2013.07.06 - The Genoshan Detente

Long time coming, but.. here it is. Finally.
Genosha.
Kurt Wagner has been dying to go, has been -needing- to go since the Sentinels took those innocents from the compound. And Magneto. And, well, his mother.. and while the woman has done some real wrong to him in his life, even she didn't deserve the fate of being left to those mechanical.. demons.
News, however, seems to travel at the speed of the internet, and soon enough, it began to appear that before Kurt could make it to the Island, that things were being 'taken care of'.. via an EMP blast. Word was that it was now the non-mutants that were on the run, that were being killed, enslaved. And still, the blue elf -needed- to go.
Like a siren's song.
After seeing his mother, and spending time with her, it only reinforced that need, that desire to travel to the island. To ask questions, to discover.. and perhaps begin to put all those little pieces of the puzzle that he's been collecting over the last year, and beyond, together.
Now, with the aid of a teammate, or is that ex-X teammate now that Kurt is no longer part of that crew?, the gaining of Hammer Bay is well within reach, well within their grasp. His grasp.
With the sun beginning to set over the island, it gives something of a .. dark, secretive cast to it all. Which is probably the best way to approach, the best way to describe the place.
On a small boat, then, good time is being made, and Kurt is almost ready to leave the boat behind and bamf the rest of the way. Just to avoid docking issues...
Noble warrior? Savage conqueror? Magneto is certainly a divisive figure in Hammer Bay. Humans cling to their weapons, eying his passage balefully, while some mutants stand and cheer his praises. 'Alliance! Alliance!' goes the cry in some quarters, while in others, the murmurs of 'Free Mutants!' is offered as a solemn battle hymn.
The new ruler of Bastion- so new, a title has yet to be declared- strides the streets of Hammer Bay openly, surrounded by a small, elite group of mutants who prowl warily as a personal escort. A white band is tied above their left elbow, the universal sign of peace, and a few of the Alliance's guards, natives of Hammer Bay, are along to ensure nothing gets too out of hand with Magneto's presence.
The Master of Magnetism has just concluded what had been a thunderous debate with several of the Council Members who rule Hammer Bay. Human sentiment in the city was largely against him, of course, but more than a few mutants recollected the glory days when Magneto ruled the island and promoted a land of mutant strength and dignity.
Now, he takes a quiet repast- sitting in a commandeered cafe, claimed by dint of his celebrity and force of will. He sips from a cup of tea, kept steaming wispily by some force of his own device. A handful of visiting mutants are permitted within at a time, including his personal vanguard, and are permitted to approach the sovereign ruler of Bastion, to question him and speak with the man who would be King.
Since the mutant revolt there has been much to do to the island of Genosha. Much work to accomplish, a lesser species to eradicate or enslave, rebuilding and redesigning the city in the eyes of mutantkind.
Mystique's only been around for a small part of it.
The metamorph never sits still, constantly on the move across the globe. This self-proclaimed mother of mutantkind rarely rests so long as she continues to fight for her own.
Other times she's taking her son to the circus. Even that serves several purposes of its own, however. Most of those reasons shall only remain clear to her, as intended.
Today, in this moment, she's sitting across from Magneto in her True Blue persona, one heel planted against the seat in a way that her chin could prop up along her knee if she so desired. Within the limited company of the others she has a perpetual look of idle amusement about her, a twinkle within her featureless yellow eyes, even.
There is much work left to be done, and she looks forward to every part of it.
"Look at it."
From behind the steering wheel of the approaching boat, Kwabena Odame puffs on a cigarette while studying the island as it draws near. His left hand holds the ruddy controls while the right permits the cigarette to dangle lazily, holding it just tight enough to keep it from blowing away in the breeze granted by the boat's travel. Carried away are thin tendrils of carcinogen which swiftly disappear into the deep shadow behind, while the harsh rays of the setting sun cast the island in a backdrop of blood red and darkness.
"Looks like de kind of place good peopah should avoid," denotes the accented Ghanaian. His keen eyes study the narrow port and the sprawling mess visible, while a frown of recognition spreads across his face.
There is an odor on the air that he recognizes all too well. It is the odor of the third world, peppered with the pungent fragrances of those few who lord their power over the stricken. Deep within, he hopes that his eyes will see something that does not match such scents, but upon his skin crawls the itching feeling that his hopes won't be seen to their fruition.
As the boat draws closer, Kwabena reaches over to kill the throttle, letting its forward momentum slow. "Far enough out, dey might think we're just fishing." He turns to study his compatriot. "Shall we drop anchah?"
For her part, Strilka has been something of an errand girl since the island's liberation. Indeed, like Mystique, she's been hither and yon, attending to various tasks the Brotherhood has required to be done -- many of them off the island. All without drawing attention to herself.
Even now, she's not wanting the spotlight. However, as she does, on some level, qualify as part of Magneto's inner circle, she's sat within the cafe, at the table, deceptively relaxed. The black leathers that have become her uniform and defacto go-to outfit when on 'official' business, are a little more worn than before, comfortably broken in, at last. Her bow is sat beside her, one hand loosely draped over its length as hypersharp senses scan the crowds for signs of ill-advised hostility.
Let it be noted, that for the first time, Kurt's allowed someone else to drive a boat!
The elf *bamf*s to the front of the small boat, the moment Shift pulls back on the throttle, and he's working on the anchor line. With a soft *sploosh*, it's in the water, sinking down those feet to the sandy and rocky bottom.
"Done..'
Glowing yellow eyes look to the shoreline, and he can see that which Shift can, can feel it. Yet, there's something else there.. hidden deep within. It's probably due to the elf's faith in his fellow man, in his fellow mutant that things can, and will eventually, one day, get better.
With another *bamf*, Kurt's back at the controls, and he looks to his friend. "Shall we go, mein freund?" He holds a hand out, in case there is the desire to get there quickly via his patented teleport method. Should he take his hand, well.. the next stop is the shoreline.
"It's an inevitability," Magneto informs his guest of the moment with a negligent wave of one hand. "I'm not ranting and raving like a deluded madman that you'll be murdered in your sleep. I'm simply stating the very obvious fact that evolution does not support the submissive. Homo sapiens and homo superior will, inevitably, reach a point of social collapse. Bastion stands as a bulwark against that collapse." He glances at the time, then inclines his head in a gesture of dismissal. "I am sorry, but I only have a few minutes per person today. Please, feel free to rejoin the line if you wish to speak some more."
The mutant rises and takes his leave, and Magneto waves the door guard to hold the remainder off for a while. Though not ensconced in his 'formal' armor, he wears something metallic and free-moving, pressed against his skin as naturally as if it were silk.
"Well, my dears?" he asks Mystique and Olena. "Thoughts on our mission of diplomacy, thus far?" he asks, prodding them for their unique perspectives.
"This island should have been ours by now," Mystique replies to Magneto in the usual cool, duo-toned harmonics of the voice she tends to save for business use, or intimidation.
As for 'diplomacy,' she has ideas of her own in mind.
One of the nice things about having so many underlings is that they do all of the menial work for you, often while taking none of the credit. The Brotherhood is strong, as is Mystique's own 'inner circle.' Those that are privy of things which the others will never be made aware of. Olena is one such individual, and not just because of the way she looks in clingy black leather. The view is always one to appreciate, regardless.
Then there's the creature that slinks into the cafe, looking fairly normal beside the black and orange dyed hair and the brilliant cyan-hued eyes that he has, interrupted by a trio of barbells running through the bridge of his nose. Without any introduction or announcement he comes up to the table where the others are seated, saying "Two approach from the coast. They have just set anchor."
Slowly those oddly hued eyes turn toward Mystique, the psychic leaning closer to whisper something into her ear.
Solid yellow eyes widen slightly, as does her smile. Quickly her attention turns toward Magneto and Olena. "We have visitors."
It sure took those two long enough... She had been expecting news about the arrival of her son more than a week ago. Better late than never.
Having left port in a nearby African coastal town, Kwabena had the option of adopting casual African garb, or perhaps dressing the role of a thuggish gang leader. Instead, he chose for simplicity, going with the usual blue jeans, ruddy boots, black t-shirt and leather jacket. In some situations, a costume was relevant. Today, he simply wishes to avoid unnecessary attention. The clothes are plain as anything, and the jacket is sure to ward off the impending evening chill as the hot sun blinks away. The only accouterment is a platinum ring piercing his left ear, fresh as the week was young; a message to the locals that he might have some money to throw around, and the guts not to hide it in a place like this.
Snuffing out the cigarette, Kwabena says, "One moment." He reaches into his jacket and withdraws a small tracking device, which he pins beneath the controls and out of sight. "In case it moves," he clarifies, before reaching out to take Kurt's elbow, rather than his hand. "Let's get dis ovah with," he murmurs.
The teleporting still makes him dizzy.
"I think is false hope," Olena admits matter-of-factly to Magneto, her Ukrainian accent heavy as she speaks in English. "At least, false hope for peace. Humans do not want peace. Humans want death, only. Ours. I prefer theirs." This is not such a surprise, coming from the young victim of an anti-mutant pogrom in her native Ukraine. "But is good to give option, da? Perhaps some not as stupid as seem."
Her eyes, however, are already turning toward the door, moments before the snitch slips in. And her hearing is, likely as not, good enough to pick up what he says to Mystique. "Is X-Men?" she asks the blue woman, head canting. She has a personal grudge against the X-Men, though there's nothing to say the visitors have been identified as such.
She looks to Magneto, to see what he wants them to do, though her hand closes around her bow.
BAMF!
Landing upon the shore, Kurt holds a steadying hand to his friend, making sure Shift his balance before letting go. He's in his usual crouch; that position that allows him to do most anything, go anywhere in the blink of an eye.
It seems, however, that such concern, at the moment, isn't yet needed, and Kurt rises, straightening up.. mostly, his tail dropped behind him. He is dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and dark Converse sneakers. Casual. Around his neck, tucked in his shirt.. his cross.
Pointing in the direction of the main thoroughfare, Kurt looks to Shift and smile broadly, fangs showing in the departing sunlight. "Once we make the road, I think we'll fit in, ja?" Still, doesn't mean the elf isn't going to be careful.. and thinking twice, he seems to reconsider. "I'll take to the buildings.. und we'll keep in contact?"
With that, Kurt is gone in a familiar, tell-tale bamf! once again, landing upon the side of a building that still has.. some support, blending into the darkness there.
There's definitely a sense of urgent panic about Hammer Bay. Of course, the Free Mutants in the southern peninsula of Genosha are wary of Magneto's rule, but they are certainly not decrying his actions. And while the Alliance controls Hammer Bay, there's nowhere else for the displaced human residents of Bastion to go, now that Magneto rules there. So tens of hundreds of refugees fill the streets, some gathered in tiny hovels that contain a family in an area the size of a small tent. It gives the favelas an even more disordered look, one that extends into the more ordered permanent residences around the city.
"Quite," Magneto says, agreeing with both women with a single word. He takes a cautious sip of his tea. "But it gives us options to explore that would otherwise not be available to us. The Free Mutants in the south are, I think, wary but optimistic about my presence here. But, with this being the only shipping port on Genosha, it's of vital importance that we make a show of good faith as early as possible. It will be very difficult to rule a city without a port for importing goods."
One thing which easily separates Mystique from Magneto, he has the desire to lead their people whereas she only desires to liberate them. She's an agent, not a ruler. It works out nicely, as they're both very good at what they do.
With Olena's question about their guests being X-Men she turns expectant eyes towards her psychic, who nervously says "One in particular did not give off such a vibe. The other, I do not know."
Mystique nods once and is out of her seat with a swift fluid grace. She had been getting bored sitting around, and if anyone else should try to stand before her son... Once more she turns to Olena, merely saying "In case they do not wish to play nice." In other words, come along and offer long range support.
Once she has Olena's company directly, the story will be slightly different. Something to the effect of 'whatever you do, do not injure the teleporter.' And, while he may be difficult to find, Shift won't be quite the challenge, and she even less to the two coming to visit. They've met before, she knows Kwabena when she sees him.
It wasn't that long ago when she blew up a church around the guy, for that matter.
Coming to his senses, Kwabena's left foot jolts back into a mixture of dirt and sand. Two long and intentional blinks are made to clear his eyes, before they dart back and forth to check their surroundings. A short nod is given to Kurt, letting him know without verbiage that he's alright.
Straightening his posture, he begins to observe the area more more casually, letting the slightest of smirks turn his cheek skyward. "Rogah dat," he quips, before striding toward the nearest let into one of the port's winding roads.
There, he finds the hustle and bustle of Genosha's locale, still busy milling about as the sun disappears. He blends in well, walking with a healthy mixture of purpose and laziness. Somewhere along the way, a fresh cigarette is produced, the telltale clicking of a zippo drowned out by the passersby en masse as he brings it flame.
This particular cigarette has been blended with an herb that causes the flame to glow a brighter red, leaving contrails of smoke that are somewhat more white than the usual grey. It provides a way for The Incredible Nightcrawler to track his movements in the crowd visually, while also letting the casual onlooker wonder just how he got hold of such an exotic item.
Regardless, his observance of the human refugees brings a dark undertone to his eye. 'Judge not, lest you be judged' echoes inside of his mind, joined by the clashing of broken cymbals representing the general dismissal, no, ignoring, of the faith he was raised in. Good words, but words he will take with an appropriate measure of salt.
The streets quickly begin to make sense to Kwabena, and he follows his honed street smarts along a winding way toward the very cafe where Magneto has set his proverbial throne. You see, there is a pattern to the way people move, especially a people divided by such a severe thing, and the pattern becomes a very clear map inside the African's mind. Every turn he takes is bringing him to the centre of something very important; the ebb and flow of human and mutant alike are making that very much clear to him.
When he comes in sight of the cafe, he slows to a halt, puffing on the last remnants of his cigarette with a frown. "You see anything out of de ordinary here?" he murmurs under his breath, letting the earcomm amplify the vibrations of his voice across the void into that of his partner's.
Olena rises in a fluid motion, shouldering her bow and giving Magneto a brief nod as one might give a Sovereign upon receiving marching orders -- for all that it's Mystique who'll be running the show in the field. Outside of the cafe, she cants her head at the instruction. "The teleporter," she echoes. "Blue?" She remembers the blue teleporter from Poznyar. "I remember him. He is X-Man." She shakes her head, but shrugs her acquiescence. "I will do what I can." To obey her, that is. She's happy, though, to provide the long-range support. Slipping around the side of the building, she heads for a fire escape and makes her way to a nearby rooftop.
Kurt's grin is broad again as the cigarette lights, and he murmurs, "I'll get on you later about how smoking is bad for you, mein freund," before he's truly up and on the sides of the buildings, keeping to the shadows, on the ground and in the dark when there isn't much to keep hold of. A couple of times, he simply moves with a group of people, looking all the world as if he belongs there. The consummate actor, after all.
Glowing yellow eyes keep watch over Shift as he does his thing, and the man moves with such ability in the dank, desperate streets that he actually loses him, though never for long. Not when the next pull of the cigarette happens.
Hand over hand on the buildings, only to land once again.
Out of the corner of those featureless yellow eyes, he catches.. a familiar form and figure. Mother. Stopping in his tracks, his tail lowering slightly, he glances towards Shift's path, and back to the.. very familiar. A decision is made, and the elf continues on, watching Shift's six, knowing in his heart of fuzzy hearts that he was probably spotted as well. Olena's path to the buildings, well.. he takes a deep breath, an itchy feeling coming.. could be the feeling that he's now got a target painted upon his back?
Magneto sits back and a faint /thrumming/ sensation fills the cafe. He sips his tea and watches with bright and interested eyes as the elite among his inner coterie start flitting along to get ahead of the pack. "I do so love having effective subordinates," he remarks, to no one in particular. Unfortunately, 'effective subordinate' also equates to 'conversational companion', as the rest of the group is more hired for muscle and brute force than intellectual expertise.
So, the soveriegn ruler of Bastion sits back and sips his tea and enjoys a few moments of quietude, waiting passively for someone to do something foolish like try and slip into the gravity field he's just enacted.
Sure, Mystique could have told Olena that Kurt had claimed to no longer be part of the X-Men. Could, and didn't. Olena has some definite hatred toward that group, it could still be useful to the metamorph somewhere down the line. For now, Olena will simply have to follow instruction. She's been good about that before.
As for Kwabena...
Almost as soon as Mystique leaves the cafe she's amongst so many other people. Just as quickly, she becomes one of them. No more blue skin, red hair, and yellow eyes. She's something altogether different. Something which works through the crowd until she's standing right beside Shift, already moving to bring her arms around his shoulders. It's a woman whom he has never seen before, on count of her having never existed until a few seconds ago. Brown hair, brown eyes, semi-pale skin, and as is so often the case with her, traditionally stunningly beautiful.
"Well hey there sailor, you lookin' for some company?" she asks with a bright, vivid smile that could do absolutely no harm.
In a flash her expression has become something ..a little darker. "Because we sure are."
One hand motions him onward to the cafe, though she never takes her eyes, or her other hand, off of the guy. Just in case he needs a little persuading.
Kurt, she has no doubt, will be quick to follow. Why try to catch up to him when she can make him come to her?
Certainly no stranger to such encounters, Kwabena doesn't even flinch when Mystique makes herself known with such bravado. All of the surprise in his body is driven down to the unseen curling of his toes within his ruddy boots. There's no blink of an eye, no flinch of the skin, no change of his breathing.
Instead, he cooly turns an eye toward the beauty, failing not to permit himself a brief touch of enjoyment. Either she was a stranger, or she was up to no good, but neither of those potential outcomes had anything to do with reading the dessert menu.
Up to no good.
Only then does Kwabena's smirk broaden ever so slightly. "It's my lucky day," he jokes, for he certainly doesn't expect there to be a 'second' beautiful woman waiting for him inside of that cafe.
It's one of those times he should have made a damned bet.
No persuasion is necessary. The African turns and lets his escort lead the way.
"You have a familiah way about you," he murmurs under the din. Two beats pass before he flicks his mismatched eyes her way, their lids dropping just so.
Strilka finds herself a convenient perch in the shade of a rooftop access point, from which she can scan the square before the defacto audience chamber. Her eyes on the blue bamfer are constant -- save for those times he blends in so completely with the shadows he disappears (which are frequent enough). It at least tells her his general vicinity.
Mystique's movements are no less challenging to track, though the hyperperceptive is slowly becoming adept at doing so. That has more to do, however, with increased familiarity with the blue metamorph's preferences than anything else. Thus, the best the girl can do, right now, is sit and wait.
Fortunately, she's good at that.
And there..
Pausing once again from his vantage point, glowing yellow eyes search the immediate area, lingering here and there until they move back to where Shift is. The advance of the lovely lady brings an exhaled sigh from the fuzzy blue mutant. Still, this is what he sort of wanted to happen. Who better to speak with but with those in a position to know, and understand.
Mutants all.. upon an island for mutants.
Of course, this could also get them tossed into a cell somewhere; a nice mutant-gift-dampening cell.
Leaving his spot, the demon-looking mutant begins to follow the pair, though now he notices that he's getting a few more.. stares. It's something of a change, it seems.. from the outlying areas to the more.. inner city of the Bay.
As Mystique escorts Shift into the cafe, Magneto smiles in a benevolent fashion at the Ghanian mutant. "Well, well. A familiar face. I haven't seen you in quite a while, my friend. Welcome to Hammer Bay. Welcome to Genosha," Magneto says, spreading his hands and inviting the young man to take a seat across from him. "Mystique, my dear, thank you for escorting him in. I do appreciate the consideration. Please, feel free to resume your search, if you wish," he says.
Erik turns those baby-blue eyes to Shift and gestures for a waitress to bring the Ghanian the serving tray of tea. "So, how have you been? I understand you have been associating with the X-men of late?" he inquires, as pleasantly as if they were discussing the weather.
"Perhaps," Mystique cryptically replies when Shift mentions it being his lucky day. No one's tried to kill him thus far, the odds aren't conspiring against him yet. Once he's 'delivered' to the cafe she leans around the back of the Ghandian's shoulders and winks back at Magneto before returning to the street.
Hands fall upon her hips with a gentle sigh, idly looking around the rooftops and alleys for the one which she knows is still out there. Lurking.
"Come out, Kurt. You didn't make this trip so you could hide from us all." They're here for a reason. Always a reason. She won't allow him to deny himself this moment.
Besides, it'll be fun.
It only takes a moment for Kwabena to piece together two very large pieces of a puzzle that has long been escaping him. Erik Lehnsherr. Magneto. One and the same. He had come to suspect it, but a part of him had also wanted to deny it to be true. Not that he'd personally witnessed the man doing anything too terrible, but rumor has a way of growing its own tale, and one can never be sure to what end rumors reflect their basic truths.
There is but a brief moment of mild surprise when the pieces are put together, and just as short of a hesitation before Kwabena accepts the offered seat and tea. "Thank you," he answers the greeting, before reaching to fix his tea with one lump of sugar. Magneto's mention of the X-Men brings a somewhat downward turn to an otherwise amicable poker face. "Well. I do try to keep dat a secret, for many reasons. Den again?" He leans back with the cup of tea in hand, and after glancing about, looks back to Magneto with the opposite forming on his face. A grin. "Dis place seems secure enough."
Strilka looks to follow Mystique's lead, watching as the 'soft brunette' escorts the African man she doesn't know into the building to see Magneto. She doesn't physically follow, however, doesn't move from her perch. Instead, she keeps watch. The Amazing Nightcrawler, of course, is still out there... somewhere.
And the Ukrainian is nothing if not patient and willing to wait. (She's learned well from Mystique.)
Kurt watches as Shift enters the cafe, and he waits a couple of heartbeats, only to see the woman that had been walking with him reappear. He's in the darkness now, deep in shadows.. and catching those words, there's something of a wistful sigh that escapes the blue teleporter. Mystique, it must be she, is acting every inch a mother, and it really is difficult to deny her.
BAMF!
Kurt appears beside the woman now, landing in that crouch before he straightens fully, his tail swaying gently. "You are right, mother.. I am here. Finally."
Leaning slightly in order to gesture with a theatric glance towards the cafe, where Shift had gone, "We came as mutants, mother." Not as XMen.
Olena.. is doing her job well. Kurt is unaware that she's there... <re>
"Secure?" Erik says a bit whimsically. "I suppose as much. I'm the soverign ruler of a militaristic nation state on a diplomatic mission into the last remaining hostile territory on an isolated island. Two of my best agents found you and Mystique's progeny in a manner of seconds, and at the moment, I have a low-yield inertial field in place that would stop even the Juggernaut if he attempted to charge into my presence." His nostrils flare minutely. "And I detect something new with you, my friend. ...something in the blood, perhaps?"
Erik makes a gentle, laconic gesture, and a single drop of blood wells out of the very edge of Kwabena's fingernail. "Nanoparticulate machines," Erik says after a long moment of inspection. "How /fascinating/. And at a substantial density, at that. I imagine it makes making it through airport security rather a challenge," the older man observes whimsically. The tiny drop of blood turns an inky black color, floating eerily in front of Erik's palm as he observers the nanites in some fashion undiscernable to the naked eye.
Well, it worked. Mystique manages to call Kurt out of hiding. The smoke and the sulfur doesn't bother her any, and before that smoke can clear out she's back to being her True Blue self. "And we are glad that you came," she replies with a pleased look about her, bringing an arm around this mutant as well on their way back to the cafe. "I know, child. You seek answers. I hope that you are able to find them."
Her psychic had counted two. Both have been discovered and are now accounted for. If there were any risk of an ambush yet waiting she would have left Olena out in the field, but she trusts that none of their visitors are looking for a fight. Olena will get the return call in the form of a whistle pitched outside the range of normal human perception. She can morph herself in a way which the sound can be created, and the archer is gifted in a way which she will hear it. It's rather nice how that all works out.
Inside the cafe proper she'll go so far as to pull out a chair for Kurt, though any special treatment comes to an end as soon as she reclaims her former seat.
In another moment the grin is back upon her face. "Have you found something new to play with, Erik?"
Kwabena can certainly appreciate the candid nature in which Magneto speaks with him. However, such feelings of guarded comfort are almost immediately banished when mention of his blood is made.
Damn good. That's what Kwabena's poker face is. But not this time.
The African visibly stiffens. The affliction enslaving him in his blood haunts him, even in his nightmares. Jawline tight, he watches as the small droplet of blood seeps loose, floats through the air, and turns color. "A little gift. From de rulah of Latveria." Oh, his words are stiff now, no longer spoken with such comfort and ease. "Dey change with me. And I -can't- be rid of dem."
He speaks as if pleading that Magneto not do something brash. If anyone were able to rip the devices free of his body, it would be Erik, however the results would be devastating in the long run.
Mortal, in fact.
Magneto's remark about airport security helps to put him at least slightly at ease, so much that he remembers the teacup jittering in his hand. He stills it with the other, and raises it to sip. His eyes glance toward Mystique and Kurt as they enter in acknowledgement, before lowering back toward Magneto.
"It's a good thing I don't need conventional airports."
As that shrill whistle sounds, Olena's one eyelid flutters and she wiggles a finger just beneath an ear to prevent the tinnitus that threatens. She hates dog-whistles. But, yes. They are effective.
(Woof.)
Rising from her urban blind, she slips over the edge of the building and slides down the fire escape to the ground, walking casually around the building to pass by Magneto's guards with impunity. They step aside, the young archer's face uncovered now that she's out of the field. She arrives in about half a minute behind Kurt and his Mother.
Kurt enters the cafe with his mother, mother and son looking very much alike. It does turn a few heads once again, but he ignores it. As the chair is offered, the fuzzy blue elf perches upon it, his tail wrapping around the back. "You are looking better than you had the last time I saw you, mein Herr. Und here I was, going to try und mount a rescue from the Sentinels."
Glancing at his friend, those yellow eyes linger for a long moment before he returns his attention to Magneto, and his mother. "We're not here to fight you.. don't make enemies where you don't need to, Herr Magneto."
Twisting about, Kurt finally catches Olena entering, and his head cants. She's familiar, certainly.. but from where?
It takes him a long couple of moments before he murmurs, "The park.. ja.. I remember."
"Ah." Erik smiles again at Kwabena- that warm, patrician expression that reveals nothing at all- and continues to 'play' with the floating sphere of nanites, now so dissolute as to be a translucent mass. Magneto snaps his fingers and with a sound like faint crackling popcorn, what looks like a fine cloud of ash vanishes on a stray gust of wind.
"Victor Von Doom, humanitarian," Magneto muses. "I shall have to pay him an official visit one of these days. Ensure his megalomania doesn't dare extend so far as to incarcerating our brethren. You understand. In the name of diplomacy."
The elderly man with far too much vigor for his years takes a long sip of his tea and actually rises as Mystique approaches with Kurt. "My darling Mystique, at last you bring the proverbial son home," he says, his voice full of gentle affection. His motions unthreatening, he rests rawboned palms gently on Kurt's slender shoulders, giving them a squeeze surprisingly strong for a man with hair as silver as his. "Guten tag, mein sohn," he welcomes Kurt. "Bitte, verbinden Sie uns fur tee." He gestures at another seat near Kwabena's, turning and giving Kurt the kind of polite guidance of the hand that would take a fairly rude gesture to shrug off- a difficult conception for most people, given his kindly demeanor- and returns to his own seat, which still stands at the apex of the little triangular congregation. "There was a modicum of deception in that," Erik admits to Kurt, taking his seat and gathering his tea. "Ah, pardon me. The tea has cooled." He makes a flickering gesture with his finger and the tea- all the tea, in everyone's cup- immediately steams with a surge of warmth. "I had to penetrate Fortress- Bastion, now- and my dear ladies needed to liberate me from the inhibitor system they had built. The former leadership here had taken great pains to devise appropriate chains for my cage. I have the great fortune of being in very excellent, professional company," he says, his smile for Mystique and Olena and as much a compliment as the words itself.
This is most curious. Kurt had been planning a rescue, for them? In part it seems logical. The other part doesn't agree with her all that well.
That's not all which is interesting and amusing. Mystique had already made such a visit to Von Doom some time ago. They had come to an agreement, of sorts. He's still an obstacle to be permanently removed at a later date, but until then even he could be useful.
She deliberately withheld this information from Erik, too. It's the nature of being a spy.
"Nor are any of us wishing for a fight to occur," she replies to Kurt. (Okay, Olena probably is, but that's her own business. That, and watching Kwabena squirm is proving to be highly entertaining.) As the archer returns she's greeted with that same sly, knowing grin that the shapeshifter loves to use.
"It had been designed to hold him, however their setup was curiously lacking in many ways. They tried to play up their capabilities, we called their bluff." And so, here they are. In charge. Simple as that.
Magneto's compliment is met with a light nod of her head and a silent lifting of her cup, now completely warm from the inside out.
"Now it will never happen here again."
Now having had a few minutes to simmer down, Kwabena watches the tiny little globule thoughtfully, and blinks when it becomes dust. "Perhaps he'd be willing to pay some few reparations," he remarks.
A glance is quickly given to Kurt after he says that. Far be it from Kwabena to hide his vengeful nature, for it actually takes a great deal to stir that in him.
"Yes," he agrees, turning his eyes upon Mystique and finally settling into his natural state once more. "No fights." He looks back toward Magneto and ultimately Olena, before sipping from the hot tea with an appreciative smile.
Olena remembers, too. Kurt was lucky she'd taken the worst of her ire out on Cyclops, that day. But, she's no longer the same girl she was then. She's regained the self-discipline she had as a young olympian, and is no longer so prone to fly off the handle without much greater provocation.
Besides. She's now doing what the X-Men failed to do: Helping to provide a safe haven for mutants.
Thus, while it's not necessarily pleasant to stand in the same room as the X-Men -- Nightcrawler will always be an X-Man, as far as she's concerned -- it's no longer the chore it was.
Her lips curl faintly at Erik's praise. She always appreciates that. She steps off to one side, however, to lean against the counter. She does not relinquish her bow, nor does she relax her focussed examination of their 'guests'. Her abilities allow her to pick up on micro-expressions and those little physical tells no one can entirely suppress far more easily than most other people.
Consequently, she's probably the one person in the room who can accurately judge the veracity of anything anyone's saying... except, perhaps, for Mystique, who's just tricky like that. (Even then, however, she's learning... the girl is learning.)
Once more, she's perfectly happy to stand back, observe... and learn.
"Guten Tag, mein Herr." Kurt is settled easily into his seat, and inclines his head, his tones courteous- but cautious. "Es ist warum ich hier gereist. Um mit Ihnen zu sprechen." It is why I came here. To speak with you.
Looking at his tea, the blue fuzzy elf leaves it for the time being, instead asking followup questions, his manner and mien genuinely curious. "Did you know they would come to the Compound? Or was that a spur of the moment decision? What of those innocent mutants they took with them?"
Yes, Mother.. no mutant deserves to be under the thumb of the likes of a Sentinel, regardless of who they are. And the fact that Magneto had taken some pains to protect the police.. the non-mutants who were just as surprised to see the Sentinels as everyone else? That really made a statement with the elf.
"I noticed they were lacking in their programming, or they would have gone after me as well." Could be vanity, could be reality.
Kurt lets out a breath, his shoulders slouching such that he's back to being a little more comfortable. "Are those that held you now dead, mein Herr? Or do they yet live to face justice for their crimes? Und what of the innocent non-mutants? I had heard you had given an offer for them to depart, or am I wrong?" He's been following this closely, apparently.
Glancing at his friend, there's a loosening of his back muscles.. a little stress released. Shift is okay, for the time being.. and Kurt feels responsible for him. Fully. "I agree that Mother is quite.. resourceful. I don't think I've even touched the surface of everything that she is capable of." Twisting around to look at Olena again, those glowing, featureless yellow eyes study the young woman for a couple of heartbeats before he nods. "Were you at the Compound, fraulein?"
"My captors paid in full for their capture of my person," Erik says with a casual air, toying with his teacup. He glances out the window. "If you should find yourself visiting Bastion, observe the Spire. It was once the top four stories of the command structure that oversaw Fortress. When I... remodelled, the building was occupied by the leadership of the Humanity First fools." He picks up a small metal box, perhaps twelve inches on a side. He makes a gesture, and the top quarter of the box folds inwards and pulls up into an elegant looking spire.
Magneto sets the little box aside, folding his hands together and regarding Kurt with a level gaze. "I have perilously little tolerance for those who would harness us in chains, like beasts."
As for the other mutants that had been caught up by the Sentinels on that day? "Freed, one and all," Mystique says with a thin, smug smirk. "We do not leave our own behind, particularly not during their time of need."
Such mutantarians, this lot.
"They now find safe haven upon the very island that would have enslaved them forever, their stories becoming more inspiration for us all." And a great sales pitch for getting fresh faces into the Brotherhood.
Peering down into her cup for a moment, she continues with "The humans were all given a choice. A non-violent choice, I will add. If they so choose to respond to our offer with further violence then the decision shall be made for them, we will not tolerate such insolence. As for their machines bringing us here? I could not say."
Not that she doesn't know, she just isn't going to say. These outsiders don't need to know everything about the inner workings of their mutant-governed city.
It's a funny dance, those that are played by enemies who are not enemies, friends who are not allies, and those whose places are not as secure as they might have thought. In a similar fashion, Kwabena has taken upon himself a stance similar to that of Olena. His hands, warmed by the cup of tea, keep it close to his face for a few long moments while Kurt speaks, allowing the pleasing aroma to waft into his nose. Yet this, in all essence, is but one of the trappings used partly to guard his own quiet observation, studying each of the people sitting around the table in equal measure.
The African's attention remains captive by Erik's display of what, perhaps, has been done to the old command structure in Bastion. There are many things insinuated, not the least of which is a subject matter that may be quite divisive between the two X-Men.
It is the subject of vengeance.
Eyes lidding just so, Kwabena is careful to observe the expressions of both Mystique and Olena when the confession is made, only to at last sweep his mis-matched eyes toward Kurt, who sits next to him.
Silence. Observation.
Olena regards Nightcrawler with an impassive gaze. "Da," she says in simple response to his question. She was there. She doesn't tell him how she got there or what role she played, however. Let Magneto's words stand as explanation enough of that. She helped free him... and freed many others unjustly imprisoned. That's all that matters.
Thus, there's not much change to her expression as Shift glances to her. Perhaps, though, her dark eyes flick to his -- watchers watching one another (or some sort of suitable alternate alliteration to the same point) -- meeting them for half a second before both gazes move on.
Quite the dance, this measure is.
Kurt fully believes in that; no mutant left behind. It's one of the things that's torn at his heart each and every time he'd been put in a position to liberate, to rescue mutants. Where to find safety in such numbers?
Thank god for Mutant Town now. Even if it's struggling, there's hope around every corner. But, that's when he wears his rose coloured glasses. Kurt is a realist, too.
"Und they have a home now." It's not a question, rather a statement. "Here."
Nodding his blue, fuzzy head, those featureless yellow eyes rise to meet his mother's own, and there is a subtle rise to his brows. "Not all non-mutants were Humans First, ja? What about them?" Living side by side, now that would be part of a PR push, and one in a positive direction.
Kurt isn't really interested in a dance, in the watching and playing and jockeying for position in discussion. His posture, his manner and mien are there.. in the open, his tail swaying from side to side as he considers that which is going on.
Now, however, Kurt needs to come to the heart of the matter, and in a manner of nothing ventured is nothing gained, his gaze flickers towards Shift even as he poses a question to Magneto. "I know Humans First had their base here. I ask you, please.." and here, he puts his three-fingered hands out in gesture, palms up, "May I have some access.. at least a little to what they had? As a mutant.. und one you know has nothing but our safety at heart." He suspects it comes with a price. Knows it does.. which is why he's done all he can to prepare for the potential... extraction. "I would be grateful."
There's a moment where it must seem a surety that Magneto is going to decline. Access to Humanity First? To the records now sitting safely under Magneto's thumb? It seems an impossible request.
"Of course," Magneto says without a moment's hesitation. "Mystique, my dear- when we repair to Bastion, please set your son up with an unrestricted account on the Humanity First servers." He turns those icy blue eyes back to Kurt, making an apologetic gesture with one hand. "Of course, a good deal of their classified military information was destroyed during the change in leadership. But, you are welcome to pick through the information we've retrieved from their archives." He reaches for his teacup and blows on the amber liquid, which contrarily billows with even more steam after he does so. "You'll see quite readily what Humanity First had been trying to accomplish with their captives. The experiments being conducted there were... disturbing to say the least."
When Kwabena looks to Mystique, she looks back. Idle smugness aplenty. 'You could have been here, you know. You could have been a part of this. We had given you the opportunity and plenty of time to decide.'
"And they have a home now," she repeats the words of her son. "Whether here or some other corner of the globe. The decision is theirs to make."
Blank yellow eyes meet blank yellow eyes, the metamorph taking on a thin smile. "The same. Is it our job to pick and choose the better humans from the worse? We have our home upon this island. The same rules apply to all. Look along the southern coast, look to Hammer Bay upon the east, you will find humans and mutants living together. None should feel trapped upon this land."
Another glance is passed over to Erik, replied by a simple incline of her head before she looks back to the blue teleporter once more. "Of course."
She knows how to handle this situation. She would have handled it even if Erik had turned Kurt down. Because that's the kind of mother she is.
There is no guarding that of the listener, and Kwabena does nothing to do it when Olena meets his eyes for that brief moment. To try and defend it would be foolish, not to mention disrespectful. However, Mystique's expression draws something of a reaction from the Ghanaian. Oh, she may have taken upon many forms during their encounters, but he now has begun to understand her power. Understanding now the extent of his history with her draws his eyes down to the cup of tea for a moment. A willing acknowledgement that, yes, he understands what she insinuates with her silent smugness.
He sits silently while Erik and Kurt make their agreement, sipping again at the tea that has been so graciously warmed. However, now a thought has come to mind, something to invade the otherwise observant mentality he's adopted. When the arrangements have finally been made, he sets the cup of tea down and leans back into his seat, perhaps a bit casually given what he says.
"Dere may be some few things we could offah as well," he speaks in his uniquely accented English. "An exchange of infahmation." He briefly casts a glance Kurt's way, as if giving the mutant the briefest moments to interject, but he knows that Kurt won't interject... to do so would be a display of weakness on their part.
"Dere is a person who has exhibited de ability to block, or inhibit, de effects of da mutant X-gene," he explains, now looking back to Erik and Mystique in turn. "I am not yet certain if he does dis on his own powah, or if he is using some kind of tool." He spreads open his hands in an alternative gesture to shrugging. "I am also not certain if it has anything to do with dese experiments dat you speak of, nor do I know if his ability to impede extends beyond dat of our own unique genetics. His motive is unknown. Howevah, it has become my... purpose... to find out who he is, what he is capable of, why he is doing it."
He sits up a bit straighter, leaning forward as if to deliver more of a punch to his proposal. "But I will give you every piece of infahmation I can find. To some of us, his actions pose a significant threat to our way of life. Even our health and well being."
Then, he reaches for the cup of team, moving to sip at it again while he watches the others.
Olena isn't, in fact, surprised at Magnetos generosity. After all, what Nightcrawler requests is something that needs to be shared widely within the mutant community. It's time the humans were held accountable for the atrocities they commit against mutant kind. Perhaps then they'll realize why mutants are so hostile in return.
A brow arches faintly at Shift's tale, however. There are a lot of governments she can think of, not to mention private agencies, that would love a device like that... or the skills of anyone possessed of such a power. And she, for one, is not inclined to let them have it. For her, losing her abilities is much like sensory deprivation -- which she has experienced... and she despises with every molecule of her being.
Kurt can feel the 'no' exuding from Magneto. He knows in his fuzzy little heart that his visit here will be for naught. Well, the front door entrance, anyway. The elf always has a second or third plan tucked away somewhere. He's not one to give up easily, and he opens his mouth as if to give argument, and clicks it closed in surprise, yellow eyes widening in almost comic relief.
"You will?"
Control now, and Kurt brings a curled hand up to cough into as he attempts to school his features into something more of an 'I knew that' expression. (Yeah.. didn't think it'd work.)
"Danke, mein Herr.."
Without having to promise his firstborn, even! (Which would that be?)
It's when Shift begins that Kurt backs off, offering his silent support. Nodding in different parts of his narrative, he does interject, but only his own experience with it, his gaze moving from Mags to Olena, landing upon his mother. "It not only took away my bamf, but also my fur. My blue fur." And eyes. "Everything that made me me." It's dangerous. "When I left the area, I was restored."
"This is precisely the sort of problem that threatens the safety and identity- the very nature- of all mutants," Magneto frowns, his heavy voice cutting through the alarmed back-and-forth. "A threat to our very souls." The look he turns to Shift is very immediate and direct. "If you were properly equipped and outfitted, and provided with a team, could you capture this individual? I have laboratory facilities here in Genosha that are unequalled anywhere in the world. I am, with no measure of exaggeration, one of the world's foremost authorities on the X-Gene. If you can bring him to Bastion, we might unravel the riddle of the anti-mutant mutant. It would deny our would-be enemies a potentially vital and dangerous weapon to use against us."
A mutant..with the power to null the X-Gene? It's a good thing that Mystique has perfected her poker face before anyone else in this cafe had been born, her initial reaction is not a very kind one. It involves a permanent solution before it ever happens to become a problem.
Now, also knowing that it had been used against Kurt? This individual should be feeling extremely grateful that the process had not been a permanent one.
Maybe she doesn't fully agree with Magneto's desired course of action but at least it works to remove this creature from circulation and allows them to retain the upper hand. It's still progress, and she's certain that Erik has other ideas in mind for any such information gathered from studying the creature. That doesn't stop her from wanting to bury this mutant so deep that its remains would never again be discovered.
It's still an option which she can pursue. Like she needs his permission to do the things which she's going to do, regardless.
On the upside, here is a concern which everyone present shares. No one here wishes to be without their powers. This is a powerful subject which they can work off of. "It would appear that an alliance is being forged," she observes to none in particular.
It would seem that Kwabena's revelation is one that brings a strength of unity to the very different people around this table. The words being sparred back and forth even go so far as to draw the eyes of other mutants in the cafe, who may have overheard.
Ignoring the muttered whisperings of those outside this circle, Kwabena turns to meet Magneto's direct look. Rather than backing down, he sets the cup of tea down again and leans forward, resting his forearms upon the edge of the table while folding his fingers together in thought.
"Yes," he answers. "Dose involved would need to be prepared and ready to operate as humans, dough," he explains. "With none of de abilities our X-Genes give to us." He shakes his head. "We cannot guarantee dat he will go without a fight, and we may not have our unique advantages to aide us." There is a moment of silence as he looks from one to the other, considering what he does know about them, while letting his words sink in, if they hadn't already.
Kurt would be without his teleportation. Mystique, unable to change form. Magneto, unable to manipulate the electromagnetic field. They, or whomever might join him, would need to be ready operate as humans.
His eyes fall at last upon Mystique when she voices her observation. Instead of answering, he pulls back from his forward lean against the table, and sips from the ever dwindling supply of tea in his cup.
Give Olena a sniper rifle and point her at the target outside of his range and she'll take care of the problem. Happily.
Even without her abilities, however, a bow will be a deadly and accurate weapon in her hand. She did win a gold medal in archery, after all. Even if it was stripped from her later.
Kurt nods and a smile rises to his face, showing off those fangs. "I think he could be captured, ja?" He looks to Shift, waiting to see if the man agrees. "I was hoping," and the blue mutant returns his attention to Magneto, his tones echoing that 'hope' in his words, "that you might say that."
"You see, I am no longer with the XMen," Kurt murmurs. "Und I am without resources at the moment in my researching." Not -entirely- true, but true enough to pass veracity tests. "Und.."
Though, Shift's warning regarding how they'd capture the guy gains a genuine look of displeasure. "No bamf. No fur.. I'd look.." Human. "Unnatural." Odd how a blue-furred demonic-looking mutant could think that looking truly human (without his image inducer) wouldn't be right.
"But it does look as if there's something of an alliance to be made."
Not a word is spoken as Mystique lifts a hand into the air, two fingers hooking in a 'come here' motion. She doesn't bother looking at the ones she's signalling, yet two obvious mutants step forth a moment later. She leans back and peers up at them both with that thin smile yet in place. "Mind the doors for the moment."
Just like that the small cafe is on lockdown. Word of this event does not leave this room. The cafe is officially Vegas.
When Kwabena talks about people acting as humans she passes her attention back to Kurt once more, a slight note of tease upon her next words. "Perhaps you should invite your marksman friend to this party. I'm sure they will find plenty to talk about with our friend here," she offers with a slight motion towards Olena.
Kwabena's silent response is met in turn, once more passing a sly grin back at the darker skinned man. Then, giving into temptation, her expression momentarily lights up as she asks "Isn't this fun?"
Kurt's eternal good cheer just may have originated from further back. For as twisted and manipulative as she is, Mystique does so enjoy having a good time. She can be fun, positive, vibrant and upbeat. One only need step up to her level to appreciate it.
"We're in agreement, then. This is a situation which must be quickly resolved. We will help make sure that it is taken care of properly. To those on the front lines I might suggest limiting exposure to this individual as much as possible, just in case."
If she ends up losing Nightcrawler... Well. That's something that neither of them could live with. She would never allow her child to suffer the life of a human.
"Regrettably, I cannot risk leaving Bastion, or Hammer Bay," Magneto informs the group. "Powerful elements are at work internationally- I would not put it past the self-styled Lord of Latveria to pay me an international visit. I must remain at my post to defend our new home," he says, including the entire company in the 'our' as a matter of course. "You will want to ensure that you have a great deal of firepower at your disposal." He rolls his wrist and a sheet of what looks like metallic paper springs into life on his palm. "I understand there are a number of mercenaries who are highly trained at operating under extremely adverse conditions. Some discreet inquiries have produced the name of one 'Wade Wilson'," he says, sliding the sheet of what is apparently graphene towards Kwabena. It has the mercenary's name and phone on it. "I'm given to understand he's a barely functional lunatic, but there were expansive notes about his unique gifts in the Humanity First research archives. I have strong reasons to suspect he may be resistant to this X-gene inhibitor," he explains. "It is your call, of course. From all accounts, he's utterly insane, if not highly capable."
Accepting the piece of graphite from Magneto, Kwabena permits a sour, albeit it amused, expression to form on his face. "I am familiah with him," he answers, though he does begin carefully folding the piece of graphite after memorizing the number. It was different than the one he had. "He likes to shoot objects at me to see what happens. Finds it amusing."
Meeting Mystique's lightened expression, the corner of Kwabena's mouth actually twitches into a bit of a smile. He leans back into his seat and, now that the negotiations seem to have come to an end, reaches inside of his shirt and produces a beat up, old flask. "Not yet," he quips at her, before twisting the cap off and lifting the flask to take a snort.
The flask is offered next to Kurt, and if the Nightcrawler declines, it will go to Mystique second. Once the item is free of his clutches, however, his attention swings back to that of Erik. There is a momentary pause, before he leans just so toward the older man. "If dere is a time, I would wish to discuss him. Discretely." He is, of course, referring to Victor Von Doom. Kwabena had absolutely no desire to discuss his past addiction, nor the way Doom's nanites keep him alive by feeding it, nor the way Professor Xavier, Reed Richards, and others have worked tirelessly to prevent the nanites from destroying Kwabena. It was humiliating subject matter, and he'd be damned if Olena and Mystique were to know about it.
But Magneto may possess a final solution for him. One that wouldn't keep him enslaved to anybody.
Personal stakes are the best, aren't they?
Olena acts as silent witness as the negotiations come to an end. She met Mr. Wilson once, though she's never heard the name Wade Wilson associated with him. Come to think of it, it's a toss-up as to whether or not she's even heard his call-sign. When she meets him, however, she'll know him.
And his choice of ice cream.
For now, however, it's enough to know there's a new target on the horizon. That's something to which she can look forward.
Kurt watches as the cafe goes on lockdown, yellow eyes looking to all and sundry still remaining. His smile tightens around the edges, but he's not.. nervous. Even if the distinguished looking Magneto can put an end to his bamfing out just with his magnetic dampening. "I.. don't know if they'd come?" Read: it's the other person in that Mystique takedown, as of yet unidentified person.. and the blue elf means to keep it that way!
Everyone has their secrets, and this one he'll protect, or die trying.
Their mutual agreement with the initial plans serves to lighten Kurt's own mood, and when Kwa hands the flask around, the elf does take a swallow before he hesitates.. and sends it along to his mother. "I.. don't know if I've met him yet." He had, mind.. and it's where he'd gotten his favoured moniker 'Holy Hell'..
Perhaps when and if he sees the man once again?
Now, however, the blue elf is ready to dispense with business. Everything he'd wanted has been covered; they're welcomed with seemingly open arms and granted access beyond his expectations. So far? So good.
A perfect blue eyebrow hooks upward slightly as Kwabena offers the flask to Mystique. She'll accept, once Kurt's had his chance with it.
She, too, is familiar with the one called Wade Wilson. "Such a man would work best as a distraction rather than for the incision proper," she says in a form of agreement to Kwa.
The guy's a loon. That's all there is to it. He's also not exactly a mutant, which means she trusts him that much less. Sometimes a person only needs the biggest sledgehammer they can find, though she's still surprised that Erik is passing out the contact info of an outside mercenary rather than one from within their own ranks. The so-called merc with a mouth, on a very sensitive job?
These two will never see eye to eye on every subject. But, that's okay. Between the two of them, she knows which one is going to live longer.
Kurt's awkward response is met with that smile. That 'I know something that you don't know' expression she so loves to silently taunt everyone else with. Which is funny, given the situation. He knows who that shooter is. She knows that he knows. He doesn't know that she knows that much. It's an odd victory at best, but she's an odd woman.
Speaking of odd, is it strange that Kwabena doesn't seem to know that Mystique was the one that blew up that church around him and a bunch of his friends? She hasn't forgotten. It's all so terribly amusing to her. Perhaps the boy found a little faith somewhere back there.
"Very well then," Magneto says, clapping his hands together once, sharply. Though he doesn't stand, it's clearly a sign that the discussion has concluded and people should take their leave. "I believe you all know best how to proceed. I am a strong proponent of the theory that a good leader gives as few orders as possible. Whatever support you need, simply ask Mystique and she will approve any equipment or funding you require. If you need something more exotic than mundane supplies- the proverbial 'ten foot pole' and the like- I will assist as well. Mr. Odame," he says, turning his attention to the mutant. "Before you leave the island, I should like to have a word with you in private." He turns his attention back to the group as a whole. "Take your leave, my friends, and I wish you all luck. Remember, you hold the fate of all mutant kind in your hands."
Category:Log