2014.01.29 - Unfriendly Air

The adept shapeshifter can become whomever they'd like to be. Some may even become -what-ever they'd like to be. Mystique can go anywhere, become virtually anything, infect the system from the outside in and the inside out at the same time.
The thing that she can't do is instantaneous travel. Flying's a real bitch. It's a shame that her son never got his head out from under his blessed, righteous little blue tail.
All in good time. Either that or she'll just tap into the Brotherhood's resources again, though for the time being she'd rather keep them at arm's length where certain Asgardian matters are concerned. The Brotherhood will be best served staying within the realms of its skill and power levels.
So, yeah. Flying. On a jet. Booo-ring. But, that's all about to change. She's back, ready for more mischief and underhanded hijinx.
Way to make things just a little more difficult there, shapeshifter.
Loki is -not- on that particular flight, remarkably. Well, in a manner of speaking, anyway.
It takes the Asgardian a little more time to work out exactly where Mystique is, but when he does?
Settled in a small, partially rebuilt house in an undisclosed locale by a fire, Loki bows his head as if in the attitude of prayer. All about him fades, and to any that may come across him, they'd see him as simply a body that hasn't yet fallen. Breathing is shallow, and there is no indication that there is any awareness of his physical surroundings. There isn't.
What there is, however, is the image of an Asgardian Warrior that simply blinks in into First Class adorned in full armour, including the horned helm. Gold and green are his colours, with his long green cape hanging from his shoulders. No one else in the smaller compartment appear to notice him at all.
"Mystique," is spoken without seeming regard for any who may hear, "I've found you."
If not for the sound of that voice, Mystique would be prepping a weapon in the very instant that contact is made. There's any number of several thousand that would risk their entire career, fortune, and family just to have a chance at being the one to back her into a corner. Fortunately, this individual doesn't happen to be one of them.
Nondescript brown eyes slowly open, the mutant 'rousing' from a faux nap. "Is there a rush?"
He could have called, or waited, or sent a bloody text... But no. He has to go for the might and magic approach.
The woman barely shifts as she draws one of her legs up onto the seat beside her, arms loosely draping around the top of her foot as she leans forward, chin hovering over her knee. Tired. Amused. Playful. Bored. "They say patience is a virtue, or did you find me in order to tell me that I've won another all expenses paid trip to some other remote locale?"
The Asgardian isn't known for using telephones, much less texting. Magic is what he knows, and he knows it well.
"I don't have time for patience," comes as a clipped response. Loki looks serious in the armour, his manner and mien one of pure business. "Circumstances change rapidly, as you may well understand. Fortunes and such. Now is the time I have alloted for this, and now it shall be."
In the next second, however, the God of Chaos smiles, his tones almost a rumbled purr, they're so quiet. "I've gained the attention of the Avengers, if you must know. And I may enlist your aid on a task that may be more important as the days wear on."
But!
Loki looks now expectantly at her, his brows rising in anticipation, "Tell me you were successful."
"Circumstances change rapidly, yet we are nearly immortal," Mystique counters in a sleepy sounding lilt. "But, if you insist on rushing the matter for your prize..."
The Avengers, hmm? Her help? Some of the weariness dissipates from her expression, replaced with interest. Now -this- concept doesn't sound quite so boring to her. Enter the proverbial carrot, left dangling just outside of reach.
Loki's a manipulative sort. But, so is Raven. She knows his plays. It doesn't take a god to comprehend them and identify them from half of a planet away.
"After a fashion," she replies while lacing her fingers together, one hand on top of the other, so that she can stretch them out in front of herself and examine all ten nails in one pass. "Information was fleeting, but I've made the most of it. Some of SHIELD's best and brightest have been sent on a rabbit chase," she says with a thin smirk of amusement, shifting her gaze to look back at the projection with a canted head. "All that's left is to see where they go."
Based on her own intel she's made an educated guess, which happens to be where she's currently headed.
As Mystique comes to full wakefulness, Loki stares, watching her, his expression shifting towards a scowl.
Impertinance! Still, he'll get what he needs, and it'll take as long as it needs. Until then, this is an alliance from which more good than not can come, and he's willing to spend the time. That's not to mention the -mutant- herself is interesting.
"Really." There's a touch of interest that tinges that word, if not a little pleasure at the mention of SHIELD. "Perfect." Just... perfect.
"My side task, and this may well go hand in hand with your successes is to frame someone with prodigious ability such that they are taken by Director Fury and placed in their custody. There is a single cell in the center of their ship. It requires an occupant."
"Really," she easily replies, fingers curling under until her hands are fully woven together. The matter of things being 'perfect' isn't commented on, though the smug expression about her should say it all. 'I know I am.'
Ah, yes. Mystique is all too familiar with this single cell aboard the helicarrier. It had contained her for several hours at one point. Talk about a high vanity prison, cylindrical and perfectly transparent. An exhibitionist's dream.
"And so we find where best to plant the seed then stand well clear of the bloom," she says with a typical sense of low-end harmony playing along within her tone. In this case 'bloom' may well mean 'explosion,' which she'd certainly enjoy. "I'm sure we can discover someone in need of an extended vacation."
"Oh, I'm sure we can," is given with some enthusiasm, though he does keep his tones lowered now. The image of the Asgardian Prince begins to pace as he makes the attempt to collect his thoughts. "I only truly know of the Avengers. A few pathetic heroes here and there; nameless, all of them. Here," and there is a pause to his pacing as he shifts his visage to the side to look back at the shapeshifter. "This is where you can step in." Once the timing is right, of course.
But somehow, Loki doesn't feel the need to add that last bit. Not to her.
"Yes." Though now, the thought of her chasing after those SHIELDs intrigues him. Loki's going to track her once the plane lands. "I want to know when you land." And that will give him a 'where', obviously.
Of course, Mystique's not going to bother sharing what she happens to know about those cells in question. She wouldn't be at all surprised if Loki had her take the fall at some point and end up right back inside of one. That she's been there, that she knows what it takes to break out of them, that's all her little secret.
Granted, she -did- have some considerable help breaking out of the last one. That part's also a secret.
"There are times where I feel that you enjoy keeping me on a leash a little..too..much," the metamorph teases. "You will have your information." In the interest of coordinating their approach, and all. She doesn't want him screwing up her operation, gods know if she fails at any of this she -will- get caught. If not from this then from a laundry list of past felonies and treasons longer than both of her arms.
Ah, but Loki's spent time in there as well. Not that he'll say, but the fact that the Asgardian knows it exists and how good it is in keeping one in? Could be personal experience, certainly.
Yet here he is.
"Ah, I do. I would be happy that I'm not letting it out, expecting you to hang yourself with it." Though Loki's tones drop, "And you look so lovely in it too," is added. Straightening, the exiled Prince looks every inch that royal, and he inclines his head. "Good. I will be expecting it."
There is a lingering moment of silence as the figure regards her, and in the next second, the image simply blinks out. There, and gone. He's fully expecting her to do her part, just as he expects others to do theirs.
Thousands of miles away, that still figure shudders a moment as if a sudden chill grips it, and blinking his eyes, Loki becomes aware of his surroundings slowly. As the fire dances before him, his hands rise to take its warmth. "This is better than I'd hoped," is whispered into the silence of the room.
"Only a fool gets entangled within their own lead," Mystique remarks. "Well, fools and terriers, but I digress. I -always- look lovely."
When Loki says he'll be expecting it, the mutant slowly kisses the air in the direction of his projection. 'See you soon, dearest.'
When the image vanishes she lets her raised leg dip back down to the floor, stretching out as she settles back into her seat and closes her eyes once more.
Good things come to those who wait. Better things come to those who wait and plan ahead.
Category:Log