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"Professor, you know we can help!" Charles Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose for what felt like the millionth time that day, feeling his stomach drop just a bit lower. "Scott, I know how eager you are, but remember, you're all still teenagers in training." Scott Summers was agitated, and it didn't take a psychic to notice. Charles frowned at the red cheeks, the flailing hands, the tense shoulders of the teen. "I'm sure that New York will live to see another day." Scott gestured wildly at nothing in particular, a tic that only showed itself when he was at the end of his rope. "But you don't know that! We could be down there in ten minutes, easy. Think of how many lives we could save!" Scott had put on his uniform almost instantly after seeing the news report, only to be stopped seconds before boarding the Blackbird with the rest of the team by Storm. "You are untrained for a situation of that scale!" Charles raised his voice more than he had intended. Scott's high emotions were much more contagious than anticipated; Charles dropped his volume to a much more suitable level. "I will keep my students safe, and that is final. Letting you go to New York to fight aliens of all things is the last thing I plan to do!" He looked around his office, the large windows letting in an almost cruelly cheerful late spring sun. "Scott, I know this is hard, but sometimes the best thing we can do is to stay out of the way of others." ~ Kitty pulled away from the office door. "The Professor says we can't go," she announced to the others standing nearby. They had been waiting for Kitty's eavesdropping to reveal some development. Jean had left to lie down not long ago; she claimed everyone's nerves were giving her a migraine. Evan had joked about Jean "feeling a disturbance in the force," but shut up once she admitted that she could feel the pain from the people in New York. "Not even a rescue mission?" Rogue asked. Kitty shrugged. "I don't know; Scott isn't asking about that. The Professor seems, like, super intense, though. I think he's really worried for us." "I hate just standing around all useless and crap," Evan announced. "This sucks." "Maybe we could organize a blood drive at school?" Kitty suggested. "Or a donation box, like for cans and stuff." "What do you think is gonna happen to us?" Kurt asked,. "I mean, Iron Man is fighting with other people with powers. Do you think some of them could be mutants?" "It's possible," Rogue replied. "If the Professor would let us go to New York, we could get some good mutant PR out there." She leaned against the wall. "But if he's made up his mind, there ain't much we can do to change it." ~ "Scott, I admire your willingness to help others," Charles said, "but it's just too dangerous. How would you feel if one of the team was hurt, or worse?" He watched Scott's face fall and his fists clench. "I'm very sorry." Scott took a few deep breaths. Professor Xavier made a great point; if someone died, it was on him as team leader. "Thanks for hearing me out, Professor." He turned and headed through the office door. "I'm guessing you already know what he said," Scott said, finding the team in the hall. They nodded. "It's ok, man," Evan said, "we can all go next time if we work hard enough." "Evan, why the hell would you want there to be a next time?" Scott scolded. "I'm gonna go watch the news. You're all welcome to join me." He walked away, pulling off his goggles and replacing them with his sunglasses. ~~~
"You seem to be someone who can recognize a grand opportunity."
Loki was losing. He realized that from the second that big green…thing had managed to give him a decently-sized concussion, break two ribs, his left ankle, and his ego. His injuries weren't major; Loki was shocked that Midgard was putting up such a fight, and needed time to recalculate his plan. The Chitauri were being routed and overwhelmed by Thor and his new friends, his Scepter was nowhere to be seen, and he had to manually pop his ankle back into place so it could heal.
"I can give you what you've always dreamed of and what you never knew you wanted."
Loki pulled himself up and walked to the edge of the building, feeling the strong updraft through the shattered window. He scanned the battlefield below, then at the large portal in the sky, though Chitauri were no longer coming through.
"I imagine you want something in return? I'm not so much of a fool as to blindly accept any generous offers that come my way."
This would likely be the last time he would be on Midgard for a long while, if not ever. He certainly wouldn't be given the warm welcome he had a thousand years ago, not after failing to enslave half of humanity, assuming he would be free to return. Loki imagined it was more likely than not he'd either rot in the Asgardian dungeons, given that mad Titan didn't kill him for his failure. Loki's head spun as he recalled the chain of events that had brought him to this moment. A low point in his life, he decided.
"Of course you're not. It's a small price for someone of your skill, and you'll be able to take out a bit of your anger while you're at it. This is the Tesseract, an item of near limitless power in the right hands. I need it, and I need you to get it for me. It's on a planet called Earth, guarded to the best of their feeble ability. Of course, you can't simply take it. Half the planet must die. The other half is yours."
"Killing half of a planet's population sounds rather dreary."
"I have an army for you, and a weapon unlike no other."
Loki felt a fog lifting from his head, and took inventory of his remaining strength and magic. Not nearly enough to fight what Midgard could throw at him, especially the green beast and definitely not Thor. Midgard's little protector. No doubt Thor would take full credit for Loki's defeat. Parades would be held in his honor, feasts had. Loki scowled, summoning the strength for a distant projection.
Thanos took a glowing Scepter from a kneeling servant and twirled it a few times. "Earth will be the first of many worlds that fall under your hand. The Stone in this Scepter can make anyone bend to your will with the slightest touch."
He collapsed to the ground after his efforts, laying back against the ruined floor. The last of his magic gone, Loki estimated when he would be able to escape the building he was in and slip through a hidden portal to another realm. The nearest branch of Yggdrasil, nearly a hundred miles away, was too far to make it in his current condition; he needed time to rest, time that he didn't have.
Thanos reached out and tapped the glowing end of the Scepter to Loki's chest before he had time to react. Loki's green eyes flooded with a bright blue, matching the glow of the Mind Stone within. Thanos let Loki stumble to one knee before offering the Scepter down to him.
Loki took the Scepter and used it to support his weight as he stood. "This will prove useful in my conquest of Midgard. I'll have the Tesseract to you shortly, my Dark Lord."
Thanos smiled. "Yes, I imagine you will." He signaled the Chitauri soldier to open the wormhole to Earth. "I will be in close contact." Thanos followed Loki as he limped to the portal; it really was a shame Loki had been so disagreeable when the Black Order had found him floating through space. "And Laufeyson, don't disappoint me." Loki rolled over and pushed himself up, groaning with effort. No. Thor's group of humans stood over him, aiming their weapons and glaring down at him. He thought he'd have more time! Loki counted the seconds, seeing his former thrall draw his bow, and decided that he must've passed out as a cosmic insult. "If it's all the same to you," Loki said, composing himself, "I'll have that drink now." ~~~ Logan raised his eyebrows at the TV, crushing a can of beer after taking a long drink to empty it. "I'll be damned," he said. A shaky camera had zoomed in on a swarm of aliens flying through the streets of New York. The footage continued until a car exploded nearby and the camera was dropped. The news station switched back to an anchor in the studio, with a small picture of Tony Stark in the top right corner. He reached out for another can, but Ororo pulled it out of his reach, popping it open and taking a sip without her eyes leaving the screen. "Since when do you drink?"
"…the source of the invaders is still unknown. Residents across New England are advised to remain inside and a state of emergency has been declared nationwide. It has been confirmed that Tony Stark, a.k.a. Iron Man, is on the scene along with other powered individuals. We are receiving reports…"
"We could be out there helping," Ororo replied, ignoring the question. She tapped her fingers on the kitchen table. "Yeah, but then who'd watch the kids?" Logan replied, making his way to the fridge. "If those whatever-they-ares show up here, they can't protect themselves, even if they think so. Besides, you really think the world's ready for mutants? Give 'em some time after this, 'cause they've already got to get used to aliens and whatever the hell else is in New York right now."
"…numbering in the thousands. The individual responsible has been confirmed to be the same man who initiated the attack on Dr. Heinrich Schafer in Germany Wednesday. This man has not been positively identified yet, but we will keep you updated…"
"The world was ready for Iron Man." Logan snorted around his newly opened can. "No, the media was ready for Iron Man. Somethin' divisive to draw in the viewers. They were arguing over whether Stark was a menace to the nation or the savior of mankind two days ago. Wasn't till that horned dickhead showed up in Germany that they figured it was time to choose a side." Ororo shook her head at the bitter taste after downing more of the can. "It is still a step in the right direction." "Hmph, just you wait." Logan sat back down at the table. "I'll bet that they'll be blaming Stark and his buddies in some way by next week." ~~~ Lyra grinned as she looked up from a thick book. "Hello, Mommy!" She rested the book spine-up on the floor and stood. "I'm glad you're finally back! You were gone a very long time." Lyra crossed the floor and earned a hair-tousle. Her mother smiled down at Lyra, eyes clouded and the corners of her mouth fighting between twitching up or down. "My little raven, I'm going to go away soon. Perhaps forever." She knelt down until she was looking up at her child. "Your mother has made one mistake too many, and that's going to cost us both. I'm going to have to send you away, now." "Send me away? But-but I don't want to go!" She grabbed her mother tight around her middle, squeezing as hard as she could. "Don't leave me, Mommy!" A tear slipped down her cheek when Lyra heard her mother grunt at the hug; she had never heard her mother make such a pained sound before. "I know, I know, but things are out of mommy's control," Lyra's mother pulled her away by her shoulders and knelt down to eye level. "You're more ready than both of us realize. I'll be back, before too long." Her voice cracked. "Stay strong and get stronger, little one, for both of us." She embraced her daughter in a hug, ignoring the shot of pain it sent through her body. Lyra held on tight, feeling her mother's form begin to fade into incorporeality, nodding into her shoulder once, twice, then her arms squeezed together as there was no longer a mother between them to hold. Lyra cried, wiping her eyes as the room around her, the room she had called home for a decade of living, with its thick fur blankets and thicker tomes and windows showing far off realms and the big chair her mother always sat in and told stories of long before and far away, began to fade just as her mother had. ~~~ "Manhattan has always been our place!" Chiron absent-mindedly examined the balance of an arrow, listening to Mr. D rant for the fifth time that hour about the current…situation. "I never been to Boston, you know why? 'Cause those Scandicknavians would have my ass! I can't believe Father just wants to ignore the horn-heads right outside our front door!" Mr. D opened a new can of diet coke--his seventh, Chiron noted--and downed it in one long drink, ignoring the long rumble of thunder outside. Though, Chiron figured it could be from the distant battle. "Not that I care," he continued, "I just think it looks bad. How do you think this is gonna look to the other pantheons? Not good. The Egyptians still make fun of us for that Titan thing." "I'm sure your father has his reasons," Chiron replied, grateful that the schoolyear had just begun. He didn't know how he could keep the entire camp put whilst New York went up in flames. The few year-round campers were antsy enough. Dinner tonight would likely be full of enough questions to keep him answering for the next few centuries. Chiron figured Percy was in hysterics; he worried how the boy would react, given that a similar event was likely to happen in less than a year's time. He hadn't received an Iris-message from him yet, though Annabeth had wasted zero time in sending one wondering what "the actual Hades" was going on, to which Chiron replied to the best of his ability. Mr. D snorted. "Doesn't he always? Look, all I'm saying is that we should be kicking their asses right back to…to something-guard." "Asgard." "Yeah, whatever."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Bayview High re-opened two hours late the Monday after the invasion, or the Incident, as the news liked to call it. The weekend had been spent in stunned silence by most of the world; aliens coming through an extra-dimensional portal over a major population hub would cause that. The students at the Charles Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters began training harder than they ever had on Friday evening. Kitty's muscles ached from the intense workout. She had always been a light yoga girl, and the regimen she had agreed to had her pushing herself far past her limits. "I never want to see another pull-up bar again," she announced, taking a second to lean against the schoolyard fencing. "Seconded," Evan agreed, dramatically throwing his bookbag on the ground. Their morning workouts had gone from a few stretches and some jumping jacks or pushups to a full cardio set and weight training, complete with a mile run. "I'll let the aliens kill me if they ever roll up again. Screw all this training." Scott rolled his eyes, picking Evan's bag up for him and brushing off a few leaves. "We all agreed to the new training, guys. If we ever want Professor Xavier to let us into the field, we've got to keep at it! It'll get better eventually." "Yeah," Rogue scoffed, "when we all die from exhaustion." Rogue knew Scott had been putting in an extra hour or two of training most days for months. This was probably just his standard routine. Rogue made a mental note to never try and take him in any sort of physical challenge. Still, waking up at 4:30 every morning just to train for an hour and a half was crazy, especially considering they still had another two hours of standard training to do after school. ~ Kitty noticed that all of her classes were less than half full. She figured it was because of the delay--no one ever showed up when there was a two hour delay, or early release, or anything like that--and because with Bayview being an hour and a half's drive from New York City, people were shaken up at the whole…thing. Current events was a whole party of a class, though. The teacher, eccentric Ms. Mooreson, had turned the incident into a giant extra-credit opportunity. Op-eds written about the Incident for the school paper were 10 points, a two-page (single-spaced, Kitty noticed) analysis of the media coverage was 15 points, so on and so on. Ms. Mooreson had passed out Iron-man decorated cupcakes, a stark contrast to the trauma counselor the school had announced was in the guidance office. Was it in bad taste? Probably, considering, like, dozens of people died and entire city blocks were leveled, but Kitty was never one to pass up extra credit or cupcakes, especially free ones. ~~~ Jean's migraine finally leveled off enough that she could open her eyes some time around…her wall clock said one, am or pm? Stupid analog thing. The blackout curtains in her room didn't let her know, and she didn't know if she was physically capable of sitting up, much less walking over to her window to check. She ran her hand along her bedside table long enough to find that someone had refilled her cups of water and ginger ale, and placed a handful of pills in a small dish. Jean sat up just enough to safely swallow a few, two pain pills and a nausea pill, she thought, though she couldn't exactly tell in the dim room, wincing at a flash of pain down her temple through her neck. She wondered how long she had been out of commission for. The last time she'd had a migraine even close in intensity--Jean figured she'd never experience anything that came close to her current migraine--was at the funeral for one of her classmates that had been killed in a wreck. Walking into the church, feeling the raw emotions of everyone, left her sobbing for a full day, and curled up beside the toilet for almost as long. Speaking of. Jean rolled over just in time to heave into the trashcan by her bed. Ugh. She hated feeling like this, for obvious reasons. It was times like these that she wished she was just a regular teen, no Empathy, no Telepathy, no Telekinesis, just regular girl problems, like getting a date to prom, or acne, or something. Jean laid back after the wave of nausea subsided. So much for the pills she'd just taken. ~ Charles was not quite in as bad a shape as Jean, though he was close. He could block the sheer terror and chaos in New York, but Jean's own power was unrestrained. Charles counted his blessings that for whatever reason, her power seemed to only target him, leaving everyone else in the Institute unaffected. Awful timing, really. With more debate than ever about 'Powered individuals' in the news and just in general--who wouldn't be talking about it?--Charles found his hands full keeping the Institute free from government regulation far more than three days ago. He really hadn't planned on this happening so soon, though he figured it was an eventuality as soon as Stark had gone public. He'd had to answer more calls, send more emails, do more everything, just to assure some alphabet soup government division that his students were not a threat. He'd be slammed with some classified file detailing the new precautions the government required them to follow in order to not be considered some terrorist group within the week, at this rate. At least Stark and his Avengers, or so he'd heard they were calling themselves, would be hit with the same mountain of paperwork just as soon. Only difference was that Stark had entire buildings of people to do the paperwork for him; Charles was one man with two employees and a handful of students. At least the students were using the Incident positively. Charles never would've guessed that they would willingly wake up early to practice. ~~~ Lyra stumbled around the forest she'd woken up in. After taking a minute to wipe her cheeks free of any tears, she stood up from the mud and examined her surroundings. It was dim and green, with the trees blocking all the light from…the sun, Lyra recalled. She could hear bird noises, but not much else. Mommy had said that forests were good because of all the hiding places, but that also made them dangerous. Lyra couldn't figure out what kind of test this was, this had to be another one of Mommy's tests. Probably one to see if she could find her way by herself. Lyra hadn't done too well on the last one like that; she ended up going in one big circle. Maybe that's why it was a forest. Trees made for better landmarks than an empty tundra. At least she had known where she was supposed to go last time. She walked in a small circle, finding the closest tall tree. Lyra jumped into the lower branches and quickly scampered up, cresting the canopy. She scanned for anything other than the endless, rich green of trees, not finding much luck until she noticed a distant red…thing. A rectangle. Well, better than nothing. Lyra jumped down and ran towards her target. ~~~ "Hello, Kurt," The trauma counselor, a man with a short lopsided beard and a nametag that read 'Michael', said, looking down at his clipboard. "I understand that you've been upset by what happened in New York and you'd like to talk about it." Kurt nodded. He had decided instantly after walking into the small room just off the main guidance office that talking to this guy was a waste of his time. He didn't want to bother Professor X with his problems, though he knew the Professor already knew that he had woken up in a cold sweat at least three times every night since Friday. Professor X had too much to deal with already. It wasn't the actual invasion, or the destruction, or even the death that upset Kurt so much, it was the thought that he'd be outed as a mutant, and beaten half to death again. It was a thought so selfish--people had died--it made Kurt even more upset. He'd prayed and prayed, but he still found himself jumping every time he heard a footstep, or someone had so much as raised their voice over the weekend. "I just…," Kurt paused, trying to phrase things in a way that made it seem like he wanted to leave, without being rude. There were other kids who needed this more than he did, kids who had been actually affected by the Incident, who lost more than just sleep. "I guess I'm just scared that it'll happen here." ~~~ "Tony, you can't just keep ignoring your responsibilities." "I'm not ignoring anything, Pepper." Tony didn't look up from a large piece of paper, where he was sketching design after design for everything from jets to armor to…what looked to Pepper like some computer component. "Jarvis, am I ignoring anything?" "You have two missed calls from the Department of Defense, three from Homeland Security, one from SHIELD, and the Board of Investors has been paging you for seven minutes and thirty-four seconds." "Rephrase: am I ignoring anything important?" "Tony! It's been three days, and all you've done is announce the Avengers are here to stay, without Board approval, or anyone's approval," Pepper said. "This is probably the most critical time for Stark Industries to step up, and you're sitting there drawing." "Hey, hey, designing, alright? Don't I have people to run this company while I come up with things to make it money, Miss CEO?" Tony set down his pencil to pull up his holocomputer. "Look at this, look at our stocks, they're up!" Pepper frowned, dropping a dictionary-thick stack of paper on top of the holocomputer projector. "These are insurance claims that have already come in. You, Mister Stark, Mister Owner, claiming the Avengers instead of letting SHIELD take the blame has dropped all of this on Stark Industries." She discreetly rubbed her hands, the stack was heavier than it looked. "Legal's already on it, but if you don't get the government off our asses--" Tony stood up. "Fine! Fine, I'll fix it, just like I have to fix everything around here. God!" ~ Tony strode to the podium with all the confidence of a man who hadn't come within an inch of his life five times in two hours just a long weekend ago. The reporters, more than usual, Tony noticed, sat or stood shoulder to shoulder quietly, with only the click of camera shutters providing a white noise to the room. He tapped the podium microphone a few times before speaking, clearing his throat. "I'm sure you're all wondering what Stark Industries response to all of this is going to be. To tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God, we're still working on what's going to be done, because nothing like this has ever really happened, obviously." Tony improvised a solid 90% of his speeches, something he prided himself on and Pepper hated. The write up he'd received an hour earlier had given a rough outline on their expected route, but nothing was certain yet. It was mostly boring words designed to dazzle, non-committal jargon that Stark was all too familiar with. Unfortunately for the Board, Tony got tired of sweeping the damage he did under the rug not too long ago. "But, I know this much," Tony continued. He saw Pepper stiffen over to the side of the small press stage; she knew he was about to go off on his own agenda. "Stark Industries will take full responsibility for any and all property and structural damage to New York City that occurred during the Chituari Invasion. Yes, this includes personal homes and property. In addition, we will be covering the funeral costs and medical expenses for everyone affected." Tony hated long press conferences just about as much as he hated chocolate Pop-Tarts. The press kept him for nearly an hour asking questions, not about the new Stark Relief Fund, but about the Invasion, the Avengers, about Thor, Loki, Captain America, Hulk, on and on and on. No questions about Hawkeye or Black Widow, though. SHIELD worked fast scrubbing them from any footage. "Sorry, everyone, but I'm going to have to end the Q&A session," Tony announced, cutting off the third reporter that hour asking him if the Avengers meant Stark Industries was returning to selling weapons. Tony left the press room without so much as a glance back.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The red rectangle turned out to be attached to a bigger, grey rectangle with lots of littler rectangles on it. A house, Lyra thought. She'd never seen one this big. She stood at the edge of the forest; the house stood in the middle of the biggest clearing she'd ever seen. Lyra moved to leave the treeline then paused.Mommy had always told her about how dangerous it was to go into a situation without a plan. But if this was where mommy was sending her, it had to be safe, right? She found her way here, and hadn't been hurt, after all.Lyra picked up a leaf and watched it burst into flames. Even if it was dangerous inside, she could protect herself, just like she practiced. She scanned the clearing for any sign of traps or danger, and, seeing none, stepped out of the forest towards the house.~Logan scanned the security cameras, trying to find one that had an angle on…whatever he smelled. It was vaguely human, but some strange animal funk laid over it like some weird perfume. Not quite wolf, not quite…cow? And something distinctly bird-like--or was that some kind of reptile?--about the stench. He'd thought it was just a hunter trespassing in the woods again until he sniffed a little more. Sure, hunters were weird as hell and coated themselves in piss, but Logan had never heard of such a weird mixture.He flipped through the cameras in the forest quickly; there were only a few dozen cameras in the few hundred acres of near-wilderness. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, there.A humanoid figure, top half blocked by a leaf that had fallen over the camera lens, just barely inside the treeline. What looked like a thick fur coat--damn these cheap cameras--was draped over them, hiding their figure from waist to calf, where boots peeked out. It had to be fur to create a stench so strong, and fur of some animal Logan had never smelled before, perhaps even covered in the musk of multiple animals just to trip him up.Someone knew about his abilities.The figure moved out of view. He would've been able to see them for at least another hundred feet if that damn leaf wasn't in the way. Logan growled and stood up, half-jogging out of the security room and towards the forest. Whoever had decided to show up, he had to lead them away from the mansion. And then, more than likely, kick their ass back to wherever they came from. He tapped out a series of codes to Ororo on his smartwatch; thing came in useful more than he'd ever admit to Charles. 975, 77, 004. Unknown intruder, non-hostile, surveillance backup requested.Logan pulled his cowl over his face before slipping out of a side door, quickly altering his path to head directly to the spot where he had seen the person. He crested the corner of the mansion, the acres of lawn opening in front of him, dotted with simple topiary shrubs and one figure walking towards the front of the mansion seemingly without any care or awareness.He picked up his pace, turning so that he would be downwind from the figure, as short as himself if not shorter, definitely humanoid, though any distinct shape was impossible to see under the thick fur cloak. Long, dark hair was tangled in the dirty fur, and from this angle their back was all Logan could see. He certainly didn't recognize them."Hey!" He called, successfully catching their attention. They stopped and turned, and even from twenty yards away, Logan paused. A child, though he didn't fully drop his defenses just because of the apparent age of the intruder. Her tousled black hair made her look paler than she already was, and soft red circled her eyes and dotted her cheeks and nose, giving her a cold sickly look. The cloak fully covered her like a poncho, though Logan could see a bow tied at her neck, holding the thing together.There was still a strong chance that it was Mystique or one of her Brotherhood, though he didn't smell any aggressiveness. Any pheromones she was giving off were hidden under that cloak; he couldn't identify her.The child took a step closer to him, staring at him unblinking. Logan tensed, ready to dodge if she charged. "My mommy sent me here.".A mutant kid, sent here by a mother--however her mother figured out where and what Charles' school was--trying to save her daughter from whatever shit her powers had gotten her into, or panicking over what would happen over the New York thing. Kid's mom was probably some kind of mutant, too, then.Could still be working for Mystique, or Magneto, or whoever else had beef with them."I've got eyes on you both," Storm's voice popped in over Logan's earpiece. He sniffed the air, finding her just behind one of the spires of the mansion. "Who is it? Mystique?" "Who's Mystique?" The kid asked.Alright. Definitely a mutant, with super-hearing, or telepathy; not Mystique's powers. "She's a woman we know. Do you have a name, kid?" "Lyra." "Who's your mom? Why'd she send you here?""My mommy said she had to go away, so she sent me here." Lyra took another few steps towards Logan. "What is 'here'?"Logan pulled his cowl off and relaxed. No use in having it on just to scare the girl, though she did take a step back and drop into half a crouch at his movement. "This is the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters," he said, watching her slowly stand back up. "Here, mutants like me and you can be safe." Logan hated talking to the students outside of a training setting. Talking to a kid was some kind of hell that seedy bars and crass soldiering had not prepared him for.Charles had walked him through this very scenario time and time again, especially after the Rogue Incident. How to be less intimidating. Logan suddenly wished he had rolled his eyes less and paid attention more as he slowly took step after step towards the girl, watching for any signs that she would attack or flee.Storm floated down behind him. Thank fuck. She could take it from here. Lyra watched her float down without much interest. "You're safe now," Storm said, holding out a hand towards the girl. "You've come to the right place. Do you want to come inside and we can talk?" The girl nodded and stood in front of the two, making no motion to take Storm's hand.God, the kid couldn't've been more than twelve. Logan watched as Storm smiled and led the girl towards the mansion. A twitch deep within his gut warned him to stay on guard around her, just in case, but Logan dismissed it as his usual paranoid caution and general dislike of anyone under the age of thirty or so. But still, who knew what she was capable of?~~~Chiron couldn't believe he'd managed to convince Percy to stay at his school and away from New York. It had taken over an hour to get it through the boy's thick skull that there really, truly, was nothing he could do to help. It had taken just as long to get him to accept that no Luke had nothing to do with it, no it wasn't his fault, no it had nothing to do with the prophecy, yes there were other pantheons, can we go over the metaphysical implications later?The year-round campers had kept him just as busy answering questions every mealtime. The Stoll brothers had gotten a stack of mythology books and it seemed like every camper had read every one of them in record time. Chiron had half a mind to ask to read them next; he didn't make it a priority to keep well versed on the stories of the other pantheons, even during his short stint as a mythology teacher a few years ago.Clarisse was more interested in the Norse concept of Valhalla than anything he'd ever seen the girl feign disinterest in before. She raved about the place, which was apparently built of weapons and armor. Clarisse was already working with Malcom Pace to redesign the Ares cabin to be more "badass".One question--though it was one question that had been asked at least once by every single camper at different times--left him clueless and pondering. Were there demigod children of the other gods? He couldn't even ask Mr. D about it; he had been called back to Olympus by Zeus.Chiron honestly had no idea, and, truth be told, he had never thought about it before. He figured there must be, somewhere, camp or no camp. There was Camp Jupiter, of course, but a Camp Norse, a Camp Egyptian, a Camp Mayan, so on and so on, who knew, really? It's not like the pantheons made a point to reach out to each other.But still, gods would be gods no matter where they came from, and children were likely unless there was some serious incompatibility.Until now, intentional or not. He couldn't wait to hear Mr. D rant about whatever conclusion the Olympians came to about Thor and Loki's trespass in Manhattan. Uncertain times were often the most exciting, for better or worse. Maybe they could turn this into a distinct advantage next year, when Typhon rose.Hell, for all he knew, Kronos and Typhon could fulfil all the apocalypse prophecies from every pantheon worldwide. If that were the case, at least the end of the world wouldn't be lonely.~~~"Loki.""Hello, mother, have I made you proud?" Loki was forced into a kneel in front of Odin's throne. The king sat tensely, gripping his spear tight enough that Loki was sure his knuckles were white beneath his gloves. Odin looked at the ground just in front of Loki, but his ravens, perched on his throne, stared with those beady eyes and sent shivers down his spine."Please don't make this worse," Frigga replied, just barely above a whisper. Dark circles framed her eyes, normally bright, now dull. Her hair and dress had looked like she had spent a great amount of care putting the two together a week ago and hadn't touched either since. Next to Thor's perfectly groomed hair (freshly braided) and ceremonial armor (freshly shined), Frigga looked in a disarray. Loki had never seen her like this, though he figured his still-unhealed scrapes and bruises and general condition made him look much worse.Gods, he really felt pitiful. Truly, utterly, completely pitiful. "Define worse," he joked. Odin never liked his jokes, but Loki saw Frigga's mouth twitch, perhaps in smile, perhaps in pain. Loki chose to believe that he had brightened the situation ever so slightly for her."Enough!" Odin's sudden command had Frigga standing up perfectly straight from her slouch, any hint of humor disappearing from her face. "I will speak to the prisoner alone."Prisoner.Loki knew it was the most accurate descriptor for him, given that he was no one's son in this room and certainly not an upstanding citizen. The chains binding his arms to his side and his torso to the four armored guards behind him made it very difficult for anyone to think otherwise. Even Thor in his infinite wisdom and knowledge could figure it out within the hour.The room emptied out, even the guards holding his chains placed them down on the floor and walked out in perfect unison. He felt a lingering glance on him as the heavy throne room door shut with a thud that Loki had always imagined was what the end of the world would sound like. A silence descended on them as Odin still did not actually look at him. Loki, in return, stared the king up and down.He couldn't help but to laugh. This man, who had conquered entire Realms without so much as a second thought, who slaughtered armies single-handedly, now seemed so conflicted about what to do about the baby that he had stolen from its cradle. "I really don't see what all the fuss is about," Loki said, the irony of the situation dripping from his voice."Do you truly not feel the gravity of your crimes?" Odin's gaze snapped up. "Wherever you go there is war, death, and ruin! If you had any idea the lengths I have gone to to prevent a second war of your creation, you would be humbled."Loki rolled his eyes. "Oh, as if Thor isn't responsible for a dozen wars of his own foolish entertainment. He begins battles out of boredom. I went down to Midgard to rule as a god, just like you." The lie came easy; it was a half-truth. He'd been planning to return to Midgard for a few centuries, as a sort of backup plan for if--when--Odin made Thor king. Thanos and his merry band of cultists were a nonissue, since he'd failed them, destroyed their army, and lost their Scepter.On purpose, of course, Loki told himself. He may have nearly died and he was probably about to be strung up in front of all of Asgard, but he had ensured the longevity of the Realms by taking a tactical defeat."We are not gods," Odin replied. Typical, he ignored Loki's rightful observations about his treatment to Thor. Sometimes Loki wondered how he hadn't figured out he was adopted sooner. "We are born, we live, we die. Just as humans do.""Give or take five thousand years.""All this because Loki desires a throne.""It is my birthright." More than one throne, at that."Your birthright was to die as a child, cast out onto a frozen rock!" Odin stood, punctuating his words by slamming his spear down. "If I had not taken you in you would not be here now to hate me.""For mercy's sake, if I am to die by the axe, swing it. Hel will be glad for a family reunion.""You will not die today, and for that you can thank Frigga. You will spend the rest of your days in the dungeons and never see her again."Loki fumed. The one person on this accursed realm that cared for him had condemned him to an eternity of misery."And what of Thor? You'll make that witless oaf king while I rot in chains?""Thor will clean up your mess and bring order to the Nine Realms, and then, yes. He will be king once I can no longer serve my people."The guards came back in and took Loki's chains, leading him away to the dungeons. Loki stared at Odin, looking for any sign of discomfort, any mourning for him. His ravens cawed; to Loki, it sounded like laughter.
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Zeus sat in his throne, unspeaking, staring straight ahead at the fire. The tense air in the throne room had gone undisturbed for nearly an hour. None of the gods dared interrupt Zeus' silence, even though it was just as possible that he was simply waiting for one of them to state their opinion first. It wasn't an angry silence, though it could change to one faster than Hermes could run a mile."I have been contacted by Odin," Zeus said, breaking the air. All the gods shifted in their thrones; the council had begun. "According to him, his sons' actions do not reflect on him and he wishes that we will not retaliate because of one rebellious child."Athena spoke up. "We have honored the treaty for two thousand years. We do not travel to the Norse strongholds, they do not travel to ours. Perhaps this is an evaluation on our tolerance for their transgressions.""Odin has disowned Loki. He rots in a cell for the rest of his life.""Sounds merciful," Ares muttered."Sounds boring," Dionysus countered. "At least with torture, you'd have something to pass the time. Just sitting there will make you go mad in hours.""Evil souls go to the Fields of Punishment, not Asphodel," Ares said. "Idleness is no penance.""Alright, but is trespassing really on par with true evil?" Apollo asked. "Besides, do we really want to be picking fights now, with a certain demigod less than a year from his sixteenth?" All eyes turned to Poseidon, who did not react and kept fiddling with a piece of coral attached to his armrest."He's right," Athena hummed. "We could use this as leverage to gain the aid of the Asgardians if Kronos or Typhon rises. We are not as strong as we were millennia ago; we'll likely need it. In the meantime, there were no actual outlines for restitutions in the treaty. This may be a good opportunity to revise it.""Their return has nothing to do with the Great Prophecy," Hera said. "For all we know, the two could be entirely separate events.""The treaty does not need revision," Zeus stated. "Odin and I already agreed on that, and I have accepted Loki's punishment.""He dropped an army on Manhattan!" Ares protested, before being quieted by a sharp glare in his direction from Zeus."Instead, this council is about his true son, Thor," Zeus continued. "According to the legacy Anthony Stark, Thor will remain on Earth, in Manhattan. Odin dismissed this as a young prince playing hero, but confirmed it to be true. He will be living and publicly displaying his powers in Manhattan after a short stay on Asgard. I believe it to be a thinly veiled attempt to observe Olympus, for whatever hidden reasons Odin has."The council fell into another waiting silence, this one more tense as electricity crackled through Zeus' beard. Zeus slowly made eye contact one by one with the other gods. "Although he claims there are no such intentions, Odin agreed that my concerns were valid. He called for increased democracy between us, and agreed to have an Olympian stay in Asgard, as collateral for his son's safety in our territory, and a measure of goodwill."This council is about Thor, his actions, and our response. This council is about who will live among and learn from the Asgardians. This council is about diplomacy and who of us is best suited to, at least temporarily, abandon their patron duties and all that they know in the name of a long-lasting and mutually beneficial relationship with a group we have ignored for too long. This may be the first step in insuring our lasting survival in this era. The threats of Kronos and Typhon have already been brought up.""I'll go," Athena stood up almost immediately. "I can be a diplomat or a spy, father. I can learn and teach. I will represent Olympus.""Woah, woah, woah," Hermes protested. "Diplomacy is my thing. Besides, if anything happens, I can be back faster than anyone else.""And who will prepare for war with the Titans while you weave with the Asgardians, Athena?" Poseidon said, still fiddling with his coral. "Hermes, how will we coordinate without your messages, or are you afraid to face the consequences of your son's actions?""Oh, please, both of your mistake kids are hellish," Dionysus groaned. Poseidon crushed his coral in his fist. "I'll fucking go; not like I'm doing anything but helping Chiron watch the brats.""Yeah, that will look great to the Asgardians," Aphrodite sneered. "You don't even bother to brush your teeth, and you still smell like cheap wine after three decades of sobriety-""Cheap wine?""Zeus, I'm sure you've already decided who will be going," Hera said. "Put an end to this bickering, please.""I have," Zeus replied. "Apollo.""What?""Odin sent his son, I'll send mine.""But the sun! Music, prophecies, archery-""There are enough minor gods to take care of your duties in your absence.""And when Typhon wakes? How are you going to fight a Titan without me and my bow?""You will be recalled to Olympus if our enemies rise. In the meantime, Artemis is more than capable of archery.""Artemis isn't even here-""It is my decision."Ororo didn't want to bother Charles. He was still struggling with that headache she was sure he was downplaying, not to mention the near constant ringing of the phone he insisted nobody could help him answer. But a child simply walking onto the property as far as she did, something Logan could barely do undetected, seemed to be a big enough reason to both pull Charles away from his work and to update the mansion's security.She led the child, Lyra, she had said, into a drawing room. Logan should be bringing Charles here shortly. Lyra took a short look around the room and then stared at Ororo, her eyes unsettlingly empty. And…red, a bright red like some cheap Halloween costume contacts. "Would you like to sit down?" She asked, gesturing to the couch and the few chairs that arced around the room, facing the ornate fireplace. Lyra sat down cross-legged on the floor where she stood, not breaking eye contact.Her cloak tented around her, just barely splitting around and giving Ororo a glimpse of what she wore beneath. Leather, it looked like, matching the boots on her feet, and a green fabric. "My name is Ororo Monroe," she said. "I'm from Cairo, in Egypt, but I've traveled all over Africa and North America. Where are you from?" Lyra furrowed her brow. "Where did you live before coming here?" Ororo rephrased."My mommy made me a room to live in."She wasn't understanding the question, Ororo realized, and she had a slight accent Ororo just couldn't place. "Was your room in New York?" Lyra shook her head. "New Jersey? Pennsylvania?" Ororo listed off the nearby states and Lyra kept shaking her head. "America?" Another head shake. "Do you know where your room was?" Head shake. "Do you know where you are now?""This is the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters.""Thank you, Storm, I'll take it from here." Charles' voice filled her mind. Ororo relaxed, hearing a knock at the door. Charles rolled in seconds later. Logan stood behind him and motioned for her to leave the room. She smiled down at Lyra, though she didn't seem to see it; the child had turned her attention to Charles. A short list of tasks flooded her mind; Charles wanted a room prepared for Lyra, and for the other students to be kept away until he got to know the her. She set off to her tasks."Hello, Lyra. My name is Charles Xavier. Most of my students here call me Professor Xavier, or just Professor. This is my Institute, just for people like us. It's very nice to meet you, Lyra," He said, smiling at the child. He'd dealt with his fair share of scared, confused, or distressed kids before, and it seemed like Lyra fit squarely into the second category. Based on what Logan had told him, she didn't know where she was and she didn't know why she was here.An interesting case, to say the least."You and I are something called 'mutants'. Do you know what that means?" The girl seemed to have psychic powers; normally Charles could hear everyone's surface-level thoughts just as easily as he could hear spoken words, and Jean had been working hard over the past year to hide those from other telepaths. Lyra's surface thoughts were silent, and he didn't want to pry deeper. She shook her head again. "It means we have special powers that make us different from most people. For example, Ororo, or Storm, as we call her, can control the weather, and Logan can heal very quickly.""What can you do?" Lyra asked."I can hear the thoughts of others," Charles replied. "Although I cannot hear yours. Don't worry, I'm not trying to invade your privacy. Most people have very loud thoughts. Do you have a similar gift?" Lyra shook her head. "That's alright. I've heard you've mentioned your mother sent you here. I'd love to hear about her.""My mommy trained me," Lyra replied. "She taught me to be powerful. The most powerful. She had to send me here because she made a mistake. I'm here to get stronger and then mommy will come back to get me.""Who is your mother?""She's the most powerful woman in the world.""What's her name?""I don't know."Evan was glad that Monday was almost over. His last class of the day, was something he actually enjoyed; the teacher didn't care what he did. Evan preferred to mind his own business in the back of the classroom, watching the latest sports highlight compilations on his phone. The class was mostly empty, just like every class that day had been, and none of his friends had shown up.Meaning, Evan was alone in class with half a dozen nerds he'd never talked to (beyond asking for the homework answers a few times), some kids whose parents had obviously forced them to be there, and that doucheass Pietro.Pietro usually left him alone and did his work, like the responsible student he pretended to be, but today he seemed intent on getting his ass beat. "I mean, we might as well start using our powers, y'know?" God. How many times was he gonna say that, right out in the classroom? If the nerds weren't loudly arguing about their Pokémon cards or whatever, they'd have some explaining to do."Could you actually piss off?" Evan replied. He'd been trying his best to ignore Pietro for the past twenty minutes, but he'd left his headphones in his room that morning, making it kind of hard to block out whatever came spilling out of his mouth."Think about it, we could be just as famous as Stark! All we have to do is flaunt what we got. The others and I are gonna make a grand demonstration, after this New York shit dies down, and get our names written in gold along with the Avengers!"Wow, this dude was actually braindead. "You think being a little fast makes you Avengers material? Please, you'd get splatted like a bug on a windshield." Besides, using powers in public was a surefire way to get on some government hit list. The Prof had drilled that into his head enough times for Evan to dream about it.Pietro shrugged. "I'm offering, if you want to join us in fame and fortune. As a friend.""A friend?" Evan couldn't help but to laugh. "We haven't been friends since you stole my shit and left me strapped for two thousand to fix that locker room you trashed!""Water under the bridge, my dear Evan." He moved back to easily dodge Evan's fist. "Tell your X-Buddies that they're invited, too, whenever we decide to do it. I know Lance would love to see Kitty Cat come along for the ride."Stark Tower was decorated in the kind of minimalistic décor Bruce had thought only existed in magazines and on trash reality television. He never would've guessed that Tony would decorate his own building in white and grey and black and furniture with legs so thin it seemed to float. The guest bedroom-more of an apartment, honestly-Tony had led him to after the doctors finally gave him the medical 'all clear' had almost zero personal touches. He was longing for some sort of personalization or clutter or anything.He kept the tv on. It took up almost an entire wall, and Animal Planet was having a marathon of a show about kittens, puppies, whatever a baby hedgehog was called, piglets, and every other baby animal that could be caught on camera. The soft tinkling background music was overlaid by little squeaks from the animals and soft narration, accented by occasional commercials for dog food and kitty litter and heartworm pills and orthopedic socks.It was mindless and relaxing and not at all stressful.Bruce fiddled around the room, apartment, suite, whatever, half listening to the television, scanning through the pulp books adorning the floating bookshelves, flipping through the fashion and gossip magazines tucked in a drawer on the coffee table, doing anything to occupy his mind.He was starting to go stir crazy. Bruce hadn't left the room since he closed the door behind himself two days ago, out of fear that any little thing would set him off. Now, he was wondering if having nothing to set him off would actually be the thing to set him off. Did that even make sense?Bruce showered and dressed himself in a plain black t-shirt and jeans, ignoring how Tony had managed to get his exact size without asking him. He probably had some kind of body mass scanners built into the building. Bruce made his way to the door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob for almost a full minute before holding his breath and pulling it open.The hallway was empty, but did add shades of red to the otherwise consistent color scheme. A welcome change.Bruce wandered the halls, finding himself lost almost immediately. Still, it wasn't too hard to find an elevator and he got in.Where the hell were the buttons?"What floor, Dr. Banner?"Bruce almost jumped, but remembered something Tony had said about his A.I. It's name was Jackson, or Justin, or something. He hadn't been paying much attention, but he still racked his brain for anything Tony had mentioned about it. What an interesting piece of technology. He'd never looked much into Artificial Intelligence, it wasn't in the area of computer science he had fallen into when he started working on computational physics. "Um, Tony's lab?""Mr. Stark has asked me to inform you that you have full freedom throughout his labs, but to not touch his armors," the A.I. responded. "Which lab would you like to visit?"Which lab? "How many does he have?""There are eleven floors of labs in the tower. There is a robotics development lab, a biophysics lab, a medical research facility, a chemical development lab, a-""Where does Tony spend most of his time?""He has his own personal lab, where he develops his armors and prototypes for new products.""That one." The elevator began humming softly, the only indication that it was moving. Within seconds, the elevator doors slid open, and Bruce stepped out into Tony's lab. "Thank you, um…""I am Jarvis.""Yeah. Thanks, Jarvis." The lab was shaped in a giant oval and, judging by the far window, it was near the top of the tower. A few suits of armor in various states of construction and disrepair were hung on one wall, and the other wall was covered in enough tools to build Rome in a day, all organized in a way that Bruce was sure was Tony's own system. It looked like disorganized chaos to him.Tables covered in trinkets and blueprints were scattered throughout the floor, and as he stepped past each project, holographics popped up detailing the finer details of the project and the obscure science principles that would make each little thing work. He stopped in front of a tiny sphere the size of a pea that faintly glowed a deep blue. The blueprints proclaimed it to be an 'Edible Doctor 0.4.9', and the hologram beside it elaborated.The blue ball was supposed to be a pill that could diagnose any number of internal conditions, from stomach ulcers to pregnancy to a failing liver, almost instantly. Ambitious, but it was obvious that Tony had focused more on the technical aspects of the device, fitting so many transmitters and sensors into the small robot that he seemed to have completely ignored making it safe for human consumption, or even resistant to the PH level of stomach acid.Bruce could've rolled his eyes if he wasn't so glad to have something to occupy himself with. He set to work scrawling over the flaws in the blueprints, quickly figuring out how to operate the holographic and modifying the design.He was just getting into the flow of things when he heard loud footsteps behind him. Bruce whipped around, seeing Tony walking towards him from the elevator. "Hey, Tony. I hope you don't mind, but you had some obvious issues with this pill. I wrote some notes down.""Oh, good. I was planning on handing that design down to my scientists, but I wasn't sure if I should hand it off to medical research or biological nanotech," Tony said. He leaned over Bruce's shoulder and glanced over the new blueprints. "Why'd you change the shell from an aluminum alloy?""Stomach acid could dissolve the aluminum and damage the electronics inside.""Yeah, I want it to be digestible."Bruce tried to tap the hologram, quickly adjusting to a gesture when his finger fell through the nonexistent screen. "The lithium in your batteries could kill someone. You'll have to change out something if you want this thing to be safe.""Oh, shit." Tony scrolled through the hologram. "Thanks, Bruce, I owe you.""I'd say I owe you, instead. You've gotten SHIELD, and every government in the world, really, off my ass." It would've been so easy to turn him in instead, and Bruce knew Fury would've rather put him in a seven foot thick lead coffin somewhere in Antarctica.Tony shrugged. "It's whatever. But hey, listen, I've got something I want your input on. Something really cool."Now his interest was piqued. Tony hadn't been phased by SHIELD's helicarrier, so that put whatever he was about to see at a few orders of magnitude above that. "Let's hear it.""Alright, so I've got a blueprint drafted for some preliminary floorplans," Tony said, leading Bruce out of the lab and into the elevator. "Bedrooms, conference rooms, living spaces, training areas-""Hold on, hold on," Bruce cut in, holding his hands up. "Training rooms? Tony, what, exactly, do you have blueprints for?""Well, you know how we all kind of decided to keep the Avengers together-""In case of threats to the world, Tony.""Yeah, but I'm three world threats deep," Tony replied. "So, if the next three years are going to be as crazy as the last three, I'd rather have us all together. You, me, Thor, Cap, Clint, Nat, and no SHIELD.""Widow and Hawkeye work for SHIELD, Tony. I don't know how you think you're going to get them without SHIELD, even if your little Avengers plan does play out," Bruce said, following Tony into what was likely his office. Sure, it had been nice to finally be appreciated for what he could do, but The Other Guy was a little too dangerous, even if they had reached an agreement in recent months."Yeah, I've got some people working on that," Tony said. "But, look, I think this could work." Tony pulled up a hologram of a mansion, enlarging and manipulating the image until it was a top-down view. The floorplan was visible for all six floors, depending on how deep in the image Bruce focused. "This is the Stark Manor. It's currently an art museum, but that collection won't be too hard to relocate. It's already got a pretty deep basement with fortified rooms. My father was a security nut, for all the good it did him, so that could be expanded without much trouble."The hologram rotated and changed to have about a dozen or so basement floors instead of three, in the shape of a pyramid. It flickered between the original hologram of the manor and the new one. Bruce inspected the layout, and he had to admit it was pretty impressive."So I was thinking that we can have an underground hangar, too, since there's enough space on the grounds to get a small jet out, if it can lift off vertically, but that's almost a non-issue," Tony continued. "I'm almost at a prototype stage for some jets, since I can just integrate the Iron Man tech into a much larger scale-""Alright," Bruce finally cut him off. He knew how scientists got when they discussed a passion project. "I'm in, just to get you to shut up. But I don't want to do anything other than research. The Other Guy has no reason to come out unless Loki comes back with another army."
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Scott knew something was up when Logan met them in the garage, standing with his arms crossed in front of the door to the mansion. Logan, who would disappear for days on end without a word that he was leaving, was not the type to try and spend time with them. "D'you think something's wrong?" Evan asked, leaning over his seat to get a better look out the windshield. "Why else would he wanna talk to us?" Rogue replied. "I mean, that is why he's standin' there like that, right?" "Oh, God, is it, like, surprise training?" Kitty sank down in her seat. I mean, if anything bad had happened, they would've been called back. So, that eliminated the possibility of another alien attack on New York, probably. Training, most likely, since Scott couldn't think of anything else particularly bad that could've happened. Oh fuck. Jean. Scott got out of the car, not bothering to grab his bookbag out of the trunk. "Logan, what's wrong?" He moved towards the door. "Jean, is she--" "She's fine, don't get your shades in a bunch," Logan said. Scott let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Charles told me to keep you here for a bit. We got a new kid." A new mutant. Something that had been happening more and more lately. Murmurs of excitement rose in his team. "So, like, retrieval mission?" Kitty asked. "Cool." "No need," Logan answered. "Her mom sent her here, or somethin'. Charles is taking to her now, and we're gonna stay here 'till he knows a little more about her. Y'all do homework 'till we get the 'all clear'." "This new student," Scott said, "She's dangerous?" "Kid, we're all dangerous." Don't let Professor X hear you say that, Scott thought. At least he wouldn't have to suit up and fly wherever to get whoever out of whatever. That would really throw off his whole routine. Charles could not get any straight answers out of Lyra. The girl was a complete mystery. No family (except for her mother, but the girl seemed to know even less about her than she did herself), no last name, no address, no schooling, no nothing. Some mutations came with trade offs, and Charles found himself wondering if she had a sort of learning disability. Speaking of mutations, Charles had gotten so sidetracked trying to get any sort of information out of Lyra that he forgot to ask her the first thing any of his students would have thought to ask. "You asked me what I can do," Charles said, breaking an extended silence between the two of them, "and now I'd like to ask you the same. Do you have anything special that you can do?" "No," Lyra replied. "Oh, but that's not true," Charles replied. "You're immune to my telepathy, and Logan told me that you heard what Ororo said from very far away." Lyra shrugged. A thought crossed Charles' mind; if she had been raised by another mutant, and, from what he could tell, her mother was the only contact she'd ever had with anyone, Lyra might not think anything of her powers. The psychologist in him was beyond intrigued. What kind of attitude did she hold towards him, to other mutants, to regular humans? There was a possibility that she didn't think anything of himself, of Ororo and Logan, because she had all those powers already. "Can you control the weather, like Storm?" "No." "Can you do something similar?" Lyra nodded. Charles opened his mouth to question further before he felt the temperature in the room plummet. Good lord. He could see his breath and it became painful to breathe nearly instantly. "Warm it back up, please," Charles managed to stutter out through chattering teeth. He could've cursed as the temperature skyrocketed, the two sudden changes left him nauseated. Charles felt sweat form all over his body as he tried to cool himself down. "Thank you for that demonstration, Lyra," Charles said. "That's enough for now." The temperature returned to normal. Thermal manipulation. Ororo could make a snowstorm in the summer; thermal manipulation was a side effect of her powers. Charles had never met anyone who had direct control of temperature, perhaps of heat energy itself. What a power, what potential. He couldn't wait to see the limits of her abilities, and how they could utilize them. With temperatures like what he had just felt, Charles didn't doubt that Lyra could re-freeze the arctic. "In my experience, that's very special," Charles said. He blinked away the pain in his head; the temperatures had worsened his migraine, reversing the steady improvement he'd felt over the day. "Do you have any other special talents?" "No." Charles expected such an answer. There really was no telling if Lyra had any more powers until she decided to show them off, or they developed as she grew older. However, it did seem that she had restraint, given that the Institute wasn't frozen or melting. Whoever her mother was, she had done a good job at teaching her daughter; Lyra hadn't even shown any effort when she used her powers, and she had returned the room to a normal temperature just as easily. He'd have to probe more into her history, perhaps after she had grown more accustomed to him. Charles glanced at the clock on the wall; 3:27. Perfect. "There are other students here, like you, each with their own special powers. Would you like to meet some of them? They've just come back from school." Apollo definitely wasn't crying. He paced his temple on Olympus, sweating from his eyes, because that's just how hot he was. Too hot to sweat from his skin. Duh. He was so hot, in fact, he sent his Muses away, because his hotness would send them into a frenzy that would make Dionysus' weird-ass cultists look like the very definition of calm. Like, why would he ever cry when not only was he so hot and perfect and amazing, but also life was going so awesome for him? Who wouldn't want to get sent to a different fucking planet to kick it with an entire group of brutes that Olympus definitely wasn't on tense relations with? Like, who wouldn't want to leave right now, when the whole fucking world was a shitshow? Olympus had real problems, and their names were Typhon, Kronos, Luke, and Percy. Gods, Zeus was doing this for no reason. Sure, Zeus probably had it in his thick head that this was some kind of honor to represent Olympus or whatever, and yeah, he was definitely the best choice, but, like, why him? On Asgard, he wouldn't be able to protect his kids, and he didn't need to have access to the Oracles to know that they would need all the help he could give. For fuck's sake, nobody'd seen Artemis since that whole getting kidnapped thing, so who knew if she'd actually stop playing around in the woods to help save the entire planet. Even if she did, everyone knew he was a better shot than she was, and even if she did, two bows was twice as good as one bow. He might as well start writing his eulogy. Apollo hadn't talked to any Asgardian in a thousand-ish years, but he doubted they got any less weird. The closest equivalent he could think of was a culture that was basically a frat party, in his experience. Like, sure, he'd never been that wasted in his life, and he doubted he ever would be again, but party games should not include throwing axes at people to see who had the strongest armor. Alright, so his only experience with Asgardians was the wildest party he'd been too, ever, not that he'd ever let Dionysus know that his parties comparatively sucked. Well, that and watching the battle in Manhattan from safe in the Sun Chariot. Such an excellent show of archery from Clint; Apollo made a mental note to congratulate the kid and give him a blessed bow. Before he got banished, or whatever. Brute strength was more Ares' thing. It would be really embarrassing for everybody if Apollo lost every single arm wrestling competition. Do Asgardians even care about poetry? He'd have to read up on it, somewhere on Earth, since nowhere on Olympus did they have any actual information about Asgard, just the treaty and a general list of names. "Apollo." Apollo turned and saw Zeus standing just inside his temple. He wiped his eyes quickly and knelt down on one knee. "Father." "It is an honor to represent Olympus. I would never think of sending anyone but you, my son," Zeus said. "I'm sure you understand how important your quest is. You must learn from the Asgardians everything you can. They have expanded their kingdom to many worlds, and we sit content with our small slice of this realm. I urge you to put your best foot forwards, and act carefully. It's possible not everyone in Asgard will be trustful. Do not reveal anything about our condition, our current issues." "Of course I won't," Apollo replied, "I'm not an idiot." "Why do you think I'm sending you over my other children?" Because I'm perfect, Apollo thought, or you're punishing me for something I can't figure out. "It doesn't matter what I think, you have reasons I'll never understand," Apollo said. "Because you're multifaceted, versatile," Zeus answered himself. "You're intelligent, but not antisocial like Hephaestus. Tactical, but not so that it may be perceived as a threat as it would be with Athena, or even Artemis. Cultured, unlike Ares and Dionysus, with their distinct types of chaos. And, most importantly, you don't run your mouth as Hermes does." "Why are you telling me this?" Apollo asked. "So you know I am not banishing you. Besides improving our relationship with the Asgardians, I want you to find out what they are capable of." "You want me to spy on them?" Gods, Apollo thought that sounded dangerous. Talk about violating the treaty. "Do not find yourself compromised. Get as close as you can with Odin, his wife, any high-ranking Asgardians. Find out their power structure, how their army functions, how they treat their citizens and how their citizens feel about them, and anything else you think might be important. I trust your judgement, my son." He didn't have long to soak up any bit of knowledge he could. Apollo had teleported to Boston, in disguise, of course. It wasn't the first time, and if he'd never been called out for technically breaching the treaty, he wouldn't be called out now, especially given the information he was looking for. Earth libraries had so much knowledge inside that Olympus didn't have, because anything that wasn't Greek didn't matter, apparently. Apollo had heard that Athena had a library that had all human knowledge in it, but she'd never let him in no matter how much he begged. You'd think that the resident knowledge gods would get along better. Apollo knocked on the doorframe before entering the professor's office. Professor Randolph Chase, Director of Nordic Folklore and Mythology, one of the only people to realize there was a Viking settlement right underneath Boston, and a quick glance at his publications reveals him to be a leading expert on exactly what Apollo wanted to know. Maybe his occasional trips to Boston were what left him the newest emissary to Asgard. Apollo had always considered Boston being a forbidden area to be more of a weak guideline, like rhyming for poems. He often visited colleges, and was well aware of the current fashion for students. Jeans, a t-shirt, and a bookbag. He fit right in with the actual students on campus. "Come in," Dr. Chase answered. He kept an orderly office, Apollo noticed, relative to some professors he'd visited. Dr. Chase gestured to a chair and Apollo sat down. "Let me guess, here to discuss Thor and Loki? I've got some notes already printed, so many people have shown up." He reached for a stack of papers on the desk and separated one thick packet to hand to Apollo. "Actually, sir, I'm Joseph Manning, a Greek Mythology master's student," Apollo replied, taking the packet. "I'm more interested in the culture of Asgard. Like, theoretically, if someone was going to live there, what would it be like?" Gods, he should've figured out what he was going to say. Spontaneity was something Apollo considered himself to be adept at, but today had just kept throwing him punches and he was starting to fall behind. Dr. Chase's eyes lit up. "I can't tell you how excited I am to not discuss Sleipnir again. Page four of the notes, by the way." He stood and moved to a giant poster of a tree with bubbles of various plants and structures. "This," he gestured, "is Yggdrasil, the world tree. This is Midgard, the Realm we live on." He pointed at a bubble with a pine tree and a lake in the middle of the trunk. "And this," Dr. Chase pointed at a bubble of golden buildings high in the branches, "is Asgard, Realm of the Aesir. Based on my limited knowledge of the Greek myths, it's comparable to Mount Olympus. Asgard is the home of many of the gods." "Yeah, but what do they do?" Apollo asked. "Well, Odin, the head of the pantheon, has a throne room lined in silver where he can see all of the Nine Realms at once, and he feasts with the fallen warriors of Valhalla each night." Apollo frowned. "That doesn't seem like much of an answer. I'm asking about the culture. Like, do they sing songs, write poetry? What do they value?" "Norse myths are very metaphoric," Dr. Chase said. "It's very, very hard to interpret them, and there are hundreds of publications about each theory. I don't know, off the top of my head, if there are any that answer your question. I believe the myths are to be taken as fables, moral lessons. As for the values of Asgard, I'd recommend you do research on Northern Germanic culture as a whole. I have some recommendations…" Apollo walked out of Dr. Chase's office with a reading list half a page long and a mental list of another two dozen sources he had mentioned. He went to the library and found every single textbook, publication, dissertation, and history book, a stack that ended up being well over a hundred pounds that didn't nearly fit in his backpack, so he walked behind some shelves in the back, forgotten section of the library as casually as he could, knowing that humans would never be able to comfortably carry a stack of books as large as his. Whatever, the students were too busy to notice, probably. Once he felt he was safely obscured from any curious mortal eyes, he disappeared into a flash of light back to Olympus to get started on his reading.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Lyra figured out pretty quickly that these people didn't really know her mom. She also figured out pretty quickly that the things she could do weren't normal here. Her mom told her stories about places where people didn't have powers, and how they had to make their own out of machines instead. Lyra thought it was a clever solution, but her mom had asserted that it was a crude substitute for real strength. So, that meant that Lyra had found herself on Earth, where nobody had powers, except these people. Mutants. Mother hadn't concerned her with mutants and their powers, except to tell her that they existed. She wondered how powerful they were compared to her. Professor Xavier--that meant he had learned a lot of things, and was smarter than most people, Lyra recalled--had mentioned that he had students. So far, they seemed pretty weak, since it was apparently special to him that she could even make it hot or cold, real easy stuff. From Professor Xavier's reaction, Lyra figured he must not even be able to make fire. How boring. But he had to at least be a master of magic if he could read minds, and being good at magic was just as good at having powers. The Storm woman must be strong, too, if she could change weather. Not even her mom could do that. That's why she was sent here, Lyra figured; to learn the strongest magic and how to bend nature itself to her own will. He led her through the school, a mansion, his mansion, towards a bigger room with a ceiling so far away it made Lyra feel very little. All the rooms were huge, that was something special. She wondered why he needed so much space. How many students were there? "We'll wait in here," he said, "the others should be here shortly. I'll introduce you to them. They'll be very excited to meet you." Lyra inspected the room briefly, just in case. The wall behind them was lined with big windows that went from floor to ceiling with small breaks in between, and doors at the bottom towards the outside. There was a small pond outside, surrounded with stone, filled with the bluest water she'd ever seen. Big chairs and couches were around the room, facing towards the wall across from the windows, where a big black rectangle was attached to the wall, flanked on either side by stairs to another floor. "This is the grand living room," Professor Xavier said. "The students like to hang out in here, after they're done with their homework. Someone will give you a tour of the rest of the mansion later, and Storm is preparing a bedroom for you. Tomorrow, we can administer a test to see which grade level you're at." A test. Of course there was a test; her mommy had sent her here. Grade level was something she had never been tested on before, though. Lyra had never even heard of a grade level test. Well, nothing she could do about it now than to be ready for anything. Kurt didn't really know what to expect. The Professor had sent all of them a message that the new girl wasn't used to being around other people. Neither was he, before coming here. To Kurt, that was code that she had a physical mutation, too. That would be a relief, to have someone like him, to talk to about the little things he had to think about that the others didn't, like not moving faster than his image inducer could follow his movements. If she had a physical mutation, she wouldn't be afraid of him at first. That was the worst; having to walk on eggshells around everyone new. He still startled Kitty every so often, due to his tendency to blend into shadows, and Evan still stared at him whenever he thought Kurt wasn't paying attention. Everyone jumped (except Mr. Logan) when he teleported unexpectedly, but Kurt figured that was more of a reaction to the noise than a cringe at his appearance. Mr. Logan led them into the living room, with Scott following first. Kurt let himself fall to the back of the group, hoping that any reaction from the others would confirm that she was different. He twisted the dial on his inducer, feeling the machine's hum come to a stop as it dropped the hologram. Regardless of if she was scared of him, or more or less looked like him, it was better to go ahead and get any reaction to his appearance over with. He stood behind the group, dropping his posture from the upright stance he adopted at school to his more natural slouch. His spirit fell as he watched the others have no response (that he could see, at least) to the new girl. Kurt peered over Rogue and Evan's shoulders. Her eyes snapped to him almost immediately. Red. Bright red, framed by skin so pale it was nearly white where it wasn't a bloody red beneath her eyes and on her nose. Not exactly the furry blue he had been hoping for; it was more in line with Rogue and Storm's white hair in how conspicuous it was, though her appearance could have her mistaken for a flu patient. Well, she could be hiding a tail or wings or scales or something beneath her cape. Kurt half listened as the Professor introduced them, looking away from the girl and to Scott, though he was fully aware that her stare remained locked on him. She was probably reading his mind, or something. It probably wasn't hard, since his mind was working at light speed throwing out thoughts left and right. At least she didn't seem scared of him. He gave a goofy smile when Professor Xavier called his name. Rogue panicked when she thought the girl was staring straight at her. She didn't like to be the center of attention on the best of days, and it wasn't her best of days. Rogue looked down to avoid making direct eye contact--fuck eye contact--and that’s when she realized the girl wasn't staring at her, she was staring at Kurt. Poor guy. She knew how insecure his appearance made him; sometimes he would go days without taking off his image inducer, and it didn't take a genius to notice just how self-depreciating a lot of his jokes were. He got a lot of stares at school for his status as the foreign kid, not to mention the ones Jean and Evan tried to hide around the Institute when he was around. As much as all the eyes on her made her uncomfortable, Rogue had taken it upon herself to be the weirder-looking one, for Kurt's sake. It wasn't like it had taken much to draw more heads than her standard goth look already did, just a bit more eyeliner and some black lipstick, a look she couldn't believe she was brave enough to even try. He really was like some annoying little brother, one that set off all her protection instincts, even though half the time his pranks left her ready to wring his neck.
"Everyone, this is Lyra," the Professor said. He went down their names in the order that they stood, everyone giving some kind of acknowledgement when theirs was called. "It's nice to meet you, Lyra," Scott said. "We're all happy to get a new member, here, and we can't wait to get to know you." "So, what are your powers?" Rogue asked. She was trying to push herself out of her comfort zones recently, as part of her Junior Year Ten Step Self Improvement Plan, and taking the initiative in talking to others was step four. "No demonstrations, please, Lyra," Professor Xavier cut in. "I have almost mastered fire and ice," Lyra said, "and though my magic is not to the level it should be, I am improving." Magic. Rogue blinked as a pause settled over them. Alright, then, maybe that was just what she called her powers. "Cool." Rogue could have slapped herself. Cool? Of course it was cool, they all had superpowers! God, she was a different level of socially inept; she couldn’t even carry on a conversation with some kid about literally the coolest thing on the planet that literally everyone in the room had in common. Rogue made a mental note to check out another book about talking to people. "Lyra can change the temperature, as well," Professor Xavier said. "We'll discuss your abilities in more detail soon, Lyra. I wanted you to meet the others, since you'll be living and learning with us. Rogue, Kitty, Lyra will be staying in the room next to you. Storm should have the room ready by now; if you'll show her the way." "No prob, Professor," Kitty said, putting on her winning smile--God, how did she just turn on the charm like that?--and pointed towards the bedrooms. "C'mon, it's this way." She led the way and Lyra followed; Rogue shoved her hands in her pockets and tailed the two. "Put on your suits while you're there!" Scott called after them. "See you guys at the Danger Room." There was a certain smell of hopelessness in the dungeons punctuated by the bright lights that reflected off every surface, directly into Thor's eyes. The guards here had helmets that covered most of their faces, keeping out the harsh light. He recalled being told that it was another security measure; if the prisoners couldn't see, escaping would be that much more impossible. He kept his head held high and did his best to avoid squinting or rubbing his eyes as he walked past cell after cell of prisoners, some Asgardian, most from the other Realms. It was rare that the dungeons even crossed Thor's mind, and rarer still did he visit the complex beneath the palace. He recognized quite a few of the faces that glared at him through the lightscreens separating them; he wondered how many more he put here and didn’t recognize. Loki was kept at the end of a winding corridor not far from the entrance. This wing was for the would be usurpers, the treasonous, the ones who tried to rebel against Asgard's rule, kept near the entrance for easy access for interrogations, Thor recalled. Thor had quipped at Loki that he would end up behind these lightscreens long ago, when Father first toured them through the dungeons when they were little. He cringed at himself; it was supposed to be nothing more than a joke. Loki's cell was sparsely decorated with a few pieces of furniture from his own chambers, upholstered in the deep green he loved so much. He had been given the privilege of keeping a simple outfit of his own, instead of being forced into the plain tunics the other prisoners wore. He lounged on a couch, letting his hand hang down to rhythmically tap the floor. "Brother," Thor said, activating the panel next to Loki's cell to deactivate the soundproofing. Loki didn't respond. "Loki, please, just talk to me, our father--Odin didn't send me."
"I couldn't care less who sent you, or if you found it in yourself to visit of your own volition," Loki said, his blank stare unmoving from the ceiling. "I do not want to talk to you or to anyone." "I just want to know why you did it." Loki chuckled. "Don't we all?" Thor sat down, resting his back on the lightscreen, feeling its electricity dance over his armor. "Odin will calm down eventually," he said, "and then, you'll be free. I know it wasn't your fault." He heard the muffled stomp of Loki's boots as he stood. "Do not downplay my achievements, Thor! I raised an army and nearly conquered one of the Realms from Odin. It puts me as the most successful insurrectionist in the history of Asgard." "You wouldn't have needed the Tesseract for that," Thor replied. "You would have infiltrated the most powerful people on the planet, and had it under your control in a matter of months, if it had been your plan. If you hadn't tried to take the Tesseract, Odin wouldn't have even noticed that you returned." "I was trying one of your plans; be as conspicuous as possible. I'm ready to receive a fraction of the glory you've gotten for being loud and obnoxious." "Blue eyes don't suit you." "Like I said, I was following your example." Thor frowned. Loki had never been forthcoming, but if anytime was a good time to start, this was it. Loki hadn't been himself on Midgard; if he had, Midgard would be Loki's kingdom now, with or without an army. Father would've handwaved it as a method of giving him a bit of responsibility over the Realms; he didn't care about Midgard, even if it was a hub for the other Realm powers, for Yggdrasil. Loki probably could've asked and gotten some ceremonial command over Midgard. "What was beyond the Bifrost, Loki?" "Empty space and stardust." "And a Scepter." Thor imagined Loki shrugging off his comment. "I'm leaving for Midgard, soon. I'm not sure when I'll return." "Good. I don't want to see you. At least locked in here I don't have to hear how you can do no wrong day in and day out." A soft squeak came from the cell; Loki must've thrown himself on the couch hard enough to move it. Shortly after, his tapping resumed. "I'll miss you while I'm gone, brother." "Don't trouble yourself."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Lance flinched when the front door opened just as he reached for the knob, just barely stepping out of the way in time to not get hit. They never got visitors, except Mystique, who stood in front of him looking just as pissed as ever. Fred cursed. "Oh, hey, Mystique," Toad said. Lance heard the soft patter of Pietro running, probably to change out of his costume, as if Mystique wasn't smart enough to figure that if everyone else was in costume, he was, too. "And just where are you all going at this time of night?" She sneered. She never did anything but sneer. "It's like 4:30," Pietro muttered, already back and standing behind him. "Um…out?" Lance answered. "In costume?" "Uh--" "Change!" The three boys scrambled up the stairs to do as she said before she got anymore pissed. "And get back down here!" Lance pulled off the bulletproof bracers and plates from his outfit before throwing on a t-shirt and jeans over the bodysuit beneath to save time. He made it down second after Toad. He took his spot, sitting on the edge of the old stained couch and avoiding eye contact with Mystique, standing it the middle of the room, nearly radiating intimidation. Fred made it down soon after; Mystique didn't wait for him to sit down before she started grilling them. "Where were you planning on going in costume without orders?" "Oh, y'know, fighting the X-Men," Pietro answered, lying just as easy as he ran. "No big deal." He smiled as Mystique as she glared him down. "Lance overheard Kitty-Cat talking about doing field training. We were gonna mess it up for them." Lance wished Pietro would've kept his name out of it. He reminded himself to be pissed off about it later. "Todd." Todd nearly jumped off the couch when Mystique called him out. "Is this true?" "Y-yes, ma'am! We definitely weren't gonna do nothing else," Toad said. Mystique raised an eyebrow. "Okay, we were gonna show off for the news people." Lance could've sworn Mystique was about to develop the ability to burst into flames. Goddamn, she looked ready to snap a neck. "Y'know, like the Avengers!" Fred added. Pietro facepalmed. "Like the Avengers?!" Mystique snapped. "Nice one, guys," Lance muttered. "You want to mess up years of planning because you want your fifteen minutes of fame? Bah! I shouldn't be surprised." Mystique paced around the room. "I'm very glad I came, actually, since you idiots nearly ruined everything. The Avengers and their battle have put mutants in an interesting position, as you've obviously realized. Magneto is advancing his plans." "We still don't know the plan," Lance reminded her against his best judgement. But still, she said months ago, when she first brought him to this shithole of a house, that they'd know the full plan soon enough. "You'll know everything soon enough, when you need to know." There it was. If Lance didn't know better, he'd assume there wasn't a plan at all. "Mutants are in extreme danger of being public knowledge, and we aren't quite ready for that, yet. For now, all I will tell you is that we have a contingency for when the humans decide we are a threat." "Humans aren't a threat to us," Pietro said. "Can you outrun a bullet, Pietro?" Mystique asked. "Uh, probably?" "Can you, Fred?" Mystique didn't wait for a response. "Then it seems humans are a threat. Keep your heads down unless you want to lose them." ~~~ The Danger Room looked like a lot of fun, Lyra thought. She leaned over the control panel, careful not to hit any of the buttons just like Professor Xavier asked, intently watching the students dodge lasers and spinning bars as they chased a flying thing, a drone, Professor Xavier said, moving in an unpredictable pattern around the room. Logan said whoever grabbed the ribbon first got to pick dessert, whatever that meant. One of the students suddenly pulled a staff from his arm and used it to absorb a laser that would have hit him in his stomach. "No powers, Evan, this is a physical challenge," Professor Xavier said into a microphone. "Evan can create spikes of bone on his body, and use them as weapons or shields, or anything else that has a very simple design. I believe he used one as a doorstop last month." Lyra had never heard of a power like that before. In fact, all of the powers the people here had were very strange. Lyra figured it was just magic, but they didn't call it magic for some reason. Evan tossed up his hands, looking towards the observation room where they were. He was distracted, Lyra realized, a split second before a moving bar caught his ankles and he fell. Evan scrambled back up and quickly regained his pace. "What punishment do they get for losing?" Lyra asked. "There aren't consequences," Logan said. He leaned towards the microphone. "Watch your right, Kitty!" "Did your mother punish you for losing, Lyra?" Professor Xavier asked. "I don't lose." Mommy had said she would punish her for failing, for being a disappointment, but it was always understood that that would never happen. Lyra would never let it happen, and now she wouldn't fail Professor Xavier and the X-Men, since doing so would be just like failing her mom. These people were nice; they had given her a room with two beds. Storm said she'd get a roommate, a friend to sleep in the other bed, eventually. She'd never had a friend before, but now she had at least one. Kitty said she could already tell they were going to be good friends, and that she could always talk about anything with her. They hadn't had much time to talk about anything yet, though. Kitty and Rogue had to change into their 'battle gear', though it didn't seem like it offered much protection to Lyra. They were basic black bodysuits, with a color unique to each student, and only a little bit of padding. They would never hold up in a real battle, Lyra imagined, especially since it seemed like the students wouldn't be able to dodge any attacks. They couldn't even dodge the obstacles in the Danger Room. The tall boy, Scott, Lyra recalled, was doing better than the others. He hadn't been hit yet, and had even made a few leaps for the drone. "I want to try," Lyra said. "Perhaps later," Professor Xavier said. "We'd like you to get used to the daily routine here and get to know you better before pushing you physically with the Danger Room. There is a reason it's called the Danger Room, after all; I wouldn't want you to get hurt." "When?" As if she'd get hurt. Lyra balled her fists into her cloak. "Whenever you feel comfortable here. In the meantime, if you'd like to start doing lighter training with the other students, you're more than welcome to. Don't push yourself, though." Rogue had managed to climb to the top of a column of spinning bars, shakily standing at the top. When the drone came near her a few seconds later, she dove off, barely grabbing it midair and tumbled to the ground, falling in a pile on the drone. "Damn," Logan said, tapping over the control panel. Rogue lifted herself up and held the drone triumphantly over her head, her mouth moving silently through the soundproofed glass. "I hate cherry pie." ~~~ Tony squiggled his signature on the last form. One month until Avengers Mansion was officially open for business. God, this was the coolest thing he'd ever done, and that was saying a lot. He'd barely slept over the past few days; his life had been a flurry of interviews and designing and prototypes and blueprints and signing papers and surveying damage and thinking and-- How much caffeine had he had? "In the past 24 hours, you've had approximately 865 mg of caffeine, and 1,920 mg in the 40 hours since you last slept," Jarvis said. Oh, shit, had he said that out loud? "Yes, sir, you did." Huh. Probably a good time to call it a day, or night, or whatever. He glanced at his watch: 6:37 am, early enough that he might as well not screw up his sleep schedule any further. "Thanks, Jarvis," Tony said, "Run another pot of coffee, if you wouldn't mind."
"I must advise against that, sir. Your heart is already compromised, and this much caffeine may send you into arrhythmia."
"Cool. Do it anyways." Tony pulled up his blueprint for the Quin-Jet; it had been troubling him since he first came up with a prototype design two and a half days ago. Making the Iron Man propulsion jets big enough to provide the lift needed had the unfortunate side effect of going far above the melting point of metal, and using the simple turbine system the SHIELD helicarrier used was way too loud to be useful for any stealth missions they might have, not to mention it was basically a giant fan, and he didn’t want to have to pay for damages of anything that wasn’t bolted down within a hundred feet of take off or landing zones. Maybe Thor had some cool Asgardian tech that would work, like whatever made his hammer fly. It was probably some electromagnetic system that was powered by the planet's magnetic field itself; now that was something with potential. When was he showing up again? Either today or tomorrow. Or was that when Steve was showing up? Should he call Captain America Steve? Captain Rogers? Mr. Rogers? No, not that last one, he wouldn't get the joke. Whatever. The soft hiss of the coffee pot on the table on the far side of his office turned into a steady drizzle as it filled up with half medium-dark hazelnut roast, half light roast donut shop breakfast blend, finished with exactly one-eighth (by weight, of course) of french vanilla flavored heavy cream. Tony got up and filled his mug, took a sip, and stretched. Back to work. ~~~ "A pleasure, Ms. Potts," Steve smiled at the woman, the CEO of Stark Enterprises, apparently, in lieu of shaking her hand. He was occupied by carrying his duffel bag with one arm, the other wrapped up tightly in a cast for the next few days; he had broken it at some point during the battle, and let it heal all wrong before he finally agreed to let a doctor look him over yesterday. They had to rebreak it to set it properly. "Please, call me Pepper," she said, leading him to an elevator flawlessly incorporated in the wall. "Tony has set up a residential floor for you and the other Avengers. Dr. Banner is already here." He owed Stark a damn lot, even more now that the man was letting him live in his skyscraper rent free. It was comical how one of those big Chitauri worms had crossed the East River and crashed directly into his apartment building, as if it had known that’s where he lived. At least no one had been hurt, even his neighbor Mrs. Harrison's geckos, Ralphie and Ronnie, had been unharmed. "If you have any questions, please, don't hesitate to ask me, or anyone else, for that matter," Pepper continued. "We do have our own AI, artificial intelligence, which is like a computer--" "I've met Jarvis," Steve replied. He didn't get Jarvis, though, but he supposed he didn't have to. Technology would be beyond him for a while. He listened to Pepper explain the basics of the residential floor's layout; there was a gym (not rated for superhuman use--yet), a library that doubled as a sitting room, a lounge, and a dozen or so bedrooms, each with its own kitchenette-- "--but you won't be using that much, since we have an on-site kitchen that can deliver meals right to you room, if you'd like. Just ask Jarvis for a meal, whenever you're hungry. Our chefs can make just about anything, but we do have a daily menu if you want it quickly," Pepper finished, pushing open a door. "Anyways, here we are, Captain. I'll let Tony know you're here, and leave you alone to unpack." Steve thanked her again as she left, dropping the one duffel bag of his things he'd been able to salvage from the wreckage of his apartment. He looked around--there was the kitchenette, more of a kitchen, behind a bland black table. A sleek glass stovetop, a small oven, a larger fridge, a microwave, all in the same glossy black. The actual bedroom itself was separated behind sliding frosted glass doors, and a floor to ceiling window dominated the far wall of both the bedroom and the living area. The furniture was a minimal bland black leather. What was the obsession with having the most boring furniture possible today? It was all he ever saw in magazines and on tv. Even the art on the walls was abstract minimalistic with blocks of color that vaguely reminded Steve of a cityscape. Steve made a mental note to get back into painting, if only to have something to brighten up the walls. He was angled just right to see the sun finishing its ascent above the horizon over Brooklyn through the huge window. It would be a nice view, if entire blocks weren't leveled in front of him. Already, dozens of cranes had been deployed across the city, with little clusters of them around every ruined building. Traffic was beginning to return to normal, he'd noticed; the taxi had only taken a few detours from SHIELD headquarters to the tower. Steve made quick work of putting away his belongings. He'd have to go shopping soon, he didn't have enough clothes to last the week, and Pepper hadn't mentioned laundry services, though he doubted Stark didn't include every single service possible in his building. He didn't want to be presumptive, though. He slid his latest sketchbook, the only one that managed to survive, in a bedside table drawer. There wasn't a desk, and Steve liked to wind down each evening by drawing. He wouldn't have much to bear down on, but drawing in bed was still comfortable enough. He'd find a clipboard easily enough. A knock sounded at the door. "Captain Rogers, Dr. Bruce Banner is here to see you." That would be the AI. It was still a shock to hear such a natural, human sounding voice and know that it came from a computer. "Thank you, Jarvis," Steve said. He felt strange responding to it. Or was it a him? God, he had just gotten the hang of using a smartphone a month ago. He knew it came with its own AI, but he had never figured out how to use it. Steve opened the door to greet Dr. Banner. "Hello, Dr. Banner, how're you doing?" "Call me Bruce, and well enough," Bruce replied. "Just came to say hello, but if you're busy unpacking--" "Oh, no, no," Steve replied, accidentally cutting off the soft-spoken man, "I've already finished unpacking. I didn't have very many things in the first place." "Me neither," Bruce said. He continued after a second, "I was living in India, moving from place to place as a doctor. I lived out of a backpack, y'know. It's kind of nice being super transient, not having anything to tie you down, that whole thing." Steve nodded in agreement, and then realized he was carrying on a conversation standing at a door. "Would you like to come in?" He stepped back from the door and gestured inside. "If it wouldn't bother you, Captain. There's not much to do on this floor, and just about all of Tony's gadgets are a little outside of my fields of expertise." Fields, plural. Steve hadn't had a chance to read any of his publications, but there sure were a lot of them. He probably wouldn't be able to understand the first three words of any of those things; science was never his strongest subject in school. He led Bruce over to the couch. "If you're Bruce, I'm Steve. No 'Captain's needed. Can I get you anything? I mean, there's a coffee maker here, but I'm not sure if I actually have any coffee." "Coffee is available to personal specifications via verbal order or through the screen on the coffee maker. Mugs are in the cabinet directly above the coffee maker." A section of the kitchenette hissed as a panel slid back to reveal a built-in coffee maker. "I can make coffee," Steve said. Bruce laughed. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." He moved over to the kitchenette, pulling out two identical charcoal mugs and setting one under the spout. A screen popped to life, offering a dozen options just on roast and flavor alone. "Uh, how do you take your coffee?" "Jarvis knows my order by now," Bruce mentioned. On command, coffee poured out until the mug was full with black coffee, with a sprinkling of cinnamon and some other sweet-smelling spice Steve couldn't name falling gently over the mug. "I'll be damned," Steve muttered. He moved the full mug to the counter and placed the second in the maker, staring at all the options. He poked the screen basically at random choosing option after option until coffee finally poured out in a soft brown and topped with a simple spiral of marshmallow fluff. A little unconventional, but Steve liked to consider himself open to new experiences. He took the coffees with him to the living area, handing off Bruce's to him. "Well, Steve," Bruce said, sipping his coffee, "has Tony told you about his little project?" "The Avengers thing? He mentioned it. Not anything specific, yet, but I'm expecting more details than you can shake a stick at." Steve sat down on the other end of the couch. Bruce leaned back. "It's insane. Like there's going to be another Loki running around." "Well, maybe Thor has another evil sibling we have to keep an eye out for." "Or an evil third cousin twice removed," Bruce said, letting a smile creep into his voice. Steve rolled his eyes. "You laugh, but just wait until we're fighting Thor's great-great-great step aunt, on his mother's side." "I'm just glad to have a place to stay that isn't SHIELD," Steve said. "Fury's pissed that I'm not going to be right under his nose anymore. He bugged my last place, and he'll probably do the same here the first chance he gets." He tentatively took a sip of his coffee, finding himself pleasantly surprised. There was a distinct honey flavor that complimented the sweet marshmallow and dark roast. "Tony won't let him. Did you see how the two looked at each other on the helicarrier? Pure. Hatred. I wouldn't be surprised if Fury's doing his damn best to make Tony's life miserable." "Like what?" "I don't know, crashing his stocks or something. But he'll do something. He found me in a tiny village of less than three hundred. I was so off grid the grid was over a day's hike away." Bruce rolled his eyes and took a long drink. "Sounds like you didn't want to be found." "I didn't." "So," Steve took a breath, thinking of the best way to word this, "don't feel like you have to answer if you don't want to. Why are you still here?" Bruce paused, and turned to look out of the window. Steve felt like he should be a bit more on his guard, but, seeing no tension in the other man, easily pushed that fear away. "I got tired of running," Bruce finally answered. "You've never been hated, like, actually, truly hated, by people you saved. I've been through a lot because people are scared of me, and they should be. I'm a monster." Steve opened his mouth to protest. "Don't say I'm not. What else are you going to call an eight-foot tall green thing who only feels rage? "Anyways, I'm starting to realize that rage, anger, can be channeled for good. I-I had control last week. Actual control, instead of blacking out and waking up with no memory of what happened. I knew what I was doing, and I helped guide the Other Guy, Hulk, to where I needed to be," Bruce continued. "Turns out, when he and I have a common goal, we're not an awful team." "One hell of a reason," Steve said. "Oh, and Tony has too much money, and I'm a scientist. I would do anything for research funding." ~~~The fabric itched. Lyra picked and pulled at the shirt, missing her woolen tunic more and more with each second. She'd been through all dozen or so shirts in her closet, each with a slightly different style, a slightly different thing that was just unbearable. So far, this one was the best bet, cut in a simple style similar to her previous attire, yet with the sleeves cropped halfway to her elbows. She missed the gentle pressure of leather armor around her arms and waist, but the jeans provided enough compression to make her comfortable. She placed the colored contacts in her eyes just like Storm had shown her, applied concealer under her eyes just like Kitty and Jean had shown her, and looked in the mirror and practiced her smile, just like Kurt had shown her. Lyra grabbed her bookbag and walked to the kitchen to wait for the others. The clock on the microwave read 3:27; she was early, but Jean had said they would be leaving earlier than usual to show her around the school. High school sounded very exciting. Most of the shows on the TV took place at a high school, and there was always something happening on those. Maybe she would get to solve a murder, or travel around the world, or even date a werewolf. Everyone said high school wasn't as fun as it was on TV, and that it wasn't real, anyways. Lyra was certain they were playing a prank, just like high schoolers did, on her. Everyone else was happy she was starting school with them, too. As a reward for everyone, and since they were leaving earlier than usual, Scott decided they earned the morning off from training. Lyra liked the training, even if everyone else wasn't very good at it. She pretended to not be good at it too, just in case she made the others feel like the weak failures they were. Lyra still always made sure to be the best, though, even if it was just by a little bit. She made sure to do just poorly enough on the test Professor X gave her to not make him feel bad, either. He was really nice, and Lyra didn't want to hurt his feelings. Professor X said the test would be too hard for her to get many right, but it was easy enough to finish within minutes. She went back and changed some of her answers. She sat and waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, at 6:04, Kurt was the first one to enter the kitchen. He rubbed at his eyes and flipped the light switch, stopping near the door when he saw her. "You're already dressed?" He asked. Of course she was already dressed. In comparison, he was still in his sleeping clothes. "We're leaving early. I'm starting school today," she replied. "Yeah, at eight," Kurt answered, softening his voice. "We're leaving at 7:20." Lyra narrowed her eyes. He was talking down to her, treating her like an idiot, just because she didn't know all the ins and outs of what she was supposed to do. It's not like any of them knew what to do, either, for the most basic things. Their manners were lacking, and, from what she had seen from observing in the danger room, so were their 'powers'. "I am ready now." Lyra hoped Kurt could hear her over the clatter of cereal falling into a bowl. She didn't understand how they all ate the stuff for breakfast. It was as sweet as a desert but not at all soft like one. Kurt smiled and chuckled once. He had heard her. Kurt reached in the fridge and pulled out one of the cartons of milk. There were so many different types in there; whole, 2%, almond, coconut, oat… Not all of them were even from animals! Evan laughed when she asked how one managed to milk a plant. She hadn't been joking, but didn't say anything else about it. She wouldn't be caught dead not knowing something apparently so basic. "Don't forget, you have classes with someone here all day. We're going to make sure you don't get lost." That was what bothered her, the insistence on a tour and then handing her off between classes. The high school was multiple buildings, Jean explained, and from a crude map she had drawn, each had multiple floors and hundreds of rooms each floor, to the point where Jean hadn't mentioned a room number of less than 130. Lyra hadn't gotten lost in the mansion since she first explored, but that had taken hours. If she got separated from her friends-- Lyra blinked. She had friends. "Mornin' nerds!" Evan announced himself, pretending to snatch Kurt's cereal away from him. Kurt cried out in surprise and sloshed a drop of milk on the counter. "You ready?" "I am always ready," Lyra replied. She hoped she was right, but, then again, she was always right.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"Welcome to Asgard." Apollo took a second to compose himself as Bifrost faded around him. He was in a golden circular room, the walls lined with men and women in partial ornate armor in golds and silvers and bronzes and dyed leathers and furs. Actual warriors in full armor were dotted throughout the crowd. Apollo stepped forward off the main platform and onto the top stair down to the main floor. Odin stood in front of him, flanked by who must've been his wife, Frigga, and Thor. They all stood regally, with simple smiles, though Frigga's looked more genuine than the others. "Thank you for your hospitality, King Odin," Apollo said, dropping into a bow. "I look forward to my stay here, and forging a strong bond between our two peoples." It was colder than Apollo had expected. His thick woolen himation was draped loosely enough to allow the chill air to his skin. He summoned a tiny fraction of his power to warm himself up; hopefully none of the Asgardians picked up on his tiny shiver. He straightened back up and continued down the stairs as Thor began to make his way up to the Bifrost platform. Thor held out his hand and Apollo shook it. Oh, wow, that was some grip. Gods, this man was probably a master at hugs, among…other things. "Enjoy Manhattan, Prince Thor," Apollo said, hoping he had successfully sounded not flirty at all. "Aye, I shall," Thor replied. He stood on the main platform and disappeared in a flash of light. Apollo made a mental note to figure out how the Bifrost worked. Teleportation would be useful on Olympus, since most of the minor gods relied on their own speed or chariots to move around. "Apollo," Odin said, gesturing around the room. "Allow me to introduce my wife, Frigga, Queen of Asgard, and my court, the most noble and honorable of the Asgardians. Come, we have prepared a feast." Odin led Apollo outside of the room, where three horses, bigger than any horse Apollo had seen in a thousand years or so, waited. One had eight legs--Sleipnir, Apollo recalled from his reading-- and all were adorned in the same style of decorative armor all the Asgardians wore. Even the horses were buff as all hell; he really stood out with his lithe figure. Apollo followed on horseback through the streets of Asgard once they finished crossing the glowing rainbow bridge, 'An extension of the Bifrost', Odin explained. It wasn't just the nobility dressed in armor, it seemed to be the standard everyday wear for everyone above a certain age, though he saw quite a few children wearing bracers or leather cuirasses of their own. He received fewer stares than he expected, even dressed drastically differently from everyone. Above them, the palace loomed and blazed golden in the sun. It's shape reminded Apollo of a pipe organ, or an upside down pan flute. They dismounted their horses at the gates to the palace. The actual entrance to the palace was lined with warriors in the same armor as the ones by the Bifrost, with full metal breastplates and heavy helmets with giant horns and shimmery capes that looked as if they were made of the tightest chainmail Apollo had ever seen. He'd have to get a closer look later. The giant doors opened into an even gianter throne room, in the same gold as the exterior of the palace, though with beautiful reliefs on the walls and pillars. The ceiling was decorated in paintings that depicted key events from Asgardian history, probably more than Apollo could make out some hundred feet below. He'd fly up and check them out in closer detail eventually. "Lord Apollo, archer, poet, and healer," Odin said, continuing up to the throne and sitting down. Frigga took her place standing beside him, the long train of her gown settling into place behind her effortlessly. "I am glad that the Olympian Council has allowed our longstanding Treaty to remain in effect, even though a traitor has recently broken the terms. I hope that we can improve the relationship between our two peoples, and strengthen the bond we began to form two thousand years ago." "I as well, King Odin," Apollo replied. "However, I must insist on establishing boundaries during your stay." Of course, Apollo thought. Boundaries to keep him from finding out anything super secret and important. "The Armory holds many powerful artifacts, some of which we do not fully understand, and all are exceedingly dangerous. For your safety, and the safety of Asgard, you may not enter without myself present. In addition, Asgard has a long tradition of honor granted by battle prowess. As such, we have an arena with regular battles. It is forbidden for non-Asgardians to compete, though you are free to attend as many matches as you please. "Finally, outside of the palace walls, you must remain with an escort at all times, and you may not leave the city proper without my permission. The roads are intentionally confusing, though I encourage you to explore. It has been a long time since we had visitors from another Realm, and the people of Asgard are curious. Outside of the city is wilderness, inhabited by many dangerous creatures. These restrictions are subject to change, though not without discussion. Do you find my terms reasonable?" "Yes, King Odin," Apollo said. Not much was fully off limits, even their most powerful items in the Armory. Either Asgard didn't have much to hide or Odin thought he was too stupid to find anything worth finding. He wondered what kind of security the Armory had. If it was anything like the what he'd seen so far, limited to guards standing around with spears, it would be no problem getting some of those weapons for Zeus. "I believe it was also a term of my exchange here to ensure that Loki is receiving adequate punishment." Frigga flinched. "I'd like to be able to check in on him occasionally, without warning, to confirm he is truly imprisoned." "By all means," Odin said. "Loki will spend the rest of his days in the dungeons. I have no bias towards him; he was never my son in anything but title." ~~~ Fury scrolled through page after page of Stark's receipts over the past week. He really was going ahead with this Avengers thing. "Doesn't play well with others my ass," he muttered to himself. Stark's aloof jerk façade was slipping. First he 'successfully privatizes world peace', as if flying around in a neon tin can with lasers made him any more effective than a stealth team and all the other secret weapons SHIELD and Hydra and AIM and every organization the public should never find out about had. Now he actually goes and privatizes the team who barely broke a sweat saving the world from an alien invasion. He knew he should've gotten the Avengers Initiative copywritten. It would be easy enough infiltrating Stark Industries again to keep an eye on what the Avengers were doing behind closed doors; hell, Romanov's spyware was still up. Stark ignored anything that wasn't the latest and the greatest. All it took to beat his hi-tech security systems was to pose as remnant code from an early OS version. And, if he ever found that, Stark probably wouldn't blink if Romanov or Barton strolled right up to his door wanting to join up. He switched tabs, watching the real-time manipulation of a building. Stark Mansion, Stark's childhood home turned museum for some of his private collection. Now, he was turning it into some kind of fortress; a base for the Avengers. Right in the goddamn middle of New York City, as if that didn't paint a giant target on the entire state. Stark was an idiot of the highest caliber. He was too smart to think things through like any person with sense, relying on some idea that he was God's gift to humanity instead of common sense. Had he already forgotten his little breakdown a few months ago about how dangerous he was to everyone around him? Fury tossed his tablet across his desk, making the hologram shudder. As if he didn't have enough problems. Did Stark really think that there would be a weekly alien invasion? His tablet beeped; Stark made another purchase under one of his shell accounts; half a mile of marble sheets. Fury rolled his eyes. Vain and tasteless as always. ~~~ There were so many people. More than Lyra had ever seen before. She thought that the Institute was well populated, but it was nothing compared to high school. Even with them being almost twenty minutes early, there were tons of people milling around their cars in the parking lot, on the grass, and in the halls. Jean took it upon herself to show her around, it was her duty as student body vice president, whatever that meant. It was almost too much for her. All the sounds, smells, colors; Lyra had to concentrate harder than ever before. She'd never been in a crowd like this, and decided she never really wanted to be again. She tried to listen to Jean but couldn't, really. Even practicing listening to one person at a time when everyone talked at once at dinner was nothing compared to this. Everyone had something to say and something to do and Lyra felt her head start to burst. She thought it did when a shrill sound echoed through the hall. Lyra clutched at the sharp pain in her temples and nearly collapsed to the ground, but a strong hand grabbed her and kept her standing. "You alright?" Jean asked. Lyra kept her eyes squeezed shut as Jean lead her over to lean on the wall. "The people are loud and the bells are louder, I know." Lyra swallowed the pain trickling down her throat. "This is not like the TV." Jean laughed, and let go of her. "Everyone's thinking louder than usual. We can go back to the Institute, if you like. You don't have to start school if you're not ready." If you're not ready. What would mommy say? Nothing, probably. She would be too disappointed. "I'm staying." Lyra stood up straight and as tall as she could, ignoring the hurried chatter around her. It was easier now; everyone was hurrying around, not talking. Jean gave her a once over, as if she was worried Lyra would actually fall. She smiled and breathed out through her nose. "That's good. Your first class is down this way. Don't be afraid to tell Kitty or Kurt if you need something." ~ "Lyra." Kurt cringed as Lyra's unflinching stare settled on him as Ms. Reade made her introduce herself at the beginning of class. He wasn't sure how much of it was because of his own discomfort when she forced the same upon him last year and how much was because no amount of contacts or makeup could cover how she never moved when she stood and he'd only seen her blink once. "Where are you from, and what's your favorite book?" Ms. Reade perched herself on her desk, all youth and smiles. She sipped coffee from a travel mug that had some dumb catchphrase on it. "I'm from the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. My favorite book is Harry Potter." Just like they'd practiced, even if it still came off as robotic. Lyra struggled to name a book that Kurt had ever heard before; her original answer--after Evan explained what a 'favorite' is--had sent them all to Google to find a brick of a book on the philosophy of differential calculus. Ms. Reade hummed in agreement. "Excellent choice. I'm a Ravenclaw, myself," she said, then handed her a copy of Popular Works of Shakespeare and pointed Lyra to the only empty desk in the classroom, all the way in the back, beside Lance. He and Kitty already gave Lyra an explanation for why she shouldn't talk with him, but it really sucked that she would be stuck beside him for the rest of the semester. He was stuck at the front instead, where Ms. Reade could see all his confused expressions and quietly slip an index card on his desk with definitions and context for whatever assignment they were working on. Kitty didn't like it; she couldn't analyze a text to save her life and complained about the weird old English their books used more than he did. She sat in the middle, where she could hide surrounded by people so they would be called on instead of her. ~ Alright, something was up with the new girl. Lance figured even Fred could figure that much out. She glared at the board like it owed her money and didn't react when he tried to whisper to her to find out just what her deal was. He tried to pass her a note, and then threw it at her, hitting her straight in the ear. She didn't even flinch. "What the hell?" Lance breathed to himself. He even tried thinking in her direction. Nothing. She didn't move--did she even blink?--until the bell rang and her fists clenched so hard Lane thought her knuckles were going to burst through her skin. "Hey," he said, "I'm Lance." He held out his hand to her and she didn't seem to notice; she wordlessly put her book in her bag and stood. "Yo, you're from the Institute? I'm like you, y'know." That got her attention. She turned her head to stare at him over her shoulder, which was way more intimidating than it should have been from some girl who looked like she'd be a hundred pounds soaking wet. "It's not easy being different here." Lance said. He didn't really have anything better to say; why was this girl so quiet? He didn't like to speak, either. She turned around fully. "Are you here for a test, too?" "What?" Lance felt the word spill out of his mouth. Yeah, he had a test in chemistry later, but how would she know, and why would she be thinking about tests on her first day? Not even the most ruthless teachers would do that to her. "I mean, I'm sure you'll pass?" She blinked and her mouth twitched, but Lance couldn't tell if it was in a smile or frown or what. And then Kitty physically pulled her away from him, grabbing her wrist and sending him a sharp look. "C'mon, Lyra. Let's go." Lance couldn't help himself. "Jealous, Kits?" Her face twisted into a scowl and he almost regretted saying it when she stomped out of the classroom. ~~~ Tony bounced his leg under his desk at the board meeting. They were almost an hour into the meeting and nobody had given him shit for donating so much money to recovery funds or pledging Stark Industries support for rebuilding like he expected. Apparently, his statements had driven up their stocks so damn much that three executives had already brought up the possibility of a stock split. And they were under investigation for insider trading, not to mention all the other shit they were under investigation for; alien invasion the least of them. Tony didn't give much of a damn at all. Let them look and waste all those pencil-pusher's hours. He almost felt bad for whoever had to sort through his taxes, receipts, whatever texts they'd been recording. They wouldn't find anything but a whole lot of bulk orders of papaya juice. Best part was Pepper was finally smiling. It was almost too subtle to notice, but it was definitely there. Sure, she was happy that Stark Industries was doing well, but she grinned even more when they discussed Tony's recovery plans. (The execs decided to send the actual logistics down to some VPs, or something) She was so happy, Tony figured she'd be telling him that he only offered to help to make her like him more, which wasn't true at all. He wasn't going to think much about why he was putting so much into rebuilding, medical bills, funerals. Everything he'd seen would make one hell of a therapy session in a few days, after the Avengers were all sorted out and construction on the mansion was well underway. Speaking of, what time was it? 3:57. "Oh, damn," he muttered, standing up so fast it sent his chair rolling backwards. "Hey, guys, love you, but I've gotta run. Pepper can take it from here," Tony said. "I'll get the summary from Jarvis." It's not like he was contributing much to the conversation; everyone knew what he wanted and that he could make what he wanted happen. Tony sprinted to the landing pad, pressing the elevator butting over and over as if it would speed up the damn thing (it didn't, but he already had a mechanism in mind to fix that little oversight) and making it just in time to see the endings of a giant flash. He was almost glad he missed most of the display; his eyes hurt enough from what he did see. But Thor never made his eyes hurt. Well, except from when he was going full Thunder God and was throwing lightening like confetti. Cap and Bruce were there, too; Bruce shielded his eyes behind his arm and Cap was looking as cool as ever with some sunglasses on. Neither of them seemed to notice him. "Hey, Lightshow, good trip here?" Bruce gave him a little "Hey, Tony." He nodded back. "Aye," Thor answered. He looked around. Aw, he'd never gotten the opportunity to really experience NYC. Tony made a mental note to dump him in the middle of Times Square after everything was…well, not half rubble. "Welcome back to Earth," Steve joked. "When do you want the grand tour?" "I am more familiar with this Realm than you." Thor turned his back to them and scanned the city. Wow, ok. Someone put Thor in a bad mood. Maybe he cared more about Loki than he would admit, or he was going to miss Asgard more than he thought. It wasn't like he couldn't just rainbow back to Asgard any time he wanted. "You alright there, Thor?" Tony asked. Thor sighed and flipped his hammer almost absentmindedly. Tony wondered (not for the first time) how much it weighed. Now he could actually figure it out, and what exactly kept everyone but him picking the damn thing up. Probably some DNA sensor. "I'm waiting for someone." "Didn't you bring anything?" Bruce said. "Y'know, like clothes?" Thor shrugged and placed his hammer down gently. Tony appreciated that; he had enough dents in the building to sort out already. "Alright, well, great and dandy having you." Tony clapped his hands together and spun on his heel. "You've got a room downstairs; Jarvis knows where; just ask. And he's an Artificial Intelligence, not a man trapped in the wall. Please don't break my skyscraper. Avengers meeting tomorrow at 10 am, that’s oh-ten-hundred for you, Cap--" Steve made a noise halfway between a groan and a sigh. "--so brunch is on me. Don't be late; that's my job." "What the fuck?" Bruce startled, and Tony whipped back around. A UPS man stood ten feet out from the balcony. "Are you Thor? Prince of Asgard? Son of Odin?" The UPS man asked, reading off a tablet. "Hey, pal, this is restricted air space," Tony said. Bruce had been right: what in the actual fuck? "You can't just be…floating here." The UPS guy scowled and waved him off. Thor nodded and stepped out onto thin air. Since when could he fly without his hammer? "Excellent!" The UPS guy said. "Now, my teleportation is no Bifrost, but it shouldn't be too jarring." And then the two disappeared in a flash that left spots dancing in Tony's eyes. Bruce shook his head. "Steve, did you see that? Tell me you saw that!" "If you mean the flying mailman, yeah, how could I not?" Steve said. What? He walked over to the landing pad and looked up, then down, then shook his head. "Tony, you've got cameras up here, right?"
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Loki felt the overwhelming confidence before Olympus' golden boy even entered the dungeons. Apollo wasn't even bothering to stifle the aura he gave off; masculine, youthful, powerful, arrogant…nervous as all hell. It was a hit to every single one of his senses in the worst of ways. Asgardians weren't much for magic and even the more talented seidhr barely had any aura to note. Frigga and he had the most substantial auras on the Realm, go figure. Well, before a certain someone stepped through the Bifrost. Apollo didn't even have the mind to conceal his aura; Loki always kept his tightly under wraps lest it worm its way into some idiot's subconscious. No, it was much easier to weave between people that couldn't even pick up a shred of his intentions. Meanwhile, Frigga left hers blatantly open, just like Apollo, though hers was much more subdued and inviting and honest and comforting. Loki kept his attention on his book, pretending not to notice as Apollo stepped into the edge of his vision. The page might as well have been blank. The hundred or so books in the pile Frigga or Thor or whoever got him might as well have been blank, as much as he cared. It wasn't like it was anything he hadn't read before or anything truly interesting so that to keep him occupied on a second or third read. Nothing but bland historic lies dressed up as lovely facts and dry literature and empty-thoughted philosophy. Apollo cleared his throat once. Then again a few seconds later, and Loki finally found it in himself to entertain the god. He looked up and put on his best obviously fake smile. Apollo stood out compared to Asgardians. He was much too lean, too soft-looking. He did an excellent job of concealing his nerves through an aggressively strong stance and upturned chin. "Not many well-meaning visitors for me, I find," Loki said, looking him up and down. Apollo came alone--no surprise that Odin would stay behind--flanked by three guards that stood at enough distance to maintain an illusion of privacy for the two. Loki wondered which one of them they were more interested in guarding. "I am Phoebus Apollo of Olympus, son of Zeus, and--" "Yes, yes, we can all clearly see how bright you are," Loki cut off. He shut his book and tossed it behind him, using the basic magic he could in the cell to make sure it landed perfectly on the stack. Apollo didn't react outwardly, but his aura jumped in surprise, first with a tinge of anger at being interrupted, then with confusion. No doubt Odin had told him that the cells suppressed all magic, which was true for everyone except for a sorcerer worth their spells. Asgard wasn't used to dealing with those. "And, as you can see, I'm very clearly imprisoned." Imprisoned. The word sparked a bit of remembrance in Apollo, a jumble of words and images, snakes and pain and Ragnarok-- "Ah," Loki breathed through the sudden nauseating tightness in his chest, "someone's been doing their homework." Loki conjured--well, illusioned. Damned suppression runes--a bouquet of curled blue flowers. Hyacinths. Apollo twitched lightly, his hands clenching at his side. "So have I." "Sleipnir's sire must have been remarkable to produce such a wonderful steed despite the dam's poor temperament," Apollo replied. Loki used all his strength to keep from rolling his eyes. As if he hadn't heard that one before. Apollo finished, "and poor looks." "Oh, come now, Apollo, no sense in taking out your frustrations on the lack of Nymphs to chase on poor old Loki." Loki released the hyacinths into mist and stood tall. "Or is that why you're here? To take out your frustrations?" Apollo stepped back. Loki smirked; he'd caught Apollo off guard. "Far-Shooting Apollo, I'd love to find out just exactly how far--" "It'll be something to look forwards to when you're released from your cell," Apollo composed himself far too fast, leaning forwards in an almost predatory manner. Now it was Loki's turn to be eyed up and down and he decided he didn't like it one bit. He could've sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment though he couldn't tell if it was for surprise at being interrupted during…well, he wouldn't dare call that a flyt, or because of Apollo's change in demeanor. Apollo's golden eyes raked over him with palpable heat; his aura had completely changed, all bedroom, no nervous. "Though I suppose you'll need to keep projecting your pining for…oh, all of eternity, give or take." And then Apollo turned and left with a smooth practiced swing in his step that called attention to just how his tunic was draped. Gods, Loki didn't know what he'd expected, but he was sure it wasn't that. By the time Apollo was shown to his rooms to prepare for his welcoming feast he was beyond mentally exhausted. The Armory wasn't interesting, at least on first glance. Nothing seemed particularly powerful by Olympus standards; Hephaestus could probably make half the junk in there in an hour. And his rooms were just as flashily boring. All gold and marble and linen curtains, no real substance. Sure, it had a huge tub overlooking the gardens, but where were the sculptures, the frescoes, the art? He supposed the careful trim on the walls could count, but still. And the bed was so comfortable he considered sleeping right then and there and forever, but what about the books, the poetry? The music at the feast had better be outstanding to make up for it. Apollo wondered if it would be considered rude to provide his own music. It would provide the cultural exchange Zeus and Odin desired. Perhaps the Asgardians would ask him to sing, for fun. Apollo hummed to warm up his throat just in case. The cold dry air wasn't the best for vocals. Did they have ThroatCoat here? He poked his head out of his room to the stupidly large hallway, turning one way and then the next to find someone to ask for a nice hot cup of tea; honey included, lemon on the side. No one. "Yes, lord Apollo?" Apollo whipped around and found a servant woman standing where it had been empty not a second before. He jumped back and cursed. How had he missed her? She wasn't easy to miss, right up in his face and all bright cheeks and silky hair and--Apollo cleared his throat. "I was looking for tea." The woman nodded and turned to walk down the long hall. Where the hell had she come from? Was he that tired? Had someone drained him of his energy? Loki, perhaps. Apollo hadn't mentioned to Odin that Loki was still using magic in his cell, despite being assured that it was spellproof. Odin either knew or he didn't, and it wouldn't be any use to tip his hand so soon. He sighed and went back into his rooms, throwing himself on a couch dramatically, even for him. Unless that was exactly what Odin wanted. Perhaps it was a test to see if he reported it, which would mean that Odin was in leagues with Loki, which would be a violation of the Treaty. And Loki had known that Apollo was familiar with his own stories, and he even knew about Hyacinthus. So, either Loki spent his spare time reading up on Greeks, or he was warned and told exactly what to say to anger him. And Apollo had lost his temper, hadn't he? How long had it been since he was reduced to petty insults and taunts? Not even Hermes had pissed him off, not really, in the last few centuries. Apollo was better than that, certainly. He was nothing less than perfection; a muse of muses, a lyric amongst limericks. He had half a mind to go back down to the dungeons and figure out exactly what Loki--and Odin, he supposed--was up to, and the other half wanted nothing more than to set a never-ending sickness on the trickster. Grief and anger swirled in his gut and memories of Hyacinthus mixed with the sight of Loki unprepared for him to snap right back at him. It was the same look of shock Zephyrus had worn when Apollo confronted him in his Thracian cave. Zephyrus was still afraid to have any more children. A soft knock at the door announced the return of the servant woman, armed with a small plate and cup. "From Alfheim, tea of revelry." Alcoholic tea? Exactly what he needed. "Thanks." He took the cup from where she sat it down on the small side table and took a sip. Not alcoholic. Damn. But still excellent. "Hey, what's your name?" Charles frowned at the inconclusive results. He'd been trying to test the fur from Lyra's cloak since they'd finally gotten her to take it off a week ago, and still, nothing. It had taken surgical obsidian to cut off a small sample; two pairs of scissors had snapped on it, which cast doubt on it being any natural fur, or plastic, or much of anything Charles was familiar with. Storm had quietly expressed that it could be vibranium, but all the publications on the metal--which admittedly numbered in the single digits, all about Captain America's Shield, at that--insisted it could only be damaged by more vibranium. But they had no other leads, and the origin of her leathers was giving him a similar headache. She didn't know, either. And she wasn't telling much of anything. When she wasn't trailing someone around like a lost puppy, Lyra kept to herself and read. The following was starting to get to Kurt. He was her favorite one to follow, for reasons she couldn't or wouldn't explain. She'd never seen anything like him, Charles figured. It was natural for her to be curious, and after a talk about boundaries with her, Lyra had kept much further back when she did follow. At least she was taking her own initiative to do things. Her first day had been nothing but following directions and standing waiting for the next one, and now she was sneaking out of bed at night to fly through books in the library at astonishing speed or wander around the mansion or to rearrange furniture. That was a strange one, but Charles didn't mind as long as she left enough room for his chair to pass through. She'd even participated in Sunday game night, though she didn't quite understand Monopoly. Then again, who did? Charles looked down at his ringing phone and frowned. Tony Stark popped up on the caller ID. He'd met the man years ago at a biotechnology expo that was more for billionaires to waste their money looking for the ultimate anti-aging cure or instant plastic surgery or frivolous whatnot than any actual scientific endeavor. Tony had stood out as someone who almost cared about where his money went, and not just to the most profits. His arm had still been in a cast from his first foray into his 'Iron Man' suit design and subsequent disaster--really, did the man not have the word subtle in his vocabulary? At least he had been diverting his funds from weapons to developments on stick-on hydration patches being marketed as the latest skincare breakthrough instead of the lifesaving product that could provide a clean source of water or IV fluids that it was designed to be. "This is Professor Xavier," he answered the phone. No use in being overly familiar with the man. He had an idea as to why Tony was calling; he knew about the nature of the Institute. How, Charles couldn't figure out. As far as he'd been aware, all files on Mutants were censored to everyone but the president and whoever was in charge of SHIELD. Money went farther than it seemed, perhaps. "Charles! How's it been going?" Tony's smile was disarming, even through the phone. He couldn't even be mad that Tony disregarded his title; the man had more than his fair share of doctorates, as well. "It's been too long." "It's been busy, to say the least. I imagine you're not calling to offer to process all this new legislation for me?" Tony chuckled. "Well, I could take some of it off your hands, so to speak. Hey, listen, y'know I’m making the Avengers full time, right?" Yes, he'd heard, and thought it was the most foolish idea he'd heard in a long while. Tony didn't give him time to reply before he continued. "And you're still running that school for supers, right? Well, anyways, I was just wondering if you'd be interested in joining up. Let your students put those powers to good use!" Charles hung up. Absolutely not. He had enough moral issues sending them to fight the Brotherhood, even if the lives and safety of all Mutants did depend on their work. Sending children to fight whatever decided to attack the giant target Tony had painted on his back? No. It wasn't too long ago Tony was more or less fighting entire wars for whatever the government told him to. Charles wouldn't work for those pencil-pushing murderers again. His phone rang again, once, twice, three times. Charles picked up despite himself. "What, Stark?" "Alright, maybe I came on a little strong. I don't mean actually send them into battle, guns blazing." "Perhaps you should choose your alternative plan carefully." "I have," Tony replied. "I mean working together to show the public that we're not dangerous. You know I've been doing that for a few years; using the suit to bring power all around the world, getting kiddos interested in engineering, that kinda stuff." "For-profit under your company," Charles reminded him. He'd seen Stark Industries' charity donations. They'd gotten significantly bigger in the past few years, which wasn't hard considering Stark used to donate next to nothing, but Charles did a little digging and found that most of the benefiting charities were tangentially owned by Stark Industries or his close business partners. Maybe that was just the nature of the game when billionaires owned damn near everything, or proof of Stark's agenda. "Look. We both want to make the world a safer place. I can get the government off your back. I've already gotten SHIELD off Dr. Bruce Banner--y'know, the Hulk--and almost off Captain America." Now, that was something he'd like. Charles had barely managed to avoid a registration process for his students that included their powers and weaknesses in exchange for researching Mutant development for the government. Of course, they still hadn't figured that he was fudging numbers in his classified publications. "Go on," Charles replied. "The more the public sees those kiddos being nice and helpful--like rescuing cats from trees, helping little old ladies cross the street, that kind of stuff--the more they'll accept them. X-Men Scouts." "You do understand that they're children." "Yeah, so they're not all that scary in the first place. None of them are in middle school, right? I can't stand eighth-graders." Charles sighed. "And what about the Mutants that aren't my students? The ones that are very dangerous." "Uh, did you forget the part where I have the Avengers to deal with shi--stuff like that? Absolutely no issue." No issue, hah. Magneto would turn Tony Stark inside out. "You have no idea what these Mutants are capable of. Us going public would be dangerous for Mutants, dangerous for humans, everyone." "Oh, come on. I have a literal god in my guest room. We can take on threats of levels metaphysical and lower." "Throughout history, many Mutants were worshipped as gods," Charles replied. Including Storm, and she had more than just a guest room. "I'm not sure if you fully understand what I'm saying. I'm sorry, Tony, but I simply cannot accept. Not now. Perhaps one day if the Avengers truly do cement themselves as a force for good." Tony was silent for a long while. "At the very least, let me give you funding so you can take in more students." Olympus was all pomp and circumstance. Soft music played from somewhere and a light breeze of honey drifted through the gentle mountain roads. Thor wandered behind Hermes as he was led over clouds and meadow and cobblestone paths and marble to a giant temple that towered over the others. Everything was plainly ornate; white marble shone in colors of dawn and sunset, midday and night, with no correlation to the midafternoon sun above. Women lounged off the roads, pouring wine from golden pitchers and laughing amongst themselves, not even seeming to notice Thor. He noticed them; they were all green, pink, blue, gold skin and ringing voice and careless beauty. "Nymphs," Hermes explained. Thor imagined he must've been staring. "Nature spirits. They hang out here from time to time, especially the Aurae." "We call them Landvaettir," Thor said. The women froze and turned, their faces suddenly sharp instead of soft. They nodded at them and then blinked and went back to their leisure. He decided to keep his experience with the Landvaettir to himself. "They're off limits," Hermes said. He didn't sound very happy about it. "The ones on Olympus, at least. Damn shame; they're the best ones." Thor didn't care; Jane was better than any Landvaettir, or whatever outlandish name the Olympians called them, and he was counting the seconds until he could leave Olympus and see her. Heimdall's updates on her had been sparse, though Thor imagined he'd been annoying the Bridgekeeper with his constant inquiries as to her activities. Hermes cleared his throat and straightened, his strange mortal outfit shimmering down to draped Greek fabric. Apollo had worn a similar outfit; Thor wondered if he was cold on Asgard. Here, it was warm enough that Thor decided to leave his sleeves and cape behind for his next visit. Finally, after passing dozens of Landvaettir and even more 'minor gods', as Hermes called them, flew overhead or meandered past, they reached the towering entrance to the temple at the peak of Olympus. Hermes suddenly grew to ten times his size, and pushed open the grand doors. Giants. That's what they were. Ten giants, eleven, once Hermes joined them, sat on ornate thrones of every material in the universe. The single empty throne was almost too bright to look at, with scrolls and books and instruments piled around the base. Thor walked to the middle of the throne room and knelt. He wouldn't've done it if Odin hadn't drilled him on exactly what he was to do over and over and over until his ears rang. Still, Thor had never thought he'd be kneeling before a council of giants. "Welcome, Prince Thor of Asgard," Zeus said. Thor could feel the lightning bouncing off of the Olympian. "I have tasted your storms in the skies of Manhattan and, I must say, well done." "Alright, what's the deal with the new girl?" Pietro spoke around a mouthful of sandwich. He didn't like the way she moved. It was too deliberate. He'd seen a ballet once with his…with Magneto, and the dancers all had complete control of every rippling, twisting muscle that fascinated and disgusted him. But this girl, Lydia or something, each step she took was way worse than the dancers'. "Who?" Todd asked. Pietro shrugged at the X-Men table in the cafeteria, right in the center of the room. She wasn't easy to miss, even though she was hunched over peeling an orange. "Oh, her? Don't know her, but we got history together." Todd wiggled his eyebrows. "Yeah, so do I," Fred added. Toad smacked his forehead. "That's the joke, dipwad, we both got world history with her." Lance dropped his tray on the table and sat down. "Are we already talking about the new girl?" Everyone nodded at him. "Cool. I think she has x-ray vision." "Elaborate," Pietro pressed. He had always imagined that x-ray vision was a Hollywood power, but, then again, Mutations worked weird. "You guys have class with her, too?" Lance waited for nods. "Did she, like, stare through the board? Like she could see through it?" He messed with the government-issued milk carton on his tray; it wouldn't open. "No, she just looked pissed off and bored in calc," Pietro replied. "I think she's a vampire." He didn't have much to base it off of but her pale skin and aloofness, but hey, that was just as much of a case as Lance's x-ray thing. And he'd never guess that Kurt could teleport by looking at his blue ass; he'd sooner think fire or something else demon-y. "Ha!" Fred laughed. "Vampires aren't real." "As much as I hate to agree with Fred, yeah, that's fuckin' stupid," Lance said. He ripped off the top of the milk and drank some. "Dr. Baldy wouldn't let a bloodsucking vamp around his precious students." The X-Men table erupted in laughter. Pietro craned his neck to watch; the new girl didn't react, unless popping an orange segment in her mouth was reacting. Maybe she made a joke or something? "He lets Cyclops stay," Todd said, miming shooting lasers from his eyes. "Pew, pew, pew!" "You seriously think she's a vampire and not a mutant?" Lance frowned. Pietro blinked. "Joking, duh." Lance rolled his eyes. "So, x-ray vision. Wonder how she's gonna use that against us next time Mystique sends us to get our asses handed to us wholesale," Pietro muttered. "Damn, you're right. She's gonna beat us up," Todd concluded. He rubbed his arm; it'd been bothering him since he fell on it after Jean pushed him off an awning with a flying flowerpot. "I'm getting bruises just thinking about it." Pietro looked over at their table. He imagined they'd have an assignment pretty soon; Mystique always liked to move when it looked like Professor X was about to get the upper hand, and adding on some new student had always ticked that box for her before. Sure enough, Pietro hadn't taken two steps into Spanish when Mr. Garcia got a phone call from Principal Darkholme, calling him to her office. Great. He took his time walking there and plopped in a chair, waiting for Mystique to stop menacingly staring out her window. "I imagine you have met Lyra Smith," Mystique said, changing her appearance from the uptight Mrs. Darkholme to her regular blue. Pietro sighed. God, he was smart. "Yeah. What's up with her?" "That," she paused to turn. All dramatics with this bitch. "Is exactly what I expect you and the Brotherhood to discover. She has no records, other than a sloppily faked birth certificate from Massachusetts. Not to Charles' usual standards." Mystique scoffed. "How? From what I've seen, the X-dweebs are always with her." Not that that was any different than how they treated each other usually. They really only talked to themselves as far as Pietro cared to notice. He didn't like messing with them. They made his bruises sore. "I expect to know her powers within the week. If that information isn't to me by Friday, well, expect to find out this weekend." She snapped a ruler against her palm, switching back to Mrs. Darkholme. "Do I make myself clear?" "Yes, ma'am," Pietro replied, fighting everything he had in him so he didn't roll his eyes and end up getting the deadline moved. He sent a quick text to the boys as he walked back to class. He frowned at the sounds of droning conjugation; Mr. Garcia was the slowest talker in the world, and that was really saying a lot. Pietro walked to his desk and turned to stick his tongue out at Evan, but stopped when he noticed the black hair right in front of Evan. Score. He had no chance of talking to her when Jean and Scott hovered around her in Calc, but now? Evan was already scrolling through his phone, not paying any attention to anything. He had one chance at this, and all he had to do was move faster than Evan. Easy as breathing. Mr. Garcia finished his conjugation lesson and put a list of vocab up on the projector, announcing for them to practice pronunciation in pairs. Pietro jumped up and knelt by Lyra's desk before his usual partner, some greasy know-it-all, could turn around to sniffle in his direction. "Hola como estas," Pietro said, "I'm Pietro. And you are…?" "Woah, hold up, I'm her partner!" Evan protested, leaning forward over his desk and pointing his phone at Pietro. Some video played a flashy compilation of skateboarding tricks. As if he didn't have his own usual partner beside him; Lisa, the resident horsegirl. She looked like she was gonna cry, or neigh, or something. "Oh, I didn't know she'd already asked you to the Sadie Hawkins," Pietro snarked. "Evan! Teléfono!" Mr. Garcia called. Evan shoved his phone in his hoodie. "Pietro stole my partner!" Evan snapped, and then shrank back as giggles went around the room. He sounded like a whiny baby. "Steal Pietro's," Mr. Garcia shrugged. He picked up his sudoku book. Evan stood up and stomped over to…Pietro still didn't know his name after half a semester of practicing Spanish with him daily. He flipped off Pietro as he passed. Lisa sniffed and doodled in her notebook. Whatever. It was time to woo the weird freshman. "Hey, what's up? I'm Pietro," he held out his hand and quickly moved to run it through his hair when she didn't take it. No response, alright. "Yeah, I was just sitting over there and y'know we don't really get new students that often, so I just wanted to introduce myself. See, I'm kind of the welcoming committee here at Bayville High, and I'd hate it if you didn't get a warm welcome from the wonderful student body and stuff, so, anyways, how's your first day been?" Lyra looked almost confused. "Those are not the words on the board." Pietro frowned. She actually wanted to practice Spanish? Everyone else was already thumb deep in their phones under their desks or gossiping about what so and so wore that was just barely dress code. "Oh, yeah, right. Work first, talk later," Pietro recovered. "Let's go back and forth until we say all of them. I'll go first. Cuaderno." Lyra stared at the board and squinted. "El…borr--borra…dor." Wow. Her pronunciation was not the best by any stretch. But hey, whatever got to conversation faster. "Hoja de papel." And it went like that until they hit the bottom of the list, with Lyra doing her damned best to make something barely comprehensible and Pietro not correcting her like he was supposed to. "So, what brings you to Bayville?" "My mother sent me here." A little vague, but progress is progress. "To go to the Institute?" She nodded. Hell yes! A straight answer. Pietro was getting places. "I almost went there, too, y'know. I can do some cool stuff, but it just wasn't the right fit for me. I don't know about you, but I want to be as powerful as I can get. The Professor is too worried about staying secret to let anyone do any real training, so everyone over there stays pretty weak, no offense." He hoped she didn't know how regularly the Brotherhood got their asses handed to them by the X-Men. She kept her face blank. "What do you mean?" "Like, he doesn't want anyone to know about how strong we are," Pietro explained. "So they don't really do much. How long have you been there?" "Two weeks." "And how much training have you done?" Lyra didn't reply but looked down instead. Pietro pressed, "How much stronger are you?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Exactly. If you really want to get better, I can show you how my friends and I train after school." Pietro stole a quick look at Evan; he was scowling at his partner. Lyra snapped to attention. "Is that a yes?" "Aren't you with the Brotherhood?" She asked. Of course. "Yeah, what did they tell you about us?" "The Brotherhood is evil and wants to hurt people. I need to stay away from the Brotherhood." Pietro couldn't help but to scoff and roll his eyes. Well, depending on the definition of evil, yeah. But hurting people? Never. He was even almost a vegetarian. "C'mon, do I look evil? We're just trying to be our best, and our best just happens to be a whole lot better than everyone else." He could see the gears turning in her head as she thought about it. "Y'know, if you come along, you can leave whenever you want. Just see for yourself what we do. You might like it a little better than the Institute, but you'll never know 'till you try." Lyra nodded. "Awesome."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Xavier Institute of Gifted Memesters (6 members)
Evan: guys I lost Lyra
Scott: Are you serious Evan?! How do you lose a whole person?
Kitty: Hold on like frKitty: Bro...
Jean: Don't panic did she go to the bathroom?
Evan: like do we know if she can go invisible or smthEvan: no like I grabbed my bookbag to leave and when I turned around shes like not in her seatEvan: she was talking to speedy mcbitch in class but idk what they were talking about but it def wasn't spanish
Rogue: I thought u were gonna be her partner
Scott: Great going pal.
Jean: Scott not the time. Do you think she went with Pietro?
Kitty: We told her not to talk to any of the brotherhood and like theres no way yknowKitty: She def knows Pietro's brotherhood
Kurt: maybe shes aklready at the car
Scott: I'm here already. No Lyra. Not like she's easy to miss…
Rogue: She probably just got lost she's gonna show up
Jean: Still we should look around for her. Scott stay at the car in case she goes there. Let's not tell X or anyone just yet.
Evan: sry guys
Kurt: were goingto lose tv privileges for this
Kitty: LOL I didn't have anything to do with this I got her everywhere she needed to be I'm not gonna lose anything
Kurt: good point same
Rogue: RIP
The bus was bumpy and loud and smelly and Lyra hated it. It was almost enough to make her regret going with Pietro but the promise of getting stronger was too important to ignore. She sat in the very back (where the cool people sit, Pietro said) doing her best not to bounce into the aisle. The Brotherhood alternated asking her boring questions and she answered them as much as she could. Friends got to know each other, and answering questions was the easiest way to do that. And then, finally, after everyone else was off the bus, they finally stood to get up when it reached the end of a road. Lyra paused as she stepped down from the bus stairs, waiting for the others and studying the run-down house before her. It was nowhere near as big or as fancy as the mansion, but it was way beyond most of the houses the bus passed. "C'mon," Pietro said, twirling some keys around his finger, "I'll drop your bag inside your room and meet you guys out back." He grabbed the handle of her bag and Lyra let Pietro take it. She had a room here, too? "We do our training out back," Fred said. He was large, loud, and tossed his bag at the porch of the house. It landed with a thud next to Pietro. "C'mon. We're supposed to start with stretches, but that's stupid." Lance rolled his eyes and walked behind the house, dropping his jacket and bag in the yard, pulling his arms above his head and stretching. "Yeah, we don't have fancy machines or nothing," Todd said. He crouched down and hopped along on all fours. Lyra studied how his joints popped out and extended. Interesting. "But hey, nothing wrong with bein' practical, y'know?" He hopped over a tall brick wall and pushed a gate open from the inside. The yard opened up, enclosed on two sides by moldy brick walls, with the side opposite the house open to a large field with a few trees dotted here and there, some standing, most collapsed. The yard was muddy grass with some equipment scattered around that Lyra had seen in the mansion's gym, like weights and jump ropes. A few half-crushed cars balanced on their sides, forming half of a back wall separating the yard from the overgrown field. Pietro ran up to her, faster than anyone she'd seen run so far. Finally, someone who could keep up with her. "So, Lyra, what can you do?" He didn't give her time to answer. "I'm fast." He ran a few laps around the yard to seemingly prove his point. He wasn't very fast at all. Well, he was compared to everyone else, Lyra figured. "Fred's strong, Lance makes earthquakes, and Todd…well, he's a frog." "Hells yeah," Todd called. His tongue suddenly shot out--it was too long and too green--and caught a bug flying a few feet away. He chewed and swallowed. Lyra frowned. A shapeshifter? And Fred was strong; she wondered what his powers were for him to be described as simply strong. He must be the most powerful. "Yeah, so what's your thing?" Pietro finished. He had changed into a different outfit. Lyra wished she had thought to bring her tunic and leathers to wear. She wondered when Professor Xavier would let her have them back. "I'm strong." It was what Evan told her after she'd finally been allowed to do basic exercise with them. She'd lifted more than any of them without any issue. Mutants weren't as powerful as she'd hoped, at least not physically. Watching Kurt teleport around and Kitty travel through walls proved that at least some of them had potential. They were probably hiding some of their power from her, just in case. That was smart of them; her mother had told her to do the same so she would always have the element of surprise on her adversaries. Lyra couldn't wait to start using the Danger Room with them. Professor Xavier had said that if her first week of school went well, she could try it out. She was making great progress socially, he said. Fred laughed. "Alright, toothpick, whatever you say." What was a toothpick? Todd and Lance snickered. "Shut up, guys," Lance said. He laughed as he spoke. "I mean, it doesn't take much to be strong in the X-Men. I bet she can bench at least a hundred." A hundred what? "Yeah," Todd added, "Way better than Scottie's best of a hundred…marshmallows." He doubled over laughing. Lyra laughed along. She didn't get it, but everyone at the Institute started talking to her more once she started laughing when other people did. ~ Lance squinted into the horizon and cursed. Pietro took off towards the two cars sticking from the ground a few hundred yards away. He turned to look at the little girl who should not be able to throw an entire fucking car just as far as the Blob himself. Her eyes looked bright. Fred gaped beside her. "Who won?" Fred demanded when Pietro returned seconds later. Pietro shoved his thumb towards Lyra. "She did, by like twenty feet." "Holy fucking shit," Todd hissed. "Dude, you just got beat by a girl!" He jumped out of range when Fred turned and swiped at him. He looked at Lyra and waited for her to somehow acknowledge that she just threw a whole car. She glanced up and bit down on a smile. "What do I win?" Asgardian parties were not as wild as he remembered. Granted, they were still insane to the point where even Dionysus would be enjoying himself, but the mere fact that he was able to remember having a fantastic time was enough to put it below his previous experience. Still, Apollo woke up with a hangover that he had to put half a second of conscious effort into curing. He wasn't used to Asgardian drinks yet. Even better, he woke up alone in his bed, and in his own bed, at that. He'd hate to sleep with someone married on his first night, or just ruin some poor Asgardian to never find their own people satisfying again. Apollo breathed a sigh of relief. He found himself wandering the palace grounds aimlessly, wrapped in an itchy wool cloak that was more to disguise him as an Asgardian than to keep him warm. Apollo was already tiring of having to ignore stares from the guards, servants, court. Not that they weren't anything but polite; just standoffish. All single nods and confused smiles. He'd gotten similar looks when he decided to go for a walk of shame--pride, if he had chosen to sleep with some lucky mortal--instead of just teleporting out of whoever's bedroom. Oh, gods, they took him for a cheap fuck. Or they just weren't used to seeing such flawless beauty, Apollo reassured himself. His gentle wavy locks and incapacitating charm were new, after all. "Lord Apollo," a soft voice said. Apollo turned to the source, noting it had come from one of the lovely women at the head of a small group dressed in gold and silver armor over embordered gowns. Ah, admirers in the court already? "I trust you're finding Asgard suitable?" "From what I've seen so far, only a fool wouldn't be dazzled by the palace halls and grounds," Apollo replied with a smile that glinted brighter than the metallic walls around him. Truth be told, he was quite disappointed at the lack of decoration around. Sure, the courtyard gardens were beautiful and fragrant, and the frescoes on the ceiling were pleasant in their own right, but they were the only decoration to be found, it seemed. The samey architecture of the palace would make it easy to get lost, if his memory were not that of a god, and provided little to look at after one got over the initial awe at the delicate metalwork incorporated into the walls. "The other Olympians will be quite jealous once I disclose the beauty of Asgard's sights, and its people." The women, save the strong-featured blonde in the front, laughed. "I'm glad you're settling in nicely," The blonde replied, holding up a hand to quiet her companions. "We were just on our way to the arena to watch the combatants. I'd be honored if you'd join us." Jean slipped her phone back into her purse and tapped her foot. "Nothing?" Scott asked. She shook her head in response. He leaned on the hood of his car and frowned. "I can't believe they managed to lose a whole person." He opened his door and slipped into the drivers seat, slamming the door behind him with too much force. 'Fuck me. Dumbass can't do anything right. Now I have to fix it again--' "Scott," Jean said, pulling him from his thoughts. She hated how Scott refused to ever talk about his feelings, unless they were positive. Instead, he kept them like dry ice in a bottle, where only she and the Professor could hear the resulting explosion of self-hatred and anger. Sometimes Jean wished she had that privilege, to avoid her thoughts--everyone's thoughts--for a while. "It's alright. She might've just walked back to the Institute herself." He rested his forehead on the steering wheel. "This would be so much easier if you could track her." Jean slid into the passenger's seat and placed her bookbag at her feet. She unzipped the smallest pocket and grabbed her bottle of migraine pills. "Our best bet is to try the Brotherhood," Jean said. "I already texted Fred--" "You still have his number?" Jean rolled her eyes. "Yes, Scott, I still have his number." "He kidnapped you!" As if she needed reminding. "If he didn't block me, he might tell me if Lyra is with them. Kitty texted Lance, too, but we don't really have time to wait for a response. We need to get going, especially if she's not actually at the Brotherhood house." Scott bit his cheek and sighed for a ridiculously long time. He turned the key and though the sound of the engine turning over usually calmed him or at least gave him a little tinge of excitement, Jean could've sworn it gave him the subtlest downturn in mood. "I'm taking the long way through town. She might be at that café with some friends that aren't evil." "The Brotherhood isn't evil, Scott. Just misunderstood." He scoffed. "I'll remember that the next time they try and break into the airfield. Or rob every store in Bayville after causing an earthquake. Or--" "Alright, I get it, you don't like the Brotherhood." Jean cut him off as Scott cut off some senior who had the right of way out of the parking lots. "Bingo." "Well, I feel sorry for them." "Don't you still have a bruise on your leg from last month?" Jean paused. It was probably not healing because of soccer, not because Pietro had really hurt her. "Why don't you let me do all the talking when we get there?" Thor poked the box labeled on his bed with the handle of Mjolnir, just in case. He hadn't noticed Hermes holding anything when he blinked him back to what must be his quarters in Stark's tower, but Olympians seemed rather fond of their magic. Thor wasn't unimpressed by their spells and enchantments, especially not after Dionysus gifted him an endless wine bottle. Olympian wine wasn't quite to the taste of Asgardian ales, but it was close enough to substitute one for the other. The Olympian Postal Service label was marked with a Talaria, and Thor finally decided there was no harm in opening it. Still, he held Mjolnir at the ready. Ripping open the rainbow tape, he peered inside and sighed when he couldn't see any sides to the box. Of course it would be a pocket dimension. A note on top was written in a strong, elegant hand, though the Norse Runes were…rough, to say the least. A nice gesture regardless, Thor thought.
Princess Thor from the Asgard,
We are well to enjoy company this day. I and the other Olympus want to you come back to greet return. We want to enjoy harmony with Aesir. Thor wants to talk and eat, Olympus is good. Olympus gifts from the strong home. Journey if Thor birch tree!
Generosity, Hera, dance wisdom
Thor folded the note and peered deeper in the box, jumping back when a peacock snapped its head out and squawked at him. "Hello?" He greeted the bird, his mind racing with possibilities that Hera had sent him a spy. The peacock jumped out and ruffled its feathers, blue and green down spreading itself around the room. It sat down beside the box and dug its head back in, its long neck completely disappearing inside the plain cardboard. It reappeared with a net bag of shells, and somehow managed to whip its head and toss them to Thor. They stared at each other until the peacock started screeching and giving the best scowl Thor had ever seen on a being with no lips or eyebrows. "Oh, um, thank..you?" He felt stupid thanking it, but Thor could've sworn it smiled at him before digging back into the box. The peacock pulled out, holding a golden bejeweled hairbrush in its beak. It dropped it on the sheets and moved to reach back in the box. Thor sighed and waited for the bird to emerge again. Spy or not, he wasn't too excited about being the proud keeper of a self-righteous bird. Apollo's tongue dropped into his stomach when the guards at the arena knelt before their group. It wouldn't've been that much of a stretch for them to bow to him, he was the esteemed visitor, after all, but they were obviously kneeling to the woman at the head of the group, the one he'd been breezily definitely not flirting with. "Hail, Queen Frigga," they greeted. They passed into the arena, stopping every few feet for Frigga to converse with a patron on matters such as the weather, how lovely a new robe turned out, which of the children were scraping their knees and on what. Apollo couldn't listen, he was too busy listening to his own heartbeat as he considered ways to recover from his mishap. This was definitely not the same Frigga as the stately woman in the throne room yesterday. Sure, this Frigga was breathtaking in her own right, but in a less stick-up-her-ass way. Much more Stacy's mom and less 'underestimate me so I can destroy your entire life in a show of power so sexy you'll never forget it'. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd hit on someone's spouse, but it was the first time said spouse was someone really, really important. Zeus would literally kill him if he found out that the reason his favorite son was kicked out of Asgard was because he tried to bang the queen. Maybe she hadn't noticed? Maybe she'd thought he was flirting with some of the women in her group? No, that would be an even bigger insult, probably. No woman, especially one so obviously the in-charge, liked to be second. After an eternity of careless conversation with Asgardians, they stepped into a room full of plush silken couches, golden tables adorned with rich foods, and servants standing at attention along the walls. A balcony was open and gave an excellent view of the arena, even from where Apollo paused just inside the door. Frigga's entourage easily slipped into laughter and sips of whatever shimmering blue drink the servants passed around, encouraging him to mingle. He stepped to the balcony, leaning over the metallic barrier and looking over the field. Patrons packed in the stands, all chanting different names. Other boxes dotted around, some full, some empty. The arena was a simple circle of sand and dirt, with occasional stone pillars to hide behind or climb or whatnot. Apollo had a flashback to the grand amphitheaters and all the prayers he got from the occasional gladiator armed with bows. He wondered if he'd be able to exert a little divine power on these fighters. "Well, Lord Apollo, surely you've not been struck speechless by the Proving Grounds," a woman called from a couch. He turned to face her; judging by her easy posture in the center of her chosen couch, she was the second in command. The woman with red hair braided with purple flowers had already finished her drink and exchanged it for another. "You've not said a word since we arrived! Are you finding the beauty of a mere building more enticing than that of the Queen?" Shit, they had noticed. "Oh, be still, Freya," Frigga scolded with a smile. "Allow me to apologize on her behalf." "Only if you'll allow me to apologize for my indiscretion," Apollo replied. "I meant no offence." "An unnecessary apology, I assure you. Come, sit with us. The battles aren't to start for some time." "Hey, pal," Bruce said when Thor walked in the lounge with a bottle of wine in one hand and a vase of flowers in the other. He'd been looking for something to distract him from the absolutely awful books Tony had put in the floor library, and the virgin drinks he'd whipped up at the bar weren't exactly doing it. "That was some entrance you made yesterday." Thor sat down, put the flowers down on the bar and ruffled up the petals. "Well met, Dr. Banner. I had business to attend." "With a flying mailman, huh?" God, Bruce hoped Thor would give at least a semblance of an explanation for that. He, Tony, and Steve had put the security footage on loop for hours, trying to figure out exactly what the hell had happened. "Express delivery of poppies?" "They were a gift from Demeter. Do they smell like anything to you?" "Who's Demeter?" Bruce asked, leaning over the bar to get a good sniff. He almost cried. Sourdough bread, just a little burnt, and mango shampoo. It smelled exactly like-- "Goddess of the Harvest," Thor replied. "An Olympian. They're supposed to smell like home." Thor reached over the bar and grabbed a pint glass, pouring himself a full cup of wine from his bottle. Bruce swallowed the lump building in his throat. "Yeah. Yeah they do." He choked on a sharp breath. "I'm sorry, did you say the goddess?" "Yes, I had to meet with the Olympians," Thor said. He took a long drink and sighed. "Loki violated an agreement my father had with Zeus when he…" Thor trailed off and refilled the pint. "Well, tried to conquer all of Midgard. That little adventure of his wasn't well received." Well, that was one hell of a distraction. "Zeus. The lightning god." Thor frowned, his eyes sparking. "An Olympian who happens to have power over lightning, yes. A god, not quite. I've yet to meet a god." Bruce blinked. "So you don't look in the mirror and think, 'oh yes, I'm Thor, a god'?" Thor laughed. "No, though I understand how Midgardians get confused. Are you not god of your pets? Do they not worship you as such?" The series of goldfish Bruce had as a child must've seen him as a god of death. "Of course, the Olympians do prefer to be called gods. As do some of the less humble Asgardians." Bruce waited for Thor to go on. "So you're telling me," he finally said after a pause that felt like five minutes, even though it was probably only like five seconds, "that it's not just Norse gods--Asgardians--that are real?" "Midgard happens to be a realm where many Branches of the Great Tree Yggdrasil converge. Your little people have met with many much more powerful cultures without even realizing." Thor waved his hand as if he were filling in the plot of last night's episode of House Hunters. "Kind of an intergalactic hub, Midgard. Be grateful your culture and technology is so puny as to attract little attention. Be grateful Asgard pities you tiny humans, and holds you somewhat under our protection." "Right, ok, that's cool, that's cool." "Of course, we and a few others have sealed some Branches of Yggdrasil to travelers without permission--the Branch to Olympus, for example. Hence, why I had to rely on Hermes to take me there. Trust me, friend Bruce, I'm much more capable of traveling the World Tree than I appear." Thor clasped Bruce on the shoulder and smiled warmly. "Were it not so dangerous for mortals, I'd take you on a journey that would shatter your small mind." 'No offense,' Bruce thought for Thor. 'Oh, none taken! I love being called small minded and weak!' he replied to himself. He had a very prominent green-tinged memory of all but shattering Thor's brother only a few floors up, and the letters after his name also wanted to argue. Still, he had bigger things on his mind, like running to Wikipedia to get a quick overview on polytheism and mythology outside of the little scan he'd done on Thor and Loki two weeks ago. He turned when a flash of blue entered the lounge. Steve was wearing the exact same American blue polo Bruce betted he owned at least a dozen of. "Welcome back, Thor. Don't even tell me what happened with the mailman; I couldn't understand if I tried. Playing bartender, Bruce?" "Don't you know it's the prohibition?" Bruce snarked. "Just kidding, it's fifty bucks for a watered-down shot." "Damn, I left Stark's wallet in his pocket. He's on his way up, by the way. He told me to tell Thor not to leave until he gets a full scientific explanation." Thor drained his pint of wine and poured himself another. Bruce stared at the bottle; he could've sworn Thor only brought one with him. "It's not much to explain. I was simply meeting with the Olympians." "Steve, how up to date are you on your Greek mythology?" Steve sighed. "Don’t tell me that--" "Yeah. They're real," Bruce finished for him, filling a single shot glass for Steve.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The Asgardian warriors were beyond skilled. Apollo watched in awe as they fought one on one in the arena, each move carefully calculated like the finest of dances. It was true artistry the likes of which he hadn't seen since the Gigantomachy, when all the gods and giants trained day in and out for their lives. Words failed him, though poems and songs of the beauty of the warriors flowed through his mind like water. "So, Lord Apollo, what do you think?" Frigga asked in between each match, and his answer was always the same. "I've never seen anything so--" He never could find the right word, and it pissed him off. He wasn't one to be caught without something to say. If there wasn't the right word, he would make one, but that ability seemed just out of reach. He settled for 'inspiring', even though it didn’t even capture a fraction of what he meant. The matches were fought to the brink of death, with each warrior barely able to stagger out of the arena or raise a fist in victory. The control needed to keep an opponent alive and not permanently crippled was impressive, especially considering the weapons some warriors brought with them. Swords, hammers, axes, spears, spiked chain whips, what looked like a chainsaw, they were designed to kill. Apollo watched as warrior after warrior was brought to within a frayed thread of death before they finally yielded and were healed somewhere out of the arena. That was another thing he felt, the sweet tingle of healing magic. It was crude compared to his own skill, but damn was it efficient in getting the warriors good as new. Apollo decided to seek out a healer and find their techniques, if not teach them a thing or two about regrowing cells. "He's got the same look as Bragi," Freya laughed. "I'll bet he'll start singing again once we get him drunk enough. Fulla, be sure to write down his lyrics this time." "Lord Apollo must be opposed to drinking while Sol watches," Irpa, a dark skinned woman with piercing green eyes and her own healing magic that she hid deep within herself, joked. Ah yes, Sol. Apollo had nearly run into her more than once. She absolutely refused to modernize her chariot; horses didn't come with turn signals or brake lights. "How could I dull my senses to this glorious display? Queen Frigga, you need not impress me to this degree; Olympus lacks such unrivaled entertainment!" Apollo cringed as he lied; his poetry musicals every third Wednesday were far better than this, but he rarely attended any of the war games in Olympus. He never found them as striking as this; he was familiar with Greek wrestling and tactics. This short, brutal style of going at one's opponent was all for the challenge, none of the performance the Olympian fighters gave. Frigga laughed with bells in her voice. "Compliments appreciated. I believe there is only one more match today between Asgardians. After this, the Einherjar will fight." "To the death!" Freya added. Apollo blinked. "Well, second death. They're already dead, you see? But their skills must remain sharper than Gungnir at all times. It's more interesting in my opinion; since the Einherjar are from everywhere and everywhen." Irpa scoffed. "You only say that because your own Souls are fighting today." "Yes, but I say that of King Odin's Souls, as well," Freya said, holding up an empty glass for a fraction of a second before a servant took it and replaced it with a full cup in a smooth, practiced movement. "I've been thinking we should have the Valkyrie's training in more modern techniques. Midgard is nothing if not innovative; why shouldn't we take advantage of the Einherjar's knowledge for ourselves? Won't do us much good if we wait to use it for Ragnarök." "You've been saying that for centuries, Val-Freya," Frigga said. "How many times must I grant my blessing before you grant your time to renovating your own protocols?" "At least once more, my Queen." Freya shrugged and followed the movements of the latest warrior to enter the arena; a dark-haired woman carrying a sword as big as she was, an ornate golden headpiece catching the sun just right to glare on Apollo's eyes. Judging from the cheers of the crowd, she seemed to be rather popular, but Apollo cared more that the glare was blinding, and he couldn't get rid of it with his powers. "I'd hate to lose this ritual we've shared for so long by simply following through with my whims." Five warriors came from the opposite entrance to the arena, all armored much more protectively than the woman's simple leather. Apollo squinted against the glare; perhaps he was seeing…almost triple. Five on one just seemed unfair, unless she was a god to their mortality. Even worse, Apollo finally realized-- "Why only melee weapons? No archery?" "It's less exciting to watch," Freya said. "Less intimate." Apollo bit his tongue; nothing was more intimate than staring down your opponent from across the universe, waiting for that one little glint in their eyes that signaled the time to release an arrow. Perhaps they simply didn't want him to affect the outcome of the matches, consciously or not. He looked away from the beginnings of the fight, the five warriors were carefully stepping themselves into a formation around the woman. It was painful to look at her for too long. "Lord Apollo, I must apologize for Lady Sif," Frigga said suddenly. "Who?" "The woman putting on a damn fine show right now," Freya answered. "Yes, her," Frigga said. "Her circlet holds a reflection the light that Sol casts towards Midgard. A powerful artifact filled with power adjacent and incompatible with your own." She raised her hand and a blue sheen fell over the balcony, shimmering with what was undeniably magic. "That should make it more comfortable for you to observe." Apollo rubbed away the last of the sting in his eyes, catching tears that had involuntarily fallen as he did so, hopefully before any of the goddesses noticed. He glanced up towards the arena; Sif's circlet was much more bearable to look at, though it still gave him the sensation of forgetting to blink for too long. It draped over her long, dark hair in a veil of carefully woven gold and crystals and…berries. "Yes, thank you, Queen Frigga." He'd never been affected so harshly by any power before, not even when Zeus had taken away his power after he slew Python. And to be affected by a power so near his own, when he hadn't even flinched passing Sol in the skies, Apollo doubted there wasn't some other factor at work. Perhaps Frigga's magic, so different from what he was familiar with, what Hecate commanded, was at fault for his reaction to Sif's circlet. And Sif was a natural-born performer; every move she made was punctuated with a flourish designed to get the crowd riled up and they cheered in time with every swing of her massive sword, every acrobatic leap from one opponent to the next. The crowd cheered just as much when she was harmed; a bloodthirsty crowd that couldn't wait until the death matches to follow. She easily got the better of her opponents one after the other, taking advantage of tiny missteps Apollo was forced to admit to himself that he probably wouldn't've caught if he wasn't observing safely. And he could've sworn that as she fought her way around the battlefield with a certain…ferocity, it was all aimed at him. Granted, that could simply be a side effect of him being, well, Apollo, a naturally captivating figure to anyone so inclined. The last of her opponents fell with one hand waving in surrender, the other grasping a nastily spurting leg wound. Sif raised her sword and shouted in triumph, the crowd yelling along with her. Apollo noticed more than a few coins exchanging hands as the healers came in to help the wounded from the arena. Sif lowered her sword and pointed it directly at their little lounge, probably thanking Queen Frigga for observing. Wait, no, she was definitely scowling. And pointing her sword at him. Freya whistled low and muttered something to Irpa in Norse, a language Apollo had never cared to learn. A low hum from the Queen behind him, the hairs on his neck standing--she'd been thinking of him for the entire match. Under any other circumstances, Apollo would've been flattered. ~~~ Lyra didn't see much point in training with the Brotherhood. All they did was run around and throw clumsy punches at each other. Sometimes Fred threw another car. None of them had very much power at all. Almost no potential, except from maybe Lance, the earthshaker. She sat on a stair and watched the Brotherhood run laps around the yard, jumping and weaving through each other and obstacles set up from ladders and barrels while Lance tried to throw them off balance, Pietro tried to trip them, Fred tried to hit them with whatever he was throwing, Todd tried to…lick them. This was worse than watching the X-Men train. At least they had power that was worth keeping around. The Brotherhood were nothing but talentless wastes of life. Lyra stood to walk back to the Institute. She had to get back before they noticed she was missing, especially before they found her with the Brotherhood. Her heart raced at the thought of how she would be punished if Professor Xavier learned she disobeyed the only rule they gave her for her first day of school. Even worse, how her mother would feel if she was rejected from the very place she was sent to grow stronger. Lyra shivered. She hadn't even won anything from the throwing contest. "Hey!" Lyra paused at the gate and turned. Lance stood huffing, the others slowing to a walk and looking in their direction. "Where're you going? Don't you want to try the course?" The course looked awfully asinine. The Brotherhood finished it with ease, growing slower with each lap around the yard as they tired outrageously quickly. "I am leaving." "What? Why? You haven't even shown us your powers, yet," Lance argued. Lyra didn't care. She turned away from him, her foot freezing in the air when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist. Lance slammed to the ground as Lyra spun and kicked him down. She inspected her arm for any marks or runes he may have placed, her momentum from the kick carrying to pin him underfoot. Nothing there. Lyra sneered down at Lance. He groaned like a weakling; she hadn't hit him very hard at all. She walked through the gate, pausing when Pietro ran in front of her to block her path. "I am leaving," she repeated. "What'd Lance do?" Pietro asked. Lyra shrugged and moved around him. "Eh, who cares about him, anyways! C'mon, you can't leave now! You don't even have your bag!" She stopped. It had her homework that she had to complete so she could show her teachers that she was the best student. "Where did you put it?" "I'll get it for you if you tell me what you can do," Pietro said. Lance sat up and clutched his side. He stared daggers at her. A negotiation. "I control thermal energy." Exactly what the Professor said she could do. He liked her to practice boiling and freezing pots of water, shaping flame, easy tedium that left her mind numb. And yet she couldn't bring herself to show him the true extent of her power, just in case he was an enemy. Storm seemed to do the same thing; she relegated her powers to watering plants outside instead of summoning massive clouds like the others said she could. "Oh, that's pretty cool. I used to know someone who can do something like that--" "My bookbag," Lyra cut him off. She had no interest in his attempts to keep her around. Pietro frowned. "I'm just trying to be friendly, damn!" He ran and returned with her bag, moving much faster than he had earlier. Fred helped Lance up from the ground, and he spit blood, the metallic smell sweet and sharp against damp mud. "Here's your bag, come and get it." He slipped the straps over his arms as she approached. He sprinted across the yard when Lyra came into reaching distance. "Aw, come on dude, don't piss her off!" Lance called. Lyra jogged towards him, he ran back to the others, just out of grasp again. Oh, this was just like capture the flag in the Danger Room. Only there were no lasers, no obstacles, and the flag couldn't even fly. "No, piss her off more!" Todd argued. "It'll be funny!" "Shut the fuck up, dude." Lance spat again, holding his side and shoving Fred away. Lyra launched herself at Pietro, barely touching the ground to pivot when he ran past. She raised her hand to freeze his blood but paused--no powers allowed in capture the flag. And no powers to be wasted on, revealed to these whelps. Pietro dodged to one side just in time to avoid absolutely nothing. She trailed him, following closely behind as he twisted through the yard and out into the field behind. Lyra closed the gap between them by taking corners tighter than he could; Pietro extended it each time he ran straight by more. He had been hiding his speed earlier. Maybe Pietro was better than he let on. Perhaps all of them had been hiding their powers; they weren't as stupid as Lyra thought. Perhaps--no, no she hadn't underestimated them, she hadn't tipped her hand, shown them what she could do. She was simply training with them, not chasing Pietro around, letting him annoy her more with every step-- The ground in front of Pietro exploded. He tumbled and rolled, landing on one knee on the other side of the small crater. Lyra jumped over it and slid to a clumsy stop in the mud beside Pietro. "Shit," he muttered. Lyra pulled her bag from his shoulders, frowning at the mud caked to it. He didn't resist. Scott sprinted over, one hand holding his glasses firm to his face. Behind him, the rest of the Brotherhood stood on the defensive against Jean, floating a foot above the ground with her hands on her hips. "Lyra! What part of 'don't go with the Brotherhood' did you not understand? C'mon. We're leaving," Scott said, waiting for her to come towards him. Lyra obliged, stepping around the hole and only almost slipping once, a calculated move to look weak. She couldn't be as agile as she'd just shown if she nearly fell into a hole three feet across--let the Brotherhood doubt she'd nearly caught up to Pietro on agility alone, thrown a car further than Fred. "Stay away from her, Quicksilver," Scott warned, stepping between Lyra and Pietro. Jean floated down, a gentle hand on her shoulder and a quick once over, a nod, Lyra was unharmed, if muddy. "Or what? Careful, pretty boy, it'd be a shame if someone snatched those glasses from you in the middle of the hall." Scott didn't respond. He stomped through the mud, sending splashes of dirt clinging to his pants. Jean finished staring down the Brotherhood and followed behind Lyra. Scott paused one time at the gate and raised his glasses, a laser sending them jumping back. "Come back whenever," Lance spat. "Are you hurt?" Jean asked, circling Lyra once they were in the driveway, mud and dirt rising from her skin and clothes in an easy layer. "What did they do?" "Talk in the car. It's a long drive back," Scott said. He slammed the door as he got in. Jean flinched and smiled at Lyra. She slipped in the backseat. Lyra stared at Scott's white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel as he peeled out of the driveway. She should've left the instant she realized how weak the Brotherhood was--hopefully they were as weak as she thought they were. Now she was in trouble. Jean twisted around in her seat. "Well? Are you alright?" "Yes." "What happened? Why did you go with them?" "They asked me to train with them. I have to get stronger, so I went," Lyra answered. "I didn't get stronger. They're weak." She didn't mention how Pietro was faster than her. Something painful boiled in her abdomen, and she wanted to beat Pietro more than anything. Lyra realized she'd never had any competition; being the best was simple when she was…well, when she was the only person she knew. "That's literally the one thing we said not to do!" Scott said. Lyra leaned to the side as he turned to a different street. "They're dangerous. Not weak, not worthless, dangerous." Dangerous. A thrilling chill shot down Lyra's spine. Jean put a hand on Scott's arm and sent him a glance. He didn't turn to see it. "You really could've gotten hurt. I'm glad you're safe." "My mother sent me here to get stronger. I want to train." Scott scoffed. "Don't tell the Prof about this and I'll make sure you're running a hundred miles a day by the end of the week." He turned out of the one street neighborhood without stopping at the sign; nobody came down these roads to mostly abandoned houses. "And don't disappear again; tell me or someone else where you're going. Or, better yet, don't leave at all with people you just met an hour ago." "Ok, Scott, we can be mad about it later," Jean said. "Let's use this as a learning experience." "I learned we need to keep her on a leash," Scott muttered. Jean placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled back at Lyra. "We need to stop by the café," she said. Scott opened his mouth to say something, but Jean continued without giving him a chance to finish breathing in. "The others are covering for us. We're taking Lyra for coffee for having a successful first day at school." "Successful? Jean--" "Drop it. I can think of ten ways her first day could've been worse," Jean argued. "We're done discussing this. Lyra, ever had coffee before?"