The Quartz Kidnap
A/N- Yay! A new chapter, finally! I'm sorry this took so long, but I've been bogged down with schoolwork (actually, that's true, not just an excuse, but I never thought I'd say it.) It's nearly there, trust me- only a couple more chapters to go. It'll all be over by November the first- I know that much. Why, you ask? NaNo WriMo! Yep, so if you're participating, do PM me. It'd be nice to hear from you. On with the show!
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"You… you got to him and then left him! And this was a rescue mission? We are getting right back on the jet and going back to England, and we are going to do everything properly. He could be dead, for all you know, and it's your entire fault!" Jean was in hysterics. She didn't care that she had Logan grovelling at her feet for forgiveness, and everyone else standing around consolingly. If anything happened to Scott, she knew who she was blaming.
"But, Jeannie, the only reason I could get anywhere near him was because his beam had shut down…" This was not what Jean wanted to hear, hence, the heavy medical text she had been holding went flying into Logan's head, sending him to the floor with a heavy thump. Hands over head, the thick hardback tome kept battering into the sorry mutant, and although it wasn't doing any physical damage, it still hurt like hell. Jean however, crumpled into the floor with him, letting rip every piece of spare emotion she had out with her.
"Jean… please, stop it. You know it won't help. Tomorrow, I will send you all back to complete what you began, and stop this horrible business. If you can get to them before London is blitzed, everything should be fine. Meanwhile, I want everyone to go upstairs and sleep. If you have a clear head, this rescue will be a success, unlike the last attempt." No one tried to complain, just trooped upstairs, except Jean, who got up but seemed slightly lost.
"If you wish, use one of the guest rooms, Jean," the Professor said understandingly, and as he watched her walk away, he reflected on the whole affair. It had had an alarming effect on the students, who had been thoroughly shaken by the situation. It all started when Scott didn't come back, and they ended up having Hank for Maths, who would leave them all behind once they got to a certain point, unlike Mr. Summers, who would keep the fact he could do things like find the exact cube root of pi to himself. The boys were all getting withdrawal symptoms from the lack of engine grease that they usually got all over them after mechanics lessons, since they had been postponed temporarily. The general buzzing mood around the mansion had faded, and it was a downer. All because of one cardigan wearing maths teacher.
Sighing, he went into his own room for a lie down.
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Meanwhile, over a thousand miles away, the X-Man everyone in Westchester was missing was feeling the same way. Admittedly, he was feeling slightly more comfortable now- he wasn't bleeding any more (had he lost that much blood? At least he wasn't dead, he supposed,) and his neck was far less restricted now, but that didn't stop his feeling of emptiness. Jean.
Was she missing him as much he was her? Had she just kept on going without him? As selfish as it felt, he preferred the latter option. He knew the students wouldn't mind- after all; he was just their homework hand-outer, and cardigan wearer when he got the chance.
He could feel the pressure building up in his temples, once again, like it had done all those years ago. Although it had been glorious release for the short time he'd been able to see without the normal shades of crimson obscuring colour, he did miss his optic blasts for the two hours or so he'd been without them. They were more a part of him than his irises, which brought him to another point. He was going to, degradingly; have to ask Logan what colour his eyes were. The normal flat shade of blue, or had his mutation altered them? He didn't know- but having an odd shade of iris would be interesting. He'd never really thought of it before, it hadn't seemed important. But, as he felt the pressure rise, he could feel any energy he had left ebbing away, slowly, surely, even achingly.
Please, someone…. Make this stop, he thought to himself gloomily. Jean… Please… Save me…
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"How long until we reach our next destination, Mystique?" Magneto asked, in spite of himself. He knew patience was the essence, but his plan was coming together so well he couldn't resist. The temptation was too strong- as was the slow flow of the traffic jam they were stuck in.
"By motorway, another three hours, give or take, Erik," She replied smoothly, looking over the mass of vehicles in front of her. "If we got a lift, it would take much less time." Erik, taking the hint, slowly lifted the lorry off the ground and over the traffic, eventually letting it land further than the jam and giving Mystique back control of the vehicle.
"An hour, give or take, Magneto," Mystique said with a smirk, changing lanes and slipping into the suburbs of London. "Straight to our target?"
"Of course, my dear. Then, I feel we have done all we can with our captive. I fear we do not know something vital about Mr. Summer's mutation, and we shall have to abandon him in a warehouse somewhere. But, we must think of that later. Our final destination draws near, and I have an old friend waiting for us in Westminster. We mustn't keep her waiting, now, must we, seeing as she is the one we have to thank for our current charge." Feeling somewhat jealous, Mystique began to look for the exit slip road she needed. Just because Crystal had managed what she had failed didn't mean Erik had to fawn over her. Just because she was young- basically just out of school, didn't make her a miracle maker. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the road.
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The next morning, feeling entirely more refreshed, the X-Men gathered from different corners of the mansion to the briefing room. Sitting around the table with a terse look on her face, Jean simply turned to Hank, and asked "what's the plan?"
Hank, obviously surprised, sat down and pondered for a couple of seconds before replying. "We can safely assume that the target will be triangulating around the main features of London. Seemingly, this will include Buckingham Palace, Westminster, and various other important cultural points, as they have all over Europe. We'll have to predict their route and try and intercept the vehicle before any real damage is done. I'd hate to think that the English would get any more damage out this than truly necessary. Their ambassador is the strangest man. He can't stop calling people 'old chap' but he doesn't worry if you're blue or not. He managed to calm down the paranoia that mutants caused in England, and they're accepted more than anywhere else. I'd hate to think we'd be the end of all that."
"Well, bub, besides all the 'that Tommy's a nice chap, eh what' and whatever crap they spout, the British are a pain in the ass. Let's just get this done so I don't have to spend more time on that spit of land than necessary." Logan's awful impersonation of an English accent made everyone smile briefly, until Jean brought them back to earth by snapping a map onto the table.
"We have a London A to Z, so if they came from Dover… That's the… M20, right? Hank, get over here and try to find their route. You're better with maps than I am." Poring over the spread out piece of paper, he pulled a pencil from one of him pockets and drew circles at points spread around a small area of the centre of the map. Joining the points together, he drew a line to a large motorway, and a minute after he'd started, sat down to examine it carefully.
"Yes… that looks probable. Around an 83.54 percent likelihood, approximately. We need to ask Charles where the target is, at the minute, before we go running into anything rash. You can see how this has affected the professor- he's as worried as you are, Jean. Let's go and find him- I believe he said he'd be in Cerebro searching for Cyclops." As he finished, speak of the devil, the Professor wheeled into the room.
"Yes, I've just finished, incidentally. They're in Greenwich- no damage has been done to London yet, so I'm assuming that they've paused somewhere before resuming their run of devastation. If you go now, you should be able to catch them. I shall be in Cerebro, keeping watch, and I will be in contact with you. Good luck." With that, he turned and left the room, and they heard the lift door ding as it opened.
Feeling slightly sobered, the group headed downstairs to suit up, and as they headed to the jet, Jean took the pilot's seat.
"Jean, do you want me to take the controls? You could set up the Blackbird's medical station… just in case." Nodding, she gave up her seat and retreated to the back of the jet, taking pieces of medical equipment from a locker and strategically placing them around a flattened seat.
"Logan, please, stop staring at my ass. It's distracting." Logan turned back to face the front, bright red. Obviously he'd been projecting his thought chain.