Trust | Mystique and Carol
Furious was not a powerful enough word to describe the white hot rage pumping through her body. They knew what she had done, they knew how that woman had taken everything from her and yet they welcomed her, trusted her? She was not trustworthy, she was not an ally and Carol would make damn sure everyone knew that.
They hadn’t listened to her in the meeting, insisting things had changed whilst she had been away and that allies were few and fair between - they needed all the ones they could get. Carol had used up every ounce of self-control to not tear the neat S.H.I.E.L.D file to shreds, the black ink spelling ‘ally’ taunting her as she glared daggers at the accompanying headshot. She was told to ‘think it over’ and ‘cool off’ which nearly pushed her limit but she begrudgingly agreed and departed, a very different plan of action in mind. They had taken the file back of course but Carol had taken the opportunity to mentally log known locations of operation. Once alone and away from prying eyes, she took to the sky and headed towards the first address listed.
The warehouse was unassuming, almost disappointingly so to be housing the mutant terrorist. She pressed on regardless, gaining entry far more easily than she anticipated - there was not nearly the level of security she expected, nor mutant henchmen ready for a punch up. The whole thing unsettled her and part of the boiling rage turned to ice with apprehension.
“I know you’re here,” Carol called out, the venom in her tone amplified with the lengthy echo from the expanse of the interior, “So show your face, your real one, or I’m gonna start blowing shit up.”
