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Ororo cruised the highway towards her new home in Victor's '78 Mustang. He let her drive it whenever she wanted to. She couldn't imagine him driving it. A tall man like him needed a truck.
She heard the familiar warning siren and glanced in her mirrors, "Shit." The speedometer read seventy- five mph, twenty miles over the speed limit.
She pulled over and rolled down the window, digging through her coat pocket for her fake driver's license.
Two plain clothes police officers got out, the driver was tall with long brown hair bound at his neck. He wore sunglasses, a bored grim expression, and a long brown duster that billowed out behind him over a white dress shirt, tie, and khaki pants. The other was Korean and looked like he might be a rookie. He was wearing the same thing as the taller officer without the duster. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to show off skinny arms. He took off his hat and one of his black leather gloves to frantically scratch his wild-greasy-haired head like he had fleas. He was nervous and fidgety.
By the looks of things the taller cop was giving the other a command as they approached. He made a down-swiping motion with his hand as if telling him not to do something. The rookie seemed angry at being told what to do, but didn't say anything.
"License and registration." The tall officer said routinely. He rested a hand on the hood of the car.
Ororo handed him the card, and reached over to the glove compartment to look for the vehicle registration. She found it and gave it to him.
Ororo glanced at the other younger officer who was glaring at the back of the older officer's head while crossing and uncrossing his arms, trying to look calm.
He ignored her and showed his partner the license. The other policeman shook his head.
"Turn the vehicle off and step out slowly. No sudden movements, and keep your hands where we can see them."
Ororo put one hand on the wheel and the other on the key in the ignition, pretending to comply. She should have known there would be a problem. She wondered if she could shift gears and peel out quicker than the two could draw.
"It's not worth the risk." She looked towards the officers and stared down the barrels of not one, not two, but three guns. The taller officer held two, and the smaller one was pulling his second.
'Victor's going to kill me.'
Ororo wasn't even going to try using her powers. Too many people could get hurt, including her.
She turned off the mustang and got out placing her hands on the hood next to her license and registration.
The small cop told her her rights while the taller patted her down, running his hands over her form.
"You have the right to remain silent-"
"Slow crime day?" Ororo asked.
"Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law."
"Shouldn't you two be out arresting some drug dealer?"
"You have the right to an attorney..." He stopped, "uuuhh."
Ororo turned her head to look at him.
He leaned forward asking the older cop, "What comes next?"
Before he could answer a standard blue and white police car pulled up in front of them. Two uniformed officers stepped out and headed their way.
The taller officer turned away from Ororo and jerked his head at the rookie. The rookie came closer to her, and put a surprisingly strong, gloved hand on her shoulder, he grabbed her left wrist and pulled it up to the middle of her back threateningly, but only slightly painfully. The other officer went to meet the uniforms.
"You two need some help?"
"Do I look like Rodney King?" Ororo asked smartly. The tall cop chuckled, but the rookie squeezed her shoulder, and pulled up on her wrist, pushing her hard against the car.
"Hey!" Ororo protested.
He pulled up some more.
She cried out and her eyes whited over and the now dark sky rumbled.
All four cops looked up.
"What's wrong with her eyes?" the other asked, drawing back, then gasping, "M-M-Mutie!" He started to back toward the police car, and then turned around and flat out ran to it.
The rookie cop let go of her wrist and spun her around. He bit the glove off of his hand, holding it between his teeth, and touched her face with clammy fingers. The sky was quiet again, and Ororo began to feel weak and dizzy.
She heard shots and a man's cry. She watched as one of the uniformed officers fell to the ground. Shot in the shoulder by the tall duster wearing officer.
The other officer who had previously ran to the car came back holding a shotgun. He froze at the scene in front of him. Not knowing who to shoot.
The rookie cop now let her go and joined the fray.
Ororo clumsily tried to open the car door, but her coordination was completely thrown off.
The two imposters simultaneously shot the cop. The tall one aiming for the shoulder, the rookie cop aimed for his forehead and hit his target.
Ororo finally got the door open threw herself inside.
The tall cop turned to the rookie. "That was not called for!" He shouted, his fake American accent melted away, revealing his true French accent, but Ororo was not paying attention. She was trying to sit up straight so she could pull off.
"He was going to shoot us."
"You had t'kill 'em?"
The rookie shrugged, walking past him to pick up the shotgun.
"I knew you were the wrong one to bring. I coulda' brough' Vertigo, or Arclight."
While Remy ranted, Scrambler walked towards the mustang where Ororo had shut the door and was now trying to lock it, but she kept missing. It would have been funny to her if she wasn't such a mess.
Scrambler snatched open the door while Remy disgustedly dragged the officers back to their vehicle and through them in. The one who had been shot in the shoulder was still alive, he was out, but he'd make it.

Scrambler pulled Ororo out of the car by her hair and onto pavement. He was at his best now, and was more confident by far. He watched as she struggled against the dizziness that came with having your powers ripped away so quickly, and climbed to her feet using the mustang for leverage. His affect on her was weakening. He held the shot gun by the barrel, and slammed the butt into the back of her head. She slid down the car and slumped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
He wiped the blood off of the gun on his pant leg, and slung the shotgun over his shoulder.
"Let's get her in the car."
Remy shook his head. He knew what Scrambler was capable of but he never got used to the young man's cold-blooded ways. Remy was no saint, but getting what he wanted without having to hurt anyone was a part of the challenge.
Scrambler had now grabbed Ororo by the hair and was dragging her to their "undercover police car".
"Sabretooth best come rescue her soon or you'll batter her to death." Remy pushed his partner away and lifted her in his arms.
"I ain't being paid to pamper this broad. She'll get what I give her."
Remy placed her in the back of their car.
"What now?"
"Now we leave Victor a clue." Remy said getting behind the wheel of the Mustang.

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