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Salem, NY. August 2015. The days are still clear and hot; cooler weather is on the way, so enjoy the last bit of summer freedom while it lasts.
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At Xaviers' School for the Gifted, teachers are getting ready to accept new students and old into the halls, while not-quite-retired X-Men gather at the mansion as well. With an uptick in mutant gene activation, the Brotherhood is eagerly scouting to recruit new members to their agenda of mutant supremacy.
Post by Apollo de Costa on May 26, 2014 17:02:19 GMT -6
A p o l l o { s h i e l d } D e C o s t a
>> ftm >> mutant >> 21 >> teachers' aide
The students had been muttering about it since the first class of the morning; there was another X-Man on campus. Which one, nobody quite seemed to know; somebody said it was Gambit, someone else said it looked more like Cable, one group of freshman had confided (in loud stage whispers) during study hall that it was 'totally Wolverine'. The only concrete thing anyone had to go off of was that, yes, it was definitely a male member of the disbanded superhero team. Who had then, it seemed, vanished into the rabbits' warren of rooms that the mansion had - half of them still dusty and unused from years ago. The mutant population had soared since M-Day, but only in relative terms - four or five hundred mutants instead of just-short-of two hundred did not a filled-to-the-brim academy make.
What if it was Wolverine? Apollo found himself wondering. He was his...grandfather, or uncle, or something. Cloning created incredibly unusual genetic trees; Apollo had always considered the Canadian anti-hero as some kind of distant grandfather, since his mom seemed to think of him as a father-figure instead of brother. How much of a father figure was up to debate, and Apollo had never bothered to ask - he certainly never remembered meeting the man. The aid was less than thrilled at the prospect; he'd heard and read enough to know that Logan, although a useful teammate and skilled superhero, was also, to Apollo's way of thinking, a murderer.
Death happened; Apollo recognized that it was inevitable for everyone. That didn't mean that you had to go around indiscriminately killing everyone who stood in your way; hired thugs just doing a guard job they got paid to do didn't deserve to walk away from it without a hand, or without their life. Then again, Apollo reflected, if they were coming at you with an intent to kill, or if they had already shown they were completely willing to kill, was it a free-for-all, morally speaking? Just thinking of the blood sprays made him shudder, uncomfortable even in his current physically lazy position - stretched out on a sofa in the living room area, a book loosely held in one hand as he soaked up the spring sun that drifted in from the large windows.
A couple of students milled about in the open hallway behind the living area, and Apollo only looked over his shoulder when he heard them hurriedly leave and another, heavier set of footfalls caught his attention. Speak of the devil., he thought, surprise clear on his face.
>> ftm >> mutant >> 21 >> teachers' aide
The students had been muttering about it since the first class of the morning; there was another X-Man on campus. Which one, nobody quite seemed to know; somebody said it was Gambit, someone else said it looked more like Cable, one group of freshman had confided (in loud stage whispers) during study hall that it was 'totally Wolverine'. The only concrete thing anyone had to go off of was that, yes, it was definitely a male member of the disbanded superhero team. Who had then, it seemed, vanished into the rabbits' warren of rooms that the mansion had - half of them still dusty and unused from years ago. The mutant population had soared since M-Day, but only in relative terms - four or five hundred mutants instead of just-short-of two hundred did not a filled-to-the-brim academy make.
What if it was Wolverine? Apollo found himself wondering. He was his...grandfather, or uncle, or something. Cloning created incredibly unusual genetic trees; Apollo had always considered the Canadian anti-hero as some kind of distant grandfather, since his mom seemed to think of him as a father-figure instead of brother. How much of a father figure was up to debate, and Apollo had never bothered to ask - he certainly never remembered meeting the man. The aid was less than thrilled at the prospect; he'd heard and read enough to know that Logan, although a useful teammate and skilled superhero, was also, to Apollo's way of thinking, a murderer.
Death happened; Apollo recognized that it was inevitable for everyone. That didn't mean that you had to go around indiscriminately killing everyone who stood in your way; hired thugs just doing a guard job they got paid to do didn't deserve to walk away from it without a hand, or without their life. Then again, Apollo reflected, if they were coming at you with an intent to kill, or if they had already shown they were completely willing to kill, was it a free-for-all, morally speaking? Just thinking of the blood sprays made him shudder, uncomfortable even in his current physically lazy position - stretched out on a sofa in the living room area, a book loosely held in one hand as he soaked up the spring sun that drifted in from the large windows.
A couple of students milled about in the open hallway behind the living area, and Apollo only looked over his shoulder when he heard them hurriedly leave and another, heavier set of footfalls caught his attention. Speak of the devil., he thought, surprise clear on his face.
Word Count: 451
Tag: @wolverine
