11848/Prices of Freedom

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Prices of Freedom
Date of Scene: 28 July 2020
Location: War Room - X-Men Base
Synopsis: Jean offers a small extension of trust to Sabertooth and a surprisingly civil discussion is had over might, right, and freedom.
Cast of Characters: Sabretooth, Phoenix




Sabretooth has posed:
    The room that Victor Creed has called home as of late is still kept dark for the most part. The glow of the security devices does not reach far inside Creed's cell. Even with him having done more work with the team, he seems to retreat back into a cave for the most part. What can be seen is mostly a wreck and quite den like with most of his possessions, of what they are, seem to form a semi circle around here he sleeps. Right now, he back in the shadows by his deep breathing can be heard. Almost slumber like, but a little too steady for that.

Phoenix has posed:
There's the quiet rush of the door opening and a circulation of fresher, if still treated, air sweeps in like a casual whirlwind. Heavy on the front of the breeze is the smell of smoked meats, still hot. Following in its wake is the scent of the woman carrying it, soap, denim and cotton, and the odors of the school above which reeks of old wood and teenagers.

Jean steps in front of the cell with a tray balanced on one arm, balancing the plate of ribs and sausage, corn, and bread along with a single beer. She looks silently into the cell for a pensive second before saying in an even tone, "Brought down dinner if you're hungry. Want me to leave it for you, or do you need to stretch for a minute?" Is Jean being almost kind to him? Or is this an angle?

Sabretooth has posed:
    "Mother Superior," comes Victor's rough voice from the darkness, but the smell of ribs and corn has gotten his attention more than being an ass. There is the sound of movement from the darkness and then Victor is moving into the glow of the security. It looks like someone had a sense of humor and gave him an Xavier school tshirt, but he has ripped the logo out so the shirt is a bit tattered now. He is wearing the muzzle, gloves, and boots while in the cell still. He has certainly gotten better under the care of the X-Men, but the animal still dwells in his chest.

    "Maybe," he says while trying to sound less than committed. It does not take a psychic to see his nostrils flare and his amber eyes track the food. "Suppose you can set it by the door then drop the field once you are outside. I know you lot still don't trust me."

Phoenix has posed:
"I suspect the day we can all trust one another is the day mutants stop fighting one another." Jean states as she looks to the man. Her words sound truthful but dispirited. "Maybe one day we'll see it. Or our children, or their's."

She sets down the tray then before raising a hand, and the muzzle and gloves come loose with a click and slowly float down to the side in that rose colored cloud. It's perhaps a brief extension of that fabled trust that Jean only steps back towards the closed door but not through it, and the forcefield comes down with a guttural spit of light. It leaves them both in the room, with only boots and the inevitable promise of her power putting any barrier between them.

"You've been trying to act like a man. At least you can have the dignity to eat like one, unlike a dog in a kennel."

Sabretooth has posed:
    "Yeah, but you still brought me finger food," Victor says with a chuckle that reverberates deep inside his chest. He comes out of the cell and picks up the tray. He takes a seat at the interrogation table and actually picks up the knife and fork. He is cutting into the sausage as he looks over at Jean. He studies her for a little bit before taking a bite. He remains quiet, at least having the manners to eat with his mouth closed. He handles the knife and fork deftly which could be a surprise to those that think of Victor Creed only as a beast. "Curse of my gifts. I'll probably still be there for your kids' kids."

Phoenix has posed:
"I'm sorry, we didn't have any whole sides of elk handy." Jean huffs in what might pass for amusement as she leans herself against the wall in profile to him. It's rude to stare at someone eating, though she can no doubt see him in the corner of her vision. "I don't envy your longevity, considering I've met kids that I haven't even had yet who don't paint a bright future ahead. But who knows, maybe you will see it, and you can tell them all some of us at least tried to make it better."

There's a pause as she mulls over something before she asks with a faint crease marking her forehead and a thoughtful squint to her eyes. "Why have you done the things you have?" There's not an accusation in her voice, none of her normal restrained vitriol. Just curiosity. "Murdering innocents, fighting against us?"

Sabretooth has posed:
    Victor goes after the ribs next but manages to pause long enough to chuckle. "This is fine, Red. I don't have to eat a whole cow every meal." He finishes off the ribs and is quiet for a moment. He manages to mutter out a very rough 'thank you' that would be hard for the room's CCTV cameras to pick up. He picks up the napkin and is whiping his face from the sauce. "I have no doubt that there will always be do gooders like yourselves trying to make it better. Even at its darkest."

    Victor reaches over and picks up the beer. He takes a long draught from it as she asks her question that obviously has been on her mind. He looks at her and slowly sets the beer back down. He sits back in his chair a little before answering. "The world is rough. Hope and faith are just words most of the time. Better to be the hunter than the hunted. At least from where I am standing. I'm just Nature at her purest." He seems to take a bit of pride now as he speaks. He likes being a force of nature.

Phoenix has posed:
There's some hidden part of Jean that resonates with that statement, a flicker of fire that gleams in the darkest part of her pupil like just barely catching a flashlight on the eyes of a distant animal. Something mysterious. Something potentially deadly. "A force without direction is just destruction. Pointed at the right thing, it *can* make change. You're right. Hope and faith are words because there's too many empty promises, but they don't have to be. Why just exist in the world when you can make a mark on it, you can help change it? For the better."

There's a wave of her hand then, gesturing as she talks, "I'm not talking go read stories at children's hospitals. There are fights that need to happen, as much as I rather that they didn't, and not all of those can end peacefully. I believe in a dream, but I still recognize reality. Stand with us, Victor. The less that we're all fighting one another, the more time we can dedicate to trying to keep those horrors that may be our futures from happening."

Sabretooth has posed:
    "Tell that to a forest fire. Life comes out of those ashes." Victor takes another drink of the beer. "Like I told the boy scout, I am a missle you point in the right direction and then get out of my way. I will never join hands and dance around the campfire singing Kumbaya. Your dream just doesn't make sense to me. Those with power will always try to dominate those without. I'd rather fight and stand on my own terms than be another casualty. Take me out fighting." He raises the beer and gestures towards Jean. "That I can live with."

Phoenix has posed:
"Go down fighting?" Jean's mouth twitches in a faint smirk. "Yeah, I don't expect us X-Men will get the luxury of dying of old age. But the way I see it, if it takes my death so even one of those kids *can* live to be old and die comfortably surrounded by their family and friends? That's enough for me. Yeah, people who have and want power will try to get more, but if no one stands in their way, then they'll always win. If even one person stands up, then maybe those odds can tip. We're all casualties in the end, Victor. By force or by time. At the end of it, all we can measure ourselves on is the impact we made while we were here and how we'll be remembered."

Sabretooth has posed:
    "I've heard this all before, Red. Stand up. Fight what is wrong. Be remembered even in death." Victor shakes his head and pushes back from the table. "I'll be remembered now," and his voice grows deeper and darker. "I don't care about some kid living to old age. It isn't me that makes that kid live. It is that kid. If the kid doesn't live, I still don't care." He pushes back on the chair so that he is rocking on the back legs, back and forth. "As long as that kid can make the choice to fight, I don't care." He becomes silent for a moment as he looks almost past Jean now and out the door for a moment before looking back at her. "But I hate slavery," he says quietly almost silently so as not to agree with her. "That....that, I cannot stand because it takes away nature."

Phoenix has posed:
"There's a future where that happens." Jean says as she looks over to him then, a proper face to face look with green eyes fixed on amber. "Where mutants were taken, tortured, bent to the will of others to be their servants and hunters. To hunt other mutants. If we *can't* convince humanity that mutants can stand with them, then... what options will there be? Slavery or death. Humanity has done it - is doing it - and will again. I don't like being as soft as I need to be sometimes. There's so many times where I've just wanted to flatten every senator or zealot who's talked about us like we're nothing but a disease, to scream the truth into their brain until it melts. But if I do that, if I raise my hand to force them, then how am I any better? Aren't I just doing the same to them as they would to me, to leave them the choice only to lay under my boot or die? That's why I do what I do, why I fight the way I do. You may scoff at morality like that, but the way I see it, how can I ask for peace if I can't live that way?"

Sabretooth has posed:
    "If you want peace, prepare for war." Victor brings his seat back to the ground as their eyes meet. "I know I have heard that some where before. If they want to enslave me, they better come at me with every damn thing they've got because I am not going down easily. You ask how am I better if I raise my hand to the zealot's? Easy. I'm still fucking standing." He is growling now and anger is creeping into his voice. "I give them a choice. Stay out of my way or deal with me. That's their choice." He is up onto his feet now, claws growing as he moves to grip the table. The surface begins to groan under pressure. "I don't ask for peace. I make my own."

Phoenix has posed:
"Well, if we're successful, you wouln't have to worry about that." Jean says in a tone closely flirting with resignation as she pushes off the wall. "Just think on why you're here, really here, because if you aren't here to stand with us and you don't agree with us, then why stay? If you think you're as good as you can be - want to be - and we don't have anything else to offer, then there's no reason to keep you here. If you think you're ready to be free, then I can see what we can do."

She turns for the door though pauses to look back. "You may not appreciate it - which we don't ask you to - and I know you didn't ask for it, but we're fighting for you too. Finish your dinner and then call me when you're done."