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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?

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.

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 Safe Haven, Christopher townsend
MOLLY A. CARTER
 Posted: Jul 5 2017, 03:15 AM
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night nurse

paramedic 28 she/her 47 POSTS
APPLICATION SHIPPER
© pidge · · Offline


October 16, 2034 12:34 AM


The six block hike back to her apartment she had been dreading was almost over. Molly's feet were singing her a sad, painful tune after her double shift at the diner. She'd made quite a few tips, probably enough to keep the power on for another month, maybe some left over to squirrel away. She'd begged off her overnight job. Her back couldn't take the surprise double shift and stocking the grocery store all in one night. She hoped Ron was asleep, or passed out on the couch by the time she finally slipped her key into the lock on the door.

She stopped a moment to adjust her shoe laces on a step and someone nearby slammed their car door. Molly practically jumped out of her skin, toppling over onto her ass on the sidewalk. She clutched at her chest, feeling her heart beat erratically in her chest. She sighed, feeling ridiculous at the over reaction and sat for a moment trying to gather herself and calm down. She got up with a groan and walked the last block before spotting Ron waiting outside on the steps up to their building.

Molly stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn't told him she had called out, he didn't know she was even coming home. Maybe she could just turn around and go somewhere else until later. She started to turn around and go back the way she came but Ron spotted her.

"Molly!" he shouted after her, getting up off the steps and walking hurriedly toward her. She stopped trying to walk away, wincing as he shouted at her. "Molly what the hell are you doing here?" His fingers dug into her upper arm as they closed painfully around it. "You're supposed to be at work." he hissed in her ear. His eyes darted around, looking up and down the length of the street as he started to drag her back to the apartment.

"I-I know I just...it was a double shift at the diner and I...I'm tired Ron. I'm sorry...I forgot to call and tell you." She winced at the grip on her arm, shuffling along trying to keep up with him. She knew she should have called him. She thought about it as she left the diner, but if he was asleep she didn't want to wake him, he'd just be mad she'd woken him up. She should have at least left a message or texted him.

"I know, I know. Just get inside, huh?" He started up the steps, dragging her with him.
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CHRISTOPHER E. TOWNSEND
 Posted: Sep 27 2017, 02:35 AM
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DETECTIVE

DETECTIVE FORTY TWO He/Him 134 POSTS
APPLICATION SHIPPER
© NERYS · She/Her · Offline


Stakeout work was boring; like waiting in a Lube in a Jif for an oil change level of boring. Listening to the radio was off the market. He had to keep from getting distracted. Last time he'd lost a perp when he was singing along with DMX at an unsuitable volume. Coffee had turned his stomach onto a hardball about three hours in; and he was developing a pull in his shoulder from sitting in the same position for too long. But a murder suspect was a murder suspect. Head rolled in a semi-circle as he watched the guy chain smoke about a half a pack of cigarettes on the front steps his apartment building. It was clear that he was waiting for something or someone. Ron looked twitchy. Cocaine would have been his best guess by the way he kept wiping his nose.

Breath sighed out as he shifted his weight again. His skin was itchy from sweat and his ass was going numb. Maybe it was time to call in for a replacement. Boredom on this level was a game changer. Leaning to get his jacket from the passenger seat, Townsend rifled through the pockets to look for his cellular phone. A yawn escaped his lungs as he scrubbed his face with his free hand, the other waiting for the device to ring up the department... more specifically, his temp partner for the week. He'd been assigned to the temp because Dorsey was out on medical leave. Chris didn't know the specifics, but he didn't pry either. He'd spent his fair share of time out on similar leave because of his own health concerns; what was a week without the Nevada native?

"Oh hey.. yeah this is Townsend. I was wondering if you were okay with ---shit." Forgoing the manners on how to properly end a call, Chris hung up the phone and maneuvered out of the unmarked vehicle toward the stoop and the altercation that had just broken out. Stooping to pick up a rock, he wrist flicked it at the back of Ronald's head. it was enough to get him to let go of the blonde he'd recognized from the case file. Molly Carter. Paramedic. Twenty eight. Ron's agitated expression was met with his fist. his knees buckled enough for Chris to get the leverage he needed to take the asshole down onto his face. With his knee in his back, Chris held tight the wrist and elbow and applied pressure. "That's it, you're coming down town. Ma'am, are you alright?"
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MOLLY A. CARTER
 Posted: Nov 18 2017, 04:11 PM
Quote

night nurse

paramedic 28 she/her 47 POSTS
APPLICATION SHIPPER
© pidge · · Offline


Something felt off about tonight. Ron seemed in a hurry to get her inside. Other times, he probably would have yelled at her for skipping work, because they needed the money. And he wouldn't care who would hear. He'd do it right there out on the street. Tonight, there was none of that, just dragging her toward the front door as quickly as possible. Twisting her arm in his grip to try and alleviate the pain, Molly stumbled and caught herself on the steps. She looked back at Ron just in time to see someone charging over at them. Before she could even say anything, something hit the back of Ron's head and he let her go. Just in time for him to get socked in the jaw.

"Oh!" Molly cried out, putting a hand over her mouth in shock. She was confused as to what had just happened, and knew that Ron would find a way to blame her for it later. She had to stop whatever the heck was going on. The guy pinning Ron to the ground had said he was going down town, so she put two and two together. "Officer...Officer I'm fine...Please, just let my boyfriend up. It's fine. He didn't do anything. We were just heading inside. it's totally fine."

Ron, not as quick on the uptake as Molly and having not got a good enough look at the guy who took him down, started to shout at her. "You called the cops on me?! Are you kidding me right now! I didn't do anything! Why the hell are you calling cops on me Molly?!" He started to struggle in Townsend's grip, looking to get up and get answers out of his girlfriend. The hold his arm was in was painful and only made him more angry. She stepped back, away from Ron so he couldn't see her as she tried to tell him it wasn't her.

"Please, just let him up...he didn't do anything wrong." she begged, yet again.
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CHRISTOPHER E. TOWNSEND
 Posted: Feb 5 2018, 12:16 AM
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DETECTIVE

DETECTIVE FORTY TWO He/Him 134 POSTS
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© NERYS · She/Her · Offline


He wasn't on domestic violence cases for a reason. In the years past, intervention work was his expertise. It was a known fact that he was a closer, and the guy with the soft touch to get his suspects or witnesses to reveal lynchpin details. Emotional outbursts like this was precisely why he was kept at the desk or on the case to evaluate the post mortem. Jumping in like this was a mistake, it was the equivalent of an EMT or a doctor pulling over at a crash site to help.

Often, good intentions led to lawsuits, ruined careers, shattered families. If he so wanted, charges could be pressed. On a technicality, Chris didn't have a defined cause for arrest. Molly was adamantly arguing that everything was fine. Logically, he couldn't pursue this avenue, but his mind didn't work like that anymore. shades of grey were hard for Townsend. Chaotic good would have been his alignment if the great dungeon master in the sky had his say.

The second his knuckles met with the lip and then the teeth of his suspect, he knew this was a red flag on his already spotty position within the CPD. His captain would want to have words with him when he returned to the station, if he divulged the full unvarnished truth of his activities. There was no doubt in his mind that he would detail the interaction without sugar coating the truth. Blunt honesty had become the navigational constant for his fractured psyche.

He relied on the anchor point. It kept him from going too far off the rails, both in his investigatory work, and in his personal life. Actions like this were forgivable, to a point; but his captain's patients for shit like this was finite. Restraining the compulsion to get in one more dig of his knee or twist of the perp's arm, Detective Townsend eased off and regained his stance. Ron, followed suit, along with a few choice words and an unconvincing threat of ass kicking.

He matched Molly's pleads with conflicted eyes and a twist of his mouth as he swallowed the insult about her backbone and elf esteem. If she wanted to stay with and defend someone who treated her like property, that was her decision. Reaching into his back pocket, Townsend pulled out his wallet to thumb out a contact card. "If you decide you want to do something about this, I can have a unit here within four minutes."
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MOLLY A. CARTER
 Posted: May 9 2018, 05:31 PM
Quote

night nurse

paramedic 28 she/her 47 POSTS
APPLICATION SHIPPER
© pidge · · Offline


Conflict was a feeling Molly was used to. She sometimes entertained the idea of leaving, in the wee hours of the morning, just tossing a few things in a bag and getting the hell out. She didn’t have much keeping her there, except an actual place to lay her head every night. It wasn’t much, she knew that, but it was a stability she didn’t know how to live without. She couldn’t afford something on her own, even working two jobs. And she wasn’t sure she could find a roommate in time. And Ron wasn’t horrible all the time. Just when he was mad. Or drunk. Or both.

She looked pointedly at the offered card, then up the arm to the man that wielded it, and made a decision.

“There’s nothing that needs doing,” she said, positioning herself between Ron and the cop. “No units are necessary, we’ll be fine.”

“Like hell! I want his badge number!” Ron protested from behind her. “I wanna file a complaint!” Molly ignored him and made to push Chris’s hand down. She palmed the card as she did so, keeping her eyes on him. “That’s police brutality!”

“You’ll be fine, you don’t need to file a complaint.” She turned back to her boyfriend and smiled, trying to placate him, keeping her voice calm and soothing, almost motherlike. She slipped the card into her pocket while guiding Ron back up the stairs to their building. He had wanted her inside anyway, and she was fairly sure it wasn’t for any altruistic purpose. “C’mon, I’ll take a look at your face. I’m sure it’s nothing.” She gave Chris one final look over her shoulder as they headed inside, the contact card burning a hole in her pocket with every step. Ron still complained the entire time up the stairs, but, for once, he didn’t fight her on it.

October 20, 2034 1:15 PM, 4 Days later


It was a rare completely free day for Molly. Normally she would do something around the apartment; clean the kitchen, vacuum, laundry, pick up the living room or read a book. But she wanted out of the small, confined space, if only for a few hours. The night before had been...difficult to say the least. Her jaw had started to purple by this morning but she didn’t have the energy to fix it. She’d spent most of it repairing her nose and arm. Instead of broken, now they only looked mildly bruised.

Still, Molly was determined to do something today just for herself. Scrapbooking wasn’t something she had done in a very long time. There really hadn’t been anything worth putting that much effort into. But today she would try. She just needed supplies. She had a whole box of pictures she’d saved, stored away in the back of the closet. It was old fashioned, she knew, with everything being digital now but she always did like the idea of putting something physical together. And going through them might lift her spirits, maybe even give her some nerve to use the phone and call the number on the business card she’d palmed from Detective Townsend. Maybe. At least here in the craft store she had time and space to entertain the idea without feeling like she’d get caught thinking about it.

Picking up some washi tape, Molly contemplated on what she wanted her theme to be for the scrapbook. All about her mom, for sure, but what else? If it didn’t have a theme, she might as well throw all the photos in an album and call it a day. And that was not fun. So she tossed the flowery tape into her small basket, pointedly ignoring the small voice in the back of her mind asking where she would get the money and started plotting out a seasonal theme.

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