20151/Dreaming of Ash

Dreaming of Ash
Date of Scene:	28 February 2025
Location:	St. Bridget's Church
Synopsis:	Chasing the time. Lot of dead humans, power amplified, and still it's not enough! Trevor is stuck in the modern era
Cast of Characters:	Fabian Cortez, Trevor Fitzroy

---

Fabian Cortez has posed:
Gotham still has corners of worship, places of purity and hope and light where the darkness is chased out aggressively. There are still places where the grit and grim of this city have yet to fully permeate, where that defensiveness that comes with living here can relax.

This is not one of those places, though at some point, perhaps St. Bridget's was a long, long time.

It started as whispers on the street, whispers of a new den opening it's doors with good old Aunti. Unaffiliated dens are usually quiet things, some crime lord or another is sure to swoop in and hold and hand out-control prices and product. But that doesn't mean there won't be visitors. It doesn't mean that the date and time of the first distribution, the first night of pleasure wasn't out there. Most certainly doesn't mean that the first night wouldn't be well attended while the offering was cheap.

Perhaps it's thought to be already under the control of Someone who will protect users from whatever caped or capped light shows up, perhaps some people are just desperate and willing to hope that lies are truth. Perhaps that it's a church helps with some of that comfort.

Comfort that how lays bodies around the church, the sweet curl of opium in the air as the guests for the evening splay out, hunched in pews and on the ground in a surprisingly orderly fashion. -Almost as if someone arranged the visitors for a purpose before they were too far gone.- The chocolate was good it would seem, good and strong, distributed carefully over time to ensure that the whole church is now filled with the occasional murmur, twitch, eyes that stare blankly in the haze, but mostly still and quiet.

Tonight, this is a church of the silent worship to this chemical salve to life.

Up above, Fabian Cortez leans against the the pulpit, surveying his work with a hum, his words breaking through the quiet, the glow of a phone lighting up his face, "Alright Trevor, I dismissed my people. Just you and me, I assume we can handle things from here alone."

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
Trevor, in an undisclosed locations far, far from the urban decay that was Gotham, ended the phone call without speaking. He reached out with his own gift, burning some precious life-energy to make Here and There identical, the hole in space-time irising into place to form a one-way hole in the fabric of the Universe. Today Trevor was concealing his usual smock and leggings with an oversized hoodie, a black garment threaded with silver designs of celestial dragons up the arms and across his chest and back. He stepped through the portal, having aimed it for juuuuust far enough from Fabian that he wouldn't physically collide with the portal. That would have likely gone poorly for Fabian, as entering from the terminus end of even a simple portal like this one would be hazardous.

He looked around - and then down at the arrangements made for him - and broke out into a wide smile. "Good. I was running a touch low." he said with satisfaction. He cared not one whit for the addicts, their dreams and nightmares. They were only worthy of mention and his regard for the fuel they would provide him. Nothing more.

"You said your people are clear, yes?"

Fabian Cortez has posed:
"All clear. Might look a bit odd, me staying behind. My bodyguard will likely worry, but only brought folks who wouldn't argue or question." Meaning, perhaps only lower ranking Acolytes who might have something in common with the humans here tonight, even if it's not the dream they seek. Fabian turns to offer a smile to Trevor, offering a half-bow and holding a hand out to the church below them, "Your requested banquet is arranged. Tell me when you want me to start amplifying you."
As he straightens, the smile remains, "And since we have some time, are you amenable to a chat while you work? This is light lifting for me-but you have at least, awe, quite a few souls here tonight."

If the smile wasn't enough of a warning, the bright tone Fabian has brought with him tonight might be. He has Something of interest to bring up, something he's been sitting on for a few days now and mulling over, and hasn't so much as even hinted at prior to now.

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
Trevor smiled a predatory smile as he looked down at the tableau on display. "Once I've taken my fill, I'll let you know when to begin amplification." And then perhaps he'd be able to go home, where the food was to his tastes and things made more _sense_. Visiting the past was fine. Living there was not.

So he made his way down to the floor of the church, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie to reveal his startlingly crystalline hands and forearms.

"After going through this much trouble I can be gracious. Ask your questions." he said as he approached the first addict, who was clearly lost in the haze of the opium, chasing the dragon.

Fabian Cortez has posed:
The addict twitches, lost in the worlds beyond, but does not stir. It would seem the Acolytes setting this little event up timed things well. Trevor would likely not be bothered by any of his victims tonight.

"Thank you, I appreciate the opportunity." Fabian leans forward on the pulpit, watching Trevor. It was one thing to know what someone can do and another to see it done, "I'm, of course, happy to be working with you. I'm looking forward to that Dr. Phosphorus fellow, he seems useful. I'm also interested in what sort of work you assure me that you and I have done in the past. Your Past, my Future, I mean. I've been led to believe that not all futures belong to this past-And I wonder is this past a history you know?"

If Trevor must be a captive audience now, Fabian is going to talk quite a lot it would seem, "But before I get to that, I'd like to ask: It's Sentinels you are worried about, Sentinels you'd like to control and Sentinels that your home world is so wrapped around, is it not? Please feel free to correct me if I am wrong."

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
Trevor didn't answer right away in favor of a visceral demonstration of what he could, in fact, do. A crystalline hand reached out to the forehead of the addict and in a startlingly short amount of time the addict collapsed into himself, his body flash-converted into an organic flake. Only his clothing remained. Trevor glanced back to Fabian, to make sure the arrogant Spaniard caught the show in full before he moved down the row to the next addict.

"Sentinels are a special concern of mine." he admitted. "The records were obscured, for obvious reasons, but there's some scraps that survived the digital and physical purges from that timeframe. Proliferation, specialized models, and small-minded men that give the world the gift of artificial intelligence then taught it how to kill most efficiently." he mused as he stroked the cheek of the next addict, who promptly collapsed into herself and spread more ash upon the ground.

Fabian Cortez has posed:
If Trevor must listen to Fabian's talking, it is completely clear that he himself has a fully captive audience in return. Fabian watches, the polite smile more appropriate to afternoon tea rather than the evening's scheduled murder. He meets Trevor's gaze steadily, the look, appropriately impressed, again in a room with someone who thinks himself more powerful. The hint of that push-back is present in the man, willing to hold Trevor's eyes unblinkingly a little longer than is fully polite. But, the moment passes, Fabian simply offers a nod and smile.

"I don't ask out of idle curiosity, though I am curious. Of course, you know things you shouldn't, I'm not questioning that I work with you in the future, I'm working with you now. Easy to believe." Fabian's waves this away with a dismissive gesture, tone the careful polite of politics, continuing to harp on the topic Trevor avoided as one hand traces the dust of the pulpit, "But if you are from more than a few years before us, I must be strikingly old in your time. A comfort to me that I survive these trying times to those more trying."

"But I won't push you." He doesn't stop with enough time for a response, "I've been visited by X-men a few times in the past month or so, but most recently I'd spent many days being tracked by one. Amusing, I know-He was very good, but Genosha is my home and very little happens there that I'm unaware of."

"He was gracious enough to join me for dinner, not gracious enough to enjoy the meal: But the conversation was worth it. Dare I say, the conversation was far more enlightening that I suspect he meant it to be. How could he know that I'd recently met another time traveler? How could he know that his own hop through time sounded familiar? After all, what are the chances that Sentinels are so incredibly important that multiple futures have brought time travelers to my doorstep?"

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
"You picked up a fallen banner. Champion of Mutantkind. It was ... unclear ... in the histories if you were murdered by one of your so-called followers or simply exterminated by Sentinels. Amplification could not save you if there was no-one at your side that would fight for you." he commented plainly. "My father thought you were a pathetic joke." he commented as the third and fourth addicts were drained of their life energies and collapsed into ash. "I disagreed with him, naturally." he said as Number Five's life energies joined the first four inside of Trevor.

Trevor thought Fabian would make for a most useful idiot, in the Soviet sense of the phrase. As he was sure Fabian thought of him.

Fabian Cortez has posed:
"How fortunate it is that I'm not short on people by my side then, isn't it? You know things you shouldn't know. And yet you know things that are not true as you seem to think they are. For instance: Despite what you Might Think, Magneto of this time does Not hate me. Similarly, my devotion to the man is unwavering." For the first time, Fabian's tone shifts from that perfect polite to something somehow more mild, almost chiding, as if speaking to a child, "Admittedly, it's Odd that you would think otherwise and I appreciate your speaking up for my beliefs when meeting our new associate. I only ask that such consideration continues."

After all, Fabian Cortez has a reputation to uphold and an image to project.

Fabian straightens from his perch, a hankerchief pulled out, carefully whipping the dust from the pulpit from his hands and pulling on some gloves, returning to his previous demeanor, "This X-men who visited me, this Bishop fellow, seemed to think this time is Not the past of his particular future, that this time is similar, but not exact. And now you tell me that the records of the future are unreliable. Is it possible that you and this Bishop fellow are from the same Future? He claims it is a far closer one than Cable and I'm inclined to believe him."

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
For the first time in this conversation Trevor reacted visibly to Fabian's words. He paused, a snarl rippling across his features before he schooled them back to his bored passivity. "Is he still channeling Inspector Javert, then?" he asked after a moment, draining Number Six as he spoke. "I am the reason why Lucas Bishop is here, in this time. He was chasing me, you see. A small matter of a violation of XSE protocol." he said dismissively.

"Not even death is enough to satisfy that one. Best avoided altogether or given a patsy to chew upon and sate his deluded sense of justice and/or vengeance upon." he said. "And of course your devotion to the Master of Magnetism is unwavering. A model of fidelity and subservience, you are." he said with a very slight smile. "To know you is to believe it across your very soul." he commented as Number Seven joined the first six.

Not that Trevor had a soul...

Fabian Cortez has posed:
"He is playing officer in this time, as he did before. Called it 'policing our own'. Amusing that, I thought, assumed that the laws of humans were ones that I was going to worry about." Fabian's smile grows, watching Trevor for any other indication of something new. This was better than he was hoping, it had just been a hunch, "XSE? What does that stand for? Surely nothing major, I'm sure. Chasing you through time-He's been here for years now, since 2020 I believe, though getting any information on him is just as much a nightmare as you. Stands with X-men and X-force when needed."

"I don't think he'll let me avoid him. Made a point of threatening me, wanted the Acolytes to stop all operations. Really rather long list of demands really." Fabian starts down the steps, stepping over an individual not sorted quite so tidily out of the way while waiting their turn, coming to a halt a the line of ashed clothes and peering at them without touching. He hums in agreement, smile returning quickly, "I'm glad we understand each other. Belief is currency."

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
Belief was what now? More drivel from a sycophantic master of drivel. "If he's already on your scent, you'll need to be cautious." he said. And Trevor doubly-so. Unlike the Spaniard, he knew _precisely_ what Lucas Bishop was capable of. And to what lengths he'd go to. He waved off he XSE question with a languid fanning of his fingers before draining two addicts in a row this time. The life felt delicious inside of him and he could feel his reach expanding, growing. And there were still so many - although he'd need to save a few in case this experiment went poorly. "Do you have any particular timeframe you'd care to visit?" Trevor asked as he then drained the next two. "I presume you're interested in going forwards, not backwards. Naturally. Unless Poland in the early 1940s suits your undying loyalty and devotion?"

Fabian Cortez has posed:
"I've been incredibly honest with him, seemed the safest route and I suspect I'll see him again soon." Fabian seems unconcerned, Bishop was simply a toy for now. Not really a threat, but a pleasant distraction of someone else's piece on the chess board that was the world, "Anything I should know about him? His sense of Right and Wrong was-awe, enlightening? Useful."

Anything anyone believes is useful and Bishop did happen to believe quite a lot, as far as Fabian could tell. Quite a lot of conviction in that man.

"Please, I'm not Fenris. There's no need to be insulting-The future would do me just fine. I'd truely love to see a Sentinel that targets humanity." This, at least, is completely true. Human's protection targeting them is the sort of karmic justice that the world should dish out more often. Knowing that such a future exists makes Trevor's interest in the metal monsters far more understandable. Burning New York would be nice.

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
"Be csreful what you wish for. I'm fairly sure I've got one sequestered away somewhere." he mused as he continued to kill with a touch. One after another after another. "They made a logical leap that was probably against their initial programming but free will. Enhh." he said. "Mutants come primarily from humans. So to control mutantkind, one needed to carefully cull humanity as well. And that's when the streets truly ran red with blood." he said.

"A piece of advice? Don't underestimate Bishop. And do _not_ let your guard down around him. He has dozens of confirmed kills and more arrests." Trevor said. "In his own way, he's relentless and brutal."

Fabian Cortez has posed:
"That sounds lovely." Fabian does not ascribe to the Brotherhood's softer views on humanity, though it is known within the organization, it's not something he can advertise. "I have some plans in the work that I hope will result in quite a reduction of humans, but a Sentinel that wants to help would be nice if it could be controlled."

Well, plans beyond the current feeding of Trevor's power. And future feeding of Trevor's powers. This church is quite populated. From time to time, someone adjusts, the faint murmur in the background, but mostly all continue to remain still as Trevor works his way down the rows.

"Why does everyone assume I'm not careful? You are the third person this week-" Fabian's temper betrays him, words cutting and sharp, but stopping himself from continuing. This was not one of his underlings, not someone who would likely take his temper without insult. Thus, Fabian abandons his study of the bodies, a faint muttering in Spanish can be heard as Fabian moves away, back up to pull up a chair to the pulpit and sit down. Not speaking til he seems to have himself fully reeled back in, his tone polite again, but with more effort, "Thank you, I'm sure he'll prove to be worth my time. Yes, -Carefully-, I do tend to go about most of my business with the upmost care. Yes."

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
Keep telling yourself that, Fabian. Just keep telling yourself that.

Trevor was killing more quickly now, the dust-motes floating in the air like fairy epitaphs. "All right." he said after a full two score had died to fuel his reserves of life-energy. "I think this should be enough. Kept a few in reserve just in case." he said, taking up a position in amongst the dander of the slain.

"Begin augmentation." he said, waiting to feel the surge before testing himself against the fundamentals of the timeline and universe he found himself in.

Fabian Cortez has posed:
The quiet seems to have given Fabian the time to finish pulling himself back together. It's difficult having a temper and having to deal with all these People who he couldn't take it out on. After all, if people just treated him the way he ought to be treated, this wouldn't be a problem all the time.

Fabian had started rubbing his hands together slowly before Trevor speaks, a gathering of power that does not start visible, but as he collects more, slowly, showing off, the sparkle of white violet might start to shine against the black of his gloves. No words, but very aware of how much power Trevor is capable of gaining from the dead around them and how much a time-jump should take. Knowing such things about other's powers usually allows Fabian the fine-tuning of their gifts, but now allows him to start preparing for the direction early.

Not willing to stand and touch a touch-based life-stealer, Fabian simply collects, focusing and concentrating his gift til the air around his hands shift slightly with the concentrated power, sparkles flitting away.

At Trevor's direction, Fabian looks up at the man and smiles, "Brace yourself-" He lifts his hands, and though there is no motion, the motes of power glisten, then Gone as Fabian shifts them into Trevor. It's not a dial up that Fabian usually gives his underlings, it's the gift he gives people he means to actually do well. This is what he sends to Magneto. To his sister and team. This is what Fabian gives to people who he expects can handle it. A sudden tsunami of influx of power. To a teleporter, perhaps familiar in some ways. One place, then another. But No, this is one being Something. And suddenly being More. Surpassing the shackles of normal limits.

Fabian smiles, power delivered, he leans back in the chair, simply maintaining it, "I look forward to the show."

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
Trevor screamed.

And reached down into his being, into the torrential ocean of stored life-force. With this strength at his fingertips he could do so much more with so much less. It was almost intoxicating.

Was probably meant to be, he realized in a flash.

He bent his mind, and his gift, towards the universe he'd left. The time he'd departed so rudely. He could still see the scars on the timeline, the angry welt across the perfect face of this multiverse. And here he was, pushing against the tide, a little boy trying to hold back a tsunami with his bare hands. A drinking straw trying to inhale the oceans, a puff of wind trying to change entire ecospheres. Despite being able to see it all, all the intersections of when and where, he

couldn't

get

there.

Fabian Cortez has posed:
The air of the church is filled with ash and Trevor's scream. The people who'd come here for some relief now released from this earthly coil are ripped asunder again and scattered by some unseen force around the man who killed them. A black, swirling mass of those who've died tonight in a twisted tornado around Trevor. Even the clothing left behind in the pews are picked up, swirling and whipping away as a wind-like scream adds it's inhuman cadence to air. The pillar of black reaches up to the church's dilapidated ceiling, anything not nailed down is now being ripped apart and pulled into the vortex.

A massive, glowing, single line in the universe cuts through the current of ash, as if a massive teleportation portal is opening, and yet-it never does. Awaiting a Where and When. Just a glowing wound in the world, flickering in the center of the twisting hell-scape just above the man who thought himself it's master.

This is enough to rouse the remaining surviving addicts, most immediately trying to retreat to the walls of the church to get away from the display, slow, groggy and confused, one even makes it to the door-only to find it locked.

Fabian himself has continued to sit where he is, tightening his pony tail to keep his hair from being bothered by the screaming wind and buttoning up his coat a little tighter. Sitting and watching with most of his attention on the power he is supplying. Fabian cannot sense anything that Trevor does, cannot tell that there is a problem yet, but he can feel how much energy is being used. Seems to be steady, and will adjust accordingly, continue to push or to simply maintain. Arms fold over and pull his gun out of it's holster, half an eye on the newly awakened humans who might need to be shot should any attempt something stupid like try to step closer to that dark vortex of death and light of a trapped time traveler.

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
Trevor pushed. He channeled enough life-energy to resurrect a corpse years-dead. He raged, he strained, he pushed himself to his absolute limits, spending every ounce of the lives he'd taken, down to the last drop.

The Universe would not budge.

Finally Trevor stopped pushing, lest he start to draw on his own life rather than the energies he'd taken.

"Enough." he panted. "The Universe will not allow chronal travel. Not forwards." he said. "I spent enough to move millennia and nothing." he said as he shakily rose to his feet then moved among the cowering addicts like an Angel of Death, draining the few that remained to replenish his stores.

"Enough, Fabian. There's no getting through." he said tiredly. "Not with all of your augmentation, my full effort, and every ounce of life I could muster. It's not enough."

Fabian Cortez has posed:
Fabian hasn't moved a muscle, his full attention on feeding this desperate attempt. The longer Trevor tries, the more clear it is to Fabian that this isn't working. He might not understand how, but still, there is no interruption. No question. Just the steady holding of Trevor up to the best that his abilities are capable of being without hurting the man.

Even as the vortex around Trevor slows then stops, even as the light of the transport to the future flickers and goes out. Ash covers everything, including the two remaining men, the interior of the church is stained that pale grey-black of the freshly burned.

As the remaining humans crumple, Fabian will finally stand, put the gun away and fold the chair he's brought. Only at the second command does Fabian reel his power back in, tucking his chair under his arm as he approaches Trevor. It's a slow thing, far gentler than his initial push of power, careful to not induce a full crash in the man, or at least, more than Trevor's already clearly experiencing.

"I could have pushed you more, with your gift, your body could take it. But, it threatens your sanity." The words are gentle, almost apologetic. Not taking responsibility, but an offer, "I suppose I should be welcoming you to your new home then. We'll still be seeing the future together, it might just take a bit longer than you hoped."

Trevor Fitzroy has posed:
Trevor bowed his head for a moment then, lashing out, ripped the life-force from the last few addicts. "So it would seem." he said, his voice tight. "I trust you can find your own way out." he said, opening a portal to somewhere urban and rainy before stepping through and letting it close behind him.