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FOUND FOOTAGE:
The scene cuts in to the typical white room. A chair was first empty but now it fills the spot with the -now- elusive Jean Grey. Her hands were cuffed, her hair clung together in wet little clumps that could resemble her sweat. But with the black and white footage, it was hard to tell. To say that she looked as if she were rode hard and put away wet was an understatement. Her left eye was black. Her lip was split, and with much struggle, she was being chained to the table.
The footage blacks out, akin to a cigarette burn which states that the reel needed to be switched over, but the tape itself was imposed to the other to keep a single line of frame going. She was no longer struggling. Upon her temple was a strange attachment that had a series of lights that blink, along with a collar that rested upon her neck that held the same set of lights that worked in tandem.
'Subject thirty-five'. The man stated. And Jean did not look.
'I said sub—..'
"I heard you. I know what you want."
'Then why the struggle?'
"Everyone is dead."
'Then why stall? You are practically the last of your kind. And because of what you di—..'
Jean lurches within her seat, her fists banging upon the metal table as four pairs of hands wrestle her to her chair.
"HOW DARE YOU INSINUATE THAT ITS MY FAULT!"
'Because it is.' The man intones.
There was quietness in the room as Jean slumps, visibly pained by this revelation. Perhaps to hear someone else say it made it hit home. Something that's been told over.. and over.. and over…
"It started with a distress call." She states, finally placing her hands upon the table, almost as if she were pleading. "We've been there before. That's where we've gotten the First. We just didn't feel right leaving her out here all on her own, knowing what she could do and who she could hurt. So we listened to the radios. Anything. Military channels and foreign news, we had people who could connect us to every single news report all over the world. And we also had ce—.."
The reel cuts out, then back on again.
"We made it there at night.."
NOW:
"Why is it that every time we come to Iceland, it happens to be night?" Jean complained behind the cockpit of the Blackbird. They have landed, not in the same spot that they were before, but in a non-descript village that was clearly a Black Site for something governmental. However, it looked near desolate. Even though the lights were dimmed from the outside of the Blackbird, the village itself looked eerie. But this is where the distress call was, and just in case it was about Wire? Jean hard pressed everyone to go.
"Alright folks. I know we're not an official team, but ROgue is in charge. I need to stay here and monitor just in case we need to get out quick. Follow her -every- lead, and we should get in, get out unnoticed. No one should be harmed. Second in command is Logan. I'm going to disallow communications with radios so leave them in storage, I'll mentally connect us all. Once you get used to it, you should be able to speak with each other seamlessly."
She smirks a little, then draws her hand up in a mock salute. "I'll be your guardian angel. Eyes in the sky.. whatever. Get out there, and be safe. Let's go save some souls."
VIDEO REEL:
"I told them to go save some souls.. but.. I.."
Logan isn't unfamiliar with how these things tend to play out. He's wearing black leather, for once, a zipped suit with a criss-crossed X over his chest. Almost a costume. Anyone who calls it that will probably be getting a headbutt, though.
He flexes his gloved hands and keeps his head down for the moment. Whatever happens is going to be bloody, he knows that much. Blood and snow. Practically the name of his autobiography.
"Without sounding facetious, timezones and the ending of daylight savings time," Scarlett supplies the scholarly response, smile hidden beneath the suppressed weight of her composed expression. Consultant for missions of trouble or oddness, the auburn-haired young woman hasn't bothered to remain strapped in. Nor has she taken entirely brightly to the acknowledgment of being in charge. "You only say that because we have the best hive mind, Red." The other Red in the vicinity, Team Redhead #1, offers that sunny smile as she checks the fit of her gloves. Smooth all the way down, that will work. "Speaking the language helps. All right, we'll pray if anything goes pear-shaped."
Nothing required for a radio on her part, just assuring zippers are pulled and no necessary additions like scarves or knives or guns show up. There's too much of a risk. Her auroral green eyes turn up briefly to the northern sky, already so terribly dark. Go save some souls. The Soul-Thief. She doesn't have one.
"My understanding is that the axial tilt of your planet creates seasonal variations in the day-night cycle, which are particularly extreme in the high latitudinal zones." Gabriel's answer is rather naively to the point, missing out on any of the emotional meaning of the likely rhetorical question. It's hard to be facetious when you take things totally at face value! Thus, he nods at Rogue and smiles. "Yes, exactly. It is my understanding that there are a variety of factors, including national policies on time-keeping." She gets it!
He is relatively well-behaved otherwise as a passenger, though, remainining politely strapped in according to whatever flight procedures, even if they're somewhat unecessary.
"Dumb luck," Jay murmurs as he peers anxiously out the Blackbird's front windshield, leaning over from his seat. Wings shivering with motion briefly, uncovered as he's been trying to remain these days, there's never really any practical hiding of those things anyway, the musician's attention swims immediately in Rogue's direction at Jean's instruction. A firm press of the young man's lips together in as grim an expression as he ever wears, he nods his understanding—and likely his compliance and recognition to the other woman. "Whatever you need, Ma'am," Icarus murmurs to Rogue. Turning his atention over to Logan, fixing the order of command, there's another short nod. He knows damn well where he sits on this totum pole and isn't about to buck the system.
The mention of Jean mentally connecting them all causes another fwip of trepidation through Jay's wings, swallowing down any concern with a literal gulp, there's another tentative nod and deep breath as he fiddles mildly with final prep.
This was Daire's second trip to Iceland and he came a little bit better prepared this time, with clothing to accomodate the need to change rapidly while also keeping warm. He nods to Jean as she lays out the chain of command as it were, and checks to make sure that he has everything with him that he'd intended to bring in the pockets of his jacket. He's got on jeans, a sweater, a jacket, all modified a bit so that his wings and tail can slide out without any embarassing replays of their last venture to Iceland. He reaches up and runs fingers through his hair, brushing it back out of his eyes, "It always goes pear-shaped. Start prayin' now if you're going to." He grins a little lop-sidedly.
"I know I'm new and haven't been on any missions yet, but just in case everything goes pear-shaped and I happen to get dead, don't leave me behind. It won't stick." Josh remarks with a dry tone of voice, though when he realizes he uses the same expression as Daire he flashes hima quick grin. He's in all black, though its not quite an X-Men uniform, yet. The healer is pretty new to all of this missioning thing.
FOOTAGE:
"There was a reason why The Wolverine was second in command. Because I knew, deep down that if anything were to go wrong with the mission, that he and only he would be the one to end it." Jean states with a shaky voice.
'You mean, kill them all.'
"Yes. Elixir is.. he's just amazing. But deep down I knew that this was going to be the start of somethiing that even -he- can't fix."
NOW:
Even if Jean could comprehend what Rogue and Gabriel were stating, she would still give them both death glares to the ultimate magnitude. But yet Scarlett recovers and a point is gone in her direction, right before she unstraps herself and prepares to open the doors for the team to exit. "Yes, speaking it helps. But a brief scan before we landed only granted me one glimpse of a mind. It's like a ghost town. Though I couldn't penetrate further, I'm not Charles. I can't multitask like he can." Yet.
"The facility that we saw before we landed is where it's located. I wasn't able to get the ins and outs and the general layout through it, but I just know that -there- is where the trouble is." The doors open with a slight hiss, and Jean takes a step back, her own fingers flexing within her gloves as she hops out. Two fingers lift, pressing against her temple as she glances towards Jay, but briefly. "Don't be afraid." Yes, she could feel it. "I won't pry. Scouts honor.."
Its always unclear if anyone could actually feel the tingle of minds when they join together when she links them, but she does attempt to try to bring it to their attention so that they would /know/ of any intrusion from her, for them. Such as, a warm and guiding hand upon the shoulder, or a breeze that almost feels familiar, or a scent of jasmine or something nice lingering. Hopefully, whatever Jean imposes in that moment, gives them warmth.
"Geez Daire, such faith.." She murmurs playfully, though.. Josh's words give her a solemn nod. No mutant nor man left behind, that was a promise she at least made to herself when she started these things.
"Alright, you guys got a little bit of a trek. Three miles north, and foot it. The message was urgent. Once inside, complete silence. We're all linked, or should be if no one resisted. Get going."
FOOTAGE:
'You say that you and Rogue had a hivemind. Explain.'
"If you're asking me if I could do what Wire can. Yes. If you're asking me if I could do what she did -then-?" There was a pause in Jean's voice.. her lip quivering. "..Yes.."
Logan is always a strange presence in a psychic link. He's prickly, almost, present but other, a roiling bag of instinct overlaid with a thin veneer of civilization. Easy enough to present that human front after a hundred plus years of practice, on the outside, but underneath, the Beast that dwells inside his skin swims a little more freely, like a shark yet to show its fin and trawling for the scent of blood.
Again, he doesn't say a word. Feeling too much fellowship with these people will only make it harder if - or when - he has to do something awful in front of them. They won't like him much then. That's okay. That's what he's for.
"Scarlett, please. Ma'am makes me feel ancient as Emma or Charles." Because Charles Xavier in all his flowing haired glory is apparently the backside of archaic, his own archaeological epoch. She smiles at Jay, taking no sting from the kind words intended in the spirit of delivery. No need to pet those lovely rubicund wings, however tempting when they move or fluff. Shiny gold skin, if it dares to appear, will not tempt her much either. Much. Try not to stare too deep into her battlefield thoughts, studded with as many explosive mines as the typical French harbour around '42. There's no helping Jean navigate those troubled waters, choppier than they've ever been before. Darkness inchoate lurks in the hadean zone.
"Let's head out, then." She nods to Daire and Jay. "Can you two get eyes out for us as we get moving?" No point in telling Logan what to do. Trust is merely there in the respectful inclination of her head. He's done horrible things. She's been there on his shoulder for them, all the way, and shades live on in that pretty head. "Any trouble, we avoid and neutralize in that order. Priority is the distress call and not fireworks."
The death glare earns a mild scolded-puppy sort of look from Gabriel. "I did not mean to over-analyze. But, it will actually place me at a disadvantage," he points out, bringing the tangential topic of northern European seasons to a more relevant place. "Solar radiation provides a convenient power source. But there are others. It should be an intriguing challenge. And we are to be… stealthy, yes? A good reason to hold back the reserves." Right. No blasting everything!
When they've arrived at the location, he looses his harness and steps from the seat, rises, and spends just a moment turning and twisting, mostly to test the flexibility of the uniform he's only somewhat recently started using. He does make a comment on their would-be psi-link to their flying control: "I've started having a… reflexive response, after Charles worked on me." He sounds slightly worried by the admission. "But I believe I can suppress it, for you." Indeed, nothing horrible happens as Jean touches him, indeed, he feels… almost reassured to have her in his head.
After that, he stands ready and apparently waits for the leaders to step out ahead before following them. Order following, he has some experience with!
The red-head owning a Y-chromosome of the three casts a crooked smile of apology toward Jean when she reassures him. Jay shakes his head. "Ain't that. Ah trust you." And he does, there's no deception in him angled with those words. The guy's brain such a big squishy sponge as far as his head space goes, he practically announces every emotion and thought with a bullhorn to every telepath in a block radius. No point in even trying to lie. Jay Guthrie: The reason unpracticed telepaths go insane with his heart-on-his-sleeve gushiness. Whether he realizes when she does it or not, crimson feathers smooth with that feeling of warmth.
"Scarlett," Jay accepts with a crooked smile in Rogue's direction with a vibrant blush of apology that warms through the link. He's an expressive, emotional thing beneath his mild mannered politeness, Icarus. Whatever bits of that come through the link up may remain background 'noise' to the fact that he seems to express it largely in plumes of musical accompaniment. That may however just be Jean's pleasure to censor out for the rest. That song that gets stuck in your head three days from now? Totally Jay's fault. Sorry.
Jay stands when he's tapped. "Absolutely." And casts a glowingly warm smile toward Daire with a loop of stringed accompaniment, winking a natural green eye toward the more vibrantly-eyed fellow. "Tag? Yer it?" He elbows Daire over the inside joke, then straightens up a bit more, locking down for buisness. Wings eke away from his back, eagerly, like a bird begging for flight. He waits for the nod to go before launching.
Daire grins over at Jean and says, "Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it." It's good-natured enough, though. There's a grin over at Josh and he bumps his shoulder, "Nobody's leaving you in a snowbank." That's a promise. He then looks over to Jay and says, "Guess that means we're airborne," when Rogue asks them to get eyes out. THere's a chuckle for Jay's comment and he says, "Looks that way," when he gets elbowed. Once they get out of the plane he reaches for Josh's hand and gives it a squeeze, then goes through the transformation, and sure enough, his clothing has been modified a bit to accomodate, wings tearing out through the openings made for them. After that, he takes off into the air above them. The psychic link feels a little funny, but he doesn't resist it.
Josh takes Dai's hand, and there's a slight glow of gold around where they touch, as Josh momentarily turns off Daire's ability to feel pain. No use having a painful transformation when you have an Elixir around, right? He does grin at Daire, "Good, good, I'd hate to resurrect in the snow only to freeze to death again, and repeat this scenario over and over again." But then he nods to him and turns a look between the rest of them, and decides to fall in line near Rogue, to follow her lead. "If we get get cought, I can put them to sleep and scramble the portion of the brain that stores short-term memory, if we can get to them before they set off an alarm. Just to keep in mind."
FOOTAGE:
'You could have helped them but you didn't.'
"And risk everything?!" Jean looked near frantic. "They needed to learn. They don't need a machina hanging over their goddamned heads every time they go into battle!"
'It sounds like fear.'
"And you're right."
NOW:
With everyone preparing to get assembled, the skyview becomes a little daunting. Yes, there is a bit of snow in the ground, and their arrival sets off a series of flurries that don't obscure the vision, but provide a bit of annoyance. Ahead of the crew, lies the facility. Yellow lights create flashes against the trambled snow, which give birth to the view of bodies halfway imbedded and obviously, very dead. Often times one could spot a shine, a shine of metal that lays upon the snow which give the shape of high powered weaponry and bullets that were not policed in the fire.
It was a massacre, they were obviously overrun. Along with a vehicle that looked to be rammed into the side of said facility, all was quiet.
Save for the men that were upon the roof. Jean had stated that she only caught glimpse of one mind, and then it was gone. So why were they there? Patrolling, weapons brandished as they slowly walk from one end of the building to another. Thankfully, their eyes were not on the sky.
~*To note, team. I can see through your eyes if I need to. If you wish to share the aerial image, imagine yourself painting a picture for us. That's the best I can describe it.~*
Logan gestures for those with him to stay back a bit and let him move in first. They'll have to give up stealth soon enough, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't try to take out as much resistance as he can before things get too messy.
He creeps, staying low and opening up his other senses, inhaling to gather scent, listening to detect any hidden or potential threats along the way, threading close enough until he can reach the edge of the building. He examines the bodies quickly as he passes, looking for how they've been harmed, but it doesn't much matter in the end. Whoever did this has to get ended, one way or another. He raises an arm to wave the others forward as he makes progress, waiting to be jumped at any moment and trying to stay out of view of the rooftop sentries.
Anger would be appropriate right about now. The dull frisson of rage coiling around the vitals gets a blunt-toothed bite in before Scarlett shifts her attention away. Mercurial ideas promise the most profane of suggestions when she catches sight of rigid corpses on spikes, wreckage of lives reduced to gruesome decoration. A moment in silent consideration externally represents a vicious upheaval for anyone adjacent psychically, the whisper of apology hidden underneath. No one wants to deal with that particular measure of suffering and trouble. She hangs back, drifting into the snowy shadows mostly out of sight. Nothing like crouching down and waiting for things to proceed. She's concentrating, at any rate, pulling down the remnants of her psyche.
Gabriel proceeds on foot behind Logan. He's figured flying out, but as with everything he does, there's a power expenditure, and as he said on the plane: he's holding on to his reserves in the black of the long near-arctic night. Also he sort of glows when he does it! There's probably a way to… not glow, but for the time being, better not to create a flying beacon to the enemy.
What does become clear, perhaps most to their veteran leader, is that despite his sometimes almost airheaded otherworldly manner, he's clearly had some training on how to do this sort of thing properly. The stalking (and presumably murdering) thing, that is. He's no Wolverine, but he manner speaks of some kind of military or martial tradition. Oddly, he doesn't react much to the bodies. Some part of him has seen worse.
And since stealth is the rule, he speaks, or thinks, through Jean: ~* I can probably disable electronics, the lights for instance. Range depending on… how subtle you prefer. If they open fire, I will provide cover and return it. *~
Jay watches Daire transform with the same sympathetic awe that he always seems to, though it may feel different this time around. "There y'are." He waits for his fellow flier to prep, facing forward again when Elixir turns Daire's pain off. A short, quiet exchange between the two bandmates as to their flight plan, Jay nods agreeably and smiles encouragingly to Daire. "See you there, Cassiel. Stay safe." Taking the opportunity for the codename. They're both off like a shot once prepped. The instruction of visualization from Jean makes Jay tilt his head quickly to one side, like he has water in his ear when he feels a voice in his head—finally noticing and aware of a presense that /isn't himself/ and there's a recoil of 'holyfatherthattickles'.
The two fliers with opposing-complimentary asthetics separate almost immediately, Jay taking a wide arc to the left, leaving Daire to take up the right to canvas the area. Scarlett's rage and subsequent apology helps to settle Jay into focus, though the subtle drifting of music that signals his presense continues, it simply takes a keyshift down a step and quiets, like a serious anticipatory score in a film. He stays high enough not to draw attention, but reports back as many details of the terrain and moving figures, buildings as he can for their comrades from his angle.
His mental voice doesn't have an accent, but carries a southern vernacular. One eye on the ground, one sort of keeping track of his scouting counterpart so he and Daire each know where they're going. Jay whispers to himself to focus his thoughts into a single stream and try to push words out to the others, entirely unpracticed. ~*If you all come under fire, let us know where. They're not looking up. I don't mind dive bombing and shielding. …Just hurts a second, worth it.*~ The last phrase softer and likely /meant/ to be internalized not not shared as accidental mental bleed.
"Dead," Daire thinks into the minds of the link, sharing his view of those figures watching, and then yielding so that if Jay wants to share his as well, there's no interference. "She's the puppet-master, right? If she's the one there.. she could be puppetting the dead to patrol the roof." He continues his slow arc, high, taking an opposite flight path to Jay so that they can share multiple perspectives with those below. There's a certain grim tone to his voice as he slowly begins to wind a little closer to get a better look. He keeps in constant visual contact with Jay, coordinating efforts easily enough with his fellow flier.
Josh is a doctor: he really has nothing to add tactically, so he just churns along through the snow. Fortunately, he isn't especially bothered by the cold, because he doesn't let himself be bothered by the cold. He listens and pays attention, but until they get there he's just going to be following along.
FOOTAGE:
The footage flickers, words become construed due to a fast forwarding of the film. Whether it was by accident or not, but it was clear by the actions and motions on the tape that something was clearly wrong. There was obvious light flickering, the eyes of Jean were glowing even though there were no color, blood drew from her eyes as well as one of her nostrils as she completes this eerie look with a foul grin.
"I told you about him. Do you think that he would leave them dead? Did you think that th-.. find me? They're coming for you. Icarus, Cassiel. You thought to fear me. But you should have feared -HIM-!"
NOW:
The things that Jean sees through the mental link keep her quiet. She remains an effigy of stillness; fingers still pressed against her temple as her eyes close and open yet again as she nods, even though no one could see it. It was like mental telephone! It almost feels as if they're right there speaking with you, so you nod and say yes, but Jean said nothing. Hopefully, they could feel her say yes in response to what they were seeing.
Militant as he was and others following suit, there was a little pride there, even though she never really taught them all. But they needed to learn, needed to learn to follow orders and fall in line for the better.. and out of it when the time came for them to do what they thought that was right.
*~Whatever you need to do, Vulcan. We have eyes in the skies, you be our eyes on the ground.~* Which goes without saying. Though, what Daire says makes sense. It makes perfect sense. Could it be that the one mind that she did sense be of Wire? She needed to try to reach out to her again, to pinpoint a location.
*~Elixir, I don't know how far your powers extend, but if you can bring one back.. maybe they won't be under her influence. But I'm going radio silent. I need to try to reach her again, take care of our people.~*
She didn't exactly leave them, no. The connection was still there but Jean herself was quiet. It was with a great amount of effort, but she sections herself to focus on another task of searching. Take it as, one person being left behind and the others moving forward. Or something akin to her thinking ahead, or creating scenarios. At least that's how Charles once explained it to her. And she tries it.. settling down into the snow with legs crossed, fingers pressed together in a steeple with eyes closed.
FOOTAGE:
The image that remains upon the screen where the footage plays was one terrifying. Jean, remaining seated, her eyes a clear glow, stature relaxed and calmed with her hands folded. And behind her? Clearly it were the X-Men, but their faces weren't seen for the camera itself to take in. The image of those behind her flicker occasionally, as if they were there one minute.. and gone the next…