The call

[morph]

( NOTE: I have permission to roleplay Storm for this post since she's gone for three weeks. )

Inside of his office, Kevin was sorting through various files and photos. One photo in particular stood out, which caused him to grab it. It had a glossy texture, with the photo being in black and white due to it being taken from a security system. The contents were most interesting. A young man was dressed in a black leather suit, lined with various white and silver pipings. With his hands raised in the air, a stream of what appeared to be a gasous blue energy was released from his palms.

Kevin adjusted his eyeglasses. He knew exactly what that leather suit represented. After all, he used to wear one.

"Dr. Sidney." His assistant opened his door and poked her head in. He looked up from the photo, brown eyes looking over the rim of his glasses to stare at her. "Phone call from the Xavier Institute."

His stomach sank. He knew that it was just a matter of time before they called him. After all, he was now front page news. Everybody and their mother knew who Dr. Kevin Sidney was now - including his alma mater. He stared at his assistant for a few moments before he finally found the energy to open his mouth. "Thank you, Lila." With a nod, his assistant closed the door.

Putting the picture down, Kevin stared at the phone. The blinking white light stared menacingly back at him. Slowly, his hand moved towards the black receiver. Finally, after a few moments, he grabbed it, fingers gently wrapping around it. He slowly pulled his hand back towards him, bringing the receiver to his ear. With the hard part out of the way, he easily pushed the blinking button.

"Dr. Sidney."

"Kevin!" He heard the familiar voice, the voice that used to yell at him after it found a whoopie cushion in its dinner chair.

"Ororo, hi." He cleared his throat nervously.

"We saw the conference. You look good."

"Thank you." There was a long silence after that. "Listen, about the Professor--"

"Don't." Ororo shot back. "The man...he raised you like you were his own. He helped you. The least you could have done was come to his funeral."

"I couldn't." He closed his eyes, the receiver loosening in his hand. "I couldn't go back. I had things that had to be done, matters of--"

"Or maybe you couldn't come because you thought she was going to be there."

She knew. Ororo wasn't stupid and he knew that. "Don't bring her up. Don't." And then, once again, there was silence.

"It's a war, Kevin. We're being executed one-by-one. Those Sentinels, NovaTeX, they're destroying us. Not to mention the Brotherhood."

He remained silent.

"Just remember who you are, Kevin. Don't be something you're not."

Click.

He held onto the phone for a few more seconds before putting it back on its base. Grabbing his overcoat, he headed to the door.

"Where're you going?" Lila asked. "What should I tell Mr. Tras--"

"Out."

[Trask]

Bolivar Trask entered the office two minutes after the departure of its previous occupant. The secretary behind her desk looked up as he walked in and gave him a practised smile of greeting. Trask smiled back, the smile not quite falling into the realms of warm but managing a close second.

"Good afternoon Secretary Trask," the woman started, "I'm sorry but Dr. Sidney is out." She smiled again, a little apologetically.

"Out," Trask repeated, "out where?"

"He was called away on an urgent personal matter," personal assistants were born natural liars and mastered the art at an early age.

Trask frowned, this threw something of a wrench into his afternoon schedule, and he was a man that lived by his schedule.

"Did he happen to say when he might be back?" He asked somewhat sternly.

"I'm sorry sir, he didn't, but I can get him to contact you at the earliest possible convenience to reschedule if you like?"

Earliest possible convenience. Trask rolled the words around in his head. It would likely be Thanksgiving before Dr. Sidney got around to seeing Trask at his convenience.

"No," he said curtly, "I'll work something out."

Then he left.

Outside, down the street and back in his polished black car Trask pulled a phone from his pocket. He punched a few numbers into it and waited with the remains of his frown as the line rang at the other end.

Finally, it was answered.

"Simmons?"

Pause.

"No, he was unavailable for comment."

Pause.

"It dosn't matter, not yet anyway, has there been any word from NovaTeX?"

Pause.

"Excellent, do we have an ETA for the proto-type?"

Pause.

"Good, I want to know the moment it arrives."

He hung up, the phone snapping shut with an audible click.

"Back to my office," he said to the driver, and the car slid away.

[morph]

High government positions had both advantages and disadvantages. Everybody knows your name, they know your face, which both could be advantages or disadvantages. There's certain expectations that come with the position. For example, if you're a cabinet member answered only to the President of the United States, you're only second to him in terms of power - and criticism. But there are advantages.

Such as having your own private plane.

Dr. Kevin Sidney was already in the skies above Washington, D.C. on his plane. He had ditched his human form once they got up in the air. In all of his bald albino glory, he was dancing on the carpeted floor, the exotic sounds of David Hasselhoff singing blaring through the plane's speakers.

The phone began to ring, which brought the morphing mutant out of his dancing stupor. Falling backward into the recliner, he grabbed the phone. He cleared his throat, attempting to calm down and be professional. "Dr. Sidney."

"Mr. Trask stopped by your office a few minutes ago." It was his secretary, Lila. "It seemed important."

"Thank you, dear." Pushing the talk button on the phone, he let a moment passed before he once more pushed it and tapped in the number to Trask's cell phone.

"Mr. Trask, I hear you're looking for me."

[Trask]

The car had only been in motion for ten minutes when the phone started ringing. Trask slipped the device from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Dr. Sidney. Who'd have thought it. Perhaps the personal assistant hadn't been of the usual caliber of liars that seemed to follow every politician around these days.

He flipped the phone open.

"Indeed I was," he replied to the inquiry.

"I was hoping to catch you in your office, but your assistant said that you had been called away on an urgent personal matter. Not too serious I hope?"

The good doctor had put on quite a song and dance for the media and Trask made a mental note to compliment the man on his swift denial of the X-Men.

It was a sham of course.

Everybody knew of their existence, it was almost impossible to ignore their existence after the Alcatraz debacle.

To openly acknowledge them however would be a grave mistake and one he had personally cautioned the President on, more than once. It would be like endorsing vigilantes across the world.

[morph]

Just hearing the man's voice sent a shiver down his spine. From the moment he first met him, Kevin had been wary of Bolivar Trask. Something with him just didn't sit right. Every now and then, he'd catch him doing something suspicious that he refused to talk about, such as security tapes and the Sentinel program. Especially the Sentinel program. Kevin learned long ago that Trask had something with mutants.

"Not at all." He lied perfectly. It was none of his business, really. If Kevin told Trask where he was going, boy, would he get an earful. Not only that, but Trask would want to know everything there was to know. Kevin simply couldn't take that chance.

"It's not often that you come down from your castle to speak with me, Bolivar. That means either there's been another incident like Baltimore or you want something. I know you're the type that enjoys idle chit-chat like myself. So, not to be rude, but let's move along. What is this concerning?"

It was probably something nitpicky about the press conference. Or he wanted to know more. That's how it always with Bolivar Trask - he always wanted to know more. If this were elementary school, he'd be the teacher's favorite student.

[Trask]

Trask almost quirked a smile and wondered exactly what personal matter could be urgent but not serious. The idle curiosity passed quickly however; prying into the lives of the politicians was not his business. He left that to other departments.

"Straight to the point then. You did a good job on the conference today, well done. There were few things I might have done differently, but on the whole I was impressed." Trask paused and weighed his words.

"I had my doubts when you were chosen to replace Dr. McCoy, but today you proved me wrong, I hope the trend continues."

Time to set the cat among the pigeons.

Not that he needed to, but Bolivar Trask wanted the opinion of the Secretary of Mutant Affairs, or at least a reaction.

"Regarding the issue of the X-Men at Baltimore. I have formally requested the Presidents permission to launch an investigation into their actions during the incident, and given the evidence presented he has granted such. I was hoping for some advice for your own, personal perspective."

[morph]

Here it came. The calm before the storm, if you will. Kevin knew that it would be about the conference. Trask was a bit of a wild card. Either he was going to eat him out and say it was a horrible conference, or he was going to pat his ass and say that it was great.

Luckily for the Secretary of Mutant Affairs, it was the latter.

"Differently?" He interrupted the older gentleman before he could continue on. "How would you have done it differently?" Still, he continued, and all Kevin could do was listen while attempting to hold back a sigh. The morphing mutant was pulled out of his boredom by Trask's sudden change in direction, however.

"The X-Men." Just hearing the name of the heroic mutant group brought back memories to a time long past. Back in the day, flying across the world with Scott, Ororo, Hank, and Jean...Jean. Especially Jean. Jean was...special to him, to say the least. Kevin's mind wandered, thinking of her, as well as thinking if the government 13 years ago had talks about them like they did now.

"I believe that if the X-Men were there, then it was something serious. They don't make a major public appearance like that unless rainbow-colored shit has hit a white fan." He stretched back in his recliner, getting comfortable, as he could tell this call might be awhile. "My own personal perspective, my belief, is that they knew the Brotherhood was going to be there, which is why they were there. They wanted to stop them. A rather nice looking reporter lady told me that the X-Men were spotted attacking your toys." He spoke, of course, of the Sentinels. "If I were them, I'd have done the same. Robotic guys pop up outta' nowhere and start shouting stuff and shooting lasers?" The tone in the doctor's voice easily broadcasted his feelings about the Sentinel program.

[Trask]

Trask listened quietly to the colourful tirade before continuing, "and that's what I would have done differently." He stated. The fact that the good doctor had obvious negative feelings toward the Sentinel program came as no real surprise. Sidney was a mutant. The operation was essentially designed to police mutants. It was never going to be popular.

"The intention of the Sentinels was made clear from the moment they were deployed. Clear warnings were given to cease any hostilities, warnings that were not heeded in some quarters, and in some instances by members of the X-Men." In some areas there had been mitigating circumstances and those Trask was prepared to let matters slide.

But a man had died, worse, had been killed for nothing more than doing his duty.

"Those that resisted or proved hostile were fired upon. There were no malfunctions, my men followed their orders to the letter, and to say otherwise is potentially damaging to the development of the program."

[morph]

The time for being political was over. He was through being civilized and allowing Trask to walk over him due to his genetics. "You placed ten foot tall robot suits, suits with very visible weaponry I might add, in front of a group of teenagers! That's like placing an alien craft in front of a caveman. You scared 'em half to death! How were supposed to know what they were with?"

Kevin rubbed the bridge of his nose, just between his eyeballs. "I admit that there were some things I would have done differently. But let me ask you a question, Mr. Trask. You're old enough to remember the race riots. Do you remember when you couldn't even go in the same bathroom as a white man? Do you remember when fire hoses were drawn on your people? Remember how they were pushed back simply for wanting the right to live? The Sentinels are our fire hoses. The Sentinels are our white men in riot gear with tear gas launchers."

Perhaps putting it in that perspective would help the Secretary of Homeland Security understand exactly what Kevin, and the X-Men at that moment, were feeling.

[Trask]

He listened to the comparison without reaction, save for a slight tightening of the muscles of his jaw. He seemed he'd hit a nerve and Dr. Sidney was determined to hit back. That was fine.

"And you don't ask yourself why those teenagers were there to begin with? Children should be at school Dr. Sidney, that goes for humans and mutants alike, not standing on a battlefield or facing down terrorists. I ask myself, I really do, what sort of person would put a child in the path of a man like St. John Allerdyce, or Cain Marko. Men who have proven time and again that they can and will kill for their cause."

He paused a moment.

"The Sentinels do not exist to persecute mutants for what they are, they exist to police those that break the law. The Police departments and S.W.A.T can control conventional criminals, but when the criminals can throw a car like a toy? bring the dead back to life? Steal your very mind and senses? Then measures need to be taken. The Sentinels are those measures."

Trask sighed.

"This is not the racial persecution you make it out to be."

[morph]

"I don't have to ask myself why those teenagers were there. A great man, a man that has long passed, put those children in danger, but still they overcame all odds and showed critics that they could fight. John Allerdyce IS a teenager. Cain Marko, you overestimate."

Morph rubbed the bridge of his nose more, his fingers starting to push into his flesh to leave indentations. "The Sentinels are human-designed suits of death operated BY humans - the same humans that hold mutants in distasteful regard. The only way to properly police mutants, as you say put it, is by other mutants. Fight fire with fire, not fire with nuclear bombs. You're shaking the ropes on a rickety bridge, Mr. Trask. When these Sentinels are rolled out in mass, mutants aren't going to roll over for them."

Morph had been engaging in talks with President Cockrum about that very matter. Behind closed doors, away from the prying eyes and ears of Trask, of course. A mutant police force, similar to S.W.A.T. and the National Guard, that would only be used in the case of an emergency with mutants breaking the law.

"This is a racial persecution and you damn well know it. I know your feelings about mutantkind, Mr. Trask. I know about your cloak and dagger stealth intelligence crap. I know that you'll never trust me and treat me as an associate because of how I was born. You could fool anybody else, you could even fool the President, but you can't fool Dr. Kevin 'Morph' Sidney."

[Trask]

Trask shook his head and held back a sigh; he very much suspected that if Dr. Sidney were not in a position of privilege that he would be one of the mutants that went out rabble rousing and leading mobs against NovaTeX facilities. He admired the mans passion, but it was misdirected.

"The Sentinels are a non-lethal solution to a very real problem that faces not only the United States, but every country in the world. Their object is to contain and ultimately detain lawless or terrorist elements within mutant society."

He allowed the accusations of persecution to slide, there was no point in arguing with a man who had made his mind up long before now.

"John Allerdyce may be a young man but he has already killed. He and his Brotherhood can and will kill again in the name of their cause. He and Cain Marko are but two examples. While their crusade continues more mutants will flock to their banner, some perhaps even more powerful that Magneto and then what would you do?"

He paused and frowned.

"You would have me put the safety of this country, perhaps the world in the hands of a group of children barely old enough to drink? They are mutant vigilantes Dr. Sidney, a group that takes the law into their own hands and call it justice."

[morph]

"Non-lethal? NON-LETHAL?! They're equipped with frickin' LASER BEAMS, for Christ's sake! You call melting mutant kids a non-lethal solution?"

If Morph had blood, it would be boiling right now. Heck, if he had blood, his head would have shot off from the sheer pressure. Beneath his somewhat suave exterior, he knew what Trask was. He was yet another politician who was scared of mutants. He probably hated them, but he couldn't be sure of that.

"John Allerdyce has killed. The Brotherhood has killed. Cain Marko has killed. But killing them with plasma beams from your giant hunks of junk isn't the answer! You're right, though. More mutants will flock to them. Just as more mutants will flock to the Xavier Institute." He scratched his nose.

"What you do, if you're so focused on war, is you use one against the other. The X-Men can be a valuable asset, Mr. Trask. They may be children to you, perhaps to me, yes, but these children are very capable. They're not human children, they're not naive stoner punks. They know what they can do and they know what they believe in. That faith in unity between humans and mutants, that vigilante justice as you so call it...that is what will always defeat the Brotherhood. Good day, Mr. Trask."

With the push of a single button, the call was ended. But for Morph, it didn't end there. The phone was thrown to the other side of the private plane. Without saying anything, a hand was brought to his face, wiping it down. It was apparent that Trask wasn't going to halt the Sentinel program unless God himself struck the abominations down.

Or at least, a god of technology.

With a smirk, Kevin looked up, his eyes facing forward to the front of the plane. "Jarvis, turn around. I want you to head north."

"We're going to New York."

[Trask]

Trask opened his mouth to reply just as the line went dead, the phone signal giving the unmistakable bleep of disconnection. He looked at the screen for a moment, shook his head and flipped the device closed.

"Non-lethal Dr. Sidney, non-lethal," the schematics for the Sentinels were closely guarded to the extent that only a handful of people in the Pentagon had actually seen them, and the construction work had been done in modules so that not even the engineers had access to the full work. That was how it had to be.

But at its inception the President had made two things abundantly clear.

The first was that no cure weapons were to be involved. The outcry caused by their use during the run-up to the Alcatraz incident and his open support of the mutant rights bill put the development of further cure weapons permanently on hold.

The second was that they were to be non-lethal. The public, human or mutant, would not tolerate walking tanks on the street gunning people down indiscriminately. It would be worse than deploying the cure. Mutants, he had said, as citizens of this county deserve the right to be policed in the same way as humans. Lethal force is used only as a last possible resort.

Of course, the use of lethal force varied from state to state, but the sentiment was heard and understood.

Dr. Sidney sounded worryingly like a mutant fanatic and that troubled him. Perhaps he did bear closer examination.

He thought about that for a long while as the car slid through the streets. He would have someone make tentative inquiries, have a look into the mans past. Nothing invasive. Just to get a better picture of who he was dealing with.. That decided he flipped open the phone again.

It was time he checked up on his other projects.