Pascal
Raichu
SO happy.
Posts: 74
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Post by Pascal on Aug 1, 2007 19:42:11 GMT -5
((Oh my!!! *posts as Ansel the Hobo*))
Not too far away from the alley Korian conversed in, Ansel awoke to the sounds of 'car trouble'. Trouble anymore really meant trouble. Car horns, steel crashing against steel, and screams aplenty, Ansel thought there had to be at least ten cars. Or, maybe something a little greater involved. Things were like that lately.
Rising straight up into a sitting position, Ansel rubbed at his tired eyes. Four hours of sleep a night, on the cold stone floor of an alley, just didn't leave the body rested. During the war, the mutant had taken refuge in an 'abandoned house'. The way in which it was abandoned didn't really matter, though. The house had been destroyed shortly after Ansel took up residence in it, a stray bullet of the fighting striking it. If only the war had been fought with only bullets.
Leaning back on his hands, Ansel turned his gaze toward the sky, the stars seeming mock him. They shined brightly among the heavens, while he wasted away in the streets. It was quite an exciting life. Never sleeping in the same place once, no one to accept him, and no idea of his place in this wonderful world. Ansel at least understood the general idea of the world. Chaos, turmoil, death, destruction.
Lazily standing up, Ansel steadied himself on the alley's brick, more or less feeling his way to the opening. Peering out into the street, the mutant stared at the carnage. Shattered glass, motionless bodies, and...blood. Lots of blood. It almost made Ansel giggle. It had been awhile since he'd even made use of his hemokinetic powers.
Glorious...
Concentrating on the gory mess before him, 'Artery' caused some of the blood to slither from the mess like a snake, rising before him in a spiral. As horrified passersby turned to the crash and him in turn, Ansel reacted instinctively. Lashing out with the blood like a whip, he caught a woman across the face, creating a large gash. The woman screamed wildly, falling to the ground. Her reaction surprised Ansel.
Here I thought it was a perfect cut...
Shaking off any remorse or guilt he might have felt at hurting an innocent person, Ansel fell back against the outside wall of a random shop, ready to act like a victim if necessary. He didn't want to be blamed for a mess like mess. Ansel at least had the decency to clean up after he played with his toys.
Another immature mutant...?
Swearing under his breath, Artery turned his head once more to the starry blackness above, wanted partly to be swallowed by it. Just to disappear from the world. Such a place held nothing for him. It was join one side or the other, and fight for a purpose he didn't believe in. Sighing deeply, Ansel closed his eyes, imagining a world where he could be free...and happy. One couldn't be any different from himself in a harsh place like this.
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Post by MorriganFearn on Aug 1, 2007 21:58:12 GMT -5
((Bah. I'm gonna make a small time skip. If this interferes with what anyone's doing, or if they have some masterful plan that needs Pietro at about 2 am the previous night I shall of course delete, and post properly. Also excuse the odd formating of the first paragraph. It's basically a bunch of memories flowing into one another. The Yom Kippur reference at the end is a little garbled, since Pietro's religious education probably came to a screeching halt when Erik decided it was time to experiment with mutations rather than act as a parent to his children.))
His hand trembled as it held the match out. The smoke engulfed him. Bullets whizzed by his face,[/b] laughing and taunting him to catch them.[/i] He lazily reached out and grabbed the spinning lead. Grabbed it, and held on. Held onto the lifeless corpse of lead. Lifeless corpse, life less corpse.[/i] Black hair kissed his forehead and he was so young. So young.[/b] Yom Kippur. We can only ask to forgive others, when we have asked our hearts to forgive ourselves. Erev Yom Kippur.
Pietro jerked awake with a cry and a thud as he rolled off the small couch. He sat up, breathing in and out slowly. Down the hall, from Luna's room, he heard a suruptious creak of a door. He hated dreams.
Getting to his feet he glanced down to remind himself that he had discarded the blood-stained MNSP shirt and jacket. He had a spare at his other house. That might be where he had to go. Yes. That was it. He looked out the window. The light said some time past seven, but not long past.
He looked up again to see Luna standing in the hall, clutching her nearly shapeless stuffed elephant. It had been a birthday gift. Pietro was glad to see it. It made the effort he'd gone to shoplifting it worth every twinge of guilt he had felt for stealing from mutants.
"Daddy?" she asked, her blue eyes too large for her head -- the fear in them too real. "Are we going?"
"Yes," Pietro replied. "Yes, we are."
"Oh." Luna looked down, fiddling absently with the trunk of her elephant. The cloth was almost bare of the blue fuzz it had been covered with. "I thought -- I unpacked," her plea was almost plaintive.
Pietro crossed the room quickly, scooping her up in his arms. Usually the quick movements, the sensation of flying, and the heights all made her giggle. Today Luna just smiled. Pietro grinned back at her, his teeth white against the slight tan of his skin. "C'Mon Moon Child. I packed for you last night. Must have been pretty startling to see your room so clean, huh?"
"I do keep it clean!" Luna protested. "I do, I do!"
"Then why was it so messy?" Pietro teased her.
"Fairies!"
"Oh really," he carried her over to the bare kitchen, and placed her ceremoniously on a chair. "And what did those fairies do to your poor room?"
"Uhhh -- Danced! Of course. Fairies always dance," Luna continued with much more certainty, as her father rummaged in the refrigerator.
"Do they?" Pietro asked absently. He didn't know where the inspiration for fairies had come from. It certainly wasn't from his repertoire of excuses about why his and Wanda's room had always looked like a cyclone had struck. "Did they also take any hint of breakfast with them?"
"Miss Hettie gives me breakfast," Luna said promptly. "She gives me oatmeal. Sometimes, if I'm really good, I might get a bit of honey in it."
Pietro looked up at the dusty cupboards, a seventies avocado color. Nothing to be had. Well, they would be leaving the drear appartment soon enough. He blurred out of the room for a second, and came back with Luna's small bag. She grabbed it, like an old friend, from his hands.
"Where're we going?" she asked.
"Well," Pietro paused considering his options. There was a horrible pressure in his head. One that he couldn't relieve, and had been building since he realized that this dead end appartment wasn't safe. "I need to visit -- You can drop your stuff off at my other place. Then we're going somewhere special, all right?"
"Where?" Luna persisted, even as he picked her up again.
How long before she grew tall enough to be awkward? Pietro wondered. He'd once carried Lance's unconscious body twenty miles to a safe house during the war. Unless Luna was really unlucky she'd never grow too heavy for him to carry. Maybe she'd never get the chance to -- No. She would be able to grow old enough to be cumbersome. She would. He'd run them both to Latveria if he had to.
"You'll see. Daddy needs to remind himself about some things," Pietro answered, and the world stood still as he blasted out of the apartment. Past the homeless littering the streets, past the twisting ways of Hell's kitchen. Faster faster. He was the wind. A pale breeze. Invisible, insubstantial. Invulnerable.
They made it to the appartment that he used for crashing after work. Pietro slowed, the estatic high leaving him. He let himself in with the key, and put Luna down. "Here. Put your bag down. I need to find a new jacket. Maybe a better shirt, too," Pietro decided. "This one smells mildewed."
Luna just nodded solemnly, not letting go of her bag.
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Post by Ruin Queen of Oblivion on Aug 1, 2007 22:33:01 GMT -5
Suddenly, there's a knock at the door, and a sharp voice calls out. "Mr. Maximoff, this is the Acolyte Elite Force, your presence is requested in the capitol building," the voice says.
The Acolyte Elite Force, the most powerful members of the Secret Police force, they mostly had the job of protecting the most elite members of the government, and where known to execute even mutants without mercy if they resisted.
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Post by MorriganFearn on Aug 2, 2007 9:18:21 GMT -5
One Second
Pietro grabbed Luna again. He stuffed her in the closet off the hall. Even his super charged thoughts didn't feel that there was enough time for this. He'd leave the door open. Luna wasn't visible. Open doors weren't suspicious. Closed door on the other hand. Closed door were to be searched.
Two Seconds
He was in front of the door again, running his long fingers through his hair, scuffing it up even as he pretended to rub sleep from his eyes. "All right. 'M coming. It's a little early in bloody morning for a visit," he growled through the door, before opening it, and leaning against the door frame in his usual lazy manner.
He needed to act naturally. He knew he had a reputation for being weird. Super speed wasn't a normal lifestyle. Hopefully no one would see anything suspicious. Nothing to let them suspect. Luna knew enough to keep quiet. He had to act naturally. Hopefully this was just a new case that he needed to work on. Hopefully.
"Any idea what they want? I'm trying to catch up on three days without sleep."
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Post by Ruin Queen of Oblivion on Aug 2, 2007 11:59:24 GMT -5
"We have orders from the highest levels to bring you there, we have not been permitted to say anything more, now please Mr. Maximoff, come," the officer says, moving out of the doorway, and making a motion for Pietro to move ahead.
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Post by MorriganFearn on Aug 2, 2007 12:10:08 GMT -5
"Fine," Pietro grumbled, running his fingers distractedly though his hair.
Even he didn't keep the High Council waiting. Besides, it'd be easier this way. He knew Luna knew enough not to open the door to strangers. She'd come from the closet after he left. Hopefully get herself something to eat. He blurred into the apartment for less than a second, and returned, shrugging on the uniform jacket of Muna Pol.
Stepping out into the hallway he shut the door behind him. "Well, lead the way."
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Post by Ruin Queen of Oblivion on Aug 2, 2007 12:44:42 GMT -5
Pietro was led down to an unmarked van, which headed in the direction of the capitol building. The trip passed without a word, and once they reached the top floor of the main building of the Mutant Nation, those that were around, assistants and the occasional glimpse of the High Council members that worked out of the capitol building, Pietro found himself in front of an ornate door, guarded by two members of the Acolyte Elite Force. As they enter the door, Pietro finds himself in a lavish office, with a desk on the other end, with the chair currently facing away from them.
"Pietro Maximoff, as you requested, milady," the officer says, giving a slight bow.
"You're excused," the woman in the chair says in a voice that's almost familiar, and the officer bows his way out. "Pietro, its been awhile since we last had the chance to talk, and I believe we have something important to discuss, namely, Luna."
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Post by MorriganFearn on Aug 2, 2007 12:51:33 GMT -5
Pietro felt coldness settle in his chest. There was no way. No way. This couldn't happen. No. He had to act cool and get out of there as quickly as he could. Even more quickly than he could. Still -- it might all be a bluff. He tried to steady his breathing, affect nonchalance. "Excuse me? We need to talk about what?"
~~~
In the closet Luna whimpered as she hugged the bag filled with her meager belongings to her chest. The door had closed almost half an hour ago, but was it safe to leave the confining darkness? There weren't any sounds in the apartment. And she was so hungry. So very hungry.
Finally hunger won over fear, and she slipped out from behind the coats. The hallway was empty. It was a clean place. But in a way almost as empty as the Hell's Kitchen appartment. The colors that predominated were blue, and white. The stubble of the carpet felt tough.
Luna wandered carefully through the rooms, seeking out the kitchen. Finding it she opened the stainless steel refrigerator. There was some milk almost out of her reach. She pushed a chair over, and stood on that, bringing the carton down.
Carefully she sniffed at it. But unlike most of the food in Hell's Kitchen the milk was fresh, and not smeared with mold. Setting the carton down she went to fine where the glases were.
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Post by Ruin Queen of Oblivion on Aug 2, 2007 13:01:25 GMT -5
"Your daughter, Pietro, its a little known fact that any reports that involve the immediate family of the leader, bypasses the High Council, and goes straight to the top," the woman says, turning her chair around to reveal Rogue. "Don't worry, this room isn't bugged, I've checked it over at least 10 times, and I gave my secretary the day off, the only way our father could know about your little secret is if I told him myself. I'm here to help you, Pietro."
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Post by MorriganFearn on Aug 2, 2007 13:14:13 GMT -5
"Yeah, 'cause we're such good friends," Pietro sneered, falling back to the defense of his school days. "So, only you know? And the little guard detachment that brought me here? What are they going to think, hmm? That this is just a chat to discuss old times?" He leaned his weight on the desk, all arrogance in the face of his one time comrade and one time nemesis.
It was hard to inspire awe in someone when they remembered you sobbing about how "I didn't mean to hurt him. We just touched. How was I tah know?!" It might have been years ago, but Pietro was not one to forget any weakness if he could use it to his advantage.
"I'll take care of her, Rogue. I seem to remember the last time someone trusted you to take care of someone who couldn't take care of them self you pushed her off a cliff. Not that I greatly regret Mysique's supposed demise -- but you definitely tried your best to kill her, even if it was just a statue," Pietro continued quietly, trying to push the buttons that used to take Rogue on long guilt trips.
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Post by Ruin Queen of Oblivion on Aug 2, 2007 13:33:59 GMT -5
"I'll admit, I've made my mistakes, I'm not proud of some of the things I've done. You might not want my help, but I'm giving it to you," Rogue says, shaking her head as she opens a desk drawer. "I've put you in for a transfer to Columbia Missouri, it was ravaged by the war, which makes it difficult to patrol, so you will be safer there, its already gone through, you'll be sent on a transport later today. While you're there, I would recomend hooking up with an old friend of mine, if you so desire, you'll find her at this address," Rogue says, and writes something down on a piece of paper, and places it on the desk. "In addition, if you are to bring Luna with you, you will most likely have to submit her to a DNA test, for that purpose, use this," she says, taking a vial of blood out of her desk. "It will get you through the check points, and to Missouri safely, you don't have to take it, but its risky if you don't."
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Post by MorriganFearn on Aug 2, 2007 14:00:12 GMT -5
Pietro looked a little off put as he snagged the vial. "This isn't from anyone on record, is it?" he asked brusquely, holding it up to the light. "I think people might be a little suspicious if they checked, and discovered that her supposed genes said that she should have a white forelock and green eyes, for example," he shot Rogue a piercing glance. "Sorry for suspecting your intelligence -- but even former X-Geeks screw up the most basic tasks. She's five now -- it's not so hard to pass her off as unmanifested, but I can't let -- Too many people know that Wanda and I have some of the earliest manifestations on record. Any family we have should have manifested by an early age, as well." He breathed out, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
He wanted to speak as fast as possible, get everything said and done before his common sense reasserted itself with a kick. However, he had to speak at a "normal" pace, which meant thinking at a "normal" pace. Right now he was disjointed as too much information filled his skull, threatening to burst. "The less public her life is -- the less obvious her connection to me -- the better. I can't take her to Missouri, not openly.
He shrugged, casting the vial back down on the desk. "You know how fast I am. Once I know how to get there it'll be a snap. I -- the transfer's not a bad idea," this admission that she might have done something smart looked as though it cost Pietro a lot. "But the further I keep you from this -- Luna's that much safer. You're too close to him, Rogue. And you wouldn't be where you are right now without knowing how hard it is to refuse him anything when he wants it," Pietro looked strained as he finished the last sentence, his voice barely audible.
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Post by Ruin Queen of Oblivion on Aug 2, 2007 14:17:07 GMT -5
"You're right, Pietro, just do this one thing for me, keep her safe," Rogue says. "You're right, I'm too close, but there are people out there that can help you more than I can," she says, and takes the paper back, and writes two words under the adress, "Safe House."
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Post by MorriganFearn on Aug 2, 2007 14:21:35 GMT -5
"Like I'm doing this for you," Pietro muttered, taking the address and reading it. "Oh yay. I've been in safe houses before, Food that makes army cooks look good and lots of spiders. Oh well, it won't be that big a change for Luna," he shrugged, and turned to go. "I'm guessing I'll be leaving in the afternoon?"
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Post by Ruin Queen of Oblivion on Aug 2, 2007 14:41:36 GMT -5
"Yeah, take my advice, and don't insult the food, Jess prides herself on her cooking," Rogue says, and turns back to some paperwork on her desk.
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Post by MorriganFearn on Aug 2, 2007 18:40:09 GMT -5
Pietro decided to insult the food as much as possible. However, he didn't say so. He needed to think. He exited, ignoring the guards. He knew what they were. He could probably kill some of them if they tried to follow him home and found out about Luna. The deadliest members of Muna Pol were those who had been with SHIELD during the war. Even the deserters like him. The Elites were the most loyal and deadly. That was the difference. The Elites could be trusted. Not all of the former SHEILDs could.
The ride down the elevator was long even to people with a normal sense of time. However, Pietro didn't chafe as he would have normally. Rogue had given him far far too much to think about. Could she even be trusted? Well, former X-Geeks had a load of that crap people called honor. He would keep her at arm's length. Her intentions were probably as altruistic as ever -- but she was a puppet. They all were. Dancing on the puppet master's strings. He couldn't trust them.
And Rogue had sent him -- was sending him -- to somewhere she knew humans weren't killed. She knew it was a safe place for humans. Didn't she realize that Pietro was likely to do his duty and burn the traitors? Unless -- she trusted him to have some shred of honor buried deep inside. It struck Pietro that Rogue was a fool. Assuming that he was a decent person just based on the evidence that he hadn't handed Luna over to Magneto yet.
He didn't even know why he bothered to hide the girl half the time. If he had any sense of survival at all he'd have dropped her off in one of the slums and let her join the rest of the war orphans when Crystal had shoved the small girl into his life. He was an idiot, and acting irrationally.
"This is totally crazy of me." The memory of the quiet hospital room hit him like a blow to the stomach. He'd been looking down at Wanda. She was even more pale than usual. Stitches up the side of her face, down her neck. Her arm had been swathed in bandages.
"This is totally crazy of me," he had muttered quietly to his unconscious twin. "There's so much more at stake here. I've got to carry out a mission from Fury in two hours. I should be sleeping. Going over plans. Doing something that isn't useless. I know you'll wake up in your own sweet time. There's no point in me being here. Why the--"
"Heh."
He'd whirled. It was so late, and the infirmary, though crowded, wasn't crowded enough for any of the sleepers to overhear his fierce, angry whispers. Johnny lay in the bed next to Wanda's, his face pale and drawn beneath the bandages. He hadn't been trapped by the bombed building the way Wanda had been, but fire heated glass from the exploding windows had done enough damage. The blue eyes, however, sparkled now in utmost awareness.
"Heh," he repeated, just as quietly as Pietro. "You're so effing predictable."
"What do you want, Pyro?" Pietro nearly growled, rounding on the fire melder.
Johnny breathed out shakily, and smiled wanly. "A little light? Nursie took m'zippo away. You got matches, dontcha, fearless leader?"
"Yeah," Pietro, against all better judgment and common sense walked over to Pryo's medical bed and pulled out a box of matches from his sweatpants pocket. His hands shook as he struck the match. It flared and his hand continued to shake as he held the flame nearer Pyro's head. Damnit. His hand had been doing that far too much. He couldn't even quell the shudders coming along his arm any more.
Johnny ignored the weakness, too engrossed in the flame by his head. He neatly lifted it off the match, and made the little fireball spin in mid air, the orange light revealing a wrapped, contented smile, the pain from his slashes almost leaving his face.
"You poor numbskull," he addressed Pietro as the fireball bounced up and down in the air. "You nut case."
"This isn't a good ploy for getting a raise, Johnny," Pietro glared.
The maniac just laughed. "You don't get it, do you? I know what makes you tick. I figured it out!"
"Do spare me," Pietro replied sarcastically.
"You run. You poor sot, you've been running from everything. That's all you do. Run and run and run. Look at you. Worried that your sister is going to die, and you're running from confronting your feelings. You run fearless leader," Pyro cackled again, as if this was the greatest joke in the world.
Pietro didn't understand John's behavior -- which had gotten even crazier as the war dragged on. He supposed he should be glad that Pyro was feeling in one of his talkative moods. Johnny could be a regular Lao Tzu philosopher when he wasn't "seeing pretty pictures in the fire" or acting stupid because he got a kick out of it. The kid was a genius of sorts. By eighth grade he had managed to get expelled from almost every school in Australia, and written two novels. The crazed fool still kept them in with his stuff, and Pietro had read both when he was bored. They were incredibly sappy, crappy, and, when it came to the make out scenes, completely inaccurate. But there was some talent there, under the youthful penning. If he didn't act like such a loon in real life you might almost suspect that Pyro was a sensitive man with perception far beyond his years. Instead he acted as though he was ten years younger than Pietro, who was about Pyro's age.
"Why do you call me that?" Pietro had asked tiredly to break the spell of mirth.
"'Cause. You learn quickly. Lance, well, he's one of these natural leader types. But you, you're fast. You learned all the tricks from him, yer old man, and now you're taking all your cues from Fury. Don' think I haven't noticed. He's putting you in charge now more than our dear ol' quake feet. You learn faster than the rest of us. You steal abilities almost as good as that X-Chick Rems moons over," Pyro giggled as his flame split into miniature figures of Remy getting forcefully rejected by Rogue. "I just figger with some lessons you learned 'em faster than you should have, mate. All that josh about not showing your better feelings. But you've got 'em."
"You're a crazy kid, Johnny. The pain's making you say funny stuff," Pietro shrugged.
"Suure," Pyro grinned knowingly. "Sooooo -- y'think I'll be up for the next mission."
"Pryo, a human sent a molitov cocktail into a bar, which started a fire, and brought the roof down on Wanda, before blowing all of the glass in the place into your body as you tried to keep the flames from reaching Wanda and Fred when he pulled her out. No. You're not coming," Quicksilver told his teammate. "It's a mutant ring planning to blow up the Golden Gate, any way. One of them has water based powers. You'd be useless."
Pyro sighed, and muttered: "Fine, ruin all my fun."
Pietro rubbed his temples, and Johnny looked back up at him. "Y'know, I kinda like things like this. All the chaos. It makes life so interestin'. And knowing we're on a good side, of course."
"Are we?" Pietro's mutter was really only for his ears alone. "Sometimes I think Fury's goal of keeping the country together is going to help destroy us all. He is only human."
He shook his head. "Put the fire out before you go to sleep. I've got a mission in a few hours."
Pietro's errant steps had lead him almost all the way to Central Park by this time. Pyro hadn't been right, had he? The crazy nitwit. Pietro broke into a jog. The wind in his face relaxed him. He could feel his lungs filling as they should. His thoughts breezed by. Just run and run and run.
He was at his apartment, and unlocking the door. Walking in he slammed it.
"Luna?" The small blonde head peeked around the corner of the living room. "I'm going to be leaving in the afternoon for our new home, okay?" he asked her, striding over and bending down to her level. "I'll come and pick you up later. It'll be fine. Just keep the lights off, okay? And don't open the door for anyone. Once I leave people will think no one is here."
"Yes," Luna looked down meekly, her bottom lip trembling. she was clutching the elephant again.
"I'll be back," Pietro added again. "I promise. I just need to know where the place is so I can get you there, okay?"
"Yes," Luna repeated still unhappy.
Pietro sighed. He had no idea what to do. "C'mere. Your pigtails aren't even," he said at last.
Luna smiled slightly, and turned around obediently for her father to fix her hair. Oh, she didn't want to repack everything all over again.
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Post by Ruin Queen of Oblivion on Aug 2, 2007 19:06:25 GMT -5
The safe house in question was huge, it was once a single house that had become a safe house for mutants during the war, but had expanded in recent years, and now took up most of the buildings in the area. There was also towers jutting up around the area, but they don't look suspitious, at first glance.
The safe house was deemed a Neutral Zone by the Mutant Nation, members of any organization could only attack it under specific orders from the top, and the Secret Police was only permitted to enter when they weren't in uniform, and unarmed. Humans where allowed to stay there, but it wasn't a crime for a citizen of the Mutant Nation to do as they wished to the humans.
There where rumors that the complex extended underground as well, but there was no proof of this.
And at the heart of all this, seemingly a loyal citizen, is Jessica Roland.
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Post by MorriganFearn on Aug 2, 2007 19:54:41 GMT -5
((Whoo, let's do the tiiiiime warp again, 'cause it takes to time transport the puny mortals who do not have the advantage of Pietro speed! And, of course, Pietro, when he doesn't know where he's going. Which is most of the time. Only he doesn't know it.
Jollity aside, this is now *early* morning of the second day after Pietro blew some poor human reporter's brains out. So 'Tro is about 30 hours ahead of everyone else. Meh. It's hard playing catch up with a speed demon.))
Pietro was rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he surveyed the Muna Pol headquaters, little more than two blocks away from the safe house. His position as a Captain from a New York squad was getting him some intense scrutiny and nervous fawning from the commander.
"And you can see, this is our operations room," the nervous man was saying.
Pietro took in the dingy carpet, the long table probably scrounged from a high school cafeteria, the banks of computers and equipment that was probably only staying pieced together through luck, or maybe a technopath. Christ. This place reminded him of the hole his squad had been pinned down in after rushing to save some hostages from what only proved to be a setup.
"Very good. And the piles of paper are the reported incidents. Not the unreported ones," Pietro said coldly. "You know what, I'm going to run around town a bit, and aquaint myself with the place."
"What?" the commander looked perplexed, but one of his aides whispered something in his ear. Pietro was certain he heard the word: "Quicksilver." It was weird being in a place where people had to be reminded of his mutation. He smirked at the girl who knew so much, and she blushed slightly. Well, could be worse, he supposed. The drawling, relaxed ways down here might get under his collar, but the girls were pretty, and there was plenty for him to do.
He stepped out of the office, and id run around the town for a minute. The safe house he found easily enough. He crumpled up the scrap of paper with the address and tossed to the rubble strewn road. People didn't find things like that.
With that he breathed in some intoxicating lungfulls and then zoomed off. He felt elation and joy as always, moving through the frozen world. Time stood still for him. Distance seemed irrelevant. He could just be part of the wind, the air. Suspended for long glorious moments, trees, houses, whole cities flashing past, unable to see him. It was beautiful.
He had to stop by the time he reached inner queens. Too much air speed and friction was causing the asphalt to smoke sinisterly, and he guiltily remembered that his toughened boots were with his luggage at the Columbia HQ. He still had enough sole left on these shoes to make it back, but he's have to buy better.
He only jogged back to his appartment. If he met anyone embarrassing he could just say he was testing the distance between the backwater posting and the heart of the Mutant Nation. Funny. He didn't feel so great, he thought when he entered the appartment. That had been his first long distance run in a long time. He had missed it, but obviously he should have been training better. Never mind. He'd be slower coming back anyway, with Luna to worry about.
She was still asleep, looking rather petulant. But her bag was packed. He gave her credit for that. Carefully he shook her awake, and took her and the duffle up, and then he was off again. He didn't dare let himself be visible in New York, but he slowed as he exited the city. Luna was looking wide eyed. She had never known that there was a world beyond the glass buildings and concrete towers.
Pietro smiled, inwardly wincing. He wondered for the first time how restricted her world really was, or would become. "We'll probably get there around noon," he promised her.
"Okay," Luna replied, looking thoughtful. She was just glad that he had come back to her, and kept his promise.
Pietro raced away. Finally he came to a blurred halt in front of the safe house. He set Luna down, breathing out. This might be the stupidest thing he'd ever done. He was about to trust the goodwill of Rogue, who had never been one of his fans exactly, and even worse, trust the goodwill of strangers. He barely trusted himself. This was a bad idea on so many levels. But he couldn't just let Luna live homeless, either here or in New York, and he had no other plan. So he might as well trust.
Pietro Maximoff took off his uniform jacket. His side arm he had left back at headquarters. He looked down at his daughter. "Here we are. Apparently the food is better than the Hell's Kitchen fair. Come on. Let's see if they'll take you."
"If?" Luna asked, looking terrified.
"I wouldn't ever let anything harm you, Luna," Pietro reminded himself as he looked at her, before heading up the stairs to knock, running his fingers through his hair.
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Post by Ruin Queen of Oblivion on Aug 2, 2007 20:17:57 GMT -5
Jess had already been alerted of their presence, the towers had run silent, and unnoticable scans on both of them, and one of the guards passed on the information.
"Miss. Roland, are you sure this is a good idea?" An assitant asks Jess as she makes her way to the front door to greet the two. "I mean, the human is one thing, but Pietro Maximoff? We've got a record on him a mile long, dating back to his days in the Brotherhood, and not to mention he's Magneto's..."
"Listen, we can't turn anyone away, that is how we work, we took an oath to protect the people, we just have to ensure that they know nothing of what happens below this place," Jess says, and opens the door, putting on a warm smile as she brushes her long white hair back. "Welcome to the Columbia Safe House, my name is Jessica Roland, but you can call me Jess, please, step inside," she says, and moves so Pietro and Luna could enter.
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Post by MorriganFearn on Aug 2, 2007 20:32:45 GMT -5
Pietro's reaction was a soft exclamation of: "You're just a kid." Rogue was quite obviously around the bend, recommending someone who couldn't have been more than eighteen, if that, as a reliable refuge.
However, he had been invited inside, and he did enter the 'safe house' dubiously. Luna followed behind, smiling tentatively up at Jess. She already knew that it always payed to be polite to people who would be deciding your fate.
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