((OOC continued from Change My Mind theultimatexmen.proboards.com/thread/14256/change-mind-solo?page=1#post-209130 ))


The first step has been to secret herself and her alternate universe self away, without being detected by prying eyes. The second step had been to steal all her other self’s things, and trade off their outfits so that she wore the police uniform and the non-stretchy pants in the relationship, and her evil twin wore her black sweatpants and pink Nike tee. That done, Amelia also stole the hair tie and pulled her long hair up in a quick ponytail. With her time in captivity, her hair had grown much longer than the other Amelia’s hair... so the other Amelia could let her hair down without worry. Step three had been to use her double’s cellphone to call her brother.

It isn’t often one calls one’s family and asks them for help hiding a body. When one’s brother works in law, and when one works in law enforcement, the idea one would even utter such words over an unsecured phone line was unfathomable. She merely said she needed help, gave her location, and waited for him in the alley with herself.

When Aurum arrived, he reacted with far more understanding than she could have hoped for. He even, shudder, had some macabre suggestions.

“You read too many murder mysteries,” Amelia had told him. They weren’t doing... any of those things. In the time she’d spent waiting, Amelia had formulated a plan.

It was a stupid plan. A dangerous plan. She didn’t tell her brother all of it, nor did she let him come too close to the drop zone. Her other self had been too smart to leave a phone number or address for a shadowy government organization. Thankfully, or unthankfully, whatever the psychic had done to leave her alt self a vegetable had led Amelia with some dregs of memory from another world. She couldn’t remember everything. Not yet. But bits and pieces had told her a phone number and an address.

Amelia had taken drama in high school as an elective. She could act passably well. She wasn’t sure if she nailed it, but how often does one foul up acting like them self? Whoever had been on the answering service had done their secretarial duty to pass along a message to the nearest SUPER operative on hand. Agent Mellitus was doing a drop off of a dangerous mutant, and needed to be met at the front door for some assistance. Unconscious bodies are heavy. The secretary had told her someone would be there for the handoff. Amelia had purposefully NOT thanked her, then hung up. She had a sinking suspicion that her other half was an assh@le.

Aurum had set her down a block off from the location of the “secret base”, or whatever it was. Point of fact, she didn’t care if it were permanent or temporary. What mattered was that someone would be there. With difficult, she had carried the vegetative version of herself to the front entrance, then gone around to the side entrance. The one that was hidden. Secluded.

It was probably insane to come to the doorstep of the people who had kidnapped and imprisoned her for months on end, just to return to them the body of one of their compatriots. Even more insane would have been the attempt to pretend to be that person afterwards, in order to infiltrate their ranks and take them down from within. The thought had occurred to her. A lot of thoughts had occurred to her, and phrases, and words... some of which were her’s. But when she knocked, and someone opened the entrance to meet her by the front door, all Amelia said was ‘hi.’

“Hi,” Amelia had said. She said it with confidence, and a big wide smile. Right at that moment, in spite of all the dangers of what she was doing, Amelia felt bulletproof. Certainly, it would wear off soon enough.

Some days, Brooklyn Callahan loved her job. Tracking and tagging mutants, a little covert operations, getting to use her gun....those things were great. The more...professional....businessy side of things that she often ended up having to take care of...not so much. But the bottom line was, the woman worked for a government organization, and government organizations had paperwork, and rules, and things that had to be done. But...

That didn't stop her from looking damn good while doing it. Today's number was a pair of black leather pants that managed to emphasize her figure just right while still being comfortable and breathing properly, and a black, long sleeved blouse. Every button was buttoned, because she *was* working, but she still rocked the look with a sort of pride that very few could pull off.

Yet, in the midst of her mundane day, she'd gotten a call that she was needed at the front of the building. So, making her way down to the front, she saw the door person, whom she waved away, and then she saw some woman in a police uniform, with another woman who was either knocked out, or no longer one with this side of the universe. Well, at least today was no longer boring and mundane.

"Omega 13," she said, introducing herself without offering a gesture of a handshake, for a few reasons. One, she didn't do that. And two, miss lady had her hands full. "Let me guess, you're dropping off a package I need to process?"

The woman, Omega 13, greeted her and fed her one of the greatest straight lines in the history of Man. ‘Dropping off?’ ‘Why yes, let me just throw my double at your feet’, Amelia thought wryly. The urge to do just that coursed through her, alongside her anger and her amped up ego.

It would have been easy, so easy, to let herself run wild like she’d done before, when she had escaped SUPER’s labs. Easy to throw caution to the wind, burn bridges, pretty much declare war on the people that had kidnapped, experimented on, and imprisoned her for the better part of a year. Amelia hadn’t gotten to be an officer of the law by being hotheaded, however. It took an effort of will, but she quashed the chaotic desire. Her smile dulled, and she felt just a bit less bulletproof.

The effort of controlling her anger sobered Amelia enough to keep calm, and not pick fights. To help keep that simple, sane sense of self up, Amelia briefly ran through all the reasons why she should be civil to the woman in black leather pants.

1) The woman was dangerous and probably had a gun. 2) Having just escapes their labs, picking a fight and not staying civil was a sure fire way to get them to declare her a danger to herself and others, and potentially order her death. 3) The blonde was attractive, and those leather pants were nice.

Amelia momentarily questioned that last line of thought. When had she gotten so out of control with her libido? For that matter, what about her emotions. The idea that maybe something else had bled into her, amid her double’s memories, was the most sobering thought of all.

Amelia took a deep breath. Yes, she had stood there for about ten seconds without giving the woman a response, other than the million mile off look a person gets when countless thoughts run through their mind. Yes, there was something incredibly messed up going on inside of her own head. There’d be time later to re-examine that. For now, she was heavy, and needed to pass her fat ass off onto someone else.

“Sorry,” Amelia said. She frowned apologetically at Omega 13. “Had a bit of a moment. That fight rattled me. Yeah. A little help with this woman would be wonderful.”

She stepped forward, careful not to do anything that would set Omega 13 off. Contrary to her own personal beliefs, she was not bulletproof at the moment, and wouldn’t be for some time. An ounce of tact would go a long ways in this situation, towards sorting the super confusing SUPER drama out. She was the Superior Amelia. She could be better than her more violent side.

Brook's dry humor was one of those things people loved or hated about her, and frankly, she really didn't care which one it was as long as you had a definitive opinion. This woman spent a lot of time in silence, and Brooklyn had to admit she wished she could have seen whatever happened to lead this small woman to her doorstep with her doppleganger. That was probably a sight to see.

This whole thing with doubles, she had to admit was quite confusing sometimes, though she reminded herself that on this side of the rip, technically she was the double. Though...she had to wonder what her own alternate self was up to. But there was no time for that nonsense now; she had work to do.

"Yeah, fights can be that way. People don't realize the psychological damage it can do to you, especially given the circumstances." Bending a little, she worked to help support the body, so that she was side by side with Amelia.

"Alright, there's an infirmary we can take her to, and they'll check her condition. From there...well, we'll have to see. From the looks of it though...nice work." She gave a slight smile at the compliment as she started walking awkwardly, like they were in some three legged race from hell.

Psychological damage. Yeah. Exactly that. Amelia gave the barest fraction of a nod. An incline of her chin. “Mhm.” She said, lips tight.

The woman helped her with the body, and the load she’d been supporting was suddenly cut in half.

Her mind was running a mile a minute as Omega 13 started leading them towards the door. It went something like this:

Going into the building. Sh%^! Going into the building?! Ffff.

She didn’t want to go into the building. At all. At the same time, in order to keep up appearances, she would have to.

They might be able to detect a difference. Was there a difference? Could she detect a difference? There was also the matter of the locator chip Becca had mentioned, which may or may not have been present on her person. Amelia decided she’d have to play it by ear. Worst case scenario, she would just fight her way back out.

Amelia returned the smile weakly. “Maybe not quite the nicest of work,” she said. Her mouth started moving of its own accord. “The little witch tagged me with my own locator chip gun during the fight.”

Had she just started doing exactly what she had resolved not to do? Why yes, she had. She was stretching the absolute limits of her credibility by pretending to be one of their number. Today she was absolutely chocked full of bad ideas. Well what the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound.

“After she escaped from the facility on our earth, she tried to jump me. While I was on-mission tracking a dangerous mutant.” Amelia said as they walked through blank white hallways. She let that sink in.

“I had to fight them both at the same time. My double got a lucky shot in with the damned chip gun... but then the psychic hit us both with a mental whammy while we were distracted. The mutant lady got away...” Teeth were clenched.

“I’ll have to track her.” Amelia’s voice was dry. Very dry. Bone dry. Just as dry as she figured her doubles would have been, thinking of all those reports. God save the soul of the man who had first created paperwork. Because he. Was. Damned.