Sword and Shield | E. Lehnsherr

2. Invasion of the Prison

Ria had elected to stay behind. If there is anywhere she would hate to go, it would be the Soviet Union during this wretched Cold War. Though America isn't much better, she would be assisting the CIA in a covert operation that, if caught, would turn to war almost instantly. She would rather stay here, safe with her new mutant friends.

Though concern simmers in her mind for the agents stuck in Russia and her new friends leading them, she does her best to focus on the calming atmosphere surrounding the other mutants. They pester her about her own powers constantly which does, admittedly, damper her mood, but she diverts the conversation back to them.

In only a few short hours, she has learned that Alex wanted to major in environmental studies, perhaps become an environmental lawyer, before his mutation blew up in his face. Darwin, a taxi driver in New York, had discovered his own talents when his building caught fire and his body hardened to rock. Angel had always had wings, beautiful and shimmering, but preferred to keep them tattooed against her skin. Sean, or Banshee, is just a kid, but a bright one, albeit loud and constantly flirtatious. Hank had told them stories of his time at the CIA, some of the projects he had been involved in, and Raven gushed about her childhood with Charles and their wondrous adventures.

Working as a bartender, Ria was supposed to know how to connect. For years, she has learned how people think and react and how to work with them, and bartending was no different. But this—this is a world of its own. As they sit together, waiting for inevitable battle, they create this energy Ria can feel in the air like petrichor. Warm and inviting and utterly alive, fed by mutants of all kinds working together towards peace and acceptance.

Ria has always been strong in this way—fighting for a world she believes can be better. Perhaps fighting for the past, but ultimately fighting so others can feel a sliver of the acceptance she felt in childhood, to feel loved and supported and celestial no matter what. Because while humans lack divinity in their mortality and frailty, they are gods all on their own. They are life itself, eternal and unbreakable.

"Hey, I didn't know the circus was in town." The masculine voice makes Ria trail her eyes to the repaired window separating their small sanctuary from the rest of the concrete prison. A few CIA agents stand there with sick grins on their faces as they watch. "Let's see the wings. Come on, get the feet out."

Years ago, she would have probably chosen a more violent option. When she was angry with the world, raging against its fate and destiny, she would have slaughtered such destructive language as it is clear to Ria that it harms more than just her. Long ago, Ria had learned to brush off such comments, but the people who surround her are young and naive. It took her years to master.

So, instead of a simple flick of the wrist, she slides the drapes closed to block out the agents with a heavy sigh. "Do your jobs!" She shouts as she dusts off her hands as if the drapes were sticky. In fact, they had been smooth as velvet, and she wishes she could sew it into a more concealing sweater other than the one gifted to her by Moira upon settling in. The CIA insignia feels ice cold against her chest.