"You nervous buddy?" Tony Stark asked, giving Steve a slap on the back and adjusting his navy blue suit collar from behind. Even though it didn't hurt as much as it probably could have, Steve flinched. His stomach was like taffy, being pulled every which way. He still couldn't believe it.
"Yeah, I think so," Steve said, nodding, adjusting the cuff of his shirt. He liked the way the subtle orange pinstriping looked on it, when cuffed over the blue houndstooth. The sliver round shield-shaped cufflinks were a Christmas present from Natasha and they really brought the outfit together. The way his hair was slicked back made him feel uncomfortable, as did the makeup they had put on him, but Tony's press people had insisted he wear it.
"Good, you should be, the press core are sharks, they'll fucking eat you alive." Tony led Steve over to the curtain, to look out at the crowd without them seeing him. The faces of the camera men and the mic guys and the reporters all blended together into an angry brown sea. "My suggestion is when it comes time for questions, call on that short dumpy looking blonde in front, she's apparently got a brother who's a mutant, she's pretty nice about those things, she'll soft ball you, uh, and the Asian guy in the corner, the one with flipped hair? His boyfriend is a mutant, so him too, and uh...if you have to pick someone who will ask tough questions go for the black woman in the red suit from MSNBC, she's at least fair in her assessment of mutant issues."
"Did you research these people?" Steve asked, eyes nervously darting from the three people Tony mentioned. The blonde, sitting on the edge of the stage, looked towards him, and he moved back to make sure he was completely concealed by the curtain.
"You gotta know what kind of sharks you're dealing with. You need to know whether the shark you're punching is a great white or a nurse shark."
"I'm impressed how invested you seem in this shark metaphor," Bruce Banner said from the corner of the room. His curly brown hair had been groomed into neat swirls, rather than the mess they usually were, clearly one of Tony's press-day hair and makeup peoples' doing. This press conference was for him as much as it was for Steve and his nerves showed. After all, he had discovered what the Super Solider Serum did to normal humans. The tapping of his middle finger on the part of his leg just above his knee felt like the beat of Steve's death-knell.
"Five minutes," Pepper said, coming into the curtained off area. She'd been a saint throughout all this, helping Steve with everything every way she could like he was a high-ranking Stark Industries official, rather than just a friend of Tony's.
"Oh, Steve, who picked out that tie?" she tutted, walking over to a table where more ties sat.
"You don't like the tie?" Tony asked. "I like the tie. Mutants are children of the atom, there's an atom on his tie, I like it." Steve looked down at his orange atom tie and began to undo it, looking up at Pepper as he did.
"Steve, let me give you some advice, never listen to anything Tony says as far as dressing for a press conference goes. He once wore a ten year old Led Zeppelin t-shirt with motor oil down the front to one."
"Once. To be fair, I was drunk," Tony said, swaggering towards her.
"You say that like that makes it better." Pepper picked out a muted red tie. She held it up to Steve, then put it back down, picking up a bright blue one, that nearly matched the blue of his eyes, instead, again holding it up to him. She handed it to him. "This one."
Steve tied it carefully.
"Be honest though, that was one of the best press conferences I've ever had. The press ate it up."
"It was unprofessional, and I was stuck answering questions about it for days," Pepper said, grinning fondly at Tony. Bruce's drumming on his leg slowed down a little as he smiled knowingly at the couple. "Two minutes," she warned, looking at Steve. He could see the nerves in her face too.
All of them were nervous about this. Even Clint, and Tasha were nervous about this. Thor didn't understand what was going on completely, midgardians were midgardians, human or mutant, but he had wished Steve luck. Pietro and Wanda Maximoff had even sent Tony a text for Steve and Bruce from Sacramento saying they were holding thumbs for them. Tony had to google that for him. (It meant essentially the same as 'fingers crossed' but it was German. Which confused Steve. He was pretty sure the Maximoffs weren't German.)
They could see Commander Fury walk up to the podium. His usual black coat and black outfit underneath had been replaced with a well-tailored suit, and his normal eyepatch with a special occasions eyepatch, decorated with small black diamonds in the shape of an eye, which shined in the harsh lights of the press core. A few camera men scrambled to fix their cameras as the light shining off the diamonds cast a glare into them, obscuring most of the video they were getting. Which was probably Fury's point.
"Thank you for meeting with us today, Captain Rogers and Doctor Banner are quite excited to get started, so, without making you wait further, Captain Steve Rogers." Commander Fury gestured for Steve to follow him onto the stage. And even though he felt like his legs would fall through the floor of the stage, Steve did. Commander Fury pulled him into a one armed embrace, which Steve returned, even if the idea of hugging a man like Nick Fury made him even more nervous than he already was. It was like the blond boy in the movie Clint had showed him hugging the evil wizard. Intimidating. Creepy.
"You better not fuck this up, Rogers," Commander Fury whispered in his ear as they pulled back from the hug, and walked off stage to join Pepper, Bruce, and Tony.
Steve closed his eyes and cleared his throat, feeling like the scrawny little fifteen year old in his civics class he used to be, who's voice shook and cracked every time he read his essays.
"Uh, um," he began, looking down at his notes, then up at the audience. "Uh, Thank you for being, uh, here today. Uh, recently, scientists made a discovery about me, that, uh, I'm still not sure I've coped with." Steve gave a nervous smile that made the press chortle. "For the past, uh, nearly seventy five years, I uh, was under the impression my abilities, my strength and other such abilities came from the Super Solider Serum given to me by Dr. Abraham Erskine. But just four days ago, after a blood test attempting to recreate the original serum was given to me, it was discovered that, in fact, I was a mutant, and, uh, that was why the serum gave me different abilities from those of Doctor Banner, who's serum was later proven to be, in fact, the original serum." Steve could have kicked himself for the number of repeating words in that sentence. "Today, after this press conference I intend to register with the Mutant Control Agency, in compliance with the Mutant Registration Act, and afterwards, I intend to take a month off from active field duty, until S.H.I.E.L.D has made a decision on whether or not to terminate my position with the Avengers. I will now be taking questions."
Steve studied the three people Tony felt were safe...and promptly ignored them.
Instead, he called on a tall black man in the front row with a thick, dark mustache.
"You sir," he pointed.
"Mr Rogers, has your opinion on mutant rights changed since discovering you yourself are a mutant?"
"No, I don't think so. I think I am already pretty progressive as far as mutants go." It was automatic. Like he was on autopilot. The truth was he hadn't even thought about it.
000
"Has the Rogers press conference started yet?" Magneto asked Toad, walking into the large, living room. Toad sat on the sofa, basking in the sunlight let in by the massive bay window, taking up more than his fair share of the couch, his feet resting in the lap of Mist Mistress who sat next to him. Kashmir, a new recruit to the Brotherhood, sat on the floor, leaving the large leather armchair empty.
"Yeah. You missed the opening and like, six questions, but it's still going on," Mist Mistress said, glancing up at Magneto. "I have it Tivoed anyway."
"Captain Rogers," a Sikh reporter in a bright teal turban on TV began.
"That's not Mystique, is it?" Kashmir asked.
"No. As far as I know she's a blonde woman today," Mist Mistress replied.
"-resign from the Avengers?" The Sikh man finished.
"What did he say?" Mist Mistress asked, glancing at Toad.
"'Do you think, with the discovery that you're a mutant, you will be asked to resign from the Avengers,'" Toad said. "Maybe if you and Chatty Cathy over there were quiet for two seconds, you'd hear it."
There was a large pause as Captain America thought. One could see the pain morph his face. The wrinkle in his brow and upper nose.
"I hope my departure from the Avengers is only temporary and that soon I will be able to return."
"That wasn't my question, Captain Rogers. Do you think the US government will force you to resign from the Avengers?"
"No. Next question."
Rogers called on a blonde woman in a light blue cardigan. For a split second, her eyes flashed gold. One could only see it if one was looking for it.
"That's Mystique," Magneto informed Kashmir.
"Nifty," she replied, cracking her back loudly as she twisted her body. The back of her purple top rode up a little, revealing a sliver of her brown back.
"Stop that, it sounds disgusting," Toad said, poking her in the back with one of his toes.
"She doesn't say that when you do that thing with your tongue," Mist Mistress said, contorting her face into an annoyed expression as she sighed exasperatedly at Toad.
"Stop bickering," Magneto said, focusing on the news. "You are all members of a mutant rights group, not five year old children."
"I'm a child," Kashmir whispered, mostly to herself, curling her thick black hair around her finger.
"How do you feel about the mutant liberation group, branded by some to be a terrorist group, the Brotherhood Of Mutants?" Mystique asked Steve Rogers. This reporter's face she was wearing had dimples, and they showed a little as she said 'brotherhood', which made Magneto smile a little as well.
Rogers opened his mouth to start to answer the question. From one of the wings of the stage, Commander Nick Fury walked on. He put an arm around Captain America and gently pushed him away from the podium.
"I'm sorry ladies and gentlemen, but that's all the time we have for questions today. Doctor Banner will be out to answer questions in a few minutes." He led Rogers off the stage.
When the Latina reporter came back on screen, Toad flipped the television off and stood up, walking out of the room. Mist Mistress followed.
"What do you think it means that Captain Pirate didn't want him answering a question about the Brotherhood?" Kashmir asked looking over at Magneto.
She had big brown eyes, and they always looked behind you, not at you, which made Magneto a little uneasy. But she was kind, and helpful, often running errands members of the Brotherhood were unable to run because they were labeled criminals or terrorists, which was useful.
"Captain Pirate?" he asked, adjusting a picture with a metal frame that had gone slightly crooked across the room.
"Eyepatch dude. I don't know his name." At some point between I and don't, she switched from English to Spanish.
"Commander Fury. The head of S.H.I.E.L.D," Magneto informed her, switching to Spanish as well.
"Yeah. What do you think Commander Fury meant not letting him answer the question?"
"Likely he didn't want Rogers to answer the question wrong. If he called us a terrorist group, it might alienate moderate mutants who view us as doing some good things, and if he agreed we are freedom fighters, he will alienate most humans. It would take a very delicate hand to answer such a question, and I'm not certain that Captain America has the right hand to do it."
"Then why'd you have Mystique ask it?"
"One can learn a lot about a person from how they look right before they answer a question."
"Like what?"
Magneto ignored her, and she took that as an excuse to shut up.
000
After the press conference, Tony took Steve, Pepper, and Bruce out for a 'Well, That Went Better Than Expected' lunch at some sushi place in the lower east side. The place had white plastic walls and large, round red booths and a shiny chrome counter where the sushi maker could make the sushi.
"You know," Steve said, awkwardly attempting to pick up a piece of unagi with his chopsticks, "This used to be a," he managed to get the piece of sushi off the plate by about two inches, then it slipped off and fell back down before he could even take a bite. Pepper stood and went to get a fork from the front counter, probably knowing Bruce and Tony wouldn't have done so, and would have instead just kept snickering, "A kosher butcher sho-" Again he got the unagi up in the grasp of his chopsticks, but again it fell back onto his plate. Tony and Bruce just teetered with laughter they were barely able to hold in. "Shop. It had the best brisket anywhere."
Pepper returned with the fork and handed it wordlessly to Steve.
Tony gave her a look which spoke volumes, mostly on the topic of 'Why do you always have to ruin my fun, Pepper?'
And Pepper shot back a look that said 'The man is nearly 100 years old and a war hero. Don't laugh just because he doesn't know how to do something.'
"So, uh, Steve," Bruce began, not wanting to get involved in the intense eye argument between Tony and Pepper, "What's your plan if S.H.I.E.L.D does decide to let you go?"
"He's gonna come work at Stark Industries with me," Tony said. "We can make him some assistant director of pool playing or something."
"Thanks, Tony, that's really nice, but, uh," Steve began, "If S.H.I.E.L.D lets me go, uh, I'm considering going back to school... For art maybe. Or this school up in Westchester offered me the chance to work for them as a history teacher...I might do that."
"What kind of school lets someone with no teaching degree teach?" Bruce asked.
"A special school," Pepper said, mocking the idea. "You need to be careful about the college thing, by the way, not all schools allow mutants to attend. Like, MIT-"
"My alma mater," Tony butted in.
"His alma mater," Pepper said, giving an almost imperceptible eye roll, "allows mutants, but Stanford doesn't yet."
"They claim it's because a student with earthquake powers who attended there in the 1990s nearly destroyed a lecture hall by sneezing," Bruce informed Steve in a voice half between a normal voice and a whisper. He cleared his throat and reached for a glass of water.
"But I don't have earthquake powers," Steve said, confused. "Why can't they just let mutants who don't have dangerous powers in?"
Pepper and Bruce started talking at the same time, and when they realized it, they both stopped talking.
"You first," Pepper said.
"No, I want to hear your insight."
"Okay, well, how does someone determine what powers are dangerous? Is phasing through walls dangerous enough to be banned from attending a school? No, probably not, but what if you use that power to break into a fellow student's bedroom at night and smother them in their sleep because they stole your boyfriend? Then it might be."
Tony and Bruce looked at Pepper, their eyes a little wide, and their brows a little tense.
"Wow, you really thought that out didn't you?" Tony asked, giving Pepper a wide grin. "I'm going to start locking my bedroom door at night...not that that will do me much good if you can phase through walls."
"There was a murder four years back in Lubbock," Pepper defended, cheeks turning pink.
Steve pulled a large stack of forms out of his breast pocket, along with a blue ballpoint pen. He brought the pen up to his lips, gently bit off the blue cap, setting it back in his pocket and began to read through the forms.
"Steve," Tony said, "Is now really the time? We're having fun."
"He only has fifteen days to fill out those forms," Bruce informed Tony, keeping his voice hushed.
"Really?" Tony asked, wrinkling his nose. It made him look rather like a twelve year old girl who'd just been told how sex worked. "Well, that's stupid. Hand some of that to each of us. There's no reason we can't fill out part of the forms for you."
Before Steve could do it himself, Tony grabbed the stack of papers from him and handed stacks of roughly the same size to Pepper, Bruce, and himself, handing some of the forms back to Steve. Pepper pulled out two pens, handing one to Tony.
"Do you have one more?" Bruce asked politely, glancing at Pepper, and then Steve.
Steve reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pen, handing it to Bruce.
The three worked in silence for a few minutes, with only a few stops to ask Steve his mother's maiden name ('Cassidy'), place of birth (the form had wanted a hospital, but Steve had been born at home, with a midwife present, so Tony had just put down his home address at that time) and social security number ('Tony, just let Steve write it down, someone might be listening'). Til Pepper found something interesting on the forms.
"Well, I need your signature here, but, this is strange." Her brow knit up, and she bit her lower lip.
"What?" Bruce asked, trying to read the form over her shoulder as he picked up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks.
"It says that in order for a mutant to get any kind of state or federal government assistance they have to agree to...That can't be right."
"Agree to what?" Bruce picked up the form and studied it. "It must be a typo," he said uncertainly. He pursed his lips together and reread it.
"I don't think it's a typo."
"What's it say?" Steve asked.
Tony snatched the paper out of Bruce's hands. "It says 'By registering with the Mutant Registration Department ("the Department"), the undersigned agrees to comply with all medical procedures or examinations required or requested by federal and state governments prior to receipt of any public benefits. For the purpose of this agreement, "public benefits" includes, but is not limited to: Food Stamps; The Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants and Children; The Home Energy Assistance Program; Social Security Disability Insurance; Supplemental Security Income; and Temporary Assistance for Needy Families. The undersigned may be required to comply with requirements such as sterilization, experimental medications to suppress abilities, or other procedures at the discretion of the Department. If the household includes minor children, the undersigned agrees to ensure compliance with the above provisions for all dependent children with mutant abilities.'"
"What?" Steve asked.
"Well, uh, it makes sense I guess," Bruce said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. But his eyes were sad.
"Is that legal?" Steve asked "Can they do that?"
"They won't do it to you," Bruce reassured Steve. "You're Steve Rogers. Captain America."
The paperwork was filled out pretty quickly after that, a couple signatures on the dotted line, a couple initials at the top of paragraphs. And the forms were done.
000
Kashmir didn't like being sent out on errands. Being out in public terrified her. The centennials weren't supposed to enter Manhattan, but that didn't always mean they listened. And the way people stared at her, it was possible it was because she mouthed the song playing on her ipod to herself, but to her it was proof they knew she was a mutant. She was a freak.
Freak.
Freak.
Freak.
No.
No.
She wasn't supposed to think like that in the Brotherhood. Being a mutant meant she was special. Superior. Better than.
Special.
Special.
Special.
Special.
The word stuck in her head, and she mentally chewed on it the way she literally chewed on the tip of her hair.
The Lower East Side was much ritzier than her working class Latino neighborhood in Queens had been. It'd been gentrified, even since she used to visit it as a child.
Gentrified.
That was another interesting word.
Kashmir didn't pay attention as she walked. She walked like she was in a daydream. It was all the emotions around her mostly. Her power. She couldn't control it.
It was a problem, particularly on jobs the Brotherhood had her help pull.
But it was also a problem that day. She stepped down, thinking there was more sidewalk ahead of her, instead of a curb, and tripped, her groceries landing in the street, and all over the sidewalk. A yellow taxi-cab nearly ran over her cantaloup, but it pushed it instead back towards the curb. Three large navel oranges fell down the gutter, out of reach. The small jar of jerkins she'd bought from a specialty deli shattered.
And Magneto was going to fucking murder her. Okay. Maybe not murder her. But something very unpleasant would happen. She was sure of it. She tried to help herself up, willing herself not to cry.
"You okay?" A tall, muscular man in a blue suit, with blue tie, and a white collared shirt pin-striped with orange was picking up the lamb she'd picked up from the butcher shop and put it into a cloth bag he already seemed to have half full.
"You're Captain America," Kashmir informed him, holding a hand out for her bag.
"I am. Are you okay?" he repeated.
"Yeah. Fine. Fine. Fine." Sometimes she got stuck on words. It bothered some people. But Captain America, he didn't seem to notice.
"You're bleeding," he said, pointing to her palm. She looked down at it.
"Shit," she mumbled. "I'm going to get blood on this fucking bag." And Magneto would be even angrier.
"I have bandages at my place. It's on the next block. If you want, you can come back with me, get one."
"Much obliged. Gimme a sec to text my, uh, Aunt. Gotta make sure she knows who I'm with, in case something happened."
She pulled out a cellphone and sent a text to Mist Mistress. She would have sent one to Magneto, but seeing as he was listed in her phone as 'Magneto', unlike Mist Mistress, who was simply listed as 'Misty', that probably wasn't a good plan. And Misty would show Magneto and Mystique anyway. 'So. Cpt Am lives in our nbrhd. cut my hand. going 2 his house 4 a bandaid. Ltr. -K
Captain America smiled. "That was smart. Most kids your age would just go with me because I'm Captain America."
"Most kids my age around here are white and trust the cops. And you're essentially a cop in a funny costume."
That actually made Captain America laugh a little. "Fair enough."
"So I hear you're a mutant." Kashmir wasn't great at small talk. And aside from that, that's what she really wanted to hear about. But she knew it was the wrong thing to bring up when she saw Captain America's face. It had a sad smile on it.
"Yeah. I am."
"So am I. Welcome to the family. I'm Kashmir."
"My friends call me Steve."
000
There were steps in front of the apartment that when it got dark enough, especially in the summer, the elderly folks, the few who still remained, rent controlled in, would go out and sit together and chat with neighbors about this one's granddaughter, or this one's grandson, or how Doris from three blocks up's daughter got put back in the loony bin again for the lord only knows what.
Erik didn't join them. After all, he didn't know many of them, and the ones he did know were humans. So, he could tell Kashmir was surprised when she saw him sitting on the steps of the apartment. Surprised and a little scared.
"Hello Kashmir," he greeted her in Spanish. He didn't want her scared...Or rather more scared than she already was and she seemed to react better in that language than English.
"Hello sir," she greeted, also in Spanish, bowing her head a little at the neck, and looking up at him. Behind him. "I accidentally broke the pickle jar I was supposed to get, and uh, the oranges, they rolled into the gutter, please don't be mad." she flinched, like she was scared he'd hit her, even though his hand didn't move. And even though, if he wanted to hurt her, he'd likely have used the small silver chain around her neck to do it rather than his fists.
"I'm not angry," he said quietly. He eyed the peach colored bandage that didn't blend in with her light brown skin. "I hear you made a new friend."
"Well, not a friend. I, uh, met Captain America."
"What did you talk to him about with the Captain?"
"Can I go inside? This bag is pretty heavy, and I, uh, have the transcript on my phone...Or the jist of it anyway. I wrote it down best as I could remember it, I knew I'd forget otherwise, and texted it to myself."
Erik stood up and led her inside, over to the elevator. No one was really supposed to use the elevator, except Charles on the few rare occasions he came to visit, seeing as it lead into his own bedroom and of course no one was permitted there. Why the builders of the building had thought an elevator leading into the master bedroom was a good idea, he didn't know.
When they emerged from the elevator, Erik gestured for her to set the bag on the bed and then to sit down in the small sitting area. There were two chairs, one moved off to the side, and a chess board. Kashmir sat down in front of black, which put her back to the bedroom door. And Erik sat down in front of his traditional white.
"I told him you were my grandpa...Well. Not you. I told him I lived with my grandpa. I didn't, uh, I thought it was a bad idea to tell him who you were." Kashmir studied the piece. "Can, uh, we play? We don't have to, but, I used to play. With my Aunt NoemÃ."
Erik nodded, and moved out his knight. "That was sensible."
"Really? Good." Kashmir moved out a pawn and scratched her head. "We talked about mutant rights. He said he's still trying to work out stuff about it. Like, he told me he didn't know about the fact that Stuy expelled mutants."
"You told him you used to go to Stuyvesant?" Erik moved his second knight out.
"Was that a bad idea?" Kashmir studied her pieces, biting her lips as she tried to decide her next move. She finally decided to move her pawn forward one place. Erik promptly took it with his knight.
"No. I'm just asking."
"Yeah. He asked me if I went to school around here. And I told him not unless homeschool counts." She moved her pawn that she had already moved forward one space. "And then he was like 'why are you home schooled?' and I told him about my panic attack and my powers and whatever. It was embarrassing, but I didn't know how to lie about that."
"It was probably for the best you didn't lie. You aren't a good liar."
"No. I'm not." Kashmir laughed, and moved out her bishop. "I thought about asking him about the Brotherhood. But I thought that might be better to wait with. To make sure I had your permission. Also, I fished, uh, fixed, his light. Overhead light. It was buzzing and my dad was a...I know the word in English. But not in Spanish."
"Electricista?" Erik prompted, moving his knight to take it.
"Yes. Electrician. Then he tried to tell me about some school up in Westchester and I was like, no, I don't want more people. Then he walked me home, but not actually home, because I thought it was bad for him to know where the apartment was. So, I had him walk me to one, like, four blocks away, and I pretended I couldn't find my keys until I was out of his line of sight. And I walked back here." She moved out a pawn out of Erik's grasp, but he took another instead. Then, she took him with her second bishop.
"All in all, I think you did well."
"Taking your horse or with Captain America?"
"Captain America," Erik said. "And it's a knight." When he was teaching Anya the game, when she was very young, she used to call the knight a horse as well, when she was little. But that was painful to think of. Erik tried to push the thoughts out of his head.
"Thank you."
Erik moved his second knight to the left. "What's your plan now?"
"What?"
"If you were the one in charge, not me, what would you do next?"
"Well, I was going to see if I could, with your permission, maybe see if I could maybe run into him and ask him to get a coffee with me?"
"Like a date?"
"I don't like boys. Also, he's old enough to be my great grandfather chronologically."
"Do you think that's the best plan of action?"
"I think so, sir. He likes me. I'm young, so likely, he'd trust me. There's the chance since I'm a kid, that it's a risk, you know, because people don't listen to kids, especially girls, but I think this is our best course of action. I might consider having Mystique go as me, but there are downsides to that, as well as benefits."
"What benefits would come from having Mystique pretend to be you?" Erik moved his knight. "Check."
Kashmir moved her king back one to get away from the knight. "Well, she's older. She might, uh, be more articulate as me. Or whatever. And her being articulate might help convince him to join our side. Also, she can be me, but a prettier me. You know, make the skin a little, uh, well, clearer the nose a little smaller, a little more contored. Hair neater curls. I can only be regular me. And people listen to pretty people more than not pretty people. Also, she's been with the Brotherhood longer, so if I were you, I'd trust her more. And she's also, you know, better with fighting and stuff if things go bad."
"What might go bad?"
"The Avengers might find out I work with you and show up and start something."
"And the downsides to having Mystique pretend to be you?" Erik took her rook.
"Well, I talk weirdly...Oddly. I mean my sentences. I don't talk like most people, I don't think anyway. Also, her slang might be outdated, which, if Captain America has been watching TV shows and stuff, should be easy to tell. And she doesn't switch Spanish and English all the time. She might be able to carry herself like me, but I don't know if she can mimic my way of speaking. Also, uh, the noise." She cupped her hands so they almost, but not quite, covered her ears.
"The way you can hear emotions?" Erik asked. Kashmir nodded.
"That. I, I think he noticed how I did the thing where, when I was talking with him, when I had my headphones out, where I looked like it was hurting me, and did the ears thing. She might forget to do that when she takes off her headphones. Also, sometimes her eyes flash colors. My eyes are dark, so that would be very noticeable."
She moved her pawn. Erik moved a pawn out. Kashmir wasn't very good, she understood how the pieces moved, but she didn't get the strategy behind it. Despite that, her strategy in real life seemed to be quite a bit better. Or at least it was with him leading her. She was a child. That was to be expected. But she was still better at crafting plans than some adults in the Brotherhood were.
He decided to try to lose the game, just to make it interesting. Playing chess against someone who wasn't very good was disinteresting. Of course, no one was as good as Charles.
"So, your plan, if you were in charge of the Brotherhood would be to 'accidentally' run into Captain America, invite him out for coffee, and get to know him, while trying to lead him to our side?"
"Uh, yes, I think so, sir."
"That's our plan then."
Somehow, despite Erik playing to lose, he won against her quite quickly. One of these days, he was going to have to teach her, or someone around here, to play chess properly.
000
Around six A.M., when it was still dark outside, streetlights still on, the telephone ringing woke Steve.
He shook his head and rolled off the couch, where he had apparently fallen asleep. He walked over to the landline.
"H'lo?" he asked, whining a little, cracking his neck.
"Rogers," Maria Hill greeted. "Commander Fury instructed me to call you and ask you to please join us at 0900 hours for a brunch meeting...Were you sleeping? I didn't mean to wake you."
"M'up now...wait. Why does he want me at a meeting if I'm suspended from the Avengers?"
"I'm not sure. He didn't tell me. All he said was to show up to brunch. Dress in street clothes."
Hill hung up and Steve wandered back to his bedroom to see if he could get another hour's rest.
Three hours later, a freshly showered, shaved, and dressed Steve Rogers wandered into the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, and walked up the stairs to Fury's office.
"Morning Captain," Fury said, standing. "Close the door."
There was a quiche, still steaming, on the table to the side of Fury's desk, next to his bookshelf, along with some cinnamon rolls, bacon, a large fruit salad in a punch bowl, and orange juice.
"My daughter made it," Fury said, noting Steve's eyes. "The sooner we get done with business the sooner you can fucking have some. Sit."
"I didn't know you have a daughter. What's her name?" Steve asked politely.
"Prudence."
Steve smiled a little.
"Think that's funny Rogers?"
"No, sir, I just like the name."
"She's named after me and my wife's favorite Beatles song."
"That's uh, nice, sir," Steve tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. "Why'd you-"
"It wasn't our plan for the media to find out you're a mutant."
Steve was confused. Was that why he was called here?
There was about twenty seconds of silence. "But, we plan to, Rogers, make lemons into lemonade."
"How do you plan to that, Commander Fury?"
Nick Fury smiled, it really looked frightful on his face, a smile, and for the first time, since Steve entered the room, sat down. He typed something into his computer and brought up a photograph of the girl Steve had helped the other day. The one who cut her hand.
"Do you know who this is, Rogers?"
"Kashmir I think was her name. I met her yesterday. She got hurt and I helped her bandage up her hand."
"That's her mutant name. Her real name is Miriam Perez De Soto. She's seventeen years old. And she's a member of the terrorist group 'The Brotherhood Of Mutants'."
"You want me to kill her?" Steve asked.
"No. We want you to become close to her. Use her to infiltrate the Brotherhood and get all the information about it you can."
When the meeting was over, Steve walked downstairs and over to Maria Hill.
"How'd the meeting go?" she asked.
"Pretty well, surprisingly. Fury's daughter is a great cook."
Maria looked confused. "Fury doesn't have a daughter."