2012-07-27 How to Make Pietro Crabby.

"Yeah. That's what I told them! I know, right? Bunch of idiots." Quicksilver is still apparently on monitor duty, given his seated position in front of a monitor. However, he only remains stationary for a few seconds at a time. Every monitor in the room gets equal attention, as he zips about the room. Strapped to his head is some sort of bluetooth headset, albeit one that looks like it was designed for a jet fighter pilot. Into this headset, he yaks with Persons Unknown, occasionally breaking out into subdued laughter. "Wow. You're an animal. I actually used you as an example yesterday when I was talking to this new recruit. What? Oh... he's a total moron, but you take what you can get..." He zips out of the room again, and when he returns, he's holding a 2 liter soda.
Mystique found that with someone like Quicksilver, it was hard to keep up with them - or even keep a handle on what they were doing. While here in the base, she preferred her more natural form - cobalt blue skin, glowing yellow eyes, crimson red hair and lips - with a little skull in the center of her forehead, for flavor. That part wasn't natural, but she liked it. And so, in the doorway of the monitor room - a handful of seconds after his reappearance with the soda, Raven Darkholme appears, taking a moment to cooly look over Pietro. Before she smiles, sweetly, "Pietro - do you have a moment?" she asks, in the firm tone of voice that suggests that she wasn't feeling as polite as her words were.
"Hang on Bro. Actually, let me call you back." Quicksilver's head snaps in Mystique's direction and then back towards the monitor with such speed that it could easily go without notice. "Later." Having finished up with his call, he turns around in his chair, giving the semi-scary blue woman his undivided attention. Well, only partially divided: he's got to leave enough attention for his soda. He opens up the cap and tosses it across the room at the garbage can. Not /in/ the garbage can, but definitely at. "For you, Mystique, two moments."
Scary Mystique might be. It was rare for her to hang around other people so long. A little cant of her head to the side, and a little smile touches her lips as he hangs up the phone, stepping forward a bit. "Two moments? A lifetime for you. I feel honored," she says, with just the barest hint of cattiness, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "But I find myself curious. We're essentially growing a terrorist organization here; and one of our strengths is our ability to remain undetected by the authorities," she says, taking a casual stance, although her eyes were somewhat hard. "So I am very certain that you can explain to me why you were speaking with a news reporter, hmm?"
"Ha! She was so dumb! She's all 'Blah blah, newspapers don't suck, I made a good career choice...'" Quicksilver leans back in his chair, completely self-satisfied. "This was right after I did that bank grab. Whatever happened to that sack of money anyway?" Quicksilver's brow furrows as he tries to remember the events of a few days ago. He quickly loses interest in reliving his past, and shakes his head dismissively before taking a very long gulp from his family sized soda.
"That is another very excellent question that I hope you would have the answer to - perhaps you gave it to Magneto?" asks Mystique, a little cant of her head to the side. There was a faint veneer of frustration to her demeanor. Pietro was the most exhausting of her fellows to interact with, for her. She knew his heart was in the right place, but still. A beat, and she latches on a bit to his tangent, "Well; we'll see how she feels once the internet has strangled her job out of relevance. But still. Why are you being so public? Is this something that Magneto asked you to do? Do you have some grand plan?"
"Magneto didn't ask me to do anything. It's this thing called 'initiative.'" Quicksilver does a quick 360 degree spin in his chair, casting a glance at all of the monitors in the room. "Skulking in a basement doesn't do anything to further whatever Magneto's plan is. It's all about branding, getting the word out, setting things on fire, scaring a few humans, giving our oppressed brothers something to be excited about." Another long drink from his soda. Gotta keep the caloric intake up. "I'm not going around giving out directions to our secret base, if that's what you're worried about."
"Please; I doubt you would be that stupid, as well," Raven says, the woman bringing up a hand to draw a fingertip down her chin. She had narrowed eyes, a slight cant to her head, and a furrowed brow. Thoughtful. "Hmm. Branding," she says, as if mulling that thought around. "Although I think you may be wrong that we're skulking in a basement. We aren't all as... blessed as you are, with speed. Plans require time, and thought, and for the long term, I would trust Magento's plan to carry us through," she says, pursing her lips to the side. "I am not sure how I feel about your activities, however. I dislike them, but I tend to be the knife in the dark. Perhaps you can... 'brand' the Brotherhood, and be more public about it, hmm?"
"Too true... nobody is this blessed. It's cool though. Being the Fastest Man Alive is actually sort of a curse." Quicksilver's suddenly grim visage might actually convince someone of his earnestness if he's not careful. "It's actually harder to get on the news than you might think. I tried to set New York on fire yesterday, there were news crews and everything. But then some douchebags showed up and put my fire out. I think we might have to go bigger if we really want to make a statement." Another few gulps, the two liter is almost gone. "And we will need to make a statement, if we want mutants to flock to our cause. If that means I have to look pretty for the cameras and push people off a roof, I'm cool with it."
Mystique lets thought dance over her features again, before she nods her head, once, in a short, crisp fashion. "There will be such a thing as too large, I'd suspect. We don't want spectacle to be the only thing we are about, hmm? In the end, we have a purpose. And to fulfill that purpose, we do need large, public demonstrations to draw mutants. Just remember that it isn't our purpose just to light things on fire, and push people off of buildings, hmm?" she asks, canting her head just so to the side.
The lines of Quicksilver's mouth tighten, as if he might not have actually considered that some of the repercussions of his actions might be negative. But any thought that drifts through Quicksilver's mind is doomed to live a very short, uneventful life. He stares at Mystique for a few seconds, and nods his head a few times. "So... how are things in the basement? Got anything big coming up?" Mutant terrorist water cooler talk, always sort of awkward.
It /was/ fairly awkward, wasn't it? Mystique and Pietro never quite had the friendship that he and his sister might have, and she tended to keep to herself as a general rule. It was... unusual having a conversation without some hidden agenda. "Hmn. I am still concerned abuot that group of mutants that defeated Wanda and her group. How they knew she was going to be where she was, and when - and why she would be attacked by them. She believes that she can recruit some, and that may be true - but I am investigating that force as we speak," she says.
A concerned look quickly flashes across Quicksilver's face, which he covers up fairly well by doing another 360 degree monitor check. Apparently, all is well in Monitor Land. "Putting us in separate groups was a mistake. Wanda isn't ready to be in charge of her own cell, she needs to be where I can keep an eye on her." Whether Quicksilver's assessment of his sister can be chalked up to brotherly overprotectiveness or a sinister suspicion is anybody's guess that this point, but it's probably a bit of both. "I think I can probably help you out on that end. Why don't we set a trap for them, see what they're all about?"
For someone like Mystique, it was difficult to hide even a flash of a concerned look. "I wonder what Wanda thinks about that, I wonder?" says Mystique, her lips turning up in a suddenly smug smile, "But oh, I would not worry about her," Mystique says, a certain pause touching her. Another beat, and she grins - a slightly wicked grin, that tugs up the corner of her lips. "Evidently, she is dating one of them," she says, watching Pietro's expression when she delivers that little jab. As for the trap? "I'm not sure we need anything quite so... overt, just yet. I have my own ways of drawing them in, hmm? But you can be certain that when I do, your particular skills will be invaluable.
An uneasy chuckle. "That's ridiculous. She'd never betray us like that." Quicksilver places particular stress on the word 'us,' which makes it obvious that he really means 'me.' There is actually a flash of anger as he stares at Mystique, but he manages to keep the tone of his responses icy cold. "I'm sure when we take these human sympathizers out, Wanda will be more than happy to help us." He turns away from Mystique, and looks back at his monitors as if to signify that the conversation is over. "Then we can forget about these nasty rumors once and for all."
Mystique's own chuckle was a bit haughty. "When I spoke to her about it, she assured me it was just to help find new recruits, so do not worry about your dear sister," Mystique says, in the tone of voice that she was really aware of how this was affecting Pietro. "It was disappointing to hear of her defeat, but she may have advanced our cause in other ways," she says, that wicked smile still on her lips. "Of course. It was... enlightening to speak with you, Pietro. We'll see you later, hmm?" Mystique says, turning towards the door.
The infamously mercurial Quicksilver is too busy keeping his sudden flash of anger bottled to bother with giving Mystique any sort of acknowledgement. Suddenly, the monitor seems to be the most interesting thing in the entire world, and he glares at it as if he were trying to melt it with his brain. Suddenly, he taps the earpiece of his bulky headset: "Hey. It's Quicksilver. Get your gear ready, I need to go blow something up. Be there in ten." Apparently he meant ten seconds, because as soon as he puts the headset on the table, he's off with a rush of wind.
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