Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men or their world, Blaze belongs to Lamby, Ilehana belongs to Corrinth, and I do own all other OCs.
02
"Sir, can you help me with this progressive wave question?"
Scott still couldn't do physics even with the highly detailed lesson plans that Xavier left for him. He had spent three hours going through them with Vixen and Storm and he still didn't understand them.
"Sir, did you hear me?"
Cyclops just sat looking at the notes on progressive waves trying to make some sense from the diagrams.
"Has he gone deaf? SIR!"
"What? Oh, class dismissed." Scott said not quite sure what the question was. The pupils were old enough to take advantage of finishing early and leave with out a backwards glance and it wasn't until Cyclops left the room five minutes later he realised his mistake. Too late to do anything about it he went to the staff room.
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"Thank you Cherie, maybe you let Gambit take you out for dinner." Gambit said to the waitress who had brought him his drink. She smiled but shook her head and walked off leavening Gambit alone, if you could be on a crowded beach in Barbados. Gambit lay on the beach and wondered what had happened to Blaze, and more importantly why he ended up thinking of her when ever he looked at another woman that way. Gambit sipped his drink. At least he didn't feel guilty for drinking.
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"Hello, I am Mr Jones. I believe that you have my car." Fragment said to a man at the warehouse in Orlando where his car had been delivered to.
"Yes sir. Just come this way please, and then you can pay and get on your way. It will be 600 for the storage and 1500 for the transport." The man said as he passed Fragment the keys. Fragment raised one hand to his temple and the man crumpled to the ground.
"I don't think I pay if it's the same to you."
He placed the key into a lock and the garage door swung open with a screech. Inside the warehouse was a car, a sky blue car, a convertible sky blue jaguar with left hand drive. Fragment vaulted over the side door and the engine started with a roar. He patted the dashboard fondly and sped away. He said he'd meet Mystique in 15 minutes so he raced his car down the interstate at 180 miles an hour. He swerved to the right to avoid a pick up truck and put his foot down. The needle on the speedo turned up towards 210 miles per hour as he shot passed the pick up.