2013.09.20 - Define Will

The embassy offices in New York are quite small compared to the lavish center Magneto's built in Hammer Bay, but the old mansion is still very well appointed and old world style meets the most modern of amenities. Guards stay posted around the walls and roof, ever alert and vigilant, and the implied security of a highly alert- or very paranoid- mind abound.

Magneto seems to be enjoying a late morning repast on the balcony that extends over the ballroom wing of the old mansion. The Imperator wears casual American clothing that makes him look no different than your average wealthy, successful businessman- a long sleeved shirt, cuffed around his forearms, and polo slacks with leather shoes that probably cost as much as a mortgage payment. A meal of eggs and toast is partially dissassembled in front of him, and a butler stands nearby with a coffee pot in hand, waiting to refill his drink if needed.

Match has had a crappy couple of days. As a result, he actually wants to push the envelope. He's still a teen in the end. He flies toward the New York embassy offices up high, and when he hovers over the mansion, he drops. He doesn't do it in a manner that will have him landing on the lawn, rather his eyes scan the place until he finds Magneto. He doesn't wear the clothes he would be able to manipulate into armor like he did before at the Stark Expo.

But just a bit above the mansion, above and a little off from the balcony does Match stop and hover there. Security is likely already reporting it. The blue jeaned and red hoodie clad figure hovers there, red gloved hands resting in the front pocket of his hoodie. His face remains shadowed with how the hoodie is positioned over his head. "Magneto," he greets when he finally speaks in a voice that purposely carries. The tone is strong, but not aggressive sounding. The body language is 'relaxed' for right now and not meant to be overly threatening, but it still is not the most respectful form of entry. "Pardon me for interrupting your breakfast. I was hoping I could borrow a few minutes of your time." He appeared so suddenly up there in the air, seemingly out of no where.

Magneto considers Match for a long moment, then with a graceful gesture invites the boy to take a seat. "Of course," he says, making a subtle gesture at the guards. They all relax their posture, weight settling onto their heels as they return to a more general assessment of their surroundings. "You have excellent manners, young man. I applaud you for being so considerate. Won't you join me for some coffee?" he invites, beckoning the butler over with a two-fingered wave. Magneto waits for Leo's cup to be filled, then sips his own drink.

"You're the young man who goes by the nom de guerre of 'Match', am I correct?" he inquires, as if confirming a fact he sounds absolutely sure of. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Match lowers himself elegantly without seeming to move a muscle. He lands on the top of the balcony railing as he bows regally and with a hint of showmanship as well before he steps off the balcony and lands silently on his feet to the floor. Too silently for it to be a non-powered move. His hair isn't visible, but his eyes may be caught to be blue within a blue leather domino mask. "Coffee would be delightful, black."

There is a quiet pause before he says, "I did not realize my name has gotten out, considering I've been sticking to mostly back alleys and gang infested areas." He sounds vaguely surprised, but recovers quickly. "The question of power, its forms and manifestations, and the act of obtaining it. Your advice essentially. For what do all those that crave a dream greater than themselves want? The power to change the world."

Match moves then, flopping quietly into a seat. Though the motion is an inelegant flop, it's quiet and subdued. Hands are moved from his front pocket of his hoodie to reveal the red leather gloves he wears.

"My security teams don't keep me apprised of every back-alley vigilante, no," Magneto informs Match. "They do, however, inform me of certain individuals with under-utilized talents who are... hmm. Struggling to find a niche for their gifts," he explains. The Imperator sips his coffee, regarding Match with a level gaze at odds with the baby blue of his eyes.

"Power is nothing. Will is everything," Magneto explains. "When I was a young man just coming into my gifts, I had not a tenth the power I do now. I still managed to wreck terrible retribution among those who had wronged me. The will to act- decisively, immediately, and with strong moral conviction- is a far rarer and more precious gift than any 'power' you might find. Men and women have broughts nations to glory and crashing to the ground with no mutant or superhuman powers at all. Just the will to succeed, and to seek the utter certaintude of victory."

A quiet hehe, "Moral? I wouldn't exactly call it moral Magneto. Those of power often do ills or evil to achieve a greater good. The question is, how much evil are you willing to do, and will you succeed in your goal, and it is a greater good only for mutants or for the entire world?" Apparently, Match doesn't have many illusions of power and what that does to people. "As for will, plenty of that. The manner in applying it another question," he waves one hand dismissively. Still, if coffee is delivered or if he merely needs to pour it, he shall and drink it black.

Coffee already come and gone, the butler moving with the quiet grace of long practice and having left the cup steaming idly at Leo's elbow. "I think not, my young man," Magneto says, shaking his head. "Morality isn't about black and white, virtues and vices. It's about minimizing suffering. Only fools and idealists pretend that morality is the stuff of peace and piety. Morality is about constantly making difficult decisions and operating in ethical gray areas. Balancing the weight of the heart against a feather at all times. A 'good' man does no wrong. A 'moral' man does wrong things when they beget a greater good."

"I don't think you have any real will at all," Magneto informs Match. There's no reprimand or cruelty in the statement. It's a mere observation, offered diffidently. "Oh, you have capability, undoubtedly, but will is a more abstract and simultaneously concrete matter. Will is the drive to succeed at a goal that is not immediately visible. To strive for personal greatness. To defy the vicissitudes of fate- to defy oneself own self-doubts and weaknesses."

"You are quite sure you /have/ no weaknesses. You've probably yet to run into someone who truly compares with your gifts, who can offer a real challenge to you. You've not a cause to fight for or a home to defend. How can you have 'will' when you have nothing in your life worth dying for?"

Match frowns distictively after drinking some of the coffee, "Then I have plenty of will." He then grunts, "We all have weaknesses Magneto. Some merely have not discovered theres yet, me? I already know mine, and they are glaringly obvious to me, annoyingly so." He is not happy with his own flaws. "And I fight for humanity as a whole. Not merely normals, not merely mutants...I want to change society at its base structure to where it is more centeralized in power and that the gifts of individuals are appreciated and wielded rather than hunted or the power of so-called superheroes registration abused. I believe the founding Father's had a dream, and it was a good dream, it has just become corrupt and twisted over the years and it needs to develop into a new generation of law enforcement and governing bodies. The true power is in corporations and money, not politics and super powers."

There is a slight pause before another sip of coffee, "What are you truly planning Magneto? What is your real dream? Is it one what places mutants in a position to best wield their strengths for the protection of Earth, or is it one meant to create a new subservant class of people? What is held within your heart?"

Magneto laughs merrily at Match's bold question. "How impertinent!" he chortles. "And here we hardly know one another," he says with a playfully chiding tone. "And you ask me of the deepest desires of my heart."

Magneto thumps a finger on the table, which reverberates with a bell-like tone. "Very well, then, /Match/," Magneto says. There's a weight in the way he pronounces Leo's name, and it's suddenly, glaringly obvious that he knows /precisely/ who Leo really is. "Do you really fight for humanity? Is that what wakes you in the morning, filling you with glorious purpose?" he asks, leaning forward and regarding the boy intently. "Do you look out your window and see a world torn asunder by strife and sectarianism and the weak ripping down the strong, and does that fill you with such fervor that you set everything aside each day to go forth and make the world a better place?"

"Or is it that you wake up and see a rabble beneath your feet?" Magneto counters, switching tact. "You see a world of petty men and women, with petty desires. You see corporations as being powerful because lacking morality, governments are nothing more than elected corporate bodies. What is government without law, without morality, without conscience? Nothing more than a poorly managed charity system, at best," Magneto sneers.

"I will tell you my dream. I dream of a land where morality and government go hand in hand. Where I rule over my subjects by right of will /and/ ability. A land where the sick do not want for medicine, the hungry do not want for food, and the willing do not lack for labor. We cut out the lame and the lazy like we separate the wheat from the chaff, to produce a land where a man's worth is not solely measured by the size of his bank account or his ability to move mountains. Genosha will be a land of true progress, where ambition and morality are taught to go hand in hand."

"If one never asks, they will never receive," Match states logically. There is a slight smirk though upon his lips when his name is said in such a way. There is no fear of discovery in him.

"The morality of a terrorist?" There is humor in his tone rather than mockery however. But Match moves, his actions a blur of motion as he heads to the balcony and rests his gloved hands there. His coffee mug left at the table. He leans on the balcony railing, overlooking the nice view. "What wakes me up in the morning?"

A smirk is in his tone, "The desire to follow you or any man is certainly -not- what does it, that just wants to make me stay in bed and waste away." Obviously, not the follower type. But it's more than that. Match is quiet for a while.

"Love. It's a mystery, something I want. Acceptance. But it's something more than that. I want to be the savior, the one people look up to, in adoration, in fear, in awe. Not because of my powers, but because of how I saved them, from themselves, from each other...of how I restored order and sense back into the world. I wish to follow no man, but I do not need to be the figure head either. My goals are not associated with a throne, but rather with the ability to obtain and wisely wield powers that most cannot see. To change the flow of politics and money, to make the world shine as a beacon of civilization and hope. But it will not be done through cowls and masks, it will not be done through Emperors. It will need a revolution. One driven and demanded by the people, for the people. But those people need a driving force, an icon to gather around. Something to keep them centered and productive." It's strange, a sense of practically mixed with passionate emotions.

Match spins about, resting back against the balcony, "It drives me mad, how I am only at the first step and clumsily so in obtaining my dreams. How child-like my struggles are, and how blindly I move forward," his tone actually self-mocking. "How can one hope to obtain world order, when their own thought process is chaos itself and unsure? I am missing something. I have the will to move forward, I have the intelligence to make paths; I have the gifts to be forceful if I must, and the 'morals' to do what needs to be done. Yet, something still is missing, no one...no one seems to be able to provide me with a clear answer except to mock my lack of experience and treat me as a child, as if they have to 'teach it' to me over a period of time. But I am not a pawn or a toy for them to manipulate and change, for them to attempt to control and extort. I just want the key, to unlock what I know is hidden within me."

"Will."

Magneto shrugs unconcernedly at Match. "You lack /will/. You have desire and ability and purpose, but you don't yet have the /will/ to focus all of those into a coherent force. You cannot go out and simply buy the love of your people," Magneto says. He rises from his seat. "You must earn it with deeds. Backing your words with actions. Save a hundred men, your name may never be known. /Tell/ them you will save a dozen, and do so, and your name will be echoed. Purpose speaks louder than actions, when you follow it through."

Magneto pats his mouth with a napkin, tossing it onto the table. "I think, my young friend, you and I should continue this conversation when I have a bit more time to afford it. Make an appointment with my valet," he says, nodding at the butler, "and when I am available again, we can talk."

Magneto moves towards Match, then rests a fatherly hand on his shoulder. His expression is overwhelmingly compassionate and sympathetic. "It took me a very long time to find my purpose," he informs the boy. "Decades of searching. I searched in anger, in love, in victory, in politics.... and I did not find it until I found a people screaming out silently for someone to come save them from the inevitable. I found my people, and in them, I found /my/ will to act- a sacrifice I would be willing to make." He releases Leo's shoulder and moves to the doors leading into the mansion. "Farewell, my friend. Think on what we discussed, and if you feel so inclined, let us see if we can yet be of some aid to one another."

Match doesn't move when Magneto touches his shoulder, staring at mutant. "The will to focus." He then face palms as Magneto takes his leave, quite litterally, red gloved hand to blue domino masked face. He growls low in his throat with Magneto gone and their is a slight vibration and shake of the balcony before things calm down. He turns once more to lean against the railing, gloved hands squeezing it almost hard enough to break it. "Shit." What good is will, if you don't know how to direct it? It is just blind desire. Never has Match really thought about that, or perhaps he just wouldn't listen to others when they attempted to explain it. Well, least he is one step closer to finding his key.

Match takes a few deep breathes before he takes to the air. He will contact Magneto's valet soon for another meeting this time. Magneto deserves that much respect, having finally pushed the stubborn young man to see what he was blind to previously.