Mutant High Episode 2- "The Brotherhood Revealed"
Chapter 1
The foliage rustled as a large gray squirrel rushed through them, desperate to reach the fence. It clambered up nervously, and dropped over the other side.
The weather had become significantly nicer. It was unusually warm for a February day, and Jean couldn't help but be suspicious of Ororo. She insisted that she had nothing to do with it.
The large white parasol in the center of the wooden table was wide open, shading the concrete and the mahogany table below it. Jean Grey sat in one of the wooden deck chairs, wearing a short green dress with black tights and her favorite red boots. She adjusted her thick white belt for comfort, and turned her hands over.
Dr. Xavier had wanted Jean to practice moving objects with minimal physical movement. She had become increasingly better, but she still found it very difficult to direct objects without gesticulating.
As she flicked her skinny wrists, three of the orange clay pigeons laid out on the table shot out in front of her. Her eyebrow arched as she lifted one higher than the others, making sure all three were heading to different locations.
Across the backyard, Scott Summers prepared himself for the incoming assault. Glaring up at the highest pigeon, he fired an optic blast, shattering it almost instantaneously. He fired again, and again.
And so they went on, Jean sending the targets, Scott striking them. The exercise had become fairly routine since Jean had joined the mutant club, and she greatly enjoyed it, if for no reason aside from the opportunity it presented for her to be with Scott.
It had been a great aide to Jeans perpetual depression when Scott had extended his hand in friendship to her. It was comforting to her to know that at least Scott still liked her- even if she was no more than a friend.
"Only three more!" she called to Scott.
"Alright! Give me your best shot!" He challenged. Jean smiled wickedly, and with a shove of her hands, they shot forward.
The first two exploded with a red light, but before Scott could hit the last one, a playing card shot through the air and struck the clay pigeon. Unexpectedly, there was a sudden burst of fire and energy, and the pigeon exploded into a cloud of dry orange dust.
"Hey," Scott reprimanded jokingly. "That was my shot."
Remy LeBeau laughed heartily, leaning against the glass doorway. "I still got it, hon," he said, as he swaggered over towards them. Jean stood, and she and Scott both proceeded towards him.
"Dr. Xavier asked me to get you, Jean," Remy explained as he wrapped an arm around Scott's waist.
"What about?" Jean asked. Remy shrugged. "No idea. Sorry." He reached into his pocket for a cigarette.
"Alright then. I'll be back," she told Scott.
With her telekinesis, Jean drew the sliding door open, and stepped inside the danger room. Dr. Xavier sat at the control panel, speaking with a blonde woman who was perched on a barstool.
"Hey, Doc. Remy said you wanted me," Jean explained as she leaned on the counter.
"Oh, yes. Perfect. Jean, this is Emma Frost," Dr. Xavier gestured to the woman.
"Pleasure to meet you, Jean," Emma cooed as she extended a manicured hand. Jean took it. "Nice to meet you too." Her touch was cold, not in the physical sense, but rather as if she was devoid of emotion. Frost was certainly an appropriate name.
"Jean, Emma is an expert on telepathy. She is quite an accomplished telepath herself," Dr. Xavier told her.
"Dr. Xavier has asked me to train your telepathy. I hope you don't mind," Emma said. "Oh," Jean was rather taken aback. She had expected Dr. Xavier to be in charge of her training.
In the center of the room, Bobby Drake stood in front of one of the support pillars. He rubbed his hands together. Rogue watched him from her seat. "What're you up to now, Bobby?" she asked.
"You'll see," Bobby replied. He approached the pillar and extended his right arm upward. He cupped his hand over the air. There was a sudden chill around his hands as Bobby crafted a handle, frozen to the pillar. He lifted his left arm, and built another one, making two more around his feet. He pulled himself up more, resting on the left handle, extending his right higher. He built another grip, and repeated the process, over and over. He was soon gaining speed, scaling the wall as he created each handle.
"See Rogue? Pretty core, huh?" Bobby laughed. Rogue moaned. "You did not just say 'core'".
"But I did!" Bobby proclaimed. Rogue was silent. "C'mon, Ro, I was JO-King, duh. But seriously, pretty cool, huh?"
"Mhm," Rogue unenthusiastically agreed, pulling on her thumb to crack the joint. Bobby reached to create another grip, when there was a loud snap. Rogue's head shot up as Bobby careened from the crystalline grip, hurtling towards the floor below. Tumbling through the air, Bobby shot out an icy blast, hoping to somehow break his fall.. Spraying the ground below him, he built a large crystal structure, twisting as so to land on his feet. He slid on the ice. Bobby continued to spray in front of him, building a slide descending downward as he involuntarily slid to the floor.
"Bravo," Rogue laughed, applauding wildly.
"Maybe we should go somewhere a bit more quiet, Jean," suggested Emma, watching in disbelief as Bobby exaggeratedly bowed.
"Sure," agreed Jean, as the two women stood, and stepped into the elevator, heading up to the kitchen, as Dr. Xavier wheeled towards Bobby to reprimand him.
Emma and Jean sat across from each other. It was Emma who started the conversation.
"So Jean, tell me about yourself," She demanded in a therapist-like way. "I hate that question," Jean replied. "It's so broad. Besides, you're a telepath. Why don't you just read my mind?"
"Good point," Emma said, gazing into Jean's green eyes. "Are you sure this is how you want to do it? Once I go in, there are no secrets." Jean averted her gaze and sighed. "On second thought, I guess I'll just talk." Emma smiled, satisfied. Jean gripped her forearm behind her back, lifting her head stiffly.
"I'm Jean Grey. I'm 17 years old as of three months ago. I like to write poetry. I'm an okay artist, I guess. I like shopping for vintage clothes."
Something you wouldn't know about, Jean thought to herself, staring at Emma's distractingly low cut white suit.
"Well, Jean. That's a good start. But what I'd really like to know is what you hope to accomplish with these lessons." Emma stood up, and moved towards Jean, pulling a chair up next to her.
"You see, Jean. I know what Dr. Xavier wants to see you use your powers for. He told me how he found you. I know that telepathy is a great tool for helping people who may not want to speak…" Emma paused, and pursed her rouged lips while thinking.
"The way Dr. Xavier is looking at it, it's a great skill if you want to be a lawyer, or a youth mentor, or something," She finally said. "But you know Jean. There are more ways to help people with your ability. Dr. Xavier is a bit too much of a pacifist to admit it."
Jean scoffed. "You're saying I should be violent?" Emma shook her head, her straightened platinum hair swaying. "No… well, yes. But violence isn't the point, Jean. The thing is, there are mutants who are not like Dr. Xavier. There are mutants that are the reason for all the hatred you see in the media. It's not just some myth people developed to justify their hatred. There are bad mutants out there. Mutants who believe that their powers grant them superiority. There are mutants who want to hurt people, and that's a fact." Emma paused, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing a beautifully cut diamond stud. " If you are going to use your powers to help people, then this is where you start. You have to defend them from the bad mutants, because they can't do it themselves."
Confused, Jean could almost do nothing but stare at Emma as her cool demeanor slowly broke more and more. Emma seemed to catch on, and she took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
"Emma. How can I use my telepathy for fighting crime?" Jean asked. Emma smiled.
"That's why Dr. Xavier asked me here. It's my specialty." Emma pressed her fingertip into Jeans forehead, and with a sudden burst of pain, Jean collapsed.