Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 30, 2009 16:40:11 GMT -5
((OOC: This is a Halloween Thread.))
::In retrospect, the psychotic breakdown had been foretold; it had only been a matter of “when,” and rather than “if.” Unfortunately, the “when” had been during a late night shift apprehending a robber. There had been one comment too many about him resembling Magneto, at how could a terrorist possibly be a police officer, and that had been it. Pietro had snapped. Afterward, he had been rendered catatonic and his partner, unsure of what to do, had taken him to the police psychiatrist. They had called the Institute, which was his place of residence, and Leonard Samson, who had been listed as his personal psychiatrist.
He had been hospitalized, both while he had been unresponsive, and then when a personality had reemerged. Not his personality, but a personality nonetheless. He remained twitchy in the hospital, and eventually Xavier had requested he be transferred home; Samson would make house calls, and they would best monitor him there.
He called himself Matthew. He was an only child, an Xavier. The son of a good man. His doctors spoke around him, explained that it was to be expected that he would want to see himself as the son of a respected member of the community rather than who he was. That said, it could not stand indefinitely, but reaching him was difficult, because deep inside himself, Pietro – who had always carried such self-loathing – did not want to be found. Matthew was a better man, better to let him live this life.
He was supposed to keep to himself unless otherwise instructed, having only been home a couple of days, but he had a tendency to wander when not under supervision. The whole affair was “hush hush” although he did not realize. Thus he had come outside to sit in a lawn chair and read a magazine he had found left on the kitchen counter.::
::In retrospect, the psychotic breakdown had been foretold; it had only been a matter of “when,” and rather than “if.” Unfortunately, the “when” had been during a late night shift apprehending a robber. There had been one comment too many about him resembling Magneto, at how could a terrorist possibly be a police officer, and that had been it. Pietro had snapped. Afterward, he had been rendered catatonic and his partner, unsure of what to do, had taken him to the police psychiatrist. They had called the Institute, which was his place of residence, and Leonard Samson, who had been listed as his personal psychiatrist.
He had been hospitalized, both while he had been unresponsive, and then when a personality had reemerged. Not his personality, but a personality nonetheless. He remained twitchy in the hospital, and eventually Xavier had requested he be transferred home; Samson would make house calls, and they would best monitor him there.
He called himself Matthew. He was an only child, an Xavier. The son of a good man. His doctors spoke around him, explained that it was to be expected that he would want to see himself as the son of a respected member of the community rather than who he was. That said, it could not stand indefinitely, but reaching him was difficult, because deep inside himself, Pietro – who had always carried such self-loathing – did not want to be found. Matthew was a better man, better to let him live this life.
He was supposed to keep to himself unless otherwise instructed, having only been home a couple of days, but he had a tendency to wander when not under supervision. The whole affair was “hush hush” although he did not realize. Thus he had come outside to sit in a lawn chair and read a magazine he had found left on the kitchen counter.::
