A to X
Chapter Nine - Amassing and X-perimenting
Flint woke up at a reasonable hour the next day. He had to laugh quietly to himself. As usual, Xavier was right on the money, he had been considering another shopping trip and while taking a gloriously hot shower, decided to go through with it. He applied his emo disguise again and was a bit surprised at how quickly he'd gotten used to it. Especially his new awesome power gloves.
Barely catching on reflex the keys that were hurled at his head the moment he entered Charles' office, the ex-Avenger could only chuckle. "Well good morning to you too, Uncle Charlie," he chuckled warmly. If it weren't for his superior training, he definitely would have been clocked in the head. That would have hurt.
"And to you too, Littleflint," smirked the bald man. He gestured to a chair in which the archer quickly sat himself. "I know you want to get this trip done and dusted as soon as possible but I have a few things for you that may make your life a little easier."
Now that caught Flint's attention and he leaned forward slightly with interest.
Xavier opened one of his desk drawers and extracted a passport. He passed it over to Flint who looked it over with interest. It was filled with the correct misinformation of his cover and had a photograph of a man who looked similar to himself. It was close enough that he envisioned having little trouble with it. It's not like he couldn't think of at least twenty different ways to smuggle himself out of the country if he really needed to off the top of his head anyway. He was then passed matching passport and social security cards along with a birth certificate, Pennsylvanian driver's licence and even two older and more battered cards for Medicaid and an expired North State High School ID.
"Wow," said Flint with earnest. "You guys are good. If I didn't actually know these are fakes, I never would have guessed."
Smiling broadly, Charles accepted the praise gracefully. "We've had a lot of experience in the area with our large proportion of runaway students and in some instances adults. I have a system in place with several reliable friends who are more than happy to prioritise my requests. As you can see, they're extremely good at what they do."
"That's for sure," agreed Flint as he re-examined the documents and cards. He grabbed out his phone and added a wallet to his lengthy list of items to purchase. Now that he had more than just his credit card, he needed somewhere to store them all. Actually, he needed to fix up his credit card too. It had been challenging to keep the fact that his card had his real name on it from Jubilee and her friends without arousing their suspicions but he wasn't an espionage expert for nothing. "Thanks so much, Charlie," he said as he rose from his seat.
Xavier waved the praise away. "There's a parking space by Scott's red convertible available for any automotive you may consider buying today, now that you have the appropriate licence."
Flint blinked. He'd forgotten to add a new car to his list. How incredibly stupid of him. He rectified that error immediately. "Cool. Anyway, I better get to it if I want to finish anytime today."
"Of course," agreed the telepath. "If you are able to, please stop by my office this afternoon if you want to begin constructing your psychic shields."
"Will do," said Flint with a wink as he strode purposefully from the room with a grateful smile. He almost bodily ran into Jubilee who took the opportunity to feel up his biceps again with a girly sigh that sounded far too feminine for the rough and tumble firecracker. He thanked his superior training for stopping him from screaming in a very unmanly way.
"God, your arms are still amazing!" she squealed, with a final grope before she regretfully pulled away. She shook her head gently then smirked. "So the Prof-man asked me to give you a drive up town," she said with a tap on her head indicating that it was not a verbal conversation. "Can't you drive or something?"
Flint snorted, "I've been driving since you were knocking about that mall. Actually, one of the things I'm buying today is a car of my own."
Blinking in surprise as she started heading for the front door of the mansion, Jubes asked, "So how the hell can you afford one? Xavier has a strict budget for each new student and although he usually foots more for adults, you surely must have used it up with your clothing splurge."
Sending a wide grin her way, Flint said, "Well, there are perks to being a member of the family. Uncle Charlie's always been good to me."
"Lucky bastard," she muttered under her breath.
The drive to Manhattan Island was rather uneventful, if you could call holding onto the armrest and praying to every deity he could think of for safety uneventful. Jubes somehow managed to pull up in two parks, narrowly avoiding a bench and tree, right in front of the JP Morgan bank he'd visited only four days before.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Flint as he saw the mallrat reach for the door handle. "I'm afraid this is a solo shopping mission. As much as I think you're awesome with a capital A, I have a meeting with Uncle Charlie right after lunch and if you come along, I won't get everything done."
Jubilee's hand froze near the handle and there was a large, uncomfortable silence. "You totally owe me something amazing for this, Biceps."
"Erm," stuttered Flint, "How about you get first drive of my new car?"
In an instant, Jubes' frown was replaced with a blinding smile. "It's a deal. Just don't buy a granny car or something totally lame that no one in their right mind would be caught dead in, okay?"
"Sure," the ex-Avenger agreed before waving as the car sped off down the road and he couldn't help but sigh with relief. She was scarier on the road than being held at knifepoint by the Black Widow, which was truly saying something.
As Flint neared the bank branch, he smiled widely as Tessa approached him and barged yet another underling out of her way. It appeared to be her signature move. "Hey Tessa," he greeted.
"Good morning, Mr Barton," she replied with a toothpaste white grin. "What can I do for you today?"
"Do you mind if we retreat into one of your conference rooms again?" the ex-Avenger asked.
"Not at all. Follow me," the executive said as they found an empty one. When the pair were seated, she re-asked her previous question.
"As I'm sure you can imagine, I've been keeping a very low profile," noted Flint. "Hence the disguise."
"Of course," agreed Tessa.
"I've moved in with a friend of mine and his extended family but we agreed that I board under a pseudonym. I was wondering if there was any possibility of getting a new credit card with my alias on it instead of my actual name just in case any of the others get nosy?"
Tessa eyed him archly for a moment. "Under current US laws, misrepresenting yourself with a banking institution is a criminal offence. I'm sure you're already aware of that fact." Her expression changed to a somewhat sly look. "That said, as you are one of our top clients, I'm sure there is some sort of contract we can draw up which would be able to satisfy both your requirements and those of the law."
They hashed out the details which involved a sizable deduction of his funds if he used the new card to intentionally defraud the company over the better part of an hour but he walked out of the bank with his credit card now issued under his new name of Flint Robertson. Apparently it would also show up as such on any receipts so he would be able to shop in peace. In fact, all he was worried about now was being constantly on guard for Natasha every time he left the mansion. Not that she couldn't break in if she really wanted to but for some reason the building gave off a safe vibe that was difficult to ignore.
After hopping a cab to a not-really-close-enough-to-walk-to-but-sort-of-nearby shopping complex, the archer went about buying the bulkier purchases on his list. He wasn't too worried about the majority of the smaller things since he'd soon be able to drive around whenever he wanted to. It was a surreal experience. He'd never got to select his own furniture before. At the circus he made do with what was supplied which was a trend that continued when he moved into SHIELD with their Spartan quarters. Tony had already kitted out his room in the Avengers Tower with everything he could ever want plus many things he really didn't. His new bar fridge was unashamedly amazing with killer black lights and an LED screen on the front that he'd probably never use.
Flint grabbed a snack from the food court and went in search of a new car. It was another thing he'd never bought for himself before since Stark had so many and he was (strangely enough) more than willing to share them with Merida, as he would sometimes be called.
In the end, the archer couldn't really care less which car he bought, much to the sales rep's consternation (whose name was Bill) so he just picked the closest black car. It turned out to be some kind of Chevrolet but what the model actually was, he had no idea. He'd been forced to drive (hotwire) so many different vehicles to quickly escape on missions that had gone awry that he could make do with pretty much anything. Just as long as it didn't look too pretentious and draw unwanted attention to himself, it was all good.
Having followed Xavier's suggestion of getting the bulk of his purchases delivered directly to the mansion itself, he conveniently arrived back as the majority of them were being taken up to his room. It distracted him from his original instinct to scrape his new car key along the length of Summers' car which was probably for the best. Having telepaths for sleuths was just not fair. Apparently, Charlie pulled some sort of Jedi mind trick on the deliverymen so they would fail to notice that the staff and students of the Xavier Institute were clearly mutants. Although it was a useful scam, the whole idea of mind control still sort of freaked him out.
The ruckus and unfamiliar faces drew a lot of attention from adults and students alike who crowded around, enjoying the spectacle since it must have been lunchtime during the school day. As he looked around, Flint was still in awe with the diverse range of mutant powers he'd witnessed so far. At the Tower, Tony, Sam, himself and Natasha are regular humans who utilise tech. Both Bruce and Cap are just physically enhanced (although to quite an extreme) so the only Avenger with any sort of other power is Thor with his electrical and flight capabilities.
In the X-mansion, there are all sorts of powers on display pretty much constantly. There are shapeshifters, teleporters, fliers, elementals, physically and mentally enhanced mutants, empaths and pretty much anything else imaginable. It always surprised Flint that the place didn't just spontaneously combust every few days or so.
After spending some time arranging his new purchases, as requested, the archer spent the afternoon in Xavier's office constructing his psychic shields.
Flint's first idea was to make some sort of huge tower but decided against it. Using any of the places he'd been to while with SHIELD was a complete no-no. It would totally give him away. In fact, there was only one place he thought no one would be able to connect him to. Well that wasn't entirely true. His personal history was classified at an extremely high level at SHIELD but there were some agents with access to the file. Only Fury, Hill, Natasha, Coulson and Colby (his SHIELD psychotherapist) knew the contents of the dossier and none of them are psychic. In actual fact, the only person who would be able to link him to the image of his shields would be Loki. Thankfully, the God was most unlikely to divulge anything since (according to Thor) he was still locked up in Asgard.
After many gruelling hours, Flint had painstakingly recreated the old tent from the Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonders. He had many good and bad memories there before things went completely to shit. It was just as he remembered it. The ghostly purple tent was quite magnificent and he decided to use diversionary tactics to help disguise his mind/globe. With the spectacle of the arena and the almost ceaseless movement from acts he remembered from so long ago, it was hard not to get sucked into the show. Just like at the real one. He tried to change the colour of the massive tent but couldn't. Xavier explained that the colour was ingrained into his personal psyche and not changeable without psychic powers. Apparently he would always identify with the colour purple no matter who he pretended to be.
Flint was too busy concentrating on adding random balloons, boxes of popcorn and soda cups throughout the audience he'd been painstakingly creating to notice that Xavier had popped out of existence. He was tying a balloon to a small girl's wrist when he was startled by a feminine voice from behind.
"Hi Clint! Oh God, I mean Flint. I, er..." stuttered Jean embarrassedly. If she weren't a vibrant pink astral entity, Flint was certain she'd be blushing a bright red.
"Hey Jean. Don't worry about it," said the archer soothingly. "No one's here except you, me and Ch..." he petered off as he looked around before adding a puzzled, "Where did Charlie go?"
Jean laughed at his confusion. "He disappeared to send me an invitation to your show." The telepath took a moment to scrutinise the scene around her. "I'm impressed. I haven't seen such a high level of detail before from anyone as inexperienced as you with working on the Astral Plane."
This time Flint knew he'd be the one blushing if they were meeting in person. "Thanks Jean. I suppose it's probably because my eyesight is a little better than most others, that's all."
Jean rolled her eyes. "Most others?" she said with a small huff. "More like nearly everyone."
"There's no need to be jealous of my gifts, Miss Grey," smirked the ex-Avenger.
"Whatever," shrugged the woman before she let loose a few giggles. "Anyway, I was sent here on a mission. Charles asked me to take a walk around your shields to see if I could add any suggestions. May I?"
Flint gestured to the room at large in response. The woman strolled around the tent and made a few small recommendations but decided they were sound.
"Of course, if we really want to see how strong they are, I can attack them," Jean suggested cautiously.
Taking the time to mull over her suggestion, Flint eventually agreed with the idea. As much as he didn't want someone to be poking at his head, he'd much rather it be someone he believes to have his best interests at heart rather than a murdering psychopathic God. If she could help protect his mind from the likes of Loki, he'd be more than willing to take a chance on her.
"Now before I start, I want you to look around the tent once more. I know you've been working hard on it for the last few hours but it's easy for someone new to this to forget what they've managed to achieve as a whole. The last thing you want if you truly wish to master these techniques is to spend another half a day recreating what you've already done," lectured the telepath seriously.
"Why?" asked Flint in confusion.
"Think back, Cl, urrrgh! FLINT. I swear I'm going to get a handle on that if it kills me. Anyway, think back to when you were having a look at Scott, Jubilee, Hank and everyone else's shields yesterday. Did they take an hour to make their shields visible?"
"Oh. No. I hadn't really thought about it like that," mused Flint to himself. He took a moment to let his eyes scan the expansive tent. It really was some exceptional work to bring such a distant memory to the forefront of his mind.
"Don't look so worried," consoled Jean with a pat on his shoulder, dragging his attention back to the present. "All it takes is practice. How about we make a deal?" she said as she flicked her wrist and a small pink blade appeared with the tip clenched firmly in her grasp. "I'll throw five daggers at the places I would attack first instead of a full on assault. That way you'll have less to repair and you'll get a feel for what a minor attack on your mind can feel like."
Eager to spare his first attempt at shielding from being utterly decimated so early in its life, the archer agreed with the telepath's idea. "Sure."
The thin redhead smirked at him before critically examining the surroundings. "One, the popcorn machine," she said before accurately throwing her dagger into the machine that was sitting off to the side of the arena. It exploded and Flint felt a sharp poke in his head, as if someone had shoved a toothpick into his brain. When he got over his surprise at the flash of pain, he noticed (much to his displeasure) that all the popcorn buckets in the audience had also dematerialised. "Hmmm," hummed Jean, "You'll have to disassociate the popcorn in the buckets from the machine next time."
Flint rolled his eyes with a pout. "Obviously," he noted with venomous sarcasm mixed with disappointment, which the woman ignored.
"Well, if that happened to the popcorn, the same will probably happen with the balloons too," she said before popping one with her second dagger. She was right. All the balloons exploded around the room. What the woman hadn't counted on was the muttering that started around the crowd and several kids started crying, making a loud, uncomfortable din.
The redhead nodded with respect at the ploy and gave Flint a winning smile. "Oh, you're good. If I weren't used to blocking out the unfriendly thoughts of my students, this would really get on my nerves."
"I aim to please," smirked Flint.
Jean's third dagger was hurled at the ringmaster's stand. Unfortunately for Flint, when it exploded, it took the ringmaster with it. After the ringmaster disappeared, the performers and animals began to flicker out of existence in quick succession until they were all gone, leaving the centre of the arena very bare.
"Fuck," murmured Flint under his breath. Hours of work, gone. Just like that.
"Hey," admonished Jean, "don't be too hard on yourself. The first time I took a stab at Bobby's snow globe (pun intended) the whole thing shattered completely. Look," she added as she threw her arms up, "the tent is still standing. I honestly didn't expect it to so don't get too despondent yet."
Now that the arena was much emptier than before, Jean was able to scrutinise the area more thoroughly. It was then that she noticed the well-hidden trapdoor in the centre of the floor which was used in the clown routine to dispense cream pies. The fourth dagger found its mark and the pain in Flint's head flared much more agonizingly than it had previously. Springing open, his mind/globe was launched into the air and the archer flinched as it began to plummet back down to the ground. In the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of movement from Jean and was most relieved when he realised she hadn't thrown her last dagger but instead floated a florescent pink baseball glove underneath it to catch the fragile-looking sphere.
Flint let out a huge sigh of relief as she gently lowered the ball back into the trapdoor before closing the hatch.
"That was some great work for a mind shield virgin," noted Jean with amusement as she turned to face the ex-Avenger.
"Thanks Jean," he said somewhat shyly. Even after all this time, he was still sometimes surprised and a little uncomfortable when receiving praise from others.
After looking once again around the tent, Jean nodded her head decisively. "Very good indeed. Anyway, you've been in the Astral Plane for almost five hours now. I suggest you take some time to rest. If you like, we can work on disassociating like objects tomorrow after our session."
"Session?" Flint warily echoed. The first thing that came to mind was the many sessions he spent with Agent Colby Cardwell, his excitable SHIELD shrink. She was a brunette woman with light grey eyes in her mid to late thirties. The only real point in her favour was that it was easy to side-track her with mission details. She'd hang on his every word, forgetting that she was supposed to be assessing his mental state.
"Oh, I thought he would have told you," said Jean with a roll of her eyes. "Xavier's scheduled us in for a Danger Room session tomorrow afternoon at sixteen hundred hours. I don't know how you managed it but Hank will be here for it." A wide smile spread out over her face as her eyes unfocussed. "It's been way too long since we've been in that room together. Not since the days of circular saws and trapdoors before Forge upgraded it with holographic technology."
"You've been here that long?" asked the archer with unconcealed surprise.
Jean's eyes flicked to Flint's and the Astral Plane shimmered. His circus tent had been replaced with a dark blue room with various hoops, saws and flamethrowers. The colours of the scene were vibrant in comparison to his own meagre showing, reminding him that she was a psychic specialist after all.
Storm was gracefully swooping through the hoops that were moving quickly around the ceiling. She neared what was clearly a much younger Hank who was hanging from one of them by a single foot. They linked hands and the blue mutant hurled the slighter woman directly at a girl who looked to be about sixteen, Jean Grey. She held up her hands and halted the chocolate coloured woman mere inches from collision. "Sorry, not this time Storm," she said with a wink as the other desperately tried to snatch the crown on her head.
There was a flash of red light and the item in question had been expertly blasted from her head. Summers dived for the gold crown but grasped empty air as a multitude of colours blinded all those in the room. When their eyes had readjusted, the gold crown sat regally on a blonde woman's head who Flint found vaguely familiar.
Flint jumped as Charles' voice came from right behind him. "It looks like Dazzler is the new carryover champion for today. Well done."
The scene fizzled out of existence. "Wait a minute," said Flint with wide eyes. "Was that THE Dazzler? The famous singer? She's a mutant?"
Jean smacked herself in the head. "Yes. Charles helped her refine her powers and Forge played a large part in the designing of her suit which helps to store her sonic energy. Of course, no one can know about this, Flint. If anyone even suspected her lighting effects were the product of mutation instead of technology, well I'm sure you could imagine the repercussions."
"Don't worry," shrugged Flint. "My lips are sealed. I'm just glad that the Danger Room is now holographic. I wouldn't like being cleaved in two with one of those circular blades."
Letting loose a loud, somewhat sinister laugh, Jean eventually said, "Just because it's holographic, doesn't mean it can't hurt like hell."
Flint frowned. "Shit. I hadn't thought of that. I'm used to holograms being intangible."
"Well then," said the redhead with a smirk. "Congratulations on graduating to the big kid's league, Flint. I hope you survive the experience."
The archer's frown deepened. "I wish you guys would stop saying that," he muttered to himself before returning to his body in Xavier's office.
