Behind a Mask of Mystery (MCU/X-Men)

Prologue-Scott

November, 1952

"Why are we doing this again?" I whispered to my older brother, Alex. We were standing at the top of the stairs to a crowded ball room full of masked people in elegant outfits. Alex and I were both dressed in suits with red accents and red masks, looking out of place among the black, silver, and gold standards of the dancing crowd.
"One of your teachers told me about it, I figured we should give it a try," he shrugged. I rolled my eyes, knowing he was lying. The real reason we were here was for me to meet important people that could benefit me later in life. Mom and Dad had always taught us that rich people like these ones would always work to our favor if we played our cards right. Alex already screwed up his shot, so he wanted me to have a chance.
"Fine," I sighed, walking with him down the stairs. "But if anyone messes with me tonight, I might scream."
"And I will be sure to not be around you when that happens," he smirked. "Just try to relax and get to know people."
We walked in different directions, knowing we could cover more ground this way. I grabbed a drink from a passing waiter and leaned against a wall, observing the dancers. I felt like I was at a ball straight out of the 1800s even though it was 1952. The dancing they were doing was nowhere near what we do at school dances, so I didn't exactly know what to do but hang out on the sidelines.
A masked man and woman walked by, the man accidentally bumping into me and spilling his drink.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, not sarcastically but also with little remorse. Let's just say he walked away with a black eye and a new respect for others, and his lady probably wasn't going near him for the rest of the night.
I sighed and grabbed a few napkins, trying to dry my sleeve. Just my luck, another person bumped into me, spilt their drink, and walked away with a bloody nose. I glanced across the room to see Alex raising his glass in a mock toast to me, and it took every bone in my body to not burst out laughing.
After Alex's little joke, I got more comfortable and started actually talking to people. I became a quick conversation favorite with my charm and wit, so it was easy to make new connections.
"Do you know who's hosting the masquerade?" I asked a woman in a billowing dress.
She and her friend exchange glances and giggles before answering, "Well, no one really knows who he is, but I've heard that he's very handsome."
"But married," another woman pouted. "With two kids."
"What a lucky woman," they sighed together, making me laugh.
"Well ladies, I believe that any man who has either of you on his arm is a much luckier man," I chuckled.
Both women swooned as I wished them a goodnight and walked off to another group. I rolled my eyes when they couldn't see. They were both actually rather ugly from what I could see, so the charm was only due to their dresses that showed off their welth. This new group of men were also gossiping about the host, but they were much more criticizing than the two women.
"He's not even really married," one whispered. "It's not legal, the kind of marriage that he claims to have. It's with another man, a German at that!"
"A German?" Another laughed. "What was he thinking?"
"The German moved here long before the war," a third man dismissed. "He apparently used to be married to a Russian woman, but she left him when they got to America."
"A German man and Russia woman?" The second snorted. "That's ironic."
"And they have two children?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Well, the host and the German do," the first man supplied. "A son, around 12 I'd say, and a daughter who's about 16."
"The daughter is an absolute disgrace," the third man rolled his eyes. "She's a suffrage and Civil rights activist. Goes to rallies, boy cots, the works. She's trying to make the blacks and whites and women and men all equal."
I wanted to smile, to find the girl and congratulate her. She was standing up for others at the cost of her own reputation and safety, which I thought was quite admirable. The war had been over for years now, but she was fighting a different one than others.
"And what's wrong with that gentlemen?" I asked, turning up the charm in my voice. "Those blacks that you just mentioned, and by the way there is a much more politically correct and polite term, fought with us for our independence from Britain in the revaluation. I'd say that they are the very backbone of America with their hard work and honorable ideals. And the women are the ones who kept America afloat when the men were away fighting the war, were they not?"
All three scowled and I shrugged, walking off to find Alex, or maybe even the host's daughter. Another man bumped into me and emptied his glass on my shirt. Before he could even try to apologize, my first collided with his check. I was surprised when this man fought back, leading to a full fist fight, which, of course, I won.
"Watch were you're goin' next time," I grumbled, fixing my jacket. I seriously needed to find Alex before another person decided I looked like a perfect place to dump their drinks. Right as I spotted him, something hilariously upsetting happened.
A blonde haired boy in a black tuxedo and black mask seemed to have been looking for someone too, or maybe he just wasn't paying attention, but he ended up tripping over his own feet and hitting the ground, his glass spilling onto my shoes.
"I'm so sorry sir!" He apologized, picking up the now empty glass. He tried to stand, but ended up flinching and falling back down, "Ow."
"Here," I held out a hand to him, trying hard not to laugh. I would have beat him up like the last three or four men, but he seemed to be beating up himself enough.
"I really am sorry," he sighed, taking my hand. As soon as he looked up, I felt frozen. His eyes were stunning. They weren't fully blue, but they weren't green, and they seemed to glow through his mask. I pulled him up with a slight cough, cursing in mind over staring.
"It's okay," I shrugged a little. "Are you okay?"
He looked down and rubbed his neck awkwardly, "Yeah, I just twisted my ankle when I fell. I'll be fine."
"You clutz!" A black haired girl laughed, walking up to us. "You've been here a full five minutes and you already fell at someone's feet."
He glared a little at her and glanced back to me, "Again, I'm sorry."
"And I'm sorry too," the girl giggled. "If my brother caused you any trouble, just tell me and I'll beat him up."
"That's so rude!" He hissed at her, turning red.
"As entertaining as that would be," I laughed with her. "It's okay. At least he spilt it on my shoes and not my shirt."
"You got lucky," she smirked at her brother. "Have a goodnight sir."
They walked away together, whispering and hissing about his fall.
I shook my head and walked to where Alex was laughing with a woman in a blue dress and mask.