Meanwhile, in Washington DC...

25/10/18: House Call

"...ultimately our actions in Canada and Mexico are in keeping with the Monroe Doctrine, which has guided American foreign policy since the 1820s, and furthermore…"

"Mr. President, sir."

President Henry Edward Fulton grimaced as the Secret Service agent approached.

"I'm in the middle of something…" he began to protest.

"Stanford Pines is here."

Fulton frowned, putting his hand over the microphone as he replied.

"He snuck in?"

"No, sir, he walked in the front door."

"What?!"

"He says he wants to parley."

Fulton pursed his lips, slowly removing his hand from the microphone.

"No more questions," he said, "I'm afraid something has come up."

They had prepared the welcoming committee, Ford noted. A dozen secret service agents, five marines and a few senior officers were gathered around the Oval Office, their weapons drawn. The message was clear - no funny business.

Fulton sat at his desk, flanked by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Admiral Massinger, and Secretary of State William Wilder. Wilder in particular looked wary - his arms were crossed over his chest, his face set in a deep scowl.

"Given the circumstances, I assume I'm not being offered a biscuit," said Ford wryly.

"This," Fulton held up a Japanese diplomatic passport, "Is the only reason you're not being filled with holes right now. What do you want, Mr. Pines."

"Dr. Pines," replied Ford, "I didn't earn twelve PhDs to be called mister."

"Get to the point," snapped Wilder.

"Very well," said Ford, "My offer is this. Withdraw from Wakanda, roll back these undemocratic reforms and give up Rausseman."

"Or what?" sniffed Wilder.

"Or I can offer you nothing but your complete destruction," replied Ford, "If you agree, there may be some chance that you can salvage your political career. If not, we will air every scrap of dirt Rausseman has on you, once he's been defeated. It's your call."

"Once he's been defeated?" exclaimed Fulton, "Doctor, you're in no strategic position to make demands! We're ten miles from the Wakandan capital, on the eve of our final drive! Even the most optimistic estimate has you done by the beginning of November! You really think I'm gonna go for this when you hold none of the cards?"

"We have a secret weapon," replied Ford bluntly.

There was a long silence.

"Then why haven't you used it?" demanded Massinger at last.

"The time hasn't yet come. It may not even have to."

Ford crossed his arms.

"It all depends on what you say next."

Fulton contemplated, biting his lip. He glanced nervously at Wilder; then, seeing the Secretary of State's face remain firm, steeled himself and turned back to Ford.

"You're bluffing," he said, "And in any case, the United States of America does not negotiate with terrorists."

"Odd," replied Ford, "Seeing as you keep working with PURITY."

Fulton stood up, his face turning red.

"You have ten minutes to get off my prop-"

"Mr. President!"

A young aide burst into the room, his face an ashen white.

"Peterson? Uh, what-what did you hear?" stammered Fulton, flustered.

The aide said nothing, pointing out the window with a shaking hand.

Fulton turned, gazing out the window. He could see dark clouds - a storm was gathering - but more notably, he could see a faint red glow at the base of the distant Washington Monument. He squinted, trying to get a better look.

Suddenly, a figure with wings of fire levitated in front of the monument. Seconds later, the giant obelisk was engulfed in fire. The figure stood before it for a moment, arms outstretched, before shooting up into the sky, leaving the flaming monument to burn.

"Mother of God!" exclaimed the President.

"Get him out of here!" snapped Massinger, "Now?"

The Secret Service immediately sprung to action, forming a scrum around Fulton and bolting out the door with their charge - Wilder sprinted after them. The marines, officers and Massinger remained behind, retaining their position around Ford.

"Uh, shouldn't you…"

"I'm not leaving trash in the Oval Office," snarled Massinger, "Men! Take aim!"

The marines and officers raised their guns, taking careful aim.

"You don't want to do this, gentlemen," warned Ford, "This is not going to be a fair…"

"Fire!"

The room was filled with a deafening cacophony of gunfire. As each round came into contact with Ford, it suddenly struck an invisible field that briefly glowed blue after the impact, completely eliminating their velocity.

Ford responded quickly, drawing a strange, three-barrelled cylindrical gun from his coat. He aimed and fired, and three green beams burst from the barrels, each slamming into a marine and pushing them back against the wall. He swung around, knocking every defender out in groups of three, until there were none left standing.

"Kinetic Blaster, you idiots," he snapped, "I warned you!"

He heard a click and turned around. Massinger stood behind the Resolute Desk, aiming an enormous pistol at Ford's head.

"This thing loads a .50 calibre bullet," he snarled, "Are you feeling lucky, punk?"

"Luckier than you, Dirty Harry," replied Ford, raising his blaster.

Suddenly, the window shattered, exposing the office to heavy wind. A figure jumped up from the Rose Garden, landing next to Massinger and pulling him into a headlock.

Ford's eyes widened.

"Stanley?"

Stan looked at his twin, his face immediately twisting into a frown.

"Darn it, you weren't supposed to be here," he muttered.

"Weren't sup... Stanley, you're alive!" exclaimed Ford, "But-but I saw him kill you!"

"Yeah, I got better," growled Stanley, "Now get out of here, we're sendin' a message."

"Sending a..."

Ford looked towards the burning Washington Monument.

"That... that was you," he gasped, "But... but there would've been people there, I... please tell me you warned them."

Stan glared at his brother, and for a moment, Ford perceived a faint red tinge in his irises.

"If we warned them, it wouldn't send a message."

There was a long silence.

"Don't you see, Pines?" snarled Massinger, "They're animals! They-"

"Enough outta you."

Stan's hands glowed red. Massinger's face contorted in pain; he screamed as steam began to rise from his body. In a few seconds, all that remained was a blackened, mummified corpse, the limbs twisted and distorted - then, he dissolved into ash.

"St-Stanley?" spluttered Ford.

"We're making a statement," snapped Stan, "On behalf of the Phoenix. If you don't wanna get caught up in it, I suggest you leave."

"Suggest... Stan, there are civilians in here!" exclaimed Ford, "Ordinary people! Aides, clerks, journalists, they didn't have anything to do with Fulton or Rausseman! You burn the White House, you'll assuredly..."

"It happens, Ford, that's how you win battles," replied Stan.

"But they're innocent!"

"If they're so innocent," snapped Stan, "Where were they when Rausseman killed the mutants, or tried to blow up the Inhumans, or killed the people who were supposed to be protecting them? They let it happen, Stanford!"

He raised his hands, and flames appeared on his palms.

"They're culpable, and they're gonna reap the whirlwind."

Ford shook his head.

"This isn't you, Stanley," he said softly.

"The Phoenix opened my eyes," Stan replied simply.

The door suddenly flew open. A pair of soldiers burst in, rifles ready.

"There's two of 'em!" one shouted.

"Well then shoot 'em both!" exclaimed the other.

Stan extended his hands, and two jets of flame burst from them, striking the soldiers and instantly incinerating them. Behind them, Ford could hear the shouts of reinforcements - it was time for him to leave.

"Stan, I... I'm sorry," he said, "I don't know what's happened to you, but when I can, I'll save you..."

"I. Don't. Need. Saving."

Ford winced at Stan's withering gaze before bolting out the door. As he hurried down the corridor, he heard more shouts and gunfire - then the unmistakable sound of roaring flame.

The door opened, and Ford raced onto the White House roof. He skidded to a halt as the rooftop sniper drew his gun on him.

"Lights out, you son of a-"

THUNK.

The sniper slumped to the ground, revealing Tambry, a rock held in her hands.

"Nice work," nodded Ford, "Did you get it."

Tambry showed him a USB.

"By the way," she added, "I am completely terrified right now."

"You and me both."

"Stop! Hands up!"

They turned around. A small squad of Secret Service agents had burst onto the roof, and were now in the process of surrounding them. Before they could move, they were cut off against the edge of the roof.

"You're under arrest for high treason!" the lead agent bellowed.

Tambry swallowed, but Ford simply crossed his arms.

"Am I?" he said, "Well, how about that, game's up. Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen - there's just one problem."

"The hell are you talking about?" demanded the agent.

Ford smirked, and behind him the Quinjet uncloaked.

"We're not alone."

Steve Rogers leapt down from the Quinjet, his shield drawn. The agents opened fire, their bullets bouncing harmlessly off the vibranium material. Behind him, Kamala leaned out of the jet, stretching both her arms - giant fists knocked the agents down from both directions like a row of dominos, swiftly clearing the roof.

"Doctor," nodded Steve.

"Captain," nodded Ford.

"Okay," said Tambry, "This is actually improbably awesome."

"Shut up and get in the jet!" shouted Kamala.

Ford, Steve and Tambry quickly jumped onto the ramp, and the Quinjet began to lift off. The pilot called back from the cockpit.

"Okay, next stop Wakanda!" called Wendy.

"Since when can you fly a Quinjet?" demanded Tambry.

"Hey, I got lessons from Sam Wilson," shrugged Wendy, "I know what I'm doing. Mostly."

"Six o'clock!" Steve shouted.

Behind them, a blue figure was soaring towards them. Ford instinctively stepped back as Lapis Lazuli swooped towards the ramp, an enormous bubble of flaming water held over her head.

"Greek fire!" exclaimed Ford, "If it wasn't coming to destroy us, I'd be impressed!"

"Brace!" shouted Kamala.

The impact never came. Seconds before Lapis reached the Quinjet, a sudden crack rang out - there was a second sniper on the roof of the White House's East Wing, and his shot had hit home. Lapis seemed to stumble midair, tumbling through the sky and landing hard in the back of Quinjet.

Ford shot round, aiming his kinetic blaster at the blue gem. She lay limp for a moment, before slowly climbing to her feet, rubbing her head.

"She's... she's gone..." she muttered.

"Who's gone?" asked Steve.

"The Phoenix," mused Ford, "It... she was controlling you?"

Lapis nodded.

"I... I could hear her telling me to do things," she said, "I wanted to do them, I..."

Shaking, she buried her head in her arms. Sympathetically, Kamala sat down next to her, rubbing her shoulder.

Ford and Steve looked out the back of the Quinjet at the city below. Slowly, the interior of the White House was becoming engulfed with flame, fire engines hurtling towards it from the nearest stations. In the far distance, they could see Marine One flying away. They could no longer see the Phoenix - perhaps her work was already done, and Stan was simply mopping up.

"This complicates things," sighed Ford, "What I don't understand is how Lapis shook the mind control. What did it? Was it the landing or..."

"No."

Steve was bent over - he picked up a spent bullet from the floor. It was enormous, but much more notable was the glowing blue cylinder attached to the head, leaking slime like a broken pen lid. It was the bullet that had hit Lapis.

"I'm pretty sure it had something to do with this," said Steve.

Rain fell on the blackened shell of the White House.

Fulton stood outside, sheltering under an umbrella. His expression was grave; he seemed deeply troubled.

"Mr. President, sir?"

A general walked up behind him, smartly saluting the President.

"General," said Fulton, clenching his fists, "I want Wakanda flattened for this."

He turned around.

"Sir, in due respect, there's no evidence that..."

"Get on the horn with Strategic Air Command," interrupted Fulton, "If the offensive fails, we're nuking them."

AN: Woo! Home stretch is starting up now!