(no subject)
Still hours ahead of the scheduled muster time, for the evening's operation, there are two sharp, even knocks on Padraig's door. "It's Chrome," his even tone announces, in order to save the scant seconds a call and reply might take.
"Come in, man." Padraig calls out. He's been bouncing around ever since the announcement of the mission, and his new uniform has been delivered. Of course, he's trying it on.
The door is opened, as invited. Chrome steps in, a folded newspaper held tidily in one metal fingered hand. "Blitz," he greets simply. The paper, a week old copy of the Times, is folded so as to present a specific article centrallyas it is held out for Padraig's inspection.
And here he is, Blitz in all his Brotherhood glory. The uniform is snug-fitting, a black material that bends and stretches with every movement. The trim picks out the appropriate parts, and yet there's something special about this particular version of the uniform. The entire thing is covered in closely-spaced one inch square stainless steel plates, each one individually bent to fit the shape of his body. He glistens and shines in the fitful light of his room, obviously having being preening for a while. Padraig reaches forward to take the paper, and scans it carefully before looking up. "Okay. Why are you interested in one of those scum? Is he at the prison?"
"Hrm," Chrome notes, idly, brown eyes studying the differences between Blitz' 'uniform' and the others. "Increased conductive properties?" A small shake of the head, details ragarding altering grappling success with the irishman can wait. "He is. I have a stragem in order that would benefit greatly by your assistance," the grim teen explains. "Media attentions in the aftermath of our impending operation can be maximized by creation of several impressive, and mass media palatable symbols. I've chosen this-" a curt nod to the paper, "As such a symbol." A breath drawn to continue.
"Something like that. And it looks proper cool when I do the whole over-body thing." Padraig grins, obviously in an exceptionally good mood. "Okay. You want to make an example of this guy? How?" He looks interested, a flicker of thought crossing his mind, but he doesn't yet say anything.
"Excellent," Chrome notes with a tight satisfaction lacing his tone. "This, as a member of those who style themselves as humanity's 'protectors'," a sneer colors that last word. "Must be suitably.. cowed. Seen to be broken in spirit, and bereft of defiance. He must be terrified, that the carrion that will swarm about in our wake, with thier cameras, and fear mongering- They have a clear picture of the fate of those who would hunt us. And the picture-" Justin reaches a hand out to flick a touch against the newsrag, a wisp of vapor rising from the transformed photograph of thier target, "Will *remain* clear. As time will be of the essence, I must aknowledge that I am less likely to inspire the necessary dread in what may be akin to a fanatic psychology. This is where you come in."
Padraig' eyes light up, literally, with a flash of blue light, and his lips twist into a vicious grin. "You want me to scare the hell out of him and hurt him a little, then you're going to turn him into a statue." A clarification, and a statement laced with a cruel humour. He breaks into an altogether unpleasant chuckle. "I love it. You checked it with the boss yet?"
"Precisely," Chrome affirms. "This subject will be left intact, without any of the elements which might deter any of the major media conglomerates from featuring it prominently." A drawn breath, "I'd wished to be certain this measure would be successful before presenting it to Magneto. With your assent," he notes with a curt dip of his head, "I will do so presently."
"You got more than my assent, Chrome. You got my blood up. I'm well up for it." Padraig's voice is somehow joyous, though it's a bestial kinda of joy, rippling with expectation. "We'll pull it off, and perfectly, my man."
"Nothing less is expected of us," Chrome replies. Not smiling, any of his own excitement heavily contained. Neither expectation or high nerves visible in his manner. "Once this initiative is approved, we will speak at greater length."
"Legendary." Padraig replies, stepping forward to clap Chrome on the shoulder, even remembering to pull his power back completely. "Get yourself there, my friend. We'll stick together once we're there, and go find this filthy little wretch. But come back for a chat once your done, and we'll see what happens." Another vicious little chuckle, his eyes speaking volumes of death, desctruction and general mayhem.
Not long before the jailbreak, Chrome comes to Padraig's room with an idea...