new world order
The Outpost, as their tickets named it, is.... well, homely.
See, Peggy Schuyler is used to a certain level of comfort. For much of her life, she lived in a Malibu mansion. Before she went to Stanford, she'd thought having to share a room with someone was a myth. Sharing a room wasn't that bad, if she absolutely had to. Sharing an already-small room with three people, and alternating who sleeps in the bed, well. Not ideal, but hey, she survived the Apocalypse. What's a blanketed floor gonna do?
Peggy would argue nothing, but as her assistant who gets (got?) paid to listen to her complaints, Steve would protest.
There were ten people, including the five of them, staying in The Outpost. It's still a little fuzzy. She's got a black spot in her memory between getting on the plane and entering the building that they explained was 'Apocalypse-free' and would keep them safe. Apparently Peggy's father paid one hundred-million dollars for each of their spots here. The mysterious-agency, named The Cooperative, assigned guardians, Ms. Fury and Mrs. Xavier, inform their wards that they are living in the third outpost. Nobody knows how many there are total. For all they knew, there could very well only be three. Peggy didn't like thinking about it.
She met Scott on their first evening there. After everyone had arrived, Ms. Fury punched in a seemingly long code that revealed a series of small black buttons. She pushed three of them, and the multiple doors they came in all closed and covered themselves with thick metal. Mrs. Xavier showed everyone to their rooms after a dinner of brown, chunky stew. Peggy was trying to find her way to a bathroom when she turned a corner and almost ran straight into a young man. He didn't seem bothered one bit. In fact, he didn't even seem as if he noticed. He was staring intensely at a dimly-lit sconce. Figuring he was deep in thought, she tapped him on the shoulder.
"Kid? You okay?"
He hastily procured a cloth bandage from his pocket and wrapped it around his eyes. "I'm fine. Don't call me that."
"Ok, sure. What's that for?"
He shoved past her and paused before storming off.
"I'm being cautious," he'd bit out.
-
There's a caste system, apparently. The guards force the people referred to as 'Greys' to housekeep for them.
And rules, too.
1. Refer to our wardens ONLY as 'Ms.Xavier' and 'Ms.Fury'.
2. We may never leave the building. If we wander out onto the grounds, we will not be allowed back in due to the danger of radiation contamination. We will take our chances with the canker pus monsters beyond the gates, as Ms. Xavier put it.
3. No unauthorized copulation. Of any kind.
Fucking bullshit, if you ask Bucky. But the two Greys he watched get executed would probably advise him to stay in line.
And the fucking clothing they make the Purples wear. Like they're 1790's socialites. Case in point: the purple velvet dinner suit he's currently wearing, complete with a top hat and a pretentious cane.
It's fifteen minutes until the pre-dinner drinks in the music room. Bucky's dimly-lit room is giving him a headache and he can't exactly pop an advil and turn on Billy Idol. Exploring, it is.
He's just turned a corning when he hears something hitting a wall, accompanied by a yell. There's only one door, must be one of the Purple suites. He stops just in-front of the doorway.
It is a Purple suite, trashed. The culprit, assumingly, was a woman dressed in a sleeveless green latex bodysuit, with gloves on and bandages wrapped up to her mid-upper arm. First of all, odd. Second of all, she should probably get dressed. Ms. Xavier loathes tardiness. She's gripping her black hair tightly with both hands and shaking her head, muttering in what sounded like Russian. As if she sensed him there, she looked up at him. And abruptly shouted for him to leave her alone. Instinctively, he moved away from her doorway. Unable to shake the image of her neon, glowing eyes.
Do I know her?
-
The music room is slightly darker than the rest of the Outpost, due to the fact that it actually has doors. Sat in the corner is a record player, dispensing The Carpenters. When Bucky arrives, Peggy and Steve are sitting and whispering to eachother on a purple chaise. Across the coffee table from them sat a young girl with blue skin and slicked-back red hair sitting awkwardly next to a man with bandages wrapped around his eyes. Further away from them on the sectional were Clint and Natalia. No sooner after he had taken a seat next to Nat, did Ms. Fury walk in.
"Ladies and Gentleman, this is our cocktail lounge for the next... indefinitely."
Mrs. Xavier enters the room, holding a container of small brown cubes. "These cubes contain all the nutrients we need to survive. We will be sustained on one cube a day."
"A cube? A fucking cube? Fuck, we're gonna go hungry," Peggy rants.
"Miss Schuyler, in case you didn't notice, we're in the goddamn Apocalypse. You can handle a little hunger." Mrs. Xavier pronounces.
Dinner consisted of them chewing on their cubes in tense silence, and after that nobody really felt like talking. They sat in silence in the music room listening to the same song over and over until Bucky realized the mysterious black-haired woman had never shown up. Unsure of how to ask, he breached the subject with small talk.
"So.... what do you think is happening out there right now?" He asks, pointing at the ceiling.
"Cancer." Supplied Clint, helpfully. Peggy put her head down, thinking about her sisters and parents.
"That woman, the Purple with bright green eyes. Why isn't she here?" Bucky inquires, turning toward Mrs. Xavier.
Her face grows cold. "She is a danger to herself and others. Stay away."
-
After warning them, Mrs. Xavier takes her leave with Ms. Fury silently trailing after her.
"I'm not uh, racist or anything, I promise, but like, so why is your skin blue?" Peggy speaks up after a lengthy silence. Steve shakes his head and lowers his head in his hands.
"Oh my god, Peggy, shut the fuck up. Please, you sound so stupid." He breathes.
Blue-skin exhales a laugh before explaining, "I'm a mutant. Obviously. I can shape-shift."
The boy next to her scoffs. "How lucky," He bites out. "When you don't wanna be yourself, you don't have to."
She turns toward him, elbows on her thighs. "What about you? What's with the eyes, cyclops?"
One can only assume he's glaring at her. "Honestly, I don't know." He responds. "I'm a mutant, too, but my power is very destructive. Anytime I open my eyes, it releases an optic blast so powerful it can level buildings. So I keep my eyes closed." He reaches up and undoes the bandages, letting them fall. "But the second I stepped in this place, they're gone. I cannot, for the life of me, figure it out."
He opens his bright blue eyes to everyone staring into them.
"Well shit.. what's your name?" She asks.
"Scott."
"Well, Scotty. You got a friend in Mystique."
-
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
Nobody can even remember what life was like before the Apocalypse. Mrs. Xavier rules with an iron fist.
-
Outside, a black carriage pulls up, pulled by two radiation-disfigured black horses. Alerted by the perimeter breach, Ms. Fury goes out in a hazmat suit to see who's there.
Two men step out, in all-black hazmat suits with plague masks. The one in front holds up an agency ID that reads JARVIS_EDWIN.
They walk past Ms. Fury, the man in the back stopping to tell her to take care of the horses. So she shoots them and drags them to the woods.
The men remove their suits in the decontamination room, then enter The Outpost.
The second man, Edwin, carries their bags to their room - the biggest one, off-limits to anyone ranking lower than his master. So, everyone. - while the man in front strides directly into Mrs. Xavier's office.
"Charlotte, darling. I hear you've broken my rules."