temperence:

Alisa hated Canada... what's worse, she hated that it took her twenty four hours to just get a flight to this place! (Why did so many people even wish to come here at this time of year, anyway!?) She held her suitcase tightly as her eyes peered about the airport, looking for the staff member who was going to take her to the facility. It did not take her long to find the person. They were dressed in a suit and tie, looking quite formal... and a little out of place. She could not help but roll her eyes as she dragged her luggage over to the man.

"Excuse me... are you..."


"Yes, I am Dr. Bradley of the Mencer Institute. You mus be Ms. LeBeau." Dr. Bradley had a smile from ear to ear, which made Alisa a little nervous. She was about to open her mouth to say something, as he took her suitcase from her, and began to walk with her outside of the airport. "We at the Mencer Institute are so pleased you are looking to get better. this must be a really big step for you."

"You 'ave no idea." Alisa frowned, folding her arms over her chest as they finally walked outside. Even though it was Summer time, this area of Canada was still cold!

"Well, we aim to help young mutants like yourself. Society has thrown most mutants away, leading in so many problems. We merely wish to help mutants understand you do have a place in society." Dr. Bradley continued to smile, he looked over as a van with the Institute's name and logo pulled up. It appeared legitimate, so Alisa raised no protest as her luggage was put into the van, and she was offered a seat in the back.

"Sounds nice ah guess." Inside, Alisa wanted to turn around and go back. She already missed the Champions and Nick. Well, she just missed Nick, a lot. As well as her job, playing in the park with Argo, eating Corey's great food. But Irina was right, she had issues, and if she didn't get them worked out, it would be bad for all of them. Especially if she had such anger towards Lyta... who really had not done anything to her! She put her seatbelt on as the Van's side door closed, and Dr. Bradley took a seat in the passenger seat with the driver.

"Don't worry none, we'll take good care of you. And once you've completed our program, you'll be a whole new woman." Dr. Bradley smiled back at Alisa, then smirked as he pushed a button, locking all of the doors of the van, and putting up a shield that blocked Alisa from the front of the vechile. He then pressed another button, sending out some gas into the section of the Van Alisa was stuck in.

This was so not happening to her. She hated knock out gas, especially after Arcade used it against her in Murder World. Then again, who DID like knock out gas. Alisa fought to try and get her seatbelt off, but her powers went off, signally that it was locked together with a mobile device once closed in place. Damnit, she should have known that before even putting it on! She coughed and hacked, trying to find some way of getting out, only to fall into a deep slumber from the gas.

"Yes, when we're done with you, Ms. LeBeau, you will be a completely different woman. A perfect weapon for our program."

temperence:

Alisa could not help but find herself frowning as she lay back on the Therapist couch. Every session was pretty much like this, since Nick got her to actually go. She was never happy to be there, and never happy to hear what her therapist "tried" to recommend to her. She put her arms under her head, and just listened to Doctor Kimes go on, and on...

"Miss LeBeau... I seriously think you should go to a more therapeutic environment. Perhaps an In-Patient program." The Doctor sat behind his desk, tapping a bright yellow pad with some expensive looking pen. His free hand adjusted his glasses as he continued to speak. "Though you have made great progress, you still are a bit emotionally stunted. You easily get frustrated and angered at some people... mainly this "Lyta" person you keep mentioning. You also seem to maintain a rather... well... unhealthy relationship with this "Nick" person. Though I applaud him for managing to get you to come to therapy twice a week. I fear you degrade yourself around him; he is a tool to lower yourself to how you view yourself. And that is not fair to either one of you."

"Ah take dat as more o' an opinion an' non a diagnosis." She continued to frown, her red on black eyes narrowing quite a bit.

"Miss LeBeau. Some of the things you are going through are from the trauma of the sexual abuse you suffered." Doctor Kimes sighed, leaning back in his plush leather chair, while pinching the bridge of his nose. "You repressed much of it, and once it came out... you have not been able to figure out how to handle it properly. You refuse to go to survivor meetings, you rarely speak about it anymore to me, and you bottle up your rage and anger in a bottle much too small to contain it. One day, that bottle will shatter, and I fear you will, as well."

"Now dat is jus' a hypothesis." She smirked a little, finally closing her eyes. "Ah've met you halfway. Ah come here, ah talk, an' den ah go. Ah take some o' what you say under advisement... de rest ah pretty much drown out."

"Stubborn as always." He groaned, looking back over at Alisa. "You have a high IQ, but you are allowing your emotions to dictate your logic at times. This is what I am trying to get into your thick skull. You have the emotional age of a twelve year old child! You have locked away those emotions for so long; you do not know how to handle them. And because of that, you act out in what I consider to be "odd ways". Alisa, I know I cannot force you to go, but there is this lovely facility in Canada that deals with what you are going through. From the life of a street child, the sexual abuse you suffered from, as well as your own mutant powers..."

"Wait, what does bein' a mutant 'ave to deal wit' all dis shit?" This caught her attention. Alisa raised an eyebrow, carefully looking at Doctor Kimes. This was something she had not done, even since she started to go to therapy here.

"Well, I do not think you have even dealt with the fact you are different from society, in more ways than one. For children who discover they are mutants, a majority of them to not seek help with the emotional damage such a discovery can cause them." Doctor Kimes opened up his desk, taking out a brochure. "This place is specifically for mutants, ones who were thrown away by society and lack any direction in their life. They offer emotional support, counseling, a nice scenic environment, as well as four star accommodations. It's a charity run organization, so you would not be charged for going. I think it would be a good place for you to go."

"Ah'll look it over. But no promises..." That frown was pretty much set in stone as she sat up from her couch. Doctor Kimes walked over, handing her the brochure.

"Look, I think this would be the best course of action, Miss Lebeau. I really do not wish to read in the newspaper that you beat up this "Lyta" woman because you are jealous she gets to live the kind of life you were denied. Or that you died from some kinky game with this "Nick" fellow." He folded his arms over his chest, watching as Alisa slowly got up off the couch and started to head for the door. "Just think this through, Miss LeBeau. You can offer this world so much, if you just got the help you needed."

"Like ah said Doc, ah'll t'ink about it. No promises." She rolled her eyes as she made her way out of the room. She really did not want to listen to anymore of what this guy was telling her. He kept pushing this place each and every session now for weeks! Before he could chime in with something else, Alisa cut him off. "Ah'll see you in t'ree days, ah guess."

"Oh... of course." The doctor just stood there, nodding his head as Alisa left the room, giving off a sigh of relief once she left. She was, probably by far, one of THE most difficult paitents he ever tried to treat. Now he just needed to see a therapist of his own!

*************************

It took Alisa sometime to get back to the Champions Base, she stopped by "Papa Gumbo's" and picked up something for everyone to eat. She closed the door with her hip, and made her way into the kitchen, shouting.

"Ah'm back! Ah got everyone some food if you wan' it! If non... well... it'll go ta waste an' Corey will be pissed off! An' we all wouldn' wan' dat!" She smirked, taking out the stupid brochure her therapist gave her. As she waited for the others, she started to leaf through it and mutter to herself. "Seriously ain' dat bad!"

temperence:

Alisa did not really tell a whole lot of people when her Birthday was, there was no need to, really. It was just a day she was born, no big deal. Though she did manage to tell Corey and Argo about it, since they were close friends. Nick, well... he knew about her Birthday since it was on her work file. But those were the only people who ever knew besides herself, and her twin brother.

Twenty one years. How the time flies. Ennie was away, missing their birthday this year. Well, physically at least. Alisa took every dime she earned from working with Nick and had his new Harley sent to him, with a big red bow on it and a Birthday card. It was the very least she could do for the brother who gave up everything to protect her. Now, she realized there would be no cupcake this year, no present, no Ennie.

A bit down, Alisa decided to throw her own party... even if she was the only guest. On the roof of the Motorcycle shop, she set up an old boom box she found and fixed up on a table. She tuned the radio on the boom box to a rock station that played her favorite bands
, and then walked over to the side of the roof, looking at all of New Orleans, in all it's glory.

"Well... it ain' like Corey's Birthday, but it's a Birthday, neh?" She spoke to herself. "Well, might as well do sumt'ing..." Alisa took out a spy glass she managed to make herself, and began watching all the cars pass by, using a notepad to mark down each kind of car or bike she say, and what color. "Red one.... blue one... anoder red one..."

nextgen_parent:

Amara Aquila Drake smiled as they stepped out of a portal and into the Champions' headquarters in New Orleans. She carried gifts in her arms and wore a smile on her face. Corey was seventeen today and they had to celebrate his birthday. Irina had been nice enough to travel to Nova Roma and bring Bobby and Amara to New Orleans to see their son on his birthday. There was a brief stop in New York to get Cait and the four of them continued on to New Orleans.

"Cornelius Drake!" Amara called out.

temperence:

If there was anything Alisa knew about Argo, it was that he was a loyal, trustworthy friend... and he had an incredible with chocolate ice cream. She needed someone to talk to, and he was there. With a charming smile, Alisa had managed to get Argo to come with her to an ice cream parlor in the French Quarter... one that did not have a bunch of kids running about to drive them nuts. She ordered him his favorite chocolate ice cream, and she got herself a cup of vanilla ice cream with sprinkles.

Alisa was still dressed in her work clothes, a pair of black army boots, blue, baggy cargo pants, and a black tank top with a bra underneath. She seemed to have a variation of the same outfit, so she would never get bored. It was a whole new thing to have a wardrobe of her own, and she planned on taking advantage of that! She just hoped Nick did not mind that she took an early break, but she needed someone to talk to... other than him.

"T'anks for comin' wit' me, Argo. Ah jus'... well... ah sorta needed a good friend to talk to." Alisa smiled, putting her spoon into her ice cream and then taking a bit of it. She never really had ice cream until she and Ennie lived on their own. It was a big treat for her, though she was not much of a sweet tooth. "Dis place 'as some o' de best ice cream in de quarter! T'ink you'll like it!"

temperence:

It had been over two months since Alisa had come to live with the Champions, and she had changed during that time. She had grown a bit more confident in herself, her stuttering was close to being gone forever, she had gained weight and now looked a bit healthier, and she even had a steady job with good income. Alisa also took Nick's advice and had been attending therapy sessions in the quarter once a week, o help her deal with her past life on the streets of New Orleans, and various other traumas. Alisa felt like a whole new person, almost as though she were reborn and given a better life.

But despite all of these good things, there were still things that urked her. Argo saw her as some best friend, no where near a woman. Ennie refused to see her after his powers went haywire, and she had not spoken to him since. But her biggest urk was that she was still not an official member of the "Champions". She just felt like some live in mechanic at times, but there was no room for complaint. Despite these issues, her life was a 110% better than what it had been.

Dressed in a white tank top which was over a black bra, a pair of army green cargo pants with a black leather belt holding them up, and a pair of black army boots, Alisa was hard at work repairing a neglected Motorcycle engine. She could not believe how people would treat their property like shit. Then again, she came from nothing so when she got anything, she cherished and took care of it. Oh how she wished some of these bike owners could walk a mile in her shoes.

Brushing some of her long auburn hair out of her eyes, she attached a part to her wrench that would allow her to remove stripped bolts. Someone obviously tried to do a home-made repair on this bike, and just did more damage. Part of her wanted to call up the owner and yell at him to buy a new engine. The other part of her knew that with her mutant abilities, she could easily fix the engine... which would make a pretty penny for her, Nick, and the shop.

Turning to her little AM/FM radio she found, Alisa turned it to a rock station she had come to love, blasting "Unwritten Law's" song "Save Me" into the shop as she went back to work on the engine.

lytaworthington:

Lyta drove her car back from New York. It'd taken her a couple days, but she was back in New Orleans, at the Champions' headquarters.

She'd been away from the team long enough. She'd recovered from being kidnapped and brainwashed (mostly, though she still had the occasional nightmare). Once she'd parked and turned off the engine, Lyta took her suitcase out of the trunk of her car and entered through the kitchen.

She'd unpack her things, but first, she'd have a class of water and make herself a sandwich for a late lunch. She'd drove without stopping as much as possible along the way, food was required before she did anything else.

deadliestsin:

Adrian sat in his jazz club Papa Gumbo's, playing idly on the piano. The bar was moderately full, but he was more bored than anything. There was no challenge to life, no thrill to anything. He lived a life that most mortals would be happy to, yet he was less than content.

That probably had to do with the fact that he was a demon in mortal's clothing and had been doing it for far, far too long. He had been doing this for at least fifty years, though how many for sure, he wasn't exactly sure. Long enough for him to be getting tired of it all, that was for sure.

His shift was near an end, and for that, Adrian was glad. Just as he was finishing up his set, his replacement player was standing nearby. Adrian didn't like the man, but that didn't mean he was rude. For a demon, Adrian was quite respectful when he wanted to be.

"Ey Sin, ya'll almost done? How were the tips t'night?" the man asked as Adrian stood and stretched his spine. Green eyes turned to the man, and for a moment, Adrian considered his answers. The tips had been good, but Adrian also tried to minimize his interactions with his coworkers. It made his life harder when people thought they knew him too well.

"Tips were okay. You wanna stay in ragtime mostly.. They're not very entertained with anything before 1950." he said in a low tone, before gathering his bag and moved away. Adrian was hungry and at least after every shift he was afforded a meal. He slid onto a stool and dragged long fingers through dark hair before he sighed and let his shoulders slump.

Did demons have mid-life crises? Considering that he wasn't anywhere near the middle-point of his life, he didn't know what to think. But life sure was pretty dull, it wasn't nearly as bad as life in Hell, but it was really really boring. And he was really bored.

temperence:

Alisa was lucky enough that Nick gave her the key to the Champions headquarters, and permission to sleep in his room. She really did not want to go back home when she felt like she hurt Ennie so bad, and REALLY did not want to try and break into the place. Alisa had thrown her wet clothes into a corner of Nick's bedroom, and slept in one of his shirts, that he left in his closet.

It was odd for her to sleep in a stranger's room, and without someone at her side. But that did not seem to matter, Nick had a nice, warm bed... more comfortable than the one she shared with Ennie back "home". For the first time in a long time, Alisa actually slept well.. with no nightmares, and actually being comfortable. Perhaps she was just too exhausted from the day's events to have a nightmare. For the whole night, and some of the morning... she was at peace.

temperence:

It did not take Alisa long to get back to the Workshop. The bus was not crowded, which allowed her to travel faster than usual. Non one seemed to car she looked like she took a jump in a river. The bus was always like that, going by a "Don't ask, don't tell" kind of policy. She dragged her backpack towards the workshop, which she left a couple of hours earlier.

"Guess ah can stay here..." She muttered to herself, using her key to unlock the workshop, then walk inside. She closed the door behind her making sure it was locked securely. "Non like Nick gonna know... 'ell, probably can do more work until ah pass out..."

son_of_hercules:

Unlike his Asgardian former companions, the Son of Hercules possessed at least some familiarity with the mortal world and its customs.  One of which, he understood, was the day devoted to Saint Valentine.  A day for celebrating love and companionship!  A day for people coming together everywhere!

A day when single women congregated to drown their sorrows over being single.  A day where a handsome young demigod could easily swoop in and sweep them off their feet.  Which, in turn, would lead to a night of many, many delights.

He was showered, he was combed, and he was dressed.  His was a face that would turn the heads of countless mortal women, with a body that did not lag far behind at all.

All he had to do was leave.

ng_murderworld:

The van that turned down the street in front of the Champion's home looked like any other brown delivery truck. Black and gold letters painting it's side and a man in a uniform consisting of a hat, button-up shirt and shorts the same drab color of his van looking as bored as one could with his job. The van stopped just short of the former night club's entrance. The delivery driver turned around in his seat and rummaged around for the small package he had for the inhabitants.

Hopping out of his van, 10x10 box tucked under his arm, he headed to the door and rapped on it three times. Not waiting for an answer - there was no signature confirmation requested - he set it on the top step and went back to his van, signed off on his clipboard and started the vehicle up.

By the time the door to the old club opened, he was already driving away to carry on with the rest of his deliveries.

The brown cardboard box, ten inches by exactly ten inches was addressed to The Most Worthy 'Champion' and weighed perhaps three pounds at the most. There was no return address.

sandcastlegod:

They'd started moving into the renovated abandoned restaurant/nightclub covered scrap metal. Corey'd even arranged a recycling dumpster next to the regular one. Once the kitchen was finally covered in his explanatory signs -- one explanation of food storage and recycling having the very direct heading 'You Will Not Waste' -- he took an awful lot of sorted bags of packaging out to said recycling dumpster.

designergene:

( The way we make these cats desintegrate )