Murdersphere Mosaic [ManXMan] [BoyXBoy]

Chapter 6 Part 4 The Mutant Problem

Getting a flight permit paralleled getting a driver's license without having to deal with traffic lights and stop signs. The right of way rules were instantly familiar. The hand signals for left and right turns are obvious derivations from bicycling rules. The rest was rather vague, lots of "character" questions about patience and "consideration for your fellow flyers."

After a laughably pathetic obstacle course that I had to take at maybe the equivalent of a normal person's run, I had a laminated plastic license that replaced my state ID card. But, disturbingly, it was a national license, a SHIELD id.

I am left in a waiting room while Smythe and 'Fax change into civilian clothes so we could go eat.

Someone tall, bald and brown with an eye patch, wearing black battle-dress pants, black boots and a black ribbed pullover sweater enters and turns that one-eyed gaze on me. "So, you're going to Xavier's."

Blank, not machine absent, but an utter blank, even with my attention on him. "If they'll have me."

"They do not want you, but as a favor they will take you." He says.

"Oh." I say. "Well, I'll have to make sure to graduate quickly."

"I don't know about that." He says. "Does anyone stop being an X-Man or an Avenger?"

"Sure." I say. "You leave, move away, get a job."

"No." He laughs. "The moment you step onto that campus you are marked with an X and when their enemies come hunting you are on that list."

"As opposed to joining your military operations?" I reply. "Become a faceless goon to be killed during some big event, or become cannon fodder in a costume for another. I do not think so."

He actually looks insulted.

"What do you suggest?" I ask.

"I don't know." He says. "You did kill three of my people."

"And who told you that?" I reply. "Hill? The would be kidnapping, false charge bringing, duty evading beacon of justice? Because I was getting attacked last night, and I put up reflective warding that any novice would have recognized... unless they were just feeding power to someone who let them eat the reflected feedback and die."

I give him a very hard look. "Has someone been tampering with your internal video monitors or did you just not look because it is inconvenient?"

"That's what I needed to hear." A smooth, professional contralto voice says, emanating from speakers in the walls.

I realize that pretty damned impressive telepathic baffling was containing my awareness to this chamber.

I expand my awareness outward, feeling the barrier flex, and begin drawing in containing power, making the lights flicker.

"So, whoever you are, is the telepathic barrier intended for privacy, or intended to be an object lesson?" I ask.  

"Privacy." He says succinctly, curiosity bleeding from behind his own psionic opacity.

"Okay." I say and I stop poking at the barrier.

We sit in uncomfortable silence. "So, I learn today that you've been fucking one of my best operatives."

I tint a bright shade of scarlet. "I'm not going to talk about that with you."

"We have to talk about it." He says, calm, curiosity still bubbling about. "You are a security risk."

"Your Pinkertons are a bigger security risk than I am." I reply. "So why am I so special?" And, then something occurs to me. I touch his mind, blank or no blank, I feel a rush of "presence" and a tremendous sense of relief.