Initiative 2028
Murder
Phoebe Cuckoo also known as Sublime was dead.
The pretty blond telepath was found on a side street, her head splattered open from a single bullet fired from long range. What was left of her face was surprised, as if the not so innocent woman couldn't believe what happened to her.
Whiz, the speedster of the Patriots team, had come across her in a patrol of the city. He was now standing over by the police cars, looking a bit green as he gave a statement. Miss America, his boss from the team, was standing beside him patting his arm sympathetically.
"You okay?" she asked gently.
"Sorry," Whiz looked sheepish as he explained, "I just... I've not seen that many dead bodies, and not ones like that."
Miss America had seen a lot of bodies both in that outfit and as US Agent, but she could concede she hadn't often seen one with the brains painting a wall behind it. "You did fine," she reassured him, "it's okay."
"I don't feel like I did okay," Whiz smiled wryly.
"If you hadn't found her as quickly as you did," the head officer noted dryly, "we wouldn't have half the evidence we do. Good job."
That brightened up Whiz a bit as he smiled at the older man.
Olivia Dickson, government liaison to the Patriots, arrived a few minutes later as the police were sending out teams to canvas the area. The black haired, slightly older woman shook her head grimly as she took in the body.
"Thanks for coming," Miss America nodded, "we'll need you to run interference once the press gets word of this."
"Is it confirmed it's...?" Olivia trailed off.
"She has her ID, at least. There's not much of the face left to check, so we'll have to fingerprint and DNA type her," Miss America admitted, "but my gut says yeah, it's Phoebe."
"The President is going to have kittens," Olivia noted glumly.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
"Ding dong, the witch is dead," Rachel Summers sang cheerfully as they received the news from a Washington contact.
"Rachel," Scott Summers, governor of California, growled at her disapprovingly.
"I am NOT going to cry crocodile tears over that sociopath's death," Rachel told him. She relented a bit as she added, "I'll try not to look too happy around Emma."
"Thanks," Scott sighed.
He sat back as Scott looked out over the city of San Francisco. With the city's permission he had moved the Governor's Mansion to the X-Men's old headquarters there, along with the various support facilities for running the state government. They all fit within the sprawling complex, and it was more secure in case the president tried to kill them again.
Just as he thought about calling her, Emma Frost-Summers swept in, the tall blond looking as beautiful as ever. "I heard," she said before he could say anything.
"I'm sorry," Scott said gently.
"No you're not," Emma said wryly, "but thank you, anyway."
Scott shrugged his shoulders. Phoebe had betrayed the X-Men. Twice in fact. And that was before she went to work for the president. But despite all that she was also Emma's clone daughter, and they had a unique bond. One could argue their biggest issues were they were too much alike.
"Both Kitty and Rachel are overjoyed," Emma noted with a sigh, "they're not good enough to shield their thoughts from me."
"She wasn't exactly kind to either of them," Scott had to point out. He fiddled with a object on his desk, "It's kind of early to bring this up, but should I ask Richards about releasing the body to bury in your family plot?"
Emma blinked, honestly surprised. "I hadn't...," she started then shook her head, "I hadn't really considered it. I think I would like to, actually."
"I'll contact the White House. We'll have to go through channels," Scott mused, glad to have something to do, "but unless something really strange comes up, I don't see a problem."
"Any news on the investigation?" Emma asked thoughtfully.
"Our source can't get into the police side," Scott admitted, "but I expect we'll hear something fairly soon."
"Good. I hope I can talk to the suspect myself," Emma smiled coldly.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
"All right, tell me you have something," President Richards demanded as she entered the briefing room.
The usual suspects, long with a few others, were waiting. Jessica Hudson was checking her PDA, readying the next press release. Ezekiel Stane looked impatient, drumming his fingers on the table. Henry Peter Gyrich was talking on his phone, getting a update one would assume. Over by Stane was Kristoff, who was chatting with one of the newcomers. Olivia Dickson was there as representative of the Patriots team, and the final person there was Camilla Black, from SHIELD.
"We think we know who the shooter was working for," Henry told her pompously, "agents have found the sniper position used. There was a note discovered there, reading Justice is served."
"Scourge of the Underworld," Camilla muttered. "But... would they really have the guts to hit a member of the cabinet?"
"It IS pretty damn ballsy," Ezekiel noted thoughtfully.
"Indeed. Would they want the wrath of the United States government falling on them?" Kristoff noted somewhat sarcastically.
"I'm not sure it IS the Scourge," the bodyguard who trailed Valeria in said. Daken leaned against the wall, his eyes restlessly roaming the room.
"Oh?" Henry challenged him. He did not like Daken, he didn't trust the former villain, and he especially didn't like him near the President.
Daken seemed unconcerned by the glare. "It doesn't fit their pattern," Daken explained, "they target current or former costumed villains, of which Phoebe wasn't, and they go after targets that evaded paying for their crimes either by a plea deal or through something like our Thunderbolt programs, which also doesn't apply to her."
"Which may simply mean the Scourges are branching out," Camilla noted mildly.
Daken chuckled softly. "Maybe," he conceded, "but usually, these guys pick a pattern and stick with it. And this doesn't fit."
"So you think it's a frame," Valeria mused. She leaned back, "Henry?"
Henry looked displeased, but nodded reluctantly. "Other than the note, we don't have any evidence it was the Scourge. We'll keep a open mind."
"Good." Valeria looked over at Olivia, "How is the police investigation going?"
"I'd say well, but I'm not a expert," Olivia cautioned. "The bullet that killed Phoebe has been recovered and sent to be tested. Her body is being autopsied tonight, and the forensics lab is going over the sniper position."
"CSI: Washington," Ezekiel muttered then started humming the theme music. Everyone kind of ignored that.
Olivia leaned forward, "The biggest concern is that I'm certain the police will want to go through Phoebe's office and files."
"Oh hell no," Henry yelped.
"I wouldn't quite put it that way," Valeria nodded, "but much of what Phoebe dealt with for us was above top secret. No way I would let a homicide cop have access to it."
"We can stonewall them with National Security rules, but they are going to need SOME access," Olivia pointed out.
"Have SHIELD go over her files and redact anything we don't want the cops to see?" Camilla offered reluctantly, well aware SHE would probably have to do it. Still, it was a way of earning brownie points with the boss.
"That would work, thank you," Valeria smiled at her warmly, actually making Camilla blush just a bit.
"Should we cooperate with the police?" Henry asked glumly.
"Yes, barring National Security issues," Valeria said firmly. "We don't want to be accused of a cover-up." She got up, "I think we've covered everything so far... notify me if anything new comes up."
Daken followed a pace behind, scanning the halls even as he wondered what she wasn't saying. He could generally tell when someone was lying, by scent, and he was pretty sure she knew the Scourge theory was bull. What he wasn't sure of was if she knew what really happened.
Opening the door to the oval office Daken sniffed the air as he scanned the room with superhuman senses. "Clear," he reported as he let Valeria in.
"Thank you," Valeria smiled wryly as she went in and sat at her desk. There was a soft chime from her desk, indicating a call was coming in. She checked the system, blinking.
"What?" Daken asked.
"Someone has bypassed the main switchboard, which shouldn't be possible," Valeria noted. She looked thoughtful, "Better find out who it is."
The face that appeared on the viewscreen was old, and had that sort of toughness you only got after surviving a LONG time. Daken recognized him instantly, muttering "Castle."
"This is Frank Castle. Don't bother to trace this, I won;t be on long," he said flatly. "I run the Scourge network. We are not responsible for the death of Phoebe Sublime. I did NOT order that hit." With that, communications cut off.
"Damn," Valeria muttered softly.
"Call trace?" Daken asked, though he suspected Castle was right.
"Somewhere in New York, we lost it at that point," Valeria said. She looked at Daken, "Was that really...?"
"The Punisher? Yeah, I tangled with him a few times," Daken confirmed.
"Oh joy..." Valeria sighed.
To be continued...
