Thank you so much for sticking around!
To match AOS and X-Men, I needed to tweak the timelines a bit.
We are kind of in the new timeline, so "Apocalypse" and "Dark Phoenix" mostly happened, the rest of the MCU did too though. Only the Cure was not invented.
Chapter 11: First Contact
The school existed on google maps, they even had a website, advertising their catering to special needs in learning but also the fostering of special talents and help to self-expression. It sounded not exactly New Age, more like a overpriced private school for priviledged kids. However, despite all this openness, it had been kept off S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar, which could only mean Fury had had a hand in this. Even though Phil might not agree with everything his former boss had done, he believed that he always had a reason. So, having this group of mutants as an ally must be worth a lot. But why had he not told him about that? That was very odd indeed.
Spoiler alert, Phil actually had May call the mysterious landline as soon as he felt he had calmed down enough to do listen with the appropriate attention. He was not yet sure whether he should reveal his survival, hence letting May do the talking. Funny, since May so loved talking. But for some reason she was the one he felt he should trust with this task.
The phone rang for a couple of times, until a surprisingly young female voice answered.
"Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, what can I do for you?"
She sounded cheery and excited and May raised an eyebrow in confusion. Apparently she had, just as Phil, expected a more hostile response.
"Hello, my name is Melinda May, I was referred to you by Miss Roseanne Rowens, or Rosen Willows, if you would prefer that. She gave me that number."
The woman was silent for a moment, when she went on, her tone had deliberatedly cooled.
"Well, Ma'am, I will try to connect you to the Professor, the person you will want to talk to, I suppose" she commented.
There was silence in the line, then some music, like the one that could be heard in an elevator. The whole set-up was confusing. So very...normal. As if it was really a school.
Suddenly, the phone was answered again.
"Professor Charles Xavier. Agent May, I suppose?"
"That is correct Mr Xavier, I am with S.H.I.E.L.D, we have to talk to you."
"Well, obviously this is why you are calling, Agent May," he began.
Even though he sounded calm, both agents had the impression he meant business.
"I have heard you had a meeting with one of my team-members. She was not very amused, if I may say so. I am sure she has already informed you about the particularities of the arrangement which was struck with Fury and which highly benefitted both S.H.I.E.L.D. and the X-Men - therefore, my team. Now, we would behappy to uphold the agreement, and, to be honest, S.H.I.E.L.D. needs all possible allies at the moment."
"We would have to access the school first, and meet with you in person," May argued, "do a risk-assessment."
"Well, Agent, we will not be indexed. None of us. But, if this will help the case, you are very welcome to visit the school. Alternatively, I will be in Town for Rosie's competition. We can also meet up there."
May looked towards Phil, who nodded.
"A meeting Sunday night then. We will tell you the location at the competition."
The Professor only chuckled, even though he did not sound particularly amused.
"You really are a cautious lot," he stated calmly, "I admire that, I would do it the same way. I would ask you to consider though that I am relying on a wheelchair, so it would be useful if you picked an accesible location. Alas, I am looking forward to meeting you, Agent May."
"Likewise," May found herself saying, weirdly enchanted by the politeness of their not-yet ally.
When she hung up, she looked at Coulson.
"So, who is going to meet them? And where?"
He pondered.
"We are going to sacrifice that flat in Boston Street, the safehouse, for the meeting."
"Not possible due to the wheelchair," May argued, "we need at least an elevator."
"What about the warehouse?"Skye asked, having pulled up a map of possible locations,"it seems to be reasonably close. Only one floor, good overview for us. It should definitely work for the wheelchair, after all, I am sure he won't come alone."
"Okay, let's take that one," Coulson agreed.
When the whole team got togther for a meeting a couple of hours later, he started to explain his plan.
"Agent Morse and Skye are going to spot Xavier in the crowd before or during the event. There will be a mutant-group, most likely, unfortunatedly there is no information whatsoever who or what kind of abilities they could have. We could deal with any number from two to twenty, though my gut feeling tells me there will be around five to eight and a couple of them might even be inexperienced. In any case, I doubt Xavier will want to risk an open conflict and expose himself, so this should be reasonably safe. At the warehouse, it will be me, Simmons for medical questions and concerns, and Mack; but we will revisit this when we know how many mutants are coming. We want to get to know them, see who they are, whether it is reasonable to think that a visit to Westchester won't get us killed. I do not expect this to be anything more. Any questions?"
Even though some teammembers looked slightly uncomfortable, no objections were raised. However, it would be a lie to say that Phil had a good feeling after that. Instead, he kept tossing and turning all through the night, debating whether he did not just make the biggest mistake of his career. But what was the alternative? He doubted they had enough manpower to overrun an undefined group of mutants, or at least try to and only manage to piss them off. LEaving them alone without any other consideration would be just as reckless. So, communication it was.
When Sunday arrived, the agitation could be felt in the air. The agents seemed nervous and unfocussed, most of all Coulson who apparently could not sit still anymore. Bobbi, who currently held the paper slip with the printed information in her hand, was wearing slightly ripped jeans and a leather jacket paired with boots and a sports-cap. Skye was dressed in cargo-pants with chucks together with a cropped top and a oversized college jacket. Together, they looked like two girls going out to have fun at the competition. They took the underground to their destination and were surprised by the queue which had already formed in front of the building. There was no wheelchair to be seen anywhere, either they were already inside or had not yet arrived. The whole thing would be a lot easier if they knew who they were looking for though.
Over the day there would be several competitions, for single acts and group, in various styles. A ticket made it possible to watch as many competitions as possible, though one was expected to stay for one whole competition to not to disturb the rest of the audience through coming and leaving.
"Let's get some snacks," Skye proposed, pulling Bobbi towards the drinks.
From the side next to the bar, halfway hidden by plants, one had a very good view over the foyer where more and more people streamed in. They knew that their collegues had tapped into the security feed, being able to see everything from another angle. Suddenly, Bobbi nudged the younger woman with her elbow.
"I think that is them," she wispered to Skye and into the comms.
A man rolled in, sitting in a wheelchair that seemed highly technologically advanced. He was maybe around 70, it was hard to tell, and completely bald. There were hard lines around his mouth and lines on his forehead that betrayed a lot of worry, nevertheless he was currently smiling at a woman, probably in her late twenties, with mahagony hair, only adorned by two white streaks. She was holding the hand of a man about her age who was looking around a bit confusedly, as if he had never been to a theatre before. Then there was another woman of presumably Asian background who was almost bouncing on her feet. She seemed to be utterly in her element, chatting and apparently recounting something that made the man in the wheelchair chuckle. Then there was another man, tall, broad-shouldered, with a rough look. He was the one that was looking the most dangerous, though looks could be deceiving. His eyes were flitting all over the room, as if he tried to take in everything at once.
"That must be Xavier," May confirmed.
"When they walk up here, we make our move," Bobbi decided.
Suddenly, Skye grabbed her arm, making her hiss in surprise.
"Woah, is that..." she started.
"Stay down!" Coulson ordered sharply, as a short red-headed woman with a blonde man in tow made her way towards the group.
The redhead was enthusiastically greeted by the more talkative woman, making her laugh. There seemed to be a familiarity between all of them, especially between the tall man and the blonde one that had just come in. They shook hands, but you did not have to look closely to see the strength behind the movement.
"Confirmed, it is Romanoff and Rogers," Bobbi muttered,"Sir, WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE?"
"I would like to know that very much myself," he answered, "they must have undeclared connections in some way. Maybe met during an assignment? But I cannot imagine how, I was handling them most of the time." Coulson seemed very confused. "Or Fury kept that off the books, too."
At the same time, the whole group was making their way up the stairs and into the main hall where the stage was located. The first competition of the day was starting, so suddenly a lot of people started to move, like a wave slowly starting to roll forward.
"Follow them and see whether you can corner one of them alone," Coulson ordered, "we do not want to have Rogers and Romanoff involved. I don't know whether they do howeever, whether they planned the meeting as back-up or whether it was simply a co-incidence."
The two field agents managed to get three rows in between them and the group. While they were very respectful towards any contestant, it became soon clear that they were all rooting for Roseanne Rowens, judging by the applause. She seemed to have a real fanclub here. After a bit more than an hour, the woman with the white streaks in her hair stood up.
"I'll get her," Skye wispered, "give me the paper."
Slightly reluctantly Bobbi handed it over, watching as Skye squeezed her way past other visitors, always keeping the mark in sight. She met her outside where she was already waiting, hip slightly cocked, a smile around her lips.
"Sugar, I think you have something for me?" she asked in a Southern drawl, clearly scanning the agent.
Skye handed her the slip of paper, noting that the woman was wearing thin black gloves even though it was fairly warm. Was this simply an excentricity, or did it actually have a meaning, like covering up powers? Judging by Skye's expereinces so far, the second one was far more likely, but also far more concerning. The other woman scanned the address for a moment, then smiled politely at Skye.
"We will be there. And as a sign of our goodwill, I even let you choose whether you want us to bring Nat and Steve or whether you'd rather exclude the two."
Skye listened for a moment, hoping for Coulson to give her any pointers.
"Tell her not to tell them," he commanded, "we do not need more chaos."
"Don't tell them about us, please," Skye answered.
The stranger smiled. "As you wish. Even though I must say I think it is stupid. Your choice though."
With a last nod, she disappeared into the direction of the stage.