First Mutant
By David D. Amaya
Chapter 6
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Professor Xavier's Office, Xavier Institute for Higher Learning 1625 EST. Day 10
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Charles Xavier pored over the dossier on Agent Nichols that Emma provided for the better part of three hours until a call from the intercom broke his concentration.
"Yes, Ororo?"
"There is a telephone call for you, Professor. An Agent Elizabeth Frank with the United States Secret Service."
"Thank you please put her through."
"Dr. Xavier?"
"Yes Agent Frank, how my I help you?"
"I was calling concerning your protection during your stay in Washington for the hearings on Mutant Affairs. We have received numerous threats against you, so the Director has authorized that you and your staff be afforded protection by the Secret Service."
"How may I be of assistance, Agent Frank?"
"We would need to know the details of your stay in DC; the number of people in your visiting staff, when and were you will plan to stay while in Washington and any other itinerary you have during your testimony at the Senate hearings."
"I have a personal security firm to handle the personal safety of my staff and myself," Xavier told the agent, hoping not to have to reveal the true nature of his 'security.' "But, I believe that your agency can handle any arrangements you need to ensure safety in Washington."
"That will be fine Dr. Xavier, but we will need to send an advance officer to coordinate efforts between your private security and our agents."
"If I may, Agent Frank, may I ask the name of the agent you have assigned to this task?"
"Special Agent Kordel Nichols."
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Cyrus Parkman's Room, the White House 1650 EST. Day 10
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"Well, Lariat?"
"Ziegler canceled my days off and gave me a last minute assignment."
"What? So you can't go to talk with-"
"I was not finished, Cyrus."
"MY APOLOGIES!" He replied sarcastically. "Do continue! So Z-Man called you to into his office, and...?"
"Nichols," Agent Ziegler began. "I'm canceling your days off, but since Agent Williams has already been placed on the rotation, I have a field assignment for you.
"You will go to New York as advance officer and coordinate the safety of one Dr. Charles Xavier, of the Xavier Institute. He will be testifying before the Senate Subcommittee Hearings on Mutant Affairs next week and we have received over fifty death and bomb threats already and I just sent two dozen agents to investigate the allegations.
"Xavier will bring his own people to guard him and his entourage, so you will act as lead team and coordinate the security necessary."
"What about Kilowatt, sir?"
"Agent Williams has rotated on Kaleidoscope's and Kryptonite's teams before, so seeming as though you haven't gotten him killed yet, he'll be even safer with him, but he won't have that luxury for too long, you'll be back to risk his safety when the hearings are through."
"I will not let the agency down, sir."
"The way you didn't let Kilowatt down the first day at Sidwell? GET OUT OF HERE!"
"Ziegler sure is a charming dude, ain't he, Lariat? But I guess you get to write the trip off as official business, now."
"Logistical issues aside I have a question to ask. Are you going to tell your parents?"
"Hell NO!! If they don't have to know, why tell them. Besides, Is much I wish my dad wasn't President anymore, I can't let dad blow re-election, Lariat. I can't stand this place, but my Uncle Jake always told me how much better things are for the country since Rainman and Shotgun left."
"Your father would be proud of you to hear you say that, but are you sure this is the course of action you want to pursue?"
"Yea, Lariat, I'm sure. You tell Mr. Clean that I need a cure. I can't live with this mutie-thing. When I found out I had it, I was afraid I'd blow myself up in my sleep if I ever had a nightmare and I couldn't sleep for weeks. I thought it went away until, well, you know the rest. I can't control it!"
"Have you tried to practice using your gift, Cyrus?"
"'Gift?' If this is a gift, kindly point me to the return desk! I'll exchange it for a three-inch break in my curveball! Besides where am I gonna practice blowing stuff up!?"
"I may know of a facility in here in Washington, if you are up for it?"
"When and were, dude?"
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Five hours later.
Outside the DuPont Circle Shooting Club,
Columbia Rd. NW, Adams-Morgan, DC 2105 EST.
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"I gotta ask, Lariat. How did you know about those corridors under the White House? I only thought that stuff was in the movies."
"Charlie, told me when I was a rookie, Cyrus. Here, this is the place."
"You practice here, Lariat?"
"No, but I know the guard on the night shift."
"You guys, buds?"
"No, I just know a few things about his girlfriend," he explained as he knocked on the service entrance door. "The things his wife would like to know."
"You know, Lariat, you're a cad, I like that!"
"Who is it," said the man looking out at the pair through a slot in the receiving door.
"Agent Nichols," he replied flashing his badge.
"Do you have any references?"
He than pulled out a roll of bills. "My old friend Mr. Franklin and his family."
The man then opened the door and reached for the bills Kordel had in his hand.
"Just lock up when you leave."
"Did you bring what I asked?" said Kordel.
"It's on the range."
"Have a pleasant evening Perry," Kordel bade him farewell. "Say hi to the misses, for me.
"And your lovely wife, too."
The pair then entered the club and headed for the soundproof lower level shooting range.
"This is it, Cyrus," Kordel remarked when they entered the range. "What do you know about your mutant gifts?"
"Well, I can blow up rocks and light switches."
"Have you tried anything else?"
"Nope."
"That will be fine. Let us begin with a few experiments," Agent Nichols produced a large picnic basket from the range officer's desk.
"What's going on, you didn't jack that from Yogi Bear, did you Lariat?"
"I gathered some things to see what effect your powers have on various types of matter."
Agent Nichols pulled out rocks, balls, and other items of all shapes and various sizes out of the basket.
"Cyrus, please put these on," he handed the President's son a pair of ear pads and shooting goggles.
"Let us see what you can do with your abilities." Agent Nichols then loaded a gun target on the shooting range track and moved the target out ten yards.
"Here, try to blow the target with this," handing Cyrus a small football.
"Okay, now what?"
"Grip it in your hands and concentrate. Feel yourself willing your abilities to affect the ball. Then throw it to the target. You do not need to hit it, but the distance gives you an idea of range."
Cyrus closed his eyes and concentrated hard, and within moments the brown pigskin began to glow bright red and started to hum. He opened his eyes at the strange noise and saw the results of his mutant gifts.
"I did it. I did it! I DID IT!"
"And now you may want to get rid of it, Cyrus. May I remind you that is about to explode."
"Oh, yea!"
The President's son dropped back to pass the now-glowing ball, and threw a perfect first down toss to the target, just as It exploded burning a large whole in the target.
"YEA!" Cyrus exclaimed hoping around proud of himself. "Look out Brett Farve! Looks like I bring new meaning to the term 'long bomb!'"
"That was outstanding, but do not book your place in Canton just yet," Agent Nichols remarked as he replaced the target moving it now to the 20-yard marker. "This time, let us try something a bit more solid," Then handed Cyrus an apple.
He concentrated again, threw the fruit like a baseball and it too exploded, sending bits of apple all over the target range.
"Bursting with vitamins and nutrients," he remarked.
"Are you going to keep up the Bob Hope one-liners all night?" Agent Nichols asked as he replaced the fruit-encrusted target.
"Depends, got something I can't blow up?"
Reaching into the basket Kordel produced a small Coho salmon.
"Where do you think I am, Pike Place?"
"Just throw the fish, Cyrus."
"I feel a very bad salmon joke coming on."
I bet it would not be the first time! thought Kordel.
Cyrus took the two-foot fish in both hands and threw the fish...
Which landed on the range floor with a resounding thud.
"Aw, gee and I was in the mood for some fish sticks."
"I would assume your powers do not affect animal matter, Cyrus."
"Either that or something very fishy is going on here."
"Try a water balloon, Cyrus." Agent Nichols sent the new target back 25-yards.
Grabbing a water balloon, Cyrus tossed one to the target and it popped just over the target soaking it with a loud bang.
"Maybe I was wrong about this mutie-power thing," said Cyrus. "This could come in handy in a water balloon fight!"
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Kordel Nichols '65 Mustang, South bound on Columbia Rd., 2306 EST.
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"That was intense!" Cyrus exclaimed as they were headed back for the White House. "How did you know what to do with this Mutant-thingy? You aren't a mutant yourself are you?"
"No, Cyrus I am not." Agent Nichols replied. "But let me just say, 'Those who can, do so. Those who can not, teach it.'"
"Thanks for the target practice, Lariat."
"I would like to say 'anytime,' But you know this is a one-shot deal. Agent Ziegler is looking for a reason to remove me from the service, so after I sneak you in your room, you are to go straight to sleep."
"Ok Lariat, but I gotta know one thing."
"Yes?"
"How am I gonna get the fish smell off my paws?"
"Damn," he grunted as he turned north onto Connecticut.
"Hey, Lariat, the pad's the other way."
"Yea, but you got to get the smell off your hands first."
"I'm all for that, but were we headed?"
"My apartment."
"Kewl, I get to check out the type of hovel my babysitter can afford on the bread crumbs the government pays."
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Apartment of Kordel Nichols, Wyoming Ave. Adams-Morgan, 2315 EST.
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Cyrus admired the quaint, three-room, second story flat his assigned Secret Service agent called home.
Cramped is more like it, he thought.
"Not bad digs, Lariat. What ya shellin' out, $475?"
"$550 a month."
"You got screwed, dude. Where's the sink?"
"Upstairs, the door on the right."
"Hey, Lariat," Cyrus called down while he washed his hands. "What does a super secret agent do when he isn't saving the world from the scum of the universe?"
"I am a writer," he said as he checked his mail. "I do book reviews for a small magazine back in Boston."
"Do they know you carry a badge?"
"No, Cyrus. They e-mail me a list of books that are coming out, I pick one each week and e-mail my reviews under a pen name."
"How much they payin' ya?"
"Nothing, it is a hobby I enjoy," He said as he checked his telephone messages, while Cyrus decided to check out Kordel's study.
MESSAGE 1, 4:01 P.M.
Lariat, it's Charlie. How's Crown duty treatin' you? Give me a ring at the Lazy Q, tomorrow afternoon.
END OF MESSAGE.
MESSAGE 2, 6:31 P.M.
Kordel, I will expect you to return this message as soon as possible, but you are probably much too busy tarnishing your family name as a common Blue Collar peon!
We play an essential role of the economical upper echelon of this country. Each act in which we play a part, our family's role is vital! It is a role which you have forgotten!
And that foolhardy 'destiny' you have chosen! Of all the times I have been notified that you were maimed 'doing your duty!' Your only duty is to your family and your class!
You are too much like your mother. End this fools errand. Kordel. Why to you insist that you risk your birthright to protect someone of such lower breeding than the family Nichols.
END OF MESSAGE.
"What did that old bag mean 'protect someone of such lower breeding?'" Cyrus was visibly upset about being insulted by a person he had never met. "And what the hell was that crack about risk your birthright?"
Kordel sighed before replying. "I do owe you a secret, so here is mine ...
"... I was born to an extremely wealthy family."
Cyrus just looked at him like he had told him he really was from the planet Saturn.
"You're rich?" Kordel nodded. "As in filthy rich? As in 'gotta lotta what it takes to get around' rich?"
"Yes, when my parents were alive their wealth was greater than Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark combined. They died when I was very young and I was sent to live with my Aunt Rose and Uncle Garfield, you met her on the phone.
"Aunt Rose wanted me to go to Harvard, take over the family firm and be one of those stuck-up socialites with a trophy wife, drinking gimlets and congratulating myself for being above the trivial things, like life."
"What makes a rich kid like you jump in front of bullets at your pay, Lariat?"
"You know you sound just like Charlie Block," he replied. "One day, when I was still small enough to be a spoiled brat, I saw a documentary about President Reagan's assassination attempt. He was shot only two blocks from here at the Hilton Towers. I remember what Rose told me right after that."
"What?"
"'Imagine "the Most Powerful Man in the World" he is not of superior breeding.' My Aunt always appraised people on a monetary scale.
"Right after that, I was fascinated with the Secret Service. When we moved to Back Bay when I was 16, I started to work after school at the Secret Service field office in Boston. When I graduated from high school, I went straight to BU, got my Bachelors' and transferred to Enforcement Division. I have served as a field agent for four years before that blast at the mall."
"Why didn't you say something before, Lariat?"
"Would it have mattered to you, Cyrus?"
"Yea, it mattered. Wouldn't have minded callin' ya 'Preppie,' but I'll settle for 'Lariat,' Kewl?" he said as he expended his right hand.
"Kewl," Agent Nichols replied as he shook it.
MESSAGE 3, 7:31 P.M.
Good evening. This message is for Special Agent Nichols. This is Dr. Charles Xavier of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning in New York.
I apologize for disturbing you at your home, but I would like to speak with you personally about security arrangements during the hearings on Mutant Affairs.
You can call my staff or myself at any time of the day or evening.
I know you may not be available until very late, but if you can return this call at any time before midnight at the following number, it would be appreciated...
END OF MESSAGES.
"Call em, Lariat."
"I will, tomorrow."
"No, call him right now, it's only 11:30 and he did say anytime before midnight. 'Sides, this may be the only chance to talk to him about a cure."
"All right, Cyrus," he dialed the number left on the message. "I shall put him on the speaker so you can hear."
"Xavier's! Whadda ya want?" the gruff voice on the other end of the line barked.
"This is Special Agent Kordel Nichols, with the United States Secret Service. I am returning Dr. Xavier's telephone call. Is he available?"
"Just a sec. Hey 'Ro!" He yells for someone on his end. "Go an' tell Chuck the phones' for 'em!"
"Charming receptionist they got, don't they Lariat?"
"This is Dr. Charles Xavier, how may I help you?"
"Dr. Xavier, this is Special Agent Kordel Nichols, United States Secret Service. I am sorry to call you at such a late hour, but I did not return until just a few minutes ago."
"That is quite all right, Agent Nichols. I trust you would like to discuss security efforts for the Senate Hearings next week?"
"Actually I am calling on a personal reason, not on an official capacity."
"Stop beating around the bush, Lariat," Cyrus grunted. "Ask him."
"I am getting to that," he grunted back.
"Agent Nichols, is there someone else on the line with you?"
"Yes, Dr. Xavier, there is. You see he is the reason I called. My friend would like me to ask an important question of you.
"Dr. Xavier, is there a way to cure a genetic mutation? To make a mutant, revert to 'normal?'"
"Sadly there is no known cause for the x-factor that separates humans from those who are mutants. But my Institute does not primarily work to find the 'cure' per se, but rather I work with other mutants in helping them cope with their various mutations. We here assist in helping them harness their various abilities in a positive manner in a safe, non-hostile environment. And to help gain awareness to the fact that mutants are a productive part of society, not the monsters of fear many would have the public believe."
"Shit," The President's son grunted in despair. "Am I gonna be a mutie forever?"
"Cyrus, please!" he whispered back
"Agent Nichols, is the person in the room with you a mutant?"
Kordel looked at Cyrus, and he nodded his approval.
"Yes, Dr. Xavier, he is a mutant. Apparently his mutant abilities surfaced about a year ago."
"May I speak with him, Agent Nichols?"
Cyrus took a deep breath and took a big plunge.
"Hello, Dr. Xavier."
"Good evening, Cyrus, it is good to hear from you. How are your mother and President Parkman?"
End of Chapter six
© David D. Amaya 2007