Country: United States
October 19, 2020
10/12/2021 01:59 PM
Emma's Hallmark Hell
"Come on, Emma."
Emma looked up from her phone to regard Christian with a frosty glare. Her brother leaned forward, pressing his hands on the shiny surface of her desk. Offering his sister a charming smile, Christian waggled his eyebrows. Dirty pool. Her brother was one play away from resorting to puppy dog eyes. Setting the phone down, Emma rubbed her temples. But no amount of massaging would spirit her brother away, nor banish the devious plan he clearly had already set into motion. Christian's grin widened, he knew that he had won.
"Where exactly is this place, Christian?"
Emma Frost was again on her phone. This time searching every digital map known to mankind for some--in the words of her brother--charming little town upstate. And despite the effort of well manicured fingers, she came up with absolutely nothing. As far as the internet was concerned, this place did not exist. Glancing over at her brother, who--against her better judgement--was currently driving the Queen's white Lamborghini, Emma found herself faintly grimacing (the scowl lines, darling!). Christian seemed absolutely over the moon. Pursing her lips, Emma resolved to let him have his fun. So she turned her focus on the landscape in silent, suspicious reflection.
"Don't worry, Em. I've got it all up here." Christian tapped the side of his head. This was something of a challenge to his sister, whom he knew would not invade his thoughts, but was also tormented with not knowing their destination.
White. So much white. The whole world was white. White. White. White. Fresh snow covered EVERYTHING; cars were buried, street lights draped, sidewalks concealed. The only thing not white were the brightly colored light displays that shone with a brilliance reserved only for this joy-invoking time of year. Santa and his reindeer looked back at Emma at every turn…mocking her with their unnatural cheer. Every window display offered a tantalizing glimpse into a magical realm of possibility. Christmas even managed to infiltrative her car. Christian belted out carols in sync with the radio. Emma sank deep into her jacket.
"Oh, come on! Emma, look at you." Christian looked over at his sister.
"Oh come on what?" Emma grumbled in return.
"You need a break! You're overworked, tired. Time to let go a little." Christian was far too happy, it put the White Queen on edge.
"I'm here, aren't I?" Emma muttered before taking a long drink from her overly-sweet holiday themed coffee. She could jump out of the car, she would survive without ramification in her diamond form. The thought was rather appealing. But, despite the daydream, Emma remained seated…a holiday hostage…as her brother drove God only knew where.
The city gradually gave way to new landscape. Smaller towns, then rural, before ultimately becoming wilderness. It was beginning to snow again; lightly, but that was still too much for the White Queen's comfort in the middle of nowhere in her beautiful car. Emma's unease was growing and the rapidly approaching night did not help. Glancing once more at her phone, finger hovered over the screen, Christian's screams interrupted any further thought or action...
A deer in the headlights' beam…
When Emma Frost regained consciousness, she immediately became aware of flashing blue and red lights. Someone hovered just outside of her window. EMS. He was talking, but had all the clarity of an adult in a Charlie Brown cartoons. Focus, Emma. The door was opened, the first responder began checking her over. Emma's gaze shifted towards her brother, but he was gone. Was he OK? Sudden panic brought everything into focus.
"I'm fine!" Emma snapped, brushing away the EMS's efforts to flash a light in her eyes. The errant light flashed against the diamond flesh of her upper torso, causing the responder to wince from the reflection. Emma, it seemed, had managed to partially react to the car accident. Just not fast enough. At her silent command, organic diamond reverted back to flesh. Aside from the throbbing headache, she appeared otherwise fine.
"What was that?" He rubbed his eyes a moment, but otherwise seemed utterly clueless. Emma raised an eyebrow. It seemed odd that a human's reaction would not be 'Oh my god, you're mutant!' Easy on the eyes though he was, his apparent naivety was highly suspect. The White Queen pushed past him to get out of her beautiful, wrecked car.
"You didn't see anything, dreamboat. Now take me to my brother!" It was a command, not a statement.
"Ma'am, I just saw..." He stammered, flustered by her efforts to push past him. If she hadn't be so annoyed at the moment, Emma might have found the whole doe-eyed country boy routine adorable. And then it struck her. Her Jedi mind trick did not work on him.
"I said, 'you didn't see anything!'" She narrowed her eyes on him, daring him to challenge her assertion.
"Uh-oh! I think I know what's wrong." Doc McCutie began to smile. Emma, too busy trying to understand why her telepathy was not working, missed the sudden shift in his personality. "Wait right there."
He ran back towards his ambulance. Taking the moment to try again, she directed her attention towards a police officer. He was a middle aged man, slightly portly, with a generally jolly disposition. The man was writing down a report while chatting with a friendly familiarity to the other EMS responder. Focusing her thoughts, Emma commanded him to hop on one foot telepathically. Nothing. The two men continued their chitchat. All the while, her new buddy had returned with a thermos in hand. Oh for crying out loud!
"I think you need a healthy dose of Christmas cheer." And with that, he poured her a lid-cup full of hot chocolate, no doubt an outstanding quality drink brought to us by Swiss Miss. Offering her the vessel, the slightly scruffy but otherwise boy scout, upstanding citizen of--oh God, was this the cute little town her brother had insisted she simply must see?-- Hollyville.
Someone kill her now.
10/12/2021 01:56 PM
The Trap Is Set
The White Queen was ripped from her daydream at the sound of her name. She didn't mean to wander off, per say. The exterior wall of her office was all window with the most gorgeous view of the city. The sky was so blue and it was quite a beautiful day. The more she gazed outward, the further her mind drifted. Perhaps she should gather the Cuckoos and take her daughters shopping. There was an adorable sundress by Neiman Marcus she was just itching to take off the hanger. Oh! Maybe she could have lunch on the pier, wear a wide brim sun hat. What a lovely idea! And that was how her mind wandered off.
"What were you saying, darling?"
Scott Summers clenched his jaw with a disapproving grimace. The fearless leader of the X-Men had come to seek her help. Things were a bit…chilly…between herself and the X-People. While she was more than happy to lend her services, she really wasn't all that thrilled about brandishing an X-logo across her chest these days. Still, they were all about helping mutant kind. So long as their goals were the same, Emma would gladly volunteer as an ally, even wear the dinky X. But no spandex.
"I need your help." Summers bristled.
"Aw, was it really that hard to say?" Emma quirked an eyebrow, a smug smile gracing her flawless features.
It was. It really was.
Scott Summers was clenching his jaw again.
Emma sat forward in her chair, the new posture setting her ample bosom on the surface of her desk and presenting a delectable view. Fully committed in toying with the man, now, she laced her fingers together and propped her head atop the woven bridge, ostensibly framing the view of her chest. But the boy scout wasn't having any of it--or as far as she could tell. His eyes were concealed, after all. But there was no fluster, uncomfortable shift in his posture. Damn.
Instead, he kept talking.
"There have been a string of high profile burglaries, all involving enhanced individuals. Seeing as how we don't want this sort of national attention, these people need to be found." He let out a low breath, dropping into one of the two chairs situated on the side of the desk. "The problem is they don't seem to exhibit the same powers each time they strike! One heist they'll use telekinesis, the next time they might shapeshift! Barring a whole gang of power mimics, something is very funny about this entire thing."
Dropping the smirk, Emma looked quite puzzled. "And you need me for…?"
Sunlight ran along the frame of his visor when he tilted his head and dare she say he almost looked down right sinister for a moment? It was quite comical in an ominous foreshadowing sort of way.
The White Queen leaned back in her chair, tenting her fingers as she waited for Cyclops to continue.
"You need to throw a party, something that will get a lot of attention, draw in certain crowd. Make yourself an irresistible target. I'll have some more…discrete…people among the crowd. We need to catch these people in the act. With your telepathy…"
"I can sense them, their thoughts." It didn't take a psychic to know that's where he was heading.
Considering his proposal, Emma pursed her lips in silent reflection. Throw a little soiree, X-Men among the flock, catch the thieves. It did seem rather straight forward. But Emma was a known associate of the X-Men and a publicly known mutant. No thief with an ounce of sense would dare pick her pockets, especially in her own home. No, they needed a decoy.
"Darling," Emma gave a vulpine smile. "I know just the stooge."
A couple years ago, Emma was on vacation. She liked to play with the blue bloods, twist them around her little finger; let them buy her stuff, shower her with attention, late night dalliances. No, she didn't use her telepathy on them (usually). All girlish charm, darlings. It was a game for her. And it was on such a vacation she met a charming fellow named Bruce. Enigmatic, handsome, and very rich, Bruce was a delightful companion to fill her evenings. And no doubt he would prove to be just as useful now.
Giving Bruce a call, now there was an awkward conversation. 'I remember you.' 'You're a telepath, huh?' 'No, I swear I never used telepathy on you.' You get the general idea. He was, understandably, leery of her proposal. How could he not? They shared a couple of delightful days together and parted ways, only to find out she was a telepath? No doubt he felt downright violated. But aside from turning his mind from her existential crisis of conscience regarding the murder of her sister, Emma never delved into his mind. But had she done so, well, the well practiced veneer of rich playboy might have gotten considerably more interesting the deeper she delved. Such things as his very unique nocturnal habits and fixation with bats and robins.
10/12/2021 01:54 PM
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful queen…"
"No, Miss Frost! She's a pirate!" Piped up the child. Chubby little fingers gripping her blanket, as Vika gazed up at Emma Frost with large, luminous purple eyes.
Emma regarded the small child with a half smile.
"Very well. We'll split the difference. Once upon a time, there was beautiful pirate queen…" Emma gave pause, waiting for the approval from what would seem her biggest critic at the moment. The little girl nodded in approval. "She was the fiercest of scallywags, well versed in the way of the sword and sea." The White Queen gave a swift thrust with in an imaginary sword before coming to sit on the child's bed.
She was the most fiercest of pirates who commanded an impressive fleet ("I supposed that makes her Commodore?") and countless minions across the seas. But she was not the only overlord of the oceans. There were many dangers when one lived the life of a privateer; the ocean herself was a dangerous companion, bellow her depths lurked the most dreadful of creatures…("And mermaids?" "Yes, dear, and mermaids.")…and those who also made a life upon the waters. A pirate queen HAD to know who was friend and who was foe. One such foe was a slimy ratscallion by the name Black Hearted Shaw…n. Black Hearted Shawn, another privateer who was not be trusted and rival to our hero. Lucky for the pirate queen, she had inherited a crystal ball that helped her reveal people's deepest, most secretive thoughts.
Among those she counted on as her friends was…("The mermaid?")…the merman Namo..ok. Namook. As well as a the seafaring Prince Scooter…("Are they in love, Ms. Frost?" "NO! *ahem* No, dear.")..who, while obnoxiously do-good in nature, tended to end up helping the pirate queen on her escapades. And a wizard with a magic carpet. He, too, had a crystal with which he could see people's inner thoughts. ("He also wore a ridiculous hat to hide his baldness." ("Ms. Frost! That's not very nice.")
Standing proudly on the deck of her spotless ship, the Pirate Queen looked out across the sparkling sea at the port of her adopted home, Krakoona. Krakoona was a giant sea monster with a paradise island growing on it's back. And if her crystal ball was at all accurate--as it most often was--the city seemed happy and at peace. It was nice to be home. With the winds to their back, the Marauder slipped effortlessly into port. The city was already bustling in the early morning light. Dockhands scurried to aid the newly arrived ship at the bark of the harbormaster. That land was an amazing mixture of life. Minotaurs, centaurs, pixies, and wizards; there was no shortage of magic on this island.
Descending the gangway, Emma paused for a moment to simply enjoy the mingling of sea air with the scents of land. "I hope your journey was a productive one, Pirate Queen." The familiar sound of a friend's voice rang out from just beyond the dock. It was the Wizard sitting upon his magic carpet. The queen raised an arm in greeting. "As though you have not been keeping an eye on me with your crystal ball!" Meeting each other half way, the friends and ex-enemies exchanged a brief embrace. "Of course it was." The bald Wizard in his silly turban nodded his approval. "And your hat is still ridiculous." The pirate added much to his dismay.
Together, the pair made their way to the nearest travel. It was sparsely populated, but a couple of familiar patrons were there. "If it isn't her highness herself." Chortled a dark elf who fancied himself a pirate ("Though he had neither a ship or the disposition for sea life."), making light of her otherwise dreaded moniker.
08/01/2021 11:01 PM
She's a Killer Queen
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Lace upon gilding, velvet accented with gold. Opulence hardly seemed the appropriate word. Ostentatious was more fitting, perhaps. It was a mockery of a bygone era, bastardized to suit a fetishized idealism. To the tune of softly playing parlor music, a small social was being carried out. Antique furniture was violated by the scantily covered posteriors that rested upon them. Women were everywhere, their most intimate parts barely covered, but still readily available for the wandering hand's amusement. An even mixture of black and white themed corsets exaggerated their feminine forms, accented with sparkling jewels and their hair drawn back in complex mixture of braiding and curls; they were too beautiful to be real, as though crafted by Pygmalion himself. Strewn about with glasses of champagne in hand, they flocked around the much smaller population of men. These gaggles laughed and fawned upon each man, treating him as though he was the most interesting human being in the world. And, in a sense, he was.
The Hellfire Club's roster was composed of the most powerful and influential people on the planet, after all. Politicians and captains of industry. The crème de la crème. The most upper crust of the upper crust. To be a member of the Hellfire Club was a prestige limited to only a few, inherited by others. Unbeknownst to most of these talking money bags, however, there was an organization within the organization. It was called the Inner Circle. Themed after a chess board, the Inner Circle was divided into two courts: White and Black, with ranks ranging from King and Queen to Pawn. Though united in their ambition, the Courts often competed for control of the Inner Circle. It was a little game they played while covertly ruling the world. One such member was about to make her entrance to the social gathering. Unlike the sea of flesh, the White Queen was not some vapid arm adornment. Wearing a white lace mask, she remained--by comparison--overly dressed. Hair so blonde it bordered on white, her bobbed hair was the least of her appeal. Alabaster skin and ocean blue eyes, she was a regal woman by her own right. But it was the clothes that really made the woman. Her signature white corset hugged her frame while her pale shoulders were shrouded in a white, fur-lined cape. Thigh high stiletto boots completed the White Queen's attire. The only thing missing was the coiled whip in hand--this wasn't /that/ kind of party, after all.
On her heels were two White Court attendants. Mirroring their mistress's all white attire, they smoothed out the folds of her cape, making sure she looked pristine, least they suffered her wrath or her lash at a later time. Signaling the door should be opened, Emma Frost was one step away from making her grand entrance to the soiree, when another White Court attendant came shuffling in. With minor annoyance, the White Queen gave the faintest of grimace, barely enough to dimple to corner of her mouth.
"Mistress, there is a phone call." The attendant stammered.
"I will take the call in my office."
With a click of her tongue, Emma turned back the way she had come in a sweeping wave of white. With a deft maneuver mastered over years of practice, she had unfastened her cape and tossed it at the interrupting attendant. Befuddled, the woman clawed wildly at the cape to gather it up against her chest, following behind the White Queen as she advanced down the dimly lit hallways of the Victorian mansion to the White Wing. This was Emma Frost's dominion within the Inner Circle. She was the highest ranking member of the White Court and, to be quite honest, even if there were a sitting White King, she had seniority; this was her Queendom.
As one might expect from something christened the White Wing, it was white. While the style and coloration of the house itself remained consistent, the walls, drapery, the overall décor was white and accented with silver or glass. Pushing open the door to her office, Emma set her eyes on the large desk to the phone. But no sooner had she stepped through the threshold, something blindsided her from the left. The momentum of being hit by what felt like a freight train sent the White Queen tumbling to the ground in a most undignified manner. Reeling from the blow, Emma barely had time to lift her head before the intruder her was on her again. Her fist grabbed Emma by the hair on the crown of her head, invoking a sharp yelp as she grabbed wildly at the woman's wrist. But whatever she raked her nails against, it was not flesh. The surface ripped her nails up, even as she struggled to get any sort of traction against the impenetrable epidermis.
"Was I always this pathetic?"
Struggling to look upwards to get a look at this woman, the White Queen was meet with herself. But not her. Older. And…shinny.
"I suppose this would be the part where I should say something profound, but, regrettably, I've been around the likes of the X-Men for the last decade or so. I'm reduced to the 'Come with me if you want to live' cliché."
Emma Frost, once and future White Queen of the Hellfire Club, did something risky and dangerous. But it was essential for the future. Or at least that is what she told herself. In truth, what she did was the result of a broken heart. Following behind Beast and his stunt bringing the original X-Men to their present, the telepath reverse engineered his little time travel device. (This is an important lesson, children, never underestimate a blonde with a mission!) While she was seldom credited for her engineering prowess, Emma had invented her own Cerebro--a la Cerebra--and a device for swapping psyches. Programing the time machine, Emma added a special new feature: a tether that would return her to the present.
Infiltrating the Hellfire Club was a cake walk. All she needed to do was command the staff to look the other way, telepathy was handy like that! Luring in her younger self took even less effort. Once rendering the doppelganger unconscious, Emma telepathically summoned henchmen into the office. She silently commanded them to stand guard, no interruptions would be tolerated.
All the pawns were in place, the queen was in check. Emma then wheeled the other Emma to her desk, she was going to awaken with some dignity. "How young I was." She mused to herself, delicately moving a lock of hair from her other self's face. It was…unsettling…touching her own body with new finger tips. She was familiar with every curve, every crease, but it all felt so…alien. "How much potential I failed to realize within myself." It was important that this all fell into place just right. On her belt rested the time travel tether. Upon turning it on, she had exactly the time it took for it to boot up to pull the trigger on the body swap gun before her older body was jettisoned back to the future. Retrieving the White Queen's body swap gun, Emma took aim and pulled the trigger. Imagine how she could change the future given the chance to do it all over again. But, this time, with the knowledge of the future.
The use of the body swap gun knocks the user and target out cold for a short period of time. It was a useful side effect, so she had never gotten around to possibly correcting it. Slowly waking up, the White Queen needed a moment to orient herself. It was her body, but not entirely her body. It was younger, naive to the potential it carried--and truth be told, this was technically a different universe. Her muscles weren't as finely tunes as her (not all that much!) older body. She was still in fine shape, but Emma had to remember not to give into the instinct to shift to her diamond form; how dependent she had become! Perhaps she should have flipped some relays in her new head to trigger her secondary mutation sooner than Genosha's massacre. Running her fingers through her hair, Emma smoothed her hair back before she grabbed the top of her corset and adjusted herself. Flashing a glance in the nearest shinny surface, she checked her make-up to make sure it betrayed nothing amiss.
Bursting through the double doors of her office, the White Queen strolled past the stunned guards she had ordered into place. She kept marching, leaving the befuddled maids in her wake, as she marched right into the Hellfire gathering. Foregoing her usual pomp and pageantry many had become accustomed raised eyebrows and garnered a few stray glances. Unmoved by their agitation in her disturbance of their amorous pursuits, Emma strolled right up to one stout, familiar frame. So adorned with women, he looked not all that dissimilar to the scene in Star Wars with that vulgar worm creatures. He certainly had the same leave of appeal.
“Shaw, darling.” Emma crooned softly as she shooed away the eye-candy. She reclined casually against his shoulder, offering him the delectable view of her ample bosom. “I require your presence in the White Hall. It’s an /urgent/ matter.” She curled the corners of her lips into a vulpine smile as she glanced at the ponytailed buffoon from under her lashes with all the charm of her “come hither” allure. The appeal of a quick dalliance with the White Queen was much too much for Shaw. She stood up, confident her bait had been taken--hook, line, and sinker. She sashayed through the room, her shapely form moving with effortless grace of a queen with all the calculation of a jaguar on the hunt.
So eager was he that he nearly trampled some guests and their companions as he followed the vision in white away from the soft tones of music and frivolity to the seclusion of the White Queen’s personal apartment. What Shaw beheld at his arrival was the White Queen in all her splendid glory upon a sea of white bedding. She reclined like a Venus, arms strategically draped above her head on overstuffed pillows, her sensuous form stretched out across the length of the bed. How she got out of the absurdly restrictive corset and thigh high boots in such a short amount of time mattered not, his lecherous gaze was set solely on the conquest of a queen. All but ripping his clothing from his own form, Shaw advanced into the darkened room. Approaching the foot of the bed, his burning desire was very apparent. Gripping her ankle, Shaw pulled Emma downward. His mouth latched onto the alabaster flesh of her ankle, eyes burning with a growing hunger set upon her face. With a sweet smile on her lips, Emma played coy. She slipped her foot from his grip, curling back up at the head of her bed. Shaw began to climb onto the bed, liking this little game. Much to his misfortune, however, the pretend innocence was not the only game the White Queen was playing. As he approached her, the White Queen struck.
The psibolt knocked him off his feet. Shaw fell onto the bed and rolled. Gripping his head, dazed, the Black King struggled to get off the bed and to his feet. But no sooner did he lay foot on the ground, Emma struck again. Another psibolt, sending the revolting pig spiraling to the ground. Disoriented, hurting from the blows he could not absorb, Shaw lashed out for anything to grab hold of--a weapon, a tether, anything to allow him the comfort of knowing he had control of this situation. Slipping casually off the bed, the White Queen came to stand over the struggling worm of a man, her face void of any emotion save one: triumph. To finally dispatch this horrid creature, something she should have done years ago--liberating! Drinking in this moment, savoring ever last second, she finally struck one last time. Shaw's body went limp. Stepping past him, the White Queen began getting dressed. She had a party to attend.
08/01/2021 10:41 PM
Hannibal Ad Portas
This piece was actually inspired by a dream. I wanted to force Emma out of her comfort zone. She is on the run and has to go 'off the grid.' Sleazy hotels, burner phones, and no extravagant bank account...oh my! This is a piece I would like to see continued through a SL.
"With the negative punishment, you are taking away something…"
Emma Frost, once infamous White Queen and current teacher of psychology, gave pause from her lecture. Something was off. Most of the students were asleep with their eyes open, their heads precariously perched in their upraised palms and faces devoid of any semblance of expression (or intelligence?). Some might actually have been drooling a bit, how unsightly. It was none of them. Pursing her lips, the blonde telepath skimmed the surface thoughts of everyone within her reach. But the school was peaceful--or what one might consider passing for peaceful at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
Students were in classes at the moment, it was the final hour for the day. The advent of the evening was at hand with the sun hanging lazily between noon and sunset. The Danger Room was in use, no doubt Logan working off whatever feral itch challenged human respectability at the moment with his usual cohorts, Kurt and Piotr. Hank was in his lab and Scott in his office. The library was--for the moment--intact. No brawls or bravado threatening the structural integrity of the property. It was…peaceful. So what set her ill at ease? Emma grimaced, pressing her senses outward, searching for the thoughts of this unseen threat.
"Pass these around…"
Someone let slip their psychic shielding, the White Queen detected a glimmer of their thoughts.
"Miss Frost…?" One of the students peeped from the back of the room. Emma hast trailed off and remained silent for far longer than she should have. The response that came was not what the child expected: "WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!" The White Queen's telepathic voice rang out, reverberating through every skull with the utmost urgency. But her alert may have come too late. From the classroom window, Emma could just barely make out the front gate of the school. A large, black van approached the gates at a high speed, predictably crashing through the rod iron. Behind it came more vans. It was an invading army. And she couldn't sense any of them!
"Go!" Emma barked to her students, darting a well-manicured finger towards the door of the classroom. "Follow the evacuation procedures! You've trained for this, now go! Go! Go!" Trained for this indeed! No school should have 'invasion procedures!' This was not the first time the school had been attacked. This would not be the last time, either. In all likelihood, this would also not be the first time the school has been destroyed. Nor the last. Alarms began to sound. Students began following the exits to a safe route beyond the school grounds. The X-Men, however, went in another direction: to the front door. No time to get dressed in impressive matching uniforms with spectacular contour and accentuating lines. Damn. And she loved these Jimmy Choos.
Five vans in total crowded the front door of the Xavier's School. As one, the doors opened and the occupants emptied out. They were a laughable bunch, dressed from head to toe in clunky environmentally controlled suits. The U-Men. Nutty fanatics who wanted to graft on mutant anatomy to make themselves superior, whole, or some nonsense. This ought to be an easy beat down.
The events that followed seemed to pass in slow motion.
The X-Men braced themselves for whatever stolen mutant abilities these zealots had to dish out. The familiar coldness of her flesh turning to diamond crept over her, bringing with it blessed silence from the endless hum of other people's thoughts, feelings, and rapports. The first group U-Men began unzipping their suits. Managed, scarred beings that hardly bore resemblance to humanity emerged from the chrysalises, provoking an involuntary gag response from the White Queen. The vivisection process had not been kind to these men. But revulsion had to wait; they passed on the customary monolog and advanced into battle. The first group was barely within striking range when the second wave began shedding their suits. From these people came a brilliant, blinding light. And then the first group began exploding. The second wave had struck down their own in their effort to destroy the X-Men!
Doused in human remains, Emma was rocked by the concussive force of the attack. She was knocked out cold.
So course. With all the comfort of a brillo pad. It chaffed against her skin. Twitching once as awareness of her surroundings slowly began to get pieced together in her mind, Emma's eyes rolled open, not quite able to focus. The offensive fabric, putrid off white walls and yellow florescent lighting, garish décor. Dear God! She was in some motel! Emma Frost jumped into an upright position, a faint shriek of terror escaping her lips. And immediately she regretted it. Her world spun at a starling pace as a skull-splitting pain threatened to return her to unconsciousness. Exactly how Emma managed to brace herself against the presto board nightstand and bring herself to a standing position was unclear. But finding herself on legs about as stable as a newborn calf, she looked around the gouache environment with nausea unrelated to the head injury she somehow incurred in…battle?
Where were the others? How did she get here? Where was here exactly? What happened to the U-Men, the school? Fighting past the discomfort, she reached out with her mind only to be sent reeling from a new wave of pain. Emma fell back onto the worn double bed, which screeching in protest from her dead weight.
"You really oughtn't do that."
The voice was distant, grabbled. She could not recognize it through the acute agony overwhelming her senses.
"Where…?" That was all she managed.
"Motel 6. Not your usual digs, but that was sort of the idea. They won't think to look for us here..."
"Why…?" She grit her teeth against the pain in her head.
"Those zealots didn’t just attack the school, they compromised our identities, accounts, online presence. They laid out a paper trail. The long and short of it is this: We're now on multiple government radars that we've got no business being on. We need to lay low."
The voice grew more distant as Emma succumbed to the pain, plunging into the darkness of unconsciousness.
08/01/2021 08:26 PM
For the Children
"The children, Emma."
Her eyes twitched under shuttered lids. REM sleep phase. Or was it?
"The children, Emma. They're in danger."
She rolled in her sleep, in the throes of a nightmare. Emma's heart rate was racing, her breathing rapid. Tangled in her sheets, the White Queen teetered dangerously close to the edge of her bed. Lashing out, Emma sparred with an invisible adversary. This was not the White Queen's first night of bad dreams. In fact, she was suffering quite the epidemic of them as of late. But tonight was different, her shadowy tormentor was quite a little chatterbox compared to previous nights.
"Emma, YOUR children!"
A raspy voice goaded her, baiting her to respond. The cold-hearted White Queen was not as detached as many believed. And there was no greater weakness to exploit than her students. The Hellions, Genosha, the Cuckoos; her personal history was drenched in loss. Each face haunted her memory, each memory twisted the knife in her heart. Emma carried the pain with her behind a carefully crafted façade. One could call her cold. But that's just what Emma wanted you to believe. This dreadful voice seized upon her greatest fear. Ever the cunning one, the White Queen decided this was more than a dream.
"You overplayed your hand, now show yourself." She roared defiantly into the void.
This was no dream, this was the astral plane. No stars, no moon, darkness as far as the eye could see; the only light was Emma's own shimmering projection. Even when she reached out with her mind, Emma could not sense anything. There was no up, nor down; she was for all intents and purposes hovering in the abyss. Despite her demands, nothing revealed itself. It would seem she was alone. Instead, the disembodied voice continued to taunt her.
"Emma, your children need you. Why won't you help them?"
"What danger? You?" Emma pursed her lips. The veiled threat was not to be taken likely, but she needed more information. Again, the telepath reached out with her senses in a bid to reveal the voice. After many years of seeing how people attempt to hide their thoughts, Emma learned to also understand what someone is hiding in how they try to hide it. It was all very abstract, one learns how to see things from a variety of perspectives. She realized the absence of a presence was, in fact, the entity itself. And it…was…horrifying…
"What are you?" Emma felt the cold chill of dread slithering up her spine. This coming from the White Queen, rest assure that it was something of biblical proportions. No sooner did she reveal the entity's charade did it lay siege upon her. Bands on dark energy reached for her, binding her astral form in its clutches. Struggling, Emma lashed out with a psi-bolt, a tried and true attack. The being was unfazed. A black, gaping maw parted as it drew her in.
"You are mine…"
08/01/2021 08:10 PM
The Future is Mutant
The Future is Mutant
"Now I will have the future I've always wanted!"
Bolts of electricity firing in all manner of directions dominated the landscape, sparking sporadically from the grotesque machine this mad woman had concocted. It seemed like something Tesla would have dreamed up in a very mad scientist sort of way. Strapped to two tables were two--let's say deserving, but even they did not deserve what was happening to them--mutants. The Mastermind sisters. They were plugged into the mechanical monstrosity, their bodies convulsing in pain with each spark. Standing between them was a woman--a human--who called herself…oh, who could remember all these trite little monikers they anointed themselves with these days… For the sake of naming names, hers was actually Michelle. Emma gleaned that from her mind before the device was turned on.
"Always some unloved basement dweller wanting to reshape reality in their image." Emma hissed through grit teeth.
Whatever the machine was, it radiated a force that somehow managed to be both physical and psychic in nature--perhaps the Mastermind sisters?--that floored everyone, save the monologuing villainess. Wolverine, admirable though his efforts were, crawled on his belly towards the adversary. Ever the determined one, that one. Emma, also on her hands and knees, pushed forward in her diamond form. Storm was down, Nightcrawler was probably in another zip code by now--the machine frazzled his teleporting…who was left?
"And now to make my dream at reality."
The woman held something in her hands, raising them to her lips.
Those blasted mutant power inhalers. How did she get not one, but two of them? And just who's powers were she ingesting?
"Stop!" Emma pushed herself forward, mustering every last ounce of strength she had, launching herself towards the other woman. At a glance, Emma noticed the inhalers Michelle pumped into herself as the White Queen slammed into her: Scarlett Witch and Magik. It was too late. Michelle and Emma were enveloped in a blinding light, the symphonic combination of reality warping and portals doing only God knew what to them both! When the light faded and Emma Frost no longer seeing spots, she found herself in a world she did not recognize.
Past the smoking husk formerly known as Michelle, there stood a magnificent city of sparkling glass standing proudly in the midst of a barren desert--more Sonora, less Sahara. Architecture resembled nothing Emma was accustomed to, more reminiscent of something Shi'ar or otherwise alien in nature than terrestrial. Crowned with a gold spier, the tallest tower stood stories above any other, placed directly in the middle of the city. Emma gathered that was the place she needed to go, it certainly felt very 'governing power' to her. She could hear the echoes of the citizenry's thoughts, but a very distinct psychic haze kept her from 'hearing' anything more. The airspace around the city was abuzz, full of cars(?) and…people?...in flight. They swarmed about, following unspoken laws of traffic as they went about their way.
Standing upright, Emma dusted herself off. Sand. How horrid. Casting a glance at Michelle's body, Emma silently cursed the arrogance of this woman. She got what she deserved. Too bad karma took Emma along for the ride. "To Oz? To Oz." With a huff, the White Queen began marching towards the glass city. It was several miles out. If she made, Emma was going to very thirsty and sunburned. And sweaty. Oh, how much worse can this day get?! Damn it all, why did she think that?! It seemed her arrival had not gone unnoticed by those within. Three figures silently emerged from the city gates, all hovering above the sands. Telekinetics. How curious. Just what sort of place was this? She trained her gaze on the figures as they rapidly approached her. Friend or foe? She kept her guard up, preparing from either. But it was the strangers who spoke first. Telepathically!
"We are friends, Lady Frost."
Each came to hover just feet from Emma Frost. All three wore technologically advanced armor of sort, head to heel, she could tell nothing of their appearance. The one who stood ahead of the other two--presumably the leader--took off his helmet, revealing a very humanoid young man. Dare she even say he appeared quite familiar without having met anyone quite like him before. A mess of brown hair and striking blue eyes, he gave the faintest trace of a smile.
"Welcome home, mother."
So sooner had the word processed in Emma's head did the man reply.
"Yes, mother." He gave pause, introspectively shrugging his shoulders. "Technically you are not my mother-mother, but mother that you are technically identical down to the last chromosome as the woman who birthed me."
This was getting annoying. Is this how non-telepaths felt…?
"Yes, all the time." He offered a sheepish smile when Emma gave him a sharp glare.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude, I actually cannot help it." Another sheepish smile. "Forgive me, I have not introduced myself properly. My name is Charles Lehnsherr. Or call me DCog, if you'd rather. Shall we return home? You seem quite exhausted." Charles glanced down at the remains of the mad woman before regarding Emma once more.
Emma raised a skeptical brow, all this new information was a little overwhelming. It was quite a lot to take in, let alone make sense of. But, once more, the instant she began to formulate a question, the answers began spilling out of Charles' mouth:
"In this world, Apocalypse conquered most of the planet, save some human resistance and, of course, the X-Men." He nodded towards Emma. "Except these X-Men were led by father after Charles Xavier was assassinated by his time traveling son."
The two exchanged looks before Emma became abruptly aware that she had been lifted off the ground. Telekinetic. Another look at Charles, whom Emma expected would be quick to explain Emma's own thoughts to her before answering, as he seemed quite prone to do. But the younger mutant showed surprising restraint, rather focused on their destination than Emma's critical gaze. Was he also telekinetic? Or was that one of the armored companions?
"Despite the very fate of humanity hanging in the balance, the you of this world and father managed to have me, naming me in honor of Mr. Xavier." Charles continued speaking as the group crossed the expanse of the desert in a fraction of the time it would have taken to walk. "There were many casualties, many failed missions, but eventually Apocalypse was defeated. Mutant and human kind were free to rebuild the world with a new sense of purpose. It's been almost twenty years. In that time, we have managed to build this city to be a beacon of peace across the globe."
The kid wasn't lying. Entering the gates, Emma was blown away by the beauty. Clearly Charles inherited "her" exquisite tastes. All around her, human and mutants milled about in seemingly harmonious coexistence; though Emma could see that vast majority of the population were, in fact, mutants. They proudly displayed their abilities in every day life. Speedsters delivery services, enhanced strength construction, plant manipulators working as florists, etc. The city was unnaturally clean, as though it had been built just the day before. No signs of homelessness or degradation from the passage of time. But if this was Utopia, why was there a wall?
Her thoughts must have caught Charles' attention as he looked over at Emma. "We may be peaceful, but that doesn't mean everyone is at peace." That wasn't cryptic at all. "What I mean to say, some people--human and mutant--have chosen to not learn from the past. There are zealots who still believe…well, all sorts of crazy things. And that’s why we have walls and soldiers. Peace, even after the brink of extinction, is still not easy to obtain and is never certain." This was her child for sure. Hopeful, but cynical at the very same time. But why did that make-- "Me? I don't want to call myself king, but I suppose by definition, that is what I am." Was this going to be 'a thing' this whole adventure?
"I'm sorry." Charles once again apologized. "I am a telepath, but not quite how you are accustomed." That sheepish grin again, he suddenly appeared very self-conscious. "When you got here, you tried to read people's minds, correct?" Of course he was, it was a rhetorical question at this point. "And you couldn't quite get a read?" Obviously. "That was me, sort of. My telepathic rapport is…how to put this nicely, like a psychic contagion. You caught it upon trying to read minds of people already infected. Some people are immune, some people are carriers, but most people around here are connected to me, whether either of us like it or not. But, on the plus side, I know everyone here is relatively peaceful. There are petty crimes committed every now and then, fights and disagreements, but no 'supervillains' out for world domination sorts."
The Shining City
A psychic contagion, that was a new one. With each person infected, that means-- "Yes, my powers are amplified." Had Emma actually gotten a single word in since meeting this boy? "Not really…oh, sorry." Charles cringed, having overheard the internal musings of the White Queen. "In all fairness, most telepaths only talk telepathically when speaking with other telepaths." That was a flimsy defense. Guarded thoughts still being heard was very off-putting and zero privacy. Charles looked like he was ready to exploded, wanting to comment on Emma's thoughts. Pursing her lips, Emma tilted her head to go ahead. "I really don't want to hear your inner most thoughts. Unfortunately we are in such close proximity, it makes that impossible to avoid."
By this time, their little entourage had reached the tower at the center of the city. Emma was set down on the sidewalk with such ease it was like she had never left the Earth at all. The glimmering tower was all the more impressive up close. Through the shining façade, various images were projecting news feeds from within the city and around the world. Indeed, not all were at peace. It seemed much of the planet was currently engaged in some sort of war. Cities, not all that dissimilar from this one, were encased in glass domes under scorched skies. It was only during a news feed at night did Emma notice the moon, partially fractured. That was, quite possibly, the most startling visual out of the whole ordeal. The White Queen could only stand aghast at the sight. Vaguely aware of Charles coming to stand beside her, Emma could simply stare at the moon.
"Shortly after Apocalypse's fall, a rouge faction of Shi'ar took a cheap shot at us. The moon took the brunt of their canon blast during the final battle, but much of Asia was decimated. Mother and father marshalled every mutant on the planet to retaliate. Our natural born powers combined sent the bird people limping back to their corner of space. Empress Lilandra sent science envoys to help compensate for the damage our atmosphere endured, but some areas are still pretty bad." The young king turned away from the screens, nodding towards the entrance to the tower. "Come, I would like you to meet my advisory board." Emma followed Charles with an ever growing discomfort growing in the pit of her stomach. The world was in pieces and this was still twenty years after Apocalypse? And if there was so much war, how had this place remained so peaceful? The desert setting seems strategic, true enough. But when a single person could grow a field of crops, change the weather or move the earth with only a thought, was geography really that much of an advantage?
"Not really." Again, no sooner did she have a single thought did the boy king hear her. "That's why we have our own people who can do things with just a thought. Mother, you can trust me. I promise." Perhaps. The boy did seem to have nothing but good intentions. As she adjusted to the 'contagion', Emma began to sense Charles' own thoughts with a bit more clarity. Either his defenses were down or he felt emotionally connected to her alternate self enough to let her in.
Inside the tower was no less spectacular. Just as gossamer as the exterior, everything looked like it was made of glass. It was, as she had guessed, the epicenter of government. Offices and courtrooms, presumably Charles' living quarters at the top. The guards, still escorting the pair, guided them to an elevator, a spectacular glass tube that seemed to go on forever.
Reaching roughly midway up the tower, the elevatored opened into a large single room with high, vaulted ceilings and panoramic widows that looked out at the sprawling city. The only furnishings were about a dozen chairs, all but two occupied but pristine individuals in white suits, male and female alike, sitting upright with their eyes shut. They didn't seem to acknowledge the new arrivals, but their thoughts quickly offered reserved greetings.
Your highness. Lady Frost, how nice to see you. We are terribly sorry for your rough journey. Surly we can help you find a way home.
Emma was struck with an overwhelming sense of belonging. Other telepaths, only telepaths! It was a beautiful sight. But what were they doing?
They're managing the city. Charles whispered softly in the back of her mind. Waterworks, sewage, food processing, electricity, so on. We manage it from here, making sure the city thrives.
My lord, we have insurgents approaching the East gate, came the suddenly urgent voice of one of the telepaths. As one, the group opened their eyes. Standing in unison, they turned towards the east-facing portion of the window. Charles, and so too did Emma, also turned. Without spoken command--telepathically controlled technology, oh goody goody goody! Emma was liking this place despite so many doubts!--the window doubled as an interface, zooming in on the offending band of attackers.
We cannot engage, another spoke.
Great. What flag are they waving?
The broken skull flag, sir,
Came an unidentified replied Charles looked to Emma. Mother, would you like to see first hand what we're trying to keep out with our walls? Charles seemed hurt that she was carrying some distrust of him and his kingdom. I would indeed. Emma replied, watching the horde of figures amassing at the city gate. Charles nodded, holding out his hands as the helmet he had removed back in the desert floated into his grasp. Pulling it over his head, the young king seemed ready for war. A well-rehearsed war, he replied darkly as his guards began walking toward the elevator with Emma and Charles in tow.
Why can the others not engage? Emma asked Charles on the ride down. They are a tribe of feral mutants. Something whipped them up into a berserker's frenzy. Most ferals are immune to our telepathy because they are more animal than human, you can't manipulate the mind of dumb animals.
His tone was void of emotion, sending a chill up Emma's spine.
What is Man Without the Beast
At the gate, a small army had formed. The Broken Skull tribe was a wide range of feral beings. Some more human than others, these mutants were barely dressed and filthy. These people--a term she was applying generously--had chosen a life as wild animals and cave dwellers. If there was any shred of humanity to them, it was greatly overshadowed by their beast side. Scanning their minds as best she could, all Emma could sense was rage. They emitted feelings, not cohesive thought, and the sheer volume of their emotions buzzed in her head like an angry hive. Some blips of other emotions tinged the fury, but so little she could not pinpoint any of it. One would do better trying to decipher static.
All at once, they began throwing objects.
"INCOMING!" Charles pulled Emma back just a moment before the explosions began. Quite an advanced weapon for barely-human mutants. There was something quite odd about this whole thing. But just as Charles had no time to keep up with her thoughts, Emma had no time to contemplate this momentary distraction from the omnipresent telepath. Another volley of bombs went off, the shining city's forces had no time to respond. The wall defending them from the invading force deteriorated into rubble. Fire and debris rained down upon the infantry.
07/23/2021 09:19 PM
RP Wish List
RP Bucket List
AU-oriented SL: I want to do a dystopian parallel universe-centered storyline. Whether it's DoFP, AoA, HoM, or something else; just something dark and gritty!
Body Swap: I'd say the rough outline for this is obvious. Swap bodies and all the hilarity and chaos that ensues.
AvX that doesn't suck: Also pretty self-explanatory.
Continuing my pieces of work as a SL: I've written a few pieces, many of which are in my blogs. I'd like to continue them as SLs.
Fairy Tale: In Uncanny X-Men, Kitty tells little Illyana a fairy based on the Dark Phoenix Saga; Cyclops is a prince, Xavier's a sorcerer, Lookheed is a dragon-plane…erh, thing…, etc. I want to do that, a fairy tale-ized story. Can be recent events, maybe just wing it.
Unfinished Marvel Plots: Two spring to mind, specifically. The end of Uncanny X-Men 500-ish with the mutant power inhalers. And Valkyrie was charged with rebuilding the Valkyior with heroic women from Midgard. But naturally, there are many, many cliffhangers that Marvel just didn't feel like finishing.
Spaaaaaaace: Some sort of space adventure, perhaps something with the Brood…you know, the none-too-subtle Xenomorphs imitations.
Time Travel: Way back in time to the Neolithic (Avengers 1,000,000 BC can go f*** themselves with that bullsh*t!!!), maybe slight less way back to ancient Greece, the roaring 20s, or even the future (where we don't need roads!).
Back to High School: This is still a half-baked idea. I don't know, whether going back to high school or de-aged. Like I said, still working on it.
80s Era Marvel: Open an issue of your favorite character's comic from the 1980s and let's roll! Shoulder pads, perms, and rat tails galore! Character is factory setting; their power set at that time, lived experiences (Emma's the White Queen, Iron Man's a sloppy drunk, Magneto is leader of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, Betsy has that ridiculous beehive hair, etc).
Holiday Themed: Pretty self-explanatory, a SL centered around the holiday du jour. Or not, I'm ok with a Halloween SL even if July 4th is the nearest holiday. xD
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