Sins of the Father

Sins of the Father Chapter Thirty (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (tm), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta... GOOD LUCK! InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are glomp worthy for archiving/hosting! :) ProPhile: Smut in the next chapter, just for you. *gloke * Morgan: *witchy glomp * Readers/Reviewers: Soon, the sideflings will be updated. Huzzah! And *twirly dance of thanks * for reading and reviewing!


"Have they left yet?" Magneto murmured, not looking up from his work.
"Yes. An hour ago." Mystique stretched her back subtly, sighing inwardly at the early signs of aging. The dull aches and pains she had developed after her shape shifting exercises were starting to become more frequent in recent days and she was far from amused. "Tarot was most insistent and Pietro finally gave in. He's far too strong willed to be happy with her," she added by way of commentary.
Magneto looked up with a distinctly amused expression on his features. "He is my son, you know." He closed his folder and stood, ending the line of conversation without further adieu. "We seem to have a bit of a problem."
She raised a brow and folded her arms across her almost-bare chest. "Just one?" She could not name one day since joining the Brotherhood that some problem or other had not reared it's ugly head.
"At the moment, this is the only one that is our concern." He moved around the desk to tower over her. "Until this morning, things were going quite well. It seems we have a little knot to work through though."
Mystique nodded. "I heard about the church."
"That is the least of my worries." He turned from her and moved to the computer screen set on the desk across the room. "This came to my attention courtesy of one of our associates within the project. It seems things are progressing a bit faster than we expected."
She rose and joined him in staring at the screen. "How?" she finally asked, not quite sure she believed what she was seeing. "That can't be possible."
"By now you should know that enough money can make damned near anything possible." He glanced sidelong at her and added, "I've moved the timetable up by three days."
"Three...is that enough time?" She looked up sharply, her skin rippling involuntarily. She narrowed yellow eyes and said sotto voce, "You know my conditions. I won't..."
"I know," he cut her off smoothly. "Just make sure you're ready. Pietro and Tarot are out of the way and I highly doubt Blob is motivated to do anything to interfere." He smiled tightly and tilted his head to one side. "You look tired, Mystique. Are you well?"
"I'm fine," she answered shortly. Jerking her chin she asked boldly, "You look as if you're slipping. Isn't Incubus around to help?"
Magneto's expression became very closed and chilled. "You would do well to remember your place. You are not my equal." He closed down the missive on the screen and as he reset the security codes, added in dismissive tones, "Ready Sabretooth. This is going to happen fast and I do not tolerate mistakes."
Mystique recognized dismissal when she heard it. She nodded coolly and swept from the room without a backwards glance. Her white shift swirled about her ankles and she wished it were gone. It was just one more thing, she fumed, about Magneto that was driving her crazy, his insistence that she wear something over her nudity around the house.1 He had always been controlling, she knew, and nine times out of ten, she was able to survive without commenting. Until recently, he had not given much care to her own activities, only enforcing his "Live with the Brotherhood, serve the Brotherhood" dictum. Since the incident with Phobos and Demos, she fumed inwardly, he was treating her like a child. She fought the urge to stomp her foot as she drew to a halt outside of Sabretooth's temporary quarters.
"You stink of roses," he grumbled, not even looking up from his book. "Fix it."
She growled. "Do not speak to me like that. Magneto says the time table has been moved up three days. Be ready."
He sighed gruffly, closing the book and holding his place with his finger. "What is the cause? The church?"
"No..." She eased further into the room and glanced at the title of the book, snorting faintly. Magneto had not told her to keep it secret, she reasoned, and Sabretooth was integral to the plan... "The Project has not been entirely decimated."
"Yes, I know," he snapped.
Mystique smirked. "Aww...missing Phobos are we?" She ignored his snarl and began a slow circuit of the room. "The implants were largely defective in the first round but apparently, the research group has refined them much faster than expected. They're ready for use immediately. " She paused and gave him a pointed look. "You know what needs to be done now."
"Yes." He stood, his mass dwarfing her easily. "Do you?"
She rolled her eyes and made a negligent gesture. "I'm not your concern." She made to move past him but found hard arm in her way. "Move."
"No," he growled, bending to meet her eyes. "You look...old...today."
Mystique sucked in a sharp breath, anger rising unchecked. She brought her cupped hands down hard against his ears, sending him reeling. "I said move!"
Sabretooth let her pass but grabbed her arm before she could leave. "I am not a fool, Mystique."
"Then let go of my arm," she snarled, jerking free. "Be ready!"
Sabretooth held his tongue as she disappeared down the hall. He knew what was coming and knew she was as blind as he had feared. It made no matter, though, he sighed inwardly. Self preservation was more important than tenuous bonds.

Magneto folded his hands across his stomach, staring into space. He knew Mystique was going to be difficult to manage now, difficult to bring to reign. It made no matter, he sighed to himself. The Brotherhood would survive with or without her.
1 It never made much sense to me that she would wear that dress when she would need to be naked to shape shift, so I made that up about Magneto. Yeah. Um. Okay. As you were.