For some reason I expected the agency to be a bit harder to find. It fits neatly on Roosevelt Island in Washington D.C., a conspicuous eagle emblem on the side of the central building. There's a mile long drive from the mainland to this cleverly concealed edifice, a drive made secure by frequent checkpoints and a multitude of cameras. Several short jumps get me past all this and outside the busy front entrance. I cringe as a dozen heads turn when I land loudly on the smooth linoleum of the sizable lobby. Invisibility doesn't feel sufficient in this place.
Now inside, I head straight for doors requiring special identification. With glass ones I can jump ahead, but solid ones can have inner sensors that I'm cautious of phasing through. Every lock, scanner, camera, and keypad is run by the same system, so if there's a blip- me- it will not go unnoticed. For this reason I hold off on utilizing technopathy.
Eventually I find the data room. It's warm from the massive processors, and a few technicians are present. Private booths line one of the curved walls, so I phase into one that's unoccupied. The booth consists of a single desk and computer where I type in the access code "borrowed" from Agent Coulson. Once it's accepted, I have a small window of time before being traced.
A keyword search for Alkali Lake dredges up numerous files, and I'm discouraged by how many are classified until I realize they are on another subject altogether called Weapons Plus. These files require separate logins and I don't have time to hack them.
I'm distracted by the fact that the most recent results for Alkali aren't from the year I escaped, but date instead to a federal investigation conducted in 2007. According to the investigation the facility was still functioning in 2006. Fingers dance up my spine. I was there in 2006. I wandered over the abandoned surface of the facility thinking myself safe, but all the while it was still operating underground. I'd stood at the edge of a spider web teasing the trip-lines.
I tense up as I hear footsteps outside the door. That's your heartbeat, dumbass. But my heart skips a beat as I continue reading. Directly before it closed down in '06, the major focus of the facility at Alkali was a project called Cerebro. Cerebro was allegedly designed to wipe mutant-kind from the face of the earth using what sounds like a replica of Xavier's machine. A group of unidentified mutants brought this failed plan directly before the president of the United States, then disappeared. Upon investigation, it was discovered that the Alkali Lake dam had burst, flooding the complex and any evidence within that might support this claim.
Someone tries the door. I suck in my breath, wipe my eyes on my sleeve, and split my concentration between the locking mechanism and the computer screen. Hastily, I sift through the other results to find Alkali records from the eighties. Why didn't Logan tell me any of this? When I first arrived he asked if something strange had happened to me in the months preceding, but I had no idea what he was talking about. If someone was to replicate Cerebro, they'd have to know what it looked like, and they'd need special parts. Just watching Tony work I know that sometimes things can't easily be replicated, and if you're not a verified genius, are working within a government budget, and want something as specific as the Professor's Cerebro, then you have to get your hands on the original. But, that would mean either Xavier gave them the plans, or they came and saw it for themselves-
Matt. After Pyro set the graduation day fire, Matt was so worried "the soldiers" had returned that he made himself sick. So, he was present when the military came to find Cerebro. That would explain how the X-Men followed them back to Alkali where Logan had just met me for the second time. And if everyone had suffered some strange effect like Logan told me, then the project had been near success. I was halfway across the country at the time, blissfully unaware that the school I was heading to was nearly depopulated by the same sadists who'd violated my childhood.
The person at the door is calling someone over his comm. I swear out loud, having scrolled to the end of the results without thinking. There's no time to look again.
...
The laughter from the dining hall is shut inside, and our skin turns an obscure blue as we step into the dusk. Logan pats his pockets irritably. "What's wrong?"
I don't bother hiding it. "Are there people looking for us?"
"What? Why?"
"From the facility."
He stares at me. "No."
"How do you know?"
"Because it's gone."
"How do you know?"
"We went there not long after I found you." He exhales at the sky, and I ponder his use of the word 'found'. "Broke the dam, nearly broke the Blackbird. Nearly lost everyone…Jean especially. Pyro left that day too, come to think of it."
"Happening day," I mutter, fighting off his emotions. "But it was operating when it went."
Now he gives me a sharp look. "Yeah. They were still there."
Letting out a pent up breath, I start heading back to my room. I can hear him thinking, so I warn, "Don't ask how I know."
Intelligently, he doesn't.
...
"Is she cute?"
There's a low groan on the other end. "Who am I, Matt?"
I laugh and kick a pair of shoes under my bed. "That doesn't answer the question."
"Well, I'm not answering the question," Vince says stoutly. "Unless you're interested."
"Crud, now you do sound like Matt."
Now Vince laughs. "So how was your day, weirdo?"
"Exhausting." My sweater smells like SHIELD. I pull a book off my desk and flip through it. "I just want you to make some friends while you're over there."
"Hey, Sukraj's my friend." He says something over his shoulder. There's a short laugh in the background, and his roommate replies good-naturedly. Vince giggles into the phone.
"Then tell Sukraj I'm relying on him to keep you out of trouble," I say.
"She thinks you're an upstanding gentleman," Vince relays.
"And that I'm sorry for dumping you on him, but I had no say in the matter." I set the book on my stomach.
Vince scoffs. "You said plenty about 'the matter'. I just ignored it."
"You tend to," I yawn. "I'm going to sleep early, and I'm going to sleep long."
"You do that," says Vince. "Sweet dreams."
"No, finish telling me about your day." I'm loathe to hang up. It's difficult not having him around.
"That's about it, man. It rained, and I made friends with a stray cat. Not much else to say."
"Well...keep me updated on this architecture class, it sounds like you're enjoying it."
"Alright, A. Goodnight."
I hang up, pleased at least that things are going well in California. However, this only reminds me that I haven't heard from Matt in a while. I feel an unreasonable guilt knowing that the same disgusting agenda that perverted my life also damaged his. In fact, probably all of the students here were affected by Project Cerebro.
Deep in thought, I lift my book into the air using only telekinesis. I enjoy the effort it takes, so I lift the bed beneath me as well. The bed, the book, and I float steadily for a full minute before settling back down again. I need to get at those older files. Coulson's access code may not work a second time, but SHIELD should have a filing room where they keep physical documents.
Madge texts me wondering where I am, and if I might meet her in the lounge. I get out of bed and change into a sweater and warm boots. Closing the stable door behind me, I relish the cold moonlight across the chilled lawn. The insulating silence of the woods quells the muted rage that's been building in me since reading those files. It's so peaceful here. If only Vince could enjoy it.
...
Wasting no time, I jump directly into the data room. As before, there are several agents already here. One in particular is adding information to an older file requiring high clearance to view. When she is finished she picks up the folder she brought with her and carries it out. Instantly, I sit down at her station and reenter her authorization. This time I find the Alkali records from the eighties, and begin the complicated process of removing any that mention the troublesome mutant girl who made life difficult for her handlers. For several months nothing but my food intake and "progress" is on record. I have to assume that the records of whatever I was progressing in have been destroyed- perhaps by me already.
The system shuts me out before I find the first recorded date of my time at Alkali. Clenching my fist, I refrain from punching the screen. The prompt to reenter my clearance appears, but I leave that trap un-sprung. Time to follow the agent with the folder.
The data room seals off, but not before I phase through the door. I follow the agent's scent trail as she makes her return trip to the file room. Her scent is corrupted by others as I progress, but I stop when I see her exiting a room with another agent, hands free. I rush to the keypad before they've walked very far, and give it a complicated command to reopen. The system hesitates, then the door opens.
It's a small room. Two filing cabinets and a desk jockey- who looks up in mystification at the open door- provide the landscape. I glance around, switching my eyesight to see through things, a rusty ability. With extra effort it works, and I see the concealed entrance to the file room. Phasing through the wall, I pause for a hair of a second, when the lights go out.
The desk jockey in the outer room has begun speaking into his phone with mild urgency. Adjusting my eyesight again to see in the dark, I quickly inspect the cabinets. With a groan I realize the entire room holds files of a specific category. The hall I walked down to get here must be lined with rooms like these, each a different category. This one is for medical research, but I probably need one on weapons, or military, or-
There are four more agents in the outer room now preparing to enter. Making a snap decision, I phase into the room next door. More filing cabinets, still not my category. Also, I think the categories are arranged alphabetically which means "weapons research" might be last. Unless they have x-files.
An upset begins in the medical research room once they realize I'm not there.
"There's nothing here, sir."
"Look again."
"Sir, it's reading nothing."
My pulse quickens. They knew I'd be invisible. What's more, they have a device that can read me.
"Wait...sir." The second agent is now closer to the wall.
The first agent moves toward him. There's a pause.
"Next room, move."
By the time they arrive I'm already two rooms away. As I study each room, they have time to catch up, but I always cross into the next room at the last second. They get clever and send two agents ahead of me, but the agent with the device is never with them. By the time he tells them where I am, I've phased again.
Thus when I finally find the weapons research room, two armed and frustrated agents are already there. The cabinets holding Weapons Plus records are right in front of me when the agent with the device enters the outer room. I hold my breath and hope my next plan works.
"Is it still here?" asks the first agent, storming into the room with his gun drawn. I can just see him over the tops of the file cabinets.
Carefully, I unlock a cabinet telekinetically and pull it out, muting the sound. When one of the other two agents comes around the corner, I use an illusion so he doesn't see anything's changed. My head throbs from juggling so many tasks at once. Plus the crucial one.
"No, it's gone," the tech agent announces in dismay. "I don't know what happened, it didn't move."
"Did it leave the room?" asks the tall agent.
I breathe gently through my nose, and stare over the indistinct labels on the folders. My head feels like a balloon is expanding inside it, and my knees tremble.
"No, it hasn't left- at least, I didn't see it leave. But the heat signature's vanished, sir."
Yeah, and it would really like to come back. The agent closest to me looks at the tall agent for further orders, so I lift the illusion that the cabinet is closed. It does little to relieve my distress, but thankfully he walks away.
I'm turning to my last pocket of energy when the tall agent says, "It might still be here. Circle the room."
I can hardly say upright in this half-alive state. Currently it's too difficult to manipulate the device, and if I leave the room to lead them away, circumstances may prohibit me from returning. Even now I hear security inspecting the other file rooms, probably with devices of their own. I could just make the agents leave.
With a gasp I slam the cabinet shut. They don't hear that, but the agent with the device squeaks. Before he can tell his officer the good news, I jump out of the building.
...
Two days later, I'm lying on the sofa in the lounge picking hay out of my hair.
"Here," Madge sits up on the couch with a sigh, "let me help."
Sitting up, I scoot back. Very neatly, she begins removing the mess from my hair.
"How'd you do that again?" asks the junior seated on the other couch.
"Horse stepped on my foot, and I lost my balance." I was lucky it was only hay I fell into.
He chuckles. "Ace, taken out by a uncoordinated horse."
"It wasn't her fault," I say. "We're the dummies trying to balance on two legs."
Madge clicks her tongue. "Yeah, don't blame the horse, Nacho."
"I don't," he flips his phone in the air and catches it again, "I blame the Danger Room graduate."
"Well at least I graduated in something, D minus in remedial math."
He gives me a dirty look, and Madge tugs my hair. "Don't fight with children."
My phone blips. "I'm already getting stepped on by arthritic horses, why not descend further?"
"Because the horse can fight back." Madge replies brushing off her hands.
I pick up my phone, shaking out my hair, and read my new text from Tony.
Be here tomorrow at 2pm.
Specific, yet vague, and rather unlike him. I don't reply.
After work the next day, I jump to my halfway point before jumping to Tony's driveway, invisible this time. Good thing I did. A black Acura sits in wait at the bottom of the front steps. At the door I pause to look inside. Tony stands by the fireplace, arms crossed as he speaks to someone out of my view. His features are terse and posture defiant. Besides the one he's speaking to there are two other men in the building, one in the coatroom, and one in the garage. I step through the glass just as Tony sighs in exasperation.
"You people just hate to be wrong, don't you?"
"Maybe." The quick, clipped tone indicates Agent Coulson as the person in the kitchen.
The ceiling light above me turns on, and Tony's eyes flicker in my direction. "I told you, she's not coming today."
"Any idea where she might be instead?" asks Coulson coolly.
Tony nods. "Why don't you check HQ again? Maybe there were some doughnuts she forgot to steal while she was there."
Crap.
"It's a bit more serious than that," replies Coulson.
"Uh-huh, well then I'll call you if anything serious happens."
Coulson studies him sternly. "That won't be necessary. We're done here."
He moves for the door, and the other two agents leave their positions as well. Tony and I wait until the car is gone. I'm about to leave when he says sharply, "Ace."