Two Hobos. One Trailer.

July 31, 2014: A gentleman with a magnetic personality convinces a younger fellow to return to the teeming masses.

'Grigori's' Trailer, Northwest Territories, Canada

A ramshackle trailer set up slightly away from the main logging camp where 'Grigori' the Lumberjack works.



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Mood Music:

The Northwest Territories are actually pretty nice in Summer. Why, it is over 80 F at mid-afternoon, and Magneto really shouldn't have bothered with the jacket. But it helps him blend.

When Piotr dropped from radar, he barely paid attention. But after a year passed without news of the Russian mutant, Magneto began looking, and requested those Brotherhood informants still loyal to him to keep an eye for Piotr. Since the Northwest Territories are not exactly a hub of Brotherhood activity, it has taken a long while to find him. But it makes sense he is here, a place not too different to his native Siberia.

And a logging camp. Maybe he couldn't find a farm. But at least Piotr is alive and Magneto won't have to add his name to his list of dead-mutants-that-will-be-avenged. Yet. Now, where is that boy?

The decisions that Piotr has made since dropping out of the fight against humanity have been pretty hit or miss. But moving to Canada and working as a logger seems to fall into the former category. He hasn't been made yet, and his current occupation allows him the opportunity to use his most useful skills frequently. Which is why, for the better part of the day, Piotr has been picking things up over his head and carrying them places.

But his work for the day is done. Many of the loggers are congregated together near the camp's version of a mess hall. There is very little noise aside from the clanging of plates and some relatively quiet conversation. A clear sign that the day's work has been exhausting.

But Piotr isn't eating with them. Instead, he is hanging out next to his trailer, which is a bit removed from most of the main camp. How exactly he managed to get his own trailer isn't particularly important at the moment, but if one had to take a guess it would probably involve his less charming habits, two of which he is engaging in at the moment.

"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaands… touchin' hannnnnds… REACHin' out… touchin' meeeee…. touch-IN' YOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUU!"

Yes, even loggers can get access to MP3 players in this bright and shiny new world of ours. Judging by the off-pitch music coming from the bearded logger, the music currently playing in Piotr's earbuds comes courtesy of none other than Mr. Neil Diamond.

The second 'less charming' habit with which Piotr currently occupies himself is quite possibly activity that is amplifying his vocals to such decibelage. Next to him, on the stoop of his porch, is a half-empty bottle of Stolichnaya, from which he occasionally takes enthusiastic swigs.
That habit makes pretty easy to find Piotr. It has been years, but Magneto rarely forgets a voice. Or almost anything. So there is Piotr, looking like a hobo, which is pretty much what Magnus looks too. But he is disguised.

The older man walks towards the trailer openly, and if Piotr doesn't pay attention, he turns off his MP3 player with an irritated glance. Looking around at the place disapprovingly. "Well, at least you are still alive," he greets, hard cold eyes back to the large Russian.

For quite some time now, Piotr has had little else to do besides eat, drink, and pick up heavy things. Which is why despite the large quantity of alcohol consumed, he appears more 'affable' than inebriated. Still, it takes him a second to process the stranger's appearance. But, quickly, the dots are connected between 'doesn't belong here' and 'recognize from elsewhere.' He tugs downward on the cord leading from his music player to his earbuds, causing the buds to gently pop out of his ears in unison.

"I've beaten men up very badly for interrupting 'Sweet Caroline.' But fortunately for you, I think you're very scary man. You may live."

The Russian slowly stands up, looking far more intimidating when he's on his feet. As opposed to say, sitting on his stoop and singing pop tunes. Life out in the woods has been good to him. If anything, he appears to have put on weight since he was running guns for the Brotherhood. Which is why the bear hug Piotr unpredictably throws around the Master of Magnetism is so potentially unpleasant. The extra weight, coupled with the odor, that is.

"Is good to see you, old man."

Magneto folds his arms, scowling. He is not impressed by Piotr's size, or his beard, or the odor, or… agh. Not the bearhug!

Now, that was unexpected. No one hugs Magneto. Not even Xavier when he could walk. Awkward. It is not as if they were really friends. He was the god-like commander-person when Piotr was in the Brotherhood, and Magneto was not a particularly nice boss. "Good to see me, hrm?" The white-haired man grunts, trying to break free from Piotr's hug. "I don't hear those words often. Now let me go. You must be drunk."

"Ha ha! Still so cranky. There must still be humans left alive, eh?"

The over-enthusiastic man relaxes his hold on his former boss, and takes about a step and a half backward. One has to take the good with the bad where people are concerned, and Piotr's tendency to demonstrate himself physically might make for some awkward moments, but when he's angry his idea of physical demonstrativeness has proven quite useful.

"You are in luck, it so happens. I am not drunk, which means there is still some vodka left for guests. Come, let us go inside, sit around, drink vodka, and talk about why it is you've come to see me." He turns around, and reaches down to pick up the bottle on his way to the door, which he holds open revealing the spartan interior. The most notable furniture in the place could scarcely be called a proper card table, but it'll have to do as a place to entertain his guest.

When is Magneto not cranky? The old man seems to have two moods: brooding grim and scary angry. Nevertheless, he follows Piotr inside, if only because the less people that see him, the better.

Once inside, he studies the place briefly. "Why are you here… of all places?" He mutters, avoiding Piotr's own question. "Why not back in Russia? Why not a place where you could, at least, paint?"


"Ah… but I tried this already. I tried living in New York one, maybe three years ago. I use an alias, start to painting for serious."


Piotr clears a few things off of the small table and then takes a seat on one of the three chairs in the place. Placing the bottle across from him, he settles back into his chair and attempts to relax.

"I'm going by 'Peter Nicholas' and my paintings are selling. So fast they're selling that I have to charge lots of money for them. Is all very embarrassing."

"Next thing I know, there is dart in my neck. SHIELD ruins my cover, make it so Peter Nicholas is a terrorist, and I had to find a better place to hide. Is boolsheet."

"But… is okay. I like to work outside."

"So don't sell the paintings," replies Magneto. Obvious solution. He doesn't patent his inventions or writes for scientific magazines. He has no use for the money, and he is already famous enough.

"But most of all," he adds, reaching for the bottle. "Stay in touch with other mutants. If I found you, then SHIELD can do it too." He takes a swig from the bottle, leaving it back on the table. "They might not be looking very hard; Mystique's group is drawing most of their attention. But they won't forget. Nations never forgive."

"Is very true. I suppose Mel Gibson found that out the hard way. Right? Right?" A bit of awkward chuckling ensues, as Piotr does his best to deflect the conversation from going any potentially productive routes.


"After all that nonsense, I just thought maybe would be better that I just disappear. But, to tell the truth, is actually very boring being logger in the middle of woods. One reason that I was so excited to see is that I think maybe you're about to make big move, finally take over the world like everybody used to say you would. But, now I think maybe that is stupid."

"I had my moment," replies Magneto, "and found out my own people didn't want me taking over the world. They would be the first to rebel against my rule, and I would have to become the tyrant that oppressed them to save them."

Swig. Because for him that event was a moment of bitter, bitter enlightenment.

"I am no longer a conqueror; instead I have become a watchman," he sighs, but then smiles grimly. "Did you know mutant population doubles every five years? We will outnumber 'them' in a century. If we survive that long. So perhaps we don't need to conquer humans, just prevent them from killing us. It is not so glorious as conquest, but if you are bored, there is much to do."

"I'm sure it can be done, hiding in plain sight, keeping your nose clean. They haven't managed to arrest you yet, and I'm sure you're a much bigger fish to cook than I am."


"And who can say? Maybe I've been gone long enough that I can blend more easily. It would be good to get a change of scenery, I think. Maybe try a new job."

"Which, I think, is probably why you came in the first place."

"Ah, no," replies Magneto. "In truth I expected a less friendly meeting. But I wanted to make sure you were still alive. It is my responsibility."

A last swig. "I was in New York a few weeks ago. I saw a remarkable place in the East Side. The first mutant neighborhood in the world. The first mutant ghetto. Still very small, a few old city blocks with perhaps a few thousand mutants and their families. Right now they have… high level of unemployment, rampant crime, almost no police presence, and gangs of mutant kids with no training. But I also see the beginnings of a unique culture. The first attempts of mutants doing mundane tasks in different ways. I'd like to live there and encourage the change, and improve the neighborhood, but I can't. I need to travel, and I am too well known. But you could do it."

"A few thousand?" Piotr lets out a grunt sufficient to convey his semi-impressedness. "Da. A town made of nothing but mutants, this is a good thing. Something that the humans won't leave alone for very long, I think."

The bottle is nearly empty, and Magneto's assistance will likely mean that Piotr will go to sleep more sober than he has grown accustomed to. But even though his buzz is lessened, the glimmer of excitement that is slowly creeping into his eyes is unmistakable.

"I've thought about coming back, but nothing ever seemed worth the trouble. This though, this is something I wouldn't mind fighting for. I'm assuming, of course, it's not so simple though?"

Magneto shakes his head, "there is little that is simple in a ghetto. But to know the specifics, a man needs to live there for a while." Another grim smile, "I am quite sure it is more interesting than the Canadian wildness. If you decide to go there, I will be in touch. I need to know."

"I must seem a very easy man to sell things to, taking you up on this offer so fast. I promise to act more skeptical next time, so you don't think I'm simple." The final sip of vodka is finished up, and Piotr stands to his feet. "I'll need a little bit of time to tie up all of my ends here, but then I will take you up on your offer. There's no need to worry about transportation, I know a girl who can get me there easy."

He walks over to the door, dropping the empty bottle on the pile of empty bottles on his way. "If I'm going to leave, I need to get started immediately while I'm still hyper from work. I'd invite you to stay… but then everyone in the camp will think I've started dating older men." He opens the door, showing the man the way out.

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