Kitty Pryde's Diary - Civil War - Entry #1

(Hey, all! Since Kitty is taking a pretty active role in the recent events in the Civil War game I'm currently in, I've decided to switch over to her point of view for the time being. If next session plays out as planned, Wolverine will have plenty to cuss about in the weeks to come, but for now, let's take a peek into the life of one of my favorite mutants during this time. -Wes)

Dear Diary,

Weirdest thing! I was cleaning out my closet (which is a total wreck!) and I found you snuggled between a manual for the Danger Room and that one goofy picture of Piotr and I making macho poses by the pool. Come to find out there's a whole bunch of old pictures of us, and him, tucked into that little secret pocket in the front cover. Between those covers were the adventures of a girl that was in way, way over her head, but somehow lived to tell the tale.

Okay, when things phase through you, survival isn't a huge issue, but still!

I was about to throw you back in the box and go show Piotr (who came back from the dead!) the goofy picture when it came to me! Is there any reason I couldn't keep the log going? I mean, sure, I could just type it up nowadays in seconds, but that isn't personal or visceral. When you have a pen in your hand, you gotta think about the words as you create them, and commit yourself to them! If I was just typing this down in an ultra secret location so deeply encrypted onto my laptop that Tony would have to spend a week just to crack the first sentence, I could delete a word without even thinking about it, and it would be gone! Forever! Bam! See?

So, hope you're ready for a mouthful, because things have been really, really crazy around here.

I guess I'll start with the biggest thing. I'm part of an endangered species now. Wanda kind of lost it, altered reality to create a universe where Magneto ruled the world, and then turned everything back to normal, except for the fact that now almost every mutant lost their powers. I still have mine, but some really important guys like the Professor lost theirs! Am I lucky? I guess so. I mean, the ability to phase through stuff is as much a part of me as being Jewish or being a brunette (and staying that way!).

Since we're endangered, the government thought it'd be an awesome idea to make everyone that's left stay at the mansion guarded by Sentinels. Smart, right? I mean, yeah, the Sentinels have pilots in them now, but it's really a genius idea. Wouldn't create a powder keg situation at all! We wouldn't be pulling our hair out 'cause we can't see the latest M. Night Schamlan (or however you spell his last name...) flop at the theater, or slum around the mall with emo haircuts, blasting our punk music. Scott and his witch of a girlfriend are doing their best to keep things under control, but that didn't last long. I'll get to that.

Anyway, I had a genius idea! Well, being a genius, these things happen, but it's not like I'm bragging or anything. Charles isn't really around to guide us, but you know what I think? Isolating ourselves from humanity is the worst thing we could do to promote the unification of our races. We need to be out there, in public, doing good things like a normal person would! Instead of just saying the world when Magneto decides to turn tyrant, we could be helping everyday, spearheading medical research, or fixing broken bridges, or discovering alternative fuel sources. Our great abilities give us more than a weapon to fight evil with, but it's also a tool that can be used to build goodwill. We should be more like tools!

Okay, that came out really, really bad. No wonder everyone thinks we're terrorists, jeez. (Did I mention that the Avengers think that our slogan should be "We're Not Terrorists!"?)

That leads me to my awesome idea which is to bring this philosophy to light in a time where it's really needed! Sometimes, it's hard to look past our own issues and see what's going on outside the walls of our mansion, but things are really heating up out there. The town of Stamford got blown up because a bunch of superheroes were being careless, and the public is out for reform and control. Granted, this is how they've felt with mutants this whole time, but now their expanding their minds a little bit! In the wrong direction, but... Yeah! If there's one guy with the resources and brains to turn this whole thing one way or the other, it's Tony Stark. So, being proactive and bold, I held out the olive branch of mutant peace and decided that some collaboration was in order!

Tony and I talked a long time, and we found that our goals aren't all too dissimilar! That, and we're both really smart, so it's cool to find someone else that understands computers like you do! He agreed to hire me on as a personal assistant (which is so cool!) and together we're creating a non-profit organization to saddle onto the Superhuman Registration Act in order to make the things that suck about it suck a little less and support heroes through the transition. Our plans in the future are to eventually use this as a base-ground for helping mutants reintegrate into society, but for now, these are still pretty good goals!

Oh, and I might be running a school to help young super-humans in the very near future. Talk about pressure! What do you think sounds better? Professor Kitty, or Professor Pryde? I mean, the second one has the whole alliteration factor, but the first is casual, and I can totally see a little chibbi cat dressed in a graduate cap, glasses, and one of those pointing sticks that they used to use!

Piotr is going to draw me that one of these days, right after the awkwardness goes away.

So, let's talk about the Superhuman Registration Act for a minute. (Believe me, I can talk about this thing for ages. Tony and I created a series of instructional videos for beings from different planets, realities, and such, to get them acquainted with the law in ways they would understand, and I got to play narrator.) Basically, super-humans have to be trained and registered with the government, which is okay? They do get paid, and benefits, and I think that's awesome. The really bad thing is that all the mutants are automatically registered, which is something we've been fighting against for years. Now, any bigot senator can get our names and go harass our families! Whatever. All heroes are also supposed to help in times of emergency, but I guess they'd want to do that anyway, right? It's a real mixed bag, and there are parts of it I can get all excited about, then other parts make me want to pout and program for hours on end.

Maria Hill is a jerk!

Just wanted to get that out of the way. It's an inside joke around the mansion, you know. Speaking of her, the first thing she wanted us to do is convince all of these vigilantes and heroes that we duped into arriving at a warehouse to register. I'm not really an Avenger, or an agent of SHIELD, so sometimes I feel kind of awkward around everyone else, but Tony always makes me feel better. Well, when he's not stressed, and he's stressed a lot. Needless to say, we managed to get that off without a hitch, and even got started advertising the law assistance aspect of our organization with these neat little cards Tony invented. (I had to narrate for those too...)

This next part really tears me up, but I have to write about it, because it's really important. We got a communication that said the Xavier Mansion was having a riot, and that the Sentinels were freaking out and being a little over-zealous. My first instinct upon arrival was to make sure the kids were alright! Phasing them out of harm's way was, admittedly, not the best thing to do, but it was a tense moment! Everyone else went after the Sentinels, but they should have mixed their focus!

Because we were so sloppy, disorganized, and against such high-tech opposition, twelve kids died. Twelve of my classmates, students, whatever! Hell, I'm a consular at the Institute when I'm not working on a PhD or hanging around with Tony. I knew a lot of them, even knew some very personal stuff, and now... Now they're gone. Deleted from existence, just like that. I can't... I can't even begin to say how deeply this grieves me, especially since I could have done more to prevent it!

Scott asked me to speak at the funeral, but I couldn't. He knew I couldn't. Scott sucks. It's all Emma's fault that Scott sucks, 'cause she sucks, and she transmits all her suck into him with her mind powers or something. Shit... There I go making jokes again, to cover up how much this hurts. That's what I do, you know. I stay witty, and quippy, especially when I've got something under the surface that just stings so deeply. I can't look vulnerable in front of all these Avengers. Especially not now. We have to be strong.

This... This is why I'm starting to really believe in this project Tony and I are coming up with. See, maybe if we were trained together as a unit, briefed about the situation, and tackled this efficiently while working together, maybe those twelve guys wouldn't have died. Maybe Little Boy Blue would have finally realized that yes, girls love the color blue. Maybe Channel Surfer would finally get to test out the video game I was programming for him in my spare time where his power was the controller, since he was so frustrated with having to change the channel back to the Xbox every time he gamed. That's a lot of maybe's, but I believe in every one of them. For the future.

Something else happened that night. Spider-Man almost killed someone. It was an accident, sure, but Maria (Who is still a jerk!) presented him with an ultimatum. He could either submit to the SHIELD tribunal, who would tear him apart, or go for a public trial, which would have his real named revealed! We were all there for him, that night before he had Tony set up one of the biggest press conferences ever assembled. I even told him about my crush, but you already know all about that. Should have known he was married...   

Anyway, General Lazer (the moron who decided that we should be cooped up at the X Mansion) showed up at the press conference where Spider-Man revealed to everyone that he was the devilishly handsome Peter Parker. He bombarded the poor guy with questions about the accident, but Tony was right there to defend him, not to mention a little crowd support from yours truly. Then, well, Deadpool showed up and drove Lazer nuts, so it was a mixed bag.

To be honest, I'm... Not really sure where things are going. Wonder-Man has decided to advocate our cause, and with his help and the turn-over of Lazer, maybe Tony and I can move our ideas for mutant integration up sooner than we anticipated. This registration act could be the gateway for a whole new world where mutants are seen as super-heroes instead of genetic aberrations with their own agendas in mind. However it goes, I'm going to be there at the forefront, because I still believe in Xavier's dream.

Gotta go! Just looked at the time, and I need to squeeze some lab time in before the sun comes up. Working on a few new stuff in Tony's labs, should be pretty cool!

Love always,

Kitty

Wolverine's Post M-Day Journal - Entry 3

((Hey there! This entry summarizes the events of the third and fourth session's of the game. It was not written between since the events ran together and our favorite feral mutant wouldn't have had the time to sit down and write introspectively! Enjoy!

Entry 3:

It's three in the mornin' and the only thing I can do to try and find some solace is write in this fuckin' journal.

I don't dream anymore. When the eyelids shut and sleep paralysis sets into my adamantium laced bones, a dark figure sits me next to an ancient film projector in a shadowy room. Try as I might, I can't get up, can't shut my eyes. The figure steps into the light on the screen. Sometimes it's Victor. Sometimes it's Mystique... Maybe it's always Mystique? Doesn't matter.

"Which film shall we watch tonight, Logan?" they say in the most irritating tone possible, "The one where you murder Itsu? A classic. If you're in the mood for romance, we could watch some Mariko. Maybe more Jeanie? Ah, but we watch those a little too often, don't you think? We could always play the bloody murder reel..."

Somethin' inside me is trying to stir up the guilt from a life of murder, and despite every attempt I make to keep a gruff exterior, it's startin' to work. I've ruined families, ended lives for no better reason than someone told me to do it, or I was lost in a rage. Every time I decide to make things better, to strive to fix some of the damage I've done, somethin' drags me right back down to my old ways.

That's why I can't be an Avenger.

We had a meetin', somethin' about a revision of the Mutant Registration Act that is gonna effect all of the other freaks of nature and vigilantes that put on tights and try to save the world. Stark wanted to present a unified front, under his own idealism, about the superhuman community tryin' to police itself. Some of the guys there even had the nerve to offer up the X-Mansion as a school for new recruits. Shows how ignorant they are about the livin' Hell we're goin' through over there.

There will be no more mutants. Every mutant that's left, whether they like it or not, has to be cooped up on school grounds, livin' out in tents like a fuckin' reservation. Charles is gone. Scott doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. Sentinels march around the grounds. The last thing we need are some two-bit amateurs walking in with big smiles ready to learn from a dying race.

Stark proposed an internal affairs branch of our... organization, and put up Carol to be in charge of that. Turns out we needed it faster than we ever would have thought. The Crusader shows up at the Avengers mansion with a Shi'ar bomb, guarded on all sides by Purifiers. My blood was boilin' to see those sons of bitches crawl out from the wood work, but I wasn't the only one.

Things go about as expected, with Stark and Banner disarming the bomb and the rest of us fending off the crazed religious fanatics. 'Cept Moon Knight was after some blood, and crippled Crusader. Slashed him right in the spine. If the poor sod lives, he'll be spendin' the rest of his life in a wheelchair, or worse. They clap him in irons and send him off to prison.

I can't be an Avenger, because before you know it, I'll be right in the next cell. I've killed, as an Avenger. Ended the life of Griffin in our first breakout fiasco, and no one cared then. Even though that was a wake-up call, what's to say my berserker rage won't lead me to that place again? My anger is welling up, and I'm liable to burst.

Hopped on my motorcycle afterward to help Stark present his case in front of Congress. Someone had to represent the mutants, but unfortunately, the conversation never turned in that direction. Instead, Dr. Doom is showin' footage of the lot of us tearin' through Doombots and Latverians on behalf of Colonel Nick Fury. Just like my dreams, there I am again, killin', and I can't help but watch.

Things didn't turn out so bad. Congress seemed impressed with Murdock's knowledge of law and the way we handled the Spector debacle earlier. Earned us a man on our side. 'Cept, what's one voice among the majority? Usually, jack-shit.

Next, I was sent to testify for the character of Luke Cage, who was accused of murdering some of the Purifiers, according to a pretty obviously doctored bit of footage. For some Goddamn reason, someone thought it was a good idea to bring in Marc Spector to testify. The bastard got away, after makin' a pretty solid point that the Avengers are a bunch of incompetent assholes. Apparently, someone hasn't let Konshu know that I'm the best there is at what I do, and what I do isn't very nice.

Then the press showed up, and by this point, I was pissed. Really pissed. These assholes are never too far behind when controversial shit goes down. They don't learn. Apparently, a well placed 'go fuck yourself' doesn't send the message. I trashed some equipment, grabbed my bike, and went to a dirty pub somewhere to try the nightly game of tryin' to out-drink my healing factor.

I lost.

My gut is tellin' me that there's something goin' on beyond just a bunch of random events. If anyone knows about conspiracies, it's me. I've been the instrument of more of 'em than I can count on my claws. Someone's trying to strike while the iron is hot, taking down the community through the system. Worst part? One of the smartest men in the world is missin' it, too absorbed by tryin' to run his little band of kids playin' cops and robbers.

I'll let him know. I'll tell him when I resign.

For now, gonna sit on the couch with a beer and watch the news until I fall asleep from boredom. Not like anything news worthy happens in this country anymore.

-Logan

Wolverine's Post M-Day Journal - Entry 2

((What was Wolverine doing during the last session of Civil War? Let's find out!))

Entry 2:

Had to head back to Oklahoma. Seems that guard detail was still needed around there after the Doom incident. Don't blame the egg-heads for gettin' a little jumpy, especially with that sword of death just standin' around, waitin' for some bastard worth his shit to pull it out of the ground.

Personally, I leave the thinkin' for the brainiacs unless I'm put in some kind of leadership position, and who would be so empty-headed as to allow that? Knowin' SHIELD, they rounded up the usual subjects. Stretch. Stark. Strange. Not to mention McCoy, the better of the two genius Hanks that I know. So, after all of that business was taken care of, I went back to the mansion with 'im.

Y'see, Hank and I have an understandin'. Both of us walk on the wild side, whether or not McCoy likes to admit it half the time. Even if we don't see eye to eye on almost everythin', there's that mutual respect factor goin' that transcends any science bullshit you can spout out. It's somethin' you feel deep down in your gut.

'Course, as soon as I step through the doors, Slim pulls me aside for a chat with his half-naked resident psychic followin' behind. Wonder how he'd feel if I told him that Tony Stark claimed that territory before? Cyke had better get himself checked. Anyhow, Scott expressed his opinion on my charming reaction to the press. Needless to say, he wasn't too happy about it, for the same reason I was bustin' my own chops. He wasn't wrong.

But what he needs to understand is that I don't need the lecture. Does he think I don't care about the consequences of what I do? All the people I've killed, families I've ruined... Does he not think that I haven't heard it already, from myself? I've had a lot of shit to sift through ever since M-Day, and it ain't pretty, bub. The last thing I need is some Chuck Xavier hatin', Sentinel allowin', skinny neck of a coward tellin' me I ain't doin' my part to help mutant kind. And I let him know.

My Avengers comm was goin' off, but I ignored it. We've got enough people on our roster, and plenty of adversarial types besides. World ain't gonna end while I spend a few days at the Mansion, runnin' the Danger Room 'til it ain't fun anymore or catchin' up with Half-Pint. Kept my ear to the ground and eye on the news to keep up with the whacky adventures of the World's Mightiest Heroes, and it doesn't look like I missed much. Still, the chance to knock around some Hydra heads would have been satisfyin'. Not very often I get to slice into some crazed techno-nazi cultists, despite what you may think.

Still ain't sure why the team was tryin' to stop Hammerhead from getting a bullet between the eyes. From what I've heard of 'im, he ain't too reputable a guy. Sometimes its best to let these things go and stop tryin' to play hero at the drop of a hat, especially when gangsters are involved. If it wasn't for the life-model decoy bomb shit that threatened the lives of everyone there, that sorta thing don't sound much like Avengers work. Like I said before, the Avengers have changed.

Had lunch with Half-Pint, and now I'm lookin' to make my ride back to the Tower. I don't like sittin' in one place too long. Makes me feel sluggish. Besides, if what I've been hearin' is right, the team's gonna be arguin' some sort of registration act in front of Congress.

Bein' the only mutant on the team, someone's gotta stick up for us, not that this sort of thing hasn't shown up before. We beat it then, we'll beat it now.

Radio has on George Thorogood. Gonna be a good ride.

-Logan

Wolverine's Post M-Day Journal - Entry 1

((Hey, readers!

Being an aspiring writer and a huge nerd, I've decided to supplement my Civil War summary posts with in-character journal entries. Have fun!))

Entry 1:

I really shouldn't be doin' this.

It ain't smart puttin' personal information in an easily compromised place, especially when you've made as many enemies as I have over the years. The wrong guy gets a hold of it and they can make your life into a living Hell.

'Cept, I ain't too worried about Hell, so fuck it. After I got all my memories back by some quirk of chance after Wanda had her way with reality, I've been pretty paranoid of losin' 'em again. If I keep track of what's been goin' on and keep it safe, maybe, in the future if Weapon X drags me back and wipes my mind away, I'll have a way to remember.

But who'd want to remember this?

Wanda Maximoff fucked up all of reality, makin' it so mutants are now an endangered species with millions of us losin' our powers. Now instead of fightin' to save those who hate us, they've got us all cooped up on a reservation guarded by fuckin' Sentinels. Summers doesn't have the spine to do anythin' about it. Sometimes I don't blame him, but lookin' out the window and seeing those bastards keepin' us from leavin' sets my blood to boilin'.

Guess I've got a perverted kind of luck. Still got my powers, otherwise I'd be dead. And, unlike the rest of 'em, my status with the Avengers gets me a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card from the mansion whenever I'd like. I've taken the trip from Westchester to New York more times than I can count in the last six months. Stark owes me gas money.

They're a decent bunch. Put up with me, so that's somethin'. Cap and I go way back, pretty literally. Web-head and I have teamed up more than I'd like to admit, and we work well off each other. When Ben's not hangin' with F-Troop, he's a good drinkin' partner. Same with the God of Thunder. Haven't worked much with Tigra in the past, but I've got to admire a woman with the kind of feral ferocity she's got bubblin' under the surface. Banner's a good guy, when he's not green. Some of 'em get under my skin, though. I don't trust Jessica. Don't like her smell. Always got those pheremones floatin' around, makes my nose burn and my head spin. And a guy could respect Knight's self-righteous quest for vengeance, but the man won't shut his yap. Stark owes me gas money.

So, the minute I stumble into the tower after a long drive from the Mansion, it's time for work. And not the kind of work I like. Bill Foster was sick and goin' on a rampage in the middle of the city and we had to knock him down a peg.  Wasn't too hard, just had to knock some sense in to 'im. That was mostly Stark's job, blastin' the guy with a fully-charged blast after bluffin'. Then the press shows up, which was my cue to leave. Took care of it with all the grace and civility the team has come to expect.

Told 'em to fuck off.

I didn't go straight back to the tower after that. Wasn't interested in watchin' the smart guys poke and prod a giant, and wasn't exactly willing to sit around the Tower watching TV and drinkin'. I was willin' to sit around a bar that smells like piss to drink adn watch TV, however. Took my bike to one of my favorite dives in the area and blew off some steam. I know the 'tender, usually gives me a decent price. Beer isn't bad. Place is quiet enough.

Thought a little bit about whether I really belonged on the Avengers. I ain't used to being a public face of heroism, hence why I avoid the press any chance I can. Bein' the only mutant on the team, I'm representing all of mutant-kind, and that's a responsibility I never asked for. Can't change who I am, but I'll be the first to admit, flipping off reporters and slinging curses on camera ain't the way to change the world's opinion of us.

But, I figure if Daredevil and Moon Knight belong here, maybe the standards of membership have been taken down a few notches.

Eventually, I made my way back to the tower just in time to see the team come back from a lab bust. Banner went on another rampage, which I've come to expect. We can only keep a leash on that monster for so long, which is probably one of the reasons I'm still kept around. Not many people have gone toe-to-toe with Jolly Green more than I have. All the evidence was destroyed, and Iron Man had taken off for a bit.

Hell, don't blame him.

Before the night was over, we loaded up on the Quinjet and took off to Oklahoma to be security detail for some landing site. I've been there once or twice in my long life, never for long or for a good reason. Gonna have to chalk this trip up to that list. Note to self: borrow the Blackbird and show up Ben Grimm at the next available opportunity.

Maria Hill decided to take an interest in our activities of the evening. That woman puts a sour taste in my mouth, and she owes me. I could have ended her life, and I had every good justification to do so. Somethin' held me back, the little voice of reason in the back of my head that reminds me that I ain't an animal. Sometimes it's Jeanie. Sometimes it's Chuck. Sometimes it's even fuckin' Slim. I don't always listen, but that night I did, and Hill better thank whatever God she believes in that I did.

Wouldn't you know it that shortly after we arrive, seein' a giant sword that fell out of the sky, Victor Von Doom and an army of his toys flood the field. After a night of self-doubt and bad moods, that was exactly what I needed. Rather than take Doom head on, I charged the field of Doombots and went to work. Nothin' beats the feelin' of taking down an army, seein' the bodies fall, hearing the sparks crackle and die as your claws tear the material to pieces. Thor was havin' even more fun than I was, probably for the same reasons. Seein' something from your old life sittin' out there as plain as day, ripped back into your consciousness, makes you want to beat somethin'.

Before you know it, the whole force of Avengers is attackin' the man in charge. Murdock took a hard hit, losin' his sense for a moment or two. Still, Doom was distracted by all of the elements at play coming at him from every direction, in every way possible. Even a genius of his level can lose focus, and I took the opportunity. In the midst of the chaos, I was a ghost in the night, tracing shadows, eyes following his, nose keeping track of his stress. At the absolute moment when he was lost, a split second or more, I darted and dug my claws into his back.

By that point, he was gone. A Doombot stood in his place, mechanical and cold as I tore out it's spine and wired entrails. And I was mad.

Before we left, Thor and Moon Knight tried to claim the twisted sword as their own. They failed. It crossed my mind that a samurai like myself would do well with a sword, and that my force of personality and appetite for destruction were more than enough to keep a harbinger of the end of the world at bay.

Nah.

Adamantium claws trump Asgardian weapons any day of the week, especially in my hands.

I spent the rest of the night fixin' up the bike, and that night I dreamed of Itsu. And Jeanie.

Billy Joel said it best. Only the good die young.

-Logan