After brushing my teeth, I started collecting the scattered things from last night. They needed to go in the laundry, and I wanted to check how yesterday's batch of clothes had dried. In the Brotherhood house, on the basement floor, there was not only a large boiler room but also a laundry room, quite impressive for the number of members in the Sisterhood.
Hmm, perhaps I should say a few words about how I ended up in the abode of the Sisterhood of Mutant Women. Just so you better understand what's going on here. And I'll say them, trust me, I'm not afraid and will tell you the whole truth! Ahem, maybe another time. For now, I'll stick to this—it's an amusing story.
Let me tell you more about the Sisterhood itself. In the original Marvel universe, there's a team of mutants called the Brotherhood of Mutants, or the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, as some people call them. The Sisterhood is an adaptation of the Brotherhood, adjusted to the realities of this world. The head of this informal group is the well-known extremist and terrorist, Erika Lencher, or Magneto, as she's known to most ordinary people in the States.
Her first and only deputy is Mystique, whom I already know. Toad and Blind Spot are regular members of the organization. Besides them, a couple of other mutant girls with a similar status live in the massive, three-story mansion.
Quite the curious terrorist organization, all its members live in one house within the city limits. Of course, there wasn't a sign on the beautifully carved wooden doors saying "Residence of the Sisterhood of Mutants," but my experience told me that serious people don't do that sort of thing.
Even Orochimaru had so many secret bases that finding them all was practically impossible. The White Snake never put all its eggs in one basket. So it's hard for me to understand what Magneto is hoping for. Her own personal strength? Sure, she alone could actually stand up to entire armies, but the other sisters likely couldn't boast the same.
I heard the clicking of heels approaching my room door. After a few seconds, when I had managed to tidy up a bit, there was a knock, and Mystique entered.
"Good morning," she greeted cheerfully.
"Same to you," I grunted. "You look excited. Did you have an eventful night?"
The Sisterhood didn't earn its name for nothing. Before I joined these thoroughly villainous girls, there wasn't a single man in their ranks. In that regard, the X-Women team was much luckier. The Sisterhood mostly had to relieve sexual tension using rubber friends and Mystique. Well, you get it, right?
The metamorph girl, who is perfectly skilled with her abilities and can transform fully or partially, wasn't made deputy head for nothing. Heh, though I'm joking, of course. She maintains her status not just by growing a member, but through sharp wit and resourcefulness.
"And that too," she replied, licking her lips. "We have a new job lined up, and I'm burning with anticipation!"
"Oh really. Something interesting?"
"Come on, you'll find out yourself. The boss wants to discuss it."
Now that sounded truly interesting. I had been hanging out with the Sisterhood for two months, and, of course, being a newbie, I was rarely allowed to get involved in real business. The only thing I had participated in was one fun skirmish. Most of the time, I tried to figure out how I could help the mutant girl Bubble.
"Let's go," I said eagerly.
You know what? She was the first woman I had seen in this world who didn't just look unappealing but almost ugly. Nothing special, really. Back in my homeland, there were countless victims of fast food. Here, though, everyone I met could easily be a cover model for beauty magazines. Everyone except Bubble. She was unrealistically overweight, and that was her mutation. Well, not just that, honestly, but it was undoubtedly what made her life the hardest.
Massive strength and resistance to damage couldn't compensate for such a terrible appearance. When everyone around you looks like a model, even the smallest wrinkle on your forehead could drive its owner into complete shock and hysteria.
Unfortunately, since her appearance was part of her mutation, Masquerade's power couldn't help with this problem. Essentially, I could remove the excess fat and smooth out the wrinkles, but it was only a temporary solution. Very soon, Bubble's power would return her to her original form.
Mystique and I climbed to the third floor and stopped at the entrance to the mutant terrorist leader's apartment. The yellow-eyed girl knocked, and we entered. Erika was already waiting for us behind a large desk. As always, she wore her signature red helmet, which, according to the comics, protected her from telepaths. It seemed like a clear sign of paranoia to wear something like that in your own home. But I understood her perfectly, and if I had such a helmet, I'd wear it even in the shower!
There were no full-fledged telepaths in the Sisterhood, but not everything was so simple. We had a full-fledged Mistress of the Mind! At least that's what she called herself. A girl named Jessica Wingard could send illusions to others, which were difficult to overcome even if you knew you were seeing something that wasn't really there. An interesting and truly powerful ability, but still not quite telepathy.
In addition to Jessica, we also had our own seer and Blind Spot, who I had woken up with this morning. Blind Spot could remove certain memories and even transfer them to others, but only if she touched the person. This was much closer to the concept of classical telepathy, but still not quite there.
In any case, in such a company, it was unwise to blindly trust your companions. Especially considering that, to be honest, there were very few ideologically motivated mutant rights fighters here. Bubble, for example, worked for money, and Magneto promised that if there was a chance, they'd help her with her appearance. They had high hopes for me, and I managed to help Bubble, but I honestly warned her it would only be temporary. My manipulations lasted exactly a month, and after the extra weight came back, the girl fell into a real depression.
"Rascal, Mystique," Magneto greeted in a velvety voice. "Come in, have a seat. Tea?"
Raven shook her head negatively, and I also declined, explaining that I had just eaten. Erika levitated a metal cup and a teapot filled with hot water to herself. I hope now it's clear why I refused? Though, considering the amount of metallic trinkets in the room, she could have killed us in an instant.
"So, what's the deal, boss?" Mystique asked eagerly, after taking a sip of tea.
For the past week, almost all of the Sisterhood had been holed up in the mansion. Some of us were itching for some adrenaline, just like me.
Erika thoughtfully set her cup down on the table.
Though her hair had been conquered by noble gray, Lencher didn't look too old. A person who had been sent to a Nazi concentration camp as a child should look much older by now. Much older. To the eye, she could be given no more than forty or forty-five, and most of those years I added because of her gray hair. There are people who look eternally young, who are attributed with witchcraft and immortality magic. Probably, Magneto was one of them.
"Deal?" she asked, resting her chin on her crossed fingers. "It's simple. I've decided to heed Rascal's advice and acquire a weapon I had previously criminally ignored."
"Adamantium?" I asked, switching to a business tone.
"Exactly," she grinned bloodthirstily, causing an admiring glance from Mystique and a approving grunt from me.