Mr. Mildred Watts took off his slim little gray gloves and set them down on his desk. He had a nice office, trimmed in oak, with matching antiques and a large fireplace.
His secretary, whom he rarely sees, had left him several messages; which he promptly ignored.
Instead he drew a small, tarnished silver key to unlock his right hand desk drawer. He placed the key back in to his pocket and sat down before opening the drawer.
He took out a stack of file folders and spread them out, opening each one and folding it's cover back, to reveal that each was a separate dossier on each of the heroes of Excalibur, complete with photo's and DVD's of video.
He pulled his note pad from his pocket and took Forge's file in front of him. To the already copious notes, from his hastily jotted shorthand, the man added:
"The ambiguity of this subjects fighting ability is a thing of the past. Rather than being uneducated or untrained as originally thought, 'Forge' seems more than capable even under difficult circumstances. This, of course, differs from the established history of the subject. And while it's unclear why the story conflicts, what is very clear is that it would take a fighter of considerable ability to rival him."
He paused and looked at the wet, black ink on the page and softly blew on it before he continued.
"As stated before, removal of this target is necessary to prevent any form of restructuring of the team. Psychology reviews suggest that upon Wagner's demise this subject will galvanize emotionally, most likely in to some form of zealot. Vigilante behavior is certain to follow. Recommend removal before Wagner's end."
He paused and considered his words carefully.
"Addendum: Expect similar behavior from Subject Two, Lucy Logan, upon the death of this subject. Although possibly in a less cerebral form."
Then he opened took Lucy's file and flipped to the last page of notes where he added:
"Recommend divulging Item Number 37 of this file's genetic profile to the appropriate parties, i.e. The Aristocracy, in order to utilize them against this subject. Recommend her removal precede all other events, save for step one of elimination process."
He replaced the file and then turned to Rachael's folder.
The first entry read: "Rachael Gray: No credit report, birth certificate, entry visa, etc."
But Mildred was a man of means and he was rightly proud of what he'd learned about Rachael Grey.
He still knew almost noting about her origin, lineage, mental state, personality or current situation.
He wasn't, in fact, even able to verify that her last name was correct.
The only pictures he had of her were either pulled from the short video clip off channel twelve or blurry and from great distances.
He smiled at the hazy images.
And then he turned them back to reveal the results of a scan he had preformed himself.
The process involved getting a look at Rachael through a properly calibrated mutagenic signature-scanning device.
Then that information was downloaded from the device in to a much larger core system that analyzed every aspect of a total spectrum analysis.
And it printed out through a moderately priced yet photo quality printer on his desk.
But as he stared at it now, he stood in awe - again. Because this was the most advanced mutant identifying technology in the world. It told him what no one else in this world could possibly know.
First it told him that Rachael Grey was the most powerful mutant on record with the Hellfire Club's extensive archive. She is in fact so powerful that she's considered a theoretical impossibility.
And secondly, it told him what he considered to be the most important bit of information in the world…
It told him that Rachael Gray was not from his world at all. While in some circles this is nothing more than a bit of trivia, it meant a great deal to Mr. Watts.
He turned the page and slowly read down the procedure list he had compiled. It was entitled "Seizure of The Phoenix Force" and he could find no flaw in it's design.
He breathed slightly easier. His notes were now in order and his plan in place. All that remained was the execution…s.
And Mr. Mildred Watts immediately set about making it so… Right after tea.
Tabby smiled as the cab pulled her up to the lighthouse. She had been visiting a friend in Scotland and was glad to be back. While she enjoyed the trip, there were some serious overtones that she couldn't ignore.
She tipped the driver well and smiled thankfully. Poor guy won't have another fare for an hour. She thought.
Whoooeeee! He thought when he saw her tip. "Thanks!"
"No problem." She took a deep breath as she turned away from the car. "Have a good one." She called back over her shoulder.
Nice girl. The driver smiled. Weird Accent.
Tabby grimaced slightly. Poor Jimmy…
She hefted her bag on to her shoulder and charged up the stairs. I have to ask Forge…
"What the hell happened to your face?" She demanded when she saw him.
"Kurt did it! He's gone insane!" Forge looked panicked as he grabbed her hand "We have to get out of here!"
"Really?" She swallowed as the panic shot like ice through her veins.
"No." Forge smiled and relaxed his stance. "Just messing with you."
"Auh!" She hit him playfully yet honestly. "Don't do that! Geesh!" She whacked him a few good times. "Those things can really happen!"
"Ow, ow, ow! I know, ow!"
She sighed. "Really, how'd it happen?"
"Cage match with two giant Irishmen." He said proudly.
"Fine." She decided. "Don't tell me." She shook her head.
"No. Really." He laughed. "Irishmen."
"Okay. Whatever… I have a question." She bit her lip quickly in nervous hesitation.
"Shoot." He said, eyeing her curiously.
"Do you know anything about… medical devices?" She shrugged. "Anything… kinda advanced? Maybe… for coma patients?"
Forge swallowed hesitantly. "I hate saying 'no' to that question." He said almost guiltily. "Why, you know someone who needs something?"
She nodded 'yes' and looked very reserved. "I've got someone who needs a miracle…," She said sadly. "And I just don't know anyone else who might have one up their sleeve."
Forge dropped his head and grimaced. "I guess… I'd like to know more about it… I'm sorry to say… I can't promise that I can be any help…" He shrugged. "Biology was never my best subject."
She nodded. "Anything… would be something." She shrugged. "I've got medical records…"
"I'll start there." He said softly. It's my own fault… You can't take up Shamanism without being called upon to heal… He cast his eyes upwards. We couldn't start with cold sores or something?
And a small clap of thunder in the distance seemed to insist 'No, we could not'.
"Thanks." She said, drawing the records out of her bag and handing them to Forge before slipping out of the room.
And a knife of guilt swelled within Forge. You know what you can do man… Why haven't you made more medical devices? He tried to push the feeling back because he knows he couldn't possibly be inventing everything that needs to be made.
But still… He chided himself. If you're not going to do it… Who will?
And he opened the folder and began to read.
Betsy looked in disbelief at Brian. "Honestly. He's sleeping?"
Brian nodded. "We're trying to get his power to work."
She laughed a bit. "Hold on… " She smiled despite herself. "Let me get this strait…"
He waved absently. "Please! I thought of that. Homeless guy needs to sleep himself silly while we wait for his powers to kick on. Maybe he even sleeps better on a full stomach?" He shook his head. "But I don't think so…" He sighed. "He might be crazy… But he believes it… I think."
She nodded a bit. "He doesn't seem the type." She shrugged. "But you are pretty gullible."
"Gullible?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Name me one time I was ever kidnapped." She said. "I dare you."
"I was crippled! I couldn't move!" He defended. "That wasn't gullibility, that was inability!"
"What about when you were eighteen in Barbados? Dad had to …"
"I know what he had to do." Brian sighed with a smile. "And you're right… That was gullibility."
"What was her name?" Betsy joked.
"Theresa." He admitted like a guilty child. "And she was pretty…"