In The Right Hands

February 21, 2017:

Darcy and Storm discuss matters involving -All- non-humans.

Storm's Office

In Xavier's Institute


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Reader Gambit Flash


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Storm has known Darcy, and opened the doors for the liason-ship that is between SHIELD and Xavier's, but this was back in the beginning, and Quicksilver was here. But his disappearance seems to have made the visits far more sparse from the liaison, and after Barry's presence and words she finds no surprise in the visit from the woman, especially after her and Reader's response, but Storm is not going to change stance so easily. She promises home and solace and will not move.

Unmoving boots, in fact, are kicked on the corner of her desk, laced tightly to calves that are encased in leather laced up the sides and cinched tight like a corsetry along lower limbs. Low on waist that belt loops and hangs, bearing a few tassels as well as studs that accent just along the brink of mocha huen hips left exposed along abdomen, until the matching laced top captures torso until just above bust where the mohawked mane of white falls over a single exposed shoulder bearing no straps for said halter-top.

Once Darcy arrives the door rattles, rocks and clicks open to await her entry down the hall without the woman moving from her desk chair, but those turbulent blue eyes watch and wait.

Darcy made her way in, finding the halls not quite as welcoming. Well, that's not her problem. She has work to do, and getting all the paperwork in order with limited information has been challenging at best. What good-will Pietro had managed for her was fading and she knew it. It wasn't her fault, and while she was refusing to admit it, this hurt. A lot. But she wasn't about to let any one in this school, children and innocents and people that the guy she fell for loved come to harm in any way shape or form. She'd told them once, if her presence was ever feared to be a source of potential danger, she'd leave and never come back. The threat of the mists, the threat that started when Apocalypse dared to threaten something that was Hers, sat heavily. Heavier now than ever. Hearing that Barry went into HER school irked her a bit, but she didn't say that to him. She just let him know she'd go talk to them. A sample for his work might be helpful, and she wasn't surprised he was turned down if he walked in and asked for some without building up any relationships here. He was human, after all. Normal. Like her.

Which doesn't make it any better.

Darcy pokes her head into the office, a light smile on her face. "Hi. Can I come in?"

Storm does not have to speak, her hand rises and with it that drop of noir fabric that crates makeshift wings stretches and descends with the drop of arm. "Nothing has changed with us, Darcy. Have a seat. Have tea, coffee, a fine whiskey was even left behind but I have no cola." The Kenyan accented voice lowly comes forth as she watches the woman, but the exposure, the posture, the past… Storm knows better and is gentle instead of firm in diplomacy for the moment.

But none the less this is business. And when Darcy sets one foot in, one of Storm's drops, another foot, and down goes the next to fall into a cross while her posture rights behind the mahogany desk and arms fold across it.

"What do you bring to our table, Darcy?" Despite the bluntness, forthright, Storm's tone is soft, her features, neutral.

"Feels like everything's changed," Darcy comments, moving to sit across from the table. For all the strength she shows at work, it's in the privacy of her home and this place, with all it's innocent children, that the guards come down, and a light shimmer fills her green eyes.

"I got a text from him… He's clearing his head. Don't know how long it will take," Darcy says, at least offering some closure, some reassurance that their cousin is alive and…. trying to get well. Dying takes a toll on one's soul and heart. Darcy takes a breath and forces the unshed tears back in order to get to business.

"A laundry list. First, I need more information on Remy. I can't get him cleared here without it. I've gotten pretty much everyone else you've given me. Are there others, by the way? Anyone else you need cleared through the system and anything else you're lacking for security.. legal and otherwise?" That's the most important thing. Green gas be damned.

Storm knows that look, one that is defined alone by the quiver of green eyes. Her grounds are rocked, shaken, and she needs solidarity again. Something real to hold onto. Love becomes indifference… Then anger… Then questions… But to slow the process… There's work.
And here Darcy sits, across from Storm who knows, but cannot be so free. Ever.

Head uptilts, throat bearing several dozen rings from collar to jawline, almost what seemingly holds her chin aloft, and yet she moves so free in the metallic trappings. "It will take the time it needs." But when Storm speaks she settled her gaze on Darcy, more pointedly the words are for her. "Nothing has changed where we are concerned."

And to prove it when Darcy moves back to business so does Storm, handing over files of new students, new alumni, but all cut and dry. Deeper info, she needs to ask them personally. She is not their Warden, she is their Leader and will not violate their personal comfort, only enhance their safety.

"Remy needs to provide that himself. I am sorry, but that is who he is and I cannot, nor will I force him." And somewhere in there, there is a gentleness and understanding upon her gaze, a history? But with a sweep of hair behind a loop laden ear Storm leans back and watched Darcy carefully.

"Do you mean Reader, who Barry met? He will need cleared, but how is also up to him." Uneasy alliances galore!

Darcy collects the files, flips through the information. More time will need to be spent here. The SHIELD agent nods.

"I'll schedule time," she says, her silence the only acknowledge of how she will definitely let Pietro have the time he needs, and she'll be strong through it, wherever it takes them; him and her.

"I'm sorry if he made any insult," Darcy says, diplomatically, looking up from the files earnestly.

"No insult at all. But there is a reality we all have to deal with. Reader and his people as well as the mutants, mutates, metas and Nu." A pause as she watches Darcy and pours herself a cup of tea.

"An alliance will only come upon give and take. No demands, and partnerships, no matter how questionable the terms, but bottom lines solid. I know you know, Darcy. Who comes here is protected. Safe. And we will not move unless it is suitable and together."

Of all Agents, Darcy knows, and Storm knows it true as well.

Darcy nods to this, leaning forward to get herself some coffee. "Of course. I'm here to help, as I always have been. Anything the school needs, if SHIELD can provide, I'll kick and scream and make uncomfortable moves to make this happen." She pauses to sip after sugar and creamer are added.

"Our labs could use some help trying to figure out how this stuff works, who's affected, who's not. Apparently, I'm not. At least, not when my blood is exposed to some of the gas. What it means, I don't know, but I'm worried. I've heard what's it's doing to non-mutants, and so far it seems that mutants aren't affected but… What if they are? I don't know if you saw what Apocalypse did to Pietro… how much he had changed when he was…" Dead. "I'm sure it was a controlled environment then. Right now, that stuff isn't controlled. And it could hit anywhere. Even here. We have no way to protect anyone at this point. So far, the only lab that I trust that's doing anything is our own. I don't want some other lab out there, thinking that if they crack this stuff's code that they can reverse whatever it is that makes you all who you are. The thought turns my stomach. If finding out what the mists do can help us find a way to keep everyone's genes stable as they are, I think that'd be worth a look."

"It kills mutants incompatible," Storm states lowly, and after her own mug is sipped from and she listens, giving pause to hear Darcy out and compare notes. "We have lost alumni and past students due to it, and if it does not kill, it…"

Brow furrows and her memories seem to move in rewind, fast forward, and scramble with twine and twixt. "I cannot explain. Things are not right. All I know."

Leaning back the chair moans, reclines but does not leave Storm in a lax posture, only one of thought. "From what I hear, other labs are trying." A click as nails tap over ceramic surface in a rolling drum. "And there is where we have to ally, but the case has to pass Reader, first. What he says and what you," A shake and shift of uplifted finger to Darcy. "Or any can get from him, we will back. But now? I back my promise to him and his people."

"I would rather everyone safe. Even you, Darcy Lewis."

Kills? It KILLS mutants? Students have died? Students from HER school? Darcy frowns, eyes angry, as angry as anyone that saw her when she heard her silver-haired boy had been taken would have seen.

"Can you schedule a meeting? Reader and I? I want to hear his side of things. Mr. Allen made it sound like Reader was willing to allow innocent non-mutants die in the hopes that some will awaken like himself, as a mutant. I'm not willing to accept that unless I hear it for myself," Darcy states, tone terse at the idea of any innocent getting hurt in this, and still angry that students she swore she's help protect are dead and she didn't even know.

"I can, and will if he wants another." Storm states even as she gauges Darcy's reaction and facial features in flux. "They are not mutants when birthed… I have seen it…"

Storm's features then fall slightly, as well as the pressure in the room, noticeably. But then it is back with her look up.

"It's something new, something we do not understand, and I cannot make demands of it unfairly." Hands reach out, extend, palm up and empty in show. "It kills some and evolves others to further strength, like our kind awakening or …. finding a true weakness. I agree," A pause and Storm is leaning forward to meet eye-to-eye with Darcy.

"This cannot fall in the wrong hands, but it is not ours to even place. So saying that I will see what I can do for us all."

The weight is gathering now on Nubian shoulders, but Storm does well not to show it.

That Storm will ask calms Darcy, though she clearly is saving the brunt of her emotions to unleash at the right target. Storm is not the target of her ire and until proven otherwise, neither is Reader. With the pressure drop, Darcy swallows to get her ears to pop and not ring. It leaves her slightly dizzy. Green eyes steady after a heartbeat and peer at the open hands. Darcy leans forward at Storm does, putting down her coffee to reach out and take those hands.

"I swear to you. I will do everything I can to ensure this doesn't fall into the wrong hands. I'm going to use my clearance to lock the information down as hard and as tight as I can manage, and I'll get my SO's help in seeing what information anyone else has. If I find anyone trying to use whatever they have against you, I WILL act. You and yours are not alone. I won't see anything bad happen to this place. It's too amazing…." Darcy promises, eyes starting to water again at the strength of her emotions and promises.

Storm takes Darcy's hands and the shaken core is met with her own, a negotiation that brings her ears to pop and the pressure dissipate, a thing she did not know she was causing.

"Then do what you must. Just as I back him, I back you. It's not over, Darcy. Promise."

A sudden retraction and Storm wipes at her face, palming it. Empathy…

Standing Storm turns away and to the window overseeing the garden.

"You will not be let down."

"Nor will you," Darcy replies, pushing to her feet and taking the files with her. This is definitely NOT over. Not by a long shot. Darcy has more than a would be demi-god to shoot in the face.

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