“Do we really need an entire case of eggs?”
Ororo glanced away from the road towards the brown-haired woman contemplating their grocery list in the passenger seat beside her. Kitty, with her chestnut hair pulled back in a neat braid, was scanning the inventory list Ororo had drawn up with a pensive frown.
“At the very least,” Ororo confirmed, returning her gaze back to the freeway. She flicked a quick check in the review, assuring herself that Jimmy was fine.
The young mutant was busy playing one of those handheld games, a PSP she believed he had called it. Jimmy loved to lose himself in the fantasy world of video games. Alcatraz Island the games had been his sole means of escape, and had since become a crutch for him.
Ororo was gradually trying to wean him away from that and bring him out of his shell. It was tricky because she did not wish to force him, knowing how jarring that could be. Kitty was a great benefit in this area. Ororo speculated that Jimmy had developed a bit of hero worship where Kitty was concerned. She had been the one to risk her neck and rescue him from the Juggernaut.
A faint shudder went through Ororo as she recalled the lumbering giant of a man that had beat the hell out of Logan, and flung him around as if he was a rag doll. The fact that Kitty had faced this man down and come away alive, much less victorious, spoke volumes of the young woman’s bravery and ingenuity.
“There’s some seriously weird crap on this list,” Kitty continued. “Squid? Who the heck eats squid? Please tell me that’s not the secret ingredient in the Krabby Patties.” She scrunched her nose.
“This coming from the girl who likes chocolate covered pickles,” Jimmy chimed in from the back seat.
“Hey,” Kitty turned in her seat so that she could see him. “You’re the one that got me hooked on them.” she accused.
Jimmy smiled at his game screen.
It did Ororo’s heart good to see that. The previous evening’s nightmare had been entirely too graphic and had caused Jimmy quite a bit of anxiety. In the dream they had been back on Alcatraz and all around him people were screaming as they became ashes, which had actually happened and the poor child had witnessed this as Kitty had ushered him to safety, but then the dream had altered reality and the dying had turned on him, crying out that it was all his fault.
Ororo knew from experience how much it hurt to feel responsible for things beyond one’s own control. As a child in Africa she had learned quite young the consequences of her powers and the good as well as the bad that came with them. She couldn’t fathom, however, the weight this poor boy thought believing that he was responsible for all the destruction caused by Magneto and Phoenix.
“We’ll never fit all of this in the back,” Kitty stated. “The laws of physics being what they are and all.”
Ororo lifted a brow. The mutant that could phase through matter was spouting physics as a certainty? Kitty was full of contradictions today. “Most of our supplies will be delivered,” Ororo acknowledged. “But there are a few items I like to take care of personally.” Such as the soaps and detergents, feminine products and certain organic foods. Ororo, at times, was very, very particular and there were some things best not left in the hands of others.
Besides, it was a means to escape the confines of her office for a few hours. That room was beginning to feel like a prison.
Kitty folded the list back up and opened the latch of the glove box placing it inside, unable to phase through due to Jimmy’s close proximity.
Jimmy‘s mutation was the unique ability to neutralize other mutants’ abilities by effectively retarding the mutant genome on a cellular level. Unlike Rogue, who had the ability to absorb another mutants powers upon direct skin contact, Jimmy did not gain any abilities, nor did he need to be in direct contact. Jimmy’s mutation was effective continuously at an approximate six foot radius.
The results of Jimmy’s power was not permanent; their mutation didn‘t disappear, but the brain was unable to recognize it and therefore it was shut off until out of range. Worthington Labs, however, had found a way to isolate Jimmy’s mutated cells and create a ‘vaccine’ for mutants--a cure--suppressing the “x” genes permanently.
This made other mutants considerably uncomfortable being around him, and Ororo knew that bothered the boy. She, herself, was one of the many mutants comfortable with their powers, and in fact, she enjoyed having them. Being around Jimmy had at first been a bit disconcerting. It had taken her some time to adjust to not see the colors on the wind or feel the energy of the planet sing through her body, but after awhile she had gotten used to the “powered down” feeling.
“Who‘s running the School while we‘re shopping?” Kitty asked, bringing Ororo out of her inner musing.
Ororo cast her a sidelong glance. “Logan is there.”
“And he’s ok with babysitting the Mansion?”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Ororo responded evasively.
“You didn’t ask him did you?”
“I don’t have to ask Logan anything.” Her voice held a hint of haughtiness.
Kitty smirked. Nothing irked Ororo more than having her authority questioned. “Okay, let me rephrase that. You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“I did.” Well, technically she had left a note on his door: ‘Gone shopping. Don’t kill anyone. Be back at dinner.’
Kitty stared at her for a moment. “Are you sure the place will even be standing when we get back?”
“Not entirely, no,” Ororo admitted with a slight grimace. She hadn’t wanted to leave Logan in charge, but she was left with few alternative options. Bobby wasn’t quite responsible enough, and Peter’s soft heart was too easily swayed by a pouty face, Kitty was with her, and Marie… well, she and Marie had barely spoken in the past few months.
Ororo had not invited the gulf between her and the southern belle, but nor did she try and breech it. The cause of their dissent was based in Rogue’s decision to take the cure. The younger woman no longer wished to live without basic human contact; and that was entirely her choice. Ororo accepted that. She didn’t like it, but she accepted it.
Marie was welcome to stay in the Mansion, welcome to attend classes, as were any other non-mutant students--of which they had twenty five--and she would always have a home with them.
A place on the X-Men was debatable. None of the reasons for Ororo’s hesitation in reinstating Marie had anything to do with the fact that the girl was no longer a mutant. The X-Men had faced their greatest threat and suffered through their darkest hour and Rogue had not been with them. By her choice. The other girl had put herself ahead of her team and her would-be family. Her emotional issues ran deep and until they were sorted and clear Ororo couldn’t trust that Marie wouldn’t make the choice of herself over her team again. That was why she was reluctant to allow Marie on missions and in the Danger Room, but convincing Marie of that fact was near impossible. She felt slighted and outcast once again. Her only comfort was that she got to keep her boyfriend, and even that didn‘t seem to remove the perpetual morose look on her face.
“Is there something on your mind, Kitten?” Ororo asked when Kitty continued to stare at her. She signaled a lane change.
“Weeeell, now that you mention it.” Kitty sat forward, her face expectant. “Bobby says you and Logan have a thing. He says he saw two kissing in the hall last night.”
Ororo turned, startled, the motion jerking the wheel and sending the van swerving. She quickly righted the vehicle but the sudden movement had betrayed her.
Kitty grinned. “That’s a confirmation.”
Ororo wiped a lock of hair from her brow before she replied in a chill voice. “Robert is mistaken.”
“So you weren’t doing the ole tongue tango? The Greco-Roman lip lock?”
“Kitty.”
“Weren’t playing uvula tag? Spit swap?”
“Kitty.”
“Oral twister? Wrestling-”
“Katherine!”
“What?” She blinked innocently. With Jimmy in the car there was no fear of an “accidental” jolt, an opportunity that Kitty took full advantage of.
“I will only say this once. There is no “thing” between me and Logan.” Ororo hoped her voice didn’t betray the slight hurt that statement caused. She pushed the minor sting aside. As attractive as she found him, and she’d be a big fat liar to pretend otherwise, there was no way she was risking her heart to a man clearly not suited for her. What she had for Logan was a mere spark compared to the raging inferno of a torch that he carried for Jean.
“Hm. That’s too bad,” Kitty murmured thoughtfully. “I always thought you two looked great together. Very aesthetically pleasing.”
Ororo rolled her eyes heavenward. “Thank you. I appreciate the…uh, compliment.”
“Made you sound like a rug,” Jimmy pointed out.
Kitty shot him a frustrated look.
He shrugged. “It did.”
“Go back to your Pokémon,” Kitty said with a teasing smile.
“It’s Tekken Dark Resurrection.”
“Whatever.”
Jimmy poked his tongue out.
Ororo smiled, changing lanes again. As she did her eyes were drawn to the dark blue sedan that followed suit. After a few minutes she switched lanes again and so did the other car. Her eyes narrowed.
She maneuvered towards the break-down lane. Not wanting to alarm her passengers she said, “You know, I think we may have a flat.”
Kitty took a quick look out her window. “Tires on my side look fine to me.”
“You’re probably right, but I want to double check.” Ororo pulled the vehicle to a halt, her hazard lights blinking. She watched carefully as the dark sedan slowed, but didn’t stop, going past. Honda Civic. New Jersey plates. LX 8390.
She waited a minute before pulling back onto the highway.
“You didn’t check the tires,” Jimmy pointed out.
Ororo didn’t reply, her eyes sweeping the traffic for the dark Civic. A few miles ahead the sedan was pulled over. She slowed as she passed. Two men, both in suits wearing dark glasses, one on a cell phone.
Kitty tensed in her seat and Jimmy seemed to draw back, pushing himself into the cushions. Ororo sped up.
“Storm?” Jimmy sounded so small.
She reached behind her, over her seat back, searching for him. “Hey, buddy.” He took her hand, and she felt his tremble.
Ororo and Kitty exchanged looks.
Deciding to ease a tense situation with levity, Kitty chuckled, “Someone should call the paranoia police on all of us.”
Ororo let out a slow breath. She squeezed Jimmy’s hand reassuringly before releasing it. “Absolutely,” she agreed with a smile that glowed. Ororo’s smile could always lift spirits, it was yet another of the many features that made her such a comfort to the students of Xavier’s. “Probably just a couple of bankers,” she added.
“Mafia hit men,” Kitty added, her eyes twinkling. “Jersey plates.”
“Ah.” Ororo nodded. “Of course.”
In the back seat Jimmy huddled against the door.
Logan hadn’t been inside of the infirmary since the day Jean busted her way out of the lab and made a permanent dent in the thick steel wall with his body.
He hadn’t been avoiding the room, per se; after all, he really had no need for the place. At least not lately, and since he was by no means a qualified doctor, he saw no reason to be there. That was until Marie had decided to try her skills as a New England Patriot wide receiver courtesy of Captain Nintendo.
“Hurry up, Logan. It hurts.” Marie winced as she limped alongside him, her knee scraped and bloody, the leggings torn.
He gave her a disgruntled look. “Should know better than to try and run towards a four hundred pound man hell bent on stompin’ you.”
“Hey,” she grumped. “I at least made a goal.”
“Touchdown,” he corrected.
She grimaced in response.
“What the hell were you thinkin’? You don’t even like sports.” He opened one of the cupboards, shuffling through containers looking for some gauze and alcohol. “Or video games for that matter,” he turned towards her holding a clear bottle.
“Bobby does.” She said quietly, her face pensive.
As does Kitty, Logan thought but left it unsaid. He shook his head slightly, more to himself than anything. Even after taking the cure and being able to touch her boyfriend, to stake her claim, Marie was still insecure about her and Popsicle’s relationship.
Not that she didn’t have reason to be, he thought wiping her knee with a cotton ball liberally doused with isopropyl alcohol. The look she gave him as the stinging liquid touched her gash told him that she wished for a moment to have her powers and yank his healing. But she couldn’t. She’s made the ultimate sacrifice for love, and in the end it may have been for nothing.
He would never think to tell her that, but he wasn’t blind, and he saw the way Bobby looked at Kitty. There was a subtle undercurrent that flowed between those two whenever they were in the same room together and Marie must have felt it.
What made it worse for her was that despite being able to, Bobby had yet to make any move that would take their relationship to the next level. It made her feel betrayed somehow. She had taken the cure so they could be together and he wasn’t even taking advantage of that.
“You know, kid, there comes a time when you’ve gotta stop tryin’ to be someone other than who you are in order to please some boy.” Logan tossed the cotton balls in the trash.
Marie lifted her eyes to his, still sparking with that bit of sass that had endeared her to him from the beginning. “Thanks much Dr. Phil.” Though said in jest her tone implied that this was a subject that she wasn’t ready to delve into just yet.
He pressed a piece of clean gauze over her scrape, taping it in place. “All set, roughhouse.”
“Thanks, Logan.” She touched his arm, something she did frequently now that she could. “For everything.”
“Sure.” He shrugged, giving her one of his patented lazy smiles.
“You hungry?” she asked as she hopped down from the table.
They turned towards the door and both paused. The deep indent caused by Logan was still in the wall beside the fixed doors, a few feet deep and shadowed.
His smile evaporated. “No.”
She nodded stepping away, still slightly limping. She paused at the door. “Logan?”
He glanced at her. “Hnh?”
“I know how hard it is to let go of something you believe to be precious, but when that something hurts you and threatens to destroy everything you love, it needs to be put down.” With those parting words, that were as much for him as for herself, Marie left him alone in the infirmary.
He stared at the body dent in the wall for a long time. Had he been a normal man he would have been killed by the blow Jean had dealt him. As it was he had been unconscious for nearly twenty minutes before Ororo and Xavier had found him on the floor.
Jean’s telepathy had prevented Xavier from knowing what was going on and her unmatched telekinesis rerouted the alarms so no one even knew she had left until she was long gone. Smart girl, that Jeannie.
He remembered well waking up, dazed, and calling out for the redhead. But it hadn’t been her face that had greeted him, it had been Ororo kneeling before him, her eyes alive with concern. For him, he had realized belatedly. She had feared for Jean and was worried about her, but in that moment she had cared for him more. In spite of the strain that seemed to come so natural between them now he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Ororo cared about him. Deeply. As much as she had cared for Scott and Jean. He wasn’t sure how to handle that. He wasn’t used to someone worried about him.
With a sigh and muted curse he left the indent, the memories and, surprisingly, some of the pain behind him as he headed back upstairs to see what other mini crisis needed his attention.
He was lucky, most of the kids feared him so much that they were model examples of good behavior. Of course his rounds of walking the halls and snarling had pretty much ensured that, but every now and again some ‘travesty’ occurred amongst the students that needed to be sorted or settled.
As the doors opened on the first floor and a shriek of indignity reached his ears followed by the ’pap’ that could only be one particular Asian, he thought fleetingly about Ororo’s note and wondered how mad she’d be if he duct taped everyone to the walls.
~X~
“I think that’s everything.” Ororo checked off her list with Mr. Finn, the grocer that supplied the foods for delivery to the Institute, and had since before Ororo herself had been recruited.
“Expect delivery sometime between six and eight this evening,” he told her placing his copy of the list on his clipboard.
Ororo smiled. She liked to watch Mr. Finn speak. His weathered old face had great depth, but it was his massive walrus mustache that did her in every time. “That sounds good.”
Mr. Finn scribbled her a receipt. “There you go, dear.”
She pocketed the small slip of paper. “Thanks.” She scanned the store for any sign of Kitty or Jimmy, likely together as he never strayed far from her side.
“Across the street at the arcade. The girl was asking about a Pac-Man machine,” Mr. Finn told her pointing.
“Thanks again,” Ororo said heading the way he had indicated.
The arcade was busy but not packed. Ororo spotted her wayward students easily and was heading towards them when a lanky teen with rust colored hair and the beginnings of a bad beard darted out from the shadows of the room, colliding with her and knocking her onto her back.
The teen scrambled to their feet continuing on their mad dash towards the back exit calling a hasty, “Sorry,” over their shoulder, revealing a mouthful of fang.
Ororo rolled, rising to her feet. “What the…?”
The reason for the teen’s frantic run became evident as three other teenagers raced through the aisles as well, following out the back door and into the alley hollering for the “Mutie!” to stop.
Ororo didn’t hesitate, pursuing the chaotic parade. She called for Kitty as she slammed out the fire exit. At the end of the alley, pressed back to a chain link fence the mutant teen was cornered. Two of the attackers in black tank tops were tossing bottles and rocks at the young mutant while the third paced with a baseball bat, taunting. The words spewing from his mouth made Ororo think of Logan’s more colorful phrases.
“Hey!” Ororo shouted, striding towards them purposefully.
One pimple faced punk gave her a passing glance over his shoulder. “Beat it lady. This ain’t your business.”
“Mutie freak!” An amber beer bottle smashed against the fence raining glass and stale beer over the cowering mutant, who snarled in response, their face and nose becoming more pronounced, extending.
Ororo called forth a deafening clap of thunder, startling the boys into turning around. She gazed at them with vivid white eyes. “I’m making it my business.”
“Jesus Christ another one!” The skinniest of the three said, his eyes bulging nearly out of his sockets.
“Step away.” Thunder cracked again, this time in unison with the flash of lightning overhead. “Now.”
“Take her down!” The apparent alpha of the group shouted.
Ororo cocked her head, allowing them to see her smirk. “Oh, please.” She waved her hand and a gust of wind split them, tossing the two followers against the left wall and the would be ringleader against the bricks on the right with audible thumps. “Stay put. If you get up I will show you what happens to little boys that like to be bullies.” Ororo intoned in her best teacher voice.
They moaned but made no attempt to rise.
Ororo moved slowly towards the growling form still pressed against the fence. “Take it easy I’m not going to hurt you.” She held out her hand, forced to draw it back in order to avoid the teeth snapping at it.
She studied the too thin mutant with a calculating eye. Rust colored fur, gaping mouth with fangs, wild yellow eyes. A feral. Most likely a metamorph. She smiled reassuringly, trying again. “It’s okay now.”
“Stay back!” The voice was muddled, hoarse and barely recognizable as human. At first Ororo thought it was a threat but the next words belied that. “Please, I dinna wanna hurt ye.” The voice was lilted, and softer. A female.
“Are you hurt?” Ororo asked, remaining where she was but making no move forward, letting the girl know without words that she respected her wishes, but wasn’t going to leave.
“Nae.”
“Do you have a name.”
There was a shudder from the girl. “Mutie.”
Ororo bit back a savagely scathing comment about the people that threw around that term like it was a curse. “Please,” she implored gently. “Tell me your name.”
So quiet she almost missed it. “Rahne.”
Ororo smiled. “That’s a lovely name.” She regarded the tattered clothes and the too thin frame. A brief flash of her own past rose in her mind’s eye and Ororo remembered how it felt to be hungry and dirty on the streets. “Rahne, can I take you home?”
The girl made a choked sound that bordered between growl and sob. “I have’n got a home.” The fur was receding revealing pale skin and smattering of freckles. There was a grating crunching sound as Rahne’s face reshaped itself into that of a lovely young girl with a dimpled chin.
Ororo held out her hand once more. “You do now.”
Rahne blinked up at the woman in front of her, expecting to see loathing or pity, but all she saw was warmth and compassion. She hesitated only a moment before throwing herself bodily at her white haired savior and sobbing.
Ororo, a bit startled, closed her arms around the girl, murmuring soft soothing sounds.
“Storm!” Kitty and Jimmy were in the alley, a short distance away.
Ororo lifted her hand, indicating that all was well. Too soon it turned out. Tires squealed and all eyes swung towards the dark blue sedan barreling down on Kitty and Jimmy.
“Kitty! Grab Jimmy!” Ororo shouted. Kitty yanked the younger boy into her arms, trusting Storm.
Ororo, far enough away from Jimmy not to be effected by his power rose to her feet, shielding young Rahne behind her back and using a concentrated gust of wind to lift Kitty and Jimmy over the car.
It wasn’t something that she could sustain and manage to maneuver herself and Rahne out of the car’s path, so as soon as the two were clear she let them drop behind the sedan.
Kitty, relying on her training and instinct grabbed Jimmy’s hand and raced back into the arcade.
No mistaking the car, it was the same Civic as before. So much for bankers, Ororo thought as she gripped Rhane under her arms and lifted them onto the roof of the grocery store.
Tremors shook the teen and her hair started to sprout tufts again.
Below them the back door of the arcade slammed open again and Kitty and Jimmy stumbled into the alley, two men in suits following them out. The Civic’s doors opened allowing the two men from before to get out.
Kitty pulled Jimmy tight against her, turning in a circle, feeling helpless in the face of the odds, but she refused to show it. A hand closed around her arm, trying to shake Jimmy free of her grasp. Kitty hugged him tighter. “Back off, ass-wipes!”
On the roof Ororo turned to Rhane. “Can you drive?”
The girl looked at Ororo like she was daft. “I’m only fourteen.”
“Can you try?” Ororo asked hurriedly.
The girl nodded vigorously.
Ororo fished the keys to the van out of her front pocket. “Black van, it has a large X on the side. Parked out front of Finn‘s. Get it ready and meet us at the end of the alley. Can you do that?” Ororo leveled her a steady look, knowing it was an awful lot to ask of someone she’d known for all of two minutes and even more of a burden for the girl to involve herself with complete strangers, who were obviously in a world of shit.
Rahne nodded once more before loping towards the opposite side of the roof and leaping to the ground.
Ororo took to the air, rising above the alley. The four men were too close to Kitty and Jimmy for her to use a lightning attack, and a cyclone was out of the question. With a battle cry that would have done Wolverine proud she dropped to the ground swinging.
The first blow she swung caught the man grappling with Kitty in the chin. He was knocked back, but should have been otherwise relatively unharmed. The way he bellowed one would think she’d gutted him.
Ororo felt, rather than saw the second man behind her. She dropped to the ground, leg sweeping him. He fell easily. A bit too easily.
Ororo’s quick mind processed this. She took in the men’s appearance. All of the men were in suits, matching, all were wearing sunglasses, again matching, like they had been issued and yet none could fight worth a lick. Or at least made it appear that they couldn’t.
She grabbed Kitty, shoving the girl and Jimmy towards the alley opening that she instructed Rhane to meet them atshe instructed Rhane to meet them at. She could contemplate her opponents
lack of skill at a later time. “Move, move now!”
Taking advantage of her distraction the men attacked at once, joined by the three trouble making teenagers that had been whimpering against the trash until now, the increased odds giving them courage.
Ororo managed to evade most of the hits, but one fist caught her in the face, a ring grazed along her cheek, tearing skin. She grunted, but retained the frame of mind to deflect the next blow. These people were nothing compared to the stuff the Danger Room threw at her on a regular basis.
“Storm!” Jimmy hollered, his voice panic stricken. They had made it to the opening of the alley and thankfully the X-van was there.
Ororo dodged another hit, lifting her knee and connecting with a crotch. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kitty shuffle Jimmy into the van and give him a thumbs up. Immediately the brunette sprinted back towards Storm and the fray.
With Jimmy a distance away and the risk of hurting him or Kitty removed Ororo let loose a series of lightning bolts using careful precision to bring them within inches of the men, allowing them to feel the scorching heat but not striking directly. Over and over she struck, shepherding them all backwards. The seven men were soon backed against the chain linked fence that Rhane had been cornered on.
A familiar image came to mind; that of Callisto, beaten and smoldering against a similar fence, having been effectively cooked by Storm’s lightning.
“Who are you?” Ororo demanded, shaking free the visual.
No one dared move it seemed.
“I asked a question,” she reminded them with a boom of thunder.
“We…we are the Coalition of Mutant Liberators.” One of the men spoke, his hands hovering over his face.
“The who?” Kitty asked, stepping beside Ororo, her face tight with anger.
The man repeated the title.
“Uh-huh.” Kitty looked less than impressed.
“Mutants have a right to the cure. They have a choice.” Another man, blond and built like an athlete, spoke. He had been the one that had landed the hearty punch to Ororo’s cheek. “You’ve taken away their only hope.”
Kitty grumbled. “More anti-mutant wackos who got bored at the Trekky convention and formed a clubhouse. Swell.”
The blond removed his sunglasses revealing two deep holes where his eyes should have been. “Not anti-mutant, mutant.”
This caught the two women off guard.
One of the teens groaned. “Man, we were helping fucking muties.”
Ororo shot him a glare. He sniveled. She glanced at Kitty. “Send these three on their way,” she suggested.
“With pleasure.” Kitty moved in front of them. One by one she pressed them through the fence. On the opposite side they blinked, startled, clutching their chests. “Scat.” She made an oogidy-boogidy face and the teens ran.
“I understand your frustration--” Ororo began after the trio disappeared around the corner, speaking once more to the blond, trying not to sound patronizing, though it was difficult given the circumstances.
“You don’t,” Eye-less man said. “You can’t possibly. You are flawless. Even your mutation is beautiful. You’re biased based on your own experience. ”
Eye-less, not blind.
“Think what you like,” Ororo stated dismissing the propaganda and focusing on the real issue, “but know this, if you ever, ever, come after my boy again I will come after you.” She dropped the temperature surrounding them to near freezing, frost covering the chain links. Her voice matched the chill when she added, “Personally.”
“We didn‘t want to, but we have no choice. Worthington Labs has a stockpile of the cure, we know they do, yet they aren’t releasing it.”
“No,” Kitty shook her head. “The cure was destroyed after the fiasco on Alcatraz.”
“That’s what they’d like you to think,” The shortest of the four suits spoke up.
“Did I say trekky? I meant X-Files convention,” Kitty rolled her eyes.
Ororo on the other hand was not so eager to dismiss the claim. “How do you know this?”
The shortest one stood straighter, sensing that the white haired lightning rod was no longer going to fry them. “I worked there. Doctor Rao was my direct superior. I was one of the lucky that took the cure. Before that I was a hideous monster with scales and a tail. More reptile than man.” He still sounded bitter.
Ororo nodded, indicating that she wanted him to continue.
“They have far more of the cure than they let on. They were trying to duplicate the DNA, but couldn’t. They were getting close. You can’t imagine that they would just let that go because a team of vigilante mutants rescue a few people and make nice with the press.”
“Try the entire planet,” Kitty fairly growled. “Beside President Cockrum outlawed the distribution and selling of the cure.”
“Right, and laws never get broken,” another spoke with disdain. “Go on eBay, girlie, and tell me that no one is selling the cure.”
Kitty took offense to the ‘girlie’ comment. “The crap on there is bogus. The cure is gone. Besides, your Lone Gunmen theory doesn’t add up. Worthington Labs is privately owned, not government funded.”
“You think that matters?” Short-one asked incredulously. “You think for one minute that the government doesn’t have its hand in all things mutant?”
Kitty made a motion with her finger beside her temple whistling.
Eye-less spoke up. “The source of the cure is sitting in your van not twenty feet away. The cure is still very much alive and well. We’re not the only ones that know this.”
Ororo glanced back at the van. Jimmy was pressed to the window, his hands flat as he watched, his face worried. She waved reassuringly. Rhane was beside him, her breath steaming the glass.
Turning back to the men she was detaining she asked, “You’re saying that Worthington Labs is secretly stockpiling the cure. For what purpose?”
“The government claims the US has no nuclear weapons anymore either, but we know that we do, and chemical ones as well. My best guess would be that they are holding the cure for contingency.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” The short one asked. “Like it or not it makes sense to have a supply of the cure, especially after Magneto’s terrorist attacks and that chick that vaporized a few hundred ground troops with her mind.”
Ororo frowned, not liking the logic of the argument.
When Ororo‘s eyes narrowed he quickly added, “Look, we don’t think the cure should be a weapon, or even forced on mutants, all we want is the option to take it. The chance to be normal.”
The most silent of the four finally spoke, his voice pulsing like waves of heat as he did. “What right do you have, or does anyone have, to keep that from us?”
Ororo had no readily available answer to give.
Hank McCoy lifted his chin as his executive assistant, and new lover, Alicia Vargas adjusted his tie. When she was done she ran her fingertips through the thick blue fur of his hair and smiled. “Perfect.”
He turned towards the antique oval mirror adorning the wall on his right and admired her handy work. “You never cease to amaze,” he commented. His voice, a deep baritone, carried on it a flavoring of sophistication, culture and a wealth of intelligence.
Just looking into Hank’s eyes and a person knew instantly that the man was a genius, the wheels practically visible as they churned nonstop in his head.
“Any idea as to what this impromptu meeting is about?” Alicia asked checking the rounds of her SIG.
“None at all.” Henry answered, his discomfort over that fact evident.
Satisfied with her inspection Alicia holstered her weapon. “Well, then, shall we?”
“After you, my dear.” He gave her a courtly bow.
The situation room in the White House was abuzz with murmurs. It seemed that he was not the only one unclear as to the purpose of the security session.
“Sir,” Henry greeted the President.
“Hank.” Cockrum stood so the two could shake hands.
“Forgive my impertinence, sir, but what is this all about?”
“I believe we are about to find out.” Cockrum said, gesturing towards the door where Boliver Trask had just entered.
Bolivar Trask was a large imposing figure, nearly as wide as he was tall. His face, hardened through experience and a majority of his life spent on the street, housed a set of intelligent eyes. His bald head gleamed under the lights as he made his way across the dark gray carpet.
“Mr. President. McCoy.” He nodded to them before greeting the other men seated in the room, each by the proper rank of their position. Mr. Secretary, Chief, General and so forth; everyone but Henry, who was the impartial ‘McCoy’.
Bolivar was nothing if not meticulous in knowing who the people around him were and what were capable of. His not using Henry’s Ambassador title was no mere slip of the mind, it was an intentional slight.
After a round of greetings Boliver took a seat, surprising Hank by taking the chair directly across from the President as opposed to the right hand chair left vacant for him. That did not bode well.
“I’m interested in knowing why you called this meeting, Trask,” Cockrum stated when the room had quieted.
“Sir.” Bolivar nodded once. Not a man given to fancy speeches he cut right to the point. “In light of recent events I feel it is my duty as Secretary of Defense and with the support of the Chief Security Council to sanction the activities that the people at Xavier’s School are permitted.”
Hank sat up straighter in his seat. Cockrum lifted his fingers from the glossy table top, a silent command for Hank to hold his tongue for the moment.
Trask opened his briefcase to remove official looking documents. “We can not condone the actions of this group of vigilantes. They are not above the laws that govern this country and it is time that they faced the consequences they’ve incurred by acting as though they are.”
Hank could not suppress his comments any longer. “Need I remind you, Trask, that these vigilantes saved you and everyone in this room from utter destruction on a scale that you can’t even begin to fathom.”
“Oh, I can fathom it,” Trask replied, his voice soft, a disturbing counter to his overbearing presence. “In fact, it is because I can fathom the level of destruction that nearly occurred three months ago that I propose these sanctions. Charles Xavier knew of Jean Grey’s instability and dual personality. As much was documented in your very own report, Henry. He knew of her destructive capabilities and warned no one of the threat she presented, and in hiding her from us we were ill prepared for her meltdown. Hundreds of men died because of this. Harboring Jean Grey was no different than hiding weapons of mass destruction.”
Hank was appalled, even more so when several members of the delegation began slowly nodding as Trask spoke. Striving for diplomacy, what he was best at, Hank asked, “Have we learned nothing from Magneto and his retaliation? Nothing from the tragic loss of so many lives? Charles Xavier is dead; he has paid the price for his sins with his life. Do you truly wish to seek another pound of flesh from his students?”
Trask sat back in his seat, his eyes shrouded. “I am not seeking a pound of flesh. I am seeking justice.”
“And I say justice has been served at the expense of great men and women, mutant and non-mutant alike. Jean Grey is dead, Charles Xavier is dead, Magneto is lost and powerless, as is Mystique. No greater justice could be dealt to them.”
“I disagree.” Trask said. “They should be serving time in prison for their crimes, not wandering around free. Your implication that being stripped of their powers and being categorized as normal is sufficient punishment for the lives lost and damage done is not only grossly inadequate, but damn insulting. It’s that level of thinking that Magneto himself carried. Mutants: superior, Human: inferior.”
Hank spoke very carefully, his words enunciated with razor precision. “Do not presume to categorize me in the same manner as Magneto.”
The exchange was becoming heated.
President Cockrum leaned forward speaking to Trask. “You know as well as I that there is an ongoing effort to locate Magneto. He will not remain free for long.”
Trask steepled his fingers over his chest. “And Mystique?”
“Ms. Darkholme was granted amnesty for her testimony when Magneto is brought to trial, again something you are well aware of, Trask.”
Trask let his eyes rest on each member of the panel as he spoke. “Until the trial she is presumably in jail? Or at the very least under direct surveillance?”
Hank shifted in his seat, seeing where Trask was headed. The man would have made an excellent chess opponent, maneuvering the pieces around the board with calculating skill.
“No,” Cockrum answered, a bit reluctantly. “She is not.”
“Ah. So she is free, then.” He pulled out a newspaper, spreading it on the table. “A fifteen year old boy in Detroit, named Terrance Walker. Shot and killed a classmate that was bullying him. He was arraigned and tried as an adult. He is now serving twenty-five to life in a maximum security prison.” Dark eyes took weight of the room. “Tell me, Mr. President, how this is justified? Look me in the face and tell me that if young Mr. Walker was a mutant who retaliated with an eyebeam that killed that bully we would see the exact same punishment for the crime.”
Cockrum couldn’t in light of the things already brought forth. “Our judicial system is not perfect. There are flaws. We must work together to achieve the goal of equality for mutant and human alike. You know I don’t play favorites, Trask, and I resent the implication that I do.”
“My apologies, sir, but I feel it is my duty to point out these flaws when I see them. Our nations’ security is at stake and I do not take that lightly.”
Sighing, the President asked, “What type of sanctions did you plan to propose?”
Hank turned, startled. “Sir!”
The President faced him. “To be a fair I must hear what Secretary Trask has to say.”
Trask removed another paper from his briefcase. “I propose that the jet located at Xavier’s be grounded. The school must report its student roster and the powers each mutant student has.”
Hank balked. “The Registration Act was shot down for a reason. This is nothing more than an effort to circumvent that. Xavier’s is private school and as such it is beyond the federal regulations of public schools. A roster would be a blatant breech in confidentiality. ”
President Cockrum acknowledged Henry’s concern with a nod but allowed Trask to continue.
“If Xavier’s is to be considered a private school then it can not remain a tactical training facility.” Trask countered. “Without a public roster and curriculum as well as staff records then the school is no more than a center of mercenary activity.” He once more scanned the room, weighing out who was in his corner, who wasn’t and who was on the fence. “The X-Men are not above the law.”
Hank shook his head, removing his black reading glasses from his nose. “Nor have they tried to be. The X-Men abide by the laws as best they can given the circumstances.”
“As best they can,” Boliver repeated, noting several faces wearing frowns at that. “If the X-Men are not above the law, then I won’t hear you complain when I file a motion tomorrow morning.”
Hank tensed. “What kind of motion.”
“I intend to bring forth charges of murder and conspiracy to commit murder, hindrance of several investigations, destruction of public and private property…” He held up a thick stack of papers. “The list goes on.” He flipped through a few pages. “Twenty eight men died on that school’s campus, all killed while following an Executive command. I plan to see the people responsible for those deaths answer for them.”
Henry fought the urge to bare his teeth. “Those men were killed in self defense.”
“Self defense? Those soldiers were doing their job. They had clearance from the White House. Their deaths were uncalled for.”
Cockrum spoke. “That order was not given by this administration. I read the writ for that exercise and it was for reconnaissance only. William Stryker broke the law and those right along with him when they entered that school in hopes to kidnap and capture. The X-Men have already been granted pardon for that night and the incidents that resulted from it.”
“And what of the lives taken on Alcatraz? Or future lives? Will the X-Men forever be pardoned when we have children being sent to prison for crimes a fraction of the severity as those committed by these mutants?”
Henry, seeing a neat trap laid out by Trask, spoke hurriedly. “Mr. President, in light of Secretary Trask’s concerns regarding the School and the people in it, might I suggest a compromise of sorts.”
Cockrum inclined his head, a small smile playing with his mouth. Trust Henry to be one step ahead. “What do you suggest, Hank?”
“I will move my office into the school. As the World UN Ambassador I am entitled to certain diplomatic privileges, and as the Mutant Ambassador position is new with no prior set accommodations or restrictions I will employ the X-Men as operatives and enforcers under my office. I will be directly accountable for their actions.”
Several murmurs and nods of approval began around the table. Henry was well liked and admired by most everyone in the room, and all knew of his strong character, and honest dedication to the country’s best interest. If he was taking responsibility for the X-Men, placing himself in the line of fire so to speak, it was because he believed in their cause.
“You can’t do that,” Trask said, irritation showing.
“Article 17, paragraph 4, section (a) of the United Nations codes of Resources says that I can. If any member of the UN with no direct national service requires security, police, or civil servants they may hire as they see fit. I am a World Ambassador, Mr. Trask, not a US representative. I can assign whomever I choose to be the enforcers of mutant rights and regulations.”
Cockrum sat back slowly, his gaze intent on Henry. “You do understand what this means.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well.” He turned to Trask. “Your concern is duly noted and appreciated Secretary Trask. You do your country great service. For now, however, I must err on the side of hope and unity. There has been enough dissention between mutant and humans to last a lifetime. I would rather work towards a more promising future and I believe that Charles Xavier’s X-Men may very well be the beacon to light that way.”
Trask looked momentarily thunderstruck. “I see.” He cleared his throat, filing his papers away. “If that is the way things will remain, then I am sorry, Mr. President, but I can not continue to work for this administration. I hereby tender my resignation, effective immediately.”
“Bolivar”“
“If you’ll excuse me, sir, I must go clean my office. Good day, gentlemen.” He stood, nodded to the panel and walked stiffly from the room.
Henry felt a dark shadow of foreboding settle over him like someone had just trod upon his grave. As the meeting adjourned he excused himself from the President. He had a phone call to make.
Ororo ran her hands over the front of her thighs, smoothing the creases in her dark pantsuit. She and her motley crew had returned to the school less than a half an hour ago, and once she saw too it that Rahne had a room and that Logan hadn’t eviscerated anyone, she immediately went to shower and change leaving Rahne in Kitty‘s capable and effervescently cheerful hands.
Ororo hated feeling rushed, but there was no help for it. She had two interviews to conduct and she was already behind schedule. She glossed her lips and did a quick side check in her full length mirror. Good enough.
She was halfway down the hall to her office when she heard her name. She turned to see Logan stalking towards her, the presence of his well worn leather jacket telling her he was on his way out for a ride.
She made a face, knowing she was about to hear it for leaving him in charge of the kids. She held up her hand to silence him before he spoke. “Before you start, I didn’t have a choice. There was no one else and Logan…what are you doing?” She asked blinking when his hand cupped her chin and he tilted her face.
She knew he was examining the gash on her cheek. A low, nearly inaudible growl emanated from him. “What happened?”
She shrugged, checking the thin gold watch on her wrist. “A little scuffle. Nothing really. I have interviews--”
“Kitty tells it a little different.”
Gossip monger, Ororo thought with a twist of her mouth. “Oh, and how does our young Kitten tell it?”
Something in the way she said our Kitten made Logan’s stomach tighten and warm. “She says a group of ’paranoid nut-jobs’ followed then jumped you.”
“They were after Jimmy,” she confirmed. “But they were handled easily enough.”
His scowl deepened. “You just let them go, didn’t ya?”
Another glance at her watch. “And what would you have had me do, Logan? Beat them senseless?”
“For starters.” He was serious.
She rolled her eyes. “Violence isn’t the answer to every problem.”
He shrugged. “Haven’t run into a problem yet I couldn’t punch my way out of.”
She gave him her patented ‘Oh, brother’ look. “I really have to get to my interviews, Logan. I don’t have time to stand here and listen to you cite to me the wonders of violence.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Is that what I was doin’?”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.” He advanced a step. “I was checkin’ on my friend.” He cupped her jaw in a manner that made her ache in ways she refused to acknowledge.
“Oh.” Ororo said, her mouth forming a little moue around the syllable. “Well…thank you.” Their eyes met and held, a look so full of intensity that for a moment neither knew what to say.
Logan cocked his head to the side appraisingly, his eyelids half mast as he studied her lips. For a moment he contemplated kissing her again right then and there, but he blinked, clearing that thought from his mind. That’s one place you don’t need to go, Bub. He took a step back. “If you’re gonna insist on being a pacifist, then you really need to learn how to fight.”
Ororo gave him a funny look. “What?” That made no sense. “I already know how to fight.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You know how to kick ass with your powers. You don’t know jack about fightin’.”
“Logan, I can fight just fine.” She argued.
“That’s why Calisto handed you your ass? And you’re sporting a cut?”
She gave him an indignant look. “In case you missed it, Cowboy, I’m still standing and Calisto is dust.” Why the hell did she sound proud of that? She frowned, wondering how Logan manged to pick her ire so easily.
He leaned back, his grin cocky. “Yeah, ‘cause you fried her.”
Ororo bit back a retort. She was not going to argue this with him. “I have to go. Some of us actually work in this school.”
“I work.”
Her snort was very unladylike.
His face became serious. “As soon as your done your interviews meet me in the Danger Room.”
“What? No.”
“Yes. You think you can fight. Fine, then you can prove it.”
“You’ve seen me in the Danger room a hunded times.”
“Running simulations.” he said disdainfully.
“Your point?”
“This time it’ll be just me and you and a mat.”
“Let me get this straight; you want to fight me?”
His look was damn smug. “Don’t imagine it’ll be much of a fight.”
Don’t let him bait you, her brain warned.
“That is of course unless you’re scared.”
Damn it. Damn it to hell. “You don’t scare me.”
“Ok then. See you in there.” He was already jogging backward down the hall, his smirk egging her on.
Damn him. Ororo whirled on her heel, marching for her office. Outside her door she took a calming breath. In the span of a few short minutes Logan had her heartbeat tripled and her cheeks flushed. The alarming part was that she couldn’t tell if it was a result of anger…or lust.
“Storm!”
She turned to see Bobby heading towards her at a quick pace. Marie hung back.
“Yes, Robert?”
“Hey,” he puffed abreath when he reached her. He held out a sticky note. “Mr. McCoy called fo ryou while you were out.”
Ororo took the message and unfolded it. “La Belle Rouge. 8 p.m.” she read aloud.
“Yeah, weird message, but that’s all he said.”
“Thank you.” She replied distractedly. La Belle Rouge was Henry’s very favorite restaurant, a high class, five star, taste bud multiorgasm of a restauraunt to be exact.
Henry had once told her the best way to deilver bad news was over good food. Whatever he needed to see her about it was serious.
Great, just great.
