A little slice of Mikaela to keep you company in these trying times?

Hope this all seems reasonable and in-character and hope you all enjoy and are healthy x

Chapter Forty - Year Two

Mikaela's hands fidget incessantly, but they are behind her back and out of sight - to the person she is wanting to appease, at least. Everyone behind her will be able to see how nervous she is. She made a real effort for this meeting, showering and washing her hair and letting Pepper dress her up smartly. Her back has never been so straight.

"My general tells me you would not remove your bracer before our meeting," the Queen of Wakanda begins, regarding Mikaela with cautious curiosity. "Do you fear for your safety here?"

Mikaela clears her throat to stop a panicked onslaught of words. "I have never felt unsafe in Wakanda," she replies, hoping she sounds a fraction as elegant and well-rounded as the Queen. "Except for that time we fought an army from space," she adds quickly, wincing.

She swears the Queen's mouth twitches. "So why insist the bracer remain on your arm?"

Mikaela shifts on her feet. "I'm keeping an eye on several different vulnerable factions in this world, I need to be able to cross oceans at a moment's notice; the bracer lets me do that."

"You fear for your people," the Queen acknowledges, dipping her chin briefly.

"Every day," Mikaela confirms. She wants to get to the point now, but she doesn't know if she should wait until the Queen asks her about it first.

The silence is stretching on a bit though.

"That's why I'm here," Mikaela blurts, a hopeful tone in her voice.

The Queen lifts an eyebrow, and she takes it as an invitation to continue.

"Mutants are being targeted across the world - some countries are worse than others, but the bottom line is they are not safe, especially the children. The school in America is in danger, we really don't have long left until the humans make a move on us. I need to move us somewhere safer before that happens."

"You are asking to bring these targets into our lands?" an elder asks, clearly opposed to the idea.

Mikaela glances at the Queen, who continues to appear calm, waiting for a response. "No, I wouldn't ask that of you," Mikaela says.

That elder relaxes, but another asks, "Then, what do you ask?"

"I need to be confident that wherever we move the school, these humans can't find us. We need to hide these kids until they are old enough to decide for themselves how they want to live their lives." Mikaela shrugs, wondering if this is a lost cause. "I don't know anyone who is as good at hiding themselves as Wakanda. You have the most effective technology for this."

"You want us to give you our technology?"

Mikaela struggles not to show her aggravation at their continued misinterpretation and assumptions. "I am asking if there is a way that we can perform some kind of transaction. I have no idea what you would ask for in return - I mean, I can get you money, I'm just not sure you'd like how I'd do it, or I can do something else in return for you, anything, I-"

"Have you gone to your own government?" The Queen asks, interrupting Mikaela's ramble.

She sighs. "They don't want to do anything to unsettle the already shaky morale in the country. Apparently we're disposable when it comes to the country as a whole, even though we could help them in ways those assholes can't." She closes her eyes and clenches her jaw, breathing through her nose. "Sorry, I didn't mean to swear."

"This school," the Queen muses, lifting a hand to rest her chin on. "Is it open to every mutant?"

"As many as we can house," Mikaela answers, opening her eyes again. "We get mutants that have fled their own countries looking for someplace safe to just stop running, we get mutants we've rescued from horrific experimentation, we get mutants who have come from a relatively supportive environment who just want to learn about themselves and how to control their mutation," she lists off. "Our priority is obviously the children, but we get adults too who have repressed themselves their whole lives and finally want to accept themselves. We're in desperate need of adults who can help, to be honest, but they can be hard to come by."

The elders sit in silence, glancing between Mikaela and the Queen, everyone seemingly digesting what she has said and what she is asking.

"More work must be done with your government, I think," the Queen says eventually. "Maybe an ambassador could be appointed to represent your people in government. Perhaps a system can be set up where foreign mutants who don't have the luxury of this school of yours are granted access into your country on the condition that they attend the school. Perhaps a representative or two for humans can also be present at the school so that your government can rest assured that their position and power is safe, and their people are safe."

Mikaela's shoulders slump. Her hands stop fidgeting and she brings them back into view to cross her arms. Her mind is already whirring through the Queen's suggestions, playing out the different scenarios in her head and knowing, in her heart, that if the suggestions even worked in the first place, it wouldn't be enough to protect the kids from the humans in the local town.

"You can also tell your government that Wakanda will build an appropriate facility to replace this school, in an area of their choosing, if it pleases them. The facility will be large enough to house as many mutants as you take in, and it will have areas to safely practice control of mutations. The facility will be hidden and the location undisclosed to the majority of the population - those who know of the location will be relevant officials in your government only, and anyone else you might choose to share it with."

Mikaela is sure she must look like an idiot, standing there gawking at the Queen of fucking Wakanda, mouth ajar, eyebrows lifted into her hairline, but how the fuck else is she supposed to react?

"Wow, okay," she stutters. "That'd be amazing, thank you so much, how would you like me to pay for that?"

The Queen smiles. "I think the state of the world suggests that those who can provide help to people in need should do so, regardless of whether those in need can return the favour."

Mikaela frowns at her. "I can't possibly take all of this help without giving anything in return," she says. The weight on her shoulders would be far too immense if she couldn't repay them.

"I'm not giving it to you," the Queen retorts. "I'm giving it to mutants across the world who are in fear for their lives."

Mikaela understands that. She knows the vulnerable mutants deserve this. She doesn't want to stop them from getting it.

But she is the one asking for it so it feels like they're giving it to her and she feels like her chest is shrinking around her lungs and how is she supposed to just walk away from this meeting with that promise without promising anything in return? How can she be so in debt to an entire nation?

"Mikaela," the Queen says firmly, but not unkindly. "Okoye tells me about your friends in New York, about how they are doing their best to help the world adjust, to keep track of any criminals seeking to take advantage, and I can see how invested you are in every vulnerable mutant in the world - we are also doing what we can for people, and your particular group of people need a very specific kind of help. Where will you find it if you can't get it here?"

Mikaela forgets the company she's in for a moment and shrugs. "I'd ask Tony, but he has his daughter to worry about and it'd be such a huge project for him to tackle on his own and I'm not sure even he can match the technology I've seen that I think we need."

The Queen smiles. "What kind of nation would we be if we are the only people who can give you what you need to protect your children and we refused your request for assistance?"

"We'll be in debt to a country," Mikaela says, unsure what she even wants to happen here.

"Perhaps your new facility could house some of Wakanda's mutants?"

"Pardon me, but are our own facilities not the safest place for our mutants?" an elder interjects.

"It would still be our facility," the Queen assures. "Just in a different place, hidden from those who would do mutants harm. We can send our teachers too, and perhaps use the facility here for another charitable cause."

Mikaela watches the elders cautiously, but they all sit back in their seats, exchanging looks that seem to be mostly agreeable.

"Mikaela?" the Queen asks, opening her hands. "Do you accept our assistance?"

Mikaela swallows and shifts on her feet. "I think 'assistance' is a bit of an understatement," she replies, smiling uncomfortably, "But it's what our people need. This means everything to us, to me. I can't thank you enough."

The Queen smiles and stands. "We look forward to coordinating this project with you and your people."

Okoye walks towards Mikaela and gestures towards the door behind her. "This way," the general says.

Mikaela bows her head at the Queen and the elders one last time, unable to think of anything more to say to express her gratitude. She turns away from them and walks with Okoye out of the room and into the hallway beyond.

When the doors close behind them again, Okoye turns to her and gives her an amused smile.

"Was I that bad?" Mikaela grimaces, walking along the hallway with her.

"You could have been worse," Okoye shrugs, smirking.

Mikaela groans.

"She liked you, though," the general says earnestly. "I think you impressed her."

"I thought I would have crashed and burned, but Storm didn't want to come away from the children and she thought my connection to Wakanda would help."

"I'm sure it didn't hurt that you had helped protect our borders and our people," Okoye replies.

When they make it out into open air, Okoye nods respectfully. "This will be a new era for mutants," she says. "Wakanda will be honoured to be a part of it."

Mikaela smiles at her. "Thank you for your help, I really appreciate it."

She takes a step back and links in to the technology in her bracer - which is now a much more subtle version than the original one she used, with its forest green colouring and its ability to fit closely to her skin. Okoye watches as the nanotech engulfs Mikaela, now including a mask with two gold eye slits, and then she activates her thrusters and launches into the air, impatient to bring the good news back to the school.

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Mikaela lands hard on her back, slamming the air out of her lungs in one big whoosh.

"Oo," she hears Nat hiss, "Did that hurt, little girl?"

Mikaela groans, deciding to just lay slumped in her shamed position as she awaits her oxygen supply.

"That was cold, Nat, even for you," Steve says, but Mikaela can hear the smile in his voice.

"My trainer treated me the same way," Carol weighs in, her tone light, "I think it helped."

"As if I'm gonna turn out as badass as any of you," Mikaela grunts, lifting her head to look at Nat, standing by Mikaela's feet with the smuggest smirk she's ever seen.

Steve appears in view then, his hand extended out to her. Mikaela sighs and accepts the help, not even bothering to try and push herself up when he can pull her entire body weight up himself. He gives her a look when he realises.

"I'm exhausted," she pouts.

He shakes his head. "No wonder," he responds, crossing his arms, "I think you actually made her break a sweat this time. Well done."

"You've definitely improved since I last saw you," Carol adds, smiling from the sideline where she sits against the wall.

"Doesn't feel like it," Mikaela mutters, one hand pressing her lower back, the other gently exploring a developing bruise on her jaw.

Nat smiles and pats her shoulder. "You're only getting hurt 'cause you're going up against me," she says. "If it was your average criminal, they wouldn't be able to touch you."

"We don't fight 'your average criminal', though," Mikaela frowns, letting her hands drop to her side.

"Well, when you're fighting one of those special kinds of criminals, you'll have your suit," Steve retorts.

"The whole point in this is to not have to rely on the suit," Mikaela sighs, running a hand over her face.

"Mikaela, relax," he says kindly, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You might not have been a natural at this, but you've put the work in and I promise you it shows. You can without a doubt handle yourself now - you could before, I know, but you're more efficient and the style is better suited to you now."

"What he said," Nat jokes, but her smile is genuine and encouraging and-

"Is that pride?" Mikaela teases.

Nat flicks her nose. "Moment over."

The four of them retire from their training session and get freshened up before sitting down for dinner together.

"I met up with Rocket and Nebula a few months back," Carol comments as she ladles more of the curry onto her plate. "They seemed to be doing well - hadn't killed each other yet, anyway."

"How are things up there?" Steve asks.

"About the same as down here," Carol shrugs, digging her fork into her food. "The hardest hit are the worlds that hadn't even realised they weren't alone in the universe yet."

Nat purses her lips and shakes her head. The mood drops significantly, thinking of the poor people struggling to come to terms with that as well as half their population disappearing.

Steve clears his throat. "Mikaela, how's the new facility coming along?"

Mikaela leans back in her chair and nods. "It's coming," she replies. "Wakanda are very efficient builders. Considering the technology involved in this, they've been getting it done really quickly. They reckon it'll be about a month and a half before it's all set up and furnished, ready for students."

"You gonna teach?" Nat asks.

Mikaela scoffs. "What the hell would I teach? Nah, I'll leave that to the adults."

"How old are you, now?" Carol asks, her chin tilting up with curiosity.

"I dunno, Tony made June 15th my birthday, so according to that, I'm now nineteen."

"Happy birthday, then," she smirks, tilting her beer bottle towards Mikaela.

"Thanks," Mikaela grins, nodding gratefully.

"Did you see that-"

Mikaela's bracer makes a noise. Her mind leaves the facility in a flash to investigate. Her friends haven't even had time to register what is happening before she jumps from her chair, nanotech exploding into action, sprinting to position herself under a new slot in the ceiling that opens at her command, her thrusters thundering at her feet to launch her into the air.

She pushes the suit as fast as it'll go, making a beeline for the school, breaking the sound barrier, her mind playing the footage, fear suffocating her chest as rage simultaneously bursts it.

It's taking her too long, she can't push harder, she can't go any faster, but she has to.

The school comes into view. She can see the mob of people on the road at the gates, and she can see Storm and Hank standing in between the mob and the school.

She hits the ground so hard the gravel of the driveway flies away from her and anyone nearby stumbles. The nanotech retreats from her head, exposing the raw fury on her face to the mob before her. She can feel the power of her mutation inflaming the power of the suit, the two pulsing and throbbing on the surface of her suit - they don't have a colour, but she knows the people around her can see it, making waves in the air.

She can barely stand the sight of the man at the front of the group holding the boy with - what appears to be - a shiv at his neck, without exploding and murdering them all.

"What is this?" she grinds out.

She hears footsteps as Storm and Hank come to flank her.

"Enough is enough," the man spits out at them. "You go now, or we kill him."

Mikaela meets the boy's eyes, terrified despite the brave face. "How old are you, kid?" she asks, managing to soften her voice.

"I'm fifteen," he grunts past the thick arm choking him.

Her jaw clenches as she looks back to his attacker. "You still okay with the threat you just made?"

"We caught him sneaking around the store, I wouldn't have it on my conscience," the man says darkly.

"He wanted to go out for sweets for the younger kids," Storm responds, her voice calm but cold.

"He's a thief!" someone from the mob shouts.

Mikaela hasn't broken eye contact with the frontman. She can see his determination, his resignation to committing this act, this murder, in his deaddened eyes.

"Cover your ears," she mutters to Storm and Hank. She sees them obey in the corner of her eyes, and gives a small nod to the young boy. He moves his hands from gripping the man's arms to copy the two adults, confused but smart.

Mikaela locates the phones hidden in the pockets of the mob. They haven't seen her mutation, they don't know what she can do.

The screech is sudden and deafening. The people shout and yell and cry in agony as the phones begin to overheat in their pockets. The technology is flung onto the ground before it can do serious damage, wailing even louder now that it's out in the open.

When the boy is released and manages to sprint behind her and the adults, she ceases the attack.

The mob stare at her in confused, terrified awe. Then their gaze turns skyward.

Mikaela can see the golden glow cast across the area, even with the sun shining as brightly as it is. She decides she shouldn't look up, give away the fact that this was unplanned and unexpected, that this isn't an ally she can call to her aid at a moment's notice.

"Is there a problem here?"

Carol's voice is strong and casual, but the threat of violence is hidden in her tone, and her appearance. Mikaela wishes she could look up and take it all in.

Mikaela shrugs. "It's up to these guys," she responds in an equally carefree manner, gesturing at the slowly recovering mob. "Give us six weeks," she tells them, her tone growing firmer. "Six weeks and we'll be gone from here. The mansion will stay, and remain untouched, but we'll not be around to provide you any more discomfort," she finishes, spitting the last word at them.

They look angry. Very angry - because they know they have no power when it comes down to it, not when Mikaela is thrumming with unexplained energy and Carol is burning so brightly above her, and Storm and Hank are at her sides.

"That's not good enough," the frontman snaps, eyes wild with anger.

Mikaela channels all of her own rage into her glare. "It's either that, or we start fighting back. We've let you push us around for too long. Maybe we'll come marching up to your gates, threatening to kill one of your kids."

She feels Storm's disapproval, but she has to trust that Storm knows her well enough to know that the threat is nothing she would ever act on.

Some of the mob at the back are turning away already. The people behind the frontman tug at his clothes, his arms, muttering quietly to him.

He lets out a frustrated bark. "Six weeks!"

Mikaela smirks, as if this guy has any kind of threat he can make against them now. "Pinky promise," she replies sweetly.

When the mob is gone, Hank moves to close the gates over again, and Carol comes down to the ground to stand with Mikaela.

"Thanks for the backup," Mikaela says earnestly.

Carol shrugs. "The guys said there were only two places you could have gone, and Stark's farm wasn't setting off any of the alarms, so it had to be here. Figured I'd lend a hand if I could."

"We appreciate it," Storm says, coming forward to shake Carol's hand. "I'm Storm."

"Carol Danvers."

"Well, it's good to know your response time can be that fast, Mikaela," Hank says lightly as he walks back to them. "And always helpful to bring a friend," he smiles at Carol.

"Do you think they'll be back?" Carol asks, concern lining her forehead.

"We'll handle it if they do," Mikaela replies, "You don't need to worry about that."

Carol looks at her for a moment. "I didn't step outta line, did I?"

"No, of course not," Mikaela says quickly. "I just know you've got a lot more on your plate than the rest of us, and you don't need to feel like we need you here every time someone threatens us. It's not the first time we've dealt with these kinds of people. We'll just kill them next time they come."

"Or we can give them some minor injuries," Storm retorts pointedly.

Mikaela rolls her eyes. "You're no fun." Her eyes seek out the teenager still lingering behind them. "Did they hurt you?" she asks him.

He shakes his head as Hank puts a fluffy blue hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, let's get you inside."

"I don't know what we'd do if you hadn't got Wakanda to help us, Mikaela," Storm says, her voice almost hopeless.

"We'd have figured something else out," Mikaela replies, giving Storm's hand a quick squeeze. "We can't go wrong with you leading us."

Storm smiles back at her, clearly touched by Mikaela's words. But she can see it in Storm's eyes that she wishes Xavier was still here to do the leading. Mikaela wishes he was here too.

She wishes a lot of things.