23 Hidden Agendas #23

Stepping out of the conference room, the transition in Evan's demeanor was as swift as a change in weather. Ororo couldn't help but marvel at how his serious countenance had effortlessly shifted to the easy smile that now graced his face. It was almost as if he had shed one role to don another, like a masterful actor transitioning between scenes.

Her curiosity piqued, she cast an intrigued look in his direction. "Mind enlightening me about that abrupt departure?" she quizzed, her tone a mixture of amusement and genuine interest.

"You seemed to have the upper hand in the debate..." The sudden shift intrigued her, especially considering the intensity of their discussion just moments ago.

Evan met her raised eyebrow with a quizzical expression of his own, playfully feigning ignorance. "Upper hand? Did I really?" he replied, his voice laced with mild skepticism.

Ororo's bemused smile deepened, and she nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, you did," she affirmed, expecting an explanation for his unexpected exit.

A cryptic smile tugged at Evan's lips as he considered her question. "Well, you see," he began, drawing out his response with deliberate vagueness. "The concept of 'winning' wasn't really the goal there. It wasn't even on the table." His eyes held a spark of intrigue, as if inviting her to delve deeper.

Ororo's amusement only grew, and she tilted her head slightly. "Care to elaborate on that?" she prodded, clearly amused by his enigmatic response.

Evan chuckled, his amusement mirroring hers. "Alright, alright," he conceded, his tone still light. "Let's just say there wasn't any moral high ground to claim in that debate." He met her eyes, his expression turning thoughtful. "Not when the audience is comprised of individuals who don't view the world through the lens of right and wrong."

Ororo's brow furrowed slightly as she absorbed his words. "You mean they're indifferent to moral principles?" she inquired, her curiosity now bordering on concern.

Evan nodded, his gaze steady. "Exactly. To them, the powerful and the rich, those ideals are distant concepts that might influence the average person's choices, but they don't hold the same weight for them."

Understanding began to dawn on Ororo's features as she connected the dots. "So, it's not about whether it's right or wrong to oppress mutants in their eyes," she concluded, her voice tinged with a mixture of realization and unease.

Evan's nod was solemn, and he added, "Their primary concern is power—maintaining it, securing more of it. And the question that looms over them is whether mutants pose a threat to that power." His tone remained calm, almost clinical, as he dissected the motivations of the elite gathering.

Ororo absorbed his words, her expression shifting from bemusement to a more serious contemplation. "It's a chilling perspective," she mused, her gaze distant as she considered the implications.

Evan's sigh carried the weight of a world burdened by its own complexities. "Such is the state of the world," he mused, his voice tinged with a touch of resignation. His eyes held a depth of understanding, as if he had spent years unraveling the intricacies of power dynamics.

He let his words hang in the air for a moment, the gravity of the situation settling over them. "Those people have held power over others for too long," he continued, his tone firm, as if asserting an irrefutable truth. "In their eyes, other people, humans and mutants, are either tools or threats."

Ororo's brow furrowed momentarily, her contemplative gaze fixed on the ground as she absorbed his words. Then, her eyes widened in realization, a spark of understanding lighting up her features. Evan's words were like puzzle pieces falling into place, revealing a larger picture.

As if attuned to her thoughts, Evan elaborated with a nod. "Still, even people like them could be brainwashed into buying into Kelly's drivel if they hear it often enough—literally and figuratively."

Evan's thoughts drifted momentarily to the figure he had noticed standing beside Kelly during the speech—a man exuding an air of calculated sophistication, Sebastian Shaw. The name crossed his mind, a fleeting shadow, before he quickly refocused on the matter at hand.

"They needed to realize that rather than a threat, mutants could be tools," Evan continued, his voice steady as he vocalized his intentions. His gaze was forward, fixed on an invisible horizon as he spoke with a sense of purpose.

Ororo's expression shifted, her discomfort evident as she grappled with the implications of his words. "And is that truly what we are? Tools and threats?" she questioned, her voice soft yet laden with an undercurrent of uncertainty.

Evan's smile was reassuring and thought-provoking, a delicate balance between acknowledging the complexity of the situation and offering a perspective. "Aren't we all?" he replied, his voice gentle yet firm. "Everyone serves a purpose, knowingly or otherwise. We are all gears in the great machine that is society."

Evan's shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug, his expression thoughtful as he brought his ponderings to a conclusion. "But at the end of the day," he began, his voice carrying a weight of significance, "even a gear can bring down an entire machine if it so chooses to spin backward with enough force." The analogy lingered in the air, a poignant reminder of the potential for change that lay dormant within the most seemingly insignificant elements.

His words hung there, a gentle prompt for reflection, a challenge issued to those who held power and influence. The implications of his statement were as vast as they were thought-provoking, touching on the delicate balance of the world they inhabited.

Ororo's response was accompanied by a resigned sigh, her features reflecting a mixture of understanding and disapproval. "I understand what you mean," she conceded, her voice tinged with a note of reluctance, "but that doesn't mean I like it." Her words bore a hint of frustration, an acknowledgment of the harsh realities they faced.

Evan's eyes sparkled with a glint of wry amusement, his lips curling into a half-smile. "The truth is rarely easy to bear, my dear," he quipped, his tone holding a touch of empathy. He chuckled softly, his laughter carrying a sense of camaraderie as he added, "It is why I have precious few friends." His words were tinged with a hint of irony, an acknowledgment of the isolation that often accompanied a candid perspective.

...

Inside the opulent confines of his hotel room, Robert Kelly's frustration manifested vividly on his features. A vein pulsated ominously on his forehead as he stood rigidly before the ornate dresser, his anger a palpable force in the room.

His clenched teeth betrayed his inability to contain the torrent of emotions coursing through him. With an enraged sweep of his hand, he violently brushed away the items that cluttered the dresser's surface, a physical release of his pent-up fury.

The room's air seemed to crackle with the intensity of his emotions. The man's face contorted with a mix of indignation and bitterness. How dare that audacious man humiliate him on such a grand stage? Each of Kelly's arguments had been systematically dismantled, leaving him exposed and powerless.

Not only had the man rendered his carefully crafted words futile, but he had also sowed the seeds of doubt among the wealthy patrons Kelly had meticulously gathered. The memory of the debasing silence that had descended upon him still echoed in his ears, a haunting reminder of his public humiliation.

"God damn it all!" The expletive burst forth from Kelly's lips, his voice a raw testament to his seething anger. His hand, still trembling from the impact, bore the marks of his outburst. The mirror that had borne the brunt of his wrath now exhibited a spiderweb of cracks, a visual representation of his shattered composure.

It was in this tumultuous moment that a voice, smooth and calculating, cut through the charged atmosphere. "You've met quite the troublesome opponent, Senator Kelly..." The source of the voice emerged from the shadowy recesses of the room, a figure exuding an air of refined menace. Sebastian Shaw stepped into the light, his presence both imposing and enigmatic.

Kelly's rapid breaths began to slow as his gaze settled on Shaw, his initial frenzy tempered by the arrival of this enigmatic ally. A semblance of calm returned to his demeanor as he took a deep, steadying breath. The man's irate demeanor yielded to a reluctant acceptance of Shaw's reassuring presence.

Taking a deep breath, Kelly asked, "Are you familiar with that man?"

Sebastian Shaw's demeanor remained composed, his lips curving into a wry smile. He nodded with a sense of detached understanding as if fully aware of the storm raging within Kelly. "Evan Shepherd," he mused, his tone tinged with amusement, "a troublesome busybody indeed." Shaw's voice held an almost musical cadence, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had consumed Kelly's emotions.

His voice laced with a chilling nonchalance, Shaw continued. "A close associate of mine lost his life due to Sehpherd's meddling. I was slightly more fortunate." The admission was accompanied by a calculated pause, allowing the weight of his words to settle.

haw's tone shifted imperceptibly, his voice becoming a harbinger of smoldering rage as he continued, "Still, He disrupted a significant portion of my future plans, plans that held considerable potential." The ominous undertone in Shaw's words was a stark reminder of the danger posed by Shepherd's actions.

Kelly's frustration deepened, and he exhaled a heavy breath, his irritation palpable. "Perfect," he muttered, a note of bitterness tainting his voice. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, a gesture of exasperation. "First, those mutant freaks try to get me killed, and now I'm targeted by this Evan Shepherd character," Kelly lamented, the weight of his circumstances pressing heavily upon him.

Shaw chuckled, and his tone retained its icy calm. "There's no need to fret, my friend..." He turned away from Senator Kelly and moved to the window, gazing down at the busy streets of Newyork.

"We may have lost this battle, but the war is only just getting started..." Shaw turned back to Senator Kelly with an enigmatic smile. "And I have a feeling it's going to be a long, cold one..."

...

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