2012-07-23 To Live and Fight

Standing outside a rather rundown tenement building, Annetta pockets the business card. After casting one last, nervous glance at her surroundings, she takes a deep breath and pushes open the front door. Once inside, she travels down a narrow hallway; a single door stands at its end uninvitingly, but the number in brass matches the number on the card. The girl opens the door ajar and peeks inside to find a stark and meager office within.
"Ah, Miss Travers." Erik glances up from a heavy ledger, coming to his feet and giving the girl a courteous nod from the other side of the low, broad desk at which he is currently occupied. "How very wonderful to see you. I trust you found your way with little trouble?" He gestures, and the chair opposite him slides out obligingly. "Please have a seat, and forgive my rather spartan accommodations. Funding, as you might imagine, is somewhat hard to come by, these days."
Annetta frowns slightly, appearing taken aback to find Erik waiting for her. "It's fine," she says instead, taking the offered seat and wheeling it closer to the desk. She slings her messenger bag around to sit more comfortably and rests it on her lap. "I did some research on mutant rights activism and there really isn't much to go on. Nothing really substantial, anyway, so... I'm not really surprised that big names like Stark and Luthor aren't doing anything to fund you."
A derisive snort from the man greets this pronouncement, and he offers a curt, rueful nod. "The playing field is unbalanced, to be sure. I do what I am able, but mine is more akin to volunteer work, of late - and my staff? Tsch. Two fine individuals fighting the good fight for conviction and breadcrumbs." He shuts his ledger and sits once more, sliding the tome out of the way and steepling his fingers. "It is difficult," he admits, "but someone must stand for us, whether given the appropriate means or no."
"Just two? And yourself?" Annetta's brow furrows more deeply. "There has to be more than us around. I just met another mutant the other day, actually." She pauses abruptly and briefly glances over at Erik's ledger before turning her attention back to him. "I'm sorry, I must seem really ignorant. I don't really know much about mutant rights or what laws there are about it... Like I said, I did some research, but there just isn't anything useful. All the media does is sensationalize the most trivial things."
Erik Lehnsherr curls his lip in a contemptuous sneer. "Naturally," he scoffs. "Those who lobby against our kind do not know us, Miss Travers. I believe you alluded to your personal question - why birds?" He smiles gently, though it does not reflect in his eyes. "Our mutations are by nature unpredictable, you see. You have a way with birds, while others may pass through walls, or take on the appearance of others. Mutations are akin to snowflakes, and few are alike - but that matters not, you see? We are different, and therefore reprehensible. They fear what they do not understand, and therein lies the crux of the matter."
Annetta bites her lower lip as if to chew on his words. "That's so stupid," she finally says, her voice low and quiet, yet they ring clearly in the emptiness of the office. "We're just people. I had a mom and went to school like any other girl until..." As her voice trails, she clasps her hands together in her lap, but that does not stop them from trembling.
"Of course, dear." Erik leans back in his chair, voice a low drawl, deceptively calm and soothing. "We are no less deserving than anyone else, yet that does not stop those in power from stripping us of our liberties one by one." His eyes are shaded, and he regards Annetta with a cool stare. "We are each of us normal, save for our particular...gift, which presents itself on its own. A particular emotional jolt...a tragedy..."
The girl flinches and looks away at Erik's last words; outside, crows begin to gather on the window sill. Grief and fear and uncertainty are plain upon her face, all vying for dominance. Finally, however, Annetta looks back at the man seated across from her, her eyes wet but her cheeks dry. "My mother died," she admits, her voice cracking. "She was killed. Some burglar or thief broke in, wanted money... Mom tried to protect..." The girl stops herself, wipes her eyes with her sleeve, and takes a deep breath to steady herself. "The birds killed him before he could kill me, too. My birds. No one knows, but it's wildly suspicious and... I don't know... what if the police or the government thinks I'm too dangerous? But I'm not!" By her tone, she's almost begging Erik to believe her. "I'm really not!"
Erik frowns slightly, tugging out a handkerchief which he slides across the desk perfunctorily. "My condolences," he offers, having the grace to look abashed. "It was not my intent for you to revisit that." He ponders for a moment, mouth twisting in a show of weighing his words. "But you are, dear," he finally murmurs. "You are quite dangerous - or, more accurately, you have the potential to be quite dangerous, should you put your mind to it. You, of course, have no desire to - obviously - but many of our purported oppressors gauge threats on potential." He frowns. "That is, I fear, most disconcerting."
Uncertainly, Annetta takes the handkerchief and dabs at her eyes as she considers Erik's words. "How do you fight that?" she finally asks. "I don't want to be locked up because some idiot politicians think I could hurt random people, but I don't even know where to begin. My therapist says I can trust her but what if she turns me in? How do you know who to trust?"
"Better people than you and I have asked that question, my dear - some wrongly, as it turns out." The man stands, moving slowly around the desk. "It is, after a fashion, our own decision, as so many things. Do you stay among those who might turn you about and present you for perusal, little more than a specimen for inspection? I have lived in fear, young lady. It is not a route I would encourage you take." He comes alongside her, gazing down, a fatherly smile on his lips. "You may trust me," he murmurs, extending a hand. "My own parents - my daughter - lost to these monsters simply because they hate what they cannot comprehend." A touch of bitterness enters his tone at this, though it quickly clears. "I can protect you, and give you the means to keep such a fate from befalling others such as yourself, but it, as well, would have its own tribulations."
Despite Erik's soothing tone and gentle attitude, Annetta wavers. Her gaze travels between his outstretched hand and his fatherly smile, between the man and his ledger and the dismal conditions of the office. The crows outside begin to caw, however, more and more joining the chorus until each one is screaming. Seemingly drawing strength from their voices, the girl reaches out and accepts Erik's hand. "Okay," she says, meekly. She stands, her free hand clutching her bag tightly. "Okay," she says again, more boldly this time.
The man's blue eyes take a flinty edge, and he beams in satisfaction. With a click of his fingers, another man shimmers into view behind the reception desk - dark-skinned and youthful, he regards the other two with an impassive expression.
"Thank you. Mister Smith," Erik nods toward the man. "Forgive me, my dear, but I did wish to ensure that we would not be interrupted. Smith is one of my...associates, and will assist you with anything you might require." He slowly releases the girl's hand before taking a step backward, regarding her appraisingly.
"I am an activist, to be certain, but I have not been entirely truthful with you, of necessity. My name is Erik Lehnsherr, and I and others like me have seen the very real need to protect our very liberties. Politically, this is all but infeasible - should we play on their terms, they are perfectly capable of stopping us entirely." He retrieves his hat from a nearby rack and dons it smoothly. "We take a more active role in ensuring our safety."
Annetta jumps in shock as the other man abruptly appears, only refocusing her attention to Erik's words after he begins to move away. She continues to glance back nervously at the man named Smith, though he makes no move toward or against her. "You mentioned tribulations," the girl says to Erik after he finishes speaking. "What sort of things do you - we - actually do?"
Erik's expression turns somber for a moment, and he arches a single eyebrow at the girl's inquiry. "Why, my dear, have I not made it clear?" He glances to Smith, who cracks the faintest of smiles, mirrored in the older man's expression. "More...traditional means of negotiation are simple fallacies. Given the chance, the human race would attempt to crush us flat and remove any semblance of rights we ever managed to possess." He flicks a nonexistent speck of dust from his lapel. "Thus, we have taken matters into our own hands. We may only survive by exerting our own superiority - they will not listen to reason, for it is our nature, but were we to take power, peace would at last be had."
The girl blinks, taken aback by the choice of words, but only then does the realization dawn on her. "When you said 'fight,' you meant literally." Looking down at her shoes, she chews on her lip again. "I guess if I said no," she begins, slowly, clutching Erik's handkerchief against her chest, "I'd go back to living in fear all the time. My therapist, the hospital nurses, the insurance company who makes my life hell..." She raises her eyes and almost cracks a grin. "If I say no, I go back to a world where even the insurance company doesn't want me to live. Okay, then. What do you want me to do, Mr. Lehnsherr?"
A sharp bark of laughter issues forth from the older man, shoulders shaking in mirth. He holds out a hand, cane hovering up from its place near the door to meet it. "I want you to live, my dear," Erik grins, cane tapping against the floor as he moves to the doorway. "You have just been granted a new lease, and that in itself is cause for thanks." He nods to Smith, who exits silently. "In the meantime, you would do well to follow me - I believe there are a few matters to tend to, contingent upon this. After you, if you would," he gestures to the door; without, the sound of an engine revving breaks the otherwise telling silence of the building.
Annetta doesn't even blink at the cane's seemingly autonomous movement anymore. Adjusting the messenger bag around her body, she starts toward the door and holds it open for Erik. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, but what can you do? Your power, I mean?" she asks, glancing back into the room toward the chair that had so graciously rolled itself toward her when she'd first entered.
"Ah, nothing so extravagant," Erik grunts amiably, passing through the doorway with all the charm of a well-bred gentleman - a bit at odds with the current surroundings, but nonetheless. "I simply have a way with metal." He flicks a finger lazily, and the chair skitters across the floor, spinning, to stop abruptly at its original position. "As I mentioned, quite variable," he murmurs.
"Wow, that's really cool," the girl exclaims, her gaze lingering on the chair for a moment before she turns to follow Erik down the hall. "I guess I'll have to meet other mutants to find out just how variable powers are. I mean, mine is pretty useless..." She trails off in thought, then continues in a slightly more upbeat tone, "Actually, I could probably spy on people."
Erik chuckles lightly as they proceed through the hallway. "My, what a clever young lady. Already thinking of permutations applicable to your power? Excellent initiative." He pushes the exterior door open with his cane, revealing the twilit sky. The only car parked on the street is a sleek black limousine positioned handily in front of the tenement steps, door open wide. "After you, Miss Travers," Erik offers, gesturing to the aperture.
Annetta smiles slightly at the praise. "Eddie suggested it, actually. He's the other mutant I mentioned. We were talking about superheroes and all that, and he gave me the idea," she admits as she climbs into the limousine. The murder of crows standing vigil outside of the building takes to the air and circles the car from overheard, cawing raucously at each other. Inside the vehicle, the girl asks, "Where are we headed, anyway?"
"Staten Island, my dear. As fine a destination as any." Folding himself into the back of the limousine, Erik glances up to the driver. The door shuts of its own accord, and the chauffeur - Smith - moves onto the road smoothly, "For now, concern yourself with the notion that you are indeed moving up in the world."
Category:Logs
Category:RPLogs