Joanna Cargill ran down the hallway of the hideout. The word sounded silly to her as it echoed in her brain. It reminded her of childhood things, couch forts and treehouses. She'd never experienced them personally but she'd read the stories. Then again, if anyone could afford to make childhood excess a reality, it was her boss. She approached his office silently and stood at attention.
"At ease, or whatever they tell you in the army," He said without turning around. His office was spartan, as usual. Not a paper out of place across the metal desk nor a speck of dust to be found. She sometimes wondered where he found time to clean, in between leading a revolution and assembling a mutant army. "You're not defending a nation anymore, you're defending a species."
"Sir, we've been located. I believe she has found us."
"We knew she would, eventually. She might be underhanded but she's not stupid. Did you erase the records?"
"Not a trace. Paper records were burned twice, hard drives were crushed and magnetized. Per your instruction." Her boss finally turned to meet her gaze, his steely blue eyes belied his true age. In his hands he clenched a worn metal helmet.
"You and I cannot fight her alone. Her reach is vast and terrible. She knows no end in pursuit of a goal." Joanna felt a sour tang in her stomach but kept herself steady as she awaited her boss' instructions. "Contact Professor Charles Xavier, use their private band," He scribbled a series of numbers on a scrap of paper and slid it across his desk. "If anyone can help it is him and his team." He turned away again.
"It was Navy Seals, sir. Not the Army." She said, not waiting for an answer before leaving.
"We all have our pasts, Lieutenant."