New York, Late Friday Night
Well, that had gone...
Was there a worse word than 'horribly?' There probably was, but Jonothon was hardly able to string together enough thoughts in order to make proper use of that word, at that moment. What Jonothon was capable of doing as the New Warriors dragged themselves, bruised and beaten in so many ways, back to their hideaway was keep his head down and try to ignore the yelling.
In retrospect, they had been doomed to some sort of failure for a while now, hadn't they? A handful of depowered mutants, working against the law to try to maintain order while at the same time flipping the proverbial bird to Tony Stark and the Initiative. So many of them were there because they had something to prove. Some of them even wanted to make a difference in the world. But they hadn't ever really been a cohesive team, had they? Even their training exercise earlier that day had wound up in a lecture from Thrash about teamwork that had left them rolling their eyes and looking at their feet in shame in about equal measures.
And then, in spite of that, there had been the news broadcast. While they were still licking their bruised dignity, they had gotten the heads-up that a group of super-powered criminals, believed to be the Zodiac, were tearing apart downtown Manhattan. The Initiative heroes that had been called in to deal with them had been beaten soundly, and with nobody between them and the civilians, the Zodiac were wreaking carnage left and right.
The New Warriors had responded. Hit hard and fast, Night Thrasher had told them, and that's what they had done. Jubilee -- Wondra -- had taken down Taurus with one decent punch, Jono had used his sonic powers to get the feds out of danger. Between the lot of them, the big ones, the heavy hitters that were more brawn than anything, went down almost easily.
They'd gotten cocky. That was the trouble. One moment, Longstrike had been marvelling at how she might just be getting the hang of it. The next moment, Cancer had ravaged her body, had fried her inside and out until she was a nightmare thing, a sizzling corpse that had given them all one last look of desperation before all life faded from her.
Time had hit slow motion, from there.
Angel had screamed.
Jonothon had been vaguely aware of Jubilee and Barry flanking him, staring at the body in horror right along with him.
Christian had completely lost it, rushing to his sister's side. He clutched her body for only a moment, and then the rage hit. Thrash barely threw him out of the way quickly enough to avoid losing the both of them, but things had continued to go downhill from there regardless.
Taurus threw Miranda straight into Jono, taking them both out for a few moments too long. By the time Jono got his wind back, buildings were collapsing around them. Their tech was running out, ammunition was low, and the New Warriors were left taking refuge behind whatever heaps of rubble they could find.
And then the kid had jumped in, screaming for the Zodiac to leave the New Warriors alone.
And, once the boy had gone down, that was when Sofia had leapt in. Sofia, formerly known as Wind Dancer, another depowered mutant that the New Warriors had been trying to recruit. She had been on shift in the diner next to the carnage, had leapt from the ruins and had kicked Scorpio right in the bloody face. She'd saved the kid, and had bought the team time to regroup and take out the Zodiac. And in doing so, she'd left herself right in the line of fire.
By the time the battle had ended, the New Warriors had lost one member, and had been forced to leave a friend broken and bleeding in the hands of the paramedics.
And now?
Now they were back at the base.
"It's your fault!"
And screaming at one another.
"Tattoo was doggin' it and you know it! Always complainin', skipping training! She was a liability!"
"She's dead, Skybolt. Have some respect!"
"And I'm sorry 'bout that, but this ain't the Boy Scouts, young'un. This here game's for keeps."
Jonothon couldn't just stay quiet at that. Not in the middle of... whatever this was.
"No one signs up to die, Vin. Not even when we were with the X-Men."
It didn't defuse anything. The screaming just continued until Thrash stepped in, internalizing the casualties for a good few minutes before informing the group that he was disbanding the New Warriors. And they argued. They argued that so many of them had nowhere else to go, that Longstrike's death wasn't Thrash's fault, that none of the other teams they had been on would have cut and run because something didn't go their way. Christian was, understandably, torn up about this, the death of his sister still burned in his mind. Vin was ready to take Thrash's money and go, happy with a payout.
Mira was scared. Barry was crushed. Jonothon was, at best, numb.
It had been Jubilee who had taken it upon herself to go to the hospital, to wait by Sofia's bedside until she woke up. To bring her back to the hideout herself, bandages, crutches, and all, to tell Thrash just what sort of idiot he was.
"Freedom isn't free," Sofia had said. She spoke of her mother, who she lost. Of her father, who just couldn't accept her power. Of that power itself. "Families are hard to come by. Don't make me go through it again."
And then Jubilee had stepped up.
"I joined this group for the camaraderie. The same sense of team and family we had at the mansion. That doesn't stop just because we lost our powers. So, if you want out-- you can take your wonder gloves, your web shooters, your turbo suit, your fake Pym particles and all the rest of the tech you've commandeered. It's yours. 'Cause this thing we've got going here... is good. And it goes on with or without you."
"You'll never survive."
"We've been through worse," Jubilee bit back, and Jonothon nodded a little in agreement as he listened, remembering the seven levels of fresh hell they'd survived together in Generation X. Remembering coming back to the mansion as a member of the X-Men to see his friends, his family, hanging crucified on the lawn. They'd been through worse, indeed. "But if you want to continue to honor the New Warriors -- bring back their good name, and make a difference in this world -- Lead us. Lead us or get the hell out of the way."
You could have heard a pin drop.
"Alright -- We live on... And fight. But no more games. I want each of you to give me all you've got. And when you can't go on -- when your teeth hurt, your nose bleeds and your bones ache -- you better double your efforts. Is that understood?"
Silence.
Silence. And then cheering.
They had all been through hell today. Through hell, and it had nearly torn the team apart. They'd mourn Christine. Nothing could bring her back. But they'd gained Sofia, and an appreciation for just how much the team meant to all of them.
It was a crazy notion of family one tended to pick up, when one's definition of 'home' was a secret hideaway in a world where simply by existing and not throwing your name on the register, you were wanted by the law. But, there it was. Family, all the same.
Jono would stick around New York for a couple more days. He'd leave a message for Lizzie letting her know that business was keeping him out of town over the weekend, and he'd send his apologies for missing his Saturday shift at the Boards. If nothing else, he'd claim it was the long weekend that was holding him back, even if, really, it was just the intensified training that they were almost certain to be going through from here on in.
Tonight, though, he was going to stumble his way to his room in the hideout, and, not even bothering to take off his ridiculous costume, kilt and all, he was going to flop face-first on his bed and sleep. He'd worry about the rest of it in the morning.
[OOC: NFB for distance, naturally. Taken from the pages of New Warriors Vol. 4, issues 4, 5, and 6. Open for texts or phone calls, if anyone wants.]
Was there a worse word than 'horribly?' There probably was, but Jonothon was hardly able to string together enough thoughts in order to make proper use of that word, at that moment. What Jonothon was capable of doing as the New Warriors dragged themselves, bruised and beaten in so many ways, back to their hideaway was keep his head down and try to ignore the yelling.
In retrospect, they had been doomed to some sort of failure for a while now, hadn't they? A handful of depowered mutants, working against the law to try to maintain order while at the same time flipping the proverbial bird to Tony Stark and the Initiative. So many of them were there because they had something to prove. Some of them even wanted to make a difference in the world. But they hadn't ever really been a cohesive team, had they? Even their training exercise earlier that day had wound up in a lecture from Thrash about teamwork that had left them rolling their eyes and looking at their feet in shame in about equal measures.
And then, in spite of that, there had been the news broadcast. While they were still licking their bruised dignity, they had gotten the heads-up that a group of super-powered criminals, believed to be the Zodiac, were tearing apart downtown Manhattan. The Initiative heroes that had been called in to deal with them had been beaten soundly, and with nobody between them and the civilians, the Zodiac were wreaking carnage left and right.
The New Warriors had responded. Hit hard and fast, Night Thrasher had told them, and that's what they had done. Jubilee -- Wondra -- had taken down Taurus with one decent punch, Jono had used his sonic powers to get the feds out of danger. Between the lot of them, the big ones, the heavy hitters that were more brawn than anything, went down almost easily.
They'd gotten cocky. That was the trouble. One moment, Longstrike had been marvelling at how she might just be getting the hang of it. The next moment, Cancer had ravaged her body, had fried her inside and out until she was a nightmare thing, a sizzling corpse that had given them all one last look of desperation before all life faded from her.
Time had hit slow motion, from there.
Angel had screamed.
Jonothon had been vaguely aware of Jubilee and Barry flanking him, staring at the body in horror right along with him.
Christian had completely lost it, rushing to his sister's side. He clutched her body for only a moment, and then the rage hit. Thrash barely threw him out of the way quickly enough to avoid losing the both of them, but things had continued to go downhill from there regardless.
Taurus threw Miranda straight into Jono, taking them both out for a few moments too long. By the time Jono got his wind back, buildings were collapsing around them. Their tech was running out, ammunition was low, and the New Warriors were left taking refuge behind whatever heaps of rubble they could find.
And then the kid had jumped in, screaming for the Zodiac to leave the New Warriors alone.
And, once the boy had gone down, that was when Sofia had leapt in. Sofia, formerly known as Wind Dancer, another depowered mutant that the New Warriors had been trying to recruit. She had been on shift in the diner next to the carnage, had leapt from the ruins and had kicked Scorpio right in the bloody face. She'd saved the kid, and had bought the team time to regroup and take out the Zodiac. And in doing so, she'd left herself right in the line of fire.
By the time the battle had ended, the New Warriors had lost one member, and had been forced to leave a friend broken and bleeding in the hands of the paramedics.
And now?
Now they were back at the base.
"It's your fault!"
And screaming at one another.
"Tattoo was doggin' it and you know it! Always complainin', skipping training! She was a liability!"
"She's dead, Skybolt. Have some respect!"
"And I'm sorry 'bout that, but this ain't the Boy Scouts, young'un. This here game's for keeps."
Jonothon couldn't just stay quiet at that. Not in the middle of... whatever this was.
"No one signs up to die, Vin. Not even when we were with the X-Men."
It didn't defuse anything. The screaming just continued until Thrash stepped in, internalizing the casualties for a good few minutes before informing the group that he was disbanding the New Warriors. And they argued. They argued that so many of them had nowhere else to go, that Longstrike's death wasn't Thrash's fault, that none of the other teams they had been on would have cut and run because something didn't go their way. Christian was, understandably, torn up about this, the death of his sister still burned in his mind. Vin was ready to take Thrash's money and go, happy with a payout.
Mira was scared. Barry was crushed. Jonothon was, at best, numb.
It had been Jubilee who had taken it upon herself to go to the hospital, to wait by Sofia's bedside until she woke up. To bring her back to the hideout herself, bandages, crutches, and all, to tell Thrash just what sort of idiot he was.
"Freedom isn't free," Sofia had said. She spoke of her mother, who she lost. Of her father, who just couldn't accept her power. Of that power itself. "Families are hard to come by. Don't make me go through it again."
And then Jubilee had stepped up.
"I joined this group for the camaraderie. The same sense of team and family we had at the mansion. That doesn't stop just because we lost our powers. So, if you want out-- you can take your wonder gloves, your web shooters, your turbo suit, your fake Pym particles and all the rest of the tech you've commandeered. It's yours. 'Cause this thing we've got going here... is good. And it goes on with or without you."
"You'll never survive."
"We've been through worse," Jubilee bit back, and Jonothon nodded a little in agreement as he listened, remembering the seven levels of fresh hell they'd survived together in Generation X. Remembering coming back to the mansion as a member of the X-Men to see his friends, his family, hanging crucified on the lawn. They'd been through worse, indeed. "But if you want to continue to honor the New Warriors -- bring back their good name, and make a difference in this world -- Lead us. Lead us or get the hell out of the way."
You could have heard a pin drop.
"Alright -- We live on... And fight. But no more games. I want each of you to give me all you've got. And when you can't go on -- when your teeth hurt, your nose bleeds and your bones ache -- you better double your efforts. Is that understood?"
Silence.
Silence. And then cheering.
They had all been through hell today. Through hell, and it had nearly torn the team apart. They'd mourn Christine. Nothing could bring her back. But they'd gained Sofia, and an appreciation for just how much the team meant to all of them.
It was a crazy notion of family one tended to pick up, when one's definition of 'home' was a secret hideaway in a world where simply by existing and not throwing your name on the register, you were wanted by the law. But, there it was. Family, all the same.
Jono would stick around New York for a couple more days. He'd leave a message for Lizzie letting her know that business was keeping him out of town over the weekend, and he'd send his apologies for missing his Saturday shift at the Boards. If nothing else, he'd claim it was the long weekend that was holding him back, even if, really, it was just the intensified training that they were almost certain to be going through from here on in.
Tonight, though, he was going to stumble his way to his room in the hideout, and, not even bothering to take off his ridiculous costume, kilt and all, he was going to flop face-first on his bed and sleep. He'd worry about the rest of it in the morning.
[OOC: NFB for distance, naturally. Taken from the pages of New Warriors Vol. 4, issues 4, 5, and 6. Open for texts or phone calls, if anyone wants.]