Sleeping arrangements shifted with the former Acolytes' arrival, though Hector couldn't complain. Ace moved out of their bedroom and now roomed with with Piotr, and Remy shared a room with Hector. The thief made little noise, and during the night Hector had worried that Remy would go through his things might discover the disk. Finishing breakfast quickly, he briskly walked upstairs to his room and checked his bag. His fingers brushed against the cool metal and he sighed in relief.
362:06:44:26.51
Closing the curtains and door and glanced around to make sure absolutely no one was watching. Neither he nor Ace had decorated the room, and nobody was hiding under, inside, or behind what little furniture there was. Hector backed up against the wall behind the door. With a deep breath, he released the miasma and engulfed the disc with it. Winding tight, the miasma secured the disc tightly against his abs as if it were a plate of armor.
Nobody would be able to tell that he had it under there, and if they felt him he could just chalk it up to his mutation, but he had to hide it somewhere safer. What if by accident it broke to the point not even Forge could help them?
Hector jumped when the door opened and nearly smacked him in the face. Ace entered the room and began gathering what little belongings he had. As Hector's pulse returned to normal, he gritted his teeth.
His now-former roommate would know what to do, but why did Hector have to ask him?
"Trying to hide the Frisbee?" Ace asked, looking up from his bag.
Hector mouth and eye twitched. "It's an important Frisbee," he replied.
"We know," Ace droned, lacking his usual charisma was absent. "Would you like me to hide it?"
Hector didn't say anything. Closing the door and doing another check, he unwound the disc from his miasma, and now he felt stupid for ever putting in the effort to bind it to him in the first place. He held it out for Ace to take as if he was trying to get rid of it.
Was Ace glaring at him? Hector was about ask him what the hell he was staring at when Ace took the disc and slipped it into his bag.
"That's where?" hissed Hector.
"No." With that, Ace took his stuff and left the room.
Hector formed his miasma into a blade as he imagined stabbing it into that arrogant prick's head. He had to get out of the X-Mansion. He needed to see her.
The cleaned closet made the foyer seem filthy by comparison, so the next morning, as soon as she woke up, Scout began to clean the area with a damp cloth and dry brush, all the while thinking about the tire swing she wanted to build outside. As she tried to destroy another spiderweb, Lance yanked her away from her trance and dragged her to the table, ignoring protests about one more spot.
Scout saved him the trouble of having to force-feed her, but any resolve to chew angrily disappeared as the first bit of syrup-glazed waffle popped into her mouth.
"You guys have any rope anywhere?" she asked between mouthfuls.
"What for?" said Pietro.
"A tire swing. The closet didn't have any."
"Where're you going to find a tire?" asked John.
Scout paused and glanced at Lance, who firmly refused with a wry smile. "But I know a place," he continued. "I can take you there and help you out."
"There's gotta be some rope in those boxes in your room," said Fred. He then gave a small smile. "Can I use the swing when you're done building it?"
John snorted as he eyed Fred's girth, but Scout only nodded and chirped, "Of course!"
It seemed that Toad had noticed John's derisive snort, since he was scrunching his face to prepare a slime ball. Scout quickly finished the rest of her waffles, delivered her dishes to the sink, and exited before a brawl could break out. Moments after she left the dining room, she heard a "Ptooey!" followed by a splat, and the cacophony that followed reassured Scout that she was needed in the Brotherhood.
Though she felt compelled to clean the dining area after she went back down, Fred and Wanda assured her that they had it covered, and she followed Lance to his Jeep.
There was a mountain of nothing but tires that Scout climbed in her search for that perfect tire. The scruffy man who oversaw the junkyard had greeted Lance like an old friend, and they were currently chatting.
There. Scout ran her fingers along the tire in front of her, checking for bruises, inhaling it's scent and delighted to find that ist smelled more like rubber than dirt. Firm, not too worn, and large enough for Fred. She pulled at it, pushing her feet against the mountain and leaning back.
"Scout, you need help?"
Scout shook her head, but there was a pop and light thud as the tire wrenched free, and Scout along with it. As she went airborne, the sky above Scout suddenly... changed, and a painful sensation jolted through her legs. She could create a grappling hook from her bones and steady herself, but Scout could not will herself to move and simply fell, dreading the moment of impact as Lance seemed to shout in the distance.
A strong pair of arms caught her and saved her from complete humiliation. For a moment, Scout wondered if it was the man of her dreams, only to realize this embrace was cool and soothing rather than warm and comforting.
Scout sighed in relief and laughed. "Thank you so much, L-" A flash of white gave her pause, and she looked up. "Hec-?"
"Sh. You don't know me," Hector whispered with a wink.
Lance and the junkyard keeper rushed over. "You all right, Scout?" Lance asked.
"Yeah," Scout glanced at Hector. "Thank you so much."
"My pleasure. Not everyday I get to rescue someone like that," Hector smiled.
Hector explained to the irate keeper that he was just looking around and then introduced himself to Lance. "My name's Hector," he held out a hand. "You're Lance Alvers, right?"
Lance hesitantly shook his hand, keeping eye contact with Hector. "How'd you-"
"You're one of the Brotherhood. Everyone here knows you," Hector grinned.
Lance now looked really confused. "And you're happier than most because...?"
"Hey, you caused a bunch of disasters around here, but you, man," Hector laughed, "you buried an entire bomb underground and then you helped stop a looney toon from taking over Earth." The words came surprisingly easily to Hector's mouth, and he didn't feel like cringing saying such things to Lance.
Scout grinned. Lance actually looked kind of embarrassed. She didn't think it was possible for him to look like that in matters that didn't concern Kitty.
"I'm a mutant myself, y'know," Hector explained, releasing a few small tendrils of miasma and smirking at the keeper's slightly disturbed expression. "What are you looking for?"
"Well, we found a tire for a tire swing," said Scout, "but if Fred's going to be using it, I think we'll need some lumber for extra support."
"Alright then, Miss..."
"Scout."
"Scout." Hector blinked and gave a lopsided grin. "Scout? Really? Were your parents that big fans of To Kill a Mockingbird?"
Scout shrugged, but she kept on trying to recall something about her parents as the keeper led them to the metal and lumber yards. Her lack of progress on finding out her past bothered her, and she was grateful for the physical labor as a mental distraction. As she examined a piece of wood for rot and excess splinters, she found herself bumping into Hector, who whispered a thank you for playing along.
Scout kept her eyes on the wood. "I don't like lying."
"You haven't lied," Hector pointed out. "You just haven't told them the whole story."
Scout took a deep breath and looked up at Hector. "Why the secrecy?"
Hector smiled. "What are you sneaking notes to Kitty for?"
Scout's eyes widened and her heart rate spiked. "How-?"
"For Lance, right?" Hector was rather amused by her nervousness, but feigned concentration on a large piece of lumber when Lance glanced their way. "I'd like to get to know you better. You fight great."
Scout set down the piece of wood in her hand, deciding the split on it was too big, and said, "You want to be my friend?" She picked up a piece that seemed more promising.
"I won't tell Logan about what you're doing if you say yes," Hector said. "In return, don't tell the Brotherhood too much about me. You see the ribbing Lance already gets for being friendly with the X-Men, right?"
"Hey you two!" Lance called. "Find anything?"
"I got one piece," answered Hector.
"Same," said Scout.
The keeper rang them up, and as they parted ways at the entrance, Hector tugged a loose strand of Scout's hair and smiled. "Nice to meet you two," he said, and then left.
On the way back, Scout stared at the scenery rushing past and concentrated on the rumble of the engine. For some reason, she felt more exhausted than she had after her Danger Room session. Glancing at the sky, she murmured to no one in particular, "I wonder if Hector found anything he wanted."
Lance grumbled that it was a strange coincidence that two strange guys had approached her recently. Scout couldn't answer at first. Hector's smoky miasma reminded her of the indigo. Finally, she said, "He seemed nice."
"You willingly stay with us," Lance chuckled. "You're generous when it comes to 'nice.'"
The walk back to the X-Mansion meant dealing with a barrage of political advertising. All along the roads and sidewalks were political signs for either Richardson or Kelly, though the latter were more common, and Hector grimaced at the memory of the mechanic who had pissed of Renée. A few overly cheery people with the dreaded clipboards pestered him, asking him if he was registered to vote. He only marched past them, not even bothering telling them he wasn't old enough.
By the time he arrived back, he was just about sick of politics, but passing by the lounge, he saw a few of the residents glancing with concern at the TV.
"In anticipation of the coming Fourth of July celebration," droned the news lady, "we would like to remind you of the upcoming Bayville mayor election in the fall. As it stands, the principal of Bayville High Edward Kelly is ahead in the polls. It is speculated that current Mayor Richardson's soft stance on mutants may cost him his seat."
The tv switched to some on-the-street candid interviews. It didn't matter to Hector what their names were; it was your standard collection of someone professional...
"I just think mutants should be monitored, that's all," mumbled a man in a three-piece suit, "I mean, I know some, just a little antsy, you know?"
... someone elderly...
"It's all the chemicals in food these days," said an old lady, shaking her head.
... someone blue-collar...
"I don't trust them. I think this is all a government experiment gone wrong," a man grumbled, "and dammit I think a cure should be made."
... and someone in their teens.
"I wonder if I might get powers," said a young girl, glancing between her hands and the interviewer. "I mean, it might be cool."
"Careful what you wish for," Rogue drawled. "I hope they do develop a cure."
Scott sighed. "While a cure would be nice, if they do find one, they might force mutants to take it."
Rogue grimaced. "Well, I dunno," she wondered. "Maybe if we didn't call ourselves mutants. I mean, it makes us seem like an alien species." Kitty responded that they were stuck with the label, while Scott pointed out that some weren't ashamed of being mutants.
"Besides, some of us aren't ashamed of being mutants," said Scott.
"I didn't mean I was ashamed, just- Ugh!" Rogue's face scrunched up in frustration.
Remy wrapped an arm around Rogue that she flinched at, but didn't struggle to get away from. "Don't worry, cherie," he said. "You'll gain control." Hector glanced at Kitty and quietly snorted at her expression; her brows were furrowed as if to protect her friend from the fiend, but her smile indicated that she was happy for Rogue, if a bit conflicted.
"Which sounds better?" asked Hector. "Mutant, or genetically-challenged? I imagine Magneto might go further and got with evolved or genetically-enhanced."
Rogue blinked and sighed. "Fine," she relented. "Might as well stick with mutant."
"Glad I could help," said Hector. "So, I'm not from here. What's Kelly's problem?"
After a hearty lunch, Fred presented some thick ropes and a ladder he dug up while Lance and Scout were away, and Lance dug out a tool kit from the foyer closet. As they cleaned their dishes, Scout asked Pietro to help build the swing with his speed powers.
"No, can't do," Pietro waved his hand. "I'm not going to risk injury on a silly project."
Scout sighed and headed outside with Fred and Lance and their equipment, and they unloaded the lumber and tire from the back of the Jeep.
It became apparent how closely Lance had been paying attention on his job at the construction site and possibly in high school physics, as he measured the branch's height from the ground and it's length from the trunk with Fred's assistance for the height. Lance scribbled the measurements on a notepad, and after a few minutes he came up with a plan for a support. He measured and marked the pieces of wood for cutting, double-checking his work to make sure he got it right, and his expression of concentration delighted Scout. I can see why he's the Brotherhood leader.
"Fred, hold this end still while I cut it." Lance commanded. Fred did so, careful not to crush the wood. Lance sawed through the wood. For some of the bigger pieces, Scout would hold down the other end.
Once all pieces were cut, Lance dug out some screws and a power drill. "Scout, I need you to sit on that branch and hold this piece steady," he said. "Fred, I need you to hold the ladder steady while I drill the wood. Otherwise, this will be much bloodier than it needs to be."
Scout made some bone hooks to better secure herself to the tree, but her hands shook a bit when the drill whirred in.
"You okay?" Fred asked.
"Don't worry. I can heal," Scout said with a smile.
Lance blinked and frowned with some worry. "Don't worry. Just stay still like that," he told her. After the initial shock of the drill wore off, Scout found herself almost apathetically calm towards the prospect of being injured, but with care, Lance managed to screw all pieces of wood in without even nicking Scout.
Once the wood supports were in place, the tire swing was easy. Lance secured the ropes around the tire, and then he showed Scout how to tie the rope around the branch. After that, he handed her a hammer and nail to keep the rope from slipping off. After everything was done, they all stepped back and dusted their hands.
"Well, time for the moment of truth," announced Lance. "Fred?"
Scout took a deep breath and watched as Fred approached the swing. He slipped one leg through, and what a relief to know that he actually fit through it. As he lifted his other leg off the ground, a creaking was heard, and both Lance and Scout flinched and Fred froze.
The swing setup remained intact, so with a deep breath, Fred slipped his other leg through the tire so he was sitting. More creaking. Scout clenched her fists and worried for Fred's safety. With a push, Fred began to swing.
One swing, a bit of creaking. Two swings, creaking, but now it seemed normal. Three swings, Fred was grinning, and so were Lance and Scout.
"YES!" Scout cheered. "Lance, you're a genius." She practically tackled Lance for a hug, which he laughed and returned, ruffling her hair. He then broke the hug so that he could scratch at his neck.
"We better head back inside before you any more get you," said Scout.
"Don't worry about Fred," Lance said. "Mosquitos can't hurt him."
Scout gathered the toolbox and Lance the ladder and they went back inside. In the living room, Scout examined Lance and found several red marks along his arms and a few on his neck. Lance flinched when he saw the needle she produced, but managed to keep his complaints to a few short gasps of breath as she lanced his bites and brought down the swelling.
Fred's laughter sounded from outside, and Scout looked out the window to see him swinging. She couldn't help but giggle at the sight.
That evening, Wanda sat at the end of the table and asked Scout to sit next to her to prevent a repeat of last night. As everyone was about to eat, someone knocked at their front door.
Scout rushed to open it, and was greeted with the sight of a tall, authoritative man with Pietro's coloring in a business suit.
"... Magneto?"