Why do they wear such short skirts? Raven wondered as she walked through the bright office space, heels clicking on the tiles. I can barely take a full step in this.

Watching her posture and keeping a pleasant smile on her face, Raven cast her eyes about her, mentally cataloging the space, the people, and the atmosphere. She sensed that today was a relatively relaxed day here at the Pentagon. No major threats detected. No new enemies to track. At least not any they want to publicly acknowledge.

If they only knew, she thought to herself and could not keep from a quick little smirk. But it disappeared as quickly as it arose. Charles, she thought. Keep focussed on the objective for Charles.

Raven was currently posing as the assistant to the head of the CIA's new Domestic Watch group, who was stalking through the halls in front of her. This was how she had had access to the memos mentioning the Xavier School for Gifted Children which she had then passed on to Erik.

The squat man had already made several passes at Raven, which she had laughingly demurred to entertain even as she seethed inside about his audacity and arrogance. Men like him were a big part of what was wrong with the world, in her opinion. He thought he had the right to treat her as if she was a vacuous vessel with no brain, no heart, and no will of her own. She would show him.

Recalling her current location, she resumed her flirty gait and tossed her long hair back over her shoulder as she peered through the glasses perched on her nose that didn't actually exist beyond her body. She kept pace with her boss through the massive halls of the Pentagon on their way to a meeting with the Undersecretary of Something.

Raven thought to herself that she should probably know who they were meeting with since she had actually made the appointment three weeks ago. But her boss seemed to know where he was going. She was just supposed to heel and make him look good by looking good.

Raven stopped her eye-role mid-way through and plastered her best fake smile on her face, clutching her notebook in one hand and her little handbag over the other arm. The man in front of her slowed in front of one of many closed wooden doors. They all looked the same to Raven. She guessed that numbering conference rooms would give the enemy too much information should they ever invade. Suppressing yet another eye-roll, she quickly counted doors from the nearest landmark.

Raven would remember the location of this room. She was good at remembering details.

The door swung open, and she immediately ascertained that she would be the only woman in this meeting. Three uniformed men and one more civilian rose to greet her boss.

"Colonel," he greeted with a curt handshake.

"Mr. Morrison," the Colonel answered. Then he turned to his colleagues and introduced them one-by-one.

The Colonel was flanked by a Major who was his assistant and another Colonel who he had specifically requested attend this meeting. The Major didn't waste any time starting to peruse Raven. She kept still and followed her boss with her eyes as if she didn't notice the inappropriate stare.

"Major Michaels, nice to meet you," Morrison continued. "And Colonel Fulsom. I was hoping you would join us. Colonel Homes has mentioned you in our previous meetings." Colonel Fulsom grunted while he shook Morrison's hand.

Colonel Homes finished the introductions with the civilian. "This is Bolivar Trask. He is one of our top weapons contractors. We thought he might be interested in what you have to say as well, Morrison."

The last two men shook hands, and Morrison waved in Raven's general direction. "My assistant, Tammy," he said. No one shook her hand or looked at her as anything other than a decoration for the stark room.

The men seated themselves at the main table. 'Tammy' took a seat in the corner where a chair already resided undoubtedly for other assistants who had attended meetings such as this. She opened her notebook and readied her pen to take notes from the meeting. It was handy to actually do what she wanted to do as part of her cover. She wanted the information in writing to pass on to Erik.

"Gentlemen," Morrison began. "Thank you for taking this meeting. I'll not waste your time with preamble. I believe there is a dangerous new threat to the security of our great homeland. We will be attacked from within."

He let his words sink in to see the reaction they provoked. Unfortunately for him, this crowd were veterans of wars and similar statements. They were unruffled.

Clearing his throat, Morrison began again. "My group has been commissioned to investigate reports of supra-human incidents and behaviors especially here in the U.S. but as much of the rest of the world as possible. It's an enormous task for such a small group. However, we are making some headway with the help of contractors, such as yourself Mr. Trask."

Trask nodded once in acknowledgement.

Morrison hefted his briefcase onto the table, and popped it open. He extracted sheafs of paper and sorted them out to the other four men. The Pentagon personnel immediately started looking through them. The contractor sat patiently.

Once he had what he wanted, Morrison returned the case to its station on the floor, and folded his hands in front of him.

"What you see here are the reports from several companies performing genetic research. They are looking into our very cells to see how a human being is built. And we are learning some very interesting-some very threatening-things as well." Morrison paused again for affect.

Raven was so very tired of his theatrics. Cut to the chase, you idiot, she thought.

Apparently, the military men were thinking the same thing as they started to shift in their chairs and clear their throats in impatient gestures. Morrison took the hint.

He clarified, finally, "We are seeing a new pattern of mutation emerging in the genetic code of human beings. Something more than birth defects and variation due to gender or racial origins. Some of our top people are beginning to voice concerns that-" Morrison stopped to clear his own throat this time. He was feeling a little intimidated.

Colonel Homes raised a questioning eyebrow to prompt Morrison. "Yes," he said.

"There might be a new species emerging," Morrison concluded with finality. He had dropped his bomb. Now he waited to see what would happen.

Not much did for at least thirty seconds.

Trask, surprisingly, was the one to break the silence next. He hadn't spoken yet.

"Yes, we have independently verified the same occurrences," he said. Morrison's eyebrows shot into his hairline with surprise.

"I wasn't aware anyone else-" he began.

Colonel Homes interrupted him, "No, and you shouldn't have been. It was on a need-to-know basis. But now you can coordinate your efforts with Mr. Trask." The Colonel gestured to the civilian contractor as he continued to peruse the paperwork in front of him.

"This place," he said suddenly.

All eyes went to the piece of paper he was pointing to as if drawn with magnets. Raven was barely able to not make a gasping sound at the grainy photo of her childhood home.

"A school?" Morrison asked, his confusion obvious.

"Why is it in this file, then?" the Colonel continued his examination.

Trask answered. "They have been under surveillance for some time. We will take care of that situation, Colonel." His assurance in a room filled with high-ranking military men was formidable and impressive, even to Raven.

The Colonel was satisfied. He collated the paperwork and sent it down the table and into Trask's waiting hands. Trask efficiently placed the paperwork into his own briefcase at his feet.

Morrison looked like he had just been pushed down by a bully on the playground. "But?" he sputtered.

Homes turned his head back to look at Morrison directly again. "From now on, you will work exclusively with Mr. Trask and his organization, is that clear, Mr. Morrison?" he ordered.

Morrison swallowed. "Yes, sir."

Homes looked at his fellow officers who both nodded at him. "Thank you, gentlemen," he dismissed them all, rising up to leave.

Morrison, Raven, and Trask all stayed seated until the door closed. Morrison was in shock at what just happened. Raven took her cues from him. Trask was in complete control of Morrison.

Trask looked at him through lowered eyelashes. "Who else has been privy to this information, Mr. Morrison," he asked as his eyes flitted to Raven sitting primly and quietly in the background.

Morrison tried very hard not to flinch. "Just myself, my team of six, and some key players at the contracting facilities. However, we took the precaution of keeping them working on disconnected parts of the research so that no one had the whole picture."

Trask actually smiled. "Good. That's good," he said condescendingly. His smile sent a shiver down Raven's spine.

Morrison shifted in his seat and started to sweat profusely.

Trask stood abruptly and fastened the buttons on his jacket. "Your team now works for me. I want to meet with each of them individually, starting with her"-he pointed at Raven who smiled tightly to appear as harmless as possible-"as soon as possible." With that, he grabbed his suitcase and exited the room.

Morrison exhaled and swung around to look Raven in the eyes. She read the threat there. She was forbidden to divulge his humiliation to anyone. Or else. She lowered her eyes first and then her chin to stare at the notebook in her lap on which she had dutifully been taking notes.

Morrison stumbled up from the table and snatched the notebook from her hands. He stowed in his own briefcase and exited behind Trask, not looking back to see if she was following him.

Raven took a moment to gloat. No matter how big and bad you think you are, there's always someone bigger and badder, she thought.

Then she followed him out the door and down the corridor.