Erik had the perfect plan. He could almost congratulate himself on its perfection. He sat, grinning, dressed in a well-tailored navy suit and was waiting patiently at a table in a grey cinderblock room. Nearby, a well-dressed woman about 40 years of age was pacing the room. She was wringing her hands and her clean but worn alligator pumps made clicks on the concrete floor with every step.
"Get a hold of yourself," Erik whispered.
"Will this work?"
"My darling, how could it not?"
Mystique took a deep breath. She hoped she was a convincing Mrs. Maximoff. She knew she could always carry off the appearance, many times the voice, of the shape she took on. She hoped she could get the mannerisms correct. She tried to find out as much as she could about Mrs. Maximoff. She had lingered outside of their home, shopped at the same stores. She hoped the outdated Kelly-green wool dress suit and white blouse appeared suitable for what the real Mrs. Maximoff could wear. She tried to copy the woman's talk and walk the best she could. How she interacted with her children, Mystique could only guess.
Otherwise, the plan was for naught if the Maximoff children were not convinced.
She hoped the hand-wringing helped her play the part of the worried mother rather than the anxious plotter. What did Erik have in mind for these two?
The worn metal door opened and two adolescents about 17 years of age were lead into the room by a weary-looking guard who lingered in the background. The girl looked angry, her dark red hair matching the flames smoldering in her green eyes. The boy had white-blonde hair and his eyes showed a leering, defiant gaze as he set upon his mother and the strange, well-dressed man in the room.
Mystique ran up to the two children and hugged them in her arms. "Pietro, Wanda! Oh, how are you doing, my little dears?"
Pietro backed away from her quickly, "What is going on? Who is this?" He pointed at Erik."
"Pietro's right," Wanda glared. "Suddenly you care about us, Mother?"
Mystique tried to compose herself. Apparently the children were not used to affection or concern. She figured she could play it off that she was not acting for them, but acting for the guard that had accompanied them. "This is your attorney, Erik Lensherr. Of course I care about you two! All alone here in a jail!"
Wanda huffed, "Never cared much before."
Mystique tried to settle her face into an indignant scowl, "We've bailed you out, dears. We're going home."
Mystique's loss of composure and the siblings' skepticism was not lost on Erik. "Guard, leave us please," he commanded respectfully. "I wish to speak with my clients in private. It is their right, I believe?"
"Yes, sir," the guard replied, leaving the room.
"You're a lawyer?" Wanda pressed.
"I am," Erik replied.
"And we are going home, we will discuss everything there," Mystique added, walking towards the door.
Pietro refused. He was intimidated by Erik's presence. The tall man appeared too well-tailored, too well-groomed to make Pietro feel at ease. The man looked dangerous. And mother- she wasn't right. There was something off about her, something Pietro could not describe. He was sure she was not above putting on the show of a loving mother for the guards, but the show of affection seemed too genuine for Pietro. Normally, his mother would have come in, her Russian temper blazing, and given her children a telling-off before refusing to bail them out. The angry edge in her voice was absent. It looked like his mother alright, even down to the small mended spots on the gloves because Mother could not always afford to replace them. There was no vodka on her breath, either. And where was their father? Mother would have never come here alone! And this lawyer? Since when did his parents hire a lawyer? If this man was one, he did not look like one that his family could afford.
Something wasn't right. He blocked the woman from going to the door and she reared back, startled. "You aren't our mother."
Wanda approached them. "And he is no lawyer," the girl winked. Mystique could feel her eyes change. Her eyes changed from the brown of Mrs. Maximoff to her own gold eyes. "Who are you?" Wanda demanded.
Erik laughed lightly and walked toward Pietro and Wanda. "How would you like to get revenge on anyone who has ever picked on you for being...different?"
Mystique grinned, "We can help you do that. Just come with us."
Pietro stared intently, "Where are we going?"
"And why should we go?" Wanda demanded.
"You stay here, they will put you through a trial and keep you here until you're 21," Erik chided. "You come with us; we'll teach you to burn more than just houses and schools and teach you to do more than just give bruises and bloodied noses quickly. Don't you want to be where your talents are...appreciated?"
"Are you an Army recruiter?" Pietro inquired.
Erik and Mystique laughed uproariously. Erik chuckled, "I suppose you could say I am a recruiter of sorts. But not for the Army, no. For the Mutant Brotherhood. An...army... where your skills are in need."
Wanda looked as if she had swallowed a bitter pill, "Mutants!?"
"Yes, mutants," Erik replied. "Haven't you wondered why you could just set things on fire? Move fast? You are mutants and humanity does not appreciate you..." Erik waved his hand and the metal door opened. He grinned as the twins stared in horror and fascination, "...or others like you. You are a mutant. As are we. Come with me, and we can get them back for it. It's our time to show them who we are and what we can do."
Pietro squared his shoulders, "You promise you can keep us out of jail?"
Wanda glared at Mystique, "And what does she do?"
Mystique smiled calmly. She changed into Wanda, then Pietro, her original form, and back to Mrs. Maximoff. Pietro and Wanda's faces lit up and they looked at one another. They nodded in agreement. "So, children, shall we leave now?"
Wanda and Pietro smirked as they walked out of the room and to the front desk. Wanda could not help herself when she saw the secretary writing. She gave the woman a small wink and the woman's pen exploded. She figured she needed to give this hellhole one last farewell gift. She and her brother willingly climbed into Erik's Mercedes. She did not know who these people were, or where they were taking her, but she was certain it was better than where she had been.