Chapter 1: Discovery

[Warren Worthington III]

(When: early morning, March 16, 2007)
(Where: the new, nominally secret, Brotherhood hideout -- still under construction)

The new Brotherhood hideout resembles the old one quite closely, really.

Admittedly, this is in large part due to the half-destroyed condition of the old one, what with all the damage left by the Invasion troops that hasn’t been repaired yet, and the half-constructed condition of the new one. It’s hard to get good help to work on a secret headquarters of mutant terrorists; the “oh yes, and we have to kill you afterwards to keep it secret” clause in the employment contract tends to put off the top-notch construction crews.

Its location is similar, also: in the middle of nowhere, a long walk through the forest from a little-used country road, essentially unfindable by mundane search unless you know exactly what you’re looking for and mostly where it is.

On the other hand, there are differences. For example, the grounds around it don’t show quite as many signs of animal depredation… in part because the concealed security systems aren’t in place yet, but mostly because Sabretooth hasn’t yet moved in. And on this particular morning, the air holds the faint smell of stale smoke, which the old HQ hasn’t sported since Pyro left.

Even from a distance, a casual external investigation reveals an obvious source for that smoky smell… a window on the ground floor (where the kitchen would be if the new HQ’s internal layout matches the old one) is charred and blackened, showing signs of a serious fire long since extinguished.

Who knows what a more careful investigation might reveal?

(( OOC: I’ll be PMing Storm and Primer with instructions on how to kick this off.
Y’all don’t have to wait for each other, though… go ahead and post as the muse moves you, first-come first-served.
Most likely the second team to arrive will run into the first; what happens after that is entirely up to you all…. insert evil chuckle here. ))

[Primer]

Primer is in a bad mood. He isn’t showing it overtly of course, that would be difficult with the mask, a plain cloth one right now though made of softer and more breathable fabric than the usual ski mask, that he’d decided to adopt on Brotherhood business after his run in with Worthington at the rally. Too many encounters like that and the other mutant would begin getting suspicious. Not that they’ll be anywhere near here…hopefully. He thinks with a grim downwards twist of his already compressed lips. ‘Here’ is the new and hopefully soon to be improved Brotherhood headquarters and it only adds to Primer’s bad mood as he pulls the van into the drive that it looks almost exactly like the old one. You’d think when Magneto had the choice and time he’d have built something a little less…well… stereotypically lair-ish. The thought of his boss, the reason for this little early morning field trip, doesn’t help his stress level and he composes himself for a moment, puts the van into park, and glances into the back where his passengers have been passing time each in their own way.

Taskmaster is, hopefully, finishing up the video footage of systematic military search procedures he’d given him to watch on the ride over to augment any gaps in the mercenary’s probably already detailed knowledge on such a subject, Marrow is tossing a bone back and forth in her hands and listening to an I-pod (Teenagers he thinks with a slight roll of his eyes), two of the Madrii clones are helping each other clean their weapons, and Roger is…well he’s not sure what the boy is doing, he’s directly behind Primer’s seat, but it’s probably safe to assume it’s creepy.

“All right, we’re here to do a sweep of the area, follow Taskmaster’s lead since he knows search procedure better than most of you. Madrii, divide yourselves up into teams for searching. Marrow and Manslaughter, you’re our lookouts. There may have been trouble here. Anyone sees any sign of Magneto, Mystique, or Elliot get hold of me with the communication devices I gave you.” With that he steps out of the van and shoves his gloved hands into his pockets and looks around, gaze stopping on a ground floor window where the charred remains of what was probably quite a blaze are evident. “I’d start there.” he adds. Pyro looking for revenge? But how could he have known about this place? Magneto, Mystique and I were the only ones with the coordinates…I shouldn’t even have brought a team but I’ll be damned if I’m going to risk my ass to find where Magneto’s wandered off to.

Making the decision to bring a team along worries him more than the leader and Mystique’s extended absence, after all it isn’t unusual for Magneto to go on walkabout for as much as a week at a time, trusting the Brotherhood to run its own day to day affairs and Mystique’s never been much in the public eye anyway. He usually gets a few calls or psychic-messages from Elliot now that Magneto seems to have slotted him into Pyro’s old place- leader of day to day affairs and small missions and- it’s been subtly hinted- successor should he ever want the position. He doesn’t, but no reason to stall when indicating he does opens up doors that would otherwise be closed, and besides, it wasn’t as if Magneto was going anywhere any time soon. So much for that. He’d intended to ignore the absence until a message from someone he assumed to be Elliot had woken him up the previous morning, the mental equilivent of sobs interspersed with the words “Omigod! They’re – he’s – omigod! The boss!”

So here he is, acting leader of the merry band, hoping to find Magneto, get out of here, and get back to his morning paper. Let’s hope this turns out to be simpler than it seems.

[Larza]

…Okay, well this so isn’t how she left the place.

Larza is quite certain there was no smoky residue in the air, and, despite the place being fairly disaster-esque due to construction, it certainly wasn’t this bad… The flames really seem to have done a number on the place.

And there was no team of people piling out of a van, either, last night…

The latter worries her more – unidentified people, probably either mutants or anti-mutant (given Magneto’s standing, neutral parties are highly unlikely to be anywhere near the place, she reasons), and …likely won’t be too pleased if they discover the black-clad assassin girl sitting in a tree not far from them, watching them and the building (if it can be called that)…

She’s not close enough to hear what’s said when the masked man (another reason to doubt they’re here for any good reason – masks? Really?) gets out of the car, but he’s pointing towards the burned-out window, and she hmms softly to herself, shifting so she can see better.

She’s been watching for the past few days – Magneto’s been around, with some girl, and neither’ve done anything interesting – but …well, there hasn’t been this much activity the whole time. She’s pretty sure, by the way things are looking so far, that someone’s beaten her to her job, and that really doesn’t sit well. How’s she supposed to get paid for that if she doesn’t do the work?

Whatever, though. Most important thing at the moment – not being noticed by whoever’s down there, because really, how does one answer her reasoning for being there without making it seem like this is her fault? With a quick shift of her shields, she’s tamped down on any stray thoughts – just in case these are mutants, and there’s a teep among them – and freezes in place best she can in the tree, watching through the leaves and branches, but not moving.

[Sherridan Kaine]

>"I’d start there."

Sherridan walks up noiselessly to Primer, his bare feet touching the soft grass only on their tips. His attire, for this occasion, consists out of black jeans and a simple T-shirt, black and without any extravagant texts or pictures. His hair is tied in a pony tail- an unusual occurrence, and the first one at that. Also, oddly enough for this sort of dress-up, there are no chains, earrings, or any other decorations on him. It is as if he forgot his obsession with clothes in his mansion.

"I would have thought that the construction of this place would have been at a more advanced point than this..." he says, announcing his presence, as well as showing that, perhaps thankfully, he has not "forgotten" any of his speaking habits. His slitted ice-blue eyes seem to shimmer in their sockets, a visual effect produced by his fast-paced examination of the terrain, half-built house, and other brotherhood members.

His quite long tail moves around a bit, idly swinging from side to side. Today, his fur is black, with white tips on his fingers, tail, and feet. There are some white areas on his arms, and most likely on his torso and legs as well, invisible as they are under the garment. If he was an actual cat, and some kid adopted him, he would have most likely been called "Patches", or some other such disgustingly degrading name.

"I assume you are the leader of this escapade, Primer?" he says, still not revealing how he got there in the first place. After all, it is not as if there is a limo a bit farther off, displayed as a visible means of transportation. Come to think of it, Sherridan seems to simply appear at places at all times, no marks of his transportation visible. The young, rich mutant would not have it any other way, either.

[Manslaughter]

--divide yourselves up into teams for searching. Marrow and Manslaughter, you’re our lookouts. There may have been trouble here. Anyone sees any sign of Magneto, Mystique, or Elliot--

Roger only partially pays attention, busy with a rubix cube that someone had given him to occupy himself for the duration of the ride after he'd awoken from a quiet nap in the backseat, perhaps to subdue his normally endless stream of questions that had everything to do with nothing. At first the boy had stared at the cube, wondering what he was supposed to do with it, banging it loudly on the door and throwing it up and down until it hit the roof of the van and even resorting to gnawing on it. Marrow had been giving him a few moody looks while he had experimented on the cube, until at last she finally gives in and mutters the purpose of the cube, which more or less comes out as an irritated mutter of match the fuckin' sides! A slow nod of recognition is his answer, and he rocks back and forth in his seat, held down with two seatbelts crossed over his chest to keep him from bouncing all over the vehicle while it was moving.

It takes him a little less than minute to match each side. Perplexed, and almost disappointed, Roger shakes the rubix cube, as though expecting for it to do something quite spectacular. "...it's broken," he says out loud, tapping Marrow abruptly on the shoulder and putting the cube in her lap.

He stares longingly out the window until the van pulls to a stop. Wriggling, Roger doesn't bother to wait for anyone to help him, twisting and contorting his body and canting his hips to escape from the two seatbelts. Somehow, he manages to jerk his body upside-down and almost rolls from the van, catching himself on his feet and stumbling blearily into the sunlight. His hair is matted and almost cowlicked and he stretches and yawns, rubbing a knuckle into his eye. "Mmmmf.."

Arching his back out and reaching for his toes, he lurches into an akward handstand before rolling over onto his rump. I would have thought that the construction of this place would have been at a more advanced point than this... Cocking his head up and letting his empty gaze rove over the familiar faces , Roger suddenly smiles at the sight of Sherridan. I assume you are the leader of this escapade, Primer?

"Spot!" he exclaims, noticing the patchy coloration of his fur today.

[Primer]

"I would have thought that the construction of this place would have been at a more advanced point than this...I assume you are the leader of this escapade, Primer?"
"Spot!"

Lovely, Roger’s kitty followed us here. Exactly what I needed to make this morning just that much better. He doesn’t startle- visibly at least- the psychology profession and the years spent mastering his mutation have given him sufficient poise for that, but he doesn’t turn to face Sherridan either. He’d planned on waiting outside the building for Taskmaster and the Madrii to report, there’s a distinct odor coming from the burnt building, but this new annoyance spurs him into beginning to stride off on the heels of the Madrii instead, if only to get out of the front drive before the rest of the brotherhood pulls up in a clown car or something equally annoying.

“Go ahead and start checking out the building with Madrox and Taskmater. They’ll fill you in.” he orders over his shoulder, not giving Sherridan the satisfaction of seeing him so much as blink at his sudden entrance or answering his questions. He likes Sherridan well enough, a large portion of his mutual fund is invested in the other mutant’s business enterprises after all and recognizing necessity is about as close to real affection as Primer gets, but the other mutant needs to understand his place on this mission right away.

As he steps through the front entrance amidst the crowd of Madrii two things become apparent: that smell is not just burnt wood and they aren’t the first ones here. Indecipherable voices are coming from the kitchen, unmistakable sounds of disgust, and the sound of footsteps. He lets the Madrii take point as a mass, guns raised, and motions them forward. Hanging back a bit to whisper into his communication device, “Taskmaster, we’ve got company in the kitchen, heading in to confront them now, bring Marrow and Manslaughter in here with you and meet us there.” So much for this being a top secret location. Ten to one it’s the X-men in there and that puts Pyro right back on the suspects list. What on earth was he thinking torching the place like this? It isn’t as if it’ll set us back all that much. And what on earth did he stink everything up with?

He’s a pace behind the Madrii as they burst into the kitchen and he notices their simultaneous blanching before he gets a good view of the scene- Magneto’s burnt corpse, the X-men picking at it and the scene of his death like vultures. The mask is a double blessing now, masking his identity and concealing the expression of revulsion that contorts his features under the black cloth. So this is how he dies- someone with that much magnetism, that many accomplishments, someone who was feared by everyone most powerful…revolting and stinking, rotting in the dark. A chill goes through him and he raises his eyes to the opposite faction, normally he would be identifying them, remembering the weaknesses of each member of the team before him from briefings with Magneto, but all he can do for a long moment is stare silently at Pyro through the holes in his mask like his eyes might suddenly acquire the power to bore through the boy’s skull.

“And you call yourselves the heroes.” he says quietly, raising the smaller handgun he’s been growing more proficient with lately and adding it to the weapons trained on the X-men.

((Okay hopefully this works alright and I haven't mucked any details up terribly, for some reason my brain is utterly rejecting coherency this week heh))

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

Josh looks up from the forensic case, his eyes widening. Stupid, stupid, stupid! The one job I have right now and I screw it up. It'd happened before: focusing his attention down too far when he was supposed to be passively monitoring the area allowed people to slip in underneath his notice.

At the sight of the Madrii, he's about to spring into action when the man with the pistol arrives in the room. Didn't we defeat these guys? He gulps a little when he remembers Toni's glee during the melee.

> “And you call yourselves the heroes.”

What? He thinks we did this? Who is this guy? It was impossible to tell, thanks to the ski mask pulled over his face... but obvious who was signing off on his checks. Josh glances over at the table. Well... who used to. What would happen to the Brotherhood now?

"You think we did this? Sadistic torture is your department, not ours." Josh can't help but sound disgusted. Magneto had tortured Bobby while he was in captivity. He'd even sent Nikkolas, the new student, after himself and Warren, to 'teach them a lesson'. Whatever that had meant.

He says nothing more, letting Storm handle the situation. Josh does, however, attempt to focus his powers intensely up the barrel of the gun. If the masked man pulled the trigger, it might well be the last thing he ever did.

[Tobias Smith]

Tobias opens his eyes slowly, and looks in the medicine cabinet. So far, no explosions in the time-stopped demension, no searing pain, no death...this was a good thing. He actually looks through the cabinet this time, and finds the fallen bottle: empty, fallen and imprinted with “Dr. Albert Weinstein – Digitalis – Eric Smith – 3/14/07”

Attempting to ignore the headache that is starting to build, Tobias mutters sarcastically, "Huh..."Eric Smith", Erik Leshner....real subtle Mags, REAL subtle. Okay then...get them to check the prints on the mirror, walk away to make sure nothing explodes, then get on with life...sounds good."

Tobias closes the cabinet again, and takes several steps back into the kitchen, around the 'frozen' bodies of Ms. Munroe, Josh, and Pyro...the...erm....'not so frozen but more crusty' Magneto...and for his own sake, ducks into a pantry closet with slits in it for ventilation/eavesdropping view. They die...well...damn, they were good people. HE dies...well, just not acceptable. Nice, safe, and hidden in the closet, Tobias closes his eyes again, clutches his painfully throbbing head, and starts time again.

...

No explosion...this was a good thing.

>“And you call yourselves the heroes.”

Men with guns...not a good thing.

Tobias remains silent as he watches the altercation between masked man and Josh, and thinks, Alright...just like the Institute. Take guns and ammo away from guys, not so dangerous. Pyro ignites them, Josh sends them flying, Ms. Munroe does her weather thing and I stay safe. Works for me. Okay...breathe, ignore the pain, go for it.

Tobias strains again to stop time again, and immediately he feels that it is harder to move, and judges he has just over a minute to disarm these guys and get rid of the guns before he either collapses or has to come back out of the time stop. He opens the pantry, and immediately goes for the masked man's gun. It takes a little effort to pry his fingers open, take the gun, and mindlessly throw it in the sink. Repeat process for the other dangerous men, and the result is Tobias: sweating, panting, and with an extremely bad headache. Without looking, he steps backwards and hears the sound of boot crushing charred flesh.

He slowly looks over to find that he had stepped on Magneto's leg, and grimaces. He stifles down a wretch, and takes a place behind Ms. Munroe before starting time, standing infront of the sink and guns.

[Pyro]

< Any idea on how long he’s been here?
”Fire’s been out a few hours.” he answers on autopilot, giving no thought to any incriminating implications or anything because… well, Josh asked, he can tell, and in any case it’s mad to think this was his doing, isn’t it? And it feels good to be doing something, however small, something that definitively places him as part of their team. Because this has, understandably, thrown him for something of a loop.

….

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckidy… Madrii. This is so far from good. Last time, when he’d still officially been on their team and all, he’d ended up rather thoroughly fucked over. This – being found with the charred corpse (… shit) of their leader, against whom he has every reason to hold this sort of grudge, given his reputation? – does not bode well.

Cli-what the fuck are you thinking? He extinguishes the balls of flames beginning to from the instinctive flex and resultant sparking wrist lighters reflexively. New rules, remember. They make the first move. And you don’t want to confess without meaning to and give them any more reason to kill you properly second time round… Josh? Now would be a good time for start shouting the fucking steps out; I don’t know this dance[/color]

< And you call yourselves the heroes
Whoever this guy is – his replacement? (And now, the almost-growl isn’t at that… shut up) – he’s making John even more uncomfortable, if such is thing were possible under the circumstances, his return glare shifting uncomfortably under such intense disapproving scrutiny and sort of undermining the sharp defiance in the expression though when the guns disappear (which… how? Must be the goth, who’s blinking from place to place… teleporter? Time-stopping-thingy? Why the fuck are you worrying about this now?) it quirks into a more stable smirk.

[Sherridan Kaine]

> "Go ahead and start checking out the building with Madrox..."

Even before Primer stops talking, Sherridan walks off on his own accord, entering the house and walking around, idly looking at everything a little. He does not pay even remote attention to his surroundings, preoccupied with some other, rather insignificant to anyone else, matters. After a while of walking like this, his legs set on auto-sneak for no apparent reason, his nose finally picks up on something rather...well, revolting would be the word Sherridan would prefer to use.

He follows the sent, and it leads him to the kitchen, not far away from where he was just a few seconds ago. His hand reaches into his pocket and he pulls out a small, white mask, no specific details on it, other than two slits for the eyes. He wonders why it has lingered in his pocket since last night's masked banquet, but does not attempt to solve this irrelevant mystery. Instead, he puts the mask back into his pocket, deciding to just put his sun glasses on instead. When he enters the room, and just after he analyzes who all is present, Sherridan realizes that the glasses were a good idea, considering the fact that he could not otherwise hide the emotion in his eyes- it is shock, disgust, and perhaps some small amount of terror. He lingers in this shocked state for but a moment more, however, and then turns his attention back to the situation. So what happens now? Who receives the grace of inheriting the command of the Brotherhood? Or will we just disband like a group of miserable goons without a mind and leader to follow? Perhaps an all-out battle for power? Things should become interesting... his thoughts direct partially away from the grotesque sight and scent, both of which he takes in more than other humans would, and unwanted so.

It is a defense mechanism- avoid problems until they are absolutely forced on him. True, it is not all that helpful, and the last time he used it it escalated in a large-scale destruction of hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of art, by his hand, but it is the only way he knows, and it is the way he uses. Anyone having a problem with that would just have to deal with it, not that it makes any sense that someone would, unless Roger happens to have an uncanny ability of comprehension and observation.

He snaps back to the situation at hand, and twenty claws come out from the tips of his fur-covered fingers and toes, a weapon used more proficiently than the guns, and much harder to get rid of. His fur almost changes to orange with black stripes, but he stops himself, for some odd reason not willing to reveal this one small ability to the X-men. His tail seems to stop waving around idly, and is still in a semi-relaxed state, ready to react to anything.

[Ororo Munroe]

When the Brotherhood bursts into the small kitchen, Ororo looks up, a sinking feeling in her mind. They’d been investigating without incident for some time; she supposed the luck of discovering Magneto’s corpse in a secluded enough area to gather forensic evidence was too good to be true. However, it didn’t seem to be an ambush.

In any case, if Magneto had engineered this as a trap, she imagined he would be here to spring it. The man could never resist a chance to gloat. So Ororo steels her gaze across the few feet of dirty linoleum that separates the two groups. Silence reigns, and Ororo imagines one could hear a pin drop.

The guns slightly worry her. And it’s definitely not because the last time they ran into this crowd she got shot. Maybe a little. More worrisome is that she brought students into this mess.

> "You think we did this? Sadistic torture is your department, not ours."

Ororo winces internally. Josh tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve. The statement was true enough, but if possible she wanted them to walk out of this unscathed. Insulting their adversaries could only lead to an altercation. She could sense Josh readying himself for a fight, and John was very nearly chomping at the bit to blast the entire group to kingdom come. Which probably says something about his allegiances, come to think of it. Reassuring and all, but not something she was concerned with at the moment. She needed to defuse this.

Ororo steps forward. “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?” She folds her arms over her chest.

With a pop, all of the guns abruptly disappear and a panting Toby appears next to her. Ororo raises an eyebrow at him but says nothing, and turns her attention back to their enemies.

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

> Josh? Now would be a good time for start shouting the fucking steps out; I don’t know this dance

John. Josh supposed he was new to the whole team thing; before he’d left the first time he hadn’t been old enough to be on any of the field missions, even as an observer. What do I tell him? Run like hell if bullets start flying? He composes himself and sends back.

Don’t do anything until Ororo makes a move. If a fight breaks out, it’s going to be a retreat back to the plane, so get back as fast as you can. Incidentally… any clue who the bank robber is? Josh lets his gaze sweep across their adversaries, and can't help but stare oddly at the man in the mask. The cat guy he recognized from… I dunno. Personnel files maybe? Ororo might have mentioned him.

Storm steps forward. His initial suspicion had been right. Ororo was going to try to talk their way out of this. Josh nods. It made sense… the close quarters and the Madrii made a pitched battle sketchy.

He blinks when Toby appears from nowhere. Josh had been in a few practice sessions with the guy since he’d arrived at the Mansion, but his powers were still some of the most jolting, even compared with Kurt’s. Getting rid of the guns seemed smart, though he supposed their 'friends' could take the gesture poorly.

[Primer]

[[Thinking I should step up here, TM I suppose is going to be home and stuff soon so I’ll just leave it open for him to enter whenever he wishes]]

>"You think we did this? Sadistic torture is your department, not ours."

Primer raises his eyebrows under his mask, turning his attention momentarily away from Pyro to the boy who’s just spoken. “Exactly.” he says dryly, not sounding offended or impassioned at all, he’s reined in his emotions and worries now, shuttered them away for careful examination later, and he keeps his gaze on Josh and his tone that of a teacher trying to be kind to a particularly eager but still exasperatingly slow to comprehend pupil. “We’re the villains of the piece. Murder and sadistic torture are the perks of the role. You’re supposed to be above such things. Honestly Miss. Munroe, aren’t you supposed to be running some sort of school?” Feeling a little better after the jibe he’s about to turn back to Pyro and begin questioning the boy in earnest when his right hand suddenly hits his thigh and he realizes after a startled moment that it’s swung down in the sudden absence of the gun’s weight. The Madrii, their guns also gone, are making outraged noises, going for their replacement weapons and ammo, and obviously intending to shoot once they get them. Sherridan (When did he get here? Damn stealthy…no he’ll be useful) has extended his claws. “Wait.” he snaps out, holding up one hand towards his team and adding a quick burst of obedience in pheromone form to make sure they do wait. If he feels anything other than focused control now it’s a slow sort of anger, the calm, cold kind that plots and waits and draws out its revenge.

“A very nice trick.” he says to Tobias, noting the exhausted looking new arrival and assuming he’s responsible for the sudden disarming. He quickly hits a button on the communication device in his pocket, patching Taskmaster in to this conversation. “Getting our guns like that. It would have been better to pull that card later in the game when we’d finished laying down ours, but a good effort all the same.” Take the hint and listen quietly to the narration he wills the mercenary silently, thinking for the thousandth time how very useful telepathy would be. If Taskmaster’s up to date on the situation he can direct Marrow and Manslaughter to their advantage and hopefully take the X-men by surprise if they’re needed.

“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?”

“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 says amicably enough. When he turns back to Pyro though his eyes are all cold and flat and harboring that deceptive sort of depth usually reserved for lakeside beaches- shallow water up to a sudden drop of the seabed into nothing, all his sarcastic chatter leading you along to the edge of the cliff, the expression in his eyes promising that it’s going to be a long fall. “Nothing to say for yourself Allerdyce?”

[Ororo Munroe]

Ororo gazes across at the masked man. Josh probably shouldn’t have sniped back at them, but what he’d said was right - fortunately, though, their adversaries didn’t appear particularly interested in fighting this out. The man’s eloquence impressed her. It seemed as though he was on the wrong side - how could anyone even vaguely intelligent ever stand Magneto’s rhetoric?

> Honestly Miss Munroe, aren’t you supposed to be running some sort of school?

She glances over at Josh, giving him a reassuring smile. “Indeed we are. I teach my students to look at a situation, analyze it, and draw conclusions based on their observations. And the way I look at it, since Alcatraz - which was directly the Brotherhood’s fault - you’ve tortured one of my X-Men and sent a would-be assassin after two others.” Her tone becomes colder. “So I don’t think he’s far off.”

Ororo quietly lets out a breath when the masked man stops the Madrii from rearming themselves. Good - just a bit more, and we might walk out of here without a fight.

> “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.”

“You seem ambitious, whoever you are. I suspect you could have easily arranged this yourself.” Ororo steps gingerly over the pile of charred bits that was previously Erik Lehnsherr’s foot, and peers at the corpse. “Anyone can light a fire - one doesn’t need mutant abilities to do so. And as far as I know, perhaps you’re pyrokinetic.” She throws a glance over her shoulder.

“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,” Ororo lifts an eyebrow at this, “and escaped with him. I doubt Magneto would have chatted with John over tea had he shown up here.”

She makes her way back over to the masked man. “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?” Ororo crosses her arms over her chest.

[Pyro]

Shit, and Sherridan’s here too? Proper family reunion, isn’t it? The fact that the Madrii don’t re-arm, or duplicate, is only mildly reassuring – Tobias can’t do shit to take away Sherridan’s claws, and John still doesn’t know what this new guy can do… though from the looks of it, being smarmy and patronising might be at least part of it; is making people want to tear your throat out a mutation or just an added bonus? He clenches his fist reflexively, just about holding off the urge to give them an action replay of what might have happened to their boss… might being the operative word here, of course. Nothing to do with him really.

< Any idea who the bank robber is?
John shakes his head – or goes to, and stops just short of a complete shake, mentally kicking himself because he doesn’t need to do that, just to send back a No… (and because, idiot, you’ve just given away that there’s TP going on. Fucking brilliant move, that… your newbie-ism is showing. Never this inept when they weren’t the ene… okay, shut the fuck up). Must’ve joined some time after I… yeah, I guess he’s new.

Whoever he is, John doesn’t like the way he keep staring at him, like he’s trying to read him, like this is some fucked up therapy session where he’s expected to start spilling the inner most secrets of his soul (flashy suit and that attitude? This fucker’d be great at it… and this is a hell of a random tangent…). Maybe he is reading his soul, or whatever; he’s got to be some sort of mutant to rate at all within the ‘hood, and it’s not inconceivable he’s a teep, or something. Just in case, John’s focusing on broadcasting nothing more than Fuck off. Fuck off out of my brain. Nothing here., defiant and unbreakable, and not the unease beneath it. People in masks are not to be trusted… He can’t remember where that’s from – something Rogue made him watch? Shit, Rogue; fingers crossed he can trust Josh to tell her something other than some guy in a mask had fun killing John because they think he killed Magneto, even if they’re not *official* or *public* yet – Josh is good at picking up on stuff like this, and he’ll know what to say, and… and that’s crazy talk. Right. Defiant and unbreakable. Fuck off.

< Nothing to say for yourself, Allerdyce?
It’s not like John to be this silent, true, and he can think of a few things he’d like to…
<… anyone can light a fire – one doesn’t need mutant abilities to do so
… but luckily Ororo cuts in before he can put any words beyond a sharp ”Fuck you, Zorro... what the fuck is this?” to any of them.

Ororo, of course, is talking sense, and doing that thing she does when it’s her people the enemy is messing with… and the fact that he’s one of *her people* is weirdly both humbling and empowering. Wonder if Josh can send a mental ‘thanks’? It’s unlikely he’ll remember that and act suitably respectfully (i.e. not be a total jackass) off mission, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

The pride dulls somewhat – okay, more than somewhat – when the kidnap and subsequent escape are touched upon, and more again, weirdly, when she mentions the ‘shock and nausea’, and it doesn’t make sense for that to trouble him anywhere near as much as it does; clearly, according to the voice of reason, it’s a good thing for him to feel that way, proves that he’s not the one they’re looking for. But he still doesn’t like it. Because he shouldn’t be anything other than delighted the bastard’s dead.

Still, that should be him off the hook, right?