elseworldexiles | Recent Entries

lehnsherr-erik.livejournal.com

Erik has become very adept over the years at reading the currents of social events. This is something that took him a long time but he has slowly overcome his tendencies to dominate the room and become the force of the movements. Now he reads that the party has come to a natural pause and steps towards the front of the room to the stage. Someone nearby taps their fork against one of the champagne glasses and the pure crystal tone rings out in the room gathering everyone's attention.

"Greetings and welcome to all and thank you for coming. Today we celebrate the upcoming union of my daughter Lorna to her intended Alex Summers. It is our fondest wish today that you enjoy the festivities and become involved in every facet of the celebration so that you may share with us the happiness that we feel on this day." Most of his accent has been trained out over the years leaving him with a mellow tone that is almost musical to listen to. Today emotions are a little higher and along with his slightly unusual speech manner there is an audible hint of his beginnings in his voice.

"Lorna was a gift I never thought to receive after the blessings that I had already had in my life. From the first time she was laid in my arms she has always been a constant source of joy in my life. She is the child that I have been able to be near and raise from the moment she was born and I believe that her siblings and I have always felt incredibly lucky to have her with us.

She has always been our interpreter to the modern world in a way. Her ability to move through this world and understand all it’s interpretations through eyes untouched by war has been something very helpful to our family.

I am more proud of her than I could ever express to you.

I welcome her soon to be husband to our family and hope that he will be as much a teacher to us as Lorna. From this day on their new life together will evolve from a fresh beginning. During each day they will strive to grow and adjust to each other and establish a foundation for the home that is their marriage.”

He raises the pure crystal champagne glass he has held in his hand to Lorna and Alex with a smile slightly tinged with sadness. He would never express it in public but there is a feeling he wishes she could have a marriage of her own making as he had with Magda, but as that is never to be he will never let anyone else know of his wish.

“Join me in toasting Lorna and Alex and wish them a life of love, health and happiness.”

canadiansixpack.livejournal.com

A large element of the city's populace is enthralled tonight by the extravagant engagement party thrown by the Lensherrs and the Summers families.

There'll never be a better time.

Logan worked for Xavier once, decades ago when he believed the man sane. It didn't last. He got wind of what was in store for mutants like him, and like the stubborn loner he was, tried to undermine the operation from the inside. He almost paid for it with his life, and believed his wife hadn't been so fortunate. Over twenty years gone, lost in his own self-pity and making statements with bodies of Xavier's cronies that couldn't be traced back to him. There'll be no hiding tonight; no going back. Either everything changes after tonight, or he and the woman he'd already thought dead years ago die trying.

He knew Xavier couldn't handle the kind of tech required for what he wants to do. Someone had to be doing it for him, but it's taken until now to find out who his greasemonkey was, much less find out what he's capable of. Either way, he knows he's likely to be dangerous.

Getting in isn't the hardest part: it's surprising what a severed employee's hand and a card will gain access to. Raven's taking another route, the better to up their chances.

Logan makes a point of leaving bodies in his wake. He's lived in the shadows for too long; kept his rage under wraps waiting for this moment. Each swipe, every staccato and deliberate movement brings that bloodthirst closer to the fore, just waiting to spill over and consume him whole. He's only too willing to let it. That should terrify him. It used to. Not anymore.

He leaves the stealth maneuvers to Raven. He can take the punishment. Make it loud, make it hurt. He's barely broken a sweat by the time he finds the lab.

Doors -- steel ones, in particular -- make great missiles.

"Knock knock, bub."

marvel-citizens.livejournal.com

Erik Lensherr has spared no expense. Tonight the 4-star Hotel Transia, jewel of his hospitality empire, has opened its doors to admit the New York elite to celebrate the engagement of his daughter Lorna to Alex Summers. Everyone who is anyone is here, to see and be seen, to catch at least a glimpse of the young couple. Naturally, there are other currents beneath the surface conversation. Like all social events, this is a time for bargaining and exploring, negotiating and fencing. But all blood drawn had better be metaphorical, or the Lensherrs' crack security team will know the reason why.

proteus-maximus.livejournal.com

After a short stopover at police headquarters, impersonating a few officers to check out the evidence in the Gargoyle case, as well as Parker's murder, Morph was ready for the next step.

It didn't take much doing to find out which window belonged to Crystal - figuring out when she'd be relatively lonely in the house was trickier, what with Quicksilver's speed. Once things look relatively clear, Morph makes his move.

A trenchcoated "Peter Parker" makes his way to a darkened window, pausing to examine the security measures briefly, before sending in a nonconductive tendril of his malleable flesh to undo the lock, allowing him to slip inside.

uneasy-rider.livejournal.com

Least this world had Johnny Cash and Johnny Walker. Two things that are right in a world where everyone talks and dresses funny.

Overall, she's thinking she's taken to this world hopping thing pretty easy. Once you figure out which end is up, it's just like touring with less knowledge about the town you're playing in that night. Oh, and there's that whole no soul and head on fire thing. Roxanne doesn't want to think about that too much, because if she does, she'll lose sight of getting back there at some point and kicking the Devil's behind for doing this to her man in all the other worlds.

Her new hot stuff clued her into a mystery though - how the little gray mutie kid ended up on the street and what happened to his Daddy. Morph can go and do whatever high road stuff he needs to. She's gonna take the low road, 'cause the low road don't change much. The low road involves finding local saps wanting to race, or dance with a pretty girl, or earn a little money off someone who doesn't know how much they suck at pool.

Maybe while she's at it she can figure out what this 'fatal loins,' crap means in proper English.

"Yeah, haven't seen my cousin in awhile," she lies smoothly, deliberately missing the purple 4 ball. "And news 'bout her just sort of passed me by in the Central Cali Doll House."

spidey2099.livejournal.com

Well, that happened.

Nocturne's hotel room is covered in interesting webbing-shapes, some of which have begun to dissolve. They've been asleep together undisturbed since the web-hammock gave out after a few hours and dropped them onto the bed. The webbing around the window, designed to keep any of that pesky light from intruding on them, is starting to fade as well.

The weird voice of the Tallus swirled in his dreams.

And suddenly, Miguel's eyes shoot open.

In a somewhat-hoarse voice, he worries aloud to the ceiling.

"Holy shock, I hope we weren't the fatal loins."

hulksmashed.livejournal.com

Joe Fixit doesn't bother with subtlety unless he has to.

He's much larger than the average man, and his digs reflect that fact about him. This house the Lensherrs have provided him with his incredibly large. Every doorway has been adjusted to allow for his size. The furniture is oversized enough for him to fit comfortably, but not so gigantic that it dwarfs most other people - he's no Jolly Green Giant. Just a big man with the money to get big things.

Not that he's gotten what he's really after. But he can be patient.

Sure, the puny man he once was has been banished from his life at long last, leaving him free to pursue the life his former self was too timid and weak to achieve. His talents are utilized and respected, and his rewards have been bountiful.

It's not quite enough for him.

But it'll surely do for now.

Joe himself is in his kitchen, working with kitchenware tailored specifically to his needs. Which to him means watching the servants in his employ make him food. He's always liked it when puny humans do what he tells them to.

avengingarrows.livejournal.com

The Cornelia Marie is no stranger to the city's docklands. Every three weeks, she arrives at the pier with a fresh cargo of fish and shellfish for the city's restaurants and hotels. Her captain's biggest client? The Lensherrs, owners of the most successful chains in the city.

The shipments seem legit. But the Avengers have reason to believe other shipments may be piggybacking inside the crates; shipments that won't see the light of day.

Opium is a premium commodity on the street. This is what they're waiting for. Tonight, they get to blow the lid on this operation and finally get something concrete to nail the Lensherrs' collective asses to the wall.

At Pier Twelve, several Lensherr 'employees' in large black Buicks await the Cornelia Marie's captain and her illicit cargo.

rogue-starsr.livejournal.com

Sarah has returned to the hotel room with a freshly bought notebook and pens. As annoying as writing with one hand is, she's doing her best to piece what they know together and make some sense of it all.
Fighting giant robots in an endless guerilla war? Sure.
Take on the insane sorceror supreme of some insane dimension? Great.
Fight a vampire queen over a savaged landscape? Can do.
Battle not one, but two of the Hulk's most powerful incarnations? Best not repeated, but done without hesitation.

Play amateur detective? She's way out of her depth.

She's jotted down that she knows Peter was on the mob beat.
She notes that he was roughed up badly, literally beaten to death... that takes some doing.
She notes what she knows of the Lensherrs and Summers -
Lensherrs: conservative. Absorbed the Inhumans media empire. Known members - Magneto, Quicksilver, Crystal... presumably Polaris and/or Scarlet Witch. Alleged Mobsters with great lawyers.
Summers: aggressive business people. Very different style than Lensherrs. High tech profile. Known members - presumably Cyclops and Havok. Others?

After that she starts drawing a blank. Her notes getting a little more haphazard.

Families considering a merger. Mention of other parties who might be opposed to the deal?
Who else is involved?
Major figures in other worlds... Xavier, Forge, Angel, Storm, Jean Grey?
Any remaining Inhumans?

Then she tosses it onto the table, glancing at it in frustration now and then.

"Which brings me no closer to any fatal loins or Peter's killer." she sighs.

proteus-maximus.livejournal.com

Morph's shifted his disguise for this leg of the journey - carefully crafting the facial features of his assumed identity for a familial resemblance to certain folk. Accompanying the false face are a trenchcoat, a fedora hat, and a somewhat brusque manner.

He steps up to the receptionist at the Daily Bugle.

"I need to see Ben Urich. Tell him it's Peter Parker's cousin."

Current Mood: calm

tommyshepherd.livejournal.com

Tommy peeked out from his bedroom door, looking left and right, his legs shaking at having to stand still for so long. Billy was busy behind him taking a nap. It was something that Tommy was unable to do for long.

His Eema didn't seem to be here, or there, or anywhere.

Anywhere nearby anyway.

A gleeful grin on his face, Tommy zooms off towards his grandfather's favorite room in the house, determined to spend some time with him, and hoping to make his grandfather side with him and make his Eema ease up on him.

After all, one can only be put on a time-out so many times.

rogue-starsr.livejournal.com

She's not used to spending so much time lying about, but her options are limited. After sleeping as much as she can manage, she finally gets around to picking up the paper, and seeing if she can find anything that might help the others, though she's fairly sure by now that they're well ahead of her. Still, there might be something to be found between the New York Times and the Daily Bugle.

ms-tique.livejournal.com

The house hasn't changed in twenty three years. There's the same dead patch of grass where he grinds out his cigars, the same home made curtains in the windows, the same slightly wobbly step.

She looks at the man next to her. He looks the same as he did the last time they left this place together. So does she, except for one detail. Her hand unconciously gravitates to her firm stomach.

Time hasn't stood still. She won't find a crib inside. Instead, there'll be a woman. A stranger. Her daughter.

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispers. She's been a father so long. She has no idea how to be a mother.

lt-legacy.livejournal.com

It's got a nice name on the door: Hurtig and Seamon’s New Burlesque Theatre, but no one calls it that. They used to record a show here, so it needed another name, and because colored people and what would become mutants and Irish and...well, everyone...They needed another name, one that wouldn't tip off the Bulls. Plain clothes always roughed up a classy joint before busting it.

Nowdays, everyone calls it after the radio show, "The Apollo." It's still famed for it's amateur night and has another amazing distinction. Everyone - and I mean everyone can still meet here without a fuss. You don't bust things up at the Apollo or all three sides - Summer, Lensherr, and even now days The Cops, will make a special point to give you a new set of overshoes. Still, one problem 30 years ago is why there's now tables and a dance floor instead of the theater seats like there are in other worlds. Less said about that moment in time the better.

Some woman who isn't Billie Holiday, but desperately wants to be, is singing into the mike while the nephew of the current manager flits table to table in a white tux taking drink and food orders.

exiles-2h.livejournal.com

The date to the Museum of Natural History had gone well. Very well. So well that Alex had had to force himself to stop whistling on his way back home.

Today, however, was not starting well at all. First, Lorna had had to beg off their hiking date due to what she described as "family arrangements," but he thought he'd go rock climbing instead. Anything to get away from ... everything. Only then, as he was getting ready to leave, he'd been informed by one of the servants that an artificial climbing wall had been provided for him in the gardens. Dammit. They couldn't let him have any fun, could they?

He was careful to keep that petulant feeling foremost in his mind as he began his climb. Being the sulky younger son was preferable to being anything else, and once the climb began, he could concentrate on safe resentments, such as disdainfully comparing the artificial surface to the feel of real rock, or the lack of challenge in using the provided hand- and footholds, as opposed to having to make his own. Not to mention the wall was only 40 feet high. Ha.

Yes, far better to resent those little things, he didn't tell himself as he rappelled back down the stupid fake wall. At least the sweat and the ache in his muscles was still real.

proteus-maximus.livejournal.com

Morph's made his way over to Irving's perfectly recited address, travelling incognito - or, at least as incognito as a man can be when he looks like Humphrey Bogart having stepped directly out of the Maltese Falcon.

"Schtick with me, schweetheart, and you'll go places.."

He flashes an un-Bogart-like grin at his travelling companion, Roxy.

spidey2099.livejournal.com

Almost everybody's got something else to do at the moment.

Spidey's got an itch in the back of his mind, though. Morph and Nocturne are handy fonts of information... but he has to admit that he's getting a bit tired of always being in the dark. Seems everything that needs fixing is a century before his time, and he never seems to know who the players are.

So, time to see if he can't do something about that, and catch her before she goes out nightcrawling or something.

There's a knock on her hotel room door.

"T.J.? You there?"

exiles-2h.livejournal.com

"Golly," Irving says, looking around at the hotel suite. "This place is real big. Do you ever get lost?"

Then he sees the television and makes a beeline for it. "Holy smokes! You get all the channels here!"

http://users.livejournal.com/_steelmagnolia_/

Poppa's been distracted by something. Normally this would worry Marion but right now it seems like some sort of blessing from Heaven. There is still a lot of guilt in sneaking out to see Kurt for the short periods of time she's managed already but...

.. it isn't enough time. Marion is starting to feel that it might not ever be enough time.

Leaving the office to head out to get lunch for her and her father, she'll take extra time to meet Kurt and walk with him, talk with him.

Touch his hands. His face.

There is something of a small thrill in all the sneaking around.

magneticmiss.livejournal.com

She sat at a table set for two at one of her father's favorite restaurants. The candles, flowers, place settings and linens were all arranged just so. As is she, she thinks, in her brand new dress and shoes, her nails freshly manicured, her hair trimmed and styled.

I might as well be one of the decorations.

A small thought as she plucks at the hem of the tablecloth.

She's waiting to meet the man she's going to spend the rest of her life with. She's less than excited. Matter of fact, she's downright nervous...if not a little scared...but she can't let any of that show, what with the dutiful guards lurking in the corners. She also figures any smidge of potential romance is utterly destroyed by their presence.

She sighs, glancing down to check her watch without being too obvious about it, then takes a sip of water...and waits.

Current Mood: nervous

Profile

Elseworld Exiles

May 2008

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
				1	2	3
4	5	6	7	8	9	10
11	12	13	14	15	16	17
18	19	20	21	22	23	24
25	26	27	28	29	30	31

Syndicate

Page Summary

Style Credit

Style: Neutral Good for Practicality by timeasmymeasure

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Page generated Jun. 18th, 2025 02:53 pm

Exiles in Elseworlds

The Continuing Saga of Dimension-Hopping Do-Gooders

Recent Entries

The engagement party - toast to the future

For every action, there is an equal and opposite Reaction...

You are cordially invited....

Noir and Peace

The Classics

How long has that sun been shining?

The style to which he's grown accustomed.

New York City docks, 2:42AM

No Good at this Detective Thing

Stop the Presses

Grandbrat

Catching up on the Times

Reunion

253 W 125 St, Harlem, NY 10027

Alone again, unnaturally

On the Trail..

Tired of the Dark.

Puttin' on the ritz at the Wundagore

Tuesday...

Hello, I'm your wife. Allow me to introduce myself.

Profile

May 2008

Syndicate

Most Popular Tags

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags