Chapter Seven:
Mystique walked slowly down the corridor from her quarters, moving silently on bare feet. She did not expect to meet anyone as she headed toward Magneto's office, so she strolled slowly, reflecting on her previous night's rendezvous with pleasure. After three weeks on her mission in Chicago, she was glad to know Erik had missed her presence as much as she had missed his.
Since his escape from Stryker's plastic prison, Erik had a renewed motivation for his work…and a new passion for all things he had been denied during his unlawful incarceration. In the end, Mystique had been the most instrumental key to his escape, a fact which Magneto would not forget. Their loyalty to each other was fused stronger than it had ever been, and they were more powerful because of it.
As she passed one metallic wall, Mystique noticed her reflection there and paused. She stared at her true face silently, with cold yellow eyes. Her skin, the richest blue, was bare and she examined her shape and figure carefully. With all the forms she forced her body into, she always wondered if her true body would always stay so pliable.
She was not a young woman, though she had always taken pride in keeping her body to its most perfect form. Her muscles were defined and powerful, molded from decades of training with men twice her strength. Her curves were smooth, though her figure was different from when she was younger. She would not have used her mutation to hide her true appearance even if it had been less than perfect. If she was to be proud of her true form, she would make it something to be proud of.
No one noticed the changes she saw in herself, however, because no one in the Brotherhood had known her in her youth. They had no point of comparison, and they were not about to question Mystique's perfect form. The reason her hips (among other things) were not as they were when she was young was a secret known only to her, and to Erik. Having a child left any woman's body changed, and Mystique preferred the curves of her age more than the lankiness she had as a child.
As she stared at her reflected, she shifted, changing her face, her skin, her hair, her eyes, until she was molded into a different form. She had not changed much, just the coloring, giving her skin a pale complexion, making her hair blonde and wavy, watching her eyes change from yellow to green.
The image was still beautiful, her face keeping the same shape, her expression even and blank, but for Mystique it was a horrible mask. This was the face she hid behind for most of her young life, creating a lie of normalcy, living with a bitter guilt about deceiving those who loved her. At least, those who seemed to love her until they discovered she was a mutant…
Those she loved…before.
She felt nothing for anyone in her life before the Brotherhood. She regarded the images of her past as one would an old photo album filled with faces she would rather forget. And she had done just that, she had forgotten; she had been able to keep those memories locked away for decades…until someone from her past appeared again.
Appeared…right out of thin air.
Mystique forced her face back to her own, and watched her past disappear again. All there was now was Mystique, and no other.
Identity…this is who she was, this is who she had always been. In all her many shapes, everyone else she could become, everyone else she had been…what it came down to was herself, her own identity, Mystique. And, she was not about to let a piece of the long forgotten past distract her from who she truly was.
And, yet, a voice resounded in her head. A soft, gentle voice…so much like his father's…
Why not stay disguised all the time? he had asked her, You know, look like everyone else?
"Because I am no one else," she said aloud, "This is who I am. I have always been…me."
With one slow breath, Mystique gathered herself again, any trace of disturbance rolling away from her perfect blue face. She was like a painting, a statue, aloof and unfeeling.
Not...entirely unfeeling.
Mystique continued walking until she reached the round corridor to Magneto's office. She heard a metallic clicking echoing from within, and smiled darkly.
***
Magneto was sitting at his desk, typing quickly on the keyboard embedded in the surface before him. A monitor displayed information about dozens of mutants, from newspapers, police reports, even the permanent records from several different high schools. They were powerful mutants, some orphaned or in foster homes, some incarcerated for any number of crimes, but all suffering from being discovered as mutants. Discriminated, ostracized, and even physically attacked for simply being different.
These were the ones Magneto would find. These were the mutants he wanted for his Brotherhood. Torn, angry, hurt…all at the hands of human beings. He would show them the glory of who they were, the superiority of mutants over their homo sapien oppressors.
From the long hall leading into his office, he saw a figure walking towards him, her movement soft, feminine, meant only for him, and he smiled.
Mystique stepped into the room and walked towards his desk.
They did not speak, but their faces expressed what they were thinking.
Magneto was ready to start gathering more Brothers to him. He was ready to take the next step towards mutant freedom. And, he would start by finding one of the most powerful mutants who had ever lived.
He stood, and met her gaze at eye level. Mystique glanced down at the monitor and frowned slightly when she saw photos of herself, in other forms, as she encountered their targets on the open city streets. Magneto saw her agitation and smiled reassuringly.
Just because she worked in disguise did not mean she was betraying her true self. For that was what made her special, what made her a mutant, her ability, her power. As Magneto could effect metal, so she could effect the perceptions of others. Each mutant to their own gifts, each mutant to themselves.
Magneto and Mystique stared as each other for a long moment.
He, a lost and broken little boy, made himself into something stronger, superior to what he was.
She, a girl with no identity but lies, made herself into a woman of simple purpose and truth.
Together, two of the most powerful beings on the planet.
"When?" Mystique asked.
"Soon," Magneto replied.
Her eyes narrowed, "Victor?"
He nodded, "On his way…"
"You're sure?" she asked, sounding doubtful.
"Of course," he replied.
"Who else?" she asked.
"All of us…" he replied.
Mystique considered this for a moment, but he continued before she could question him again.
"You have no idea what that woman can do," he said, "She destroyed an entire town in barely ten minutes…out of vengeance. I wonder what she may do…if we threaten her children."
"How do you know she isn't dead? Or that she would even care?" Mystique asked coldly.
Magneto did not reply, but turned the monitor around for Mystique to watch.
It was the first video, the first found by Deathstrike. It showed the girl, the one they had been watching in Chicago, and the woman grabbing her from behind, holding out one hand protectively as the footage ends with the explosion.
Mystique met Magneto's gaze again. He looked confident and unyielding, and regarded her with measured significance.
"Mothers…" he said, "I've learned…always know what becomes of their children. They know if their children are in danger…they know if their children are among the enemy…"
Mystique's face became like stone, and after a moment, she replied.
"Yes," she said, "We do."