Author's Note: Right, first order of business - In the last review appreciation, when I said Mrs Allerdyce, I actually meant Infernal Flame - Sorry about that!
Robbie the Phoenix - Here's the next update, glad you like it!
Mark Alan - I'm working, I'm working! XD I've only got one more essay due in, and the date for that was two weeks ago. :D
Infernal Flame - I'm still waiting for said publisher to come around and say "We want YOUUUUUU!" Doesn't seem likely, however.
Thanks to all who reviewed! On with the show!
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New York to Washington, Aboard the Blackbird.
That same time.
The jet streaked through the sky at nearly Mach Two, just slightly faster than the old Concorde. The time between New York and Washington was negligent. Even so, Marc spent the time learning all about the Blackbird's control and handling characteristics, the take-off and landing procedures, and the threat-warning systems. Once they were at twenty thousand feet, Jean undid her restraints and leant back in her chair. Tapping in a code, she said, "I'll let John know that he needs to b e ready for an instant exit."
There was a soft brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
A familiar voice picked up. "Hello?"
"John Allerdyce? It's Jean Grey. We're en route to get you now, and we need you to be ready in ten minutes time."
Ask him to meet us at the public park southwest of Arlington. We used to go there a lot. He knows it's secluded, and there's not much chance of him running into the Friends there.
"On second thoughts," said Jean, with barely a pause, "Meet us at the small park southwest of Arlington Cemetery. We'll be there soon."
"What car do I look for?" asked John.
"It's not a car you look for," said Jean, stifling a laugh. "Just be at the park and we'll take care of the rest."
"Okay," said John dubiously. He seemed unsure. "Whatever."
"See you soon," said Jean, and the connection cut off.
The jet landed in the park, close to a stand of oak trees. Marc could see a few families and couples dotted around the park, but thanks to the psychic "suggestions" both he and Jean were putting out, no-one so much as glanced in their direction. They held the suggestion all the time the Blackbird was on the ground. Marc decided that he would have a little fun. Worming his way into John's mind, he settled into the boy's stream of consciousness. Nudging John's mind, he turned the other boy's head towards where the Blackbird was parked-
-and dropped the mental projections like a stone.
John gasped as his mind suddenly registered the appearance of a sleek black aircraft where there had only been empty space. "Holy freaking God," he muttered to himself in awe, and then stared as a ramp lowered from the belly of the aircraft, and lights embedded in the steps started flashing in a pattern that moved up. A familiar mental voice broke through his staring.
Stop staring and get a move on! We can't stay here for the rest of the day. If someone sees you in raptures over a two-hundred year old tree, they'll think you're madder than you already are.
"Marc?" he said, even though he knew that there was no way that it could be-
"Get moving!" he called from the ramp. He was leaning forward, his hand wrapped around one of the hydraulic supports.
John picked up his bags and stumbled towards the jet, hampered by the weight in his arms. He felt it suddenly lift up and soar away from him, up the ramp and out of sight. He increased his pace, without the telekinetic Marc helping him along as he had with his bags. Stepping up the ramp, John stopped dead when he saw the interior. He was dragged into a seat by Marc, and he numbly strapped himself in. Taking in the details of the sleek metallic interior and the park outside, he could only sit, frozen.
"So, how's this for a pickup for your new school?" asked Jean, a smile playing on her face.
John didn't say anything, but his expression was reply enough. Ororo grinned.
The jet returned to the mansion and set down in the hangar, again with all of the residents on the other side of the building. Exiting the hangar, they took the circular lift to the mansion's ground floor, and the four occupants stepped out.
Welcome to the Xavier Institute, John, said a telepathic voice. Marc's already stayed here for one night, but I'm going to send Kitty to give you both the tour of the grounds. She'll be along shortly.
Almost as the thought finished, a door opened, and a tall brunette girl stepped into the hallway. She turned to the two boys and smiled.
"Hi, I'm Kitty," she said, gesturing at the pair of them to follow her. The two teachers went towards the kitchen, from where the smell of freshly-brewed coffee was emanating. "We'll start in the Library."
She showed the two new starters the entire mansion, from the shared rooms and bathrooms to the lounge, recreation room and kitchen. The classrooms were seen, and they were running through the corridor connections when Kitty slowed to a halt in front of a massive painting, mounted inside a frame with ornate wooden mouldings. The painting was of a baby dragon, deep purple in colour, with a long tail and wings neatly folded to the sides. It lay in a woven wicker basket with a deep green blanket, with its head curled round and resting alongside the tail, and looked to be peacefully asleep. The name plate mounted on the frame read "Lockheed Sleeps."
"It's beautiful," breathed Marc, staring at awe at the fresh, vibrant colours. He expected to see the little lungs of the dragon expand at any second, so lifelike was the rendering of small details. "Who painted it?"
"Piotr," she said shyly. "He's so good at art and drawing, he offered to paint this for me."
"Where did the name and the idea of Lockheed come from?" asked John, gazing up at the portrait.
"It's a bit of a silly story," said Kitty.
"Well, there's only us around," Marc pointed out.
"Okay," said Kitty. "It started with a really weird dream. You know, like you think you know where you are, but it's somewhere completely different? That's what it was like. I was on another planet, or in another dimension, or maybe both. Anyway, I was taking part in this mad effort to save the world, and then, out of the blue, Lockheed the baby dragon just shows up and starts following me around. All I remember of that dream is that he was there wherever I went, and while he was with me, I never came to any harm. When we won the battle, I got to keep him. When we returned to our own time or dimension, I woke up. But Lockheed stayed so vivid in my mind, I just had to have something to remember him by. Piotr asked me why I kept drawing baby dragons, and I told him about the dream. A month later, I found this hanging on the wall in my room. It was so sweet of him to do that. I kept wondering why he suddenly didn't want to spend time with me anymore. When I found this, I was so happy, I cried. I know it's just a painting, but for him to go to all that trouble for me, it was just… well, you know…" she trailed off, her eyes snapping back to the two boys who were still staring at the painting. "Are you two alright?" she asked.
"Beautiful," Marc repeated, and dragged his gaze away from the painting. Giving John a nudge, they returned their attention to Kitty, who was turning round.
Storm appeared through the doorway nearest them, stopping at the sight of the three youths.
"I've just finished the tour, Ms Munroe," said Kitty.
"Excellent, Kitty. I'm just about to go to Bayville to pick up some groceries. Would you three like to come along? Kitty can show you the Mall and the food court."
"Sounds good, we can see where everything is. Lets go."
They exited the hallway, taking another side door that led through to the spacious garage. A large collection of vehicles were parked there, including an electric blue Mazda, and a van with a wheelchair lift on the back. Ororo moved to a sedate-looking Honda, and the four climbed in. She manoeuvred the car down the long gravelled drive, and out through the ornate metal gates at the end of the drive.
The drive to Bayville took ten minutes. Ororo parked in a car park near the town centre, and they all got out. She looked at them all.
"Right, I expect to see you all back here in an hour's time. Kitty, you're in charge, so make sure you behave yourselves. And remember, no powers. The last thing we want at this time is an attack on mutants by some frightened homo sapiens."
"Sure, Miss Munroe," they said. Kitty quickly led them to the mall, and they were soon wandering through, trying to memorise the locations of all the shops. They made two complete circuits of the floor, then sat down outside the Starbucks branch with a tall latte each to compare notes.
"Well, it's got everything I might need," said John. "Foot Locker, a sports store, hell, there's even a Steve & Barry's!"
"Where's the sports store? I must have missed that," said Marc. "I'm thinking of getting a pair of ice skates, seeing as Bobby's challenged me to a game of hockey. He may be Iceman, but I'm Canadian. We're both born with superhuman ice hockey abilities!"
Kitty made as if to shush him, but it was too late. A group of older teenagers had overheard, and turned to look at the three of them. Marc 'peeked' to see what their disposition to mutants was, and slumped in his seat. "Sorry, Kitty, I should have thought."
"Superhuman abilities?" asked one of the boys threateningly. "Freak mutants. Why don't you just leave humanity alone?"
"Because-" started John, but Marc cut him off with a mental poke.
"I was talking about a friend who calls himself Iceman because he's known how to skate since he was four years old. Not a mutant who has power over ice. Why did you think I was talking about mutants?"
"Because you're hanging out with Pretty Kitty there," said a girl.
Marc acted confused. Kitty, play along with me. "What?"
"Don't you know? She goes to that freak Institute outside Bayville. She's usually here with the Chink girl. Looks like she's dropped her for you two."
The Chink? Does she mean Jubilee?
Kitty was inwardly seething. If Storm hadn't have said no powers, I'd have phased her brain out of her head for that, then taken it back for Jubes to fry.
As far as I can tell, they don't think you're a mutant, but I'm not going to push this any further. I'm really sorry about this, Kitty. I'll fix it. He narrowed his eyes at the group in front of him.
"We're not mutants," he said, emphasizing the words with mental proddings.
"You're not mutants," replied the group, who all seemed to be in a bit of a daze.
John laughed quietly to himself. "These are not the droids you are looking for," he muttered to Marc. Marc cracked an evil grin.
"These are not the droids we're looking for," said two of the group. He, Kitty and John had all turned back to their coffee, and were just starting to chat again as Marc released his hold on the minds of the group. They looked a bit confused for a moment, but went back to their bitching and sniping, oblivious to the mental tampering of a few moments ago. After a while the three left Starbucks, and met up with Ororo, who had just finished loading the shopping into the car. They all got in, and Ororo looked at them for a moment. She sighed. "What happened?"
"Nothing, Miss Munroe," all three chorused. Exchanging glances, they all started laughing. She shook her head, started the engine, put the car in gear and returned to the Institute.
As they entered, they heard Scott talking to Jean. It sounded like he had just come off the phone.
"…elly's secretary just called – they've had to reschedule the Mutant Affairs Committee meeting for four months' time. Apparently, it's the only possible slot they've got. He sends his apologies."
"Yes, well, his apologies won't cut it if there's another mutant hate crime between now and then. We just have to hope that nothing else happens, and that we get to any mutant that Cerebro finds before any militant homo sapien supremacist does. I'll tear him a new one if something happens." She sounded extremely angry.
"Don't worry, Jean, nothing will happen."
"I hope you're right, Scott, I really do."