Who: Magneto & YOU.
What: Visiting hours in prison.
When: any time this month.
Where: In a plastic cell far underground that the island government just happened to have ready.
Why: Because your character was foolish enough to go visit a maniacal terrorist.
( There's not much to do in prison )

 No metal is allowed within one hundred meters, they tell me, so all communication will be relayed from handwritten notes.  Charming.  And all communication is monitored.  As if it wasn't before.

I have only one question.  I wouldn't trouble myself with this otherwise.

What happened to Tommy?

Who: Magneto, anyone following him, and anyone trying to stop him.
What: A break-out attempt.
Where: Moving from Genosha Tower to Downtown New Moore.
When: 2 PM (and onward) 2/25.
Warnings: Probable violence and death.

When Magneto descended the ramp to the foot of Genosha Tower, the structure behind him creaked and complained.  Nails, loose change, and other small pieces of metal tumbled up through the air to adhere to the surface of the saucer.  He didn't give it a second look -- he could feel the charged presence of the alien spacecraft, and for the moment, it suited him where ti was.

A small group had already assembled here, although he'd been certain to tell everyone to meet him downtown.  But he'd expected that as well.

"Follow me," he said, tersely, and started forward on foot.

He didn't need everyone to listen, or to follow.  He just needed no-one to get in the way.

 Time to go.

 Well.  Firepower.
[click].

 I have a favor to ask.

 If this month's systematic attacks have disturbed you as much as they have me, and the theft of Stark's property has left you without a secure place to plan, Genosha Tower is always open to you as a base of operations.

You'll forgive me if I don't invite you to move in just yet, however.

They are very friendly here, aren't they? I just had a long and amiable chat with a particularly outgoing young nurse. She even offered to show me the best places in town to get a bite to eat. Then they offered me this handy phone. I suppose you need a pleasant welcoming committee when you drop a bombshell like that one on a person.

Fictional, hmm.

I've been called many things in my day, but that was never one of them until now.

I'm gettin' real suspicious 'bout that list of "released" people lately. Loads of superpowered folks on that list. Who knows who might be next?

Fuck, Magneto, I think you mighta been right, mate.

What can we do?

That wasn't so bad, I don't know what you babies are still whining about.

 You've made three mistakes in one week.

By any standard, that's two too many.

I was supposed to meet with Charles for dinner tonight, but he never showed. I came by his apartment, but there's no sign of him, and no answer when I called. It's not like him. His room is empty, except for the helmet I found there. That's it.

I think he's gone.

What: Creedy has a feast.
When: Last night ._.
Where: Genosha Tower
Warnings: Beware of any alcohol Creedy hands you and any food Sirius brought

Gonna toss a few different subthreads in here for before, during and after. The feast is being held at Genosha Tower and there is all kinds of food to be had, as well as Creedy's Dangerous own special lable of alcohol. Drink at your own risk.

Who: Billy, Tommy, and dear old younger grandpa.
What: With the truth plot still going on, Billy suddenly decides now is the best time to return Erik's menorah.
When: January 12th.

( sorry guys )

[Of course Kenzi sees the latest shenanigans as a way to profit. That's why she's sitting with a notebook and pen at the ready with an excited look on her face.]

If you're a Werewolf and you know it, clap your hands! [Waits for clap.]
If you've got superpowers and you know it clap your hands! [Waits for clap.]
If you have alcohol and you know it and you really want to share it,
with a human, namely Kenzi, clap your hands! [Waits for clap.]

F-Y-I. I love this place!

I know I owe you a lot of explanations. Mostly about the whole "no touching" thing.

I've been a proper bitch about it, but I'm just scared about too many people knowing. A lot of shit goes down whenever someone does touch me, so it's not exactly a pleasant topic. ...Actually, we never really talked about The Storm outside our little shithead group back in Wertham. Skeletons in the closet and all; guess old habits die hard.

Wot I'm trying to say is... you deserve to know.