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xavier_institute_logs2015-08-27 08:57 pm
astonishing_xmods) wrote in xavier_institute_logs2015-08-27 08:57 pm
Entry tags:
A Sinister Legacy—[Part 5] Take Notes
WHO: The sick and the recovery team
WHAT: Research theft and retrieval of the ill
WHERE: Sinister’s old mansion, outskirts of London
WHEN: Late afternoon
WARNING(S): Violence and sickness
The estate was built away from the city proper and not quite on the river, but a bit back from the water, discretely screened by well-tended trees and away from the prying eyes of tourists. The canal that led to it was maintained enough to look picturesque, but not entirely functional; it’s barely wide enough for the boat to fit—one way only—and shallow enough that the bottom occasionally scraped up alarmingly against the boat’s hull.
Some stubborn bursts of the propeller got them through, though the way back out might be more challenging.
Behind a bend they found one of the service tunnels, disused for some time but at least not collapsed. Once it was used for coal and other cargo delivered by water—including the kind that came in living mutant varieties. Nowadays it was kept securely chained and padlocked to keep out tourists and teenagers.
A snikt put an end to that.
The trip through the tunnel was uneventful, short, but dark; it was flashlights only here, all the way up the stairs that led to the mansion’s interior, the door to which Logan also handily opened. The mansion itself had…seen better days. Much better days. It’s terribly dusty, with a large amount of furniture removed and covers thrown over the rest, blank spaces on the walls where paintings were removed for storage elsewhere, along with a number of books. Some remained, as covered in dust as the rest of the furnishings.
Logan pulled off the sheet covering one of the remaining couches, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. He swatted at it with the same irritation as a man chasing away a swarm of flies, which at least made Kurt laugh. His condition had worsened significantly after the escape, and he was grateful for the chance to sit again.
It was Logan who spoke.
"Find the lab or find a place to rest; we don’t have time for sightseeing."
((OOC: The mod account will comment every so often if important details are discovered; otherwise feel free to assume the layout of the mansion on your own.))
WHAT: Research theft and retrieval of the ill
WHERE: Sinister’s old mansion, outskirts of London
WHEN: Late afternoon
WARNING(S): Violence and sickness
The estate was built away from the city proper and not quite on the river, but a bit back from the water, discretely screened by well-tended trees and away from the prying eyes of tourists. The canal that led to it was maintained enough to look picturesque, but not entirely functional; it’s barely wide enough for the boat to fit—one way only—and shallow enough that the bottom occasionally scraped up alarmingly against the boat’s hull.
Some stubborn bursts of the propeller got them through, though the way back out might be more challenging.
Behind a bend they found one of the service tunnels, disused for some time but at least not collapsed. Once it was used for coal and other cargo delivered by water—including the kind that came in living mutant varieties. Nowadays it was kept securely chained and padlocked to keep out tourists and teenagers.
A snikt put an end to that.
The trip through the tunnel was uneventful, short, but dark; it was flashlights only here, all the way up the stairs that led to the mansion’s interior, the door to which Logan also handily opened. The mansion itself had…seen better days. Much better days. It’s terribly dusty, with a large amount of furniture removed and covers thrown over the rest, blank spaces on the walls where paintings were removed for storage elsewhere, along with a number of books. Some remained, as covered in dust as the rest of the furnishings.
Logan pulled off the sheet covering one of the remaining couches, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. He swatted at it with the same irritation as a man chasing away a swarm of flies, which at least made Kurt laugh. His condition had worsened significantly after the escape, and he was grateful for the chance to sit again.
It was Logan who spoke.
"Find the lab or find a place to rest; we don’t have time for sightseeing."
((OOC: The mod account will comment every so often if important details are discovered; otherwise feel free to assume the layout of the mansion on your own.))
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Ramrod's staff bounces off of Patchouli's barrier without effect, but the man's noticed something.
Namely, that the distinctive sound of Nightcrawler's power has stopped. He pulls back, looking around.]
We...killed an X-man? Shite, we—we did it, we did it, ha—!
[In his moment of gloating, he's forgotten to maintain the door...]
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That didn't stop her from being a combative little shit as usual, though.]
Something funny, asshole?
[Kaede didn't know what had happened yet. But there were enough thought-colors in this room to make her dizzy and irritable.]
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Although there is a moment of confusion, glancing about the room, What was going on? The growl stopped for a split second but then doubled at seeing Kurt. Something was wrong..even if she didn't know what.
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Stay there for now, please.
[It's the man who's crowing about killing an X-man that she directs her powers towards. She has no emotional connection with him suitable for subtle manipulation, so she goes with a powerful rush of emotions straight to his brain (guilt, regret, grief, self-hatred), like a thief giving up on lockpicks and deciding to just take a crowbar to the door.]
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Alex crumples to the floor silently, hands clutching at his temples. The pain from using his power so intense he can barely see what's going on in front of him.]
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[Carlyn's adrenaline starts to run out fast, as she's relatively easily grabbed... Hopefully someone will show up, quickly, and help her escape this.]
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Hey, no dogs allowed in h-
[He hesitated, recoiling at the blast of emotions that were all out of sorts with how giddy he should be-
-and in that moment, Patchouli's blasts hit him full in the face, knocking him out stone cold.]
Boss!
[That left George--who had latched onto Carlyn. He secured his hold on her arm and torso, jerking his hostage backwards.]
Nobody moves, hear me?
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...That is until Carlyn is grabbed. That growl gets louder and her search was getting more desperate. That had to be SOMETHING she could do without getting anyone hurt. Or maybe even a small spot she could slip into without being noticed to get closer...Anything.]
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...but Krista was standing in the way again, giving her an idea instead of further aggravation. One of her telekinetic vectors plucked a cast iron crucible from the shelf behind her while she was careful to keep her physical body still, and to hide the object behind the others.
This next bit could be...tricky, though.
Krista's mind was closest, and easiest for her to reach. Hold still, wait, move your left arm?, she...well, tried to convey, in a thought. Next she tried to reach out to Carlyn with a thought of stillness, though she didn't entirely know what her mind looked like. The horned mutant hoped it was her.
She didn't know what flinging something at bone-cracking velocities at that animate tar puddle would do. But she did know what it'd do to a squishy person.]
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It's not clear, but the opportunity's there, possibly...]