Sherridan Kaine
Brotherhood of Evil Mutants
Ferus Feline Characteristics
I'm rich and crazy...What's your excuse?
Posts: 150
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Post by Sherridan Kaine on Apr 27, 2007 4:03:44 GMT
Sherridan simply stands there, watching each person individually, wishing that there were not so many of the madri at once. He takes special notice of the ways the leader of the X-men and the Would-be vice-commander (because, no, Primer is not going to take charge permanently, no, that is impossible, period) exchange taunts. No expertise in diplomacy, whatsoever. Shocking to see both sides act so uncivilizied- an especially humiliating comment, perhaps, when it comes from a semi-feline. he thinks as his eyes shift ever so lightly to hear out the words.
>>“We arrived here thanks to an anonymous note. That, coupled with your sudden appearance, seem much more suspicious to me than our presence here. Care to explain how you came to be here?”
He wonders a bit who might have sent the note. The assassin, perhaps? I would not think it was anyone of the brotherhood, and this seems to be way too elaborate to be a trick, even by one as Magneto. His mouth starts to open for him to say something, but Primer interrupts.
>>“Really? You find the Brotherhood’s presence somewhere their leader has obviously been staying more suspicious than Magneto’s former psionic pyrokinetic protégé standing above the charred corpse of his former mentor in the shell of a burned building? I think you should justify that logic a bit more before you start demanding answers yourselves.” He makes an inward sigh. Why focus on insignificant things? And attacking the flaming midget? Alright, not the most mature of remarks, but in the least I am not automatically assuming that he is the murderer. he keeps his comments to himself still.
>>“Nothing to say for yourself Allerdyce?”
An inward sigh, and the simplest of glances. Sometimes I wonder about your credentials, Primer.
>>Anyone can light a fire - one doesn’t need mutant abilities to do so. And as far as I know, perhaps you’re pyrokinetic.”
Intelligently said, but so badly played at the end. Why do these two keep going into insults, jibes, taunts, and accusations? he thinks, displaying just how confident of his own skills he is to any telepath willing to intrude on the privacy of his demented mind.
”Fuck you, Zorro... what the fuck is this?”
And, yes, naturally, the cherry on top. Who would expect anything less, or, rather, more, of him, despite the somewhat charming reluctance and rejection towards happyness.
He finally decides to step in, and so he does the first few moves to ensure that he is not going to be overridden, but that he is not hostile either...yet.
His first step is a real one- a step preferrably as much out of Primer's range as possible (seeing how he did not enjoy the painful obedience that was instilled on him through sneak attack, yes...it had to be sneak attack), which, unfortunately, means stepping closer to the leader of the X-men, Miss Munroe.
His second step is to make sure that all, or most, notice him retracting his claws, a sign of a sort of wished-for armistice.
And finally he speaks in his smooth tone of voice reserved for negotiations. "Now, now, we do not all need to get enraged now. I would expect both the X-men and the Brotherhood to be above insults and jibes by now..." he pauses, wanting to say ...well, most of us, at least, and send Pyro a significant look, but decides against it, "Now, as Miss Munroe pointed out, anyone could have started the fire, and so we do not even know if the alleged murderer is in this place any more. Instead of everyone holding their fingers on the trigger, just waiting for an opportunity to bash the other side so that they "know their place", we could, perhaps, part peacefully, or cooperate for a short amount of time. Any other ideas, so long as they will not result in more potential deaths, are quite welcome. Let us talk this over within the boundaries of civilization, alright?" he finishes his small "peacetalk", for some reasong thinking of the Cold War and the relations between the United States and Soviet Union during that time. There is the slightest of reassuring smiles on his lips, and his eyes, hidden behind the glasses, are directed to the leader of the X-men.
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Tobias Smith
Xavier InstituteStudent
Clockwork Slightly Intimidating Sandwich Stealer Temporal Stasis
Posts: 74
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Post by Tobias Smith on Apr 28, 2007 17:57:20 GMT
>"Now, now, we do not all need to get enraged now. I would expect both the X-men and the Brotherhood to be above insults and jibes by now...Now, as Miss Munroe pointed out, anyone could have started the fire, and so we do not even know if the alleged murderer is in this place any more. Instead of everyone holding their fingers on the trigger, just waiting for an opportunity to bash the other side so that they "know their place", we could, perhaps, part peacefully, or cooperate for a short amount of time. Any other ideas, so long as they will not result in more potential deaths, are quite welcome. Let us talk this over within the boundaries of civilization, alright?"
Tobias, after staying silent through the entire back-and-forth between the two sides finally decides to say something. Naturally, if anything happens, he'll get the hell out but probably have to leave the others, so he is going to try and calm things down, and this other guy is probably going for the same thing.
"Um, yeah. I agree with..." Tobias pauses, and thinks about saying, 'Cat guy', 'Furry', or 'Kitty Kitty Kitty,' "...him. That sounds good enough to me. How about you put the extra guns down, and we both chill. For all we know, all of us could have just been lured here by the same guy who fried Magneto....speaking of which..."
Tobias holds up the empty medicine container and says, "Anybody in here know who the hell Dr. Albert Weinstein is, or why old crispy here was getting pills from him? Oh, and there are prints on the mirror in the bathroom, might want to check those. He turns and directs the last bit to Ms. Munroe. Tobias has stopped panting by this point, and wipes the sweat off his brow as the pressure headache subsides.
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Manslaughter
Brotherhood of Evil Mutants
Roger Loomis Autonomic / Somatic Nerve Stimulation
One murder makes a villian, millions make a hero.
Posts: 145
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Post by Manslaughter on Apr 28, 2007 20:06:48 GMT
"Fire..," Roger purrs, turning on his heels and rocking his body back and forth across the wall, peeling flecks charred rock with him. "A big one..," he adds, stretching his body up and tracing circles on the wall with his pale fingers.
"No shit," Marrow adds in a solemn murmur, gesturing to the remains of the outside wall with the bone she'd been passing from hand to hand earlier.
Roger pays her comment no mind, passing by her circling in and out of the door, pressing his fingertips to his lips and murmuring something, his gaze flicking over and over again across the vicinity of black scorch marks feathered against the walls. The whites of his eyes have long since turned red from the sharp, stinging smell of smoke, pushing color into his waxen face. He stops and rubs at his nose with the hem of the sweatshirt he is wearing, looking around again and again. "We have visitors..," he says in a sing-song voice, low and humming, nodding towards the doorway, his expression shifting to thoughtful and curious. Despite Marrow's soft noise of protest, he starts forward and shuffles back inside, as though in a dream.
"Don't go wandering off!" she warns, wont to snag the boy by his collar and drag him back, but hesitant to mess with him. The kid freaked people out on a God-awful level, and she wasn't about to have this psycho messing with her body, even if it meant Primer getting himself in a wad all about it. Roger appears again to not listen, and she growls, tightening her grip on the bone she has in her hand and trails after him.
Silence gives way to voices as Roger leads the way, dragging his fingers across the wall and pulling away pieces of it with him. The distinct odor of charred, decaying flesh comes as a wave rather than a warning, and Marrow gags on it behind Roger, making a face. She curses beneath her breath as the rest of their merry little band comes into view and reaches out to snag Roger by his arm to keep him out of the way, but he keeps going--unperterbed by her efforts.
The boy breaths slowly, glancing languidly from face to face and watching mingled expressions of disgust lurk beneath anger and in some irritation, entering in from behind the rest of his 'brothers' and tilting his head up to find out what they are looking at. Anybody in here know who the hell Dr. Albert Weinstein is, or why old crispy here was getting pills from him? Oh, and there are prints on the mirror in the bathroom, might want to check those. Crispy? The word suddenly reminds Roger of fried chicken, or a flaky french fry, but he continues on. Side-stepping around Primer he tilts his head to encompass the view before him, in such rapt focus that he barely acknowledges the rest of the company in the room, unaware of their presence.
He regards the corpse as nothing, his face unchanging and blank, a twitch on his features suggesting that a part of him even finds it amusing. Roger furrows his brow slightly pushing past the rest of them and nearing the remains of the body without a word. Two fingers reach out to touch the crown of Magneto's helmet, not even so much as flinching as the remnance of heat surges to his skin and chaps them almost instantly.
"Twerp wouldn't wa--" Marrow starts in the background, biting back the rest of her sentence as a double battle to resist the urge to retch. "Shit."
Roger suddenly jerks his hand back, realizing the burning sensation on his fingers for the first time. He has slowly begun to rock back and forth on his heels, not understanding the sudden rush of unnamed emotion welling within him. Unlike the rest of the Brotherhood, he is still only a child.. And some would perhaps think it normal for him to react in such a way--silent. He lets his hands drop to his sides, swaying forward and back, his head drooping down to his chest.
"...smells like death..," he says to no one in particular, speaking mostly to himself, the faintest glimmer of almost disappointment tightening his features and fading back to his lax expression. "..gone.. all gone now.."
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Post by Josh Dalton Worthington on Apr 29, 2007 0:26:23 GMT
Josh is relieved when Ororo engages the Brotherhood group’s mysterious leader. Trading verbal jabs with someone much older than him made him feel uncomfortable, even if the man was probably some kind of terrorist or criminal. He feels even better when it’s clear Ororo’s not upset over his outburst.
> Must’ve joined some time after I… yeah, I guess he’s new.
He glances over at John as the two of them speak mentally, trying not to grin. With telepathy, facial feedback like nodding and, well, looking at your conversant were completely unnecessary. It was a tough habit to break when you felt like being subtle about your conversation - but being too good at it tended to bleed over into normal conversation, which just made things awkward.
> Fuck off. Fuck off out of my brain. Nothing here.
Blinking, he steals another look over. Fortunately, it was obvious that the diatribe wasn’t aimed at him. Hey, John? I don’t think any of them are telepaths. I’d probably notice it and try to box them out, if it makes you feel better… He can’t help but smile at John’s paranoia, and returns his attention to the main conversation… when John’s suddenly there, too.
> ”Fuck you, Zorro... what the fuck is this?”
A burst of laughter escapes at the line, and Josh quickly places a hand over his mouth. Wow, that might be the worst moment ever to laugh. Er, what are you looking at? Nothing to see here. He swallows and removes the hand, composed once more. At this point, the cat guy launches into some lines about cooperation. Didn’t the X-Men and the Brotherhood cooperate at Alkali Lake? Yeah, that turned out awesome. A frown makes its way onto Josh’s features.
> "Anybody in here know who the hell Dr. Albert Weinstein is, or why old crispy here was getting pills from him? Oh, and there are prints on the mirror in the bathroom, might want to check those.”
Alkali forgotten, Josh looks curious. “Hey, let me see them for a second.” He extends a hand, and the bottle lifts out of Toby’s fingers and arcs across the room. Josh plucks them out of the air. “Huh. Eric Smith. Nice imagination, Mags. Digitalis…?” He narrows his eyes for a second, thinking furiously. In the end, it's not his scientific knowledge, but an annoyingly soothing voice from a pharmaceutical commercial that provides the solution. “It’s…um… oh! I'm pretty sure this is heart medication." Josh sets the bottle down on the table.
“Magneto was taking heart medication?” He thinks that one over a bit. “I guess he was older than I thought.” It was hard to think of the guy in human terms, since he appeared to have as many lives as a cat. Josh looks over at the charred remains. I guess he ran out.
At this point, a few more people pile in through the far entrance, one of them being a young boy. With a ripple of worry he recognizes the boy from the riot, even without the gas mask on. Hope he doesn't recognize me. John, that's the kid from the riot, isn't it?
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Post by Primer on Apr 29, 2007 2:44:44 GMT
>”Fuck you, Zorro... what the fuck is this?”
“Well I’d say ‘this’ is disappointing seeing as you’re certainly no Catherine Zeta Jones, Pyro.” Primer fires back in an oddly amiable tone, effectively dismissing him to the kid’s table as he realizes he isn’t going to offer anything constructive and turns back to Miss. Munroe as she continues.
“You seem ambitious, whoever you are. I suspect you could have easily arranged this yourself. Anyone can light a fire - one doesn’t need mutant abilities to do so. And as far as I know, perhaps you’re pyrokinetic. ”
Primer actually laughs out loud at that, an unrestrained noise of complete surrender to amusement, the noise striking a terribly jarring note echoing over the corpse between them. “Yes, it’s quite obvious you don’t know me.” he says when he’s recovered, remembering the annoyance he’d felt at temporarily having to assume command of the Brotherhood, the finesse he’d had to exercise to bring himself to the position he’d held- present for all the important information but without so much notoriety as to risk the losing the option of returning to his old life fairly easily. And now what? Let Taskmaster lead? He wouldn’t want it. Mystique isn’t around either. Sherridan? He’d like that no doubt but if he was around this long and Magneto didn’t consider him leadership material he must have had his reasons. Damn. “Trust me,” he continues, “this is the last thing I wanted. Power is a wonderful thing but leadership is tiresome and seldom rewarding.” he finishes dryly.
“Furthermore, the pose he’s in doesn’t look like it was an altercation. If I’m not mistaken, John freed Bobby from your torture room, and escaped with him. I doubt Magneto would have chatted with John over tea had he shown up here. And finally, I was watching John when he walked into this room, and the shock and nausea was easy to read. Unlike the expression on your face. What do you have to hide, anyway?”
“So you felt it necessary to watch him over the others?” he muses, mostly launching the weak jibe to distract her from what he’s gathering and calculating, ignoring the rest of what she’s said outwardly but taking careful note within She gives more away when she’s riled like most people, and the best way is prodding at her charges. Good to know. She’s also probably right about the posture though who can say what really happened, there are enough different scenarios to easily account for one aberration in a theory. Sherridan, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo about people giving away more when they’re riled and steps in with an attempt at suave negotiation, without getting permission from the team leader and thereby throwing any plan into disorder. It isn’t as if I couldn’t take this situation down to calm whenever I pleased. Incredibly talented and useful but definitely more suited to being a sole agent, he decides, not really listening to the other mutant and, for all intents and purposes, ignoring his speech.
"Anybody in here know who the hell Dr. Albert Weinstein is, or why old crispy here was getting pills from him? Oh, and there are prints on the mirror in the bathroom, might want to check those.”
>“It’s…um… oh! I'm pretty sure this is heart medication."
Primer barely has time to process that- he hadn’t known and he’s surprised in some ways but in many more not. After all Magneto would never have admitted to weakness and somehow that ‘never would have’ suddenly kicks it home hard. Magneto is dead. Magneto is dead and he left the Brotherhood in Primer’s hands and he’s never coming back to take it off again. Before he can let that fully resonate though Roger and Marrow have wandered in and reacted in their own ways to the sight before them. Which means Taskmaster is the only one still listening over the link…well a one man element of surprise is still something if things go to hell…more than they already have…
“Listen,” he begins, more softly now but in a firm tone nonetheless. “Whatever your qualms with him and us he was our leader and you will understand why we might not want you literally stepping on his corpse and poking around his resting place like it’s some sort of science lab won’t you? We both know there won’t be a fight here today, not until we know who was responsible for this whether it was one of yours or not, but this is our leader and our home and I don’t think it’s unreasonable for us to expect that we be given precedence in investigating this matter.” For the first time he uses his pheromones, sending out the barest tinge of calm and placidity as he appeals to what he suspects will be the quickest way to gaining control.
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Post by Ororo Munroe on Apr 29, 2007 3:41:40 GMT
> “So you felt it necessary to watch him over the others?”
Ororo doesn’t even respond to the jab. Oddly, he seemed fixated on John as a suspect. Something against him?
John’s remark - and ‘Zorro’s’ reply - is enough to elicit a snort from Ororo, and a burst of laughter from Josh. She opens her mouth to respond when the man with the cat mutation speaks up. Sherridan something, if I’m not mistaken. When she and Wanda had gone shopping, the other woman had been more than happy to provide her thoughts and evaluations of the members of the Brotherhood she’d encountered. Ororo had later done some checking on her own, and it seemed Sherridan provided the majority of the Brotherhood’s financial backing.
Ororo nods at the small speech. “I would also like to find out what’s happened. If this is really Magneto, of course.” Deep down, she still had suspicions that it was all a setup. “To that end, I think if we can agree to suspend hostilities for the time being it would be for the best.”
> "Anybody in here know who the hell Dr. Albert Weinstein is, or why old crispy here was getting pills from him? Oh, and there are prints on the mirror in the bathroom, might want to check those.”
> “It’s…um… oh! I'm pretty sure this is heart medication."
“Josh, John, please go and check out the prints in the bathroom with the kit. When we get back to the Blackbird we can check it for matches.” Things kept getting more interesting. Heart medication? I didn’t know he had a heart condition. Ororo files the information into the back of her head for future use. “What if… hmm.” She picks up the bottle of pills thoughtfully. “What if this was suicide? There doesn’t appear to have been a struggle… and he had a presumably fatal medical condition.” At this, she lets her gaze sweep across the assembled Brotherhood. “Does that sound like something Magneto would have done?” She's not convinced, herself. Erik Lehnsherr had always treated himself like god's gift to homo superior, and checking out permanently before his mission was complete wasn't like him.
> I don’t think it’s unreasonable for us to expect that we be given precedence in investigating this matter.
His calm tone puts Ororo in a slightly more agreeable mood. His know-it-all attitude had been rubbing her the wrong way since the man had arrived. She sweeps a hand across the kitchen. “Go ahead. We’re not stopping you… but I’m not sure there’s much more to be discovered here. By the same token, someone wanted us to be here, and I’m sure you’ll understand that we’re not leaving until we learn more about the circumstances of Magneto’s death.” She turns and heads back over to the equipment case, where she’d been replacing things when the Brotherhood had arrived.
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Post by Pyro on Apr 29, 2007 10:09:49 GMT
< Hey John? Familiar though the voice is, of course, it’s a struggle not to jump when he’s this on edge about the whole ‘in head’ thing. Josh’s reassurance is welcome, though, even if he’d almost rather the masked man was a psychic because then he’d know what the hell it was they were up against; as it is, they’re flying blind. His mind flashes back to the pre-riot argument, where he’d summed up his usefulness as ‘fire power and insider information’… neither of which were exactly helping now. Fan-fucking-tastic… first ‘real’ mission and I’m relegated to the fucking inflatable dartboard brigade.
He shoots Josh a side-glance, quirking a mischievous ain’t seen nothing yet, kid smirk, as he giggles – and a more apologetic, though no less amused, couldn’t help myself… smile is directed towards Ororo - though that expression sours as ‘Zorro’ parries with a line of his own, and he has to bite his tongue as the conversation turns to talk of co-operation and civilised discourse.
< So you felt it necessary to watch him over the others? At that point the floor becomes incredibly interesting… not that he’s got reason to be shamefaced, of course. It’s just… ooh, floor. Much more compelling than accusatory gazes, and there’s very little else in the room that’s innocent and non-threatening. Yes, pretty floor…
< Magneto was taking heart medication? At that, though, his gaze darts back up, confused. Not that he’s stupid enough to believe that Magneto was immortal or anything other than a weak old man – totally over that stage, thanks, cured of the whole ‘devoted acolyte’ thing, yes indeed – but trying to get around the idea of him ill, dying even, is… difficult, even with the crisp dead thing driving him inescapable proof of the man’s mortality. It made sense, sort of – he’d been on about not being around forever often enough, but John (Pyro, as he was then, heir in fucking training…) had always put that down to just wanting to secure his legacy and all, and… no, it’s not sitting right, and he doesn’t like having to think about what Magneto would-or-wouldn’t do, was-or-wasn’t like, because it makes it a hell of a lot harder to pretend that there was never any connection there (yep, that’s the only thing that’s awkward, no stab, not even a small dull one, at the fact there was something he didn’t know, wasn’t trusted with…).
Fuck, how many of the Brotherhood has this new guy got stashed away out there? They’re all crawling out of the woodwork now. Marrow’s not an especially welcome face, given that the last time he’d seen her she was helping him kidnap B… yeah, leaving that tangent… and oh, they’ve bought Roger out to play again? Fuck. Even if he’s not making a move something about him is just downright unsettling, and the ‘dead now’ routine doesn’t do much in the way of reassurance that he’s having a sane and normal day (not that John’s exactly doing much to promote the idea he’s not batshit insane, because if he were thinking of him as a normal little boy then there’d have to be some small stab of sympathy… Roger’s screwed now, really, if Magneto’s gone. Their whole ‘boy in the attic’ arrangement sat wrong, no doubt, but it was something… nope, no allowing the idea of lamenting Magneto's death here. Celebrations and victory parades and all that jazz. Right)
< John, that’s the kid from the riot, isn’t it?[/i] Huh? Oh, right. Yes. – thanks, Josh; at least now he can run with being useful rather than an embarrassment, liability or maudlin fool – Should be okay for now – he’s mostly harmless when he’s not, y’know, sticking knives in people’s brains… start feeling scrambled, though, and I’ll gladly roast the little fucker… well, not gladly, but… fuck, you know what I mean… note to self, stop babbling, and definitely stop being so eager to burn shit He hopes the last bit didn’t get through, though he’s still hardly a master of the telepathic response thing…
< Josh, John, please go… … though he’s starting to think Ororo might have hitherto undisclosed psychic powers, because shit, she keeps on throwing him these lifelines, doesn’t she?
< … and check out the prints in the bathroom with the kit … bzuh-what? Okay, erm, he can pretend he knows what he’s doing, giving Josh a well, let’s go then nod and heading towards the door, trusting the younger boy will know what the hell Ororo is on about and grab the right kit…
< What if this was suicide? … Does that sound like something Magneto would have done? … the memo that he doesn’t know anything about Magneto, though, still doesn’t seem to have quite gotten around, because before he can think better of it, before he realises the question’s not directed at him, he’s responding, turning back into the room with arms crossed over his chest, tone contemplative and unusually serious… and annoyingly bitter for someone who’s, of course, totally over all that.
”Honestly? Wouldn’t surprise me. Gods don’t just fade out, after all; might as well go with a bang… an’ framing one of us lot’s a fucking brilliant touch; hasn’t got time to train up a new protégé so they’ll fall in love with the cause itself, so might as well give them a great fat noble quest for vengeance to…” He trails off, aware that it’s not the time or place (and hardly the best way to go about slipping back into obscurity and letting other options take precedence over blaming him) and shrugs - ”Just thinking out loud.” – before dropping his gaze again – ”Right, anyway, prints. Come on Josh” – and heading out to the bathroom as ordered, mentally cursing how incredibly fucking badly he’s handling this one. Can’t get any worse, though, right?
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Post by Josh Dalton Worthington on May 5, 2007 7:59:25 GMT
> “Josh, John, please go and check out the prints in the bathroom with the kit. When we get back to the Blackbird we can check it for matches.”
Josh nods, relieved to be getting out of the way of the masked man. Something about him just gave him the creeps. He takes a step over to the equipment case and removes the fingerprint analysis kit. As he turns toward the door, John starts his speech on Magneto.
> “Does that sound like something Magneto would have done?”
> ”Honestly? Wouldn’t surprise me. Gods don’t just fade out, after all; might as well go with a bang…
Huh. Would Magneto really kill himself? Josh considers it for a moment. Maybe. It was possible, wasn’t it? John’s reasoning definitely made sense, though Josh had to admit that the minds of men like Magneto were utterly foreign to him. Academically, he understood their motives… I suppose. But he couldn’t understand how they could live with themselves. I guess you learn to deaden your conscience? That, or he really was nuts.
> ”Right, anyway, prints. Come on Josh”
He could tell something was up with John. Granted, his mentor-turned-mortal-enemy was charred and dead at a kitchen table. Josh nods. “Right, fingerprints.” He makes his way to the bathroom with John, not-quite pushing him along. Fortunately, John was as eager to leave the crowd as Josh was to remove him from it.
Once they arrive, Josh can see the fingerprints clearly. “Hey, someone goofed. I don’t think we’re even going to have to enhance the image at all.” He pulls the scanner out and begins working.
Conversationally, he glances over at John. “So… uh. Your old friends from the ‘hood, huh?” A crooked smile works its way onto his face.
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Post by Primer on May 10, 2007 18:44:38 GMT
> “Josh, John, please go and check out the prints in the bathroom with the kit. When we get back to the Blackbird we can check it for matches.”
“And we’ll want a copy of those prints too of course.” Primer adds, Let’s see if she meant it about cooperating for the time being. And if she refuses that'll tell me something about her confidence in Allerdyce.
>What if this was suicide? … Does that sound like something Magneto would have done?
”Honestly? Wouldn’t surprise me. Gods don’t just fade out, after all; might as well go with a bang… an’ framing one of us lot’s a fucking brilliant touch; hasn’t got time to train up a new protégé so they’ll fall in love with the cause itself, so might as well give them a great fat noble quest for vengeance to…Right, anyway, prints. Come on Josh”
Primer’s face registers surprise under the mask and his cloth-covered visage turns back towards Allerdyce, fixing him with another, less hostile stare. Not what I expected after all he decides, dismissing his initial picture of the boy as a petulant child, all firepower and no thought. No, there’s a good, what, ten percent thought rattling around in his head. His lips curl up into a slight smile at the thought and he nods.
“Of course that’s a possibility.” he concedes aloud adding a silent, But not very likely I would think. If he wanted to make that kind of statement Liberty Island would have been an excellent time. No he wanted to be there to lead us all into his new and glorious era. “Still, as you can tell, I’m trying to go along with Occam’s Razor and Magneto had more than enough enemies for foul play to be the simplest answer.” he’s finished there, preparing to settle in to wait for his copy of the finger prints when an idea occurs to him, a gamble, but it’s worth it for whatever information he could get on what’s been an increasingly troubling subject of thought. “Though,” he continues smoothly, “there are certainly ways of faking a suicide without leaving a trace, even a mental signature. Some of my fellow Brotherhood members attended a rally recently that Magneto’s sources say could have been caused by a student at your institute with mood altering abilities, for instance.” He doesn’t really believe that this student had anything to do with this- after all a person influenced to depression would still be able to choose the method of their suicide and burning alive is hardly a wonderful way to go he suspects. Still, if another jab at her wards can get Miss. Munroe or one of the others to reveal anything, a name, even the gender or age, he’ll have a start for his own research.
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Post by Bobby Drake on May 10, 2007 20:03:32 GMT
(( OOC Note From God: Analysis will reveal three distinct sets of fingerprints on the cabinet: two male, one female. Identifying them will prove a little trickier, depending on what sorts of databases you check, but I'll cut to the chase a bit here: - One set will turn out to be Magneto's; both of you no doubt have his prints on file, as does every law enforcement group in the world.
- One set (the female) is Elliot's. I don't think the X-Men will have any way of identifying that one... I'm not sure if the BH would or wouldn't; up to y'all.
- The third set turns up on a law-enforcement DB search as Adrian Sturdy, a NY resident who was convicted of embezzling about $20K from his previous employer twelve years ago, served ten years of a twenty year sentence, and was paroled for good behavior. No other criminal record. Currently runs his own construction company.
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