"Tea or coffee, Greg?" called Jean from the kitchen. Greg, Scott, and Logan were all sitting in the Professor's old study, with Jean's seat open for her as soon as drinks were served.
"Coffee, black, um, Ms., Miss, Mrs.…."
"Jean Summers. Coffee's on its way boys!"
Turning to Cyclops, Greg awkwardly asked, "Um, and what is your name, my victim and attacker?"
Scott let out a sigh of impatience. "Scott Summers. Y'know, I like you a lot better when you're a werewolf. You seem to be a lot less… cheeky."
Greg shrugged. "Well, being a monster tends to make you take life just a bit more seriously than you might otherwise. So are you related to Ms. Summers by any chance?"
"Married happily for 4 years, thank you."
"Shoot," muttered Greg. "Some people have all the luck!"
Scott gave a chuckle. "Trust me, there are parts of Jean that no man deserves to have to face!"
"I heard that, lover! I'm making your drink, so you might want to be nice to me until it's served!"
"She would be one to poison it, too!" whispered Scott to Greg.
"I can read your thoughts, stupid! Come make your own drink if you're going to be a pain in the butt!"
"Yes, dear," consented Scott, climbing up out of his comfy vinyl chair.
Soon, Jean and Scott came in with everyone's drinks: black coffee, tea, a Coke, and for Wolverine, a Bud Light.
Once everyone had taken their satisfying gulp from their beverage, Logan began. "Okay Greg, where'd you come here from, are you really my brother, and why don't you drink beer like any brother of mine would?"
The last got a chuckle out of Greg, but he began his story. "Well, brother of mine, I came from our home of London, Englan-"
"Hold it! I'm a Brit?"
"Half. The other half is American, which is probably why I don't have the customary accent. You see, since our British mother is dead-"
"Say what? My mom's dead?"
"If you'll quit interrupting me, Logan, you'll find out all you want to know and some stuff you don't want to know. So shut up and listen.
"As I was saying, I came here from London, England, where I had been living alone since the death of my abusive father at the age of 43. I was 15 when it happened. As I recall, he was well loved enough for there to be about three people attending. I wasn't one of them.
"So you'll know, Logan, our father was the scum of the earth. He stole for his food, and gave us the scraps. Occasionally. You were the smart one, running away when you had the chance. Lucky you, winding up on that farm in America with semi-loving parents and a lady love to keep you occupied. Don't look so surprised! You didn't really believe that you were born there, did you?
"Anyway, when daddy dearest died of lung cancer (oh, didn't I tell you, he smoked four packs of Camel a day!), I was on my own. I couldn't have been happier. For once, when the bruises papa gave me faded away, I didn't have to expect new ones the next day. The civil services never learned that I, a 15 year-old, was living by myself, and they only had three years, so pretty soon, I was 18, a high school dropout, with no hope of getting an enjoyable job, so I went the route of dad. I stole for my food. I was good at it, too, let me tell you.
"Eventually, I decided to seek out the brother I knew I had. So, now I'm here to tell you the most important thing you'll ever hear. But first, um, can I please use your restroom?"
A collective sigh of impatience echoed through the room before Scott said, "First door on the right from the kitchen's entrance."
Greg got up eagerly and left the room at a run, looking like he'd burst any moment now.
Scott began. "Okay X-Men, do you guys find his story convincing?"
Everyone gave a nod.
"Me and you both. This guy is either the best story-teller in the world, or Wolverine has a brother. I'm inclined to go with the latter. Logan, what do you think about all this?"
Logan pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Well Scottie, I've been an orphan, only child, and all 'round tramp since I can remember. So all's I'm sayin' is that it's gonna take some more proof before I welcome this guy in as my brother."
Suddenly, a scream erupted from the restroom, followed by a roar of pain.
Scott was up first. "Let's go!"
They arrived and saw Nightcrawler desperately clawing at Silverback, and fur was flying both ways. Everyone was taken aback.
"Uh, boss…" said Logan. "Who do we gun for?"
Scott, looking as confused as Wolverine, answered. Just punch whatever you lay your hands on, Logan. Jean, try to get a hold on one of them. Let's move!"
Cyclops fired a concussion beam at Silverback, but the beast whirled around and the force knocked Nightcrawler off the monster to the ground.
Wolverine came in hard with a punch to the blue one's stomach, and he could practically hear the wind being blown out fast.
Cyclops next went for Silverback, knocking him with beam after beam, but to no avail. Totally lost in rage, Silverback swung his arm around and knocked Scott into the next room with brute strength.
Suddenly, he gave a howl of pain. Jean was mentally disabling him, and he had no idea how to react. He put his hands to his head and screamed, roaring in confusion and hurt.
Taking advantage of his fall, Nightcrawler leapt upon the wolf-like creature and teleported away. There was total silence in the room, and Scott staggered in. "Where's Silverback?" he muttered through clenched teeth.
"The misfit poofed him away. Who knows?" said Logan.
As though no time had gone by, Nightcrawler appeared once again.
Scott hit him directly with an optic beam, sending the mutant into the wall.
Wolverine ran up and grabbed Kurt by the neck, pounding his head against the wall. "Okay misfit, where's the big werewolf you just teleported away?!"
Kurt's eyes went big and began to slowly droop into unconsciousness, leaving only one word. "Mesmero…"
Sorry to leave you hanging like that, but I was getting tired and this'll give me something to write for next chapter. Writer's block has been conquered yet again. Hurray!!!!!!