Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia's greatest love machine-Boney M

The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants used to be a force to be reckoned with. Some of the greatest mutants in the world fighting for the mutants of the world. They competed with the X-Men blow for blow and terrorized the world. Domination, destruction, glory. Being a member used to mean something. It was progress and revolution, capital E-V-O-L-U-T-I-O-N. It was a sign of status and came with fine luxuries. They had a mansion at one point.

Now you can't even trust the washing mashine. Blair had learned that the hard way when she first arrived at the house, a venture that left her scrounging to rebuild her wardrobe on a shoestring budget. Perhaps it was just a fluke. Maybe she screwed up instead of the machine, but she wasn't willing to take that chance.

She'd finished eating breakfast minutes ago only because she'd run out of things to eat. There were still a few items on the shelves, but she didn't care for them. She wasn't at all a picky eater either, which said something about what was left. After working all night at the radio station she'd needed a boost. Otherwise she'd have to go to sleep, the biggest waste of time someone could ever undertake. She avoided it at all costs, and thanks to her mutant metabolism she could stay awake for ages as long as she was well fed.

Mornings were an especially great time to be awake, as so many other kids staying at the house stayed up late drinking and partying that they'd sleep til the afternoon. She didn't have to deal with morons. The kitchen was almost always free, as was the bathroom. Following her massive breakfast, Blair slipped into the shower and changed into green and blue plaid pajama pants and a black hooded sweater. An shudder ran up her spine as she stepped out of the steam filled room. The Brotherhood bathroom was, to her knowledge, the only place you could possibly shower and come out feeling even dirtier than before.

And now she stared at the washing machine and dryer, debating whether or not it was time to tussel with them once more. She'd only just begun to grow comfortable with her wardrobe again, having spent good bit of time searching secondhand shops for the simple black clothing she loved.
She definitely wasn't ready to do all that shopping again, so something told her she wasn't ready to test the machine again either. It was off to the laundromat.

Hoisting her trashbag of dirty apparel over her shoulder, Blair marched out the door. Her beat-up, canvas-topless Land Rover sat waiting on the lawn, a testament to the mutant's impatience. She'd only planned on staying at the house for a few hours anyway, now she was leaving even sooner. Rolling her clothes up over the side and into the back seat, she climbed behind the wheel. The engine came to life only after the third attempt, a regular habit of the vehicle. Harmless, it just gave the jeep more personality. The normal oil trail dripped as she sped off the lawn.

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The laundromat in town was empty when she got there. Even the owner made himself scarce, hiding away in the room behind the counter save for the occasional glance around the corner to make sure things were going okay. This was how she prefered it. Everything was hers. No waiting, no polite humoring of old ladies. She was able to make change, pick up her detergent and even choose three consecutive machines in a far corner. Clothes were piled in with no real thought as most them were dark anyway. All of her socks went into the wash, leaving her feet bare in her sneakers - black, of course. Snapping the quarters in and flipping the machines on, Blair sat back with an outdated magazine to wait. She was just moving on to the third article in the magazine she was reading only to pass time when she heard the bell hanging over the door chime.

Edited by: William X Taylor at: 12/4/04 9:52 am