OMEGA STORY ARC

STORY SUMMARY: As the governments of the world developed their teams of powerful Alpha-level mutant supersoldiers, international espionage and law enforcement organization SHIELD recruited its own: Omega-level mutants. Omegas are so rare, even Charles Xavier isn't sure if they really exist. But they do. Their lives are about to become intertwined with the X-Men's.

DISCLAIMERS: All characters and organizations (with the exception of small, mostly unnamed minor characters) throughout the series are the product of Marvel.

CANONICAL NOTES: This story arc utilizes movieverse canon for events, beginning with X1 and following through the events of X2 and X3, but ignoring the events of Wolverine: Origins (XO). The story is, however, AU due to large changes to the ages and events in the lives of several characters. Story diverges from canon almost immediately and will be less and less like the movies the further it goes along. The story utilizes comicverse canon for characters and powers. SHIELD diverges from canon, but is largely drawn from comicverse. The Weapon X Program will be based on comicverse canon, as a department of the Canadian government.

LANGUAGE AND ACCENTS: Cajun French is courtesy of Heavenmetal (many thanks). I will attempt to reproduce accents in this story arc.


Going Omega

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Story Summary: A team of omega-level mutant teens, SHIELD operations, and a shape-shifting traitor. Target: Rogue.

Canonical Notes: Set during and immediately following the events of X1. AU

Acknowledgements: The title for this fic is courtesy of Ligeila in a review for Son o' de Guild. I loved the phrase so much that I was granted permission to use it as a story title. Many thanks.

Author's Note: You can all hate me later for posting yet another story. Several new updates are halfway through and one is out to beta. I'll post something you were waiting for within a day or two. Promise.


Prologue: The Huntress

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She is a huntress, a survivor, a fighter.

A sage.

She has a memorable kind of face, clean, distinguished, European. Her forehead is high, her eyes a clear blue, nose very straight, cheekbones pronounced, jaw strong. The skin is pale ivory, eyelashes sooty, and her hair a deep black rippling across her bare shoulders. The dark blouse she wears covers her neatly in svelte lines and goes nicely with her black, pleated slacks and high-heeled black boots. A young woman, maybe twenties, utterly professional as she coolly appraises the train station's milieu, seething in and out to get their tickets, greet their loved ones, and catch their trains.

She has played the huntress before.

A hooded figure, long, long coat, long gloves in the suffocating, humid heat of a Mississippi summer glides across her frame of view. The person stops, hesitant, looking this way and that. The face is that of a young, frightened teenage girl, long brown hair framing her face. She seems hot and her forehead's pinched with worry. She goes up to buy a ticket.

The huntress watches, notes the color of the slip of paper the girl receives. One way.

People seethe in, seethe out, buy tickets, greet loved ones, catch trains. The girl climbs into a train bound for Detroit, Michigan. The young woman, so professional, sets aside her coffee and her newspaper and gets up off the hard bench where she was sitting. She goes to greet a young man with thick auburn hair falling to his shoulders and into his eyes, wearing dark sunglasses, a long brown duster. A five o'clock shadow dusts his handsome, angular features. She slides one arm beneath his coat and pulls him close. He kisses her hair.

A nice young couple.

She tucks her head against his shoulder and they walk out together. So nice. So young. So professional.

She is a huntress, a survivor, a fighter.

A sage.