Present Day
Cassandra followed the glass as it spun, opening only to the outside world and the lobby of Stark Tower. She'd heard rumors that it was unofficially renamed after all but one letter had been destroyed during the attempted invasion of the city. It was truly ironic. Tony Stark fully embracing the Avengers role he'd been given while kidnapping and experimenting on mutants.
Though, in a way, it made sense. People like him wanted powered people to be regulated by the government, treated like human weapons and stripped of any rights or freedoms that could get in the way. The Avengers were government issued. How could he not be in favor of them? She sighed heavily through her nostrils as she made her way to the front desk.
The lone receptionist smiled politely as Cassandra approached. It was hard to miss the way the woman straightened her shoulders, adjusting her stance, with an uncomfortable crinkle at the corners of her eyes. She knew exactly who was standing across the desk from her. And she was anticipating hostility. But Cassandra returned the polite smile, though somewhat glumly, and kept her hands in the pockets of her coat.
"Stark's expecting me," she told the receptionist.
"Oh, uh- there are no meetings scheduled," the woman shook her head, glancing quickly toward her computer screen. "Mr. Stark is out today-"
"It's alright, Gina, I'll take it from here."
Tony's voice sent a rush of hot pins and needles down her spine, but Cassandra swallowed it down as she turned on her heels. Her eyes settled on Tony's, partially hidden behind darkened lenses, and the corners of her mouth fell. "Let's get this over with," she said, visibly refraining from rolling her eyes.
Tony sighed as he began to turn away. "Nice to see you, too, Sparky. My office is this way."
He started across the lobby, walking in a straight line toward the elevator, and Cassandra begrudgingly followed. The silver doors of the elevator hissed open less than a second after Tony shoved a thumb into the upward arrow on the wall. They filed into the car silently, Cassandra moving to the far corner as he stayed near the front, pressing the buttons on the inside panel.
As Cassandra leaned her lower back against the corner wall, the doors slid closed, meeting with a hollow humph—and a wickedly humored chuckle bubbled up from her throat. "Sparky? How'd you know he gives dipshit nicknames?"
Tony shrugged, turning to lean back against the wall across from her. "I guessed," he answered, a distinctly female voice sounding as his lips formed the words. "The security feed is being handled?"
"Say hi to Lori and Kurt. They're on the thirteenth floor right now, keeping an eye out."
Cassandra leaned aside, twisting as she craned her neck to see the small camera in the wall of the elevator. She gave a wave before stuffing her hand back into her coat and righting her position. The floors ticked by and they ascended as her eyes fixed on the numbers as they counted upward, anticipating the inevitable halt of the elevator car. "You're still dating?" Tony was rhetorical, a certain disinterest in his tone.
It was a contradiction that caused Cassandra to blink, eyes shifting toward his face, daring herself to see the yellow and blue beneath. "Not since we last teamed up," she shook her head. "I'm going to pretend I don't know why you care."
"You're invaluable for this mission. The less distractions, the better."
Cassandra stared skeptically. "Let's just get what we need and get out."
Tony's voice returned as the elevator doors hissed open, a smugly bright smile pulling up his lips. "Couldn't have said it better myself," he said, before stepping out of the car. With a puff of air forced through her lips, Cassandra pushed off the wall and followed him out, into the wide expanse of a newly renovated floor of the building. After all, it was roughed up quite a bit when Tony attempted to stall Loki before the invasion.
He was thrown through the glass wall that now stood whole once again. It seemed every room Stark had a hand in decorating was black and silver themed, with streaks of red and modernism, but reeked of money. She'd thought it was simply some kind of disinfectant—but the searing heat cutting into the skin of her nostrils felt far too much like a paper cut.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.," Tony called for the artificial intelligence as Cassandra followed him down the steps three feet from the elevator doors. "Give me a rundown of the Sentinel project."
As a male voice spoke through unseen speakers in response, a blue-tinged hologram lit up the center of the room with pictures and documents Cassandra had never seen before. "Good morning, Mr. Stark. The Sentinel project was started in nineteen seventy-three by Bolivar Trask. Trask was killed by a mutant of the codename 'Mystique', and President Richard Nixon approved the project. Trask Industries was purchased by Howard Stark in nineteen seventy-four and continued production until nineteen seventy-nine when three children were killed due to the sensory system error of a Mach four Sentinel."
A rectangle in the corner of the hologram played a muted news clip, the anchors clearly discussing the event mentioned, while crime scene photos appeared to the right. It sorted through four of them before disappearing, instead showing newspaper headlines capturing the outrage following. "Oh my god," Cassandra whispered, her jaw slack as her eyes darted over every inch of what was shown.
"You don't know about this?" Tony was rhetorical again, staring bitterly at the projection.
"I've never heard anyone talk about this. Ever."
"Research continued without machinery until nineteen ninety-two, when control of Stark Industries was given to Tony Stark. Plans were drawn for multiple models but all were declined until President Matthew Ellis approved funding for further production in two thousand eleven," J.A.R.V.I.S. continued. "The Sentinel was approved for the Mach seven model and began production at Stark Industries facilities in October, two thousand eleven. However, arsonists assaulted the facilities three months later and halted production once again. The assailant has yet to be identified by police, but the attack was highly televised and criticized around the world."
The hologram was nothing but news clips now, popping up like bubbles from various news sources in a multitude of languages. Though, one thing stayed consistent—every station played the same aerial footage of the Stark Industries warehouse fire. To the right, amongst the chaotic display of clips, The Eddie Brock Report caught Cassandra's eye. Guilt crawled into her throat and she exhaled heavily through her nostrils.
"In June, two thousand twelve, Tony Stark finished schematics for a Sentinel Mach eight, and it is now in production at another Stark Industries facility. Testing is scheduled to begin in December of two thousand twelve."
"What kind of testing?" Cassandra blurted the question.
"Sentinels will be activated within the facility for sensory and weapons testing. Once approved, they will begin a trial period of use, operated by the United States government," J.A.R.V.I.S. easily answered her.
It was difficult hearing such a cavalier, unphased tone of voice when such things were being discussed. The contradiction was like nails on a chalkboard in her ears, furrowing her brow as she squinted against the light from the wall of glass, and she attempted to swallow it down. After all, it was a computer. There wouldn't be proper emotion expressed for any discussion. No horror, no sorrow, no guilt. And, certainly, no blame.
Inhaling sharply, Cassandra squared her shoulders. "Which facility?"
"I'm sorry, the location of the facility is classified."
"J.A.R.V.I.S., answer the question," Tony feigned annoyance. "Vocal authorization."
The artificial intelligence cleared the projection in favor of an aerial photo. A Stark Industries building. "The facility is number two-three-five-five-zero-one, located near Camp Verde, Arizona," it answered.
"What can you tell us about the Sentinel-related research at Trask Industries?" Cassandra questioned. Though, she inwardly braced herself for whatever images might be shown. Whatever new details might emerge.
"Trask Industries' research is funded and directed by Stark Industries. The Sentinel Robotics Research Division conducts genetic, robotic, and weapons research lead by Dr. Alistair Smythe and a team of independent scientists-"
"Smythe?" Cassandra interrupted J.A.R.V.I.S., blinking in disbelief. "Stark is working with fucking Oscorp?!"
Tony's head turned somewhat quickly in her direction, brow knitted with confusion. "How do you just know that?" he questioned.
"I was up all night looking into robotics. That motherfucker's working for Oscorp under contract, which means there has to be some kind of deal between the corporations if he's working at Trask," Cassandra explained. As the words flowed freely from her mouth, her blood began to boil, just the thought of the insinuation bringing heat to the skin of her palms.
It was then the elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss. Cassandra pivoted swiftly, twisting on her heels to see the device—only to meet the eyes of a child. A young girl with ginger locks tied neatly behind her head, backpack hanging from her shoulder as she stepped slowly onto the level. Tony waved a hand, dispersing the projection and therefore dismissing J.A.R.V.I.S., before he turned as well. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he smiled.
"Hey, kid, shouldn't you be at school?" he asked the girl.
He walked toward the steps as she replied, a certain uneasiness within her voice. "I wasn't feeling good. Mom said I could hang out here until you guys got back," her eyes darted cautiously between him and Cassandra. "She said you were in Virginia."
Cassandra's gut twisted. Virginia. McLean, Virginia? The location of the Trask building? Her fingers curled inward, nails dug into her palms, and she fought to swallow. Tony was at the facility right now doing who knows what, while they were busy stealing information and schematics from his tower. It was the perfect time to strike here, but she couldn't help but feel like she should be there.
"I had to come back for a meeting, I'm just finishing up. I've gotta go back and get your mom but we'll be home later, alright?" Tony's voice was effortlessly calm, assured.
Though, the girl was visibly shaken by the woman across the room. She stared at Cassandra now, eye brows pinched, eyes focused. "Why are you talking to her?"
"There's some discussions that need to be had to sort all this out," he answered. "Go do some homework upstairs while I finish up here, okay?"
"...okay."
She gripped tightly to the backpack strap against her shoulder, peeling her gaze away only to turn her back as she headed for the elevator. The girl was a walking nerve. Her anxiety was visible with every movement, every adjustment, and Cassandra couldn't help but wonder just what she'd been told. Was she simply wary from seeing the news? No child who loved their parent enjoyed hearing someone say bad things about that parent.
So, at the very least, that answer would be understandable given her assumed age. However, it was more than likely that Tony—and maybe even Pepper—had said horrible things about Cassandra, mutants as a whole even, and the accusations struck fear and anger into her. Perhaps it was a combination? Either way, she wasn't surprised. Children of adults who hate mutants often hate mutants as well. It wasn't a new concept by any means.
The girl stepped back onto the elevator and pressed the button for the next floor up. As the doors slid closed, her eyes remained on the floor. With a hollow thump, they closed to conceal the elevator, and Cassandra exhaled heavily. "Last time I saw Morgan was on the news," she admitted, as Tony turned to face her. "It was her birth announcement."
"And you watched that?" Tony raised a brow in mild disgust.
Cassandra thrust her arms out at her sides in a brief gesture. "It was just on. Are we done here?"
"We are now," Tony turned immediately and stepped close enough to the elevator to press the down button. "We will meet tonight with whatever your friend was able to get."
The doors opened once more as Cassandra hopped up the steps, passing him on her way toward the elevator. "Trust me, Taki has at least half the server. Try not to throw up staying in character on the way out," she said the words over her shoulder, finishing the final statement while in the elevator. She pressed the button for the lobby on the panel and stepped back, coming to stand near the center of the car.
"Who says I didn't on the way in?"
Tony gave a closed-mouth grin of a smile and Cassandra huffed a chuckle. The elevator swallowed the sound as the doors closed, sealing her inside before beginning the descent back down to the ground floor. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that the mission had in fact been completed. However, her fingers tugged at her sleeves as her mind raced to the people who had seen them, and how what they could say might change reality moving forward.
Stark would get back from his trip to Virginia and the receptionist might make a comment. Or maybe it would be Morgan, sending her mother an inquisitive text about her father's unexpected and brief return, that would first raise an alarm? They would check security and see that there was no appearance of him nor Cassandra from this date. Then they would either dismiss it as delirium, or know immediately something had been tampered with.
If both reception and his own daughter could testify to Cassandra's visit at the tower, who's to say he wouldn't come looking for her for answers? Would he check the school? Track her down at her apartment in London? Either way, she would no longer be safe. And, if she wasn't safe, she couldn't help Jasmine. As the floor numbers ticked down rapidly, nearing the lobby, Cassandra swallowed the anxiety creeping into her throat with a mental note.
She would need to find a place to lay low for the foreseeable future. Somewhere she could keep her head down and stay out of Tony's inevitable war path—especially after what's about to happen at the Trask building. The school was not an option, as that would be the easiest place to check. No, she would find somewhere else. Then, the doors hissed open and a rush of stale air was sucked in from the lobby, causing her to briefly wrinkle her nose as she stepped out.
Alone, she walked across the generous expanse of the lobby to the revolving door. She gave a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement to the receptionist and the woman smiled back, and it was then that a feeling of confidence washed over Cassandra. Ha, she mentally spat the word at an image of Tony Stark, I win. Moving from her apartment wasn't so bad. If it meant continuing the mission to save lives, how could it be? It was true—she was winning. And it felt good.
"I was able to get the schematics you were after, but that's the least exciting thing I found in Stank's computers," Takeshi's fingers worked vigorously at a keyboard, a smile forced on his lips as the colors of the computer screens reflected in his glasses. "I literally have employment records for all of Stark Industries' facilities, including its subsidiaries—and those records come with addresses for each building. I've got bank statements, invoices, manufacturing orders, print copies of texts and calls sent through J.A.R.V.I.S. Hell, I could tell you what the Starks had for Christmas dinner in two thousand nine."
Cassandra blinked. She had complete and total confidence in his mutation—being gifted with technological powers she could only dream of—but she hadn't quite expected such a small time frame to yield this kind of informational haul. "Is there a list of mutants being studied at Trask?" she inquired, a bit slowly as her brain attempted to catch up.
"Gotcha. There's a registry of names going back to the seventies. It looks like Trask started the list himself," Takeshi answered. With one keystroke, both of his desktop screens were filled with a seemingly endless list of names. Some were first and last, others were simply a nickname or alias, but next to each was at least one mutant ability. Cassandra's arms instinctively uncrossed, a hand coming to rest on the back of his chair, the other on the desk as she leaned closer.
Her eyes scoured the list for one in particular, but she couldn't help but pick out the few she recognized. There were names she'd seen in the files Magneto gave her, the ones attached to post mortem photos of mutants—and her stomach muscles clenched. Azazel, Angel, Banshee, Emma Frost. Even Mystique was listed among them despite her survival and escape. But below them all was a name that constricted her lungs. Scott Summers.
Cassandra inhaled sharply. "Can you find out why Scott is on this list?"
Takeshi's fingers began to move the second the question mark was audible in her voice, minimizing the list to dig further into the Trask files for that specific name. Though, it only took a moment to retrieve Scott's personal file. He spoke an answer as his eyes flitted across the screen before him, "Looks like he was used for a project called 'Weapon Eleven' in eighty-five. They took samples of his DNA and combined them with other mutants' DNA inside a single host."
"Who was the host?"
"Wade Wilson. Says he was a member of a black ops group, 'Team X'. He didn't participate voluntarily. He's assumed dead, but they never found a body."
The door to the ops room slid open and Cassandra stood upright in a small startle. She twisted on her heels, eyes darting over her shoulder as Logan and Scott entered the space. Though, she found herself looking at Scott instinctively, gaze lingering a little longer on the red of his lenses than it probably should. The dumbed down story he'd told her of his capture when she was a child had haunted her for so long. Now, she had answers to questions she hadn't thought of since then.
Scott didn't notice the flicker of her eyes upon his arrival, his own gaze planted firmly on the computer screens to search for information while Logan spoke first. It was a blessing and a curse—the embarrassment of the stare spared but the deflation of her heart beneath the weight of the truth completely dismissed. "Find the schematics?" Logan questioned Cassandra instead of the back of Takeshi's head.
Cassandra nodded before turning halfway, angling to better view both parties. "And then some. We're going over it now," she replied. "Taki swiped all of the Trask Industries records, along with a good portion of Stark's files. It's gonna take a while to comb through it all."
"Yeah, like, months," Takeshi emphasized.
"For now, let's focus on coming up with a plan to get into the Trask building. Everything else can wait until we've finished this mission," Scott said. Though his eyes were hidden behind his glasses, Cassandra could feel them shift toward her. Even still, the feeling struggled to pierce the veil of numb nothingness that filled in the spaces between extremes.
"When's the meet?" Logan asked.
Cassandra reached for her pocket, shoving a hand into the pouch before unearthing her cell phone. As the screen lit up, so did the time, and she sighed. "Thirty minutes," she answered, sliding the device back into her coat. "You're coming?"
"Logan, Storm, and I will come with you to help with logistics. And...well, it can't hurt to have extra help if Magneto decides to double-cross us," Scott spoke in Logan's place, drawing her eyes once again.
She nodded once, lips pulled thin. "Alright. Hope you're up for a little hand-holding."
The corner of her mouth tugged upward as Logan's nose wrinkled with visible disgust. He turned and took steps away from Scott, passing Cassandra's line of sight, and her eyes followed him as he spoke. "I ain't holding his hand," he grumbled. Cassandra huffed a chuckle and Scott couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"If it makes you feel better, Logan, I wasn't going to hold yours," Scott quipped dryly.
"Jesus, you could cut the testosterone with a knife," Taki commented, fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard like an expert pianist. "Everything you need will be on this drive."
A chime sounded from the computer, and he plucked a flashdrive from the USB port on the desk. He held it up as he turned his chair enough to see Cassandra, and she twisted to pluck the device from his hand. "Thanks for the help, Whiz Kid."
"Are you kidding? It's my pleasure. I'm gonna need a bleach bath after what I've been reading, though."
"Yeah, this guy's a sick fuck, that's for sure," Cassandra bobbed her head lightly in agreement, before turning her eyes back to Scott. "Where's Storm? We need to get this party started."
It was then that Storm entered the room. Her demeanor was slightly stressed, as though she were in a bit of a rush, but she chuckled hearing the words. "Sorry, I was having trouble finding my pitchfork," she joked. Scott's lips curved upward as Logan huffed a chuckle of his own.
Cassandra gave Storm an impressed expression. "Wow. That was actually funny."
"Everyone ready?" Scott asked, red lenses looking at each person individually in a sweep of the room. With a round of nods received, Scott then looked directly at Cassandra, and she took a step forward.
"Alright, everybody in."
She held out her hands, outstretching her arms as she took a deep breath. Scott moved to take her right hand as Logan's swallowed her left, and Storm held out her hands to the two men, mirroring Cassandra's position. Once all were connected, Cassandra wasted no time in flitting away in a rush of purple smoke and sparks, the group dissolved into the air of the room. When they reappeared, they were two feet inside Magneto's study.
Though the group was somewhat quick to disband and stand alone, Logan lingered at her left side as he took in the room. His eyes drifted over every inch from the fireplace to the bookcases to the elderly man standing at a desk directly ahead. It was Magneto. He stood behind the desk with Wanda and Mystique at his sides. In the newly relocated desk chair sat John, using a heel to lazily nudge himself in a slow circle on the chair's wheels not too far to the left of the desk.
Chin rested on his fist, he looked downright bored at the conversation taking place at the desk. Magneto had laid his research and collected information out across the surface in preparation for the X-Men's arrival, and he, Wanda, and Mystique debated the strategy of an assault on the Trask building. Though, strategizing never was John's strong suit. No, he was suited to impulsivity, subjection to adrenaline and rage's decision making.
Cassandra stiffened but moved forward, taking steps with her eyes only ahead—refusing to let them move in any other direction. Hadn't she just made peace with the unknown? Told herself it was truly better not to know where he went or how he was? Not allowing herself to think or ask questions using his name? Yet her muscles contracted and her stomach stooped at the sight of him in the same room as if nothing had been done.
If anything, the rise of those feelings only agitated her, poking her in the arm like a pestering child as she stood before the desk. Magneto greeted her with a semi-polite expression, features almost too relaxed to read. Though, there was a color of disgust swirling his irises at the sight of the other X-Men. "You're just in time," he acknowledged her, before exhaling heavily. "What have you brought us, child?"
Cassandra slid her thumb over the drive Takeshi had given her before promptly placing it atop the papers, folders, and photos splayed across the desk. Translucent blue jetted from the device, tracing the lines and details of a blueprint two feet above it. The rectangular shape held a faint glow as it began to transition through blueprints for every level of the Trask building. "We've got employee ID's and schedules, along with a list of every mutant in the building and where we can find them," she answered. "All on top of the blueprints and security plans."
"Your friend was thorough," Mystique cocked an eyebrow as she watched the projection change.
Cassandra briefly tilted her head in a gesture. "He's the best in the business."
It felt just wrong enough for Logan to notice, the casualness of the conversation, as he came to stand beside her at the desk. There was no evidence Victor was anywhere on the island but his scent lingered in the air—he'd been there fairly recently. That knowledge kept him on edge, highly attuned ears listening, senses preparing to pick up on something that might never exist. Scott and Storm stood opposite Logan, on Cassandra's other side.
The idea of standing closer to John was more palpable than anywhere near Wanda. Magneto wasn't much higher on the list, but he was a necessary evil. They remained relatively quiet, allowing Cassandra to do any introductions and handle any pleasantries. After all, they weren't there to make friends. They were only present for the sake of planning this joint operation. "Why worry about security?" Wanda spoke up then, drawing all eyes as she braced against the desk with closed fists. "I can shut down any mutant-specific measures. Just take out security guards."
"You can do that?" Storm questioned.
Wanda's eyes moved up in a straight line from the projection to Storm's face behind it, her features unchanged. "You'd be surprised what I can do."
"Alright. Now the question is, how many guards are present—and, can we successfully disarm them in all locations without harming civilians?" Scott said. His words prompted Cassandra to reach forward and press a finger to the side of the drive. The projection reset itself to the blueprint of the ground floor but, this time, with red and yellow dots marking specific places on each blueprint.
Her peripheral adjusted as she looked down at the drive and the light broadcast from the face of it. As she glanced upward, her eyes settled on Wanda's before she stood upright once again—but her skin prickled as her lungs felt denser and she cleared her throat, looking instead to everyone else. "The red dots mark armed and yellow mark unarmed employees on every floor," she explained. "There's less unarmed traffic at night, which works out for us."
"Which floor are mutants imprisoned?" Mystique questioned, looking directly at Cassandra.
"Sublevel six."
"Well, then," Magneto adjusted, standing up a little straighter. "We have our work cut out for us, don't we?"