DISCLAIMER: All Marvel characters belong to Marvel and are used without permission. I am making no money, and have none to begin with, so please don't sue.
A QUEEN'S REFLECTIONS
by Sequoia Swennes


Sometimes I wonder how I became what I am. Sometimes I think about what my life would be like if I were a better person. Sometimes I even regret the choices I've made, the things I've done. Sometimes, but not often.

I can't afford to regret anything that I've done. I pause for a second, show any weakness, no matter how slight, and they will destroy me.

It would be a just fate, I suppose. I have destroyed before, without remorse or even a second thought, and will do so again. A part of me knows what I am doing is wrong; but too much of me loves it. And I get a guilty pleasure from knowing what I do is wrong, even to myself.

These are desperate, dangerous times. No longer are our games simply made up of intrigue, schemes, and machinations for personal and collective dominance in the boardroom and bedroom. We had killed before; but the dead always deserved it, or were expendable. Two Christmasses ago, when Lourdes was killed, our perceptions changed. This was more than a game now, it was serious. The life and death of one we cared for had been thrown into the mix. Shaw has never really gotten over Lourdes; she was a good, kind woman who did not deserve to die. I was not close to her; but every now and again, I think of her with sadness, understanding the ramifications of her death. She was a mutant, murdered by a Sentinel. We had been responsible for the reinstatement of the Sentinel program, not knowing that one of our own would turn it against us. Shaw dealt with him.

I no longer think of this as play. It is a war for survival. I have heard other mutants, like Magneto, refer to it as the war for "our people's" survival. I have neither the inclination nor the compassion to save "my people". I will save myself; and give a hand to the others in the Inner Circle. If they make it worth my while.

I have no need to carry a weapon in this war. I have many weapons within myself. There is the obvious one, my mutant power, which I use to manipulate and destroy, simply to advance my own agenda. To get what I want. For I cannot be happy unless I get what I want. That is what I tell myself; but it rings false, even to my ears. I have everything I know I want - power, money, looks, control. What I truly want, what will make me happy, is a mystery.

I have my intelligence. Behind this pretty face there lurks a brilliant mind. Contrary to popular belief, I did not amass my fortune through use of my telepathy. I used my human smarts, and used them well. It is men's own insecurities and complexes that makes them so sure that I have cheated. After all, how could a mere woman best them? Most men do not realize that women are more devious and conniving unconsciously than men could ever plan to be. It is second nature. Nothing delights me more than to have a man underestimate me and then to crush him.

My body is another weapon in my arsenal; my soft curves are as sharp as any sword. I do my best to to show it off; it renders fool men helpless. Today I must dress modestly, trading revealing white for a muted brown, thigh high boots for a knee length skirt. Business clothes, what I wear to board meetings, although that is not where I am headed today. No, I have a task of a different type to perform; and no parent, no matter how open minded or easily influenced, is going to let their baby daughter go to a school run by a woman dressed like a Vegas call girl.

At least, that is how I would appear to their narrow, simple minds. They would not see the power that dressing like that gives me, the control. They would not understand that I am not demeaning myself, I am demeaning them. You cannot be degraded unless you allow it. Sex is all about how you use it. I have learned that lesson well.

I must confess, the idea of starting a school appeals to me on many levels. For one, it will be a chance to mold children into our way of thinking and to properly prepare them for the future. Xavier has been doing it for years, we would do well to follow his example, albeit with our own methods. Especially since, if all goes well, there will be no more X-Men when the night is over. We will capture them, get what we need, and then dispose of them. No less than we would do to any foe.

I am almost ready, going over details of the plan in my mind. I have arranged for every contingency; I will not fail in my part. Wyngarde worries me though. Has he learned so little watching me that he believes he could possibly manipulate and control a woman with no consequences? His obsession with her will be his undoing. Which is one of the reasons I agreed to help him.

It is time. I have a job to do.

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