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Secret Bit of Right From Wrong	By : ChrisCross Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 9417 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America or The Avengers. I make no money, and live on reveiws alone

Chapter List
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A.N. Well, this chapter didn't go anything like I planned. I had thought to keep the cast numbers down, stick with the sort of place that Magneto hid out in during X3, but this image of what became Haven kept showing up. I tried to get rid of it, but my muse kept pushing it back. Uppity thing. So I wrote it the way it wanted to be written. You'll meet some people from X-Men: TAS, and X3, and some of my own design. Let the guessing games commence! Remember, Kindly review, even if you don't review kindly.

“My home is your home, Captain.” The grandiose phrase and tone was entirely at odds with the barren storeroom in which they stood. “I was informed that the rest of you are baseline humans. If any of you has an anti-mutant stance, leave now.” He paused “No-one here puts up with blind intolerance. Consider yourselves warned.” Then, with a theatrical wave of his hand, their host removed a large segment of metal floor, collapsing it into the stairs now revealed. “My people have many enemies, so it falls to us to take refuge in a place they cannot reach. And what works so well for my brethren will work just as well for you.” As they descended the stairs, light became visible at the bottom. “Welcome to Haven.”
Stepping out onto a long but not very deep balcony overlooking the main cavern, the weary refugees got their first glimpse of the underground fortress. Steve had on some level been expecting a tired, unkempt gaggle of people, similar to the displacement camps in the War. What he saw was more like a thriving town center. Shops selling every necessity and frivolity imaginable had been set up around a beautiful silvery fountain, flowing multitudes of people trafficked the lanes, and tall barrel arched halls led off into further reaches of a presumably vast subterranean city. Floating will-o-the-wisps bobbed over the heads of the laughing, chatting crowd, while tiny lightings crawled over the high ceiling, creating a bright, airy feel. Far from seeming to be in exile, hiding from foes, the population of Haven appeared happy and healthy.
“Woah. This place is incredible. It’s almost, almost magical, like a fairy hall.” Karen’s eyes were about as wide as they could be, her face transformed from exhausted to enchanted by the marvelous place they found themselves in. “Look, Cate, that vaulting, I could swear that’s from Chartres Cathedral. And the fountain…. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
Blinking down at the captivated girl, Magneto let a tiny smile creep onto his otherwise stoic face. “Haven is beautiful. Most of the founding members were survivors of the Mutant Massacre, unable to pass for human, they used to live in sewers. Their principal organizer, Callisto, and I have worked well together before, so I volunteered to do the basic construction. Haven was built by many hands, though.” He glanced shrewdly over at her. “Mutants are capable of building wonders, you know.”
Without taking her eyes from the busy square, she waved her hand in his direction. “First off, I’d say ‘capable’ is a massive understatement. Secondly, why do you say that like I’m not going to believe you, even though I’m looking right at proof? I’m baseline, not blind.” She rolled her eyes.
Cate put an arm around her sister’s shoulder, pulling her away from their ethically dubious host. Black Widow stepped seamlessly into the gap left behind. “Can we be shown our quarters now? I think we’d all be better for some rest.”
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Although Haven was large, it wasn’t endless, and recent events had increased the stigma of mutants, consequently increasing Haven’s population. It had also led to a minor phobia of non-mutants among the newer inhabitants. With this in mind, Callisto had chosen to put them all in one suite. It rather seemed to both Cate and Natasha that while Magneto was the ostensible leader, Callisto was the one who ran Haven. Magneto himself didn’t seem aware of the skillful way the striking woman controlled their partnership. The two female agents had seen that dynamic plenty of times in the course of their careers. Law enforcement may be a male-dominated field, but the unusual abilities that brought so many to S.H.I.E.L.D. were equal opportunity.
After guiding them to the almost house-like set of rooms, the slim, hard woman gave them all a summary of how life was lived in Haven. “We have laws like any city, but they’re very straight forward.” She ticked off the rules on her fingers. “Don’t injure another inhabitant. Don’t steal. The shops here should have just about anything you need, and we use several methods of payment, but barter and work-trade are the most common. Haven is mostly isolated, and only a very few of us ever go into human territory, so cash isn’t quite as valuable as it is on the surface. I hope you’ve considered how you’ll pay your way. We’re a city, not a charity. Don’t bring attention to Haven.” She paused, looking at them in a distant manner. Her eyes focused again, and she narrowed them.
“Normally I tell people to let me or another member of the counsel know of anyone who needs to be here, but with you…. No. If you think you’ll have a hard time staying quiet about us, we can have a telepath scrub you before you leave. Additionally, don’t even think about being bigoted. Literally, if you can’t stop yourself from thinking it, sooner rather than later it will be ‘overheard’. We aren’t going out of our way about your status, either direction. If we get a complaint, out you go. After the memory of this place has been sandblasted out of your skulls.”
Pointing to a greenish glass oval hanging by the door, she continued. “That can pull up a map to guide you from here to the square, or to something from a list of shops and services. Just touch it and think clearly of the place you want to go, or the type of place, if you want the list. It also can communicate with the counsel if there’s an emergency. If you need one of us, really need one of us to come and bail you out, just touch it and think about the reason you need us. It’s Shi’Ar tech, works using a mix of empathy and telepathy, so raw panic will get us just the same as calmly explaining. Don’t use it lightly.” She turned abruptly and walked out, the door closing behind her before they could ask any questions.
The group split up, picking rooms and getting settled in. Clint insisted on taking one of the two second floor rooms, Natasha taking the other. They both felt safer nearer to each other, and Clint got restless on ground level. Steve insisted the sisters pick first, so Cate and Karen took the two front-most ground floor rooms, and he went to unpack in the only bedroom left. The room was fairly small, and didn’t have its own bathroom, but nevertheless comfy. His duffel bag had been brought to the hospital from the loft, so it took a bit of doing to sort everything out.
Fifteen minutes later, he discovered that whoever had packed for him thought t shirts were actual shirts. Before waking up in the twenty first century, he had only ever thought of them as undershirts. He wasn’t overly upset; because he’d been in combat, he’d gotten used to seeing men in t shirts and trousers, because the less they wore, the less they had to wash. It still felt weird to go out in public in what he remembered as underwear. There were shops here, though, so he decided to go out to get some real shirts. As he went through the main area Clint, (who had unpacked by just dumping his bag out) stopped him to see what he would be doing. Steve explained the errand, asking if that would be as safe as it seemed to him. The archer just shrugged and mumbled something about not letting Widow go shopping with him.
Placing his hand on the glass plate, he thought *I need to go to a men’s clothing store.* Images came readily to his mind, a series of types of clothing. Seeing/thinking an image of nice trousers and a button up shirt, he thought at the plate again. *That one.* The next set of images were like maps, but with a layer of landmarks similar to having taken a tour. When the images cut off, Steve removed his hand from the now faintly glowing oval. He wasn’t sure if the directions would stay in his mind, because his recall usually required having seen the thing in real life. It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice, though, and it hadn’t seemed like a complicated route. *How hard could it be?* he told himself.
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Nearly an hour later, he regretted underestimating the difficulty of navigating a city with no sky. He had wound up in what appeared to be a theater district. Finally he broke down and decided to ask directions. Spotting a statuesque woman in a sleek light blue dress leaving a nearby cabaret, he walked over and lightly coughed, to catch her attention. She turned around, and he tried his best to sound confidant, in spite of his embarrassment.
“Um, Miss? I’m hoping you can help me. I was looking for a clothing store and seem to have gotten lost.”
“Well, now Dahling, I’d be happy to help.” Her plummy voice was deep, but full of humor and energy. “What sort of things do you need?”
“A little more of everything wouldn’t go amiss, but mainly just shirts. I had to leave my last place in a hurry, and someone else did my packing. They seem to have the idea that this,” he plucked at the stretchy cotton fabric, “is a real shirt. I know it covers everything just fine, but in my world it’s an undershirt. A real shirt has buttons and a collar and cuffs.” He was tired and frustrated, or he never would have come so close to revealing his past. Fortunately, she didn’t appear phased by his exasperated slip.
“Oh, I couldn’t agree more, Sweet. It’s nice to meet a man with good taste. We’re a bit of a walk away from the nearest place like that, but if you come in, Cherry’s a teleporter, she can take you right there.” She was holding her hand out in the direction of the door she had just exited.
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience her…”
“Not at all, dear. She would just have my hide if she thought I chased off a sweetie like you.” Looking at the blushing and demurring man, she smiled in amusement at his endearing bashfulness. “Oh, all the girls would, honey. Sweet thing like you, I’d never live it down.”
Entering the dimly lit club, he saw dark wood and pink velvet chairs being put out for tonight’s show by a tall, pale man, that his hostess told to go round up her friends. The atmosphere of the club was much like what he imagined that of Hollywood in his time to be. He was still looking about when two other exceptionally tall beauties ran out to greet their friend.
“Girls, we have a guest. He was lost, poor dear, looking to buy some decent shirts. Of course I told him we’d help. I’m sorry, honey, I missed your name.”
“I’m Steve, ma’am. Pleasure to make your acquaintances, ladies.” He nodded his head in a bit of a bow, trying to remember what little he knew of how to talk to pretty dames.
“Aren’t you just adorable?” The copper haired woman in a sleeveless yellow dress with metallic zig-zag lines across her hands and arms cooed. “I’m Ginger, I do our choreography.” She motioned to a teenaged Asian girl with bright red feathers in place of hair, “And this is Cherry, our costumer.” She indicated the first dame he had met, “You’ve already met Candy.” Looking at her again he realized her blonde hair was glowing in changing colors. “Don’t let her fool you; she’s the brains of our operation.”
Playfully swatting at one friend’s arm, Candy turned to the other. “So, Cherr, mind popping us to someplace we can outfit him?”
“No prob. Hold on tight, now. Some folks get disoriented.” She reached out an elaborately manicured hand, which Steve took. Her friends held her shoulders and a shimmery bubble grew around them, blocking the view of the club. With a loud POP and a disorienting rush of air, the bubble burst and they were in the entrance of a small menswear store. Upon their arrival it became apparent that the feathered girl was well known, as was her penchant for picking out other peoples clothing.
Three hours later, he was laden with bags, and had a piece of paper with notes for an advertising commission. Artists weren’t all that uncommon, but it was a way to pay the store back. His new friends had overcome his shyness, mainly by seeming not to notice it, and being cheerful and welcoming. They had gotten him to relax, which he was grateful for, and invited him to come back to the theater that night for the show, as their guest. He maintained he would have to check with his group, but they just said to bring them too.
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Karen was getting her second wind. The strain had finally stabilized out some, and she didn’t feel like hiding under the covers quite so much. So when Roger, *no, no, remember his name is Steve* asked if anyone would go with him to watch a show, she readily agreed. Steve had gone out and made some friends while she had been napping, it would seem. Her sister declined the offer, and Clint lost rock-paper-scissors with Natasha, so he went with them as a guard.
Reaching the cabaret was much easier the second time and the three of them made it there in plenty of time to check in with the muscular turquoise bouncer, confirming the invitation. Inside, a willowy Rita Hayworth look-alike called them over to the bar, letting them know their drinks were also on the house. Steve ordered the house special; a Gin and Tonic, which they called a ‘Sin and Sonic’ due to the bartender’s vibrational ability and fondness for alliteration. Karen got some form of fruity drink with a complicated garnish in it, and Clint stuck with Dr. Pepper, claiming he was on duty. They got seats in the front, and soon the already dim lights went out almost entirely as a spotlight framed a section of pink and teal curtains onstage.
The curtains opened, revealing the three women he had met, in matching but differently colored sparkling gowns. An announcer introduced them. “Welcome, one and all, to the fabulous Bedazzle Lounge. Our show tonight is a crowd favorite, back by popular demand. Please put your hands together for the sizzling Ginger Snap!” Ginger stepped forward and snapped her fingers, each snap fizzing out larger and larger balls of lightning. “The delectable Candy Krackle!” Candy stepped up, the iridescence of her hair spreading down her body in waves until she resembled a cut crystal sculpture. “And last but not least, the devastating Cherry Pop!” On the word ‘pop’ the bubble she had been building burst, and the spotlight swung over to the bar, where Cherry now stood doing a tap number. Ginger now had a microphone, which she used to great dramatic effect, calling out the show name.
“Together, we are Snap, Krackle, and Pop!”
The next half hour was part comedy routine, part concert, part dance show. Each woman had at least one solo, and right before they took a short intermission was a big, showy, group number of a peppy song called “We Are Family” that Steve had never heard, but liked, especially when he glanced over to see Karen bob her head to the music, singing along in her head. Although they clearly weren’t normal, each was still beautiful, and it seemed a shame they had to hide away from the world, when their show was good enough to be on Broadway. He mentioned it to Clint, when the break came. The response was, to say the least, not what he expected.
“Yeah, Buddy, that wouldn’t happen even if everyone in the world woke up one day and said ‘I’ve decided not to give a fuck about the x-gene.’ The big Broadway houses wouldn’t ever lower their stuck-up selves to book a drag group.” Seeing the confusion on the man from the past, he clarified. “Those are men. Really talented men, who work very hard and put a lot of effort into being women. It’s a complement to their skill that you thought they really were women, but don’t let them know that you had to be told. It’d be a bit of a give-away.” He looked at his friend’s face, unsure what he was seeing, aware that the Forties had a different and more conservative set of rules regarding gender. “You ok? Do we need to leave? I can get Karen from the bar if you need.”
“No, no, I’m fine. Just trying really hard not to think about how they manage those form-fitting numbers. Ye-ouch.”
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Secret Bit of Right From Wrong