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quiet ascension; ;open
Topic Started: Dec 15 2010, 05:40 AM (618 Views)
Manslaughter
Unregistered

November 10th
1:30 pm

Weakness.

It was the only image that Roger would allow himself to readily recall from the day Murderworld fell, its ending a bloody, hopeless mess, the essence of comrades strewn across walls and floors when they really should have been inside them--the assassin included.

With his rough finger tips, Roger rubbed the phantom pain that scissored through his chest at the memory, dimly remembering only white and cold hands crawling across his skin. He shuddered, tightening his grip on the handle of his katana with his free hand, a drop of sweat managing to bead at his brow and slide into one unkempt eyebrow. The redhead had been in the Brotherhood training facilities all morning trying to forget it, to shove the memories so deep into his consciousness that it would take another telepath to find it.

Medically, it was probably inadvisable for Roger to be pushing himself this hard after his body had been traumatized. But he had been subjected to the torture of the 'healers' long enough, and the moment the assassin had been given a clean bill of health, he left. For days he sat at the back corner of his room at his shared apartment, refusing company or conversation, responding to both with a cold silence. And when he emerged from his shell of catatonia, this was the first place Roger appeared, wasting all hours of daylight hacking at dummies until they were in pieces, wearing the faceless persona of the soldier who had done this to him, who had made him weak and vulnerable.

Roger had little to his possession, but his pride was something he held dearly, scraping what was left of it together when he was eighteen when he joined this cause in the first place. Everyone in that room had seen Manslaughter fall, and he had a mind not to return until they forgot about it.

His uniform in need of repair, he had chosen to don civilian clothing for training. And staring down the battered dummy at his disposal, Roger reached for a shuriken in his pocket, falling back into stance as he withdrew his weapon of choice until he faltered, a startled 'gn!' clicking in his throat as he dropped the metal star. Bewildered, he gazed at his hand.

He had cut himself.

An almost snarl twisted across his face, both hands connecting at the hilt of his katana as he reared back and stabbed the dummy as hard as he possibly could.
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Raven Darkholme
Unregistered

Alone. For the first time in along time, she felt it. With her eyes closed, Mystique sat indian-style in her bed with her hands in her lap. A blanket was thrown over her shoulders, wrapped around her like a cloak as she enjoyed doing absolutely nothing. As Magneto had promised that day in the cafe, she was able to enjoy the peace that Sanctuary provided. While others focused on the battle of Murderworld, dealt with their injuries, or faced the penalties of being a spy, Mystique only focused on the opportunity that had been given to her. Sanctuary. It was like a dream... and Erik had imagined it in a much more grand fashion than she ever could have.

She finally stood, walking the length of the room to the balcony and took the blanket along with her, it hanging down just past her knees since her legs were so long. Raven looked over the city, with it's false sun on the horizon, shining over the buildings as if it were real. She could even feel the heat coming off of it. The air felt moist and cool, as any morning on the surface would. She took in a deep breath of air and let her shoulders hang into a relaxed position. For the first time in a ages, she felt safe.

After fixing herself breakfast and eating it outside on the balcony, Mystique spent the rest of the morning napping and reflecting on herself. Who was she? She wouldn't lie to herself about it. While she didn't enjoy the fact that she was a terrorist that was on the FBI's top ten list, she did enjoy the fact that so many people who sought to enslave or cause harm to mutants were dead by her hands. Could she help it that she had to resort to such dastardly deeds? It was worth it all. Even if she were captured and faced the human's penalties, it was worth it all. While others battled within themselves about who they were and what they had done to earn their places beside Magneto, the thought about who she was brought a smile to Mystique's face that made her laugh into her pillow. Fuck them all.


Later...


In a pleasant mood, Mystique made her way through the fine training facilities that had been built. It was one of the places that she had not browsed through yet. As far as working out went, Mystique had to put very little effort into her conditioning, thanks to her mutant ability. However, from time to time she would spar or train with the others in order to gauge them and instill some camaraderie. It was never good to go into a fight without trusting or knowing what the person beside you is capable of.

She entered a training area and spotted the young mutant, Manslaughter, going to town on one of the training dummies. Leaning on the door frame, she remained silent as he worked with his katana. He then reached to his pocket and quickly withdrew it, dropping the shuriken to the floor. He looked to have cut his hand, which further enraged him, as he stabbed the dummy furiously. Mystique laughed, making her presence known.

“You would think that the dummy has offended you in some way, boy,” Raven said as she walked the few steps towards him, bending in order to pick up the shuriken off the floor. She held it up with two fingers, displaying the smear of blood that was stained across it. After looking at it for a moment, she held it out to Roger. “Since I doubt that dummy has pissed you off so badly, might I ask why you seem so bothered? If you fight with such fury without a thought in your head, you might be liable to lop your own off with that thing,” she finished, motioning to the katana with a bit of humor hinting in her eyes.

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Manslaughter
Unregistered

It was nearly impossible to sneak up on Manslaughter, his mind eternally open and blank until blips of neural activity appeared like obstacles on a radar. Mystique was like an enigma in the distance, her patterns constantly changing in tune with her abilities. He stiffened at her approach, casting his gaze respectfully at her feet when the female redhead entered the facility. Roger quietly took the shuriken proffered from between her fingers, very carefully slipping the device back into some unseen interior pocket on his person.

"He is not the real miscreant," he murmured quietly, referencing the dummy as he reached out and touched the patterning on the hilt of his katana, the humor in her voice escaping him entirely. "Only a representation." Roger's frustration had given him center, allowed his senses to focus in a way that made relating his feelings a little easier. This was a sensation that would not last, but it kept itself in existence with each time Roger's mind wandered back to that day, his hand now snaking up his chest where he'd been shot. The healers had done well despite his ferocious fear and dislike of them, only the white shadow of a starburst scar left on his body.

Roger was discontented with the fact that that man had been destroyed by something other than his own means, cowardly releasing ammunition into him with a machine--as though that would make much of a difference. Beyond this irritation, a much deeper part of him was shamed, although he did not quite know it. Even those that had not seen with their own eyes a terrorist balking in fear of a needle would have heard how it had taken four healers to hold him down.

His eyes cut past Raven, not looking into her face. For Magneto he generally took knee, and for all else above him he kept a distant respect, although it was hard to tell the difference between that and his normal behavior if one did not know him.

"Disciples should not fall as easily glass," Roger announced bitterly, perhaps referencing his own bones that had been shattered in the fray.
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Raven Darkholme
Unregistered

Mystique walked past Manslaughter as he spoke, reaching out with her right hand in order to touch the dummy where he had struck it repeatedly. She ran her fingers over the indentions and slices that the katana had made, nodding absently to his words. After a moment, she looked back to him, taking notice of how he seemed to refuse eye contact.

Was he mad at himself? Did he feel as if he had let himself down in the battle? She had seen with her own eyes that many were injured. Some were killed. SHIELD was not a foe to be taken lightly and X-factor even had the sense to avoid their destruction all together. Raven looked back at the dummy for a moment after examining the young man, feeling as if she was gaining some sort of understanding as to what he was going through.

“Did you know that I spent several months with SHIELD before the fight?” Raven asked, finally turning towards him and crossing her arms over her midsection. The fact that she was disguised as Dugan was not well known. In fact, only Magneto knew of her whereabouts until it was revealed to Havok. “I was placed there by Magneto in order to feed them information on Murderworld. Lead them to the fight. For the most part, lead them to their deaths.”

Mystique walked back around Roger, turning her head to keep her eyes focused on his face. The room was surprisingly quiet and empty. It was just the two of them. “I did so knowing that people would be killed on both sides. You must realize that SHIELD is a capable organization that has highly trained personnel. To think that we would fight with them without losses on our side would be foolish,” Raven paused, reaching out to touch the young man on the shoulder. She tilted her head down slightly, turning it in the attempt to gain eye contact with him.

“I myself was forced to flee when I was overwhelmed with SHIELD forces and X-factor. So you did better than I did, standing your ground until you were forced from the fight,” Raven said, nodding to him again. “Disciples do not fall as easily as glass, you are right. But you stood like a rock for as long as you could against formidable odds,” she stated, smiling at him in a kind way. Since Mystique had arrived at Sanctuary, she had been different. Comfortable. “And there is no shame in that,” she finished.
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Manslaughter
Unregistered

The soft kindness in Raven's voice was not what Roger expected, more familiar with the Brotherhood functioning as a military--his superiors acting as serious and dispassionate. He listened as best as his mind allowed, his idle fingers tugging on the hood drawstring of his gray sweatshirt, the slight assassin's one possession that had survived the entirety of his devotion to the Brotherhood. When she revealed to him her presence amongst SHIELD for longer than most had imagined, Roger gave his head a soft twitch to indicate knowledge he had not been privy to, the most of a head shake he often gave. He had not considered the frame of mind that the shapeshifter suggested, but Roger was not known for being thoughtful.

When she touched his shoulder, Roger stiffened but did not pull away, his motivations for this action unclear, but his entire body was another language, a cryptic alphabet that no one had yet to crack. Yet, Raven kept his gaze, smiling at him, a genuine gesture that most did not do in his direction. "No shame," he repeated, as if testing out the words in his own mouth. He blinked, as if having a realization. Quietly, Roger moistened his lips, looking at the golden-eyed woman with a titled curious expression. "You are most obliging, Mystique."

For Roger, kindness and benevolence were characteristics better suited for those who were on the other side. Until Sanctuary, his life had been ruthless, and changing it now seemed incomprehensible. He rocked back on his feet, dropping his head to one side, rocking it from one shoulder to the other. "You have no chagrin for the fallen," Roger noted.

He felt conflicted and confused. "Have we not failed when we faill?"
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Raven Darkholme
Unregistered

Mystique finally removed her hand from the young man's shoulder and shook her head negatively. He was a very determined individual, she could tell that much. From what she could gather in such a short time, he was probably hard on himself for many things that had occurred in his life. Perhaps that is one of the things that had led him to the Brotherhood? The general thought that they were a group meant for the unfortunate, the murderers, the strange. There was more to it than that, and while they accepted a person who was considered a killer because of their abilities, she would like for them to know that there is a purpose behind what they were doing besides “killing every human.”

“Chagrin?” Raven repeated, still shaking her head. “No, I have no regret for who we have lost and what I have done to cause it. It is a necessary task that few would take on... I just happen to have the proper mindset and abilities to take on such things.”

Raven continued to circle the man, her arms still crossed over her midsection. “Did you know Camera? I knew her well. She was one of the few members that I had frequent conversation with while in Murderworld. If I considered anyone a friend, I would probably consider her one,” she stopped her circling, looking to him with no sign of regret or emotion in her eyes. “She died at Murderworld. And you could even say that I assisted in her death, by leading SHIELD to our doorstep. But she died for a purpose, whether she knew it or not,,” Mystique continued.

“If you must die, then die with a purpose. The ones that stand against us have no purpose, except to protect the humans that we are at war with. If they die, they will not die as a hero. They will only die as mutant trash, which is how the humans that they are trying to protect would see them,” she explained. “But for you and I, for those of us who are resisting slavery, experimentation and things more horrible than that... we are fighting for a cause. Dying for a cause. And there is nothing but honor in that, Roger.”
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Manslaughter
Unregistered

To hear the dead were not shamed in falling short of perfecting a mission should have been a relief, lifting the weight of Roger’s own expectations from his shoulders, but it had been ingrained deep into his mind from birth. Mother had never found him good enough for her, and Roger’s detest for her seethed like an open wound--never smart enough, never skilled enough, never anything. But Mystique expressed a view of dying as a necessary evil, perhaps suggesting that had Manslaughter died in the fray it would have been for a worthy cause and not a meaningless passing.

He had not failed in his injury, that much he was beginning to understand intellectually, at least.

The woman Raven referenced was unknown to him, and her query earned a flat stare, as the assassin had seen so many brothers and sisters come and go that it was rare for him to make contact with those that were not around for a long time, or those that existed outside of his immediate circle of 'friends'. But the point Raven made was that dying would have not only been meaningful, but honorable, something he had never thought to wrap his head around before. He gazed back to his katana, jutting outwards from the dummy that had so furiously been the focus of his ire.

Quietly, Roger reached out and touched the hilt, the criss-cross decoration worn from use beneath his hands. He supposed the logic in this situation could be easily applied to his blade--if they were to ever break would he look back upon the history of his swords and be ashamed? For once the redhead seemed to take some words to heart, even if they so happened to be aimed for his own betterment. "Perception is too merciless," he murmured so softly it was but a whisper, a confirmation meant more for himself.

His gaze flickered back to Mystique, his slate eyes both hard and unfocused at the same time. "The shapeshifter has much conviction in her brothers and sisters, as does Magneto. Perhaps this confidence is misconceived as reaching perfection.." Roger spoke of others, but he really meant himself, even if he did not know it.
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Raven Darkholme
Unregistered

Raven watched the young man settle some things within himself. She could remember being that young and so unsure of what exactly her purpose was. Even when she had a purpose, she questioned it and her motivations for doing it. It was no surprise to her that many of the younger Brotherhood members questioned Magneto's methods and decisions, even if they did not voice them outright to him. From a soldier's perspective, a general's decision might not make very much decision. But regardless, it was up to the general to put that soldier's ass on the line in order to win the battle.

After giving Roger a few brief moment to let what she had said to sink in, he looked to her again. “The shapeshifter has much conviction in her brothers and sisters, as does Magneto. Perhaps this confidence is misconceived as reaching perfection,” Roger said

Mystique closed the gap between them again with a few short steps, reaching out to touch him on the shoulder. She drew near to him in order to speak quietly and reassuringly. “We are never going to be perfect, Manslaughter. It is a goal that is unattainable. Magneto is a man, just as you are. He is not perfect. And I... I am much older than you.. and God knows that I am not,” she said, squeezing his shoulder gently. “So while you should always strive to be better and closer to perfect... do not waste away because you have not obtained it yet,” Raven finished, smiling at him and releasing his shoulder.

She walked towards the exit of the room in order to continue making her rounds around Sanctuary, but she paused in the doorway in order to look back at Roger once more. “Oh and Roger,” Mystique said, still holding a smile on her face that was beautiful, yet awkward for most people to see her wearing. “Good job out there. I am glad that you are one of my brothers,” she stated before disappearing out of the doorway.


[Exit Mystique]
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