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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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 most things in between, #teamdeath
MIMI T. SIMONSEN
 Posted: Jun 17 2016, 02:20 AM
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Mimi stared dubiously at the bottle of dark burgundy liquid that was set out on the metal table. All of the drawers were sealed tight, and this wasn't the same slab that bodies were processed on. It wasn't so much the surroundings - people were going to give her strange looks if she so much as sneezed - as the fact that she had never tried wine before. If it turned out she didn't handle her liquor well, some of the only people in this building that consistently treated her like a human being were present to judge her.

She had accepted Doctor Song's invitation down to the Division Morgue for the evening because it was something to do. The doctor had been a bit vague on the details before she arrived. That wasn't so unusual, though. Doctor Song wasn't the vivacious and chatty sort. Or maybe she was, and Mimi had simply never encountered that side of her because she didn't bring it to work with her. There were more than enough people around here that would discourage cheerful attitudes, she couldn't blame anyone for compartmentalizing certain things to survive. She could perhaps judge people who came here voluntarily,

Though she had spent the latter half of her teen years in the same section of the base, staring at walls and struggling to form sentences, she had been taken to several morgues since being deemed nominally functional. They weren't filled with quite so many ghosts as one might think. When people got here, they were traditionally already dead. Not like morgues were a great tourist destination. Most ghosts didn't seem to follow their remains around. If they did, it was probably because they were upset about something. More often than anything else, if they got stuck or whatever it was that kept them in one place, they hung around their old homes, or the place where they had died. There was a lot she didn't understand about her own ability.

The ME was another mutant with an affinity for death. They were not quite the same, but their sort made a lot of humans nervous. No one liked to ponder their own mortality every time they passed her in a corridor. They were all wondering exactly what the death mutants knew that they didn't - if they dared to ask, if they really wanted the answers after all. Their indecision and anxiety was practically palpable in the air. (In fact, Mimi was fairly certain there was someone lurking in the hall now, lingering too long outside the morgue like he thought they were raising the dead in here.)

"Is - is anyone else coming?" she asked hesitantly.

She doubted Doctor Song would invite one of the people that made her nervous. The people that hated mutants were probably rude to the doctor as well given the opportunity. Unless, on second thought, they were more cautious about pissing her off considering they needed her help. She simply hadn't expected to be invited to some sort of social affair at all, and was not entirely certain what to do with herself. Asking simple questions was something.

A small wry grin found its way onto her face. "I would have brought something if I had known, but if I bought fancy cheese I'd probably be accused of using it as bait to summon evil spirits. It's a popular method, I hear."
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FELIX W. MEREK
 Posted: Jun 25 2016, 04:19 PM
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There were few things more surprising than a zombie coming to life straight from the Division morgue, eating a few people, and escaping on to the streets of Chicago. Even Felix, who had seen quite a few oddities in his half-dozen centuries, had been flummoxed by that particular incident.

But the invitation he had received this afternoon, to join Doctor Song and Mimi in the morgue for a little powwow, just about topped Felix’s list of the Unexpected.

Everyone at Division was currently in a panic over z-mess, and fingers were being pointed at anyone who so much as breathed suspiciously. Felix wasn’t a main suspect in the investigation—he had long-since proved to the idiots in the medical department that his powers were autonomic—but he wasn’t Scott-free, either.

Fortunately, the general population of the organization didn’t know the depths of his powers, and thus couldn’t senselessly blame him for the forthcoming apocalypse. People knew he was a mutant of some sort, of course. But, due to the nature of the uncreatively-named Merek Project, Felix’s abilities were kept hush-hush. This was a convenience—being a death-oriented mutant really put a strain on friendships, especially when zombies started rising from the dead and making a nuisance of themselves. Not that Felix had any friends, but he would rather be disliked for his exasperating personality than the fact that he was an ancient, immortal mutant.

That was to say, while the rabble didn’t suspect him, the higher-ups had plenty of questions. They were leaving no stone left unturned, and people with his…affinity…were under heavy fire. Perhaps that was why he’d received this vague summons from the ME—safety in numbers, and all that. That didn’t seem like a good enough reason to want Felix as an ally, though, considering his inability to work well with others was infamous even if his x-gene was not.

Thus, he was exceedingly curious to see what they wanted from him. That was why, after an exhausting day full of pretending to do paperwork, Felix now trekked down to the all-too-familiar morgue to see what was in store for him. He peeked his head through the door, the faint smell of bleach and preservation fluids breaching his nostrils. The two women sat at a metal table, a bottle of wine between them. Interesting, that.

Felix wasted no time in ambling into the fluorescent-lit room, completely unabashed as he approached despite the fact that he wasn’t particularly close with either of them. “Ah, the Deathfast Club,” he said cheerily, pulling out a chair from the metallic table and planting himself in it. “What a lovely venue. Cadavers truly set the best ambiance for wine tasting.”
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DR. TYNE X. SONG
 Posted: Jul 9 2016, 02:26 AM
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It had not taken long to determine that Abigail did not transmit any sort of ‘zombie’ pathogen. The bodies of her victims were just mutilated corpses, they would not be getting back up. Unless of course they had a regeneration-based mutation that could withstand varying levels of being eaten alive, which as far as anyone knew had not yet happened. The traditional post-disaster rise in mutant and agent deaths had finally slowed to that eerie lull in Division’s morgue that Tyne had come to know to be the eye of the storm. The idea to try and bring the company’s ‘death mutants’ together had come to her the night of Abigail’s resurrection and escape, and Tyne had patiently waited for things to progress to the ‘eye’ in order to bring them together.

Though it may not have looked like it, Tyne had planned and prepared carefully. She had cleaned extensively and timed the little gathering to be close to the normal employees’ shift-change. Ty had even go so far as to borrow a radio frequency detector from a friend in the private sector, just to check the morgue and her office for any bugs. As she had suspected for years, her office had in fact been bugged, but the morgue itself had not been. With half the shit she had seen come in over the years she couldn’t blame them for not wanting to bug the morgue. Particularly when it came to things they wanted to hide and having only the autopsy recording surely made things easier to bury. While they weren’t technically doing anything wrong by getting together, Tyne felt it best to at least initially do so away from Division’s ears.

Tyne was finishing up another quick bug sweep when Mimi asked if anyone else was joining them in their odd venue. Somehow it had not surprised the medical examiner that Mimi arrived so quickly, the necromancer didn’t seem to have much of a life outside of whatever went on in Division’s HQ. “Just Felix.” She wasn’t quite sure if Mimi and Agent Merek were presently on a first name basis, but as far as she knew Division only had one Felix in Illinois. Turning the cell-phone sized device off she tucked it into one of the pockets in her skirt and took a seat at the table with Mimi. Tyne laughed. For someone with such an aura as frequently bleak as Mimi’s it was good to know there was a sense of humor in there.

“I don’t know why they’d be so upset over cheese-related rituals. Tyne picked up the pre-war bottle of wine and the corkscrew and carefully began to open it. It had been a long time since she had encountered a bottle with a cork, though that was usually intentional. Corked bottles could be assholes when they wanted to be. “I would think they’d be thrilled with the prospect of speaking to their departed colleagues.” Despite the amused tone in which she had delivered her response, Tyne had to admit that there was a certain excessive level of bitchiness in implying a number of their coworkers were evil. It was also not something she ever would have said aloud in previous months. The cork finally popped just as Agent Merek entered and she chuckled as he dubbed them the Deathfest Club.

She didn’t mind his poke at the venue, sometimes she forgot that normal people actually noticed the sterile if not downright chemical smell. Tyne shrugged and picked up one of the glasses from the cafeteria, while they weren’t exactly wine glasses but at least they weren't paper or styrofoam. “It seemed appropriate... and fewer worried looks down here than in the cafeteria. Next time maybe Café Brauer, I’ve been dying for one of their black bean burgers for a while now.” Setting down glass number one she picked up the second and repeated the pouring process. Backtracking, I figured a ‘Deathfest Club’ meeting was overdue since we’re all conveniently kept in different departments.”
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MIMI T. SIMONSEN
 Posted: Jul 13 2016, 06:57 AM
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She nodded at the mention of a familiar name. Mimi and Felix were not best friends, exactly, but she knew who he was. He had even introduced himself properly like a person with manners once she started venturing out into the world under guard. (She didn't hold it against him or anyone else for not visiting her earlier, as she had been stuck in a cell for some time and largely catatonic. It would have made playing Charades or fancy wine parties a bit less fun.)

Mimi concentrated on breathing in through her mouth until she got a bit more acclimated to the morgue smell; she never seemed to be entirely used to it, even though she had visited before. Odd looks, she was used to. They were abundant around this place and she was sure they would only get worse if this undead woman remained at large. See zombie, blame necromancer. Even if it wasn't true it was actually less of a leap than the usual mental gymnastics people tried to blame her for problems in her vicinity. She still didn't understand how it had happened at all. Many experts agreed that the dead didn't do a lot of walking, jumping, or brain-eating. If she could provide a more satisfactory answer to that question it might even encourage people to leave her alone for a while.

Right. Then she could get back to selling beachfront property in Calgary...

"Deathfast club?" she echoed. That was going to stick, wasn't it?

She pivoted slightly in her seat to watch the two of them greet each other, while her left index finger tapped out a nonsensical rhythm on the metal table. The gesture was not actively soothing so much as it kept her from completely losing her head. She was going to be a bit on edge no matter what she did. There was too much going on, too much in her head, and not enough space. Mimi was just being coiled up by this place. Eventually something unfortunate was going to come of that, she was sure. That was the future's problem.

She shrugged one shoulder. "If their colleagues weren't much fun in life they don't exactly get a personality injection when they die. There are some...odd ones around here."

Division even had strange ghosts. It would be quite unbecoming to do things halfway, wouldn't it? There were some that were normal, and a few that had even become a bit politer after death. While it didn't come with any personality booster shots, death did occasionally seem to grant perspective. For some, the old grudges seemed to lose their appeal.

For others, the existential boredom of death seemed to cause even more problems. Maybe the afterlife they had found lacked novelty. Maybe they really were just a figment of her imagination and she had some serious self-esteem issues. Whatever it was, there were a few she now refused to speak to. They of course took it as a challenge to jump out at her through walls and around corners. The guards, who couldn't see what had her spooked, probably assumed that the rumors of her mental health issues were an understatement.

"I have a department now? I don't suppose they're going to start paying me as well," Mimi said, her mouth twisting into a small, wry smile.

No one was ever going to pay her. They weren't ever going to thank her either, but she had never dreamed such a delusion as that for herself. What she did frightened people, which meant that just now she was in decent company with Merek and Doctor Song. No one liked thinking too much about death. As for Division - she wasn't exactly the happy soldier type. She had answered to individuals rather than parts of the organization since they began to let her out. Perhaps someone thought that she might regress if she got a better look at their structure. Or something worse. She wasn't sure what that would be, but she didn't hold the organization in high regard.

"So there's wine to - sorry, are we celebrating or just leaning our heads together to look like we're gossiping about something?" she asked.
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FELIX W. MEREK
 Posted: Jul 14 2016, 10:39 AM
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Yes, the morgue was ‘appropriate’ for the trio who currently sat in it—in an ironic way. Felix was sure his lifeless body had been locked in one of those drawers a number of times. Good times. Somehow, though, this place didn’t feel welcoming nor homey.

The way the Doctor said fewer worried looks made it sound like they were hiding down here. That made sense. As a general rule, the people of Division were paranoid—especially after recent events. If someone were to catch these three particular mutants together, speaking conspiringly, there would be full-scale panic. No doubt, the newly-christened Deathfast Club would be accused of trying to overthrow Division via zombie apocalypse. As much as Felix loved to sit back and watch chaos unfold, he wasn’t overly fond of being jailed and interrogated.

Were they trying to overthrow Division? That seemed highly unlikely, but after what seemed like an eternity on this earth, nothing could surprise him anymore. Improbable coup or otherwise, Felix was certain of one thing: this was not a social visit. As far as he knew, none of those present were overly friendly people. Sure, he liked both Mimi and the Doctor, but they weren’t on a sociable enough basis to merit idle chit-chat in Division’s basement.

Felix cast curious glances at both Mimi and Tyne, then, in attempt to gauge the mood and give him some hint as to what he was doing here. They were joking—something about cheese and rituals, and seemed to be in relatively good spirits. Five minutes in, and inside jokes were already being made. How touching.

At Mimi’s wry comment on her lack of a department and pay, Felix smiled. He was fully aware of Division’s somewhat crooked nature, and admired Mimi’s snark in response. “I wouldn’t say I’m kept in any department, either. It seems as soon as I’m placed in one spot, I’m moved to another. I can’t possibly imagine why nobody would want me in their division.”

Feigning indignation (really, Felix couldn’t care less about where Division shuffled him around), he picked up the cup and took a slow sip of its contents. His expression shifted, growing all the more curious. “It must be something big to warrant the good wine.” Felix wasn’t much of a drinker, as it never seemed to affect his regenerative body the way it was supposed to, but he could appreciate Song’s efforts.

“I don’t suppose this is cheers to the imminent Armageddon?” he asked, looking at either of them over the glass’ rim.


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DR. TYNE X. SONG
 Posted: Sep 29 2016, 12:46 AM
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Mimi's offhanded remark about not being paid made Tyne stop mid-motion and essentially stare at the girl. It had clearly been said in such a way that was clearly meant to be a joke, but the doctor had to wonder if it was true. The ever present swirl of deep green in the necromancer's aura was retreating from having flicked out like a serpent's tongue, it might have been a joke but the punchline wasn't a lie. Tyne quickly unfroze as if she had not just done an aura scan. She used to be embarrassed about her occasional tendency to seemingly stare at people, but for the most part she had shed that reaction.

"They would if the Mutant Rights Commission got an anonymous tip about it." Her response had just sort of come out, even though they had been wry and somewhat under her breath. It wasn't the worst idea in the world, but that sort of anonymous tip would have to come in a bundle of complaints lest there be some form of retaliation. Tyne wasn't sure if that was something she would really be willing to do, even though it was likely the right thing to do, or if it was just because she still had a bee in her bonnet over the whole 'Abigail' thing. She took a sip of her own wine as she rolled that around her brain for a moment before chuckling at Felix's faux-incredulous comments. "It's clearly because they're just incredibly intimidated by your smouldering good looks. But alas, no impending apocalypse that I'm aware of.

Tyne almost sip but ended up setting it down on the clean metal table and fidgeting with it for a moment. "I know this is a little strange especially after all these years of working here. I'm not saying hey let's be besties, but between the three of us, we see just about everything that goes in here at HQ." She knew this was probably a bad idea, but the company seemed to thrive on department disconnection and in the end that just seemed to make the average employee's job unnecessarily difficult. "So why not be gossipy bitches. It might prevent another 'Abigail' or at the very least be a new way to pass the time."
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MIMI T. SIMONSEN
 Posted: Oct 5 2016, 10:54 PM
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"I...I doubt they'd really want to touch a case with my kind of flags on it," she said quietly. "You know. Canadian."

The small smile faded away as quickly as it had appeared. "They charge in crying foul, someone loops footage of me going catatonic or running at the walls, and that's the end of it."

That wasn't truly the end of it - there was the argument that being placed in this environment had made her problems much worse, and the tangled lines of mental health and mutant ability. Was she ever seeing things that weren't really there? She certainly didn't know. More than that, she had no way to find out without causing a lot more trouble for herself around here, surrounded by people that didn't much care for mutants and especially disliked abilities beyond the obvious and physical. Punching through a brick wall might alarm some agents a little, but it was at least something they could understand. They could try to work out how to contain someone with super-strength and go about their business.

No such thing as putting a lid on ghosts. Doctor Song's powers were similar, but slightly different. No ghosts that she knew of, but she had some reaction to death that could make both of them potentially aware of their zombie problem. She was another example of someone whose abilities couldn't simply be contained with sturdier walls or switched off at the doorway. Mimi didn't know why she chose Division if she had other options. She didn't know exactly why Felix was here either. Most mutants who turned up here were either serving sentences or incredibly worked up about the rule of law. Neither of these two gave her that impression. Death mutants club was just full of statistical outliers.

"I was going to guess something about your sparkling personality," Mimi said over the top of her glass.

Whatever the reason for it, or the location, Mimi found she was actually sort of enjoying the whole setup. It wasn't pretending to be ordinary, exactly. That would be more bittersweet for its inevitable end. This was more...that she didn't need to pretend to be normal because no one else would demand strictly human behaviour that became exhausting to imitate over time.

"Prevent another one?" she echoed. "I mean, did she - was this a secondary mutation, or did someone else make it happen? I have no earthly idea if this type of zombie would listen to me at all, either, and I don't really fancy getting close enough to a cannibal to be sure. We could try a bit of duct-tape in the morgue drawers. You can rise from the dead all you like, zombies, but you're going to stay in the fridge."
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FELIX W. MEREK
 Posted: Oct 13 2016, 06:22 PM
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Felix inclined his head in Tyne’s direction at the Mutant Rights Commision remark. He had a feeling Division kept their mutant pets under tight enough lock and key—himself, included—to keep any nosy Mutant Rights activists out. Felix was killed and hacked up every other week; that crossed just about every ethical boundary imaginable, but there was no chance of the MRC getting any wind of that. Mimi seemed to have a similar—doubtful—opinion on the subject. Such was the life of a mutant in Division, he supposed.

He smiled wryly as Tyne and Mimi, both, returned his banter, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He shook his head, once again affecting despair. “Sadly, you’re correct. Being extraordinarily beautiful and delightfully charming is a burden I must bear.”

The Doctor then implied that they had something to gain from one another’s company: Between the three of us, we see just about everything that goes in here at HQ. Boy, was that true. Being disliked by virtually everyone on staff had its perks; Felix was so ignored that people all but forgot he was there. He caught just about every conversation around him that way. As Tyne proposed they form a sort of alliance—to stick it to the man?—Felix’s smile grew ever-larger. He took another long draw of wine, swirling it over his tongue in thought. Finally, he set down his glass and crossed his fingers in front of him, the posture business-like. “Ah, ‘gossipy’ and ‘bitchy’, two adjectives I use to describe myself on the daily.” His words were teasing, but he couldn’t help but be tantalized by the idea of actual companions within Division.

Scratch that—tantalized by the idea of actual companions, period. It was hard to find relatable people, these days. Perhaps bonding over death and dying was the way to go.

Before he could comment in support of forging this alliance, the Doctor mentioned the Abigail crisis. He nearly choked on his wine, stifling a laugh, as Mimi suggested they duct-tape the drawers shut as a solution to the zombie problem. Felix had to be curious, though, about Tyne’s implication that this may happen again—he studied her closely, wondering what she knew of the situation. He lifted a single brow in question, resting his chin on his hand, a silent question in accompaniment to Mimi’s spoken one.

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DR. TYNE X. SONG
 Posted: Jan 5 2017, 08:42 PM
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Being an optimist in the current day and age seemed to be generally frowned upon, as if the word hope had become a dirty word. Despite the odds being colossally stacked against the MRC being able to successfully raid Division anytime soon, Tyne wasn’t likely to abandon that ill advised idea any time soon. There had to be some way, some small way, of not letting these things continue to slide under the radar. The abuse of power here at the Chicago HQ was beyond belief and couldn’t imagine what may have been going on elsewhere. Tyne was well aware of why Felix put up with the hell he was frequently put through. He was beyond old enough to make that kind of choice for himself. But Mimi? It wasn’t right. There had to be a better way.

Tyne silently chuckled and took a sip of her wine as Felix responded with his usual level of sincerity and humility to both Mimi’s commentary and her own. She wasn’t surprised that he had replied with deflective humor, but she was surprised by a slight shift in his aura that indicated that under the bravado and humor was a faint glow of positivity/sincerity. The surprise wasn’t in the fact that Felix was capable of those things but in the fact that she was able to pick it up under the golden hue that marked him as someone who’d ‘survived death’. Felix Merek wasn’t the most difficult aura she had ever tried to read, but her death sense often got in the way. He had just died far too many times and was far too likely to die again for her powers to fully adjust to.

Neither of her companions were showing signs of potentially being untrustworthy in regards to her proposal. "Somehow I really don’t doubt that." She replied to the widely grinning Agent who had just joked about using in gossipy and bitchy to describe himself frequently. Tyne smiled and laughed at the duct-tape joke, the medical examiner definitely appreciated Mimi's very specific type of humor. As someone who frequently dealt with death, the ability to make light-hearted jokes about typically dark subjects, or during dark times, felt like a natural course to take. "I doubt any of these corpses are about to get up and reenact the original Thriller music video, but now that you mention it new ant-zombie security measures might be a good idea." Though it hadn't actually having been a close call, in the days following Abigail Black's escape she couldn't help but how close she'd been to being in Dr. House's place when the dead woman woke up.

"Between my notes and the information I managed to squeeze out of the Ghoul Squad, it was definitely a secondary mutation." The Ghoul Squad was a nickname several of Tyne's fellow medical examiners had for the Division Scientists who exclusively worked on or with dead mutants. It was Tyne's department's line in the sand between what they did and what those "Scientists" did and wasn't a name commonly said in front of mixed company. "Whether it was a dormant mutation or an induced one, I can't tell. But what I meant was more along the lines of preventing these types of..." Tyne was speaking with her hands again without realizing it until she found herself at a loss for words to describe the general predicament she was hoping to help correct. She scratched her brown with her thumb and took a sip of her wine. "I still have copies of the paperwork that say Abigail's body was heading directly to be incinerated but somehow she ended up in deep freeze. I don't particularly want to think too hard on the 'why' they felt to need to bullshit the paperwork. Or about what could have possibly been the non-bullshit motive of extensive experimentation on a pre-zombie fear mutant.."
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MIMI T. SIMONSEN
 Posted: Feb 4 2017, 10:43 PM
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"Freak is an adjective, right?" Mimi asked, glancing toward Felix. "Can I pick that one before someone else picks it for me?"

Pessimism dictated that it was always better to presume the worst. In other words, to assume that someone was going to go for the negative joke at her own expense as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Low self-esteem dictated that she go in for insulting herself before anyone else got a chance to. If she could make the dig first, it would show that it didn't hurt her, and take the edge right off anyone else that was going to try it.

Mimi took a careful sip of wine as Doctor Song elaborated on their ongoing zombie problem. "Do you want them to dance?"

Personally, she thought that duct table might improve matters. This drink, however...she wasn't so sure. Hmm. She turned her glass in her hand, frowning down at its contents. She wasn't sure if it was the scent of the room or if she didn't really like wine much now that she had tried it. She was mostly getting notes of grape juice left out too long, and maybe something a little earthier underneath. The second flavor wasn't so bad, but it was hard to get around the first. She tried to inhale discreetly, trying to alleviate the taste in her mouth without being too overtly rude to Doctor Song and her effort.

There was no particular taboo about someone her age drinking wine, even in the United States. (She certainly never missed the opportunity to remind hapless passerby that she was actually from Canada and not the rightful property of Division, thank you very much.) It just hadn't occurred to her to try it before now. Maybe she didn't like alcohol after all? Or maybe she needed to try a different kind.

"Well none of us can induce mutations that I know of, unless you are really keeping things under wraps," she said, holding up an open palm. "No judgement if you are. But I don't know how it would be down to us to contain this in the future if it wasn't our sort of problem."

Other than the corpse-locks, of course, because if everyone was going to be getting extra powers after death they were going to be dealing with even more strange problems. If people were going to get powers while they were still alive, that still seemed like a problem for the agents. The real agents, not the messed up addition with a few useful tricks. So Merek counted, despite his genetics. He had a lot more field experience. She set her glass down again and stretched out in her seat.

"Plenty of possible bullshit reasons if you'd like to hear any. They never asked me to look up her ghost. Not that I would have taken the call if asked," she said sourly.
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