Post by Primer on May 21, 2007 23:52:34 GMT
I should have done this the second we got back from the new headquarters. Primer thins his lips and checks the padlock on the door one more time, giving it a quick jerk to make sure it’s secure. Not that he expects any Brotherhood member worth their salt to be stopped by a cheap padlock from the Home Depot a few hours away. That’s not the point. The point is the tiny device enclosed in the padlock that- if the room is unlocked without his key- will send a signal to a small alarm in his room. The padlock is just to see who tries it. Of course there’s no telling how many have already rummaged through this place while I was busy sulking and collecting stray puppies…
He lays his right palm against the cool metal of the door and sighs to himself, a noise of equal parts exasperation and exhaustion. He has no idea what they’ll do with Magneto’s quarters in the long run. Space is at a premium, especially such well appointed space as this, and most of their organization’s members are fairly mercenary. Though they had held the old man in high regard during his life Primer wonders how long his possessions will remain untouched now that he’s gone. The thought sends a wave of revulsion sweeping through him not unlike the one he’d felt wrack him at the sight of the older mutant’s remains in the burnt out shell of a kitchen. He hadn’t wasted much sentiment or reverence on Magneto while he was alive and he wasn’t crying for him now that he was gone, but it seemed somehow profane that a man with money, power, and intelligence could meet such an end, could have his possessions rifled through by underlings greedy as grave robbers. It makes the Allerdyce boy’s suicide theory look positively sunny. He can admit to himself now that most of his discomfort with the man’s death has more to do with himself than Magneto- rejection of the position in which it has left him, annoyance bordering on angry impotence with the unfamiliar sensation of events spinning out of his control, and the question of what to do next.
Locking Magneto’s quarters- as well as Mystqiue’s and Elliot’s earlier that day- is the first step. Soon he’ll search through them with a few trusted assistants. For now? He sighs again, knowing the answer but not particularly wanting to articulate it even mentally. For now stop avoiding the rank and file of the Brotherhood and start getting to know them. They’re assets and someone has to organize them. And with that thought he slips the key into the pocket of his suit and straightens up, preparing to go on about his business.
He lays his right palm against the cool metal of the door and sighs to himself, a noise of equal parts exasperation and exhaustion. He has no idea what they’ll do with Magneto’s quarters in the long run. Space is at a premium, especially such well appointed space as this, and most of their organization’s members are fairly mercenary. Though they had held the old man in high regard during his life Primer wonders how long his possessions will remain untouched now that he’s gone. The thought sends a wave of revulsion sweeping through him not unlike the one he’d felt wrack him at the sight of the older mutant’s remains in the burnt out shell of a kitchen. He hadn’t wasted much sentiment or reverence on Magneto while he was alive and he wasn’t crying for him now that he was gone, but it seemed somehow profane that a man with money, power, and intelligence could meet such an end, could have his possessions rifled through by underlings greedy as grave robbers. It makes the Allerdyce boy’s suicide theory look positively sunny. He can admit to himself now that most of his discomfort with the man’s death has more to do with himself than Magneto- rejection of the position in which it has left him, annoyance bordering on angry impotence with the unfamiliar sensation of events spinning out of his control, and the question of what to do next.
Locking Magneto’s quarters- as well as Mystqiue’s and Elliot’s earlier that day- is the first step. Soon he’ll search through them with a few trusted assistants. For now? He sighs again, knowing the answer but not particularly wanting to articulate it even mentally. For now stop avoiding the rank and file of the Brotherhood and start getting to know them. They’re assets and someone has to organize them. And with that thought he slips the key into the pocket of his suit and straightens up, preparing to go on about his business.
