driftfleet | o1;; You didn't see that coming?

Who: Pietro & You!
Broadcast: yes
Action: SS Bloodsport
When: Right now

[ Video;; ]
[ The video feed shakes, the audio cracking as the communicator is moved around. The broadcasting image so far is the floor, covered in multicolored confetti, and a pair of black and grey running sneakers in view. The left foot taps impatiently before the video swings again to the bridge of the Bloodsport. ]

[ There is a sigh before heavily accented voice accompanies the shoddy cameraman-ship. ] If this is someone's idea of a prank, it lacks humor.

[ The communicator finally turns around, and Pietro is very firmly not happy with this situation. ]

I have complaints.

[ SS Bloodsport;; ]
[ Pietro can be found in various places throughout the Bloodsport. In the kitchen, trying to figure out what the deal with protein paste is. The bridge offers a bit of a distraction with the endless sea of stars or the array of broadcast settings, and how can he resist settling into the bunks? It's been a very long time since he's had his own room. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No. [Flat, and to the point.] Feel free to air your grievances all you want, but in terms of face-to-face? No one has yet had that pleasure.

So they kidnap us, mute our abilities, and..what? Let us live in a bubble for their viewing needs? There must be more to it.

[The mention of muted abilities sharpens his attention. Erik never voices that he has suffered the same here, for the number of people he's comfortable knowing that is very small. It helps to have it confirmed that it happens to others... yet it also darkens his thoughts.]

I have no doubt about that. Beings with the kind of power to move people across universes and dimensions would surely have another motive, beyond television.

Beings with ideas of grandeur are often not what they project themselves as.

[ Ultron's ideas had seemed.. good. At first. Take out the Avengers, eradicate the problem. Then it because eradicate a few million at a time..

Pietro hopes to whatever gods are out there that this isn't anything similar. ]

Oh, I'm well aware. [For all the Echoes' talk of saving their worlds, they still ran violent, fatal games for kicks. No amount of preaching would erase the manner in which they were expected to win their right to go home.]

Whatever your complaints are, don't forget about them. Complacency is a real danger in a place like this.

Do people truly become complacent here?

[ Who on earth could people get comfortable in a situation they had no real control over? Was this place just one big, walking case of Stockholm? ]

Hard to say. But people can become used to the most unpleasant of situations, and get caught up in the day-to-day aspect of it.

Sometimes putting up with bad situations is the only thing they know how to do.

There's a difference between putting up with it and losing interest in changing it.

That much is true. Once you've given up on change, they win.

[That's a satisfactory answer, and Erik inclines his head slightly in response.]

I imagine someone has given you the basic information by now.

I have picked up on what I think are the basics, yes. Is there more I should be aware of?

Don't try to remove this. [Erik reaches up and taps the back of his skull, where the augment sits.]

I gathered as much. I can't say that I enjoy the idea that this could be the cause of my tampered abilities.

[ He rubs a finger over the odd bump, unsettled by its presence. There is a feeling of dread deep in his gut that says don't fuck with it. ]

I agree. [Enough so that he had tried to remove it, only to be hit with that crippling fear of proceeding.]

But having a distinct cause is better than no idea.

[ He shrugs. ]

I suppose so. It is no less frustrating, though.

Indeed.

[He pauses; might as well introduce himself.]

Erik Lehnsherr.

Pietro Maximoff.

Oh.

[It's out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He stares at the communicator in his hand in dead silence, mind whirring. "It was Peter's last name. Apparently, in other realities, he's called Pietro Maximoff." He doesn't look like Peter -- but neither does Erik look like other Magnetos, at least as far as he's been told, and what is he meant to do? He wasn't prepared to deal with this.

After a tense moment, he looks away and says distantly:] Nice to meet you. [Then he switches the feed off, without another word.]