Post by angel on Aug 10, 2006 7:28:35 GMT -5
The sun beaming through the window woke Warren earlier than usual. He'd been the kind of guy who slept in when he was working for his father - pharmaceuticals really weren't his thing, and no-one was going to tell the heir to the company that he needed to turn up earlier, just in case he did decide to go to college one of these days and learn how to do the job for himself when the old man stepped down. Lately, though, now that he was living in the Institute, he'd found himself being woken up by the normal hustle and bustle of a boarding school. He'd been at one for years, so it wasn't unusual - he just wasn't used to it after more than four years out of school.
Rubbing his face and trying to pat down the hair that had become spectacularly mussed while he was sleeping, the winged mutant stumbled out of bed and down toward the kitchens, still dressed in only his long striped pyjama pants. He smiled at a group of giggling girls that he passed on the stairs, wondering how old they all were. They'd probably get me arrested. Yawning so wide that his jaw cracked as he entered the kitchen, Warren immediately started making himself a coffee and scrounging for something to eat. "Oh, thank god," he said, taking a long sip, "That hits the spot." He'd gotten used to his morning coffee to finish the job of waking him up, and he started to feel better immediately.
With the coffee still in his hand, he returned upstairs to have a shower. Sharing a bathroom was definately not his favourite part of living in the mansion, and he'd been thinking that an apartment - or a house nearby - could be a good idea. The kind of apartment that he could furnish with things friendly to his mutation, and where he wouldn't have kids waking him up. Or looking old enough and hot enough when they actually aren't. He'd been carefully avoiding anything beyond flirting with any of the girls at Xavier's just in case. As he pushed open the door, he realised that someone was already in the bathroom, and was stepping out of the shower. Turning around, in case the guy was shy - or in case it was a girl, sometimes the new ones didn't realise which bathroom was which - or didn't care, if the other was all full - Warren apologised. "Sorry buddy, didn't realise anyone was in here." Although it was more often occupied than not - that was the nature of shared bathrooms and a floor full of kids, after all.
"It is good," said the big man who had taken up a towel which just about covered up his modesty. "I always forget to lock the door." The accent was Eastern Europe, most likely Russian and Warren recalled he had been introduced briefly to the young man as Peter.
He seemed entirely unfazed by the presence of the other mutant in the bathroom and merely busied himself brushing his teeth.
There was a long pause.
"Do you wish me to leave?"
"Nah, that's all good. Just haven't shared a bathroom for ... four years, or something, forget sometimes." Draining the last of his coffee, Warren did his very best not to notice how the other man's modesty was almost covered. "It's uh..." He paused. "Big Pete, right? I'm sure that's what Bobby said." He gave the big Russian a grin as he stepped out of his pyjama pants and into the shower. Stepping under the warm water, Warren held his wings out carefully behind him. He wasn't a duck - the wetness had a tendency to plaster down his hair and his feathers - which wasn't really the best look. That was why he generally avoided... sharing showers, to put it one way.
"So you've been here a while, right?" Warren hadn't had a chance to be introduced to everyone before Alcatraz, but he'd seen the tall mutant fighting there, and he thought in the mansion before the X-Men had left that night.
"Approximately eighteen months," came the reply. "And just Peter will do. Bobby likes to give out his nicknames."
He spoke incredibly carefully. Not a single contraction fell from his lips. It was all 'I am' and never 'I'm'. His English was impeccable for someone who had only been here for eighteen months.
"You are the son of Warren Worthington of Worthing Labs, are you not?"
Nodding before realising that he was actually behind a shower screen and Peter couldn't see, Warren actually looked a little embarrassed as he spoke. "Warren Worthington the third. I prefer just Warren, though. Worthington Labs will be mine one day, if I want it..." Along with the rest of the Worthington family fortune, which made Warren's considerable trust fund look like pocket change. Old family money and old family business did that. "Pharmaceuticals aren't really my thing, though." His father had already stopped manufacturing the cure, but that didn't stop Warren from feeling a little bit odd about the question. The X-Men had fought against the Brotherhood, who wanted to destroy the cure, but that didn't mean they supported it's existence.
"What brought you over here, Pete..r?" The younger man wondered why someone would come all the way from Russia just to be at Xaviers. It didn't seem like Colossus needed help controlling his abilities, and he certainly wasn't still in school.
What had brought Peter over here? He considered his reply carefully.
"Opportunity," he said, eventually. "My father insisted that my life would be better if I came to the land of opportunity and did not stay on the farm. 'Piotr', he said to me, 'Piotr, you have been given a great gift. You must go with this man, this Professor Xavier and learn to use that gift to help the world.'"
He set down his toothbrush.
"My father is a very idealistic man."
Warm water ran down Warren's back and between his shoulder blades, trickling down between his wings, which he was holding out behind him in an attempt to not get his feathers too wet. With other people in the bathroom, Warren didn't tend to go for his whole shower routine, washing his hair and his feathers carefully, but he did reach for his face scrub. Most people thought him vain, which he was, in a way, but that didn't bother him.
"Sounds like it." The water running over his face made Warren's words sound a bit strange, and he continued his thought as he turned off the shower and stepped out, reaching for a towel to wrap around himself. "There's nothing wrong with idealism, though - having parents who support your gifts sounds like a nice way to grow up." He'd moved beyond wanting to be human, beyond trying to please his parents, but there had been a long time where Warren had felt like a freak and the feeling was still familiar. "They've helped you learn here, then?" He wondered how much more there was to learn about his gift - there was only so much you could do with wings.
"I have learned a great deal," said Peter, and there was a grim note in his voice. "I have learned much about the value of friendship and loyalty, about betrayal of that same friendship and loyalty. I have learned how to utilise my abilities in ways I would never have thought. And I have gained much experience and knowledge."
He was surprised at his own bitterness. Alcatraz had done that to him. Everything that he'd witnessed, everything he had seen - it had been so horrendous. How Magneto and Pyro had worked together to such destructive ends - the big Russian had been angered by the ease with which they were prepared to destroy humans.
There hadn't been a whole lot explained to him about Alcatraz, but Warren knew that there was a rivalry between the two groups that went beyond simple matters. He'd seen Bobby fighting against the kid with the fire, had asked about it and been told that Pyro used to be a student at Xavier's - but not much more than that. Peter's - Piotr's - words made him think that Pyro's departure from the institute hadn't been particularly welcome. Reaching for a second towel to dry his hair and pat down the feathers that had gotten soaked, Warren wondered if questions would be welcome or not. He hadn't been there long enough to know the dynamic, and he didn't feel like having a 6'6 giant who had the ability to turn into steel taking offense. Hollow bones didn't take very well to being broken - they didn't set quite so easily as the more robust bones most people had.
"I must admit, I was a bit surprised at how extreme it... Well, I know that Dad never had the intention of the cure being forced on anyone, he just wanted people to be able to make a choice." Way to change to a better subject, War. Picking up his own toothbrush, he hoped that it wouldn't be taken the wrong way. The cure was a touchy subject for a lot of people - both human and mutant.
"The opportunity for someone to choose is most agreeable," said Peter. "Unfortunately some of the more extreme members of the government..." Unspoken but implied, the name 'Trask' was in there somewhere - "...created the abysmal Cure weapons. I do not hold with those, even against our enemies."
Peter sighed. "And the sad thing is that now the Cure is known...who knows what they will do with it next? Add it to the drinking supplies, perhaps?"
"Oh god, I hope not." Warren hadn't even thought of anything along those lines. "I don't think it works like that in any case - pretty sure that it needs to go straight to your bloodstream, but..." He shook his head around his toothbrush. "They wouldn't be able to get away with it though, not with the mutant rights bill." They shouldn't have been able to get away with the cure weapons, but they'd managed that. It didn't sit well with him either.
Spitting out a bit of toothpaste, he sighed. "At least they're not making any more of it for the moment. I just hope what is left gets used the right way - almost all of the stocks have been sold to other pharmaceutical companies... I guess the downside to that is that dad's got no say in what happens to it now." It seemed his father hadn't really thought through his plan entirely when he'd tried to get rid of the cure and salvage Worthington Labs' reputation. They'd always be thought of as the source of it, and now they couldn't even make sure that no more went to the military, or that none of it made it's way into the hands of terrorists, or any of the other ways that it could be misused. Crap.
"Let us not talk of this, not now," said Peter, sounding faintly despondent. "How about you? Are you settling in here?"
The whole business with the Cure had disturbed the big man on a fundamental level.
As he finished brushing his teeth and rubbed a quick layer of moisturiser on, the winged mutant nodded. "Yeah, I mean it takes a little getting used to be around so many kids again, but I'm used to boarding schools." Easiest way to get your mutant kid out of your hair. "I'm enjoying the company, and I like working in the Danger Room, but I kinda feel like I should get my own place, you know, leave space in here for the people that really need it." There were plenty of mutants out there who actually needed to learn to use their gifts, who needed a place to stay and couldn't afford to get one by themselves. "Feel like I should be contributing in some way, you know?"
"You will find your - what is the right word...nick? No, niche." Peter smiled vaguely. "I would like to find a normal job, perhaps as a commercial artist, earn money so I can bring my family here from Siberia."
His ablutions complete, the big Russian prepared to leave the bathroom.
"It is a strange world we are part of, my friend, no mistake."
"Yeah, I suppose I will. Thanks Peter." Picking up his pyjama pants, and wrapping the towel around him more tightly since he hadn't brought clothes into the bathroom with him, Warren looked around to make sure that he hadn't left things in too much of a mess. "And if you ever want any help finding that job, you come find me - I made a few contacts while I was working for my father, and even if all you're doing is redesigning a letterhead it's a start, right?" He realised that he'd left his empty coffee cup on the counter, and he picked that up to.
He wandered down the hall to his room, pulling on a pair of jeans and some shoes, but leaving his shirt off. There was one advantage to living in a house full of mutants - no-one looked at him strangely when he walked around with wings exposed, asking where he'd gotten such a realistic costume. A strange world indeed... But at least we've found a place in it.
Rubbing his face and trying to pat down the hair that had become spectacularly mussed while he was sleeping, the winged mutant stumbled out of bed and down toward the kitchens, still dressed in only his long striped pyjama pants. He smiled at a group of giggling girls that he passed on the stairs, wondering how old they all were. They'd probably get me arrested. Yawning so wide that his jaw cracked as he entered the kitchen, Warren immediately started making himself a coffee and scrounging for something to eat. "Oh, thank god," he said, taking a long sip, "That hits the spot." He'd gotten used to his morning coffee to finish the job of waking him up, and he started to feel better immediately.
With the coffee still in his hand, he returned upstairs to have a shower. Sharing a bathroom was definately not his favourite part of living in the mansion, and he'd been thinking that an apartment - or a house nearby - could be a good idea. The kind of apartment that he could furnish with things friendly to his mutation, and where he wouldn't have kids waking him up. Or looking old enough and hot enough when they actually aren't. He'd been carefully avoiding anything beyond flirting with any of the girls at Xavier's just in case. As he pushed open the door, he realised that someone was already in the bathroom, and was stepping out of the shower. Turning around, in case the guy was shy - or in case it was a girl, sometimes the new ones didn't realise which bathroom was which - or didn't care, if the other was all full - Warren apologised. "Sorry buddy, didn't realise anyone was in here." Although it was more often occupied than not - that was the nature of shared bathrooms and a floor full of kids, after all.
"It is good," said the big man who had taken up a towel which just about covered up his modesty. "I always forget to lock the door." The accent was Eastern Europe, most likely Russian and Warren recalled he had been introduced briefly to the young man as Peter.
He seemed entirely unfazed by the presence of the other mutant in the bathroom and merely busied himself brushing his teeth.
There was a long pause.
"Do you wish me to leave?"
"Nah, that's all good. Just haven't shared a bathroom for ... four years, or something, forget sometimes." Draining the last of his coffee, Warren did his very best not to notice how the other man's modesty was almost covered. "It's uh..." He paused. "Big Pete, right? I'm sure that's what Bobby said." He gave the big Russian a grin as he stepped out of his pyjama pants and into the shower. Stepping under the warm water, Warren held his wings out carefully behind him. He wasn't a duck - the wetness had a tendency to plaster down his hair and his feathers - which wasn't really the best look. That was why he generally avoided... sharing showers, to put it one way.
"So you've been here a while, right?" Warren hadn't had a chance to be introduced to everyone before Alcatraz, but he'd seen the tall mutant fighting there, and he thought in the mansion before the X-Men had left that night.
"Approximately eighteen months," came the reply. "And just Peter will do. Bobby likes to give out his nicknames."
He spoke incredibly carefully. Not a single contraction fell from his lips. It was all 'I am' and never 'I'm'. His English was impeccable for someone who had only been here for eighteen months.
"You are the son of Warren Worthington of Worthing Labs, are you not?"
Nodding before realising that he was actually behind a shower screen and Peter couldn't see, Warren actually looked a little embarrassed as he spoke. "Warren Worthington the third. I prefer just Warren, though. Worthington Labs will be mine one day, if I want it..." Along with the rest of the Worthington family fortune, which made Warren's considerable trust fund look like pocket change. Old family money and old family business did that. "Pharmaceuticals aren't really my thing, though." His father had already stopped manufacturing the cure, but that didn't stop Warren from feeling a little bit odd about the question. The X-Men had fought against the Brotherhood, who wanted to destroy the cure, but that didn't mean they supported it's existence.
"What brought you over here, Pete..r?" The younger man wondered why someone would come all the way from Russia just to be at Xaviers. It didn't seem like Colossus needed help controlling his abilities, and he certainly wasn't still in school.
What had brought Peter over here? He considered his reply carefully.
"Opportunity," he said, eventually. "My father insisted that my life would be better if I came to the land of opportunity and did not stay on the farm. 'Piotr', he said to me, 'Piotr, you have been given a great gift. You must go with this man, this Professor Xavier and learn to use that gift to help the world.'"
He set down his toothbrush.
"My father is a very idealistic man."
Warm water ran down Warren's back and between his shoulder blades, trickling down between his wings, which he was holding out behind him in an attempt to not get his feathers too wet. With other people in the bathroom, Warren didn't tend to go for his whole shower routine, washing his hair and his feathers carefully, but he did reach for his face scrub. Most people thought him vain, which he was, in a way, but that didn't bother him.
"Sounds like it." The water running over his face made Warren's words sound a bit strange, and he continued his thought as he turned off the shower and stepped out, reaching for a towel to wrap around himself. "There's nothing wrong with idealism, though - having parents who support your gifts sounds like a nice way to grow up." He'd moved beyond wanting to be human, beyond trying to please his parents, but there had been a long time where Warren had felt like a freak and the feeling was still familiar. "They've helped you learn here, then?" He wondered how much more there was to learn about his gift - there was only so much you could do with wings.
"I have learned a great deal," said Peter, and there was a grim note in his voice. "I have learned much about the value of friendship and loyalty, about betrayal of that same friendship and loyalty. I have learned how to utilise my abilities in ways I would never have thought. And I have gained much experience and knowledge."
He was surprised at his own bitterness. Alcatraz had done that to him. Everything that he'd witnessed, everything he had seen - it had been so horrendous. How Magneto and Pyro had worked together to such destructive ends - the big Russian had been angered by the ease with which they were prepared to destroy humans.
There hadn't been a whole lot explained to him about Alcatraz, but Warren knew that there was a rivalry between the two groups that went beyond simple matters. He'd seen Bobby fighting against the kid with the fire, had asked about it and been told that Pyro used to be a student at Xavier's - but not much more than that. Peter's - Piotr's - words made him think that Pyro's departure from the institute hadn't been particularly welcome. Reaching for a second towel to dry his hair and pat down the feathers that had gotten soaked, Warren wondered if questions would be welcome or not. He hadn't been there long enough to know the dynamic, and he didn't feel like having a 6'6 giant who had the ability to turn into steel taking offense. Hollow bones didn't take very well to being broken - they didn't set quite so easily as the more robust bones most people had.
"I must admit, I was a bit surprised at how extreme it... Well, I know that Dad never had the intention of the cure being forced on anyone, he just wanted people to be able to make a choice." Way to change to a better subject, War. Picking up his own toothbrush, he hoped that it wouldn't be taken the wrong way. The cure was a touchy subject for a lot of people - both human and mutant.
"The opportunity for someone to choose is most agreeable," said Peter. "Unfortunately some of the more extreme members of the government..." Unspoken but implied, the name 'Trask' was in there somewhere - "...created the abysmal Cure weapons. I do not hold with those, even against our enemies."
Peter sighed. "And the sad thing is that now the Cure is known...who knows what they will do with it next? Add it to the drinking supplies, perhaps?"
"Oh god, I hope not." Warren hadn't even thought of anything along those lines. "I don't think it works like that in any case - pretty sure that it needs to go straight to your bloodstream, but..." He shook his head around his toothbrush. "They wouldn't be able to get away with it though, not with the mutant rights bill." They shouldn't have been able to get away with the cure weapons, but they'd managed that. It didn't sit well with him either.
Spitting out a bit of toothpaste, he sighed. "At least they're not making any more of it for the moment. I just hope what is left gets used the right way - almost all of the stocks have been sold to other pharmaceutical companies... I guess the downside to that is that dad's got no say in what happens to it now." It seemed his father hadn't really thought through his plan entirely when he'd tried to get rid of the cure and salvage Worthington Labs' reputation. They'd always be thought of as the source of it, and now they couldn't even make sure that no more went to the military, or that none of it made it's way into the hands of terrorists, or any of the other ways that it could be misused. Crap.
"Let us not talk of this, not now," said Peter, sounding faintly despondent. "How about you? Are you settling in here?"
The whole business with the Cure had disturbed the big man on a fundamental level.
As he finished brushing his teeth and rubbed a quick layer of moisturiser on, the winged mutant nodded. "Yeah, I mean it takes a little getting used to be around so many kids again, but I'm used to boarding schools." Easiest way to get your mutant kid out of your hair. "I'm enjoying the company, and I like working in the Danger Room, but I kinda feel like I should get my own place, you know, leave space in here for the people that really need it." There were plenty of mutants out there who actually needed to learn to use their gifts, who needed a place to stay and couldn't afford to get one by themselves. "Feel like I should be contributing in some way, you know?"
"You will find your - what is the right word...nick? No, niche." Peter smiled vaguely. "I would like to find a normal job, perhaps as a commercial artist, earn money so I can bring my family here from Siberia."
His ablutions complete, the big Russian prepared to leave the bathroom.
"It is a strange world we are part of, my friend, no mistake."
"Yeah, I suppose I will. Thanks Peter." Picking up his pyjama pants, and wrapping the towel around him more tightly since he hadn't brought clothes into the bathroom with him, Warren looked around to make sure that he hadn't left things in too much of a mess. "And if you ever want any help finding that job, you come find me - I made a few contacts while I was working for my father, and even if all you're doing is redesigning a letterhead it's a start, right?" He realised that he'd left his empty coffee cup on the counter, and he picked that up to.
He wandered down the hall to his room, pulling on a pair of jeans and some shoes, but leaving his shirt off. There was one advantage to living in a house full of mutants - no-one looked at him strangely when he walked around with wings exposed, asking where he'd gotten such a realistic costume. A strange world indeed... But at least we've found a place in it.