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The Distant Calls of Fall
Chapter #06 “Expecting the Unexpected”, Part 1


Section X HQ
Wednesday, October 27th, 2004
1:32 pm CST


“So we’re of an understanding then, Major Gabler?” Forge stood in his office in a typical stance for him, arms crossed tightly and oozing a sense of authority that demanded not to be questioned.

Before him, the dark-haired woman’s body was erect, her left eye staring forward but not directly at him. Long black hair was neatly bound to the back of her head except a thick lock that fell over her forehead covering the entire right side of her face. “Completely, sir.”

“Excellent.” Forge seemed to accept her confident statement and added, “As soon as your team has had a chance to review the intelligence reports, I’ll need to have a plan of action on my desk for approval. We’re doing this strictly by the books; I won’t have any loose ends or mistakes to worry about or answer for later. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, sir.” She then reached out and handed him a compact disc. “I anticipated as much, and I’ve been through the information with my people already.”

He didn’t immediately accept the disc, looking up at her briefly with one brow raised. “Really? Before you were chosen for this assignment?”

“That is correct, sir.”

Forge shifted his weight to the other foot, his head moving in the opposite direction. He’d heard through several reliable sources that Alexandra “Callisto” Gabler was the quintessential “go-getter”, and normally he appreciated that in an agent. However…

“And how, may I ask, did you get clearance to this material?”

Without so much as a second thought, Callisto’s dark blue left eye met his as she responded, “By being a sneaky little bitch…sir.”

Forge stood rooted in place, for once at a loss for words. She was entirely serious and he realized that any intelligence agent worth her mustard wasn’t going to easily reveal sources. It was a testament to both her abilities as well as the security leak potential in Section X”Daniel would deal with the latter later.

“Duly noted, Major. While I’m pleased that we won’t have to waste precious time bringing you and your ‘Morlocks’ Team up to speed, if I ever find out you’ve been snooping around Alpha-Level Classifieds again, rest assured that a court martial will be the least of your worries.”

Unblinking, Callisto replied “Believe me sir, when I say you’ll never find that out again.”

He was in the middle of turning away from her when she said that and it brought Forge’s head snapping back toward her for a second look. For her part, Alexa Gabler simply continued to stare at her superior, still holding the disc out for him. After another tense moment, Forge came back toward her, accepting the information and went back to his desk to slip it into the iMac atop his desk.

As his eyes read through the proposals as well as her understanding of the case they were working, he held his thoughts from showing on his face, but inwardly was impressed. Her concept of how dangerous this was going to be for the up-and-coming Morlocks Team hadn’t seemed to missed the young field commander, as he noted her Team List had been shortened by several names down to a covert crew of six, including herself. With such a coveted assignment, he wondered how those she’d deemed not good enough were feeling about their Major at the moment.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Without glancing up, Forge nodded, scrolling through the prospectus that included viable ways to bring down their target.

Taking a couple steps closer, Alexa’s disposition remained professional, but her voice barely contained the inward excitement. “According to the intelligence reports and personnel files we’ve reviewed, it’s my opinion that in order to find Victor Creed, we should first focus on locating the renegade Christoph Nord.”

That got his attention. Glancing up at her, Daniel asked, “And why is that?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but when the original X-Men Team was composed, Victor Creed hand-picked Nord. Later, there was an entry in Maverick’s psychological evals that pointed to some resentment toward Col.”then Major”Howlett when Gen. Ackens pulled strings to have Creed’s choice for the No.2 overturned and Vic didn’t put up much of a fight for Maverick…” She paused when Forge stopped reading the document on his screen to focus on her entirely.

Intrigued, he waved her on, “Please continue.”

“When Creed went AWOL, it was between Howlett and Nord to take his place as team leader. Obviously, we know who got that position. Christoph would later receive his own command, but the bad blood between those two was palpable. The “training accident” in August was the culmination of that, in my opinion. Nonetheless, as James Howlett’s and Victor Creed’s own history is well known here and Nord blamed Howlett for missed opportunities”among other things”in the past, it would be a reasonable assumption that Maverick would hold the Colonel in the same regard now, as his career with us has been termed and he’s a wanted man. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Instead of answering her question, Forge asked one himself: “You came to this conclusion based on what you read in their files?”

“Yes sir.”

“Impressive.” Forge couldn’t help it, whispering as he mulled over her take on the situation. Previous pysch-evals of the dynamics between the Howlett brothers stopped short of including Christoph Nord as a possible residual issue and the ill feelings between James and Chris were missed entirely until after the accident resulting in several agents’ deaths. Yet, as enticing as Alexandra’s hypotheses were, there was still a few begging questions.

Rubbing his moustache in thought, Forge glanced back up to her. “Interesting theories you’ve got here, Major. However, I’m still not convinced that Nord would seek out Victor Creed. What would be the purpose?”

Pointing to the iMac’s screen, she replied, “Take a look at the profiles folder a moment, sir? Open the folder labeled ‘Connections’.”

As he did so, she came to stand behind his chair, leaning in to see the wide 24-inch screen. Forge scrolled through the preview of the folder’s contents, passing images of people. “What am I looking for?”

“That.” Alexa’s words stopped his mouse’s clicking, the screen showing a larger panoramic image with a ‘tree’ of images. The Howlett brothers were near the top of said tree, with other images below them, captioned with the peoples’ connections to each. Beneath Victor’s image, his sons Kyle and Graydon branched off to other associations. There was a red-colored link directly between James and Graydon, however.

Suddenly realizing where she was going with this, Forge sat back in his chair. “Of course…Graydon Creed.”

From memory, Alexa narrated “Joined his AWOL father several years after Vic left Sect X, tearing a path to quick riches through most of Africa, eastern Europe and parts of southeast Asia until a rookie mistake found Graydon on the wrong end of Col. Howlett’s adamantium claws. I believe We were actually looking for Victor, but stumbled across Graydon almost by accident. It’s after his son’s death that Victor Creed began his more violent exploits of terrorism across the globe. I only mention this because if I were Maverick, who would I seek out first to help me get back at the Col.?”

Staring at the pictures of the two brothers, Forge answered along with her: “Victor Creed.”



Westchester, NY
Saturday, October 30th…

The weekends at the Xavier School were normally times where the staff relaxed, kicking back with a drink of choice to celebrate the two days between the week-long sessions of teaching. This weekend however was slightly different, as the day before Halloween found many of them helping the in-house students with costumes and organizing Trick-or-Treat groups for the next day.

Downstairs in one of the first floor rec rooms, Scott stood in front of a dry-erase board, contemplating the assigned groups and which volunteering instructor was going to supervise them. He couldn’t believe teenagers still wanted to engage in childish things like Halloween, but didn’t have the heart to disappoint the students, who seemed thoroughly excited about the costumes as well as the prospect of free candy.

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” Marie came in the door behind him, holding a glass of lemonade for him. As he took it to sip, she stood there with her own glass, admiring his strategic work.

“Well, actually”good God, Marie!” Scott sputtered, barely swallowing the liquid before he held the glass up to his eye level, evaluating it before turning to her. “Who made this??”

“I dunno; one of the kids, I think. Jubliee, maybe?”

“Figures.” He grumbled, eyeballing the glass again before shaking his head and setting it down on a nearby end table. “Tastes like she emptied the entire sweetener jar in it.”

“Really?” Marie took a long gulp, resulting in half her glass disappearing before she continued, “Tastes alrigh’ to me, Sugah.”

“You got that right.” He muttered, wiping what had to be residual sugar cane crystals from his lips before turning back to the board.

“You’re certainly puttin’ a lotta thought inta this, Scott.” Marie smiled as he leaned in to erase two names from one group and two from another, switching things around.

“Hm? Oh yeah, well if you had to listen to the stories and drama I get dragged into, you’d know why. Every day these kids change BFFs like they change their underwear.”

That elicited a snicker from Marie, who was surprised he even knew what “BFFs” were. “O muh Gawd.”

“No, really,” he continued, still half in thought as he made a couple other changes to the groups. “Franklin and Angelo aren’t getting along since Angelo flaked out on his part of some group project and David gave them a B- on it and you know if Franklin doesn’t pull perfect A’s he starts hyperventilating. I can’t put Jubilee and Monet in the same group because evidently Jubes now has a crush on Everett, who recently decided he and Monet were getting “too involved” and broke things off in true new-millennium fashion”by text message”but not before he let it slip to one of his buddies”and therefore the entire student body”that he thought Kitty was, and I quote: ‘A Hottie’. So now Jubes is pissed at Kitty because of that, and Monet would just as soon drown them both, I gather. I don’t know; lately I’ve just been nodding and going ‘Uh huh’ when they come to me with this nonsense.”

Marie was fairly laughing hysterically now, holding her sides and wiping a tear from her eye as she glanced up to his exasperated face.

“It’s not funny, Marie.” Scott tried to sound bitter and serious but her fits were cracking his resolve. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I agreed to be the Dean. I told these kids I had an ‘open door’ policy, but who knew it’d turn into New York’s version of The O.C.?”

That only made her gasp for air and Marie actually snorted she laughed so hard. Unable to keep his ire up, Scott shook his head, finally chuckling himself as he realized his role”not to mention his attentiveness”in all of this. Still, if he shoved any two parts of this geometric mess together, it would be a disaster for the chaperone, so he went back to his groups, moving students around like musical chairs. “You’re laughing now, but see what’ll happen if I stick Monet and Jubes in your group. Bet you won’t be laughing then.”

“Ah’m sorry..!” She could barely even stop laughing long enough to get that out. “Really. Ah mean, I know it sounds silly to you now, but ‘member when you were their age, Scooter? Oh, what tangled webs we weave…”

“Oh God.” He brought the marker to his forehead, covering his face as his cheeks burned momentarily. A memory of his ill-conceived tryst with Emma Frost came floating back to him. “Now why did you have to bring that up?”

“I’m just sayin’.” Marie shrugged apologetically, still smiling. “You remember what it’s like to be young, horny and stupid.”

“Wow.” He shook his head, then darted his eyes back to her with a grin. “I also remember a certain 12 year old running around trying to avenge her sister’s honor by touching me…”

“Damned skippy. And if my little legs had been longer, I might’a caught your skinny ass, too.”

After all these years he could tell she thoroughly meant it, but the twinkle in Marie’s eyes told Scott that she’d managed to get over his past with her sister. Perhaps it was the death of their father and the way they’d all seemed to tighten ranks afterwards, or maybe it was the way Scott seemed to fuss over Ororo lately in the way she wished Logan was there to do. Whatever the reason, Marie finally laid their bad blood to rest and for that, Scott was happy to take the occasional ribbing.

Grinning back at her, he mumbled, “In your dreams, sugah.”



Elsewhere in the School, Ororo sat behind her desk in the Headmaster’s office, grading papers and updating her grade book via an Excel spreadsheet. There was only about six weeks left to the semester before the winter break and she wanted to make sure progress reports were up to date to send home with the students. She could’ve waited until a little later to finish this, but she needed the distraction. She was a little over two months into her pregnancy, and was expected back to Dr. Matthews’ office mid next week for a routine check up. Each time she met with the doctor, Ororo felt like a ticking time bomb, as though some bad news was surely on its way around the corner.

Glancing down to her belly, which was just beginning to show a slight ‘baby bump’, she wondered if Dr. Matthews could indeed run tests to determine the child’s susceptibility to a condition like Amahra’s. In truth, Ororo still didn’t know exactly what that condition was, and dreaded the thought that the only person available to lend any information on the subject was arguably the last person she wanted to know she was pregnant with Logan’s child. Unfortunately, Jean was becoming quite the common fixture around the School as her relationship with Scott continued to blossom, and Ororo was sure that at some point she’d have to stop conveniently ‘just missing’ her arrivals and the obvious was sure to take hold. It wasn’t an encounter she was relishing, let’s just say.

Knock, knock. Interrupting her thoughts, the sound at the door preceded its opening to a face she hadn’t seen in too long a time. When his dark blue eyes crinkled upon seeing her at their father’s desk, she openly beamed, spreading her arms wide. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hank! Goddess, no. Get in here!” She stood quickly, barely giving her brother time to get inside the door fully before she flew into his arms for a big, tight hug.

Henry lifted her off her feet momentarily, but as he released her and stood back, began, “Let me have a look…at…you??”

Ororo smiled, feeling her face warming with a blush as Henry’s eyes took in the loose shirt she wore, obviously from some maternity wear catalogue. “You’re staring, Hank.”

“Um, oh…ah…” The usually verbose doctor stumbled over every syllable as his eyes kept dropping to her middle then bouncing back to her face. “Ororo..?”

“Yes, Henry. About eight weeks now.” She barely finished before he crushed her to his wide chest, nuzzling her silky crown with his cheek. “I thought Marie or Beth would’ve let it slip by now.”

He didn’t quite catch her muffled words, so relaxed their embrace, still holding her close but leaning away to look into her eyes. “No, no…Elizabeth indicated I was in store for some fortuitous surprise, but I never imagined…”

She gazed up at him waiting for his reaction to run its course. Henry’s eyes were wide, obviously shocked and confused, but his large canines protruded after a moment as he grinned like a little boy.

“…Congratulations!” He held her shoulders, squeezing her tightly before suddenly remembering her ‘precious condition’ and patting her like he’d cracked her or something.

“I’m okay, Hank,” Ororo laughed, touching his cheek with a smile of her own. “And thank you.”

“Hey there, Hank!” Scott slid in behind them, going through Ororo’s office to his own. They could hear him rustling through drawers before he emerged holding a box of markers. “How was your flight?”

As Ororo smiled, turning back toward her desk, Hank’s eyes continued to follow his sister as he answered Scott’s question. “It helps when you have your own private jet. Which, by the way, I’m happy to return to the school for a while during my sabbatical. My assistant won’t need it; she’s staying in Genosha until my return.”

Ororo looked up as she stood behind the desk. “How are things going there? The news stations and papers are appropriately optimistic”the liberal outlets, anyway. I know it can’t be quite that rosy for you.”

“Not nearly.” Hank took his spectacles down to wipe them on a clean white kerchief as he continued, “It certainly doesn’t help that our diplomatic entourage lacks a telepath of the power our father possessed. Maddy tries her best, but…”

Ororo’s face turned sour for a moment and she brought her hand to her chest, turning to look for her chair. The slight movement wasn’t missed by either man, and as Hank came forward, Scott was already stepping to her side. “Ororo? Are you alright?”

“I’m…okay, Hank. Just a little heartburn, I think.”

Scott was digging through her desk’s drawers and pulled a bottle of Tums from its depths, handing her two and a glass of water. “What did you have for lunch?”

Thinking back, she took the tablets from him, popping them into her mouth while holding the glass. “Just a turkey sandwich on wheat. No mustard.”

Folding his arms, Scott’s head tilted to one side as he looked down at her for a moment. “Pickles?”

“No.” She chewed the Tums fully, then washed the residue down with a couple gulps of water. “No pickles. Maybe a couple jalapeños on the side, though”“

“Ororo…”

“And I might have had a piece of fudge brownie…with French Vanilla ice cream whipped cream and sprinkles, but I’m sure that was all.” She rambled the ingredients of her improper diet off as if she didn’t want them to realize what she’d said, averting her eyes and taking another sip of water as the two men eyeballed her.

As Hank watched Scott’s face, he stifled a grin, coming around the desk to kneel at her chair’s side, taking her pulse though she tried to swat his hands away. “Hold still.”

Scott, unamused, continued to grill her. “And?”

Glancing up at him, Ororo shrugged. “That’s all…maybe a couple handfuls of Funions, I don’t know. But that’s all!”

“Oh man.” Scott sat on the side of the desk holding the bottle of antacid. “My stomach’s turning just listening to you.”

“Shh.” Ororo tried to hold back a burp but was unsuccessful, apologizing to them after the relieving belch escaped. “Don’t say that; it’s turning mine, too.”

The men laughed, and Hank”satisfied for the moment that heartburn was all it was”leaned back on his knees, patting her hand. “If it persists, please let me”uh, I mean Cecelia”know right away. Alright?”

“Yes, Dr. McCoy.” She kissed his forehead. “It’s just these cravings are killing me, and I can’t take Pepto, which normally would do the trick but because I’m pregnant, is off limits.”

“Precisely.” Hank nodded. To Scott, he asked, “Is this normal for her diet?”

“Unfortunately, according to Beth, Marie and the kitchen staff, I’m afraid so.” Scott chuckled.

“Hey!” Ororo raised her hands like ‘hello, I’m right here’, and wondered why her brother was quizzing Scott on her eating habits. To him, she raised a brow. “I thought you had some spies in the kitchen late at night, but my own sisters are turning me in now??”

“It’s for your own good, Funion Lady.” Scott took the glass from her, standing and leaning in to reach down, squeezing her hand before he kissed the top of her head. “No more late night sweet, sour and spicy excursions, alright? Your stomach will thank you in the morning, I’m sure.”

Rolling her eyes, Ro sang “Yes Nurse Ratchet.”

He chuckled, heading for the door. “See what I’m dealing with here, Hank? Anyway, you two excuse me; I’ve got some teenagers to keep apart…Don’t ask.”

When Scott left, Ororo was shaking her head, smiling. Hank was still staring out the door the other man left through, a slightly befuddled look on his face. “Ororo?”

“Yeah?” She turned to him, settling back in the chair.

“May I hazard a personal inquiry I’m quite positive is none of my business?”

Curious, she folded her hands in her lap, wondering what was on her brother’s mind. “Sure Hank. I think all my secrets are out at this point, though.”

He smiled at her attempt at levity, glancing back toward the door. “…Hm, not entirely sure how to query this, but”is Scott the--?”

“What?! No! Hank..!” Ororo’s face burned and she covered her mouth as a fit of giggles took her over. “Oh my Goddess, no!”

“Well, I just thought…”

“Why would you think that?” She calmed down, genuinely curious.

Shrugging, the doctor thought back to the easy”very easy”familiarity between the two in just the couple minutes since he’d been in their presence. “His relationship with you appears quite euphonic, and if I do say so, the two minutes of doting I witnessed here were downright charming. I knew that you were back on copacetic terms and working here together, so I just surmised that perhaps…”

She reached to pat his hand, shaking her head. “Ah, that’s a big ‘No’ on that one, Doc. Scott’s been a tremendous help and yes, we’re close, but no; he’s not the father.”

When she didn’t elaborate, Hank’s eyes dropped with a little discomfort, wondering at her sudden sober attitude. After a couple minutes of silence, he ventured, “Well, that’s alright; you don’t have to”“

“It’s okay.” Ororo’s eyes didn’t quite smile as she tried to make him feel better (not to mention herself). “Daddy’s not in the picture for a good reason. We haven’t spoken since he left in August and I don’t believe we’ll ever see each other again.”

Hank’s eyes widened, then softened as he watched her dab at her other eye quickly. “Oh, Ororo…does he know?”

Unable to dislodge the lump in her throat, she only gave him a tight, sad smile before quickly shaking her head negatively. She realized she couldn’t rehash all the reasons why, but certainly thought her brother deserved to know at least what she’d shared with her sisters and Scott. “The truth is, I think it’d kill him if he knew…”




Madripoor City
(Later the same day)

The small covert ops team stood in a semi-circle facing an small, pocket-sized electronic device perched on the hotel room’s desk. A holographic image was created above the metallic prongs of the device in the perfect form of their new agency leader.

While Daniel Forge spoke to them, several members of Logan’s team glanced at him occasionally; he stood a foot or so in front of them, his arms crossed tightly, biceps bulging and fists clenched”in anger, mostly.

“Why weren’t we told about Ackens?” He asked pointedly, glaring at the pencil-necked Lt. General who too-calmly returned his stare through the two-way camera on the Shi’ar created comm. device.

“At that time it was generally felt that your team was in too deep and to be honest, there were more pressing matters at hand here, Colonel. The Department of Defense wanted to see if the General’s plans could be kept in play before any major changes were enacted.” Forge kept his tone neutral, but inwardly fought an immediate dislike of Ackens’ “pet”, the Col. Howlett. He couldn’t understand why the deceased man favored this hotheaded jarhead so much.

“’Changes’? What the hell are you gettin’ at?” Logan’s eyes narrowed.

Forge’s face shifted as he swallowed a retort; if it weren’t for the fact he still believed Howlett may still be of some use... After a slight pause, he allowed, “Succinctly Colonel, things are not going in the direction we’d like to see. Since I’ve been appointed Jason Ackens’ successor, I’ve been moving toward a more strategic method of achieving our goals. In particular, expeditiously resolving the Creed case.”

Growling, Logan jabbed a finger at the digital image of his new superior. “Expeditious my ass. We’ve only been out here for two months; if it was that easy to find Victor he would’ve been caught already.”

“Colonel, I’ll thank you to watch the tone you take with me.” Forge was about through with anything resembling coddling this man. He knew James Howlett was arguably the best Section X agent ever to walk through the place and more than half the agents under him ended up with successful commands of their own, but enough was enough. “I don’t mind telling you right now that mess you made with Kyle Howlett”who was your only viable lead to date”isn’t getting you any new fans here.”

Logan’s lip curled at the mention of his nephew, not to mention the thought that he had to impress anyone. Sniffing, he retorted, “Everything was by the book with Kyle ‘Creed’. I can’t help it if the boy didn’t talk”“

“And won’t be able to now, thanks to you.” Forge felt the need to interject.

Shrugging, Logan quipped, “That’s what telepaths are for. Let one of your brain-fuckers have a couple minutes inside his head, maybe he’ll sing for ya; though I doubt it. I never seriously thought he knew where Vic was anyway.”

Forge’s face visibly changed, and he sputtered, “Then why did you waste weeks tracking him down?”

“You call it ‘waste’, I call it groundwork. Victor may be in hiding, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his ear to the floor. When word gets to him about Kyle, that’s when we move. We won’t find Victor by waiting for him to make a mistake, because he won’t. Now, the people around him, on the other hand, are a different story.” Logan thought that was enough of his plan he needed to disclose; he wasn’t convinced he could trust this guy Forge on any level, and certainly not where this case was concerned; he knew enough about ambitious fucks like this to know they were the type of scavengers that waited for people like Logan to do all the work and then take the credit when it counted.

“Well, even if that may be, I’m afraid that sort of cat & mouse game isn’t what the DoD is looking for when it comes to a viable plan. As such, there have been some modifications to the case you need to be aware of.” Forge kept his tone neutral again, steeling himself for what he knew was going to be a tantrum from Howlett.

“Meaning?”

“Effective immediately, your team is off the case.”


TBC…





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