Post by Pyro on Sept 22, 2006 16:33:52 GMT -5
Mystique sat in the kitchen of the Genosha compound, her breakfast long finished, her eyes fixed on a report she had scattered over most of one of the long steel tables.
Worthington had himself set up nicely. To Mystique what she saw in the recon report was like an injured gazelle tossed in front of a hungry tigress; she had only to extend her hand, and the prize would be hers.
Her mind could take in complex information like a machine; her concentration was so complete she didn't lift her eyes when the door to the kitchen opened, whether she registered the motion or not.
The young man who entered was more confident around her now than he had been in those early days. He had proved that he had a modicum of worth in her eyes and that had altered the dynamic of their relationship considerably.
For the most part, Pyro was left to his own devices and spent a great deal of it in the outdoor yard area practising with his abilities. Periodically Magneto would try to convince him to go outside the
compound, maybe down to the beach to relax, but the boy seemed to be the type who didn't do 'relaxing' very well. Magneto had tried teaching him chess, but he had the attention span of a gnat.
"Good morning," he said. "I was just looking for some juice and then I'll be out your hair again."
Her red hair shifted from her shoulder, slipping to the side of her face as she lifted her head, golden eyes watching him as moved across the room. By now he had become used to the way she watched people; the woman was rarely off her guard.
"You're not in my hair," she said simply, turning the report over. It wasn't like her to make a statement to put anyone at ease.
"Well, that's fortunate," he said, with one of his grins. "I went up to see Gill in the control room earlier and he actually yelled at me for being in his way. Then Python told me to find a hobby, then I went for a walk and now here I am actually NOT being in someone's way."
He opened up one of the cupboards. "Want anything?" he asked as he grabbed himself a glass and opened the fridge, pouring orange juice into it, drinking half of it and filling it again.
She smirked a bit. John’s youth could be charming, when it wasn’t obnoxious. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“I’ve been busy lately.” That was about as much of an apology as he was going to get. “What have you been up to?”
He shrugged easily. "I've done a lot of practising," he said. "I can throw those fireballs quite a distance now. There's something else there, too, but I can't quite...I dunno. Harness it. Does that make sense? Magneto said that I should be patient, that I'm..." He scowled. "...young. That it'll probably come with time."
The young men hesitated at the table, unsure whether to sit down without being invited. He was extremely good at showing respect to his elders.
She nodded, listening. “I don’t remember having to work with my abilities. They kind of evolved on their own. I suppose that’s the nature of a metamorph.”
Pulling her papers together, she made room on the table for him. “I’m surprised you don’t become bored here.”
"I read a lot," he said, with a shrug of his slender shoulders. He slid into the seat opposite and sipped on his orange juice. "I miss my favourite book - left it behind when I came with you guys." He didn't mention that one of the reasons he missed it was because it also had a strip of passport photos that were all he had of his mother.
He got the distinct impression that Mystique wouldn't be interested in sentimentality.
He continued.
"I must admit though...I can't wait to actually see some action, y'know?" His green eyes were bright and eager, like a young gun dog being taken out on its first hunt.
She smiled. Actually smiled. It wasn’t an expression one saw often. “Good. I’m sure you’ll see plenty of it.”
“What’s your favourite book?” She tilted her head a bit.
"Catch-22," he replied, without hesitation. "It has such a great thread of humour running through it. I like it. When I used to read it, I used to relate to Yossarian like you wouldn't believe."
He chatted happily for a few moments about the book, its theme of insanity and sanity and the narrow divide between the two. It was more than evident he'd read that book more than once.
Mystique watched him, remarking that he was quite a bit more intelligent than he often let on. That lack of self-satisfaction was refreshing in a line of work that often brought with it men so full of arrogance they couldn’t walk straight if they were given a laser sight.
She ran her fingers along the back of her neck, a little tired from having read all night. “We should get you another copy,” she offered, already wondering when she might be in Westchester County again.
"Ah, it's fine," he said. "I sort of had a sentimental attachment to that particular copy. It's fine. Besides, it was the only book I had for two solid years, it wouldn't hurt me to get my head into something else. Magneto loaned me a copy of 'Fatherland'. Now THAT got me thinking..."
And he was off again, disseminating the book and chattering eagerly about its themes and concepts.
He suddenly broke off and looked sheepish.
"Sorry," he apologised with a rueful grin. "The short version is, as you can see, I don't get bored. Or I try not to."
Mystique laughed a bit.
Pulling the top five pages off the report, she slid it to him. “If you want some extra credit with Eric, read this.” Just at a glance he could see it was a rather dry report on stock exchange figures, mergers and press releases, lobbyist data and transcripts from senatorial committee meetings- all related to a pharmaceutical company somewhere in the United States.
He set aside his juice and read through the papers, his face giving away his every thought as he did so. It explained a rather random comment Gill had made to Mystique a day or two previously about John making a 'useless poker player'. He had no poker face. At all.
"Is this for real?" he said, incredulity apparent in his tone. "I mean, what they're developing?"
Mystique nodded.
“It isn’t the first time. The discovery of DNA happened during a study involving mutants that was financed by the Kremlin. We were able to get to the scientist that isolated the x-gene… but someone found it again eventually.” She almost sounded as if she took that failure personally.
“Charles didn’t want to listen.” Her yellow eyes rested on John, thinking about the future of the mutant race.
"Don't tell me. He was all 'I'm sure we can take this and embrace it and get mutants and humans to coexist peacefully' and all that stuff. I often wonder if the guy was a failed hippy he's so into peace and love. This is appalling, Mystique." John was genuinely horrified by what he was reading. "We can't let this happen, can we?"
The boy had a spark, that was for sure. It wasn't so difficult to see what Magneto had seen.
“No, we can’t.”
Leaning back in her chair, she tipped back her head, closing her eyes. “I wish we had the kind of staff they had at Worthington… I’d love to be able to reverse engineer that drug.”
“The thing is, we may not be able to move on that information for a number of years. But we have to keep our eyes on it. The door will open, and we’ll be there.”
"My eyes are open," he said, eagerly. He read the reports again. "I'll keep an eye on the news pages that I read on the Internet, see if any of this stuff starts getting into the public domain."
There were times when his youth definitely shone through in his eagerness and enthusiasm. This was one of those times.
From what little Mystique knew about the boy, he'd come through a fair amount of his own adversity - but to give him credit where it was due, it hadn't flattened him the way it might have done someone of a different psychological background. He seemed very much one of the 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' school of thought.
Which was always worth approval.
Worthington had himself set up nicely. To Mystique what she saw in the recon report was like an injured gazelle tossed in front of a hungry tigress; she had only to extend her hand, and the prize would be hers.
Her mind could take in complex information like a machine; her concentration was so complete she didn't lift her eyes when the door to the kitchen opened, whether she registered the motion or not.
The young man who entered was more confident around her now than he had been in those early days. He had proved that he had a modicum of worth in her eyes and that had altered the dynamic of their relationship considerably.
For the most part, Pyro was left to his own devices and spent a great deal of it in the outdoor yard area practising with his abilities. Periodically Magneto would try to convince him to go outside the
compound, maybe down to the beach to relax, but the boy seemed to be the type who didn't do 'relaxing' very well. Magneto had tried teaching him chess, but he had the attention span of a gnat.
"Good morning," he said. "I was just looking for some juice and then I'll be out your hair again."
Her red hair shifted from her shoulder, slipping to the side of her face as she lifted her head, golden eyes watching him as moved across the room. By now he had become used to the way she watched people; the woman was rarely off her guard.
"You're not in my hair," she said simply, turning the report over. It wasn't like her to make a statement to put anyone at ease.
"Well, that's fortunate," he said, with one of his grins. "I went up to see Gill in the control room earlier and he actually yelled at me for being in his way. Then Python told me to find a hobby, then I went for a walk and now here I am actually NOT being in someone's way."
He opened up one of the cupboards. "Want anything?" he asked as he grabbed himself a glass and opened the fridge, pouring orange juice into it, drinking half of it and filling it again.
She smirked a bit. John’s youth could be charming, when it wasn’t obnoxious. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“I’ve been busy lately.” That was about as much of an apology as he was going to get. “What have you been up to?”
He shrugged easily. "I've done a lot of practising," he said. "I can throw those fireballs quite a distance now. There's something else there, too, but I can't quite...I dunno. Harness it. Does that make sense? Magneto said that I should be patient, that I'm..." He scowled. "...young. That it'll probably come with time."
The young men hesitated at the table, unsure whether to sit down without being invited. He was extremely good at showing respect to his elders.
She nodded, listening. “I don’t remember having to work with my abilities. They kind of evolved on their own. I suppose that’s the nature of a metamorph.”
Pulling her papers together, she made room on the table for him. “I’m surprised you don’t become bored here.”
"I read a lot," he said, with a shrug of his slender shoulders. He slid into the seat opposite and sipped on his orange juice. "I miss my favourite book - left it behind when I came with you guys." He didn't mention that one of the reasons he missed it was because it also had a strip of passport photos that were all he had of his mother.
He got the distinct impression that Mystique wouldn't be interested in sentimentality.
He continued.
"I must admit though...I can't wait to actually see some action, y'know?" His green eyes were bright and eager, like a young gun dog being taken out on its first hunt.
She smiled. Actually smiled. It wasn’t an expression one saw often. “Good. I’m sure you’ll see plenty of it.”
“What’s your favourite book?” She tilted her head a bit.
"Catch-22," he replied, without hesitation. "It has such a great thread of humour running through it. I like it. When I used to read it, I used to relate to Yossarian like you wouldn't believe."
He chatted happily for a few moments about the book, its theme of insanity and sanity and the narrow divide between the two. It was more than evident he'd read that book more than once.
Mystique watched him, remarking that he was quite a bit more intelligent than he often let on. That lack of self-satisfaction was refreshing in a line of work that often brought with it men so full of arrogance they couldn’t walk straight if they were given a laser sight.
She ran her fingers along the back of her neck, a little tired from having read all night. “We should get you another copy,” she offered, already wondering when she might be in Westchester County again.
"Ah, it's fine," he said. "I sort of had a sentimental attachment to that particular copy. It's fine. Besides, it was the only book I had for two solid years, it wouldn't hurt me to get my head into something else. Magneto loaned me a copy of 'Fatherland'. Now THAT got me thinking..."
And he was off again, disseminating the book and chattering eagerly about its themes and concepts.
He suddenly broke off and looked sheepish.
"Sorry," he apologised with a rueful grin. "The short version is, as you can see, I don't get bored. Or I try not to."
Mystique laughed a bit.
Pulling the top five pages off the report, she slid it to him. “If you want some extra credit with Eric, read this.” Just at a glance he could see it was a rather dry report on stock exchange figures, mergers and press releases, lobbyist data and transcripts from senatorial committee meetings- all related to a pharmaceutical company somewhere in the United States.
He set aside his juice and read through the papers, his face giving away his every thought as he did so. It explained a rather random comment Gill had made to Mystique a day or two previously about John making a 'useless poker player'. He had no poker face. At all.
"Is this for real?" he said, incredulity apparent in his tone. "I mean, what they're developing?"
Mystique nodded.
“It isn’t the first time. The discovery of DNA happened during a study involving mutants that was financed by the Kremlin. We were able to get to the scientist that isolated the x-gene… but someone found it again eventually.” She almost sounded as if she took that failure personally.
“Charles didn’t want to listen.” Her yellow eyes rested on John, thinking about the future of the mutant race.
"Don't tell me. He was all 'I'm sure we can take this and embrace it and get mutants and humans to coexist peacefully' and all that stuff. I often wonder if the guy was a failed hippy he's so into peace and love. This is appalling, Mystique." John was genuinely horrified by what he was reading. "We can't let this happen, can we?"
The boy had a spark, that was for sure. It wasn't so difficult to see what Magneto had seen.
“No, we can’t.”
Leaning back in her chair, she tipped back her head, closing her eyes. “I wish we had the kind of staff they had at Worthington… I’d love to be able to reverse engineer that drug.”
“The thing is, we may not be able to move on that information for a number of years. But we have to keep our eyes on it. The door will open, and we’ll be there.”
"My eyes are open," he said, eagerly. He read the reports again. "I'll keep an eye on the news pages that I read on the Internet, see if any of this stuff starts getting into the public domain."
There were times when his youth definitely shone through in his eagerness and enthusiasm. This was one of those times.
From what little Mystique knew about the boy, he'd come through a fair amount of his own adversity - but to give him credit where it was due, it hadn't flattened him the way it might have done someone of a different psychological background. He seemed very much one of the 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' school of thought.
Which was always worth approval.
