A/N: This story takes place post series finale, in a twisted version of where the conflict could have gone. The only Canon characters featured are Rogue, Remy (just barely), and Emma Frost (who was due in the next season). Due process in the US, however, is more akin to that of our own universe and not so much the DC version, with one very important exception.
A black sedan made its way through the rain-drenched streets just after eleven. Vice President Derek Conrad glanced at the two men ahead of him before turning back to the window—not that he could see anything through the downpour outside, but it made him feel less vulnerable.
The car made a right turn and paused for a moment, and the government official thought he could possibly make out a gate pulling open before the car continued its journey. They drove for what must have been another five miles before he saw the shadow of a massive residence drawing closer.
Another stoic man in sunglasses and a dark suit was waiting for them at the walk with an umbrella, and Derek found himself being escorted from the car to a wide foyer inside a spacious home.
He looked around curiously as the man replaced the umbrella and took the official's coat before stationing himself next to the front door. The former senator was uncomfortable with this visit, but ever since the incident six months ago, he knew he had to gain the upper hand on this problem; and upon discovering the existence of such a facility, he felt he needed to be fully briefed on its operations.
"Welcome Mr. Vice President," a seductive soprano greeted from the top of the luxurious staircase, and the gray-haired man looked up to see a stunning woman smiling down at him. Her features were flawless as she made her way down in a pristine white pantsuit, blonde hair barely moving even as it hung straight and clean behind her. Derek found himself making a conscious effort not to stare.
"Ms. Frost?" he asked uncertainly, for the woman before him seemed far too young to be involved in a twenty-year long operation.
"Please, call me Emma," the woman responded, extending her hand.
The man took it, offering his own name in return. "Agent Parsons explained to you why I came?" he asked, trying to regain the sobriety he'd maintained at the start of this mission.
"Of course," Emma replied genially. "And we are more than happy to comply with the current presidential staff."
They began walking down the spacious hall, filled with tapestries and paintings that seemed both magnificent and slightly disturbing, and the elder man continued to speak in an attempt to overcome his awe.
"You can understand my astonishment at discovering this sort of facility even existed," he told her. "I mean, the majority of the American population, myself included, just found out that…Mutants existed." He shook his head in disbelief at the statement. "Not to mention the recent situation, it was certainly overwhelming to even know where to begin with dealing with such an issue. Then, to discover that the various government agencies had already made strides in the tracking and regulation of the population…well, it was certainly surprising."
"Well, when Phillip first approached me after the war, I'll admit I was taken aback by the sheer grand-scale of his plan," Emma replied as she reached a gilded door and pulled out a key ring. "However, when you see the results, I believe you'll see the beauty of the concept."
She opened the door and the government official stepped inside, noticing they were in what appeared to be a sort of high scale sports box. There were possibly a dozen television screens projected from various angles showing multiple persons that he did not recognize, as well as a large window that projected out on a large landscaped field that was lit bright as day.
"Scotch?" the breathtaking blonde asked, offering Derek a crystal glass from the bar he'd passed without really seeing. He took the glass and continued to look out onto the field, noting the woods, the waterways, and the sheer vastness of the grounds before him.
"I've arranged for you to view a special competition we've created just for your arrival," she told him, gesturing to yet another man in a black suit, who whispered into his collar. Suddenly, a loud bang sounded, and a dozen tiny dots began to run.
Emma led her guest to a couch with a view of the television screens. From there, he watched as the young people within the game began racing toward an unknown goal; saw the precision to which they used their powers. He watched in shock as fireballs shot out of their hands and knives projected from their skin.
"Of course under normal circumstances we provide, ahem, investors with more information on the games," Emma explained as Derek watched a scarred black girl reach out and grab one of the other competitors, causing her to stop where she stood and begin staring about aimlessly, reaching out at the air in a daze. "Programs with full player profiles, statistics, score sheets; you can imagine."
Derek nodded as he watched a young girl transform before his eyes into a large, sleek cat and race up a tree, only to be brought down by a small boy as he grabbed the tree and ripped it from its roots with his bare hands.
When he watched the strong boy grab the cat and throw it violently against a large rock, he asked, "You just let them kill each other?"
Emma brought her hand to her chest with an offended look. "Mr. Vice President—Derek, of course not. I would never allow any such thing to happen to such precious assets. We have all sorts of people looking after our recruits." She pointed at the cat, now again a girl with a massive head wound, and Derek watched as the ground beneath her shifted down, taking her beneath it as the grass seemed to swallow her whole.
"She'll be taken to one of our Healers and be made right as rain," the blonde told him with an assuring smile. "Hopefully she will even learn from the experience and her skill will be made more worthwhile."
The pepper-haired official nodded and continued to watch the rest of the contenders. After another twenty minutes, a tall, cropped-haired young man seemed to reach the intended target and lifted up what appeared to be…a flag.
"Capture the flag?" he asked incredulously.
"Merely a demonstration," she informed him. "We have all sorts of training exercises in the Games."
Derek nodded, watching as the remaining contestants made their way to the center of the starting field. The winner stood on a bright platform, and four (including the Strong Boy that had taken out the Cat Girl) more joined him on lower ones.
"And the other four?" he asked.
"There are various rules and regulations that allow us to place our assets on various levels of achievement," she explained. "It makes for a more festive competition."
After the competition, Derek found that Ms. Frost had set up quite a meal for their meeting. He found himself feasting on venison and quail, with a French Onion soup that surpassed any he'd ever had.
"More wine, Mr. Vice President?" a young woman in all white scrubs asked, approaching him with a sophisticated bottle and refilling his glass.
"So what do you think of our little operation Derek?" Emma asked as she took another sip of her own wine.
"It's an interesting proposition," he admitted. "I can understand why the CIA would be interested in training up mutant operatives. Of course, I wish the cabinet had been included in this project."
"I feel that we've been waiting to work out a few glitches in the system still," the woman replied, beaming as the door opened. "Ah! Our special guest has arrived!"
The Vice President turned to see a young man entering the room that he recognized to be the winner of the previous contest he'd witnessed. Upon closer inspection, Derek found him to be in his mid-twenties, with a military-cut look to him and cold dark eyes.
"Derek, this is Bloodhound, one of our top contenders," she told him with a proud smile. "He's well on his way to graduating the program soon."
"Bloodhound?" the older man repeated with an uncertain chuckle. "You don't turn into a dog or something like that, do you son?"
The mutant opened his mouth, but Emma quickly supplied, "The Hound here is actually a tracker, Derek. His senses are fine-tuned to the point that he often knows the target before it's even announced. He is also well-trained in combat, making him quite the ideal specimen."
The official nodded, but stared critically at the unmoving guest. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something off about him. "I see. And are you prepared to serve your country, young man?" he asked.
"I'm prepared to bring the world to its knees in the next step of human evolution," the boy answered, causing Derek to double-take. The boy however, continued, "There is a war coming, where Homo sapien will inevitably see that its kind are in the throes of extinction. And it is then that the Hellfire Society will rise, and obliterate the very government that thought it could suppress us with propaganda and indoctrination while simultaneously training us for war and lining pockets with gold made from the blood of our Brothers and Sisters."
"Oh for heaven's sake," Emma sighed, watching as her meeting fell out of hand. She nodded to the guards at the door, who stepped forward to escort the boy out the door, and in turn moved to face the flabbergasted Secretary.
"Ma'am, you seem to have a lot of explaining to do!" he shouted angrily as he began to step toward the door. "The United States government will not sit idly by and watch as threats of terrorism and anarchy are waged against the very system that seeks to protect those making them! If I were you, I'd—"
But what she was supposed to do, the blonde woman never did find out; for at that moment, she reached out and took the elder man's hand, staring in his eyes with an intensity the he felt compelled to match as his jaw went slack and his words died in his throat.
"You'll have to forgive Hector, Mr. Vice President," she told him with a soft smile. "As I said, there are still some kinks left in the system to work out. However, I believe that what you've seen up until that point easily conveys all that you need to take back with you to Washington." Emma smiled again, and her words echoed through the soft putty that had become the official's memory. "So you will go back to your Cabinet and tell them that you fully support Agent Parsons' proposal to increase the recruitment of mutants for Operation Diamond. You may tell them what you remember about the MuTournament, but you will remember nothing else, nor will you exhibit any curiosity about the potential outcome of the mutants seen tonight."
Vice President Conrad climbed back into the black sedan and watched the large estate fade away into the distance. He'd thanked Ms. Frost (a charming and beautiful woman) for the lovely dinner, as well as the demonstration, promising to support her and Phillip Parsons' proposal when it appeared before the Cabinet later in the week.
For a moment he looked at his hand, rubbing it slightly as he remembered the delicate silk of her touch, before shaking his head for clarity and returning his gaze back to the torrents outside.
Meanwhile, Hector Cannis was roughly escorted back into the dining area, where the beautiful Emma Frost now leaned against a mantle, one finger rubbing her temple.
"Hector, you really must learn to keep yourself in check," she told him.
"I hate them," he told her bitterly. "I will not let them think I can be commanded."
Emma laughed at the irony of his statement, but continued, "My dear, you will find it is far easier to convince people to do as you wish when they think it is their own idea. And when I bring you out to speak to them, it would serve you well to help encourage such thoughts rather than derailing them altogether so that I have to erase them ever meeting you. You are still far too impulsive and stubborn, Hector. That's what's preventing your initiation, you know."
The young man took a step toward her, narrowing his eyes. "Then perhaps you should just modify my mind as well," he growled. "Why not just mold me into the perfect model soldier you've always wanted?"
"Oh Hector," Emma replied, her expression turning wounded as she cupped his chin. "I would not waste such beautiful minds as my recruits—you are too valuable, and far too strong, to live with the illusions that I place on minds such as that idiot Vice President. You know I'd never do such a thing."
She smiled at the younger man, whose features never shifted. In her mind, she wondered why she'd decided to call him Bloodhound instead of something more akin to his unmoving nature, but she had other things to think about.
"So what shall we do about Golvid?" she asked aloud, turning away from her pet.
The Hound's face cracked just a little before masking itself in indifference. "Is it really necessary?" he asked.
"These antics of his are getting to be too much," Emma replied with a sigh. "That scene today was just another purposeful jab at my operation that I do not wish to tolerate. I'm afraid if he doesn't shape up soon, his value may be outweighed by his liability."
"I'll speak to him," the other assured her.
Emma turned back to the gamer behind her with a tender smile. "I'm sure you will," she told him, blue eyes sparkling with a devious glint.
And that's the beginning. There will be another chapter of introduction told from Rogue's POV before the application is included, just to give you a more complete idea of the basic arc.
This story is going to play out as an underground competition of Mutant Versus Mutant called the MuTournament. The competition is sort of similar to a cross between the Hunger Games and The Tri-Wizard Tournament with my own twist on the idea. However, no one will die in these games- there's a factor that keeps everyone competing, and consequences for losing, but overall everyone survives the competition itself. Just something to keep in mind as you read and create your character.