Monday afternoon, Pietro and Val Cooper

[x-ccelerate.livejournal.com]

Pietro and Val come to an arrangement regarding the Sabretooth section of his Brotherhood files. Neither of them walk away particularly happy, so it's probably a pretty solid compromise. And Val learns something that surprises her.

Thanks to Alicia for socking the very put-upon federal agent. :)



The conference room that Xavier had graciously let Pietro use for this meeting was comfortable enough, Pietro supposed. It was a pity he hadn't been able to get one of those supremely irritating interrogation-room chairs for Cooper to sit in, but one couldn't have everything. He shifted slightly in his own seat, slipping into a well-practiced contemptuous lounge, and checked his watch again. How long did it take to walk from the front door up here?

The door opened and Val Cooper stepped in. She gave Pietro a cool look as she moved towards one of the other chairs. "Mr. Maximoff," she greeted him.

"Miss Cooper," Pietro returned lazily. "Charmed, as usual. I hope the day finds you well?" He smiled. "And generous too, of course. The day had better find you generous."

The look in her eyes was utterly unsurprised and only vaguely irritated. "It finds me eager to get to the point, Mr. Maximoff. We feel," she said, sitting down, "that while Sabretooth may not have been mentioned specifically in our agreement with you, providing us with what information you have on the man, who is after all a person of considerable interest and one of your father's long-time associates, would be a considerable demonstration of good faith on your part."

"Oh, I certainly agree. Especially in light of recent events . . . wasn't it your fellow agents he strolled past at the Senator's rally? You Secret Service types must have been mortified to be shown up by an idiot teenage boy." Pietro's expression flattened. "But I'm not particularly inclined to do you any favors, Miss Cooper. If you want what I know--and you do--you'll have to deal for it." The transmitter on his ankle bracelet thudded against the table as he put his feet up.

"Agent Cooper, if you please, Mr. Maximoff," was the chilly response. Valerie Cooper was not a woman who enjoyed the feel of having her back against the wall. Particularly when she wasn't sure that was the case. "An argument could be made that you're not precisely in the position to be demanding concessions. We have no hard evidence that your father isn't ultimately behind Sabretooth's targeting of the Senator. A liberal reading of your agreement with us-"

"Oh, please," Pietro cut her off, a cynical chuckle edging his voice. "That's an exceedingly liberal reading of our agreement, and we both know it." He shook his head indulgently. "Ever since the news broke here, all I've heard has been 'Why would Magneto want Senator Creed dead?' Mind, I expect you're slightly more on the ball than the students here; you do realize, I hope, that my father doesn't want mutant rights advanced in the arena of reasonable political discourse. He wants to start and then win a war, and to do that he needs extremists far more than he needs moderates." Pietro paused for a moment. "That said . . . my father wasn't behind this. Oh, I'm sure he'll use the situation to his own ends, and certainly if Creed's assassination didn't serve his agenda he wouldn't have allowed Sabretooth to attempt it, but this was not a Brotherhood operation."

Cooper gave him a level look, marred only by a trace of impatience. "Thank you for your input. Let's get to the point, then - what do you want?" She raised a hand. "But let me remind you really aren't in a position to demand the moon on a silver plate. Your intelligence would be valuable, and we want it. But despite the incident at the rally, I'm not sure that we're so completely unable to protect Creed that we need to give you whatever you want. Especially as you haven't yet delivered on what was promised in your agreement."

Pietro raised his ankle slightly. "I want your little fit of pique gone. You don't need it to keep me here; I'm staying of my own will. You don't need it as a goad to encourage my cooperation; I approached you, and--unforeseen delays aside--it's never been my intention to renege on our agreement. I want my father brought to justice more than you do. This . . . manacle is nothing more than a spiteful little joke that I'm no longer in the mood to humor."

"Mr. Maximoff," Cooper said, her voice downright frosty, "I will repeat, you have not yet delivered. On anything. The only reason you're here, enjoying at least limited freedom, is that Charles Xavier has vouched for the fact that you do indeed intend to fulfill your end of the agreement." She straightened slightly in her chair. "If, however, you assist us with this related matter, we can talk about a temporary removal of the bracelet. I'm disinclined to make it permanent until you deliver something concrete about your father, but we can perhaps consider a gesture of good faith. On our parts."

Pietro glared at her for a moment, then shrugged and took a flash drive out of his pocket. He spun it idly between his fingers. "On this, you'll find comprehensive--I might flatter myself by saying encyclopedic--records of everything Sabretooth has done for the Brotherhood, and everything I've been able to document regarding his independent activities. You'll also find my personal notes on his personality and motivations; I don't claim any particular insight into the mass of psychoses and instincts he claims is a mind, but I did live and work with the man for three years, so I have a feeling your profilers might be interested in my observations. When you get the chance to look it over, I'd like you to consider that I have at least this much detail on my other former compatriots and quite a bit more on my father."

Pietro smiled thinly. "I'll want at least a week's reprieve from my house arrest in exchange for this item, but I'll tell you one thing for free: the second of the two major reasons I know that the attempt on the Senator's life wasn't a sanctioned Brotherhood operation is that Victor Creed would never in a million years consider the political ramifications of Graydon Creed's death. The only thing on his mind when he was insinuating himself past your fellow agents was the smell, and probably the taste, of his father's blood on his claws."

Cooper's jaw may have dropped, if only for a moment. "Victor Creed," she murmured, her eyes gone distant for a moment. "Well, then." She focused on Pietro again, her gaze sharp. "Contingent on you making yourself available to answer any questions we have about what's on that drive, you'll have your week," she said. "With your cooperation on this duly noted."

Pietro smirked at her. "Well, it's not as if I'm going anywhere, is it?" He slid the drive across the table, and his expression went serious. "All our differences aside, Agent Cooper, best of luck. It's well past time this particular rabid animal was dealt with as he deserves."

"That much, Mr. Maximoff, we can agree on." She eyed him for a moment as she rose, the drive in one hand. "Thank you," she finally said, and it didn't even sound grudgingly. Quite.

Pietro's eyebrows rose slightly. "You're quite welcome. Let me know when my reprieve comes through."