Post by Raven "Mystique" Darkhölme on Jan 31, 2013 3:14:59 GMT -5
(Closed Mystique and Bane, Jan 18 I look like such an antisocial person right now *sob*)
The rattling of the box car on the tracts was a dull thrum under her thin boots. The cars were cold, and it was becoming difficult to look calm in the tattered clothes of the young mercenary.
Odd, how freedom fighting was always the realm of the young. Not the plotting part - the experienced planned, the young went out and bit bullets for causes they hardly understood.
Had she been any different? She'd embraced Eric's plan - she still did, and she no longer had the excuse of being youthfully naive. Perhaps it was in her character - perhaps that's why she'd come.
The best way to place trustworthy mutants in power was to open up those positions - and if anyone seemed bent on taring the rich from their lofty perches it was this masked man she'd been hearing so much about. It was easy, collecting rumors. There was no shortage of drunk pigs within the narrows, willing to blab everything of worth they had to any pretty girl who flipped her hair or smiled coyly.
Simpletons.
She didn't have to kill the boy, really. There were ways of making sure he probably wouldn't return. But she'd done it anyway. Something in the way he looked at her, blue skin and yellow eyes. Like pity but worse... empathy. She'd made sure his body was somewhere it would never be found, and thereby insured there would be no awkwardness of the boy barging in shouting about blue people.
Now she was on a train loaded with explosives, guns, ammo, and all sorts of weapons of choice for revolution. Some even she was unfamiliar with. She was standing in the doorway of this car, a gun slung across her chest as others who barely noticed her went about their work, getting ready for the next stop to disperse more of the munitions.
"We're five minutes from the next drop." One man announced, holding a sheet of paper and staring down at it intently. "He needs to be alerted to the progress."
What, the masked man was incapable of looking out a window to see which stop they'd reached? This was typical, she knew, of men eager to rise in the ranks. Overloading information.
"I'll do it." She stepped forward, holding out a hand.
The merc turned, mouth hardening in disapproval. He looked nearly late thirties - practically a veteran for all these other infants knew. It would be unusual for someone new to even speak to him, but Mystique was growing impatient. She wanted to see for herself if Bane was worth her time. If he wasn't, she wanted to get off the train full of questionable materials.
"Leave nothing out." The man said slowly, passing the sheet reluctantly. "Do not look at him directly."
She nodded gravely, but internally she squirmed. She moved through the cars, row after row of seats laden with crates. There had to be fifty men at least on the train, moving boxes and guarding them. Since the Arkham liberation, ranks had been swelling. She nodded to a few of them, headed towards the front of the train.
There were two men on the door, and she lifted the paper in response to their looks, nodding to their grunts of ascent. One of them pushed open the door, and she stepped forward into the small car.
He was not alone, though they hung back. The massive man had a aura that repelled and fascinated, and Mystique found even she was off set. It was unsettling, feeling this sort of power from a human.
He wore his usual attire, the mask and vest and all the keys that made it obvious who he was. He stood by a table covered with large sheets that looked to be maps of the complex subway tunnels, weighed down by electronics that could have been anything from communication devices to triggers.
She held up her paper again. "The drops have been successful. No police, and everyone has been prepared so we're running on schedule. Next stop is the one under sixty-seventh."
An disquieting moment when she realized that was all she had to share. She looked over the paper quickly. It was military short hand, but that was no issue for her. She added, "The cell burst charges are going to be unloaded on the next."
Good little rebels waited to be dismissed, but the realization that this street kid probably never spoke the word 'cellular' made her uneasy. She turned to leave, determined she needed to get some space to clear her head. She'd come in poorly equipped, not enough in-tell. She needed to know more about Bane before she tried to understand him. And she'd need to understand him before she could try to take his place. Killing a child with a gun was one thing - this giant was another.
The rattling of the box car on the tracts was a dull thrum under her thin boots. The cars were cold, and it was becoming difficult to look calm in the tattered clothes of the young mercenary.
Odd, how freedom fighting was always the realm of the young. Not the plotting part - the experienced planned, the young went out and bit bullets for causes they hardly understood.
Had she been any different? She'd embraced Eric's plan - she still did, and she no longer had the excuse of being youthfully naive. Perhaps it was in her character - perhaps that's why she'd come.
The best way to place trustworthy mutants in power was to open up those positions - and if anyone seemed bent on taring the rich from their lofty perches it was this masked man she'd been hearing so much about. It was easy, collecting rumors. There was no shortage of drunk pigs within the narrows, willing to blab everything of worth they had to any pretty girl who flipped her hair or smiled coyly.
Simpletons.
She didn't have to kill the boy, really. There were ways of making sure he probably wouldn't return. But she'd done it anyway. Something in the way he looked at her, blue skin and yellow eyes. Like pity but worse... empathy. She'd made sure his body was somewhere it would never be found, and thereby insured there would be no awkwardness of the boy barging in shouting about blue people.
Now she was on a train loaded with explosives, guns, ammo, and all sorts of weapons of choice for revolution. Some even she was unfamiliar with. She was standing in the doorway of this car, a gun slung across her chest as others who barely noticed her went about their work, getting ready for the next stop to disperse more of the munitions.
"We're five minutes from the next drop." One man announced, holding a sheet of paper and staring down at it intently. "He needs to be alerted to the progress."
What, the masked man was incapable of looking out a window to see which stop they'd reached? This was typical, she knew, of men eager to rise in the ranks. Overloading information.
"I'll do it." She stepped forward, holding out a hand.
The merc turned, mouth hardening in disapproval. He looked nearly late thirties - practically a veteran for all these other infants knew. It would be unusual for someone new to even speak to him, but Mystique was growing impatient. She wanted to see for herself if Bane was worth her time. If he wasn't, she wanted to get off the train full of questionable materials.
"Leave nothing out." The man said slowly, passing the sheet reluctantly. "Do not look at him directly."
She nodded gravely, but internally she squirmed. She moved through the cars, row after row of seats laden with crates. There had to be fifty men at least on the train, moving boxes and guarding them. Since the Arkham liberation, ranks had been swelling. She nodded to a few of them, headed towards the front of the train.
There were two men on the door, and she lifted the paper in response to their looks, nodding to their grunts of ascent. One of them pushed open the door, and she stepped forward into the small car.
He was not alone, though they hung back. The massive man had a aura that repelled and fascinated, and Mystique found even she was off set. It was unsettling, feeling this sort of power from a human.
He wore his usual attire, the mask and vest and all the keys that made it obvious who he was. He stood by a table covered with large sheets that looked to be maps of the complex subway tunnels, weighed down by electronics that could have been anything from communication devices to triggers.
She held up her paper again. "The drops have been successful. No police, and everyone has been prepared so we're running on schedule. Next stop is the one under sixty-seventh."
An disquieting moment when she realized that was all she had to share. She looked over the paper quickly. It was military short hand, but that was no issue for her. She added, "The cell burst charges are going to be unloaded on the next."
Good little rebels waited to be dismissed, but the realization that this street kid probably never spoke the word 'cellular' made her uneasy. She turned to leave, determined she needed to get some space to clear her head. She'd come in poorly equipped, not enough in-tell. She needed to know more about Bane before she tried to understand him. And she'd need to understand him before she could try to take his place. Killing a child with a gun was one thing - this giant was another.
