gota


The heroes of yesterday are dead and gone. Division and the Mutant Control Enforcement Agency (MCEA) saw to that. This dystopia we live in is the result of one anti-mutant hate crime that sparked the third world war. The law now requires mutants to register, to spend the rest of their lives being a number on a file with a tracking device on their wrist or in their bloodstream.

For a while, the children of fallen heroes started to work in the shadows as the new X-Men. Not all that long ago, the latest incarnation of the X-Men was brought down in flames by Division's efforts. Team members captured, Agents killed, Cosmic fire everywhere... It seems as though the days of the X-Men have come and gone once again. Or have they?

Notice: Human Division employees are still much needed, even if they're depowered mutants. We would also love to see more MHA, Morlock and Purifier affiliated characters.

We are currently accepting Site-Canons and Originals



 
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 i feel myself go under, tag: jer, Mack, open.
JOSEPH V. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Feb 2 2017, 11:41 PM
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The floor tasted stale. The mixture of his own saliva and whatever filth he was laying in wasn’t enough to stir him to move, but it certainly brought a bit of clarity as to the gravity of his problem. He hadn’t made it home that night – obviously – but somehow he had managed to find his back to their offices. Even more surprising was that he had found his way into his own office, and hadn’t simply collapsed in the lobby. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Shit.

He muttered to himself, pressing against the floor in an attempt to roll on to his back. No luck. The weight of his bad decisions pressed down upon his frame. His cells were on fire, his head was throbbing, and he was pretty sure that he had gone through a wall or two. This wasn’t a hangover. This wasn’t the result of a bender. Something had happened. He wasn’t sure where or when, but some questionable choices had been made and he had obviously paid the price for them. He winced as he attempted to roll himself over once more. He made it to his side and instantly regretted that decision. The tension in his chest grew, and it didn’t take him long to see the spattering of blood on his shirt.

It wasn’t his, or at least it wasn’t from any wounds. Could have been from his nose, possibly his mouth, but his face really didn’t feel sore. Then again, it could have just been numb from a possible beating.

Jer …

The call was barely above a whisper, as he began the sideways crawl towards his desk. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but with the amount of light that was coming into his office it was at least midday. There had to be somebody else in the building with him. There was the possibility that Jeremiah was on an assignment and Mackenzie was running whatever errands she had for the day, but it was unlikely that they were both gone at the same time. Somebody had to answer the phones, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him. Reaching his desk, he threw his right arm up and over his chair. With a quick heave, he inched his way up the side of the chair.

Mack …

The building was humming with activity and yet none of it seemed close by. The possibility that he was alone in the office was starting to sink in, and for some reason he felt a bit letdown.

Son of a bitch.”

Working himself into the chair, he couldn’t help but notice how immaculately clean the office was. Somebody had already been in, cleaned up after him, and apparently saw fit to leave him on the floor in a heap. He didn’t see his normal emergency kit anywhere nearby, nor had he been given a pillow or blanket. A statement was being made, and he wasn’t too keen on the tone.

"Somebody bring me some water."

More of a bark than a question, he began to rub at his temples. He wasn't sure if it was helping or hurting, as he couldn't feel past the pounding. Every sound, every sensation, all equally painful.
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JEREMIAH R. GUTHRIE
 Posted: Feb 3 2017, 01:01 AM
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Pain and Jeremiah Guthrie were old friends. Though he had to admit that he was not accustomed to so many different varieties at once. His drill sergeant had insisted that pain was fear leaving the body, but at the moment, Guthrie was convinced the man was full of shit. He leaned back in the chair of his desk and held the ice pack to his swollen eye. He was covered in bruises and various burns shaped like handprints and closed fists. His partner had come back to the office, blasted out of his mind and started ranting about all sorts of things. Guthrie had tried to calm him, but it eventually came to blows.

After a short scuffle, Jeremiah put his partner down on the floor. He made sure to clean up the mess in the office, but left Joe where he lay. Jer supposed he only had himself to blame. This was the result of bottled up frustrations over the scene at the club with Steve and the two Division agents. He’d allowed Joe the first hit, but then ended up in a full on brawl. He finally managed to knock the man out (though it could have also been from the alcohol), before Joe could use his powers to flash fry everything. He was just glad that Mack had been out. She didn’t need to see this mess.

There were sounds of stirring from the neighboring office. Sleeping Beauty was up. Guthrie stayed in his chair for a few more minutes, letting the aspirin he’d taken earlier seep into his bones and muscles. He was tired and already had enough of the nonsense for the day. The detective got up and grabbed a bottle of water, walking across the hall and setting it on Joe’s desk along with some aspirin.

Jeremiah stood on the other side of Joe’s desk, a few bandages peeking out from the sleeves of his button up. “You good now? Got it all out of your system? Because I’m not in the mood for round two.” He tried to keep his tone even. Jeremiah had little tolerance for his friend’s recreational “habits” and tried to keep the younger Maximoff away from any of the fallout. “Mackenzie’s out. I sent her to go see a movie with friends. I didn’t want her to see you looking like a bag of ass. She should be back soon, in case you want to clean yourself up.”

Guthrie leaned against the wall. “You want to tell me what the hell that little outburst was about? Because I think I deserve to know why you drunkenly started a fight with me.”

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JOSEPH V. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Feb 3 2017, 01:21 AM
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It all came flooding back.

What do you want me to say?

It was all that he could muster in that moment. Had his head been a little clearer there would have been a sarcastic remark, a witty comeback, something that he could have thrown at Jeremiah to somehow add a little bit of light to the situation. But it wasn’t there and he certainly wasn’t in the mood to fake it.

I’ll get back to you with an itemized list when I have time to jot it all down, okay?

He didn’t crack a smile, there wasn’t a chuckle. The statement was delivered straight-faced, his eyes locked on Jer’s.

It’s like you’ve forgotten what we do for a living. You don’t think I keep tabs on you guys?

Trust wasn’t a natural setting for Joseph. It wasn’t programmed into him and those who had earned it often had a hard time keeping it, even if they had done nothing to breach it. It was survival. He viewed it as not only his survival, but of those who were close to him as well. If they weren’t going to lookout for themselves, he’d do it for them, whether they wanted him to or not (or for that matter, if they knew it or not.) Reaching out, he thumbed the cap off the bottle of water and gulped it down. The only break was to throw the aspirin in his mouth and that barely registered as a pause. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead to the desk. It was cool, comforting.

He tried to collect his thoughts, to grab on to some thread and pull it in hopes of an explanation forming. But instead he simply found more spite.

We could start with those two suits; we could segue into the contacts you’ve made with those fucking terrorists.

This wasn’t helping his headache, or blood pressure. He tossed the bottle towards the trash can and missed by a mile. The room was spinning and it seemed like the only thing he could do to keep himself from passing out was to focus on the only emotion that he could grab onto – rage.

We’re registered, Jer.

The word felt like glass in his mouth. It tore at his gums, filling his mouth with the awful taste of copper and disdain. But even more so, the fact that they were having this conversation made it that much more painful.

“You were in that special ops bullshit. So, tell me, if it hadn’t been me putting out tails, and it was somebody else, where do you think we’d be? How deep do you think they'd dig that shallow fucking grave?
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JEREMIAH R. GUTHRIE
 Posted: Feb 4 2017, 07:55 PM
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"How about you start by making some fucking sense?"

Jeremiah was still angry from the fight. He wanted to hit Joe until he knocked some sobriety into him. The comment about the itemized list would have made him laugh except Guthrie noticed the delivery. Apparently, his partner had some time to think while he was doing every drug known to man. Jer watched Joe down the bottle of water and put his head against the desk. He thought maybe Maximoff was going to black out again. That would probably be for the best for everyone.

He did not in fact know that Joe kept tabs on him. That was enough to infuriate him alone. "No, I had kind of hoped that you wouldn't be keeping tabs on me. I thought there'd be a little fucking trust between friends since we've known each other for so long." He sighed with annoyance. "Don't sit here and preach to me about that bullshit when you're out there hanging out with potential bounties and scoring god knows what from them just so you can get a little high off it."

And then the asshole had to bring up the suits from the bar. The terrorist crack had to be a comment about Sidony. Jeremiah set his jaw and his eyes glowed blue with telekinetic power. The bottle that Joe threw missed the can, but Jeremiah grabbed it and it moved upwards, spinning before he finally crushed the bottle with his will and dropped it in the garbage bin. "No fucking shit. And let me tell you how much I regret being registered. I know you like to remind me about Division on a daily basis and how we should be happy about the fucking table scraps that they throw us, but I'd much rather be one of those terrorists or even an X-man some days. Instead of taking fucking checks from the people that tortured me and God only knows how many other people!"

He swung his hand and smashed the wall with a telekinetic burst, cracking the dry wall. "You know where the fuck we'd be. You wouldn't ask that question if you didn't already know the answer. You don't like my choices, I'm not thrilled by your goddamned life choices either. Whoopee. Now, what do we do? You want to go another couple fucking rounds or do you want talk like adults?"


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JOSEPH V. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Feb 5 2017, 09:58 AM
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I’m making complete sense.

The statement came out in a hiss. He tried to lift his head off the desk, but found the cold embrace far too comforting to abandon. The throbbing continued, and Jeremiah’s yelling only seemed to exacerbate the pain.

You’re the one who sounds like a fucking moron.

He spat out impulsively. Slowly, he leaned back in the chair. Letting his arms hang at his side, the tension in his chest was nearly enough to keel him over. Instead, he used the desk as a crutch to stand. His legs were wobbly, but they were solid enough to lead him around the desk at a snail’s pace. Coming around the front, he leaned against the counter as he stood several paces in front of Jeremiah.

Do you really believe they’re any fucking better? Where are they, Jeremiah? Where are the valiant X-Men to save the day?

The air began to tingle, energy popping and sparking off of Joe’s body as he glared across the room at Jeremiah. He wasn’t quite sure how they had come to blows the following night, but he was starting to feel a bit of déjà vu.

They did such a great fucking job before, didn’t they? I mean. After we’re done here, let’s go hang out with Pops, right? We’ll do a lap around the fucking farm and bring dinner tonight for everyone. Feel like Chinese? I’ll see if I can beat him there and back. Oh, wait, that’s right, they’re all dead!

He clutched the lip of the desk, trying to contain himself. Trying to hold it all in, white knuckling through the anger, but all he managed to do was fall to the ground with hands full of ash. Rather than try to stand again, he resigned to resting against the desk and laughing hysterically. It was all a joke, and he couldn’t help but let himself bask in the moment that it finally hit him. Jeremiah obviously didn’t see the light, but it didn’t really matter at that point. Especially seeing as it seemed as though the two of them were ready to burn the building down. He wanted to find some common ground, he wanted to meet Jeremiah in the middle; but he couldn’t.

Not after the night he had had. Not after the things he had seen and the compromising situations that Jeremiah had brought to their doorstep. He wanted to bask in ignorance but instead found himself drowning in an ocean indignation.

They’re two sides of the same fucking coin! It was their bullshit that brought the world to this point. They’re the reason why we’re in this mess. They’re the fucking reason why we’re registered. But go ahead and glorify them like they’re some how bringing peace to the world and fighting for the greater good. The world is long gone, and the only thing any of those assholes are contributing is the final nail in our coffin.
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JEREMIAH R. GUTHRIE
 Posted: Feb 11 2017, 08:32 PM
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Well, it was becoming rather clear, rather quickly, that talking like a set of rational adults might be a little harder than Guthrie had expected. Every word his friend was speaking was filled with the usual condescending tone that he'd had anytime they ever had this conversation. And after Joe's little tantrum and attack last night, Jeremiah wasn't really in the mood to play anymore. "You're right. How fucking naive of me! There's no point in having anything resembling hope. What was I thinking? We've got trustee status now. If we keep going down on Division, maybe they'll finally make us one of them. Then we can finish selling what's left of our souls to them."

The air was crackling around them. Jeremiah was now wreathed in a blue aura of telekinetic flames. He hadn't had to put a display like this on since the war. And he was just a hair away from losing what little control he had left. The comment about going to see Joe's father made Jeremiah clench his teeth. "Right. How could I forget that your father and the rest were dead? It's only been twenty minutes since you reminded me. Probably a whole 30 since you sprung from the ground, fully formed, as the cosmic personification of daddy issues."

As part of the desk burned away and Joe fell, ending up laughing against the desk, Jeremiah just stared at him through burning eyes. A small wave of energy came off him, causing some of the loose articles on the wall to fall off. The words that Joe was reciting was his usual line about either side of the war. It just had more venom than usual behind it. Now, it was Jeremiah's turn to laugh. "Oh, you're right. I forgot. It's better to not give a flying fuck. I keep talking to you like you'd want to get involved in anything beyond Mack or me. But if it's not some obligation from either family or friendship, then you'd rather just hide your head in the sand." He was struggling to regain control of his telekinesis as the aforementioned loose objects started floating. "You are arguably one of the most powerful mutants out there. You could make an actual difference. But what do you do instead? You just hunt down your own kind and hope for some fucking scraps, so that you can afford your next hit of avoidance. Why change the world, when you can just ignore it until you overdose, right?"

The power burned beneath the surface, yearning to be released. Even last night, Jeremiah hadn't come this far during their fight. He wasn't sure he could hold back now. "You can tell yourself whatever you feel like, Joe. But don't piss down my back and tell me it's raining, okay?"

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JOSEPH V. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Feb 12 2017, 09:45 PM
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What they’re peddling isn’t hope, Jer!

His words broke through the manic laughter, as he pressed his face against his smoldering palms. The pain was slowly subsiding, giving way to a sense of euphoria that seemed almost strange given the current circumstances.

You act like Division is walking around with a gun to your fucking head. We’re not in the gutter eating dirt and pretending it's steak. We’re not running through woods praying to god that the bad men don’t catch us. You act like they have their hand up our ass, forcing us to bring in whoever the fuck they want. There are bad people out there; more so, there are bad fucking mutants.

This self-righteous bullshit was starting to rub his nerves raw. He tried to see it from Jeremiah’s point of view, he tried to get into that mind space but he just couldn’t do it. He never could. Joseph couldn’t find a way to look at the world through those rose-tinted lenses. They’d been through this, their parents had tried to fight the ‘good’ fight, and the only token that either one had of them were registration numbers and trackers to make sure they remained good little kids. Slumping forward, he let his hands drop the floor in an effort to push himself to his feet.

I’m supposed to turn a blind eye for the sake of the ‘good’ fight? I’m doing my fucking part. The problem seems to be that I’m not giving my fellow mutants a free fucking pass from being pieces of shit. I don’t fucking discriminate. I get a contract, human or mutant, I’m bringing them in. I hope there’s a day where I don’t have to do that. I hope that someday I can walk around without being called a fucking ‘race traitor.’ But that day will never come. That’s not hope, Jeremiah. It’s ignorant fucking bliss. Look outside; look around; see the world for what it is. Stop trying to cling on to what it used to be and accept what it fucking is, man!

Staggering to his feet, he began to brush himself off. Sobriety was one thing, but he was feeling good – better than he had in a long time. The energy was surging through his body. Instead of holding back, instead of harming himself to make sure that he kept his cool, he was simply letting go. It felt good.

That’s not piss running down your back, its fucking reality, you arrogant prick. They weren’t there to pick up the pieces of our lives, where they? Where were the X-Men? Where was the fucking Brotherhood? I’ll tell you. They were licking their wounds and hatching their next scheme. Who’s going to save the fucking world? How are we going to take down those inferior humans? We didn’t matter then, we don’t matter now. They’re really great at the grand gestures, but not too good at the day-to-day stuff. They didn’t put this roof over our heads. They didn’t buy the clothes on our backs. They didn’t feed us when we were hungry. We did that!?

We built this business, brick by brick. We went from working out of studio apartment to having our own fucking office. We don’t need. We don’t have to look over our shoulders. We’re safe. She’s safe.


Joseph knew where this was leading. He didn’t want to accept it. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but it seemed as though it was inevitable. These arguments had become sempiternal.

And you’re jeopardizing all that for people you barely know. I’d die for you, for Mack. I’d kill for you both if I fucking needed to. But don’t you ever think that it doesn’t go both ways, Jer. Because if you bring this upon us, if you bring these walls crashing down on us, I’ll drag your fucking body back to the farm and show you peace. You can sleep right next to every single one of those naive mother fuckers.
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JEREMIAH R. GUTHRIE
 Posted: Feb 14 2017, 04:18 PM
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Guthrie's rage boiled. The air around both of them crackling with power, both electromagnetic and telekinetic. Jeremiah hadn't called upon this much energy in a long time. Not since the war. He hadn't even used this much when he was helping Pyotr at the college with that projection thing. Almost all the mental barriers that he used to keep his powers in check had fallen away with Joe's angry words. The two of them had been having friction lately and instead of confronting one another, they'd ignored it. Until the dam finally broke and the rage spilled over.

As Joe spilled out his angry argument, Jer saw a shift in him. Joe had to be drawing on more of his power too. The way the air was crackling, made it hard to deny. The two of them couldn't sustain this. At least not in this office. Not with innocent people around. And yet... The things Joe was saying made sense. Guthrie wasn't willing to look at the arguments because he was looking through rose tinted glasses. And Joe was right about that. As much as he wanted to hit the man, that last thread of control held in place.

His partner's body language changed. The man was more than sober now. He was moving like Jer hadn't seen since they were kids. When they used to practice on the farm, they'd cut loose with their powers, leaving nothing back. And Jer realized that his glowing partner was starting to tap into that again. They'd end up with an office looking like Chernobyl or at least Jersey City, if he kept it up. Then Joe made mention of MacKenzie.

There was very little that Jeremiah could do to deny that his actions were putting Mack in danger. Wasn't that why he'd gotten his own place in the first place? Because his PTSD fueled projections were dangerous and starting to become an issue. That was why he'd started going to the group sessions and taking the meds. Guthrie took a deep breath and the controls clamped down again. The aura faded, and the objects fell as he pulled the power back inside him, locking it back away. Joe wasn't his enemy.

"You're right. I'm sorry. We shouldn't be fighting among ourselves." He leaned against a cabinet, feeling fatigued now. "You're right. I just... I'm frustrated with the shape of the world. And I know that I helped make this world. I can't fix it and it's wearing on me. And maybe for one stupid second, I thought we could fix it. But you're right. I need to accept that there are things that I can't change. And I need to keep Mack safe."

"All I can say is that I will try to do better in the future," Jeremiah gave a tired shrug. "I won't bore you with any other bullshit."

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JOSEPH V. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Nov 15 2017, 07:20 AM
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That’s it?

He was absolutely perplexed. All of Jeremiah’s grandstanding, taking the morale high ground, and it came down to him stating that he was going to do better. Joe staggered back, running his hands through his hair and tagging at the strands violently.

After all this bullshit, after telling me I’m wrong, that I’m on the wrong side of things. We’re just supposed to pick up the rug and kick the shit under it and act like it doesn’t stink?

The urge to punch Jeremiah was strong. Maybe burn off a little bit of his beard, put a nice handprint on his face and brand him. They’d been having this argument to varying degrees for quite sometime. For it to come down to Jeremiah simply relenting that Joe was right. He was insulted, he was bewildered, but most of all he was seething. All he could see was red. All he could feel was the white-hot energy bubbling underneath his skin, burning through his clothing and pushing him closer to the precipice. But Jeremiah wasn’t completely wrong, and that’s what bothered him the most.

But the fact that it had taken him this long to get to this point was absolutely flabbergasting. Looking around his office – which now looked more like a DMZ – he couldn’t help but just feel lost in the moment. It was just too much to process. But worst of all, the sobriety of it all sitting on his shoulders was like a fucking mountain on his chest. He could barely breathe and he didn’t know why. There was guilt, anger, and sadness, all of it just crashing against the rocks and eroding the very foundation of what little sanity Joe held on to. He couldn’t take it.

Do better, don’t do better. That’s on you. Fuck.

He clinched his eyes tight, trying to rein all the shit in; the energy, these feelings, the moment. He was just trying to find some semblance of normality in the middle of a god damn mushroom cloud.

I love you. I do. But we can’t keep doing this.

The anger was slowly subsiding. The tension was easing. Exhaustion was setting in. He couldn’t take these outbursts. He couldn’t take the baggage that came with them; the sobriety. The feelings that he didn’t understand, the lows, they were just there, always. No matter what he was doing, no matter how good a night was going, they were just there. Hanging over him like clouds, threatening rain but rarely ever helping to alleviate the drought.
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JEREMIAH R. GUTHRIE
 Posted: Nov 16 2017, 04:35 AM
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"Why not? We do it all the time. I bury myself in work or lock myself in the shop and you pretend to go to strip clubs as an excuse to go do more drugs and fuck Chaplyn when you think I don't know about it." Guthrie rolled his eyes. "By the way, next time you have me switch you to a new phone, at least clear off your photos. I don't need to see her tits covered in that much coke."

Guthrie still wanted to punch the nuclear powered man. Repeatedly. The anger and frustration were still there. The telekinetic detective found himself very tired all of a sudden and feeling very old and frail. His hand came up to his nose and he wiped away a trickle of blood. That was far more power than he'd used in a very long time. Joe was still glowing. Jer wondered how many rads he'd gotten this time.

A life time of friendship with Joe Maximoff made him wonder when he would get cancer. It wasn't even an if statement. It was something he knew with near certainty would happen eventually. Neither of them ever admitted it and yet, Jeremiah never hesitated to remain by his side. "I love you like a brother. We both need to do better. For Mack. That's on us. I started going to the group, taking the meds and trying to deal with my shit. You need to clean your shit up. She needs a brother, not a cocaine powered nuclear reactor for a brother." The words came without anger or judgement. It was a statement of fact.

"She needs both of us. And you're right. We can't keep doing this. We have to deal with our issues. Because, you know what? If we keep this shit up, one day, we'll both be dead and Mack will be stuck in this fucked up world without any back up. So, I'll start doing one on one sessions with the doctor again too. Might not be the worst thing in the world for you to consider talking to someone other than a bartender either."

Jeremiah leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. They were both getting too old for this shit.

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JOSEPH V. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Nov 17 2017, 03:51 PM
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……

There were no words. Joe just stood there, mouth agape, staring at Jeremiah with a bit of a twitch. He wasn’t sure what to do, as had those words come from anybody else he probably would have committed homicide. There had to be some fleeting memory, some moment, something that could just freeze time. Just for a moment. There had to be something that was going to be able to help him find a way not to knock Jeremiah’s teeth in. But there wasn’t, and in that moment all that Joe could do was erupt into action without fear of reprisal or the potential damage that was about to be done to his best friend in all of existence.

But what fucking nerve? That was low. Jeremiah knew it and that’s what got him the most. Instead of acknowledging what had been said it seemed as though he had just deflected and in doing so opened up a can of worms the size of New York City.

At least I’m not trying to fuck a terrorist!

Like a battle cry, the words erupted from Joe’s mouth. His right arm swung wildly. It seemed as though in a matter of seconds the room’s temperature had risen about fifty degrees. His flesh was white-hot; energy was sparking off his body like a grinder to a steel beam. He didn’t care in the moment – he should of – but he didn’t. He knew that Jeremiah could take it. That didn’t make it right. But he knew better. He fucking knew. There were many things that Joe was willing to debate. His drug problem was one of them. The affects it had on his loved ones, yeah, they could have that conversation. But bringing Chaplyn into it, in that manner, he had it coming.

He would have had the same reaction had somebody brought up Jeremiah in a similar light, or Mack. There were very few non-negotiables in Joe’s life. He was a stubborn man, yes, but he was not against changing his opinion or stance on any given topic given the correct amount of tangible information. There were some instances where he had all the variables and decided on the worst idea possible anyways, yes, but more often that not he tended to go with an idea that had some semblance of reason attached to it. But there were certain people, certain ideas that he just didn’t take shit on. The fact that he had even attempted to broach the subject was enough, but this?

The blow landed squarely on Jeremiah’s jaw, energy erupting freely from the clinched fist. Photons crashed against the emitted shield of telekinetic energy, the recoil was enough to send Jeremiah flying into the ceiling. Joe wasted no time rushing forward, catching the falling Guthrie and tossing him forcefully through what remained of his desk.
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JEREMIAH R. GUTHRIE
 Posted: Dec 22 2017, 03:17 AM
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As battlecries went, Jeremiah had heard worse. He realized that in his anger, bringing up the way he'd found out Joe and Chaplyn were a thing probably could have been handled better. Instead of voicing that opinion, a hastily thrown up shield of blue telekinetic light surrounded Jeremiah Guthrie as a radioactive fist connected with his jaw. The heat surge was enough of a telegraph that something was coming, but that still didn't brace the telekinetic detective for the uppercut.

The blow took him off his feat and he felt the drop ceiling against his back as he hit it. Guthrie dropped before he could use his flight powers. As Joe grabbed him and slammed him through the remains of the desk, Jer's shield shattered. He looked up at Joe and spit a little blood out. Instinct took over.

Guthrie's usual blue aura disappeared, replaced by the rare gold of his powers at one hundred percent. He could count on one hand the number of times he had to stop holding back since the war. But Joe could take it. Jeremiah held a hand out and his eyes glowed with unearthly golden light as a wave of telekinetic force lashed out and crashed against the electromagnetic manipulator.

As Joe slammed into the wall next to the door, a dark urge came bubbling up. Jeremiah shook his head as he felt blood running freely from his nose now. The aura disappeared and the darkness went back in the box that it belonged in. There would be no reenactments of war horrors today.

Jer sat there for a moment, wiping the blood away, then he pulled a pull bottle out of his pocket and dry swallowed a few pills, in what he hoped would not be a vain attempt to keep the past where it belonged. Stress was not his friend. He just sat there and ignored Joe for a few long minutes, not saying anything. He'd said enough today.

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JOSEPH V. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: May 5 2018, 09:39 PM
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HEYLEL

RECOVERY AGENT 28 He/Him 74 POSTS
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© Kee · He/Him · Offline


He wasn’t quite sure how he had ended up in the adjacent room, but as he pulled himself up with the help of the remaining drywall, he stared a hole through the back of Jeremiah’s head. That son of a bitch had let loose on him.

Did you have to knock out the wall?

Joe took to brushing himself off, somewhat amazed by the fact that he felt fine. He was a bit sore and there was a some blood pooling up in his mouth, but that was a minor cut. Possibly a broken tooth. He didn’t really care.

Like, seriously? Look at the rest of the room. We had to knock out another wall?

Stumbling through the broken drywall, he began to chuckle. It was gone. It was all just gone. Like that. He wanted to keep it going, he wanted to walk up and punch Jeremiah in the back of the head and ride him into the fucking dirt. But he just didn’t have it in him. Not now. He didn’t know what to say after all of that and he sure as hell wasn’t going to apologize to Jeremiah. He knew he should. Completely justified in his stance, but there had been some line crossing. He knew that. He’d own it, privately, but he surely wasn’t going to tip his hat. Especially with the state of their office. Reaching up, he tapped on the swinging remains of a light fixture. It was enough of a jolt to knock it to floor.

He stepped to the side of the wreckage and looked back to Jeremiah.

You need to be okay with her. I’m serious. I need you to accept the fact that you can’t fix this.

A quick gesture was made towards the whole of his body. Those were words that had taken a lot for him to mutter out loud. Especially to Jeremiah, and it was something that he was hoping would be taken to heart.

She didn’t break me and she sure as hell isn’t making me do anything I wouldn’t already be doing.

His bad habits hadn’t started with her and they certainly weren’t getting any worse. Not better, but definitely not worse. At least not noticeably so. Possibly a bit more coke, but not to the point where it was becoming a problem. He wasn’t blowing guys in alleys for drugs, so things were still going fairly smooth. These were manageable levels.

But seriously, The Brotherhood? How did you think I was going to take that. You know who I am.
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JEREMIAH R. GUTHRIE
 Posted: May 22 2018, 01:04 AM
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GUARDIAN

P.I. 32 He/Him 181 POSTS
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© MATRIX · He/Him · Offline



Exhaustion plowed into Jeremiah like a falling rock. He hadn't had to tap into that side of his powers for a very long time. He was out of practice. Even in the old days, he tried to avoid using too much or using it for too long. The blood was pounding in his ears and Joe was rambling. They hadn't had a knockdown drag out like this since they were kids. Not since a young Jer teased... His mind was fuzzy. Did he tease someone and Joe lashed out? Why couldn't he remember? He hoped that he didn't have a concussion.

The jolt of the light falling to the ground brought him out of the depths of his thoughts and back to the real world again. Guthrie watched Joe gesture and talk and he let him go for a few minutes. He was talking about Chaplyn. Then Jeremiah held up a hand and stopped the one sided conversation after hearing about Joe being broken and everything.

"Do you love her?" It was the first thing he'd said in several minutes.

Guthrie pulled himself up to his feet and took a deep breath. Jeremiah was starting to come out of the fog as he listened to Joe's retort. It was an honest question. He was sincerely curious about Joe's relationship with Chaplyn. Even if he didn't understand why it was kept a secret from him. But it wasn't like he was one to talk.

Even if Jeremiah hadn't meant to keep the knowledge from Joe, enough time had lapsed and the detective hadn't managed to find a way to either convince her to leave or break the news to Joe. He knew he was partially to blame for the situation. A weak shrug was all he managed.

"Never asked. Not at first. Thought she was with the government. But I can't leave her to them. I can't leave any of them to that blue bitch. She warped their minds." Jeremiah looked somewhat distantly as if he was trying to remember something. "Fuck. That almost was me and Katy when we were kids. We would have been right there with them."

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JOSEPH V. MAXIMOFF
 Posted: Jun 6 2018, 01:40 PM
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HEYLEL

RECOVERY AGENT 28 He/Him 74 POSTS
APPLICATION SHIPPER
© Kee · He/Him · Offline


It shouldn’t matter.

The words were said with a bit of spitfire.

And you know I do. I loved her before this turned into whatever it was. We’ve all been friends for how long?

The fact that Jeremiah had been brazen enough to ask rubbed him the wrong way, but with the de-escalation in progress, he saw no reason to try to start another fight. He wasn’t sure that the building would remain standing if they dragged it on any longer.

But this is different. It could blow up tomorrow. It could blow up ten years from now. Hell, it could blow up later tonight. I don’t fucking know. I really don’t. But I’m definitely not going to parade her around like I own her so you guys can have piece of mind over it.

He didn’t and that’s what terrified him the most. He had become somewhat dependent on her, on them. He knew he’d survive if it fell apart, he was never going to be the lovestruck teenager who believed in a love that would transcend time and space. But in those moments with Chap, there was something that he couldn’t explain and that brought him peace. He knew should have told Jeremiah, but he didn’t want to share it. He was being selfish, he knew it, he wasn’t going to deny it. He hadn’t even told Mack. But he wasn’t necessarily trying to hide it from either one of them either. Joe knew that Jeremiah was hurt by the fact that he didn’t tell him, but he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets in that room.

Even so, he had no intentions of apologizing for not coming forward with the information. They were both grown ass men, and his relationship with Chap didn’t endanger them or nor their business in any manner. The same couldn’t be said for Jeremiah’s ongoing engagements. Jeremiah said that he didn’t know, but Joe was finding that to be a hard pill to swallow.

Don’t get sloppy on me now.

Joe knew that Jeremiah wasn’t as paranoid as he was. Fuck. Most people weren’t. Within a ten minute window of meeting somebody Joe had usually scrambled away to dig up some dirt on them on his phone. More so, going into most situations, he didn’t like to run into variables. He liked to be thorough. He could understand pure happenstance of a situation, that couldn’t be avoided. But he had continued seeing her, associating with them, and no matter how noble his reasons were, it was still something that had the potential to bring their walls crumbling down.

I know, trust me.”

It went without saying, but he’d say it anyways.

But nobody ends up there unless they want to be, Jer.

At any moment in time Joe knew that he could walk into that family with arms wide open and nobody would say a thing. It was the easy way out. It always had been. He’d be lying if said he hadn’t thought about it from time to time. Especially after his failed attempt at being a hero. But he knew what they were about. He knew what they had done, and he could see what they were trying to do. It was hate and it was fear. It was those two powerful emotions that guided their hands, and that bitch behind the scenes stoking the fires of war.

I know it’s not what you want to hear. But let's say you do get her out. She reforms, she gets on the righteous path. Someday she’ll still have to pay for her crimes, Jer. We all do. When that day comes, you know we’ll be the ones to get that call.
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