Paranoia

[Pyro]

Several hours passed. John had little idea just how many. One of the curses of this place was the fact that there were no external windows, at all. So night became day, day became night, and most of the Brotherhood ended up simply falling into their own personal biorhythms.

John, who was frequently wound up so tightly you could have powered a generator off his nervous energy, had given up trying to find his own sleep pattern and tended to sleep when he could no longer focus. He had a room of his own; the room Magneto had given him when he had come back from Lake Alkali. Not that it had seen much use in the past few weeks: John had tended to sleep at the desk, almost as though he were afraid to leave the office in case someone usurped him.

He was proud of the efforts he'd made to keep the Brotherhood going. So many of them had just slipped away back to the mutant underground after Alcatraz, but he'd believed. He'd always believed. And now here he was, a bare handful of people working towards the same goal when Magneto had managed to command hundreds.

John sat down on the end of the bed in his room and buried his head briefly in his hands. He was only twenty years old, he had to keep reminding himself that. Hell, it was illegal for him to drink in several states. He had no life experience where Magneto had lived.

He could near constantly feel the roiling distrust from most of the remaining Brotherhood who were all, to a man, older than he was. He picked up the 'snotty brat' vibe and it irritated him beyond words. That irritation didn't go any way towards dispelling the petulance that marked his youth out plainly, of couse - but he was too young to see it.

Luckily, the Juggernaut had been one of the few who had, if not openly supported John's self-claimed leadership, but who had at least commented that it was nice to have someone take the decision.

And not too many people argued with the Juggernaut.

John lay down on the bed and closing his eyes, tried to sleep. His body was weary, his mind less so, and it took a long time for him to start relaxing. When he did finally relax, he stayed that way for fifteen minutes or so before he started suffering anxieties about the office. Had he locked it when he left? Of course he had. His paranoia was getting such that he'd *triple* checked it.

He relaxed again, the process taking slightly less longer than before and finally, he slept, his sleep deeply troubled. He slept for four full hours before waking to the rumbling sound of engines. Python had started the engines up on the cargo plane that would take first Sekhmet to New York and then he and Juggernaut onwards to England. Always one for checking things out thoroughly, Python was no doubt running a full systems check.

What was he doing sleeping? He had plans to make, people to feed, a base to run, banks to rob...

Life was full, of that there was no doubt.

[Juggers]

After the decision to return to England Cain had left Pyro to his plotting. He was sure the boy was thinking too much, after all, robbing banks had never been much of a problem for him. You went in, grabbed what you could carry and left again. It wasn't as if anybody could stop you. 'Almost anybody' he mentally amended.

Still, the Juggernaut understood England, though it had been many years since he had walked the streets of London. He wondered if Nick still organised the fights beneath the bridge and if he’d recognise him.

Cain grunted; it wasn't as if he actually cared if anybody remembered him back home. They were as likely to try to turn him in as welcome him back, particularly given the manner of his departure. The big man shrugged inwardly and ambled back towards his room.

Half way there he realised there wasn't anything to watch for at least an hour and immediately felt bored. Genosha was all well and good but it lacked somewhat in the entertainment department.

He changed course and stomped his way to what passed for the bases kitchens. Every surface groaned with dirty dishes, unwashed cutlery and discarded noodle packets. Cain shook his head in disgust.

"The sooner we get some grunts in 'ere the better," he muttered and crunched his way through the debris to the monolithic fridge. He pulled open the doors and glared inside as if sheer willpower could cause food, or better, beer to materialise. Sadly, it didn't.

"We NEED someone with that power," he sighed. Rooting through the edifice turned up little of value - some sort of nutrient shake thing, a bag of carrot - singular, three out of a four pack of yoghurts which would all need shaving before human consumption and, bizarrely, at the very back a small packet of candy rocks.

Cain ripped the packet open and devoured the contents in one. Suddenly the day seemed better and he slammed the fridge shut, almost toppling it in the process and stomped off in search of more substantial food. The cold store would have something but that was on the other side of the compound. Still, he had nothing better to do so he trooped off.

The route carried him back past the office and in a moment of uncharacteristic thoughtfulness ducked his head in.

"Goin' down to the cold store. Want anythin'?"

[Pyro]

"Goin' down to the cold store. Want anythin'?"

The Juggernaut's voice broke John out of his concentrated efforts to come up with a plan. "Uh, not that I can think of...a Coke if there's any left."

John had periodically indulged in the odd bottle of beer, but didn't particularly have much of a head for alcohol, so generally steered clear.

Of course, now that the suggestion had been made, his stomach protested at the cruel treatment of forgetting to eat for the best part of a day and a half. The last thing he'd had was a packet of noodles which were most definitely stale and tasteless. "Something to eat," he said, vaguely. "Surprise me."

He turned his head back down to pour over the maps of the UK again, periodically scribbling something down in his spider-like scrawl on a sheet of paper.

[Juggers]

"Something to eat," he said, vaguely. "Surprise me."

The Juggernaut shrugged and withdrew. Little of what was kept in the cold stores was surprising, still, he reflected happily, there might be something. His out-of-tune whistling trailed off down the corridor.

"Dreamin' dreams of Amarillo ... "

He tramped through the empty halls to one of the exits and wandered outside. The bulky silhouette of the American bound cargo plane was disappearing over the horizon and Cain squinted at it as it vanished from sight.

"Bloody hurry back," he muttered, "much longer doin' nothin' and I'm gonna start climbin' the walls."

He stomped across the practise ground, which still smouldered slightly from the earlier pyrotechnics and stopped by the stairwell that descended into the half-submerged cold store. In the tropical climate the easiest way to keep things cool was to keep them under ground. That and a big-arse cooler which chugged away merrily from the rear of the building.

Juggernaut clanged down the stairs and pushed the door open. A refreshing wall of cold air greeted him and he smiled as the cruel humidity was momentarily dispelled. Once his eyes adjusted to the gloom he frowned. The supplies situation was indeed becoming critical. Dozens of empty packing crates littered the room and most of the meat hooks dangled vacant.

Grumbling every step of the way Cain began rooting through the boxes in search of something other than a haunch of raw beef that would serve as food.

Ten minutes later he exited the building. One hand held a six-pack of cola, a tub of unbranded vanilla ice-cream and two oven ready pizzas. The other carried a haunch of raw beef.

Half way across the practise ground he kicked one fo the charred drums upright and lay the meat on the still warm metal before completing the return journey to the office.

"We really need to do somethin' about the food ye know," he said without preamble, once again filling the doorway.

"Anyways ... I need ya outside," he waved vaguely with the coke and pizzas.

[Juggers]

"Something to eat," he said, vaguely. "Surprise me."

The Juggernaut shrugged and withdrew. Little of what was kept in the cold stores was surprising, still, he reflected happily, there might be something. His out-of-tune whistling trailed off down the corridor.

"Dreamin' dreams of Amarillo ... "

He tramped through the empty halls to one of the exits and wandered outside. The bulky silhouette of the American bound cargo plane was disappearing over the horizon and Cain squinted at it as it vanished from sight.

"Bloody hurry back," he muttered, "much longer doin' nothin' and I'm gonna start climbin' the walls."

He stomped across the practise ground, which still smouldered slightly from the earlier pyrotechnics and stopped by the stairwell that descended into the half-submerged cold store. In the tropical climate the easiest way to keep things cool was to keep them under ground. That and a big-arse cooler which chugged away merrily from the rear of the building.

Juggernaut clanged down the stairs and pushed the door open. A refreshing wall of cold air greeted him and he smiled as the cruel humidity was momentarily dispelled. Once his eyes adjusted to the gloom he frowned. The supplies situation was indeed becoming critical. Dozens of empty packing crates littered the room and most of the meat hooks dangled vacant.

Grumbling every step of the way Cain began rooting through the boxes in search of something other than a haunch of raw beef that would serve as food.

Ten minutes later he exited the building. One hand held a six-pack of cola, a tub of unbranded vanilla ice-cream and two oven ready pizzas. The other carried a haunch of raw beef.

Half way across the practise ground he kicked one fo the charred drums upright and lay the meat on the still warm metal before completing the return journey to the office.

"We really need to do somethin' about the food ye know," he said without preamble, once again filling the doorway.

"Anyways ... I need ya outside," he waved vaguely with the coke and pizzas.

[Pyro]

"We really need to do somethin' about the food ye know...

The Juggernaut re-appeared, blocking the little bit of light that filtered in from the corridor, and casting a phenomenally irritating shadow across Somerset.

"Anyways ... I need ya outside."

"I'm kind of busy right now, can't it wait?"

Judging from the expression on the Juggernaut's face when John looked up at him, clearly it couldn't. He stretched out his shoulders with an audible 'pop', pocketed his Zippo out of sheer habit, and followed the massive man down the corridor and out into the yard area.

It took him about four seconds to realise exactly why it was that the Juggernaut had wanted him down there.

"I am not," he said, narrowing his eyes in a bad-tempered sort of way, "a Fisher Price toy bloody OVEN."

He flicked his lighter on and glowered.

"Rare, medium or well-done?"

[Juggers]

"Rare, medium or well-done?"

Juggernaut cocked his head on one side and grinned.

"Make it medium-rare mate an' I'll crack ya open a cola."

He deposited the pizzas, ice-cream and Coke and sat heavily onto the dusty ground. There really wasn't much to do on Genosha since the fracturing of the Brotherhood and Cain was getting restless. He was used to simply getting up and getting what he wanted, as and when he decided he wanted it.

He'd enjoyed the little break and the feet up time, spending it as he had catching up with the Wimbledon games and the occasional match of ice hockey. That was his one concession to America. Any game that allowed you to wear blades on your feet and fight was alright by him.

Now however, he was starting to get bored.

And a bored Juggernaut was a bad thing.

"When you reckon he'll be back?" Cain said waving in the general direction of the departed plane.

[Pyro]

Pyro's glower faded off his face to be replaced by a grin of genuine amusement. The Juggernaut had yet again succeeded in lightening his mood. "Medium-rare coming up," he said, cupping the fire between his balled hands and shaking it like a set of dice before loosing a well-timed blast at the meat.

"When you reckon he'll be back?"

The young mutant crossed to the now-cooked joint of beef and sniffed at it. It smelled phenomenally delicious and he had to hold back the urge to tear into it there and then. "Probably some time tomorrow if he doesn't hang around," he said. "I sent Sekhmet off to New York, although I did get on the radio that Python was headed for Miami. Go figure." He held up the joint of beef, a quizzical look on his face. The Juggernaut waved him ahead and Pyro bit into the perfectly cooked meat with relish.

Thousands of half-starved cells in his stomach rushed to thank him. He took several more mouthfuls of the beef, then handed it across to the big man. He wiped the grease off his chin and swigged at the can of Coke.

It was then that he realised he'd not shut off the psionic conduit to the fire that had cooked the unfortunate bovine. A small spark, barely more than a flame was almost hovering over his left shoulder. He turned his head slightly to look at it thoughtfully.

"That's odd," he murmured, and with a blink, the fire died out.

"When he gets back, we need to be ready to go straight away. We're going to head up to Manchester, not London. There's several large cities in a close radius and it'd work better for us not to hit the capital. So I'm sorry, but no trip to Selhurst Park this time out, eh?"

He'd been doing some research, it seemed.

[Juggers]

"We're going to head up to Manchester, not London. There's several large cities in a close radius and it'd work better for us not to hit the capital. So I'm sorry, but no trip to Selhurst Park this time out, eh?"

"Manchester?" Cain groaned.

"Fuckin' northern monkeys ... " he trailed off shaking his head.

It wasn't that he'd been PLANNING on making a visit to the football ground or anything but, you know, the idea had been there. He gave a resigned sigh - he couldn't fault Pyro's logic.

Besides, he brightened suddenly, if they were going to bust up some banks there was a chance somebody might be stupid enough to try to stop them. Then they wouldn't be singin' any more ...

He took several huge bites of the beef and chewed thoughtfully. The problem with the north was that you couldn't understand what they were saying half the time. The other half of the time you just didn't want to know.

"Sounds like a plan to me." He admitted finally.

[Pyro]

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Damn right it's a plan," said John, fiercely. "And it's MY plan. So there you go. I AM capable of coming up with something. Go, me."

He reached for the beef, of which there was barely anything left and gulped down another couple of mouthfuls. "The plane has smuggling compartments. Magneto made them big enough to store all kinds of stuff when he was building his machine a few years back; you should fit OK into one of those if necessary."

John stretched his tired muscles a little. "I think the plan is to make a brief refuelling stop in Italy. Python's got some UK contacts who can sort us out with a reinforced chassis vehicle - so he says. We head from Manchester to Liverpool, check it out, hit a bank or two, make the statement that we're here and we mean business. We get the cash, we get back on the plane, we get out of there."

He'd sat, last night, and tried to figure out why it was that he was planning a bank raid, in England.

He couldn't work it out.

Eventually he'd decided it was because he needed - pun intended - firing up again. And their faces were too well known in the US just now to pull anything spectacular off, so why not try England out for size?

Besides, John had always fancied visiting England. Kill two birds with one stone. And he'd started going stir crazy cooped up here in Genosha.

Perhaps crazier than he realised.

[Juggers]

"Damn right it's a plan," said John, fiercely. "And it's MY plan. So there you go. I AM capable of coming up with something. Go, me."

Juggernaut conceded the point: It was HIS plan. He certainly wasn't holding with this 'hiding in the smuggling compartment' business though.

"'ll be good to see England again," he mused aloud, "even if it is bloody Liverpool." He huffed something under his breath about 'stupid ginger scousers' before returning to the important issue of food.

He stared somewhat forlornly at the absence of beef. By now the ice-cream could probably be eaten with a straw and he grudgingly accepted the oven-ready pizzas actually required an oven.

Cain sighed, drained his cola and got to his feet. The sun was starting to dip beyond the horizon, staining the ocean gold and ochre. He belched, crushed the can and hurled it out of the compound. The projectile vanished into the undergrowth accompanied by an animal screech of protest.

The Juggernaut chuckled.

"I'll throw these in the oven then, you want ... er ... " he scanned the boxes, "ham and pineapple or chicken supreme?"

"Chicken supreme," Pyro replied without hesitation.

"Fuckin' typical," Cain grumbled; he would now spend the better part of fifteen minutes removing anything remotely fruit-like from his pizza.

Heaving a huge sigh he stomped away in the direction of the kitchen.

[Pyro]

[ Exit both to thread 'Transit' on Europe board ]