Post by pgholland on Aug 7, 2018 16:00:18 GMT -5
So, it's been a long time, but I really want to get back to running games of MURPG and I'd almost completely forgot about here! Luckily I didn't. So, I have a game proposal, some details are outlined below, some of the character generation stuff will come in a little while as I go back over the many tweaks and alterations we've all made over the many years of this system and re-fit them back into my mind. Suffice to say- the splitting of Durability into Health, Energy and Regeneration as three separate statistics is an important one that will definitely be happening, and Intelligence-based energy will not be used (as you can just buy higher energy).
Experience will come in both LOEs and bonus power stones, so whilst you will start low (about 25+ up to 5 in challenges) your mutations/powers will continue to develop.
But, without further ado, the premise of the game:
Issue #0 Signs of the Future
6th June, 1988; Blythedale Children's Hospital, Westchester, New York
A light breeze flickered through the partially open window of the office gently ruffling the paper's on the hospital administrator's desk. He adjusted the image of his wife and newborn child, glanced at the gently flickering screen of the new computer that they had installed in his office to ensure he was able to access the newly computerised records of the infirmary. His hand rested lightly on the crucifix he kept near his right hand, a habit he had developed as a reassurance in time's of stress; before him sat another man in his early thirties, his hair already thinning whisking around in the air, it didn't seem to matter, his pristine white coat lending him authority and credence.
The man shuffled his hand's uncomfortably as he glanced at the notes he held in a manilla folder before him. At some unspoken signal he placed the folder on the large oak desk, resting it in the leather writing space which the administrator used to write personal memoranda. "It's happened again." he began, wringing his hands with concern again, the administrator inclined his head, urging him on wordlessly. "This would be our sixth in the last four weeks, since we started the new gene testing, a strange genetic aberration. It can't just be localised here though sir, can it?" he questioned, hoping it was not his own job which was in danger.
"You have confirmed the results, I presume?" the administrator asked, mostly to calm himself rather than for any real answer. As the doctor nodded, he gave a grim double head bob and considered his words carefully, "Then we must take action. I'll make some calls, get in touch with the other hospitals, we shall begin testing for these anomalies across the county. I don't doubt that there are others who are beginning to show these new... mutations. We can only hope that this is nothing detrimental to health. Please, I have many calls to make." he said, gesturing towards the door.
The doctor stood and nervously stumbled to the door even as the administrator thumbed open the folder and glanced at it, more a formality than a necessity. He paused as his eyes caught the name at the top of the records, he gulped, his hand moving towards the phone receiver with trepidation, fumbling sightlessly for it. Eventually he found the plastic shell and tapped in a phone number, "Hello, Marko... yes, it's Stryker. We have a problem... I just don't know, we need to meet and talk." he said, even as he laid one arm across the name, hoping to hide the word which echoed around his head Xavier, Charles Francis.
24th June, 2013: CNN World News Broadcast
"And still, the world reels from the devastating attack on the UN headquarters in New York. Reports are still coming in and we are seeking verification, but witnesses say that it was an attack by the Eastern European despot known simply as Magnus. Witnesses have suggested that he seemed to fling cars and other objects at the building, though the authorities refuse to confirm this." the picture flickered with static and the barely known, daytime anchorwoman's face was gradually replaced with that of a strange smooth ovoid in a dark purple metallic colour.
The ovoid quickly became a helmet, two dark eyes peering out from the eye sockets, the mouth concealed but clearly moving. "Please, allow me to confirm for you. My name is most definitely Magnus, and I am broadcasting on all of your news frequencies. I have attacked the United Nations building as a show of my true power. For year now, your governments have attempted to silence me as I spoke out against their persecution of my people. They have locked them in camps and hospitals across the world. I say no more. Their secrecy shall no longer protect their shame and illegal actions. We will not be silenced anymore, Genosha shall be a free haven. UN forces will withdraw from the border and the truth shall prevail, or I shall continue my attacks." With that, the image faded, leaving the news anchor looking stunned. She tried to gather her words, but like much of the world, sat in stunned silence for a few more seconds before an advert break was suddenly taken.
26th July, 2018: Westchester County, New York
The stack of books provided little shelter from the strong sunshine and even the light breeze brought little respite for the heavy heat which was beating down on the gardens of Graymalkin House and the young man who was seated within their circumference. He had a laptop on the table and was tapping in a thesis, the latest that he was writing, but he couldn't help but be drawn back to this morning's papers. He ran a tightly muscled hand through his shaven blond hair feeling the soft stubble beneath his fingertips. He stood up and paced away from the psychology textbooks, his second doctorate would have to wait, he took a sip from the iced tea which had been set on the table in the only free spot.
His step halted. The glass dropped from his hand and shattered on the grass, something didn't feel right, he couldn't work out exactly what, but there was something coming. He grabbed the paper from the table and looked at the sub-story hidden within the headline, something about Magnus worried him, where any of these rumours true? Could he be like himself? That question formed even as he caught sight of the black cars making their way down his driveway.
The vehicles pulled up just short of the house and men and women in dark suits climbed out, they immediately saw him and crossed towards him. The head of their group, a middle-aged man, with steel-grey hair and piercing blue eyes, grabbed a card from his suit and began to speak at a distance which required him to raise his voice a little as these types often did. "Charles Xavier? I'm here from the United Nations Intelligence and Espionage Division. I need you to come with me." he said as his team spread out around Charles Xavier.
Xavier ran a hand through his stubble again, and left two fingers lingering against his temple. "I'm sorry. But Charles Xavier isn't here. He seems to have moved on, he doesn't live here any longer, this is just an abandoned house." he spoke, his voice calm and quiet. The man nodded, "All right men, we've searched here, move out, Charles Xavier clearly moved on from here, the house is abandoned." he called, his men nodding and turning to return to their vehicle. Even as they did so, Xavier was moving to his own home to pack and leave, he had to go somewhere, he had to do something about what he had learned from their minds. He knew exactly where he needed to go, and he only had a few days to make it there. It would be difficult, but he had to make it there, lives depended upon it.
November, 2002: Eastern Europe
Magnus looked at the scattered nails before him, over the last two years the young boy had moved single nails, and even larger objects, his ability seemed to be growing and now he was certain that he could lift the collection of small objects and control them in the shaky way which he was capable of. He held out both hands and concentrated, sweat began to bead on his forehead, his fingers and palm shook as he reached out with the capabilities which he had slowly manifested. The nails and cutlery began to shudder and shake and even a few lifted into the air. Magnus set his teeth and forced his mind, but still the entire group refused to move, refused to follow the commands which he sent mentally.
A roar of engines filled the air as Magnus turned red. His body shuddered and collapsed as the effort was simply too much, the nails scattered all over the table and the floor. The crunch of boots roused him and he looked up to see four men in military clothing approaching him, each held a sleek black pistol though they were currently lowered seeing the boy on the floor. He struggled to his knees as the strange men raised their weapons. They shouted something, but Magnus was too tired to hear it, the guns raised and he held out his hands, attempting to deflect the bullets. He didn't hear them, but knew that the weapons had discharged, eight pins drove into his supple, young flesh, a moment of pain followed, and he was suddenly unconscious, unable to bring even the most basic of thoughts to bear.
February, 2004: Eastern Europe
The ground shook, and the concrete facility seemed to crack. Great iron girders ripped from the solid concrete of its sixties construction. Sirens and alarms sounded in the air and figures began to run all around the building. Weapons flew and adhered to the broken concrete, the sirens sputtered even as the lights flickered off. Suddenly the roof exploded outwards and a figure emerged, shrouded in a shimmering field of energy. They couldn't have been more than fourteen, but the way they hovered with such confidence gave them an air far beyond their nascent years. A few bullets zinged past him but most simply hovered near to him, inactive.
He cast out a hand, the girders swung like spaghetti, spearing and ensnaring those who were still in the vicinity of the building, within moments there were none left who were not suffocating through crushed ribs or bleeding out all over the ground. The teenage figure glided away, moving without sound and away from the building, sounds ebbing away to a pitiful few sobs of the dying.
May, 2015: London
A sudden conflagration consumed the building. It was as if it were suddenly dipped in petrol and a match had been waved near to it. There was nobody to stagger from it, nobody to emerge from the nearby buildings to observe it, save for a few drunken bums and two figures who had been walking down the road only moments before. They sprinted towards it, past each and every one of the deserted buildings on the street. As they arrived at the flaming building a boy emerged, his blond hair shuffling in the heat-breeze.
"Whoah! That is bloody a-MAZE-ing!" he shouted, his voice just audible over the roaring sound of flames. The other two figures approached, "Hey, do you need help?" the shorter asked the blond boy, who immediately looked up at them. "What? Me? Nah. I can deal with this." he added, waving a hand at the building, which immediately extinguished. "So, who the hell are you then? Hellboy and his Irish boyfriend?" he asked, flicking a lighter in one hand.
"I think, we might be like you. If I'm honest. My name's Sean, though I've started to go by the name of Banshee, on account of my scream. And this here is Kurt." Sean said, indicating his dark hooded, blue-skinned companion.
"No way! Really? And here was me thinking I was on my own with this abilities. Name's St. John, though most people call me John, my parent's were a bit old fashioned. Though, what with Banshee and Bezaliel here, I'm starting to feel like a real Dante... after all, I'm always causing an inferno." he added, drawing on a range of strange, esoteric knowledge as he spoke with confidence. "Not sure either of you are from round here, are you?" he asked.
Kurt shook his head, "Nein, but we are passing through. We are heading to my mutter's homeland, the Old Country. We're here to sail down to the coast, so that we can sail to France. From there we need to migrate across the continent." he added, though he still spoke in a whisper. "Interesting, just the three of us, free and causing a riot across Europe. They won't know what's hit them!" Dante butted in, indicating the direction of the river and taking off without a second thought or entertaining the thought they might say no.
February, 2015: Connacht
Kurt had spent days escaping the city, running through shadows and stealing food to sate his hunger. Now he was in the countryside, desperately crossing it in daylight in the hopes of finding a lorry or other way to cross the country and board a boat to England. He was weakening and could not risk many more disapparations he had to save his strength for a vehicle. He stopped, his head perked up, he must have been weaker than he thought, a loud, piercing scream filled his ears for a second, then it was gone.
Carefully, he crept to the nearby hedgerow, peering over it. He saw a boy, tall and thin, but perhaps only just in his teens. Before him was a tree, split as though struck by lightning, though there were no burns or blackening upon its bark. As Kurt watched, the boy opened his mouth and a second scream issued forth. This time, Kurt knew that he wasn't hallucinating, the tree splintered, ripping from the ground as it was buffeted by the waves. Kurt couldn't help but give in to his curiosity, he clambered over the hedge and loped towards the boy who issued another scream, ripping the other side of the tree up and sending it spinning into the air.
He stopped a few metres from him, "Hallo, Ich bin... I mean, My name is Kurt Wagner. I think we may be kin, of a sort." he said in a halting way, his English was practised and perfect, he knew that, and yet his German seemed to predominate. The boy looked in his direction, terror on his face, a scream issued from his mouth. Kurt staggered backwards, his ears ringing. The boy followed suit, though he clearly wasn't suffering the effects of a hypersonic barrage. He closed his mouth and stared at Kurt, unable to speak.
Minutes passed, the boy stuttered something, but the ringing in Kurt's ears stopped him from hearing. A few more moments passed and the boy spoke again, "Well... I'll be... you must be some sort of feckin' demon. Or maybe... well i suppose you could be right, I am a banshee it would seem." he said, moving to help Kurt stand again. "I'm Sean Cassidy, I'm a dancer. Or at least I used to be, till this happened. I ran away when this happened. I'm guessing that happened to you too?" he asked, his words tumbling out at break-neck pace.
"Nein. I was in a circus, my mutter told me to leave. To travel to the Old Country. She seemed to think that there would be something waiting for me. Food was apparently not one of those things though it would seem." Kurt replied. "I'm trying to get to England from here. I don't suppose you know the way? Or have anything to eat?" he asked, looking hopefully at Sean.
"Not really. But I do have cash, and I'm sure we could find our way. If ye don't mine me taking along on your quest?" he added, half-expecting the boy to say no. Instead he simply nodded and turned to head in the same direction he had been travelling before, Sean strolling beside him, a smile plastered on his face.
August, 2014: Mid-West of America, Mojo's Circus, after-hours
The hooded old figure reached out one wrinkled hand and grabbed the boy's three-fingered hand. Her olive-skinned hand crushed the dark blue flesh. "Mein liebschen, you must go. You must leave here whilst you have a chance. The cover of night will conceal your flight and the commotion of tonight will allow you to slip away. Return to the old country, seek solitude there." she croaked, her old country accent shining through.
The boy extricated his hand, his yellow pupils shining in the dim candle-light, "But, mutter, what about Herr Mojo? Will he not find me, follow me? and what of you? The retribution may be severe, he has been so good to us, he has provided for us and protected us." he gestured with one three-fingered hand at the trailer which surrounded them. She shook her head vigorously, "Nein, do not listen to such things Kurt-chen. He had kept you here, made you fear the world and what may happen. You must live your life, I have lived mine and chosen to stay here. Your gifts will allow you to flee. Head to the nearest port and steal away on the nearest boat to Europe. I have seen the strands of fate, there is one who will protect you there."
The aged-crone laid out several cards, her hands running across them fully and gently. The boy nodded, his uneasiness showing through. He bent to the woman's head and kissed her forehead before standing to his full height. He took nothing, save the things that he wore and a trinket she had given to him, he quickly pocketed it before opening the trailer door and slinking into the darkness outside. His body shifted, blending into the darkness even as he dropped to all fours and began to lope for the perimeter of the circus. He heard the sound of footsteps heading for his path, his body vanished with a sound akin to a magician's smoke bomb, leaving sulphur-smoke. A few seconds later the boy re-appeared at the temporary fencing in a similar cloud.
He scuttled up it, like a four-limbed spider, reaching the top and leaping from it. The darkness consumed him, his flight was complete.
Mojo's Circus, the next morning
Despite his brightly coloured ring-master's costume, the large man looked terrifying. His body was large, his hair long and blond, tied back tightly under his top-hat. "You did WHAT Irene?" he bawled, his large hands gesturing wildly. "The boy will not be safe! He is a freak as far as the world is concerned! You have seen, I suppose, the looks that they give to me and I look almost normal!" he said, one hand slamming into his bulk with a thud. His solid-yellow eyes practically jiggled out of his eye-sockets as he looked at the woman incredulously.
The crone merely gestured feebly, "The portents were clear. He needed to leave, he would not have stayed longer Herr Mojo and this way we shall see him again soon. Your time is coming, he will be the facilitator of the endeavour, I have seen it." she said, casting a hand over the tarot that she had laid the previous night. She gazed up at him with unseeing eyes, milky white and blank.
The ring-master placed one hand to his temple, "I suppose I could catch him. Irene, you know that I understand behaviour better than anyone. Already I know exactly where he will be, you know my talents. I trust you however, your visions have never failed me before, they have kept us ahead of those who would seek us. Soon many of my children will rise though, already I anticipate the changes that will come. Our people will come to the forefront and we must be ready or they will exterminate us." he spoke, more to himself than to her.
She looked at him and shook his head, "You would do well to remember that we are not of the same people. You less so than I. Our 'people' are from many places, and you, some would call, an interloper, a pretender to the throne. Others will call you a god. Beware of the power and fame that will grant you." she added, indicating a card for him to look at. He glanced for a second, nodded and turned to leave her trailer. Time would only tell.
May, 2013: Russian Maximum Security Facility, Siberia
Arkady Rossovich hefted the weights once more, it wasn't so much a way of training himself as a way to eliminate the boredom of sitting in this plastic cell in which he was sat. The tendrils that snaked from the backs of his hands grabbed to more of the weights and began to fling them at the walls of his cell, he knew that it was impossible for them to break it, even the triple-sealed ventilation was tougher than steel, but he needed to do something to pass the time. Once he had been a top military operative, that had soon ended though when the full extent of his abilities had been realised. They were afraid of him, terrified of what he could do and what he had done.
The chamber shook, his bed suddenly warped, the iron frame reshaping into a large flat blade. The blade suddenly expanded and ripped the top from the entire cell. The ground continued to shake as the prison around him shuddered and cracked. The room lifted under the metallic disc, revealing two figures floating above him, one, a man in his twenties wearing a purple-coloured 'Spartan' helmet, the other a boy, perhaps 15, who clearly spent much of his time in the gym.
The man in the helmet spoke down, "Arkady Rossovich? Or should I say, Omega? My name is Magnus, I am here to rescue you. We are kin." he said in perfect Russian. Arkady looked up at him and smiled, his tendrils pulling him out of the cell and onto the roof, "My name will be Red comrade. We will talk terms, but be aware, I am death incarnate." he sneered. Magnus simply nodded in proud assent.
March, 2013: Greek Department for Defence Archives
Magnus waved his hand over the computer's tower and smirked, when you commanded the very forces of magnetism a computer was a mere plaything for your mind. Magnus needed only a few seconds to bypass the security and begin the search programme, he was certain that Greece was operating a programme similar to his own nation's, and he would not allow it to continue. Once he had enough support, he could return and free those within his own home, until then he could still free others like him.
The search algorithm finished, he would only have a few moments to glance at the details before the alarms finally triggered, he couldn't hold them off any longer. His Greek was shaky, not perfect, but his time in captivity had allowed him to work on his European languages and it would be enough to find others who had been imprisoned like he had. He scanned the words, his eyes lingered on one name: Petros, Dominic, the notes were very intriguing. He could be very useful. Magnus stood as the alarum began to ring, he cast one hand at the window of the room and the glass fell out as the metal framing reshaped into a solid plate for him.
2 days later: Asclepius High Security Medical Facility
Magnus surveyed the facility from a lofty position, he knew that the sedatives had now been turned off for an hour, Petros would soon be awake. Then they would see how willing he was to be held in their 'hospital', to be confined simply because he was different. The windows of the upper floor began to rattle and Magnus smiled, it was beginning. The shaking intensified, the concrete and brick construction began to shudder, cracks forming all across it as windows began to shatter in the eastern wing. The concrete began to crumble on the lower floor and suddenly blasted outward. A figure strode from it, no older than fourteen or fifteen, his hair was dark and waving in the vibrations he was generating.
Magnus floated down to his muscled form and offered a hand, speaking in somewhat halting Greek, "Dominic Petros? My name is Magnus, I am the man who rescued you, I am the one who has freed you from the bigots in your national government. I hope that you can assist me in my actions to free others like us?" he asked, "Avalanche?" he added.
The boy smiled and flexed his muscled body, "Oh yes, Magnus. I've been waiting to try out the Pankration on someone without the silly rules they apply. Let us show them." he replied, gesturing at a statuesque Spartan helmet which was the hospital's emblem. "Perhaps you need a sign of our strength," he said as it shook free from its stand and rolled to Magnus' feet. The older man bent down and picked it up, slipping it over his head even as he reshaped it to fit perfectly. He nodded at his new ally, yes, this was the beginning of something.
Experience will come in both LOEs and bonus power stones, so whilst you will start low (about 25+ up to 5 in challenges) your mutations/powers will continue to develop.
But, without further ado, the premise of the game:
Issue #0 Signs of the Future
6th June, 1988; Blythedale Children's Hospital, Westchester, New York
A light breeze flickered through the partially open window of the office gently ruffling the paper's on the hospital administrator's desk. He adjusted the image of his wife and newborn child, glanced at the gently flickering screen of the new computer that they had installed in his office to ensure he was able to access the newly computerised records of the infirmary. His hand rested lightly on the crucifix he kept near his right hand, a habit he had developed as a reassurance in time's of stress; before him sat another man in his early thirties, his hair already thinning whisking around in the air, it didn't seem to matter, his pristine white coat lending him authority and credence.
The man shuffled his hand's uncomfortably as he glanced at the notes he held in a manilla folder before him. At some unspoken signal he placed the folder on the large oak desk, resting it in the leather writing space which the administrator used to write personal memoranda. "It's happened again." he began, wringing his hands with concern again, the administrator inclined his head, urging him on wordlessly. "This would be our sixth in the last four weeks, since we started the new gene testing, a strange genetic aberration. It can't just be localised here though sir, can it?" he questioned, hoping it was not his own job which was in danger.
"You have confirmed the results, I presume?" the administrator asked, mostly to calm himself rather than for any real answer. As the doctor nodded, he gave a grim double head bob and considered his words carefully, "Then we must take action. I'll make some calls, get in touch with the other hospitals, we shall begin testing for these anomalies across the county. I don't doubt that there are others who are beginning to show these new... mutations. We can only hope that this is nothing detrimental to health. Please, I have many calls to make." he said, gesturing towards the door.
The doctor stood and nervously stumbled to the door even as the administrator thumbed open the folder and glanced at it, more a formality than a necessity. He paused as his eyes caught the name at the top of the records, he gulped, his hand moving towards the phone receiver with trepidation, fumbling sightlessly for it. Eventually he found the plastic shell and tapped in a phone number, "Hello, Marko... yes, it's Stryker. We have a problem... I just don't know, we need to meet and talk." he said, even as he laid one arm across the name, hoping to hide the word which echoed around his head Xavier, Charles Francis.
24th June, 2013: CNN World News Broadcast
"And still, the world reels from the devastating attack on the UN headquarters in New York. Reports are still coming in and we are seeking verification, but witnesses say that it was an attack by the Eastern European despot known simply as Magnus. Witnesses have suggested that he seemed to fling cars and other objects at the building, though the authorities refuse to confirm this." the picture flickered with static and the barely known, daytime anchorwoman's face was gradually replaced with that of a strange smooth ovoid in a dark purple metallic colour.
The ovoid quickly became a helmet, two dark eyes peering out from the eye sockets, the mouth concealed but clearly moving. "Please, allow me to confirm for you. My name is most definitely Magnus, and I am broadcasting on all of your news frequencies. I have attacked the United Nations building as a show of my true power. For year now, your governments have attempted to silence me as I spoke out against their persecution of my people. They have locked them in camps and hospitals across the world. I say no more. Their secrecy shall no longer protect their shame and illegal actions. We will not be silenced anymore, Genosha shall be a free haven. UN forces will withdraw from the border and the truth shall prevail, or I shall continue my attacks." With that, the image faded, leaving the news anchor looking stunned. She tried to gather her words, but like much of the world, sat in stunned silence for a few more seconds before an advert break was suddenly taken.
A short excerpt from the timeline of the game:
June 1988: In Blythdale Children’s Hospital genetic anomalies are becoming more frequent. Westchester Health Authority roll out testing to all new births.
August 1988: Genetic testing is rolled out across NY-state.
September 1988: [SECRET]
1994: [SECRET]
November 1988: [SECRET]
1998: [SECRET]
1999: [SECRET]
2002: [SECRET]
2004: [SECRET]
November 2004: A man named Magnus unifies several Eastern European nations, he names this new nation Genosha.
2008: [SECRET]
20013: [SECRET]
2014: Magnus makes an ultimatum- the US government must support Genosha or there will be instability in Eastern Europe. The response is not favourable.
June 2015: [SECRET]
May 2017: Tensions rise and UN peacekeepers are moved to the border of Genosha, tensions flare.
June 2018: Magnus makes a personal attack on the UN building in New York. He displays amazing abilities. All are awed and terrified. Many UN nations begin enacting legislation to protect them from such superhumans.
July 2018: Watch for the Future-
August 2018: The Trial of Jumbo Teflon-
September 2018: Seeds of Tomorrow-
October 2018: Annual #1: Star-Spangled Banner:
November 2018: Roll up, roll up!-
February 2019: New Friends, New Places-
June 1988: In Blythdale Children’s Hospital genetic anomalies are becoming more frequent. Westchester Health Authority roll out testing to all new births.
August 1988: Genetic testing is rolled out across NY-state.
September 1988: [SECRET]
1994: [SECRET]
November 1988: [SECRET]
1998: [SECRET]
1999: [SECRET]
2002: [SECRET]
2004: [SECRET]
November 2004: A man named Magnus unifies several Eastern European nations, he names this new nation Genosha.
2008: [SECRET]
20013: [SECRET]
2014: Magnus makes an ultimatum- the US government must support Genosha or there will be instability in Eastern Europe. The response is not favourable.
June 2015: [SECRET]
May 2017: Tensions rise and UN peacekeepers are moved to the border of Genosha, tensions flare.
June 2018: Magnus makes a personal attack on the UN building in New York. He displays amazing abilities. All are awed and terrified. Many UN nations begin enacting legislation to protect them from such superhumans.
July 2018: Watch for the Future-
August 2018: The Trial of Jumbo Teflon-
September 2018: Seeds of Tomorrow-
October 2018: Annual #1: Star-Spangled Banner:
November 2018: Roll up, roll up!-
February 2019: New Friends, New Places-
26th July, 2018: Westchester County, New York
The stack of books provided little shelter from the strong sunshine and even the light breeze brought little respite for the heavy heat which was beating down on the gardens of Graymalkin House and the young man who was seated within their circumference. He had a laptop on the table and was tapping in a thesis, the latest that he was writing, but he couldn't help but be drawn back to this morning's papers. He ran a tightly muscled hand through his shaven blond hair feeling the soft stubble beneath his fingertips. He stood up and paced away from the psychology textbooks, his second doctorate would have to wait, he took a sip from the iced tea which had been set on the table in the only free spot.
His step halted. The glass dropped from his hand and shattered on the grass, something didn't feel right, he couldn't work out exactly what, but there was something coming. He grabbed the paper from the table and looked at the sub-story hidden within the headline, something about Magnus worried him, where any of these rumours true? Could he be like himself? That question formed even as he caught sight of the black cars making their way down his driveway.
The vehicles pulled up just short of the house and men and women in dark suits climbed out, they immediately saw him and crossed towards him. The head of their group, a middle-aged man, with steel-grey hair and piercing blue eyes, grabbed a card from his suit and began to speak at a distance which required him to raise his voice a little as these types often did. "Charles Xavier? I'm here from the United Nations Intelligence and Espionage Division. I need you to come with me." he said as his team spread out around Charles Xavier.
Xavier ran a hand through his stubble again, and left two fingers lingering against his temple. "I'm sorry. But Charles Xavier isn't here. He seems to have moved on, he doesn't live here any longer, this is just an abandoned house." he spoke, his voice calm and quiet. The man nodded, "All right men, we've searched here, move out, Charles Xavier clearly moved on from here, the house is abandoned." he called, his men nodding and turning to return to their vehicle. Even as they did so, Xavier was moving to his own home to pack and leave, he had to go somewhere, he had to do something about what he had learned from their minds. He knew exactly where he needed to go, and he only had a few days to make it there. It would be difficult, but he had to make it there, lives depended upon it.
November, 2002: Eastern Europe
Magnus looked at the scattered nails before him, over the last two years the young boy had moved single nails, and even larger objects, his ability seemed to be growing and now he was certain that he could lift the collection of small objects and control them in the shaky way which he was capable of. He held out both hands and concentrated, sweat began to bead on his forehead, his fingers and palm shook as he reached out with the capabilities which he had slowly manifested. The nails and cutlery began to shudder and shake and even a few lifted into the air. Magnus set his teeth and forced his mind, but still the entire group refused to move, refused to follow the commands which he sent mentally.
A roar of engines filled the air as Magnus turned red. His body shuddered and collapsed as the effort was simply too much, the nails scattered all over the table and the floor. The crunch of boots roused him and he looked up to see four men in military clothing approaching him, each held a sleek black pistol though they were currently lowered seeing the boy on the floor. He struggled to his knees as the strange men raised their weapons. They shouted something, but Magnus was too tired to hear it, the guns raised and he held out his hands, attempting to deflect the bullets. He didn't hear them, but knew that the weapons had discharged, eight pins drove into his supple, young flesh, a moment of pain followed, and he was suddenly unconscious, unable to bring even the most basic of thoughts to bear.
February, 2004: Eastern Europe
The ground shook, and the concrete facility seemed to crack. Great iron girders ripped from the solid concrete of its sixties construction. Sirens and alarms sounded in the air and figures began to run all around the building. Weapons flew and adhered to the broken concrete, the sirens sputtered even as the lights flickered off. Suddenly the roof exploded outwards and a figure emerged, shrouded in a shimmering field of energy. They couldn't have been more than fourteen, but the way they hovered with such confidence gave them an air far beyond their nascent years. A few bullets zinged past him but most simply hovered near to him, inactive.
He cast out a hand, the girders swung like spaghetti, spearing and ensnaring those who were still in the vicinity of the building, within moments there were none left who were not suffocating through crushed ribs or bleeding out all over the ground. The teenage figure glided away, moving without sound and away from the building, sounds ebbing away to a pitiful few sobs of the dying.
May, 2015: London
A sudden conflagration consumed the building. It was as if it were suddenly dipped in petrol and a match had been waved near to it. There was nobody to stagger from it, nobody to emerge from the nearby buildings to observe it, save for a few drunken bums and two figures who had been walking down the road only moments before. They sprinted towards it, past each and every one of the deserted buildings on the street. As they arrived at the flaming building a boy emerged, his blond hair shuffling in the heat-breeze.
"Whoah! That is bloody a-MAZE-ing!" he shouted, his voice just audible over the roaring sound of flames. The other two figures approached, "Hey, do you need help?" the shorter asked the blond boy, who immediately looked up at them. "What? Me? Nah. I can deal with this." he added, waving a hand at the building, which immediately extinguished. "So, who the hell are you then? Hellboy and his Irish boyfriend?" he asked, flicking a lighter in one hand.
"I think, we might be like you. If I'm honest. My name's Sean, though I've started to go by the name of Banshee, on account of my scream. And this here is Kurt." Sean said, indicating his dark hooded, blue-skinned companion.
"No way! Really? And here was me thinking I was on my own with this abilities. Name's St. John, though most people call me John, my parent's were a bit old fashioned. Though, what with Banshee and Bezaliel here, I'm starting to feel like a real Dante... after all, I'm always causing an inferno." he added, drawing on a range of strange, esoteric knowledge as he spoke with confidence. "Not sure either of you are from round here, are you?" he asked.
Kurt shook his head, "Nein, but we are passing through. We are heading to my mutter's homeland, the Old Country. We're here to sail down to the coast, so that we can sail to France. From there we need to migrate across the continent." he added, though he still spoke in a whisper. "Interesting, just the three of us, free and causing a riot across Europe. They won't know what's hit them!" Dante butted in, indicating the direction of the river and taking off without a second thought or entertaining the thought they might say no.
February, 2015: Connacht
Kurt had spent days escaping the city, running through shadows and stealing food to sate his hunger. Now he was in the countryside, desperately crossing it in daylight in the hopes of finding a lorry or other way to cross the country and board a boat to England. He was weakening and could not risk many more disapparations he had to save his strength for a vehicle. He stopped, his head perked up, he must have been weaker than he thought, a loud, piercing scream filled his ears for a second, then it was gone.
Carefully, he crept to the nearby hedgerow, peering over it. He saw a boy, tall and thin, but perhaps only just in his teens. Before him was a tree, split as though struck by lightning, though there were no burns or blackening upon its bark. As Kurt watched, the boy opened his mouth and a second scream issued forth. This time, Kurt knew that he wasn't hallucinating, the tree splintered, ripping from the ground as it was buffeted by the waves. Kurt couldn't help but give in to his curiosity, he clambered over the hedge and loped towards the boy who issued another scream, ripping the other side of the tree up and sending it spinning into the air.
He stopped a few metres from him, "Hallo, Ich bin... I mean, My name is Kurt Wagner. I think we may be kin, of a sort." he said in a halting way, his English was practised and perfect, he knew that, and yet his German seemed to predominate. The boy looked in his direction, terror on his face, a scream issued from his mouth. Kurt staggered backwards, his ears ringing. The boy followed suit, though he clearly wasn't suffering the effects of a hypersonic barrage. He closed his mouth and stared at Kurt, unable to speak.
Minutes passed, the boy stuttered something, but the ringing in Kurt's ears stopped him from hearing. A few more moments passed and the boy spoke again, "Well... I'll be... you must be some sort of feckin' demon. Or maybe... well i suppose you could be right, I am a banshee it would seem." he said, moving to help Kurt stand again. "I'm Sean Cassidy, I'm a dancer. Or at least I used to be, till this happened. I ran away when this happened. I'm guessing that happened to you too?" he asked, his words tumbling out at break-neck pace.
"Nein. I was in a circus, my mutter told me to leave. To travel to the Old Country. She seemed to think that there would be something waiting for me. Food was apparently not one of those things though it would seem." Kurt replied. "I'm trying to get to England from here. I don't suppose you know the way? Or have anything to eat?" he asked, looking hopefully at Sean.
"Not really. But I do have cash, and I'm sure we could find our way. If ye don't mine me taking along on your quest?" he added, half-expecting the boy to say no. Instead he simply nodded and turned to head in the same direction he had been travelling before, Sean strolling beside him, a smile plastered on his face.
August, 2014: Mid-West of America, Mojo's Circus, after-hours
The hooded old figure reached out one wrinkled hand and grabbed the boy's three-fingered hand. Her olive-skinned hand crushed the dark blue flesh. "Mein liebschen, you must go. You must leave here whilst you have a chance. The cover of night will conceal your flight and the commotion of tonight will allow you to slip away. Return to the old country, seek solitude there." she croaked, her old country accent shining through.
The boy extricated his hand, his yellow pupils shining in the dim candle-light, "But, mutter, what about Herr Mojo? Will he not find me, follow me? and what of you? The retribution may be severe, he has been so good to us, he has provided for us and protected us." he gestured with one three-fingered hand at the trailer which surrounded them. She shook her head vigorously, "Nein, do not listen to such things Kurt-chen. He had kept you here, made you fear the world and what may happen. You must live your life, I have lived mine and chosen to stay here. Your gifts will allow you to flee. Head to the nearest port and steal away on the nearest boat to Europe. I have seen the strands of fate, there is one who will protect you there."
The aged-crone laid out several cards, her hands running across them fully and gently. The boy nodded, his uneasiness showing through. He bent to the woman's head and kissed her forehead before standing to his full height. He took nothing, save the things that he wore and a trinket she had given to him, he quickly pocketed it before opening the trailer door and slinking into the darkness outside. His body shifted, blending into the darkness even as he dropped to all fours and began to lope for the perimeter of the circus. He heard the sound of footsteps heading for his path, his body vanished with a sound akin to a magician's smoke bomb, leaving sulphur-smoke. A few seconds later the boy re-appeared at the temporary fencing in a similar cloud.
He scuttled up it, like a four-limbed spider, reaching the top and leaping from it. The darkness consumed him, his flight was complete.
Mojo's Circus, the next morning
Despite his brightly coloured ring-master's costume, the large man looked terrifying. His body was large, his hair long and blond, tied back tightly under his top-hat. "You did WHAT Irene?" he bawled, his large hands gesturing wildly. "The boy will not be safe! He is a freak as far as the world is concerned! You have seen, I suppose, the looks that they give to me and I look almost normal!" he said, one hand slamming into his bulk with a thud. His solid-yellow eyes practically jiggled out of his eye-sockets as he looked at the woman incredulously.
The crone merely gestured feebly, "The portents were clear. He needed to leave, he would not have stayed longer Herr Mojo and this way we shall see him again soon. Your time is coming, he will be the facilitator of the endeavour, I have seen it." she said, casting a hand over the tarot that she had laid the previous night. She gazed up at him with unseeing eyes, milky white and blank.
The ring-master placed one hand to his temple, "I suppose I could catch him. Irene, you know that I understand behaviour better than anyone. Already I know exactly where he will be, you know my talents. I trust you however, your visions have never failed me before, they have kept us ahead of those who would seek us. Soon many of my children will rise though, already I anticipate the changes that will come. Our people will come to the forefront and we must be ready or they will exterminate us." he spoke, more to himself than to her.
She looked at him and shook his head, "You would do well to remember that we are not of the same people. You less so than I. Our 'people' are from many places, and you, some would call, an interloper, a pretender to the throne. Others will call you a god. Beware of the power and fame that will grant you." she added, indicating a card for him to look at. He glanced for a second, nodded and turned to leave her trailer. Time would only tell.
May, 2013: Russian Maximum Security Facility, Siberia
Arkady Rossovich hefted the weights once more, it wasn't so much a way of training himself as a way to eliminate the boredom of sitting in this plastic cell in which he was sat. The tendrils that snaked from the backs of his hands grabbed to more of the weights and began to fling them at the walls of his cell, he knew that it was impossible for them to break it, even the triple-sealed ventilation was tougher than steel, but he needed to do something to pass the time. Once he had been a top military operative, that had soon ended though when the full extent of his abilities had been realised. They were afraid of him, terrified of what he could do and what he had done.
The chamber shook, his bed suddenly warped, the iron frame reshaping into a large flat blade. The blade suddenly expanded and ripped the top from the entire cell. The ground continued to shake as the prison around him shuddered and cracked. The room lifted under the metallic disc, revealing two figures floating above him, one, a man in his twenties wearing a purple-coloured 'Spartan' helmet, the other a boy, perhaps 15, who clearly spent much of his time in the gym.
The man in the helmet spoke down, "Arkady Rossovich? Or should I say, Omega? My name is Magnus, I am here to rescue you. We are kin." he said in perfect Russian. Arkady looked up at him and smiled, his tendrils pulling him out of the cell and onto the roof, "My name will be Red comrade. We will talk terms, but be aware, I am death incarnate." he sneered. Magnus simply nodded in proud assent.
March, 2013: Greek Department for Defence Archives
Magnus waved his hand over the computer's tower and smirked, when you commanded the very forces of magnetism a computer was a mere plaything for your mind. Magnus needed only a few seconds to bypass the security and begin the search programme, he was certain that Greece was operating a programme similar to his own nation's, and he would not allow it to continue. Once he had enough support, he could return and free those within his own home, until then he could still free others like him.
The search algorithm finished, he would only have a few moments to glance at the details before the alarms finally triggered, he couldn't hold them off any longer. His Greek was shaky, not perfect, but his time in captivity had allowed him to work on his European languages and it would be enough to find others who had been imprisoned like he had. He scanned the words, his eyes lingered on one name: Petros, Dominic, the notes were very intriguing. He could be very useful. Magnus stood as the alarum began to ring, he cast one hand at the window of the room and the glass fell out as the metal framing reshaped into a solid plate for him.
2 days later: Asclepius High Security Medical Facility
Magnus surveyed the facility from a lofty position, he knew that the sedatives had now been turned off for an hour, Petros would soon be awake. Then they would see how willing he was to be held in their 'hospital', to be confined simply because he was different. The windows of the upper floor began to rattle and Magnus smiled, it was beginning. The shaking intensified, the concrete and brick construction began to shudder, cracks forming all across it as windows began to shatter in the eastern wing. The concrete began to crumble on the lower floor and suddenly blasted outward. A figure strode from it, no older than fourteen or fifteen, his hair was dark and waving in the vibrations he was generating.
Magnus floated down to his muscled form and offered a hand, speaking in somewhat halting Greek, "Dominic Petros? My name is Magnus, I am the man who rescued you, I am the one who has freed you from the bigots in your national government. I hope that you can assist me in my actions to free others like us?" he asked, "Avalanche?" he added.
The boy smiled and flexed his muscled body, "Oh yes, Magnus. I've been waiting to try out the Pankration on someone without the silly rules they apply. Let us show them." he replied, gesturing at a statuesque Spartan helmet which was the hospital's emblem. "Perhaps you need a sign of our strength," he said as it shook free from its stand and rolled to Magnus' feet. The older man bent down and picked it up, slipping it over his head even as he reshaped it to fit perfectly. He nodded at his new ally, yes, this was the beginning of something.