Natalya knew that Charles Xavier would end up contacting her. She didn't know why he would try again, considering she'd flat out refused his first attempt at getting her to join him in opposing Shaw. She'd literally taken one look at him and flat out refused anything to do with him or his tall partner.
She wasn't entirely surprised when he appeared in the studio as her students were leaving. However, the Charles Xavier she'd seen for all those years ago looked a little weathered and exceptionally shorter.
"Good evening, Ms Levin." He sent a gentle smile in her direction.
Natalya sighed heavily, shoving her empty water bottle into her bag before turning to face him with wary eyes. She watched TV, and she knew what was happening down in the States. Mutant Registration reminded her heavily of concentration camps and all out racism she'd encountered over her many years of existing.
"What do you want?" She muttered, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.
Charles chuckled. "I expected to leave with a simple no. I'm glad you decided to hear me out this time, Ms Levin."
She gave him a pointed look, and he pulled a file from beside his immobile legs, holding it out for her to take. She took it but didn't open it, laying the blue-hued file beside her bag on the small table with the speakers.
"I've recently found myself short-staffed in the drama department of my school, Ms Levin." Xavier leaned forward in his chair, peering at her with twinkling eyes. "I've come to see if you would take up a teaching job at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."
"I have two questions." She grumbled.
"Ask away, dear." He sat back. He almost seemed to know what she wanted to ask before she had asked it herself, and Natalya had to remind herself that he was an extremely powerful telepath. Fortunately, she was pretty good at keeping people out her head when she didn't want them there. It had proved itself useful more than once.
"Why me? And why would I leave the perfectly stable job I have here?"
Charles seemed to consider her questions for a moment, though he probably already had the answers figured out. He, from what she'd experienced with men similar to this mutant professor, had several possible conversations already stacked into his genius brain.
"There are few mutants who teach dance, Ms Levin," He responded slowly. "And as I know you myself, I thought perhaps you would consider the job. I've also recently admitted a student from here, and I believe you know him; Blake Gold. When I mentioned that I was going to attempt expanding our elective courses at the school through dance and drama, Blake immediately suggested you. He almost insisted. I have you down as my first choice, Ms Levin."
And simply by mentioning her favorite former student, Natalya knew he had won her over. Blake Gold was her shining star, and she had helped raise the mutant after he'd been taken in by his aunt and uncle at only a year old.
Sighing heavily, and pushing her bangs away from her forest-colored eyes, Natalya snatched up the folder and scanned it quickly. There were very few pages in the package it contained, but it detailed her hours, wage, living quarters and fellow teachers.
Her lips twisted into a frown as she snapped the folder shut, and shoved it roughly into her bag.
"Meet me in the café on Delilah Street at three tomorrow afternoon." Her combat boots smashed against the floor of the studio and the bell over the glass door tingled as she left. Natalya knew very well that Charles Xavier didn't have a list of new teachers; it simply started and ended with her.
Natalya Levin's black Topkick went roaring down the street seconds later, carrying her in it. Charles smiled as he wheeled himself around the back of Snapback Studios. Jean and Scott were waiting for him by a rental van. Jean's fiery red hair haloed around her softly smiling face when he approached.
He knew that she knew that they had a new teacher, perhaps not officially yet. Scott seemed to understand and Charles had always been proud that the man had a large intellect for hidden signals. It was what made him a great tactician.
"I hear of a nice café on Delilah Street. Perhaps we could make a stop there tomorrow afternoon."
"Of course, professor." Jean nodded, moving to help him into the van.
Natalya cracked her knuckles as she glared down at the registration forms on her dirty kitchen table. This was the last of the papers she needed to fill out. She'd already phoned the manager of Snapback Studios to resign, and he knew better than to argue with the woman.
One of the things Natalya hated was giving out information on herself. Doing things like that had horrible concesquences and she'd died more than once because of it before learning to shield herself. However, Charles Xavier was the kind of man to know if you were lying on a paper.
And she knew that she couldn't fool him with some bogus mutation on a piece of paper that was more of a formality than anything, because she was positive that Charles had the power to access her any of her information.
It would require a bit of digging on his part though, if he wanted the hard facts of her life.
Letting him dig crossed her mind before the woman snarled and snatched up the pen on her table, scrawling her full name along the space that was clearly laid out for such information. Her cursive was loopy but harsh and sharp.
Her entire name was first, middle name included, then her true age and birthday, place of birth, height, weight and anything else that could be fit on the paper. The space for explaining her mutation took up most of the bottom half and back of the page. More than half that space was filled when she was done explain what she could do.
Sneering down at the page, which was possibly the messiest that Charles was ever going to receive, simply due to the sarcastic comments she's scrawled in the margins and blank spaces, Natalya shoved the paper back into the blue folder and shoved it into her bag.
With a quick look around her bare-bones apartment, Natalya retreated to her bedroom. There was no bed frame to her bed, simply a mattress, a collection of varying pillows, and blankets. Occasionally, if you looked in the right direction, one could find a shoe or piece of clothing beneath the mounds of pillows….if you were lucky.
Natalya prowled around the room once before burrowing herself into the covers of her nest.
She was able to afford almost anything she wanted nowadays. Her fortune had begun as far back in the past as the late seventeen hundred, and just kept growing. She was a leading stockholder in several business all over the world; Stark Industries, Oscorp, Von Doom Industries, Hammer Industries, and she had recently acquired stocks in Windows. She'd personally met both Howard Stark and Anthony Stark more than once, along with Justin Hammer, though she didn't care for the latter.
However, simply being able to afford anything she wanted didn't appeal to Natalya. She liked simple; it was easy to clean up, cheap, and even easier to leave behind if she didn't have anything she valued. She had a several storage units around the world with her valuables in them, but rarely saw them.
Her life had almost constantly consisted of sneaking around and avoiding detection, it had made her paranoid for a while. The wars were the worst of them all; everyone was scared, everyone was tense, and she was prowling around behind enemy lines for the highest bidder.
Fortunately, she now longer had such a dangerous profession; she taught any and all kinds of dance, from old style ballroom to hip-hop. She'd been around for the rise of most of the more popular dances, and she enjoyed socializing at clubs.
This was probably why Charles had approached her; she was possibly the best at what she did.
Natalya's forest-green eyes glared around her room once, as if daring it move or make a noise, before she rolled onto her side and curled her knees to her chest under the blankets.
Scott didn't really know what to expect when he, Jean, and Charles turned up in the small but cozy café on Delilah Street the next afternoon. A mutant, he supposed, though what kind he had no idea.
She would be older than twenty and that ruled out most of the café's visitors.
"I believe we're early." Charles announced, moving his chair to the wheelchair accessible table in the corner.
So she wasn't here then.
Scott took a seat with Jean on the side of the table facing the door, putting his arm over her shoulder. His eyes, hidden behind a pair of specially made glasses, watched the door as Jean and the Professor held a mental conversation.
While the other two were preoccupied, Scott took to imagining what this new teacher would look like. His mental image of a dance instructor filled his brain, and then he converted it as he went through the woman's information.
What came to mind was a petite woman with grey-streaked blond hair, an up-tight expression and a business suit.
Charles chuckled, and Scott turned to him.
"Not quite, Scott." He shook his head and then turned his body the best he could to face the door. "Here she comes."
Jean brushed against his mind and then giggled, obviously finding her fiancee's astonishment amusing.
This was nothing like what he had expected.
"Ms Levin,"
"Natalya." She interrupted, sliding smoothly into the seat across from Scott and Jean.
"I'm glad you could make it. This is Scott Summers and Jean Grey." Charles waved his hand to the two X-Men. Natalya eyed them carefully before turning her attention to the professor.
This was no uptight governess-like instructor. Natalya was no more than five eight, he recalled from the information they already had on her.
She was wearing a pair of short heeled ankle boots with bands of studs around them, a pair of bright orange tiger-striped pants, and a low-dipping nearly see-though white shirt under an army green jacket. She obviously dyed her hair, as the black color was much too dark to be natural and it had several orange streaks through the bangs and underneath. She had a black fedora perched atop her head and canvas shoulder bag beside her.
"Knew you were hiding them somewhere," Natalya muttered to the professor. "I could smell them on you. Here."
From the depths of her bag she pulled the blue folder and tossed it in front of Charles, who picked it up and scanned several of the papers over, chuckling. Jean took the file after he'd placed it on the table.
"How soon are you able to leave, Natalya?"
She shrugged, leaning bag in the booth and spreading her arms over the top of the seat. A nervous looking teen shuffled over, holding a steaming cup. She placed it in front of the women, who flashed the girl a smile as she scampered away.
Scott watched, in mild horror, as she pulled bottle of rum from her bag and filled the cup –which had been half full- to the top, before taking a sip of the spiked hot chocolate.
Natalya smirked at the man across from her before answering the professor's question. "Three minutes. I don't have a lot, and I've got an old student in Montana who wanted to visit Canada for a while. He can bring my truck and my stuff to New York within three weeks."
"What about clothing?" Jean asked gently. Natalya flashed a white-toothed grin.
"I've got a storage locker down there with some stuff in it. It'll last till Shiloh gets there. And if I need anything, I have more than enough to get me what I want."
Jean's eyes flickered across the new teacher's face and realization made her glance down at the file again. "I can only imagine the kind of money you have, Ms Levin, considering how long you've had to-"
"I've got my fingers in lots of places." She interrupted, giving the red hair women a shaded look. "When are we leaving?"
"Will five minute be enough for you?" Charles asked as the mutant slid from the booth, nodding to make her way outside. Once the door had closed, he turned to Scott.
"Not exactly." He replied, pulling the file towards him. His hidden eyes scanned it over and widened in surprise. "She's feral."
"Yes I am." Natalya smirked down at him, blinking her forest eyes lazily.
Scott glanced back down at the file and thanked his math skills as he compared Logan's possible age to this woman's. Charles looked at him curiously, watching the process.
"You don't look a day over twenty four." Jean placed a hand on Scott's leg before what he was thinking fell out of his mouth.
"Thank you." She nodded to the woman and waited for Charles to move before striding alongside him. Jean and Scott hurried after the pair as the professor and his very-old companion made their way down the street towards where they had parked the Blackbird in the park.
Natalya sneered as she watched it shimmer into view, wary boarding the jet and strapping herself in. Scott was reminded of the way Logan acted on the plane when it roared to life; her hands curled around the already dented arms of the seat nearest the door and every single muscle in her body tensed.
However unlike Logan, Natalya took a breath through her mouth –allowing him to catch a glimpse of the stud on her tongue – and slowly relaxed her body. She took another deep breath, crossed her legs beneath her and let go of the seat.
She remained like that the entire ride back to New York, breathing deeply and not moving until the hatch opened and she stalked off it.
"That was interesting." Jean remarked as they followed after their newest staff member, watching as she took in the grounds. "I couldn't read her at all in her meditating state. I still can't."
"Natalya has been through several situations where not being detected was key to her survival. That included telepaths." Charles supplied the pair as he rolled forward to Natalya who had been listening lazily. "I'll have Jean show you to your room."
Jean motioned for the female feral to follow her into the building, climbing to the second story and heading down the hall to the very end before pushing open the door.
Natalya's eyes swept over the room as her nostrils flared. The room wasn't dusty, but it certainly hadn't been used in a very long time. The floor was glossy dark hardwood, and the walls were painted deep green, bordered with black trim. A side of the room was dominated completely by floor-to-ceiling windows and a sliding glass door leading onto a shared balcony that overlooked a small koi pond and garden. There was double bed against the right wall, facing the door across from it. The bathroom –through the door across from the bed- was outfitted in cream and stainless steel.
It was a decent room, and Natalya knew she would like it.
"You share the balcony with another of our professors, Logan." Jean stood awkwardly in the doorway. "He's…a bit of a grumpy person, and he teaches most of our physical courses here."
"Hm." The feral woman was staring down at the koi in the pond outside.
"There's no smoking allowed on campus, so if you see him with a cigar please get rid of it. Teachers don't have a curfew, students are to be in bed between ten and eleven, and classes are like any regular school. Breakfast on weekdays is at seven thirty, lunch is at noon, and dinner is at six. The professor has informed me that if you want to take part in a Danger Room session anytime soon to let him know. There's one tomorrow afternoon with our junior members that you can watch. If you need me, I'm eight doors down on the left, Scott is beside me."
"Hm."
Jean stood awkwardly in the doorway for several seconds before shutting the door quietly behind her, and walking down the hall.
Natalya didn't move from the window for a while, her eyes lazily watching the fish swim in circles.