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Sabine rolled her eyes, disregarding Sveta’s insult. Of all the things she could be called, trash was barely mean in comparison. Sabine was not going to resort to petty name calling. She was a professional, and would not be baited by some clever, petty taunt. If Sabine wanted to cut deep, she could invoke Sveta’s former friend.

Regardless of Sabine’s annoyance with her new responsibilities, it was not like her job was undesirable. For most other people, a high-level supervisory role would be a dream promotion. For Sabine, it seemed like a hassle. Admittedly, it was a well-paying hassle, but she would trade the raise for more anonymity and field work.

If Sveta was looking to leave a mark, she finally found one of Sabine’s few nerves. Insinuating Sabine envied mutants tied her stomach in a knot. The thought of it made her ill. Even she could not restrain her face from an initial reaction before she settled back into her neutral expression. ”No, thank you. I’m already dangerous enough to the people around me,” few though they were. ”The last thing I would want to be is a ticking timebomb, waiting for the day I lose enough control to put those people in jeopardy.”

Taking another drink and resisting the wince, Sabine set the glass down and smirked. ”Though I’m sure you’re right. A power like yours will never leave someone you love hurt. What are the odds of that, right?” All Sabine knew was the chances were greater than zero, and for her, that was too high.

Sparring with a person revealed a lot about them. Sveta was quick-witted and adaptive. Even outside of her mutation, she was probably a worthwhile addition to Hadden’s cabal. Sabine could tease and taunt, but she was not one to underestimate a woman like Sveta. She never would have sent such a reckless attempt to abduct her again. She had given thought to retaking the power enhancer, but the costs and risks outweighed the benefit in every plan she came up with.

This went doubly true with SUPER’s new direction, which they were more or less forced into. ”Oh I-9, I’m sure you’ve seen my press release by now,” she replied, her smile polite. ”We’re a new SUPER now. A better, cleaner organization, I can assure you. All the bad men and women are on the other side of a closed rift.”

Sveta was experienced with combat, tactics, and likely a host of other talents, but she was not as versed in hiding immediate responses and concealing her emotions. The date comment struck a chord. Sabine would not challenge the denial. She just listened, knocking back a shot of her awful whiskey. It took all her restraint not to wince or gag.

”As I said, he was as unfortunate a consequence of incompetence as the rest of that unsanctioned operation. He’s nowhere near our radar,” she lied. Of course he was on their radar. Who wasn’t? A military man with some discrepancies in his history was always going to be somewhere on her lists, even if he did not warrant being a high priority.

”That is a shame, though,” she admitted. ”Still, things are clearly looking up for you. New friends in high places, new line of work. Nothing wrong with just being married to the job, right?” It had worked for Sabine, though she was a different case than most.

When Svetlana sent her note of defiance to make its way to Sabine, she could have sent a letter in return. She knew where the mutant was staying, and they were both busy women. They could have acknowledged a mistake was made and moved on with their lives knowing they were aware of one another.

Maybe Sabine wanted to make points that would have translated poorly in a letter. Maybe Svetlana’s connection to Haven made her an interesting variable for SUPER’s new organization. Maybe a letter would have been boring.

Regardless, they were now together, drinking cheap liquor in a cheaper bar. Svetlana made nothing more than a snarky comment at the mention of Sabine’s promotion. Some people just had no respect for societal etiquette.

She did point out the folly of the rogue agents, which was entirely justified. ”Well, whatever they’ll be doing now, it certainly won’t be important or interesting. Turns out a botched abduction is the kind of thing that can put you on indefinite filing duty. Probably marginally worse than a managerial position.” Though from experience, Sabine was still fifty-fifty on who was better off.

Sabine took a sip of her whiskey, feeling the smoky taste on her tongue before it burned down her throat. Perhaps this was best shot rather than sipped, in hindsight. ”I hope they didn’t spoil your date too badly.” The reports cited a male companion caught in the attack, and it was not a stretch to assume that might have been the nature of what was interrupted.

Sabine was often annoyed living in a world of sexual beings. It was not their faults; it was the way they were wired. It was her first year of college when Sabine figured out she was not like her colleagues. The women around her were drooling over handsome men or voluptuous women. Everyone was figuring themselves out and learning their types. Sabine, meanwhile, was realizing her type was “Not Applicable.” She played around anyway and determined sex was fine, but there was no one that got her “in the mood” to engage in it.

Sometimes, she felt like an outsider, but sometimes that worked to her advantage. She knew, shallowly, that she was easy on the eyes. Being attractive left some people with their guard down and made it easier to approach someone without much resistance.

People also assumed her mind might be occupied with the same things everyone else was, and that was fine. She giggled at Roxie, shaking her head at her assumptions. ”Well, you’re making quite the assumption. I’m pretty sure I approached you, didn’t I?” She was not going to directly address the idea that she was ‘waiting for the right person,’ letting Roxie make her own assumptions.

Sabine did not have to concern herself too much with her missing friend, since they were as much a work of fiction as the material of the night’s theme. She did draw out Roxie’s job, which was moving her in the right direction. She was shown a work badge, reminding her of what she already knew: Roxanne Rose. Maybe Sabine was biased, but she liked alliterate names. She accepted the hand with a warm smile. ”No sense in holding your cards once you’ve shown them. Fair is fair, though: Diana Dancer.” It felt so good to use an alias again; it made her feel tingly inside to be someone else.

”So what do you do here, then?” she asked curiously. ”Inattentive bartender? DJ off her shift? Professional charmer tasked with engaging and occupying the time of the patrons?” Well, on second thought, that last one sounded like the job description of an escort. ”I’m not all that familiar with the ins and outs of a club, clearly.”

Bars and clubs were actually great places to do undercover work, regardless of how obnoxious or overwhelming they could be. It was hard to pay attention to one person in the crowd when the lights were low, the music was loud, and bodies were moving freely. Even in a one-on-one situation, it was hard to pick out minute facial features or tells of a wig, particularly when a target had a wandering eye.

The way Roxie smiled when she spotted Sabine, a wandering eye was not out of the question. She was making a friendly approach, but Sabine knew the benefits of using flirtation when possible and appropriate. With women, the odds were less than with men, and Sabine’s understanding of the art was based on study rather than instinct. Flirting always struck her as forward and intrusive by nature, though she did enjoy the potential of a back-and-forth, so she was not oblivious. She could recreate flirting, she could recognize it, but it was almost always an act.

It was not something she would rule out with Roxie, but she was not going to jump the gun. Women like Sabine got plenty of smiles, so she would play it by ear. For the moment, she was a woman seeking solidarity with another woman amongst awkward male nerds. ”Well, Tolkien would surely be disappointed with them for their misleading displays of borrowed creativity.” Ignoring how much of Tolien mythology was repurposed from existing mythology; she doubted Roxie would call her out on that.

Some men had looked Sabine’s way, but she could actually be honest in answering the inquiry. ”Not yet, actually. Some people say I have an air of unapproachability which must be on full display tonight. Hard to believe, right?” Sabine was, of course, practiced in keeping people at arm’s length when necessary, and she could not spend her whole night spurning suitors.

”So I was dragged out here by a nerdy coworker I’ve misplaced, but how about you? What gets a gal like you to done such a fetching green cloak?” Sabine smirked and took a careful sip of her beverage, maintaining eye contact with the target.

Kristoph Karlson was dead.

Well, okay, he was not dead yet, but he was going to die. Not as the consequence of a mission gone wrong, but at the vengeful hand of his ex-partner. The ginger could enjoy his new position and the responsibilities it came with, but how dare that bastard rope her into the misery by making her the PR Representative of SUPER?

It was the perfect storm of pains in her ass. Sabine was the one to keep an eye out for potential public messes involving zealous agents or thuggish soldiers. When those fires inevitably came up, she was the one handling press releases and going on television—a former covert agent on bloody television. Hard to go back to her old job when she was the face of SUPER. This was not even broaching the problems of indirectly dealing with the pain that was Devon Hadden and reporting to Kristoph, the man responsible for her suffering.

So yeah, Kris was dead and living on borrowed time.

In the meantime, Sabine was going to do what she could to handle actual agent work, despite her position. They were short-staffed, so it was pretty much necessary. Fortunately, Sabine knew what she was doing. A copper blonde wig, fake freckles, some makeup alterations, and a set of glasses helped create a new look that would not be immediately recognizable to anyone who had not spent a considerable time analyzing her appearance.

There was a low risk observation assignment Sabine claimed involving a mutant bouncer. The reports pegged her as a mutant, and while there was no definitive evidence, the rumors of a diminutive woman tossing around meatheads like ragdolls sounded promising. A power that was potentially dangerous and entertaining? Of course she went for it.

She had checked the schedule of one of the clubs this “Roxie Rose” worked at, and as much as she begrudged it, the logic of showing up on a themed costume night would help her blend into the dorky madness. Sabine would not go outlandish with her wardrobe, but she did pick up a hooded cloak with a scarlet crushed velvet appearance. Most costumes were a bit much, but cloaks had a mysterious appeal to them and it was a shame they fell out of fashion somehow.

Most of the night was spent keeping far enough from the target to arouse suspicion, all the while sipping her drink, (a Diplomat, slightly sweet and light enough on the alcohol not to impede her,) and dodging socially awkward onlookers. The night was moving without incident, which was good and bad. No incident, no mess. On the other hand, no incident, no confirmation of a dangerous mutant. Also, boredom.

Sabine decided to spice things up; it was not unusual to engage potential targets, after all. She slowly started closing the gap between them, though not obviously and not all at once. She organically ended up close enough to hear Roxie dealing with a truly godawful pick-up line.

The nerdy admirer was shooed away in fear (impressive,) leaving Sabine to chuckle, looking to draw attention to herself. ”I’m so sorry,” she started, choosing a Carolinian accent that was not too distinct or overpowering, but clearly different from her press persona, ”but that was painful. Are the lines better or worse on themed nights? That was garbage, but it was creative,” she pointed out lightly, hoping to paint herself as a friendly ally against the creeps of the night.

”Thank you all for your time. My name is Sabine Sang, and I am Representative and Government Liaison for what was once a branch of the Strategic Unit for Preternatural Experimentation and Research. Though our organization has not yet been assigned a designation, you likely know our former parent organization as SUPER.”

As expected, that drew an immediate reaction from the crowd, which Sabine was ready for. ”I will be taking a few questions at the end of today’s announcement. In the meantime, thank you for bearing with me as I provide some more insight into our operations, which I think is long overdue.” They should have taken the lead with the information campaign, but in her universe, they enjoyed far more limited oversight, letting them keep activities on a need-to-know basis. That time was over. They needed controlled transparency.

”In the other universe, the AV, SUPER was a response to a dangerous climate where mutant-related incidents were far too common. This was a result of mutant criminal activity, yes, but also unforeseen and often unintentional events as a product of a mutant without control. This, in turn, led to attacks and actions against mutants by a human population motivated by fear. That fear came from the concern that there was no way to control or prevent these events. That no one could do anything about them.

”SUPER was started with those intentions. They would monitor situations with the potential to become incidents, and they took preventative measures in cases where an incident was deemed inevitable.” Sabine made a conscious use of the word they. She was distancing herself and the new SUPER from its predecessor. That made it easier to throw the lost organization under the bus. ”These tactics continued to evolve throughout the life of that organization and unfortunately went to extremes. They thought it was what was necessary for their world, and I am here to say the SUPER of AV took things too far and some of their actions were unspeakable.”

Sabine scanned the audience of reporters. She had them all hanging on her words, waiting for what came next. ”The other world had its own X-Men, but they chose to live as vigilantes, acting outside of the law and putting the general public at risk with their lack of oversight. The X-Men of this world made the choice to become an official organization, working with the police and doing real good for the world. The SUPER of the old world grew dangerous and experimental because it was allowed to go uncontrolled and unquestioned. Those of us who came to this world and those we’ve worked with on this side want to create what SUPER always should have been: an organization for the benefit of the populace, including our mutant citizens.”

”We all want to live with liberties and freedoms, but we also want to live in safety. Regulation is a necessary part of our lives. Monitoring potential threats is an aspect of the government that has always existed, and with mutants, the need to be prepared is even more important now than it has been in the past. Still, we have no intentions of running some anti-mutant secret police state. We would monitor potential threats and prepare to respond to them when necessary.” That was really what the surveillance element was always for, at its core. Their methods were just more… proactive.

”In instances where mutants are an imminent threat to themselves and others, we will make contact and advocate for a solution as a preventative measure. Mutations that manifest violently, evolve dangerously, or are just entirely too unpredictable or impossible to control. We want to protect everyone, and would offer options within SUPER to help them manage these growths or ways to keep them from being a danger in public.” She had to paint it as a choice; in less serious cases, it could be. Still, at the end of the day, if there was a mutant who uncontrollably exploded every few hours, leaving them on the streets was not an option.

”We would also like to welcome the cooperation of organizations who are willing to assist us with this. The X-Men and Haven have both been organizations that offer to aid mutants who need help controlling their mutations. In lieu of SUPER custody, we would be glad to connect mutants in need with these organizations.” At the very least, in the instances where the mutant was someone those groups could be trusted with. She could not jeopardize a new organization by painting it as an opponent to two well-established groups. The best defense was a good offense, and in this regard, her offense came in the form of an outstretched hand.

”Liberty is important. So is safety. Liberty cannot come at the cost of the safety and lives of those around you. We want mutant-human relations to continue improving in our world.” Claiming ownership of this world as her own. Denouncing her home world. It was all important if she wanted to be seen as trustworthy. ”We have human and mutant operatives in our ranks because mutant incidents spread fear and help justify anti-mutant hatred in the minds of those who preach it. We all want to ensure that accidents and, more importantly, mutant crime do not let people tarnish the picture of mutants in our country.”

Sabine took a calculated moment, as though she was gathering her thoughts and considering their weight. ”We know there is no forgiving some of the actions of the other world’s SUPER, but we want to strive to do something good with the name and the original ideals it was founded on.”