(no subject)
“I’m home, everyone! Back from Sydney with the shopping!” Madelyne calls, her words echoing through the dingy rooms, sheets still strewn everywhere from the slow-going renovations. “Hello hello!”
No answer. Probably no X-Men, either. Typical.
She empties her paper shopping bag out onto the table, books spilling out haphazardly, and makes her way over to the vanity mirror shoved up against the far wall. New hairstyle, new outfit, and nobody around to tell her how absolutely great she looks.
The story of my life, she thinks with a sigh before turning to head down to the the town’s underground computer center, grabbing a beer from the fridge before she goes. With no one around, there’s not much point in hanging around the town proper when she’s so much more comfortable down below. She still gets a kick out of the way the place gives everyone else the creeps when she’s right at home among the banks of computer terminals and cybernetics she’s only begun to discern the jobs of.
Plucking up a scrawled note filling her in on where the X-Men have got off to today, she takes her usual seat, kicks up her feet while taking care not to scuff her new heels, and cracks open her drink. After so long spent sitting back home and just wondering about these things, she appreciates the note, likes that they thought to let her know they’re on a mission instead of just leaving her in the dark to tend house. She hopes it goes well.
What’s she going to do if it doesn’t?
Pulling a sheaf of paper into her lap, she starts to doodle to kill time while she waits for the others. The world thinks the X-Men are dead, considers them legends, but the team’s been in need of a sort of sign for people to remember them by after their missions. Zorro had his “Z”. The Lone Ranger, a silver bullet. Longshot and Dazzler both wear stars on their costumes… stars mean the law, the good guys… eight points, eight X-Men…
Ten minutes later, she’s surrounded by various sketches of stars, varying shapes and sizes with one in particular cropping up several times. It definitely has possibilities. Sighing, she leans back and sips her beer, contemplating the computers in front of her while she takes a break. It’s an amazing set-up, the systems so sophisticated that she can tap into any computer communications network on Earth, while simultaneously so user-friendly that it literally taught her to use it. Awfully considerate, for something designed by a band of thieves and cutthroat killers. Maybe too considerate…
As if on cue, the wall-length monitor in front of her lights up, voices suddenly blaring out at her, causing her to jump in her seat, her drawings sliding off her lap onto the floor. It’s broadcasting a news report, but she can’t be bothered to pay attention to the words when she sees who’s on the screen.
Scott. Her erstwhile husband, twice as large as life and just as handsome in uniform, and beside him… is her?
“No!” she cries out, her words continuing on without her when the truth of it hits her. “It’s Marvel Girl - Jean Grey - the woman he loved before he married me. But she’s supposed to be dead! And the way they’re standing, relating to each other - no wonder he left me and our baby - it’s clear as day he loves her! The way he never loved me!”
In a rage, Madelyne launches out of her seat, throwing all her weight behind her fist as she puts it through the screen in a savage uppercut. The resultant crack is fairly satisfying as the image on the screen blinks out, the sound dying a moment later, but she doesn’t even get the chance to pull her hand back and assess the damage before the broken monitor explodes outward with a deafening boom, throwing her back like a rag doll to land unconscious amidst the broken glass, suddenly farther from the control room than she’s ever been before.
[Find her either passed out anywhere on the island (she'll wake up right away) for explanations, or sitting around outside shortly afterward, looking overwhelmed. ST/LT more than welcome, see this Slated post for more info.]
No answer. Probably no X-Men, either. Typical.
She empties her paper shopping bag out onto the table, books spilling out haphazardly, and makes her way over to the vanity mirror shoved up against the far wall. New hairstyle, new outfit, and nobody around to tell her how absolutely great she looks.
The story of my life, she thinks with a sigh before turning to head down to the the town’s underground computer center, grabbing a beer from the fridge before she goes. With no one around, there’s not much point in hanging around the town proper when she’s so much more comfortable down below. She still gets a kick out of the way the place gives everyone else the creeps when she’s right at home among the banks of computer terminals and cybernetics she’s only begun to discern the jobs of.
Plucking up a scrawled note filling her in on where the X-Men have got off to today, she takes her usual seat, kicks up her feet while taking care not to scuff her new heels, and cracks open her drink. After so long spent sitting back home and just wondering about these things, she appreciates the note, likes that they thought to let her know they’re on a mission instead of just leaving her in the dark to tend house. She hopes it goes well.
What’s she going to do if it doesn’t?
Pulling a sheaf of paper into her lap, she starts to doodle to kill time while she waits for the others. The world thinks the X-Men are dead, considers them legends, but the team’s been in need of a sort of sign for people to remember them by after their missions. Zorro had his “Z”. The Lone Ranger, a silver bullet. Longshot and Dazzler both wear stars on their costumes… stars mean the law, the good guys… eight points, eight X-Men…
Ten minutes later, she’s surrounded by various sketches of stars, varying shapes and sizes with one in particular cropping up several times. It definitely has possibilities. Sighing, she leans back and sips her beer, contemplating the computers in front of her while she takes a break. It’s an amazing set-up, the systems so sophisticated that she can tap into any computer communications network on Earth, while simultaneously so user-friendly that it literally taught her to use it. Awfully considerate, for something designed by a band of thieves and cutthroat killers. Maybe too considerate…
As if on cue, the wall-length monitor in front of her lights up, voices suddenly blaring out at her, causing her to jump in her seat, her drawings sliding off her lap onto the floor. It’s broadcasting a news report, but she can’t be bothered to pay attention to the words when she sees who’s on the screen.
Scott. Her erstwhile husband, twice as large as life and just as handsome in uniform, and beside him… is her?
“No!” she cries out, her words continuing on without her when the truth of it hits her. “It’s Marvel Girl - Jean Grey - the woman he loved before he married me. But she’s supposed to be dead! And the way they’re standing, relating to each other - no wonder he left me and our baby - it’s clear as day he loves her! The way he never loved me!”
In a rage, Madelyne launches out of her seat, throwing all her weight behind her fist as she puts it through the screen in a savage uppercut. The resultant crack is fairly satisfying as the image on the screen blinks out, the sound dying a moment later, but she doesn’t even get the chance to pull her hand back and assess the damage before the broken monitor explodes outward with a deafening boom, throwing her back like a rag doll to land unconscious amidst the broken glass, suddenly farther from the control room than she’s ever been before.
[Find her either passed out anywhere on the island (she'll wake up right away) for explanations, or sitting around outside shortly afterward, looking overwhelmed. ST/LT more than welcome, see this Slated post for more info.]