xp_logs | The Gates: Shadows (Reply)

That night, Nathan finds Mystique out in the streets. It's not what he thinks - or maybe it is, but she's certainly not making it easy for him to tell. When he gets back to the hotel, he has some explaining to do - and a phone call to make.

He was doing what he'd told the others they had no business doing, and as he moved through Smichov's darkened streets, Nathan was acutely aware that there had been good reason for that caution. They had heard fighting every night since they'd arrived.

Tonight, it was worse. He'd seen six running skirmishes between civilians, obviously inhabitants of Smichov, and the patrols that continually roved the streets during the hours of the night. Somewhere over to the west, something was burning, and Nathan could only hope that the fire wouldn't spread. There were no sirens, no sign of fire crews. He wasn't at all surprised.

There was a burst of gunfire at the end of the street, and Nathan glanced in that direction, then leapt with a burst of telekinesis to the top of the warehouse beside him. He stood on the roof and watched a handful of shadowy figures run down the street, cursing under their breath to each other. A moment later, there was the roar of an engine and the flash of headlights, and a jeep full of soldiers appeared in hot pursuit.

Scatter, Nathan thought at the people on foot. That's your only chance... He shook his head slightly, wondering at his own train of thought. His sympathies didn't seem to know quite where to rest in all of this.

Contemplation later. Taking a deep breath, he turned away and strode across the roof of the warehouse, leaping lightly to the next building over. Maybe staying on the roofs would be best. He'd dressed all in black, and with all the streetlights out, so long as he was careful he shouldn't be spotted at all.

And in any case, he had to be almost there. He had spent a sizeable part of the evening scanning Smichov, trying to find something, anything that would lead him to Mystique. She herself was untraceable, and totally so when the person looking was a novice telepath like himself. But there were other ways. The militants were his best bet, he'd decided. He'd already located and watched two 'cell meetings', for lack of a better word. Neither of them had included Mystique, but he was on his way to a third.

The concentrated hours of scanning had left him with a pounding headache, and the aspirin he'd taken before slipping out of the hotel hadn't really done much to help. He could hardly conceive of how Charles did this on a global scale, Cerebro or not Cerebro. Scanning a single neighborhood, building by building, had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done with his telepathy.

He only hoped it paid off at some point tonight.

Five minutes later, he landed on the roof of the warehouse he'd caught a very angry set of thoughts reviewing as a meeting locale. A moment's concentration told him that there were seven people inside... no, eight, he realized, tensing as he caught a psi-signature familiar in its impenetrability.

Mystique, or someone who knows how to shield just as well as she does... and I think I'm going to have cardiac arrest if I get a look and find out it's Magneto. Nathan sat down cross-legged on the roof and closed his eyes, picking the most open and unguarded set of thoughts below. A teenager, young and angry and determined to do something to strike back against the people keeping her penned up here like an animal.

Letting the air in his lungs out on a sigh, Nathan established the lightest of links with her. Just enough to be able to see through her eyes.

It was difficult. He was already exhausted, and separating the conversation she was hearing from her own mental monologue was harder than it should have been. What made it more difficult was that they were breaking in and out of Czech and... Russian, why Russian?

Outside. Some of them were from outside Smichov. Well, that makes sense, doesn't it? This place wasn't a mecca for mutants like Budapest, but even so...

"~...need to understand that violence is not going to be productive,~" said the blonde woman with the familiar face, almost soothingly. Her Russian was perfect, Nathan noted almost absently, while the rest of his mind was busy doing a figurative spit-take.

Mystique was advocating peaceful resistance? What the hell?

He listened, stunned, to as much of the discussion as he could. The argument was brief, yet vehement, Mystique constantly interjecting sweet reason as the young firebrands vented their frustration and their need to do something. Although he couldn't follow the whole conversation, he was able to understand enough. She was good at this. Too damned good. Three of the seven were noticeably swayed, and she kept pushing at the other four, skillfully undermining their resolve, trying to appeal to their concern for their fellow inhabitants of Smichov.

The meeting lasted for longer than it should have. Nearly a half-hour, far too long given the patrols on the streets. Nathan was somehow unsurprised that it was Mystique who pointed this out, urging them to be careful on their way back to their homes. It was all part and parcel of the role she was playing. The role that makes absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever...

It didn't take any effort at all to follow her, and to avoid the other militants leaving the little strategy meeting as he did so. They were all going in different directions - smart of them, given the patrols on the street. Nathan jumped from one roof to the other with a telekinetic assist, landing as lightly as a falling leaf. He glanced upwards as he realized that what was falling out of the sky definitely classed as snow, not rain. When he looked back down, Mystique was still heading down the street below him, but she'd shifted shape and was wearing a male form now.

Nathan's eyes narrowed and he jumped off the building, landing several feet behind her. "So," he said, almost casually, "that was an interesting conversation back there in the warehouse. Since when did you advocate the non-violent approach to political action?"

Mystique had started to turn as soon as Nate's feet had touched the ground; she now faced him in her own form, an amused-looking smirk on her lips. "Since it suited our needs, Nathan. I'm well aware that you think we are nothing but rabble-rousing miscreants, but there is a method to everything we do. Just as I assume there is a method to your being here alone, without the X-Men to back you up?"

"No, actually, I think you and your friends in the Brotherhood are genocidally-minded psychopaths. And frankly," he said, straightening, "I'm not the one who should be concerned about being here without backup." He could say that with a certain amount of reassurance. It was quiet out here, so quiet that he would have noticed someone shielding.

"Actually, I believe the ones who should be concerned about their well-being are the residents of this fair city," Mystique said, spreading her hands to indicate the empty streets around them. "Instead of trading empty threats, perhaps we ought to be on our respective ways. There's much to be done still tonight, and as creative as your insults are, they don't help the mutants of Prague in any way, shape, or form." She smiled tightly.

"And that's why you're here," Nathan said flatly. "To help. Of course. I'd forgotten that you and your friends make such a habit of that. You're very helpful people. I mean, without Magneto trying to destroy San Diego, we probably wouldn't even have a mutant ghetto in the center of Europe. Wouldn't that be a shame." He took a step closer to her, his hands balling into fists. "And now you're here, trying to manipulate the situation from inside."

"Seeing as you have apparently been following me all evening, I assume you have seen how exactly I have been trying to maniuplate the situation. I hardly think peaceful resistance is objectionable, even under your hyper-rigid moral standards. Really, Nathan, do you really have nothing better to do than to heckle me even when I am working for a good cause? Because I can assure you, that would get old very quickly."

"You're here for a good cause. Bullshit," Nathan said venomously. "If you're advocating peaceful resistance it's because you're got a plan. Some way this is going to benefit your cause. What, are you hoping to draw this out long enough that the people here start starving on the streets? That would make good PR for how brutal a human government can be." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he blinked, taken aback. Was that was it was? Some sort of public relations gambit? If she was stage-managing this, looking for a way to make this serve the Brotherhood's propaganda purposes... how do you turn Smichov into a rallying point?

Mystique's only response to this was an enigmatic smile before she shifted into the form of a young woman, hollow-cheeked and wide-eyed. "I just don't want things to turn violent. Mutants don't have to be feared, you know. They can do marvelous things. Like save a whole city. Why should they be locked up like animals when they have so much to offer mankind?" she asked him guilelessly.

Nathan's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "This isn't just a mutant issue. Oversimplifying it and using it to stir up indignation is a cheap trick, and I'll be damned if I let you get away with it."

"What do you mean, this isn't a mutant issue?" In a flash the woman had changed, wearing a myriad of faces, some of whom Nathan recognized as residents of the mansion or the Brotherhood, before she settled once again on the blonde woman she had worn earlier in the evening. "This is most certainly a mutant issue. If people were to look at it, the one thing they should take away is that this is how humans want to treat us, and if we do nothing, this is how they will treat us. If we don't make an example of it now, when will we? In a year? Five years? Once they've rounded us all up together and put walls around us? How long do we have to wait for the world to be properly outraged, Nathan? How many people will have to suffer and die before the bleeding hearts do something about it?"

"There are baseline humans suffering right alongside mutants in here, Mystique. In fact, there are a lot more of them then there are your oppressed mutant brothers. Did it occur to you before you started meddling that if you manage to inflame the situation that a good portion of the mutants who are going to suffer are children?" Nathan paused, his jaw clenching. "But I apologize. I forgot that you have no issue sacrificing children if you believe the situation calls for it. It's still just amazing to me, how similar you and yours are to certain humans I've known."

"And I forgot how weak-willed you and yours are when it comes to effecting change, Nathan," Mystique said, tipping her head to one side. "Or wait, I didn't forget that at all. In fact, that's why you're here, skulking about without actually doing anything."

"And what have you ever actually changed, Mystique?" Nathan said, taking a step towards her, the rubbish in the alley stirring restlessly, garbage cans rattling ominously. The reference to his relative helplessness had stung, far more than he should have let it. "What have you ever actually accomplished?"

He was a heartbeat away from swatting her when the sound of a engine -a large engine - broke the charged silence. Nathan stopped, not taking his eyes away from Mystique as he sent his thoughts outwards. Patrol. Glaring at her in barely repressed hatred, he leapt upwards, back to the roof.

The sound of her laughter reflected off the alley walls, sounding louder even than the noise of the engine as it drew closer. There was the effect of a slinking shadow far below, slipping along the walls, and then Mystique was gone.

--

It took him a not-inconsiderable amount of time to get back to the hotel after his friendly little chat with Mystique. He wound up having to take a very circuitous return route; he didn't want to get caught up in any of the skirmishes. At least there appeared to be troops trying to put out that fire. That was something, wasn't it?

The hotel was dark and dead silent when he reached it. Nathan leapt from the roof of the building across the street and directly onto the balcony of his and Angelo's room. The door, annoyingly, was locked. I could have sworn I left that unlocked... The latch inside opened as Nathan concentrated for a moment, and he stepped through and into the room.

Angelo, whatever Nathan might have been hoping, was not asleep or in fact in bed. He was sitting in the armchair, facing the balcony, and raised an eyebrow as the older man came in. "I thought we agreed none of us was goin' to be out there after dark? Especially not alone?"

"Yes, well, that really just applied to the rest of you," Nathan said without a hint of shame. He crossed the room to where the case of supplies was, and pulled out one of the self-heating soup pockets. He'd neglected to eat dinner, and frankly, it was freezing out there. And in here.

"Ever heard of settin' a good example, Nathan?" came the exasperated demand as Angelo got up and paced over to the 'kitchen'. "It was a good rule, that one. Made sense."

"Look. Even you have some additional training to do before I'd take you to go meet a member of the damned Brotherhood," Nathan grumbled, opening the soup and taking a sip. "And the farther the others stay away from Mystique, the better."

That just got an incredulous stare. "You knew she was here an' you went out there to meet her on your own? Agreed that maybe we shouldn't have got anywhere near her, but..."

"Actually, I tracked her down and then sort of semi-jumped her in an alley. Only there was less fighting and more talking. If you can call it that," Nathan muttered, his voice dropping for a moment before he went on in a more normal tone. "I could have handled her, if it had come to fighting. But I wanted to know what the hell she was doing here."

"...yeah, see, Nathan? When you're goin' out to hunt down mutant terrorists an' interrogate them, an' you don't know for sure that they're alone, could you at least tell me next time?"

Nathan opened his mouth - and then closed it again. He sat down in one of the chairs, not taking off his coat, and took a long sip of the soup before he answered. "You know," he said very levelly, "you're right. I shouldn't have slipped out like that."

"Damn right you shouldn't", was the answer, not relenting just yet. "You were gone hours. An' I can hear them shootin' out there."

"It took me a while to find her." Nathan sipped at the soup again, almost pensively. "The militants with her... She was trying this 'let's resist non-violently' routine on them." He shook his head. "Yeah, I know, I don't buy that for an instant either."

"Maybe that's why she's doin' it", Angelo said grimly, letting himself be sidetracked for the time being. "If she picks the right people, the ones that won't be talked out of this... if she says just enough to make them think she's a plant, then disappears..."

"You have entirely too devious a mind." Nathan asked with a certain amount of grim humor.

"My life didn't start the day I got to the mansion", Angelo reminded him, glancing over at the window. "Lived through more than one riot, an' little kids see more than you'd think."

Nathan pushed himself up out of the chair. "I need to call the mansion. Maybe we can get the X-Men in here to get her out of here... not that that's going to fix the situation, but at least she won't be making things worse."

"If she sticks around, now she knows you're here. It'd be hard to stop her, if she puts on the right face she could walk right out."

"I don't think I actually dissuaded her, Angelo," Nathan said wryly, picking up the satellite phone and setting down his soup. "And she could very well put on the right face and stay around, too. She's damned hard to find."

"That too." He turned away to stare out of the window again. "Plus... I don't really think the team'll be gettin' in here any time soon."

--

Nathan slid down the wall into a crosslegged position on the balcony. The moon was high in the sky over Smichov, half-obscured by clouds, and he could hear continuing gunfire somewhere in the streets below. It's getting worse. He dialed the satellite phone carefully. At least the snow had stopped.

Ororo had been expecting the call for some time, and as such picked up the phone after only one ring. "Nathan?" she asked, closing the news article she had been reading to pass the time. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." Nathan fell silent, listening to another outburst of gunfire. "If you can hear that, it's quite some distance away. Nothing to worry about." He went on before she could respond to that. "Mystique is here."

"That is something to worry about," Ororo said, her frown deepening. "Have you learned what her purpose is? Have you seen any other members of the Brotherhood?" Where there is one...

"Saw her at a rally this morning, wearing the same blonde face she wore at Forge's booksigning. I tracked her down to a meeting of one of these militant groups tonight... it took a lot of scanning," Nathan sighed, rubbing at his forehead; he'd had to take something to knock back the headache a little again. "I watched unseen, and confronted her afterwards. She appears to be advocating peaceful resistance, believe it or not."

"That hardly seems like her usual course of action." Briefly Ororo wondered if the shapeshifter was starting to mellow - first the encounter with Kurt and now this. "It would be the perfect opportunity for her to incite violence, and we know she can be subtle. I would not trust her; appearances can be deceiving."

"Did I say anything about trusting her?" Nathan sighed again. "This place is a powderkeg. She's the last thing we need running around here, whatever she's doing. Can you talk to Charles?" he went on doggedly. "If he talks to Val Cooper, maybe the American government can start talking to the Czech government about letting us take her out of here. Remove her from the powderkeg before she precipitates an explosion."

"Of course." This didn't seem like a very likely scenario, but Ororo refrained from saying anything. Best to check first. "What else do you need from us, Nathan?"

"Nothing, I suppose." Another burst of gunfire, and the sound of an engine being gunned and a vehicle traveling far too fast. Nathan leaned forward instinctively, reaching out with his mind - and wincing as he saw momentarily through the eyes of a soldier in a jeep racing towards one of the checkpoints. Hands pressed to the stomach of his friend, but the pressure wasn't stopping the bleeding... "It's getting very bad in here," he said to Ororo, his voice very slightly husky.

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and it wasn't hard to imagine the weariness, the exhaustion, the gradual sinking feeling as more and more madness erupted around him. "Keep yourself safe," she told him, knowing that his own well-being would be the first thing neglected in this situation. "This isn't something for a lone hero to tackle."

"That's at the forefront of my mind, believe me," Nathan said tiredly. "And I have four other people depending on me - I won't forget that. No running off to attack the first windmill I see." There was a trace of weary humor in his voice.

"Good. I will speak to Charles as soon as I can. If there is anything to be done, we will do it. But if not... we will try something else." Perhaps the team wasn't involved in this, but that didn't keep Ororo from wishing they were. This is not going to end well. "Please keep us informed."

"I will. It's strange, you know," Nathan said. "All of these weeks wanting to get here and see what was going on for myself. To know for sure. And now that I'm here, I'd rather be home." And now he was sounding self-pitying. He laughed, although the sound came out a bit flat. "I suppose I don't have the taste for adventure that I used to."

"I think if you welcomed seeing this sort of violence and madness, you would not be the Nathan we knew," Ororo said. "But even if you have lost your taste for adventure, you have not forgotten how to do the right thing. That is why you are there."

Nathan stood up, leaning against the wall for a moment and then turning towards the door back into the suite. "I'll call again tomorrow around the same time," he said quietly. "Thanks for listening, Ororo."

"Of course. Be safe, Nathan, and try not to worry. There is still hope."