RP - Late Breaking News
[ooc: a response to Pyro's attack on a Friends of Humanity building.]
Doug's always been a night owl - losing track of time in the computer labs and basement levels of the school, with no sense of the outside world. Lately, though, he's had other reasons to stay up late. His days are busy, with college applications, the occasional modeling audition or shoot, and the usual work for the Institute. Night is when he can catch up with Pyro, and the other more-than-interesting email on his password-protected server. What the government wouldn't give for this stuff: an ongoing travel commentary from Dr. Doom; Mr. Sinister puzzling over netspeak; Magneto's girlfriend problems. And Pyro in a cowboy hat.
Heh. Doug vaguely remembers that - some kind of amateur production for some kids laid low with measles or flu or god knows what. But, as usual, he'd seen it all with a glance on his way to the library or to discuss security protocols with Mr. Summers. The times he had seen Pyro out of class, he'd normally seemed so dark and brooding, flipping his lighter open and closed, staring at a fixed point in space. Sometimes Doug had thought about going over, about asking what was up, but he had figured he knew what the response would be: "Fuck off, Cypher, who asked you?"
In some ways, Pyro's exactly that brooding boy from years ago, and in other ways nothing like he expected at all. Even with an ocean separating them, and only having seen each other two brief times since Providence, Doug feels like he's got to know the other boy (man?) pretty well. There are those stupid sorts of questions you come up with at 4am that you'd never ask any time, but you just really need to know the answer to anyway. The stuff that probably married couples never get to ask.
But Pyro isn't online tonight. Doug puts his feet up on the desk and leans back in his chair, idly tapping at the mouse, scrolling through the latest tests in the Institute's security measures. After a while, an alert pops up on the screen - breaking news. He's programmed it to tell him whenever a story comes online mentioning anyone he knows (and it's a fairly frequent occurence).
He begins reading the story with a smile - at least he knows where Pyro is, now - and finishes it with both feet on the floor, face close to the screen, re-reading each word.
Anyone with information about the whereabouts of Erik “Magneto” Lehnsherr, John “Pyro” Allerdyce, or other members of the Brotherhood, is urged to contact the proper authorities.
Pyro's killed some people. Maybe - if he was correct - Friends of Humanity members, a neo Ku Klux Klan. Maybe - if he was misinformed - some innocent workers at an animal shelter, not to mention the animals themselves.
Doug forces himself not to have any emotional response to this whatsoever, and silently re-reads the press releases. Creed's is obviously a lot of bullshit. Even apart from his bigoted comments about mutants, and human superiority, the mention of a baby rabbit is pushing sympathy a little far. Unfortunately, the Brotherhood statement, while a little better written, has similar bigoted ideals.
Pyro's killed some people. So, the best case scenario is that they were Friends of Humanity members - maybe even killers themselves. And Magneto knows what he's doing, even if Pyro's a little inexperienced. He wouldn't make a mistake like that, would he? But...
Doug sighs. What would he have done, in the same situation? Called the cops? It hasn't worked well in the past. The cops have similar issues about mutants, and so do judges. Just left well alone, and allowed them to commit more hate crimes?
Pyro's killed some people.
His cellphone rings abruptly, breaking the silence of the lab. For a moment, he hopes that it's Pyro calling, although the number has been withheld. "Ramsey," he answers, and his breath catches in his throat. "Yeah, I saw the news. What do you think we should do?"
Doug's always been a night owl - losing track of time in the computer labs and basement levels of the school, with no sense of the outside world. Lately, though, he's had other reasons to stay up late. His days are busy, with college applications, the occasional modeling audition or shoot, and the usual work for the Institute. Night is when he can catch up with Pyro, and the other more-than-interesting email on his password-protected server. What the government wouldn't give for this stuff: an ongoing travel commentary from Dr. Doom; Mr. Sinister puzzling over netspeak; Magneto's girlfriend problems. And Pyro in a cowboy hat.
Heh. Doug vaguely remembers that - some kind of amateur production for some kids laid low with measles or flu or god knows what. But, as usual, he'd seen it all with a glance on his way to the library or to discuss security protocols with Mr. Summers. The times he had seen Pyro out of class, he'd normally seemed so dark and brooding, flipping his lighter open and closed, staring at a fixed point in space. Sometimes Doug had thought about going over, about asking what was up, but he had figured he knew what the response would be: "Fuck off, Cypher, who asked you?"
In some ways, Pyro's exactly that brooding boy from years ago, and in other ways nothing like he expected at all. Even with an ocean separating them, and only having seen each other two brief times since Providence, Doug feels like he's got to know the other boy (man?) pretty well. There are those stupid sorts of questions you come up with at 4am that you'd never ask any time, but you just really need to know the answer to anyway. The stuff that probably married couples never get to ask.
But Pyro isn't online tonight. Doug puts his feet up on the desk and leans back in his chair, idly tapping at the mouse, scrolling through the latest tests in the Institute's security measures. After a while, an alert pops up on the screen - breaking news. He's programmed it to tell him whenever a story comes online mentioning anyone he knows (and it's a fairly frequent occurence).
He begins reading the story with a smile - at least he knows where Pyro is, now - and finishes it with both feet on the floor, face close to the screen, re-reading each word.
Anyone with information about the whereabouts of Erik “Magneto” Lehnsherr, John “Pyro” Allerdyce, or other members of the Brotherhood, is urged to contact the proper authorities.
Pyro's killed some people. Maybe - if he was correct - Friends of Humanity members, a neo Ku Klux Klan. Maybe - if he was misinformed - some innocent workers at an animal shelter, not to mention the animals themselves.
Doug forces himself not to have any emotional response to this whatsoever, and silently re-reads the press releases. Creed's is obviously a lot of bullshit. Even apart from his bigoted comments about mutants, and human superiority, the mention of a baby rabbit is pushing sympathy a little far. Unfortunately, the Brotherhood statement, while a little better written, has similar bigoted ideals.
Pyro's killed some people. So, the best case scenario is that they were Friends of Humanity members - maybe even killers themselves. And Magneto knows what he's doing, even if Pyro's a little inexperienced. He wouldn't make a mistake like that, would he? But...
Doug sighs. What would he have done, in the same situation? Called the cops? It hasn't worked well in the past. The cops have similar issues about mutants, and so do judges. Just left well alone, and allowed them to commit more hate crimes?
Pyro's killed some people.
His cellphone rings abruptly, breaking the silence of the lab. For a moment, he hopes that it's Pyro calling, although the number has been withheld. "Ramsey," he answers, and his breath catches in his throat. "Yeah, I saw the news. What do you think we should do?"