Chapter 2: The Fall of Osgiliath
War is loud, even without the movie soundtrack.
Metal swords clashing together, the whoosh of arrows flying overhead, the blood thirsty cries of the enemy, the anguished screams of the dying; the din alone could cause your death. Morgan was thoroughly impressed. Scott had really outdone himself on this program; his attention to detail was fantastic. This truly was the world of Tolkien or at least Peter Jackson's version of it. The computer-generated Orcs were truly frightening; and it amused Morgan to no end that even their breath smelled bad. It felt like this particular program, 'The Fall of Osgiliath', was written just for her, especially now that she figured out how to turn all of the safeties off. Scott expressly told her to never turn the safeties off, for her own protection, and then all but told her how to do it. That was a carrot dangle if she ever saw one.
It was just two weeks ago that Scott finally brought her down to the Danger Room to show her the advancement of their technology. Morgan was thrilled. It felt like she was being brought back into the inner circle.
Your training simulations are boring and unimaginative, she told him, hoping to get his back up, praying that if she provoked he would actually show her what she knows he is so excited about.
"I expected so much more of you, Scott Summers. After fifteen years, this is the best that you've got," she teased. Wait a minute, ah there it is... Annoyance. He has taken the bait.
"Morgan, stop pushing me," he replied, tapping his fingers against the computer keyboard, and his left eyebrow rose above his glasses, "Yeah, I know what you are doing. I'm not sixteen anymore, and I am pretty now wise to your ways."
Scott chuckled at Morgan's attempt to pout as Jean rolled her eyes at them. They seemed to get along much better than used to; apparently, a little maturity goes a long way. At first, she wasn't so sure that Charles's plan to offer Morgan a job at this school was a good one. It wasn't that Jean disliked Morgan, quite the contrary, it was just Morgan had some serious issues. Or at least she used to. All and all, she seems to be a pretty well adjusted person, considering what she had recently gone through. It hadn't take Morgan long to find her niche, she needs us as much as we need her, Jean thought to herself.
"Scott, stop being so difficult, and just show her," Jean laughed as she smacked Scott on the arm, "you're such a big tease. This is why you brought her down here. You know you found the one person who is geeky enough to appreciate this. Besides Hank."
Scott reached over and tapped several lines of code into the computer before a menu appeared on the screen. Morgan glanced over at the monitor and took a deep breath in, and actually bounced in her seat, grinning madly.
"Scott, is that program really the Battle… for…Gondor? Really?"
Scott's smile matched Morgan's as he nodded.
"You are truly a god among men. I take back everything that I have ever said about you." Morgan said, bowing her head to him.
Jean stood up, leaned over and kissed Scott on top of the head.
"I can see where this one is leading; I will leave you two alone."
He waited until Jean left because he already knew that she never wanted to hear anything ever again about Gondor, Orcs, Elves, Dwarfs, Nazgûls, or the Uruk-hai.
"I thought you would truly appreciate this one. A couple of my students the other day were talking that they saw you in the clearing, practicing with your sword. I'd forgotten that you were into that. So…"
"So you thought that I would appreciate a battle simulation that involved sword play and the world of Tolkien?"
"Was I wrong?"
"Oh fuck me!"
Morgan quickly ducked her head, narrowly avoiding a possibly lethal club strike. She didn't even see the Orc until he was practically was on top of her. Pay attention, you idiot! Or turn the safeties back on; if your head is not in this battle, she scolded herself. With a fiendish smile, Morgan drove her sword through the Orc's chest cavity. Great founts of foul smelling black blood poured out when she pulled it back.
"Gross," she muttered to herself, "at least they can't shit themselves as well."
The fight raged on around her, frightened horses screaming in terror, the moans of fallen men begging for a quick end to their suffering. Morgan gasped in surprise when an older man covered her flank, as an Orc got too close to her back. Madril was his name.
"Thanks Madril, I owe you one," she yelled, smiling at him. She pulled a knife from one of her holsters that hung from her belt and flung it at the back of the retreating Orc. Morgan loves the fact that the computer also generates a costume, over her own clothing. Even though, the leather and chainmail is only an illusion, it really sets the flavor of the battle.
The best program, ever!
"We can't hold them. The city is lost, milady!" he shouted back at her as his sword crossed with an Uruk-hai, one of the really big gargantuan Orcs, Morgan returned the favor and lopped the creature's head off. Madril leaped over a massive heap of bodies, crossed a small clearing to shout at Faramir. He is the field leader of this battle and the son of the Steward of Minas Tirith.
"This is such a cluster fuck!" She yelled, chuckling. They both looked back over at her puzzled. Oops! Broke character!
"Tell the men to break cover. We ride for Minas Tirith." Faramir shouted. Oh, she had almost forgotten that this particular battle was a lost one, this was the city near the river that was overrun by Orcs, and the men retreated back to the white city of Minas Tirith. I really need to watch the movie, The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, before I do this program again, she thought to herself. She had forgotten way too much.
She dove under a fallen piece of stone when she heard the hellish scream from over head accompanied by the shouted warning: 'Nazgûls!'
"Take cover!"
It was while she was hiding under a slab of stone when she felt it. Someone was here; in fact, a lot of some bodies were here. She scrambled out and stood with her head cocked to the side, concentrating.
"What is that?" she asked no one in particular.
"It is the Nazgûls! Take cover!"
"Oh for fuck sake! Computer! Pause program!" Morgan shouted to make sure that she was heard over the clamor.
The simulation instantly froze. She fully opened her shields and used her empathy to ascertain, just what she was feeling. Morgan knew that there was some new guy at the mansion, who just got there this afternoon. A mutant named Logan. But that was not who she was feeling. She had picked up on him a few hours back. He was a very angry man, who apparently knew how too push Scott's buttons. Just one mention of the name 'Logan' would send Scott into a seething tirade with a lot of gnashing of his teeth, and sulking. Morgan knew jealousy when she felt it.
Something was not right; she could feel a lot of different people quickly coming near the mansion.
"Computer! End program. Open the door."
Morgan strode towards the opening and left the Danger Room, her computer generated costume disappeared the moment she crossed the doorjamb. She sheathed her sword in her back holster as she jogged towards the Security Room, where she knew she'd be able to take a look at the monitors.
"Holy mother," she whispered aloud, her hand covering her mouth in shock.
Morgan's blood ran cold. There were armed soldiers on every monitor screen labeled 'exterior grounds'. Obviously, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was currently under attack. She noted that all of the 'interior' monitor screens were clear of intruders. But clearly not for long.
What to do? She quickly considered her options; she knew that no one is here, none of the X-Men. Charles and Scott went to talk to Magneto, and they are not back yet. Wait! They should have returned hours ago. Jean and Ororo went to Boston to check out that mutant that attacked the President. Remy is in New York City, on a fact finding mission. That leaves that guy Logan, the kids, and herself. Morgan was pretty sure that they knew that most of the powerful mutants were not here, no one with any intelligence on this place was that stupid. Without even thinking, she opened her cell phone, and called Remy, mildly surprised that she actually had any cell coverage, down here in the subbasement.
"Pickup…pick up…pick up…"
"Lo cheré, y' callin' me for some late night phone sex?" a honeyed voice answered.
Morgan took a deep breath and tried to force the terror from her voice.
"Remy…"
"What's wrong?" Even though they had not been dating very long, he could tell just by the sound of her voice that something was very wrong.
"There are soldiers here."
"Where? Where are y'?"
"At the school. There about twenty soldiers outside, I can see all them on the monitors. Fuck, Remy! I don't know what to do!"
"Where's everyone else? Cyke and Jean, Stormy, de Professor?"
"No one is here, Remy. Only that Logan guy."
"Merde. Wait! Y' are down in de security room, right? Are y' armed?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah, for the fucking eleventh century." She snapped at him, her eyes following the soldiers' progress, one was now using a glass cutter to cut a hole in window so that he could silently open it.
"Okay, just stay calm. Can y' get yourself to de Weapons room?"
That brought her back some. Weapons room? What Weapons room?
"There are guns here, Remy?" she asked incredulously. That surprised her more than anything. Charles Xavier allowed guns at the school? What else is down here?
"Yeah dere are. Oh shit, y' don't have a code."
"Well fucking give me yours!" she yelled into her phone.
"I can't Morgan, it's a retinal scan."
"Fuck!"
"It's goin' to be okay, just let me think," he paused, "can y' get to my room? I have a couple of Desert Eagles hidden in my floorboards."
"Oh my God, Remy. They're in... There is no way I can make it back to your room now."
"D'accord. Y' need to find yourself a hidin' spot."
"That's not fucking likely…" she took a startled breath in, "they just shot Jones! I can't stay here. I have to go do something!"
She could now hear him loudly cussing in the background.
"Remy, I'm going."
There was silence on the other end of the line, except for his breathing.
"Bye," she whispered.
"Wait. Morgan? Look...if y' get de chance for de kill, y' take it. Because...they will. I am leavin' now. I'll be dere in about forty minutes."