Chapter 14 - A Declaration of War

It wasn't too long after Angel's funeral that the X-Men found themselves responding to a mob situation near the city. The Avengers were dealing with troubles down in DC, and frankly, the team responding was in a foul mood and needed to get out there and back in the game.

The ones that went were probably far more firepower than what was required for this particular run, but all things considered, they too had to make a statement of their own. And it was a clear message when Logan, K, Scott, and Kurt were the ones to go to the call. None of them were in a very good mood, and the flight there was silent but for the updates on the situation at hand.

On landing, the four of them spread out to handle the crowd, and on seeing the elite team, the crowd managed to break up pretty quickly. At the center of the crowd were three kids — all of them just barely into puberty, and not a one of them showing a visible mutation — which had all of the X-Men who had responded even angrier.

But for the first time in memory, the police force that had responded to the riot were happy to see them. It seemed they weren't happy with having to deal with the mob, either, and they were downright fed up with the situation in general. Add to that the fact that the three kids were as young as they were — and the fact that the only thing that had the crowd on their case was the three bright red tags — and it was a relief for the officers to see the X-Men show up to take care of the aftermath.

Kurt and Scott both focused on the kids, with Scott doing most of the talking until they could determine who could be moved and where before Kurt got moving doing just that, while K talked to the youngest, who was still pretty shaken.

Logan was speaking to the cops when K turned back to get the girl's purse. She had just picked it up off the ground when, in full view in front of the crowd — and the X-Men — someone shot K with a tag. For just an instant, she stared at it in shock, and Scott, Logan, and the cop all stared up at her. No one had tried to take on an on-duty X-Man before. Certainly not publicly.

The cop swore to himself and made to draw his firearm when a low growl split the air — and all at once, K grabbed the tag with her opposite hand and tore it out of her arm with a snarl of pain. The tag hit the ground as K darted into the crowd, her sights clearly on the shooter.

Logan didn't look too concerned, his ear toward the crowd as he heard several shots from the tagging gun go off before he turned to the cop. "How tough is it going to be for you to forget what you saw?"

The policeman gave Logan a raised eyebrow look and then just let out a breathy laugh as K very obviously caught up to the FOH supporter, if his terrified scream was anything to go by. "Man. These jerks have been causing us ten times the paperwork that we've had to do. And it's always the same description of, like … four or five guys from this area. So you know what … yeah, I don't know what you're talking about."

Logan smirked at him as, finally, the guy that had shot K went tearing past them, with at least seven tags on him in various places in both bare skin and right through clothing. K came out of the crowd, brushing her hair out of her face a moment later, calmly walking toward Logan with her nose in the air.

"She that nasty with everyone?" the cop asked Logan with a little smirk.

"Only with idiots that do dumb crap like that," Logan answered, offering her his hand when she got close enough to him and gently pulling her to his side. "The nice officer here seems to have missed the show, sweetheart."

"What show?" K asked, a bit wide-eyed as she handed the gun to the cop with a gloved hand. "I'm sure there are fingerprints on this you might want," she offered.

"Appreciate it," he said with a smirk. "I'm sure we'll have a hard time identifying the guy. No one matches the seven-tag description."

"Oh, well. About that," she said, handing him a wallet with part of a chain attached to it. "I might know where you can find him. Dropped it. Totally random."

"Might," the cop repeated, shaking his head with a light laugh before he pocketed the wallet. "We'll work on picking up his buddies. Be nice not to have an assault charge on our desk every twelve hours from the same guy. Thanks for the leads — that I have no idea where they came from."

"Good luck," Logan told him as he directed K away from the cop. "I'm sure we'll hear about it."

Steve had just flown in from Washington after far too long dealing with the politicians and people there in the aftermath of not only Angel's death but the rest of the political fallout from the entire year, culminating in the midterms the week prior… It was exhausting and frustratingly intangible and not subject to shield-bashing.

So before he did anything else, he wanted to get his hands on coffee, a bagel, and a newspaper so he could read and eat in some relative peace and quiet before he got back to Avengers Tower to deal with anything else.

He was out of uniform, and even with as public of a figure as he was, it always amazed him that there were times he could get away without being identified — though it helped that he looked jet-lagged and was taking up very little space in his corner seat with his order and his paper. Either way, he was glad for the reprieve, and he read the sports section first, pointedly, just to get a break from everything else. He was thinking he'd hit the funnies next.

At least, that's what he would have done if his attention hadn't been distracted by a disturbance on the other side of the coffee shop.

One of the customers had walked in wearing a red tag — which wasn't unusual at this point, especially considering her age. She couldn't have been older than seventeen at the most, and at first glance, there was no reason to think she wasn't wearing it as a solidarity gesture until one of the other patrons had noticed the gills on the side of her neck that she had tried to hide with a scarf that blew away just the slightest bit when the door opened to let in the cool November air.

The guy who had seen it nudged his friends, who were all about college age and slightly older than the girl with the gills, tipping his head toward the girl as the boys started to nod their understanding and solid agreement, one of them stood to block her path so she couldn't follow the line to order her coffee.

"Nobody wants you here, freak," one of the young men said as he shoved her in the shoulder and out of the line entirely, his friend grabbing hold of the scarf as well to try and wrestle it from her and expose the physical mutation that had given her away.

She fought to keep her scarf, looking desperate to do so as she pleaded with them. "I'll leave, just please, stop," she was saying with a shaky voice.

Before Steve had even thought about it, he'd crossed the length of the restaurant, and the few people who weren't watching the group of young men were watching him and the purposeful, deadly strides until he came to a stop behind the one who had hold of the young woman's scarf and clapped him on the shoulder, yanking him back and around to face him with enough force that it startled the young man into letting go of the scarf.

"Who the hell do you think you are, man?" the kid blurted out as he looked up to see the very angry expression on Steve's face.

Steve pulled him further from the young woman and grabbed the other instigator by the scruff of the jacket to do the same, yanking hard enough that both of them were turned to face him. "You don't know it yet, but you're both in more trouble than you have ever been in your lives," he told them in a dangerous tone.

"Yeah? Count again," said one of the group that Steve was not holding by the jacket.

"Did you know this city has an anti-harassment law in effect? And a special charge for people stupid enough to blow past that and get right into hate crimes?" Steve almost growled out.

"Yeah, whatever, thanks for the civics lesson man; this isn't your business anyway," one of the young man said, trying to dislodge Steve's grip — unsuccessfully.

"Actually, it is," Steve said, though he didn't get much further than that before the perky little barista behind the counter called out on his behalf.

"Don't you idiots know who that is?" she said above the crowd. "That's Captain America, you morons."

That got the group of young men to finally shut up as a few of them even swallowed outright, very suddenly realizing how much trouble they were in. A few scattered, but the ones that Steve still had in his grasp weren't going anywhere. At all. Instead, he led them both into a booth and forcibly seated both of them, glaring hard before he looked over his shoulder at the young woman, who was totally wide-eyed. "Sorry about that, Miss. I'm sure these gentlemen will be more than happy to buy your coffee for you for the trouble."

"Thank you," she said quietly, though she definitely didn't want to make eye contact with anyone there. "But I should probably just go."

"Nonsense," Steve said in a gentler tone. "You've got every right to be here."

She glanced up at the counter people, and aside from the outspoken barista, the others manning the counter looked to be in open shock. "I should go," she repeated, backing toward the door. "Thank you, though."

Steve frowned as the girl left before he whirled around to the two young men and whipped his phone out to dial the local authorities. He was still furious by the time the police arrived and he filled them in on what had happened, and Steve was practically looking over their shoulder with his arms crossed through the entire ticketing before he let out a huff of annoyance and left the coffee shop, phone in hand once again. This time it was to ask Jessica Jones to talk to a few of her contacts in the reporting business and put together the fastest, most public press conference she could on short notice. Which was not too difficult once word traveled that it was Captain America requesting the conference.

"There is an epidemic of hatred in this country, and it stops now," Steve said without taking any questions, without any preamble, still furious but now much more focused. "Even after everything we've seen — all the history, even the most recent events just weeks ago — apparently, that isn't enough for some people to realize that there's absolutely no place for bigotry, hatred, and the kind of hate crimes that we're seeing happening in broad daylight right now." He straightened his shoulders, his posture that of a man going to war. "So now, those groups are on notice. The Avengers aren't going to stand by and let anyone — not one person — be mistreated because of who they are and what they were born to be."

"You come after any one of the mutant citizens of this country — who have done nothing wrong — and you persecute them for the genes they were born with? You answer to the Avengers. You assault anyone for their genetic heritage — with fists or with tags? You answer to the Avengers." Steve tipped his chin up. "And in case some of you are too young to realize it, I've got a long history of personally fighting bigotry and hatred. And a long, long memory. This isn't going to stand any longer."

At the mansion, the press conference had drawn a few curious onlookers. The teacher's lounge, in particular, was filled with tired teachers — who had transitioned to a sort of shock when Steve's press conference played out in real time, in the most straightforward terms. No one could possibly mistake Steve's play as anything but a declaration of war — on behalf of the mutants in the country.

Erik was seated closest to the television broadcasting the press conference, his cup of Earl Gray entirely untouched as he watched in pure shock — a strong mirror to Scott on the other side of the room, similarly frozen and obviously surprised by the turn the press conference had taken.

"That's… new," Scott said at last.

"This is what happens when you let him get involved," K said quietly.

"I didn't…" Scott shook his head.

"No, you're too young to have known," she replied.

"No, I didn't ... he involved himself," Scott explained. "Stepped in ... after Angel…"

She got up and crossed the room to take him by the shoulders. "Scott. Sooner or later, this was going to happen once you got him involved. He must have seen something that just pissed him off in person. You know how that is." When he didn't respond right away, she let out a little sigh and wrapped her arms around his middle. "It's a good thing. He's got a real way with people when he's all … riled up."

"He certainly hasn't minced any words or allowed any leeway for interpretation," Erik said with a faint smile as he finally leaned back with his tea and then set it down with a sigh when he realized it had gone cold.

"He did the same thing in the war, only on behalf of the entire military," she told him as she finally let go of Scott then let out a little laugh as she turned toward Erik. "Right. You were too young to remember that, and this one wasn't even close to born."

"Not something you usually say to me," Scott said with a smirk. "No Papa Scott jokes?"

"Not when apparently I'm the only one that was around to remember this stuff," she countered. "Baby Papa Scott."

"Not sure that works," he pointed out. "One of those things cancels out the others."

"Says you," she laughed. "Not that you know what you're talking about. At all. Obviously." She scrunched up her nose. "Haven't you seen the old newsreels of that spectacularly-spangled fella?"

"Well, yeah," Scott said with a shrug. "The library had 'em all when I was eight."

"Those tiny little snippets with the kids and young people climbing over themselves to get closer to the movie screen when they'd have him on for two minutes? That was happening all over the country. Everywhere. If he said turn in tin cans, they'd scour the dumps to find them to bring in."

"K, I watched every one of those when I was a kid. I know," Scott pointed out.

"Clearly, you don't," she countered. "Because you seem to be missing the whole part where every single little boy in the whole country was trying to be just like him. Not a few here and there like it is now. All of them."

"And now all of that is directed toward… helping mutantkind," Erik said, both eyebrows high.

K shrugged a little bit as she sat down by Erik again. "We'll have to see how well it works. It's not quite the same environment, but ... I think he's proven himself as a pretty good moral compass for the country."

"Perhaps," Erik agreed, leaning back and closing his eyes. "We'll see how long it lasts."

K covered his hand with hers and gave him a little squeeze. "Let him work his stars and stripes voodoo. He gets just the right balance of outrage and 'lissen here' that works better from him than anyone else I've ever seen. No offense, Scott. You are very inspiring too."

"None taken," Scott said with a little smirk. "I don't have the shield."

"Boys looked at the shield," she laughed. "Everyone else had all the spandex to deal with."

Scott gave her a dry look. "Right."

She put her free hand over her heart and let out a breath. "What a relief. I was afraid he broke you for good."

Scott shook his head, the dry look intensifying. "What, I can't take a moment to be surprised at the Avengers being on our side this publicly for the first time in, oh, ever?"

"What? I can't take a moment to enjoy the view?" she countered with a grin.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Right. Well. Maybe I should call him, see what we can do to coordinate the teams."

"Unless he calls you first. He'll be fielding press for a little while," she pointed out.

"Right." Scott shook his head as he got to his feet. "We need to replace the coffee filter," he said. "I'll be back, I'm sure."

Scott had hardly left the room to do that before Erik reached over to cover K's hand with his. "Be kind," he said in almost a stern tone.

"Young man," K replied in just as stern a tone. "I was just trying to get his brain in gear for when Steve does come around. What good is it going to do him if he's still in shock?"

Erik laughed and shook his head. "He would have gotten there on his own. Be kind to him."

She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "I am kind to him," she promised.

"And to the rest of us," he said with a little smile.

"I pick my favorites," she replied with a raised eyebrow.

"Lucky them," he teased lightly.

"I swear, you just don't like me sometimes," she replied in a breath. "If it's because of my mutation, I have to warn you. I'm gonna tell Steve and then you'll be in trouble. That's an Avengers matter, mister."

"My dear," he said with a laugh, "you are very much mistaken. In fact, I think I prefer your company to nearly anyone else's in this school — except, perhaps, your darling little ones."

"Well, I prefer them myself, so I can understand that completely," she agreed. "Warm up your tea?"

Erik laughed and waved a hand to move the metal tray himself. "I'm not yet an invalid," he said. "But I appreciate the offer."

"Invalid, no. Showoff … well…"

"Believe me: if I were showing off, you would know," he said with a smirk.

"Maybe after tea," she shot back with a smile.

By dinnertime, Steve had finally gotten away from the press and made a beeline for the mansion — driven, focused, and ready to get more intel on how to handle this particular threat to freedom. Of course, he barely got to the front door before it was opened for him.

"Hello, Captain Rogers," Annie said with a warm smile as she reached out to all but pull him into the mansion.

"Mrs. Summers," he said with a tip of his head. "I hope I'm not intruding, but there was an incident earlier today, and frankly, I need more information from your husband and the team on how to handle it."

"Well, Scott is down in the Danger Room with Logan. They're usually running a training simulation for the junior squad this time of day, but I'm sure they'll be happy to help. I can take you there if you like."

He let out a breath and gave her a smile. "That's alright, ma'am," he replied. "I know the way well enough. I don't want to take you from whatever it was you were involved with."

"Just got the kids settled down, actually," she told him, gesturing toward the living room, where most of the underage kids were gathered playing games. "I've been homeschooling now, you know — ever since we took them out of public school."

He had to smile their way as he looked over the group of snuggled up kids. "Hopefully, you'll be able to send them back soon enough if they want to go," he said, a bit softer, though he shook his head as he looked at them. "They're a lot bigger than I remember them being. All of them."

Annie looked toward the group of kids and broke into a wider smile. "You know the twins turn eight soon," she said. "And James is going to be old enough to start Kindergarten next fall."

"Doesn't seem like it's been that long," he admitted with a smile, then stepped around the room quietly. "Thanks, Annie."

"Anytime. You know you're always welcome here," she said with a grin.

He took one last glance at the snuggled up kids — and had to wave when Elin cracked a smile at him — but after that, he was right back to business all the way down to the control booth of the Danger Room, where Logan, of course, greeted him before he got all the way in the door with a low "Hey Cap."

"I think we need to compare notes — if you have time," Steve said. "We need to know what we're up against and what works, just to save time and effort. We really don't know much about this whole tagging thing other than what we've run across with you during the exchanges."

"Sure," Scott said with a little nod. "You know we're happy to compare notes. But can you wait with us until the junior squad is finished? They're almost through." He gestured to where Jana seemed to be talking to absolutely nothing until Eleanor appeared out of nowhere above her head, snatching away an MRD rifle so Jana could lay into the guy — one of the last in the group.

"Sure," Steve said, quickly taking a seat with his hat in his hands to wait for them to finish up their exercise.

It wasn't much longer before the squad was through, and even the newer members, Brandon and Eleanor, had done well — possibly helped along by Brye spotting Steve in the booth and passing along the news of their audience.

"Is that Deadpool's daughter?" Steve asked with a little smirk.

Scott nodded. "She just made the squad this semester," he said. "She had to convince her father first."

"Wade didn't want to let her in?" Steve laughed. "Even with Uncle Wolvie involved?"

"Wade would wrap her in bubble wrap until she was twenty-nine — and even then, I'm not sure he'd let up," Scott said with a smirk. "Lisbet helped her case."

"How so?" Steve asked, still watching as the kids slowly filed out of the Danger Room.

"She pointed out that she's got the element of surprise down to an art and that she's top of her class in sneaking," Scott explained. "Even Lisbet can't find her if she wants to hide. Something goes wrong, no one will find her to make it worse."

"That's one way to handle it, not that I think Ellie would stay hiding for one second."

"No, but it's the right argument to make to a worried father," Scott said. "Especially given the climate — which is what you came to talk about." He killed the sim and got to his feet. "What do you need?"

Steve drew in a breath, held it for a moment, and then let his shoulders drop. "More or less what I said. We need more specifics. When we've participated in rescues with you, honestly, it's been a basic pick up and then hand off to medical, and I don't want to swamp Hank with that kind of workload once mutants start flocking to the tower." He gave him a look. "And you know it's going to happen sooner rather than later now that the Avengers are on record working on this. How are the other locations handling it?"

"Chicago has Lucy and Tyler working double-time," Scott told him. "And Annie's sister and brother-in-law both worked for the WHO before they signed on with Storm, so they've been handling things just fine there."

"So it has to be a medical extraction regardless," Steve said with a frown. "What about disabling the inhibitors? Is that a separate process?"

"Shadowcat can do both — but she's running things in Chicago. We can usually turn them off after the removal — but yeah, it's a medical issue. We want to get scans done to make sure we won't tear an important artery or to make sure it's not in bone before we pull it."

"That happens? They will go into bone?" Steve looked more horrified than he had a few moments earlier, but Scott couldn't tell if he was tilting toward anger or disbelief.

"You saw what happened with Angel," Scott said in a tired tone. "The wrong hit can do real damage. Warren's wing humerus was broken which was why he couldn't fly. And a straight shot to the chest can be fatal."

Steve got quiet for a moment and seemed to be processing everything. "How often has that happened?"

"Until Angel… only when that was what they were aiming for in the first place." Scott let out a breath. "Half dozen times that I'm aware of off the top of my head. Probably more than that if local law enforcement covered it up."

"Yeah, that's gonna stop," Steve said with a set to his jaw.

"So you said," Scott said. He paused and tipped his head Steve's way. "Can I ask ... what changed? You've never taken this much of an interest before."

He let out a breath and shook his head. "I never got involved before because I kept hearing that you guys had it covered. And I thought you did. I mean, you handled aliens and Magneto when none of us would have had half a chance. So we left it alone," Steve admitted. "But, honestly, I never really saw much of that kind of thing. I don't know if that's because they knew who I was, or it just didn't … work out, timing-wise. But I finally saw it. When no one knew who I was. And it was so blatant. So … much like they all thought it was normal and something that just didn't matter while this girl was terrified. I got … mad."

Scott nodded along to every word as he walked along with Steve. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

"I know it's a little bit weak on my part, but I guess this whole back and forth with the teams has had me thinking about it a lot more — and paying attention. But even with that … I can't believe it's gotten this far right under my nose. Everything about this is ridiculous."

"I suppose now isn't the time to tell you it's been worse," Scott said with almost a smirk.

"No, that's just it," Steve said, throwing one hand up. "In retrospect, I can see it. All of it. You know I fought the registration tooth and nail because I didn't want to see exactly this happening. I can't believe this was going on for so long before the registration even became an issue again."

Scott nodded as they came to a stop outside Hank's lab. "Well, you're on board now," he said. "And we've kept every tag that's been removed on the premises — and a few off-site. You're welcome to a few. It's easier to understand how they work when you've got them in your hands."

Steve smirked at that. "No kidding. I'm sure Tony will work up something. He's been looking for a project. K's little ideas notwithstanding, he's churning out gadgets like crazy."

"If he can find a way to disable them without resorting to surgery—"

"I'm sure he can," Steve said. "You know how he is."

When Steve poked his head into Tony's workshop, he was surprised when Tony was the one to turn off the music first — that ready to rant to someone about his findings.

"So, the way these creepy little things even work is despicable," Tony started to explain. "The stupid things don't even turn ON until they've been embedded into the skin — and then they use the host as their power source. No battery. No outside force to turn them on. But that also means that they're tricky little buggers to turn off, too."

Steve nodded. "Not that you didn't figure that out."

Tony nodded grimly before he launched into it. "Once they're out, they'll die out on their own in a matter of hours. And I'll be honest; I think that's a nod to our healing friends. Keep 'em down and out and dead long enough and it would probably stick. But I digress. I did manage to make a nifty little device. Big one stays in the tower for all of our refugee incoming mutant friends. We can just kill the rotten tags as they walk in the door; I'll hook it into our power source here. Little ones … those are just fun. I have a few different options. One … is not of anyone's concern but mine. I'm putting them in my suit. But the other one should go in the blackbird, Quinjets — anywhere our guys will be travelling so they can take it with them." He held up a little device, about the size of a ballpoint pen, and tapped the button on the end. "Fifteen foot radius — kills all the tags. Boom. Fries their circuits — and nothing else." Tony was grinning by the time he finished. "Small enough to hide in your spangly outfit somewhere. I know you have a pocket in there somewhere to carry your AARP card. This will fit with that and enough change to buy the early bird coffee special. I'm sure."

"Money clip," Steve corrected with a smirk.

"Potato, tomato." Tony waved. "The point, Granpappy Cappy, is that everyone can carry them. No one should be unable to flip these tags off at any point in time. But outside of that? They'll still need to go seek medical attention. The barbs on these things are just too nasty to tear out without taking a chunk out of yourself. Cyclops was right — if this was anywhere near something vital, it would absolutely kill you." He tapped the barbed end with the end of his new tag killer. "I think that was the intention, to be honest."

Steve frowned at that. "I thought there were only half a dozen deaths. There's hundreds of these tags, maybe more. If it was meant to be lethal, we'd have heard of more cases."

"You'd only hear about it if they pulled them out. So far, no one has done that yet. At least... no one has shown up in an ER or something like that," Tony pointed out. "My point, though, is that they were intended to maim or kill. My lawyerly sense is tingling saying that whoever designed this — and I have his name and patent number already on my law firm head's desk — did so with intent to do great bodily harm at least, and first degree murder if they could manage it."

Steve's frown was turning into a more serious glare the more he heard, and by the time Tony was done, he was mad all over again. "They should have called us in on this ages ago… We should have stepped in; this has gotten out of control."

"Why?" Tony said, looking frustrated himself. "When they were getting collars slapped on them, we didn't step in. Why would they have come to us for this?"

Steve let out a noise of frustration and passed a hand over his face. "No," he had to admit. "We didn't." He sat down on one of the benches near the worktable where Tony had scattered a few of the tags. "How's Howard?"

"He's fine," Tony said in a huff. "Why do you ask?"

Steve shook his head lightly. "Well, mutations tend to show up around puberty; that puts a bit of a deadline on things for you…"

Tony shook his head and tossed the device on his workbench. "It's not just Howard," Tony said. "The geneticists are right. This is the next step in evolution. More and more of these kids are born every year, and less and less of them don't have the X-gene. Everything they warned you about happening... the mass hysteria and people acting like idiots, turning on kids — because really, Cap, that's who they're going after. Not the adults so much. There are hardly any adult mutants alive anymore, in case you missed it. It's all aimed at the kids. Think about it."

"You don't have to tell me; I saw it," Steve said with a glare.

"But whenever it's an issue, what do they do? They show mutant villains that have been dead for years — and the damage they did — to use as a warning. Or they put up the few that are still alive and kicking for shock factor. At least the character assassination on the X-Men individually has dipped back a little," Tony said. "Though most of that has to do with every press organization fearing the cease and desist from Matt Murdock that the Howletts have ready to go at the first invitation of slander or libel."

"He's enjoying himself," Steve said with a smirk. "I don't think he's had this much to do and this many people to take down in a long time."

"I still wish I'd been a fly on the wall when he sat down with the two of them," Tony said.

Steve chuckled, shook his head, and then stood up. "Alright. We'll make sure every Avenger has one of those devices—"

"I have them for the X-Men too; everyone should be covered," Tony said. "I'm flying out to Cali at the end of the week. I'll bring them theirs."

Steve nodded at that. "Thanks, Tony."