#solopost

Viktor is at the grand piano again. same beach house, same grand piano lulling the same soothing song. He had forgotten why he had become so attached to for it to show up in his re-occurring dreams, or were these nightmares? It felt like a lost love and a first kiss all at the same time. He hated the vulnerable feeling when he was confound to the dream. Once again he pushes himself away from the grand piano and takes in the surroundings that he was forced to look at every few times a month. But there was a change, he had gazed at the tapestries on the walls far too many times then he would like to admit to know something had changed. No longer were the blurred faces of his family on these paintings, most were blank. He immediately recognized a face on one of them. Jemma, the Heister he had taken to see Alvin, an other man who appeared to be on one of the tapestries. The others his eyes could not seem to focus on no matter how hard he tried. He turned to look out at the beach, but that too had changed. he cautiously approached the large glass wall, and behind it was a concrete wall. He some how recognized it, like when nothing makes sense in your dream, but your mind puts it together for you anyway.

Viktor's experienced hands ran over the polished ivory keys of the grand Piano, his back was to an amber sunset over the endless sea that his beach home looked over. The suns warmth on his back and the music in his ears had him completely immersed in the kind of bliss man was not meant to experience. He played Beethoven's Moonlight sonata and his body swayed to every crescendo and diminuendo. His eyes creped open  for the first time since playing this song, wandering around the circular room, tapestries of his family lined the walls in thick ornate golden frames. The skylight let in plenty of natural lighting, and the polished wooden floor further reflected said light around the rest of the luxurious room. The room begins to shake. His eyes finally wonder to the wine glass on his Piano, fixated on the object now as the wine began to bubble over, becoming a much thicker substance. It ran down his Piano and over the ivory keys, still he played. The liquid touched his hands and he identified it immediately as blood, something his hands had on them many times. The room shakes further and the tapestries on the wall collapse to the ground. Viktor's hands stop moving but the song continued to play. He pushed himself away from the grand Piano and turned to face the radiant sun. But the sun was replaced by an explosion, the size of which a man should not even be able to fathom. Viktor did not look away, he casually traversed the room to stand in front of the magnificent window while the explosion came closer. He extended his arms, welcoming the chaos in to his life that was the flaming death approaching his abode. The flames reached the glass and all he could see was the angry flames dance across the glass and his room was painted in the yellow and red glow of the torrent of flame.   The room shook more and more and Viktor never looked away from the flames, he knew what happened next. Viktor woke up to a dark room, concrete walls and florescent lights, the place looked more suited for a prison than a "safe room". He lay on his back on the old box-spring mattress that had been "installed" as a temporary sleeping quarters. To his side his suit was hung up, there was no blankets so he remained mostly dressed should any of his comrades have need of entering the safe room. The radio/clock played an old jazzy tune and displayed the time as three forty nine AM. He wouldn't be getting back to sleep so he may as well get to work early. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and brushed his short hair out of his eyes. It was then off to the coffee machine to put on the pot, and then to the wall of computer screens.

Loki nearly pouted when he realised that he wouldn't be able to directly take part in the assault. With his brother around, he didn't know if he'd be able to get away with much of anything. Instead, he - as Amber - bid Duncan and the others fare-well. Ruby lips placed a kiss on the man's cheek, and she made him promise he would come back safe and take out a few of the muttie freaks for her.

Once they moved out, he got to the Institute as quickly as he could, making himself invisible to the others. Tensions were high at the Institute. He could practically taste it. Slipping out, he avoided them and went about the grounds. All he needed to do was mess with a few things here or there... tamper with the security a bit,  allow easier access points and set traps for the humans to get caught in. Both sides would suffer for his cause. And oh, it was sweet.

This was the first major strike that his pawns were going to take against one another. When the dust settled, Amber would welcome Duncan with open arms and Luke would limp back, injured but free from the anti-mutant grasp. There would certainly be a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, a heart to turn stony. No harm would come to dear Ororo, of course, so she need not worry...

He tore his gaze away from the computer screen and glanced over at where Pietro slept. On the table near them was a tray containing the dishes from the meal - if the large collection of food could be called that - he'd had Pietro eat the night before. If he were a logical man, he would be cleaning the dishes and cooking more to make sure his beloved got better. At the moment, though, he was lost in thought.

Remy reached in to his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Tucked in to one of the card slots, wedged in fairly well, was a folded photograph.

Wedding of Bella Donna Boudreaux and Remy Etienne LeBeau

All this talk of weddings - though it was mostly his bringing up, he really should stop looking at bridal sites to see if there's a dress Pietro would like - was making him remember his own. Other than all the hell his brother-in-law unleashed and what happened after, it was a pretty nice day.

Sighing deeply, he tucked the photograph away again and looked over at Pietro, wondering when it would be a good time to tell him about her. Not that she posed a threat to him or anything like that. So far as he knew, said the omnipresent narrator, his wife was dead and burried. He was technically a widower, and even if he weren't they would probably be divorced for what he did to her brother.

These newspapers showed that his plans were going absolutely wonderfully. Whatever humans were assisting him - albeit unwittingly - deserved to be commended, to receive some sort of reward. Perhaps a faster death? One without pain? Certainly that can be arranged. Loki grinned and flipped through the pages for more, pouting when no more articles were showing the rising hostility in the mainstream media. Oh, that would not do. Not until every page had something about what they'd labeled the Mutant Menace (quite a catchy phrase!) would he be at least slightly satisfied.

Tossing the useless pages aside, the God stood and walked to his mirror. Well, one of his mirrors. It was so simple, travelling between the Institute and the Worthington mansion, playing both his parts. Most of the time, he pretended to be sweet, innocent Luke. He spent his time with Ororo and discussing the "unusual" string of pranks that were being played... in the midst of setting up new and more interesting traps to harass Logan. Oh, the animal in him was bound to come out. The stress from the unseen prankster, the rising hostility, it was absolutely perfect.

At the exact moment, he stood in front of the mirror at the Worthington mansion, in the small room he'd been given, due to the necessity of his presence there. Or, more accurately, Amber's presence. She was a nurse that Duncan was fond of, and he was injured. It was only right that she be present, yes? She could monitor his health, keep him company, and provide a pleasant view inside these walls.

And this form was rather pleasant. He smoothed his hands over her hips, adjusting the skirt and top until it was most pleasing. There were no more scrubs here, he was able to wear anything he pleased so long as he did his job. Tops just low cut enough and skirts just short enough to leave some to the imagination, and it was the imagination that captivated his favourite human thusfar.

Amber walked past the security and flashed them a smile, making her way to where Duncan was throwing his knife. It seemed to keep him occupied. "You really shouldn't do that, honey." Her voice was soft, sweet as she moved him, having him sit so she could check his mostly healed wounds. Duncan seemed to love when she was close to him, perhaps due to their being close like this. He told her everything about what was being planned. It fit perfectly. They were going to attack the Institute soon, an open strike against the mutants in the name of liberty.

Beautiful

She whispered in his ear, wraped her arms around him, smiled, encouraged him, shared his hatred, and twisted him around her finger even more. But she left him, walking away and leaving him without what he undoubtedly desired. Back in the room, her form changed back in to that of Luke, and he stood once more in front of the mirror. It took mere seconds before he was exiting his room at the Institute, searching for Ororo or Logan or any of the students to express his concern and his fears. They needed to remain calm, did they not? There was absolutely no possibility that they would be attacked. It would be too obvious, right?

She sat on the chairs by the island, elbow upon the counter, cheek lazily resting on her knuckles. Laura flipped the pages of the magazine one by one, her eyes narrowing at the sight of a particular report. Simply by glancing at the name, she felt a few veins pop, face remaining composed but temperature rising. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. 

With as much control as possible, Laura released a sigh as her eyes traced over words and names far too familiar. Trask, Stryker, Hunters, Prowlers, Mark-2's.... she knew it all. Slamming the newspaper shut with so much force she almost dented the marble countertop, Laura clicked her tongue before smirking. Something must have halted their study of Sentinel's, because last she remembered, Mark-2's had been considered new at her time at S.H.I.E.L.D. Smiling smugly, she spoke to no one in particular. "Seem's their engineer's lost their favorite subject for testing those pieces of shit."

Even though she found a bit of solace in that small fact, Laura couldn't help but notice the headline on the front cover. "The Mutant Registration Act is the only solution," - Senator Kelly. Adjusting her position in the seat, Laura clasped her hands together, now resting her chin on her intertwined knuckles. S.H.I.E.L.D., the Registration Act... It was disgusting how such sick ideals seemed to have such a stronghold on the ways of society. The people who ran them all were not any less 'corrupted' as they accused the mutants to be. 

Forefingers now nursing her temples, Laura felt a headache of frustration coming on. Strkyer...Trask...Kelly...It was all so hypocritical that it made her sick to her stomach.  She stood, taking a moment to collect herself, before making her way over to the fridge. The girl pulled out a water bottle, eyes glancing nonchalontly at the rest of the contents. Cake. Jello. Ham. Orange juice. Butter. Pizza. "We eat the same as you," She murmured softly. "Live the same as you, and have a sect of insane radicals, just like you."