( spam for Charles )

( Content warning for Holocaust discussion and imagery. )

[Spam for Megamind]

[He needs to clear his head, desperately. The post helped, but the anger is still there, will always be there, he thinks, because he hadn't told everything. He hadn't said a word about Shaw, about the experiments. He hadn't mentioned the Vanquish, though it might have driven the point home; those were things he didn't want to face, publicly. Not yet. So he's walking, avoiding people and eye contact, though his posture is probably enough to put most off.

But he sees a flash of blue as he passed the lab, and Erik's gait slows and pauses for a breath. Megamind, who he wanted little than to punch yesterday. He doesn't know what it is that turns him around, that makes him lengthen his stride.]

Stop.

[The video feed clicks on to show Charles and Erik sitting on one of the couches in Charles’ room, obviously about to address the Barge about something. Erik in particular has been pretty scarce since the end of the kid flood and doesn’t exactly look thrilled to be here, but 1. when has he ever looked thrilled to be anywhere since turning up here and 2. it’s not the kind of grumpiness that warns he’s about to do something like, say, rip your arc reactor out of your chest. More importantly, he isn’t wearing his helmet, basically for the first time in public without the influence of a flood.

Charles speaks first, and is using what’s probably by now that familiar cadence that comes along with him explaining something, whether that be some science fact that’s caught his attention recently or rights for mutants.]

As I’m certain some of you know, approximately two weeks ago - starting on October 16th - began the anniversary of the Cuban Missile Crisis. For those of you who don’t, in 1962 tensions between the United States and the Soviet Union became so pronounced that the world literally sat on the brink of nuclear war. The commonly accepted story of what happened - or, at least, what seems to be, based on the reading I’ve done since we got here - was that the Soviets were far behind the Americans in the nuclear arms race, and hatched the idea of positioning missiles in Cuba in order to act as a deterrent against a potential attack from the United States.

The Americans found out about these new missiles under construction in Cuba on October 15th, and after much deliberation, a naval blockade was set up around Cuba to prevent more Russian missiles from coming in, resulting in a thirteen day confrontation between the assembled Russian and American fleets.

[Erik snorts quietly, and straightens slightly in his seat, uncrossing his arms.] It didn't take thirteen days. [Right to the point, that's Erik.] It didn't even take three hours. And it certainly wasn't the Russians' idea to put missiles in Cuba.

[He glances back at Charles, only briefly, replaying how many people he mentioned Herr Doktor to and realizing he's decidedly glad that Klaus Schmidt changed his name..] It was at the behest of a man named Sebastian Shaw.

[Charles glances over at him until he finishes speaking, picking up on the edges of those thoughts - which was awesome, he’d desperately missed having this kind of easy communication with someone - before looking back at the camera.] Shaw wanted to start nuclear war between the United States and Soviet Union, believing that it would wipe out the human race and leave mutants to inherit the Earth. And aside from the obvious moral issues with committing genocide, the science just doesn’t work. Our mutations don’t make us any more or less vulnerable to radiation than a normal human.

[Erik cocks his head to the side, and looks almost amused - that is, if you don't pay too much attention to the dark look in his eyes. That look tends to show up as a precursor to ripping out fillings or necessary if extravagant pace makers.]

Some of us may, given the variance in our abilities. [His voice takes on a harder tone.] Shaw would have survived it. But he envisioned himself as a post-apocalyptic president for all mutant kind. He called us the children of the atom. [He's sounding harsher and harsher, and it's really a good thing the Admiral hasn't decided that Shaw is deserving of redemption, or the ship would be in bad shape right now.]

He didn't realize he'd have ruled over a handful of us at best.

[Alright, this is going in a direction Charles feels like he’s going to regret, so you’re getting frowned at before he’s just continuing with the story.]

We’d been working with the CIA trying to locate and stop Shaw for a few months before Cuba, but we weren’t certain where he would be making his final move until President Kennedy made his address to the nation about the crisis. The next morning – October 23 – the both of us, as well as a small group of our students, [And he’s careful not to let on how crappy that feels, because they’re not our students anymore, Mr. We Want the Same Thing.] went to stop Shaw from carrying out his plans.

[Erik's mouth quirks up at the corner, just a little, because he is ignoring that frown and the carefully hidden discomfort, because he likes to think he knows what he wants - and hopes that one day Charles will see things his way, too. But that isn't what's being discussed here, so he nods toward the camera.]

Meaning, you have us to thank for the avoidance of a nuclear - disaster. [There's the barest pause, like he was going to say holocaust and thought better of offering an extra reminder of the child he'd been.]

You're quite welcome.

[And Erik leans forward to kill the feed before Charles can add anything else, because he's a good friend like that.]

[ The video clicks on and you're treated to a puff of smoke, obscuring Erik's face for just a second. When it dissipates, you can tell that - well scruffy is probably the nicest way to put it it. He has some stubble on his chin that can't quite decide if it wants to be a beard yet or not. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his lip was split recently.

The cigarette hangs in his mouth, and he eyes the camera with a bored expression before he let's out another puff of smoke and lifts the cigarette. He has a very faint Irish accent, if you're listening close. ]

Looks like it's speech day, and here I am without one prepared. Y'ever have that dream about showin' up to school bare as the day you was born? Bit like that, I suppose.

But all right. Since we ain't got much else to entertain us, how about a story? Me mam and father and me, we all lived in this town called Limerick, see? Now I was just a boy then, didn't know shit about shit. [ He waves a hand, as if to apologize for his language, but he definitely does not care. ] They sold all sorts of things back then, tchotchkes, we called 'em. Business was good, but never great, you know how it is. I used to sweep the floors, even though the damn broom was taller'n me. Father always laughed t'see it.

Then some piece of shit preacher man got it in his head that we ain't good and godly enough for his town. Musta been pissed we didn't spend Sundays in his church, huh? [ He chuckles, takes another puff off his cigarette. ] Me mam didn't want me helping out after the store got sacked. Scared for me, y'see? But I wasn't scared. [ Still holding the cigarette, he lifts his chin, and trails his finger along a faint scar across the left side of his jaw. ] When you get pushed, you do some pushin' back.

Parents, though, they wasn't the pushin' type. So they packed up and headed out to New York. Soon as I was big enough, I packed up myself, and headed out here, to good old Redemption. Like the name. Good place for fresh starts.

[ He spreads his arms expansively, a smirk pulling at his lips as he inhales, and let's out a quick jet of smoke. ] And here I am, livin' the God damn dream, ain't I? Right here in Mostly-Free-Redemption.

[ The cigarette's down to the butt now, and he stubbs it out. ] Anyone selling cigarette's cheap?


(OOC: BREACH HISTORY: lol this post. :c He seems to be a loyal and ambitious goon working for Prefect, but in actuality he's a fed deep undercover, trying to expose Prefect. He's been under for a couple years now, and it's started eating at him. He walks a very fine line between pretending to be one of them and actually being one of them. He drinks and smokes a lot because it's the best compensation. This is Departed in the 20s. Oh also will be tagging with eachpassingday!)