[ there's a headache pounding behind his eyes when he comes to. his vision blurs, tips to the side and he closes his eyes, trying to clear his head. he can feel the bounce of a vehicle and the feeling cold seeping through the metal of the car.
car? that wasn't right. the last thing he remembered, he'd been getting the hell away from the purifiers after john's sacrifice. there were no cars involved and there were definitely no restraints anywhere. he pulls at them, jaw tightening to the point of pain but he can't break free and he can't —
he can't get his powers to work either. marcos doesn't want to think about what that means. he sits and he fumes. when the vehicle rolls to a stop and he's shuffled out, he tries to get someone to answer his questions but they shove him and go on about their business.
he's left in the snow and he's not alone. but he doesn't recognize anyone. these faces aren't from the underground. he doesn't know what's happened. with little else to do, he heads to the only piece of shelter he can see.
his fingers are numb by the time he pulls open the door and when he reaches up to card snow out of his hair, he realizes that it's no longer there. the frown on his face deepens but he can't think straight, not when he's not as cold as he is.
once he's inside, he blows heat into his hands and then tries to get his power to work again.
he fails.
that's...that's not possible. they couldn't just be taken away. they could be suppressed but not taken away. sinking into a chair, marcos rubs his hands through his hair (what's left of it, at least) and closes his eyes again.
he can feel the exhaustion in his bones but there's no way he's going to sleep. not now. not until he figures this out. ]
II » PRESERVE
[ the headache hasn't gotten any better by the time they've gone from one place to another. marcos had resisted at first, untrusting of anyone despite the reassurances and information he'd been given. he'd been played before and he wasn't going to let it happen again.
but he couldn't really deny that he was happy to be out of the cold. it had been a long time since he'd seen snow and he doesn't think he'd ever been in a climate like this. it's so cold that it feels like it's freezing his blood.
once inside, he finds himself near the clothes first, picking out a few long sleeved shirts, jeans, scarves, sunglasses. anything to keep warm.
he doesn't stay in one place for too long, wandering from kitchen to infirmary to common area and back. his fingers twitch as he keeps trying to bring his ability up and it fails every time. what had they done to him? plenty of mutants had been experimented on, he knows, but it had never happened to him.
until now? no way to be sure.
god, his head hurts. ]
III » WILDCARD
[ feel free to choose your own adventure. hit me up at spoonishly for plotting. ]
marcos diaz | the gifted
[ there's a headache pounding behind his eyes when he comes to. his vision blurs, tips to the side and he closes his eyes, trying to clear his head. he can feel the bounce of a vehicle and the feeling cold seeping through the metal of the car.
car? that wasn't right. the last thing he remembered, he'd been getting the hell away from the purifiers after john's sacrifice. there were no cars involved and there were definitely no restraints anywhere. he pulls at them, jaw tightening to the point of pain but he can't break free and he can't —
he can't get his powers to work either. marcos doesn't want to think about what that means. he sits and he fumes. when the vehicle rolls to a stop and he's shuffled out, he tries to get someone to answer his questions but they shove him and go on about their business.
he's left in the snow and he's not alone. but he doesn't recognize anyone. these faces aren't from the underground. he doesn't know what's happened. with little else to do, he heads to the only piece of shelter he can see.
his fingers are numb by the time he pulls open the door and when he reaches up to card snow out of his hair, he realizes that it's no longer there. the frown on his face deepens but he can't think straight, not when he's not as cold as he is.
once he's inside, he blows heat into his hands and then tries to get his power to work again.
he fails.
that's...that's not possible. they couldn't just be taken away. they could be suppressed but not taken away. sinking into a chair, marcos rubs his hands through his hair (what's left of it, at least) and closes his eyes again.
he can feel the exhaustion in his bones but there's no way he's going to sleep. not now. not until he figures this out. ]
II » PRESERVE
[ the headache hasn't gotten any better by the time they've gone from one place to another. marcos had resisted at first, untrusting of anyone despite the reassurances and information he'd been given. he'd been played before and he wasn't going to let it happen again.
but he couldn't really deny that he was happy to be out of the cold. it had been a long time since he'd seen snow and he doesn't think he'd ever been in a climate like this. it's so cold that it feels like it's freezing his blood.
once inside, he finds himself near the clothes first, picking out a few long sleeved shirts, jeans, scarves, sunglasses. anything to keep warm.
he doesn't stay in one place for too long, wandering from kitchen to infirmary to common area and back. his fingers twitch as he keeps trying to bring his ability up and it fails every time. what had they done to him? plenty of mutants had been experimented on, he knows, but it had never happened to him.
until now? no way to be sure.
god, his head hurts. ]
III » WILDCARD
[ feel free to choose your own adventure. hit me up at