HQ: The 'Ready Lounge'

[Velmont]

"O'Connor" correct Patrick gently. "But you would be surprise. Mutants, these days, are like being black in the last century. I must tell the black people just got a chance to relax, as supers have appeared and seems more stange than black people. (I just tell how the general population is thinking and I don't discriminate personnally.) Just look at the manifesation that happen presently in a school for supers. It is the same reaction than what people got to do in start 1900s. Sadly, I wouldn't even be surprised to see the KKK raise again and make move against supers. And when you are a victim and a reject of the society, crime become an easy option. Crime figthing start with equality in civil right and equal chance in life. Being balck was cosmetic and sensibilisation could do the thing. I'm less sure for super. After all, if you can bench a few tons, you have an edge over me. And some people will not accept that injustice if it is one."

 

[Victor_Von]

Knights of Kristopher Kolumbus? Gus wonders, but he doesn't voice his question. Plenty of time to unscramble human history from the bad dreams he has seen over the decades. Atom bomb, though, that's a nightmare he's seen plenty of times.

"Is interestesting point," Gus says smiling, "Ordinary persons are ones who made atom bomb. Super powers are... mostly not impressive, when compared." Gus' orange eyes are unfocused, looking at some memory. "Hiroshima... not even dreams survived that place, that time."

He shakes his head sadly, a crooked smile on his face, and turns to the newcomer.

"Conrad? Like 'Heart of Darkness,' yes?" In a process the others in the room have seen already, Gus' face grows thicker and younger, and his skin grows dark. For a moment De'ron thinks he sees Reggie smiling threateningly at him from across the room. The moment passes, though, and the gargoyle-faced man continues to smile a horrible, but welcoming, smile.

 

[Raylis]

"I haven't read that one, sorry." Ron says slowly watching Gus before finding an unoccupied seat.

 

[Phoenix8008]

"Well met, Echo.", Paladin greets the newcomer with a nod from his chair across the room.

 

[D.Shaffer]

A young woman walked to the door and cleared her throat, "Marie Schaeffer." As the door opened she gave a wide smile. "That...is SO COOL!" She stepped back and let the door close, not noticing any of the looks the people inside were giving her. Looking to both sides, acting like a kid afraid she was going to get caught, she then said "Mecha Musume". As the door opened again, she pumped her fist in a little victory motion. "YES! I guess this means it's official."

She walked into the lounge with a large grin on her face. She was wearing a Resolute uniform in standard colors, with a battered USAF leather jacket worn over it, and looked entirely to pleased about that fact. "Hi! I'm Marie. Or Mecha Musume. Or M.M. Take your pick, I'm not choosy." She let herself fall into an empty couch.

 

[Rhialto]

Maddy raises her hand. "Hey. Madeline Glass. So--what do you do? Besides being on a sugar rush?"

 

[D.Shaffer]

"Sorry, I'm just a bit excited. It's my first time being here and all. As for what I do...huh. I can never really explain it well. I can talk to spirits in objects and stuff. I have a few powerful ones living inside me too that let me manifest different abilities, so I guess I'm a shaman or something like that." She grinned. "They tell me I'm a bit unusual in how they manifest, though. They blame my parents."

 

[Rhialto]

A smile comes to Maddy's face, as she adjusts her glasses. "Yeah, I blame my parents too. Makes life much easier."

 

[Nimbus]

The tall Native American woman with odd hair looks impressed.

"Wow... Talking to the spirits. That's cool."

Her own people used to do that. It's been a while.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Nimbus."

 

[Victor_Von]

"I haven't read that one, sorry." Ron says slowly watching Gus before finding an unoccupied seat.

"I think you would enjoy," Gus says, oblivious to any discomfort he might have caused. "Is title that caught my eye, but is very much about... fear. About soul of man."

He whispers Kurtz's dying words in a kind of death-rattle croak, "The horror... the horror... Ah!" he laughs, "I did not picture Brando when I read story first."