1965-01-15 - Momento Mori: Chapter 2 - The Unmovable Spirit
Summary: X-Men Blue are transported to the year of 1979 to stop Logan from being assassinated.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
kaleb jay daire illyana wanda able jean-grey 

MOMENTO MORI: Chapter 2 - The Unmovable Spirit


Every once in a while there was a feeling. A feeling of being watched. One could feel it in the hallways of the mansion or often times out in public. There's a head turn, a quint of the eye, something just wasn't quite right. Whenever Jean would get those feelings she would expand her mind to the farthest reaches of which she could go; and often times visit Cerebro to go even further. There were a few things that were picked up; random mutants who were living their lives, some wearing make-up to hide their mutations, others taking up seasonal work because they doubled their clothes to hide what lies beneath. Few here and there cry out for help, and often times Jean could be seen rushing out the door and taking to the skies. Every now and then, she'd drag a straggler or two, names didn't matter in this. It was a concentrated effort.

This day was much the same. That feeling, where someone is looking over your shoulder and when looking back, nothing was there. The telepath knew just what it could be, and ever since the elusive mutant was scattered among the ethers none of the X-Blue members have been able to pinpoint her since. Using Cerebro was a crapshoot. Short her out, or boost her power, or speed up.. time? Magic? Who knows..

The helmet itself was donned and she focuses upon that feeling. The empath. The rival. The boost in power when she taps into the Other She…

…for lines begin to connect and blur all at once, even as mental hands reach out to grasp the girl to hold on tight. Those same minds that make up the silent wet-team that she created were gripped and grabbed.. and torn asunder.

Safely of course..

Always safe. For now.


'Lovely, is the feeling now'
Fever temperatures rising now
Power ah power
Is the force the vow
That makes it happen
It asks no questions why… ooh!

Studio 54 was the hottest club on the scene, where those minds and bodies were transported to. Right at the top of the high balcony that show the writhing bodies below. This song was hot. Michael Jackson's Don't Stop Til you Get enough, and it was clear that enough wasn't had. The lights were dimmed low to allow the display of colors to flash about, everyone in their get-ups and their dos, fros high to the sky and shoes thick to match, and skirts skinny while the mens pants flare.

Logan could be seen chatting up a hot little number by the bar, leaning in close, even if she was a full foot higher. He stood to compensate, and it appears that she was laughing at whatever joke the Canuck put forth. But there was someone standing there watching; a rather tall man in black, small rimmed glasses hiding the shade of his eyes as he fumbles with something in his hand. He doesn't look at all nervous, he didn't care that there were others watching, he just knew that Logan Howelett had to die.

There was a price on his head.

Unfortunately, the tether had to remain, they were being shown this for a reason. Whatever reason this was, Jean couldn't assist, for if the chord itself was cut at the wrong time..

..they would be as well.

Disorientation at first, Jay doesn't do well with his mind played withthat is to say he does very well with it and particularly vulnerable, but after the concert and recovery there, he's a little jumpy when transported to-ooooh what is that /sound/!? The winged mutant's feathers shiver in delighted curiosity as he whips around, catching his bearings.

It goes without saying that Able would do just about anything for Jean. He hadn't anticipated time travel as a possibility, but he prepared himself appropriately, mostly by bracing for impact.

Arrival. The doctor screws up his face at the barrage of unfamiliar sights and sounds. He knows they're here for a reason, and an important one, but there's so much light and noise and hair and there's quaaludes and it's all a bit overwhelming. And there's Logan. Then again, he seems to be a universal constant. Deep breaths, a bit of focus, then he turns to glance at the rest of the team. "Let's do this. I already want to go home."

If they weren't already in the club, Illyana would surely be forbidden entry. Not that forbidding entry to Illyana works out for most people, but her jeans and plaid flannel shirt are nobody's idea of stylish — even hers. They're just comfortable. Her hair is flat, not feathered at all. Somebody nearby turns up their nose when they see her. "This place is just letting in anybody tonight," she says to her companion.

Illyana resists the impulse to ensorcel the woman to fall deeply in love with Toad.

"Catchy tune," she observes to the others. "When we're done, can we hit a record store?"

Fortunately, with all the costumes and colors and get-ups in Studio 54, Daire actually looks not quite so strange with his horns and his fangs which he keeps to himself by keeping his mouth shut as he arrives on the balcony. Fighting a little bit of nausea on arrival, he takes a moment to let the sounds and the sights stop spinning a bit. His long-sleeved grey sweater and jeans aren't particularly happenin' either, but the horns seem to draw a few amused looks and probably a couple of rolled eyes. He spots Logan, and his brows raise as he looks around, attempting to get a lay of the room, and anything that looks, well, even more out of the ordinary than them.

Don't stop til you get enough might be Scarlett's personal motto encoded in her DNA. If so, the sheer irresponsibility of the motto must be noted in the Watcher's book somewhere. When dropped between the cracks of reality, so be it. When in Rome is something of a personal motto. Shoulders roll and she parts that gap in the crowd after a few seconds by breaking into dance, pivoting and twisting. She looks sensational under banded neon light, carelessly catching the Motown groove laid thick as honey over the funky dance beat. A purloined scarf wraps around her throat, a living iridescent rainbow when slotted into the crowd.

"No," she tells Illyana. Apologetic for the demon queen of Limbo, really, but her tone is cheerful. Music works terribly well for her, and she catches that beat naturally. "Unfortunately the problem with the space-time paradox would prove especially problematic, not the least that your brain might explode or certain torn edges of reality decide to take it out on us."

Kaleb has dealt with so many weird occurances involving clubs. He wasn't certain what happened at the Zombies' concert beut he had to be sure murmuring, "Jay… am I still stoned?!" The sonic squint and with that checked Daire, Lova, and down the line for… okay this was funky. Right you kn- oooooh Jay was onto something." Echo's eyes went wide dilating withthe strobe input like he was staring at a musical angler fish. He didn't move but to snappoint at Illyana. THAT. That there. Mission end goal #2. Awww damn. "'Yana? If you cna help me remember it we can work on making us a playback.: THAT he could do… dammit disco.

Disco wasn't the only thing on the menu tonight. There were power ballads from the likes of Kiss, funky hits from Earth, Wind, and Fire. Robert Palmer showed up the Bee Gees in a fantastical number that nearly caused a roar until someone slapped down with ABBA and Pink Floyd. It was an eclectic crowd; there was no segregation here. Sure, the drugs were passed around and the drinks flowed freely, and everyone seemed to move except for..

Well, there's Illyana, Kaleb, and Jay, music struck, and -him-.

The Assassin with no name. And he preferred it that way. At the height of the Vietnam war, he was called into action to take out the top most generals until the President slipped in to call a stand-still. Twenty nine confirmed kills, though the other hundred went unnoticed. The bodies were buried all across the world in unmarked graves, which he thinks the nameless few deserves.

It wasn't about self-loathing. It was about the money. There was no addiction to it, no need for revenge, no drive to see justice done or any self-hating means. His work went to the highest bidder, and someone aimed to see Logan dead no matter the cost. And the cost? It was high.

With the X-Men elsewhere, Logan was a moving target. There was no Scarlett there to punch holes into the atmosphere, no Echo there to drown out all the sound to allow a sneak attack. No sharpshooting from miles away from the good Doctor nor the bat of the tail and wing from Daire and Jay.

Logan was all alone. Studied. Habits memorized. Down to the drink and when he took a shit. And now was the ti—..

"Heeey sweetness!" The tall drink of water slid up to the assassin, wriggling her hips back against him as the man stood still. "How's about a little fun?"

She wore red, red that shined as bright as her lips to match with dull and drugged eyes. The man just looks at her..


The poor lady's head twisted 'round three times with just that motion, and it almost looked like the Nameless did not move.

"Lord, yes," Jay gushes conspiratorially to Illyana, then dips his head to Kaleb, his eyes bright and alive. "Ah told you somethin' good was comin, didn't Ah?" his 'yes' Immediately cut off. he only manages a slightly sheepish look as he smiles patiently to Kaleb. "Not yet, but Ah'm sure we could get ya there, judgin' from the way this place looks." he wets his lips, another titilated shiver of feathers before he settles down. "Okay…where we at now? Plan?" Business time! Play later??? Maybe!? Probably not. calming down and applying himself more to the matter at hand as he slips into support mode.

Able's idea of dressing down is a tan leather jacket, slacks, and a lightweight shirt with the top two buttons undone. This almost fits in, but not quite. Upside is, it gives him enough layers to conceal his gear.

"Let's cut the chatter, people. We're on the clock, here." All business, as always. The intrepid scientist glares down a passing couple who attempt to engage him into a bit of group dancing. "Begone," he growls.

That's when things get a little too interesting. Normally he'd reach for his revolver, but in an area this crowded Able palms a scalpel. Equally deadly, but far more discreet. "Scheisse," he mutters. "I think I can take him, but I'll need a distraction and someone to back me up. Scarlett, you up for a tussle?"

"Spoilsport," Illyana tells Scarlett. "Limbo is immune to paradox. Time doesn't exist there." She hears another faint comment from the nearby woman — this time commenting on Scarlett's hair — and fixes her with a look.

Those who know Illyana may have heard of the look. It's not one she breaks out often, but one must remember that she is the queen of a demon realm, and really, sometimes you have to put the demons in line. So the look that she's giving this stranger is the sort of look that cows demons.

The woman finds pressing business elsewhere in the club, dragging her companion along.

When she turns back, Able's getting excited over something — and she looks down to see what he's on about, and winces. "Ouch," she murmurs. "Okay. Business. You want him out of here?" The question isn't directed at anyone in particular, but whoever tells her yes can take responsibility for it later.

"I can be a distraction," Daire offers quickly once he sees what is going on down by Logan. His eyes widen a bit. He's seen some shit but still, watching someone die right in front of him is still not something that he can avoid reacting to. The horned mutant glances over in the direction of Kaleb and Jay, and then back over the railing of the balcony. "Do you want him giving chase or do you just want to scatter people?" He looks back over toward Able, and then Scarlett, and finally to the others gathered.

"Limbo, yes, but the rest of here, no. Maybe you can set up something wonderful there." Her flashing smile bright as the morning sun, Scarlett winds the scarf around her neck lightly where the loose ends cannot be used against her, answer enough for Able's inquiry. "Thought you might never ask. Let's go." Not that strangulation really meets with a risk for her. As far as bait goes, she plays the bohemienne to the fullest and nothing could imply a threat minus yoga-toned muscles. Fingertips flex in the plainest indication of readiness to dance. Non-violent paths she follows do not mean avoiding getting in someone's face. "Use your judgment. Focus the fire on me unless actual fire shows up. In that case, Illyana takes the lead."

Kaleb was eyeing up the room and took a deep breath. From teh balcony he was good and these people dressed super crazy. The helm wen on, sleek and black like a bat with little radar dish pointed swivlies to help him target lock. Echo was assessing. "I can helpp on crowd control. Able I'll follow you in. I can stun anything we don't want leaving." Hewasn't fast but he had every soundwave at his disposal. Fingers lifted up in the air in the safety of the helmet and warped them effortlessly around him. There was a follow up nod of certainty. "I'll cover our exits. Get the target."

The snap was something that Logan himself heard through the blaring music and the sweet whisperings of the woman that he cavorted with. His head snaps towards the body before it even falls, and when the woman in glossy red hits the floor, her friend.. the one who stood not too far off, begins to scream. It was blood curdling; and the woman in red was killed all over a bet. To see the unmovable dance with her, as she had never lost their game.

But tonight she did.

The scream drew attention towards the man who stands still; pandemonium begins to break out. The girl falls towards her fallen friend to try to wake her up, while others begin to scream and bumrush the doors. Logan, on the other hand.. turns away from the woman, easily pushing her off of the stool so that she could get a running start. So much for getting laid tonight..


..but at least he could get his aggression out in other ways.

"I'm tired of you followin' me, Bub.." Logan growls out, only for the man to smile. Yes, there were many different ways that he tried to kill Logan. Bullet to the head. Slit throat. Basic and generic poison. Explosion and fire. But not this.

The man suddenly moves, it was like a snap moment where time itself stood still. He wasn't a speedster, but adrenaline calls for the slowed motion of where the Nameless splits apart into a fine dust to be inhaled by the growling and huffing Logan.

A Logan who immediately begins to twist, to break down, knee this way, elbow crooked that way. Head tilted back, back hunched, arms to the stomach and down.

A gentle hand at the small of Scarlett's back serves as his agreement that she should take point. Potential ruckus aside, she's a distraction of a different sort. While she attracts attention, he approaches their target from a different angle with his blade at the ready. Then things go even more pear-shaped. He's a seasoned combatant, but seeing Logan downed with such casual ease in such a unique fashion is enough to cause a stutter-step. "Verdammt," he mutters under his breath.

This is well outside of his wheelhouse. He's more accustomed to dealing with thugs who carry guns. He shoots glances toward Scarlett and Illyana. What the hell are they supposed to do now?

Illyana nods her understanding, businesslike for once. But the way the man turns to dust, and then Logan starts to twist in all directions at once… "Who the hell -is- this guy?" she asks, mostly rhetorically. It's not so much who he is that's important just now. It's what he's doing. And how. Because if the Nameless dude can do this to Wolverine, she suspects he's going to be a difficult one for most of them to handle. She remains on the balcony, awaiting a signal to take all of this to another location.

Well, what do you do with dust? And then Logan is contorting all over and is down on the floor. Daire remains above so that he can maintain an overhead view of what is going on down below from the balcony, ready to move if the dust reforms somewhere else within the room below. With the others already down there and far closer, he doesn't yet join into the fray, instead, trying to serve as best he can as a sort of look out.

Pear-shaped with a side of cream. Eyes fractionally narrow, and Scarlett frowns slightly, emerald eyes narrowed in strategic regard. She pivots away into the terrorized masses stirred at the edges of Studio 54, where neon and flashing screens give surrogate cover and break up her and Able's outlines. Disadvantageous some ways, less so others. "Bollocks." Her English response to German complements well enough. "Ripping someone out in forced regurgitation is going to take a lot more than activated charcoal." Her tone is low, and she signals another turn before cutting between a pair of dancers oblivious to the hysteria in no small part thanks to a hit of LSD and too many drinks. "No longer a contact sport. Reckon Kale can stun something in an amorphous form?"

Kaleb was on Able's shoulder and looked, faintly aghast at this. He looked to Scarlett and asked grimly, "I can exlode a small cell structure. How… good is his healing ability?" He looked from him up to Jay and back to Logan. Man Kaleb was not happy about doing this wale it was in and on someone. In fact it could get grueson pretty quick. He ran his tongue on his lower lip and offered, "Say the word I'll do it, but get… behind nme when it happens. Above's fine."

It was near assimilation; during this time, men were movie makers of the scientific, some could even put a term to the word and describe it's whole parts in fantastical detail. Even as Logan continued to jerk upon the ground, the clear struggle of two souls fighting for control, one hand smacks against the ground and twists, the other *SNIKTS* and lashes out at a passerby who was knicked by the ankle.

The Studio itself was clearing out fast, most are injured as they bottlenecked the door. A few of them were smart and fled up instead of out, while others took to the back rooms to cower and hide. There was a killer on the loose, and no amount of drugs that they had taken that night prepared them for that.

It was a slow rise, one of hesitation, one of sheer determination, shoulders hunched and hunkered as wild eyes looked along the room.

"Fucking.." Logan squeezed out. Or maybe it was not Logan? "..X-Men!" Nope, that wasn't Logan. "I'll.. tear you all to.." He stumbled forward, claws out, swiping reluctantly at the air at whomever is the nearest..

"Get.. this.. muther.. outta.. me!"

"I was happy to lead the charge when I thought we were going to sneak up on a guy so I could stab him." Able shrugs and tucks his scalpel away inside his coat. He wags his hand from side to side in a so-so sort of gesture. This is decidedly outside of his wheelhouse. Mundane threats he can handle, and well, but at this point ideas are what he has to offer. "Scarlett, you may be able to draw off enough energy to neutralize whatever that is. 'Yana… honestly, I don't know what all you can do, but you're full of surprises. I think it's up to you two. Kay, if you have any tricks, go nuts. Greater good, and all." He steps behind Kaleb and draws his enormous revolver. Without missing a beat, he takes up a firing position that keeps all but the barrel hidden while he uses the sonic's shoulder as a prop. "I'll back the team up as well as I can."

Making good on his words, he pops a few high caliber rounds into Logan's chest to slow him down. It's not as if he can't take it.

Well, that sort of changes matters, doesn't it? Illyana should have figured it out much sooner. "Alright," she says. "It's time for a change of scenery. Whoever that idiot in Logan's body is — the one that's not Logan, I mean — we need to get him out. Or at least get them both to a safe place and take bets on which one will win. All aboard the Limbo Express!"

Here the blonde pauses a moment, glancing around the room, then points at the woman who'd been making rude comments about her clothes and Rogue's hair. "You're not invited."

Stepping disks pop open, directly under herself and Logan, close to the others — she wouldn't blame anybody for not wanting to visit Limbo, but she's not going to do much good un-possessing him in Studio 54. It's loud, and she really can't say she likes 'Dancing Queen'.

"What do you know?" she says as she steps into her own throne room with whoever's coming along for the ride. "My older self has a great record collection. Could somebody hold those two down?"

One convenient escape coming up. An appreciative smile breaks through the increasingly frosty countenance that speaks little well to Scarlett. "Advantage us," she murmurs, however unhappy she is about possibly losing her fluttery gloves. A quick rip or two, they're rags, her hands and arms save for an opalescent bracelet that positively radiates nuclear-levels of magic. One small adjustment by flicking filigree in "Coming along, cherie! We look fantastic, whatever they say."

Transitioning between realms never comes as a pleasant experience, especially where the fragmentary edges riffle against her senses like sandpaper. Aeronautic rotation executed mid-descent, all time for subtlety is out the damn window. Flight bearings engage as she rotates on corrupted Logan. Illyana's throne room may vibrate or outright rattle — or boom when soundwaves compress in violent doughnut displacement around her as she breaks the sonic barrier. A path of howling nonviolence on the punctuation point of slamming into Logan with her hands out might be her idea of a love tap. Or his. God help them both.

|ROLL| Kaleb +rolls 1d20 for: 9

Kaleb blinked Jump into… Limbo. He wanted to protest 'But they are singing about September and it's wonderful dammit!' however… friends and well being of mutants comes first. He sighed and reconsiled that Magneto wouldn't lament it… dammit. Onward he went charging into…he didn't want to spend too much time dwelling on where they were going. It was when the sonic boom folded that there was a sharp wince from Echo, and made a mental note to thank his Engineer for the helmet profusely later. Once on the other side he took Illyana's cue and ran up on the angry Logan-shaped-bastard which was not the bastard that was Logan shapped that he should be and compressed all of the soundwaves in the pocket. THere were four separate high pitched chords that shrilled at top volume that sent out relentlessly to explode soft cell membraines, and anything that had a crystaline structure was dusted almost immediately in Echo's direct path. His eyes, however, went instantly bloodshot red from side to side as he tried like hell to keep the soundwaves from leaving the cone path.

"Whoa-whut-whoa?" Able is prepared for many things, but this isn't one of them. In this environment, he's decidedly out of his element. He's also disoriented, confused, and relying on his inorganic brain to keep him grounded in the face of experiences that would break most people if they were exposed without some form of preface. "Uhhh…" He's still holding a revolver with three rounds in the cylinder, but he doesn't know if it'll do much good under the circumstances. Having previously been recommended to stand behind Kaleb, now he swivels around to stand in front. One thing he's certain of is that he can soak up more hits and live to tell the tale.

"But not great taste," Illyana adds after a moment, flipping through the records and finding one by Abba. "Really. I listen to these people?! Ugh!" When she turns away from the records, she has changed. She's red, her skin scaly, and her eyes are completely yellow. Her body is clad to the neck in silver metal that clings to her and moves with her like… whatever it is that heroes' costumes are made from. She wouldn't know. Her costume is denim and flannel. In her right hand she carries a sword glowing brilliantly. And she points it at Logan — and Nameless.

"You have made a very, very big mistake," she says, her forked tongue flickering from between her lips as she speaks, causing her Ss to take on a faint lisp. "Logan is a man who is very, very good at what he does. What people tend to forget is that he has friends who are very, very good at what they do. This is Limbo. I am queen here. My subjects are demons. Get out of him now. If I have to rip you out by force, I will attach a demon to you, to eat your liver every day. I can probably arrange for it to grow back, of course, but you'd best hope I can't. I imagine having your liver eaten daily is extremely painful."


The mental tugs and pulls of the events happening in the present and the future was surely taxing. But Jean held on, held on to the point she could feel the time-hopping mutant manifesting within the space behind her. It was a sheer force of will to move herself from the chair, to lock and hone in upon the scrambled mutant, to turn and press her bottom against the railing of the console to reach out and grab her in a bear hug to pull her close.. all without disconnecting her.

"GOT YOU!" Jean screams out.. or.. at least she thought she did..

The sudden jolt to Limbo by the others and the sonic scream that comes first cause the panels upon the domed room to tremble. The break apart like puzzle pieces, shifting, snapping, twisting odd sorts of ways as the room itself turns a crimson hue, most of which sends off an alarm in the medbay as designed and to the other few who know of its secrets.

Green eyes soon bleed white with horror, an electric current caresses the lines of metal to the helm, creating a shock that causes -both- women to drop.


The drop into limbo was a hard one, one could already see the Nameless breaking at the cracks at the sudden shift. In the future here, Logan was used to Limbo.. for that story is one that is mindboggling as would quite possibly break some weird quantum mechanics and fry brains of all present if they were to find out!

Logan falls to his knees and then up again, obviously struggling and straining, the look he gives is almost feral as he finds the need and near will to berserk!

Until he's hit with a load of Scarlett.


Bare skin to bare skin, Logan could feel his healing factor draining as well as his life, but you know what? He could take it. The thing inside? It could not. He was already seeping from the ears of the Canuck with the attempts to get away. And then there was Kaleb. He who shatters eardrums, all of the pain that Logan's body felt at the moment was but a near tickle to the wolverine, yet absolute agony to the Nameless!

He had to get out. And fast.

This level of torture wasn't something that he could handle, for as the dark gunmetal smoke pours from his nostrils, ears, and mouth, the being that was the assassin Nameless falls to the ground. His body near liquid, listless, like he was melting and fighting to hold himself together. Hollow eyes look up towards Queen Illyana to hear her decree; jaw becoming unhinged as he stares out in horror, his head which was at the front now moves sideways to where his hip would be, he was discombobulating fast!

Good intentions aside, standing in front of a sonic projector in a situation like this one is less than ideal. Able might be shielding Kaleb from physical damage, but there's nothing protecting him from the assault to his eardrums. He claps his hands over his ears, then falls to one knee.

When the Nameless emerges in its flexible, amorphous form, the doctor does what he does best. He trains his gun on the shifting head and drops in his last three rounds before it can escape, reform, or potentially invade another target. As stout as he is, this otherworldy and inhuman invasion must have unsettled him, because he pulls the trigger several more times after his weapon is emptied. Either way, the job seems to be done.

The gun is stowed back in its holster. Ears still ringing, he looks up at the rest of the team. "Can we go home now?"

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