2014.01.12 - New Horizons Part 1

New Horizons Mental Health Clinic - Las Vegas

This is an expansive and technologically advanced mental health clinic in Las Vegas, specializing in the care of metahuman and mutant people. From the outside, it has the appearance of any other standard suburban medical facility, but the deeper one goes into its bowels, the more unsettling the place becomes.

(http://pics3.city-data.com/businesses/p/4/4/1/4/7224414.JPG)

X-Men: Dawn of a New Horizon

Part 1 - "The Clinic"

New Horizons Mental Health Clinic

Las Vegas, Nevada

December 25th, 2013

A pair of white Sketchers stepped in a brisk, even rhythm down a tiled floor of polished gray. Taupe colored stockings, a long white nurses gown, an apron bearing various pills and vials. Nurse Mary Wyland walked with a pleasant smile upon her face, auburn hair streaked with gray and collected into a tight bun. Every door she passed was very securely locked; small reinforced windows providing brief glimpses into cramped rooms, without color, furnished only with a single cot and night stand. There were no windows to the outside world in that particular block.

There's a word to describe it... more than a few words, in fact. Desolate. Lonely. Uninspiring.

Closed in.

The nurse stopped at room 315. She peeked through the small window before pressing her thumb against a pad and swiping a key card, eliciting a buzz from the advanced security system. Pulling the door open revealed a young Asian girl, lying prone in the cot with her arms and legs strapped down. Her eyes were barely open, lidded by the severe narcotic medicines that ran through her veins.

She was nine years old.

"Good morning, Nancy." Nurse Wyland came to the girl's bedside, retrieving a medical injector far more advanced than what might be found in your run of the mill mental health clinic. "This is going to be a big day for you."

A break steadily came over young Nancy Kim's catatonia. Her eyes rolled about to look at Nurse Wyland with fleeting hope.

"Doctor Amel is going to interview you this afternoon, so we've got to get you presentable."

"H..."

"Now I'm going to give you an injection. It should clear your head a little." Nurse Wyland presented Nancy with a stern look. "You're going to behave now, aren't you?"

Nancy nodded her head slowly.

"Excellent." Nancy continued speaking in soothing tones, while gently pushing Nancy's head to the left. There, sticking out from fair skin, was a small port that had been surgically implanted into her neck, perfectly sized for the injector held in Nurse Wyland's hand. "Doctor Amel says this is a very important interview."

"H..."

"When you speak with him--"

"Hmmmmm..."

"--I'll remind you to be courteous, polite--"

"Hmmmmhhhrgh..."

"--and under no circumstances do you show him any aggression."

Nurse Wyland yanked the girl's face around until her eyes, now terrified, found hers.

"Do you understand me, Nancy?"

Nancy nodded her head steadily. "Hmmmph.."

"The Nevada Board of Public Safety is visiting next month. If all goes well, Doctor Amel is going to present you as a subject of our many accomplishments here at New Horizons. You'll be an example of every good thing we're doing here. How does that sound?"

"Hmmmmm!"

Finally, Nurse Wyland stepped back to acknowledge the girl's attempts to speak. "Spit it out, Nancy Kim."

"Hmm, hrrmm, hommme? Home?"

"No, sweetheart." She smiled sweetly but shook her head. "I'm afraid you won't be going home for Christmas."

War Room

X-Men Base, Westchester County, New York

January 22nd, 2014

There was no pleasure in Shift's expression as he briefed the X-Men gathered around the table, for there was nothing pleasing about the mission at hand. Dozens of mutants, perhaps more, collected under various legal means through court action across the United States. Each of them allegedly a danger to themselves or others, and requiring state-mandated psychiatric treatment.

Each of them now receiving that care at the New Horizons Mental Health Clinic in Las Vegas.

Most of the families contacted were unwilling to speak about their loved ones and what happened to them. Those few who did shared a disturbing development; not long after their family members were taken by the state, a pair of nameless men, wearing suits and sunglasses, paid each home a visit. Threats were made, should they have decided to speak to the authorities or any civil rights organizations, and those threats were delivered with mafia-style brutality. Homes ransacked, husbands and wives stripped of their clothes and beaten, just to prove their point.

These families have every reason to be afraid.

"We have tried to find any way to get in dere and see what's going on through legal methods. Unfortunately, dese legislatah's have it locked up tight. De opahration I am proposing is highly illegal, and dere is a chance dat it is morally questionable." Shift looks each person in the eye as he speaks. "Each of us now have falsified identities as membahs of de Nevada Board of Public Safety, and we will be utilizing dese false ID's to investigate what is going on dere."

There is a pause where Shift gives the X-Men time to consider the ramifications of what he's proposing. Identity theft. Impersonating a public official. Breaching doctor-patient confidentiality. The list goes on. Then again, the X-Men aren't exactly a government sanctioned organization either, and they have been involved with incidents globally. It's likely all of them have broken any number of laws already...

"If you don't want to come with me, I won't hold it against you. Howevah, all of de evidence collected by our team and X-Factor suggests dat dese mutants are behing held against dere will, against de will of dere families, and perhaps, receiving psychological treatment dey do not need. Think about dat."

There is a long pause before Kwabena turns and walks toward the door. "If you're with me, put on your most professional clothing and meet me in de hangah tomorrow morning."

Somewhere in the Nevada Wilderness

January 23rd, 2014

The Blackbird lands in the middle of the Nevada Wilderness. Rachel Summers and Shift take off on the African's motorcycle, headed off into the west, with the rising sun behind them. Approximately two hours later, they both return, each of them driving blacked out SUVs bearing all of the proper Government plates and tags. The team of state officials who had formerly occupied them are now tied up and sedated in a cheap motel somewhere. They'll be sleeping for 24 hours, and no explanation for how, exactly, they came across these SUV's is given.

Shift hops out of his 'acquired' vehicle and approaches the Blackbird. He waits there for a moment as the team of X-Men undoubtedly come out to see what's going on.

He only offers one explanation.

"Don't worry. Nobody was permanently injured."

The African hooks a thumb toward the vehicles. "Pick your poison, we've got an appointment to make."

Nate slept most of the trip. Really, what else there is to do in a plane? Only a few minds in miles and most of them are telepaths with shielded minds. Good for sleep. But he is wide awake now, and going over the information they have on New Horizons, as well as his second mug of coffee. "It doesn't say here," he mentions, waving his tablet, "the kind of government ties they have, if any. If they are being given super-powered mutants for 'treatment' chances are high there are some, right?" He is not driving, he never learned to drive, but if Rachel is, he picks her SUV.

Rachel wasn't entirely surprised when Shift chose her to help him 'acquire' the SUVs. At least with her along, the state officials will never know that /anything/ hit them, let alone what it was. All courtesy of her telepathy.

It probably still won't save her from a lecture from her room-mate when she hears about it, but it had to be worth a try.

Sliding out of the second SUV to join the others as Shift gives his very abbreviated explanation. "Sounds like a good chance." She agrees with Nate as he makes his point, her eyes sliding over toward Shift, in case he knows - or suspects - any more than was in the briefing. "I guess that's something else we'll have to try to find out." It sounds like the telepaths will be busy - good thing they've brought so many.

"So who's riding with me?" She asks and, for the second time today, isn't terribly surprised when Nate picks her SUV over the other choice. Resting her hand on the driver's door, Rachel takes a last look around before climbing aboard. "Guess I'd better suit up." She says, in a self-mocking tone, and her nondescript outfit of jeans and jacket shift into a sharply tailored black skirt suit. More appropriate for her cover, less for riding pillion on Shift's motorcycle.

"We wouldn't want to keep them waiting, would we?"

The subtle venom underlying Elizabeth's tone as she heads towards Kwabena's vehicle is meant entirely for their hosts, rather than the Ghanaian; when he was laying out the mission parameters yesterday, concern for the illegal deeds they were about to undertake never entered her mind, because the briefing made it clear that New Horizons deserved a degree of attention beyond what the justice system was willing to allow. She is dressed in a deep violet blazer, matching skirt, white blouse, and black heels; a garterful of steel needles and other small throwing implements is secured around one leg, because no disguise is complete without the proper accessories. She was wide awake during the trip, and if there is a dossier available, she likely spent most of her time studying it; ditto for floor plans.

Before getting into the vehicle, she stops with a foot braced against the passenger-side runner and looks over at Rachel and Nate's to note, "Once we're there, I'm going to need one of you to take care of keeping us all connected--" Focusing on Nate for a moment, she taps her nose, adds, "Just in case," then slides into her seat. Once in place, she pulls a pair of bun sticks from her front pocket and begins putting her hair up.

They are, perhaps predictably, metallic and sharpened to a fairly fine point; proper accessorizing, once again.

Similarly, Kwabena has a nice suit underneath his baggy jeans and leather jacket. He'd ditched the outerwear once the SUV's were acquired, and with a brown contact lens in place to hide his silver eye, he's quite convincing as a human Federal official.

"We'll have to find out," he agrees on Nate's assessment. "Whatevah ties dey have to de Feds, it's locked down. Even my best hackers couldn't dig it up.

New Horizons Mental Health Clinic

Las Vegas, Nevada

January 1st, 2014

Azafah Mahmoud, 43, found his world crashing around him in September.

His first thought when NYPD busted down his door was that he'd been mistaken for a terrorist. It was common, especially in America, especially for a Pakistani-turned-U.S. Citizen who's built up a sizable real estate investment empire in the Five Boroughs. The charges led him all the way to the New York Supreme Court, where a multitude of questionable witnesses, allegations, and financial records claimed under the Bank Secrecy Act prompted him to take the advice of his lawyer and go for a plea bargain.

Guilty due to insanity.

He was well aware of the X-Gene, and how it helped his brain to calculate complex mathematical equations at near exponential speeds. His plea bargain kept him out of prison, but in a rare fitof irony, his new home had become far worse than living in an orange jumpsuit for the next ten years.

The walls and floor of his small room were covered in equations, some of them complex enough to make Reed Richards scratch his head for a moment. Aside from his drab white clothing, they had given him a sharpie, and an implant in his neck.

For a moment, he stopped writing. His hand ached, his mind racing faster than he could write. The momentary lapse only lasted one and a half seconds before the pain came. He knew it was electricity, and it send him crumpling to the floor even as the loudspeaker in his room blasted the demanding voice he had come to know so well.

"KEEP WRITING, MAHMOUD."

January 23rd, 2014

"Everything checks out, Mr. Kwarteng. You're good to go."

The X-Men, all dressed in sharp business professional attire, are given name tags. Each bears their faces, the names of their false identities, and the words "VISITOR' in bright red. They are led to a waiting room, where a trio of workers from the clinic soon come to greet them. Doctor Mark Amel, the facility's chief physician, Mary Weyland, chief of nursing, and Charles Binter, head of security.

After the initial introductions are made, Doctor Amel leads them toward the facility's low security wings, providing some basic information about the facility as they go. 250 patients, 57 of them in the high security wings. There's nothing truly remarkable to see until they reach the high security wings.

Once Officer Binter has led them in, the X-Men masqueraded as public officials are greeted with a remarkably different facility.

Here, in the very center of the large building, there are no windows to the outside world. The hallways are relatively dark, the decor very cold, and there are security measures scattered all over the place. Cameras, security checkpoints, emergency doors, enough hardware to suggest that there's a chance some kind of military subcontractor was involved. There are even armed guards posted periodically, some of them carrying assault rifles, most of them carrying weapons ranging from TAZERs to high-powered tranquilizer rifles.

"I can keep a mind-link, sure," states Nate. And he can, as long as he is not too distracted. If they get into a fight, someone else better take over it.

Nate is probably too young to pass as a government officer under most circumstances, but maybe with black sunglasses and the right outfit, and a bit of telepathic pushing. Quite a bit of telepathic pushing. Okay. Also, hair gets combed for the first time since that memorable Homecoming party.

He puts on a bored face, which is easy because he is rather bored about the normal wings. Crazy people sometimes have interesting minds, but Nate is keeping the mind-link up and leaves the telepathic exploring to Rachel. |"I just thought something.: If they have mutant detection gear, we are screwed - I mean. They are /more/ screwed, but we are not deceiving them much."| He projects as they go into the high-security area.

Rachel doesn't take any offence when Elizabeth picks Nate over her to handle their communications, but as she buckles herself into her seat and starts up the SUV, she does take a quick moment to shoot a smirk towards Nate, in the passenger seat. "Didn't you say something about telepathy being a headache?" She teases, then becomes serious again. "If you need me to back you up, I'm here."

It's not that the mission isn't important. It is. And it's not like Rachel's not concentrating on it. She is. But mutants held against their will and having their minds tampered with? That's all to familiar to her. It's better that she doesn't dwell on it before she has to.

And that moment comes soon enough, as they pass through security, and Rachel's issued with a badge in the name of 'Elaine Green'. She takes one deep breath, and then her facade of an efficient, emotionless PA is firmly in place. She maintains her position a half-step behind Shift's shoulder as her heels click down the hallways. She doesn't react outwardly to Nate's arrival in her mind, but her response is swift. << I have a feeling we'll know soon enough. >>

As yet she's kept her mental probes light, non-invasive. Skimming surface thoughts, looking for signs of concealment, evasion and threat.

'Erica Suzuki' is all critical squints and frowns when she and her fellow inspectors encounter staff-members, always taking care to make sure they can see her sizing them up and making silent judgments. There's a clipboard cradled in one arm; now and again, she tips it forward and uses the pen tethered to it to take notes before moving on. They're seeing her bunned, violet hair as an inky black thanks to subtle psychic manipulations; she is willing to bet that the number of public safety officials with purple hair approaches zero, so there's no reason to take chances--especially with Nate so helpfully maintaining the mental link.


 * "Between the three of us,"| she suggests while adjusting her clipboard full of meticulously scribbled song lyrics, |"I like our odds of maintaining our deception; what good is detection equipment when its owners' minds are to clouded to understand what it's telling them?"|

Dazzler, or according to her ID, 'Tanya Schulman', checks her 'makeup' in a mirror; making a few more adjustments to the hologram she uses to disguise herself before finishing up and quick-stepping to catch up with the others. She plays up being the dingy one - after all, most blonde jokes aren't centered on pop stars and she decidedly doesn't look like one in the plain and slightly ill-fitting navy suit with sensible shoes.

<< *Four* of us! >> she corrects over the link.

The badge adorning Kwabena's lapel reads 'Michael Kwarteng, State Auditor's Office'. As they enter the security wing, the African turns to Doctor Amel, fixing him with a severe look. "Well, I should leave did paht of de inspection to my fellow board members. Auditor Rhodes is most interested in undahstanding your financials bettah. Is dere a place where I might review your past three years?"

Meanwhile, his own thoughts leak easily into the telepathic link. He'd grown quite familiar with Nate's abilities in Genosha. |"Someone impress upon him how we don't need a warrant for this. Give me some time with his financials and we'll find out where the money is coming from."|


 * "Yes. 'Cause I like direct approaches."| Like kicking the walls down and rescuing the mutants without so much dress-up and complicated setups. Shift seems to like complicated setups. But Nate is partial of excessive violence. Nobody is perfect! 'Neal Jones' says his badge. He keeps his mouth shut and tries to avoid sarcastic comments. It is not easy.


 * "Why can't we just pick it from his mind?"| He suggests to Shift. He would do it himself, but Rachel has a subtler touch, less likely to be detected. Besides, mind-link. He is busy.

Rachel comes to a precise halt as Kwabena does, holding her position relative to him, back straight, hands linked neatly behind her. Her eyes are also on Doctor Amel's, just to add to the feeling that he's being placed on the spot. She doesn't even need to use her telepathy to add that little touch to Shift's play. |"On it. He doesn't need to see our authorisation."| Rachel's eyes don't even flicker as she reaches out telepathically and, with a little finesse, smooths away the suspicion that might have him asking for further documentation. She doesn't want to get too distracted, but as she catches Nate's pertinent suggestion to Kwabena over the link, she lingers to poke around a little. She's somewhat disgusted by how fuzzy her victim's mind is in that area. |"Good thought."| She replies, a bit sourly. |"But he's a doctor, not an accountant."| Withdrawing from the man's mind, Rachel turns toward Shift and tilts her head. "If you won't need me, Mr Kwarteng, I'll accompany Ms Suzuki and the others." It's all very deferential.


 * "I didn't mean any disrespect."| Betsy's expression remains severe and unamused as she studies the secure wing before her and writes out the lyrics to 'Wonderwall', but there's a degree of mirth to her thoughts; an astral smile, rather than a physical one. |"If you've any mind clouding to add when the time comes, be my guest."|

Magenta flares near her temple, perceptible - and memorable - for but a moment as she locks eyes with the doctor. Rachel is on top of getting Shift where he needs to be, but rather than rest on her laurels, Betsy tries to follow the trail that her teammate blazes through his mind to get a peek at what he knows about the clinic's day to day proceedings before moving on.

"Ready when you are, Ms. Green," she says with a slight nod despite her eyes lingering on the doctor before they move on.

Mind clouding, maybe not - but if things go pear-shaped 'Tanya' has enough sound stored up to put on a hell of a show at the drop of a hat. |"Point made, ha."| Thrusting her hands into her pockets, she trails her eyes over whatever bits of flotsam are left laying around where they can be seen. If anything.


 * "We need hard evidence."| Shift's thought response cones without hesitation. |"These bastards have government backing. We get something that will stand in court, we bring it down form the inside out."|

"Certainly," answers Doctor Amel, following a brief hesitation. "The financial office is down this way, next to the security wing. Officer Binter will show you the way."

Kwabena maintains the air of a passively suspicious official. Without missing a beat he adds, "Miss Schulman will need access to your security logs as well. We must make sure our public assets are being used appropriately."

"Not a problem."


 * "Dazz, you're with me. Take this into security, plug it into whatever machine is running their video feeds."| He nonchalantly hands her a small thumb drive. |"Everyone else, dig as deep as you can. Find out what's really going on with these patients. The more we get, the harder they fall."|

Betsy makes the first move into the minds of those who work here. While Officer Binter leads Shift and Dazzler toward their respective offices, she begins to encounter a number of the horrible things that have taken place here...

April 26th, 2013

Ashley Bannerman missed her bar. 'Junker's Bombs and Beers' was a dive in Akron, Ohio, far enough from Kent State to avoid the obnoxious college crowd but close enough to keep the place from being strictly a watering hole for old, blue-collar alcoholics. Sure, a part of its popularity might have had something to do with the sexually stimulating effects of her X-Gene, but she'd learned a long time ago how to control it. She was respectable. She never left with someone from the bar, and had friends to back her up in case some creep decided to try and force things upon her.

An arrest on grounds of public intoxication and a terrible civil defense landed her in the New Horizons Clinic, very far from home. That was February. A day before Valentine's Day.

No one had explained why she was in high security. No one had come to talk with her. They only came every so often, giving her food, and watching. Never did they answer her questions, and eventually, she simply stopped asking them.

She wasn't sure what time it was when she woke to found herself strapped down to the bed. She could feel the cold touch of metal on her neck, but couldn't see what it was. It didn't matter. There was a man in the room with her, one of the guards.

The guard studied her with an inquisitive expression, not unlike that worn by Doctor Amel when he came to visit her. He stood there for a very long time; long enough to make her feel uncomfortable and begin to squirm.

He came to the bed. He made to tighten her restraints, eliciting a groan of complaint from the bartendress who'd forgotten how to talk. Only he didn't stop there. His hand slipped beneath the hem of her white pants and began to run down her leg.

Before she could shriek in protest, his other hand came down upon her mouth, clenching her chin and silencing her. But in truth, it wasn't the guard's actions that silenced her scream of protest, nor was it the impending terror of what she knew was about to happen.

It was the face of Doctor Amel, who looked in from that small window in the door with the same curious expression as he watched it all happen.

January 23rd, 2014

There are some 'bad vibes' coming from the high-security wing that go gnawgnaw at Nate's poorly controlled empathic senses. Not exactly unexpected for a psychiatric hospital, but still not good, particularly if the inmates are mutants.

Still, he is not reaching for the patients minds yet. He is reaching for minds, in general, trying to find out where each inmate and guard is and how alert they are. Not even keeping tabs on surface thoughts yet, they could slip into the mind-link and that would be embarrassing. First, a headcount.

Rachel falls in beside Elizabeth as Kwabena and Alison depart, her expression as studiously neutral as before, not betraying any of the sudden disquiet that she feels. Splitting the group up might be necessary, but she doesn't like the fact that there's no telepath accompanying Shift and Dazzler. She knows Nate will keep the link open, but being able to keep tabs on the others is a far cry from being right there if anything happens.

"Shall we move on, then?" She says briskly, nodding to the doctor to proceed with the tour. "Doctor Amel, perhaps you could provide some commentary regarding your operations here, in your own words? It would be most helpful." As she withdrew from the doctor's mind, she felt Elizabeth doing /something/ - Rachel figures a little distraction can't hurt.

Betsy's eyes snap away from Amel, even as she mentally peers over his shoulder to observe the Ashley Bannerman experiment. She has to duck her head and hope that nobody notices the scowl on her face before she manages to master it.

'When do we free these people?' she wonders, keeping her thoughts to herself while she slinks through Amel's memories. When her expression is flat enough to allow for lifting her head and looking around, she pays particular attention to the guards, reminding herself all the while that it's because of the importance of taking their measure should things go bad, and not because she's trying to figure out which one of them might match the scant details she's lifting from from doctor's thoughts.

"I would rather appreciate some face time with a few of your patients before we've finished," she casually remarks to Amel and Weyland, tapping the spot on her badge that (now) reads 'Social Services'. "To assess their progress under your care; I'm sure you understand."


 * "Check, Boss,"| Ali responds, pocketing the thumb drive in one smooth movement and then breezing on into Security with Shift and their escort. As soon as the guy's back is turned, she jabs the drive into the usb of the video feed computer and expends some of that stored sound to make the computer appear as though everything is fiiiine. Holograms for the win - who needs telepaths for everything? When she can, Shift gets a wink.

A casual smirk is all Alison gets from Shift. He's already busied himself with looking through financial records, hunting down every paper trail and copying down everything he can.

Nothing untoward is happening to the mutants and metahumans in custody. Not right now. However, as the tour continues and the telepaths conduct their ventures, all of the horrors are laid out in plain view. Mistreatment. Abuse. Torture, starvation, even rape. All of it seems to center around one goal-- poking and prodding at these patients like lab rats. All done to study the full nature if their psycho- and physiological reactions.

Rachel's distraction causes Doctor Amel to begin babbling on a bunch of nonsense about their treatment methods. All of it clever lies drawn up in loose plausibility. It seems that Doctor Anel expected this team of officials to be a part of the conspiracy, further deepening the rabbit hole.

Dazzler will find a series of DVR devices where all of the video feeds terminate. When the thumb drive is inserted, it immediately begins to compress and download the past six months of security footage. However, she'll find that one particular room is off the grid. No security feeds, no cameras. And it's relatively easy for her to locate this single room on a schematic panel lit by LED's nearby.

As for the patients? The deeper the telepaths go, they will learn a disturbing truth. None of these patients were psychologically troubled, at least before they came here. However, during the course of their stay, the doctors have been administering medicine to them, and over the course of time, the medicine has begun to nullify the X-Gene, as if gradually removing it from their bodies' genetic makeup.

Nate is the first to notice it, the blank space surrounding one particular room inside the high security wing. There is a surprising lack of security guards near that room, and all telepathic attempts to breach that space are nullified, like a sphere of emptiness within the telepathic plane.

If there are mutant-detection measures in place, there is no sign of it. Perhaps a fit of luck or good karma for the investigating X-Men.

"I think," suggests Mary Weyland, "that young Nancy Kim would be an excellent example."

"Yes," answers Doctor Amel. "She was the first of our patients to fully accept the cure."

Nate is getting most of the horror second-hand, since he is not mind-reading himself. Good thing, or Doctor Amel's brain would have already imploded. He has found something vaguely alarming. A place where his telepathy is blocked. There are maybe three telepaths in the world that can block his telepathy, and one is dead (except, of course, he is not). |"Got something odd here. What would Doctor Scumbag know about this?"| He psychically points to the null-zone. Possibly confusing a bit Kwa and Alison, but for Rachel and Betsy, the no-telepathy 'hole' is now obvious.


 * "Also, when can we start busting heads? I think we have more than enough 'evidence'."|

With the Doctor running off at the mouth, Rachel feels that she's safe enough to split her attention, and start digging.

What she finds... Elizabeth, at least, and perhaps Nate too, will feel the sudden increase in the level of psionic power that Rachel's drawing, as images gleaned from the minds around her begin to swirl and mingle with the half-remembered images from her past, of her own torture, conditioning, reprogramming... for one long moment the features of Doctor Amel become the face of Ahab, and Rachel teeters on the edge. She wants to scream. She wants to blow all the doors off their hinges, rip the roof off the complex.

She could do it, too.

Pain. Rachel blinks, realising that her fists are clenched so tight that her fingernails are dug deeply into her palms. She blinks again, and she sees the doctor - not Ahab, never Ahab - drawing back from what he saw on her face - and she reaches out quickly, telepathically, and erases his alarm. It takes all she has to nod politely and murmur, "That's very interesting, do go on."

As Weyland and Amel turn their attention to Elizabeth, Rachel lets out a slightly shaky breath. |"Not our call, Nate."| She very much wants to say 'now', it's clear across the link, but she does /not/ trust herself to make that decision now.

Her thought-self clad in midnight blue astral armour, Elizabeth observes the doctor's patients right alongside him like a silent colleague--although remaining silent isn't always easy. There are times when she nearly begs him to stop, or considers taking a patient by the hand and spiriting them to safety, only to remember that she's reliving the past.

It's difficult not to carry that silence over into the real world as Weyland and Amel reply to her--and harder still to keep her tone cordial. "Wonderful," she says with a slight dip of her chin. "Ms. Kim sounds like a fine--nn--" The sudden surge of psychic power from Rachel sends a jolt of pain through her skull, and she takes a moment to massage her temple with a grimace before finishing, "--starting place."

Her eyes slide towards Rachel afterwards, full of concern; she doesn't verbally or psychically press to make sure that her teammate is okay, but the thought is there--and likely to make it that much harder to resist her urge to show compassion for the doctor's remembered victims.

She does risk whispering, |"When do we come back for them?"| to the rest of the team, not bothering to disguise the urgency behind the question.

"Hmm," Ali says quietly to herself while Shift works; the brainwave from Nate gives her added clarity to the situation; |"Guys, there's no security feed to that room either. Whatever's happening in there, they want it buried. Which means it's up to us to shed a little light on it!"| If it comes down to it, she's right with Rachel on blowing this place sky high. What is it Pete is always saying? 'You can always tell where the X-Men have been because it's ON FIRE.'

"What are you doing?"

Kwabena looks up to see Officer Binter hovering over his shoulder with a suspicious expression.

"Doing our jobs."

Its very difficult for Kwabena not to stand up and bust the officer's chin clean open. He's catching glimpses of what the others have through Nate's telepathic link, and it isn't pretty. When he answers in thought manner, his psyche is clearly strained, and the temptation for violence is written across it plain as day. |"We get this information to Murdock's law firm and X-Factor. We regroup, call in some extra hitters, get the legal side rolling. Then we bust up these bastards and get these people the help they really need."|

"You guys are taking too long in here."

Kwabena glances toward Dazzler. He's close to giving the order to attack now. But they have a job to do. Mission first.

And... is that a Marine Corps tattoo on Binter's wrist?

Kwabena stands up, fixing the officer with a stern impression. "Pahhaps you'd like to explain to Doctah Amel just why your Federal funding has been temporarily suspended? Don't test me, Binter. You've got a place and a job to do. Keep your mouth shut and you'll have another year bolstering your VA benefits with de healthy salary we're giving you."

Binter narrows his eyes at Kwabena, but he backs down.

"We're done here, anyway. Come along, Miss Schulman."


 * "Time to go, team. Clear our heads, call in the others, and finish this."|


 * "There are only 28 guards"| growls Nate, exerting his telepathic might against the null area, incidentally making the astral plane flare brightly. |"I hate your plans"| he directs Kwabena with burning sincerity. No one should be locked here even a minute more. But he backs down, checking with Rachel - that was as nasty a flashback as... well, most of his own. "Everything looks just... peachy," he comments with a false grin to the doctor and nurse. "Do we need to see that Nancy kid? I think we already know all will be well." Besides, the temptation blow up the place might be too much.

Rachel feels Elizabeth's attention, even though she says nothing aloud, or over the link, and Rachel risks a quick glance across to meet the other woman's gaze. Her eyes are haunted, but she gives a quick nod, signalling that she's all right now, the moment has passed.

She's about to question the doctor further when the link comes alive with Alison's news, and then Shift's order to pull out. Relief, frustration and defiance rush through her, although this time she keeps it all bottled up inside. A big part of her instinctively, instantly agrees with Nate, and wants to cut her way right into that dead zone with Ali. |"You know what we can do. They couldn't stop us!"| Her words come on the heels of Nate's, but as he backs down, so does she. |"...but I guess we have to do it right. Promise me they're not getting away with this."| Rachel's tone is grim, even as she's forcing a smile onto her face. "You've certainly been very helpful, I'm sure we wouldn't want to occupy your time unnecessarily."

She hopes Elizabeth is able to smooth over any remaining awkwardness.

"Mm," Elizabeth lowly voices with a thin, plastered-on smile. Flicking her eyes to the floor, she disengages from Amel's mind in favor of scanning for some of the prisoners--especially those who the doctor's memories have already 'introduced' her to. "I suppose not." She brushes a few strands of unruly hair back behind an ear; her fingers linger near the sharpened sticks keeping her style intact for a split-second before she folds her arm around the clipboard pressed to her chest. "You do seem to be running a remarkably tight operation.

If she's able to make contact with any of the captive mutants, she will refrain from intruding upon their psyches, figuring that they deserve that small small bit of dignity; instead, she seeks to disseminate those warm, tender urges that were wasted in Amel's mind, along with a message:


 * "This is not all there is. Help is coming."|


 * "You are not alone."|

"It's been a pleasure meeting you," she says to the doctor and his nurse, extending a hand that she makes a note to thoroughly wash later. "What you've accomplished here is an inspiration to us all."

Thrusting her hands in her pockets, there's an edge to 'Miss Schulman' that echoes Shift's own; but she says nothing. *Nothing* She does, for a moment, look as though she smells something unpleasant, but shakes it off and blows the Security guard an annoyed kiss as she puts on her shades. Oh yeah, round two is coming up, and holding back is not on the agenda.

The X-Men went in, did their jobs, and got out. Though they all may have come close to losing control, no one did. There will come a time for fire, enough to make Pete Wisdom proud. There might even come a day for some good old fashioned fisticuffs between Kwabena and Nate.

But that is not this day.


 * "Don't worry, Rachel. They aren't getting away with a god damned thing."|

December 27th, 2013

"She's cured, Mark." Nancy looked up from the computer screen, her eyes a wild mixture of accomplishment and zeal. "Her X-Gene. It's been completely nullified."

"Then we are that much closer." Doctor Amel leaned over to insect the screen, patting Nancy on the shoulder in silent congratulations. "I should go and give our prodigal man our thanks."

He smiled wickedly.

"He's about to make us famous."

X-Men: Dawn of a New Horizon

To be continued...