Jean Grey hadn't ever pushed herself to such an extreme, not even during her training with the professor or on other missions; she could hardly believe her psionic powers had been taxed to such a degree.
Giddiness was an understatement; she was excited, pumped full of adrenaline at the prospect of discovering more and more about this mutant.
'Jean, don't let your guard down,' the professor said telepathically. Once again, reading her mind.
She had once believed him when the professor claimed he lacked the finer control she innately possessed. Jean knew it was a ruse, but she couldn't understand why the man would lie to her.
Xavier was an Omega-level telepathy. He chose to read the surface thoughts of those around him.
Jean bristled at needless reprimand. Jean stamped down on her psionic shields. Ironically, the Red Hood's insane ability to perceive every psionic scry had pushed her insight further into telepathic shielding than in all the years she trained with the professor.
Charles Xavier and his students had been brought along under his long-time friend power—the Master of Magnetism. The blackbird had been damaged beyond repair in their brief fight.
Magneto hadn't been idle; he had directed his mutants to search for the vigilante. Outside of a few tensed words, his long-time friend had been quiet, and Xavier couldn't read his mind with the helm protecting him.
The tense ceasefire could end at any moment, each group carrying its agenda. Professor X had wanted to understand the newly awakened mutant and get a sense of where he was mentally; if he was a threat, it fell to him and the X-men to neutralize him, which meant bringing him in.
The only problem was that Xavier had learned the mutants they captured were being used as test subjects for countless research departments.
On the other hand, Magneto wanted the new mutant who had been single-handedly decimating the underworld. The most bizarre point of contention was the tech he had fielded.
'Could the potential omega be similar mind and proclivities to Hank Mccoy? Or was someone else supplying him? Erik Magnus Lehnsherr had lived a long time and been at war since childhood; in his experience, caution was vital.
Cole Stephens
As Cole opened his eyes, he saw that he had returned to the warehouse, where his body remained entrapped in an ectoplasmic cocoon.
Inside the ectoplasmic sack, curled in a fetal position, a bio-electric current pulsed alongside the inside, synchronizing with his pulse.
Kaecilius' appearance had allowed him to escape using his new persona ability. Marking a place meant he would, in theory, haunt it for the rest of his life.
He recalled that most Marvel teleporters moved around through another dimension, even if unaware of that minor quirk of their power.
He couldn't teleport, at least not traditionally, though. His ability was more intertwined with astral projection, and a secondary function of that was he could create a portal to the astral plane, which was a spiritual place for disembodied entities; the dimension was entirely made up of ectoplasm, the same ability he could now manipulate with a thought.
Astral Projection Portal: By manipulating Ectoplasm energies, The Host can project his consciousness onto the astral plane, allowing him to manifest and communicate without being physically present and create portals, using the astral plane to move to other places the Host has marked spiritually.
Vaguely, he understood the new addition, with the system affording him an intricate knowledge of utilizing his abilities.
Haunting a place meant he would leave ectoplasm behind that was linked to him. He noticed the additional abilities weren't considered mutant-related, highlighting the uniqueness of his physiology.
The world before had changed, at least to his senses; it was as if he had blinders on and had finally taken them off. His vision was sharper, making the world look more natural. Supernatural senses, indeed.
He didn't even want to mention the colors, afraid to lead down that thought path; everyone without supernatural had been done a disservice. Speaking about vision, he still had his bionic eye project to finalize.
The commotion in the vicinity had been intense since his blood-curdling scream, which had tossed out a stealthier option. Sounds emanating from the mobster might as well have been said near his ear. Each footfall they made gave away their location, the beat of the heartbeat.
Cole snorted in derision. He stretched outward, puncturing the transformative cacoon. The remnants of the cacoon flowed up his body. He stood admiring his newfound strength. Intricately noting only about five minutes had passed in the waking world.
He breathed out, his breath chilling the air. He had attributes now akin to a ghost. The ectokinesis description was vague and still limited, which meant he didn't have all the knowledge of the ability he could discern and had numerous applications.
[Limited] Ectokinesis: The user can create, shape, and manipulate an energy unique to spirits/ghosts.
Cole studied himself.
He hadn't been wholly enshrouded in ectoplasmic armor, unlike the astral plane, he had a limited amount; at least he had a lot more than a regular person being as he was more than just one soul, and he could feel the Lazarus pit substance, which was a more obscure version of ectoplasm had been opened to his manipulation.
[Limited] Transformation: Originally, when Daniel and Kurt's ghost merge, Daniel's body becomes covered in ectoplasm that gives him various superhuman abilities; because of the unique nature of the Host, this transformation involves all personas, significantly increasing Haunt's parameters.
The ectoplasm suit pulled back at his beckoning and formed entirely on his hands and feet, giving him the majority of white, black gloves and boots with a sickly green spiral on the back of his hand, which ended in wicked pitched claws.
[0] Claws: Haunt has razor-sharp claws on each finger that can easily decapitate enemies.
They aggressively searched the warehouse for the intruder; the mobster had discovered the missing woman.
A smile stretched across his face as he raised his arm, sending out a white tendril of ectoplasm that stuck to the wall; he pulled himself up effortlessly.
[Limited] Metamorphosis: Haunt can manipulate his ectoplasm to create tentacles, cobwebs, spikes, blades, and other appendages.
He observed the gang leader being secured by the two familiar Russians; the taller man still poked at his mind. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought to keep boas on her, assuming he had her cornered. This mission became increasingly annoying, with many variables in and around him.
Bang!
A gunshot went off. Cole paused, his head shifted to the area the noise came from
Kristy Watson, the news reporter, had shot at one of her captures. He was thankful the Russian mobsters hadn't returned fire, protecting their merchandise.
Adhesions: Haunt can stick on walls.
Cole crawled alongside the ceiling suspended over the heads of the mobsters as he made his way toward the gunshot.
Cole removed his hands from the ceiling as he stood vertically. He browsed the shop and quickly purchased, adding better situational gear to his already broad arsenal.
'Batman's persona would have likely been too fortunate to have attained.' He thought, a smile spreading across his face.
Cole had purchased bat-darts. Ignoring the horrible naming sense of the Bat, the fast-acting bat-shaped tranquilizer was used religiously during Batman operations in Gotham City.
He removed the darts with intricate knowledge of how to use them—the fast-acting tranquilizing would allow Cole to knock out his enemies instantly.
He went through the warehouse methodically and stealthily, knocking out the mobster with the tranquilizers. He thought he had come a long way, as he hadn't had the impulse to kill.
His rage was shackled under the suppression of the lantern ring, a ring he no longer had. He did have his connection and would retrieve it once he was done with this operation.
He fell to the ground, the lone mobster oblivious to the enemy behind him. Cole reached out and snatched the man up by his nape.
Cole was about to speak but halted as another authority collided with the psionic walls that protected his mind.
Cole groaned, blood leaking from his nostrils. He spared a small measure of his attention to what had slammed into his mind.
He blinked, the mobster gagged and flailed uselessly in his iron-like grip.
"Dormammu," he said.
The bastard had tried to taint him through the connection of the ring. But the dimensional lord had face-planted against his mental shields, which he assumed came from the system.
He focused on the lantern ring, aiming to recall it, not wanting to risk the immensely powerful being another shot at him; he had faith in the system, but extra-dimensional beings weren't to be trifled with.
System message: The Host has defended against an extra-dimensional being—Reward: Red Lantern Corps Mantle.
Astounded at the prompt that appeared, Cole accidentally choked out the mobster, his body going limp in his powerful grasp. He dropped the man to the ground and moved toward the noise.
Red Lantern Corps Mantle had allowed him to create his red lantern corps. He stopped his recall and unlocked the ring. Kaecillus had become his first Lantern, arguably the first of the Marvel Universe.
He had a telepathic connection to the Master of the Mystic Arts. He didn't mince words with the man who cut his hand off, even if the former sorcerer's avaricious nature allowed a smoother escape for him.
Red Hood: Bullseye, Location?
Cole sent the messages; there were more mobsters than he cared to deal with; he was glad the Purpleman was dead; the rapist's actions had convoluted a simple operation.
Bullseye: Here. Looks like you got your hands full.
Red Hood: I do. Engaged the Russian Mafia.
Firestar: I'm on overwatch. X men haven't located you yet, but they are narrowing down your location with the two teleporters. One can separate his body parts—weird af.
I could use her here, but her psychological trauma still affects her. He wondered about Emma Frost momentarily. Hopefully, she can assist him in getting her over those hurdles.
Red Hood: Great. Okay, guys. Let's get this done and out. I don't want to tangle with the X-men.
"Comrade, I seem to be lost. Could you show me the way to the crime bosses?" I spoke Russain mockingly, landing behind an armed mobster.
The Russian mobster surprisingly rolled forward and came to his feet facing me and immediately answered with a hail of high-caliber bullets. They slammed into my dark pullover, shredding the standard material.
I was still under the guise of Jason Todd not giving out as many details about myself as possible; Red Hood wouldn't be here tonight. My enhanced skin, musculature, and bone structure had grown after the new Persona, and the bullets flattened, falling to the floor.
His new abilities would separate him from his first Persona, even if his fighting techniques might be similar, especially with gadgetry usage.
I quirked an eyebrow. "That was almost a waste of bullets."
"Mutant!" He cried out, then began to lift his high-powered rifle to waste more bullets again.
He scowled at the name, which came out as a slur. Cole pushed off the ground, slapping the rifle and the man to the ground. The mobster roared in anguish.
'Jesus,' he exclaimed inwardly. He had used too much strength. His casual slap had deformed the rifle and shattered the man's wrist.
Measuredly, Cole kicked the man's head back, knocking him unconscious.
Another mobster rushed around the corner and opened fire. Cole acted out of muscle memory and then skill and raised his hand; ectoplasm shot out, enrapturing them, man. The breath left him, and he dropped the gun, which clattered, making more noise; his hands hung loosely to his sides.
Cole recalled his ability and studied the man. Who was almost blue, like he had frozen; no doubt the ectokinesis was bottled and packed power.
The third mobster was already pulling the trigger when I pushed from his compatriot hypothermic body.
He leaped forward, disregarding the bullets, which had been useless before due to his healing factor, but now we're a waste of resources against him.
He grabbed the man by his face, lifting him from the ground, the ectoplasmic gloves eliciting horrid screams from the brutal mobster. Cole hadn't stopped. He mowed down the mobsters in his vicinity.
He left the ground tilted forward, sailing
across the floor with his newfound power. He flew towards the mobster with a smile that promised pain.
"Fall back! He's one of those fucking Mutants!"
The mob boss said in Russian, hurrying back through the door...
“Anatoly Ranskahov.."
Cole's words were cut off as another goon occupied the entryway. The pale blonde Russian, who seemed so familiar...
"Another weak mutant with paltry powers." Spat the tall blonde Russian.
Metallic Tentacles exploded from his sleeves, hitting Cole In the chest. Cole was flung backward, his hoodie shredding as he skidded across the ground before abruptly stopping against a sturdy metallic pillar.
Cole stood, ripping the hoodie off. He coughed a coppery taste in his mouth, which made him return a bloody smile to his attacker.
"Thank you." He said, stepping toward the mutant. He had felt he had made it, and there were still people out in the world who would decimate him in a fight.
"You survive? I'm death; you will die slowly; none stand against.."
Cole hadn't the time. He launched from the ground, his haunt suit flowing over him, long claws extending from his hands more akin to Lady Deathstroke than Wolverine.
"I know you, Omega Red." Cole slammed into the mutant with similar, if not more incredible, but limited abilities than Logan.
Jean Grey hadn't ever pushed herself to such an extreme, not even during her training with the professor or on other missions; she could hardly believe her psionic powers had been taxed to such a degree.
Giddiness was an understatement; she was excited, pumped full of adrenaline at the prospect of discovering more and more about this mutant.
'Jean, don't let your guard down,' the professor said telepathically. Once again, reading her mind.
She had once believed him when the professor claimed he lacked the finer control she innately possessed. Jean knew it was a ruse, but she couldn't understand why the man would lie to her.
Xavier was an Omega-level telepathy. He chose to read the surface thoughts of those around him.
Jean bristled at needless reprimand. Jean stamped down on her psionic shields. Ironically, the Red Hood's insane ability to perceive every psionic scry had pushed her insight further into telepathic shielding than in all the years she trained with the professor.
Charles Xavier and his students had been brought along under his long-time friend power—the Master of Magnetism. The blackbird had been damaged beyond repair in their brief fight.
Magneto hadn't been idle; he had directed his mutants to search for the vigilante. Outside of a few tensed words, his long-time friend had been quiet, and Xavier couldn't read his mind with the helm protecting him.
The tense ceasefire could end at any moment, each group carrying its agenda. Professor X had wanted to understand the newly awakened mutant and get a sense of where he was mentally; if he was a threat, it fell to him and the X-men to neutralize him, which meant bringing him in.
The only problem was that Xavier had learned the mutants they captured were being used as test subjects for countless research departments.
On the other hand, Magneto wanted the new mutant who had been single-handedly decimating the underworld. The most bizarre point of contention was the tech he had fielded.
'Could the potential omega be similar mind and proclivities to Hank Mccoy? Or was someone else supplying him? Erik Magnus Lehnsherr had lived a long time and been at war since childhood; in his experience, caution was vital.
Cole Stephens
As Cole opened his eyes, he saw that he had returned to the warehouse, where his body remained entrapped in an ectoplasmic cocoon.
Inside the ectoplasmic sack, curled in a fetal position, a bio-electric current pulsed alongside the inside, synchronizing with his pulse.
Kaecilius' appearance had allowed him to escape using his new persona ability. Marking a place meant he would, in theory, haunt it for the rest of his life.
He recalled that most Marvel teleporters moved around through another dimension, even if unaware of that minor quirk of their power.
He couldn't teleport, at least not traditionally, though. His ability was more intertwined with astral projection, and a secondary function of that was he could create a portal to the astral plane, which was a spiritual place for disembodied entities; the dimension was entirely made up of ectoplasm, the same ability he could now manipulate with a thought.
Astral Projection Portal: By manipulating Ectoplasm energies, The Host can project his consciousness onto the astral plane, allowing him to manifest and communicate without being physically present and create portals, using the astral plane to move to other places the Host has marked spiritually.
Vaguely, he understood the new addition, with the system affording him an intricate knowledge of utilizing his abilities.
Haunting a place meant he would leave ectoplasm behind that was linked to him. He noticed the additional abilities weren't considered mutant-related, highlighting the uniqueness of his physiology.
The world before had changed, at least to his senses; it was as if he had blinders on and had finally taken them off. His vision was sharper, making the world look more natural. Supernatural senses, indeed.
He didn't even want to mention the colors, afraid to lead down that thought path; everyone without supernatural had been done a disservice. Speaking about vision, he still had his bionic eye project to finalize.
The commotion in the vicinity had been intense since his blood-curdling scream, which had tossed out a stealthier option. Sounds emanating from the mobster might as well have been said near his ear. Each footfall they made gave away their location, the beat of the heartbeat.
Cole snorted in derision. He stretched outward, puncturing the transformative cacoon. The remnants of the cacoon flowed up his body. He stood admiring his newfound strength. Intricately noting only about five minutes had passed in the waking world.
He breathed out, his breath chilling the air. He had attributes now akin to a ghost. The ectokinesis description was vague and still limited, which meant he didn't have all the knowledge of the ability he could discern and had numerous applications.
[Limited] Ectokinesis: The user can create, shape, and manipulate an energy unique to spirits/ghosts.
Cole studied himself.
He hadn't been wholly enshrouded in ectoplasmic armor, unlike the astral plane, he had a limited amount; at least he had a lot more than a regular person being as he was more than just one soul, and he could feel the Lazarus pit substance, which was a more obscure version of ectoplasm had been opened to his manipulation.
[Limited] Transformation: Originally, when Daniel and Kurt's ghost merge, Daniel's body becomes covered in ectoplasm that gives him various superhuman abilities; because of the unique nature of the Host, this transformation involves all personas, significantly increasing Haunt's parameters.
The ectoplasm suit pulled back at his beckoning and formed entirely on his hands and feet, giving him the majority of white, black gloves and boots with a sickly green spiral on the back of his hand, which ended in wicked pitched claws.
[0] Claws: Haunt has razor-sharp claws on each finger that can easily decapitate enemies.
They aggressively searched the warehouse for the intruder; the mobster had discovered the missing woman.
A smile stretched across his face as he raised his arm, sending out a white tendril of ectoplasm that stuck to the wall; he pulled himself up effortlessly.
[Limited] Metamorphosis: Haunt can manipulate his ectoplasm to create tentacles, cobwebs, spikes, blades, and other appendages.
He observed the gang leader being secured by the two familiar Russians; the taller man still poked at his mind. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought to keep boas on her, assuming he had her cornered. This mission became increasingly annoying, with many variables in and around him.
Bang!
A gunshot went off. Cole paused, his head shifted to the area the noise came from
Kristy Watson, the news reporter, had shot at one of her captures. He was thankful the Russian mobsters hadn't returned fire, protecting their merchandise.
Adhesions: Haunt can stick on walls.
Cole crawled alongside the ceiling suspended over the heads of the mobsters as he made his way toward the gunshot.
Cole removed his hands from the ceiling as he stood vertically. He browsed the shop and quickly purchased, adding better situational gear to his already broad arsenal.
'Batman's persona would have likely been too fortunate to have attained.' He thought, a smile spreading across his face.
Cole had purchased bat-darts. Ignoring the horrible naming sense of the Bat, the fast-acting bat-shaped tranquilizer was used religiously during Batman operations in Gotham City.
He removed the darts with intricate knowledge of how to use them—the fast-acting tranquilizing would allow Cole to knock out his enemies instantly.
He went through the warehouse methodically and stealthily, knocking out the mobster with the tranquilizers. He thought he had come a long way, as he hadn't had the impulse to kill.
His rage was shackled under the suppression of the lantern ring, a ring he no longer had. He did have his connection and would retrieve it once he was done with this operation.
He fell to the ground, the lone mobster oblivious to the enemy behind him. Cole reached out and snatched the man up by his nape.
Cole was about to speak but halted as another authority collided with the psionic walls that protected his mind.
Cole groaned, blood leaking from his nostrils. He spared a small measure of his attention to what had slammed into his mind.
He blinked, the mobster gagged and flailed uselessly in his iron-like grip.
"Dormammu," he said.
The bastard had tried to taint him through the connection of the ring. But the dimensional lord had face-planted against his mental shields, which he assumed came from the system.
He focused on the lantern ring, aiming to recall it, not wanting to risk the immensely powerful being another shot at him; he had faith in the system, but extra-dimensional beings weren't to be trifled with.
System message: The Host has defended against an extra-dimensional being—Reward: Red Lantern Corps Mantle.
Astounded at the prompt that appeared, Cole accidentally choked out the mobster, his body going limp in his powerful grasp. He dropped the man to the ground and moved toward the noise.
Red Lantern Corps Mantle had allowed him to create his red lantern corps. He stopped his recall and unlocked the ring. Kaecillus had become his first Lantern, arguably the first of the Marvel Universe.
He had a telepathic connection to the Master of the Mystic Arts. He didn't mince words with the man who cut his hand off, even if the former sorcerer's avaricious nature allowed a smoother escape for him.
Red Hood: Bullseye, Location?
Cole sent the messages; there were more mobsters than he cared to deal with; he was glad the Purpleman was dead; the rapist's actions had convoluted a simple operation.
Bullseye: Here. Looks like you got your hands full.
Red Hood: I do. Engaged the Russian Mafia.
Firestar: I'm on overwatch. X men haven't located you yet, but they are narrowing down your location with the two teleporters. One can separate his body parts—weird af.
I could use her here, but her psychological trauma still affects her. He wondered about Emma Frost momentarily. Hopefully, she can assist him in getting her over those hurdles.
Red Hood: Great. Okay, guys. Let's get this done and out. I don't want to tangle with the X-men.
"Comrade, I seem to be lost. Could you show me the way to the crime bosses?" I spoke Russain mockingly, landing behind an armed mobster.
The Russian mobster surprisingly rolled forward and came to his feet facing me and immediately answered with a hail of high-caliber bullets. They slammed into my dark pullover, shredding the standard material.
I was still under the guise of Jason Todd not giving out as many details about myself as possible; Red Hood wouldn't be here tonight. My enhanced skin, musculature, and bone structure had grown after the new Persona, and the bullets flattened, falling to the floor.
His new abilities would separate him from his first Persona, even if his fighting techniques might be similar, especially with gadgetry usage.
I quirked an eyebrow. "That was almost a waste of bullets."
"Mutant!" He cried out, then began to lift his high-powered rifle to waste more bullets again.
He scowled at the name, which came out as a slur. Cole pushed off the ground, slapping the rifle and the man to the ground. The mobster roared in anguish.
'Jesus,' he exclaimed inwardly. He had used too much strength. His casual slap had deformed the rifle and shattered the man's wrist.
Measuredly, Cole kicked the man's head back, knocking him unconscious.
Another mobster rushed around the corner and opened fire. Cole acted out of muscle memory and then skill and raised his hand; ectoplasm shot out, enrapturing them, man. The breath left him, and he dropped the gun, which clattered, making more noise; his hands hung loosely to his sides.
Cole recalled his ability and studied the man. Who was almost blue, like he had frozen; no doubt the ectokinesis was bottled and packed power.
The third mobster was already pulling the trigger when I pushed from his compatriot hypothermic body.
He leaped forward, disregarding the bullets, which had been useless before due to his healing factor, but now we're a waste of resources against him.
He grabbed the man by his face, lifting him from the ground, the ectoplasmic gloves eliciting horrid screams from the brutal mobster. Cole hadn't stopped. He mowed down the mobsters in his vicinity.
He left the ground tilted forward, sailing
across the floor with his newfound power. He flew towards the mobster with a smile that promised pain.
"Fall back! He's one of those fucking Mutants!"
The mob boss said in Russian, hurrying back through the door...
“Anatoly Ranskahov.."
Cole's words were cut off as another goon occupied the entryway. The pale blonde Russian, who seemed so familiar...
"Another weak mutant with paltry powers." Spat the tall blonde Russian.
Metallic Tentacles exploded from his sleeves, hitting Cole In the chest. Cole was flung backward, his hoodie shredding as he skidded across the ground before abruptly stopping against a sturdy metallic pillar.
Cole stood, ripping the hoodie off. He coughed a coppery taste in his mouth, which made him return a bloody smile to his attacker.
"Thank you." He said, stepping toward the mutant. He had felt he had made it, and there were still people out in the world who would decimate him in a fight.
"You survive? I'm death; you will die slowly; none stand against.."
Cole hadn't the time. He launched from the ground, his haunt suit flowing over him, long claws extending from his hands more akin to Lady Deathstroke than Wolverine.
"I know you, Omega Red." Cole slammed into the mutant with similar, if not more incredible, but limited abilities than Logan.
