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Mutants & Masterminds: The Magisterium - Home is Where...


Dawn OOC

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Chaos finally chimed in, having been listening all this time. "If we play for a tie, we will still lose, in the game of numbers. If we are too numerous we will be feared, as the possibility for baseline humanity to be relegated to second class citizens increases. If we don't have comparative numbers to balance things out, we turn to power, which could destabilize things as the most powerful mutants concentrate their power. "I doubt we are alone amongst groups resisting the status quo, Thou as of the moment, this group is easily the most successful."

"I see no outcome without blood, ours and theirs, that is the very nature of war, and there is no mistake, that is what we are engaged in, a War for the Rights of Mutankind."

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A bowl on the sideboard floated to the table where it was served up by the the ladle of stew. A plate gathered up slabs of meat, and some of the vegetation as well, until it was heaping. Both glided on invisible hands to Travis as he drifted down from above, sprawled on a rock, looking even more disheveled than he had. He cleaned the meat off a rib with a single bite and tossed it onto the ground without a second thought.

After a moment he spoke, "I'm sure that there are some who would welcome us, some who would not form an opinion, but they are the minority. Our people have been enslaved for decades, centuries maybe, for all I know." He shrugged, having not been there when Lamia laid out her side of things. "But they are the minority. The System is in control. Parents willingly give their children up when they are born strange, or else face the wrath of the System. These people treat us as below animals. We don't even rate on their scale. They breed us, enslave us, test new technology and drugs on us."

Travis spoke from experience. they had made no effort to hide that the biostasis chamber was untested tech and he was the first to use it. Likewise they had lorded over him their control when they plied him with new drugs, gaseous infusions, that had damped and deadened his powers, until they discovered a mix that could even take away his invulnerability. To Travis is was a fresh as yesterday, because to him it was. He'd slept five years away because of their tests.

"There's a saying, 'you reap what you sow,' and what the humans have sowed is a field of mutant corpses, watered with mutant blood. It's time for the reaping, and they don't know yet that they are the crop." He gestured to Lamia with another denuded bone, "This is pretty good bee-tee-dub, thanks for cookin'."

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"This is a war." Fenris nodded his agreement with Travis as he fixed Rebekka with a steady gaze. "You might refuse to see it that way - after all, you don't mind the uses they put you to... or do you?"

"Humans are right to be afraid of us - we are their betters in purely evolutionary terms. Humans have been the dominant life on this planet for a long time, but with our advent in increasing numbers they realised that was no longer the case. As Lamia states, what we experience now is no different than our ancestors. Sixty years... or sixty centuries ago, humanity has not changed at their core." Fenris calmly served himself some food, concentrating on the activity to ignore his instincts. The damned Rebekka female was pumping out sex-hormones at an elevated rate, and Travis smelled of sex too. It was hard to concentrate on the first real, free socialisation he'd ever experienced with his own kind - and that annoyed him.

"I'm not saying we should wipe them all out. That would be... human... of us. But we should shatter their grip on us, destroy any claims of power they have over us. We do not have a negotiating position yet, because we have no perceived power." Fenris shrugged, his lip curled derisively. "It is naive to propose that they will want to co-exist with creatures - and they do consider us creatures - that they believe they have every right to control, enslave, breed or kill. For your vaunted co-existence to come to pass, first they must be forced to confront that we are, at the least, their equals. If that takes a few, or a few thousand dead of the mindless, bleating sheep who prop up their system, then that is the price of our goal."

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“Jesus fucking Christ,” Gold muttered into his food, “are we really disappearing up our own backsides this fast?” He looked up and around at the other mutants. “Does someone want to declare this a holy war yet, or are we saving that for the dessert course? Do we even fucking know each other’s names? This isn’t a war. This is a bunch of escapees with a drama complex.”

The words sounded angry, yet the voice he spoke them in carried none of that emotion. He could have been relating the weather report. Nor was his gaze challenging. Even though he saw flashes of everyone lying dead at the table, it did not show on his face. He focused on Mary, ignored the momentary glimpse of him leaping across the table and snapping her neck. He went on as calmly as before, without any real emotion in his voice.

“I’ll cut through the bullshit if they won’t. This is about you. They – the DEHA that is – are willing to die, and kill, to put you away. They’ll have you back if you want to go. Just get up from the table and go find the nearest DEHA facility, say ‘sorry I’m late, I got kidnapped and now I know better’. And good luck to you.

“On the other hand, if you want to enjoy our company or go spelunking up Mount Everest or whatever else, get it through your head that people are going to die in order for you to do that. Those are your two choices. There is no third option at this stage. Whining about it won’t help. All it’ll do is stop you enjoying your freedom, or prevent you from climbing back into your cage.

“We all carry our collars and chains with us wherever we go, and we’re the only ones that can take them off. But your freedom means death to others. So make your choice and live with it. And if you can’t bear your own bloody hands, when it comes to it I’ll put them in the ground on your behalf. Like Rebekka said; I’m willing to do what you’re not. But don’t fool yourself into thinking it’s something that doesn’t need to be done. It’s part and parcel of the choice to be free in a world that doesn’t want you to be.”

Gold looked back down at his bowl with its greatly diminished helping of food. He paused. “Oh, my name’s Drew. Hi.”

He went back to eating. Politics were not his strong point. It all seemed like varnish applied to shit to him. He understood revenge, of course, even if it held no attraction or provided no impetus to action. But even that was just varnish over the real motive. Freedom.

Of course, the freedom he sought was not in hand yet. For now he was trapped by chains of his own devising. Just like Mary.

His mouth gained a sour twist. He had been sucked into the drama himself. That was stupid. Never mind. Words were treacherous anyway, loaded with nonsense that passed itself off as significance. The only communication that really mattered was done with the body. Killing, fucking, hugging, nodding, smiling, dancing, gods dancing, those were the forms of communication that said the most.

Words were treacherous. They said one thing and often meant another. Just like freedom. Because everyone knew what freedom meant, and what it was, and what it offered. But almost nobody realized how much pain and suffering came with freedom.

They would soon, though. With ‘freedom’ given to the mutants at this table, the definition of ‘freedom’ might soon need to be expanded to include ‘an incredibly bad idea resulting in the extinction of humanity. Ha ha.’

He reckoned the ‘ha ha’ would be added in biro.

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Thoroughly cowed, Mary looked down at her plate, unable to meet anyone's eyes.

Her food was there, and even though she knew it was tasty, looking at it made her stomach twist. There really was dirt everywhere. It was, to put it indelicately, mostly shit. Organic byproducts. Squirmy little bundles of chemicals that were also somehow alive. A thin patina that laid on top of everything, no matter how good it seemed. No matter how great, and how clean. She'd thought abstract concepts like 'freedom' would be like that too...but she was wrong.

It was hard to breathe. She was choking on filth.

"Excuse me," Mary whispered, standing up, still looking down. "I...I have to go."

She hurried back to the cubicle she'd claimed as her own. A moment later it was equipped with heavy door that gave it as close to an airtight seal as she could manage. A few moments after that, the interior surface had been completely paved over with smooth white plastic, and the air inside the room utterly destroyed, then recreated without any contaminants...as had all the furniture and objects save only Mary herself.

And that last object was the one that finally brought tears to her eyes and left her sobbing on her now-pristine bed. Because even her powers couldn't get the dirt off of herself for long.

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Lamia had nodded and smiled at Travis' appreciation of the meal, obviously pleased to have provided for the small gathering. She blinked at Mary's abrupt departure, having completely missed the clues to to the young woman's distress beyond the discussion of violence. She frowned as Mary retreated and shook her head; some life lessons had to be experienced, no amount of talking could make her believe. There was a certain bittersweetness to a life like Mary's: so innocent for so long and now on the cusp of both wisdom and pain.

"I am called Lamia," she said when she turned back to the table. "Introductions are a good idea. Thank you, Drew."

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Jeremy was saddened when Mary broke off, but he had gotten a clear picture from earlier. The walls hadn't just kept her in her room - they had been placed up in her head as well - and would take a long time to get the full picture of reality. Well, introductions.

"For those who didn't get my name earlier, I'm Jeremy."

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Travis' mouth curled upward into a wry smile as he devoured a hunk of rib meat. "Hi. My name is Travis, and I've been a mutant for ... umm ... twenty-two years ... I guess." His smile faded and those closest to him could hear him mutter, "Stupid freezer." He gestured with a bone, "This is inane you know, keeping us all together like this. They have ways of detecting us. Traitorous sniffers, and sensor thingies. The more of us that are here the sooner they'll find us."

He pointed at Sol, "But then I bet you want to go with some kind of strength in numbers thing right? Well, that seems like a pretty good idea, but what happens when they decide a nuke in the middle of a bunch of jungle weeds is a good idea?"

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David smiled as all eyes fell on him; he didn’t appear to have a problem being the center of attention. “Excellent question. I’m glad you asked. They’ve been looking for us for a time now, and haven’t found us. But I’m not trusting in the jungle to hide us forever. There are plans in the works.”

“Which are?” Travis prompted after a beat of silence.

“Which are waiting until I know who’s a guest here and who’s a warrior.” The smile was gone as grey eyes stared at each one of them. “I know not all of you are going to want to be part of my fight, and that’s fine. I’d free every mutant today, if I could, so I was glad to spring all of you. Some of you are going to want to stay here, and you don’t need to fight to get my protection. But my plans are for those who will be bleeding, fighting and dying for our people. And even then, I’m going to expect you all to wait a bit before I reveal my thoughts. I need to know you, all of you. I need to know who’s going to crawl back to their masters and who is really in this war – and who thinks they are. I need to know who’s going to stay the course, regardless of whether they’re eating delicious venison and veggies, or being tortured by DEHA in an isolated lab somewhere.”

In the silence that followed his statement, he took another bite. “Lamia, this really is tasty. Thank you.”

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