driftfleet | [Video] 1st Form

Who: Mystique and open
Broadcast: Fleetwide video
Action: Marsiva
When: Now.

[For any that may be watching the new recruit's arrival they would recognize the instant she became conscious, even if she didn't move from the bed. Her form shifted, a change in coloration, blue skin to tanned Caucasian and fiery red hair to glossy blonde. Despite looking like she was still asleep and resting Mystique was hyper aware something was wrong, trying to identify her surroundings through her other senses as she continued to mimic sleep.

Yet several long minutes later after no attack or sounds of another living being, she rose smoothly and cautiously from the bed, eyes darting around to her new surroundings. Her face was stiff, frozen in a forced calm expression while her mind raced to figure out what the hell was going on. It looked like a facility, similar to the one Scott Summers had trapped her in and left her to be experimented on. A flash of white hot rage at the memory shot through her but she quickly shoved it back. She was repay him ten folds for that, but for now she had to focus on what was going on.

Her exploration of the areas was only increasing her frustration and anger, ignoring those others trapped with her for the time and slipping out of their way to try and discover what was going on. Yet it was another discovery that angered her greater than anything else; the augment. She had been chipped, a fucking implant placed in her, and if it wasn't for the information that was ever so slowly trickling through it, to tell her that no, this wasn't a government base holding mutants, or even related to mutants in any way, she would had ripped it right out of her skull. She was still considering it actually.

Instead she looked to find the cameras, the ones she now knew were watching her, unable to keep a snarl from her face as she let her true form show.] Whoever thinks that I'm happy to be part of your little freak show, you're sorely mistaken. Or you will be once I get my hands on you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Smart of them, and unfortunately not very surprising. [So often people who held others against their wills were cowards. It was always the way, a leader or higher up reliant on underlings to do their dirty work rather than risk getting their own hands bloody.]

They could be on the ship you're on, for all we know.

[There's a brief pause while he considers her image again. It doesn't seem like she knows him, but then that's to be expected. If what Kitty said is true, others may expect him to be far older. Or may not know him at all. What a mess. He continues.]

If Nightingale has sent you her document, it's a decent summary of what people have experienced and found out so far.

'Could be' isn't good enough, and considering these doors aren't able to be open, and there is no weaponry on this ship, it doesn't matter if it was even confirmed as getting to them would prove difficult. [She had tried already to get out of their confined space.]

That little welcome book is hardly enough information for my tastes, yet seems everyone is ignorant around here, or at least too comfortable with their cage to question it. [There was no mincing words since she saw it pointless to try and hide her identity. She could play nice if needed, if she thought she would get something out of the situation, but for now it seemed a waste of energy until she was off this damn ship.]

Smashing the exercise equipment into the walls also doesn't work, no matter the force. Whatever gets damaged is repaired by the time the next set of broadcasts come through. [That's his contribution.]

There is a risk, always, in this kind of setup that people become inured to their surroundings. [It happens everywhere, even in the worst of circumstances. Not to mention the issue of information retention when people vanish. He scrolls back through Nightingale's document briefly, seeing what's there and what's not.] The story is that 'winning' this contest show will give you the prize of freedom. No one has achieved it.

[Mystique raised a brow at the mention of his actions, as it was only safe to assume it had been his reaction to the situation rather than another. Men, going for violence first. Yet she didn't mention any of these thoughts, instead glossing over his comments of people's mental states to that last comment.] That's assuming there is even an end to all of this. Sounds more like something to placate the masses.

I doubt anyone thinks it's true. On the rare occasions these Atroma have been heard from, they are reportedly incompetent at handling pointed questions.

I am well acquainted with such individuals. [And possibly be one herself, but Mystique never looked too closely at herself to be able to admit that hypocritical side of herself.] It seems it gets linked to grandeur. [~~Erik.~~]

[He does raise an eyebrow at that.] Certain kinds, yes. There are few things grander than the idea of outer space. [Erik, on the other hand, has had too much time looking at himself from the outside to be entirely insensible to how some of his actions have fallen out.

Still, this... he could lose himself in this conversation, get drawn out by familiarity. Something in him rebels at it, wants to pull away. Had it been his own Mystique, it would be more solid ground, despite all the circumstances involved. And yet maybe it's the memory of their last confrontation, of their parting, that makes him want to leave Mystique well enough alone. His interference had nearly killed the one he knew and cared for; he ought to remember that.

He glances offscreen for a moment, and prepares to disengage.] Well, enjoy the food. It's nothing but pastes once you're off that ship.

Duly noted. [While it didn't sound overly appetizing, it also didn't worry her. Mystique had lived on worse and as long as food was provided and she didn't have to source it herself she wasn't overly concerned.

It also struck her, if she was going to use him later as a source of information, she should know one major detail.] What is your name?

[He doesn't even pause before answering.] It's Blade.

[There isn't a hint of questioning that name on her face or in her voice, well use to code names, or even just unusual names.] In that case, appreciate the information, Blade. [It was possibly the closest he was going to get as a 'thank you' from her, yet she didn't bother to wait and see if he had anything else to say, cutting the connection at her assumption the conversation was over.]