1974/Mystique Comes To Parley.

Mystique Comes To Parley.
Date of Scene:	13 August 2017
Location:	Chinatown, Gotham
Synopsis:	Mystique investigates a generations old myth about a mutant legacy.
Cast of Characters:	Deadlights, Mystique

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Deadlights has posed:
It wasn't anything glamorous, but the kindly old Cantonese woman who ran the restaurant below didn't ask any questions about a sixteen year old girl renting an apartment on her own, nor did she ask where said sixteen year old girl came up with the rent.

The smell of toasted garlic and stir-fried meats permeates the air; it's not a bad thing to have to smell, and it covers other more alarming odors that might occassionaly escape the domicile. Old hardwood floors and tin roof ceilings, pipes with flaking paint and old iron fixtures - the apartment is old, in need of updating and maintenance, but it's impeccably clean. There is a single door leading to a fire escape and two windows, each of whom are barred on the front, and unable to be opened. The layers of old paint have sealed them shut.

Simple belongings are scattered into the tiny abode; a table, chairs, a shikibuton and kakebuton on a tatami. Boxes of takeout on the countertop, and a heavy duty computer system with server rack, fans blowing hot air in all directions, adding to the temperature in the room. In an empty bedroom around the corner are racks of guns and ammunition, and the materials used to make bullets and mill new barrels and blades.

The occupant of the domecile is sitting on a cushion on the floor in t-shirt and pajama bottoms, a tablet computer, notebook full of markings in Mandarin and an unrolled two hundred year old scroll in front of her.

Mystique has posed:
    Mystique had heard the rumors, of course, of the scroll that had gone missing. Of the metahuman gene, the mutant genome that had surfaced so many years ago. Such, she knew, was not unheard of. Rare. But, not unheard of. There were those like Selene, herself, Sabretooth, Shaw, and Logan. There were others, older, who did not have their longevity. Who had lived before. Like Irene.
    So, upon her return from Mexico, in a lull of plans and plotting, Mystique had taken to investigatin the truth of this rumor, and the theft behind it. She'd started in the seedier areas of Gotham, knowing that such would be the place that one would be able to blend in the easiest. She'd taken on the appearance of a very frail, cute, chinese girl; the least threatening thing possible.
    It might've taken her longer, but luck had played into a factor, and she'd overheard the conversation about a very young girl renting the apartment from a distraught boy who had offered, a day late, money for the apartment too and had been rejected with a sad apology.
    So it's night, now. And, there comes a knock at the door. A young, somewhat grimy chinese girl, looking no older than sixteen herself, is standing at the door looking somewhat nervous.

Deadlights has posed:
The girl inside was not expecting anyone at the door. She quickly rolls up the scroll and slides it into a non-functioning dumbwaiter she's reconfigured into a hidey-hole. She slips the tablet and notebook under the mat under her floor bed, and then removes a long, thin throwing blade from the same, sliding it into a sewn-in addition to her pjs to hold such things.

Standing up, the Chinese-Hispanic youth stands up. ("Just a moment!") she calls out in Cantonese. A pair of dark sunglasses are slipped over her eyes as she goes to the door and unlocks it, peeking out through a crack, chain not yet unlatched.

Mystique has posed:
    << "Please, may I come in a few moments? There are men, >> the girl explains, nerviously, in Cantonese. She points, convienently to a group of men loitering just at the entrance to the alleyway, and isn't it true that when the idea is implanted, all men can at least seems suspicious. She looks worriedly back to the tiny opening, << "Just until they leave?" >>

Deadlights has posed:
Maria doesn't even look directly at the girl or the men. Could she be blind? She's acting like it. Like she's just staring aimlessly ahead and trying to aim her head in the direction of the sound.

The correct response to this situation would be to kill the girl and the men, then leave their bodies so arranged as to be discovered later. Maria's hand overs over the knife in her inner pocket, lingering, fingers ready.

She moves her hand back. Once more the thing that bothers her most - her conscience - cries out at her. She cannot bring herself to the correct action.

Disappointed with herself, she closes the door, and unlatches the chain. ("Come in. Touch nothing. If you say what you have seen in this house I will find you and what I do to you will make you long for whatever coarse desires they had for in mind for you,") she warns, as she opens the door to the other girl.

Mystique has posed:
    The girl slips inside, << "Thank you." >> She waits until the door is closed, and deadbolted again, before the girl uses a different voice. Something more mature. Something with confidence in it. "It would seem I chose the right place." Yet, there is no weapon in the hand of the girl, whose eyes are now solid yellow, no irises or pupils within. She gains two or three inches in height, almost immediately as well as her black hair is now bright red, and her skin an indigo blue. The mutant woman still seems unarmed, and is now dressed in all black leathers instead of the second-hand garb she'd previously worn as the girl.
    She assumes an unthreatening stance, her eyes shifting over the weapons, and the computer setup. "A fine start."

Deadlights has posed:
Maria is startled. She immediately draws the throwing blade from her hidden pocket and slides backwards, assuming a defensive stance, weapon ready for use.

("Who are you, what are you, and why are you in my house? I will give you time to explain before I kill you.") Pretty big talk for a slight teenager.

Mystique has posed:
    It might speak to just how dangerous is to the teenager that Mystique doesn't even seem, in the least, threatened. She doesn't even use the 'better people than you have tried, girl' line. Instead, she merely answers the question, "I'm slightly disapointed you don't already know, dear. You may call me Mystique. And, perhaps if we get to know each other better, I'll tell you what my real name is."
    Mystique, of course, is a name well known, in many circles. "As for what I'm doing here? You brought me here, my dear. You earned my attention. That's not an easy thing to do."

Deadlights has posed:
Maria replies in perfect English. "There is always the possibility of disguise or misdirection. Mutations are not always unique." Recognizing her better, she sheathes the blade and her stance relaxes. She bows politely to her superior.

"I am not certain what I would have done to gain your notice. I have done all I can to avoid being noticed at all," she says calmly.

Mystique has posed:
    "Misdirection is a fine art form. A necessity, in infiltration and subterfuge," agrees Mystique, making herself at home. Curiously, she does 'mind' the 'law' set down by the girl, not touching any of the weapons, or the computers. She does not 'invade' any more than she already has than by simply being in the girls home, such as it is.
    "Let's start out with your name," she suggests. "As I've already given you mine. Then, I'll tell you how you earned my attention. Though, I'm also quite certain you already know."

Deadlights has posed:
"I am called Deadlights," the girl says. She continues to sort of stare straight ahead, eyes hidden by the dark glasses.

Mystique has posed:
    Mystique is curious at the name, but, her features don't show it. Effortlessly, she crosses one leg over the other, and leans back into the chair as if she were sitting in a plush victorian chair about to sip wine with some dignitaries. "The scroll you stole," she says, simply. "Written by a rather infamous pirate, if one is given to such lore, named Ching Shih. Whose descendants, for many generations, have carried the same metagenome that is now becoming irrevocably persistent in the human evolution. But, hers was one of the undocumented, save by her own hand."

Deadlights has posed:
"She is my ancestor," Maria states simply. "The museum did not have permission to obtain or hold that which belongs to my family. I assume you come here then because I carry the family's curse." The girl is completely calm and answers honestly. Respectful, but unafraid. At least there's no fighting or arguing or insults with this one.

Mystique has posed:
    "Honesty is such a refreshing trait," Mystique says pleasantly. She rests a hand on her knee then and she murmurs. "So, by prophecy, or by legend, you are destined to achieve a great treasure, unless I am mistaken?" She considers, momentarily, before asking, "May I see the scroll? It is yours. I make no claim to it. But, I very much -would- like to read it."

Deadlights has posed:
"It is not destiny, it is duty," Maria replies, as she goes to the old dumbwaiter. She slides the door up halfway and then places her fingers on the outside of the door as she pushes up.

*SHUNK!* A makeshift guillotine drops down just behind the door - a trap that would take the fingers or hand off the unwary. There may be more such traps all over the house. The girl is beyond cautious.

Reaching in over the blade, she takes out the scroll, and carries it over to Mystique, offering it to the older mutant. "I may not return to my family until I have amassed to myself a treasure, and I must do it on my own."

Mystique has posed:
    Mystique nods, the idea of family duty, honor, something she can understand. It's a tool she's used to manipulate, motivate, or orchestrate. She is careful with the scroll, and true to her word. She reads it, carefully, interested. "I see."
    After reading the scroll, she reverently rolls it back up and slowly hands it back to the girl. "You can take the sunglasses off. We're all mutants here," she says, with a curved smile. "Perhaps I can assist you. Not directly, of coruse. I would not wish to interfere with your tradition. But." She shrugs, "There are things I can provide. Guidance. Training."

Deadlights has posed:
The scroll is fairly simple: It's a copy of the original laws laid down by Ching when she assumed command of the red sail pirate fleet, written in the ancient pirate's own hand. "I am free to decide what kind of pirate I will become, and how I may amass my wealth," Maria says, as she crosses the room to replace the scroll and reset the trap.

Turning, she takes off her glasses. The girl's irises are golden-bronze with glowing orange X-shaped pupils. "It is a courtesy to wear them. Now I can see everything in you, your bones, your organs, your last meal. The signals in your brain and their travel to your nerves. Which sections of your brain are active," she explains.

"Even the color of your thoughts. The shape of your soul."

A smile threatens to break on Maria's serious face. "Oh? You may be of help then. I am willy to parley and exchange, if you can teach me how to smother my conscience. It refuses to die."

Mystique has posed:
    Mystique considers what the girl tells her, thoughtful. She suggests, mildly, and without any measure of regret, "I do not have soul." Her own smile is sharp, "Ah. A consciense. Yes. That can be a bothersome thing." Even as she talks, Mystique is considering how to take full advantage of the girls mutation. A subtle thing, but one that could have - interesting applications.
    She glances towards the guns, then. "You have killed, then? And, regret the lives you've taken?"

Deadlights has posed:
She sighs, frowning, and for the first time looks like an actual teenager in the way she expresses herself. There's a lot of humanity still in her. "Yes. Sometimes I cannot bring myself to kill. I nearly did when you came to the door; the right path would have been to slit your throat, kill the men outside and then place your bodies so as to indicate some crime gone wrong. Then my home would not be exposed."

"My hand was stayed. I decided that instead I would have to try to kill you later, or let my home kill you for me."

Mystique has posed:
    "I'm pleased we were not put into that situation," murmurs Mystique back, a suggestion in her tone, but her words still conversational. Friendly, even. She's little desire to set the girl on edge, afterall, or get into a contest with her. "There are sometimes you do not have to kill. But, you should not hesitate to do so, when needed. A rash action can have - significant repurcussions. And even an enemy saved can prove a worthy asset down the line. It may help you to study your mark, in such events. You will find, most assuredly, that everyone has terrible secrets, wicked deeds, things that will sate that guilt. A rapist. A person wasting their life away on drugs. An abuser. A competitor. Slavers." If Deadlights wasn't aware there were still slavers in the world, she is, perhaps, now.
    She gestures to the computers, "And today? It is all there. Out. In the open. Easy to find. The fools advertise it. Freely."

Deadlights has posed:
"Some of my ancestors have concerned themselves with such things. Not all have," Maria states. "It has not been my business to concern myself with the struggles and lives of others. If I have an enemy, I kill them. Dead men tell no tales."

She stops to assume a sitting position, resting on her knees, legs under her, hands on her knees. "All that matters is acquiring my treasure and finding a man to disappear into, to continue the burden that comes with the curse of our eyes."

"I also realize I am but one, I am young, and my struggle has just begun. I am not so stupid as to deny help or teachings from those who are older and wiser than I."

Mystique has posed:
    "I am merely pointing out it is a way to ease your conscience. Sometimes, howeer, your instincts - as in this situation, prove correct." Mystique shrugs, a slender, sinuous movement. "There are those that I could have killed, should have killed, in my past. And, they have proven valuable allies years down the road. Because I relied on instinct. And, I thought well in advance." She does not ask, yet, about the treasure that Deadlights state she wishes, or needs, to accumulate. "The more you kill, the less you will care, the less such guilt or feelings will nip at you."
    There is a long pause, thoughtful, "An interesting way, unique, to continue the genetic line."

Deadlights has posed:
"Grandmother said it is the ultimate act of piracy to disappear into a man. He provides us with our lineage, with wealth, with the defensive tower of his family's name, and we vanish from the world with all we have carved away for ourselves. He becomes the mask we wear," Maria explains.

"I feel that it is necessary to learn to kill without conscience, now. Times were softer in the past, even in the days of world war. Now the cover a man gives to our lineage is not enough. The goldfish must become a dragon."

Mystique has posed:
    "First, I highly doubt you will amass the entirety of your treasure within Gotham alone. And, even if you do, those such as Batman will track you down. I did," she points out, mildly. "They can, too. You will need to carve out for yourself safehouses. Equip each of them well. It will take time. And money. I - can help you with that. Of course," she amends, casually, "I would require a measure of compensation. Money - treasure? That is yours. I have more than enough funds of my own. Or ways to accumulate them. Rather, I promose we trade in favors. I can mentor you, and show yo the quick path to finding what you desire and ensuring yourself against unforseen adversaties. And you? Well. Should I need assistance in my own designs, I may request some assistance from you. A mission, a quest, call it what you will, from time to time."
    She pauses, to let Deadlights consider this. "Shall it be an accord, then, Deadlights, my dear?"

Deadlights has posed:
Maria nods in agreement. "I am willing indenture myself to you in order to achieve my end goal. I have many years to attempt to reach it. There is much to see and learn, and your reputation preceeds you. I have but one question for you:"

"Have you done away with your conscience?"

Mystique has posed:
    "Yes." For the most part, this is truth. For the latter? Hers is so twisted that it doesn't seem like conscience anymore. The answer comes swiftly, smoothly. She inclines her head, "Excellent. Then, my dear Deadlights, you and I shall work together, well, I think. We'll begin by getting you some established alternate identities, in other countries. And, a few in other states as well. We'll move on from there."

Deadlights has posed:
Maria nods. "Do you require further information on me? What I can do, what is my given name? How shall I now address you?" She's back to business. The fleeting bit of teenager is swallowed up into the formality and precision of disciplined warrior.

Mystique has posed:
    "Mystique is just fine, for now," she conceeds. "And, if there is, well, further you can do? Such as, I wonder, thermal vision? UV light? X-Ray? What are your full abilities, and your limitations?" She also agrees, "I will need your name, yes. To get you proper, and viable alternate identities."

Deadlights has posed:
"Maria Gloria Zapata Y Alvarez," she says, giving her full name. "Father is Colombian." That explains the dual last names, at least. "Maria is simpler. As I said I can see everything. Through the walls, all the way to the horizon. Beneath me, above me. Anything that is any kind of power is light to my eyes. Magic, radiation, heat, electricity, thought, ripples in time space. Beings that exist outside the eyes of man. I see them all. So long as the energy reaches my eyes, it is my light."

"With my eyes, I can also create pathways for projectiles that go beyond straight lines." Maria takes the hidden blade out once more; she nods to Mystique, and gestures to the countertop. With a flick of the wrist, the blade goes flying - and sticks into a Korean pear *behind* a stack of empty take out containers.

"I speak five languages, I am trained in martial arts, I am a marksman, and I create my own guns and ammunition."

Mystique has posed:
    "Exceptional," says Mystique, meaningfully, at the revelation of the full abilities of the girl. She does, indeed, look impressed. She'd come across some unique powers, abilities, in her time. This, certainly was one of those unique abilities.
    She studies the place where the knife landed, continuing, "And, smart, making your own weapons. Labor intensive, but, untraceable. Get your materials from multiple sources. Mix your shells, your gunpowder, to avoid chemical analysis. The modern era is - more astute, and it is not quite a simple as it was a hundred years ago. Or even fifty. Or, for that matter, twenty."

Deadlights has posed:
"That is why I live here," Maria says, gesturing to the house. "The smell of cooking food hides the mixing of chemicals."

Mystique has posed:
    Mystique smiles, warmly. "I do love a girl who knows what she's doing. A veritable prodigy. You shall be a joy to teach the trade to, Maria." Slowly, she rises now, moving over to the row of guns on the wall. She picks one up, to feel the weight of it, casually. Test it, against her knowledge and experience, to see how good the girl -really- is at this particular craft. "Can you also see into the past? Or, the future? Trails of auras, or manifestations of past actions?"

Deadlights has posed:
The guns are light but solid, the metal forged of an unknown alloy. The designs are precision fire and have little to no carbon buildup. Two in particular are almost T-shaped, having a long extension over the barrel like a night stick. A tonfa gun. A gun-fa.

Maria smiles fully, for the first time. Like any youngster, approval means a lot to her. It's an easy hook to motivate her. "I have never attempted to do so. It's hard enough to sleep some nights. My eyelids do nothing to block my sight. The glasses help, but not always."

Mystique has posed:
    It is natural, from the girl's comment, that Mystique's thoughts traverse to Scott Summers. And his own vision, nearly impossible to control, and his focused visor. She murmurs, "Perhaps I can help with that, also. I make no guarentees. And, without better control or mastery of your abilities - either by your own mind or artificial means, you may not be able to such shut off if you could."

    "Interesting design. Decent weight. Curious alloy." She holds the gun comfortably, naturally, and raises it as if to fire, but she doesn't, of course. She lowers the gun, and puts it back on the rack.
    Yet, she was prepared for this meeting. She reaches into her pocket, and holds out a card to Maria. She does not, however, hand it over. The card merely has an IP address, and a name: Munin_24. "You can leave a message for me here. I will find you. If you need to speak with me. Given the cautions you've already taken - I trust your discretion." The thought goes unspoken that if such is betrayed, she might not come back.

Deadlights has posed:
Maria's pupils narrow to thin lines, plusses on gold. She nods, committing the information to memory. "And do you require anything from me? It is not difficult for me to take my things and move at a moment's notice."

She then adds, almost as an afterthought, "It would be nice to be able to have darkness in which to sleep. I only understand dark as a concept. Nevertheless, if I must live with my eyes forever open, so be it. Suffering is the gateway to wisdom."

Mystique has posed:
    "I would suggest making enough supplies for yourself for the next while, so you have a healthy stock, and moving on. As I said, Batman and those with him will find you, sooner, rather than later if you remain here. Do not press your luck. But, there is nothing immediately pressing that I will require from you. I have a few things I need to take care of on my own agenda."
    She moves, smoothly to Maria, then. Her blue hand is, despite how much combat it's seen, soft, warm, as she touches it to the girls cheek in an intimate fashion, affectionate as a mentor, to student. Elder sister to younger. Mother, to daughter. "A sacrifice, for power," she agrees, the light in her solid yellow orbs bright, the tone approving. "You remind me so much of myself, at your age."

Deadlights has posed:
If this is a ploy, Maria has fallen for it. The girl is canny and well honed, but lacks crucial experience in life and among others. With training and patience, she could be come an incredible asset to whatever Mystique may have in mind.

"If I am fortunate to achieve half of what you have in your life, I will deem myself a success," the girl says quietly, respectfully. She hasn't had this much to smile about in awhile.

Mystique has posed:
    "I will be in touch, soon, if you do not contact me before. I look forward to mentoring you, my dear Maria." There's a warm smile from Mystique, genuine - she's found someone here malleable, and so -ready- to be a near copy of her. A different motivation, but, well, hooks can be added to pull her in one direction, or another. "Until then, do enjoy yourself."