Chapter 2 – Developments
- Three months later
Bronx, New York.
"Oh God, Logan," Jean gasped, trying to get her breathing under control. "That was… wow."
"Mmm… Glad ya like it, Red," Logan replied from his position on the end of the bed, a mischievous grin emerging on his unshaved face. "Ya know, there's plenty more from where it came," he added, slowly crawling back on top of the flushed, naked redhead.
Jean placed her palms against his chest and used a little telekinesis to prevent him from completing his movements. "Sorry, Logan, I need some time to recover. I wasn't granted with healing skills, you know?"
He groaned in frustration but laid beside her anyway, staring at the stained white roof for a few seconds. "Didn't hear ya complainin' 'bout my health a minute ago… or the hour before…"
The young woman's lips turned into an outrageous pout. "You're a pig!" She scolded him, telekinetically smacking the side of his head with a pillow.
Logan snatched the fluffy object with a lopsided grin. "But ya love this pig, Jeannie."
"I do," she confirmed with a nod, resting her head on his right shoulder, her red mane all over his arm and chest.
After the attack to Harry's Hideaway, Jean and Logan exchanged phone numbers. Two days later, they met again in a pub in Manhattan. They had a few drinks and chatted about draft beer, soccer, telekinesis and enhanced senses. Also, Logan told Jean about his work in private security and learned that she was studying to become a doctor. Needless to say, the night ended in a cheap motel room nearby.
Since then, their relationship had evolved from the initial irresistible attraction to a more intense and affectionate connection. Their lovemaking was frequent and always filled with heat and fun, both of them apparently incapable of getting enough of each other. Ororo teased Jean for constantly daydreaming about her dangerous-looking boyfriend; meanwhile, Logan's friends wanted to meet the special woman who had been improving his mood and softening his heart.
What the mutant couple felt for each other seemed pretty close to love.
"So, ya prefer pork or chicken?" The man asked the redhead in his arms while his fingertips traced lazy circles on her exposed back.
"What kind of question's that? You can't be hungry already, Logan."
He looked down at her face, and she looked up at his. "Pork," he explained, pointing to himself, "or chicken?" He motioned to the photograph on Jean's nightstand, in which she was standing between Ororo and Warren Worthington in what appeared to be the edge of a cliff. The blonde man's torso was bare, his wings unfold.
"Oh no, no way. I'm not going to compare you to Warren. And don't call him 'chicken'! He looks like an angel, not like a freaking rooster."
"I'm that better, huh?"
"Wow. You're a real, real pig, Logan! A very jealous one, by the way."
"It's your fault, woman! Why d'ya have to keep his picture beside your bed?"
Jean run a hand through her hair and sighed. "Because… he's my friend. Just like Ororo is."
"Humph. I don't like him."
"Why? You've seen each other twice, tops. What's he ever done to you?"
"He slept with ya."
The telepath rolled her eyes. "Really, Logan? It happened ages ago, before you and I ever met. I told you Warren and I dated for a long time."
He glanced at the picture again and couldn't help but growl.
"Come on, Logan, don't be such a child. Warren's with Candy now… They're in love, and I'm happy for them. Besides, why would I be interested in him when I have you under my sheets?"
His left eyebrow darted up. "So, I AM better, huh?"
Jean straddled his lap and whispered seductively against his ear. "I have to confess… I've always been a sucker for pork chops…"
xxxxx
On the next morning, Jean woke up to the buzzing of the tv in the small living room. She put on a robe and exited her bedroom only to find her boyfriend sitting on the sofa, wearing nothing but his pair of faded black jeans, eyes glued on the screen.
"What are you doing, Logan?" She asked on her way to the adjoined kitchen.
"Shush, Jeannie. I gotta hear this."
The redhead turned the coffee maker on and sat beside him. "What's happening? And why are you watching the Russian channel? They don't even have subtitles."
"There's been an attack to a Russian submarine last night. A mutant's claimed responsibility. He calls himself Magneto."
"Oh my God, that's awful! What did he do?"
"He sank the sub. Drowned nearly eighty sailors," he turned his face from the screen to plant a quick kiss on her lips. "Gotta go, Red," Logan told her and got up, returning to the bedroom to get dressed. Jean followed him, perplexed.
"Wait, Logan, why the sudden rush?"
"Got work to do," he explained while buttoning up his flannel shirt. He risked a glance at his girlfriend and noticed the confusing look on her beautiful face. "See ya tomorrow night, 'kay?" He said and kissed her one more time before exiting the small apartment. Jean watched Logan leave, dumbstruck.
"Goddess, what's the fuzz this early in the morning?" A drowsy Ororo asked from her bedroom's doorway.
"Oh, I'm sorry we've woken you, Ro. Logan just left," the redhead apologized, still staring at the door.
"Are you guys alright?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," Jean assured her roommate. Yet, one single thought lingered in the telepath's mind. 'How the hell can Logan speak Russian?'
Xavier's School for the Gifted Youngsters, Salem Center, New York.
Logan's bike sped through the estate's open gates, leaving a trace of dust behind it. It was barely 7 a.m., the sun just starting to illuminate Xavier's front lawn.
"Bon jour, mon amie. I assume de Wolverine had a good night with de femme?" Remy LeBeau asked and took a drag on his cigarette.
"None of your business, Cajun. Where's everyone?"
"Waitin' for our grumpy leader in de War Room," Gambit answered, throwing the cigarette away and following Logan inside the mansion.
"Hey Chuck," Logan said as he entered the War Room, greeting the others with a nod of his head.
"Great, Wolvie's arrived. Can we please start this meeting already? I wanna go back to sleep," Jubilee pleaded.
"Someone woke up in the wrong side of the bed," Rogue teased, receiving a grimace from the teenage girl in return.
"Enough, please. We have some important issues ahead of us," Professor Charles Xavier said solemnly, bringing silence to the X-Men's meeting room. "You all have heard what Magneto has done to the Leningrad…"
"Poor sailors, nevah stood a chance."
"Indeed, Rogue. Sadly, the Master of Magnetism has spared no lives," Dr. Henry McCoy agreed with the southern belle, adjusting the glasses on the top of his furry blue nose. "And given that his whereabouts remain undetermined, I fear the Russian government might decide to retaliate by attacking its own civilian mutants."
"So, what course of action should we take, meine freunde?" Nightcrawler asked.
"None, elf. We can't do shit now."
"I concur with Wolverine. Unfortunately, this represents a foreign incident in which we have no means of interfering. There have been rumors about mutant persecution in the East for some time now… I presume Erik's chosen to act upon it, hitting the Kremlin by striking its armed forces first," Xavier explained, sounding gloomy.
Logan considered their options for a few moments and finally resolved. "We keep an eye on the Russian government, we keep an eye on Magneto, and we keep an eye on the White House. Let's hope the shit doesn't hit the fan and the U.S. decide mutants are the enemy here too."
The rest of the X-Men acquiesced and started getting up from their seats, the meeting obviously over.
"Danger Room session starts in five," they heard Wolverine's clear command, immediately followed by Jubilee's whining.
Anchorage, Alaska.
Scott arrived home after a tiring round trip flight from Seattle. He followed the smell of food and found Madelyne busying herself in the kitchen.
"Hey, you're cooking! What's the occasion?" He asked his wife, hugging her from behind and stretching his neck to glance at the pan on the stove. It smelled delicious.
"Nothing special… I just wanted to please my wonderful other half," she grinned at him.
Scott returned the smile. "Thanks, honey. I'll set the table."
The man quickly arranged the plates and silverware and decided to open a bottle of red wine to accompany the tasty-looking dinner. Maddie served the pasta and sat across from him.
"Oh, no love, no wine for me today," she told him before he could pour the dark liquid into her glass.
"Why not? You love this brand. Are you feeling sick or something?"
The auburn-haired woman smiled at her husband's concerned tone. "I'm fine, honey. But I don't think the baby's going to enjoy the wine as much as I do."
"W-What? The baby? Oh my God, Maddie, you're pregnant!" Scott abruptly stood up and dragged his giggling wife up and out of her chair, embracing her tightly and putting his hand over her still flat belly. "This is amazing! How far along are you?"
"Only four weeks."
"Wow… I can't believe it. A baby!" Scott was beaming, his heart nearly exploding from the sudden influx of emotions.
"Yes, Mr. Summers, our baby," Madelyne placed her right hand on top of his.
Scott kissed her hard. "I love you, Ms. Summers."
Hellfire Club, New York.
Sebastian Shaw entered the Hellfire Club's meeting room as if he alone owned the place. The other members of the Inner Circle quickly stood up to acknowledge his presence.
Shaw, being the Black King and the chairman, occupied the head of the mahogany carved table. To his left sat Emma Frost, the White Queen, and Donald Pierce, the White Bishop; to his right was Selene Gallio and Harry Leland, the Black Queen and Black Bishop, respectively.
"Valued members of the Inner Circle, I've summoned this extraordinary meeting tonight to inform you that it's time to expand our influence over America. The sinking of the Russian submarine represents an opportunity for great political and financial profits, if we play our cards right."
"How so, dear King?" Asked the subservient Leland.
"Magneto may have ignited the flame that will set the whole world on fire. The Russian government will, undoubtedly, intensify the persecution of mutants. Other countries will follow suit, fearing attacks such as the one to the Leningrad."
"Do you think the United States will start arresting mutants?"
"No, Pierce, I don't. It would be unconstitutional to incarcerate an innocent citizen, mutant or not. However, I'm betting all my chips the government will spare no efforts to keep the American mutants under close surveillance."
"Sebastian, that's impossible. Nobody knows for sure how many mutants exist in America. How would the White House manage to keep such a control without knowing who or where the mutants are?"
Shaw's lips curled into a knowing smile. "It's quite a simple task, my dear Selene. It has come to my knowledge that the government will exploit the Russian incident to force companies, factories, universities and public schools to test their employees and students for the mutant gene. The information will be used to create a database of American mutants – the White House will have access to their names, addresses, jobs, skills… everything," he paused to glance at his associates. "In the near future, these poor souls could be compelled to do anything our honorable authorities wish… For instance, taking a vaccine that would annul their mutant abilities."
"Hah! A vaccine? I doubt it! Where the hell would the government get ahold of a shot against mutant powers?"
"Right here," the White Queen answered Pierce's question and exchanged a look with the Black King. "Shaw Enterprises and Frost Industries are developing a molecule that will be the foundation for the 'mutant cure'. It will nullify the mutant gene permanently. Our scientists guarantee that its production is totally viable. We expect to have the 'cure' ready and available by the end of the semester."
The remaining members of Inner Circle exchanged astounded looks. Shaw stood up and raised his voice. "My friends, the applications of such a scientific discovery are almost limitless. We could turn the molecule into a vaccine or a gun, or we could spread it over the country's crops and water reserves. I'm already in touch with a certain U.S. Senator who's more than willing to convince the president to buy our formula. Of course, he doesn't have the slightest clue that we're also mutants."
"B-But Sebastian… If we throw the 'cure' into the water, we would be jeopardizing our own powers."
The Black King smiled. "On the contrary, Leland. Our plan includes the development of an antidote that will make us immune to the 'cure'. Of course, Ms. Frost and I are willing to share it with all members of the Inner Circle, only demanding your absolute fealty in exchange."
"We'd be the only individuals with mutant abilities in the whole country," Selene realized, her eyes shining with greediness. "America would be at our feet."
"Not to mention the expected income of our little initiative. We'll sell the 'cure' to the White House first, then we'll offer it to the rest of the world. As shareholders of both companies, I'm sure you can foresee great earnings to your bank accounts," Emma complemented with a hungry grin.
"Sounds like a great deal," Pierce evaluated.
"Indeed. And we have Erik Lehnsherr to thank for it."