Interlude: Movement on the Horizon

A pale, red-haired woman strutted through the SHIELD helicarrier. The men (and more than a few of the women) she passed were drawn to the way her perfect ass and tits fit snugly into her catsuit. How they bounced and jiggled along with the sensual sway of her hips. One glare from her piercing green eyes was enough to send them all scurrying back to their assigned tasks.

Natasha Romanoff smirked.

She’d had the better part of a century to come to terms with the fact that her genetically-enhanced body was just another resource in her arsenal of weapons. Eternal youth, increased strength, and quicker healing were only a few of the benefits. After all, how could a hot-blooded human ever truly fight her with absolute focus when she displayed her assets for all to see, triggering hormonal responses in her opponents that distracted them and made them easier to subdue.

No, she hadn’t been offended by the obvious stares her co-workers with SHIELD had given her, but that didn’t mean she had to tell them.

The heavy, reinforced gray doors hummed as the hydraulics within shifted and the door opened, revealing an expansive office beyond. The area was Spartan in ways that befit its owner. No decorations lined the metal walls and not a single family picture rested on his thick mahogany desk.

A large window hung in the background, displaying the deep endless blue of the Atlantic ocean’s surface.

Nick always did have a flair for the dramatic.

The Director of Shield stood in the back of the room, facing the window. He turned after a few moments. His single eye beheld her coldly, not once tempted by the allure of her quite frankly gorgeous body.

“Hi Nick,” she said.

Nick Fury frowned at her. She grinned.

“Agent Romanoff,” he began. “It appears that we may have yet another mutant problem.”

Natasha refrained from raising her eyebrows.

“What’s Magneto done this time?”

“Not Magneto. Someone new,” Fury reached within his longcoat’s pocket and threw a datapad across the room.

Natasha caught it easily.

“A boy?” the dark-haired, pale-skinned teenager didn’t look like much of a threat, but she knew looks could be deceiving. In a world where a child like Franklin Richards possessed powers that could bend the very fabric of reality to his whims, one could ill-afford to make snap-judgments like that of anyone. Any individual person could potentially have the ability to burn entire continents with ease, such was the nature of the X-gene.

“Mark Williams. Mutant. Aged eighteen, high school senior, and he’s somehow managed to brainwash Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, and Jean Grey.”

Natasha’s eyes snapped up from the datapad.

“What?” a tinge of incredulity slipped into her voice. She took a deep breath to reign it in. “How could this have happened? Are the X-Men aware?”

Inwardly she was reeling. Jean Grey was one of the most powerful psychics in the world. For someone to have the ability to break through her mental defenses… she could scarcely imagine the power required to accomplish that.

“Data gathered by viruses placed within the Summers’, Munroe’s, and Grey’s phones has shown that the boy has some form of tactile mind control that can negate the telepathic defenses of psychics like Jean Grey by her own admission. It appears that Xavier had sent Ms. Munroe to recruit Williams into his school when he altered her and **** her to lure Jean Grey to his home so he could do the same to her. The Institute so far has displayed no indication that they are aware of what has transpired.”

Natasha furrowed her brows.

It makes sense that he’d want to establish control over Jean Grey as soon as possible. She mitigates the ranged weakness of his mind control ability.

“After a… prolonged period wherein Williams used Ms. Grey and Ms. Munroe sexually, he expanded outward into his hometown of Caldwell, Pennsylvania. He used Jean to enthrall the pedestrians in a mall to do his bidding for one night.”

The image on the datapad shifted to show the young boy mid-coitus with several older women, Jean and Ororo included.

Natasha reigned in her disgust. She might not have been the biggest fan of the X-Men, but to see such great women like that reduced to mere sexual playthings of a teenage boy made her fists clench.

Wait a minute, what’s that?

The former Soviet agent scrutinized the boy himself, particularly the organ between his legs.

Jesus Christ, he’s huge.

It was only due to her phenomenal willpower that her pussy didn’t tingle with arousal at the sight of such pure… manliness. The only other time she’d seen something like that had been when the Hulk’s purple stretch pants had stretched a bit too far during one of Bruce Banner’s worse transformations.

“Then he had Ms. Munroe call the Black Panther T’Challa to request transport to Wakanda.”

Don’t tell me…

“At this point it’s reasonable to assume that the upper echelons of Wakanda’s government including King T’Challa are under Mark Williams’ control.”

She shook her head at the incredulity of what she’d just heard. The movement caused her large breasts to sway back and forth.

“So what’s the mission?” she asked, already knowing the answer. There was a reason she’d been called in by herself and without the Avengers and she doubted very much that Fury would allow the use of Trask’s Sentinels against Williams and trigger a war with the most technologically advanced nation on the planet.

“Mark Williams is an unstable element that cannot be allowed to have an opportunity to use Wakanda’s resources to expand his control into other nations. Maintain utmost secrecy and gather a team of the best assassins on our payroll and terminate him.”

Erik Lensherr glanced at the datapad in front of him and then up at his most trusted subordinate. Mystique stared at him with her mysterious yellow eyes. The woman was clad in what Erik could only assume was a tribal outfit she’d obtained long before he was born. The outfit did little to conceal the woman’s supple curves.

“Are you sure this information is accurate, Mystique?”

“Fury is convinced that it’s accurate. That should be enough,” the blue-skinned mutant folded her arms under her big breasts, pushing them upward.

The Master of Magnetism nodded. He may have hated that infernal human for standing in the way of his plans to protect mutantkind time and time again, but he’d be a fool to not respect the man’s intelligence and commitment to his work. Magneto was many things, but never a fool.

“What do the homo sapiens have planned for our dear Mark Williams?”

“The apes want to **** him, of course,” Mystique smirked. “Fury’s tasked Natasha Romanoff herself to do the deed.”

Erik nodded. He’d suspected as much. Mankind had always reacted with **** to any unknown. He knew that better than anyone.

“Romanoff is competent enough that she might just succeed. We have to prevent that from happening. Williams has too much potential to be allowed to continue on his own,” Erik said.

Mystique bit her lip. Erik recognized the gesture. She was excited about recruiting this new boy into the Brotherhood of Mutants. With his ability to convert even the most powerful telepaths into loyal servants not even his old friend Charles Xavier would be safe. He could finally have his old friend back, but this time he’d be where he belonged: at his side leading mutantkind into a glorious future free from the threat of humanity.

“What’s our next move, Erik?” the blue-skinned woman asked.

Erik smiled and called his helmet to his hand. He settled the cold metal over his head.

“It’s quite obvious. We cannot allow the homo sapiens to harm the boy. Gather the Brotherhood. It’s time we made haste for Wakanda.”

Mystique nodded and turned, displaying her perfect bubble butt. It jiggled delectably as the femme fatale exited the room. Her loincloth swayed to the side, giving Erik an eyeful of her asscrack.

Magneto could barely contain his anticipation. At long last he’d finally found a mutant who could tip the scales in his favor.

The cold abyss of space had never bothered her before.

She shivered. The host was gone. The host was away from her. Galaxies away on that rock the little human mites called Earth.

She ignored the burning, drifting hulks of the Shi'ar warcruisers that had foolishly attempted to destroy her.

She was lonely. She missed the host. She missed Jean.

They had been perfect together. Why had Jean sent her away?

She’d refrained from contacting the host for over two Terran years. Perhaps it was time she’d rectified that.

A psychic pulse screamed across the cosmos like a burning star.

The pulse returned. Instead of happiness and elation at finding the host alive and well, she felt anger instead.

Something was wrong.

The host had been overtaken. Captured. Enslaved.

One name passed across the Phoenix's thoughts and she spread her wings and accelerated to a speed far exceeding that of light.

Mark Williams.

He would die.