Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jul 22, 2007 21:59:16 GMT -5
::Pietro had left Typhoid's dormitory at a normal pace for everyone else. As soon as he was down the hallway, he began to sprint, letting his speed take over. Three laps around the entire grounds had done little to burn out his energy or the pain. Leaving the mansion would do nothing to help, Pietro knew that. Another round of drinking while remaining sober, and exploding car parts wouldn't treat the underlying issue.
He was in love with Typhoid. She said she loved him, but she also loved her fiancé. Her fiancé; they would marry and that would be the end of this all. His anger rose at that thought, sprouting from the ache in his heart like Athena from her father's skull. Her fiancé did not deserve her. He had cheated on her, tried to do it more than once. Pietro had seen it with his own eyes. The pain he had caused to Typhoid should have earned him scorn, what he deserved. Instead, he would marry her. What hurt the most was the knowledge that if he were less stiff and had proposed, Typhoid could have been his.
He wanted to put her fiancé in his place, to teach him a lesson. To do that would be unthinkable. Not because Pietro objected to violence; his encounter with Magneto demonstrated that. Rather, to lay a hand on her fiancé would be to hurt Typhoid, and he could never do that. The very thought of it made him ache all the more.
The idea came to him as he circled the grounds for the third time. Uncle's precious Danger Room. If it still worked the way it had in his youth, Uncle kept records of all of the users. Records that could be downloaded for the holograms. Pietro did not doubt that there was a record of her fiancé down there somewhere.
His access codes still worked; Uncle, ever hopeful of a return, had never bothered to change them. His old training clothes were still there also. The ones that helped insulate him while still giving him full mobility. Black had never been his color, but beggars could not be choosers. Pietro donned the uniform and began to search through the files. He found the right one, and loaded it into the computer. He locked in the scenario, attaching a voice override. He had no desire to use it, but should there be an attack while he was in here, he would need to leave.
The doors locked, the lights dimmed, and the walls receded. In their place was a recreation of the mansion. There *he* stood, standing there, cocky, secure in what he had. Pietro felt his blood begin to boil. His hands balled into fists at his side, and he spoke through clenched teeth.:: "You can't have her."
He was in love with Typhoid. She said she loved him, but she also loved her fiancé. Her fiancé; they would marry and that would be the end of this all. His anger rose at that thought, sprouting from the ache in his heart like Athena from her father's skull. Her fiancé did not deserve her. He had cheated on her, tried to do it more than once. Pietro had seen it with his own eyes. The pain he had caused to Typhoid should have earned him scorn, what he deserved. Instead, he would marry her. What hurt the most was the knowledge that if he were less stiff and had proposed, Typhoid could have been his.
He wanted to put her fiancé in his place, to teach him a lesson. To do that would be unthinkable. Not because Pietro objected to violence; his encounter with Magneto demonstrated that. Rather, to lay a hand on her fiancé would be to hurt Typhoid, and he could never do that. The very thought of it made him ache all the more.
The idea came to him as he circled the grounds for the third time. Uncle's precious Danger Room. If it still worked the way it had in his youth, Uncle kept records of all of the users. Records that could be downloaded for the holograms. Pietro did not doubt that there was a record of her fiancé down there somewhere.
His access codes still worked; Uncle, ever hopeful of a return, had never bothered to change them. His old training clothes were still there also. The ones that helped insulate him while still giving him full mobility. Black had never been his color, but beggars could not be choosers. Pietro donned the uniform and began to search through the files. He found the right one, and loaded it into the computer. He locked in the scenario, attaching a voice override. He had no desire to use it, but should there be an attack while he was in here, he would need to leave.
The doors locked, the lights dimmed, and the walls receded. In their place was a recreation of the mansion. There *he* stood, standing there, cocky, secure in what he had. Pietro felt his blood begin to boil. His hands balled into fists at his side, and he spoke through clenched teeth.:: "You can't have her."
