Hello, and welcome to my newest story. I did promise another fanfic in the epilogue of 'Partners In Crime', so here it is. X-Men, Cyclops & OC. No, she isn't named Elizabeth. I'm going with a red-haired Sasha this time. =) You are all invited and encouraged to critique/review/comment. And another no-she is not a mutant. Just plain, old human. :))
Sasha Lennox-Butler was considered obnoxious by the majority of her graduating class in the Political Science Academy of Washington. The reasons for that were many, all more than very clear to her.
First and foremost, she did not take any two-facedness or disrespect from people. If they did something to wrong her, she made it clear to them and reuturned in any measure she could and saw fit. Sasha was not of the people who bothered to fit into a group, but a heavy individualist, who was proud to object when something was being done that was not in her favor. She stated her opinion loudly at all times-and due to her deep vocal capacities, it often left others feeling as if she was imposing her views upon them, granted. But no one forbid them to speak loudly, and why would she be forbidden that, then? Besides, she had often explained that she was merely speaking her mind, not telling anyone to change theirs. She failed to see what was so difficult about that for those dim-wits to understand.
Some of her opinions-the greater part of them-were considered unaccaptable, distastful, cruel and selfish. Sasha was selfish and admitted to it. She also admitted to the fact that she veritably enjoyed standing out in the crowd, drawing attention with her outrageous views and arguing to defend them. The last was what made for the most of her obnoxiety. Every little jest, every slight offense of what was dear to her had a fierce reaction come from Sasha; its length depending on how serious the strike had been. She saw it as normal and saw that she had a right to decide what someone got to say to her and what not. If they intended on insulting her or her values, they were better off not talking to her at all.
By her second year at the Academy, her peers had proclaimed her 'arrogant, bad-tempered and haughty'.
They minded her self-confidence, her persistance to achieve her goals and her disregard of what she referred to as common sucking-up. Among the attendants, of course. It was indirect, and socially demanded, like an unwritten law. But Sasha thought 70% of the directives and the laws they learned about to be bullshit(70 or something like it, since she had never counted and was not good at estimating mathematics). So, whatever was not written, she would be damned if she would follow. Sucking up to instructors made perfect sense, but to people who meant nothing to her and were to be considered her equals? No, siree. Let them burn, if they did not like her.
She did not believe in unanimous classes, where all wished all well. She had hoped for a few people she had been especially at odds with to flunk their exams and ruin their lives, but, unfortunately, it had not happened.
Despite all this, Sasha was not alone. In a sense, she was, since she had kissed once in high school and never before, or after. The outrageous in her personality brought out the volatile and, as one of her few friends named Andrew Keller said, 'barbaric' traits. 'You have to forgive guys who don't exactly want their cocks broken in two or more pieces, you know.' Sasha was not stronger than the average male, nor did she possess any exceptional fighting skills, but she had a nasty knee, foot and fist-all of which knew how to find their way to the male groin most expertly. And which she, unlike other women, did not hesitate to use as often as necessary. Plus she was builty very much like an ancient Viking, with wide hips, large chest and a square face with determined lines. 'Scary bitch. If not pretty.' Thomas Worth had had a fine way of complimenting her.
Clearly, the two of them were her friends. They laughed at her outbursts(though teasing her was a normal routine of their day), such as that one time when she began singing folk music in a death metal, scary tone; but they liked that bit about her. They did not defend her, since she did not need defending-no one would have dared bully her, since being a tattle-tale had never been her fear; she had no problem with going to the authorities and ruining fully the one who tried such a thing. And no one had ever tried; not in the Academy, anyway.
Sasha was liked well by her instructors, who appreciated her ambition and her will to learn, just as her aspiration to succeeed. So, she graduated with fine grades, quite close to excellent. She was not below using various means to succeed, and she cheated when she was certain she would not get caught-it was too risky a job otherwise, and she had never been as desperate.
She was fine as a politican/diplomat in the manner of sticking to her guns and not submitting unless she truly had to. She was not the best attendant of the year, but her success was formidable. At the age of 22, she was done with schooling, moved into an apartment provided for her by her parents in a relatively well-off part of the city, and began looking for work.
She was hired as one of the assistants to senator Robert Kelly.
"---have the right to higher genetic capabilities than the rest of the human race. It erases all thought of equality. With the powers of some of these people, laws can not only be broken, but turned into nothing. The girl that Senator Kelly mentioned can easily walk through the walls of the White House and murder the President, yes, but she can also walk through the walls of any ordinary citizen's house. Do you-any of you-wish to live your day-to-day lives with the constant danger of the uncontrolled powers of these mutants looming over you and your children, alike? We are being just with the mutants. Just as I, and every citizen of the United States and the world, need to register my weapon, they need to registrate their mutation. No one will confine them because of it, unless they-just as you or I-use it in order to harm someone. The Mutant Registration Act amounts to the same as the Arms Registration Act. There were never any riots because of that one. We expect this one to be accepted just as quickly."
Sasha Lennox-Butler was having a propserous day. It was a busy day at work, aye, but maybe because she was so new to her job and fresh from the Academy, Sasha loved such days. And she enjoyed her work, especially the part where she got to deliver speeches and where she was the centre of one attention or another. Right now, it was public attention-that of the magazines.
The Senator had to give audience to the TV crew-BBC, CNN, etcetera. New York Times and such were also inculded into his program. The magazines and the less popular newspapers needed a special hall and a special speech-which was to be given by the loudest of his five assistants.
"Miss Butler, what does the Senator predict the response of the mutants to this proposal will be?" The American. Their last representative had called her Miss Lennox. Sasha rarely got the privilege of having both her surenames pronounced.
"The Senator believes there to be no reason for them not to agree with his ideas. If any mutant does not wish to make their mutation public-and I do not mean 'public' as known to their peers, for I can understand their reluctance to show it in that case. I mean, of course, make it known to the government. If they do not wish to do that, what reason could they have other than misuse of their power?"
It was a mixture of what she thought and what she had been told to say. Her opinions seemed to fit remarkably well with the policy of her superior, which had made her a very enthusiastic worker. Before this Act was proposed, during her job interview, Sasha was asked about her beliefs on the issue of mutants. What she was saying now, she had said back then, give or take a few official details. So, it was safe to say her opinions had gotten her this job. A matter she was exceptionally proud of.
"Would you consider your intelligence a weapon that needs to be registered, Miss Butler?" Harper's. To be expected. This was what Sasha had prepared for, just as she had for all the questions conerning mutants and equality-as seen by her monologue and comparison to the weapons. Looking at the reporter, who had dark eyes, she smiled widely.
"It is registered. The government has a copy of my graduation certificate, just as all my school certificates, which confirm my intelligence. I am, of course, considering to riot because of that."
Let them think her as stuck-up and egositical as they wished.
Some of the reportes laughed, and more hands remained in the air. Five more, to be precise. Sasha had been in here for nearly an hour and a half, but she would have enjoyed more thoroughly.
Tom Worth signalled the Economist woman, who was jutting out her jaw determinedly.
"Miss Butler, did you write what you speak down before you came here?" Ah. She had been the one who had asked about the very core of human rights that were endangered by the Act. A sore loser, you are. Sasha focused on her, not wasting a second.
"Yes." She grinned, "I did. You did not write down your questions?"
The woman squinted, "No. I adapt. Did you—"
"You must adapt." Sasha interrupted her folding her arms, "Continue."
Tom chuckled chokedly as the journalist did as told, ignoring Sasha's remark.
"Did you ever think of how this Act is in opposition with both the Declaration and the Constitution?"
Now, nothing could have annoyed Sasha more-conerning this part of this issue-than such limited thinking.
"Is one of the four self-declared truths not the right of the people to change the government, which includes all laws, as well?" It was a response filtered by the politician within her, who could not have said that one should use common sense and not refer to Documents written by rotting corpses. Senator Kelly was just, but he did not tolerate such mishaps. This endeavour required the finest performance. She would have been fired in a second if she slighted the basis of their entire country, as it was today.
"Miss Butler!" Only two hands were in the air now, the others probably satisfied by what she had said for The Economist, "Has Senator Kelly's office received any threats conerning the Act of Registration?"
We receive constant threats. Yes, we have. Last time I checked, someone threatened to bomb my car and to crucify Senator Kelly. By now, this has probably extended to Worth and Miner, too. Sasha had been preparing to be immune to threats ever since she had decided what her line of work would be. It hadn't saved her from the terror, the paranoia or the fear, but she did her best to control it. They would not dare attack. It would only prove us right. She'd even said that once before, as loud as possible.
"Our opposition is fully aware that any action like that one would only prove us right, and them wrong." The thoughts of the radicals and the lone rebels, she tried to wipe away.
The last hand dropped, and a purple-haired young woman asked her question timidly, "Will there be a war between mutants and humans?"
Quite possibly. Sasha had been told to smile reassuringly at any simillar inquiry. The girl had to be given credit-more boisterous of her colleagues hadn't dared ask such a question.
"Mutants are humans. They are part of the human society. They simply are not ordinary humans, and have capabilities that surpass us. Of course there will be no war. This Act is here exactly to prevent such thoughts, and actions."
The girl nodded, and Sasha looked over the room. After a few seconds of no one saying anything, she inhaled, and blinked at the crowd.
"Well, that would seem to be it. I hope you enjoyed it and found out all that you needed to find out. Thank you."
Murmurs and 'thank you's erupted, and everyone began making their way towards the public exit. Sasha was relieved she did not have to push her way through-she turned to Thomas Worth, and they headed up a stariway behind the curtain that convered the back of the podium she had been standing on. The stairs led straight into a waiting room, richly decorated, with a door that was soundprood and opened into a study in which they were to meet the Senator.
"These secret passages are very neat." Sasha remarked, climbing the last step.
"It is the Hilton," Tom shrugged his bony shoulders, already opening the office door, "It's why we picked it."
The glimpse inside told them their boss wasn't back yet. Sasha took that as a sign to slump onto one of the royal blue sofas, stretching her legs profoundly.
"Phew. That was quite a speech I gave back there, don't you think?" Anyone else would have probably congratulated her, if only out of politeness. But Tom was different. Sasha had never met a person as quiet and silent as Tom-and never had there been a person more different than herself, she thought. He smiled, he laughed, but was spare with his words. That only sometimes changed when they were alone.
Right now, he sat down-choosing an amrchair instead of a sofa-straightening his suit.
"You did okay." His eyes were on his tie, which he tampered with, "I fancied the way you 'chatted' with that Economist bitch."
Sasha should have expected this-and she had-so she simply rolled her eyes.
"God, Tom." She chortled and ran a hand through her loose, carrot hair, which needed a wash-badly, "Of all the peaceful, mutant-loving, all-are-equal things I said, you have to dig out the worst."
"The worst?" Tom craned an eyebrow, "Quoting:'One of the four self-declared truths...'" The corners of his lips jolted upwards, „Kelly is going to kiss you for that."
Sasha bore her eyes into his, though she had bathed in the compliment thoroughly.
„As I said-of all the worst."
Now that she gave it better thought, she did not think Kelly would kiss her for it. If the people could change the law and the government-and she had said the mutants were people, humans-did that not give them the right to change the government? What if they decided to 'change' the right of ordinary human beings for happiness and that shit?
No, there was not physically enough of them. But the public would take this as her saying that they did need to change the constitution in order to enforce this Act. And no one liked those words, save for her: changing the Constitution.
„Tom," She figured telling him would be fine. He would, at least, be honest with her, especially when he saw concern etched on her face. She sat up straighter, leaning her elbows against her knees and resting her head on them. Tom was looking at her with his eyebrow raised, still. He was one of those people with slow reactions, whose facial expressions rarely changed at a fast pace, „Don't you think I let a bit too much of my anti---„
The sentence never got to be finished.
For a moment, Sasha felt the ground to be shaking, but it was not what would have gotten in the way of her speaking her mind. What stopped her was the consequence of that shaking, and a vast blow coming from somewhere below.
Before she knew what was going on, Sasha was thrown into the air, a wave of heat pushing her upwards. Her first, incoherent thought after what-the-fuck was how she was going to hit the ceiling-and she did. But for some reason, she went through easily and painlessly. And she kept going up. The world was blurry, and she could not make out what had happened, but she heard another blast-another, yes, there had been one before-and one part of her mind realized it must have been a bomb.
It crossed her mind that a threat had come true-that the radicals had acted. That she was experiencing the aftermath of everyhting she had done and said-that someone was trying to get rid of her-I hope it will stop at trying.
Fucking Christ. She didn't want to die. Sasha Lennox-Butler could not die. She was a survivor, things like these happened only to others, Sasha had to live. Sasha had not come this far in order to be killed by freaking mutants. They won't have me! She decided with annoyance, ire, frustration-which must have been what had brought tears to her eyes.
Her landing was painful. She felt something breaking behind her back, something that felt like glass, and she clearly felt the shards. Jesus, my suit! Kelly was not going to like her prancing in front of the press in a wrecked suit. In fact, he'd probably fire her for falling just as for saying the thing about the self-declared truth. It was no expensive Versace, since Sasha picked clothing she liked, not brand—
Window. If that was a window, than her 4 inch Manolo Blahniks had just begun their fall from the third floor.
Manolos. Screw the Manolos.
She had begun her fall!
That thought erupted through her mind, and she would have screamed if she hadn't been to shocked to open her mouth. One fraction of her brain wondered what had become of Tom, the other wondered what her chances were, while a third was still on her shoes.
Then, they all went silent as she hit against something and the world turned shit black.
Shit, not pitch.
That was her final, conscious thought.
Just the introduction. More to come soon! =)