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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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 Question and Answer Session, Tag: Tigs
Connor N. Coulson
 Posted: May 22 2018, 02:16 AM
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Division Agent 33 He/Him 5 POSTS
APPLICATION SHIPPER
© Matrix · He/Him · Offline



It was nearing lunch time and Connor was pouring over data from the assault on the firehouse again. He couldn't help it. The case was active, and his mind was drawn to all the details on it. Something was sticking out like sore thumb, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Then this morning, it had hit him like a bolt of lightning out of nowhere. Coulson slotted a small Z-drive into the slot on his work computer and a piece of old SHIELD software loaded up. It wasn't that he didn't trust anyone in the building, it was just that he didn't trust anyone in the entire Agency.

The software would allow him to do a few searches and keep the information private. No need for anyone to see what he was doing. He pulled up a few pictures from Antigone Stark's public appearances and looked through them until he found what he was looking for. "There you are..." He closed the search and ran the program to wipe any trace of his search out of existence. In this case, paranoia was his best friend.

Agent Coulson grabbed his shoulder holster and slipped the rig on, followed by his suit jacket. He left a note on his door saying he was going out to follow a lead and would be back after lunch. A short trip to the garage later and he was off in one of the company sedans. A black Dodge that just screamed "cop car" was what he ended up with, but it would be the quickest way to get where he was going.

A short diversion to a florist and then Connor Coulson was standing in front of Antigone's personal receptionist. "Uh, no. I don't actually have an appointment. Could you just tell Ms. Stark that Special Agent Coulson would like a few minutes of her time?" He looked down at the bouquet of tulips in his hand and offered an awkward smile and shrug. "I mean, I think she'll see me. Who knows these days?"

The receptionist rolled her eyes but made the call anyway. It was clear to Connor that she was more confused by his appearance than threatened. He'd take that any day of the week. He really didn't want to have to get a warrant or for Antigone to lawyer up before they could talk.

The Agent stood there, rocking on the balls of his feet, impatiently. He reached over and pulled the glove over his prosthesis for the hundredth time. It hadn't tingled this bad in a long time. He'd almost forgotten what the phantom sensation felt like.

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