Players: Connor & Magneto
Summary: The Master of Magnetism comes to welcome Mutant Town's newest residents, and offers more than gifts.
Date: September 4, 2011
Log Title: Welcome to the Neighborhood
Rating: G
NYC - Four Arms Apartments (Connor, Rashmi and Robyn's Apartment)
The layout of the apartment is here
Magneto walks into the Four Arms and to the door he wants, and he examines it. Ordinary looking. Normal, even. Interesting. He will smile and knock on it — knuckles to the panel. Politely, even.
Without the TV being set up yet in the main room… not much except a futon-bed couch and a huge old round oak table… Connor is relegated to his favored pastime of reading. Which causes him to startle when the knock comes to the door. Standing up and moving over towards it… the warier part of him picks up a small foot-like rod from close by, holding it in his offhand. Going to the door, he looks into the peephole, and then comes away to unlock a standard lock, and then what sounds like a lock-bar. When it opens, he stares up at you for a moment, with no shimmer in his eyes, "Sir?"
Magneto nods a greeting. "Young Mr. Blake. I had heard you were now my neighbor, and I thought I would pay you a visit, and deliver a housewarming gift." He gestures and out of nowhere — well, actually from under the cloak, but it might as well be nowhere — a top-flight espresso machine appears. "Where would you like it?"
His jaw goes down… and Connor reaches up to try and close it, but the hinge seems to be busted. He eventually seems to regain himself and gulps before saying, "I… oh… ummm… this is very impressive, Sir…" And moving out of the way he motions in and towards an immaculate apartment kitchen, "There should be room by the sink… Here…" To help make the aforementioned space he goes over and unplugs the electric kettle taking up that spot on the spare surface, and moves it to the pantry, "Can I get you anything to drink? I'm afraid it's not much, but Rashmi would line up with my mom and her's to kick my butt if I wasn't a good host."
Magneto waves the offer of a drink aside. "I would not wish to get you in trouble with either your mother or with Miss Franklin. I know the latter is formidable; to have the former compared to her makes me wish to mind my p's and q's." He looks around the room, then back to Connor. "I do have one question, however. Which one are you?"
Connor pauses at the question, "I'm me… the real me." There is however a slight catch in his voice as he speaks, moving to put the espresso machine in place, and then adjusts it… again… and again… something causing him to fidget it, before stepping back and pushing his hands into his pockets, "At least as real as any of us can claim to be, anyways." Coming back out of the small kitchen he moves to stand in front of you, "Were you expecting a different Connor?"
Magneto watches the fidgeting. "There was a possibility that another you would be here. There was another you here for some span of time; I spoke to him. An interesting young man, dedicated… and narrower, I think, than you are." His attention focuses on Connor's face. "How are you, Mr. Blake? It's been a while."
"The kneejerk? Is to tell you I'm fine… but I'm not." Connor says softly as he shakes his head, "I burned myself out doing something I shouldn't have to beat Heather's mother enough for others to take her out. I'm… not proud of the choice I made there, and I don't think any of my friends would really understand it."
Magneto gestures toward the futon. "Sit. Tell me about it… or not, as you prefer. You made a decision, Mr. Blake. The question now is not whether it was the correct decision, but whether the results are what you wanted." He moves into the living room area and pauses to examine the room. "Decisions which have been made cannot be changed. How you feel about them can."
Connor walks over with the peculiar slouch of a step that is common to the younger generation. When he flops back on the futon, he picks up and puts a bookmark where he was, then puts the book to the side, "She'd injected herself with a cocktail of powers that would have hurt everyone. I didn't have the power to stop her… so I used the one card I didn't want to use… but… as angry as I was at the time… I didn't care. One of the more powerful presences of myself… is a Horseman. War. So… I let War take my place. And I watched through his eyes, heard my voice in his… and felt him start to take over my mind." His eyes close, and his head bows towards his shoes, "I… it felt good… to be that powerful, and that… unburdened."
Magneto clasps his hands behind his back. "Yes. It does." A faint smile is playing on his face. "I can understand how that would disturb you." He watches Connor continue to fidget, whether it is flop, or bookmark, or slump. "Were the results what you wanted?"
Connor's hands repeatedly rub along his jeans before finally slipping into his pockets, and ball into fists, "Going just by results? Yeah… the healing factor in the cocktail she took kept her healthy from when I-… I mean War… ripped her arm off… and the telekinetics stopped the worst of War's blows. I can't argue with the results… but… at the same time, I feel like I crossed a line. Like I gave in."
Magneto considers this for a long moment. "Another you… one who is War. You called him to assist you, and he did. Do I have this correct? Heather's mother was defeated, but not slain; this, I think, is an achievement, considering it was War you called." He tips his head to look at Connor. "Did you know that your typical electromagnetic signature is missing?"
Connor shifts in his seat, and pulls out one of Gambit's extendible staves from where it was sitting, and puts it down next to the book. He takes a breath, and then starts rubbing his hands on his jeans once more, rocking back and forth once, "Yeah. The mansion's machines did their thing… my X-gene is dormant now, and whatever it was that let me teleport and do the other stuff… it's gone. For how long? No one knows… it might even be permanent." Shaking his head once more, he lowers it, "You can see why explaining it to anyone else wouldn't make sense?"
"In my experience, Connor Blake, an X gene seldom remains dormant. Once activated, that is its natural state; it may go into a period of rest… or remission, if you prefer that analogy." The smile on Magneto's face gets a decidedly wry twist. "Power is like water. Silt up one channel, it will find another to flow through."
Connor looks back up, a slight tilt of his head as he watches you for a moment longer, and then stands up, "You're saying what everyone else is saying. That it'll come back. I'm trying to hear that, I really am… but it's still all too fresh in my mind." There's a light shrug of one shoulder, followed by a brief upturn of one side of his lips, "I got spoiled. I could go anywhere in the world. Now I feel… stuck. But at least I can dream again."
The smile turns secretive. "I didn't say that 'it' would come back. I said that the power would. That doesn't mean that you will recognize it, or that you'll be able to use it. Water is a very pliable element — so is the power that flows from the X gene." Magneto looks Connor up and down. "And water is amenable to dreaming."
He turns away. "It will take its own time, and come in its own way. Meanwhile, what are you doing with yourself? And what…" he waves a hand, indicating the room and the building beyond, "Are you doing here?"
"I promised when Robyn and I graduated, we would all move in together. It seemed stupid to go home after coming this far." Connor replies, shrugging once more, "I've got work here for the meantime… the possibility of school… if Barnes really wants me for something more than what I could do with my powers. So it's not all so bad. I can adapt to being a New Yorker… I think."
Magneto raises an eyebrow. "You think? You mean, you haven't had enough practice yet, and you need more to be sure?"
Connor actually chuckles, "The Academy is hardly New York, Sir… it's more like… it's own little reality in unto itself. But this is New York. This city has a history and a color that no other place in this country can match. It's the birth of a dream that anyone can make it big if they work hard enough, and no one is turned away." Looking out the windows a moment, as if expecting to see Rashmi, or the statue of liberty… or one dressed as the other perhaps, "But BEING a New Yorker? I don't know if I'm up to the challenge yet. Just going to have to see…"
Magneto crosses his arms and he looks at Connor for a long moment, studying him. "Mr. Blake." A pause as he weighs words. "You have a consistent and unfortunate habit of undervaluing yourself. Whether as a mutant, as a man, or even as an inhabitant of this city." He waves a hand. "There is no test you must pass to live in this city. There are no right answers that let you live here, nor are there wrong answers which you must be accountable for. There are your actions, and there is luck, and there is the belief in yourself that you carry…" he extends a finger to point at the spot between Connor's eyes, "there. It may be that those things aren't enough to make you happy, but you are already here, so you are already a New Yorker."
Connor replies with a soft smile, "I am a jelly donut." And then he stands up, taking a deep breath, and says, "No… I appreciate what you're saying. I really do. I would have come to talk to you… but at the same time… I didn't know if you'd even talk to me. You're a lot of things to a lot of people, and not all of them good… but you're always honest." Again he turns to look out the window, "I heard there's a dojo in the city, with one of the best fighters in the world running it. I'm trying to work to make enough money for rent… and to pay him. If I can't teleport, or create portals… but I can still fight. So I might as well work with what I can." Though the statement sounds almost like a question.
Magneto grunts. It says, 'Kids these days,' more eloquently than words. "If that is your wish. As for work, there are always things that the embassy requires doing, from sweeping floors to conducting tours to… other things. If you want, you could work there." He flicks a brow. "I know the ambassador. I can put in a good word for you."
Connor's eyes widen and then narrow a moment before he actually smiles, a bare twitch of a thing, "Okay… of everything, that just made my day. I'm… you're serious." And he shakes his head once, taking another deep breath, "I'm not good with crowds, and I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to cleaning… with my compulsive disorder… but I can drive. Not many kids at the school can do that… and I can defend myself as good as some of the people you probably have on your security staff."
Magneto says, "My security staff can use extra help. In fact, being a messenger for them may be perfect for you; it requires discretion, which I know you are capable of, and attention to detail, and dependability. Also? A talent of keeping one's head, and of keeping it down, more often than otherwise." He tips his head. "Would that interest you, Mr. Blake?"
Connor blinks several times, and then he nods once, "Yes… yes it would." seeming genuinely surprised by it all as he rubs at the back of his neck, looking down and away a moment, but then his eyes quirk back up to meet your own, "Is SHIELD going to have an issue with me working for you?"
Magneto shrugs a shoulder and turns toward the door. "I wouldn't know. You might ask them." He stops to give Connor a look over that same shoulder. "They might consider it… convenient."
Connor frowns a bit at that, taking another deep breath, but then says, "Look… whatever work I do for you is for you… but I won't break any laws for you or the Embassy. But you already knew that. So… ummm… when do you want me to… well… come by?" Looking around a moment, and then you catch him mutter, "I don't even own a suit."
Magneto says, "Tomorrow morning." His tone turns crisp. "Much of the work is routine; the passing of confidential materials between embassies, or to the government of this country, or to private enterprises such as Stark Industries. I even have cause to send things to SHIELD." He smiles one-sided. "As for suits, present yourself, and the logistics manager will see about getting you outfitted as would be proper for a representative of the embassy of Genosha. I expect a certain… gravitas. I think you will appreciate the need.""
"Gravitas for Dignitas." Connor replies and then walks towards the door and opens it for you, looking out into the hallway. Turning to leave, you will note a small, rather unobstrusive webcam set up there, painted and wired to match as closely as possible, "I have some calls to make then, to let people know I won't be coming in. Will the embassy… no… these are questions I can ask your logistics person. Ummm… wait… before you go…" And going back into the main room, he goes through a couple books, and then returns with a faded paperback book, "This is a copy of Blue Moon Rising. It's… an unconventional fairy tale. But one that always struck a chord with me. If I could be published one day, I would hope it would be a book like this. Anyways… I'd like you to have this copy. For the moments when you're not busy, or looking for something to entertain your mind."
That brow lifts again, and Magneto accepts the gift. "Indeed. Thank you, Connor Blake. I appreciate the thought." And Magneto appreciates the opportunity to see a side of Connor he hasn't yet examined — what is it about this story that attracts this young man? There's only one way to find out…
