Lost Siblings

September 25, 2018:

Lorna learns that her siblings have gone missing, and reaches out to their father for help. Magneto emitted by Pietro.

Mutant Town, New York


NPCs: Magneto

Mentions: Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Frenzy


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Chaos reigns in New York, but Mutant Town — surprisingly — is a little more orderly about its response to the mess. Perhaps because many more of its denizens are capable of defending themselves… perhaps because those denizens are used to having to defend themselves. It helps also that they have options such as the quiet protection of the Brotherhood, for those who wish to stay, or the evacuation routes provided by the X-Men, for those who wish to leave.

But there has been a subtle shift in the feel of the neighborhood ever since yesterday. Known members of the Brotherhood have left their posts and are moving about the neighborhood erratically, only a few steps above 'milling around.' They seem to be looking for something — or someone.

Or someones.

One of those people, it seems, is Lorna. Wherever she might be in the neighborhood on this evening, she will find herself approached by a young woman she knows to be one of the more assertive among the Brotherhood's ranks. A visible mutant with bioluminescent tracery running along her veins, the aptly-named Tracer seems much more ill at ease than she typically is.

Lorna had just arrived with another transport of emergency supplies. Demons and battles, buildings catching on fire and assorted magic nonsense never played well with things like utilities such as New York's power grid and water. The transport from the X-men had been used to haul a few more supplies to help people in Mutant Town bunker down without having to leave anytime soon. The plan was also to load up more refugees that wished to leave, once it was empty and drive it back out of the city.

There was also that whole building thing with Emma Frost and Lorna desperately wanted to check on it for demonic issues. Her list of things to do grew ever longer.

The green haired woman was suited up in the clothes she typically reserved for her Mutant Town visits. Nothing as flashy as an official costume, but neither was it poorly made. Expensive leather jacket, studded through with metal bits and pieces, jeans and steel toed boots. Only now, her hair wasn't hidden, dyed dark, or otherwise disguised and left to fall free around her shoulders.

When the Brotherhood member approached, Lorna turned, pausing from lowering the last of the crates from the transport to the ground and passing it off to another group of mutants that braved the twilight dark streets for supplies and cast cautious glances to the shadows.

"Tracer?" She shoved glanced over her shoulder, as she waved her hand the transport shutting and locking the doors behind her as she closed the distance between her and the other mutant woman.

Something isn't quite right. Tracer is typically self-assured, a sub-leader of the Brotherhood cells in her own right, but something has her unnerved.

"Polaris," she says, perhaps not feeling quite entitled to use the woman's given name with her, "Thank God. I don't know who else to tell, or who else could reach Magneto, if he might…"

She licks her lips, darts a glance at the crates, and finishes, "The Twins… your brother and sister… no one has seen or heard from them since yesterday evening. Have they spoken to you at all? I've tried to trace them."

She transparently tries again — her use of her power visible as a flare of that bioluminiscence along her arms. Her eyes go pupilless, glowing as she attempts to find a route. "I cannot trace to your brother at all. It's like he's not even on the planet anymore. And your sister — "

She frowns, apparently receiving unexpected new data. "Your sister isn't even in the country anymore."

Lorna shifted forward as she picked up on the distress in Tracer's posture, in her halting manner and she leaned her body closer so the woman wouldn't have to raise her voice. Her expression pinched as she waited, giving the woman plenty of time to collect herself. Of course, as Tracer continued onward, Lorna's expression darkened. "Magneto? My father, what—" She broke off, swallowing her demands as Tracer broke off and tried again. This time, she didn't even try to interrupt. She blinked against the flickering of the woman's luminescence glowed in stark relief against the dimness that was now New York, her hand rising to rub at her eyes.

Even as she swallowed down the sharp bite of anxiety that lurched to her throat as the woman mentioned something wrong with Pietro and Wanda. That they'd gone missing, beyond just in hiding, but missing. Now, when demons lurked everywhere and Mutant Town desperately needed them.

"What? What do you mean like he's not on the planet anymore? Are you sure it's not a collar? He—" She swallowed a lump that struck the back of her throat. There was one rather definitive way that Tracer wouldn't be able to find her brother. If the worst had happened.

Lorna shook her head, dragging her hands through her hair. "Do you know roughly what direction Wanda is in? Any estimate on distance? Over seas? She.. she could be in Genosha?"

"She's not in Genosha," Tracer admits. "She's… somewhere in Eastern Europe." Confusion knots Tracer's features, even as the glow dims from her eyes and her elaborate tracery fades back down to simple markings. "I can't pinpoint where, but she's out that way. Why would she be there? And how did she get there so quickly…?"

Tracer shakes her head. As far as Pietro? "It's not a collar," she says. "My powers trace the person, not the powers. I can trace either humans or mutants, no problem. If I haven't been able to trace someone before, it's because something is blocking me, or…" Or they are dead. She doesn't have to finish the sentence.

The mutant exhales a sigh. "Frenzy's already going crazy looking for them, mobilizing what Brotherhood can be spared. But I wanted to find you, because I thought you should know, and I thought… you might have some connections, too."

Lorna held her breath as Tracer filled in the details about where her sister might be, not Genosha, of course not. That would be too easy. That would mean safe. And no one in their family ever had luxury of that. Eastern Europe though was a new thought, and something to latch onto. The green haired mutant could pass word along to their father's people, Genosha was closer after all, and there were mutants there that could help—

How did she get there so fast?

Lorna didn't think Wanda could teleport. If she could, Pietro and her would have, right? But then again, Wanda had rather explainable powers..

She didn't particularly want to think of what else might have forced Wanda anywhere. Didn't want to think about what or who could've forced Wanda to do anything. Or Pietro.

Pietro.. who was..

The green haired woman exhaled a rough breath, jamming her hands into the pocket of her jacket and ripping free a rather fancy, flat and polished looking phone. It was beyond what was on the markets here in the United States, or really anywhere these days. The screen flared to life and her fingers tapped away at the screen rapidly. Her gaze flickered back toward Tracers.

"So someone must be blocking your powers, and Wanda must.. must have teleported herself to the other side of the world somehow. Maybe Wanda is blocking Pietro from others." She rationalized, trying and failing not to stop the panic from curling in her stomach and slicing down her spine. The message sent with a rather forceful tap of her thumb and she shoved it back into her pocket.

Tracer's eyes dart automatically to the phone when Lorna pulls it out, though she doesn't try to look at the screen or comment. Not really her place. "It could be anything," she says. "When I'm blocked, I can't tell what exactly is blocking me, whether it's technology, magic, or something else. It could be any one of our enemies — there's a lot. Trask, the people behind those enhanced mutant things, anyone who wants to see registration pass unhindered…"

She looks around, at the rents in the sky dropping demons. "It could be whatever's behind all this." That's the most obvious problem, right here and now.

The mutant heaves a sigh. "I'm sorry. I don't know much more. This is all I can tell you so far. I should get back to it… someone has to look after this place until we find them." Until. Very optimistic words.

Lorna nodded, hoping that her typical point of contact to Genosha responded quickly to their father. She hoped for a lot of things. A glance at the sky above seared the frown deeper into her expression and she glowered up at the dark ripple where demons came and went from where ever it was. Since Nate had fallen from the sky a few days ago, she knew a few sketchy details at best. Rachel's report hadn't really been a report so much as a text.

Whatever was happening, would continue to rain down on Mutant Town.

"I'll stay here until they come back. Or when I hear anything about their locations." She too refused to think, or even give voice to the worst case scenarios that were threatening to overwhelm her. Pietro was alive. Wanda was somewhere in Eastern Europe and was alive. They would be found, it would all work out.

It was a mantra that ran through her mind as she swallowed the urge to panic. Panic would lead to her powers warping and destroying anything around her.

Tracer nods, looking probably about how Lorna feels, but she stiff upper lips it, and sketches a short bow to Lorna. "I'll hope for some good news," she says, before she takes her leave.

Time passes. Though perhaps not as much time as Lorna might fear. It's only a few hours before a message returns to her, unsigned, no indication whether it is directly from Magneto or from an Acolyte. Or even just a generated message from Ferris:

Stay where you are.

It is another half hour before there is a warping of the air in front of her. An astral window, of sorts, tunneling from Genosha all the way to New York City. Magneto may not be able to leave the country at the moment, but he has an Acolyte army's worth of workarounds to exploit.

Her father's familiar martial form is visible through the window, along with a glimpse of his surroundings — his office in the Spire. Her vantage point affords her a view out to the idyllic sunset sky of the island, looking peaceful and very much… not like the sky of Mutant Town.

He is not armored, nor cloaked, though as always he appears fully absorbed in work. He is leaned over a holographic projection of the island, though to what end is hard to say.

Magneto finally straightens up when the connection is fully established. His blue eyes take her in at a glance, sweep up to the sky and the demons raining from the heavens, before he simply returns his gaze to hers. As if demonic invasions were not particularly worth his notice — or, perhaps more accurately, as if he has already fully briefed himself on the situation, and has little reaction he cares to show. "I trust there is a reason you have called, Lorna," is his greeting.

In the time it took for the message to come through, Lorna had stuck herself into the driver's seat of the transport. She was giving people time, time for those that wanted to leave to organize and decide. Time for someone from the mansion to come and drive the transport back. Lorna had every intention of keeping her word. She'd stay in Mutant Town until her siblings returned or until she had a location or something to do.

Pietro and Wanda would want Mutant Town protected.

It wasn't as if she didn't have a place to stay either.

Then came the tell tale buzz of her phone, a glance at the screen and she read over the message, her brows furrowing. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected, but seeing a projection of her father in Genosha at his office in The Spire, hadn't been it. Why couldn't he call like normal person?

Her lips pursed as she sat up in the seat, peering at her father with a frown as he glanced upwards to the sky and seemingly beyond before those icy blues landed on her.

"I'd love to say I missed you, but our family doesn't really do that." She quipped, "Pietro and Wanda are missing. Pietro.. our trackers can't trace him here. And Wanda is apparently somewhere in Eastern Europe. Someone needs to go to her, Genosha is closer. And someone needs to get there as soon as possible." Her voice broke into a gritted cadence as she spoke about Wanda. She was worried and it was apparent in everything from her body language to her tone.

The question, as posed to Magneto, would have yielded a dry response: why use human technology, when a mutant's powers provide the same service in a much more useful and powerful way?

Something almost — almost — like a shade of amusement crosses his features at her hurried quip. Perhaps it's why he allows her to speak on unhindered, getting out all her fears and worries in one rush of words. Magneto is a great one for speeches, but he is also a great one for listening, and he listens quite closely as the details are unveiled.

What he hears freezes all that brief geniality and almost-amusement. His expression goes flat, then glacial. Hypothermic, when she mentions 'Eastern Europe. Pietro's blue eyes have nothing on his father, who originated them and their icy shade. In them, the observant might catch a brief flicker of something very like raw fury. A tint of outrage.

Then it's gone, and Magneto's expression is merely cold, expressionless with the timeless patience of falling snow. He returns his attention to his map.

"Does your urgency imply that you feel this to be some targeted strike?" he inquires. "Against me and mine? Like as not, your brother has run himself into some foolishness again." A muscle tightens tellingly in his jaw. "It will be handled, as I deem to handle it. I have sent Exodus from my side."

A pause. He glances askance at her, in Mutant Town, surrounded by Brotherhood and ostensibly by X-Men. "Remain where you are until more is known."

Lorna didn't have any qualms with telling her father exactly what she thought or felt at any given moment. Perhaps it was born out of having lived with him for nearly six months. Perhaps it was simply that she didn't care what he thought of her. The frigidity of his glare though stalled her, and caught her breath as momentarily as it was. Then it was gone and her father was simply as he always was, productive, moving, thinking. Constantly in motion one way or another, much like Pietro.

Then he was trying to follow why she was so urgent and she leaned forward, her expression twisting. "I'm urgent because Pietro and Wanda have been missing since yesterday and our people here can't find them! Something happened. And someone is blocking us from Pietro!" She hissed, defensiveness creeping into her tone.

And then he mentioned Exodus.. and she stilled, jarred from the pitched tone of her own rising worry and fear.

She sat back, her frame pushing against the cushion of the car's chair as he told her to stay still. "I already planned to stay in Mutant Town and protect it. They were doing that. Pietro and Wanda, they disappeared from here."

"Lorna," Magneto says, without taking his attention from his map, "When I say it will be handled, it will be handled."

After a few moments, he finally looks up at her. His voice is cold, and there is a sense the frigidity of it is not necessarily for her. "I assure you I do not take insults against my flesh lightly."

He regards her a moment, before that moment of censure passes. Her statement she plans to stay in Mutant Town and protect it draws a short nod. "Good," he says in that infuriating way fathers have, as if it were his idea and she had just acquiesced to it. "There are yet many of our people who need aid, and there is no call to make yourself a target as well."

He rests a hand on the edge of the holographic table, looking at the map without seeing it. "My Acolytes will see to this," he says, though there is a hint of trouble in his gaze, a long-ago memory haunting his blue eyes. "But that it would be Eastern Europe…"

Magneto trails off, uncharacteristically lost in brief thought, before he shakes his head, aware of that brief breach in front of his daughter.

A normal father would comfort his child at this juncture. "Calm yourself," says Magneto. "I taught you a hundred lessons about patience. It was for times like these, when there is no profit to panic. When more is known, we shall speak again."

Panic was dangerous for all mutants, panic was when powers fluctuated the most and people lost control. For Lorna, it was a dangerous recipe, tied as her emotions were to the strength of her powers. She knew better, and oddly enough her father's cool, icy, gaze and voice got through it. He had spent enough time coaching her through the past year on meditation, on what to do to school her emotions and not allow the magnetic fields to control her.

Even though she knew better, it was a difficult thing to master.

Still, her hands folded and she shifted in the drivers seat, the chair scooting back by virtue of her powers so she could properly fold her legs beneath her. Her gaze still locked onto her father's figure and that of the map.

Lorna watched him with rapt focus, noting the way he trailed off, the way his gaze went unfocused and lost in to his memories. It wasn't the first time she had witnessed such from her father. Nor did she suspect it would be the last. Rare as the event was, it always, always, had to deal with his wife. With the family he had lost.

She couldn't blame him too terribly for that at least. Even if it hurt to see. Magda got a square. Suzanna Dane got nothing.

A rough exhale followed as her father's voice dragged her from her thoughts once more, her gaze swinging back to him as he told her to calm down and reminded her of those exact same lessons he'd drilled in her repeatedly just a month ago.

"Yeah well, pot meet kettle." She drawled, "I'll be here."

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