Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men universe.
Characters: Nick Fury, Silver Fox
Rating: T
Contains: Mentions of Child Murder, Mentions of Child Disappearance
Summary: Fury faces the aftermath of his decision to free Trask.
Word Count: 500
Prompt: "Good is Not Nice" for The Aviary
Fury
"There was an attack in South Dakota, sir." She tosses the folder on his desk with a casual flick of her hand. Papers skittered out the corner of the folder.
It was a plain enough folder, just like any other they used in the office. But dread settled in the pit of his stomach, looking at it. He couldn't bring himself to touch it.
She has no such qualms. Her fingers stretch out, flipping open the file with the same force he'd seen her use to snap dozens of necks. But there isn't even a flicker of emotion on her dark features.
He is very careful not to mistake her stoic face for lack of passion. Never again.
"Lawrence Trask," she emphasizes the name. As she speaks, she slides a photo of a boy across the desk towards him. "He was thirteen. Intel says that he was showing the early signs of becoming a precog." She pauses there, letting the words sink in.
He looks away, bites down on his cigar. It nearly breaks in half. Only when he turns back towards her does she speak again.
"Lawrence is dead. His chest was blown wide open. The neighbors say it was a giant robot. Took the roof clean off his house." She pulls out another picture, this time of a girl. "This is his sister Tanya, sixteen. No one's seen her since the attack."
"She a mutant, too?" It's the first thing he's said since this little meeting began.
She nods sharply.
A discomforting silence falls between them. He smudges out the mangled cigar in the ashtray on the corner of his desk. Then he looks at the photos again.
"The X-Men will take care of it." He continues on as if he didn't hear her injecting snort. "Missing mutants is really their jurisdiction."
"Understood, sir." There's a hard edge to her jaw as she grinds those words out. Her hand twitches towards the bowie knife she keeps on her belt, but she lets it drop. She really is a surprisingly professional solider.
"Dismissed," he tells her.
She nods once and turns on her heel to leave.
A part of him silently screams for her to turn around. He'd give her the mission, ask her to clean up for him. It would be easy. No fuss, no mess. But the other part of him shouts that down. Amnesty for all future crimes had been part of his deal with Trask. And he was nothing if he didn't have his word.
He'd saved the world, damnit.
The photos of the two children stare up at him.
"Wait."
She pauses at the door. Her head turns until he can see her face again.
"Take him out," he orders.
A fierce, bloodthirsty smile creeps across her face. The smile reaches her eyes. "It would be my pleasure, sir."
Then she's gone, disappearing into the shadows. He won't see her again until the job is done.
He nods to himself and lights another cigar.