Mason Sullivan || Pietro Maximoff (thefastestman) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2012-03-19 21:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | mason sullivan, willette sullivan |
WHO: Mason and Willette Sullivan
WHERE: The X-Mansion in Chicago
WHEN: Early morning, Tuesday
WHAT: When you put the Maximoff siblings together, destruction happens.
WARNINGS: Language probably. Hello. Mason and Willette.
It should have been a beautiful, picturesque morning. There was a light fog that rolled across Lake Michigan, birds were beginning to chirp with the early signs of spring--despite the city landscape. It was mostly pigeons and gulls, but the sound was reminiscent of some bullshit painter's view of a perfect place. Compared to New York, Chicago was beautiful and clean, and a great attraction to people. Early workers were beginning to emerge from their dwellings with the sounds of starting cars and grumpy talk. For Mason, it wasn't wake-up time. He'd been up since the day before, a proverbial night owl who went to sleep when most were waking up. He'd never have gotten up this early in the morning if it hadn't been worth it.
"It amazes me how continuously stupid they are," Mason mused out loud to his sister as the two of them stared up at the gates surrounding the infamous X-Mansion. Xavier's Institute for Gifted Learners, the headquarters of the X-Men, the arch-nemeses to the Brotherhood since its inception. Pietro's conflict with the X-Men traced back to his daddy issues, of course, and Mason would never be presumptuous enough to claim that the same didn't go for him. The majority of his life's turns could be traced back to his attempt to stick it to the man already six feet under; it didn't mean he was ashamed of it. "I mean, really, they know we exist and that I kicked the shit out of their little friend, but still nothing. It's like they want something bad to happen."
There was a can of gasoline in Mason's hand and a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips. He wasn't a heavy smoker on a usual day; on the contrary, he had the occasional drag in social settings. In this case, the nicotine rush provided a spark necessary for the contents of his can. It was just the beginnings of the plans he and Willette had for the mansion--petty vandalism at its best. After all, put together Pietro and Wanda and it was a recipe for destruction. How nobody had figured this out yet still baffled him.
"Want to start with the front of the back? Bastards are probably sleeping, and if you can cut out the alarm system we can trash everything before they even wake up."