|Birth||June 10, 2024|
|PC | OC|
Carole Dembele is a precog and probability manipulator, a former Xavier Student and X-Man, and current X-Factor contractor with dreams of music stardom. Ah well, she's got her day job.
Playful, creative, cheerful, shalalala live-for-today, impulsive and peaceful at the same time. Sort of gal who never plans, but readily accepts where the river takes her.
If it hadn't been for that train crash, Carole'd still be in Abidjan.
If it hadn't been for . . . buckle up. This is a long story.
In 2022, an entity known as Jamie Madrox, a hive mind/duplicator/personification of a squabble was on a mission for X-Force in Abidjan. The details are unimportant, save that the mission turned violent, save that a duplicate was catastrophically injured. On his own request (he asserts), he was left behind, left to recuperate in a local hospital.
He recuperated to a point. His creche funded the prosthetic for the lower half of his left leg, funded the reattachment of a finger, the healing of broken bones, the pinning of worse broken bones, the reconstruction of his jaw. He made do with a glass eye.
Fortunately, he had a friend. One of X-Force's contacts, activist and telepath Adwoa Dembele. He got out of the hospital, took on a new name (Abel Albarino), they ended up married, somehow.
And then came Carole.
It was a stupid train crash. Bad luck. That was probably Carole's fault. Some days, she carries bad luck with her like a dangle off her ponytail. They were going to replace the old train and the old tracks with a hover train or something. The old stuff was already mostly replaced. There was just, like, fifty miles left of track and Carole and her parents and her little brother were a few of the passengers invited for the Last Ride.
Fifty miles. Just a stupid commemorative thing. Carole was 14. She knew she was a mutant, and not just because her parents were (far as her dad counted; is being some guy's clone even a power?), but her only experience was a handful of visions that came through, an ability to make coin flips always work out in her favor. Something went wrong with the train. It derailed, barreling skiwompusly toward the skyscrapers and everyone was going to die.
Crash was bad. Worse than it should've been. Far as injuries, far as deaths. But Carole and her family, miraculously unharmed. Dad's prosthetic wasn't even dented. People in the seats behind them, next to them, ahead of them. Didn't get off so lucky.
Week after that, she was on the plane to New York City. To Xavier's school.
Carole was in the X-Men all of six months before it disbanded. Hope you don't mind a bit of a hop ahead, there. Six months. Largely a support role. Skulk around, set up favorable environments with the careful application of just a little probability, provide some light buffs to accuracy, make a couple of bad guys slip. You know.
Dad'd disapproved pretty hard of her being in the X-Men at all. But he was always like that. While Mom thought Carole still had a lot to learn about controlling herself and her powers; if in a combat situation, so be it.
In New York City? Being a mutant was getting worse. She did get a rush out of being part of the X-Men. It made her feel important. The training made her feel strong. She was pretty great at Judo and a decent shot (not that she'd ever actually shot anyone, just-in-casing in the ranges, but she'd been around gunfire, sure). She'd figured out how to synch her in-the-moment precog impressions with an actual fighting style. She was pretty cool. And she still had time for her own stuff: her guitar and her songs.
She was a bit at a loss when the X-Men had to disband. Felt vulnerable. Going home felt like quitting, so X-Factor was the only natural next step. Seemed like a less controlled environment, though, and the less controlled the environment, the less controlled she'd be.
Worth the chance.