"Professor, so it's basically like this, that secret agency called SHIELD or whatever is the one in charge of taking measure against Magneto's attack and they want to discuss with you."
Hearing the report by Warren, Charles finally managed to let a smile appear on his face, finally some kind of good news.
Truthfully, he was afraid of the government starting messing up after all and not letting them interfering, clearly Magneto isn't something they can fight easily, fortunately, things aren't bad.
In fact, he knows about SHIELD, he knows how it was funded, it objective and how they had placed a mole in the school but he figured it out thanks to Jean hearing a certain agent acting as if his mutants powers 'enhanced stamina', huh.
Although he have wanted to come in contact with them officially, but SHIELD had this charming habit of operating like a paranoid raccoon in a trench coat. (Sorry raccoon bro).
Now, all of a sudden, they wanted to play nice, is it really just because of Magneto's pression or do they have some kind of hidden agenda?
He turned back to Warren, his expression exhausted not but curious. "Did they specify who would be attending this discussion? Director Fury himself, perhaps?"
Warren shook his head. "No, just that a 'high-ranking representative' would be sent to the school. They're requesting a private meeting—tonight."
Thus, fate postponed the historic glare-off between the world's most radiant bald dome and its most broodingly bald counterpart.
...
...
...
Indeed, just a few hours later, what arrived wasn't Fury himself but a woman—though Charles had to admit, she was far from a disappointment.
She looked… cool, probably in the 20s. There was no other word for it.
With her short black hair, an athletic build that suggested she could knock out a grown man without smudging her eyeliner, and an air of confidence far beyond her years, she immediately drew the eyes of the few students milling about the campus.
Some of them even forgot to pretend they weren't staring.
"Hello, Professor Xavier. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Maria Hill, the SHIELD representative for today's meeting," she said crisply, professional to the point of making a military parade look sloppy.
Charles was already intrigued—and not just because she walked like she knew where every security camera was.
No, what truly piqued his interest was the subtle, almost imperceptible sensation brushing against his mind. Some kind of interference… a soft static that made it just a little harder to sense her thoughts.
Not that he was trying to read her mind, of course. That would be rude. But it was there, like a mosquito buzzing at the edge of perception.
If he really wanted to, he could break through it like tissue paper.
But doing so would set off alarms—literal ones, probably—and whoever was on the other end of that surveillance feed might take it personally. The sort of 'personally' that involved black vans and plausible deniability.
Still, the fact that SHIELD had come prepared with mental shielding told him a lot. They were confident. Or at least optimistic. Did they really believe these little toys could stop him if he decided to get serious?
These thoughts flashed through Charles' mind in less than a second—psychics didn't need to monologue in real time.
On the outside, he merely smiled, warm and welcoming. "Hello, Ms. Hill. It's a pleasure to have you here. Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Students."
He guided her through the school, offering a polite tour while mentally noting each spot she oh-so-subtly deployed surveillance devices.
She might have been smooth, but Charles had been playing this game longer than she'd been alive.
He didn't say a word about it, though. Let her think she was being clever—it was adorable, in a corporate espionage kind of way.
Eventually, they made their way back to his office, where Hill took a seat with the kind of casual grace that said she was used to sitting across from dangerous people and pretending not to flinch.
"I appreciate the tour, Professor. Your school is… impressive," she said, and for a moment, she almost sounded sincere.
Charles offered the practiced smile of a man who'd heard that line from politicians, generals, and once, a vampire baron. "Thank you. It's good to know my efforts haven't been in vain."
After the polite exchange of greetings, and realizing she had no intention of cutting to the chase, Charles decided to take the reins. "So, Ms. Hill, to what do I owe the honor of SHIELD's visit?"
His tone dripped with just enough sarcasm to flavor the question without causing diplomatic whiplash.
Hill, unsurprisingly, wasn't fazed by Charles jumping straight to business.
Given the current climate, time wasn't exactly something anyone had in abundance. "It's regarding the recent attack on a military base—committed by, shall we say, one of yours."
That phrase immediately set Charles on edge. One of yours.
Just three words, and suddenly he and Magneto were roommates on the same ideological couch. "Ms. Hill," he said, his voice sharpening slightly, "I'm not sure what you mean by 'one of mine.' Are you suggesting I'm collaborating with Magneto now?"
"Should I expect a complimentary pair of handcuffs too, or is that saved for date night?"
Hill shook her head with the same calm grace as someone diffusing a bomb they'd planted themselves. "Of course not. We're well aware of the work you've done—are doing—to foster understanding between mutants and humans. Naturally, someone like you wouldn't be behind this."
"But," she added, ever so sweetly, "the individual responsible is a mutant. One of your kind." A denial disguised as an accusation—truly the bureaucratic double-speak equivalent of a dagger in a velvet sheath.
Charles saw the play clear as day.
It was less a conversation and more a performance, the message obvious: Prove you're not like Magneto. Help us clean up this mess. Be useful. And who better to deal with a mutant problem than his newly band?
Of course, Charles didn't actually mind.
If anything, he wanted the X-Men to take the lead on this—to resolve the crisis and, ideally, scrub off some of the grime that public perception had splattered across mutantkind.
He just resented being strong-armed into it under the guise of diplomacy. Like being told to volunteer at gunpoint.
Still, bitter pill or not, he had to swallow it. Open hostility with SHIELD was a luxury mutants couldn't afford—especially now. He exhaled slowly, choosing his words with care.
"Magneto may be a mutant," he began, "but we are fundamentally different. As you've already said, I'm working to close the rift between our peoples. And to that end, I'll do everything in my power to help stop him."
With Charles agreeing—grudgingly but genuinely—to assist to the best of his ability, the rest of the discussion went down easier.
Hill, perhaps sensing the limits of polite coercion, backed off, sparing everyone from another round of tense diplomatic arm-wrestling.
At this point, the Avengers Initiative was hanging by a thread, and SHIELD knew it.
After a thorough analysis, they concluded that unleashing Reed Richards and his newly super-powered Scooby gang was a bad idea.
They'd barely figured out how to walk without setting something on fire—how could they possibly stand against Magneto and his crew, who'd been perfecting their powers since the Cold War? Realistically, Reed's team wasn't an asset; they would be a liability.
That left Charles and his merry band of newly trained, questionably sane mutants as SHIELD's best bet. There was no room for error.
If this operation went sideways, the Avengers Initiative would be dead in the water—and the council didn't exactly hand out second chances. It was either dazzle them or pack up the superhero dream and let the world burn a little faster.
...
...
...
Hela's POV
After watching Hill leave, I confirmed it—tomorrow was going to be entertaining after all. The X-Men's very first battle against Magneto and his merry band of Mutant Misfits. Ah chaos. Always a treat to watch.
At the same time, I couldn't ignore the big shadow hanging over me—this was probably the last truly relaxing day I'd get in a while.
Because let's face it, I need to be free.
I can't spend eternity as just a glorified cosmic Astral ghost, watching everyone else's drama unfold while my body rots away in Hel, waiting for Odin to finally kick the bucket, the old bastard's as stubborn about dying as he is about everything else.
If I want to be free, I need to make my move, seize the opportunity, chew through the plot armor—whatever works.
If only I were a magician, or had received some magician's inheritance, or even just some knowledge about runes, maybe then I could've clawed my way to freedom already, not stuck being a sassy ghost.
But even if I did manage to remove the restrictions... what then? Would I just slink off into the shadows, abandon my realm, and hope Odin never finds me again?
That's not just cowardly, it's stupid. He always finds you—especially when you're enjoying yourself.
In the end, it all comes down to one simple, infuriating thing: power. Or rather, my lack of it.
That's why, after tomorrow, I'll go find Wanda. Meddle in her little tragic destiny. With Chthon probably hovering over her like a demonic stage mom, he'll definitely notice me poking around.
If someone on his level starts seeing me as a threat, well, then maybe I'll finally have something useful to work from the system—either a weapon, a power boost, or at least a shiny new enemy to piss off Odin.
And hey, if Chthon's not enough of a gamble, maybe I'll toss in the weakened Apocalypse or a Dormammu for flavor. Really stack the deck. Just need to make sure I pick someone dangerous and weirdly incapable of actually killing me. Can't have everything.
So, I turned to Jean and said, quite casually, "I'm leaving tomorrow."
She was mid-spy mode, watching Hill leave and clearly about to run off and interrogate Charles about their little secret meeting. But my words froze her in place.
"No—what? You're leaving?" she blurted, her voice rising along with her power.
Okay, that was more dramatic than expected. Girl, it's not like I'm leaving for a long time, right?
I sighed. ""Yeah, I have to leave. After all, I've got things to do. I'll stay until tomorrow and watch live how you deal with Magneto—after that, I'll probably be gone for a few days."
Her powers settled a bit, and I saw a flicker of relief on her face. Still, the sadness was there, lingering behind her eyes. Ugh. Emotions. The original curse.
"Oh, come on, girl," I said, grinning. "You think anyone else gets the privilege of basking in this goddess's presence for this long? You've practically been monopolizing me. Greedy little thing."
"But," I added, smirking, "if things go according to plan, next time you see me, I'll be back with a proper body. So, you better be ready to treat me to the best food humanity has to offer. And I swear, if you hand me a salad, I'll smite you."
(End of the chapter)
Apologies for the delay! I was possessed by the writing demons yesterday—ended up doing something 'weird' instead of updating. But here's your daily dose of chaos!
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