Civil Discorse

[toxicrevenge]

((Posted with permission from everyone involved.))

The church was old and mostly run-down. But tonight it was full of mutants. A few rows of folding chairs were set up as well as a speaker's podium and a rather scratchy sound system. Still, it worked and it'd let anyone in the building hear what was being said.

The flyer said 8PM but by seven the place was three-quarters full. Some mutants took pride in their outsider status - lots of leather, wild clothes, visible weapons, powers showing proudly. Others were more circumspect - soccer moms, working dads, ordinary people trying to blend in and live their lives with a minimum of hassle and grief.

And some poor few who could never fit in and didn't have any intention of ever trying. They were the dangerous ones and invariably they were up close and personal to all the action.

Given what had just happened in Washington state, security was on the heavy side - at least a half-dozen mutants kept an eye or other analogous sense on the entrances and exits.

Carmilla looked around, she hated Churches on principle alone. At least no one here was going to spout anything about God. The flyer had been easy to come by. Part of her rounds took her around Mutant Town, and they had been all over the place.

Even if she hadn't been covering the streets for Fury she would've gone. The place was crowded. So much so it was hard to give herself the wide berth she kind of needed to keep people from getting accidentally sick. Hell, a few years ago walking into something like this would've been a disaster to her. Closed quarters. Lots of people. Before she had partial control even over her arm people would be dropping like flies.

Right now, all Carm was wearing was a boy-beater shirt that had been slept in a couple nights in a row and her jeans. She had left her leather off, her back was almost totally better, but too much weight on it still hurt.

A man who didn't look like he'd be the public speaking type made his way to the microphone and tapped on it a couple of times to test it. Which caused a woman in the audience to cover her ears and grimace.

After clearing his throat he spoke, "Wow, this is quite the turn out. We were going to wait until eight, but we can start a bit early. I think we all know why we're here tonight..."

The man behind the podium - a thin, unassuming fellow - droned on about forming committees and trying to construct a consensus about what the mutant community should do in response to the massacres in Washington. He had actually managed to make a third of his audience fall asleep when the outside doors opened with a bang.

It reminded Carmilla of her freshman English class' reading of Romeo and Juliet back in High School, a few months before she ran away. He went on and on about organizing protests and civil disobedience in areas that were famously bad to mutants and all Carmilla could hear was that opening from Romeo and Juliet done in a dry and boring monotone.

He was still drawling on when the doors opened with a boom and every one's attention was drawn to that, and the droll monotone came to a stop.

It shook Carmilla awake and she looked over, from her corner with her own bit of wide berth (the toxic smell really was wonderful for that) had a very good view of the door.

Magneto walked in in full body-armor but carrying his helmet under his arm. He was flanked by a woman in purple and gold accents, like piping, her face hard and her eyes gleaming with more than just reflected light. On his other side a man on all fours squatted, hopping along to keep pace with Magneto.

It was, one might have observed, precisely 8PM on the nose.

Carmilla's jaw almost dropped. There wasn't a person in the room who didn't recognize the iconic figure. And it showed in the ripple through the crowd. If that wasn't enough, both of the people with him really rubbed her the wrong way. Made her more than ready for a fight.

Just the hopping guy alone screamed creepy.

The guy at the mike just stood there slack jawed for a moment and then tried to continue his speech, though he had totally lost what little voice he had, "As I was saying... if we get ourselves organized we can do something to really show people we're not a threat..."

Oh, Bullshit, Carmilla thought to herself. That's why people were poisoning them in the streets.

"We are not the threat." he said, his rich voice rolling through the room with no need for artificial augmentation. "For we are the ones being sinned against." he pronounced. "Do you really think your committees and your petitions mean anything?" he asked witheringly. "The tragedy in Washington is only the beginning." he announced, still heading for the podium and the mike.

Where people had been sleeping and nodding off before and talking among themselves, everyone was now paying close attention. Herself included. Part of her pointed out that as a SHIELD operative she really, really should call someone.

She didn't though.

"The best way to handle this," said the man at the podium, "is without inciting violence." He had a bit more force on his voice now. Not much. Only as much as conviction as faith would allow for.

"Yeah," she muttered to herself, "That's why they're killing us."

"And when the humans incite violence against you, sir, what will you do then? Go quietly to the camps?" he asked. "I have seen this before, my brothers and sisters. There are influential and powerful people in government, in law enforcement, in the media - who think that your very existence is anathema to them. That we are cursed by God or that we have some sort of a disease." he said with withering scorn. "It is these people - not the poor mutants of that sleepy little town - who destroyed our community. Who smashed their houses, burned their homes, killed the sub-humans among them." he said. "I have evidence that the madness was inflicted upon them!" he roared.

That sent the crowd into a frenzy. Fury had shit bricks over the whole thing. It had been a madhouse.

"Proof?" was all the man at the microphone had to say. And that was the question everyone was asking.

Carmilla believed it. She had, after all, survived a bunch of people poisoning homeless mutants, taking them to the docks, shooting them and dumping them in water. Despite the few she saved...

Though she had been going around and talking to everyone she could find streetwise since then. Passing the word along to not take handouts. She'd steal food for any of the young kids she found, that was easy to do and would save their lives.

Everyone screamed for this proof.

Magneto let the crowd build, let the passions grow. Then he spotted Carmilla lurking towards the back of the room and then smiled. "There have been, of late, forces working through the disproportionate number of mutants who are incapable of finding gainful employment, of providing for themselves and their families. A group called the Purifiers..." he said, then paused to let the crowd wrap their minds around that. "These so-called Purifiers were looking for something very specific." he added. "They wanted a telepath! Someone they could force into their machines, amplify their talents to killing levels." he said. "Do any of you here know a telepath?" he asked, looking at the hands and the shouts that went up.

"They felt a vast disturbance!" he announced. "At the same time as that poor town went mad!"

Carmilla noted the look and raised an eyebrow and took in all the information. It made sense, too much sense and judging from the noise the crowd agreed. And those of us they can't use to kill us, they're killing, Carmilla thought bitterly. Her mind drifted back to all the screaming at the Homecoming dance... if someone there had a gun... She didn't have any doubt she would've been shot.

No, she wasn't going to let herself go down that line of thought. She was here to do a job. Take what information she could get to SHIELD. She wasn't going to get caught up in this. But it was way too easy. She had spent four years, until she found out her parents had died, just hating the world.

People were shouting and angry now, a couple of telepaths in the audience confirmed the accusation.

It had to be related to the people dressing as aide workers and killing the street mutants. It couldn't not be.

She flexed her left hand, she was just MAD to punch someone. Hard. When she caught the person behind it....

...She hated killing, but she was starting to think Fury would be getting the guy in a body bag.

"My brothers and sisters!" he said, projecting his voice over the crowd noise. "Are we going to just sit by while our brothers and sisters are taken, strapped into killing machines, and used to eliminate entire towns?"

The roar of "NO!" was quite satisfying.

"Are we going to allow these atrocities to continue?"

Again, the roar of "NO!".

"Then heed me, brothers and sisters! Do not allow these Purifier filth to destroy what we have worked so hard to build!" he said, getting into the demagogue swing of things. "Watch them. See where they go, who they talk to. If you are a telepath, either stay away from these humans or FIGHT BACK!" he said, raising his fist into the air. "I will not allow this pogrom to continue! WE SHALL OVERCOME!" he shouted.

Just like that the meek little pacifist had lost. Carmilla wasn't disturbed at all to find herself going along with the crowd. She was fighting, in the way she could. She had taken grenades to the back in order to save a bunch of kids who the only crime they had ever committed was being born mutant and then running scared.

You could tell, simply by scanning the crowd who in here had similar experiences. The pacifist who had started speaking hadn't. Likely a loving and accepting home. Not having to run on the street or eat from dumpsters. Not being targeted simply because of what they were.

The crowd was cheering, and it included Carmilla. Until she caught herself. She liked to think she was a bit more than rabble to be roused. She was here for a reason. Right now that was finding one of the 'gang' leaders (if you could call a group of mutants a 'gang') that she knew about and telling him to make sure no one was taking handouts.

But everyone was caught up in the words. Violence would likely follow.

Carmilla didn't see a damn thing wrong with it.

Magneto moved into the crowd, to press some flesh and get up-close-and-personal with the gathered masses here. "The Brotherhood is massing." he told them with a smile. "When the time is right, we shall strike! There will be no more Purifiers!" he said enthusiastically. "Your children will be safe!" he added for an extra pop from the crowd.

He did have a method to his madness, though. He was working the crowd, but he was also headed straight for Carmilla.

Carmilla hadn't ever been a part of a crowd anything like this. And yeah, she noticed he was heading her way. She had too much training now not to. But she didn't leave. Ducking out now would draw attention. Not a single person had left, after all.

And the whole point of this was to blend in. Not to stand out like a sore thumb. And in parts of this crowd she fit in so well. Even without things like tattoos (getting one would likely kill whoever the artist was) and just her manner she fit perfectly with the disaffected group. But hell, even the house and home, well dressed and well groomed people were caught up in this crowd.

Because, deep down, Carmilla realized, everyone here was terrified. Even her. Terrified of what could end up happening to them if they didn't do something.

It was that kind of fear that Magneto utilized. "Scorpion." Magneto said warmly, holding out his gauntleted hand for her to take. "I understand that I have you to thank for assisting as many of our brothers and sisters as possible against the Purifiers." he said, loudly enough for people around them to hear.

Instant celebrity, her.

Cue the blank stare for a moment. Never mind that Scorpion was the codename that SHIELD had given her. After a moment, and a few skipped heart beats she reached out (right handed - it had taken years to stop reaching out automatically with her left hand) and took the offered hand.

Her cover had just totally been blown. At least he didn't say that she was a government agent or anything. It would totally lose her any 'love' she could have possibly had contact wise on the street. No one trusted Narcs.

"Um... thanks," she managed. This was a totally different kind of attention than being the center of a fight.

"No." he said. "Thank you." he said, shaking her hand quite firmly. The metal of his gauntlet was warm to the touch. "You have done all mutantkind a favor, Miss Black." he said. Then he leaned in close so only the two of them could hear. "Yes, I know who and what you are." he told her.

It was the small things in life you had to be thankful for, Carmilla had learned over the years.

Thing number one: She wasn't eating or drinking at the moment because she would've choked to death.

Thing number two: she had never been the type of person to pass out when something shocked/scared/surprised her. Because she would've been out cold if that was the case. Though she had played opossum on occasion... which wouldn't do any good here.

That being said her Mediterranean skin tone was visibly pale in that moment. "You do?" she returned just as quietly. At least she didn't squeak. Squeaking was so uncool.

"I make it a point to know everything I can about my adversaries." he told her, and then backed off to continue to work the crowd, build up the Brotherhood and the Purifier threat.

Adversaries? How was she an adversary... then again, how wasn't she? When he backed off, parts of the crowd converged on her. It wasn't that Carmilla hated attention, she loved being the center of a fight or the focus of maybe one person. (Nakedly. ...she should get a hold of Nate...) But being stuck in a crowd with no way straight out made her nervous.

It didn't help that she could be deadly in small areas if someone touched her or startled her. "Look, I'm happy that you're all happy, but I need you all to back up," she tried to picture her life going back to uncomplicated. The only thing she could see herself being if things hadn't gone the way they had was still being some anonymous street kid.

Why the hell had he done this?! What did she do to him?!

Uncle Tom's Mutant over there didn't seem to be doing well with the crowds. Possibly because of her mutation but more likely than that because she couldn't process that much input simultaneously. The meeting was starting to break up, people talking animatedly and in positive terms about Erik and his Brotherhood of Mutants. Which is all he really was looking to accomplish.

A little bit of both worlds. She knew she should've bound her arm tonight, because expanding the high tech toy SHIELD had around her wrist would've been like taking her cover which had just been drug out and beaten and shooting it in the head to finish it off.

She really, really wanted to punch something. At least the crowd was thinning out and most of the people were right handed so she didn't have to worry about accidentally making someone very sick.

Still being a teenager for another two months was part of what gave her the guts to shoot a quick glare over at every one's 'Lord and Savior.'

When she was able to steal a couple of minutes from being constantly pawed she did pull a bandage out of her pocket and start on her arm, frazzled enough that the processes was taking longer than it should've.

Erik managed to keep an eye on her even as he spoke with some of the others, reassuring some, calming others. A few might even have had Brotherhood potential.

Now that she had brushed everyone off and managed to get her arm bound it was time to get the hell out of here. Find a quiet place and call for fucking backup. Not that she had the illusion that backup would do anything, but the Boss would want to know. Hell, they likely wouldn't send anyone, and Carmilla was fine with that. People wouldn't get killed that way. On either side.

She took a couple of calming breaths and managed to play ninja out of the church. Leaning against the outside wall she took a couple more deep breaths. No longer being surrounded by people that didn't seem to know or care how dangerous crowding around her could be was a good thing.

She tried to gather her wits around her so she could actually make some sort of call.

"Leaving so soon, luv?" came a voice from above her.

Carmilla jumped at that, a hand going to her chest, "Holy shit," she muttered looking up. Oh ugh. Ugliest Man in the World winner was looking down at her.

"Well, it sure as hell isn't your business if I am," she returned. Acting casual was so hard to do tonight. She needed a vacation.

Toad just grinned at her. For a few moments there he had the most marvelous view. "Should stay a while." he said with a strong low-end-of-London accent.

"Not with you, thanks," Carmilla said dryly starting down the sidewalk, keeping an eye on him. Tonight would've been a good night to have that new gauntlet design. The one that actually SHOT the poison. She was still limited by range of touch unless she felt like cutting herself.

"I don't think you're understandin' me, luv." he said, jumping ahead of her with one bound. "Boss wants to talk to you private-like." he said with a smile that could mean anything at all.

"Oh, so it's not just an 'invitation,'" Carmilla said, invitation getting finger quotes. This guy got a 9.0 on the Creep-O-Meter. "Thanks, but no thanks. Now, if you'll excuse me, some of us have social lives." If he didn't move, a punch to the face would change his mind.

"Not too many folks turn down the Master of Magnetism when he wants to talk to ya." he noted. "Mebbe he'll stop by on that big metal flying ship of yers." he pointed out.

Oh, that would go over wonderfully. She played that scenario through her brain. "Okay then. I guess I can hang around for a minute. Since you've asked so nicely," Carmilla said.

"But you stay over there. I don't like you," it was just the way he carried himself. And stared. And looked.

He just gave her a jaunty wave at that and bounded back to the outside wall of the church, to scurry up the wall and back inside.

Carmilla leaned back against the wall of the church for a moment wondering exactly what else he wanted before stepping back inside. Most of the people had cleared out by now, and she stayed in the entry way.

Trying to figure things out.

Magneto stood inside the church - now empty of all but a few - and paused for a second to reflect. Underneath all of it he was still a Jew and being inside a church like this - so different from a synogogue - gave him an unpleasant fluttering deep in his belly.

Some memories, he decided, could never be excised. He smelled that sickly-sweet smoke for a moment, even though the crematoria had long-since gone cold.

Carmilla walked back in as the Church cleared out more. Despite teenage bravado and strong words she swallowed her tongue on account of an odd combination of fear and awe.

What could he possibly say to her? He already had made it damn near impossible to do her job from here on out.

It seemed odd that this was happening, and surreal that it was happening in a church.

He turned to look at her, helmet still tucked under his arm, and actually smiled at her. "I'm glad you decided to stay." he told her. "Please, make yourself comfortable." he said.

Comfortable in a church, there was something to laugh at. Now that most everyone had gone, this place had too much of a creep factor for her to be comfortable in. She had never been able to squat in an old Church.

"I'm fine," she managed. And managed to sound calm. Ah, the wonders of staring down an angry Fury. It took a lot to shake her up now that she had a minute to calm down, "You wanted to talk to me?"

"I did." he admitted. "I just cannot help but wonder one thing. Why it is that you spend your time and efforts serving the humans?" he asked.

"I get paid," Carmilla returned a bit dryly. It did indeed beat living on the street. And then elaborated, "I have a job, and I do that job. I don't get treated different from anyone else doing what I do." And it sure as hell beat what their first alternative to her when they picked her up had been. Where they had threatened to lock her up.

Of course, they likely thought she was with AIM at the time.

"Do you really think so?" he asked. "Curious. I couldn't seem to find SHIELD's retirees anywhere. Probably because there aren't any." he pointed out. "Once you sign on with them, they'll make you into their tame mutant. Their pet, to trot around and to fill out some bureaucratic quota somewhere." he said.

"I can make you a better offer."

"I'm not anyone's 'pet'," Carmilla returned. It did bring up a good question though, what happened once you hit that magic number? Great, maybe it was like some Logan's Run thing.

But in that case they would've dragged Fury out and shot him long ago.

She had to admit she was curious as to what the 'better offer' was though. "What better offer?" she asked, her arms were at her side, which for her the relaxed pose was always defensive.

"Rather than being Fury's tame mutant, I offer you the Brotherhood." he said with a smile. "A chance to fight for our kind, our people, without Fury's strings entangling you, holding you back." he said. "And if it's money you desire, I can pay you a great deal." he said calmly.

“It’s not really about the money,” Carmilla said. Though it was nice to not live on the streets. What they did... in theory what SHIELD did kept people safe. Was to protect people. Even people who didn’t deserve it which didn’t always strike Carmilla as fair. Right now came to mind.

“And what’s with saying I’m ‘tame’ or a ‘pet,’” Carmilla returned, “I might not be ‘free range’ anymore but I haven’t sold out.”

"Do you think you can out-manipulate a man who has cut his teeth in the world of international espionage since before your parents were born?" he asked idly. "Because I really don't."

“So, you have the better offer then,” Carmilla mused out loud, still keeping her posture defensive. “I don’t think I can out manipulate Fury. It’s not my job to out manipulate him. But I’m not stupid either. And I’m wondering how you even found out about me in the first place.” SHIELD agents didn’t exactly walk around carrying signs that heralded their locations.

It would’ve been counterproductive.

"I do have one additional enticement I could offer..." he mused with a smile. "Your mutation is how your body reacts to all sorts of toxins and other sorts of chemical damage. Your control over it is erratic and prone to slippage." he said, as if reading her dossier in his mind's eye. "I might be able to help you with that."

“How could you help?” Carmilla returned, “I’m a walking ball of poison,” said with a laugh that might have had more bitterness to it than she normally would’ve added. It had killed her first boyfriend. The second had ended up with an acute case of blood poisoning and she had broke it off with him for his own safety. And now the potential third one she was keeping at arm’s length though it was getting harder and harder to do so.

"I happen to know a thing or two about biochemistry and the genetics of mutation." he said modestly. "Perhaps an approach could be found. It's more than Fury would ever do for you. If you're toxic to others, you cannot have any sort of a long-term external tie. Thus, you are his." he pointed out.

“And if I join up with you, the creepy guy who stopped me outside and whoever the woman with the bad taste in outfits is, I get this help. If not I’ve passed up on the opportunity forever?” Carmilla was well aware of how the back scratching game was played.

“And generally in a situation like this, people like answers now, not later.” But she wasn’t sure she could give an answer now. And she hated to admit it, but the argument about no long term ties made sense. It shouldn’t have been too hard for SHIELD to get SOMETHING that would help her regulate her output without the humiliation of being put through the “cure.”

"You are a mutant and as such deserve my assistance." he said. "However, it would be far quicker and more direct if you joined your brothers and sisters at my side." he said. "The creepy one, as you put it, is Toad. The woman here is Phantazia." he said as both Brotherhood members acknowledged the introductions.

"I shall be generous and give you three days to make up your mind. But if I find Col Fury on my doorstep or a SHIELD surveillance team anywhere where I can sense them, the deal is off." he concluded.

Her mom, well, her adopted mother, had always said if something seemed to good to be true it was likely a trick. That had actually helped keep her alive on the streets. And right now she had her mind pulling her two separate ways. For, and against. “How did you find me? Can I get that much of an answer at least? And how’d you know about the work I’m doing right now?”

"Logic, my dear." he said with a small smile. "You see, before I approach someone to join my Brotherhood of Mutants I examine their life quite carefully." he said. "And even one such as I can have friends in SHIELD uniform." he pointed out.

“Well, it saves you the trouble of having to run a background check after the fact,” Carmilla quipped. Great, she wondered then how much he did know. Like spending four years pretty much living on thieving and basically tricking people into emptying their wallets and the line of… well, destruction that tended to follow her wherever she went.

Like the bar fight in Texas. Or in Chicago where she had ended up going head to head with part of the police force there.

There were a lot of things not to be proud of that she wasn’t even comfortable with it being in her SHIELD files. “Why me, then? I can’t be the only mutant in SHIELD.” Logic.

"You're not." he said, nodding to acknowledge her question's validity. "But you are, I believe, someone who has experienced human prejudice firsthand." he pointed out. "You know what the attitudes are out there. And I think you're mad as hell when you're not terrified." he said simply.

“I think anyone who knew what it was really like out there would be,” Carmilla said. Whether she was referring to ‘angry’ or ‘terrified’ was up for debate.

"You might be surprised." he said with candor. "Not every mutant has what it takes to stand up and fight. Some choose not to get involved. Others lack the strength of character, mind, or body. Still others believe in Charles's foolish dream of integration." he said.

“In a perfect world, maybe,” Carmilla said to the last bit. “But the world isn’t perfect. Even with eachother, people can’t just get along. It doesn’t work. Yeah, everyone has a right to be themselves and stuff, but you have to have people be willing to let them be first,” she returned. She figured that out. If you went through with a life with that attitude on the streets, people ate you alive.

"You've seen it yourself. I have as well, a long time ago." he said solemnly. "Humanity cannot tolerate that which is different." he said definitively. "Individuals here and there, perhaps. Small communities, maybe. But all humans? No. That cause is lost and I have devoted my life to ensuring that no mutant will be exterminated like my people were." he vowed.

What had really, really, really freaked her out about A.I.M. was her mother’s ‘solution’ to human suffering and in-fighting. Wherein people had their self and cultural identities erased and were more or less reprogrammed fruit pickers for the enclosed scientists in the compound. Who, in turn, lived more or less like kings. Plato's Republic, anyone?

That was the logical solution according to her ‘mother.’ It had scared her shitless, and that was what the Purifiers were essentially trying to do, only by genocide.

“Well then, you have your work cut out for you, because assholes dressed as religious aid workers have been poisoning, shooting and dumping us in the River the last three months.”

"Yes." he said sadly. "And believe me, plans are in the works to remove that particular strain of humanity forever." he said with a steely look.

“Good riddance,” was all Carmilla had to say to that. There was something oh so very satisfying about the moment she had stood up and started beating the shit out of them. Even when she was bleeding after jumping on the grenades she had remembered grinning. She had really liked punching the one that had made the ‘acid box’ remarks.

“I sure as hell won’t miss them.”

"Very few will." he said. "We were too lenient last time, trusting to human justice." he said. "A mistake I do not plan to repeat."

“Yeah, I’ve read the brief on Stryker,” Carmilla said. “I don’t like killing, I think death is a bit overdone,” especially in her life, “but if I could just touch him…”

He’d be in a world of pain. And that’s all it took, a simple touch to pump the toxin from skin to skin.

"I suspect you'd have to stand in line." he mused. "But we digress. My offer is on the table, young lady. You have three days to consider it. Return here by sundown and let me know what you've decided." he said, gathering his cape and his followers about him.

"Good day, Miss Black." he said courteously.

She'd 'ninja' her way to the front of it pretty easily. Of course there were others who had more of a right to a piece of him than her.

Three days. She couldn't decide on a shirt to wear in three days and she had that long to make a life changing decision. And she couldn't make herself say the 'shove it' that should really be her response to this.

"Three days then," Carmilla repeated. Carmilla hoped by then she'd know an answer. So much for the last lingering childhood illusion that adults and adult decisions were easy.