It's Been a Long, Long Time

The threats started pouring in shortly after Verena stood beside Senator Sanders as he announced that the progressives in the Senate were forming a coalition of Senators that would do everything in their power to ensure that the SRA never became law. They weren’t the usual threats that made their way into her office. In her time as a Congresswoman and a Senator, she had grown accustomed to threats from individuals stating that they would never vote for her, that they would form organizations to campaign against initiatives she supported and attempt to oust her from office. Those were the typical threats she received. They were harmless, strictly political, and judging by her poll numbers, they would never actually come to be.

But as of late, the threats had been taking on an increasingly violent tone. There were some whom left heated messages and emails stating that she was nothing more than a dirty wetback whom didn’t understand the importance of American values, and that as a result of her ignorance in what it meant to be truly American, she was endangering the entire country. And that was something they just couldn’t stand for. So they threatened her with promises of disrupting her rallies and all public appearances, they threatened her by declaring that she’d be a free target if she ventured into the South, they threatened her by stating that bodily harm would be done to her if the SRA was successfully stopped from turning into law.

The threats plagued her at all hours of the day. There wasn’t a moment in which she wasn’t thinking of them, of the possibility that a stranger would harm her or her staff. She took comfort in the fact that they had yet to threaten her parents or siblings and their respective families, but it wasn’t enough of a comfort to make sleeping an easy task for her. Lately, she was taking sleeping pills on the weekends to catch up on rest, because during the week, Sunday through Thursday nights, she only got two or three hours of rest, and they weren’t even undisturbed hours, she’d started having nightmares that kept her awake.

Verena had always known the SRA was a polarizing issue. It was the sort that came once in a generation, that sometimes even skipped a generation, but she’d never expected the climate to get so dangerous for politicians. They were just doing their jobs. They were trying to uphold the constitution, defend the basic civil rights of their fellow Americans, and stay true to their ideals, but none of that mattered, all of a sudden, every single Senator that was openly against the SRA was being targeted. And instead of speaking out about it to the press, they all kept their mouths shut. They didn’t want to make the threats into the issues. So far none of them had come to pass; no one had gotten hurt, no ones rallies had been disrupted. At the present, the threats were nothing more than words, and as such, they would be ignored. Because to acknowledge those threats to the media was to give the perpetrators power, and that was something none of them were willing to do, even if it meant being without trained protection.

The Senators, even the more moderate ones, were far too stubborn to give into the threats. They wanted to demonstrate to the opposition that their threats had no public impact on their decisions, even if in private they all questioned whether or not they were doing the right thing, whether it might be smarter to protect their own necks than those of the superhuman community.

It was difficult for some of the more moderate Democrats to believe that the liberal idealists had the same moments of doubts that they did, but it was the truth. Verena often questioned whether or not being such a prominent figure of the opposition to the SRA was a wise decision for her. Politically speaking, history would undoubtedly reward her position, but realistically, with the threats and the climate of fear the country was living in, she was risking her safety and that of those around here. But what could she do? There was no way in hell she could flip flop on her position. She’d made a reputation for herself as being fiercely opposed to the SRA, she had sworn to filibuster it if it were ever to come to a vote on the Senate floor, so her fears had to be just that, her fears. They could never be spoken of to any of her fellow Senators, to her staff, the only people she could feel free enough to discuss it was Patrick and Matthew, and that was only because she knew they wouldn’t berate her for being afraid. They were the only people in the realm of politics that she could truly confide in, and even then, she didn’t want to tell them about her reservation, because in her mind, admitting to others that she would scared, would somehow make her a coward. It was stupid logic, she knew it was, but her mind was firm in its belief that it was best to keep her reservations to herself, that was the best thing she could do, so she went into meetings, she went into press conferences, she walked into interviews, and kept fiercely attacking the SRA and everything it stood for.

“America touts itself as the land of the free,” she spoke. “That’s the slogan we’re always chanting. They say it in songs; they say it in films, in poetry, and in politics, that’s our go to line. But how on earth could we possibly keep saying that if we were to start forcing our fellow superhuman Americans to register with the Department of Homeland Security? We would be lying every single time we said that phrase, because there would be a part of the American people, a hardworking, honorable part that would be treated like criminals just because they were endowed –” She had to bring God into the equation, she preferred not to, it was better to keep church and state separate, but she had to try to appeal to the religious community. It was a new tactic the Democrats were using. So she continued on, “– by our maker with incredible abilities, abilities that have been time and time again used for the protection of our great nation and for the betterment of our lives. How could we treat them so unjustly when it us so obvious that they were made the way they were because our divine maker willed it so? But if that is not reason enough to wish to protect the superhuman community then I wish to remind everyone in this country that if the SRA were to pass, this nation would be moving backwards in terms of basic rights. We’d be saying that it’s fine to target a group. It’s alright to do so because we’re afraid of them, it’s alright because they are the other, they’re not like us, and that fact makes its okay to treat them like lesser Americans, because that is exactly what will be done if we start keeping them on lists. And those lists, those registrations will set a precedent. It would make it so this country could legally keep list on other groups, there would be legal grounds to make such arguments. And you know what? I can already imagine what other groups are going to be targeted and I’ll say them –”

“Honestly, I’ve tried to sit here politely and hear you out, but this is going too far.” Senator Lowe spoke from across the table.

“I sat here in silence for five minutes while you spoke,” snapped Verena. “So extend me the same courtesy.” She looked directly into his eyes, daring him to say something, but he simply bowed his head, as if to yield the floor back to her. “As I was saying, I can already imagine what other groups are going to be targeted. The United States has strained relations with the Middle East, particularly with Iran. So what if, sometime down the line, we start forcing people of Iranian descent to register with the government? What if something were to happen to completely sever all communications with Iran and then we end up rounding up everyone of Iranian descent into internment camps? Because the SRA sets a legal precedent for that to happen,” she declared. “The SRA is riddled with deceptive language, and part of that language makes it legal for the United States government to detain members of the superhuman community indefinitely.”

“That’s just not true!” Lowe nearly growled, losing himself for a moment.

“Title VI, Subtitle A states otherwise.” Verena declared. “Would you like me to read it aloud for everyone?”

In private, he would call her a bitch. He would corner her in the hall and tell her off, but for the present, he had to say something else. “Subtitle A pertains to individuals whom have been caught conspiring with members of the superhuman community whom have not registered and are on the run from justice.”

“That’s not true. Subtitle A doesn’t require a person to have been caught conspiring with an unregistered superhuman, it simply requires that there to be reasonable suspicion.”

“Senator Faustino is trying to make something from nothing,” spoke Lowe. “Just as she is attempting to create a panic by stating that the United States would dare violate the rights of law abiding Americans by placing them in camps based solely on their ethnic background or superhuman ability. Our government has never in their history done so nor will they ever do so.”

“You’re joking, right?” Verena couldn’t believe the opening he’d just given her. He’d just handed her a golden opportunity to make him look like a fool. “Do you not remember the Japanese Internment Camps during WWII? Have you forgotten the fact that over one hundred thousand people were illegally interned based solely on the fact that they were of Japanese ancestry? Honestly, how can you be a United States Senator and not know basic American history? You speak of not violating the rights of the superhuman community, but you have just proved yourself ignorant of how easily this country can violate the rights of the minorities given enough panic and fear in the air.”

“You are reaching for whatever you can to paint me as not only a villain, but as an ignorant human being,” argued Lowe. “I care about the rights of my fellow Americans, but I care even more about the safety and well being of this great nation!”

“So what you’re saying is that if denying people of their most basic rights ensures this country’s safety, you will be fine with that? You’ll be all for it?”

He grew flustered. “You’re putting words into my mouth.”

“You’re giving me words to put in there,” she shot back.

He glared at her in contempt. “You are doing everything in your power to vilify not only myself, but everyone in this country that believes that those with superhuman ability, those who could one day harm us, should register with the government so we know what they are capable of.”

“They’re not monsters.” Verena argued.

“No one’s saying they are. What we’re saying is that they could very well slip one day and the results would be catastrophic. It’s best to know what they’re capable of so we can be prepared.” He paused, finding himself comfortable and believing himself in control. “And it would be in our best interest to know what abilities those with troubled pasts possess.”

“You think villains are going to register?” Verena fought back a scoff.

“I expect everyone with a superhuman ability to register.” He replied, skillfully avoiding her question.

“Senator Lowe, even you ought to know better than to think villains will register. They specialize in breaking the law. That’s their forte, what they live for. So why would they register? Why would individuals whom have made a life of breaking the law, all of a sudden decide to abide by it? It’s idiotic to even entertain that thought.” She paused taking a moment to enjoy the annoyed look in his eyes. “The one’s whom will register are the law abiders, the ones that walk in line, protect us. You’re not going to catch any villains with the SRA. All you’ll accomplish is the violation of basic human rights, and also a massive insult to the U.S. Constitution.”

“Liberals make careers out of being overdramatic,” stated Lowe. “They bring in emotion to attempt to cloud the mind of the electorates and steer them away from logic, but the American people are to –”

“Really?” she said. “The liberals are the ones that do that? I'm sorry, I know I should have let you finish your statement, but there is only so much nonsense a person can take before they have to speak out. Have you not seen how the GOP and its supporters use Jesus to validate atrocities? Have you not seen how they have defended the bombings of abortion clinics and abortion providers by stating that that is what Jesus would have done? Your party is the one that runs away with emotions. You plant fear into your respective constituencies and get them so upset over the gays and contraception and women actually enjoying sex that they completely forget about issues that actually matter to them, they completely forget about the banks, about tax cuts, about the national debt. So don’t sit there all smug talking about emotions overwhelming reason when that tactic is what has kept your party afloat for all these years.”

The moment those words came out of her mouth, she knew she there was going to be hell to pay. And sure enough, after the taping had ended, and she returned to her dressing room, she was cornered by Ryan.

“What the hell was that about?” questioned Ryan, gruffly. “We told you to appeal to the Christians, to bring God into the equation and you –”

“I did do that!” she exclaimed, annoyed at being scolded like a child.

“Yes. You took a moment to appeal to them by mentioning the divine maker, and then the next moment you took a shit on the Christians by saying that they justify killing people with Jesus!”

“I didn’t take a shit on all of them! Just the Christian Extremists, huge difference!”

“That’s beside the point!” shouted Ryan. “It doesn’t matter if those fucking bible bangers exploit Jesus and the bible to justify their terrorism, what matters is that you’ve just alienated potential supporters. That’s what matters! Damn it!” he cursed, taking off his thick rimmed glasses. “Every public appearance has to count, every speech, every interview has to go our way or else we’re not going to gain enough national support.”

“I know that!” she yelled.

“Really?” he questioned. “Because you’re sure as hell not acting like it!” he snapped. “Now I'm going to have to do damage control. You’ll have to issue a statement, and I’ll have to make sure it does the rounds in the media.”

“I'm not issuing a statement.” Verena boldly declared. “I don’t give a fuck about those people. It’s Christians like those that give the rest of us a bad name and I'm not gonna fucking apologize to them. Fuck ‘em all.”

“We need them.” Ryan stressed.

“We don’t need them. And let’s be honest, it’s not like we were ever going to have them. Those kinds of people want the SRA to pass, and I'm not going to pander to them. It’d be a damn waste of time. I’ll pander to the other Christians, the moderates and the ones that just go to Church because it’s a habit, but I won’t kiss the asses of Christian Extremists.” Verena walked over to the mini fridge. “So . . . aren’t you going to give me a pat on the back for pouncing on Lowe for his slip up? Even you have to admit that was a golden opportunity.”

“It was,” he conceded. “But my mind’s preoccupied by the fact that you’ve dug yourself a grave with the religious right.”

She shrugged it off. “I’ve never been a favorite of theirs. According to some of their organizations, I'm going straight to hell when I do. So I dug my grave with them a long time ago.” She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. “Where are we after this?”

“You’re expected at the committee on the judiciary, Elizabeth and Rodrigo are already there waiting for you. After that, you’re meant to have a forty-five minute meeting with Senator Sanders, then an hour meeting with your counsel and advisors, then a half hour meeting with the legislative team,” answered Wilson, not even having to check the schedule. “Also, you’re meant to have dinner with Congressman Patrick tonight. He said to remind you not to forget.”

Just hearing what the day had in store for her was enough to make Verena want to retreat to her home, but she had to keep pushing, this was what she’d always dreamed of. She couldn’t squander the opportunity, no, that was something she could never do. So she grabbed her briefcase, slipped on her sunglasses, and then followed Ryan and Wilson to their vehicle, where a bright eyed intern eagerly awaited her turn to be of use. The intern, whose name was Samantha, drove them to the building where the committee members would be gathering, and once there, Verena met up with Elizabeth and Rodrigo whom would be taking down notes to help her come to decisions later on.

Three hours were spent at the meeting, arguing as to whether to take a bill to the floor as it was or if it necessitated amendments that would make it viable. The Senators tried their best to be present, to fully give themselves to the matter at hand, but as of late, everyone had been becoming increasingly preoccupied with the SRA. It was only a matter of time before it left the Armed Services Committee and went to the Senate floor for a vote, for all they knew the SRA could have passed as they sat at their own meeting. And they were all worried as to what would come when it went to the Senate floor for a vote. The damn bill hadn’t even left committee, and Senators were already at each others throats, lines were being drawn, and to be on the wrong side of it could have severe political ramifications. It could be the difference between being reelected by their constituencies or being ousted from office, so it was only natural that part of them were engrossed in what could come with the SRA, and the other part was struggling to pay attention to the legislation before them.

When the three hours were up, she was driven over to the building that housed Senator Sanders’ office. She was nervous about the meeting, what with her having had a go at the religious right; she feared that Sanders would scold her. He was after all, her mentor. So every once in awhile he scolded her, but instead of voicing the opinion that Ryan had held, he congratulated her on her performance. He was pleased by how she’d handled herself, how she’d gone on the offensive. A lot of the times, on the Democratic party side of things, Senators were so caught up with seeming well mannered and respectful that they didn’t get their hands dirty during interviews and debates, which was a shame. It was because of that flaw that the Republicans were known as being experts at politics, while the Democrats were better at policy. But that wasn’t the case with Verena; she didn’t shy away from calling someone out if they were making misleading statements or if the situation called for it. That was one of the reasons why she’d done so well in the House of Representatives, and according to Sanders, she had to keep being like that in order to really stand out in the Senate. She had to be on the offensive, because the more moderate Democrats were going to represent a more subdued side of the opposition.

“We have to campaign hard,” he’d said as he sat in his leather armchair. “It hasn’t been easy and it sure won’t be getting any better, not with the climate this country’s in, but we have to do it. The moderates are already doing their share by opposing it, some might pay for that at the polls, but we have to go further.” He leant his head back, resting his eyes as he did so. “This isn’t going to be just another bill, not one of the ones that get swept under the rug, this will alter the very fabric of this nation, what it stands for, what freedom truly means here . . . this is history. And we . . .” he let out a sigh. “. . . We have to be on the right side of it, even if it means enduring threats for our high visibility.”

Her eyes widened at his words. They’d never discussed the threats before.

“You’re getting threats too?” she asked.

He opened his eyes. “I’ve kept quiet on them, as has everyone else, but after so many years in office, I’ve grown quite adept at being able to spot someone who’s being threatened. There’s a certain look to their face, their eyes struggle to remain confident, but fear has a way of betraying a person. It’s because of these threats that the moderates have toned down their speaking, they still oppose the SRA, but they wish to distance themselves from the issue. But soon they won’t be able to. The SRA will be on the Senate floor by early next week.”

“How do you know?”

“The chairman of the committee is a close friend.” He replied. “He thought it best to leak the information to me, and I’ve chosen to include you as well as Senator Feingold, so you can start writing speeches.”

“S-Speeches?” she stuttered.

“For the filibuster,” he stated. “You were planning on speaking, weren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but I assumed that because I'm new I’d have to wait for the senior progressives to speak.”

“This is one of the instances in which seniority isn’t a deciding factor. We go by which Senators have the highest visibility. Since I’ve been the most outspoken critic, I’ll go first. My last filibuster took about eight and a half hours. I intend to break that record, perhaps go up to ten, but I’ll have to see how I'm feeling that day. These seventy-something year old bones have a way of being unpredictable.” He chuckled to himself. “Feingold will take the floor after. He’ll take much longer than I do, and then, if they’re not sick of hearing us talk by then, you’ll go on.”

“Do you think I’ll have a chance of speaking on the floor?”

“I'm certain you will.” He took a sip from his green tea. “The Republicans won’t go down without a fight. We might think they’re idiots, but the truth is they’re crafty little fucks. No one campaigns like them. They sell lies to their constituencies. They convinced people making under $30,000 a year, think that they were at risk for the Estate Tax. Your party could never do that. The Democrats believe in truth, and in being respectful, but politics are dirty. And even when the Democrats get their hands dirty, they’re barely scratching at the surface of the filth, that’s why I’ve chosen you and Feingold to help me with the filibuster. Feingold is more of a socialist than a Democrat, but he can’t do away with the party. And you, well, you’re the same. And don’t try to deny it. You have socialist ideals. There’s nothing wrong with that. Socialism is good. Medicare is a form of socialism, as is the education system, people are just scared of socialism because it sounds dirty, it’s not. It’s a good word. But as I was saying, I picked you two to accompany me, because I think you’ll attack harder than any of the others, and that’s what we need. Those superheroes have done so much for us, we can’t let them down, and we certainly can’t let our constitution be trampled on.”

“We can’t,” agreed Verena. “But, uh, how long do you think my speech should take?”

“Do you know the current record for longest filibuster?” he asked, casually.

“Of course, it was Senator Thurmond. He spoke for twenty-four hours and eighteen minutes, give or take a few.”

“I want you to surpass that.”

“Surpass twenty-four hours? I don’t . . . I can’t write a speech that’ll take longer than a day. I mean, I can try, but I don’t see that happening.”

“You don’t have to say a speech the entire time, but you can read a book, maybe it can be a classic piece of literature, maybe it’ll be one of the phone books from your state.” He reached down and began to massage his knees, lately they’d been acting up on them. “I think we’ll have to cut our meeting a little short, I have to do the exercises for my knees.”

It was with that that their meeting ended. Senator Sanders began his yoga exercises, while Verena made her way to her own office, where her counsels and advisors were already waiting for her. The eldest, and undoubtedly most influential, was her Chief Counsel, Michael Rosenkoetter. He had been there since she first took office in the House of Representatives, and had pledged to follow her for the rest of her career. Michael had worked with President Clinton during both administrations, and prior to that, had made a career with Senator Ted Kennedy. It was through his relationship with the Kennedy family that he came to be Verena’s Chief Counsel, and it was him whose words she heeded when she was at an absolute loss as to how to proceed.

Verena’s second in command was Anne Curtsinger, a veteran of Washington politics whom had decided to return to her Californian roots and immerse herself in state level politics. She had done so for about a year, working up in Sacramento, but then she caught wind of the young progressive whom was coming up the ranks quickly, and since political advisors always have a way of gravitating towards those that have a promising future ahead of them, it was only natural for Anne to present a resume to the young Congresswoman, and as soon as Verena had heard that the Anne Curtsinger wanted to work with her, she personally drove out to Anne’s home and welcomed her aboard. Anne was the one that indulged Verena’s idealist sensibilities a bit more than Michael. She saw the young woman for what she could be, and worked tirelessly to bypass any institutional roadblocks that would get in Verena’s way.

The Senator’s advisors were Anthony Gaviria and Rory Fitzgerald, the former her National Security Policy Advisor while the latter advised Verena on all other aspects of policy. Anthony Gaviria had worked at the pentagon for many years, and after growing disenchanted with the way things worked, decided to go into politics to give Congressional members an in depth look into National Security. Verena was fortunate enough to be the member he decided on. Rory Fitzgerald was a member of the Kennedy family. He had chosen to work with Verena instead of his cousin, because he thought she could benefit more from his assistance. Patrick already had a team of policy advisors, all at the top of their games, Verena had just been starting assembling her team when she first stepped into the House, and Rory had wanted to be a part of that team.

Those four accomplished individuals comprised her most trusted inner circle. They all knew the message she was trying to get across, they all knew exactly what policies she had to pursue in order to keep her progressive stride. And when they were all gathered together, they spent their time discussing what aspects of the SRA she had to keep discussing during interviews, and what steps she had to take on other bills that were currently in the committees she was in.

“Right now relations with Iran are becoming even more strained,” spoke Anthony, “Though this fact has remained out of the headlines due to the SRA. But the thing is, unless the country has more dialogue with Iran, and stops trying to bully them into positions we like, we could very well be facing another armed conflict in the Middle East.”

“How likely do you think that’ll happen?” she asked.

“Unless the US and Iran can work out the deep rooted issues that exist between the two nations, we could be looking at a conflict by years end.” Anthony set down his files. “Now I know you don’t want to hear that since you’re so engrossed with the SRA, as you have to be given the circumstances, but I want to remind you that there is still a major issue in the Middle East, and once the SRA passes, Iran will yet again take precedence. So I ask you, what steps do you want me to take?”

“I . . . well, I want you to remain well informed on the situation, make me daily briefings on what’s going on over there. By the time I'm in the office, I want to have a folder on Iran waiting for me. I’ll read it over coffee and begin the day like that. Then, if the situation demands my attention, I’ll hand it over, but for now our main priority is the SRA. And I need you to keep me up to date on how the passage of the SRA could potentially impact national security.”

Anthony scribbled down what she wanted to.

“Rory, were you able to –” she was interrupted by the office phone ringing. Her nostrils flared in annoyance. “If you’ll excuse me,” she made her way towards the desk. “Hello? What’s going on? I told you not to disturb me while I was in the meeting. No. No I don’t want to talk to them. I don’t even know who those people are . . . tell them to give you their personal information and that a meeting will be scheduled. Look, I don’t care if they say they’re not leaving until they see me. I'm in a fucking meeting! I'm not going to put my day on hold to see people that think they can just show up. Now tell them that the only way they’re talking to me is if they make an appointment. And don’t call again. You know the only reason you can interrupt meeting is if there’s an emergency with my family or if the SRA passes. Alright?” she questioned, and waited to hear the response. “Sorry about that,” she apologized as she returned to her seat on the couch. “Apparently some individuals showed up thinking they could force their way into a meeting with me and –” The time, the interruption was the door opening. “What did I just say about no further interruptions?” she asked, growing increasingly flustered. Her eyes darted from Katie to the two men that stood in the doorway. “What part of you have to make an appointment don’t you understand?” she asked, not caring to be polite. She was stressed out, she hadn’t slept right, she couldn’t remember the last time she actually sat down to a meal, and these unwelcomed visitors were about to feel her wrath. “I am in the middle of an important meeting here, so see yourselves out before I have security escort you off the premises!”

“Senator Faustino, I'm going to have to ask you to –” spoke one of the strangers.

“You’re not going to ask a damn thing from me.” Verena declared. “This is my office. I call the shots here, and you are interrupting an important meeting. So see yourselves out, now.”

“I'm afraid that’s just not possible, Senator.” The man with the receding hairline spoke. “It’s imperative that I speak to you.”

“And it’s imperative that the meeting I'm currently in takes place.” Verena shot back. “Now go.” She pointed out the door.

The man took in a deep breath. “I don’t think you understand who I am,” he said, calmly. “Let me introduce myself. I'm agent Phil Coulson from S.H.I.E.L.D.” He took out his badge, putting it on display for her.

Verena almost scoffed. She’d never heard of him or his organization.

“Your name and organization are of no consequence to me. Especially not right now when I'm in the middle of a meeting regarding the SRA,” her cheeks were turning bright pink from frustration. “Katie, please get security on the line. I want these two gone.”

“Ma’am, I don’t think that’d be in our best interest.” Anthony spoke up.

Her head snapped in his direction. “And why’s that?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D is a highly elite counterterrorism and intelligence agency,” explained Anthony.

“Then why haven’t I heard of them before?” she asked, annoyed at her own ignorance.

“Most civilians never hear of them.” Anthony sat up straight. “They prefer to go under the radar, are funded directly through the pentagon via different channels that allow them to go unnoticed in legal documentation.”

“We receive money that goes into unaccounted projects,” commented Phil from his place near the door.

“How do you know about them then?” Verena asked Anthony.

“I’ve always been particularly skilled at being well informed,” he replied, and the one in his voice made it obvious to her that he wasn’t about to explain how he knew of the organization. “What do you want to discuss with Senator Faustino?” Anthony asked Phil.

“That’s between us and the Senator.” Phil replied. “That is, if she’ll take a moment to hear us out.”

“How long do you expect this will take?” she asked Phil.

“About an hour, maybe more, Senator,” answered Phil, respectfully.

“An hour?” she repeated. “I don’t have an hour to throw away on an unscheduled meeting.”

“It’ll be in your best interest.” Phil replied.

She took in a deep breath to calm herself. “All of you can go out on an early dinner. Be back in one hour to continue where we left off,” she spoke to her counsels and advisors. “Wilson,” she looked towards the seat beside hers where he sat quietly, taking notes for her, “I'm going to need you to tell Elizabeth and Rodrigo that are meeting has been delayed by an hour and a half. And tell Patrick that I’ll be late to dinner.”

“I will, ma’am. Do you need me to come back in the room after I’ve done so?” asked Wilson, standing from his seat.

“No. I don’t think that’d be best.” She took off her reading glasses, and massaged the bridge of her nose. “Just make sure no one interrupts us, unless it’s the SRA or my family.” She waited until her staff members left the room, to directly address the two strangers in. “You’ve just made me postpone an important meeting, I do hope whatever you’re here to talk to me about is worth it or I’ll turn you out of this office.”

“The Superhuman Registration Act is precisely what we’re here to discuss.” Phil moved towards her, his partner a few steps behind.

For the first time since they’d arrived, her eyes flickered with curiosity instead of annoyance.

“The SRA?” she repeated more for herself than for them. “Have a seat then. Would you care for a drink?”

“We’re fine.” Phil spoke on behalf of both of the men.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind my having one.” Verena poured herself a glass of brandy, and then, with glass in hand, returned to the couch area. “Don’t take this as an insult, but what were your names again?” She hadn’t been paying much attention when Phil had spoke.

“I'm agent Phil Coulson.” He stood up and shook her hand. “This is my associate, agent Steve Rogers.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am,” Steve spoke as he shook her hand. “We’ve been following your stance on the SRA very closely.”

“I take it you both approve then.” She smiled. It was instinctual for her to smile when people complimented her. “It’s good to know I have your organization behind me.”

“I'm sorry, ma’am. I think I may have been unclear with my wording, but our employer is not a supporter of your stance. It wishes for the SRA to become law.” Steve took a seat beside Coulson.

“But you just said it was an honor to meet me because you’ve been following my stance on the SRA.” Verena was unsure what the pair of them were trying to get at.

“We have been following your progress, Senator Faustino. And we do approve of your stance, but the same cannot be said of our employed.” Phil unbuttoned his jacket, allowing himself to be more comfortable.

“Then how are you here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Verena was getting annoyed again, the look in her eyes made that very much clear.

“I never said we were here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. I simply stated we were from there.” Phil watched her intently.

To calm herself before she said anything stupid, Verena took a long drink of brandy. “What are you doing here? What the fuck do you want?”

“I see you prefer to get straight to the point.” Phil commented.

“I don’t have time to beat around the bush,” she said. “Unless you haven’t noticed, I have a very busy schedule. So tell me what you’re doing here or else I’ll have the security called in. I don’t have time to waste. Not when I'm taking on a bill like the SRA.”

“We wish to assist you in your fight against the registration act.” Phil stated. “We’ve voiced our opposition to the leadership in our organization, but a change in personnel led to our words falling on deaf ears. As such, we felt it our duty to reach out to you in hopes that our assistance will help bring an end to this hellish legislation.”

“And how exactly do you intend to help me?” she asked.

“By passing along information unknown to anyone else,” Steve declared.

At that, her eyes lit up. “Information?” she was inching towards the edge of her seat, the excitement building up in her. “What kind of information?”

“Ma’am, are you aware of the Congressional member that introduced the SRA to the House of Representatives?” inquired Steve.

“Of course,” the question insulted her. “It was Congressman Selwyn from Kentucky that introduced it. Everyone knows that.”

“Are you aware of the fact that Congressman Selwyn has been linked to the Brotherhood?” Phil watched her intently.

“I . . . I don’t know who the Brotherhood is.” Verena hated being unaware of things.

“They’re a supervillain terrorist organization comprised of mutants and supervillains whom wish to ensure the domination of mutants and superhumans over humans,” explained Steve. “We have reason to believe that it was the Brotherhood whom wrote the Superhuman Registration Act, and used Selwyn to present it to the House of Representatives.”

Verena’s brow furrowed in confusion, “But . . . but why would they – what?” she set down her glass. “Why the fuck, would they be the minds behind the SRA? That doesn’t make any sense! Why would they want to force the superhuman registration and mutants to register with the government? Shouldn’t they want people with those enhanced abilities to just do their own thing and be left alone? I mean, come on, this doesn’t make any damn sense.”

“It actually makes perfect sense,” argued Phil. “Their organization wants to establish the mutant and superhuman community as the dominant force in the world, but – and this is very important to note – the vast majority of people with enhanced abilities simply want to be left alone to coexist peacefully. They’re fine with the way things are. The Brotherhood isn’t pleased with their complacency, so for years they’ve been trying to think of a way to force the hand of their fellow mutants and superhumans.”

“The SRA is that opportunity,” Steve took over. “If they can get the bill to pass, it’ll create a real sense of panic among the mutant and superhuman population, and then it’d be very likely for a war to break out.”

“W-war?” she stuttered.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Steve replied. “If their communities start being targeted and rounded up, forced into camps like you mentioned in your interview this morning, then it’s only reasonable to assume that a war will break out in an attempt to end the persecution.”

“Why won’t your organization do something to stop this? If they know what’s going on then –”

“They don’t believe us.” Phil stated. “We’ve shown them the files we’ve made over the last few months, but they refuse to acknowledge any truth in it. They say we’re on a witch hunt. That we’re making something out of nothing.” He paused. “That’s why we came here.”

“But I'm just a Senator.” She said, the title not holding its usual power. “How can I stop a war?”

“Get the bill thrown out.” Phil stated. “Talk it to death with a filibuster. Use the progressives in the Senate. Use your contacts. This is government, it’s messy and it’s slow and hardly anything ever gets done, so make sure this bill doesn’t happen.”

She reached for her drink, and downed its content. “Have you informed anyone else of this? Senator Sanders, perhaps?” she asked. “He’s the one that calls the shots with the progressives.”

“You’re the only Senator we’ve reached out to.” Phil told her. “We can’t risk word slipping out to the press that there’s an organization that wants a war. That might just ruffle enough feathers to get the battles going.”

“So you don’t want me to tell anyone about this? I thought I could pass the information along and -”

“This information is strictly between the three of us.” Steve pulled out a manila folder from the briefcase he’d been carrying. “This is a gag order stating that any information disclosed by my person and agent Coulson, will remain strictly between the three of us.”

Verena took the folder from his hands, and read it over, taking her time to read it over twice.

“The death threats we’re getting aren’t from normal people are they?” she asked, eyes still fixed on the document. “They’re from the Brotherhood.”

“The threats your fellow Senators are receiving are from non-mutants and non-superhumans, but the calls relating to your person are primarily from the Brotherhood.” Phil confirmed her fears. “They’ve taken an interest in you. You’ve become the face of the opposition to the SRA, and a threat to them.”

She didn’t say anything; instead she walked over to her bar area.

“Is there a price on my head?” she asked as she poured herself another drink.

“Not yet.” Phil replied.

She lifted the glass to her lips, and in one gulp downed it. She poured herself another.

“Senator Faustino, I understand that you have reservations, but we must insist that you –”

“You can count on me.” She reassured them, turning to face the two men. “For whatever it is, for whatever you’ll need of me, I'm in.”