire doesn't have a uniform. He is dressed practically with a pair of boots, jeans, and a long-sleeved t-shirt. A cap covers his horns mostly. It looks a tiny bit lumpy if one is paying attention, but one kind of has to pay attention. Keeping his mouth mostly shut, the only thing he can't really hide is the unnatural green of his eyes. He waits behind as the others try to pick things up, keeping his eyes out in his own way as he strolls along behind, for the time being just getting a look around. He's been quiet for most of the ride, but friendly, though he does check on Jean every so often, just to be sure.
Jean's not going crazy, not this time! She's staying with the Blackbird!
But an unnatural chill does cover the town itself along with a slight dense fog. It was reminiscint of a haunted town, though the few lights that are on within the city proper itself tell it not so. Save for the people that linger and are 'stuck' outside. The smell of the town itself is.. just like a regular town. There were small hints of bodies and different scenes that belong to a person, separating individual from individual, old food lingering nearby that was already rotted two days past. Most of the baskets were filled with breads and cheese, placed at the victims feet in hopes it'll rouse them from their 'slumber' in hopes for a meal. But everything remained untouched.
"I love sweaters.." Jean murmurs quietly, turning with in her pilot seat to place the headset on again, tuning up the radio to make sure that she could catch anything coming their way. Authorities may be on the way, or maybe they forgotten about the fourth largest town in Iceland. "Take to the skies if you can and get eyes on everything." She tells the team. And yet, more buttons were flipped, switched, and settled upon the channel that was local and yet eerily quiet.
'I just want to go home.' One voice calls out, should Emma try to listen.
'I can't take much more of this.'
'I can smell it. Oh god I can smell it.' Another one cries.
'If.. if I can move, just this bit..'
'This is hopeless. We're going to die.'
'I'm so hungry..'
They were everywhere. All filled with desperation, all needing a warm shower, food, bed and comfort. A single mother even remains outside of her house with her child laying at her feet. No one could tell how long they have been there, or when was the last time the child had eaten.
And yet, Emma could possibly, if she tried hard, to pick up the faint sounds of giggling. And slaps as if four hands were playing patty cake..
"You guys do your best, link up if you need. Emma's going to take point. I'll send a hail-mary if I get into trouble." That last bit was mentioned to for Daire.. could she have possibly felt his worry?
Logan moves down towards the town, intending just to go in directly. He doesn't mind playing point and, frankly, anything lurking was going to catch him in an extremely bad mood.
He flares his nostrils, collecting those scents, but not able to find anything in particular that would qualify as sinister. He starts listening, trying to focus to see if there are any machine or engine sounds, anything that would indicate an artificial device altering the environment here. He also monitors his own body to make sure he isn't starting to freeze up like the rest.
No claws yet, but he stays a bit low, slightly crouched as he approaches, clad in jeans, boots, shirt and jacket.
Go airborne? That might work if the phenomenon causing the immobility doesn't also deprive a floating figure of free will. Alliteration aside, Scarlett has her own concerns to worry about. She takes in the scope of the street, mentally pegging each frozen individual on a map to decipher any possible pattern like everyone locked on the left side of the street or turned to a given point.
She levitates up ahead of Daire, leaving eighteen inches or so clear beneath her boots and the street. Tilting her head and turning slightly keeps adding to the image constructed in her mind. Her fingers flex slightly in a habit of mentally counting while the usual cacophony of psychic noise in the back of her skull chatters away. A whole set of imprisoned psyches tend to be far louder in places like this than others.
"I wonder if there's a range to field. Move them out and they resuscitate?"
Emma paused in her tracks as she listens to what she can only assumed are the thoughts of those trapped within the ice. It was horrifying to think that these people had been alive for days in such a condition, it chilled her far more than the cold could have.
"They're alive." Emma stated flatly as she walked with the group, "They're trapped, it's, terrible." Steadying herself mentally she focused her thoughts upon the giggling, "There's something else though. It's almost childish, but that doesn't mean it's not dangerous , keep your eyes open."
Reaching out to the source of the giggling she tried to locate the mind behind it and learn what she could.
|ROLL| Emma Frost +rolls 1d50 for: 36
Daire follows along, bringing up the rear and keeping an eye out behind them, falling in with the others. With his hands in his pockets, he remains on the ground for the time being, though he does nod to Jean when she mentions to get airborne if necesary. For now though, he looks to Emma to see what she can sense, "Any idea where to start looking?" he asks. There's a glance over toward Rogue and then he turns his attention back to Logan, keeping an eye out to see if anything does try to come at the man from the shadows. When Emma mentions that they are trapped and alive in there, he winces and looks at all of the figures. "Childish? Like a childish adult or like an actual child?" he asks, keeping his eyes out. "Should we try to move one of them away and see if it helps?" He asks this of Rogue, eyeing one of the frozen people and the rotting food in front of them. "I could try and pick one up."
The sounds were mostly like sounds found in any city that was still attempting to run. Quiet. Underground machines that pump and carry water to the houses and electricity for that same need. Often times there was a hiss of steam, but it was all pretty normal.. save for certain smells. Smells can be active. Smells can move. The scents that Logan picks up almost smell like a light hint of pepper, and one heavily doused perfume. That perfume itself nearly smells like a bouquet of flowers, and overloaded with various bits of sugary sweets. Someone was having fun while the others were frozen as they were.
Overhead, Rogue could see it clear as day. It was almost like a joke. The way the bodies were scattered in the street were done with purpose. Some held patterns, all locked in a row, some arms were bent and twisted. A rather large man was bent so far back that it almost seemed as if his back would break. And yet, his muscles, controlled as they were, did not allow him to tremble.
The people zigged and zagged, up until one slowly begins to move. That movement was done by the sound of a ticking tock; or the beat of the heart or a click of a metronome. Most get the hint. One tick, the woman brings a leg up. Next tick, her left hand points upright, fingers straight. Third tick.. her head snaps to the left, straining against the natural movements of the spine that stop just at that point of no return.
Emma could hear this one the loudest. She was screaming on the inside.
'Lalalalalaa…' Is what Emma could hear. It was a girl, one who could be no more than fifteen years old. Logan, with his hearing, could possibly hear the sound of feet skipping against the ground. Could Rogue see her in this darkness? Who knows..
'Wire.. where is Wire.. I'm going to find you!'
With Emma reading her thoughts, it was clear that there was someone else to add to this madness.
Logan follows that trace of perfume, honing in on it quickly. THe skipping helps. He finds himself coming to a sliding stop almost as he gets close, narrowing his eyes when he tries to get a bead on the kid responsible.
"Playtime's over, kiddo. Time to let these people go," he says. He's tensed and ready, his body braced, he hopes, for whatever comes his way. He isn't afraid of a little pain. He's gotten plenty of that recently. And better him than the others - if somebody's going to get picked on, at least he can take it.
Neroli, Scarlett's trademark scent, likewise makes her effortless to track when someone knows the base and middle notes. A worthwhile point. She isn't hard to track for those nearest her for all that her attire favours the sere landscape defined in black, grey, and white rather than bursts of bright colour. Unless hiding against a red house comes into the fore, she ought to be fairly inconspicuous. "Marionettes. People attached by a mental string to some kind of will. Rather coordinated for multiple points choreographing it, but it's possible."
Her assessment goes in soft, rapid English that Daire and Emma hopefully can follow. She trusts in Logan's range and her own. Her eyes narrow slightly. "The conditions for moving the pattern aren't clear to me yet. Should we stay in motion in case anyone looks out from their eyes?"
|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d20 for: 19
"Best to keep moving." Emma replied to Rogue telepathically before reaching a hand up to her temple as she diverts a bit of her focus to cloaking herself mentally, not extending the protection towards the rest of the team, perhaps out of selfishness or maybe a desire to not want to strain her powers too much.
Aggressively, she began to seek out the other presence that had been identified, the 'Wire' that the first presence was seeking. When she found Wire, if she could, she wouldn't hesitate to seek out the full exposition from their mind.
Daire nods and says, "Okay, no moving anything yet," quietly and he begins to move, himself, attempting to make his way along the sides of buildings, trying to keep between things in order to have some cover as he moves to flank where Logan is walking. He's not the sneakiest of sneaksters, but he's making an attempt at least to remain quiet while Rogue and Emma do their thing. He glances over toward them until Emma cloaks herself from sight, then he just tries to eep Logan and Rogue in view.
|ROLL| Jean Grey +rolls 1d50 for: 3
|ROLL| Emma Frost +rolls 1d50 for: 45
|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d50 for: 7
Logan had the right one, or perhaps the wrong one this night. The smell of perfume was obviously belonging to Wire, who had raided a haberdashery that also said parfumes and colognes for the men and women of a certain class. The little dark haired teen looked like an imp with how small she was, a far cry from the descendants of the Vikings who traveled here, her brown eyes to match but yet big as saucers that would make one consider her adorable. The scarf she wore was obviously tattered, the shirt somewhat clean, and yet the cleanliness didn't match the ratty jeans and boots that she wore, which does tell of her status.
"Oooh.. hooo.." She says aloud, her English heavily accented. Thank television for this. "Big man? You can't not tell to do. Here! You an' I, we make fun!"
That hand stretches out, all four fingers pointing in the direction of the man who stood too swiftly..
With Rogue overhead, she could see the entirety of the happening with Wire, but there was something coming. An eerie feeling.. something that creeps within the spine or quite possibly make the skin crawl.
Emma would notice this new presense first. The boy couldn't have been more than 16 or 17, quite nearly an adult and old enough to smoke. His face was riddled with scars here and there, but quite possibly due to his obsessive picking upon his skin or the beatings he took from bullies. His shirt was a plain, faded black shirt, with jeans and boots as well. Fingerless gloves held upon his hands as the glow within his eyes focuses upon Scarlett. And then he puffs, cigarette smoke puffing rapidly from his nose like an angry bull as his head tilts to the side..
MEANWHILE, IN THE BLACKBIRD:
Jean leans upon the console as she idly twiddles a pen back and forth, watching it as it seemingly bends in odd angles before she lets it go, allowing it to fly towards the window with her TK in frustration. Finally, the static within the headset grows loud, as her brows lower into a furrow as she sits erect within the pilots chair..
"Mother.. fucking.. shit.."
Whatever she heard, it was not good.
He can feel the girl's power seizing at his system, his body reacting violently to the intrusion. It's like pins and needles on his skin, circulation being cut off as she takes control of his muscles, making his back arch and strain as she gets teh feel for controlling his body.
"Nnnnno…noooo…get outta my…body…you little…NNNNNNF," he grunts, his words choked out as she forces his jaw shut, cutting off the very, very offensive word he was about to say.
None of which matters as she turns his body and makes him leap, hurling himself at Daire suddenly with outstretched hands, even as she finds a pair of extra toys to play with mid-leap.
*SNIKT*
|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d20 for: 3
A terrible game of tag it is. Scarlett chooses a route that dances around the buildings, then, striking out to play a very dangerous game of cat and mouse. Mice with diamond skin and a killer regeneration rate, mice with horns and mice with flaming coronas.
Up to the rooftop, down to the wall, and then something prickles her awareness in seconds split down the center. What was that? The cigarette-smoking kid targeting the shard-riddled battlefield of Scarlett's mind. Trapped in those mental cells are far too many uncomfortable figures.
Instantaneously those green eyes roil through a seething array of colours. Flaming corners, lightning dancing around her pupils, brown, grey, fiery green, frost blue. She drops to the ground as the last wholly conscious action. The reflex against the unknown kid causing all this trouble on her is a slip of control, a breach of the white-fisted hold over shards and splinters of selves accrued in a lifetime.
Her eyes turn pure black, an inkstain corner to corner. So rises the faintest curve of a smile.
Emma was forced to make a choice as the pair of mutants acted, but it wasn't a very hard choice for her. She didn't have reservations about the use of her powers, or any desire to hold back. This was what she was here to do.
"They're making themselves known, Daire, try to cover Rogue." Emma instructed without words, just thoughts before she focused in on Wire who was seemingly about to do something to Logan based on the outstretching of hands.
Not moving from her position, she focused in on Wire to try and incapacitate the young woman with her psychic powers. Emma worked to push herself into the mind of the young woman, her presence not at all subtle as she whispered in the mind of her target, "Children shouldn't play at adults games. Allow me to show you the error of your ways, darling."
"Cover Rogue?" Daire makes a sound that sounds a little incredulous, but he's already crouching down low to try and deflect the incoming Logan-shaped projectile with his back even as his transformation begins. Sharp shards of bone suddenly tear through his shirt, leaving it stained with blood as a large pair of bat wings come upa nd wrap around himself. The horns on his head grow larger, sharper at the ends, as do the fangs, and his fingers become clawed. The tail. The tail is problematical as it has nowhere to go but down the leg of his pants. No, he's not happy to see you. His skin takes on a grey cast to it as he resembles more the gargoyle, the stone, building his resilience to the incoming Logan. "Gimme a second… got.. a bit of a thing.. going on here."
THE BLACKBIRD:
"Shit shit shit shit.. shit shit shit.." Buttons were flicking, then she pauses, her eyes widening as she slams down the headset to immediately rush to the door. Her fingers press against her temple as she tries to search out the minds of her teammates in a panic, but with all of the other tortured souls in the middle, added with those 'two'.. and it all causes her to shake her head in frustration. "Alright.. I hope you're looking Daire.. time for a hail mary.."
OUTSKIRTS: Three large, white vans as well as two, black Fords head down the winding path into the city. Their lights were on and radios within the vans were clued up, transmitting messages back and forth to their envoy.
'ETA ten minutes to dead zone. Ready the equipment.'
'Chopper following in fifteen.'
'Remember, wear your protective gear. Extraction is okayed. The Boss does not want the merchandise damaged.'
The vehicles take another winding path towards the city.. and upon the side of the trucks reads… 'E. Corporation..'
TOWN:
Wire begins to laugh and jump as Logan dances for her, both hands drawing out as she wills him to draw his blades out into the open. Hack! Slack! Bang! Boom! Wire thought, and yet.. as if it were kismet.. those thoughts were dropped immediately. Whatever control she had upon Logan immediately falters.. for her little hands grip at her hair and begin to tug and pull as she shrieks!
This causes a chain reaction, the people slowly begin to move, twisting themselves from their ill-fated positions, the fat man who was bent falls upon the ground with a flubberish rush of a breath and a praise of the gods that he was finally free.
Live.. however.. stares at Rogue. This.. this was not pretty. Perhaps he picked the wrong one this night, and he does what any smart boy does..
He flicks the cigarette and fucking -runs-.
The tips of Logan's claws barely slash at Daire's chest as he's capable of seizing control of himself again at the last moment, his extensive physical control enough to let him pull back in time. He still gouges that thickened skin, maybe even enough to bleed, sheathing his claws as he tucks and rolls.
"God dammit, I am getting a little friggin' sick and tired o' bein' somebody else's knife," he snarls, shaking his head and limbs to clear out the phantom sensation of being puppeted.
Then Live tries to make his getaway and Logan's just straight had it. He springs and seizes the kid by the collar of his shirt, whirling him around. Before the kid can unleash his power, though, Logan flicks his neck with a sharp, measured motion and CRACKS his adamantium laced skull into the boy's temple, knocking him out cold.
Logan drapes the teen over his shoulder and snarls, "Fucking kids."
Emma wiped her hands off on her uniform as if she had dirtied them in the act of incapacitating Wire and began to head back towards the Blackbird, "We're on our way back Jean, it looks like we've overstayed our welcome."
Just in case of prying eyes, she reached a hand up to her temple and did her best to focus on cloaking the group from the awakening citizens and the incoming company as she stuck close to Logan, "Brutal but effective, sometimes a rock works just as well as a scalpel, I suppose."