Logs:Tough at the Top

Tough at the Top
Dramatis Personae Mystique, Regan
In Absentia	2023-09-17 "It is for us to ensure that their sacrifice is not in vain."
Location <BOM> Front Porch - Main Lodge - Ascension Island
The front porch of the lodge unfurls its way across the entire front length of the building. Stained in a dark reddish finish, it seems to have been refurbished somewhat recently, the sturdy wood rather less weather-beaten than many of the buildings on the island. A half-height railing edges most of the porch, with a wide gated staircase centrally leading to the heavy front door, and ungated ramps at either side end. Protected from all but the most driving of rains by a sloped roof, the porch has been furnished with an assortment of furniture. Wicker rocking chairs, a pair of small square aluminum tables, a hammock at the far right end, a bench swing at the left. Despite the solid locks on the doors and windows, the front door holds a cheerfully flower-edged mat reading WELCOME. It's not a very nice day, grey and rainy, and as such the grounds by the common house are quiet. Regan has been seated on the front porch, dressed a lavender cap-sleeve tunic with an azure fabric belt, breezy teal culottes, and lavender block heel sandals, all in crisp linen. The wide overhang is keeping the rain off, at least, the tablet computer in her lap comfortably dry. She's been having a quiet conversation -- evidently with nobody, although as she finishes speaking a tiny metallic beetle takes off from where its been perched on the back of her rocking chair and flits off. Regan herself returns to the spreadsheet on her tablet, stylus tapping light at the screen as she reaches with her other hand for the mug of hot coffee sitting near to hand on an end table. After weeks spent in an assumed shape it's always a relief to be herself once again and relax her body into its true form. Raindrops spatter off scaly blue skin as Mystique makes her way up the path from the dock, the drenching gusts of wind and rain deeply refreshing to her mind, her pace languid as she navigates the path toward the lodge. As she approaches, her eyes fix on Regan the moment she comes into view, a smile playing on her lips as she ascends the stairs and turns aside from the door to approach the illusionist. "You're busy." It's not a question, her tone appreciative as her scales ripple, sloughing off the accumulated rain before she settles down companionably into one of the chairs nearby. "Things are usually busy around here. Especially lately." There's not a smile on Regan's face, but her warm tone sounds pleased all the same as Mystique draws near. It's a moment longer and another tap of her stylus before she looks up, eyes flicking up-down once appreciatively over the other woman. "Your trip was fruitful, I trust?" "Events have been moving faster lately and to our advantage." She agrees, crossing her legs casually and sitting back in the chair, her body language relaxed and open. "It was, evidence of some very illegal experimentation on both humans and mutants, the press will have a field day." A slight gesture to the metal briefcase she had been carrying, containing the incriminating evidence, before she returns her gaze to Regan. "What concerns you?" Whatever has her alone on a porch in inclement weather is unlikely to be anything good. "Everything on this island concerns me." This time, at least, there's a very small upward twitch of Regan's lips. She sips at her coffee again, slow and with a small narrowing of eyes, a small displeased hnn, at Mystique's report. "Since this summer things have been..." She trails off, and though she doesn't finish this thought the small compression of her lips belies her worry well enough. "I think some new success -- that doesn't come at such a high cost -- might do a lot for morale." "It's tough at the top." Her smile is now distinctly a smirk, yellow eyes gleaming with amusement for a moment, which fades as Regan continues, her expression turning thoughtful as she considers what's been said. "A sound idea, are you thinking of a statement or something with practical impact?" The first would be easier to execute but ultimately less rewarding and the other vice versa. "Do you have anything in mind?" "Oh, with the right planning, do we need to choose?" Regan's brows lift slightly. She taps her stylus slowly against the edge of the tablet in contemplation. "Black's team managed a strong moral victory, undoubtedly." Her emphasis on this word is subtle, not exactly disdainful but certainly reserved. "But even as Prometheus sinks so many rats are fleeing the ship. An attack on Company X's offices, I think, would feel like a cathartic blow to our Brothers in mourning." Does she class herself with one of those? From her tone and her expression it's very difficult to tell. "And be a warning to traitors who think they can skulk away unnoticed in the chaos." Cocking her head slightly, Mystique lapses into silence as she listens to Regan speak, watching and listening impassively as the illusionist lays out her thoughts. "It would send the right message, to both the rats and the traitors. I don't foresee major difficulties, provided the initial strike is fast, and the right Brothers participate." Regan tips her mug out towards Mystique in a gesture of agreement. "The quislings at Company X certainly know how to put up a good fight, but their offices are not anything like so heavily guarded as the facilities our Brothers have grown used to attacking. Some quietly planted explosives, detonated at the start of a business day, maybe --" Her shoulder hitches in a small shrug. "The loss of our Brothers should be repaid in blood." The plan draws a thoughtful nod from Mystique as she goes over the fallout in her mind. "You're right, and it will, but the explosion should be at a time when the leadership is meeting, cut off the head of this snake and the body will die, as it must." She observes, before adding thoughtfully. "Add the illusion of a toxic gas release and nobody will leave that building alive. Scorched earth will send the appropriate message." Regan opens her mouth briefly, but then closes it again, only giving a noncommittal hum. "I'm going to take this to Erik, see if we can refine it into a plan of action," is what she does say aloud. "It will take significant --" There's just a brief moment, easy to miss, where her eyes drop, her fingers tightening around the mug. "-- research," she continues smoothly. "But I am sure we will be up to the task." That reaction is not missed, but neither does Mystique show any sign of having noticed it. "I will be available if required." She offers simply, before taking advantage of Regan's mention of Erik to change the subject to him. "How is he?" A slight hint of concern in her multitoned voice that she would allow Regan to hear but certainly no other member of the Brotherhood. Regan doesn't give an immediate answer. She's slow over a long pull of coffee, draining the last of her mug while she gives this question careful thought. "He's Erik." This is not immediately very helpful, or maybe it is. Her carefully manicured nails tap very light against the side of the mug. "Solid action, a cathartic victory, these will be good for him, too." "Mmm." Mystique agrees, a neither positive nor negative comment on both of Regan's statements, her gaze shifting out to the sheets of rain whipping past for a moment before returning to Regan. "And you?" She can see the concern written in Regan's body language and mirrors it slightly in her question, probing gently. "Dusk's skills at digital infiltration are unrivaled on this island and Ion inspired a loyalty and passion in new recruits that would have been a great boon at times like these," Regan answers first, a simple pragmatism in her tone. "And Prometheans trusted them, which is no small thing when trying to reach out to those so abruptly ejected into the world." There's a tick here, a beat hesitating on the edge of saying something else, but it takes a stretch of silence and a very small lowering of her eyes before Regan adds, softer: "-- and they were my Brothers." Her lips press together, eyes lifting again to meet Mystique's. "They were fierce, and they were kind. The first we have in spades, and we need it for fighting a war. The second --" Her shoulder hitches, small, and her tone is neutral: not a praise, not a condemnation, just a simple assessment. "It will be a grim new world if it is built by too many people like us and too few people like them." Regan's words draw a sigh from Mystique, sympathy in the twist of her mouth and a softening of her hard gaze. "In war there are always losses, but that never makes them easier to bear. More will die before we have built that world, we can deny it but there is no avoiding it." She meets Regan's gaze evenly and while she doesn't reach out to offer a sympathetic hand, her yellow eyes are glowing almost softly as she adds. "It is for us to ensure that their sacrifice is not in vain." Regan meets Mystique's eyes, and the slow exhale she gives, the faint softening of her own expression, is enough of a tell as to her appreciation for the other woman's brand of sympathy. "Well then." A corner of her mouth twitches up, and she tucks her tablet beneath her arm and picks up her empty mug as she rises. "I guess we'd better get to planning." Inclining her head in agreement, Mystique rises fluidly to her feet, plucking the briefcase from the floor and letting Regan lead the way, her mind already at work on potential angles for the tasks ahead.