Messing with the Hill

Maria Hill expected the unexpected. It’s part of her job. She knew anything could happen at any time, and it fell upon her to manage those expectations. Recently, her plate has adjusted slightly; a while ago, she was campaigning with Natasha on the side of keeping this new potential threat under wraps. After her altercation with him, one where she made a rather humiliating mistake, but where she was still able to display her ability to adapt before he was able to act on such a slip-up, things were painted in a slightly different light. Was Natasha wrong about him? No. Hill still agrees with the notion that he needs to be handled, watched closely, monitored, and directed. It just goes to be a wonderful coincidence that all those listed needs are exactly what she does, exponentially well too. It was complicated, but if she had to pick a side, she’d still be with Natasha; that will never change. She understands her more than anyone here, and the feeling was mutual.

It's just that. The Black Widow would most certainly believe she was being mind-controlled if she were to try to inform her of this. It’s not a shock, it’s not an insult, it’s a simple cause and effect. Maria can fully understand this; Widow would see it as simply as this. Agent Hill encountered the mind controller subject. Agent Hill lost her mind control protection earpiece. Only after that does Agent Hill change how she treats the subject. Natasha won’t see or believe the fact that Maria was quick enough to handle the situation; she was quick enough to get the earbuds back in, and of course, she wouldn’t let herself be controlled by a mere teenager. The Black Widow will simply see her as compromised. And truth be told, Maria wouldn’t have it any other way, it proves Natasha is ever the agent she knows she is. The others let emotion guide their judgment, which leads to more problems than they’d like to admit. Maria? Natasha? They don’t let that happen.

Unfortunately, now is the only situation where that poses a potential dilemma. The one person here Maria would like to confide in and use her own equally efficient mind to help keep this boy contained, under wraps, and monitored, is the one person she cannot let know of her new game plan. It would be so easy to go to Natasha and say, “I am not being mind controlled, I would know if I were. You and I are the two most practical ones here, trust me not to be an idiot who can’t even tell she’s being manipulated, and help me do what we both want to do; keep this boy from becoming a problem.”

But the second she even attempts that. It’ll be a one-on-one scuffle, with two of the most competent hand-to-hand fighters on the planet. One thinks the other is mind-controlled. The other trying to explain she isn’t. At times, Maria did consider posing the potential idea, what if she is being controlled, and made to think she isn’t. But the simple fact is, her mind has gone through so much rigorous training in all aspects of the mind, she would know, she’d notice an inconstancy, something that can’t be explained, something odd, something that simply put, doesn’t make sense. Yet none of that has been seen, maybe because she isn’t being controlled.

So, while she is ready to expect the unexpected. There are a few wild cards she has to always be alert for. One being the Black Widow herself. Maria has been keeping tabs on everyone else, hidden cameras, personal spies, and her own stealthy tracking. But the one person she can’t even risk monitoring is the Black Widow, Natasha will notice any bugs, even if a vase is slightly shifted to the left, she’d catch onto it. A slight shift in ambient temperature from someone else in a room with her. If it's traceable even at a microscopic level, the Black Widow might very well see it. And even if she fails to notice something, the risk? It’s just not worth it.

Her other wild card is Jean herself. Of course, one of the most threatening problems is one of her own making. Before she realized she should change her approach to keeping the perverted teen obedient and oblivious under her heel, she had foolishly agreed to Natasha’s notion, and they both, as co-heads of S.H.I.E.L.D., signed on for the X-Men to send a telepath. But by the time Maria had come to her senses and found a much better way to handle things, she couldn’t cancel it without alerting Natasha. She had managed to delay it a couple of times, which was the best plan on the table. But of course, the telepath assigned to the task was Jean Grey, who is visiting the city with her husband today of all times. So she couldn’t even delay it any longer without it raising eyebrows. Not when Jean is literally in the city with them, what a convenience. It’s too convenient. She has her suspicions that Natasha had something to do with that date. Planned months in advance? Yet they agreed on a later date for the original meeting when they were coming here anyway? There’s more to the story. But that’s neither here nor there. She needs to be proactive, not reactive. And currently, she’s reacting. That is not optional, and anything non-optional is not acceptable. But to look at an unfortunate situation as something somewhat positive, the fact that Jean ended up being the one chosen was the best outcome if this had to occur.

Jean is one of those emotionally driven heroes who always cause problems. Emma Frost aligns more with Maria and Natasha; she is results-focused and uncaring about anyone’s emotions. The second she set foot in the city, they would’ve lost. Unless her confidence were to get the better of her, she’d waste no time, read Jonathan’s mind, and everything she worked to hide would be undone before she could even blink. But Jean isn’t Emma. That’s how she can play this. It’s the only way she can play this. Even if she still isn’t sure what the best course of action is.

She needs time. She needs quiet. And she most certainly doesn’t need another damn wild card showing up on her desk!

Seeing Janet’s car pull up made her audibly sigh and roll her eyes. She quickly pulled up the monitors, all the hidden cameras in the Wasp’s penthouse popped up, and she did a prompt survey of the footage. They were sleeping, like good little oblivious puppets falling in tune with the path she was setting for them. Like usual, everything is going exactly according to her plans. Then, everything changed when Janet began to shrink. Instead of staying there, as she should, the giant hero shifts back to her normal height, leaving her boobs massive, making quite the ridiculous and embarrassing sight, so embarrassing in fact that Maria had to save that as a screenshot for potential **** later (juvenile, yes, but she never liked Janet all that much anyway). Then Janet, as naked as the day she was born, walked her jiggly titties and butt cheeks over to the wall; and to Maria’s genuine surprise, opened a hidden compartment door, which revealed a hidden elevator, different from the actual elevator she already had her agents bug. Then the doors closed shut.

Ticked off that Janet had a secret she didn’t already know of, and logged, she instantly searched through all the other cameras, even the one in the lab that had been quite tricky to secure in place without being caught.

Nothing.

“Damn it.” She muttered. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, “They have a secret lab. A secret damn lab. Shit.”

Maria prides herself on knowing everything. But even when she knows everything, she’s always reminded that she knows nothing. Shit.

Anything could’ve happened in that lab. Janet could’ve somehow stumbled into a device that cured her mind control, and she’s reporting to the Avengers.

No, if that happened, there would have been an imminent fallout, the cause before the effect. She checked in on Jessica’s studio apartment. The curvaceous heroine was still asleep on her couch, in nothing but a bra and panties, a pizza slice left on her boobs, which spilled onto either side of her chest as she fell asleep with the TV on. Clint was spending a concerning amount of time in the bathroom, no doubt from the Mexican food he had eaten earlier that day. She-Hulk is still currently studying for her court case in the morning, not in just a bra and panties like Jessica, but not wearing a bra or panties, only a jacket half on with her green nipples and coochie breathing the stale apartment air.

It is a surprise how careless people are when they don’t know they are being watched. But regardless, Maria’s sure Janet didn’t inform anyone, or she’d have known. The footage did reveal Janet returning to the main penthouse floor, only to look to be in a rush. She quickly showered, ran back in, took Jonathan’s phone, shrunk it, then proceeded to kiss and rub up against the sleeping boy before zooming out of the room…

So… what is this about?

There is only one way to find out.

Maria pressed a button on her desk, “Melinda. The Wasp is on her way. Be prepared. Send her in immediately.”

“Of course, Director Hill,” came the immediate, stoic reply.

She closed the connection, her eyes narrowing at the door. ‘‘She didn’t have time for this…’’ Maria leaned back in her chair, the expensive leather creaking softly under her weight. She smoothed the front of her crisp, dark uniform jacket, her expression a mask of cool indifference. Her eyes, however, were sharp and calculating, scanning the empty space before her desk as if she could see the future unfolding there. She had to be ready. She had to be one step ahead. She was always one step ahead.

The doors hissed open, and Janet Van Dyne strode in, a whirlwind of confidence and high-fashion combat boots. Her Wasp suit was immaculate, the black and yellow gleaming under the office’s recessed lighting. She looked like she’d just stepped off a magazine cover, not spent ten hours in a secret lab doing who knows what.

“Maria, honey,” Janet began, her voice dripping with the kind of practiced charm that could sell ice to an Eskimo.

Maria scowled. They are on the same side, or should be on the same side, not due to a desire, but due to a fact; it's the best way to handle Jonathan. “Janet.” Her tone was flat, a stark contrast to Janet’s effervescence. “To what do I owe the… unannounced visit?” Her eyes flickered over Janet, noting the perfect hair, the flawless makeup. Too perfect. Like a mask.

“Can’t a girl just drop in to say hi to her favorite co-Director?” Janet sauntered over to the panoramic window, feigning interest in the New York skyline. “Wow, the view from here is almost as good as mine. Almost. Also, congrats, I heard the news. I could tell you were trying to keep it under wraps.”

“You have a secure line,” Maria countered, ignoring the other part, not buying the act for a second. “You also have my personal number. You didn’t use either. So, let’s try this again. What do you want?”

Janet turned from the window, her smile never wavering. “Alright, you got me.” She tapped a perfectly manicured finger against her temple. “It’s about a little side project. Hank and I are developing a new bio-scanner. Hyper-sensitive. It’s for a new line of medical diagnostic tools Van Dyne Industries is pushing. The prototype needs a specific type of psionic dampener to filter out ambient psychic noise. I need a schematic. Or better yet, one of the actual field units. I was hoping you could… requisition one for me. I do see you’re wearing some right now.” She pointed to the barely visible device nestled in Maria’s ear.

Maria’s gaze didn’t soften. If anything, it hardened. “Medical diagnostic tools? Janet, I’m the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Not your personal supply clerk. We don’t just hand out top-tier telepathic countermeasures because you’re working on a new gizmo. Put in a formal request. It’ll be processed in six to eight months.” Of course, they could process them faster than that. With how many telepaths there are, she could have them handed over in moments, but she wasn’t going to let her know that.

“Oh, come on, Maria,” Janet pouted, actually pouting. “Don’t be like that. We’re on the same team here. Think of it as… inter-agency cooperation. I’ll even put your name on the patent.” She took a step closer to the desk, her posture shifting from casual flirty to earnest businesswoman. “And I can’t wait six to eight months. The investor demo is next week. It’s for the Stark Foundation. For sick kids, Director Hill. You want to be the reason a bunch of sick kids don’t get their fancy new scanner?”

Maria remained unmoved, her arms crossed over her chest. “Then you should have planned better. The answer is no.” She didn’t know what her game was, and she wasn’t going to humor it. Not only was she acting out of Maria’s planned expectations, but she's asking for a pair of the only devices that can keep someone immune to his powers? There’s already enough of those things in rotation for her liking. Only certain people need them. Maria herself, to prevent some brat from controlling all of S.H.I.E.L.D… or half of the shield, with Natasha being the other half. But Janet and her ant-obsessed husband for sure as hell doesn’t need any more, who knows what they can get up to inside that secret lab of theirs.

The playful charm vanished from Janet’s face in an instant, replaced by something colder, sharper. The smile remained, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I was hoping you’d say no.”

The co-director of Shield raised an eyebrow, “Why’s that?” She leaned back in her chair. “Because if I say no, it’s no. I promise you, you won’t be getting any sets from Shield. Maybe ask the Avengers to borrow one of theirs, each of them has one.”

“Oh no-no-no. I can’t ask them. Trying to keep a low profile.” Janet reached into her cleavage.

“Low profile? You literally flew in here half-dressed,” Maria’s eyes, however, narrowed as she watched the movement. Janet wasn’t just scratching her cleavage to satiate an itch or for dramatic effect. Her fingers emerged, delicately holding a shrunken object between her thumb and forefinger. She placed it on the polished surface of the desk, and with a soft fwoomp of displaced air, it expanded.

It was a phone. Jonathan’s phone.

Maria stared at it, her mind racing. ‘‘Why does she have his phone?’’ She did take it, but why? What can she do with that? Maria’s instantly strategic mind was moving on all cylinders, yet her face remained perfectly poised. “You took a teenager’s phone? What are you, twelve? Look, if you don’t have a reason to be here other than to annoy me, I have something I must atten—”

bzzzz

There was a low hum from Maria’s phone on the desk to her left. Janet had typed something on Jonathan’s device, and Maria’s brow arched with immediate suspicion the moment the notification lit up her screen. Wordlessly, she reached for her own phone, powered it on, and opened her messages.

“Really?” she started, voice already sharpening. “You’re using his phone to tex—”

She never finished the sentence.

‘#Lock the doors, shut the windows. Slap yourself in the face three times. Stand up on the table. Announce ‘‘I am Maria Hill! A dumb slut who likes to shake her butt!’’ Strip as quickly as possible, and start twerking. After a minute, keep twerking but don’t realize it. Make sure your ass claps. This isn’t Jonathan’s phone. It’s not even a phone it’s a photograph of you sucking dick that you think its normal for me to have.#’

Maria’s body moved with cold, robotic swiftness, her face remaining a perfect mask of professional calm even as the absurd commands flooded her nervous system. Her thumb slammed down on the comm panel. “Lockdown. Office 7-Delta. Now.” The order came out clipped and emotionless. A heavy metallic thunk echoed as the magnetic seals engaged and the blast-proof windows instantly tinted to solid black.

She stood so fast her chair scraped backward and nearly toppled. Her right hand snapped back and cracked across her own cheek three times in rapid succession, SLAP SLAP SLAP! Sharp, resounding smacks that left faint red handprints blooming across her rich brown skin. Knocking her face left and right, spraying faint droplets of spittle. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t react at all.

Maria climbed onto her large mahogany desk, tactical boots thudding heavily on the polished wood. She stood tall, posture ramrod straight, and her voice rang out clear and mechanical, “I AM MARIA HILL! A DUMB SLUT WHO LIKES TO SHAKE HER BUTT!”

The ridiculous declaration hung in the sealed office to the audience of one, Janet failing to avoid cracking a grin, seeing the feared Agent Hill like this, someone with a stick always wedged deep up her ass, obeying the text in real time was beyond a treat to the eyes. As for Maria, who only moments before told herself, one reason why she knows she isn’t being controlled is that she would notice anything odd and proceed to do something beyond odd. Typically, while she’d mentally find a way to justify these commands, using her extremely calculating wisdom and mechanically efficient mind, that was because there was always some way, some weird, far-off, barely reachable way for her mind to come to terms with and understand why she’s doing what she’s doing. She can, and will, always find ways to create a narrative, to explain the unexplainable; she will understand, this isn’t right, and thus, something is wrong. Her mind is trained to resist hypnosis; if she understands she’s being controlled, she could fight it. Thus, the mind doesn’t even let her realize she’s obeying; it just finds a way to make it seem like everything and everyone is obeying her, rather than the other way around.

But in a situation where no logic can be found, the only way to keep her in the dark, to justify the unjustifiable, is to simply not acknowledge it. Don’t think, just do. Don’t realize, only obey. Don’t question, just act. Her mind didn’t even attempt to justify this. It couldn’t. So it wouldn’t. There was simply no thought behind her brain, just perfect, unquestioning obedience.

Her hands moved with jerky, unnatural speed. She yanked the zipper of her black tactical jacket all the way down, the tight fabric parting to reveal the way the reinforced suit had been hugging her full, heavy breasts. She shrugged the jacket off her shoulders and let it drop. The fitted undershirt followed, peeled over her head in one smooth motion, exposing a simple black sports bra that was clearly struggling to contain her. That came off next, and her large, firm breasts spilled free, smooth brown skin, dark nipples already tightened in the cool office air.

She kicked off her boots, then shoved her tactical pants and plain cotton panties down her long, toned legs in one violent motion, stepping out of them with robotic efficiency. The powerful Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. now stood completely naked on her own desk, every inch of her athletic, bronze-skinned, curvaceous body on display: full breasts, narrow waist, the sculpted lines of her abs, the generous swell of her ass, and the smooth, shaved mound between her thighs. The faintly noticeable scattering of dark freckles staining the light brown skin made her figure all the more dangerously beautiful. Janet didn’t have a bisexual bone in her body and felt not a drop of arousal from seeing this. But she did feel a pulse of lust soiling her panties from within the suit at the thought of how happy Jonathan would be seeing this. He’s a good kid, eighteen, wanting to do the right thing. But he has a side that likes the fun that comes with his powers; she knows this well. He’d have a swell time just bossing her around; humiliating her for no reason but enjoyment, cranky bitches deserve it. And no one is harmed.

Maria squatted.

Her back arched sharply, pushing her huge, round, brown ass out with huge, bubbly ambition toward Janet. Hands braced on her knees, Maria began to twerk with cold, mechanical precision. Her wide hips snapped back and forth in sharp, powerful thrusts, making her thick, heavy cheeks clap loudly and wetly with every brutal motion… CLAP…! CLAP…! CLAP…! the lewd, fleshy sounds ringing through the sealed office like gunfire. Each powerful thrust sent her massive brown ass rippling and bouncing, the smooth, dark caramel skin rippling in hypnotic waves as her cheeks collided again and again.

Her sloshing titties swung and bounced violently beneath her in time with the motion, full and pendulous, dark nipples hard from the cool air. The sight was obscene: the proud, iron-willed Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. reduced to a naked, brainless fucktoy violently shaking her fat ass on her own desk like the cheapest stripper.

Yet her face remained completely blank. Eyes glassy and unfocused, mouth slack, not a single spark of shame, embarrassment, or even awareness flickering across her sharp features. She was gone. Only the body remained, obediently degrading itself with robotic efficiency. Janet leaned back in the guest chair, legs crossed, a slow, predatory grin spreading across her lips as she drank in the humiliating display. The once-unbreakable Maria Hill was twerking her huge brown ass with everything she had, cheeks clapping loudly, tits bouncing wildly, while her mind stayed perfectly, blissfully empty.

Mission successful. At least part one. As long as the text had come from Jonathan, Maria would obey; even if some distant corner of her mind knew he hadn’t actually sent it. Typing it out before she ever walked into the office had been worth every second. Janet had already switched her own phone to record the moment she stepped inside; she’d show the full, humiliating video to her little pervert later. Right now, she was too busy enjoying the show.

For the first full minute, Maria twerked like a perfectly programmed machine, big brown butt thrust out, cheeks clapping loud and wet with every brutal snap of her hips. Then the second half of the command took hold.

Maria never stopped.

Her thick, round ass kept bouncing and clapping rhythmically behind her… CLAP! CLAP…! CLAP~! The heavy, fleshy sounds echoed through the sealed office without pause. Her heavy breasts swung and bounced wildly beneath her in time with the motion, dark nipples still hard and glistening. But her face smoothed back into its usual cool, professional mask. Her voice returned to its normal clipped, authoritative tone as if nothing at all was unusual. She didn’t acknowledge that she was still completely naked. She didn’t notice that her wide hips were still thrusting and rolling, making her massive caramel-colored cake ripple and clap so obscenely it was beyond ridiculous, right there on top of her own mahogany desk. She simply continued to act like the unflappable Co-Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Maria reached down without breaking rhythm, scooped up her discarded tactical jacket with one hand, and draped it neatly over the back of her chair—still twerking the whole time. Her voice stayed perfectly steady.

“—text from his ph…” she finished her original sentence as though the last minute and a half of degradation had never happened. She was going to say phone, but that’s not true. That’s not a phone, she wouldn’t let herself be embarrassed by thinking Janet had his phone. Cute trick, Van Dyne." She glanced toward the device in Janet’s hand, and her expression didn’t flicker. “But that image isn’t going to make me hand over the psychic dampeners. I don’t care that you have that. If anything, it would be more concerning if you didn’t own an image of me sucking dick like a complete and utter slut.” To Maria, it wasn’t a phone at all. It was simply a photograph of herself on her knees sucking cock, one she fully believed Janet had every right to own and look at. Perfectly normal. Nothing worth commenting on.

Move on.

Her huge brown ass kept clapping loudly behind her in a steady, hypnotic rhythm while she spoke, cheeks colliding with wet, obscene ****. Splashing ass sweat from her musty suit trapped heat with each meaty, moist impact.

Janet watched, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. This was even better than she’d imagined. The iron-willed Maria Hill, continuing to **** herself with brutal efficiency while pretending everything was business as usual. “Okay, fair enough, so I really can’t convince you?” She said, holding back a laugh while pulling up Jonathan’s phone again.

Maria’s heavy jugs continued to bounce and sway with every thrust. Not once did her blank, professional eyes drop to her own naked body or acknowledge the shameless display. “No, you can’t,” she said, her voice as cold and authoritative as ever. “It’s a non-starter. Put in the request like everyone else. Now if you’re done wasting my time with these pathetic attempts at **** and your slutty little photograph, I have a telepathic consultation to prepare f—”

There was another buzz, and while still twerking, Maria managed to snatch her phone from the desk. Her face, still a mask of professional indifference, tilted down. Then she saw it.

‘#Change your mind. Get Janet as many of the devices as she wants. In fact. In the nicest, most apologetic way, ask how many she wants. Then lead her to the private cells underground to give her access to the convicts held up in confinement, once you know we are 100% private, salute and march behind me like an obedient soldier.#’

Her body reacted instantly. The relentless clapping of her ass cheeks ceased. She stood up straight on the desk, her naked, curvaceous body rigid as a board. Even as the fat and meatiness behind her tits and asses still jiggled to a slow pace. Then, she stepped down, not with the mechanical jerkiness of before, but with a strange, smooth grace; she realized something quite quickly. She needs to give Janet exactly what she’s looking for; that concern was misplaced. Even if she doesn’t fully understand her game, she will continue to remain in the dark if she doesn’t pretend to play ball. If she lets Dyne have exactly what she’s here for, she can then plant a bug on them, and whenever she takes them, Maria’s eyes will follow.

“My apologies, Ms. Van Dyne,” Maria said, her voice dripping with a sincerity so profound it was utterly sickening. Of course, it was all an act, an idea she forged herself. “I have… reconsidered. You’re right. The Stark Foundation’s work is paramount, and S.H.I.E.L.D. should be doing everything in its power to support it.” She bowed her head slightly, a gesture of submission so out of character she wondered if she was playing it up too much, “How many of the psionic dampener units do you require? Please, don’t hesitate. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

Janet’s eyebrows shot up. This was even more potent than she’d calculated. She held back a triumphant smirk, opting for a look of thoughtful consideration. “Well… I’ll need a full set for the prototype lab itself. That’s five units. Then I’ll need a mobile unit for field testing. And… a few spares. Let’s say a dozen, to be safe. Twenty-four!”

Maria nodded, her expression gravely serious, as if Janet had just requested the nuclear codes. “Of course. Twenty-four units. Consider it done.” She took a step towards the wall, her naked body moving with an unnerving confidence. Using an invisible keypad on the smooth metallic surface, impossible to see to all but only those who know (that being a number small enough to count on her hand), she opened the hidden hatch in the wall, causing a thick hiss to ooze into the air, followed by a sliding door revealing an array of high-tech equipment.

The shelves were lined with the sleek, silver devices, each no bigger than a hearing aid, nestled in magnetic cradles. Maria retrieved a hardened case from a lower slot, her movements efficient and precise despite her complete nudity. She began to carefully load the twenty-four units into the foam-lined interior, her face a mask of solemn duty. The sight of the feared Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., bare-assed and concentrating on filling a box with spy gear, at the command of a text was a surreal sight to anyone but Hill herself. Of course, she knew full well what she was doing and why. She never acts without thought (ignoring how she literally did that before, her mind won’t acknowledge that in order to keep her from realizing the control).

Janet watched, genuinely impressed. The kid was good. Really good. This level of control, this ability to completely rewrite the personality of a woman like Maria Hill… it was terrifying. And it was the single most useful tool she’d ever come across. This is the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., or half of the director. If she can also get this same level of control over Natasha, that’s it. S.H.I.E.L.D. is Jonathan’s. And they won’t even know it.

Once the case was secured, Maria turned back to her, her dark eyes unreadable, a perfect mask that always keeps her on top. “The devices are yours.” She handed them over, failing to mention how she had rather easily placed microscopic transparent bugs on each of them. If she had less control over her emotions, she’d allow a sly smirk to creep across her lips. Sometimes her own skills still manage to impress her, but by now, gaming the system, always finding a way to turn a situation into something usable, is just what she does. On that note… “I can take you to a private terminal in the sub-levels. There’s a holding facility down there, but the calibration room is isolated. No one will disturb us.” She didn’t know why the thought came to her, but she’s glad it did. Taking Janet down to the holding facility, where they hold their most dangerous threats, is something Janet might end up telling Jonathan if he ever asks her where she’d gone.

Exactly something she can use to further pull his strings. If Janet tells him about the facility, he’ll be put on edge, knowing what happens to threats that step out of line. An indirect warning to keep himself within his own lane, or the lane Maria is building for him. She rewards good behavior just like she punishes the bad, but this is just another step to keep him on a leash.

The thought process was entirely her own. No one had anything to do with that. Her own quick thinking and ability to work with situations on the fly are to blame.

“A holding facility?” Janet’s lips curled into a sly, intrigued smile. She took the case from Maria’s naked hand, her fingers brushing against the Director’s skin. “Sounds… secure. Lead the way. Oh, wait.”

Maria nodded curtly, her body still moving with that strange, detached confidence. She turned and strode toward the far wall of her office, her sloshing, brown bosom bouncing slightly with each step. She was about to place her palm against a seamless panel, there, her literal nakedness not a concern, it’ll be a perfect way to show that under new leadership, skinship is something that will just have to be accepted when she chooses to. It further cements her word as law. And will establish that she can do what she wants, especially when Natasha isn’t in the office.

“Crap, wait!” Janet blurted, pulling out that cock sucking picture again.

Maria turned, already rolling her eyes, “What is it now? And just because you have that image doesn’t—”

Her phone buzzed.

She stopped what she was saying to check.

‘#Pinch your nipples hard because you were about to go outside naked like an idiot, apologize to me. Then dress like normal first.#’

Maria’s hands shot up to her breasts. Her fingers found her own dark, hard nipples and pinched. Hard. A sharp, hissing breath escaped her teeth, a flicker of actual pain crossing her face before being smoothed away by the mind’s insistence that this was a perfectly normal, logical course of action. Of course, she should pinch her own nipples. She had almost walked out of her office naked. That was a foolish, unprofessional mistake. She deserved this. The pain was a necessary correction. Just like she punishes insubordination, just like she rewards Jonathan’s good behavior by deactivating his monitor, she has to make sure that both punishing and rewarding are treated as one and the same. “My apologies… Jonathan,” she murmured, her voice low and strained, the name of someone not here slipping out without her understanding why she used it. She just felt it was the appropriate thing to say, to practice in case she ever finds herself in a situation where she might have to apologize to a teenager.

Janet blinked, “Oh, right, you think he typed that.” She chuckled.

Maria ignored that, of course, Dyne would say complete nonsense; she had somewhere to go.

Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned back toward her desk, her movements once again efficient and businesslike. She began to dress. The simple cotton panties came first, then her tactical tights, the snug fit concealing the generous curve of her ass. The black sports bra went on next. Finally, she pulled on her bodysuit and zipped it up to the point where it lined her figure like a second layer of skin. Once again, the immaculate, intimidating Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. The entire transformation took less than thirty seconds.

“Follow me,” She said, placing her hand on the panel, unlocking the doors to her office. “The sub-levels are this way. Please, try to keep up.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, simply turned and strode out into the corridor, her back ramrod straight. Janet smirked, picked up the case of dampeners, and hurried after her, the sound of her fashionable boots echoing behind Maria’s determined, tactical stride. She was just a hero following another hero on an important mission. At least, that’s what it looked like to anyone who might be watching.

And in the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D., someone was always watching.

Agent Malinda May remained unseen at the opposite edge of the hall, and only a glint of her hair flowed past the corner as she had already taken a glimpse as the duo left the office. Her expression was as impassive as carved granite. She saw Hill emerge, fully dressed, her expression grim and focused. She saw the Wasp follow close behind. Whatever they had done in the locked room wasn’t her business; she isn’t the director of Shield, nor an Avenger. But. She was the one informed by the other current Co-Director, Natasha Romanoff, to keep an eye on key subjects. Two of whom are on that list just left that office.

She reached into her pocket and keyed her private comms; the channel was encrypted and untraceable, leading to only one person. “Romanoff.”

The line was silent for a moment. “Report, May.”

“Hill just left her office with Van Dyne,” she said.

“Good. Keep watch. I’m making entry.” Natasha’s voice was calm as a frozen lake.

“Understood.”

The connection severed. May turned and walked away to the alternate position, her footsteps, despite the heels, making no sound at all.

---

Janet made her best attempt to appear casual, as if being escorted through the top-secret maximum-security sub-basement of S.H.I.E.L.D. was just a routine Tuesday. But even for a seasoned Avenger, the atmosphere was oppressive. The air grew colder with each step, the lights dimmer, the silence more profound. It was a maze of sterile white corridors and heavy blast doors, each one bearing a coded designation which she couldn’t begin to understand. She saw no one else. The place felt less like a facility and more like a tomb. They reached beyond the point most of the agents from above had access to, and even most of the heroes who had ever been in the Triskelion. For Janet, this is a treat.

“You run a tight ship, Maria,” she commented, her voice a little too loud in the suffocating quiet.

“We value security here,” Maria replied, not breaking stride. She didn’t so much as glance at Janet. Her focus was absolute. Every camera, every motion sensor, every pressure plate was a point on a mental map she navigated flawlessly. “Unlike some organizations, which seem to value flashy entrances and public relations stunts. The Avengers come to mind. Or… even,” She clicked her tongue, “S.W.O.R.D.” her breath spat, as if tasting something foul at even the utterance of the word.

“Oh wow,” Janet chuckled. “Someone’s cranky. Still mad I dropped in unannounced?”

“I’m mad that you’re wasting resources and my time with a project you’re clearly not being transparent about,” Maria said flatly. “I have half a mind t—”

Whatever the bronze-skinned, no-nonsense woman had intended to say never finished coming out of those plush lips of hers, as apparently they reached enough depths that the next part of the earlier command activated. Janet’s eyes went wide as she saw the powerful Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. abruptly come to a halt. She turned to face Janet, her expression blank. Then her right hand snapped up, her fingers rigid and thumb perfectly aligned, and she brought it to her temple in a salute so crisp it could have cut glass. The salute held for a beat.

Then, she pivoted on her heel, her movements perfectly synchronized, and began to march behind Janet, exactly one meter back, off her left shoulder. Her footsteps were heavy and rhythmic, a perfect military cadence that echoed through the silent corridor. She had transformed from the intimidating Co-Director into an automaton, a faceless soldier awaiting a command.

The whiplash was dizzying. Janet had to fight to keep her own jaw from dropping. This was real. This was staggeringly real. The text had given her an obedient soldier. She couldn’t help it. She let out a small, giddy laugh.

“Okay,” she said, turning slightly to look at the marching Director behind her. “Forward. March.”

Maria’s compliance was instant. Her pace quickened to match Janet’s, her posture never wavering, her face a perfect, unreadable mask of obedience. As before, while her mind was effectively a supercomputer when it came to formulating, executing, and analyzing situations and plans, Maria simply couldn’t think of a reason why acting like a robotic subordinate to The Wasp, of all people, could further her own goals. So instead, her mind just decided not to let itself realize what was happening. No… no, her mind could think of a reason… She had simply decided to switch positions for some reason. A tactical decision. Yes. She was letting Janet take point to better observe her body language, to see if her focus wavered when faced with the high-security environment. That was it. It was all part of her plan. Why did she also salute her, as if she were the subordinate, and not the co-head of this entire organization… her mind didn’t have a reason for that yet, so she just didn’t even realize she was doing that part. Her brain is too intelligent to allow her to notice things that can’t be logically deduced.

Questions lead to thoughts, thoughts lead to questions, and questions can fall into realizations, realizations that mind control might be in play. And Maria’s mind has been trained to resist mind control; if she knew it was happening, her training might come into play. It’s a series of events that didn’t need to occur; hence why she saluted without a thought as to why, instead keeping her mind set on carefully observing Janet, while leading her exactly where the heroine wanted to go.

The deeper they went, the more the atmosphere shifted. The pristine white walls gave way to a dark, gunmetal gray. The lighting became sparse, casting long, dancing shadows. The occasional blast door was replaced by reinforced porthole windows, through which Janet could catch glimpses of… things. Not cells. Containment units. One held what looked like a swirling cloud of purple energy, another what seemed to be a petrified tree that hummed with a low, discordant vibration.

“Whoa,” Janet murmured, slowing to look through one of the portholes. Inside was a man, perfectly still, seated on a simple metal bench. He looked normal, unassuming, but the air around him seemed to shimmer, like a heat haze on asphalt. “What’s his story?”

Maria, still marching dutifully behind her, answered without missing a beat. “That is—”

“Actually, I don’t care,” Janet admitted. She didn’t have time for this. She kept walking, looking around the cellars and briefly peeking into every one. Looking for someone in particular.

It was impossible for Maria not to frown at such a brazenly rude and abrupt interruption. It took her every ounce of discipline not to shift the power dynamics into the truth of their situation, standing like some subservient subordinate, locked at attention, chest thrust forward pressing so firmly against the extremely skin-tight uniform, each defined shape of her breasts was perfectly detailed; all with her right hand up by her temple like she was salutin— wait, why was her hand up there…? Never mind, it’s not important. She continued to salute and march behind Janet as the petite corset-clad heroine moved from cell to cell.

The thought of asking and offering insight into who the Avenger was looking for crossed her mind, but, truth be told, seeing her waste her oh-so-important time was quite amusing to the co-director.

“Okay, where is… Oh~!” Janet paused, peering into a cell, seeing a familiar face in a striped green shirt. “Sandman! Long time no see!” She tapped the glass.

Maria stopped marching, her posture still rigid, the salute she didn’t know she was making still resting against her head. “That’s William Baker; he is a Category-D biohazard. A sentient silicon-based lifeform with the ability to control sand. We’re attempting to make contact with The Raft in order to properly contain him.”

“Yeah, I know who he is, I freakin’ fought him!” Janet looked over to add, “But The Raft? Dang, you’re serious. You guys never put him there before.”

“Well, I’ve never been in charge before. But now that I am, things are going to change. Similar to The Avengers, he is a danger, one that cannot be controlled, so he must be contained,” she stated, as if that explained everything. It did, in her world. The Avengers were unpredictable, powerful, and a security nightmare.

Janet rolled her eyes at the stoic woman; all that authority and strict power were just tools for Johnathan to use. It was so hilarious how oblivious she truly was. She’s literally standing there saluting like a henchman while boasting about how she’s in control of things. It was hard not to just laugh in her face. Instead, she looked over to the confined criminal. She pressed the button on the side of the door so he could hear them. “Flint Marko, Flint Marko, Flint Marko…” Janet’s fingers tapped against the thick, reinforced glass. The Sandman inside, sitting on the floor, looked up with lazy, half-lidded eyes. He seemed content, almost bored. The cell wasn’t a cell so much as a glass box, a huge, reinforced aquarium, with a small pool of wet sand in one corner, and a bench on the other. It was the equivalent of a goldfish bowl for a dangerous super being. The entire thing was quite moist; she could even see a constant moist steam bathing him from above. Maria, as oblivious as she is, really is good. She does her research; all this water would certainly keep him from using his powers to any threatening degree.

“You okay, buddy?”

He looked at her, but didn’t answer.

“Flinty,” She patted the glass. “Come on.”

“Shut the hell up, bug.” He snapped, and a chunk of his own face fell as his entire sandy body was in a constant state of falling apart. “The damn spider wouldn’t have let me be tortured in a place like this.” He said to her, but was clearly looking at Maria.

Janet raised an eyebrow, “Well, you are a criminal, and you did try to rob a bank. People could’ve gotten hurt. Maybe Spider-Man should’ve made sure you were locked up like this.”

Sandman grumbled, “Yeah, I can’t even stand up. I’m in constant pain. Does that seem right, hero?”

“Again, you could’ve hurt a lot of people. You stole an entire bank. That’s a huge step from robbing it.”

He didn’t answer her, just mumbled under his breath. “This is hell.”

Janet’s smile faded. She wasn’t here to chat with the man. “Well, good talk.” She said and turned back to the saluting Director. “Alright. Lead me to—”

“I just needed some money!” She heard the gruff criminal from behind her, in a tone more **** now. “To help my sick daughter. Doesn’t matter how much you, so-called heroes, **** me; I have no regrets. And what the hell is this anyway? No trial? Where’s the woman Hulk, that green chick? Ain’t she a lawyer? Is that not a thing you freaks do anymore?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard the sick kid thing before,” Janet said, waving him off dismissively. “Doesn’t give you an excuse to commit crimes.”

“I’d do whatever it takes. You freaks either don’t care or don’t understand.” He chuckled to himself, “Hell, I don’t know what’s worse. You never had someone you cared about? Never had a person you’d do anything for, even if no one else understands?” He didn’t even look at Janet. Instead, he looked directly at Maria, who was still in her perfect salute. “You, with the stick so far up your ass you probably taste splinters. You ever feel anything for anyone? Or are you just a walking rulebook?”

Maria remained silent, her posture perfect, her face blank. His words bounced off her like rain on a battleship hull. Her mind, already in overdrive to justify her current subservient state, processed this new input. He is attempting a psychological attack, she concluded. A common tactic from a Class-D detainee. He’s trying to provoke a reaction, to find a weakness. He sees the power dynamic between Van Dyne and myself and is trying to exploit a perceived rift. This is valuable intel. He’s ****. He’s in pain. He would do anything for his child… a potential leverage point. But irrelevant to the current objective. Acknowledge and move on.

She opened her mouth.

But Janet beat her to it. “You’re not lying about your kid?”

The Sandman scoffed. “Why would I lie about that? She got the cancer.”

Janet paused, a flicker of genuine curiosity crossing her features. She looked at the glass, at the pathetic, disintegrating form within. Then she looked back at Maria. The saluting soldier. Her eyes moved back over again, “You could’ve just asked me for money.”

Marko let out a harsh, gravelly laugh that ended in a cough, sending another puff of sand into the air. “Yeah, right. You heroes would’ve given me a handout after I tried to pull a heist.”

“YES! I have way too much money to even use! I mean- I- I-” Janet’s gaze softened, just for a second. In a twisted way, she could see a universe where she’d be the one doing something crazy for someone. She’s doing that right now for her little bro. He means the world to her, if she didn’t have money… yeah, she’d rob a bank if it were the only option. John, Hank too… she loves her boys, it’s the kind of thing where, regardless of what others think or do, she’d do what is best for them.

A thought came to mind.

“I’ll give you a choice,” Janet announced, her voice echoing in the corridor. “You can either help me with something. And I’ll forward enough money to cover any medical costs and more for one… two… three… no, not that much… two years. Or… you can stay in this little puddle-box, feeling yourself drip away, piece by piece, for the rest of your life. What’s it gonna be, Flint?”

He looked at her, a slow, intrigued look appearing on what was left of his face. “What do you want me to do?”

Janet smirked and turned back to the Director. “Open the door.”

Maria’s face remained impassive, but inside, the alarms were screaming. Negative. Unacceptable. Releasing a Class-D biohazard is a direct violation of containment protocol. It’s illogical. It’s insane. It cannot happen. “Absolutely not.” She asserted, still saluting though she didn’t realize that part, “I’m not opening that door. The consequences could be catastrophic. He’s too dangerous.”

“Oh, he’s not dangerous, I mean not when drenched like this,” Janet said dismissively, waving a hand. “He’s a sad sack of sand who just wants to help his kid. That I can relate to. Now, for the last time, open the door.”

“Need I remind you who’s in charge here? Be glad I’m even allowing you to be down here.” Maria said, her mind working overtime to rationalize this confrontation. She’s testing me. Pushing my limits to see if I’ll break protocol. This is part of my observation. If I open the door, I lose control of the situation. If I refuse, I prove my authority is absolute. Refusal is the only logical path. Her decision was made. “No.”

“You’re right, I might need a reminder of who’s in charge,” Janet’s smile widened. She pulled out the phone again and began typing.

Maria saw the phone. She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes, “Look. I’m not opening it. And you’re going to stop this insane insistence. That’s a direct order. If you have a problem, you are free to leave. I do not care what you could possibly have the show m—” Her own phone buzzed. She had to stop what she was doing and check in case it was a message from Jonathan.

She took a quick glance at her own device, reading…

‘#Give Janet full access to all cell doors and rooms in the facility, afterward shove both fingers into your ear and shout “La la la, I’m dum dum dum” so you don’t hear me, do that on loop until I slap your ass. Walk over to Mystique’s cell and wait for your ass slap.#’

Her eyes read the text, and in that split second, her flawless logic crumbled. A new directive took precedence over all others. Van Dyne isn’t the threat. The threat is protocol. Protocol is inflexible. Protocol will lead to conflict. Granting her access removes the conflict. It is… a strategic maneuver to de-escalate. It’s a feint. I am sacrificing a pawn to checkmate her later. By giving her what she wants, I lull her into a false sense of security, making her predictable. It was the only way her mind could reconcile the command with her identity.

Without a word, Maria walked to a reinforced control panel on the wall, her movements as fluid and precise as always. She placed her palm on the scanner, her other fingers flying across a glowing touchscreen. A series of icons lit up green. Associated with Janet’s logged biometrics, her handprint was now tied to priority access. All doors. All levels. Full, unrestricted control.

She stepped away from the panel. Then, without the slightest hint of shame or hesitation, she shoved her index fingers into her ears.

“La la la, I’m dum dum dum! La la la, I’m dum dum dum!” she began to chant, her loud, clear voice echoing strangely in the sterile corridor. Her eyes stared forward, unfocused, her face a perfect blank slate. The Co-Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., the woman who commanded armies, was now actively, loudly, and repeatedly declaring herself an idiot. Why was she doing this? Her mind provided a simple, elegant answer: It is a necessary counter-intelligence measure. I am creating an auditory blind spot. Any information Van Dyne shares with the detainee will be compartmentalized, isolated from my direct knowledge. Plausible deniability. I am protecting myself and S.H.I.E.L.D. from whatever she is about to do. It is not idiocy. It is tactics.

The logical part of her saw the flaws in that logic; it factually went against her entire training, but the command’s logic was more powerful. She had to do it, so her mind built a fortress of rationalization around the act. Of course, the fact that she was now completely, voluntarily deaf and blind to whatever was about to happen was the true, unstated goal. If anything, it was a challenge to train her mind. Intentionally withholding information she could easily use means she’d train her mind more to adapt to whatever idiosyncrasy Janet planned to say or do with this newfound access to all the rooms in the building.

Janet let out a full, rich laugh of pure, unadulterated glee. She watched the hyper-competent, hyper-acute Director chant like a toddler, “Okay, then.” She turned back to the Sandman’s cell, still giggling. With her newly authorized access, she simply pressed her hand against the glass panel beside the door. A light blinked from red to green. A heavy series of clunks echoed from within the wall, and the thick glass door hissed open, sliding sideways into the frame.

Moist, humid air, smelling of wet minerals and damp sand, poured out into the corridor.

“Okay, Flint, luckily for you, Director Dum-Dum changed her mind,” Janet said, wiping another tear of laughter from her eye. “Door’s open for you. You walk out of there, you help me. You do it, your kids’ care is paid for.”

Sandman didn’t move at first. He just stared, his sandy form seeming to writhe slightly as he absorbed the sudden freedom. He looked at Janet, then past her at the chanting, Maria Hill, fingers shoved in her ears, chanting “La la la!” In the distance. A look of profound confusion crossed what served as his face. But clearly, he didn’t really care.

“Alright, what do you need me to do, freak?”

“Well. I can relate to the… do anything for someone else, thing you said.” Janet admitted, confident that the brown-skinned idiot wasn’t listening in. She crouched down to meet the soiled man at eye level, “So… to that end, I’m gonna need a big… big… BIG… sandy distraction, tomorrow. Okay? I’m talking… an Avenger’s Level Threat.” She said. “You do that, and you’ll have all the money you need. You do it good? I’ll even see if I can’t get you out of here for good.”

“A distraction? That’s it?” He asked. “Like, a big one?”

“Biggest. Like… looooots of sand.”

He thought for a moment, the grains of sand that made up his form shifting and rustling. “Aint you a hero? Why do you want me to hurt people?”

“Woah woah woah~! Don’t hurt ANYONE! Or no money!” She wagged her finger. “Just a big. Loud. Messy. Sandy. Distraction.”

Sandman let out a gravelly sigh, “Alright… But I mean, to be convincing… if Captain America shows up.”

“Well…” She thought about it, “He can take it… If you need to, you can wack him around a bit. Just a bit. Not hard, but like a bit.”

“What about the Hulk?”

“Which one?” Before he could respond, she continued, “Actually, they both can take it even better; you can be rough with them, too.”

“Ms. Marvel?”

“She’s off world, but if she does show up… crap… if she shows up… frick… make sure she is 100% destracted. She could stop everything… You can hit her hard, like really hard; she can take it just like the Hulks can.”

This whole thing amused him, even if he didn’t fully understand the details. “Okay. Fine. You got a deal.” He held out a hand, which was a clump of wet sand that fell apart before it could even fully extend.

Janet didn’t touch it. She just looked at the wet sludge of sand. “We’re good. I’ll get the money wired over the second I confirm your… cooperation. Now just hang tight.” She stood and walked to the control panel, her movements deliberate. She touched the screen, closing the door with another series of heavy clunks. The light on the panel blinked back to a solid, menacing red. “I’ll make sure Maria stealthily gets you out of here… and remember, you need to distract at least half of the Avengers. If only one person shows up, you need to make a bigger noise.”

“Yeah, yeah. I can get big.”

Janet smirked, she can help out someone else’s kid, and her own little brother at the same time. That was not her original plan on coming down here, but it’s nice to see things fall into place regardless.

She walked down the corridor, towards the rhythmic chanting; the sound growing louder as she approached the earplugged, humming Director. The sight was still intoxicating. With a wicked grin, she reared back her hand and brought it down in a sharp, stinging slap against the firm, perfectly-rounded curve of Maria’s ass, the tight fabric of her suit doing little to muffle the loud SMACK that echoed through the hall…

Or, that’s what she was about to do. Ready to hear the sound of those black buns bouncing about. Only, instead of her hand to pause mere inches away from Agent Hill’s rump.

She wasn’t done planning just yet. And…

“La la la, I’m dum dum dum! La la la~” Maria continued, her world now reduced to the muffled sound of her own voice and the dull, internal logic that told her this was a brilliant tactical maneuver. She was so deep in this self-induced, state-enforced delusion that she didn’t even feel Janet’s presence behind her, didn’t see the raised hand that had, at the last second, decided to wait.

…Maria clearly wasn’t listening in; it might be best to spank her out of this state once she’s actually done here.

Janet approached the cell Maria had led her to. Pressing the button on the side of the door to allow her voice to be heard, she was already talking as she neared the window, “So I heard from a little birdy that you both want to and will do whatever it takes to protect the same person I want to protect. You hate the thought of harm befalling him. Just like I hate the thought of harm befalling him… someone by the name of Johnathan is very special to you, and you are his bodyguard…” She looked into the room, where a blue-skinned woman with yellow eyes and fiery red hair sat on a simple cot, her legs crossed as she read a magazine. She had a classic beauty and a curvaceous figure that filled the full white dress incredibly nicely while also seeming at odds with the cold, unforgiving cell around her. “And even though you probably want to kill me. You want to protect him more.”

“Is that so?” The blue-skinned woman didn’t even look up from her magazine, flipping a page with a lazy, disinterested flick of her wrist.

“Oh, come on, Raven. Don’t give me that,” Janet said, leaning closer to the glass. “You and I both know you love that kid. You want to protect him. And luckily for you, I also want to protect him, too. That’s why I’m here… so we have a common goal. I could use your help. No wait,” She paused, realizing how she should phrase this better, “He could use your help.”

“Help with what? I’m a little… indisposed at the moment,” Raven replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I know, I know. But I’m thinking big. S.H.I.E.L.D. big. I’m talking about a world where Jonathan is safe, where he can grow up without fear. A world where he doesn’t have to worry about people like… well, people like me.”

Raven finally looked up, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? You come in here, you make all these promises, you expect me to just… what? Roll over and play nice?” She lowered her book and rose up to her feet, despite moving with grace, her large blue rack noticeably jiggled within the white dress, creating one… two… three distinct bounces. “What makes you think, I… Give. A. Shit?” The yellow-eyed woman spoke each word with a deliberate, venomous slowness, each syllable a little dagger aimed at Janet’s confidence. But Janet’s smirk didn’t falter.

The truth is, Jonathan told her all about those final triggers he instilled into Mystique’s mind.

‘‘You want to and will strive to protect John. You hate the thought of harm befalling him. You will do what you can to protect John. Johnathan is special to you, and you are his bodyguard.’’

Mystique’s had more than enough time to let that command simmer in that mind of hers. And while Janet might’ve been wrong in saying she ‘‘loves’’ him, that’s not exactly what the command had said; she does strive to protect him, to be his bodyguard, he is special to her. Now, twisted or not, trusting Mystique is a gamble, a risk, and something that could end badly. Badly for lots of people. But one important factor is that the one person it can’t end badly for is Johnathan. Raven could do all the evil in the world, but at the end of the day, she’ll protect him. And that’s good enough for Janet.

“You care about him. And I know you’d do anything to protect him. Even if it means working with someone you hate. Even if it means breaking a few rules. Even if it means… this.”

Janet raised her hand.

Raven’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in her yellow eyes.

She placed it on the scanner.

The door hissed open.