1963-06-17 - Tempers Run Hot
Summary: In the aftermath of the mutant massacre, differing opinions abound and tempers run hot.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
erik logan namor amara ayasha 


People haven't seen much of Erik Lensherr since Moira, Jean, and Warren busted him out of the hospital. This is by design. The better part of him had chosen to avoid going straight to Charles' office and tearing him a new ass, instead opting to drive into the city and spend a few days there, in seclusion.

Truth is, he's ignored every piece of advice from everyone smarter than him regarding his bullet wound, and has been digging. Digging for signs of the ceramic bullet that took him out. Digging for signs of what happened to Raven. Digging, digging, and digging.

Erik arrived at the Xavier Institute an hour ago, just after nightfall. He hasn't yet gone inside, either, instead opting to perch upon a large stone wall on the southern lawn, with a brown paper bag in his hand and a transistor radio playing jazz music from two decades past.

*

Logan hears the rustling of the paper bag and smells Erik's arrival. He hadn't met the man yet, but had heard a bit about him. Fella smelled like anger and a bit of booze and, tonight, a hint of blood. Notes Logan's certainly familiar with.

He makes his way out to peer at the man in question, his metallic skeleton probably seeming like a whale on Magneto's personal radar. He puffs on his cheroot as he looks up at where Magneto's perched on the wall, "Feelin' a little maudlin tonight, bub?" he asks in his rough voice.

*

On the one hand, the trip to the protest wasn't exactly a success for Amara's first trip into the city. Riots are generally not considered a success. On the other hand, she didn't panic, and the only way she used her powers was entirely on purpose, which counts as something of a success. She's been waiting, though, for the disappointment talk from the professor. Maybe that's the idea, because she's been hard enough on herself that even though it's after dark, she's out on the lawn with a cast iron pan of popcorn, practicing focusing well enough to pop it without exploding the pan.

*

Namor, The Submariner floats down from the sky- eyes piercing the darkness without much difficulty. He'd heard the music- something he was familiar with. Uncertain why he's come all the way out to Xavier's again, Namor simply floats in the air near Magneto, and Logan- he speaks. He has a trident- golden in color, made of enchanted Adamantine- a mystic metal from the greek gods themselves. It throbs with power- but the Half Mutant-Half Atlantean speaks not, just looking now at the people here. He nods his head up towards Logan, a quietsign of recognition. "I hear bad things have happened to the Mutant race." he states, finally.

*

It's not as though there is any shortage of wierd shit out there to get herself wrapped up in, but well a strange facility out in the countryside where a dude showed up with a chest of fucking pirate gold in addition to the general strangeness? Yeah she had ideas, theories but not enough facts. Ayasha is supposed to be a Dog -Soldier-, not just an angry brawler without direction. She needs facts if she's going to narrow her target list. So whilst this isn't the first place she's swung by, it's near the top of the list. It's time she started doing a little of her own digging, obviously.
The sound of that Matchless G50CSR is distinctive, as is that all black livery it's been decorated with. Which is one of the big reasons she brings it to a halt a little distance from the joint, the sort've distance usually more than sufficient for human hearing. Lifting a gloved hand to peel off her helmet, and pull down that eagle feather head dress. She takes a quick moment to double check her guns her loaded, her Tomahawk is stowed and off she goes like a ghost in the night. Picking her way expertly through the growth outside those high walls, stalking her way nearer to the sound of jazz. Coming in from down wind, wearing the shadows like a cloak. She's done crazier shit before, right? Either way, the last Dog Soldier is on the scene and scoping it out.

*

The sound of popping draws Erik's eyes. Keen as they are, they've been dumbed down just enough by his foray into the bottle, a thing he's not often one to do. Still, before he can decide whether to go over to her or not, something unique draws his attention.

Something unlike anything he's ever sensed before.

The German turns his eyes to look at Logan, even going so far as to stare for a long moment. "You might say that," he answers quietly, before crinkling the bag and turning to leap down from his perch, landing with a soft thud. He reaches out to offer the brown bag to Logan, and opens his mouth to speak.

The throbbing of Namor's trident seems even more striking to him than the remarkable metal that seems to run the corse of Logan's skeleton. He stares at the floating man for a long moment, mildly slack jawed and either speechless, or trying to determine just what to say.

*

Logan takes the offered drink, throwing back a swig and gulping for a moment before he offers it back in return. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, "Hey, look, it's the Kingfish," he grins. "That's Namor, he's a big hoss down in Atlantis, which is underwater an' shit. Weird fraggin' world," he says.

He takes another puff on his cheroot, looking over to the side and noting Amara working on the popcorn before he flares his nostrils, catching the scent of the Dog Soldier in the air, "Huh. We got company," he says.

*

The sound of popping - at first slow and measured - turns to a sudden rat-a-tat-tat of rapid-fire popping and the tell-tale smell of burnt popcorn when Amara catches sight of the hovering Namor. Or rather, when she sees the trident. Namor doesn't quite look like she expected Neptune to look, but he does have a trident, and he is hovering, even if there isn't really an ocean nearby. The young mutant might be blushing, but at least it's hard to tell through the ruddy glow of her molten form. Dropping the pan with a sheepish look, she stands up and powers down, taking a few tentative steps toward the group.

*

Namor hovers a long moment- wings on his ankles fluttering before he comes to land on the ground near Logan. "Greetings, warrior." he offers to Logan with a nod of his head. "Its as I said to Xavier. War is coming and he needs to prepare." he says, as he hefts the trident to rest across his back. "I come not to say I told you so, though, but to offer my aide in this coming war. Long has theSurface World ignored many of its people- and long has this growing tide of anger been rising. IT is not a war you mutants will win without assistance- and it has been too long since I've been in a good war." HE grins, and wide- perhaps a bit of a troubler-maker's grin. "So then- when does Xavier call his war council? Surely this massacre has changed his mind."

*

She stays where she is for a moment, which is to say on the outside of that wall. Standing still and listening for just a moment, and well there is talk of war councils and massacres and this certainly seems like the place. So with a grunt of effort Ayasha clears the wall and hits the ground on the other side without much more than a ruffle of that feathered head dress. Yaknow what G-men look like, she looks exactly the opposite. Short, female and yeah it might be hard to tell under all that war paint but she ain't white neither. Speaking of war paint, well she's rocking a neat layer of coal black with a band of bright red crossing her eyes in a single thick unbroken bar.
For those keeping score, yeah she's more geared up lately. Knee high cavalry boots and silver studded Spurs, well worn leather riding trousers and of course an neat black leather jacket to match. Theres a pistol at her hip, a cut down Browning auto-5 with brass tacks driven into whats left of that wooden stock. Spare shotshells and pistol mags stashed here and there, nevermind the Bowie sheathed low on her left hip or the Tomahawk hilt over her shoulder. She pauses for a moment, dipping her head down to get a cigarette lit before offering an otherwise bright smile. "The flying man asks a wonderful question, when do your people go to war?"

*

With a slow motion, Erik takes the drink back and has himself a hearty swig. He looks carefully between Logan and Namor; Amara's approach doesn't go unnoticed, but the dialogue seems to have captured his attention in its entirety.

"He will not change his mind." Erik turns and sets the brown bag down, choosing not to partake in more of the booze, all things considered. "I have known Charles for a very long time. He has a dream; that mankind can be united, in spite of our genetic differences. It's a lofty dream, but, as you said…" He nods his head in Namor's direction. "Reality has clearly struck its first blow."

Erik is clearly about to say more, when Logan's report draws a sharp look. Considering the remarkable metals that are in his vicinity, Erik remains unable to sense anything else. Eyes narrow just so, and he asks the shorter man a simple question, one that is laced with a subdued and quiet form of menace.

"Where?"

His question is soon answered.

To this new visitor, Erik allows his steely gaze to fall. He gauges her up and down for a moment, before lifting his chin a small bit. "Who's asking?"

*

Logan can smell Ayasha's armaments well enough, along with the lingering stain of blood on her. Plenty of killers on the move in the night tonight. "Honest, it's kinda what I like 'bout 'im," Logan says. "Got plenty o' the real in the world. Can't get it changed if nobody tries to imagine it better," he says.

"I seen more'n my share o' war. It may be inevitable, but don't mean we gotta rush headlong into it. Especially if it's the kids who pay the price for it," he says, nodding towards Amara. "And it's always the kids what pay the price."

*

"I don't believe war is the plan," Amara says quietly to Ayasha's question as she joins the others, brows furrowing in a slight frown. "Though it would be foolish, I think, to bring war to this place." Though her words are certain, she has an unusual accent, difficult to place. Not many people are native speakers of classical Latin these days, after all. She stills seems fascinated by Namor, though, doing her best not to stare…and not entirely succeeding.

*

"It is a war that is coming regardless of the desires of child or adult. Humans will not let you live peacefully- trust me. History has proven that modern man has no respect for those who are different from themselves." Namor says, looking between the others who are close by. "So. Xavier will be stubborn to the truth of his situation?" he asks of Erik. "We have not met. I am Namor, Prince of Atlantis!" he says to Erik. "You seem of more realistic mind than Xavier."

*

Theres an almost glare leveled after Logan from behind the cherry glow of her cigarette. "We played nice, and for awhile they played nice with us. We helped them fight their wars, and then they stopped needing us. So they killed us, captured us, massacred us, threw us on reservations and left us to starve out of sight. Then when we wouldn't die, they stepped in to help things along. That is what playing nice gets you, you're worried about the children? How long are you going to wait, until special disticts or camps or whatever they want to call the reservations for your people? You want to wait until then, because that has worked so many times in the past right?"Theres a snort, as Ayasha lets her gaze drift towards Erik. "The last Dog Soldier is the one who is asking. I didn't ask when -The- war began, because I've been fighting all along. I asked when -your- people will join the fight already underway. Please tell me you will not be led astray by these lies they tell you, no matter what they may write into law remember this. There are no pacts between wolves and men."

*

Now this is interesting. Here we have four individuals, half of each with wildly different ideas, and Erik finds himself caught in the middle. He breathes long and deep, looking from one to the other, a calculating expression held within his cool gaze.

"You want to know what I believe?" he asks quietly. There is a pause. Perhaps he is considering just what he believes? Perhaps he's already made up his mind and simply isn't looking forward to what comes next.

"I believe it isn't up to us to determine when a war begins. I believe it is up to us to be ready for whatever comes to us."

His shoulders straighten. He looks from Ayasha to Namor, then to Logan, and finally, to Amara.

"We have to be ready."

*

Logan smirks, "Now, that I can agree with," he says to Erik, "Ain't nothin' wrong wit' bein' ready. But if all we do is prepare for war and don't do no work fer peace, then we can't claim t'be any better'n the ones that bring the fight to our door," he says.

"An' don't think t'lecture me on the past. I seen things that'd make yer little soul shrivel, no matter how many weapons you strap on. You think bein' in a few fights means you've seen war? War ain't just throwin' bones an' shootin' lead. It's grindin' down in the dirt. It's not eatin' nuthin' fer days cause can't nobody get to ya. It's watchin' yer friends an' family get blown t'splinters right in front o' ya an' not havin' time t'clean off their guts 'fore you dig into the next enemy," he says with a low growl.

"So, yeah, I ain't eager t'see the world go through it again. I'll be frontlines if it happens, but there's bein' prepared and there's some that chomp at the leash wantin' t'see how much damage they c'n do. Bein' mad an' scared is a powerful motivation."

*

"Romulus was suckled by the she-wolf," Amara notes at Ayasha's statement, considering the woman with quiet curiosity. "Wolves and men are not so different as all that." Politics she knows. She's a senator's daughter, after all. But she's still young enough that she gives in to curiosity eventually, looking back to Namor and asking as politely as she can: "My lord, are you kin to Neptune?"

*

Finally, Namor notices Amara. He nods to the woman with the unusual accent. He looks back then to Erik. "Yes. You do. Strike first. Strike hard. Bring to your enemies pain and suffering so they do not forget your strength. There will be war- and wise is the man who fights war on his own terms." Namor nods quietly, now answering Amara. "Kin, no- but I am Neptune's Chosen, Prince of Atlantis, her Avenging Son- the Submariner. I rule the Oceans of this Earth- by right of Royal Blood and wield Neptune's gift to Atlantis through this same right."

He then looks to Logan. "War is as terrible as it is glorious. I admit to having enjoyed it quite a bit in the 40's and back in the teens. Better yet is a just war to defend those in need."

*

"Well sweetheart, I'm sorry that you missed your meal times and that the bad men hurt your feelings. Why don't you fuck off for about five minutes and get over yourself, or yaknow we could just fight I suppose. Can't promise you won't miss your next meal time, who knows I might even hurt your feelings to."So no, no Ayasha is not apparently a fan of Logan. "The Prince is right, and you should be doing something more than condescending to those who have come to give you council. You expect them to what, mutually respect your arbitrary boundries? We have how many nukes pointed at Russia, and they have how many pointed at us? This is a World where Mutually Assured Destruction is all that stands between whatever this is, and a nuclear holocaust. You expect the very same government that needsto have a Soviet nuke put up to their skull to play nice with the Soviets, just play nice with you out of the kindness of their hearts?" Ayasha takes a half step back, dropping that cigarette at her boots before easing foreward to snuff it out.

*

While Logan berates Ayasha on the particulars of war, Erik seems riveted by it. He, of course, has seen a unique side of war. Angry he is, but scared? Not so much.

Namor's word of wisdom draws his eyes to narrow. It isn't the first time he has considered such a strategy; it is his friendship with Charles Xavier that stayed his hand. Had he been older, possessed the power he has now when he was younger, he could have driven much metal through the heads of those who caused such pain and suffering. Indeed, he has suffered nightmares filled with bloodlust, and upon him is the scent of a man who could do terrible things.

And yet, he hesitates, for he has seen right and wrong.

"My name is Erik," he finally answers Namor, and offers his right hand in greeting. There, when he shifts his arm, are exposed a series of numbers tattooed in ink, the mere sight of which may, paired with the knowledge of his abilities, strike fear into the hearts of those who might imagine what he is capable of.

"I am not so willing to rush into war," he tells thePrince of Atlantis. "Time will tell whether this is foolish, or wise, but I am willing to bide my time." A look to Amara and Logan. "Prepare my people."

Finally, a look to Ayasha. "And raise hell itself if it proves I am wrong."

*

Logan listens to Ayasha's words and his eyes narrow. A slow growl builds in the back of his throat, his hackles rising a bit. It's the kind of growl you don't usually hear outside of a zoo or running you down deep in the forest, a monstrous thing. Most wild animals would probably start running.

"Little girl, you best mind yer damn tone. I bled buckets in my time an' dropped enough bodies t'pile higher'n that mansion. I ain't sayin' I expect the world t'get along - I'm sayin' if all we do is jump each other, their ain't no god damn end to it. I think yer pissed off an' rightfully so, but that don't make you right. I think there was a time when I was young and pissed like you an' I'd prob'ly have ripped yer guts out by now and strewn 'em all over this pretty little lawn Chuck's growin'," he says.

His eyes flick to Namor, flinging down his own cheroot, "Plenty o' glory when you're the king an' yer invulnerable hide ain't the one trampled in the dirt. You enjoy bein' generals an' pickin' yer fights. Speakin' fer the infantry, fuck off," he says, starting to stomp back towards the house.

*

Namor fought the Nazis- he fought aside Captain America and the invaders. He was feared by them. Namor takes Erik's arm, he notices the tattoo and nods. "You have faced evil men before." he states, "You know what is at stake for your people." He nods once, "When you need my assistance, I will come- as long as it does not bode badly for my own people. Like you, I have those who I must defend against all odds. But you, I see it in your eyes, Erik- a fire. A will to survive."

Namor then looks to Logan. "I lead from the front. My warriors fight at my side, and behind me. I am the first into battle, and the last to leave- and those who die, die in the arms of their Prince knowing they have died for the good of all their people." he says, with a visible sneer.

*

Amara frowns at Ayasha's reply to Logan, one fist tightening and a flicker of flame sparking in her hair when she tosses the cigarette. And then Logan goes and litters on the lawn! The nerve. She goes molten just long enough to flick a tiny bit of lava at each butt, just enough to immolate the litter, before powering down again. Mostly. There's still a slight rumble in the ground around the young mutant as emotions run higher.

Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath, and the rumblingsubsides. "It is a poor guest who quarrels at the home of his host," she recites evenly as she opens her eyes again, somehow managing to look down her nose at everyone. "Please excuse me. I have a pan to repair." At which she stalks back to her burnt popcorn. Which probably mars the dignity of it all just a little bit.

*

"You might have to do more than raise hell, but these are your people not mine so be it. I have spoken my peace."Ayasha has transitioned tactics it seems, bowing her head to light another cigarette and just pointedly ignoring Logan now. Erik for better or worse seems to be the primary focus of her attentions. She does however, offer Namor a little nod and then comes the rumbling and the lava and. Yeah ok, she's got nothing there folks. She does absent mindedly double check her boots, because damnit these are new…ish. "There is nothing I can do to help you, so I think it's about time I go."and well she'd offer some words to Namor but lets be frank kids. He's a Prince of the undersea or someshit, and she just does not even have the slightest how to even politely address the guy. "Your Fishness", would probably not go over quite so hot.

*

Namor just stands, quiet. "Do the right thing, Erik. When the time comes, if it is right for Atlantis, you have my might behind you." he states, watching Logan head off. "I must return to my people." With that, he turns and soars off into the air, away.

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