Creed has the boy.
A part of Morgan had always known, Another part of him didnt want it to be so. There was simply no way he could go charging into Creed's compound with an army of heavily armed SWAT teams. He'd be laughed out of his captain's office if he sought such a thing. Nobody needed another Waco. Not now.
Morgan grinded his teeth as he sat at the bar, nursing a beer. He considered driving up to Creed's front door and sticking a gun in his face, see where that took him. Subtlety is sometimes overrated. This case deserved a clean finish.
On a TV above the bar, the late news had started. The bartender turned up the volume and looked at Morgan. "S'not bothering you, is it?"
"No, not at all." Morgan looked up and sipped his beer. A man with an unfortunate face was standing behind a bank of microphones. Cameras flashed on him like strobe lights. He blinked rapidly and put his hands up for quiet. The media hushed down and the man began to speak.
"What I have to say wont take long," The man said. "And I'm not going to answer any questions afterwards so dont bother askin'." The man took a breath and looked up. "I am here to put the record straight. I have made a terrible mess o' things. I was due to give evidence to the panel investigatin' Xavier's school today, and I was gonna tell em that my boy had been brainwashed by Xavier. But that isnt the truth. I was lookin for someone to blame when my boy ran away, and I didn't look to myself. I made up a story that people would swallow, hook line and sinker. I'm not proud of that. I have given the truth to the panel at the hearing today. I have told them that I lied. I was wrong. There isnt much more to say."
Morgan frowned and took another swig of his beer. The newsreader reappeared on screen. "That was the scene just an hour ago, at a special press conference held by Earl Landers, the man who spearheaded the campaign against Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. The panel investigating the school had convened an emergency sitting, and it is expected that the panel will clear Charles Xavier and his school of any wrong doing. I am joined now by Dr. Henry McCoy, noted geneticist and mutant rights supporter. Dr. McCoy, do these revelations come as a suprise to you?"
The screen split in two and Henry McCoy's face appeared next to the newsreader's. "I don't think anyone could have predicted this, Trish."
"Have you spoken to Charles Xavier since the press conference?"
"Only briefly on the phone. He was quite understandably pleased with these revelations."
"And Proffessor Xavier is at the special hearing now?"
"As far as I know, yes."
"In effect, what does this mean for Xavier's school?"
"I believe the school will be exonerated, and it will be allowed to operate as normal. I dont see that the panel has much else to do. But this is a bigger victory for truth, I think."
"There has been widespread criticism about Mr. Landers' sudden about face, particularly from Graydon Creed. Mr. Creed has went so far as to insinuate that Earl Landers was forced to make these admissions. What is your response to that?"
"Well, Trish, I cannot begin to speculate on what drove Earl Landers to do this, perhaps a guilty conscience. And Mr. Creed is the last person on earth who should talk about intimidation and bullying."
"OK...We'll have to leave it there, Dr. McCoy. Thankyou for your time."
"Thankyou Trish."
"And WCNN will keep you informed of any developments as they occur. I'm Trish Tilby, goodnight."
Morgan cocked his head to the side. Seems like everyone has Creed on their minds tonight.
Jean sat back in shock. She closed her eyes and tried to contact Charles, but she could not sense his psychic signature anywhere. He was obviously cloaking himself. "Damn you Charles," She said aloud. "There might have been another way..."
But she knew that he wouldnt have done something like this if there was a way to avoid it. She threw the remote aside and stood up, and called to Logan, Scott and Ororo with her mind, letting them know that she needed them urgently. Ororo appeared within a few moments, a worried look on her face.
"Jean?"
Scott and Logan entered the office within moments of each other. Both had come running at her call. A fine sheen of sweat covered Logan's face.
Jean took a breath before speaking, pinched the bridge of her nose for a few seconds. "The school is out of danger," She told them, looking at each of them in turn. "Or so it seems. Earl Landers has issued a statement, saying he lied about his son's experiences here."
"But thats wonderful news!" Ororo said. "Charles must be pleased. Did he call you?"
"No," Jean replied. "And he is not answering my messages. I tried to reach him telepathically, but he has shut himself off from me."
"So what's the problem?" Scott asked.
"That peice o' shit wouldnt do this of his own free will," Logan said. "You think Charles could've..."
Jean met Logan's gaze and crossed her arms over her chest. "I think he did. There is no other rational explanation."
Scott shook his head, "But there is no way Charles would do something like that...."
"If there was no other way," Ororo said softly. "Maybe if he felt this strongly, then..."
"In any case, Charles said he would resolve this, and he has."
They all fell silent. Jean was right.
Chamber slept fitfully at the best of times. The very act of lying in bed was made awkward by his mutation. He was again reminded of the elephant man, who had to sit right up in bed because of his disfigurement. Against Chamber's eyelids, a dream played like a bad movie projected onto a limitless and terrifying screen. He was walking alonng the edge of a huge pool with crystal blue water. He could see his lithe black clad figure rippling across its glittery surface, and the reflection seemed more material than he was, and his reflection was beckoning to him.
Chamber could see that the reflection wasnt his true reflection. He could see a handsome, young, whole face staring back at him, smiling invitingly. Under the water's surface, another figure swam in languid strokes. he could see the blonde hair catching light and reflecting every which way, making it a golden flare. He followed the underwater figure with his own reflection not far behind. He wondered if this person beneath the surface might drown.
He kneeled by the lapping, sterile scented water-he wasnt aware that you could smell thing in dreams-and waved to the swimming person, trying to get their attention. Then, suddenly, the figure shot straight up and the face broke the water's surface. Sebastien stared back at him with his cool appraising eyes that seemed too large, and smiled at him. "Jonothan," Sebastien said with a voice that dripped with invitation. "Come on in, the water's fine."
Chamber shook his head. "No."
Sebastien rolled onto his back and floated parralell to the water's edge. "I think you're afraid of taking the plunge."
Chamber shook his head again, a frown creasing his forehead. "You're wrong. I'm not afraid of the water."
"I wasnt talking about the water this time."
"What were you talking about, then?"
"If you dont know yet, then you're not ready to hear it."
"No, tell me."
"I'm not really Sebastien, I'm you. Well, that part of your brain that wants you to know something. I'm here to make you realise, to open your eyes, let you accept things. But you are not ready."
"When will I be ready?"
A shrug from Sebastien. "Who knows?"
"So what do I have to do to find out?"
"Just wake up."
Chamber opened his eyes and sat upright, and started when he saw a figure sitting on the end of his bed.
Sebastien.
"Jesus!"
"I'm sorry for waking you. I wanted to talk."
"You could have bloody waited until morning!"
"Do you think something bad is about to happen?"
"What?" Chamber was still trying to determine if he was talking to the real Sebastien and not some figment of his subconscious.
"I feel it everywhere I walk in the mansion, on the grounds, and the feeling's growing. Like something is building up."
"As I told you before, you have that effect on people."
"I was wondering about that too."
"Look, its late and I dont wanna wake Bobby. If you dont mind..."
"I got to thinking about the night those guys attacked me. I started wondering what I did to deserve it, and maybe I brought it on myself, I dunno...But these guys...It was like they were possessed. I mean, they harrassed a few of the other boys who worked..."
Chamber leaned foward and peered through the semi darkness at Sebastien, who was little more than an outline at the foot of his bed. "You worked the streets?" He asked.
Sebastien nodded slowly. "I did what I had to do."
"Wow."
Sebastien shrugged. "I'm not ashamed of it, you know."
"Nor should you be."
"I was good at it, too."
"I'm sure you were." Chamber laughed softly.
"One of the other boys told me once that I seemed to get people to open up and be their real selves, let their emotions take over.It was you who made me recall that."
Chamber shifted his weight on the bed, brought his knees up to his chest. "It's not the kind of past everyone could live with," He said.
"Yeah, well, you cope. You deal with it, or it makes you weak."
Chamber tilted his head downwards and looked at Senastien with his fringe. "Yes," He replied. "I know."
Graydon Creed let cigarette smoke stream through his nostrils at an almost violent speed. He scratched his chin and looked up to one of his advisors. "Image is everything," He said in a half whisper, pinning the man with a hard gaze. "If you spend a decade cultivating an image, nurturing it, people tend to believe it. I am Graydon Creed, servant of the people, champion of genetic purity. People trust in what I stand for, and what my party fights to attain." He ashed the cigarette in a slow movement and smiled almost sadly, taking his eyes off the advisor. "Image is everything until it crumbles. Then, what are you left with? What happens when a hick opens his mouth to the world and dashes the plans which you have so ardously cultivated?"
The adivor cleared his throat. "But Earl Landers hasnt really divulged anything about the party, sir..."
Creed looked up at him. "No, he hasnt uttered a word. Publicly. His little....confession...has made a mockery of this party and its endorsements. So, I pose the question again, what do you do when your image is destroyed?"
"Sir?"
Creed stood up and crossed the room until he was inches away from the other man. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, his cold eyes gleaming. "You have nothing to lose now, really," Creed answered in a whisper, clapping his hand on the other man's shoulder, amking the man flinch. "You mobilize your troops and strike out at your enemies. I know that what Charles Xavier is capable of and I know he's behind Landers' outburst. I can smell him all over this."
"But sir, you cant mean we attack Xavier's school?"
"Its what we have been working towards all these years. Its why I have been training these fine young men in the art of war. And when the dust settles, Graydon Creed will be remembered."
"But isnt this--"
"Tell the men. They are to begin preparations. We will strike at them without mercy and without warning."
A part of Morgan had always known, Another part of him didnt want it to be so. There was simply no way he could go charging into Creed's compound with an army of heavily armed SWAT teams. He'd be laughed out of his captain's office if he sought such a thing. Nobody needed another Waco. Not now.
Morgan grinded his teeth as he sat at the bar, nursing a beer. He considered driving up to Creed's front door and sticking a gun in his face, see where that took him. Subtlety is sometimes overrated. This case deserved a clean finish.
On a TV above the bar, the late news had started. The bartender turned up the volume and looked at Morgan. "S'not bothering you, is it?"
"No, not at all." Morgan looked up and sipped his beer. A man with an unfortunate face was standing behind a bank of microphones. Cameras flashed on him like strobe lights. He blinked rapidly and put his hands up for quiet. The media hushed down and the man began to speak.
"What I have to say wont take long," The man said. "And I'm not going to answer any questions afterwards so dont bother askin'." The man took a breath and looked up. "I am here to put the record straight. I have made a terrible mess o' things. I was due to give evidence to the panel investigatin' Xavier's school today, and I was gonna tell em that my boy had been brainwashed by Xavier. But that isnt the truth. I was lookin for someone to blame when my boy ran away, and I didn't look to myself. I made up a story that people would swallow, hook line and sinker. I'm not proud of that. I have given the truth to the panel at the hearing today. I have told them that I lied. I was wrong. There isnt much more to say."
Morgan frowned and took another swig of his beer. The newsreader reappeared on screen. "That was the scene just an hour ago, at a special press conference held by Earl Landers, the man who spearheaded the campaign against Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. The panel investigating the school had convened an emergency sitting, and it is expected that the panel will clear Charles Xavier and his school of any wrong doing. I am joined now by Dr. Henry McCoy, noted geneticist and mutant rights supporter. Dr. McCoy, do these revelations come as a suprise to you?"
The screen split in two and Henry McCoy's face appeared next to the newsreader's. "I don't think anyone could have predicted this, Trish."
"Have you spoken to Charles Xavier since the press conference?"
"Only briefly on the phone. He was quite understandably pleased with these revelations."
"And Proffessor Xavier is at the special hearing now?"
"As far as I know, yes."
"In effect, what does this mean for Xavier's school?"
"I believe the school will be exonerated, and it will be allowed to operate as normal. I dont see that the panel has much else to do. But this is a bigger victory for truth, I think."
"There has been widespread criticism about Mr. Landers' sudden about face, particularly from Graydon Creed. Mr. Creed has went so far as to insinuate that Earl Landers was forced to make these admissions. What is your response to that?"
"Well, Trish, I cannot begin to speculate on what drove Earl Landers to do this, perhaps a guilty conscience. And Mr. Creed is the last person on earth who should talk about intimidation and bullying."
"OK...We'll have to leave it there, Dr. McCoy. Thankyou for your time."
"Thankyou Trish."
"And WCNN will keep you informed of any developments as they occur. I'm Trish Tilby, goodnight."
Morgan cocked his head to the side. Seems like everyone has Creed on their minds tonight.
Jean sat back in shock. She closed her eyes and tried to contact Charles, but she could not sense his psychic signature anywhere. He was obviously cloaking himself. "Damn you Charles," She said aloud. "There might have been another way..."
But she knew that he wouldnt have done something like this if there was a way to avoid it. She threw the remote aside and stood up, and called to Logan, Scott and Ororo with her mind, letting them know that she needed them urgently. Ororo appeared within a few moments, a worried look on her face.
"Jean?"
Scott and Logan entered the office within moments of each other. Both had come running at her call. A fine sheen of sweat covered Logan's face.
Jean took a breath before speaking, pinched the bridge of her nose for a few seconds. "The school is out of danger," She told them, looking at each of them in turn. "Or so it seems. Earl Landers has issued a statement, saying he lied about his son's experiences here."
"But thats wonderful news!" Ororo said. "Charles must be pleased. Did he call you?"
"No," Jean replied. "And he is not answering my messages. I tried to reach him telepathically, but he has shut himself off from me."
"So what's the problem?" Scott asked.
"That peice o' shit wouldnt do this of his own free will," Logan said. "You think Charles could've..."
Jean met Logan's gaze and crossed her arms over her chest. "I think he did. There is no other rational explanation."
Scott shook his head, "But there is no way Charles would do something like that...."
"If there was no other way," Ororo said softly. "Maybe if he felt this strongly, then..."
"In any case, Charles said he would resolve this, and he has."
They all fell silent. Jean was right.
Chamber slept fitfully at the best of times. The very act of lying in bed was made awkward by his mutation. He was again reminded of the elephant man, who had to sit right up in bed because of his disfigurement. Against Chamber's eyelids, a dream played like a bad movie projected onto a limitless and terrifying screen. He was walking alonng the edge of a huge pool with crystal blue water. He could see his lithe black clad figure rippling across its glittery surface, and the reflection seemed more material than he was, and his reflection was beckoning to him.
Chamber could see that the reflection wasnt his true reflection. He could see a handsome, young, whole face staring back at him, smiling invitingly. Under the water's surface, another figure swam in languid strokes. he could see the blonde hair catching light and reflecting every which way, making it a golden flare. He followed the underwater figure with his own reflection not far behind. He wondered if this person beneath the surface might drown.
He kneeled by the lapping, sterile scented water-he wasnt aware that you could smell thing in dreams-and waved to the swimming person, trying to get their attention. Then, suddenly, the figure shot straight up and the face broke the water's surface. Sebastien stared back at him with his cool appraising eyes that seemed too large, and smiled at him. "Jonothan," Sebastien said with a voice that dripped with invitation. "Come on in, the water's fine."
Chamber shook his head. "No."
Sebastien rolled onto his back and floated parralell to the water's edge. "I think you're afraid of taking the plunge."
Chamber shook his head again, a frown creasing his forehead. "You're wrong. I'm not afraid of the water."
"I wasnt talking about the water this time."
"What were you talking about, then?"
"If you dont know yet, then you're not ready to hear it."
"No, tell me."
"I'm not really Sebastien, I'm you. Well, that part of your brain that wants you to know something. I'm here to make you realise, to open your eyes, let you accept things. But you are not ready."
"When will I be ready?"
A shrug from Sebastien. "Who knows?"
"So what do I have to do to find out?"
"Just wake up."
Chamber opened his eyes and sat upright, and started when he saw a figure sitting on the end of his bed.
Sebastien.
"Jesus!"
"I'm sorry for waking you. I wanted to talk."
"You could have bloody waited until morning!"
"Do you think something bad is about to happen?"
"What?" Chamber was still trying to determine if he was talking to the real Sebastien and not some figment of his subconscious.
"I feel it everywhere I walk in the mansion, on the grounds, and the feeling's growing. Like something is building up."
"As I told you before, you have that effect on people."
"I was wondering about that too."
"Look, its late and I dont wanna wake Bobby. If you dont mind..."
"I got to thinking about the night those guys attacked me. I started wondering what I did to deserve it, and maybe I brought it on myself, I dunno...But these guys...It was like they were possessed. I mean, they harrassed a few of the other boys who worked..."
Chamber leaned foward and peered through the semi darkness at Sebastien, who was little more than an outline at the foot of his bed. "You worked the streets?" He asked.
Sebastien nodded slowly. "I did what I had to do."
"Wow."
Sebastien shrugged. "I'm not ashamed of it, you know."
"Nor should you be."
"I was good at it, too."
"I'm sure you were." Chamber laughed softly.
"One of the other boys told me once that I seemed to get people to open up and be their real selves, let their emotions take over.It was you who made me recall that."
Chamber shifted his weight on the bed, brought his knees up to his chest. "It's not the kind of past everyone could live with," He said.
"Yeah, well, you cope. You deal with it, or it makes you weak."
Chamber tilted his head downwards and looked at Senastien with his fringe. "Yes," He replied. "I know."
Graydon Creed let cigarette smoke stream through his nostrils at an almost violent speed. He scratched his chin and looked up to one of his advisors. "Image is everything," He said in a half whisper, pinning the man with a hard gaze. "If you spend a decade cultivating an image, nurturing it, people tend to believe it. I am Graydon Creed, servant of the people, champion of genetic purity. People trust in what I stand for, and what my party fights to attain." He ashed the cigarette in a slow movement and smiled almost sadly, taking his eyes off the advisor. "Image is everything until it crumbles. Then, what are you left with? What happens when a hick opens his mouth to the world and dashes the plans which you have so ardously cultivated?"
The adivor cleared his throat. "But Earl Landers hasnt really divulged anything about the party, sir..."
Creed looked up at him. "No, he hasnt uttered a word. Publicly. His little....confession...has made a mockery of this party and its endorsements. So, I pose the question again, what do you do when your image is destroyed?"
"Sir?"
Creed stood up and crossed the room until he was inches away from the other man. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, his cold eyes gleaming. "You have nothing to lose now, really," Creed answered in a whisper, clapping his hand on the other man's shoulder, amking the man flinch. "You mobilize your troops and strike out at your enemies. I know that what Charles Xavier is capable of and I know he's behind Landers' outburst. I can smell him all over this."
"But sir, you cant mean we attack Xavier's school?"
"Its what we have been working towards all these years. Its why I have been training these fine young men in the art of war. And when the dust settles, Graydon Creed will be remembered."
"But isnt this--"
"Tell the men. They are to begin preparations. We will strike at them without mercy and without warning."