Alternate Universe: The Runaways

[Seer]

The Six -- dead. Atleast in this alternate universe. The mutants of the world's last hope for salvation against MysTech was gone....or so it seemed. Before her death, Delilah Trelaven--better known as Morningstar--began a foundation to help young mutants better cope with their abilities and live up to their highest potential. This is the story of some of those mutants....


---


It was a beautiful day in Los Angeles, California. The sky was cleared of any clouds, allowing the sun to fully cascade over the bussling city. It was the ideal day. A day where kids begged their parents to go to the beach. A day where people flocked to the parks to play with their dogs. A day that made every other day seem dull in comparison. However, as wonderful as this day seemed to be for others.....for some, it was a day of mourning.

The unwavering sun shined down onto a beautiful dark cherry wood casket decorated with lilies and gardenia's. A preist stood before forty guest, next to a a candid photo of the deceased....Delilah Trelaven. Among those guest were five teenagers: Brenda Castle, Richard Martin, Jackson Elliot, Elizabeth Stone, and Olivia Davis. Five of Delilah's peers from her Archangel Foundation. All different....all powerful....and all about to be forced together in an effort to save mutant kind.

And so it begins...

 

[Brenthon]

- Jackson Elliot stood towards the back of the funeral party. The service was classic and elegant like Delilah herself and for a moment Jack found himself lost in the beauty of the lillies. Snapping back into reality he tried to regain his focus on the service, but it wasn't much help. From his pocket, he took out the rosary given to him by his now deceased grandmother and began nervously rubbing the beads. His grandmother was a devout catholic and though at times she had been a blowhard, Jack found something beautiful in her faith and nowadays whenever he was distressed or nervous he could be seen with that rosary in hand. -

Priest: I would now like to open the floor to those would like to share any memories or stories of their time in this life with Delilah.

- He had wanted to say something. He couldn't not. When he had first met Delilah he had resisted her help so much. He thought she was treating him like some charity case, but she proved herself otherwise. Most of the time, she just listened. They would go to the boardwalk on Santa Monica and just catch up with a hotdog and maybe a carnival game or two, but she was there. She had made him feel good about things. About his.. differences. Delilah had made him feel like his abilities, that these things he could do that nobody else could, might actually bring value to the world. That he could help others, that he wasn't a freak. Jack made his way from the back of the the guests to the front as he soon found himself next to the priest, with a microphone in his hands. -

"Uh.. Hi. My name's Jack, and Delilah was kinda my.. my mentor. She was always such a vivacious and kind person. She was so patient and she always listened to me, no matter how small my problems probably were to hers. Anyway, I wanted to read a poem today that kind of reminds me of her... here it is."

- Removing the crumbled piece of paper from his jacket pocket as he unfolded it slowly and began to read. -

"In the black pool of the midnight Lu has slung the morning star,
And its foam in rippling silver whitens into day afar
Falling on the mountain rampart piled with pearl above our glen,
Only you and I, beloved, moving in the fields of men.


In the dark tarn of my spirit, love, the morning star, is lit;
And its halo, ever brightening, lightens into dawn in it.
Love, a pearl-grey dawn in darkness, breathing peace without desire;
But I fain would shun the burning terrors of the mid-day fire.


Through the faint and tender airs of twilight star on star may gaze,
But the eyes of light are blinded in the white flame of the days,
From the heat that melts together oft a rarer essence slips,
And our hearts may still be parted in the meeting of the lips.


What a darkness would I gaze on when the day had passed the west,
If my eyes were dazed and blinded by the whiteness of a breast?
Never through the diamond darkness could I hope to see afar
Where beyond the pearly rampart burned the purer evening star."

- Jack looked among the crowd as he smiled for a second to himself. -

"Thank You..."

- And just as quietly as he entered center stage, he once again faded into the crowd of funeral goers, his eyes moving from the priest to the coffin that Delilah was now resting in, not really sure how to rationalize what he was seeing. The entire situation was absolutely surreal. -

 

[Ana-Leigh Moreau]

Tuning the preist out, Olivia Davis really didn't want to hear what he had to say. Why? What was the point? Delilah was dead and nothing he said would change that fact. Staring absently at the casket that held her mentor, she was certain now that there was no God. Why would a God take away a strong, caring, selfless woman like Delilah from this world and allow the scum that murderer her to live? Heh...if her parents could hear her now. If they thought she was going to hell for being a mutant, second guessing God would most definitely give her a first class ticket to Satan's Lair. She didn't care. The moment her parents told her she was an "abomination" for something she had no control over, was the moment she stopped believing in anything. Atleast....that was until she met Delilah.

Jackson: "Uh.. Hi. My name's Jack..."

Snapping out of her daze, Livvie lifted her eyes to the voice she heard. He was boy...probably her age or younger. If it were any other day she would definitely be internally gushing about how cute he was. But right now she just felt numb. Jack continued on, talking about how Delilah was a mentor to him as well. He must have been a mutant too. As he began to read his poem, Livvie's eyes shifted back over to the casket. She felt like she needed to cry, to keep up with the other people sniffing around her...but she couldn't.

Jackson: "Thank You..."

Looking back over at Jackson as he handed the microphone back to the priest, he managed to make his way back into the pack of people and disappear from Livvie's line of sight. The priest asked if anyone else would like to speak.....Livvie inhaled a deep breath before sighing out. Why not? If she couldn't cry at Delilah's funeral, the least she could do was say a few words about her.

Stepping forward, Livvie walked over to the priest, taking the mic as he offered it to her. Parting her lips with her tongue, Livvie stood there for a moment, silent. Unsure of what to say.

"Hey...i'm Livvie....uhm..I don't have a poem or anything to read. I just...I wanted to say that Delilah was a good person. She was one of very few left in this world. She helped me through things that I could never possibly pay her back for....and...I wish that she could still be here so she could help other people like she helped me. I'll miss her...a lot.....[softly] Thanks."

Handing the microphone back to the priest, Livvie tucked her waved brunette hair behind her ear as she made her way back over to her 'spot' in the crowd. It wasn't exactly Shakespeare, but it was from her heart. And she knew that's exactly what Delilah would have wanted.

 

[Matrix]

Richard was crestfallen, shaking his head as the proceeding went forward. he though about Delilah, the only person other than those he left behind that he ever felt was FAMILY.

She helped him recover his physical form and work on his powers. She once caught him looking at her ass, and instead of ripping him by informing him that he had no shot with her, she took it on herself instead of hurting his feelings, telling him that he was handsome but she was too OLD for him. He knew that she was good people, the kind you don't see every day. She would be missed, and he would find whoever did this and make them pay. Someday.

He was snapped back by the youthful male voice who read a beautiful poem, then a young woman who said little, but it was backed by so much emotion. He stood, taking the microphone from the priest, and cleared his throat.

Delilah was a special person, someone who took the time to encourage a kid like me to be proud of my talents. This is for you, Dee.

He lifted the mic to his mouth and began to sing. WELL.

OOC: Just the first 3 and a half minutes or so, accapella, substitute "Delilah" for "my woman" in "my woman left, and she didn't say why".

After he was done, he wiped a tear and handed the mic back to the priest, returning to his seat. Without Delilah's encouragement, he would have never been able to do that. so it was only fitting that he would do it for her.

 

[Brenda Castle]

Brenda Castle leaned against the door of her immaculately restored baby blue 1967 Shelby GT500 Mustang convertible. She's at the funeral, but only just. Forty people were here to pay their respects to Delilah. Forty grieving minds. There was no WAY Brenda was going to sit amongst them. She knew better than to think she could handle it. This wasn't so bad. At this distance, she could hear the people who spoke into the microphone, but the amalgam of their minds was not overwhelming. Normally, a room full of people's minds could be tolerated. All the voices combined and sounded like it often did in the cafeteria at lunch; many people talking about different things in happy voices of frivolity. But a funeral… with forty people thinking almost the same sad thing? It would be best not to subject herself to that torture. She hoped Delilah would understand. She also hoped Delilah would not take offense that Brenda was not at ALL dressed for a funeral, in the pristine, crisp white of her tennis outfit. It was part of the story she wove for her parents. It was a beautiful day outside and tennis was the perfect excuse. She couldn't tell them she was going to the funeral of the woman who helped Brenda acclimate to the voices in her head.

Delilah had been a tremendous help, not only because she was understanding, helpful and encouraging, but also because she had such a kind mind. She was very easy for Brenda to be around, even though Delilah often scolded Brenda about the ethics of her abilities, and was generally uncomfortable with Brenda's power. Her heart was in the right place. She didn't judge, she UNDERSTOOD and provided guidance, and it made all the difference. Brenda wished, for the umpteenth time, that she could just control her abilities for once, so that she could sit amongst the other mourners at the funeral, or perhaps so that she could at least go up there and say something in Delilah's honor without being bombarded by their thoughts. But she could not turn it 'off', and so, she would not be able to attest to Delilah's unimpeachable mindset. Some of Delilah's other 'students' got to say their peace.

Why did you have to leave, Delilah? I feel so lost.

 

[Elizabeth Stone]

Effy took a drag off her cigarette. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and she glanced down at the grass while she exhaled the smoke slowly. Wow, it was really green. Like electric green. There must be some serious chemical shit on there to make it look like that.

She wasn't angry. She wasn't sad. She was just there. Other people had lost the ability to hurt her long ago. Then she had stopped talking completely. And then she had come to the Foundation.

She scanned the crowd, at the same time replaying the memories in her mind, while simultaneously paying complete attention to the service. If there was one thing Eff could do, it was multi-task. She noticed some blonde girl she recognized from her school. She knew her name was Brenda, but she didn't really care. The girl was a telepath. Interesting. Bet mummy and daddy loved that. Effy's mouth erupted in a sly smile.

Effy had identified fifteen mutants in attendance, including three kids who felt the need to speak. Talk about a nerdherd. As if Delilah would have even wanted all of this. Whatever.

Delilah was the first person she had spoken to in three years. But she was gone now, no use crying over it. In the days since her death, Effy had spent a lot of time at the Foundation, augmenting its computer searches with her own mental processes, identifying probable mutants and mutant activity. The Foundation had to be kept going - that was the only thing Delilah would have cared about.

Right now, the only thing Effy cared about was ducking out for a spliff.

 

[Elizabeth Stone]

The service was over. Big gorillas in coveralls were using some winch thing to lower the casket into the ground. Cool.

Effy stamped out her cigarette, and turned and walked away. She didn't go up to the casket as she left, like some were doing. She slipped the earbuds of her ipod in as she walked out the big iron gates of the cemetery with it's soylent green grass and jumped on a bus headed downtown.

Stepping off at Melrose and Highland, she walked the few blocks it was to the Archangel Foundation.

She put her hand on the electronic lock over the door. In a few seconds, she heard the familiar click and turned the handle. The lights turned on automatically as she moved through the reception area and into the control room. Her scans were still running, going through hundreds of thousands of media outlets for signs of mutant involvement. She settled in to the main computer access station, pulling a bottle of whiskey from her purse and taking a long swig. She let her mind meld with the terminal as she started to work. But something was wrong...

Someone was in the process of hacking into their system. Her fingers flew over the keys, initiating protection protocols and trackers. And as if that wasn't bad enough, she heard the front door open and a voice coming towards her up the stairs, screaming bloody murder, "Help me! Help me please! Delilah! Oh god!"

"Fuck me."

Effy continued to set up the counter-measures with her mind while she rushed out into the main foyer to see a black-haired girl, extremely upset, doubled over in pain. When Effy reached her, she collapsed, and she barely was able to keep her from smashing her head on the ground. Aw, hell.

"Delilah," the girl gasped, "I need to talk to Delilah. They're killing me!"

Effy looked down into the girl's face, inquisitively, her brows knit together, "She's- she's not here. Let me call an ambulance." Effy had the computer system electronically call for one.

The girl shook her head, then shut her eyes tight as another stab of pain hit her. Blood was coming out of her nose and ears. "It hurts..."

The girl didn't open her eyes again.

*******************************

The ambulance had come and taken the girl away. What good it would do, she didn't know. She sat at Delilah's desk now, tapping a pen against it, thinking. She looked to the computer screen, to the message she had typed there, to the four names she had decided to send the text to from Delilah's number.

Text to Mobile
To: Olivia Davis, Brenda Castle, Richard Martin, Jackson Elliott

Message: Meet in one hour at the Archangel Foundation.


After another split-second of thought, she hit send.

 

[Brenthon]

Funeral to Santa Monica

Jackson watched the rest of the service as two other young people stepped on stage to pay their respects, one with a remarkably good singing voice. As the service ended, he made his way to the parking lot, hopping into his silver 2008 Cadillac CTS and made his way onto the many entangling freeways of the City of Angels, turning the music as loud as it could possibly go, right now it was Robyn.

"And it hurts with every heartbeat..."

He absolutely loved music and everything about it. Yes he was one of many with a guitar and a dream, though he never really took it seriously. He knew his life wasn't going to be that of a rockstar, but most likely that of a Studio Executive, the family business. He'd been groomed for it practically his whole life. It was expected, though he was sure that if he just kept driving, that if he never took his foot off the pedal and never returned to this suffocating city ever again, that neither Claire or Hank (his parents) would even notice.

Getting lost in the music he soon found himself outside of Santa Monica. A little sick of driving he made his way to the beach, putting his car into park and turning the music even louder. Opening his glove compartment he pulled out a plastic baggy, opened it, pulled out a joint and lit up, inhaling deeply as he closed his eyes. Pot was about the only thing that made his existence bareable. Delilah had been trying to get him to stop, but then she had to go and die, he didn't see much point in trying to stop now, he exhaled after a few moments, cracking a window and blowing the smoke out of the car. The beach was quiet and calm, which was rare in this area, with so many perfectly tanned and bronzed bodies running around just waiting to show themselves off. The soundtrack turned to The Gossip.

"It's a cruel, cruel world, to face on your own. It's a heavy cross to carry along..."

After a few more hits, Jack was completely stoned, lost in the view of the sunset and the rhythm of the music. He flicked on his lighter and turned the safety off as the flame burned high. He held his hand on top of it, watching and waiting to see if anything would happen. It didn't. It never did. Instead the flame burned on his hand as if it were nothing more than air, almost seeming to try to avoid his hand altogether. He tried to remember what it was like when he could feel his skin burn, when his body could break and bleed, but it had been so long, and Jack knew it would never be like that again. This was who he was, this was part of his gift, as Delilah put it. Delilah.

"Fuck I miss you.."

He really wished he could get his mind off of Delilah and enjoy his buzz but someone had other plans as his Blackberry lit up and and notified him of a text message. From DELILAH.

From: Delilah

Meet in one hour at the Archangel Foundation

What the hell was this about? Did somebody have Delilah's phone and if they did, who the fuck would think it was appropriate to be stringing him along just days after her death? Putting out his joint, he rolled up the window and pulled out of the beach parking lot, heading back into the city. Whoever the hell thought they were being clever was about to get the shit kicked out of them.

 

[Matrix]

The ceremony ended and all of the people left; Rich stood around a moment, and then walked over his Can-Am Spyder Roadster RT-S, a gift due to a scholarship grant from the King foundation. He was one of the few kids with nothing when he arrived from across the country, but after he met Delilah and got over his initial issues, that changed.

He hopped on and just drove for a while, stopping here and there to watch the beach, or the hills, or the desert. Amazing that so many different types of land were in one basic place. he was riding around when he felt his cell vibrate. He pulled over and checked the message, which was from...Delilah?!

Meet in one hour at the Archangel Foundation.

He pulled out, trying to remember to stay calm. He proceeded quickly to the Foundation, but decided to park up the street and show up in his own way.

A fog descended down the street and made its way into the building through every conceivable crack...

 

[Brenda Castle]

Brenda heard her own name and instinctively looked over, as if being called. It was a girl around her age. She looked familiar, probably from school. Not in Brenda's class, though. The girl's mind was unfamiliar and strange. She seemed to be thinking about many things at once; at this second it was nerds, the Archangel Foundation, and weed. Nothing important. Brenda let the girl's voice drop back into the crowd.

This funeral was starting to drag on and on. The priest was taking FOREVER to wrap it up. Brenda was ready to ditch, but she figured she could at least stay till Delilah was interred… after all, it was probably the last thing she'd ever do with Delilah in mind. They finally started to lower the casket into the ground. Brenda glanced at her Everose gold Rolex and sighed. Guess it was time to go make sure she was seen at the country club. The assembly at Delilah's casket started to break up. Brenda slid into the driver seat and the guttural growl of the high performance engine announced her exit.

She didn't really need tennis lessons anymore. She was exceptionally good at tennis, as she was at everything. Of course… she had a distinct advantage that no one knew about, and was competitive enough to use it. Delilah would not approve, but Brenda had a much looser grip on morality. And besides… why should she feel bad about using her abilities? Some people were physically stronger, Brenda was mentally stronger. She did keep meeting with her tennis instructor, however. First of all, because she needed to play someone with much more experience to even be presented with a challenge, so none of her classmates would do. Secondly, as much as she enjoyed tennis, she also enjoyed her tennis instructor, Rex. He was a hot piece and much more mature than the teenage boys at school. Brenda couldn't help but be amused as she listened to him admonish himself for thinking of her inappropriately, which happened pretty regularly. Today, after a particularly intense session, they met by the net for a water break, and Rex caught himself watching a bead of sweat disappear beneath the neckline of her top. Brenda was well-practiced in pretending to be oblivious, and did not allow a mischievous smile to creep onto her face. She drained her water bottle without a hitch. Rex firmly reminded himself that she was only seventeen. Brenda often considered giving him the mental nudge he needed to overcome that small obstacle. It would be unethical, but so what? It'd also be HOT FUN. Delilah wasn't around to care anymore. The line between wrong and right was blurry and seemed wildly subjective.

Brenda's iPhone chirped, and presented a message from… Delilah?? Meet in one hour at the Archangel Foundation. Wow…. Was it really possible for Delilah to preach from beyond the grave? Nah. Someone must be playing some kind of lame joke. In an hour, Brenda was going to make whoever that person was very, very sorry. For now, though…

"Rex?"

 

[Ana-Leigh Moreau]

The funeral was over, though it seemed to go on forever. Livvie didn't stick around long after...she didn't want to watch Delilah's casket be lowered into the ground. It was like watching what hope she had left in the world being buried with it. Walking across the vast cemetery, Livvie was wearing a 3/4 length sleeved black wrap dress that went to her knees. Not exactly her style....in fact, she felt pretty matronly in it. However, it did serve a purpose. Undoing the tie that held the dress shut, Livvie opened it revealing a completely different outfit underneath. Though the tights and boots were visible during the service, the laid back 'California' style that she was known for was covered up with the black wrap dress, so she would look appropriate at the service. Livvie was an impatient girl; there was no need to waste time by going ALL the way across town to change when she could easily do it in seconds.

Tucking the black dress into her oversized Hermes bag, Livvie then withdrew her sunglasses and put them on as she exited the cemetery. Parked nearby was a white Mustang convertible with the top already down. Swinging her purse into the passenger side, Livvie hopped in and started the engine. Time to get to work. Heading over to The Grove, it was a Saturday afternoon; the perfect time to cash in on some unsuspecting rich folks who had way too much money to know what to do with. Plus, rent was due. Walking around the cobble stoned walkways Livvie found the perfect mark. A woman in her fourties, dressed like she had just walked off of a Bryant Park runway show. With her iPhone up to her ear she busily talked to whomever was on the other line, completely unaware that Livvie was following her. She heard something about dinner at Mr. Chows. Typical. Then something about her daughter at a tennis lesson and that she would join them later. Nothing says high society like tennis lessons and dinner at Mr. Chows. Insert giant eye roll here.

Quickening her pace, Livvie sent a mildly painful shock through the woman’s hand that she held her cell phone with. Just a little bit more intense than a static shock, but enough to startle her. Just as she jumped and exclaimed in pain, Livvie slipped her hand into her open purse and withdrew the woman’s wallet. Walking past her casually, she could hear the woman cursing at her iPhone, thinking that was how she got shocked. Works every time.

Opening the wallet, Livvie took out the wad of 50's and plucked out two Amex cards. Tossing the wallet into a nearby trash can as she passed, she shoved the cash–adding up to approximately $800–into her purse, along with the cards. She’d only get to use the credit cards for a couple of hours before they were closed by the company, so it was time to shop! With a smile, Livvie started to head over to the Lucky Brand store when she heard her iPhone beep, indicating there was a text message. Digging it out, she unlocked the main screen only to be greet with a text message from...

“Delilah?”

How was that...? It wasn’t....opening the text, she began to read it.

Meet in one hour at the Archangel Foundation.

Sighing out, Livvie didn’t know what to make of this. Was it a joke? Was it someone who worked for Delilah? And if it was, why were they using her phone to text her? And WHY would they want to see her? So much for a relaxing afternoon. Shoving her phone back into her purse, Livvie decided to skip shopping and head straight for Archangel Foundation.

 

[Elizabeth Stone]

Effy sat slumped in the lounge on one of its oversized sofas. She finally had a chance to have a spliff as she waited for the others to arrive. She exhaled deeply and stared at the ceiling. She knew they would all come - they were too stupid to be wary of strange text messages. Typical. And their curiosity if nothing else would ensure they showed.

She continued to track their mysterious hacker as she sat there. Whoever it was, they were good. But everyone leaves a trail, and she would get to the end of it eventually. They had messed with the wrong system and she would fry theirs so completely they'd never recover. You had to teach punks like that a lesson.

So she knew the herd of nerd would show, and she knew the hacker wouldn't be a problem for long. What she didn't know was how Delilah's little band of mutants would react to what she was about to tell them. From what she'd seen at the funeral, they probably would care, though she wasn't exactly sure why she did. A dead girl she didn't know was no skin off her ass, but it was a mystery worthy of Scooby Doo.

A wisp of a fog-like substance in the doorway caught her eye, but she didn't sit up. She took another hit, and said, "Might as well take human form again Dracula, before you forget how." Her eyes slid to the door as she exhaled.

 

[Matrix]

"Might as well take human form again Dracula, before you forget how."

Rich took human form before Effy, taking the joint and pulling on it hard before handing it back to her. He exhaled expertly before speaking.

Ok...so you're no bad guy taking over Dee's phone line...just a kid like me trying to make it, except you smoke crappy weed. So...care to explain why you messaged me and prob'ly some others here? Talk fast, I imagine that not all of them will be as understanding as I am 'bout all this. You might need help keeping the peace.

He shifted his weight easily as he waited for Effy to give him a reason to stay another minute.

 

[Brenthon]

Archangel Foundation

"We can blow on our thumbs and posture, but the lonely are such delicate things.."

The Shins set the soundtrack to Jackson's arrival back into the city. God how he hated this city. It offered so much on the surface but underneath, it was, like the people who lived there, shallow and empty. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the music as he made his way to Highland and Melrose, attempting to parallel park, and barely completing the task, turning off the ignition and locking his car. He was now across the street from the Archangel Foundation. Damn.

It was amazing to Jackson how many memories could be evoked from just looking at a building, how bricks and mortar could make you want to laugh or cry. He then thought he needed to stop reading so much damn Robert Frost. Even still, the foundation did indeed mark a journey from innocence to experience for him. This was the first place where somebody told him who he was, what he could do was okay. Better than that, it was a gift, an asset to the world. God, he gave new definition to the word "emo". He would work on it, he silently noted to himself as he made his way across the street.

"Here goes nothing..."

He didn't know what to expect. Logically, Jack knew that Delilah was dead. He had seen her buried earlier today, but what if she wasn't. If there were people out there that had abilities like him, maybe there was somebody that could bring her back. He had seen her friends before, Delilah's, awhile back, he could tell that they were like her, and he knew they had all died together, but maybe that was just a cover? He entered the Archangel Foundation through the double doors, which were eerily unlocked and headed in.

Jack arrived at the lounge, secretly deflated that Delilah was not there, but instead there were just two kids, one he had seen in the funeral earlier today. He didn't know what to make of both of them, but they were smoking, so Jack figured they couldn't really be that bad.

"So.. what is this? A joke? Let me guess, you all got mysterious texts from a dead woman?"

He sat down in one of the lounge chairs and slumped over, rubbing his eyes. He sat a little bit away from the smoke, he was stoned enough, which was the only thing keeping him so damn calm. He looked at Richard.

"Saw you at the funeral. Crazy good voice. I'm Jack by the way."

He took a moment to look at Effy, and gave a nervous smile.

 

[Brenda Castle]

Brenda parked curbside in front of the foundation. It looked a bit different now, though she knew it was the exact same it had always been. She stepped out of the classic convertible and onto the sidewalk. Maybe it was just that stupid text she'd gotten, but the place seemed a bit haunted. Whatever. She wasn't afraid of ghosts. She opened both the unlocked double doors to the building and strode through them. They slowly shut behind her as she made her way further down the entrance hall towards the lounge, stopping once she saw the three teens amidst the smoky atmosphere. She immediately touched her temple, grimacing.

"Ugh…. Oh my god. You're all stoned….. Thanks so much."

She was going to get a contact high just listening to their blitzed thoughts. She HATED being high…. It made her feel like a delirious, paranoid schitzophrenic. The voices did not go away, they just got confusing and passive-aggressive and she usually hallucinated half of the thoughts she heard, and none of it was remotely fun.

She stayed back, not quite entering the lounge, just standing there with her hands on her hips, and took stock of the thoughts in her head. The poet from the funeral was broody and confused. The singer was expecting an answer. Both boys were staring at the girl on the sofa, the one with the ginormous ass joint and the overactive mind. Right now she was thinking of a hacker, Scooby Doo, and a dead girl. Brenda sighed.

"Alright, who's dead NOW?"

 

[Elizabeth Stone]

Talk fast, I imagine that not all of them will be as understanding as I am 'bout all this. You might need help keeping the peace.

Effy just went back to staring at the ceiling. She didn’t really care if he stayed or not, so he could try and play the tough guy if he wanted. She could take care of herself. And she wasn’t going to waste her time repeating things.

The poem kid from the funeral was the next to arrive. He introduced himself, and Effy didn’t move save for her eyes when she said, “Effy.” She expected this one thought he was Superman. Right.

"Ugh…. Oh my god. You're all stoned….. Thanks so much."

Effy just smiled condescendingly and let out a little laugh. Brenda was followed by the girl who had spoken at the funeral. Power over electricity.

Effy didn’t have to be a telepath to know what they were all silently (and not so silently) wondering. She shrugged.

“It got you here, didn’t it?”

She pushed herself up in her seat.

“Allright, so, I was here earlier working in the control room, when a girl came in looking for Delilah. Then she just died right out there in a pool of her own blood. Gross, right? Said someone was trying to kill her.”

She paused, touching a finger to her temple.

“As she was dying right in front of me, I noticed that she had a computer chip in her head. That’s what triggered the aneurysm that killed her.” She made a gun out of her thumb and index finger and mimicked shooting herself in the temple.

“She was young, like us, and a mutant. She could throw fireballs from her hands.” She added the second part thoughtfully, raises her hands in front of her and wriggling her fingers. She would have liked to have seen that one.

“So I have to ask myself, why would she come here, and who went to all that trouble to kill her? This has to be connected to Delilah’s death. And I wouldn’t mind a little piece of whoever killed her.”

 

[Brenthon]

Archangel Foundation

Effy.

Obviously a woman of many words. He also got the feeling that she was a girl who believed herself to be on another level altogether than her peers. Jackson rolled his eyes for a second and smiled. Effy we all got pain. He thought to himself.

"Ugh... Oh my god. You're all stoned... Thanks so much."

A blonde entered the lounge wearily, trying to avoid all of the smoke. Of course. She was a typical Los Angeles girl, most likely a trust fund baby. Jackson's school was full of them. She may not like marijuana, but Jackson betted that if dangled a bag of coke in front of her, she'd be freebasing it off the top of a toilet in a matter of minutes. He tried not to judge her based on looks alone, something many people did with him, considering him to be a meathead before even saying hello, but it was hard for him not to...BUT she was a mutant, and that did raise her up a few levels in his book. At least with this girl, he knew there was more than what met the eye. He would give her a chance. For now.

"Alright, who's dead NOW?"

Brenda spoke as the girl he saw at the funeral followed behind her, Olivia. Effy must have been at the funeral earlier, since all of the people in the room where there as well. She was probably watching from a distance, smoking a cigarette and basking in her superior ways. That being said, the girl was a trip. Effy began.

Jackson watched as Effy began quite bluntly telling them what had transpired earlier, complete with hand gestures and quips. He was almost stunned. She was absolutely off the wall, he wondered how she could be so almost absolutely unaffected by what she had witnessed. Even though every teenager in America complained about their lives, he bet that Effy must of been through some pretty intense shit to be that unattached and vacant, but Jackson was no Dr. Phil and he could assume that Effy wouldn't be comiserating with any of them anytime soon. She was all business. Jack inquired.

"It had to be something from Delilah's life outside of this place. Her friends were mutants as well. They were always together. They lived in that apartment complex, it's a few blocks down Melrose. Remember when we were kids? Melrose Place was always in the paper for some crazy shit happening..."

Jackson stood up slowly.

"I do think it's all connected. But what I don't get is the kid. I mean why go after some girl? If it was the same people who killed Delilah, then that could mean... we're all in big trouble."

His mind was racing with thoughts. Who could have been responsible for her death, and what could they have wanted with mutants? Maybe Delilah had been trying to protect them.. prepare them for something or someone who would come after them?

"Well, i'd like to say I know more about Delilah. But I mean, I really don't... I just know.. she was nice to me.. anybody know something I don't?"

 

[Ana-Leigh Moreau]

Arriving at Archangel Foundation, Livvie turned her car off and remained seated, looking at the double door entry. So what'd you do today Liv? Oh me? I got a text message from a dead chick and decided to go meet said dead chick for shits and giggles. Oh yeah....never a dull day in the wondrous city of Los Angeles. Climbing out of the car, Livvie grabbed her purse and headed across the street. There were already three other cars parked in the vicinity so something must have been up.

Entering the foundation center, Livvia made her way down the hall and soon spotted a tall blonde standing by the doorway leading into another room. Walking up next to the girl, Livvie saw the two boys from the funeral service and a very unpleasent girl who looked high out of her mind.

"...should I have brought my Bob Marley CD or something?"

Obviously this meeting was set up by the girl named Effy. Apparently, besides getting high, she hangs out at a dead woman's foundation and watches teen girls keel over....this chick was into some seriously fucked up shit. She explained that the girl was holding a computer chip when she died, and somehow that lead her to believe it was connected to Delilah's death. Jackson soon chimmed in believing that it was all connected as well. It was like Scooby Doo, pot head addition.

Livvie folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the door jam.

"Okay wait...Before we get all Nancy Drewish, why did you [looking to Effy] call US? I mean, none of us know each other, or have even MET. Is there something more to this that you're not telling us?"

 

[Matrix]

"Saw you at the funeral. Crazy good voice. I'm Jack by the way."

Richard nodded and answered.

Rich...

He then went silent again, listening as everyone arrived and hashed everything out, or so it seemed. He didn't know these kids and while he wasn't DISTRUSTFUL, he certainly was not prepared to run off just yet.

So Ms. Badweed saw a girl die and claimed a connection to a chip in her head that killed her. Interesting...but he was wondering the connection to a group of adult supers. Maybe...maybe not.

The smoking hot brunette next to the equally hot blonde who couldn't come into the room but somehow knew what was going on before any of them was skeptical.

"Okay wait...Before we get all Nancy Drewish, why did you [looking to Effy] call US? I mean, non of us know each other, or have even MET. Is there something more to this that you're not telling us?"

My guess is that she found some list from Delilah while she was looking around and made an educated guess. <<<turns to Effy>> Do you have the microchip? If it killed her, it had to be triggered by remote. If you could sense that, perhaps you could track 'em down.

 

[Elizabeth Stone]

"...should I have brought my Bob Marley CD or something?"

Effy rolled her eyes and got up off the couch, then slowly walked across the room. It amused her that these two equated smoking with what they had seen in the movies. But Effy wasn't an idiot, and she had quite a few brain cells to spare, thank you very much.

"Olivia?" She looked her up and down, then turned on her heel, deciding to say nothing to Miss Priss.

"Okay wait...Before we get all Nancy Drewish, why did you [looking to Effy] call US? I mean, none of us know each other, or have even MET. Is there something more to this that you're not telling us?"

She turned around then, now in the center of the room. She shrugged.

"You were all at the funeral. You were the ones I knew would come. Who cared about Delilah and might be interested in this."

Do you have the microchip? If it killed her, it had to be triggered by remote. If you could sense that, perhaps you could track 'em down.

Her eyes slid to Rich.

"Try to keep up, Dick. Of COURSE it was triggered remotely. And no, I don't have the microchip. It was in her head [she points to her own] - I'm good but I'm not a surgeon. I could build you a new one though, and I'd recognize the tech if I saw it again. Someone planned ahead here - the chip was set up to trigger an aneurysm on command. She could have lived a full and happy life and never been the wiser. This was intentional and deliberate. Then there's the interesting part."

Effy raised a hand and pointed at a flat panel monitor on the wall of the lounge. She brought up the file on their dead girl, who they all would see was really named Kara Knight. Her profile from the Foundation's database came up, height, weight, photo. Details on her abilities...

"Meet our fireball-wielding dead girl. Archangel keeps files like this on all of us. The odd thing here, is what's missing. There's no notes from Delilah on their sessions, no history. It's just the bare basics. Someone removed the details thinking no one would ever notice. Someone who was not Delilah."

She crossed her arms and looked around the room.

"Kara came here tonight not just looking for help, but looking for Delilah specifically. Something was going on here. And I want to find out what it is."