Prompt Post: ROUND TWO
ROUND TWO IS CLOSED
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Rules post.
Flat view.
ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)
ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get my modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
<< ROUND ONE | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND THREE >>
Rules post.
Flat view.
ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)
ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get my modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
Erik's first thought was that this was the man Charles could have become, if he had seen things Erik's way, if he had walked off that beach with him that fateful day.
Mystique and Azazel accompanied him to the little town in Southern California where the traveling carnival was supposed to be, and for the first three days, Erik waited, ignoring the frquency of the growing glances exchanged between his two charges. He wanted to see what this Wyngarde character was capable of, wanted to see if his cheap mentalist tricks were a front for a power so crippling that it would leave Charles blindsided.
On the fourth day, he headed down to the carnival, looking like any other normal tourist in a black turtleneck and jeans, while Mystique wore an unintentionally hilarious disguise as his Pollyanna church-going wife. It took them three tries to find the mentalist's booth, because it was so out of the way, and Mystique finally spotted him behind the House of Mirrors. The booth was broken down and ill-maintained, decorated only with a banner that proclaimed, 'THE AMAZING MASTERMIND!'
Behind the booth, there sat a man with dark eyes and dark hair, his beard neatly trimmed. Much like how Azazel would have looked like, had he been human.
Erik watched first as potential customers - there were not many - would warily approach the booth, and the man would give them a disinterested glance before waving them on, saying he was on his break. Disgusted, customers would walk away, complaining loudly, and Erik wondered why this man was even here to begin with. Not as purposeful as Charles, and not as focused. Erik began to wonder what exactly he was looking for, and why he was even bothering with this man.
"Erik." Mystique's whisper jolted him from his thoughts, and he realised that the Mastermind had finally agreed to take on a customer. Two Marines were standing in front of his booth, jolly and relaxed on their day off, and the mentalist told the blond one to close his eyes.
The Marine did so, his smile a little indulgent as his friend was saying, "Ooooh, you are getting very sleepy..."
"Quiet," the Mastermind said, and Erik could hear the tone of command all the way from here.
With both men subdued, the Mastermind started frowning at the blond Marine, whose smile was slipping. "Hey, what-" Now his eyes were open, but they were glassy and unseeing. "Oh my God, where the hell am I?"
"Mike?" The other Marine was waving his hand frantically in front of his friend's face. "C'mon, cut it out!"
"Jake, where are you? Where the hell is this place?" Then the blond Marine stilled for a second, and even Erik was taken aback when he started screaming and clawing at his face, running off towards the Ferris Wheel with his panicking friend in tow.
As the Mastermind sat back with a smirk, Erik turned and nodded at Mystique, and together, they approached the mentalist's booth.
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The Mastermind was just as dismissive with Erik and Mystique when they approached him, barely sparing them a glance before he drawled, "Booth's not open." He seemed more interested in filing his nails, buffing them to a shine while humming something off-key (deliberately, Erik was sure) under his breath. The mentalist's very being was dripping with nonchalance, but Erik knew better. He had seen cobras like this before, quiet and still, but poised to strike.
"We were just curious about what you did to that Marine," Mystique said, once it was apparent that Erik wasn't going to say anything first. "Why did he take off like that?"
"God knows," the mentalist said, his lips twisting up into a smirk. "Maybe he had heatstroke."
"Or maybe you showed him something so terrible that he ran off." Erik's voice was low and calm, but something in it made the Mentalist look up, silently assessing the two of them seriously for the first time.
"Sure, if you believe in that sort of thing," he finally said, before going back to his nails, filing them a little harder than necessary. "Anyway, show's over, folks."
"Oh, I don't think so." It barely cost Erik a flicker of effort to make that annoying nail file jump out of the mentalist's hands and float up into the air in a spiral, leaving its owner gawking at it. Out of the corner of his eye, Erik could sense Mystique looking out for any nosy customer or carnie walking past, but they were still alone. "Something tells me your booth is now open for business, Mr. Wyngarde."
Surprise registered on the mentalist's face. "How do you-" His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Erik. "Are you from the Brotherhood?"
Erik didn't answer, but the nail file was now hovering dangerously close to the mentalist's left eyeball. His face remained impassive, but the way his knuckles were whitening as he gripped the table told Erik the real story. "Willing to talk now?"
The mentalist nodded once, sharply. The nail file clattered to the ground, and Erik gave him a wide, wide smile which made him draw back.
"Excellent, Mr. Wyngarde. Now, let us talk."
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His gaze now rested on the mentalist, hunched over his black coffee as he grudgingly listened to Mystique. He had given up Charles, for this?
"So what are you saying?" he said, once Mystique was done and sipping her iced tea. "Are you saying you want me to join you?"
"Not so easy, Mr. Wyngarde," Erik said. "Membership is, shall we say, exclusive."
"Huh." The mentalist stirred his coffee once, twice. His eyes were fixed on Erik the whole time. "So you want a demo?"
Erik wobbled his hand in the air slightly. "You could say that. We have heard great things, Mr. Wyngarde, and we just thought that a man of your talents could use some work instead of sitting in a booth and tormenting random customers."
Now Wyngarde was laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkling with good humour. "Torment? I like how you automatically assume I use my ability for evil."
"Am I wrong?" Erik's voice was soft and dangerous.
"Erik, forget it." Mystique's words were clipped and short. "This guy is wasting our time."
"No." Erik remembered the last time he had thought someone to be utterly unassuming and harmless, and how this someone had turned his life inside out, reached into the deepest recesses of his mind and showed him goodness that he thought had been snuffed out along with his mother's life. "Let him try."
The mentalist's smile was crooked, and a little disorienting. "With her?" he gestured at Mystique, who stiffened.
"No." Erik leaned forward and stared at the mentalist straight in the eye. Pick on someone your own size. "With me."
The white light washed his mind like a photographic flash, and his first thought was that the fucker had taken a picture of him, and he was going to rip that camera apart and strangle him with the cord. Then he heard someone calling his name, and his second thought was that Mystique's voice sounded odd, as though it had gone down a few octaves, and that it had never filled him with this warmth before.
"Erik?"
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You're doing it exactly the way I've imagined.
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Genius.
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