2013.10.25 - Samples

Well, things are moving right along. Mystique's still in one piece and now she's a card-carrying member of a whole classroom of very unruly students, known by various names such as cholera, small pox, influenza, and the black plague. She's also keeping a blood sample from her genetically modified son, now running amok as Pestilence, just in case.

What's a mutant to do?

Go to a known hangout for Kurt and Company, trip a few silent alarms, then coerce the theatre's current owner into helping out.

What could possibly go wrong?

No doubt Amanda's gotten -plenty- of warnings (probably all of them, in fact,) when Raven waltzed on in through the front doors. Magic users may not be the most predictable lot but she's certain that the sorceress will drop everything in order to find her way back to the Majestic in a timely manner. Until then the metamorph sits in one of the chairs, leaning way back with one of Kurt's imported German beers in hand, right from the fridge, with both legs kicked up and crossed over the accompanying table.

Don't mind her. She'll just take her number and wait.

"What do you mean you 'can't get involved'?!?" Amanda says, standing, in fact, in the basement of the Majestic, staring at the green-skinned projection of Neberius, Marquis of Hell. "You do realize what this does to the effective strength rating of our whole team, yeah?"

"I do, Daytripper," the gravelly voiced demon replies. "It is unfortunate, but there are casualties in war. And the war you fight is not one that spans the planes."

"You have got to be freakin' kidding me!" The blonde sorceress throws up her hands. "And just what do you think will happen to this gateway if they actually remember it's here! I can't stop them by myself!"

"If they attempt to breach the gateway, you will not have to, child."

Amanda snirks in a very unladylike fashion. "Yeah. Great. Thanks for--" Her head snaps up as the wards trigger a sense in the back of her mind. Flashes of illusion dance before her eyes, providing an image of just who it is that invades the theatre. The sorceress's eyes flash. "Gods damn it!" she growls. "What the fuck is she doing here."

She glares at Neberius, speaks a word of power, and flashes open a portal, stepping through onto the upper level of the lobby, overlooking the base of the grand staircase where Mystique sits.

"Kurt isn't here, Mystique," she says bluntly, not even feigning politeness, now. "So, you don't need to be, either."

"What's this? No 'how did you know where to find us?' No 'oh god please don't kill me again?' I'd hate to think that I'm losing my touch," Mystique replies with a shameless grin and a slight salute of the bottle towards Amanda. "You're right though, he isn't here. As a matter of fact, just a half hour ago he was busy terrorizing Grand Central. After all that's happened, you still don't have him on a leash?" she inquires with a tsk. "One of these days your furry little pet is going to get you into trouble. Like today."

Sleek black-clad legs sweep off of the table, feet returning to the floor as the blue-skinned mutant stands. She's looking awfully relaxed and at home for someone that effectively got infected, murdered, then came back for a spot of breaking and entering. "We're in a particularly curious situation here, my dear," she starts in while (very) casually making her way toward the sorceress. "No doubt you've witnessed our boy's transformation of late. It doesn't suit him particularly well, does it. Now, we both happen to know a great deal about him. We both want him returned to his usual irritatingly religious sort."

Stopping a few feet away from Amanda, Mystique's grin grows just a touch further. "Which means we now get to help one another. Isn't this exciting?"

Amanda snirks softly, again. She knows Mystique well enough to know that she'll find out where Kurt is staying no matter how careful they are. She doesn't really care how the woman knew where to come; that she'd find a way has never been in doubt. Though, after this, the witch may set up blood wards against her. Kurt and TJ won't appreciate it much. (It stings!) But a girl's gotta do, sometimes.

Her brow arches at the 'leash' comment. And she adjusts her stance slightly as the other woman rises, hand drifting into her bag of tricks. Nevertheless, the news that Kurt's been to Grand Central? That's NOT good news. Her expression shifts subtly. While still wary, she is, at least, listening -- knowing full well that's what Mystique wants.

Consequently, as the woman comes closer, the witch raises her hand. "That's far enough, Mystique." No. She's not running away in fear. But neither is she foolish enough to let the metamorph within even half-a-dozen arm's lengths of her, if she can avoid it. A beat. Her lips thin. "I'm listening."

How could Mystique be anything less than horribly amused right now? Aside from the fact that the fate of her son is on the line, that's kind of a drag, but -this- part of the mission is proving to be -most- entertaining. She stands her ground, one foot crossed diagonally in front of the other, looking as though she's attempting to mimic some sort of calendar pose right there in the main hallway.

"You won't need your special effects for this meeting," she 'helpfully' points out while bringing the bottle up to her lips once more. Then, arms and bottle held out to either side as if proving that she's unarmed (which is only good for so much with someone like her,) she continues.

"It's a simple ordeal. You're going to be my ticket into Xavier's. I'm afraid poor Magneto's up to his neck dealing with the complications of trying to run his own country and I'd much rather not have to put all of those cheerful little students into their place should I attempt to breach the front gate without prior clearance. In return, I will personally deliver some crucial data into the hands of Xavier's finest scientific minds so that we can end this ordeal once and for all."

She makes it sound so simple.

Amanda just... kinda... stares at Mystique now. Ignoring the coquettish pose -- because, that's nothing more than Mystique posturing (in more ways than one) -- she doesn't particularly lower her hand. Because, it's much easier to shoot a bolt when you're already aiming.

Her eyes narrow, then. Her first instinct is to go tell Mystique to take a long walk off a short pier (ok, actually, that's the sanitized version of it -- partly because Mystique would probably enjoy the other too much). But data...

The X-Men told her that they've brokered a detente with Magneto and his Brotherhood. And Mystique comes under that banner. "What data?" she says shortly, now. "Because there's no way in hell I'm taking you anywhere near that school until I know exactly what you're offering."

Among other things.

"Samples," Mystique replies while otherwise holding perfectly still upon her feet. "Untainted samples of every..single..sickness..that he's delivering upon the world with that personal touch. As an added bonus, this deal also happens to include some of his blood, nice and fresh."

"So, sweetheart, it's like this," Mystique replies while momentarily glancing down at her own feet and lightly resting the bottle against her stomach. "You could grant me access to the Institute so we could all make some forward progress here, or..I suppose I could just go on another one of my adorable little rampages until they come to intervene..? Or perhaps I should just leave you alone with the Bubonic plague and you can handle things from here?" she cheerfully inquires while pulling a small glass sphere out from -somewhere- behind her back. This she holds up, nested within the tips of her fingers, mere inches away from her face as those yellow eyes examine what appears to be an empty vessel.

It looks..delicate. Very, very delicate.

"Such a misunderstood thing. It's really quite sociable once you get to know it. You two should be wonderful friends."

Amanda has already met that particular friend. And she has the empty healing potions phials to prove it. "Are we really going to do this dance?" she asks the woman coolly. "You're not exactly the first to bump into that particular bug."

Yep. Been there. Done that. Can play the bluff, because she's already created a localized containment spell.

Not, mind, that she really wants the WHO or CDC swarming all over this place.

"How'd you get these samples? You have his blood?"

"I do," the metamorph confirms while gently palming the sphere. The stare that follows carries the usual compliment of mischief, self-declared superiority, and smugness that follows her around like her own personal demons. "Care to ask me how I've obtained it? It's something that you have some personal experience with, in fact."

The comment is followed up by slowly drawing the bottom of the bottle across her front, just above the stomach. Where Mystique had been impaled by a sword only thirty minutes ago.

Right about where she had impaled Amanda with a copy of Kurt's own tail several months earlier.

"Now, I've paid my dues. I have something which no one else can claim to offer. And above all, there is not another soul upon this godsforsaken planet that wants to see Kurt returned to his rightful self more than -I.- Either you be my personal invitation to this party or I'll introduce myself and risk crashing the party. Either way. You should be happy to have a say in the matter. I almost didn't bother coming here first."

Amanda's expression remains flat. Mistrustful. And yet. Her hand drops, not her alertness, nor her expectation of a doublecross. But... she does know Mystique's motivations. And Kurt features highly in them. The witch has no doubt the metamorph will do anything she deems necessary to see Kurt restored. But, frankly... that's not far from Amanda's own feeling.

So, the erstwhile X-Woman nods simply, making a deal with her own personal devil. "Fine. I'll arrange for a meeting. But you will stay away from the school unless or until they invite you."

A wry smile. She does not expect a straight answer to this: "How shall I contact you?"

"I feel as though we may have some trust issues to work out between us," Mystique offhandedly observes while carefully tucking that glass sphere away behind herself once more. In its place is a card, printed with a stylized 'M' and a contact number. Just because. This she holds up between two fingers, catching the other woman's gaze before she crouches down and simply lays it upon the floor with a soft 'tick' as it slips away from a thumbnail.

She knows how to play nice, when she has to. When she wants to.

"You have my word that the children shall not be harmed," she adds once returned fully upright. With this comment her expression has notably changed. No malice, no trickery. Either she's pretending to be sincere or she genuinely is such.

"I will expect a call through that number within two hours." Because they shouldn't waste any more time than absolutely necessary.

Besides, she's carrying a wildcard. The very genetic code of one of the Harbingers. They'll find a way to work within her timeframe, no doubt.

Amanda leaves the card where it is, for the moment. She can scoop it up once the blue woman is gone. She nods simply in response, not really needing to say more. It's possible Mystique is sincere. Indeed, in this instance, it's actually probable. Amanda still isn't fool enough to trust it, mind, but she can set aside her own feelings for the sake of the Greater Good.

And for Kurt.

"You'll hear from me," she does eventually say. "In the meantime... Surely you have somewhere else to be?"