The grounds of the Mansion were green and clear, the landscaping undisturbed, the lawn unharmed long enough for the grass to grow to a respectable height. The Professor had kept it at that discretely manicured country club height, like he was ashamed that all that green was alive, but Scott let it grow. The longer it grew, the bigger the victory.
He knew this place. It was about the only time SHIELD had shown up at the Xavier Institute, in the form of Maria Hill, her body long and lean and every inch of it cradled by her SHIELD jumpsuit like a knife in a sheath. A hard face, strikingly even-tempered, close-cropped hair, breasts small but neatly fitted to her body, ass flat, all of her toned and hardened. The reason the jumpsuit was so unforgivingly tight as to leave no doubt: it hid no weakness, no excess, no softness. She was as sharp-edged as she looked, inside and out.
Down boy,
Emma thought-cast. This was back when they were on thinking terms with each other.
Maria was here with the Devil's deal, just sign on the dotted line. Scott remembered the SHRA, the Civil War. He'd steered clear of it, watching the proceedings with a bit of bemused bitterness. Back then, he'd been a little ashamed of how cathartic he'd found it to watch Captain America and the rest get the mutie treatment.
Now...
He and Emma sat down at the garden table with Maria. Emma poured for them from the carafe of iced tea, Scott wondering if she knew yet just how submissive she could be.
SHIELD's SHIELD's butch-in-chief?
Scott thought to the Phoenix, sitting at the fourth chair.
Didn't know she was your type.
She could be a powerful ally in times to come. As long as you have something on her.
Guess I'd better get on her then.
They weren't in the shadow of the Sentinel meant to keep them from going off the reservation, literally, but they were close. Scott sent his thoughts to Emma, wondering if it were possible for mental wires to get crossed.
Emma, what've you got?
Emma gave him the briefest look, evincing surprise, before casting.
The great Scott Summers asking me to violate another's mental privacy?
When I asked what have you got, I meant besides sarcasm.
She's SHIELD. She has the best psi-blocks in the world.
So?
Emma smiled for him:
She thinks you're handsome, has a lot of daddy issues, and is so into being dominated that she keeps thinking about Nick Fury pulling her over his lap and tanning her hide.
So just about what I expected for a top-ranked member of the United States intelligence community.
Pretty much. Are you planning something?
Usually
Maria was talking, as always. "I realize you've already graciously met with Tony Stark, but I was hoping to make a clearer impression on you. While we are following Iron Man's lead in allowing you to remain neutral, for now, you're not exempt from the law. You X-Men will be part of the Fifty States Initiative, and your students will be trained in a method consistent with Camp Hammond certification. The days of the X-Men being a glorified mutant pride parade are over."
"Are they?" Scott asked.
Maria blinked, surprised at his blank insolence. He hadn't said it as a challenge, but in almost a curious manner, like he knew something she didn't. "If not, they soon will be. There won't be one system for mutants and another for everyone else. You'll follow the example of Beast and Wolverine and be a part of the program."
"And what if we don't?" Scott persisted. "What happens to mutants who take our cue? Are you going to put four point five percent of the population in Project 42? I'm not sure even the Negative Zone is big enough for that."
Now Maria
really
blinked. After a stunned pause, she jerked to her feet. "How the hell did you know about that?" She stared at Emma. "You can't have gotten past my blocks, not that far, you can't've!"
Scott casually rose, patting Emma on the shoulder as she looked at him questioningly. "That's the problem with declaring war on mutants and not on superheroes. They wear bright costumes and drag capes behind them. Us—we're everywhere. The X-Men, X-Factor, just the type of the iceberg. We look sexy as hell and we make a lot of noise, but the real damage is done when one of us is in the White House, or the Senate... a nuclear power plant... a missile silo..."
Maria gritted her teeth. "How dare you threaten me. How dare you threaten the American people—"
"What? You don't like living in fear?" Emma asked acidly, following Scott's lead. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure she knew
exactly
how submissive she could be. "Funny. You humans spend enough time worrying about violent videogames and people saying 'happy holidays.' I guess us
homo superior
have the luxury of real problems."
"It certainly does leave us few illusions about our place in the food chain," Scott said. "We may not be on the top, but we're certainly above you. And we can act like it anytime you want. Policing Magneto, 'the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants,' that was a courtesy. Do you really think you can give us more trouble than them?"
Maria's lips curled in distaste. "Do you know how many times someone has recommended just hitting this place with a missile and being done with it? The surveys say our poll numbers wouldn't even quiver."
"It's not the poll numbers I expect to quiver," Scott said. "It's you. Emma? Be a dear?"
Shifting into diamond, Emma reached across the table, grasped Maria's hand, and pulled her down facefirst into the table. Maria gasped in exertion as she hit the grated metal; Scott was suddenly behind her, holding her down, while Emma pulled her arms up and out, keeping her from getting loose that way. Suddenly, Maria Hill was completely trapped.
