Chapter Six: Greasy Headed Lackeys and Their Highly Sensitive Egos

*****

Jean Grey, the school's telekinetic doctor and woman who would be Phoenix, was altogether perplexed.

"Three of them?"

"Three of them," John Allerdyce echoed. "All standing outside Toad's room, no less. Jon here took care of them." The mutant codenamed Pyro looked down at his Mini-Sentinel (trimmed with blue-and-orange flames) and grinned wickedly.

Dr. Grey's eyebrows knit into an intricate pattern. "Why Toad's room? Don't tell me he has lusters."

Pyro shuddered at the prospect. "Ugh, I hope not. They were after the *new* guy."

"New...?" Jean tapped her forehead in understanding. "What about her?" The female mutant gestured to the dark redhead lying on the nearest infirmary table. "She put you as her desired character."

John tucked his hands into his leather jacket. "Beats me. Probably got lost or something."

"And you knocked her out anyway?"

"Of course I did. I'm a villain now, remember?"

"A lackey, John," Jean reminded him. "You're a lackey."

"Still evil by default," countered Pyro.

The doctor pat the teenage male on his pomade-doused head, then wiped the excess grease onto her lab coat. "Sure you are."

John scowled at Jean's patronization. "I have an evil laugh, you know."

"And it's lovely," complimented Jean. She checked her watch. "You'd better be getting to the lakeshore. It's almost time for the ceremony."

"Ceremony, right," John said, turning to leave. "C'mon, Jon, let's get outta here." With several clinks, whirls and thuds, John's namesake followed him to the infirmary's door. "'And it's lovely,'" he mimicked under his breath. "Yeah, well, at least I'm not dead."

"Pick up a comic book sometime, Pyro," replied Jean coolly, focusing on her work of reviving the students. "So are you." As an afterthought, she added, "Besides, I made a much better villain. And *I* wasn't a lackey."

With her back turned, Jean couldn't tell whether the hissing noise she heard was the door shutting or angry steam escaping John's lips.

*****

"Where's Jean, Allerdyce?" Scott asked the younger mutant with a tone of menace.

John arrived on the makeshift stage in time to watch the students gather on the same quality bleachers a few hundred feet away. Behind the stage was Breakstone Lake, the mansion's own private body of water, and a boathouse that nobody used or cared to know what it was once used for.

"You mean Dr. 'I'm-Glad-They-Dropped-a-Lake-On-Me-Since-That-Was-the-Only-Way-I-Could-Get-Any-Character-Development?' She's gotta revive some students I caught wondering the halls."

Magneto beamed with a fatherly pride. Scott looked on the brink of murder. William Stryker unexpectedly giggled.

"Speak for yourself, you racist monkey," Hank (who had been named official caretaker of all Mini-Sentinels and was quite crabby at the prospect) interjected. "Oh, wait, I forgot. You don't *believe* in evolution."

"A racist monkey, am I?" Stryker responded, glaring at the enormity of Hank's hands and feet. "Isn't that a wee bit like the pot calling the kettle black?"

"While I may possess the qualities of your average simian, Colonel, I am not, in fact, an unconscionable racist, as you so evidently are."

The occupants of the stage went silent.

Jubilee, in full form, broke that silence.

"Zing!" she cried. The Chinese-American girl turned to her once fire-wielding classmate. "What's with the grumpiness, Johnny? Did Jean insult your manliness or somethin'?"

John glowered in response.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

John's face turned seventeen interesting shades of red and purple.

"THAT BLOODY BINT CALLED ME A LACKEY!"

Bobby Drake, accompanied by his mini-Sentinel Dranke, almost made it to the top of the stairs on the left side of the platform. He would have attained this goal successfully if John's sudden outburst hadn't startled him so bad he tripped on the second to last step and smacked his head on the stage. Bobby recovered quickly (thanks to Rogue, her personal mini Rouge and Dranke) and pointed directly at Jubilee.

"Wow, Jubes, you must've really set him off," said Bobby, rubbing the blooming bruise on his cheek with his free hand. "You made him go into full Aussie mode. He only does that when he's *really* pissed."

"I'll show her who's evil," announced John, now with a thick, almost incomprehensible Australian accent. "I'll show 'em all."

"Ya've 'eard 'im talk like this before?" Theresa asked in her own Irish tongue. The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters boasted a wide variety of nationalities and cultures amongst its student population: Russian, Irish, Scottish, Southern, Canadian, African... Okay. Nobody's *really* sure if Storm's African or not, but we're meant to think she is.

"Once." Bobby took a seat in between Rogue and Kitty (and their minis Rouge and Pride). "When Tina won Survivor: Australia. Up until then I had no idea what his obsession with that show was."

Pyro had an Idea. It made him grin. "Thank ya, Drake. The first thing I'm gonna do ta prove I'm truly evil is fry the bloody tribal council for thinkin' that annoyin' biddy was the real Survivah!"

"He had twenty bucks riding on Colby," Iceman whispered.

"Then I'm gonna-"

"For the gods' sake, John, shut up," an irritated voice belonging to the course coordinator demanded. Nobody knew where she'd come from

"But Jean said-"

"Shut up."

"I-"

"Shut UP." Michelle looked around the stage. "Where's John's lighter?"

"I think Logan threw it into the lake about an hour ago," said Jamie.

"You little fink," growled Logan. Jamie laughed nervously and shrank into his seat. Multiple Man, not being a well-known character in movieverse, didn't have any Mini-Sentinels to protect him from any imminent harm, but, thanks to his mutant gift, had an army of himself for protection. Not a single copy dared stand up to Logan.

Michelle pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, that explains his crabbiness." She looked at the cast on stage. One person was missing. "Anybody seen Jean?"

John reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small, palm-sized silver object. A lighter. Click. Chink.

"Ah, Hell," grumbled Wolverine. "He's got a spare?"

The smirk on John's face couldn't have stretched any more even if he was Reed Richards. "You mean Dr. I'm-Glad-Theyaaah!"

This time, Scott jumped him.

*****

Erin Dawson had just had the strangest dream. It involved a school. There were teleporting blue demons and girls that walk through stuff and megalomaniac magnetic men and boys who could take on the U.S. Army by sheer number alone and a joker who throws snowballs at unsuspecting fanwriters. And knock-out gas. Definitely knock-out gas.

Oh, wait.

That wasn't a dream.

Damn.

Then walking with Jean, two robots, and two other fangirls across the mansion grounds *wasn't* just a figment of her imagination.

Right.

Her seat in the bleachers sucked. The least this school could do was give her a chance to *see* her favorite characters and she could barely get a glimpse of them on stage. They all looked like tiny ants milling about their anthill and...

Whoa.

Did that red-eyed ant just tackle the greasy haired ant? Was the clawed ant trying to grab something out of the greasy one's hand? The clawed ant looked successful in his mission and chucked something minuscule and silver into the crowd of students.

The greasy ant was not happy about this ("Eek! Give it back!" could be heard faintly. No, that wasn't an Australian accent, was it?).

The diminutive projectile smacked a student called Jakie Firecracker square in the forehead.

The greasy ant seemed to cheer up.

Sabe Newbarrie, Loup and Kit divebombed towards the shiny object that had fallen in Jakie's lap shrieking, "MINE!" All three collided mid-air, landing on Eclipse (holding a plushy of a character Erin didn't recognize) and Random Girl (not just some random girl, mind you).

The greasy haired ant forgot all about whatever it was that was thrown in his state of laughter. Wow. That was quite an evil laugh he had there, even to Erin's ears.

The movement in the crowd stopped due to the presence of a bald ant in a moving chair. When Xavier is around, folks, you had better be ready to listen. Or he'll make you.

*****

Author's Note: Thanks for all the support! I never could have dreamed that this tiny little fic that was born in my head could be such a hit with the crowds.

I'd like to point out that even if you don't write movieverse-based fic, or you don't write X-Men fic at all and just want to learn, you're always welcome here at XFI.

A/N 2.0: I'm going to try my hardest to get as many characters as movie canon will allow into XFI. Even if there was the tiniest, most minute reference to them in either movie (i.e. Jamie or Sam), you just might see them wander the campus.

A/N 3.0: Yes, I know it's taking forever for me to get to actual classes (it's been one hell of a long day), but I promise that they'll be up and ready to tortu-... teach soon.

TTFN!

~Michelle