icecoldfrost: (pure ambition)
Emma Grace Frost ([personal profile] icecoldfrost) wrote2015-09-30 06:50 pm

Emma's New York, September 30th, Evening

After many enlightening conversations with Shaw, Leland, Lourdes, and Selene, Emma had ideas.

She didn't disagree with the Council's stated goal of monetizing mutation. If a mutant wanted to use their power to make money, more power to them. There was no reason they shouldn't be able to do so, so long as it was their choice, there was no coercion, OSHA standards were met and followed, and they were paid properly. Setting in place the legislation and technologies to do that seemed common sense, and a logical way to generate revenue given that the Hellfire Club was already ahead of the curve in finding ways to combine mutation and technology and patenting it.

She did disagree with Ned Buckman's continued existence, but Shaw wouldn't believe her about the man's ultimate goals. It was infuriating.

But they'd even given Emma a lab. She wasn't Tony Stark, but after years of living with Hank and tinkering with technology from worlds not her own, she was hardly an amateur. Her pet project of the moment was a sliding-scale inhibitor, which could be worn by emerging mutants. Turn a power off completely, let certain bits and pieces through while blocking other, more hazardous methods of manifestation, setting limits as to how much power they could manifest at once during training, emergency shut-down procedures... it could be a better, safer way of letting new mutants train with their powers and not need to worry about endangering lives.

Which was what Emma's greatest idea came down to -- training. It was obvious, really. Whoever controlled the training programs for mutants was eventually going to be the one controlling when and how mutations were used, and therefore controlled the profit; both monetary and political.

But right now, there was only one person training mutants, and that was Xavier with his handpicked class. But how many more mutants were out there, like Emma had been? Lost, alone, and in need of training before their powers consumed them? Not one of them was any less deserving of training than the poster children of Westchester but Xavier sat there, in his safe little compound, with mutant finding technology and he wasn't doing anything to help the hundreds of mutants across the United States who were alone and trying to survive as homo sapien superior.

(Candy had tried to ask Warren about it once, carefully, without outing Emma, and all he'd said is "Well, it's not an academy for the gifted if everyone can come." Candy had dumped him for two weeks for that, and Emma loved her all the more for it.)

She almost missed the tiny article that scrolled along her newsfeed, to be honest. Just a few lines in between articles on mergers and acquisitions, but Emma had very very few things from her life before Fandom tagged to show up, so the little headline of 'Snow Valley Educational Bastion In Peril?,' it caught her eye.

Low enrollment. Withdrawal of donor support. Oh, these were things Emma could fix, and use to her advantage. It only took a few phone calls, a check, and a telepathic conference with her fellow Hellfire Club compatriots to get her idea in motion. She could push-through co-education enrollment, she wasn't worried about that. Emma had the relevant degree, the money, and now, a position on the board of trustees. It was as good a start as she could possibly hope for.

After all, you needed somewhere to train the next generation of mutants, and the Berkshires of Massachusetts seemed as good and safe place as any. Especially when you had a werewolf boyfriend who needed to roam free on occasion. The Massachusetts Academy was perfect.

Now all she needed as a decent lair residence IN the city -- because she sure as hell wasn't going to retire to the country full-time now -- but finding decent real estate in Manhattan was hell. Seriously. Between the X-Men and the Brotherhood and other nonsense, home insurance prices were insane.

Thanks, Xavier. GREAT PR job for mutants, right there. UGH.

[OOC: Open for calls, texts, hysterical laughing from canonical foreknowledge...]