Who: Mystique OT Vogel (NPC) and Destiny What: Mystique follows a lead and finds more than she expected. When: Dec 29 Where: A Cabin in the Yukon Warnings: Torture, Death, the usual.
The lead of the picture had been the pebble that started a rock slide, the memories coming hard and fast at odd times and making Raven's blood race alternately hot and cold. She didn't know what she'd find at the end of this search, whether it would end in triumph or tragedy, but she knew that something would be ending. The more she'd learned as she dug into the work and writings of Herr Vogel, the more convinced she was that he was the same Herr Vogel. The one who'd run the program she'd been recruited into all those years ago. Her handler, she believed the term was. Her own, personal demon.
She hated him. More than she'd ever hated anyone else. He'd made her what she was now, but the evilness, that had been all his. His orders, his desires. He was a Nazi, had been one under Hitler, and as far as she could tell, hadn't changed in the intervening years. Instead of reforming, of seeing the error and the horror of his ways, he'd grown more callous, more evil.
And now he was torturing a mutant.
To Mystique it didn't matter who that mutant was. She hoped, but she always hoped. She didn't even want to hope anymore. No, she didn't want to hope at all. It was too terrible to hope that it was Irene she would find, seeing as whoever it was had been subjected to that bastard.
Once she had a location, easily found to be honest, she'd decided to follow the old maxim that it was easier to beg pardon than ask permission and borrowed the jet Erik had recently acquired for the team's missions. It would take to long to take a commercial flight, and stealing a jet would be almost as tedious.
It only took her an hour to fly to the remote location that the GPS had pinpointed for Vogel's home, and she carefully landed the jet a mile or so away from his cottage. She wanted to give him a surprise, which meant it was best to go the last bit of the journey on foot.
Smiling to herself, she let her body morph into the face of a pleasing young woman as she stepped up to his door and knocked. In fact, it was the face of his granddaughter. Perhaps he'd think it was a surprise visit. Or perhaps he'd have a few doubts about his own sanity. Either way, that was the face she wore as she knocked lightly on his front door.