CHAPTER 5
Hundreds of miles away, in upstate New York, a small LED light on Scott Summers' phone began to flash. The professor had handed out the phones to all his staff, and as well as apps for Facebook, texting, video, iTunes, GPS, and making phone calls, they had a special link to the other phones. If one was activated, they all began to blink. It meant someone, somewhere, needed the team to get to them as soon as possible- Blackbird fast.
Cyclops didn't notice it at first. He was marking papers about ethical use of mutant abilities from the first year students. Occasionally he would sigh or chuckle at the painfully obvious regurgitation of class notes. Jean Grey, as lovely as ever, was curled up on the sofa opposite, halfway through a biography. He was glad his visor obscured his eyes; she had no way of knowing how often he glanced up at her, glad just to take in the sight of her. He couldn't figure out what a dream like her wanted with a guy like him, but he was happy either way. She noticed the flash in his pocket.
"Scott," she said, concerned, but before she got any further, as he looked down and saw the alarm, a large face peered around the doorframe into the study.
"War Room," Hank said tersely, and the young couple followed him out. A few of the students, studying or working on laptops from their couches and chairs, threw each other knowing glances. It was time for the teachers to be X-Men.
In the basement level, Professor Xavier was in the war room, studying the map of Cleveland shown on the hologram.
"Cleveland? Do we have to?" Logan asked dryly from his usual slouch against a door frame.
"The call is from Mirage," Xavier said, using a laser pointer to specify the location.
"Why is Mirage in Ohio?" Jean asked tensely. "He's supposed to be at home for his birthday. He's hundreds of miles from where he should be."
"I think he tryin' to get back early." Gambit moseyed into the room in his southern pace- slow as molasses, Rogue called it. "Gambit hear he ain't got much to go home to, when he not at school."
"It's irrelevant now. He turned 18 two days ago, and is legally emancipated. We would no longer be kidnapping or usurping 'parental' custody by protecting and retrieving him." Hank lumbered up to the hologram and studied the map. "We all knew he intended to return, and to not only finish his education but most likely continue on." Hank began to tap away at a keyboard and a second screen popped up in the hologram screen, listing newspaper headlines. "What's far more interesting and actually concerning is the recent spate of increasingly violent crime in the area, almost certainly to be attributed to a mutant gang."
"How do you keep ahead of all this, Hank?" Jean asked admiringly. He chuckled.
"A most annoying trait of an encyclopaedic memory. What I read, I remember. Whether I want to or not. I make the connections in my spare time."
"By the nature of the events, do you suspect hardened criminals or disgruntled youth?" Xavier asked. "We need to know who we're facing and how best to approach them, for their own good as well as ours."
"That is perhaps the most intriguing aspect." He frowned while at the same time looking delighted at the puzzle. "The actual crimes, and their targets, are of an increasing socio-political significance, from petty theft and public disruption heading towards harassment and even terrorism. It's practically strategic," he turned to Logan, "which, coming as it does from the Greek word strategos, being the title of a high commander of a military entity, commonly translated as General, means that it seems to have been orchestrated by an astute and experienced martial mind." He grinned at Jean and Scott. "I should therefore deduce they are the acts of a savvy mutant-extremist group. And all of this contradicts beautifully with the inexperienced and downright sloppy execution of these strikes, where I would say that chance, more than skill, ensured success. In every case it was down to something random, like an electric failure, or a change in shift pattern, that kept them from being foiled."
"So what?" Logan demanded, popping an energy drink. Normally, by 5pm, he would have been on beer, but there was an exercise on the horizon and Logan took his fighting seriously.
"So, I have no idea whether we're facing incredibly lucky amateurs or a genius commander with imbecilic henchmen."
"Or a gang of kids workin' for him," Gambit interjected suddenly. "Gambit see this a lot, it's more common than you think."
"I am worried that Gambit has hit this on the head," Xavier mused. "My old friend Magnus hasn't been in touch since our last disagreement, and I know his mind well enough to guess his next few steps."
"What was the disagreement about, Professor?" Jean asked.
"Magnus wanted the opportunity to speak to the graduating class of the academy every year, using commencement as a platform to recruit for his budding army of mutant supremacists. I refused to allow it."
"Thought you didn't believe in telling people what to do, Chuck," Logan said.
"Making one's own decision is one thing, Logan. Endorsing Magnus as a speaker at my school, allowing him to use it as a recruitment centre, is something else entirely."
"Damn right," Scott said vehemently, his visor flashing. He coughed, trying to control his outburst, and rubbed his forehead.
Rogue and Storm entered the War Room as the Professor continued.
"Magneto knows the best way to ensure loyalty is to recruit the idealistic and passionate- which means young. It's possible he's recruiting for his army from the runaways across the country. If he's the one making the plans, it explains the strategic targets, and a poorly trained gang of teenagers would explain their sloppy successes."
"Mirage is a smart kid, he knows how to handle himself." Logan lit a cigar. "If he needs help it means there's some tough guy with them. Might be Magneto himself."
"If we may confront Magneto, we will need to treat this as a serious action," Storm said in her melodious voice. "I volunteer to go."
"I'll take point," Cyclops interjected. Jean stepped quietly to his side and looked at the professor.
"And Gambit been lookin' to repay Magneto for a while now," Gambit said darkly. "Count me in."
"That means Hank will have to babysit," Wolverine said. "Cause I never miss a fight."
"Why am I always left to watch the shop?" Hank mourned.
"'Cause you're the only person who can teach all the classes, sugah," Rogue said, smiling. "An' Ah'm comin', too."
"Let's not waste time," said the professor. "Cyclops will give you the plan when you're in the air. Good luck."
The team quickly changed in their underground locker rooms into what was known affectionately as their work clothes (which were very similar to the students' gym kit, but personalised) and then they dashed through the tunnels towards the hanger of the Black Bird. Cyclops was licensed to fly small planes and helicopters, he had started flying lessons at 16, but he did not have a licence to fly the weaponized supersonic jet that the professor kept under the basketball court. Which didn't really matter as the professor wasn't licensed to own it; technically, it was an experimental military stealth craft and therefore an unlicensed concealed weapon, as Scott often joked. The professor was well-connected, and being owed favours was as useful as his wealth.
"There is no plan. The professor never gave you instructions," Jean said quietly as he was preparing for take off.
"I have 27 minutes," he replied.
Pete stood scuffing the toes of his sneakers into the loose gravel at the side of the road. Scruff was chasing his shoelaces. Mirage was waiting. He hadn't moved since he hit the alarm, which meant in code that his life was not in immediate danger. If the War Room had showed his alarm as a moving dot, it would have meant he was running for his life, and Cyclops's reaction might have got them all arrested, once the cops had caught up with them. Chaz was worried about Scarlet, and about what Avalanche and Blob were capable of. He was terrified of Mystique, who seemed to weave some strange charismatic power over everyone she looked at. He was even worried that he and Pete had overreacted and the X Men were speeding in on a jet for no good reason. His head was killing him and, if this all went wrong, soon Logan might be killing him, too. And as those dark thoughts started swirling in his head, so did the same old refrain.
Quicksilver broke the sound barrier, Mirage thought. Storm controls the elements. Wolverine has indestructible claws. The Blob is indestructible completely, Avalanche creates earthquakes, and Cyclops shoots lasers out of his eyes. I can do nothing, I have nothing, I am nothing… His "powers", he thought, the word mocking him, were about as useful as an umbrella in Arizona. He spun dreams; how could that protect someone? That headache hovering just over his eyes, there since he had arrived at his parents' house, still wouldn't shift. It felt like a part of him now. Chaz watched Scruff playing with Pete, trying to let the image of a playful puppy make him smile. Scruff was already outgrowing his pocket. His mom had been the size of a Springer spaniel, but he had no idea what his dad had been. If Scruff turned out to be half German Shepherd, Mirage might have trouble fitting him at the foot of his bed at the dorm.
That thought made him pause. I wonder if Bobby has allergies… Nah, some things were too much to hope for.
Suddenly, as if in a bad horror film, a thick mist crept from the trees at the side of the road, snaking towards them and tangling their legs, spreading across the ground. Quicksilver looked up in alarm, scooped up Scruff, and walked close enough to touch the bike and the reassuring light of the alarm. Unnaturally fast, the knee deep mist had become the sort of fog you only see in documentaries about Victorian London.
"Knock it off," Pete muttered. "It isn't funny!"
"It isn't me," Chaz replied, suddenly grinning. "Feel it, it's wet." And before he could say more, there was a faint hum, quickly growing louder.
"The Blackbird," Mirage said, unable to contain his grin. Lights came out of the fog above, an eerie glow a UFO would be proud of. A hatch opened, light poured out. There, just 10 feet above their heads, was a jet. Familiar faces peered over the edge. A cable with a loop at the far end was winching down to them.
"Let's go, kid," came Logan's rasping voice. "I'm missing dinner." Quicksilver looked up in awe as Chaz, grinning, put Scruff in his duffel bag and draped the bag over Pete's shoulder.
"Put your foot in the loop, keep you weight on that leg, and hold on!" Chaz said, and soon Pete was being winched into the jet, where Rogue helped him off the cable.
"Everybody, meet Quicksilver and Scruff!" Mirage hollered up at them. There was a startled "mondieu!" as Gambit discovered the puppy. "I'll take my bike and lead you in!"
Chaz kicked his dirt bike to life and roared into the night.