Battle by the Numbers
"So," seethed Wolverine, as he and Nightcrawler marched down the corridors of Xavier Mansion, "Trask's killer robots now trash an entire town looking for a mutant, and what does the Professor do? Send us out not to take them on with Colossus, Rogue, or any other heavy hitters, but to sniff around with the little math geek we only rescued last month!"
"I must admit I'm a little confused as to why he'd send only us with Theano, and with no more instructions other than to keep her safe," said Nightcrawler.
Wolverine snorted. "I can understand needing to keep her safe. She's too green. I've seen better fighting skills from some of 'Roro's plants."
I had heard that Wolverine could be a tough leader. I also heard that he had a strange way of showing how protective he was of the newest recruits and refugees like me who found our way here, usually these days after being driven out of our homes and towns by sentinels. Had it even mattered, his harsh words would not have surprised me. Nightcrawler, on the other hand, had praised my ability to keep cool and think quickly in the Danger Room. The odds of him really meaning that under the circumstances were better than usual, but there was always the chance that it was mere flattery, too. I've heard of his way with the ladies, though it's 6 to 1 I'm not his type anyway. I, Ellen Somerville, aka Theano, am neither tall nor shapely, though not unattractive if I consider the observations of a few men who, I estimated, had dispensed with much of the usual bias against skinny nerd-girls who prefer working on a second math doctorate to working out or even just hanging out. I also draw my greatest strength from the only things that have always made sense to me in a world gone mad - numbers.
Nightcrawler allegedly killed his own brother in a fight to protect innocent children. The most painful decision I had to make up until now was whether to stay on forever at my parents' insurance company or go back to grad school. The chances of my being able to relate to him I believe are, at the moment, precisely at 0.000000000002 percent.
"I've calculated the odds as 11.5461 to 1 in favor of it coming down to a fight, and decreasing the longer we wait. However, the chances of people tampering with the scenes increase with time, and the 'heavy hitters' will just cause more collateral damage," I explained rather pointlessly as I met them by the hangar, digital video camera and notepad complete with a pen haphazardly jammed in it in hand.
"And you need an accurate tally of the damage the sentinels alone have caused," Wolverine almost growled as we began boarding the Blackbird. "Chuck already gave us that briefing."
"Out of curiosity," Nightcrawler asked, "why are you bringing all this along? I thought you had a photographic memory. And aren't these the sort of calculations you can easily do in your head?"
"Yes, but my reports will need documentation," I replied.
"And somehow I don't think the people who will see these 'reports' will just take her word of honor that she added everything up right, Elf," Wolverine added. "Good thinkin', Slide Rule, but this still ain't like adjustin' claims."
Was that a compliment? And he didn't call me Toothpick this time! Of course, I don't look as much like one now as I did when I first came here. Nightcrawler pretty quickly developed a charming way of insisting I could not, as he put it, "live on coffee and Pascal alone" as he offered me an extra plate of whatever he was having. Wolverine made a much less charming habit of literally dragging me away from my theses to the Danger Room to "put some meat on those scrawny bones." It worked, a little.
Nightcrawler gave me an odd look as we took to the air. "Not to worry, Liebchen," he whispered. "I think you'll do just fine."
A nice vote of confidence, but as his eyes lingered just a bit, I suspected the odds that he was actually beginning to notice and appreciate the results of taking all that time away from my studies to eat and train were…entirely irrelevant to me, as I had a mission to complete!
Still, I figured I'd fare much better if I took any vote of confidence at face value. After all, the chances were still good that I'd face a familiar enemy.
It's difficult for even me to fathom that only a month ago, I thought I was as average as any mathematician whom MENSA ever courted could get. In high school, my teachers whispered words to my parents like "genius," "prodigy," and even "human calculator," and my peers called me "geek" and "brainiac." Thankfully that eased up in college and even more in grad school, but I won't take that tangent. Not a one of us suspected I was anything other than just that, so my first actual meeting with a sentinel on my way to class came as a particular shock to me.
"Mutant signature detected. Apprehend immediately," the robotic voice boomed.
I only wanted to be well out of the way when it found the unfortunate mutant it sought, and made a run for the nearest cover I could find.
"Halt, mutant," the voice boomed again as the sentinel, cracking the quad's pavement beneath its metal feet, began lumbering after… me.
"Mutant target noncompliant. Initiating pursuit."
So the odds that this was some mistake were 1 in 259,547. I determined that the chances of me just allowing it to catch me were about… zero as I darted into the nearest building and the first empty classroom I could find. I took a moment to get my breath then shakily grabbed my cell phone to dial 911. The odds of that helping were 5.6243 to 1 against, but I had to do something while this thing tore up the campus.
"Mutant target detected." A large hand burst through the windows and a good portion of an unfortunately load bearing wall as the sentinel proceeded to demolish the building. Once again I attempted a run for it. I got precisely 15 feet and 4.5 inches before the whole ceiling and much of the classroom above me came down on my head.
"Mutant threat neutralized," the voice boomed.
There was a chance that I might have been hallucinating, but just as the world faded out around me, I thought I heard a gruff voice shout, "Yeah? Well, neutralize this, Tin Man!"