******AT ATTENTION******
<Logan> @@
<Kurt> @@
<Remy> XX
<Bobby> @@
<Mystique> O_O
<Arthur> @@
<Trav> @@
<Erik> Last actual sim: Remy took off. Logan caught up with him on a freight train out of Budapest. Back at Wundagore, nothing of import happened. This will change.

********PROLOGUE********
<Erik> SCENE> AN IMMACULATE MANSION, OUTSIDE OF BOSTON. A WALNUT-PANELLED STUDY, WHERE A COLD-EYED MIDDLE-AGED MAN IN AN EXPENSIVE SUIT HOLDS A PHONE TO HIS EAR WITH AN EXPRESSION OF DISTASTE.
<Erik> <Man> Yes, Doctor. I want you to continue preparations as planned.
<Erik> <Man> This is only a minor setback. I have… ::grits his teeth:: allowed her far too much freedom, that is apparent. She will be returned to your care shortly.
<Erik> <Man> Thank you. ::hangs up::
<Erik> ACTION> THE MAN STANDS UP, TURNING TOWARD THE DOOR, WHERE HE SEES A YOUNGER BLOND MAN LEANING IN THE DOORWAY. HIS ONLY SIGN OF SURPRISE IS A SLIGHT TIGHTENING OF HIS MOUTH.
<Erik> <Younger man> You are a bastard, Winston.
<Erik> <Winston> Get out of my house.
<Erik> <Younger man> Although, it shouldn't surprise me. ::sardonic smile:: After all, look what you've done to the rest of your children.
<Erik> <Winston> ::facial twitch:: Get out, Christian.
<Erik> <Christian> ::mockingly 'thoughtful' expression:: Oh, but I'm sure we both know that Dr Milbury has Emma's best interests in mind, just like you do. What's a lobotomy, among family?
<Erik> <Winston> GET OUT!
<Erik> ACTION> WINSTON BARES HIS TEETH IN ANGER, SNATCHING UP A HEAVY GLASS PAPERWEIGHT FROM HIS DESK, AND HURLING IT AT HIS SON'S HEAD. CHRISTIAN DUCKS, NARROWLY AVOIDING IT, THEN STARES AT THE OLDER MAN WITH A LOOK OF UTTER CONTEMPT BEFORE TURNING AND WALKING OUT THE DOOR.
******END PROLOGUE******

********SIM START********
<Erik> SCENE> WUNDAGORE. MS DARKHOLME'S HISTORY CLASS, HALF AN HOUR BEFORE BREAK. THE DAY IS UNUSUALLY WARM, AND THE CLASSROOM IS SOMEWHAT STUFFY DESPITE THE WINDOWS BEING OPEN.
<Trav> :::Fanning himself with a folded up piece of paper::: ((Lord, could it get any hotter?))
<Emma> ::Has her hair pinned away from her face, looking dreadfully bored.::
<Bobby> ::repeatedly pulls at the collar of his shirt, trying to pay attention to the class, despite the stuffiness making him a bit sleepy::
<Kurt> ::slumped slightly in his seat, paying attention, but hardly moving a muscle.. even his tail is lying still and doing a nice impression of a listless snake::
<Erik> <Pietro> ::absently twirling a pencil between his fingers at a blurred rate of speed:: ...
<Arthur> ::leans back in his seat, breathing a bit more heavily than normal. He tries to pay attention to Ms Darkholme, but it is oddly difficult. Probably due to the fact history is a smidge on the boring side::
<Erik> <Wanda> ::turns a page in her textbook, reading::
<Bobby> ::props his head up with his hand, his elbow resting on his desk, watching Ms Darkholme, eyes wandering around the room to keep awake::
<Mystique> ::stands at the front behind a podium, the chalk board behind her completely blank as she prefers to lecture verbally rather with written notes:: At the end of the 19th centurry, who can name for me America's growing social development and problems?
<Emma> ::Yawns behind her hand.::
<Trav> :::Neck goes slack, his head smacking down into the middle of his textbook:::
<Mystique> Travis.
<Erik> ACTION> THERE IS A LIGHT TAP AT THE OPEN CLASSROOM DOOR... MR LENSHERR LOOKS FAINTLY PUZZLED, CROOKING A FINGER AT MYSTIQUE.
<Mystique> Your affection for your book must mean you read the assignment and you have an aswer for me?
<Arthur> ::turns around slightly to look to the noise::
<Bobby> ::eyes Ms Darkholme:: ((..How is she not even sweating?)) ::sighs, thoughts of Mystique with clingy clothes disappearing, sits up suddenly at Erik's arrival then yawns::
<Trav> :::Head snaps up, looking guilty, then stiffles a sigh of relief as she looks away::: ((That was close.))
<Mystique> ::narrow look at Travis before noticing Erik and gliding over to the door::
<Erik> I don't mean to disrupt your class, but I am afraid I need to borrow Miss Frost for a moment. ::speaks quietly::
<Mystique> Emma. ::looks to the girl in question::
<Kurt> ::briefly side-glances towards the door, then slowly blinks::
<Bobby> ::glances from Erik to Emma:: ((..I hope this continues for..)) ::looks at the clock:: ((...)) ::head falls forward, lightly thunking against his desk::
<Erik> <Pietro> ::tries to stop spinning his pencil and sit up straight, resulting in the pencil skittering across the floor beneath the desks:: ... ::cranes his head around looking for it::
<Emma> ::Sighs, standing up.:: Yes, Ms. Darkholme? ::Walks over, looking faintly crossed.::
<Erik> Come with me, Miss Frost. ::turns to head back down the hall toward his office::
<Mystique> Mr Lenssherr would like to see you. The reading assignment for tomorrow is Chpt 19.
<Erik> <Wanda> ::still reading, turns another page::
<Mystique> ::returns to the podium to torture the children further with American history::
<Emma> ::Rolls her eyes and nods.:: I'll remember.
<Trav> :::Pales slightly::: ((This don't look good...))
<Erik> ACTION> ERIK RETURNS TO HIS OFFICE
<Bobby> ::lifts his head and glances to Emma, watching her go:: ((lucky..)) ::sighs::
<Mystique> One of the answers that no one pointed out is urbanization. We will see the deemphasis on of the rural agrarian lifestyle and almost mass exodus to America's growing cities.
<Mystique> Now, what factors have we lready studied that can be a direct cause for this increase in urbanization?
<Emma> ::Follows/heads to Lensherr's office, knowking on the door softly.::
<Bobby> ::eyes dart:: ((Think, Bobbo, think..)) ::raises his hand::
<Kurt> ((Ach, what is the point? We are not even *in* America..))
<Erik> Come in, take a seat. ::still frowning faintly, looks up as Emma enters::
<Arthur> ::rises his hand as well, surprisingly enough he think he might know the answer to this one::
<Erik> <Pietro> ::slouches down in his seat, trying to stretch a foot far enough to nudge his pencil back into reach:: ...
<Emma> ::Walks in slowly, taking a seat in a high back chair.:: What is it, Mr. Lensherr?
<Mystique> ::dismayed look at the lone hand waving in the air:: Yes Arthur?
<Arthur> The industrial revolution? ::defintely siad as a half answer/half guess::
<Erik> You have a call... from a man who claims to be your father. I was under the impression that you and he were no longer in contact....
<Bobby> ::continues to raise his hand, even after Artie gives his answer, waves his hand a bit::
<Mystique> Yes Arthur that is correct. The effects of the industrial revolution were two fold.
<Mystique> Yes Bobby?
<Emma> I am not. ::Narrows her eyes faintly.:: What did this gentleman say?
<Bobby> ::lowers his hand:: Uh, I know this isn't on topic or anything, but I was just wondering what made you decide you wanted to help Mr. Lensherr with us? How'd you meet him? ((c`mon..))
<Arthur> ::smiles a bit to himself::
<Trav> :::Tries to keep his jaw in place as he stares at Bob::: ((What is he thinking?!))
<Mystique> ::frowns:: That is not an appropriate question at this time, Mr Robert Drake.
<Kurt> ::raises his eyebrows, turning his head to look at Bobby:: ((She has not even told *me* that...))
<Mystique> Well now...
<Mystique> I can see that from the lack of class participation and wandering of our minds, that alot of you may not have read the material I assigned. So I would like you all now to take out a sheet of paper and a pencil.
<Erik> He merely insists upon speaking to you. ::raises an eyebrow:: I would like to know how he found out your whereabouts, myself, but if you do not wish to speak to him, you are above the age of majority, are you not?
<Emma> On the phone?
<Bobby> ::raises his hand again, quickly at the mention of pencil and paper:: I know that we should already know what you're asking about, but we ever learn much about you, the person, Miss Darkholme. ((..damnit, take the off-topic bait.. this' beginning to sound desperate..))
<Erik> <Wanda> ::turns another page, quietly removing a second pencil from her bag and handing it over to Pietro::
<Erik> Yes.
<Mystique> Mr Robert Drake, if you are so keen on getting to know me in greater detail as a person, then perhaps we can do that after class. Consider your lunch privelages revoked and report to my classroom for detention this afternoon.
<Emma> ... I. ::Looks honestly scared.:: I will talk to him but... is it possible he can track me down to here?
<Mystique> Any other questions before we begin the quiz? ::looks expectantly around::
<Bobby> ..::jaw drops:: ((...aww, man..)) ..::numbly gets out a pencil and paper::
<Kurt> ::leans over to take a pencil and some paper out of his desk, concentrating on keeping an amused look off his face::
<Arthur> ::gets out the paper and pencil as well, already automatically putting his name at the top of the sheet::
<Erik> ::eyes narrow slightly:: As I said, I do not know how he obtained the information to contact you here, but I assure you, if you do not wish contact with him, you will not have contact with him.
<Trav> :::Pulls out a piece of paper, taking the pencil from behind his ear:::
<Erik> <Wanda> ::shuts her book, sighing softly and setting it aside::
<Mystique> Very good then. ::smiles slightly, pleased with herself::
<Mystique> Number one....name five American cities to see the largest population growths between the years of 1880 and 1900.
<Erik> <Wanda> ::writes::
<Erik> <Pietro> ::fidgets::
<Trav> :::Jots down his answer, this smirks:::
<Emma> I'll talk to him. If he knows the number he just might know where I am. I would rather speak to him in a civilized manner with some distance between us rather than him come here and treat me as if I were insane.
<Bobby> ::mumbles to himself, breathing a bit heavier, trying to think, wipes his hand across his forehead as he struggles to concentrate on the paper:: ((..here goes..))
<Arthur> ::groans slightly under his breath as he wrestles with his brain to get an answer::
<Kurt> ....::stares down at his paper for a few moments before tenatively writing something down::
<Erik> ACTION> ERIK NODS, THEN GESTURES TO THE OLD-FASHIONED PHONE ON HIS DESK. HE GETS UP AND STEPS OUT OF THE OFFICE, TO GIVE EMMA PRIVACY.
<Erik> <Pietro> ::settles for writing all the American cities he can think of off the top of his head... all three of them::
<Emma> ::Picks up the phone.:: Emma Frost speaking. ::Her voie is cold, though civil.::
<Bobby> ::begins to write down what he believes to be the answers, only gets through two before his pencil skids off the paper, beginning to sway a bit before falling off of his chair, to the floor::
<Erik> <Voice> Emma? Is it really you?
<Mystique> Number two...list 3 inventions put to use in agriculture that lead to the loss of jobs in rural America.... ::pauses::
<Erik> ACTION> HER FATHER'S VOICE SOUNDS... WORRIED, AND WARM.. TWO THINGS SHE'S NEVER HEARD HIM SOUND BEFORE, ESPECIALLY NOT TO HER.
<Trav> :::Begins jotting down his answer, smirk changing into a grin:::
<Arthur> ::Arthur attempts to cull his brain..only getting 2 of the three...::
<Emma> ::Eyes narrow at this.:: Yes, it's me father.
<Bobby> ((..no Emma..)) ::lays on the floor like a lump, fainted::
<Erik> <Voice> We've been worried, Emma.... You just disappeared so suddenly. And not a word to myself or your mother... for all we knew, you were dead!
<Erik> <Pietro> ::concerned look over at Bobby lying on the floor:: ...Uh, Ms Darkholme?
<Mystique> Number three...which important railroad was completed in 1869 and then number four, between which two cities did this rail run?
<Emma> Well, of course not father. You would of just sent me back to that hell hole of an asylum. ::Clutches the reciver very tightly.:: It wasn't personal, you understand.
<Arthur> ::watches Bobby fall, a confused look on his face::
<Mystique> What is it Peitro? ::annoyed look::
<Kurt> ::scribbles down some answers, then turns to stare at the floored Bobby::
<Erik> <Voice> ::tone softens:: Of course not, sweetheart. The reports from your doctor were very encouraging... didn't they tell you we planned to bring you home within the month?
<Trav> :::Looks at Bob on the floor, then reaches over, nudging him in the side with his pencil's eraser:::
<Erik> <Pietro> ::nervous cough:: The, uh. Bobby? Fell out of his chair?
<Bobby> ::doesn't respond to the poke, his best log impersonation to date::
<Trav> Uhm...I think he might be dead.
<Mystique> ::eyes widen in anger as she spies Bobby on the floor and her mind instantly begins to conjure suitable punishments should the boy prove to be merely faking this show:: Hmmm... ::walks over to Bobby, heels thundering with every step::
<Trav> :::Quickly moves back into his chair, looking a bit fearful:::
<Bobby> ::totally unresponsive, actually begins to fall asleep, as he's laying down and it's stuffy in the room::
<Mystique> ::kneels slightly and slips a hand under Bobby's chin to check for a pulse::
<Kurt> ((Nein. There's no way he's...)) ::still staring::
<Bobby> ::breathing evenly, snoozes quietly::
<Mystique> ::stands up:: Pietro, could you be so kind as to carry Mr Drake down to the infirmary? The rest of you...class is dimissed. Turn your papers in at the front and read Chpt 19 for tomorrow's class.
<Erik> <Voice> ..Emma?
<Emma> No, they did not. ::Flatly, caring not to remember what they did tell and did do to her.::
<Erik> <Pietro> ::stands up, blurring to the front to drop his paper in the basket, then blurs back over to where Bobby is, prodding him warily::
<Trav> :::Quickly packs his few things into his bag, then makes a quick exit, dropping his paper in the basket as he leaves:::
<Bobby> ::grunts quietly, shifting slightly though still asleep::
<Erik> <Voice> Please, come home, Emma. It would mean the world to your mother and I... just for a visit?
<Arthur> ::stands after deopsiting his pencil back in his bag he puts his paper where it suppose to go and exits the room looking for a place witha bit more airflow.::
<Mystique> Just carry him...Pietro... ::stern look at Bobby lying like a pile of mush::
<Erik> <Pietro> ::awkwardly picks Bobby up and throws him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry before starting for the door::
<Kurt> ::slowly stands, stretching before gathering up his supplies, turning in the paper on his way out the door::
<Emma> I shall put it under consideration, Father. ::Not quiet as harsh as she was before.::
<Erik> <Voice> I'm not as young as I used to be, you know... I need to know someone will be ready to take up the business when I retire
<Bobby> ::snoozes blissfully unaware of what might be to come in retaliation, despite being jostled::
<Erik> <Pietro> ::grumbling under his breath, rides the elevator down to the infirmary:: Listen, Drake, if you're faking this...
<Emma> ::Faintly frowns.:: Isn't Christian your heir?
<Erik> <Voice> ....Christian made his choices and took his own path. ::weary tone::
<Bobby> ::slight grunt.. dangles from Pietro's shoulders::
<Mystique> ::walks to the front of the room and takes the papers from the basket depositing them in her desk and locking it before leaving the room herself::
<Kurt> ::walks to the stairs, going towards his room::
<Erik> <Pietro> ::dumps Bobby on an infirmary table::
<Arthur> ::sits on the stairs just outside the front doors enjoying a light passing breeze, doubtful that it'll last long though::
<Erik> ACTION> ERIK IS STILL LEANING AGAINST THE WALL OUTSIDE HIS OFFICE--HIS OFFICE DOOR IS CLOSED.
<Emma> Oh Father... you didn't? ::Sighs.::
<Mystique> ::arrives at Erik's office to find him outside::
<Trav> :::Walks out the front doors, making gasping noises as he loosens his shirt collar:::
<Mystique> There was a medical emergency not long after you left. It appears Robert Drake has fainted. I had him taken to the infirmary.
<Arthur> ::looks back at the gasping noise:: You okay?
<Bobby> Uh? ::wakes up, looking around:: how'm I.. shit, the quiz.. ::winces, rubbing his head::
<Erik> <Voice> I didn't call to argue, Emma. Just... promise me you'll give it serious thought.
<Erik> ::frowns:: Fainted? The heat?
<Mystique> ::shrugs::
<Trav> :::Nods, fanning himself::: Yeah, fine. Just, not used to this kinda weather.
<Erik> <Pietro> Yeah, shit, the quiz, alright. I don't think Ms Darkholme is going to cut you any slack, but you'd better stay down here until you feel better.
<Mystique> I am not at all convinced he did not fake the incident himself.
<Erik> ... I will check on him. ::glances at the door of his office:: Miss Frost is on the phone with her father.
<Emma> Yes father. ((Why am I not shocked...))
<Bobby> ::squints, putting a hand to his forehead:: ..thanks, Pietro..
<Kurt> ::once in his room, dumps his school supplies on his bed, then moves back into the hall::
<Erik> <Voice> Thank you, Emma. I'll be in touch.
<Erik> <Pietro> ::leans back against the wall, crossing his arms, to wait:: No problem.
<Emma> ((I'm calling Christian, soon.))

******SCENE CHANGE******
<Erik> SCENE> PARIS. LATE EVENING. REMY AND LOGAN GOT OFF THE TRAIN HERE, AND MADE THEIR WAY INTO THE CITY, WHERE REMY HOPED TO LOOK UP A FEW PEOPLE WHO OWED HIM FAVORS.
<Remy> ::pulls on the collar of his trenchcoat:: Y' didn' haveta come after me, y'know. I know what I'm doin'.
<Logan> Hmmph, if y'knew what you were doin', kid, then you wouldn't be gettin' fingers in the mail.
<Remy> ::looks at building names as they pass:: ((Nope)) Dey jus' tryin' t' get my attention. Dey know dat'll get me t' come back.
<Logan> Hmphh.
<Erik> SCENE> AS THE SUNSET GETS DIMMER AND DARKER ON THE HORIZON, THE STREET CROWD THINS SOMEWHAT. THIS MAKES IT EASIER TO PICK OUT INDIVIDUALS, AND REMY AND LOGAN BOTH REALIZE THEY'VE SEEN A FELLOW IN A NONDESCRIPT BROWN JACKET SEVERAL STREETS EARLIER. IS HE FOLLOWING THEM, OR JUST WANDERING IN THE SAME VICINITY?
<Remy> ::lowly:: We gotta stalker, cap.
<Logan> Noticed him a while back, what took you?
<Erik> <Man> ::hesitates, loitering around a streetlight aimlessly.... lights a cigarette and looks up at the sky::
<Remy> ::smirk:: Don' got dem animal senses.
<Logan> ::turns down an alley/rounds a street corner (whatever's applicable) abruptly seeing the man stop and increases pace::
<Remy> ..::follows alongside Logan, picking up his pace::
<Erik> ACTION> THEY ARE HEADED DOWN A NARROW ALLEY, FULL OF SMELLY GARBAGE, STRAY CATS, AND A FEW BUMS THAT EYE THEM SUSPICIOUSLY.
<Remy> ::makes a face:: Next time, I pick de way.
<Logan> If there's a next time, then you won't be conscious long enough to pick the way.
<Remy> ((No use trying to slip away..he'll just come after me.))
<Remy> Poin' taken
<Remy> He still tailin' us?
<Erik> ACTION> THERE IS NO SIGN OF THE NONDESCRIPT-BROWN-JACKET GUY
<Erik> ACTION> THERE IS, HOWEVER, A FAINT TRACE OF PERFUME (DETECTABLE TO LOGAN) IN THE AIR. THE SMELL JUST DOESN'T FIT WITH THIS FILTHY ALLEYWAY.
<Logan> ::narrows his eyes and looks at the bums suspiciously, snorts, then tries trailing the scent::
<Remy> Wha'? Did timmy fall down a well?
<Erik> ACTION> THE SCENT SEEMS TO BE WAFTING DOWN FROM SOMEWHERE HIGHER UP, FURTHER DOWN THE WINDING ALLEY.
<Logan> ::pops his claws and starts scaling the wall::
<Erik> ACTION> LOGAN CAUSES SOMETHING OF A COMMOTION AMONG THE BUMS AT THE END OF THE ALLEY, WHO EXCLAIM IN ALARM AND START BUSTLING OUT INTO THE STREET.
<Remy> ...::looks up.. and for any way to follow Logan up:: Yah, t'anks.. I didn' wanna go up dere anyways..
<Erik> ACTION> LOGAN FEELS SUDDENLY NAUSEOUS. REMY SEES A RICKETY FIRE ESCAPE, BUT FEELS SLIGHTLY DIZZY FOR SOME REASON.
<Remy> ..::starts to climb up the fire escape.. shakes it a little to make sure it's sturdy enough..:: Awright.. ::blinks:: Didn' shake it dat hard.. ::puts his hand to his head::
<Logan> ::dangles by his claws for a moment, then snikts them, dropping down to the ground and looks around, gaze pausing on remy:: What's wrong with your eyes? ::waits for the nausea to fade before moving around too much::
<Remy> huh? ::tries to climb up the fire escape... stops and shakes his head.. as if trying to shake off the dizziness::
<Logan> They're--normal, kid. ::sniffs:: I don't like this.
<Erik> ACTION> A MUFFLED 'CRACK' IS THE ONLY WARNING EITHER OF THEM GET BEFORE A SLUG HITS LOGAN IN THE SHOULDER, HARD ENOUGH TO KNOCK HIM OFF HIS FEET.
<Erik> ACTION> SOMETHING HARD STRIKES REMY ON THE BACK OF THE HEAD, AND HE LOSES HIS GRIP ON THE FIRE ESCAPE AND FALLS TO THE GROUND.
<Logan> ::rolls with the impact and moves to get to his feet quickly, popping his claws again::
<Remy> ..shi--.. ::closes his eyes and tries to climb up faster.. and is hit in the back of the head and falls back to the floor, curses in french, as he clutches the back of his head:: [[Damnit, what the hell was that?]] ::tries to look back at what hit him::
<Erik> ACTION> LOGAN FEELS UNUSUALLY WEAKENED, THE PAIN OF THE BULLET ISN'T ABATING, AND HE IS BLEEDING PROFUSELY FROM THE SHOULDER. A SECOND BULLET HITS HIM IN THE BACK AND RICOCHETS OFF A RIB. REMY CAN'T MAKE HIS EYES FOCUS BEYOND HAZY DOUBLE-IMAGES OF A MASKED MAN IN A RED BODYSUIT BEFORE HE PASSES OUT.
<Remy> ::blinks, weakly:: who--? uhhh::passes out::
<Erik> ACTION> LOGAN, LIKEWISE, LOSES THE STRENGTH TO STAND, AND BLACKS OUT FROM THE PAIN.
*********SIM END*********