Chapter One:
New York City... One week earlier...
"I'm sorry for the wait, Miss Kyoto," the thin, bow-tied man stammered, "You've caught us on one of our busy days I'm afraid..."
The man tapped a stack of papers against his blotter, scowling irritably at the unruly condition of the file. The plaque on his deck announced his hollowed position as Head of RECORDS in obnoxious gold letters. The bustling lines in the main lobby were muted behind his office door and, by the faint scent of perspiration on his brow, it was obvious that the glorified librarian did not work well under pressure.
"Our day to day traffic is quite unpredictable," the man continued apologetically, "Some days we're sitting here twiddling our thumbs and on others it seems as if everyone in the city needs a new copy of their birth certificate. I dread what my workload will be like when the Registration Act is passed..."
The woman he was addressing smiled with exaggerated sympathy at the man's plight. If all of humanity was suddenly told they had only moments to live, she was certain that the 'Head of RECORDS' would spend the remainder of his time on Earth making certain his files were in perfect order for the apocalypse.
"Now... Miss Kyoto..." he addressed her again by the alias she had invented for this occasion, "You say you are looking for records about... your sister?"
'Miss Kyoto', known to most federal agencies as Lady Yuriko Oyama, nodded once. The motion was delicate and deceptively sweet.
"Yes," she replied somberly, "It's been nearly twenty years since I've seen her. We were only children when we were separated. Our family settled in this city when our parents first brought us to America, so I'm hoping there is some record of what happened to her after her adoption..."
The Head of Records eyed her with practiced suspicion and sighed heavily.
"Well, unfortunately, most adoption records are still legally sealed from the public," he said pompously, "Many families who adopt would prefer to decide for themselves whether or not to reveal a child's true origin to him or her... rather than having some distant relative suddenly appear on their doorstep..."
"I understand," Yuriko replied, ignoring the man's attitude for the moment, "However, my sister would be a grown woman by now, and she was old enough at the time of adoption to remember her family. I'm sure she would have no objections to you sharing what information you have with me."
The Head of Records rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then shook his head.
"I would like to help you, Miss Kyoto," he said, "Surely, I would but I'm afraid it's simply unethical for me to..."
Yuriko reached her hand over the desk and grabbedthe man's wrist firmly. The Head of Records let out an audible gasp at the quick motion. He tried to pull away but the strange woman's fingers were impossibly strong.
"Please," Yuriko said calmly, "I believe an exception would not be a problem in my case. I would hate it if I were forced to go through... other channels... to get the information that I need..."
She gave the man's arm one final squeeze before pulling her hand back to her lap. She lowered her face slightly with mock humility and apology. The man rubbed his wrist uncomfortably and stared at 'Miss Kyoto' with undisguised anxiety. He assumed her 'other channels'was areference to her lawyers.
"I'm sorry..." Yuriko said, glancing up at him again, "I don't mean to be so forward. It just... It's been so many years... And I've been searching for so long..."
The man continued to shift nervously in his seat until Yuriko was able to force tears into her eyes. Her soft, graceful motions returned as she blotted her cheeks gently with a tissue. The Head of Records slowly began to relax as 'Miss Kyoto' became more distraught.
"I..." the man squeaked, coughing once to clear this throat before continuing, "I... I understand. We've been faced with situations such as your before, believe me. And I would hate to see this issue be thrown into the judicial system. I despise courtrooms... and lawyers..."
Yuriko's eyes brightened as the looked at the man, "Then... will you be able to help me?"
The Head of Records sighed again, and flexed the hand she had grasped a moment before. He decided he liked 'Miss Kyoto's' demure side much more than her touchy-feely one, and he began to nod.
"I think... we can work something out..." the man agreed quickly, turning toward his computer, "Um... what did you say your sister's name was again?"
"Maximoff," Yuriko said, "Wanda Maximoff."
The Head of Records glanced at her with renewed suspicion. He reflexively wanted to question the obvious difference in the nationality ofthe last names. 'Miss Kyoto' was of Oriental descent; Maximoff was Eastern European in origin. He hesitated until Yuriko nodded understandingly.
"We are half-sisters," she lied smoothly, "Same mother... different fathers. You can understand how difficult it was for our mother. Such a scandal, driven from her homeland and then the cancer took her so quickly..."
New tears touched her face. Her performance would have fooled any polygraph test, and the gaunt Head of Records was buying every word.
"Of course," he replied awkwardly, "Why don't we just see what we can find..."
Yuriko Oyama stepped out onto the busy Manhattan sidewalk and put a pair of dark glasses over her face. She marched down the block, a thick file under one arm, until she found an available taxi.
The paperwork would never be missed. Even by the gilded Head of RECORDS would forget about it in time. It was just one file among the hundreds he organized every week. The entire process had been easier than she had expected. The man did not even question her when she requested the file for Pietro Maximoff as well. Magneto had given her all the information she had needed about his children to make her tale utterly convincing.
Yuriko opened the door of the yellow cab and asked the driver to take her to the airport as she settled into her seat. The driver acknowledged and pulled out into the mid-day traffic.
Without taking the dark glasses from her eyes, Yuriko opened the folder and began to inscribe the information to memory. This was only the beginning of the trail, but she knew Magneto also planned to have Toad and Mystique do some reconnaissance as well.
Yuriko wondered why Magneto was hesitant to tell two of his most loyal followers about his desire to find his children. She did not linger on the question, however. She was too engrossed in the mission itself to concern herself with Magneto's motivations. He had saved her from death at Alkalai Lake and she had no doubts about his convictions.
After leafing through the pages for a few minutes, Yuriko paused on one document of interest. It was a certificate of transfer from a local school district. The paper was yellowing with age, and the blocked type had obviously been printed from an old word processor. It listed both Wanda and Pietro Maximoff as students in the New York suburbs, but their destinations had been quite different.
Pietro, it said, had been transitioned to a private academy located outside of the country. Wanda, however, had been moved to California, specifically to a treatment facility for disturbed adolescents. Yuriko noted the date of transfer had been just over twenty years earlier.
Their father, Mr. Erik M. Lensherr, had signed each document.
She closed the file on her lap and tapped it against her knees to straighten the papers in amused imitation of the Head of RECORDS. She would have the entire flight west to study the documents with more detail and decide what action to take once she arrived in California.
Author's note: Thanks, DemonRogue for the review. Sorry if the prologue was weird... I wanted to do a little first person POV and that's what happened... it'll make sense by the end... I hope... lol
This fic takes place at the same time as book 6. Toad accompanied Mystique to NYC to check on Pyro b/c the Lady was off doing something else... this is what she was doing :-) Logan was MIA in book 5, so this will also be about what he was doing during that time too. I'm hoping this will all come together eventually. I repeat... hope. Feel free to critic... or critique... or whatever... peace.