Chapter Two
Rachel slammed the front door of her apartment with her telekinesis as she stalked into the living room. She was so embarrassed that she'd had to excuse herself from shadowing Dabney so she could just get away from it all. From the reporters and the chaos and the noise. And especially from Franklin Richards and the waves of guilt that she felt emanating from him. It was making her sick to her stomach.
She tossed herself on the sofa and covered her face, feeling like a teenager all over again. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was twenty-five-years-old. And, after all, she had been the one who had chosen to end things with him: not the other way around. She told herself that she had no right to feel this way. But she couldn't help from feeling the way she was feeling.
There was a knock at the door and she groaned. Who in God's name would want to come see her now?
But she got up, took a deep breath and stalked over to the door. But when she pulled it open, she was greeted by the grinning face of her best friend, Rory.
"I brought Haagen Daz," said Rory Munroe, holding up a pint of chocolate ice cream in each hand. "I know it's your favorite."
Rory was looking as effervescently beautiful as ever and Rachel couldn't help from reaching out and pulling her best friend in for a big hug. She ran her fingers through Rory's long, white hair. She and Rory had been best friends since they were girls: in fact, Rory's mom, Queen Ororo of Wakanda, was Rachel's godmother. Rachel's mom, Jean Grey, had been Rory's godmother too but Jean had died years ago.
"You have to let me breathe," groaned Rory, finally pulling herself away from Rachel. "Go get us some spoons."
"Welcome to my humble abode," said Rachel, pulling Rory in and closing the door.
Rory was now standing in the small living room of the one bedroom apartment, her hands on her hips, her ocean-blue eyes looking around the room. She was wearing a sparkly black number with a jewel neckline and the dress was way too short. But, then again, since Rory had come into her curves when they were teens, she'd always been one to show it off. She'd coupled the dress up with some knee-high, black boots and a white leather motorcycle jacket.
"This place is a dump," she finally commented.
Rachel chuckled as she walked over to the sparsely furnished kitchen and procured two spoons from a drawer. She couldn't agree more: this apartment was a far cry from her life in Westchester. It was small and she could probably walk around the whole place in thirty seconds. She'd splurged at Ikea to get furniture over time. And it was messy. Her clothes and shoes were all over the place. She'd grown accustomed to the cleaning staff at Xavier's so she'd never actually practiced cleaning up after herself.
She returned to the living room and they both sat down on the comfy sofa, immediately digging in to their pints of ice cream.
"I'm so glad you're here," said Rachel, in between bites of Belgian Chocolate. "What are you even doing in New York?"
Rory put her ice cream down on a nearby coffee table and narrowed her eyes on Rachel.
"Well, by now you must know about Franklin and Shannon," said Rory sheepishly.
"I do," said Rachel, not needing to be a telepath to figure out where this line of conversation was going. "And?"
"And…Okay, don't hate me, Ray," moaned Rory, taking Rachel's hand into hers. "Frankie asked me to be his best man or best woman or whatever. I initially said no but he was relentless, Ray."
"Of course he was," said Rachel, rolling her eyes. "This is Franklin we're talking about."
Rory (daughter of superheroes Storm and Black Panther), Franklin and some of the other progeny of superheroes (including the likes of Shannon Rogers) had all stayed at Whisper Hill, under the watchful eye of sorceress Agatha Harkness, when they were growing up. Harkness ran a boarding school of sorts for superheroes' children. Their parents, swashbuckling heroes, left their children in the care of Harkness and Rory and Franklin became the closest of friends over the years, up until Franklin's vast mutant abilities appeared during puberty and his parents, Reed and Susan Richards of the Fantastic Four, thought it best that he now attend Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
A thirteen-year-old Rory had made it explicitly clear to her thirteen-year-old godsister, Rachel, that it was now her responsibility to look after Franklin. Rachel had met Franklin once or twice but she'd never really gotten to know him till he'd come to Xavier's and they'd all but fallen for one another.
She didn't doubt that Franklin had been persuasive in getting Rory to be his best woman. And she knew that he wasn't trying to get at her either. He and Rory had been best friends since they were kids, after all. And Rachel, in her teenage insecurity, had more than once telepathically probed to see if there was any romantic inclinations between the two, only to feel guilty when she realized that there wasn't: it was one hundred percent platonic, more like siblings.
"Are you mad?" murmured Rory, frowning.
"Just answer this for me," said Rachel, giving her best friend a sideways glance. "Did you know that they were dating?"
Rory looked around the room for a few seconds before she said, "Yes, I did. But I didn't know if I should tell you or not. I didn't know…"
"If I could handle it," said Rachel, taking Rory's hand in her own. "I know. I guess I don't have much of a choice now, do I? I was totally blindsided, Rory!"
"I know," said Rory. "I just...I know that you want to move on with your life. To be normal. And there's nothing normal about Frankie."
"You got that right," said Rachel. "But enough about me; how have you been? How has Latveria been treating you?"
Rory was the Wakandan Ambassador to Latveria, a country that had strong trade ties to Wakanda. The ruler, Victor von Doom, had insisted that all the previous Wakandan ambassadors had angered him and he would appreciate the proper respect due to a sovereign if Wakanda wanted Wakandan-Latverian trading to continue peacefully. Rory's father had decided to make her a fixture in Latveria, representing Wakanda, if only to appease Von Doom.
Initially, Rachel had hoped that Rory, who had studied International Relations at Metro while Rachel had been studying journalism, would end up as the Wakandan Ambassador to the United States. But T'Challa obviously had other ideas for Rory. She'd missed her best friend dearly and this was the first time that she'd been able to see her since she'd left for Latveria three years ago.
They used to Skype all the time but with Rachel having to work at the Globe and Rory's responsibilities as an ambassador, the Skype dates became fewer and farther between and were now hurried emails. Not that Rachel worried much about their friendship lasting.
Much.
"It's actually a lot better than I expected," said Rory, smiling. "I've learnt…a lot of things."
There was a sudden knock on the door and they both jumped.
"Who could that be?" asked Rory absentmindedly.
Rachel used her telepathy to see who it was and was unpleasantly surprised.
She put her ice cream down, took a deep breath and pulled open the old, wooden door: it was Shannon Rogers.
She wasn't looking as effortlessly beautiful as she had been earlier that day for the press conference: she was in what was once a beautiful, red cocktail dress and her sandy-blonde hair was pulled up into a bun that had come undone. Her face was bruised and scratched in places, a shoulder looked dislocated and she was only wearing one side of what looked like some very stylish, black Jimmy Choos.
Rachel pulled one of Shannon's arms over her neck to prop up the near-collapsing young woman.
"Shannon?" yelled Rory, running to the door and putting Shannon's other arm around her neck.
Rachel and Rory led Shannon to the sofa that they had just been sharing while Rachel used her telekinesis to close the door behind them. She didn't need all of her neighbors to know that she knew American Dream, whose identity was common knowledge. Rachel had heard that Shannon's birth had been like that of a royal baby. Shannon wasn't just Captain America's baby: she was America's baby.
"Let me fix you up," said Rory, sitting down on the bare floors in the lotus position and levitating a few seconds later, her eyes closed. She suddenly began to glow a glaring white and raw energy emanated from her, directly into Shannon, whose wounds immediately began to heal.
Rory was a superior mage of some repute and she had been taken up by Agatha Harkness as her prized pupil until Rory had gone to New York to attend college. While she toiled away at Metro by day, by night she had been under the tutelage of Dr. Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, who had been just as impressed by Rory's raw talent.
Though Rory had not been born a mutant, she had been born with the essential spark of magic. It apparently ran through her mother's bloodline and it had culminated in the birth of Rory, who was immensely powerful. But, like Rachel, she had always wanted a fairly normal life. She left the superheroics to her older brother, White Panther, who served on the X-Men.
Once Rachel determined that Shannon was quite well, she said, "Now that this is all settled, I'd just like to mention that blood is a bitch to get out of fabric so I hope you have a spell for that, Rory."
Rory gave her a withering look before she returned her attentions to Shannon. "What are you doing here, Shannon?"
"Good question," added Rachel. "How the hell do you know where I live?"
Shannon pointed at the black watch on her left hand. "It's a mini-computer."
"So you're saying my address is online?" said Rachel. "I knew I should have been vaguer on Facebook. Damn you, Zuckerburg."
Shannon shook her head. "No. It's the Avengers' business to know who's who in New York. In America, really. We've always known that you live here and we need your help, Rachel. I need your help."
"My help?" asked Rachel, one eyebrow arched. "What can I do?"
"You're the most powerful telepath in New York City," said Shannon.
"Okay, before we get into that," said Rory, waving her hands in the air. "What happened to you? Why were you so beaten up?"
"Franklin and I were out to dinner, just a few blocks from here," began Shannon, "when we were attacked by these weird monster things. They looked like they were formed from the street."
"As in…?" asked Rachel, folding her arms across her chest.
"As in, we were seated outside the little restaurant, paparazzi hovering of course, and these creatures just rose from the street and then Frankie and I were trying to fight them off," said Shannon. "And then this woman appeared, she was pretty scantily clad too, and then she shot me with some kind of beam from her hands that knocked me out. And when I came to…Frankie was gone."
"Did you try contacting him through your psychic rapport?" asked Rory, though she gave Rachel a quick look before returning her eyes to Shannon.
"I tried," said Shannon. "A lot of the times, we don't even have to speak. We just think to each other."
"We're both familiar with the idea of telepathic rapports, Shannon," snapped Rachel.
Shannon shot Rachel a dirty look, her mouth poised to say something truly rude, before she recoiled and simply said, "He hasn't responded. I'm getting a whole lot of nothing. I asked Wiccan to look but he says that Frankie seems to be shrouded by powerful mystical energies."
"Well, if Wiccan can't find him," said Rachel, "Rory should be able to. Anything he could do, she could do better."
Rory couldn't help from cracking a smile at that jab. She and Wiccan, real name Billy Maximoff, had a rivalry of sorts. Like her, Billy had been a practitioner of magic and they had both trained under Agatha Harkness, though Rory had been the favored student. He had left Whisper Hill two years before Rory had and had become a student of Strange's as well, hoping that training under the Sorcerer Supreme would finally give him the edge over Rory. But when she had joined them, he hadn't taken too kindly to it.
They had a serious rivalry since it had been determined that either of them had the potential to be the next Sorcerer Supreme, destined to take the mantle from Dr. Strange, though each of them had gone on to do different things. He was now an Avenger. Not to mention that there were many magical adepts all over the world.
"I can certainly try," said Rory, still levitating as she closed her eyes again. This time a soft, yellow light enshrouded her as she focused her magical energies.
The yellow light blazed for a few seconds and then it faded.
"Did you find him?" asked Rachel, sitting down on the floor as she looked up at her still-floating best friend.
Rory opened her eyes, sweat dripping down her face, and shifted her eyes before she said, "I didn't. There's someone very strong protecting him. Shrouding him. It's very strange. A very powerful sorceress may have him."
"Which is why I came to you, Rachel," said Shannon. "I was hoping that where mysticism failed, your telepathy might push through."
Rachel bit the inside of her mouth. She wasn't entirely convinced that she wanted to get involved in any of it. She had been going so well, trying to be normal. But this was Frankie she was talking about. This wasn't about taking cats out of trees and saving random people from burning fires. This was Frankie.
Her first love.
"I guess I can help," said Rachel.
"Thank you, Rachel," said Shannon. "Frankie always said that you were dependable."
It took every ounce of her being not to scowl at the young woman seated on her couch as she closed her eyes and placed the tips of her fingers on her temples.
She knew that she was a very powerful telepath. Her stepmother, Emma, had told her that she was wasting her gifts by not using them. That she could do a great deal for the world, save so many lives. Emma had always said that she had to use Cerebro, the psychic amplifying device created by Charles Xavier, to achieve the scope that Rachel could naturally.
Standing in the middle of her living room, Rachel could telepathically find anyone in any part of the world just with the power of her mind. But, for now, she needed to narrow the scope to finding Franklin and Franklin alone. Which was easier than it normally would be since they had a psychic rapport, though she'd closed it. She opened it now.
Just as she felt his mind, a powerful telepathic presence attacked her, making her lose her concentration.
STAY AWAY, it hissed. HE'S MINE!
Rachel hastily opened her eyes as she gasped in horror.
"Did you find him?" asked Shannon, standing up and gripping Rachel by the shoulders. "Were you able to get a hold of him?"
"I think I encountered that presence you and Wiccan detected, Rory," said Rachel, using her telekinesis to pry Shannon's hands off of her. "You were hurting me."
"Sorry," said Shannon, sitting back down. "I normally have more control of my strength but I'm just worried."
"But I think that with the both of us we might be able to find him," said Rachel, turning to Rory and placing her hands on her hips, ignoring Shannon.
Rory now stood up and took Rachel's hands into her own. "I think you're right. But this person is some kind of powerful. To spook you?"
"I wasn't spooked," defended Rachel.
"You didn't see your own face," said Rory, smiling. "Let's try it."
They both closed their eyes, tapping into their respective reservoirs of power: one a powerful mutant, the other a powerful mage. They were now traveling together, hand in hand, in what was called the Astral Plane. It looked a lot like deep space with endless stars and vast darkness. But they were honing in on the energy that belonged to Franklin.
They could see the shadowy figure that enshrouded their friend, though they couldn't make out who the figure was. It had the shape of a woman and it had Franklin in its hand, squeezing him tight. He was screaming but there was no sound coming out of his mouth.
Rachel and Rory, hands still clasped, used their individual free hands to fire energy beams at the hand that gripped Franklin.
The shadow screamed as it let go, the entire astral plane rumbling as the figure shrieked, and for a second Rachel was able to connect minds with Franklin.
Help me! he said.
Instinctively, Rachel reached out to him, letting go of Rory for one second, but her best friend pulled her back.
I have the location, said Rory. Look.
The shadow gripped Franklin once again and they both disappeared into the nothingness of the Astral Plane.
Rachel opened her eyes as she returned to her body and she screamed in pure frustration as she let go of Rory.
"Did you find him?" asked Shannon, her green eyes wide with worry over her fiancée.
"We did," said Rachel and Rory in unison.
"He's in Brazil," said Rory. "I didn't get an exact location. But I know he's somewhere in the Amazon."
"That's good enough for me," said Shannon, getting up. "Thank you. I'll go find him."
"By yourself?" asked Rory.
"He's my fiancée," said Shannon. "I should be able to do this. He'd do it for me."
"You can't beat this woman alone," said Rachel, locking eyes with Shannon. "I'll help you."
"We both will," offered Rory, putting a hand on Shannon's shoulder.
Shannon pulled Rory in for a big hug. "Thank you. You're a true friend." Over Rory's shoulder, she looked over at Rachel. "You both are. True friends."
Rachel, who picked up on the jab, rolled her eyes.
As she pulled away from Rory, Shannon said, "Let's go to Avengers Mansion. We can take one of the Quinjets. I think I'm going to need my uniform for this."