Ava's P.O.V
As the Director slows his pace, Ava is forced to a halt at his side. Under the umbra of his shadow, she feels somewhat protected---as anyone would be when draped beneath the secure wing of the most feared and respected individual currently in the organization. However, she cannot help but be acutely aware of just how exposed she is to her new...coworkers, for lack of a better term.
Stryker has placed the mutantess in the crosshairs of a merciless optic assault. Each and every eye belonging to her new pack of war scathes her skin with a searing judgment, while passing silent comments of speculation and mockery at the woman's expense.
The world grows still. Ava takes the time to disguise what she can behind a fortified, blank wall, denying them a peak at her true feelings or even a glimpse of the thoughts hidden behind each iris.
There are three of them---a woman and two men. The woman has caught Ava's eye before, allebit in Rhodes' peripherals, but nevertheless noticed as the blue speck residing just beyond the threshold of clear vision and just a hazy blur.
A coldness creeps along the woman's spinal column as the woman lifts her dark navy lips in a slight sneer. The muntantess is blue---not like how one turns when faced with a grave sadness or melancholy, but actually, literally blue.
The strange woman's skin is a strikingly dark azure, with risen marks, hard and lustrous like a lizard's scales, dappling various spots along her exposed arms and bordering the majority of the woman's face. What isn't exposed, however, is covered by a striking stark leather combat uniform, with heels the same white hue and accessories to match. It is a paling contrast to her other team-members, who adorn themselves in dark, earthy camoes and blacks.
From what the telepath can tell, the lady in blue and white is also sculpted for stealth and infiltration, having a leaner, more slender build as opposed to the men that keep to either side of her.
The hairs on Ava's skin rise like the hackles on a frightened cat, prickling the pale flesh underneath her uniform with goosebumps upon locking gazes with the mutant. Pale, featureless yellow eye stare back behind a veil of strikingly saturated red strands of hair, piercing the telepath's gaze with a vital stab.
Stryker's booming thunder of a voice suddenly breaks her train of thought, and snaps her eyes away from the blue woman's.
"Everyone, may I be the first to proudly introduce you to the newest member of Team-X," With a sweeping arm, he presents Ava to the wolves. "This is Ava Rhodes, or, as you will all come to know her as, Agent X-F...Vertigo. She has extraordinarily honed telepathic abilities, able to manipulate any aspect of an individual's conscious, subconscious, or the basic functions of the brain! A true credit to her species."
~:"Uh huh.":~ Ava's ears prick, hearing a fragment of a steady stream of cohesive thought from one of the men at the blue woman's side. ~:"Credit to her species my-":
Her eyes narrow, stopping the man's train of thought with a literal mental slap. She ensures the side of his face burns, the sensation of the nerves becoming inflamed...exaggerated but nevertheless brief and deserved.
She studies how his nose wrinkles in disdain as the sting hits. How his brown, unintelligent eyes widen as the impact comes...how his jaw tightens as every nerve jumps up in a stern tense.
Unable to place what happened, he looks around, clueless as to what just struck him so swiftly and without remorse.
A huff of delight leaves the telepath in a soft exhale, enjoying the sight of the other mutant being so clueless and exposing what she theorizes to be a severe lack of basic intelligence.
Maybe another slap will get the message through. Her internal self chuckles, cheeky like.
As much as she wants to hit the other cheek, she can't risk a power surge or the...unpleasant consequences that follow when her powers are used to expose just how truly and completely vulnerable she really is.
Her amused eyes shift ever so subtly to the fixtures above the idiot who thought mentally sassing a mutant who has the capabilities to read every single thought he's ever had was a good idea. The fixtures themselves look normal: no abnormal swaying or motions are noted by the woman.
There is, however, something wrong with the actual bulbs themselves. Their otherwise lustrous, constant brilliance dims in sparse yet drastic flickers, each light buzzing as a surge of energy runs rampant along the open circuit they reside in.
She checks once.
She checks twice.
The mutantess' gaze makes a third lap, but not another more. She can never, ever truly be satisfied, even if the outcome is one as beneficial as this; no one noticed the strange ongoings of the lights right above their own heads, and yet, her nerves simmer like live electrical wire.
Uncertainty is truly her worst enemy.
Idiot. Her inner self scolds the powerplay. Risking it all just for some petty revenge. Stryker didn't condition you to be a simple minded fool - you're better than this. Act like it.
Stryker's arm tightens around her, causing the woman to restrain a sharp jolt. A heavy pit forms in her chest, sinking to the very depths of her stomach like a stone through still water; there is nothing she can do to avoid this, no matter how enticing the temptation of escape is.
Today is not the day.
But one day it will be.
"Agent Rhodes,"
The tensing of his arm that wraps from shoulder to shoulder tenses, pulling her thoughts away from the prospects of foolish dreams and hopes. In a sparing, gradual movement, her head moves, catching the piercing glint of her commanding officer's remaining eye.
"This is nothing short of an honor, I can assure you," The Director smiles, a slight sputter in his hissy, gravelly voice due to...the unpleasantness that afflicts a vast majority of his profile. "These mutants are the best of the best, having not only mastery over their abilities but having each individually proven to yours truly that they have earned a spot amongst my elite. You, are now one of these few."
Bull. Ava's thoughts hiss. I didn't earn this; you admitted yourself that this was just a way to keep an eye on me. I don't belong here. I don't need them...I'm better on my own.
A tinge of rancor threatens to lift her lips into a snarl, but she restrains the urge and keeps it suppressed.
"It is an honor that I am truly grateful to have received. Thank you for the opportunity, sir." Her voice feigns honor and pride. While it's enough to placate his ego, others aren't so easily swayed by the ruse.
Ava's eyes shift in a masking blink back to the trio of mutants in front of her, catching the suspicious glare of the blue woman. Their eyes lock; a wordless, thoughtless exchange held between the two glares louder than a shouting match.
Yeah. Yeah, I see you.
"Excellent! Fitting in already," Stryker takes a sudden, sure step forward, the arm tightly around Ava's shoulders ensuring her obedience and cooperation as he places her closer to the group. "Team-X is a squadron unlike any other. Personally, I believe such talent needs no introduction, but I will take it upon myself to familiarize you. Here,"
His sweeping gesture covers the blue woman. The mutantess instantly, and quite masterfully, rips her glower from Ava's suspicious leer, stepping forward from the trio and nodding her head to her commanding officer with the utmost respect, a ruse for sure.
"We have Team-X's second in command, Agent Raven Darkholme---codename, Mystique," He introduces the woman. "She is a mutant of unprecedented power, able to take the form, voice, and attributes of any living macro-organism on earth. She could take my shape and you would be none the wiser! Not only is she specialized in infiltration like yourself, she is a skilled markswoman, cybernetic, and pilot of the many aircrafts we have here."
The strange woman now known as Mystique has a conniving devious smirk part her deep cobalt lips, exposingly eerily perfect, white teeth to the masses. Ava suppresses another shudder.
"You flatter me, Director Stryker," Ava is thoroughly taken aback by the agent's voice, having not heard anything remotely like it in her life. It's almost as if every voice the shapeshifter imitated, mimicked, or stole is a part of the collective, making the key untraceable and Darkholme's words an enigma that alludes the telepath entirely. "Good to hear you pay attention to all of my impressive work."
"How could I not? I was the one that promoted you," Stryker chuckles, his ego taking notice of the mutant's praise. It's no doubt just another cheap trick: you can never trust a shapeshifter, let alone their true intent. Ava continues to keep a harsh yet keen eye on the blue woman. "I expect no less than the flawless service you have given to the organization time and time again. Surely a person of your skill set will have no trouble showing our newest recruit here the ropes..."
Mystique shifts her eyes once again to the telepath, sneering.
"Shouldn't have a problem whatsoever, sir."
"Marvelous. Simply marvelous," With that unsettling conclusion to Darkholme's formal introduction, relief flood over the telepath like a cleansing water. "Under her tutelage, you shall thrive here, my dear, thrive! And your other three team members will ensure your success. Agent David North, or Maverick, is skilled in the art of war, both on field and off. Isn't that right, Mr.North?"
The mutant still nursing the metaphorical lump on the side of his face suddenly perks up as Stryker summons his attention, his unintelligent eyes partially covered by a mat of loosely tied mahogany hair and a frazzled, unprepared look that would otherwise denote a dangerous lack of attentiveness.
Panicked, he goes into a salute. The other mutant at his side, a man of dark complexion and a critical, violet eye, sneers at his brother of war.
"Y-Yes, Director, sir!"
Stryker's eye stays on the man a moment longer, before continuing with the mutant's introduction.
"His ability has the capacity to turn the tides of war to our favor. As kinetic energy transfers into his body, say, someone strikes him, he can not only withstand the blow, but absorb it as well. Then, doubling in amount within his being, he can throw it back and devestate even the most toilsome of foes."
Maverick crosses either arm across his chest, a swell of pride summoning a smug gleam on his face. Ava's glare, however, weakens the fisaude, feeling the man's thoughts become more murky and hesitant.
The light fixtures above the brainless operative's head sway again.
Stryker moves on.
"And this, the mutant next to our beloved Maverick, is Agent John Wraith...codename, Wraith. His ability is quite the mystery---our scientists here at Weapon-X have had quite the trouble studying its...uniqueness. For what we've discovered, it deals mostly in molecular recombination, or teleportation, in simpler terms. "
The mutant in question, bulky and heavyset, chuckles darkly. Ava shifts her eyes to the source of the noise, irises now revealed to the world as the eyelids encompassing them split in a gradual widening.
Flaying the man's dark mahogany skin are intricate tattoos. Normally, a tattoo would remain sessile on a person skin, marring an individual's complexiton, yes, but never once moving from where the needle placed it within the dermis.
...These tattoos are the exception.
The dark tendrils of ink writhe, shifting seamlessly across the agent's skin and subtly sizzle with the same violet hue coloring the man's eyes. The wraith's lips lift into a smirk as he fully notices the telepath watching him.
"You two will be working in close quarters. He is skilled in your line of work, my dear---interrogation, infiltration, stealth operations, you name it, and he can do it. Now, we've covered all bases with the best mutantkind has to offer; Weapon-X is now the pillar of power I have always dreamed it would become."
One...two, three... Her thoughts buzz.
"So, what do you think, my girl? Isn't it absolutely exhilarating? A new purpose? A new life? Here, you can start fresh---be a working, functioning part of something bigger than yourself..."
One...two, three. She continues to count the members, thinking the number before her is a mistake. Second in command...underlings...
"That's what we strive for here at Weapon-X---a new start. And with your addition, this team will be pushed farther than ever before. You have it in yourself to push it. Won't you finally be a part of something meaningful?"
Where is their central command? Her interior voice snarls.
"Permission to speak, Director, sir."
"Granted."
"I recall you saying something about four members. I've only counted three. And Blue here-" Mystique wrinkles her nose and gawks her head back at the nickname. "Is only second in command. As impressive as that is, that means she has a leader, a captain, and they aren't here. I'd say that's pretty irresponsible considering the introduction of a new member to one of the most elite death squads in the world takes priority...wouldn't you?"
Stryker huffs, amused and, by Ava's assumption, a little impressed by the cleverness.
"I'm surprised you would even pick up on such a minute detail."
Bastard knew I would.
"To answer your question, my dear, your new commanding officer is off-site at the moment, running an operation outside of Team-X. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been encroaching on our territory as of late and he's doing his best to...push them back before we have to send in the excessive force."
Her eyes never leave the group.
"Good to know."
"Well!"
The pressure around her shoulders dissipates in an instant as the Director of Weapon-X unravels his arm from around either shoulder.
"I'm sure you are absolutely dying to see your new living quarters. Agent Darkholme here will see you to your new room."
"Oh great, now I have to babysit-"
"What was that, Mystique?"
The blue woman perks her head up, featureless yellow eyes now as startled as Maverick's were just moments ago.
Ava lets out a silent, amused breath of air, all of her concentration now on suppressing a smirk summoned by what's unfolding in front of her.
"Nothing, Director, sir!" The mutantess tenses to an erect posture, left arm and hand flying to the adjacent temple in a salute.
"Good." His voice leaks from the opening in his face and his mouth like a growl from a wolf. "We begin mission assignment in the morning at 0600 hours sharp. Don't be late. DISMISSED."
The men hastily continue a patrol around the perimeter of the base, integrating into a passing unit of soldiers and matching their march and pace fairly quickly. The blue woman, however, remains in the area, impatiently waiting for the telepath to join her, but having to suffer staying idle for as long as Stryker wants.
It's never truly over even when he ends it.
"Rhodes,"
Ava gradually pivots on her heels, staring up at the man with concerned eyes.
A heavy, gloved hand comes down on her shoulder, planting her heels into the concrete and forbidding the mutantess to distance herself.
"Do not forget, Ava...I chose you for a reason."
He sternly pulls her closer, lips passing her face to stop and hover inches beside an ear. Terror grips her stomach, sinking her pounding heart into the depths of her stomach like a heavy stone.
"Do not fail me. One more slip up, and you deal with me for the last time. These men and woman have already been made aware of your...unfortunate track record. Give them a reason to suspect treachery, and I will hear about it," The Director rises from his lean, hardened, icy eye shrouded in shade and piercing her fearful gaze. "I have given you one last chance. There will be no more after this. Never forget that."
The gulp of air sliding down her throat is not even the slightest bit quenching.
"Y-Yes, sir."
A nod sends the telepath turning to the disgruntled blue woman.
"You are dismissed. Go, before the shapeshifter turns into some monstrosity and drags you to your new quarters. And by the looks of it,"
Mystique's lips lift into a snarl, exposing a menagerie of twisted, serrated, and elongated fangs.
"You haven't got much time."
Truer words have never been spoken.
With no time to waste, Ava hurries herself to the mutantess' side. Thinking a conversation is going to be had over the delay, she opens her mouth to apologize, but the shapeshifter scoffs in response, and starts down the corridor before them.
And with no other option, Ava follows in suit, shutting her mouth along the way and keeping to the mutant's shadow.
______________________________________
Shhhhhussssshhh. Large metallic doors slide open with an off-key hiss, shuddering into their respected chrome thresholds in the blink of an eye. The sound of rust and its strident echo haunts the gears and mechanisms aimed at pulling the structures into their housing, causing Ava to cringe at the production of a shrill note.
A heel plants itself thickly onto the carpeted floor past the entrance. She enters the room, unnerved by the eerie quiet settled in the air and how...dead the space feels.
Searching blindly in the dark, her palm glides past a light switch. It flips as she runs a finger underneath its lip and pushes it up. The dark shroud of the space then dissipates from the emergence of light pouring down onto it from the fixtures above, thus revealing a more interesting, decorated room.
To the left from the doors exists a bathroom, the woman peering inside the dim space to see a reflection staring back at her from the mirror. Stepping into the actual living quarters, a whistle hangs on her lips as she sees all of her dressers, belongings, and items she's collected over the years present and accounted for.
"I've been in worse, I can tell you that."
Ava throws a snarky glance past her shoulder to the scowling mutantess leaning on her doorframe.
The telepath throws down the black duffle bag she has been toting around for most of the morning and day.
"Are you just going to stand there silently and burn a hole in the back of my head, or are you going to woman up and say what you want to say?"
Mystique rises from her lean, arms sternly crossed at her chest. Like oil, she slickly moves into the room, her nose wrinkled and scowl sharp. Ava's eyes narrow, a dark shadow spanning her face.
"Didn't think I had to. You are a telepath, after all."
"This may be a foreign concept to you people, but I have a code. I don't go into the thoughts of another unless provoked to do so, or absolutely necessary."
"Weakling."
Ava scoffs.
"And you think you're better?"
"Oh, I don't think, darling, I know I'm better than you,"
The stark white heels of the woman, while muffled on the carpet, tap across the floor as the blue mutantess begins to circle her, much like a wolf encroaching on its next kill.
"Because unlike yourself, I'm not listed as a flight risk. And, I can assure you, even if I was, the first attempt would've been the one where I got away. Not the second...or the third...or the fourth-"
Ava softly sidesteps into the encroachment, rounding the room just as Mystique is.
"Is that so?" The telepath sneers, her ignited evergreen eyes encapsulating the spark of a rogue flame. "I guess you know everything about me then. I wouldn't expect any less from the snake you are, stealing the voices and identities of anyone Stryker points you to. How many are stuck in that shell you call a personality, Darkholme? Ten? Twenty? One-hundred? Are you even in there any more? Or are you just a concoction of all the worst traits you've mimicked for the sake of the mission?"
She whistles, lip lifting into a sly smirk. Ava can't tell whether the woman's impressed or repressing fury.
"That's a dirty blow, telepath. I could say the same for you...how many memories, thoughts, and ideas have you come across in the wickedness of man that just made you want to scream? And, going even further, how can you handle your own thoughts with a ledger as bloody as yours?"
Heat seeps into the meat of her face.
"Not even a drop compared to the red river you've created."
Mystique stops.
Ava lurches to a halt.
The telepath peers into the eyes of the shapeshifter, stabbing gaze meeting another deadly leer from the woman. For a moment, Ava looks her in the eye, wanting nothing more than to tamper with whatever devastating, depressing memory she can find and branding it into the blue mutant's psyche indefinitely.
...But she's not like her.
She's better than her.
A toothy grin then spans Darkholme's dark blue lips, exposing teeth too perfect to be considered nice.
"I think I may just be able to tolerate you, rookie."
Ava's head snaps back, surprised.
"It's rare I find someone that pushes back against me, or any member of Team-X for that matter. I can't say I'm impressed, no...that would inflate that obvious ego you're carrying."
Mystique takes a step closer. Ava keeps her guard up just in case the snake before her decides to strike.
However, just as the telepath was tempted to read the shapeshifter's thoughts, Mystique beats her to the punch and somehow reads her own.
"A healthy dose of mistrust is good. It'll get you far. However, that stubborn tenacity and lone-wolf mindset will get you nowhere. Believe me, I've tried,"
She passes Ava by, leaving now the only thing on her mind. Rhodes trails her with a scowl, evergreen eyes now ablaze with fiery ire.
A blue hand catches the woman before she passes the threshold and enters back into hell.
"...Standing your ground like that may have worked on me, but it isn't gonna work on him."
Ava bays through her teeth.
"Who?"
"The Captain. He's gonna see right through that fisaude and make you realize it for yourself, that behind your tough exterior and mask..."
A yellow beam slices through the remaining shadows in the room, the lights even seeming to dim in favor of their eerie, downright unsettling glow.
"You're just a scared little girl."
A bubble forms in Ava's throat.
The mutantess hangs at the door a little longer before slinking out.
"Mission assignment is at 0600 hours...don't be late."
The metal doors shudder close.
A wicked chill runs rampant up and down the telepath's spinal column, the woman cringing in disturbance from the interaction.
"Creep. At least she had the courtesy to close the door..."
And then she's alone. The mutantess looks around, her room full of trinkets and items, of countless items filling it to the brim with detail, but nevertheless desolate in solitude.
The bed beckons her to sit. She crashes down on the mattress, the firmness of the bed doing nothing to cushion her fall.
A sit becomes fatigue.
And fatigue becomes a full descent of her back into the sheets.
She exhales heavily, staring up at the vacant roof, too energized to sleep but too exhausted to stay awake.
Her thoughts then buzz for the final time before either eyelid comes to enclose around each eye blacken her sight.
I'm in Hell.