[The First Mutant Mayhem] - A S.H.I.E.L.D. in the Storm - On Mutant Grounds

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[Aiden's Note: I am back!! Yayyy! I had so much fun with my family and friends. But, now, I must adhere to my writing duties. Oh! Also, this is the last chapter of TMM arc. Next arc begins tomorrow!!]

Under the buzzing city lights of New York, Angel, Havok, Beast, and Banshee stood on a bustling hospital sidewalk. Patient anticipation marked their faces as they awaited the arrival of their friends, Mystique and Charles.

Suddenly, Havok's gaze sharpened, "Look! They're coming!" His words jolted the group, all eyes swinging towards the revolving hospital doors.

The sight of Mystique guiding a wheelchair-bound Charles, emerged from the hospital. His once nimble legs were now at rest, confined to the bounds of the chair. A wave of somber sentiment washed over the group, their faces momentarily shadowed by sadness. Yet, as Charles and Mystique drew closer, they skillfully masked their emotions, their faces becoming unreadable, the perfect poker faces.

Beast was the first to question as Charles and Mystique neared, "How are you? Is everything okay?"

With a smile straining against worry, Charles replied, "I'm doing well, mostly...except," he let out a heavy sigh before continuing, "it seems I may not be able to walk again."

A stunned gasp escaped Angel at Charles' revelation, "What?!" Havok and Banshee's faces mirrored her shock, painting a picture of dismay.

Mystique sighed, her voice heavy, "The explosion damaged his spine." In a whisper, almost to herself, she admitted, "I should have killed that alien sooner."

Charles, however, caught Mystique's whisper. He turned to her, advising, "Don't do that. Don't blame yourself. This wasn't your fault."

Despite his comforting words, she sighed, responding, "Yeah, but... I can't help but feel guilty."

Charles offered a comforting pat to her hand resting on his shoulder, "We need to focus on the task at hand now."

Intrigued, Beast asked, "And what's that?"

Charles reflected on Erik's words and said, "As Erik pointed out, the humans have taken their stance. Now, it's our turn. Although I don't fully agree with his methods, I do acknowledge that we need to take a stand for our kind."

Banshee nodded and asked, "So, what's our next move?"

Charles replied, his face illuminated by a warm smile, "We are going to establish a school. But not an ordinary school. It will be a place for those uniquely gifted like us. There, we'll help them harness their abilities, guiding them to use their talents to enhance their lives. Unlike Erik, we won't push them to use their gifts for nefarious purposes."

His words were met with a chorus of approving nods from everyone present.

Breaking the momentary silence, Mystique asked, "And speaking of Erik, where is he now?"

...

Tucked away within a remote, unnamed forest in the United States, a gathering of individuals had formed. The assembly consisted of people from all walks of life, with ages spanning from youthful primary school children to the elderly. All their eyes were focused on a single figure standing atop a simple, makeshift platform. Their attention was unwavering, completely absorbed in the words spilling from the man delivering his speech on the stage.

The man commanding the undivided attention of the throng was none other than Magneto himself. He met the gaze of the crowd with a tranquil stare, his voice resonating through the air. "To my mutant brothers and sisters out there," he began, "I say this: Enough of lurking in the shadows. Enough of bearing pain in silence. You've lived in shame and fear for far too long. Step into the light. Stand with me. United, we form a brotherhood of our own kind, ushering in a fresh new tomorrow that begins today."

As his speech drew to a close, Magneto's face lit up with a broad smile, his words sparking a roaring applause from the crowd. He amplified his voice, rallying his audience with a passionate cry, "For the Brotherhood of Mutants!"

Their response was immediate and deafening. The echoes of their unified chant filled the air, "For the Brotherhood of Mutants! For the Brotherhood of Mutants!"

...

At the heart of Camp Lehigh, New Jersey,

Nestled beneath the surface, lay the newly erected offices of S.H.I.E.L.D.

With a distinctive "Bang!", Howard burst through Peggy's office door, making his entrance with the confidence that he owned the place.

Purposefully, he strode towards her desk, his eyes catching sight of her engrossed in work. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Howard abruptly held a vibrant bouquet in front of her face, obstructing her view of the paperwork.

With fists tightly balled, Peggy kept her gaze firmly on her work as she vented her frustration, "How many times must I remind you to knock before entering?!"

Lifting her head, she was taken aback by the sight of a lush bouquet blocking her view. Beyond it, she spotted the unmistakable, annoying smirk of Howard, holding the flowers out to her.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she asked, "What is the meaning of this?"

Clearing his throat, Howard responded, "Well, my fair lady, consider this an open invite to a delightful evening spent in the company of yours truly..." With a flair of confidence, he swept a hand through his hair before proudly continuing, "...Howard Stark."

Peggy countered his proposal with a sarcastic remark, "Oh, so the genius playboy, Howard Stark, is lacking a lady for his evening entertainments?"

Caught off guard, Howard's smile momentarily faltered, but he quickly regained his composure and replied, "Why should I search for a woman elsewhere when I have the ideal lady right before my eyes?"

Peggy rolled her eyes at his remark, "Your silver tongue doesn't impress me, Howard! How often must I reiterate this to you?"

Unfazed by her dismissal, Howard pressed on, "So, have you decided? Will you join me?"

Maintaining a stoic expression, Peggy firmly responded, "No!"

She cast a glance at the bouquet before swiftly snatching it from his hand. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to appreciate the scents of roses and lavender, wafting from the fresh blooms. However, without a second thought, she tossed the bouquet into the trash can nearby and shifted her focus back to her paperwork.

A hint of sadness crossed Howard's face as he watched the South American imports end up in the trash. Turning his gaze back to Peggy, who was now completely engrossed in her work, he let out a sigh and settled himself in one of the chairs facing her desk.

The room fell into a strained silence that lasted for several minutes before Peggy finally broke it. In a tone laced with exhaustion, she asked, "What's going on with you, Howard?"

Clearing his throat, Howard began with a smirk, "Well, Peggy, I appreciate your concern." Seeing her glare in response, he quickly shifted gears, "The Stark World Exposition is slated for next year."

Peggy looked up from her work, eyebrows arched in surprise, "And no one has mentioned this?"

Howard casually ran a hand through his hair and said, "You seem to underestimate me, Miss Carter." He leaned in closer to her, a confident glint in his eyes, "I assure you, I am more than capable."

Reacting instinctively, Peggy leaned away from him. Her voice was a warning, "Don't push your luck, Howard."

Howard retreated, raising his hands in a playful surrender, "Alright, alright! Seems like Miss Carter can't take a joke."

He then brought up another topic, "Remember that Soviet scientist?"

"Who?", Peggy asked.

"Anton Vanko," Howard clarified.

She thought for a second before she responded with a nod, "Yes, I remember."

Howard proceeded to outline his plan, "He's going to assist me with a project. A concept that could alter the way we perceive energy."

Peggy gave him a nod of acknowledgment, then redirected her focus back to her work, "Send me an invitation when this groundbreaking idea of yours comes to fruition."

Lost in her work, Peggy only looked up after a few minutes to find Howard staring intently at something behind her. Following his gaze, she found he was fixed on her shield.

She swiveled back to face him and she said threateningly, "I've made it clear before, and I'll do it again: You can't have it!"

Howard complained, much like a child denied a toy, "But why? I swear, I won't damage it. I just..." He looked at it again, eyes filled with curiosity. "I just want to know what it's made of."

"Go ahead if you don't value your hands," Peggy retorted.

Howard sighed, and Peggy could tell he was struggling to bring up another subject, "Peggy...uh..."

Her eyes narrowed, anticipation turning to annoyance. "What now? They threatened me to donate my blood, which I did. They've bullied me into revealing how I obtained the serum, which I did, laying the blame on you. I won't comply with another threat."

Sighing, Howard's gaze wandered around the room, pausing as it fell on a rifle. Something clicked in his mind, "Ah, that reminds me. How's Zola doing?"

Pulling back from her work, Peggy leaned into her chair, "He's... coping. A bit eccentric, though."

"Eccentric?", Howard questioned, "What's the scale here?"

"Well, the type that constantly mumbles - 'They are coming! - Leave me be! - Help me! - I will save you all.' Nonstop," Peggy explained.

Howard whistled, clearly taken aback, "Wow, he's lost it!"

Nodding in agreement, Peggy added, "Indeed, but astonishingly, he's quite good at his work. That rifle," she pointed at the weapon resting on a nearby desk, "is just one of his creations since he joined us."

About to respond, Howard was interrupted by a knock on the door.

* KNOCK *

* KNOCK *

Peggy straightened in her seat, calling out, "Enter!"

A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent stepped into the office, acknowledging Howard with a nod before heading over to Peggy. Handing her a bundle of folders, he said, "Here are the files you requested, Captain Carter."

Accepting the folders marked CONFIDENTIAL, Peggy nodded and ordered, "Excellent. You can return to your duties."

With a final nod, the agent turned and left, gently shutting the door behind him.

Howard couldn't help but sneak a peek at the pile of files Peggy had just received. She spread them out, the documents filled with reports and photographs. Her attention was drawn to the title that read - Mutants, Aliens and Cuban Missile Crisis.

Peggy's brows knitted together as she scanned the title. She began flipping through the photographs until one specific image made her pause.

She was holding a picture that was captured from behind. It portrayed a man soaring in the sky, a woman's lifeless body held securely in his grasp.

As Peggy scrutinized the airborne figure, recognition dawned on her. She silently mouthed a single name, 'Val?!'