A place to call home (Brotherhood)

[Saladin]

To the people in the hamlet below the mountain, the Bruderschaft mansion was a mere feature of the alpine surroundings - inscutable, unchangeable, and irrelevant. It had been built over a century ago by some eccentric and wealthy investor as a holiday home up in the mountains. No one seemed to know who he was, how and when he had used it, or who owned it now that he was gone. Those who had seen it said it had been reclaimed by the forest around it.

The house stood in a small, hollow valley, surrounded on all sides by ancient-looking trees. The only approach by land was a winding road in a critical state of disrepair which led to iron gates covered in vines and, beyond, a cut-stone roundabout before the house's grand entrance. The walls were built with gray stone that had aged nearly black, much of it carpeted with moss and creepers, and the large windows were dark, but intact. From all outward appearances, no one had lived in the house for ages.

Outward appearances could be deceiving.

The mansion had become one of several bases of operations for the Brotherhood of Mutants around the United States. It was large enough to comfortably house twenty or so, even before the foundation works had been opened up - a complex of caverns and tunnels that ran deep into the mountain, including exit tunnels that opened onto back roads miles away. The original owner had obviously used them for some covert purpose, but Saladin had gone to great expense to expand and furnish them with a carport, a computerized war room, storage for weapons and other equipment, training facilities, an independent generator, and other niceties for a small but growing army.

The mansion itself was more old than elegant but was not uncomfortable. The fridge and pantry were stocked mostly from the irradiated rations kept in the storehouses below. The large study contained an impressive vintage library and a display of antique swords and other weapons. The living room, which was old enough to once have been called a drawing room, was dominated by a grid of flatscreen TVs which were usually tuned to various news networks when Tron wasn't using them for video games. The numerous bedrooms upstairs offered glorious views of the valley - at least, those whose windows were not blocked by trees. All of the windows had been replaced with one-way, bulletproof glass.

At the moment, Saladin stood leaning over a table that was spread with a large map of Antarctica, making measurements and writing down coordinates. There were many preparations to make for the days ahead.

[Void]

Growing up on a farm in backwater nowhere, Void had never imagined that he would call somewhere like the Bruderschaft estate home. He still found it difficult to think of the mansion as such. After all, Saladin had said that they would be moving onto greener pastures once certain plans had come to fruition – but for the time being, at least, the luxurious mansion and the caverns beneath it were the closest thing they had to home.

The mansion was quiet. Though Saladin was engrossed in some scheme, Void lay sprawled on a sofa in the lounge. He yawned, long and loud. The down-time between their 'missions' always left him feeling listless and out of place. His black eyes were flitting idly between the wide screen TV, showing some football game, and the window to the outside world, as he wondered what to do to pass the time...

[Spectre]

Spectre signed off on the computer in her room. She had been doing a search, a little side project as it were. Saladin had taken an interest in the story of a young woman in Apple Valley, New York. The particulars of the case had been hushed up relatively quickly, which of course, had only caused more interest in the already peculiar story. She had actually found most of the truth in a tabloid article that told the story of a teenaged monster of a girl who got angry and blew down her school like the Big Bad Wolf. Of course the homosapiens would make the mutant girl look evil..

She needed to report to Saladin and tell him what she had uncovered. She stole a glance at herself in the mirror before heading downstairs, running her fingers through her silver blonde hair. She tossed the lot of it over her shoulder and shut the door to her room, descending to the common area where a few of her brethren were sprawled about. Saladin was all business, leaned over a table working diligently on something. She crossed to him and stood off to the side.

"I have information on the girl.. They have her. She was picked up at the local precinct the same night."

[Saladin]

Saladin absorbed Spectre's report stolidly. He had little illusion who they were that she was talking about.

"Blast. I should have expected Ethan would have become better at his game by now. I was hoping we wouldn't have to confront them directly yet."

He set a straightedge on the map and added another penciled line to those already criss-crossing the northern part of Wilkes Land. He was zeroing in on a point within a few hundred miles of the South Pole.

"And yet a class four elemental mutant does not come along every day. Perhaps if we find some other means of recruiting her."

[Michael Lawston]

A single road wound it’s way up the slope of the mansion. At least it may have been a road at some point, now it wasn’t much more than a cracked concrete trail infested with weeds.
<o></o>
Still, the hairpin turns did offer some excitement. Wind flew past Arsenal’s head leaving a trail of unkempt black hair fluttering behind him. The deafening growl of a half rusted Harley-Davidson actually overcame the whistling of the air.
<o></o>
He careened the bike around corners, kicking up dust and asphalt at every turn, his fellow brothers probably heard the noise before he’d even arrive. Arsenal wasn’t a nature type of guy, sure the scenery was breath taking and the air was damn clean. But he preferred chaos to serenity, he may have at one point, but not like he could remember. Spending you childhood being molded into a killing machine screwed with a person’s memories.
<o></o>
A grin coated Arsenal’s face as he revved up the Harley for the last stretch. But the memories of wasting his jailors made everything before hand obsolete, the only thing better was to find the rest of them and make them suffer.
<o></o>
Saladin had a good thing going here, too bad he was a bit on the psychotic side, even in Arsenal’s skewed opinion. There were better things to do than rant and rave about the next generation or what-not. But whatever, as long as he was kept fully stocked. Michael didn’t care much.
<o></o>
He caught the end of the conversation walking in, something about some new mutant the X-freaks got their hands on or something. He strolled up to the table. With a flick of the wrist and a flash of silver from his fingers, a data disk thumped to the wooden surface.
<o></o>
“Like hunting humming birds with a shotgun.”
<o></o>
Arsenal fell into on deep cushioned armchair, slumping back with his hands on the rests like some old lazy king or something. His eyes fell on an ancient Arabic scimitar, the boss man did have good taste in weapons, though.
<o></o>
“Give the kid a ring, he’s got contacts in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1>New York</st1></st1:state>.”

[Tess Abrahams]

The conversation had been astoundingly simple.

"Mr. Daniels, my grandmother lives in the city and she's been pestering me to spend time with her. I was wondering if, since I don't have much homework this weekend, if I could stay over with her?"

"I don't see why that would be a problem, Tess. As long as your parents agree."

"Oh they will."

"I'll give them a call and let you know this afternoon, alright?"

Of course they had agreed--it wasn't as if they had any reason to suspect that Tess had in fact been lying through her teeth. It was a kindness that Professor Broussard hadn't been round when she'd talked to the Headmaster. All the same, Tess was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the increasing number of fabrications she was forced to throw around.

At any rate, things had gone smoothly and the teenager had said aloha to her friends and set off, supposedly for a boring weekend filled with stale fruitcake and Golden Girls reruns. Roughly three miles from the Institute, however, Tess met with someone decidedly not of the senior citizen ilk. Tron frowned at her.

"Took you long enough."

Tess glared at him and decided to let the comment pass. The girl was soon crammed into a van with three other males of various age and size (one was incredibly Hulkish and she had to force herself not to stare) heading towards what was consensually referred to as "home."

Tron had been the one to suggest she come and check the mansion out. Just days after their initial meeting he had emailed her, with a place and time for a rendezvous. Though a little nervous since it meant employing blatent acts of deception and secrecy, Tess reasoned that for the sake of research and diplomacy she had to accept the invitation. And since Institute authority would probably nix the entire idea, Tess was forced into subterfuge. Yay for civil disobedience.

Bruderschaft was not what she had been expecting. Actually, it was sort of a stereotypically evil looking building. Tess imagined that a mad scientist would feel quite at home in the apparently ramshackle house. As the van was parked and the boys piled out noisily, abandoning her to jostle inside, Tess began to wonder if this was the wisest choice. This was the perfect place to get murdered; no one would ever hear her yell.

The surroundings met with the girl's wholehearted approval however, and it was the abundant trees and forrestry which ultimately coaxed her out of the van. She took a deep breath, blissfully savouring the distinctly earthy smell of wild growth. Shouldering her bag, the girl followed Tron's lead and quietly climbed up the stairs, crossed the porch and went inside, shutting the door behind her.

Pleasantly surprised at the much-improved interior, Tess clutched her bag and stood with her back against the door. She could hear voices talking lowly, and the sound of canned laughter from a sit-com drifted in from a room opposite her. Tess cleared her throat and softly called, "Hello?"

[Saladin]

Saladin heard the old van grind up to the driveway, and his eyes flicked toward the security monitor at the corner of the ceiling to see Tron, Geryon, and Boomer pile out and jaunt toward the front door. Odd - he hadn't been expecing them until the following week. But then the fourth passenger disembarked - a girl he hadn't seen before at the mansion, but certainly one he recognized.

"My dear," he said to Spectre, "it seems we have a guest to entertain."

He waved a hand over the map, and a green tendril rolled it up neatly to hide his work.

Saladin stepped out into the foyer to find Tess very reservedly hanging back by the front door. Tron stood just a few feet away, shucking off his jacket.

When he saw Saladin, he straightened up immediately. "Hey, boss! I brought someone to meet you..."

Saladin's eyes were already on Tess, and he watched her intently, inscrutably. "Of course. We've met before, but we didn't have the pleasure of exchanging names." He smiled warmly and extended his hand. "My name is Saladin. Welcome."

[Spectre]

Spectre nodded at Saladin's words, they had been expecting the young woman, although not at the moment. She followed at his side into the foyer. Tess arrived with the 'boys and was peering around the inside of the estate like she expected it to come crumbling down on her head. Tess collected herself as she was introduced, once more, to their leader Saladin.

"Looks can be deceiving.." Spectre smiled and gestured around them, indicating their surroundings. "We are quite well off, as you can see. Welcome, I am Spectre."

Spectre was a vision in white, as she preferred. From her white canvas pants, to her soft off-the-shoulder white shirt. Her nearly silver hair and her boots, also pale, making her bright green eyes the only sparkle of color surrounding her..

"We are so pleased to have you visit.. "

[Tess Abrahams]

With the sort of shyness one afforded celebrities, Tess took Saladin's offered hand with her own. She didn't so much shake as was shooken, before she extended it to the woman in white, an extremely beautiful figure; Tess reminded herself not to stare.

"My name is Tess." The girl replied. Beside her Tron scoffed.

"Cirque, boss."

Tess shot him a withering glare and, strongly this time, said, "It's Tess."

Saladin and Spectre were studying her, and at once the mutant teen felt sympathy for the creatures in the science lab. Coltishly scuffing her sneakers on the floor, the girl offered the only thing she could think of that didn't sound completely retarded. "Thanks for inviting me here. I've been pretty... curious."

[Saladin]

"Of course," Saladin replied, "and we're eager to answer any questions you might have. Please, come in, Tess."

He led the way toward the back of the house where there was a comfortable sitting room with a large bay window overlooking a breathless crevasse with trees bowing over the drop-off from either side. Beyond the gorge was a panorama of stony hills blanketed in old-growth forest.

Saladin took his seat in a large armchair. "I really do regret that our first meeting was so rudely cut short. It was never my intention to endanger anyone - only to help people to see the truth."

[Void]

The space just a little behind Spectre's seat seemed to grow darker for a moment. Where moments ago there had been nothing, suddenly there was a faint outline of a man as Void faded into view. Many of the Brotherhood mutants stood gawking at the fresh meat; he shook his head. For the time being, Void said nothing. Saladin and Spectre were doing their benevolent hosts bit, and he didn't want to interrupt.

[Tess Abrahams]

The view was fantastic. The thickly covered driveway did no justive whatsoever to the surrounding land. At the Institute, practicality deemed that the grounds be kept tidy. While the sloping green lawn and manicured woods held their own kind of beauty, it was nothing compared to the untamed wildwood here. Tess gawked at the window, speechless, and wasn't aware that she was being spoken to until Saladin came to the end of his words.

"Oh, well, that's sort of what I was wondering about." Tess tore her gaze away and took a nearby seat. She crossed one leg over the other, one foot bouncing repeatedly. "I tried looking through the library at my school and I couldn't really find anything about genetic cataloguing. So I went online... and other than extremist clubs--which, you know, I was expecting to find--there wasn't any real proof about what you say.

"Not that I think you're lying." Tess's eyes widened and she shook her head frantically. "But I mean, I even asked my dad to look into legal stuff and he came up empty."

[Michael Lawston]

“Heheheh, you think you can just find this kind of thin in the open?” Arsenal had pulled himself from the chair in the planning room. He leaned against the doorframe holding a katana in one hand and a sharpening stone in the other.
<o></o>
A shrill singing echoed as he slid the rock against the blade. The new blood were always annoying, almost to the point where Michael thought innocence might actually exist.
<o></o>
“The world isn’t a book you can just open and read.” He slid the stone across the sword again. Tron stood off in a corner with a nervous face, Arsenal rarely ever talked that much, and even less when in came to big picture stuff.
<o></o>
“It’s not that to bury a needle in a haystack.”

[Spectre]

"Tess, you are an intelligent young woman, by all accounts. We have no desire to twist your way of thinking to our own, that is not our purpose.."

Spectre glanced over her shoulder at the shadowed outline of a man.. The barest hint of a smile turned up one corner of her mouth, but she continued on..

"We can only offer truth and fact. It is fact that governments fear what they cannot understand or control. In time, they will no longer tolerate this deficiency and they will attempt to subdue, even stamp out what they see as a threat. "

She thought of the events of their last encounter with Tess. Spectre had witnessed a little girl almost gunned down. If not for the nature of one of their brothers, by the name of Lazarus, the child would have been shot down like a dog on the city street. Another victim of hate crimes and intolerance.

"It is already begining.." She looked to Saladin..

[Saladin]

"Not fifty miles from here, there is an institution that claims to be a genetic therapy center for mutant youths. They host almost a hundred teenaged and pre-teen mutants for what they call extended treatment. In fact, they spend most of their time doing experimental research. I have reason to believe that they are funded by certain anti-mutant factions within the government. They're studying us so they can find ways to control us."

He looked across the room - on a table in front of a display of antique swords, there was a thin metal object surrounded by small, precision tools. Saladin lifted a hand and shot out a narrow, green tendril which floated the object across the room and into his hand.

It was a band of dull metal, roughly a quarter-inch thick. It had already been partially dismantled, and Tess could see a jumble of electronics exposed on one side.

"This is a restraining collar we captured from one of their facilities. If I put this around your neck and activated it, you would be unable to access your mutant powers. You would be one of them. Small. Alone. Manageable. I've seen them use these on their mutant prisoners, robbing them of that which makes them unique. And this is just the beginning."

[Tess Abrahams]

'Stunned' wasn't exactly the right word to describe how she felt, nor was 'outraged'. It was a combination of the two, a healthy indignancy with a dose of apprehension. Eyes glued on the metal band, Tess held out an open palm. The coller was pressed gently into her grip.

It was lighter than she'd expected, light enough that it would be easy to forget it was there. This was probably part of the cruelness of the thing, it's illusiveness. Though it was partially dismantled, Tess could see that it's circumfrence was small--small enough to fit around her own younger brother's neck. A flash of focused anger flared in her chest; there was something this close to the Institute and no one had bothered telling them. What if the operators of such a sick place knew about the students at Cullen's? It was easy pickings, and the professors had done absolutely nothing, not even for the prisoners inside; no storming of the doors, no rallies, nothing.

A lump forming in her throat, Tess handed the device back roughly. She shook her head from side to side and then picked up Saladin's gaze. "I researched you too. You used to be a teacher."

[Saladin]

"That's right." Though Saladin was aware of his brothers and sister looking on, his eyes never left Tess. "And before that, I was a student. Part of Dr. Cullen's first class of gifted youngsters. Make no mistake - Dr. Cullen was a genius, a visionary. So visionary that the world was not ready for him. He offered compassion, wisdom, and the greatest scientific mind of the twentieth century. And for that, he was repaid with a bullet to the heart. I was on the platform with him when he was shot."

Not all the Brotherhood shared Saladin's respect for Dr. Cullen - but for the most part they respected Saladin enough not to flaunt it in his presence.

"At that moment I knew that the conflict between human and mutant could only escalate if left unopposed. I felt that it was our duty to prepare mutantkind to defend their rights as species. But Ethan... Mr. Daniels was more concerned with maintaining a conciliatory attitude toward the humans. Six months after Dr. Cullen's death, he asked for my resignation. And so we went our separate ways."

[Tess Abrahams]

It was a story that had, in some form or another, been told in a thousand different ways. A sort of skewed monomyth of a journey riddled with trial and tribulation, but with an ultimate purpose. The man before her, with his knife-sharp eyes and lulling voice, told it wonderfully. Brief, concise--but with enough respect for the spoken word that the whole thing became a transfixing memoir.

There would have been a stirring melody underneath it all, if life had a soundtrack.

Tess was beginning to feel accustomed to the concentrated stares directed at her. It was a bit like being at a big gymnastics meet, before a judging panel; distinctly like it, in fact.

"And then you started The Brotherhood?" Picking up where Saladin had left off, the teenager leaned forward with the slightest bend of eagerness in the movement. "Which is a really gender specific name, don't you think?"

[Saladin]

Saladin smiled wryly. "I've met mutants who were themselves not gender-specific. The Brotherhood is more an idea than a name.

"Mutants share a bond that goes far beyond genetics. We're the ultimate outcasts. We don't fit anywhere into their society. And it's not just a matter of prejudice - their world is built on basic assumptions of equality. How do speed limits apply to someone who can run faster than a high-performance car? Does a pyrokinetic need to register for concealed weapons? They bar us from the military, from government office, from sporting competitions, from employment in dozens of businesses, because we upset their idea of parity. We have unfair advantages. So they respond in the only way they know how - by using whatever means they have at their disposal to level the playing field.

"That is why we intend to build a new society. A mutant society. One where all our kind can flourish freely as nature intended them to. We will define ourselves and be defined by no one. And that is also why each of us has chosen a new name to match our mutant identities."

[Spectre]

"Not unlike the founders of this country, we have a need to make a break and hack out a life of our own from a distant wilderness. A land of our own making where we are beholden to no one else.."

Spectre's knowing gaze had been leveled on Tess, watching her reactions. She didn't normally intrude upon the minds of other mutants, and in the case of Tess, it wasn't necessary. Her emotions spilled across her face, like paint across a blank canvas. Spectre understood the confusion and anger and incredulity. Tess had every right to each of those feelings. What was being done to others like them was horrible. She thought maybe Tess needed a break from the conversation to let it all sink in for a minute.

"Tess.. would you like a drink? We have a very awesome kitchen with just about whatever suits your palate." Spectre's green eyes slid to Saladin, for only a moment conveying the silent message,

"She needs a break. It's too much too soon, but her mind is wide open to you."

She stood and held out a hand to Tess. "Looks like you might need a few minutes to sort some of these things out.."