Shaw Industries Towers:
"Look out the window, Charles and tell me what you see." Sebastian Shaw turned towards Charles Xavier, moving slightly so the wheelchair-bound man could come and see the vista of Mutant Town, almost all visible from the lofty perch of Shaw Industries tower, almost exactly a thousand feet above the streets. For his part, Shaw looked at the scurrying people- virtually ants at this distance, going about their lives.
Charles wheeled himself over to the window and looked out. It looked deeply ordinary at first, hundreds of people going about their daily business. And then he realized it, amid the expected shades of the myriad people of New York City, there were also blue people, and pink people, people with additional limbs, people with wings. There was even a person flying to- who knew where? For a rendezvous with a lover? To work?
"There are thousands of mutants living down there now, and more arrive every single day, because it's safer than anywhere else, because they can be themselves. They don't need to hide, and all the time, my people are finding them work. Inside Mutant Town, yes, but also elsewhere. Isn't that what you always wanted? Mutants being able to live their lives and make their gifts useful to society?"
Charles raised his eyebrow a little. "I won't deny you've done some impressive work, Sebastian. But you're asking me if I can fully endorse your schemes to use mutants for profit. I know about your research projects. And some would claim that this is little more than a ghetto."
Sebastian laughed ribaldly. "You're fortunate I do not take offence easily, Charles. Those are awfully critical words for someone who owes me seven hundred million dollars. What I offer the world is not a dream, Charles, but a plan. Your rhetoric may move a few movement liberals to post sympathetic comments on their Internet blogs- but what I've done is I've shown the world that mutants are a resource. One is wasted at their peril."
Charles nodded. It was a good point, he didn't necessarily like it, but there was no doubting that Sebastian had materially improved the lives of a great many mutants and shown a way forward in promoting harmony and acceptance, even if he disliked the ebullient capitalism Shaw endorsed. "That may be true for many people, but you know well, that not everyone acts according to their logical self-interest. What happens then?"
Sebastian's expression changed slightly and not to Charles's comfort. There was a slightly predatory look in his eyes, not unlike that of a great tiger contemplating its next kill. "If people will not embrace the opportunities I offer them? They will be relegated to the dustbin of history. I have staked a great deal on this, Charles- and more than simply money. I will see to it that my investment pays off."
Sebastian then slowly smiled and moved over to the table, pouring two generous drams of Scotch, passing one to Charles and taking a sip of the other one. Charles did the same, unable not to savor the smooth burning sensation of the whisky. Speyside single malt. Shaw's taste never failed to impress Charles.
"You just keep doing your fine work at the school and on the lecture circuit, Charles, and we'll see that wonderful world you imagine come to pass after all. And if I happen to become richer than Crassus in the process, is that really so bad?"
Charles wasn't so sure. It all seemed to be going so well, but he knew that it would not, could not be so easy. Sebastian would extract a greater price from him than he claimed to, he was sure, and he could not help but shake the feeling that … other forces would intervene to disrupt the fragile equilibrium of Mutant Town.
Sebastian raised his eyebrow at Charles. "Really, Charles, you worry too much. After all, our dear friend Erik is quite secure in his little plastic prison, his Brotherhood scattered to the wind. We succeeded in neutering the Mutant Registration Act and the Sentinels have been mothballed. There haven't even been any sightings of the X-Men." He chuckled knowingly, taking another sip of his drink.
Charles kept his thoughts to himself. It was all true, what Sebastian had said, but at the same time, he could not bring himself to be so confident about things. Magneto was imprisoned, yes, but he dared not assume that would be permanent and if he ever escaped, he had no doubt that the Brotherhood of Mutants would be reestablished. There were other details, ones that he did not care to tell Sebastian, even if he owed the man a great deal. Because he had the sneaking suspicion that, one day in the future, when the X-Men were needed again, it would be to counter Sebastian's ambition.
United States Superhuman Correctional Facility- "The Vault"
By any means necessary.
Erik Lehnsherr was not Malcolm X, he would never claim to be- even though the label had been given to him in what was a grotesque misunderstanding of both men. However, he'd embraced the credo of 'any means necessary', and it had informed his actions, his mission, to make the world a better place for his people.
He smiled slightly wryly. Indeed, he wasn't Erik Lehnsherr at all, that name was simply a false identity that had become useful as the decades changed and his face hadn't, as his activities drew increasing attention from the wrong people. Charles knew him as Erik Lehnsherr. That was the name that he was generally given within the walls of the prison. He imagined it was because they feared 'Erik Lehnsherr' less than they feared Magneto.
He had been born Max Eisenhardt, once upon a time, though few people living knew him by that name. That name had been buried a long time ago, in a past too painful to recall more than passingly. His nostrils flared slightly. Nevermind being able to see the plumes of ash, or hear the screams of the dying. He could still smell the corpses that he'd been forced to shovel out, the stench of burning flesh. Max Eisenhardt had survived the camps, yes, but he'd died later, in yet another horrible tragedy of flame and ash.
No, he did not feel either of those names were truly his anymore. He was now and truly, Magneto, the Master of Magnetism according to the media- they so loved a catchy sound bite, didn't they? The man who would do anything for his people. Who had willingly, even gladly accepted the role of villain. Perhaps part of him hoped that people would take the peace that Charles hoped for, after seeing the alternative. But what he'd seen was Xavier's final sellout, to extract a few paltry concessions on the Mutant Registration Law.
There had, however, been some interesting developments. There was a community of mutants now, that hadn't existed in the days when he was free. The news that he received was of course, filtered and censored. The official line was that Mutant Town, while troubling in its sheer concentration of mutants, was a well-ordered and productive community. A shining example of the benevolent compromise of the human powers-that-be towards the mutants.
America's gift to the mutant people.
Theresienstadt reborn.
Oh, that I were free, that I could bring the truth like fire to that place. And crash it about the heads of Xavier and the others who would have us beg from human governments for crumbs.
Magneto had seen the results of that, with his own eyes, heard a million cries for mercy with his own ears. Suffered the agony of twisted experimentation on his own body. Imprisoned as he was, he could do little except, perhaps, be a symbol to those on the outside that felt as he did. A powerful enough thing in its own- but it was not enough for Magneto. He was a man of action. Imprisonment did not wear well on him.
"He's got that look in his eye again, Jim." George Corrigan gestured over to his fellow guard. "Don't like it much. Like he's some kind of demigod."
"To be honest, George? Throw a pound of metal in there? He pretty much is. He's powerful enough they had to invent a whole mutant supergroup to take him down." Jim sipped his coffee, looking at the panels. "But he's secure in there. All the wiring's insulated so he can't get a jumpstart with anything electrical. No metal allowed. Heck, we're not even allowed to work if our blood count's too high."
"Could he actually- you know … do something with people's blood?" George asked, looking again at the panel of Lehnsherr looking out at nothing in particular. Deep in thought. Or was he simply biding his time? It was hard to tell. The guy gave him the willies.
"They say he can't, but I don't know, man. They spent like half a billion dollars trying to keep this guy under wraps. Public Enemy Number One." Jim examined another perspective and smirked slightly. "But really. Pretty sweet job. We get 24/7 Danger Pay. My wife'd probably enjoy it even more, though."
"You ever worry that someone's gonna, you know, break him out?" George's slightly nervous posture changed subtly, though Jim was too busy looking at the screen to notice. "Not to you know, interrupt you ogling the guy or anything."
"I'm not ogling him. I'm watching like I'm supposed to, and naw, who the hell's gonna be able to break into this place? You can't even get in here without a million biometric tests." Jim turned around to face George. "Not to mention all those guards in Stark's fancy armour."
"Good point. You'd have to be some sort of shapeshifter or something …" George's expression changed into an impudent grin.
"... dude, why are you looking at me like tha-" Jim's words were cut off by George moving with astonishing rapidly behind him. The next sound in the room was the horrid snapping sound of bone and cartilage.
The slightly rotund form of George Corrigan melted away into a feminine, blue form, slinking over to the controls and activating the intercom and initiating the open sequence to the cell. "Door's open, honeybunch." Mystique reached into herself, having long since learned how to use body cavities and empty space as storage and pulled out several balls- about a pound or so of high-quality steel, crusted in a thin layer of non-magnetic material. It was enough to avoid the metal detectors, but not enough to avoid the notice of a man who could control all electromagnetism.
"I even brought presents. Merry Christmas, handsome."
Newsstand, Mutant Town
"Daily Bugle and New York Times, please." Scott Summers asked the vendor, handing over a five dollar bill and receiving the two papers, flipping them over to examine the headlines. He immediately felt his stomach drop, his jaw setting hard.
"Scott? What's wrong?" Jean Grey asked. Scott didn't say anything simply showing her the headline of the Daily Bugle.
MUTANT TERRORIST MAGNETO ESCAPES FROM VAULT
ASSISTED BY UNKNOWN MUTANT
EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS INSIDE
FULL STORY ON PAGE 4-7
"Oh God." Jean quietly murmured. She took a deep breath. "They'll send the Avengers after him. Maybe they'll bring him in soon. Right? Or the Fantastic Four."
Scott exhaled sharply. "Yes, because that worked out last time. They don't know him."
Jean raised an eyebrow. You can't possibly be thinking about the X-Men. We haven't been a team for years. We gave it up with the Act.
Scott remained quiet for a moment, both verbally and mentally. I know. We wouldn't be ready to face him anyway.
Scott. We were never ready to fight Magneto. We were teenagers. Kids. Jean's voice took on a slightly harder note. I don't regret being an X-Man, Scott, but we had no business being superheroes. It's a miracle we survived.
We were good. We were a good team, Jean. We defeated Magneto twice. Beat the Sentinels. The Juggernaut.
Jean reached up her hand to Scott's face, frowning slightly in concern. "You were a good leader, Scott. You really were. But that didn't change the fact that we were sixteen year olds. Kids. Going up against supervillains. Promise me you won't get into this again."
"Jean …" Scott frowned. He knew there was no way he could make such a promise. He sighed. It's like you said, Jean, there are no X-Men. I'm not going to go marching up to fight Magneto myself.
Okay. Jean replied, though something in her was less than reassured about the entire exchange.
Xavier Institute of Post-Secondary Education Student Diner
"I can't believe it. Magneto escaping? Not good news at all." Kitty Pryde sighed as she checked the latest updates on the situation. "Hopefully the Avengers catch him before he takes the Amtrak to Mutant Town. Unless he's got some other plans. What do you think he'll do, boys?"
"To know what a villain will do, you simply need to know what he has done in the past." Kurt observed with a wry grin. "He'll attempt to come here to recruit a new Brotherhood and then go seize some government facility. Perhaps he'll stymie the Avengers and Fantastic Four, and the Professor will have to make a new team of X-Men!"
Piotr for his part listened to Kurt while he finished off a bacon cheeseburger. It was natural that Kurt would be raring to go into action of some sort or another- it was rare not to find Wagner in the midst of an adventure. Piotr himself, however, found the situation to be rather more disconcerting than Kurt did. And he wasn't certain that Magneto would simply try the same thing again.
"The three of us! We could save the whole world together! It would be magnificent, ja?" Kurt grinned at his friends.
"You know, Fuzzbutt, Magneto isn't some pirate program in the Danger Room. If we lose, we don't get to go get a drink and laugh about it." Kitty observed, reaching over to steal some of Kurt's fries while he was distracted. "He probably graduated first or second in his class in Applied Supervillainy."
"And yet, Katzchen, I do not think you would hesitate to defend the world if it came to it." Kurt raised his eyebrow at her. "And do not think I haven't noticed you trying to steal my fries. You had plenty of your own!"
"Please. He shows his big mouth around here and starts making trouble, I'll drop a rock on his bucket head. Easy peasy. And then I can go back to trying to get Pete here to join our DnD game." Kitty boldly snatched away some of Piotr's fries. "Speaking of, I know you're the strong, silent guy on our Three Amigos, but what do you think about all this?"
Piotr took a moment to consider what he was going to say. He never felt confident with words. He was much more comfortable with his hands, building, drawing pictures, physical and artistic things. It was partly that English was not his first language, though he'd learned it quickly enough. It wasn't Kurt's either and he always had something to say. He took a breath.
"I think Magneto will come here, as you say. He will look for followers, and he will find them. I do not think we will enjoy peace here much longer." He sighed. "I hope he can be stopped before he comes here, but I do not think it will be so."
"And that is why, Herr Rasputin, we must stand together." Kurt replied, a bit of seriousness finally creeping into his voice.
"Couldn't have said it better." A familiar voice spoke up from the back, belonging to Scott Summers, standing beside the Professor.
"Piotr, you are correct." The Professor's gaze settled upon them. Though he always seemed serene and assured, there was something undeniably tense about him now. "And that is why Scott and I have been conversing just now. About many things, but most particularly about recreating the X-Men."
"... seriously? Is this the recruitment pitch? Are you actually asking us to join an all-new, all-different X-Men?" Kitty nearly stammered, nerves and excitement and a million other emotions colliding with each other.
"Quite so, Kitty." The Professor replied, making no visible reaction to her relative glibness.
Somewhere in the Midwestern United States:
"I hate it here, Aunty Irene." Rogue complained, desperately trying to keep herself warm with yet another cup of hot tea. It had been a particularly cold winter, even for the North, and she'd never quite got over her Southern roots, even though she'd spent as much of her life away from Mississippi as there.
"We won't be here much longer, Rogue." A gentle, warm voice answered her, matched by a serene, if aging face. "Your mother will be here soon enough with her … friend, and we'll be on our way."
"How much longer? You goin' on Momma's words or you see something in your visions?" Rogue sat down, wrapping her hands around a cup of tea that should have been scalding hot. She gripped just a little too hard, though, and the cup shattered in her hands. "... Again?!" She looked at Irene. "When am I gonna get some damned control over these powers?"
"Language, Rogue." Irene chided mildly.
"Momma says worse language all the time, Aunty Irene." Rogue countered in a huff.
"Your mother is a woman of many gifts, but she's terribly unladylike." Irene actually smiled slightly. "You on the other hand, there is still hope for. And we're not on a mission, you know … you don't need to insist on calling yourself 'Rogue' all the time. Though I seem to have started doing it."
"Momma says it's important that we use our mutant names." Rogue replied. "And besides, I don't feel like an Anna-Marie. I'm Rogue. Fits, don't it? Can't touch anybody and now I can't barely touch things either. Not to mention bein' on the run and all."
"I suppose you have a good point." Irene replied serenely, getting up to get Rogue another cup of tea. It was then that she suddenly felt faint and had to catch herself, images flooding her mind. Attackers. "ROGUE!"
It was then that the walls of the house they were staying in blew apart, Rogue having just enough time to grab Irene, using her body to protect her relatively frail Aunt.
"Oh they are gonna regret that!" Rogue practically snarled as she burst out of what was left of the house, towards converging armoured men. She heard the deafening cacophony of automatic fire, but they bounced off her skin like hail. She hurtled towards a group of the troopers, knocking them over like bowling pins.
Then there was a brilliant flash of light and Rogue felt a much more solid impact strike her in the chest- and this one actually hurt as it knocked her to the ground. "Okay … whichever one of y'all did that, you're just gettin' me mad here." And that's when she noticed a huge shadow blot out the sun.
HALT MUTANT. WE ARE CHARGED WITH NONLETHAL APPREHENSION BUT WILL USE LETHAL FORCE IF NECESSARY. SUBMIT TO ARREST.
Before Rogue could say anything to the contrary, the gigantic robot fired again, hard enough to create a crater in the ground, taking Rogue with it. This time, she was genuinely winded, fighting for the breath she needed to do anything before the gigantic robotic hand succeeded in taking grabbing her … it was then that she saw the Sentinel be methodically taken apart, to fall all around her- but not on her like a gentle rain.
When she managed to pull herself out of the crater (she still sometimes had trouble getting her damned flying abilities to work) she noticed all of the men neatly apprehended, wrapped up in their own armour. And there, smirkingly taking a selfie with the Sentinel's head and a particularly disgruntled looking MRD captain was her Momma herself.
"Momma!" Rogue shook her head. That Sentinel had hit her harder than she'd thought. But she still had enough presence of mind not to seem overtly grateful. Or admit her total bafflement about how that had happened. "Took you long enough to get here!"
Irene peeked out of the house, instinctively knowing that it was safe now. "On the other hand, Raven, your timing is exquisite as always. May I ask where he is?"
"Waiting for his dramatic entrance, I'm sure. You know, mutant archvillains are all the same. Always wanting to make a big impression." Mystique smirked, showing the picture to the MRD captain. "Not bad, honey. But it'd be so much nicer if you'd just smiled some."
"Mystique speaks glibly, but it is important to make one's presence known in an appropriate manner." Magneto declared, floating down from the heavens in an appropriately grand crimson-and-royal purple costume, somewhere between practical battle armour and flamboyant royal garb, topped with his iconic helmet. "A pleasure to meet both of you. I see my return is not a moment too soon."
"Yeah, well, uh, thanks for the save … Magneto?" Rogue replied, a little uncertainly. "So uh, when were you gonna tell us you were bustin' Magneto out of jail, Momma?"
"Oh, about the same time I was going to snarkily point out that it was ironic that the first three members of his new Brotherhood are all girls. Hey Magnosexy, say something dramatic for YouTube. We're going to make your glorious return go viral." Raven held up the camera in classically irreverent fashion. Magneto seemed to have other plans, though, and neatly lifted the device out of Mystique's hands.
"No. Not in such a casual fashion. I will make my presence known, but I will do so in a matter more befitting the inauguration of a new age in the history of our species." Magneto did, however, refrain from destroying the iPhone, simply floating it back down to an amused-looking Mystique. "And kindly do not call me 'Magnosexy'."
"Aww, you worried about your big manly dignity?" Mystique smirked up at him.
"No. I do not wish to embarrass your poor daughter any further." Magneto actually smiled thinly in return as he floated back down to Earth. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Rogue. I trust you were not hurt by the Sentinel?"
"I coulda taken that Sentinel." Rogue couldn't help but grump, even though she had to admit she was slightly intimidated by the man. It wasn't just his obvious mutant power. There was something about him that simply compelled attention. "But uh, thanks for the help. It did kinda get the jump on us."
"Indeed." Magneto replied, grim intensity returning to his visage. "By reviving the Sentinel program, humanity has effectively declared war on us." He turned towards Rogue. "Will you fight for the future of your people."
"If it gives me a rematch against one of those tinmen? Yeah, sure. Don't like the idea of big things picking on little people, anyhow." Rogue replied easily, hands balling into fists. "Can't say as I'm not looking forward to a rematch."
Observing the scene, Irene's lips curved into a deep frown. Today's events could only bring disaster. She'd already seen the grim events in the back of her mind. They were possibilities of course, rather than certainties, but they were still … shocking ones. Camps. Massacres. On either side, both sides together. There was something else, though, less catastrophic but no less painful for her. The image- images, so many of them and so clear, of Anna-Marie fighting against them.
How can I tell Raven? She'd never believe me. And even if they did, what good would it do?
Alleyway, Mutant Town:
"P-Please don't hurt me. I'm not, I don't have special powers- I just look different!" A slightly simian young man crouched in the corner of a dead-end alleyway, putting up his hand to protect his head, tears running down his face, looking up at his assailants in stark terror.
"Doesn't matter, mutie. You're still an insult to our race." The leader of the thugs. "When you end up in Hell, tell `em the Friends of Humanity sent you." He raised his bat and swung it down, only to get it chopped neatly into several pieces, a blur solidifying itself into the shape of a fairly short, squat man, foot-long claws extending from each of his hands.
"Could say the same about you, bub." Logan smirked, striking a fighting pose. Seven of them. All of them bigger than he was. All of them armed. None with drawn guns, though. Knives, baseball bats. A chain. He grinned, showing prominent canines. "So what's it gonna be, girls? Dance or run?"
"Your funeral, genejoke." The leader said, dropping back to let his goons take charge while he drew a gun. They were coming around from both flanks, not one at a time. Someone had seen fit to give these jokers a little training. Probably a former Marine or something in their ranks. Not that it meant anything, except a little fun for Logan.
He'd been taking down guys with basic training since the days of Bull Run and Gettysburg. This was just a little bit of light exercise. Not that they could hurt him much, between his metal skeleton and healing factor, but they weren't hitting him- he moved far too fast for them. It made things a bit more challenging not to kill them, not to simply cut their guts out or slice their heads off.
Charley's been getting to me. Making me soft. They'd have killed this poor kid.
As it happened, the claws were more distraction than anything else, the real blows came mostly from knees and elbows reinforced with adamantium, a headbutt that would reduce a brickwall to dust. There weren't really any ironclad guarantees they'd walk away from this punishment, either. He knew damn well how insidious head injury could be. Not that he cared that much.
The whole thing was over in maybe twenty seconds. Wolverine circled back to help the poor kid get on his feet.
"Not the best neighbourhood to be out in, kid. Keep to the main streets." Logan huffed slightly, pulling out a cigar and lighting it.
"Yes, sir … t-thank you, sir!" The young man replied as he scampered away.
And you claim not to have a noble side, Logan.
Yeah well, I was bored and they gave me practice. What's up, Charley?
There's something I wish to talk to you about, urgently.
Lemme guess. It got something to do with your ol' pal Erik breaking out. We gonna throw him a 'welcome back' party?
Logan.
Logan smirked and took a puff of his cigar. Just spit it out, Charley. I gotta date with a bottle of whiskey and an ol' friend from up North.
Very well. I want to talk to you about the X-Men. I intend to create a new team.
Aw hell, Chuck. Why didn't you just say so? Though I'm not the world's best team player.
You have experience that the others will need, desperately.
Yeah, yeah. Let's talk about it. And not this telepathic stuff either. Where ya at, Charley?
I'm giving a lecture on mutation at the University. I'll be finished in twenty minutes.
See ya there.
5 Madison Avenue, Headquarters of the Hellfire Club:
"I trust you have a good explanation for the debacle in Ohio, Shaw? Those Sentinels were not supposed to be operational for months." Donald Pierce snarled, fingers clicking an unnaturally syncopated rhythm on the desk around which the Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club sat. "And such brilliant design, too, to make them vulnerable to … the number one mutant criminal in existence. Such vision."
Sebastian's face remained impassive, his back turned to the others. "If you wish to challenge me, Pierce, you may." The tone was neutral, but the menace was unmistakable, and no more came out of Pierce's mouth.
"Disrespectfully as Pierce phrased it, this is a problem, Sebastian." Emma Frost finally replied smoothly. " I trust Shaw Industries is working on a means of ensuring such an important investment is not so vulnerable to a single attacker?"
"The Sentinel used in that operation was an early design prototype. I am not particularly happy with the MRD for having used it, but that being said, we've accomplished something. Magneto will expect all of them to be similarly vulnerable. As will any other mutants observing. Rest assured, they will find a very different reality." Sebastian finally turned around to face the other members of the Inner Circle.
"Let us not forget, however, that Magneto serves a valuable purpose for our goals. There is a long and bitter war coming. What distinguishes this one, however, is that the Hellfire Club will be in effective control of both sides. We will gather the best, the strongest, the most talented mutants under our roof. And whether the White House, or the House of Lehnsherr rules America when all is said and done, the Hellfire Club will be pulling the puppet's strings.
That is our mission. Our holy crusade. And nothing will sway us from this goal."
"Bravo, Sebastian! Well said! To the Black King and the Hellfire Club!" Harry Leland lustily shouted, raising an overfull glass, followed in due course by the other members of the Club, even Donald Pierce.
"Inspiring as always, Sebastian. But what about Charles? Where does he figure into your grand plan? A fool we can swindle out of his dream?" Emma asked sweetly, eyes significantly looking him up and down. "Inquiring minds want to know."
"Charles is, as you say, a fool. He's given over his life's work to us, meshed his public image to my work, invested his credibility and fortune in his school and Mutant Town. I suspect he's trained many of the Inner Circle's future members. Its enforcers. Its minions. Of course, we won't be relying exclusively on him for very long now, will we, Emma?" Sebastian smirked faintly. "I think it's time you told the others about the Massachusetts Academy."
Emma's smile could have won an Oscar for Best Actress if it wasn't sincere- a near impossibility to tell with her. "Of course, Sebastian. The Massachusetts Academy is the Hellfire Club's direct equivalent of Charles's school in Westchester County. As we've been funding much of his work, we've been able to steal much of his technology. And when it's operational, we won't have to rely on doing our recruiting secondhand. We'll be training our future members directly, in the ideology of the Hellfire Club and not Charles's tiltings at windmills."
She took a sip of her drink. "A new generation of loyal servants of the Hellfire Club, every single one of them gifted with mutant powers as well as familial connections, wealth, talent. Imagine the possibilities."
"I look forward to seeing your debut as Headmistress, Emma." Sebastian replied with a smirk, his hand trailing along her shoulders and back as he crossed the room. "We all have our parts to play in this grand design of ours."
Emma suppressed a slight shudder as he touched her. You may be master of the Club for now, Shaw, but only because I see your reign as better for me than the alternative. You had best ensure that never changes.
Mutant University Botanical Gardens:
Ororo hummed a faint melody to herself as she carefully examined all of the plants in the greenhouse, the misters giving them the moisture they needed. They were doing well, ever since she'd made a few suggestions to the Head of the Botany Department. Thankfully, he'd been the sort of man who was amenable to growing tips. She wished, of course, that she could enjoy these plants without the restriction of even a glass roof, but it was impossible. The cold of a New York winter would kill them almost instantly.
Winters were difficult sometimes, even though she understood that it was a part of the natural cycle here. She missed the reliability of the dry and rainy seasons of her home in Africa.
"I figured I'd find you here, Ororo." Charles said, a smile spreading across his face as he wheeled his way into the greenhouse. "You've done good work here."
Ororo turned to face Charles, walking over to him and planting a friendly kiss on the top of his head, a gesture that made Charles blush ever so slightly. "Thank you, Charles. It's nothing, though, compared to what you've done here."
"Thank you, though … I fear for that legacy more and more, Ororo. I trust you've heard the news about Magneto?" Charles looked up at her, his expression becoming graver by the second.
"I have." Ororo replied, before setting herself on a counter facing him. "Is it true, Charles, that you've been speaking to several of your former students about creating a new team of X-Men?"
"How did you know?" Charles replied, surprised.
"A little kitten told me." Ororo replied, a slightly enigmatic expression on her face. "Are you here to ask me to join this recreated team, Charles?"
"... I am, Ororo. We could be facing an unprecedented crisis, at a very sensitive juncture, and your power would be a formidable addition to any team, as well as your wisdom." Charles looked at her. "Scott, Logan, Kitty, Piotr and Kurt have already agreed."
Ororo looked at him seriously for a long moment. "Do you truly believe this is necessary, Charles? You taught us the value of peace and harmony, but if you reestablish the X-Men, we will be using violence. Less, perhaps, than others might, but one does not train a mutant strike force for pacifistic reasons."
"It is not something I do lightly, Ororo, I assure you." Charles replied. "But I fear that if nobody resists Magneto, stops him, that he will tear all we've worked for asunder."
Ororo's lips pursed slightly. "I will join this group, but only if you promise that the X-Men will only be used when absolutely necessary. There is a thin line between using power such as ours and abusing it." She put her hand on Charles's shoulder and gave a squeeze. "I also expect you will go and get a good sleep tonight. I don't doubt you'll be asked to appear on several television programs soon."
"You're probably right, Ororo." Charles offered a slightly tired smile. "I trust you'll be keeping me on the straight and narrow."
"Always, Charles."
Department of Mutant Affairs, Washington DC:
"I cannot believe you are giving that maniac a national platform, Gyrich." Valerie Cooper fumed, grabbing the Co-Director by the wrist so he could not simply depart and ignore her. "William Stryker is a greater menace to America than any mutant. Even Magneto doesn't preach genocide."
"Preaching genocide, Miss Cooper? A little strong, don't you think? Look. The man's a little strong in his views. Got it. But we need some balance for this advisory panel. Since they chose you, and we're asking Xavier and that Scottish harridan. So I reached out to Senator Kelly and to the Reverend, who I'll have you know is an American hero. Shining military record. And is regarded very highly in the faith community." Gyrich wrenched his arm out of her grip. "And grab me again Cooper, and I'll have you fired before you know what hit you. This illusion of equality here? That's what it is. An illusion. I have friends in this town. You don't."
"Don't threaten me, Gyrich." Valerie retorted, her eyes narrowing. "You know damn well that the President asked that I come here. But while we're talking about your colossal fuckups, let's talk about the Sentinel in Ohio. I can't imagine your platonic lifepartner Shaw will be too fond of that."
Gyrich positively snarled. "That Sentinel nearly succeeded in apprehending some very dangerous criminals. Let's not forget what those outlaws did to Ms. Marvel. I might not be friends with the woman, but she's an Avenger in good standing and a patriotic American. If Magneto himself hadn't shown up in person, we'd have apprehended the bunch of them. And we're working on solutions to ensure that his magnetic powers do not work on Sentinels."
"Remind me again why we are spending billions of dollars to build gigantic killbots to attack American citizens. Because the last I checked, that's not exactly compatible with the notion of democracy." Valerie Cooper glared at him. "How are we going to convince mutants to cooperate with us if we're building weapons of mass destruction aimed against them? Are you looking to get into some sort of arms race? Their genetics against your robotics?"
Gyrich scoffed. "Extremism in the defence of liberty is no vice. Mutants will cooperate with us because the alternative is so bad they'll see no other logical choice. And there's no comparison. Mutant superpowers are a lottery. Our technology becomes more powerful steadily."
"My god, Gyrich. Listen to yourself." Valerie tried not to simply explode in anger, that'd only entrench him. "I want you to actually listen to yourself talk. Is this what you want? These are American citizens you're talking about."
"America's always been threatened as much by people inside it as outside." Gyrich looked at her from behind his sunglasses. "You'd best think about what you're going to do when it comes down to it, Cooper. Because I think it will. It always does, in the end."
Valerie Cooper didn't know what to say to that. She wanted to punch the man in the face. She wanted to resign on the spot. But part of her genuinely, truly, feared that he was right.
Fringes of Mutant Town:
"So this is Mutant Town? Looks like kind of a dump." Rogue observed, looking out of the window of the brownstone building that Magneto had purchased for their use. It was understood that he would be coming and going to say the very least, as he assembled a new Brotherhood of Mutants. It was a big building, they'd be able to fit several people in it.
"Yeah, well, it's a ghetto. Just like Magneto says." Mystique replied, looking uncharacteristically serious. "This is where they're herding us so they can do whatever the fuck they want without the rest of America getting to see it first hand. Sebastian Shaw would stop at work camps, I guess, but William Stryker and some of those other fucks would take it all the way. They're already starting to send their goons into Mutant Town to kill people."
"You think this is gonna come to a real war, Momma?" Rogue asked her. It wasn't that she was afraid of fighting. Truth was, she was getting tired of running. And now that she had the ability to hit back. She'd like a rematch with another one of those giant robots. And if she ever ran into those Friends of Humanity goons, she'd give them a good hiding.
"Hasn't it already? We're all supposed to sign up with the government so they can track us. And they've clearly started building Sentinels again. And let's not forget the armed troopers they came with." Mystique reached out with a gloved hand and stroked Rogue's face softly. "Rogue, baby, they declared war on us. We didn't start it. But I've seen what happens when people don't fight back against their oppressors. But it's not going to be us, Rogue. Because we have the power to fight back."
Rogue nodded. "Bullies gotta get a taste of their own medicine. I get it. But what are we fightin' for, besides just our lives? Seems to me we gotta fight for something bigger and better than just fightin' back."
"Honey, you want big ideas, you should go talk to Magneto. Momma's more of a tactics girl than a fearless leader." She smirked faintly.
"... so uh, Momma? Is he your boyfriend or whatever? Magneto." Rogue asked quietly. She wasn't sure how she felt like that. Magneto hadn't been unkind to any of them, but he seemed like the sort of man who went ahead with what he wanted, regardless of what happened to smaller folk along the way. Charismatic men were dangerous.
"Boyfriend implies a lot of commitment that just isn't there, honey. Don't think you really want the details, but let's just say he's a man despite all that bluster, and I'm a woman. And Momma's gonna leave it at that, because you're already looking like you might gag." Mystique smirked.
Rogue rolled her eyes. "I was just checkin', sheesh! Didn't want to miss the cue to start calling him Dad or whatever." She smirked. "Wouldn't, though. He's Magneto. I got my Momma and my Aunty Irene."
"Damn right, you do." Mystique smirked. "Come on, let's go get something to drink. This serious family discussion by the window is so cliche, it's killing me."
"You know Aunty Irene doesn't like it when you give me booze." Rogue smirked slightly. "Superstrong or not, I'm not carryin' you up to your room after you drink a whole bottle of raspberry vodka, Momma."
"Irene doesn't like a lot of things. I love her dearly, but she's not the easiest to deal with sometimes." Mystique laughed. "We don't see things eye to eye."
"Do you see eye to eye on this? Aunty Irene's been quiet this last little while." Aunty Irene was never exactly a loudmouth, but she'd been more withdrawn lately. "I mean, she doesn't seem as into the Brotherhood idea."
"She supports it, but you know how it is with her abilities. She often has to see the worst possible outcomes of something." Raven sighed slightly. "If Irene opposed it, do you think she'd be here?"
"I do." Rogue replied. "Because she loves us. Because people swallow stuff they don't like for the people they love."
Raven stopped and just looked at her daughter for a moment. "When the fuck did you get to be more mature than your Momma?"
Rogue smiled. "Ain't too hard, Momma."
Raven laughed. "Not really."
Apartment Building, Mutant Town:
Jean Grey stared at the phone. It was Scott. He was going to talk to her about the team, she knew it. He wasn't a good liar. He probably didn't know that Ororo had already told her- so she was trying not to be furious with him. Why should she be, anyway? It was his choice. And he'd never been entirely comfortable with the disbanding of the team.
He'd always been Xavier's star pupil, the one he'd chosen as his heir of sorts. And driven hard, harder than anyone except for Scott himself.
Charles Xavier. Everyone admired the man so much, so damn much. He was the foremost advocate for mutant rights. He was the man who, alongside Moira McTaggart, had identified the mutant gene in the firstplace. He had helped hundreds of mutants in desperate need, and he was working to extend that program to literally thousands of mutants in Mutant Town.
She wished him success. It would mean a better world.
But she was free to also consider him a conniving, hypocritical bastard. He'd done things to her mind without telling her, put blocks there so she couldn't access her powers. He'd manipulated all of them into becoming vigilantes before they were even of legal age. She was fifteen years old the first time she put on an X-Men uniform. Scott was sixteen. Of all of them, only Hank had been an adult and he'd not even been twenty. They were kids and he'd sent them to fight the most powerful mutant in the world. And somehow, they'd not only survived but won.
Not because they were that good. They weren't. Not because they were lucky, though sometimes they were. But because Magneto refused to kill young mutants. And he was willing to accept defeat in order to ensure that. And Charles had known that and gambled on it. Of course, they'd fought other opponents without similar scruples, and they'd got better.
Why don't you understand that, Scott? He's using you, like he uses everyone.
But what the hell was she going to say to Scott? Scott adored the Professor, looked at him like the father he never had. And that just made Jean's heart ache, because she knew it would never be enough. Scott had so much potential- they all did, and Charles would wring out every ounce of it for his own purposes. And he was going to do the same damn thing to a whole new group of young people.
And why can't I just tell him? What am I afraid of?
The message signal on the phone continued to blink and Jean continued to simply stare at the phone.
Danger Room, Xavier Institute for the Gifted:
"Just like old times, right?" Kitty asked, casting her eyes around the gargantuan empty space that was the Danger Room. She'd been here before, many times, but somehow, this felt different. For one thing, the uniform was a bit different. "So do you think there will be more flamethrowers or more spinning knives? My money's on flamethrowers."
"Cyke knows better than to pull the knives on me." Logan smirked. "Mine are better."
"That is true, mein freund. Though I do not mind mine either." Kurt grinned, admiring the heft of a pair of sabres in his hand. "It will be good to match my blade with yours again, Logan."
"Somehow I doubt this is going to be a game." Ororo spoke up. She tried not to let her hatred of the room show through too much. She appreciated its value, but it was constraining, despite its huge size and so far underground.
Right you are, Ororo. Scott's voice echoed from the loudspeaker above them. The lights of the Danger Room then immediately went dead and were replaced with an all-too-familiar urban scene.
"High noon." Logan smirked, casting his eyes around. "Nice touch, Scotty."
Thud.
"Did you hear that?" Piotr asked, instinctively armouring up.
Thud.
Logan nodded popping his claws. "Yeah, I heard it."
Scott himself walked into the simulation, in full uniform. "The program only terminates on completion or failure of the program. The Professor has the kill switch if he needs to pull it, but otherwise, it's just us here. Ororo, I want you to take to the air, get above whatever that is. Kitty, Kurt, take point for civilians. Logan and Piotr, I need a screen."
They did what they were told quite quickly, though Scott could already discern potential trouble, beyond the fact that they'd never really worked as a team before. Logan knew what to do better than just about anyone else on the team- himself included to be honest, and that meant potential trouble with authority. Logan was tolerating him right now- he'd have to be careful with that one. Kitty was almost too eager to get on with things- and if she was on the line with that, Kurt was far over. Scott could tell that Kurt still considered this a game.
Piotr was a little hesitant to move, looking for others to get the notion and Scott wondered if he'd be able to show the necessary initiative. Storm on the other hand, well, he was just really glad she was around.
Thud.
Thud.
It was then that Kurt teleported back in. "We have incoming!"
"Finally." Logan smirked, drawing his claws. "I'm tired of sittin' around an' waiting for this."
It was then that the nearest building exploded in a mess of dust and broken brick and the Juggernaut came storming through the building, hurtling fast. Scott knew from painful past experience that trying to stop the Juggernaut was an exercise in futility. They'd have to wait until he'd stopped.
"Everyone scatter! You can't stop him, don't even try!" Scott barked out. "Storm, make this guy's path as rough as possible. Slow him down. Hail, sleet, anything." For his part, Scott let loose an optic blast just ahead of Juggernaut's fleet, creating a significantly sized hole in the street below. As he expected, Juggernaut had to stop in order to avoid the pit trap. It was then that Scott hit him again, as hard as he could, hoping to knock him right into the hole.
But unfortunately, Juggernaut had managed to grab onto the edge of the pit and was vaulting back up. With forward momentum, Scott might as well have hit him with a watergun. Thankfully, a small hailstorm centered around Juggernaut made him less sure of his target and Scott was able to vault to the side before he was trampled flat. Scott frowned intensely. They'd never really managed to defeat the Juggernaut without a telepath on hand. Physically, he was almost totally invulnerable and far stronger than any of them had ever been.
They'd need a better strategy.
He heard the distinctive sound of Logan's claws popping. "Wolverine!" Scott shouted. "Don't." He wasn't even sure that adamantium would pierce the Juggernaut's hide.
Logan growled. He wasn't stupid, and he knew damn well Scott thought he was more of a hothead than he really was. He'd read the files, and what's more, he'd actually fought people of that power before, by himself. Yeah, he would've been a liar if he would've said he defeated the Hulk, but he walked away from a fistfight with him. Not many people could claim that achievement. Right now, though, he was giving the big orange guy a good distraction.
Juggernaut wasn't slow. He could get up a good speed when running, that was for sure. But he didn't have super speed. He wasn't especially agile. Logan could dance with him. And that's just what he started doing. Right into the middle of Stormy's hailstorm, mixing it up. He smirked with triumph when he saw a slash hit him and draw blood- though he felt the resistance of Juggernaut's flesh- the wound was a tag, nothing more. It was already drawing shut, about as fast as a similar wound would on him.
He hoped someone would get a bright idea to hit him while he was busy. They couldn't probably put him down, not without something really brilliant, but if they could keep him off balance and unable to do frontal charges, they'd take it.
"Hey Pete, you should try this guy out." Since it was a simulator, they didn't really have to worry so much about property damage as in real life. It was satisfying to see a semi trailer hurtle into the Juggernaut, probably damn near a hundred miles per hour. It wouldn't really put much hurt on Juggernaut, but it'd knock him off his feet.
"Hey … they finally got someone with some muscle." Juggernaut smirked slightly as he got up, shaking off the blow almost instantly. It was then that he found himself suddenly waist deep in the street and … left there. With some teenaged-looking brunette smirking at him. And that's when he smelled a sudden whiff of brimstone and a slight weight on his back. He reached up to swat at it, but he heard that damnable sound again. Before he knew it, his helmet was off.
Scott didn't hesitate. Juggernaut was tough. It'd take everything he had and and everything Storm had. Concussive force and powerful electricity right into his head. It would be brutal, excessive, cruel to anyone else. All it did, though, was make the Juggernaut angry. And it was already becoming plain that the simple involuntary twitching of his muscles- or a deliberate attempt to flex them, it was hard to tell, was slowly breaking him free.
They could do this all day, and they'd never take him down. Scott frowned.
"End program."
Logan lit a cigar just as the program ended. "End program? Just when it was gettin' interesting, Summers? We were doin' pretty well, I thought."
Scott shook his head. "No. Xavier picked this to make a point." He sighed. "We need a telepath. We'll never be a complete team without one."
"Could you not get Jean to join the team again?" Piotr asked. "She is both a telepath and telekinetic, yes?"
"I do not think that would be wise, Piotr. Jean has her reasons for not wishing to join us. If it were otherwise, she would be here." Ororo spoke up, very reasonably. She was good friends with Jean, more perhaps than any of the others that were here.
Scott just nodded, sighing inwardly. It was not something he particularly wanted to discuss at length with the others and Ororo probably laid it to rest a lot more gently than he might have. He frowned slightly. It'd been a default of sorts that he'd become team leader. It'd seemed obvious enough in the old days why he was the leader, even if he'd doubted it constantly. He was the only one with a tactical awareness, the only one who took the job truly seriously.
But things were different now. Logan was a better tactician than he was- Scott had never been in an actual war, and Logan had been fighting in god even knows how many of them, and Ororo was more well-liked, more respected and dealt with everyone better than he usually did. But for some reason, everyone kept looking at him. Scott Summers. Heir to the Dream.
But like always, his doubts didn't discourage him so much as they motivated him. He'd just work harder, be better, learn what he needed to learn and apply it. Scott had been falling down his whole life and he'd got remarkably good at picking himself back up again.
But it'd be nice sometimes if he didn't have to get knocked down in the first place.
Antechambers of the Hellfire Club:
"You've never seen fit to come to me while I'm performing my rituals, Sebastian. You've always seemed most skeptical about my faith." Selene smirked faintly and turned towards Sebastian. "Has something changed your mind?"
Sebastian stood somewhat stiffly. Despite being a powerful mutant, as well as one of the world's wealthiest and most influential men, Selene put him ill at ease. It started with the fact that, despite his being well over six feet, she could look him in the eye. Her unusual height gave her undeniable beauty a slightly menacing aura. There was the matter of her powers, an ill-defined ability to drain life energy and use it to animate objects and control other's minds- as well as keep her alive through centuries at least.
There was something else, though. He understood ruthlessness well, even malice, but there was something about her that was impossible to comprehend with a modern, rational mind. She claimed to be a sorceress, to have been present throughout most of history, to be the high priestess of an Apocalypse God of unimaginable power.
" I have no wish to say anything, one way or the other about your faith. What you believe is your own business. What I am concerned about is your loyalty to the Club as we enter what I believe will be a trying time." Sebastian's look hardened a little. He may have been unnerved by her, but he would not show fear to her face.
She didn't immediately answer him, instead turning her back to him and continuing on with her ritual for a moment, at one point delicately pulling the straps of her evening gown over her shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. Fearsome as she was, Sebastian could hardly take his eyes off her. It was then and only then, covered only by shadow and incredibly long hair that she turned for a moment to speak to him.
"This war that you are trying so hard to avoid, Sebastian?" She smirked coldly and walked over closer to him, whispering in his ear. "It's inevitable. My god would have it so." She circled him, fingertips dancing along his shoulders and arm. "Instead of spending so much time trying to avert it, Sebastian, darling, you should be applying yourself to surviving it."
Sebastian's lip curled slightly. "Your god? That dead idol you serve? What does that relic have to do with anything?"
Her laughter filled the room, bouncing off the walls. "Oh ye of little faith. He is a living God, Sebastian. And it is his will that all shall war against each other until only the strongest survive and the world is pure. Cleansed in fire and blood."
"The world will never be pure." Sebastian replied with distaste. "And whatever the reality of this being, you took a sacred oath of allegiance to the Hellfire Club. Don't forget that oath, Selene, or I swear you will regret it."
The room began to glow with a faint blue light, and Selene turned away from him again, raising her arms and speaking in a strange language towards the huge, grotesque idol she claimed symbolized her god. Sebastian watched for another moment, and then, feeling a wave of disgust and something else, excused himself from the room quickly to more laughter from her.
Seventh Heaven Nightclub:
"Warren, darling, you've outdone yourself again." Betsy laughed as she dragged him out onto the dancefloor. "You simply must tell me who the DJ is." She grinned and began dancing with him.
"She's quite something, isn't she? I think she calls herself Dazzler." Warren replied with an easy grin, arms looping around her waist. He leaned close so he could speak right into her ear. "All those fancy lights? It's actually her mutant power. She makes light out of sound."
Betsy laughed. "Not particularly interested in her trade secrets, darling." Her arms snaked behind her to pull him closer. Warren didn't particularly need the hint, wrapping his wings around them.
Warren.
Through the pounding music of the club, and with a very, very attractive woman dancing right against him, it was unlikely that he ever would've heard something verbal. But the Professor's telepathic voice cut right through all that and he could hear it as clearly as if he were speaking to the Professor in his office.
Don't suppose this one could wait until tomorrow, Professor? I'm a little busy right now.
It can't. As it happens, I'd like to speak to Ms. Braddock as well.
Betsy for her part immediately stopped dancing, narrowing her eyes and looking up at him. "You mind explaining what your old professor's doing in my head?"
Well, there goes my plans for tonight, Warren thought to himself, only to receive the mental equivalent of an eyeroll from the Professor. "Well … he's a mutant. With powers to talk to people mentally."
"I know all about fucking telepathy, Warren. I'm one too." She sighed. "And I can tell you're planning on going over to see this man. Guess I'd like to know what the hell he'd like with me, too."
For his part, the Professor was waiting in the VIP section of the club, which he had booked entirely for himself. He looked at them both for a moment, as if sizing them up.
"You'll apologize if I don't stand to greet you, Ms. Braddock." Charles finally said with a bit of a wry smile. "Warren, a pleasure as always. I apologize for intruding on your … leisure." The Professor's expression grew more serious. "Doubtless you have heard the news about Magneto."
Warren nodded. "I have. Charles, though I'm flattered by the offer, I don't think I can do that again. You know I will help you any way I can, politically, with business- but Charles, I was never that good. The wings are pretty, but they're not going to intimidate Magneto."
Charles nodded. "I understand, Warren. As it happens, though, it's your friend I'm asking about. Ms. Braddock- your unique abilities may be desperately need-"
"Call me Betsy." Betsy replied smoothly. "I'm not one for formalities, famous last name be damned. So basically, you want me to join the X-Men?" Warren looked surprised for a moment and she shot him an amused little look. "Not too many handsome mutant boys with white wings, love." She turned back to Charles. "And why should I want to join the X-Men, Charles Xavier?"
Charles had a neat little speech about responsibility prepared, that would have worked very nicely with someone with a temperament like Scott or Ororo, Kitty or Piotr. But he knew, without the use of his telepathy, that it would leave Betsy Braddock utterly cold. He had a better idea.
"I think you're deeply bored, Betsy. I can't guarantee much, but I can promise you that being an X-Man is not boring. You want a chance to really use and develop your mutant powers. Am I wrong in any of these assumptions?"
Betsy laughed throatily. "You weren't joking, Warren. He really is good. Fine, but I'm not making any handshakes until I get a drink."
Warren. Have you spoken to Jean lately? She hasn't been answering any calls.
I don't know what's happened, she's been … I think she's always resented things a little. But it seems to be getting worse lately.
We shall speak more of it later. I'm deeply concerned about her.
"As I said, Professor Xavier, you do make a convincing pitch. But I've other obligations and I can't help but imagine the timing of your offer has something to do with Magneto's escape from prison." Betsy spoken evenly and coolly, taking a delicate sip of the drink that had finally arrived. "Simple excitement is all well and good, but I'm not terribly eager to battle Magneto."
Xavier listened patiently. "I'm aware, Betsy Braddock, that you model, and have rather extensive social considerations. I do not blame you for being hesitant to potentially confront Magneto, but I can assure you, if nobody does- there will be no social calendar to speak of. Nor, perhaps, a society at all."
I know you want respect more than anything else. I cannot promise you'll be loved as an X-Man, but you will have respect. You also want to feel needed, to be of practical use. I can promise that to you.
Betsy's lips curled slightly downwards. She did not particularly like being talked to mentally, even though she understood why Xavier had chosen to do that. Or perhaps she was just felt that his words had struck a nerve. He really did know her as well as anyone, certainly more so than the handsome but slightly vapid gentleman who'd accompanied her to this club. She looked the Professor square in the eye.
"I'll join your team, but I'm not signing any bloody contracts. If I want to leave, you won't try and stop me. And if you don't want to put up with me, well, suppose it's only fair, yes?" At least the Professor had the decency not to smile in response. As for her, she needed a cigarette.
Xavier Institute:
The Xavier Institute for the Gifted in Westchester County, New York, had been operating as a mutant school for the better part of fifteen years, though only in the last half-decade had it done so openly. The difference between the old days, in which there might be only a few students resident at a given time, and now, where there were nearly two hundred mutant students registered was Stark. It had forced the development of a proper school schedule, with defined classes held in accordance with the New York state curriculum.
Piotr Rasputin remembered first coming to the Xavier Institute as a far younger, more awkward man. It had been much more quiet then, with only about ten other people in the building. As it was, though, he was waiting for one of the school's current students, a junior in the school.
"PIOTR!" He had only a moment to turn towards the sound before he was virtually pounced upon. "You should've texted! Told me you were coming!"
"Illyana." Piotr replied with a soft chuckle. "That would have spoiled the surprise."
"Yeah, yeah." Illyana replied brightly, pulling away just slightly from her brother and looking up at him. "I know the score. You hate texting. You hate computers. You probably wouldn't even use email if you could get away with it."
Piotr couldn't help but shake his head. "You have been talking too much to Katya." It was clearly a conspiracy between his friend and his sister. They were going to try and make him into a technophile. He knew it. "Hopefully you don't have any weekend plans. I thought you might enjoy staying with your brother in the big city."
"No, I'd rather stay here in the middle of suburbia boring myself to death. Of course!" Illyana smirked. "You get tickets to any shows? Been awhile since I've seen anything on Broadway."
"As it happens, yes, Katya's roommate is in a show and the three of us are going to opening night." Piotr paused for a moment. "Maybe you know of her? Mary Jane Watson?" Broadway was, after all, one of Illyana's abiding passions.
"... wait. Kitty's roommate is Mary Jane Watson? Are you actually serious?" Illyana's eyebrows shot up. And Piotr could swear a bit of a flush came into Illyana's cheeks. "No. You're s … you're kidding me. Don't lie, Piotr."
Piotr laughed. "To you, snowflake? Never."
One of Illyana's eyebrows dropped, but the other remained cocked with interest. "So … Kitty. She's … just like a friend, right? I'm not gonna have you guys making out through the movie?"
It was Piotr's turn to turn pink at that. "We are friends. I do not think I am her type."
"You know, for a giant steel colossus, you're a total dork. But I love you anyway, dorkface." Illyana smiled and hugged Piotr again.
Elsewhere in the Xavier Institute:
Logan had been out of sorts since the abortive Danger Room simulation- if Chuckles had wanted to make a point about having a telepath, he could've damn well said so. And as for the Boy Scout, Logan was annoyed with him too. He was beginning to wonder if being part of a team was a mistake. Maybe it would be better if he just got on his bike and went away. He worked better on his own. There was less to hold him down, hold him back. He could administer justice his own way. Maybe he could even do the same to Magneto.
His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar scent. From almost anyone else, he would've stalked away, but instead, he turned with an annoyed growl towards Kitty. "Not really in the greatest of talkin' moods, Pryde."
Kitty Pryde jumped down from a tree not far from where he was, landing with the practiced grace of her namesake. "Can't imagine why you'd be in a lousy mood. I'm not super happy about that either, you know. The Professor could have just told us." She looked at him intently for a moment. "Don't go, Logan. We need you here. We really do."
Logan pulled out a cigar, lighting it, halfheartedly hoping the stench of it would drive her off. "Really? I'm not exactly the team sort, half-pint. `Sides, I don't like half the people on the team."
"Who said liking has anything to do with it? We were working together just fine." Kitty's nose wrinkled slightly at the strong strench of the cigar, but she moved closer to him anyway. "We need someone with actual experience doing hard fighting. And Scott needs people who can tell him like it is. If you're gone, who's going to do that?"
"Thought you two were like peas in a pod these days." Logan replied with distinct annoyance in his voice before letting out a short, harsh sigh. "Guess I shouldn't be so hard on the Boy Scout. Kid means well."
Kitty sat down next to him, her dark eyes meeting his. "Scott and I do get along, Logan. But it's nothing like … Logan, you've been more of a mentor to me than my own damn parents have been. Please don't go. We need you. I need you, and you need us too."
"I like you bunches, pumpkin, but I don't need anybody." Logan replied, as gently as he could, before taking another big puff of his cigar.
"Bullshit." Kitty replied passionately, her eyes narrowing slightly, before her anger gave way to a small laugh. "We're the X-Men. X-Men don't run out on each other."
"We've been X-Men for a couple of days, Kitty. Don't think that counts. The real team broke up a long time ago." Logan took another long drag off his cigar, turning a good quarter of it to ash.
"So what? We're going to be so damn much better than the old team." Kitty turned her gaze over the hill at the Institute. "You should stay. At least for awhile."
Logan sat there in silence for a moment. "Damn it, Kitty. Fine. I'll give this thing a chance. But if I've had enough of it, you don't stop me, got it?"
"Got it, Logan." Kitty replied, gracefully keeping any smug tones out of her voice.
St. Ignatius' Catholic Church, Mutant Town:
Many people who did not know Kurt well did not know about his religious inclinations, that he found deep solace and strength in his faith. He knew that difficult days were coming, one way or another, and so it was that he found himself, kneeling in prayer at St. Ignatius', one of tragically few churches that would accept him as he was, without an image inducer. He began reciting the first prayer he'd ever learned, the Pater Noster, saying it first in Latin, then in German, and finally, in English. He wasn't sure precisely when he'd picked up the habit, but there was something comforting about it. No matter how many roles he might play in his life, it all went back to God.
Our Father, who art in heaven …
Hallowed be thy name.
Kurt knew that whatever was to come, he couldn't lose that connection, that sense of hope and belonging.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
It was never easy to do God's work, nor even to figure out what that was. Kurt did not claim to be special or unique.
Give us this day our daily bread,
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us,
It was impossible to forget all the goggle-eyed stars, terrified whispers and pointed insults that had been delivered to him in his lifetime, but he could forgive them. He had to. Grudges had a way of festering into hatred, and hatred would surely destroy them all.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
It was easy to give in to hatred and bitterness, though, just as Magneto had done. He would need all of his strength, and a little of the Lord's too, if he was to prevail.
For thine is the kingdom,
And the power, and the glory
For ever and ever
Amen.
Having said the words, Kurt added some of his own thoughts, speaking now in his native tongue:
God in Heaven, please give me the strength to do what is needed, and the wisdom to know what is right. If I must fight for peace, bless me that I may endure and that those with bitterness and hatred in their hearts learn the ways of love and peace. Protect my friends, my family, and all the innocent people caught in the middle.
I don't want to fight, but neither will I run. Grant me your strength and wisdom, Lord, and guide me to do what is just and necessary.
Thank you for all the blessings you have given me. I am your faithful servant, now and always.
Amen.
Jean's Apartment, Mutant Town:
"I'm sorry I didn't answer your message earlier, Scott." Jean said with a heavy tone in her voice, pouring herself another cup of coffee. "There are things we need to talk about." She sat down next to him. His hand instinctively reached out for hers and she let him, though part of her wanted to inch her hand away.
"I know you're not going to be joining the team, Jean." Scott replied evenly, giving her hand a little squeeze. "And that's okay. I mean, the door is always open. Always. But you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We all understand. Really."
Jean wanted to believe him- knew that Scott was fooling himself as much as anyone. He didn't understand, how could he? How could he understand? How did one put into words the feeling of having one's mind taken apart and reassembled in a slightly different way? How could she tell him that? That, despite his good intentions, the Professor was willing to take ethical and moral shortcuts? That she could never really trust the man?
He needs to know the truth.
Scott.
Yes, Jean.
There's things you need to know about Xavier. Things that happened. I'm .. going to show you some things from the past. It's not going to feel very pleasant, but please, please bear with me.
Okay. Scott's psychic voice sounded tense and coiled, no doubt nervous about what was coming.
She started to show him memories, of her being in a nearly comatose state after her friend Annie died right in front of her eyes. The sessions with the Professor in which her powers were systematically limited and shut down, for her safety, but without her consent. Without her knowledge, until very recently. Her dreams of the tiny burning bird that always flew out of the window, of the stout house that Charles had built around her innermost thoughts.
She wished she could see the look in his eyes as they pulled out of the psychic reverie. He looked rather shaken by it, though.
"Do you understand, Scott, why I can't trust him? Why … I'm afraid that you do trust him?" Jean finally asked.
Scott's face tensed up for a moment and then released. "The Professor is going to have to face up to that. What he did wasn't right, even if maybe it was necessary. It wasn't right at all. But this is about more than Xavier. It's not just his dream, Jean. It's mine too. And the X-Men are part of it. If Magneto has his way, we'll be at war, a war without victors. Only victims."
"The X-Men are Xavier's project, Scott. They're his. We were his when all this started. His star students, his research project! It's even in the name. X-Men. Xavier's Men. You saw what he did, what he's willing to do for what he thinks is a noble goal. What will he be having the X-Men do, Scott?" Jean's gaze was intense, fiery, unrelenting.
Scott met it with calm, but steely resolve. "No. I'm the leader of the team. Charles will accept that, because if he doesn't, there will be no team. Jean, I'm not okay with what happened, but there will be an X-Men, because there needs to be. And I wish, I wish I could have you by my side, Jeannie. But I won't press you about it, I promise."
Jean had to close her eyes for a moment, because she knew that there was no pulling him back from this. And that once he became an X-Man, his life would become the X-Men, and there'd be little or no room left for her.
Scott, if you do this, it will eat up your whole life. I can't just be pushed aside.
I'm not going to push you aside!
Scott. I know you believe that. I just … I know how dedicated you get to causes.
She wasn't going to make him decide between her and the X-Men- such a thing would be callous and cruel. But some day, not too long from now, she feared, that decision was going to be made for them. She remembered how all consuming being an X-Man was from when she was one of them herself. How much the job ate up all that you were, all that you could be. For someone as dedicated to duty as Scott?
"Jean?" Scott spoke quietly, using his voice this time, not his psychic rapport. "Jean, I love you. More than anyone, anything. We'll get through this, and I promise you, if the X-Men are never not needed, or if it turns out I don't have to be or shouldn't be in charge, I'll go. I'm doing this because I have to."
Jean leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I love you too, Scott." So much.