X-Men: New Class

by Ambaryerno

Set in the Earth-10005 Universe, a new class of students arrives at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Inspired by Agents of SHIELD, X-Men: New Class loosely adapts Kyle and Yost's New X-Men as a hypothetical live-action television series. (Note: This story only accounts for up to X-Men: Days of Future Past, and will not be updated for Apocalypse)

13. 1x11 - Childhood's End: Crusade

1x11

Childhood's End Part I

Crusade

###

Act I

###

Cessily, Laura, and Sooraya stood together in one corner of the formal sitting room. Laura gazed up at the giant evergreen tree reaching nearly to the ceiling of the second level with an expression of wonder on her features, while they and several of the other students talked and laughed quietly as they helped to decorate it. Strings of colored lights twinkled merrily among the dark green boughs, and for the first time since the attack Cessily felt a sense of peace settling over the school. It was still colored by a distinct undercurrent of sorrow, but slowly things felt to be returning to some semblance of normal.

"Gah! Will you get away from me!" Victor shouted, and ran up the stairs leading to the dorms above. He was pursued by the thunder of Santo's rocky feet as the rocky mutant's enormous bulk — dressed in Santa suit complete with hat and fluffy white beard, and dangling a sprig of mistletoe over his head — followed after him.

"You can't deny our love!" Santo said as he chased him up the stairs.

The three girls watched the scene with expressions of amusement (herself and Sooraya) and befuddlement (Laura), before she and Sooraya broke out into laughter.

At least it was as normal as things ever were at the school.

"This is funny?" Laura asked in confusion, as she looked between the other two.

"Hilarious!" Cessily said. "I mean come on, Laura, it's Santo in a Santa suit chasing Victor with mistletoe. You have to at least find that worth a chuckle."

The other girl merely shrugged helplessly.

"Oh my god! We have so got to work on your sense of humor. Ok, that's it. New Year's Resolution time and I don't care if it's early: Sometime this coming year we are going to get you to laugh."

Sooraya chuckled behind her niqab. "Do you remember Mark going around with that mistletoe headband last year and trying to kiss all the girls?"

"I remember he tried to pull it on Sofia, and Julian TKed him and hung him from the top of the tree," Cessily said with a giggle at the memory.

"And Julian had detention for a week afterwards!"

They both shared a laugh, and Laura just looked between them helplessly. Something passed behind her eyes at the mention of Mark's name, however, and she hugged herself tightly. Cessily wiped a tear of mirth from her eye, and sobered a little. "It's weird to think how much I'm going to miss things like that."

Sooraya offered her a sad smile. "Well, there is always Santo."

As if on cue there was a loud crash, and Santo's enormous bulk — sans Santa hat — plummeted down from the level above and smacked the floor so hard it nearly flung everyone within ten feet of him into the air. Fortunately the floor was harder than even Santo's head, and survived the impact without a scratch. A dazed Santo just sat up and rubbed the back of his head. "Ow," he said.

"You know," Cessily said, "sometimes I forget just how strong Victor actually is."

The big mutant caught sight of the three of them, and a big, goofy grin spread across his features as he held up the broken sprig of mistletoe. "Hello ladies, care to sit on Santa's lap?"

Cessily rolled her eyes, and Sooraya just laughed into her hand. "Don't even think about it, Santo Claus."

"Aw, you're no fun," he grumbled as he returned to his feet, and went off in search of someone else to pester.

All around them the rest of the students ignored Santo's misadventure and continued their work decorating the mansion for the holidays, adding a bit of color and cheer that had been sorely missing. Wreathes and garland mixed with the occasional Star of David were hung from the walls, and a menorah had been set up next to a set of advent candles on one prominent shelf in the hallway leading in from the main entrance. Even Sooraya was helping to hang ornaments from the tree, and Laura watched her quietly for a few moments.

"Sooraya, why do you participate?" she asked, finally giving voice to the curiosity evident on her features. "Islam does not celebrate Christmas."

Sooraya hung a little green bulb at the end of one of the branches as she replied, "No, we do not. But that does not mean I cannot appreciate the meaning of the holiday."

Laura blinked. "Its meaning among Christians is to celebrate the birth of Christ." She paused for a moment and scrunched her features. "That in itself I find curious, as the western tradition has been conflated with pagan Germanic practices, and most scholarly research suggests that even the date is incorrect, and ought to be celebrated in the northern hemisphere's summer ..."

Cessily couldn't help but laugh as she dug through one of the boxes of ornaments, and Laura trailed off in response. "I think you'll need to be a bit more specific, Soo."

"What I mean, Laura," Sooraya said as she studied the tree, and Cessily handed her one of those lace-and-bead candy canes of the sort she remembered making during craft time in kindergarten, "is that Christmas holds meaning beyond just the religious. It is as much a celebration of love and fellowship as it is the birth of the Christian Messiah. You are correct in that I do not participate in the religious aspects, but that does not mean I cannot enjoy those secular festivities that do not run contrary to my own beliefs nonetheless.

"I find that rampant political correctness has spoiled that message, because of this attitude that it is insulting to wish someone who does not practice Christianity a Merry Christmas. I would not be offended by anyone wishing me a Merry Christmas or a Happy Hanukah, because it is, as they say, the thought that counts."

Laura considered that as she looked through one of the boxes and lifted the end of a strand of gold-and-green garland, which she studied closely in that peculiar manner that seemed to let no detail escape her notice. "Then you do not view such participation as anathema to your beliefs?"

"Not at all. Though I will confess I find myself to be much more moderate in my views, and I suppose there would be some extremist attitudes that would indeed take exception to that." Sooraya gave her a pointed look. "Sadly, that is a burden it seems that has been placed on my faith alone, while such radical positions among other faiths are glossed over and ignored."

"Kinda hits home, doesn't it?" Cessily observed. She stepped away from the box she was digging through and stood to where she could regard the tree. "Hum, someone needs to go find Julian so he can TK the star up to the top."

Sooraya sighed and joined her in looking over the tree. "I am afraid so. And radicalism begets radicalism; it is the extremists of a group which galvanizes opinion against that group."

"Well, I guess that's why it's more important than ever that all of us can get together and say Merry Christmas and not worry about offending someone or making them feel left out." Cessily glanced to her side as Laura dropped the bundle of garland, and joined them at regarding the tree. "So what did your family do for Christmas growing up?"

Laura wrapped herself in her arms, and shrunk into herself in embarrassment. "I never had a Christmas."

"Hanukah?"

She shook her head.

Cessily gawked at her. "Oh my god, really?!"

Laura didn't respond, and Cessily looked to Sooraya with disbelief. "Can you believe it? This is so wrong!"

Sooraya regarded Laura from behind her niqab, and the latter just hugged herself even tighter in that particular way whenever she felt uncomfortable under such scrutiny. "You had no family to share the holidays with growing up?"

Laura's cheek twitched; it was a subtle gesture that anyone unfamiliar with her idiosyncrasies would miss, but as distant as she could be, Cessily had come to learn it spoke volumes of what she felt at that question. The pain in her expression just about stopped her heart entirely, but Laura just ducked her head and made it clear she had no intent of answering, and Cessily knew it would be no good trying to get more out of her about it. Instead she just flashed her biggest smile, and said. "Ok, that's it, we are totes gonna Christmas the hell out of you! Like, Caroling and eggnog and mis—"

Cessily caught herself before she could finish "mistletoe," remembering the pained look on her features at Sooraya's recollection of Mark's good-natured harassment. "Y'know, everything," she finished instead.

Laura eyed her doubtfully. "I do not sing," she said flatly, and Sooraya just laughed merrily in response.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Sooraya said. "It's never once stopped Santo."

"I wish it would," Cessily said with an exaggerated cringe. "I swear one of these years I'm going to shove a stocking down his throat."

Laura raised an eyebrow in confusion and started to speak, but stopped herself as if belatedly recognizing the sarcasm in Cessily's remark. "Well, where should we begin?" Sooraya asked, the hint of a thoughtful expression just visible behind her niqab.

Cessily considered that for a moment, and Laura looked between them both with trepidation. "Oh! I know! A bunch of us are going into Salem Center for Christmas shopping tomorrow night. And ooooh! I think Luna is going to have that spiced eggnog coffee again this year!"

Sooraya smiled. "I do think it will be good to get away from the school for a little while," she said in agreement, and Cessily had to acknowledge the thought was as much for her own cabin fever as it was to involve Laura in the holiday. Although the shuttles to Salem had resumed after the attack, and the demonstrations had broken up to leave the grounds in peace once more, most of the students had preferred to remain in the relative privacy of the school as they recovered from the aftermath. "At least it will be as much a chance for things to get back to some sense of normalcy again."

"It's settled, then!" Cessily said merrily, and gave Laura a mischievous grin. "By the time I'm done you're gonna be so full of Christmas spirit you're gonna burst!"

For her part, Laura could only respond with an uncertain and uneasy look.

###

Stryker stared at his computer terminal. It had been relatively quiet since the more public furor over the bombing had passed, and the demonstrations outside the grounds of the school had broken up in advance of the holidays. The news feeds, however, were hardly encouraging. More and more people had been speaking out in support of the abominations, and some of them — including some public figures and celebrities — had been outing themselves as mutants.

Stryker turned his attention to his office, more out of a need to tear himself away from the news than any need to take in his surroundings. There were a few additional decorative touches courtesy of Ms. Braddock in advance of the holidays; a green wreath was hung on his door, and a small nativity scene had been set out on a shelf, but otherwise it was the same functional space as ever. And for the moment it was also empty. Out of interests of security Matthew was now operating from the warehouse, and the Guthrie boy's visits had been infrequent of late; a security measure instituted by Xavier in the wake of the attack.

If nothing else, withdrawing into themselves will only further set them apart. That will make it much easier.

His musings were interrupted by a knock at the door, and Stryker snapped his attention in that direction.

"Come," he said, and put up a show of busying himself as Ms. Braddock opened the door and took a step into his inner office. She had a folder tucked under one arm. "Yes, Elizabeth? What may I do for you?"

"I've sent your appointment schedule for tomorrow to your phone," she said, "and I pulled the files you requested."

"Ah, thank you," he said. "Just leave them here on my desk."

Elizabeth strutted across the office and laid the folder on his desk, and then stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She waited patiently while he scanned through the papers within. "Is there anything else?" he asked absently, when she said nothing further.

"No, Reverend," she said, and hesitated a moment. "Although if it's not too much of a bother I was hoping I might be able to slip out a little early tonight, I have a few personal matters to attend to before the weekend."

He waved her away. "No, no, go ahead."

She inclined her head graciously. "Thank you. Good night, sir!"

"Good night, Ms. Braddock. Enjoy your evening."

With that she turned and strutted out again, closing the door behind her. Stryker watched her go over the top of the papers he was reviewing, then set them aside and folded his hands in front of him as he returned his attention to the news feeds. He sighed heavily and mopped his face; his efforts had brought some of those who supported his position forward, but it was not enough.

Stryker let out a breath, and called up a number on his mobile. The phone rang, and after a few moments a distant voice answered, "Yes, Reverend?"

"Matthew, I have a job that needs to be done. I believe it's time for us to make another statement," he said.

"Yes, sir. What do you have in mind?"

"Something a little smaller this time, I think, but it needs to be public, and I think our young Mr. Guthrie has suggested an ideal opportunity. I want you to get a man to Salem, I'll send you the details."

"Yes, sir."

Stryker smiled. "Thank you, Matthew. The public response was just a minor setback, but it will soon be time to announce our Crusade to the world."

###

Act II

###

Melita mopped her face. Her computer display hadn't revealed any new insights in the last two or three hours she had been staring at it, but she couldn't quite bring herself to look away. Braddock was right about one thing; the personnel Stryker had gathered to himself couldn't have been a coincidence. There was nothing that particularly stood out on the congregation, but his clergy? That was another matter.

She sighed and leaned back in her chair, and idly swept her eyes across the office and took note of the comings and goings; secretaries running errands, casual conversation at a water cooler over some question about a story — the minutiae of an interview, some detail about a local woman's charity drive, the latest casualty reports in the Middle East — or mundane chatter about last night's Game of Thrones, birthdays, anniversaries, holiday plans, and other such monotony. Nothing that really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

"You've been working late the last couple days," came a voice from behind her, and Melita nearly jumped out of her chair. "Whoah! Decaf, Mel, Decaf!"

She spun around, and looked up at her station manager trying a bit too much to look like a 2010s Lumbergh, only he much more closely resembled one of the Bobs with his balding head, neatly-trimmed mustache, and wireframe glasses. Melita sighed and turned back to her computer. "I've had a lot to work on," she said.

Bob leaned in over her shoulder and studied the page she was viewing. "Captain Matthew Risman?" he said, reading the name at the top of the Freedom of Information results.

"Part of Stryker's church hierarchy — in fact as near as I can figure he may be Stryker's right hand. Everything I have on him. Or at least what I could get on him from the Department of Defense records via FOI. There's almost more redacted than available information."

He let out a low whistle as he read over what parts of Risman's service record weren't covered in black. "How's a top Delta marksman like that end up as clergy at a church?"

Melita shrugged. "I don't know, but he's not alone. I've been through every member of Stryker's clergy, and every one of them are ex-military."

Bob regarded her in that way which Melita knew meant she was about to be patronized. "You're not still on about the Xavier School bombing, are you? The Stryker and Xavier interviews were through the roof, but ..."

"But what, Bob?" she said sharply. "No one cares about a bunch of 'mutie kids' being blown up?"

"I didn't say that, Mel! You know I wasn't going to say that. I just think you've been hounding Stryker for so long you're wanting to find a connection that isn't there."

"Oh don't give me that. I've been going over this all morning and all last week. Any one of these men had the expertise necessary to plant that bomb."

Bob sighed patiently and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This isn't CSI, Mel, and you're not a forensics expert. Do you honestly think the police haven't already considered this?"

Melita sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. "Oh, I'm sure they have, but I don't think they have the source that I do."

"Who you still won't name."

"I can't do that, you know that."

"And you know I won't let you run anything without being able to provide a verified source; if I did we'd get eaten alive by litigation!"

"I'm not an intern anymore, Bob, you don't need to spell it out for me. When I'm ready to run with it I'll tell you."

Bob sighed again. "Can you prove there's a connection?"

"I know there's one here, it's just a matter of finding it."

"All right, all right. I'll give you to the end of the week, but that's it. I can't have you chasing ghosts, I need you on other stories."

"Gee thanks, Bob, you sure know how to motivate."

Bob didn't say another word in response, and just gave her a roll of the eyes, waved her off, and stalked away. Melita heaved a sigh and turned back to her computer, and part of her hoped perhaps if she stared long enough, the dots would connect themselves.

###

Jay made his way down the hall, his wings tucked tightly against his back. The past few weeks had been difficult for everyone, and a hollow feeling had been building in the pit of his stomach that just wouldn't go away. At times he had considered going to Jubilee like the others to talk through his anxiety, but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to do so. Something just felt wrong about the idea, particularly as she had made herself just as clear as Julian Keller whom she thought was responsible for the bombing.

He couldn't believe that; he had seen the remorse on Stryker's face, and as loathe as the others were to accept it, to a point he was right: What had they really done to address the fears of the public? For the better part of half a century Magneto had been running wild, and here they were, hiding away in the school from the public eye and doing nothing to actually make the Professor's Dream come true.

And then after the attack they had shut their doors and locked themselves away. Jay's stomach churned uneasily. That's what the people who hated them wanted, wasn't it? The Professor talked about mutants finding a place in society, but now they were hiding away from it. That just felt wrong.

He sighed as he stopped outside his door. How could they ever fit in when so many of his own kind were trying to prove the ones who hated them right?

Jay reached for the doorknob but hesitated. He was never quite ready to go into the room he once shared with Mark. Most of his belongings had been packed up and sent home, but there were a few odds and ends left. The worst were the band posters hung from the walls; the eyes gazing blankly from where his roommate once lived seeming to follow him whenever he moved about the room. He'd thought about taking them down, but Jay couldn't bring himself to going on that side of the room if he could help it.

You're bein' stupid. All the weirdness you've seen aside, there's not really any such thing as ghosts, so why do you keep jumpin' at them?

He sighed and took hold of the doorknob, and stepped inside. And as he did so, he realized with a start that he wasn't alone.

Laura sat with her legs folded beneath her on Mark's bed, and just stared at him with those big green eyes when he entered, as if she were looking clear through him.

"Laura?" he blurted out, half out of annoyance she was in his room without permission in the first place, and half out of confusion she was there at all. "What the hell are you doin' in here?!"

She just blinked at him. "You are not given to casual use of profanity," she said, studying him in that uncomfortably astute manner of hers. Even before Mark's death Jay had seldom really interacted with her, and whenever Mark hung out with her in private he usually visited her room.

Jay scowled across the room at her, but unlike Julian's withering glares it had no effect on her, and Laura just sat straight-backed and cross-legged, and not once gave any indication of looking away. "Yeah, well, most people wouldn't just go into another person's room when they're gone," he said, and his voice rising in irritation. "It's rude."

Laura finally flinched at the heatedness of his tone, so Jay at least found consolation that she was feeling some sort of mortification over the impropriety. Not that it actually explained what she was doing there. "I apologize," she said. She didn't make any sign she intended to leave, however; rather, she folded her hands in her lap, and looked up at the posters still hanging on Mark's wall and studied them intently.

Jay sighed and went to his own side of the room to empty out his pockets onto his nightstand. His crucifix was still hung around his neck, out of sight. "I get it, you miss him," he said. While no one seemed to know exactly what Laura's deal actually was — even the girls had noted she tended to sidestep questions about her interests, which was quite impressive considering the level of fraternization in the school — that she was spending a great deal of time in Mark's company hadn't gone unnoticed.

Laura bunched her features as she concentrated on putting words to what she was feeling. "I am conscious of his absence," she said haltingly, as if unsure how to actually express it. She shifted on the bed until she was lying curled on her side, her head on one of Mark's pillows as she buried her face in the other, and took a deep, audible sniff. "But it is like he is still here in this room."

Jay shifted uncomfortably at her behavior. No one seemed to understand what she was doing at any given moment, though Cessily and Sooraya had about as good a grasp as anybody, but this was becoming a special kind of weird. The queasy unease in his stomach returned in force at the thought of Mark leaving a lingering presence in his room. "Like I said, I get it." He sighed, and lowered himself to the edge of his own bed. Jay respectfully averted his eyes from Laura's dark-clad figure — the way she was lying left her skirt riding up rather uncomfortably high, to say nothing of offering a peek down her corset — and instead looked up at Mark's collection of posters that had been left behind. "I miss him, too. I miss all of them; they were my friends."

Laura sat up again and clutched the pillow to her chest. With the way she was sitting her diminutive frame nearly disappeared behind it. Her eyes fixed on him again, and she studied him intently in a manner that made him feel increasingly uncomfortable. "You have been leaving the school at night."

Jay blinked in surprise at the bluntness of the statement. There was no accusation he could hear, merely that she was stating a fact. I thought I'd been more careful... "I just need to get some air at times," he said hastily. "Especially lately."

"Professor Xavier has said we are not to leave the grounds without escort."

He gave her an indignant scowl. "Yeah, well, I don't think it's right shuttin' us up," he snapped. "An' I need some time to stretch my wings."

Laura cocked her head to one side as she processed what he was saying, and he couldn't help but notice the subtle twitching of her nose as she sniffed the air. "If it is a physical necessity I am certain they would be willing to make exceptions. But you are leaving without permission."

"What business is that of yours, anyway?" he said, feeling his temper begin to get the better of him.

"Such behavior is indicative of rebellion against authority. I am given to understanding this is atypical for you."

Jay gawked slack-jawed at her for a moment as his brain tried its best to process what she was saying. "Look, not everyone does what they're supposed to be doin' all the time. Haven't you ever acted out or misbehaved?"

Something passed across Laura's features for a moment. It was fleeting and subtle, but even in that brief moment Jay could see intense pain in her expression. Her body language, however, was much plainer, and she hugged the pillow even tighter to herself, almost like she was using it as a shield against some unpleasant memory. "I could not," she said in a low and distant voice. Almost as quickly as her demeanor changed it passed again, and her green eyes locked intently on him, probing him deeply in a manner that made him squirm. "Your pattern of behavior is that you do not, but this has changed. I am curious why."

"Look, we're all kind of freaked out right now, ok?" he snapped, and jumped up from his bed. His hands balled into fists, and he spread his wings slightly. Jay instantly regretted his defensive tone and posture, but what Laura thought of the display she didn't say, and instead just kept staring at him with those big, curious, unblinking green eyes. While not by any means malicious, there was nonetheless something predatory behind them, like a cat eyeing a toy mouse. "A whole bunch of my friends were killed because somebody out there hates us just for bein', an' us hidin' away behind a bunch of walls and gates ain't helpin' make folks feel any better about us. I'm tired of bein' cooped up in here an' just needed to fly an' get away!" Jay glared at her, but the effect was lost on her. Laura just sat there quietly and watched his tirade without emotion.

Jay groaned in exasperation and mopped his head. "Look, just get out of here, will you? You want a bit of Mark's presence take his pillow. Take down those damn posters for all I care; they kinda creep me out them still bein' in here."

Laura blinked. "You are angry," she said flatly.

"Of course I'm angry!" Jay snapped, and swept his arms wide. "I'm sorry if that's disruptin' whatever profile you've built on me, but yeah, I'm angry."

Still clutching the pillow against her chest, Laura hopped down from Mark's bed with her peculiar catlike grace. "I will leave, then," she said.

Jay mopped his face in irritation. "Yes, please." He sighed, and his wings sagged as he deflated. "Look, I'm sorry what happened, I know you an' Mark were ... hell, I don't know what you were. But you can't just come in here just because, certainly not if I'm not here."

Laura didn't say any more. She just hugged Mark's spare pillow against herself, and quickly retreated from his room clutching her prize. Jay watched her go, the uneasy feeling in his belly forgotten out of sheer bewilderment over the encounter.

###

Laurie giggled softly at the tickling of Josh's lips behind her ear, and she shrugged and ducked her head away from him as she leaned over her notebook.

"Josh! You're supposed to be helping me study!" she protested.

Josh leaned away from her in response, and propped his head on one hand as he regarded her with a grin. "I'm studying too, you know," he said. "I've got that anatomy test for Dr. McCoy next week before the break ..."

She gave him a bemused pout, and matched his posture. Though Laurie's control had faltered at times against the massive surging of emotion coursing throughout the school since the attack, as things calmed and classes resumed — as much out of a need to keep their minds occupied as for their education — the outbursts had come less frequently, and though she could certainly feel what was on Josh's mind and colored a little at the thought, she wasn't about to let it influence her. Or vice-versa. "I don't think Dr. McCoy is teaching about what you're thinking."

He reached out and played with a lock of her golden hair. "This is extra credit."

Laurie giggled again, and buried her face in her hand to try and mask the coloring of her cheeks. The library was empty that morning, and though they had chosen a table in one of the more secluded corners, she still felt a bit exposed for any sort of funny business. "Oh my god you are awful!"

Josh made a show of rolling his eyes as he conceded defeat. "Oh all right, all right. I'll keep my hands to myself."

"Well I didn't say that," she said. "Just no kissing here."

"But later though, right?"

This time it was her turn to make a show of considering his request. "Maybe," she said, drawing it out teasingly. "If you're nice to me."

Josh raised an eyebrow. "I'm not nice to you?"

"Extra nice. Like, maybe taking me to Salem tonight?"

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Hm ..." Josh didn't respond immediately, and milked the suspense for all that it was worth. Laurie watched him with growing impatience, before finally giving him a playful sock in the arm. "Ok! I'll take you to Salem tonight!"

She gave him a victorious smile, and a light peck on his lips. "Good, because I need to pick up your Christmas present."

Josh leaned into her as she started to draw away. "Oh? What is it?"

Laurie regarded him with a look of mock disappointment. "It's a surprise! You don't want to ruin the surprise, do you?"

"I'm just impatient to get to the unwrapping part."

She didn't need to feel Josh's emotions to understand the subtext of that, and it wasn't helped by his face being so close to hers he could feel his breath on her cheeks. It was all she could do now to keep her pheromones in check and not blast him with what she was feeling in that moment. "I don't know why I come to you for help with my classwork," she said. "We never get anything done!"

He let out an exaggerated sigh and backed away. "Oh, all right. Work now, play later."

Laurie grinned. "Play later," she repeated, and turned her attention back to her homework, while not entirely able to focus her thoughts on the assignment.

###

Act III

###

Xavier studied the board for a long moment, then made his move. Kitty's expression as she studied the placement of his rook was unreadable through careful practice, and Xavier resisted the temptation to reach out and try to read her reaction, or pluck some sense of strategy from her mind. It was, after all, only a game, and telepathy would be cheating. Even if Kitty had proven to be one of the few opponents other than Erik who presented him a challenge.

"Most of them are settling back in," she was saying as she carefully analyzed his move and planned her own response. They were seated in his office's conversation circle, with his old chess board set out on a table between them for a quick game over lunch. She had drawn black this match, and Xavier knew from their previous games that being in the reactionary position put her at something of a disadvantage. "They're still pretty distracted, though."

Xavier nodded idly. "Yes, I know. I had hoped a resumption of the normal routine would help keep them from dwelling." He sighed. "The important thing is to keep them occupied. Even if you need to keep the lesson plan light for now. How have you been?"

Kitty found a move to her liking, and placed one of her knights to threaten his bishop. "Holding up, I guess," she said, and Xavier didn't need his powers to hear the distress in her voice. "I don't know."

"The hardest thing to do after so horrible a tragedy is for the survivors to move on," he said.

"The thing is, I was there, Professor." Kitty sank back in her chair and mopped her face. "One minute I was talking with the driver, the next the bus was gone, and I almost didn't have time to phase myself and the driver as the debris and shockwave hit us." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "But so many of them weren't so lucky. I know we have to be strong for the survivors, it's just ..."

"I know how hard it is," Xavier said, and steepled his hands in front of him. "Just remember that you're not alone in your grief."

"I'm just worried," Kitty said. "I'm not going to go making accusations like Jubilee, but I can't help but feel that this isn't going to be the end of it. I can't forget that this stirred up a lot of emotion outside that's been buried for a long time. Yeah, there were a lot of people coming forward to support us, but there were still some acting like it was a good thing."

"I understand. Unfortunately that is also human nature. There will always be those who wish to see those who are different suffer, no matter how much progress we make there will always be more we need to reach out to."

"So many of the kids are angry, too. Julian Keller's been quiet since he started talking to Jubilee, but Quentin Quire is stirring up trouble."

"I wouldn't worry too much about Mr. Quire," Xavier said with a small smile over the younger telepath's more recent antics. "He certainly enjoys making a spectacle of himself, but most of that is just to get a reaction."

"The one that does worry me a bit is ..."

Kitty trailed off at a knock on the door, and glanced over her shoulder. "Come in, Laura," Xavier said after brushing the mind waiting out in the hall. The door opened a crack and her lithe figure slipped around the frame and she stepped inside. She showed no outward sign of being surprised Kitty was there, though Xavier had little doubt she knew before she even knocked. "What can I do for you?"

Laura quietly crossed the office, hugging herself and warily sweeping her green eyes across his office. Xavier had little doubt just what thoughts were going through her mind as she carefully took note of her surroundings. He sighed in sympathy at what he knew was a reaction outside of her conscious control, but even had she asked there was nothing Xavier felt he could do in good conscience to "fix" it — it was something she had to do on her own.

"There was something I wished to report to you ..." she said, and trailed off as she eyed Kitty warily.

Laura's mental defenses were up, though had Xavier wished he could still have forced his way past them to pluck whatever this was about from her mind, but he held back to allow her to express it on her own terms.

"I can leave if you needed to talk to the Professor in private," Kitty offered, and made to stand up and leave the office.

Xavier waved her back down into her chair. "I'm sure that won't be necessary, Kitty. What can I help you with?"

Laura shyly approached the table and studied the chessboard intently. "Jay Guthrie has been acting strangely," she said in an almost offhanded manner as she scrutinized the position of the pieces on the board.

Xavier raised an eyebrow, and carefully reached out to Laura's mind. Whatever process she had taken to come to this conclusion had been carefully shielded, and he didn't dare upset the girl's delicate mental balance by forcing his way through the barriers. "Strangely in what way?"

"He has recently been very outspoken about your instructions that students are not to leave the grounds unescorted, and I have observed him leaving the school on several occasions. He claims to just require room to fly, but he was lying."

Kitty frowned, and Xavier studied her carefully. Laura, for her part, ignored the scrutiny (though from the way she tried to shrink into herself Xavier had no doubt she was conscious of it), and focused her attention on the chess board. "I'm sure it's nothing," Kitty said. "A lot of your classmates have been on edge lately."

"My observations have been that Jay Guthrie is not given to such behavior."

"A tragedy of this magnitude can have a significant effect on a person's behavior and thought processes," Xavier said. He kept his voice as calm as he could, and his words had the desired effect; Laura took her eyes away from the board long enough to meet his, and for a moment the carefully-constructed wall around her emotions crumbled and exposed the depths of her own pain, before she shored it up again. Xavier returned his attention to the chessboard and moved a pawn into a position to cover his bishop from Kitty's knight. "I am sure you can understand."

"Yes," she said quietly, but her expression remained troubled.

"I am sure it is nothing," he continued, and sat back in his chair. "Unless you have found something to suggest he is hiding something?"

"I have not," she admitted. Kitty glanced between the two with a puzzled expression, unable to follow the subtext of his question.

"Well, there it is," Xavier said, and offered her a reassuring smile. "It will take time for everyone to come to terms with what has happened, but they will come to terms with it eventually. I can understand your desire for vigilance, but sometimes if you look too hard for something, you'll only find connections that you want to exist, not that actually are."

Laura considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, Professor."

"Now then, I do believe you have a class after lunch, so go on and get yourself something to eat first."

She nodded again, and glanced once more at the board. "Knight to king's bishop 6, check. Mate in three," Laura said, then turned on her heel and hurried from the room.

Kitty blinked and they both regarded the board for a moment. "I honestly didn't see that," she said when they both realized Laura was right.

Xavier just chuckled. "Well, shall we start again, then?"

###

Melita frowned, and tried to ignore the sudden racing of her heart. She had been pouring through documents all morning without success. None of them were files she hadn't analyzed dozens of times already, but once she moved from military service records...

"I've got you," she murmured, and cross-checked her notes.

There it was. It was a paper trail a mile long — certainly long enough to escape casual notice — but it all fell apart under a thorough investigation, and led to a warehouse in a remote corner near the New Croton Reservoir. A warehouse owned by a series of fronts all ultimately controlled by the brother of one of Stryker's clergymen. A brother whose shipping firm had collapsed during the Recession and been sold off piecemeal. All but this one warehouse. This one warehouse with no associated utilities, but here and there she found scattered orders among local suppliers for enough fuel that could run a private generator for months if need be. There were even shipping manifests. Scattered and buried, with no declaration of cargo.

It all snowballed from there.

Melita hastily saved everything she was working on to her flash drive and stuffed it into a pocket, then gathered up the papers provided by Ms. Braddock and locked her computer.

"Jamie, if Bob asks tell him I'm on to something and had to run," she called over her shoulder to the woman in the next cubicle, as she thrust her arms through the sleeves of her coat and grabbed her purse and phone. "I'll call him with the details."

"Right, Mel," Jamie said. "Oh, hey, you going to be at the office party tomorrow night? We're looking for a headcount."

"Put me down for a 'maybe.' If what I've got is what I think it is I'll really have something to celebrate."

"Gotcha. Good luck!"

"Thanks," Melita said, and rushed from the office.

The sun was beginning to sink into the west through the windows gazing out onto New York City below, and golden light stretched across the hallway floor as she hurried from the studio for the elevator. Braddock hadn't said exactly when and how she expected to catch up with her, and Melita hadn't spoken with her since that first bizarre encounter at the bar, but if she was truly an associate of Logan's and as professional as she appeared, Melita wouldn't be surprised if the woman already knew she had found something and was coming to meet her.

Melita reached the elevator and impatiently pushed the call button to will the car to her floor faster. After what seemed to be an interminable wait, the elevator dinged and the door opened, and she nearly jumped out of her shoes when she found Bob waiting there.

"Oh!" she yelped at the unexpected sight of him, and Bob just regarded her with an amused raise of his eyebrow.

"Still haven't switched to the decaf?" he said.

Melita rolled her eyes and stepped into the elevator with him. "Not now, Bob." She punched the button for the garage level. Bob didn't make a move to leave the car, and instead remained aboard to ride down with her.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry? Hot date?"

"Not tonight, I think I've got something on Stryker."

"Oh?"

She nodded excitedly. "Oh, yes."

Bob offered her a smile, and studied her closely. "That's my girl. What have you got?"

Melita hesitated a moment, but opened up the folder of documents to a few pages she'd printed of her research. Best someone knew where she was going in case this all blew up in her face. "I found this warehouse not far from the New Croton Reservoir. It's rather remote, there's no utilities, but it's still receiving shipments, and I found sales records for fuel for a generator purchased from suppliers in the general area."

He considered that for a moment. "Alright, seems sketchy, I'll give you that, but are we sure it isn't some meth lab?"

"The problem," Melita said, as she turned over a page, "is the chain of ownership. Look at this: the warehouse is directly owned by a shipping company out of Newark, right? But the majority share of that company is held by Chicago firm. I kept following the chain, and every link is owned by another with a majority interest held by yet another company. By the time I finally get to an individual shareholder, it points directly to a brother of a member of Stryker's clergy. A brother who took a header off an office building when the Recession hit and his shipping company went belly-up."

Bob studied the document closely. "And you've got the whole paper trail traced?"

Melita nodded eagerly. "From the warehouse all the way back."

The elevator bumped a little on its trip down to the garage, slowed, and the bell chimed as it stopped about halfway from her destination. She paused as the doors opened and three men in suits got on, then the doors closed once more and the elevator continued on its way. Bob spent the silence looking over the paperwork.

"What's this, here?" he asked, studying a sheet of plain text with a frown.

"Stryker's call history," she said, lowering her voice with a wary eye at the other passengers, but none of them paid her any attention.

Bob looked at her sharply. "You didn't ..."

"Oh of course not," she murmured in annoyance. "Who do you think I am? That's part of the original files."

"From your source?"

"Yes, my source. I've done some digging into the numbers and come up with a lot of dead ends." She pointed out one number in particular. "Especially this one. Not only is it not listed, but the number doesn't belong to any domestic or foreign carrier I've tried. It's not even a government number, but whoever it is Stryker has been in contact with them almost daily."

Bob weighed the papers carefully. "What about the school, is there anything here that can directly place one of Stryker's people near that bus?"

"I think so. The bus was operated by Golden Touch, and about five minutes after the Xavier school placed a call to charter the bus, another call was placed from the depot's central office to an unlisted number. That Matthew Risman character? At the exact same time he received an anonymous call that lasted about three or four minutes, then he immediately called Stryker."

"You think they ran the call through a bunch of dummy numbers?"

Melita nodded. "The timing fits."

Bob sighed. "I don't know, Mel. The work with the warehouse? That's brilliant, we can do something with that, but I still can't run with this theory about the call. Especially since some of those records were probably obtained illegally."

The elevator bumped and slowed again as it neared its destination. "I know that, Bob, that's why I have to run. Give me until tomorrow and I bet I can place one of Stryker's people in the garage itself."

"That's where you're going?"

"That's where I'm going."

Bob glanced past her shoulder at the three men in suits, and gave a subtle nod. One of the men hit the Door Close button, then all three turned and Melita felt hands grabbing her. "Hey! What the hell!" she cried out, and vainly struggled against their grip. "Let go!"

"I'm sorry to do this, Mel," Bob said, and plucked the folder with all her research and Braddock's information from her hands. "Search her."

"Bob? What the hell is this?"

One of the men started going through her coat and pants pockets, and Melita flinched in revulsion when got a little too enthusiastic as he patted her down. He quickly found and appropriated her flash drive, and took her purse as well. Melita managed to free one of her hand as he slipped it off her arm, and leveled an awkward strike to the side of his head. She connected, but rather than stagger him all her blow did was irritate him, and he backhanded her hard across the face, driving her into the two men still holding her.

"That's enough!" Bob snapped.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Like I said, I'm sorry, Mel. I'd hoped you would have given up on your own, but you're just too damn good at your job."

Melita gawked at him. "You're honestly standing there telling me you're a member of Stryker's church?"

"No, I'm not," he said. "But I think he's right. The worst thing that the government could have done was voting down that registration act."

"You bastard, those were kids!"

"They should never have even been here! I've got family, Mel. I don't want to come home one day and learn some mutie kid accidentally blew up my daughter's school because he couldn't control his powers! One of Stryker's men asked me to keep an eye on you in case you got too close. I didn't want to do this, but you couldn't let it go!"

Melita scowled at him. As the shock of the betrayal faded all she could feel was anger, and a sense of panic building in her gut. "So what, you're going to kill me? That guy who attacked me a couple months ago, was he one of Stryker's people, too?"

"They want your source. If there's a leak in Stryker's organization he needs to know."

"Kiss my ass, Bob," she snapped. "I wasn't going to tell you before, and I sure as hell am not going to tell you now."

"Mel, please, just cooperate." There was a hint of pleading in his eyes, and his face turned a sickly green color. "I know the types of men Stryker has following him. I know what they'll do to you to get that name, and I don't want you to go through that."

"And if I cooperate they'll just kill me nice and quick, is that it? If you really think I'm that naïve you're a bigger idiot than I gave you credit for."

Bob swallowed and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mel. Please believe me, but I'm doing what I have to. I hope you can understand that. I didn't want this."

"I don't give a damn what you wanted, Bob. So let's just get this over with."

###

Act IV

###

Kevin made his way down the hallway towards his room, his hands in his coat pockets, and trying his best to ignore the undercurrent of holiday cheer that had been steadily replacing the fear and uncertainty of the past month. He didn't really have any stomach for it.

Laurie was gone, having already caught the shuttle for Salem with Foley. Keller was off somewhere romantic with Sofia, and Santo was pestering some of the girls down in the lounge. Even David and Nori were patching things back up again.

He was alone, and it really, really made him hate the holidays.

"Kevin! Hey, Kevin!" a voice behind him called, dragging him out of his brooding. Kevin paused and turned to find Cessily — dressed in her winter coat — running up the hall after him. The hall lights reflected brightly off her metallic skin, and glided along the subtle curve of her cheek.

"Hey," he said, when she caught up with him. "Decided to take me up on my offer?"

Cessily blinked, and her eyes widened in alarm. "What? Oh, no. No no no no no no. I'm totally flattered, and it's a cool idea, but no way am I gonna play lawn ornament in a living sculpture display."

"You're sure? Santo got a kick out of it."

She scowled at him and folded her arms across her chest in indignation, and Kevin couldn't help but twitch one corner of his mouth into a smile at her displeasure in that remark. "Of course he did. Because we'd basically be naked and Santo's a pervert. Thank god he doesn't have telepathy, too."

"I'm just saying, the way the light plays on ..."

Cessily likely would have blushed had she been capable of it, but instead cut him off with an embarrassed glare. "Nuh-uh, don't you even think about finishing that comment."

Kevin held his hands up in mock-surrender.

"Anyway, have you seen Laura? Soo and I were going to take her into town tonight. She's never had a Christmas before and we wanted to help her have a real one, you know?"

Kevin shrugged. "No, I haven't."

Cessily heaved a sigh and planted her hands on her hips, looking about as cross as Kevin could ever remember having seen her. "She's totally hiding from me!"

"Can't say I blame her," he quipped. "You're sending me into a diabetic coma just standing here."

"Oh, ha ha, very funny. And what are you doing cooped up in here, anyway?"

Kevin looked away towards his room. "I had some studying to do."

"Oh my god! Not you too! What is it with all you Scrooges?!"

"I just don't do the holidays, Cess. There's not much to celebrate."

Cessily laid a sympathetic hand on his arm, the only person even among his friends who were unafraid of his touch. "Look, I know. It's been hard on everybody the past month, but that's just more reason to celebrate what we do have, you know."

"It's not that, Cess. It's ..." he began, and trailed off as a mental image of Laurie and Josh under the mistletoe popped into his head unbidden.

"Look, you need to get out of here for a bit. We all need to get out of here."

"You go on. If I see Laura I'll let her know it's safe to come out."

Cessily made a pout, and tightened her grip on his arm. "Nuh-uh! No you don't! You are getting out from under that black cloud of yours and coming with me!"

"Look, Cess, I just ..."

"I am gonna Christmas somebody tonight, even if it kills me! Now come on, the shuttle leaves in five minutes!"

Kevin rolled his eyes as she started back down the hall the way she came, half-heartedly digging in his heels and resisting her grip on his arm as she pulled him along behind her. "Come on, Cess ..."

But Cessily ignored him, and Kevin was left with no choice but to follow.

###

"Jay!" Melody said from beside him. "Jay! Jay Jay Jay Jay Jay Jay Jay!"

Jay pretended he didn't hear her, and just sat on the couch in the lounge watching the umpteenth showing of It's A Wonderful Life. Melody was practically bouncing on the couch next to him like an overactive puppy. She grabbed his arm and was shaking him as she grew more and more exasperated with the game he was playing with her.

"Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!"

Finally he looked at her. "What?"

"When are we goin'?"

"Go where?"

Melody spit him with her best aggravated-little-sister glare. "What do you mean 'Go where?' We were gonna go to Salem with the others!"

"I don't know, Mel, it's getting' cold for flyin'," he said, only mostly to get under her skin. He'd nearly frozen the last time he flew to Stryker's office.

Melody swatted him across the shoulder. "We can take the shuttle you dummy! Or Yana can teleport us."

Jay shuddered at that prospect. He wasn't quite sure whether Ilyana Rasputin was serious about her pocket universe or not, but the stories she had told in the lounge — especially last Halloween when everyone was trading spooky stories — made him wonder why anyone would agree to travel with her. "You mean like all the normal kids?"

"Jaaaaa-aaaaaaaay!" she whined, and started tugging on his arm trying to pull him off the couch. He heard some snickering from nearby, and shot a glare at Melody's circle of friends. For her part, Megan Gwynn fluttered her wings and shrunk away shyly, but Max and Yana were unfazed. Fabio Medina just looked uncomfortable.

"You don't really want me along, do you, Mel?"

"They already won't let us go into town without one of the teachers with us, an' Paige says I have to go with either you or her, an' she's tied up with gradin' papers tonight."

"I don't know ..." Jay made a show of considering.

"I heard Sooraya'll be there with Cessily," Melody said, with a suggestive lilt in her voice that sounded horrifically mature to his ears, almost as if it were their mother trying to fix him up with one of the neighbor girls. Jay's cheek twitched, and a strange queasy feeling filled his gut at the mention of Sooraya's name that was almost immediately overcome by a wave of guilt as he saw Julia's face looking down disapprovingly on him. "An' anyway, you promised!"

Jay heaved an exaggerated sigh, only mostly for Melody's benefit. "Oh, alright, alright. Let me get my coat."

Melody hopped off the couch, almost dragging him with her. "An' you gotta promise to at least pretend to have a good time!"

"Well now you're just settin' conditions on me."

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta make sure you've got the Christmas cheer an' all. Oh! An' we can go Christmas shoppin' for momma an' the others!"

"I'll meet you out by the shuttle in a couple minutes," he said. "Remind me to have it out with Paige for makin' me play babysitter later."

Melody swatted him on the shoulder and spit him with an annoyed look. "I don't need a babysitter an' you know it. Paige is just bein' all jumpy. Now get goin'! I don't want to be late!"

Jay just rolled his eyes in exasperation, and left the lounge to get his jacket.

###

Melita was forcefully directed through the parking garage. When the three men in the suits first forced her off the elevator she considered running, but the muzzle of the pistol that was almost immediately buried in the small of her back convinced her otherwise, and with the three of them crowding around her just in case the gun wasn't enough of a deterrent, she wouldn't be able to pull the same broken heel trick she had with that man who accosted her some months ago. Instead all she could do was go wherever they led, and Melita had no doubts that if she went along quietly that would be the last anyone would ever see of her.

Logan, baby, where are you when I need you?

Bob nervously paced the group, wringing his hands periodically and sweeping his eyes across the rows and rows of parked cars, and around the concrete and steel columns supporting the upper levels of the building. The cavernous garage was dimly illuminated in a yellowish hue, with dark shadows filling most of the space, ample cover from which they could be watched by more of the suits' friends.

Melita shot a scowl in his direction, though she felt the muzzle of the gun press even tighter against her back in silent warning not to try anything funny. For a moment she seriously considered doing just that, preferring a quick bullet in the back over whatever they had planned, but instead she just continued walking as an odd sense of calm washed over her.

They wound through a couple aisles and past rows of SUVs, Fox news vans, and here and there the luxury sedans or high-end coupes of some overpaid executive. The garage was thick with the scent of exhaust and their footsteps echoed on the concrete, but there was no sign of anyone else in the garage that she might be able to signal for help.

So why hadn't her stomach been tying itself in knots since they dragged her from the elevator?

The answer came when Bob suddenly rushed the man with the gun at her back, slamming into his side in a surprisingly brutal tackle given his stature and disposition. Melita stumbled with a yelp as her leg was entangled with the pair, and they all went down in a heap to the pavement. The other two suits immediately spun around in response to Bob's unexpected attack, and reached into their coats for the guns she suspected they had concealed inside.

They never made it.

A lone figure exploded from the shadow of one of the columns supporting the ceiling, moving faster than any human being had a right to. Melita heard the sound of steel rasping against wood, and the dim garage lighting flashed on a long steel blade as it whistled through the air. The two suits never had time to so much as cry out in alarm as the blade sliced through them in one fluid motion. Melita scrambled away from the center of the fight on her hands and knees, cursing inwardly as she scraped and bumped her bare skin on the rough concrete surface. A shot rang out, the report echoing deafeningly in the confined space of the garage, and Melita thought her eardrums might burst from the sound. This was followed shortly by a muffled crack over the ringing in her ears, and then there was nothing but silence.

Everything was over within seconds.

"Well, that was exhilarating," a familiar voice said, and as Melita's head cleared from the chaos (and her ears stopped ringing), she looked up to see Ms. Braddock standing over her, wiping blood from a long, single-edged sword she then smoothly stowed in a scabbard at her left hip. She was dressed head-to-toe in an black bodysuit reinforced with armored plates, and Melita blushed a little in envy that even geared for fight Braddock had a way of making another woman feel a touch inadequate. "It seems you have a habit of needing rescue, Ms. Garner. Clearly someone doesn't like you very much."

"Some people just don't like the facts," she said from the ground, and Braddock reached a hand out to help her back to her feet. Melita took the casual violence of the attack in stride, but swayed a little as she regained her footing. "Thank you."

"I would have stepped in sooner, but I had to do something about this fellow here." Braddock motioned at the third suit — the one who had the gun pressed to her back, who now lay sprawled across the ground with a nasty bruise barring the side of his temple.

Melita looked down on him with a scowl of contempt, and it was then that she saw Bob lying motionless in a spreading pool of blood with a single bullet through his forehead. "Bob!" she cried, and rushed to his side. "Oh god!"

"You knew him, then?" Braddock asked, almost bored by her reaction, and Melita rounded on her and glared.

"He was my station manager! He set this whole ambush up, but I guess he had a change of heart."

"Oh, that. As I said, I needed to do something about that fellow with a gun to your back. Believe me, Ms. Garner, the man may have been a bit disgusted by what they had planned for you, but he had no intentions on interfering. You could say I convinced him otherwise."

Melita blinked. "You made him attack that man?"

"Yes, and quite easily, too. Whatever else he was, he was quite the weak-minded bastard."

She spared Bob's cooling corpse a look. Despite his betrayal, Melita still couldn't help but feel a little squeamish. "Well, that I could believe, at least."

Braddock just grunted, and turned her attention to the third suit lying sprawled on the ground at her feet. He groaned a little and began to stir. "Well then, time to see what this chap has to say," she said, and knelt at his side. As the man came to and sat up she grabbed him firmly by his shirt front and dragged his face close to hers. The man was dazed, but there was no mistaking the fear in his eyes as Braddock stared him down. "This will be rather unpleasant, Ms. Garner, you may not want to watch."

She scowled at the insinuation she might not be able to handle what was to come. "This won't be the first time I've seen the end results of torture, Ms. Braddock, and considering that's what they had planned for me I think I can stomach this."

Braddock just shrugged. "Suit yourself, but don't say I didn't warn you. I couldn't touch his mind directly, which is why I needed to use your friend as a distraction, so I think I'll need to dig a little bit deeper."

She raised one fist, and a glowing pink aura coalesced around her hand, eventually taking on a shape not unlike the blade of a knife. A knife that in one savage motion she plunged square into the man's forehead. His whole body went rigid with a strangled grunt, and only Braddock's grip on his shirt front kept him from collapsing. His eyes open so wide Melita thought they might pop from their sockets, his jaw clenched, and he began to shake as spittle frothed in his mouth. And most unnervingly, though Melita had no doubt he was in total agony, he didn't utter so much as a scream as Braddock forced her way inside his mind.

It lasted only a few moments before Braddock withdrew again, leaving not so much as bruise where she had stabbed him. Released from her power his whole body went limp and she let him collapse lifelessly to the ground. His eyes gazed sightlessly at the ceiling of the garage, and his jaw hung open.

Braddock stared at him for some moments without a word, and Melita watched her as she thoughtfully regarded his corpse.

"Well?" Melita asked, when Braddock didn't say anything. She really ought to have felt revolted by what she just saw, but considering what Braddock had done was probably merciful compared to what he had planned for her, she couldn't quite work it up.

"Well, what?"

She shifted uneasily as she stood over Braddock and the dead man at her feet. "Did you, I don't know, see anything?"

"Nothing useful, unless you want the intimate details of just what he wanted to do to you. And trust me that you really don't want to know — this wasn't just going to be an interrogation. Stryker did send him to silence you, but you already knew that. But what Stryker's actual plans are ..." Braddock just shook her head in helpless frustration, leaving the insinuation clear: Whatever Stryker's next move would be, this man didn't know. "I don't think this was entirely a waste, though."

Melita frowned as Braddock began to pat the man down, stopping at his chest. She pulled open his shirt to reveal a large silver crucifix which Braddock removed, turning it in her hands as she studied it carefully.

"Well, this is fascinating," Braddock said, and glanced at Melita. "Here, do you mind?"

"Mind what ..." she began, only to trail off when Braddock handed the cross to her. "Oh."

She accepted it, and studied it herself for a few moments. The only things that really stood out to her was its unusual size and weight, but Braddock was staring at her intently. "Very interesting."

Melita tore her eyes away from the cross and looked at her. Braddock's expression was thoughtful, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "What is?"

"I can't read you." Braddock pushed herself back to her feet again, and folded her arms under her breast. "I'm standing only about two feet away, and you're completely blank to me now."

She regarded the cross in her hands in surprise. "You think this is why you can't read any of Stryker's people?"

"I think you and I have just confirmed that, actually." Braddock's expression grew distant as she considered carefully. "The technology to block telepathy isn't exactly new; Sebastian Shaw pioneered it in the early Sixties, and I can only assume that when Magneto was apprehended during the Kennedy assassination that Trask Industries had a look at his helmet. Stryker was the military stooge to Trask during the Vietnam War, and I imagine he's reaping the benefits of about fifty-odd years of research and development."

Melita frowned. "So they turned Magneto's helmet into this?" she said, and held up the cross.

Braddock nodded, and her expression grew serious. "Yes. But more to the point, I'm afraid of what other Trask research Stryker may have been a part of furthering."

"Oh god ..." Melita paled and hastily swept her eyes across the men lying around her, and found the suit who had taken her research and belongings. She rolled him onto his back and ignored the ugly red slash across his throat as she dug through his jacket for her folder, flash drive, and purse. "I was actually heading out to check out a lead when these guys jumped me. I found something, and I think we've — you've — got a real problem on your hands."

Melita stepped away from the corpse and turned over the folder. Braddock opened it up and began paging through the printouts. "What do you have?"

"Stryker has been receiving shipments at a warehouse near the New Croton Reservoir. I couldn't find any manifests, but there had to have been at least two or three-dozen shipments within the past few months."

"He's stockpiling weapons," Braddock said, making it a statement of fact.

"Whatever it is, he's taking a great deal of care to make sure that it can't be traced directly to him, and that whatever it is can't be identified." Melita pointedly held up the crucifix. "And if he's already distributing this sort of technology ..."

"... then he could have any number of means available to contend with mutant powers." Braddock slammed the folder closed and tucked it under her arm, and Melita handed over her flash drive as well. "I need to have a look at this warehouse." She quirked a grin. "Up for a little hands-on investigation?"

Melita smiled and tucked the crucifix away in her purse. "Stryker has tried to have me killed twice, now. I know that I'd sure like to know what it's all about."

"Well then, let's go have a look, shall we?"

She glanced down at the bodies lying sprawled across the pavement. "What about them? Someone's bound to find the bodies and start asking questions."

Braddock tsked her. "My dear Ms. Garner, do you really think I wouldn't be prepared for that?"

Melita didn't answer, and she didn't ask what she had in mind. Sometimes it really was best to just not know.

###

Act V

###

Night settled like a sparkling black blanket dotted with chips of silver across Salem, while the skyglow of New York City was plainly visible to the southwest. The wind bit with winter's chill, and his breath misted in the air. Men, women, and children of all walks of life strolled Titicus Road outside the movie theater, laughing and talking, and generally enjoying the sights and sounds of the approaching holiday. A small group of carolers sang outside St. James Episcopal, wreathes, garland, and other decorations hung outside the shops and restaurants lining the other side of the street, and everywhere the air was filled with joy and life.

Garrity paid it all little mind; he was here on a mission from God.

He watched the activity along Titicus from one of the tables outside the Grind Stone Café, and sipped on a cup of coffee. A space heater warmed the tables outside, and there was a small crowd gathered in the space around him enjoying the smells of cinnamon, nutmeg, and the other seasonal flavorings of the café's holiday specials. Among them were a girl with skin like liquid metal, and a boy dressed head-to-toe in black. Garrity hid his scowl behind his cup as he watched the abominations. The girl laughed at some inane bit of her own babbling over some occurrence at that den of sin they had the gall to call a school, and her companion listened without hardly speaking a word. At times he cracked a small smile, but otherwise there was a black cloud around his mood that wasn't brightened by the light and life of the night air.

No matter. The time was almost come.

So Garrity just waited, drank his coffee, and watched.

###

Marie laughed quietly as she walked along Titicus arm-in-arm with Bobby, her breath misting in the chill of the night air. She never quite got used to not seeing it from him, as well, and he only wore a jacket — a lightweight one that for anyone else would be utterly inadequate for the season — for the benefit of the crowd. But with his powers he could run down Titicus stark naked in the middle of a blizzard and not be the least bit troubled by it.

Salem was alive with the sound of laughter; children, men, and women of all ages roaming Titicus as they shopped, browsed, and just enjoyed the approach of the holiday. It was a welcome respite from the stress and fear of the past month, and seeing their students finally relaxing and having an opportunity to act like kids again came as a deep relief to the staff. Nonetheless, Cyclops was insistent that the students be protected at all times, so now she and Bobby found themselves wandering Titicus Road and keeping watch over the students that had taken the shuttle into town.

"The shuttle's comin' back in about an hour," she called when she caught sight of Jay Guthrie looking positively exasperated as he followed Melody, Ilyana, and Megan around on their shopping trip, having been stuck by Paige with keeping his own eye on their sister while she was at work back at school. The rest of Melody's circle of friends had gone to the arcade to duck out of having to follow the three girls into every clothier in Salem. "It's the last one, so we're not leavin' until everyone's aboard!"

"Well now we'll never get them aboard the shuttle," Bobby said with a grin.

She just shrugged and gave him a playful smile. "That's fine with me. Ah think they could use the time, anyway. It's been hard enough on them the past month, an' Ah hate keepin' 'em all cooped up back at the school."

Bobby nodded his agreement. "It's nice to finally see things starting to get back to abnormal, again."

Marie sighed and rubbed her arms against a sudden chill, and Bobby put an arm around her shoulder. While the quirk of his mutation meant it didn't actually help her keep warm, the touch of him against her nonetheless worked some subconscious level of magic. "Ah know. It's just that this isn't like what happened to us," she said. "Oh sure, we had to deal with the stares an' the insults, but this?"

"Things had been going so well, too," he admitted. "I was beginning to think that was all past history."

Marie sighed, and hooked the white stripe in her hair behind her ear. She could never quite remember the moment that left it — in truth she was in so much pain when Magneto activated his machine she had all but blacked out. "Ah do think Jubilee has been overreactin' blamin' Stryker out of hand," she said, "but Ah'm still afraid this was just the start. Have y'all been able to find out anything more about those folks that were disappearin'?"

He sighed and shook his head. They paused at the window of a toy store, and stood at the back of the crowd and watched the children gazing with mixtures of awe and longing at the display behind the glass. Some of them were younger members of the student body, standing side-by-side with locals from Salem with no one thinking anything of it. Salem was the Professor's shining victory: A place where the Dream had come true, but somehow since the attack even here Marie couldn't help but feel uneasy. The people had certainly been supportive; offering heartfelt condolences and support, and doing little things to help the kids move on from their loss, but there was nonetheless an undercurrent of discomfort among the residents, as if being so close to the school — both geographically and even philosophically — made their town a possible target.

That they didn't know just who painted it on them only made it harder to bear.

"No," Bobby said, and his frustration was evident in his voice. Marie squeezed his arm with one gloved hand, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "There haven't been any more since the bombing, either, but I think Cyclops is convinced that whoever is responsible is just gearing up for something bigger."

"Thanks, Bobby, as if Ah wasn't worried enough."

They moved on from the window and made their way up the road towards the Grind Stone, and for the moment they could do nothing more but stay vigilant as best they could, unable to shake the worry that something worse was on the horizon.

###

"I think mom is really going to like this," Laurie said as they stepped out of the boutique — one of the higher-end clothiers along Titicus Road — with a bag in hand as Josh wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I still think you should have picked up something for your mother while we were there."

Laurie glanced at him as they made their way up the street towards the Grind Stone, but Josh's face remained frustratingly stony.

"I don't exactly have the best relationship with my parents," Josh said, and this close to him Laurie couldn't help but feel the hint of sadness emanating from him. He didn't however, elaborate further, and Laurie was left to twist her features in frustration at his evasiveness. However open he was with this feelings on other matters, the one thing Josh remained closely guarded on was his family and past. Of course, that only made her more determined to get him to open up, though she reminded herself she wouldn't resort to using her powers. That was her father's trick, not hers. She'd do it the right way.

"It's Christmas!" she said instead in protest.

He sighed, and pulled her closer against his shoulder in a light hug as they walked. "I know. But believe me when I say it's not going to help."

"Scrooge!" she said with an exaggerated pout.

"Yeah, that pretty much describes them," he said, teasingly deflecting her accusation. "But that's ok, you know? I have you."

Laurie rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile in spite of herself. "Ok, I'll give you that one. And I know things were kind of rough with mom, considering ..." she trailed off at the memory — her own emotions raw and barely under control thanks to the barrage of hurt and pain permeating the school when her mother had come to visit — and steeled herself at the fresh surge of hurt to prevent herself from blasting it to everyone along Titicus road. "You know ..."

"I know," he said, and hugged her closer, the warmth of him pressed against her side helping shore up her hold on her pheromones.

"But she really did like you," she continued.

Josh quirked a grin. "Yeah. Though I'm doing something wrong if she's approving of me."

She giggled and pushed away from him enough to deliver a playful sock to his shoulder. "Yeah, well, I know you better. You're a horrible, horrible person to me!"

They continued up the road, passing Ms. Marie and Mr. Drake as they stood in front of a store front watching the children gazing with longing on the display behind the glass. Laurie was buffeted by the surging emotions around her, but she lowered her guard at the waves of peace and joy from the crowd; the fathers and mothers shopping with excited children, partners stealing a kiss under the mistletoe, the faith of the churchgoers attending the Advent services at the church. All of it lifted her up and soothed the strain of the emotional assault she had born in the aftermath of the attack. Laurie leaned her head against Josh's shoulder and smiled wistfully at the concentration of happy around her.

However as they approached the Grind Stone she was conscious of a small cloud of melancholy drifting towards her from that direction. Laurie frowned and lifted her head away from Josh's shoulder and craned her neck to find its source. As if he sensed her distress (which, Laurie reasoned, might very well have been the case, as she thought her control might have slipped a bit when she first felt that disturbance in the sea of positive emotion), Josh glanced in her direction with concern in his eyes.

"Laurie? What is it?"

"I felt ..." she began, and trailed off as she swept her eyes across the crowd, and caught sight of Cessily and Kevin at one of the Grind Stone's outdoor tables. "Oh."

Josh followed her gaze, and she didn't need to feel the shift in his mood at the sight of Kevin to know what he thought. His body tensed next to her, and he hugged her even tighter against his shoulder.

Laurie turned her eyes away from her friends and glared at him. "Don't you do that," she said.

"Do what?" he asked in clear protest at her accusation.

"He's one of my best friends, Josh," she said.

Josh scowled. "If he was, he'd know to back off."

Laurie growled disgustedly in the back of her throat, and fought off the wave of his jealousy threatening to unravel the good done by the pervasive calm and joy of the holiday season. "I love you," she said, giving him a full blast of her frustration that momentarily staggered him, "but you're really being kind of ugly right now."

Josh shook his head to try and throw off her pheromones assailing him. "No fair!"

Laurie ignored his protest, and tugged on his arm. "Serves you right! Now come on! And be nice, ok?"

She half-dragged Josh the rest of the way to the café, threading past a few pedestrians standing between them. Cessily caught sight of them moving their way, and smiled broadly as she waved them over. Kevin tore his eyes away from the cup in his hand to look in their direction, before promptly looking away again, and trying to shrink away inside his coat. For a moment Laurie's heart broke at seeing him looking so dejected, but immediately that feeling was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of something darker battering the wall of happy she had gathered around herself throughout the night. Something twisted and black and malevolent.

It was hate. Pure, blind, hate.

Laurie missed a step as the wave of emotional blackness struck her, and gasped out loud. If not for Josh at her side she might have stumbled and collapsed entirely.

"Laurie? Are you—" he began, but his words were cruelly silenced by a single shot ringing out in the night.

###

It all happened in slow motion. One moment Kevin was brooding over a cup of hot chocolate while he listened to Cessily gossip about some weirdness of Laura's, or Santo's particular brand of insanity, or that Sofia had a secret she was keeping from Julian. He couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that at times the man sitting alone at the other table outside the Grind Stone was eyeing them, but every time Kevin looked in that direction the man just stared out into the street, his expression hinting he was no more inclined to enjoy the holiday than Kevin was.

The next moment, Cessily was waving at Josh and Laurie, and Kevin was trying his best to shrink out of sight into his jacket. The man at the table across from them set down his coffee and left some money under the cup and got up, starting away down Titicus...

...and in one quick motion pulled a gun from inside his coat and fired it right into Laurie's face.

The shot shattered the peace of the night. People screamed and scattered at the sound. Cessily's hand was frozen in the air and her face contorted dumbly in shock. The man started turning his gun on Foley, but was stopped as some bystander rushed in and tackled him to the ground.

All Kevin could see was Laurie's body collapsing into Foley's arms.

He managed a strangled, animal cry as the realization of what just happened finally overcame his shock and horror, and he flung aside his chair as he rushed from the table, pushing against the panicked bodies fleeing the scene as he tried to reach her. His stomach twisted itself in knots and threatened to force its contents back up out of his mouth, as it took what seemed like hours to cross the narrow stretch of sidewalk between the café and the site where Laurie's body lay, and only one thought managed to fight through the shocked haze of his mind: "Oh god! Oh god! No no no no no please god no!"

But as he reached her side Kevin realized with a sensation like a knife twisting in his gut that no amount of prayer would change what just transpired.

Tears streamed down Foley's face, and he knelt over Laurie's still body as she lay in a spreading pool of blood, his hands clamped over the grisly wound in her forehead. Her eyes were half open and gazing sightlessly at the sky above, and her mouth hung slightly open.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" a voice at his side said as he pulled up short, and Cessily grasped his arm tightly. She stumbled as her legs threatened to give way beneath her, but Kevin shook her off and joined Foley by Laurie's side.

"Laurie!" he cried. "Oh god! Foley, do something! You have to do something!"

"I'm trying!" he said, his voice dripping with panicked desperation. A muted golden glow appeared beneath his hands and spread across Laurie's face. But nothing happened.

"Laurie! Please!" Foley pleaded. "Come back!"

"Come on, Foley!" Kevin barked.

Foley's face knotted in concentration, and sweat beaded on his brow as he desperately worked to knit Laurie's head back together, but nothing happened. She just lay still in a pool of her own cooling blood. Finally Foley just collapsed, spent by the effort of trying to heal her, and let out an anguished sob as he cradled her body against him.

"Foley!" Kevin said, feeling his voice break. "Foley you have to—"

"I can't," he murmured, his voice broken by defeat. "It won't fix. Oh god ..." He hugged Laurie against him and began to cry.

Kevin tugged at his hair, and stood away from them, Salem spinning dizzily as his head swam and the world collapsed around him. By now a crowd had gathered, but he didn't see them. He didn't see Cessily's shoulders heaving dryly, her face buried in her hands and desperate to cry but physically incapable of it. Ms. Marie and Mr. Drake shoved their way through the crowd, only to stop in horror at the sight. Lights flashed as police responded to a 911 call, the cars jumping curbs to block off the area. Uniformed offices took control of the gunman from the pedestrian who had captured him, roughly cuffing his hands behind his back and dragging him to his feet.

And then the cries and murmuring of the crowd was stilled as he laughed.

Kevin rounded on him, his tears stinging his cheeks in the cold winter night's air, the churning in his belly replaced by an empty hollowness.

"Look well, abominations!" the man cried out in triumph, "for God's judgment is at hand, and the righteous fire of heaven shall wipe your profanity from the earth! The world will be purified of the blight of your existence!"

The empty feeling in his gut didn't remain empty for long. Kevin's breath came in ragged gasps as it was filled by cold wrath, and he resolutely pulled off his gloves.

"Kevin, what are you doing?" Cessily asked, but her words rang hollowly in her ears. They didn't even register with him. All he could hear was the laughter of Laurie's killer echoing in the night as he was led away by the police. He felt her hand on his arm, but Kevin effortlessly shook her off, and pressed through the crowd before she could try to restrain him again. All she could manage was a useless "Kevin!" shouted at his back.

Kevin forced an opening ahead of him and, freed of the crowd, broke out into a run to intercept the police before they could lead the gunman to one of their cars. He went willingly, only pausing to shout more self-righteous taunts, and that gave Kevin all the time he needed.

He shouldered between the officers on either side of the man, and tackled him from behind. They all tumbled to the ground together with Kevin landing sitting astride the man's chest. There was no fear in the murder's eyes. No regret, and no resignation. All Kevin could see there was hate, so with an animalistic growl he grabbed the man's face in both hands to wipe the contemptuous smile from his face.

The gunman certainly screamed then. Kevin's power went to work instantly, the skin of the man's face blackening and cracking as it melted away under his touch, and Kevin clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth began to hurt. More people screamed at the horrific sight of the man decomposing before their very eyes, and Kevin was distantly aware of Cessily and Foley calling his name in a panic, but he couldn't hear them. All he could see through his tears was Laurie's lifeless face, and he didn't even have the satisfaction of watching her killer rot. The man's anguished screams soon passed into a sickening gurgle as his flesh disintegrated, and Kevin wanted nothing more than to erase him from existence.

"Kevin, no!" Foley screamed from much closer this time, and Kevin was aware of hands seizing him from behind and physically dragging him off his victim. In a rage Kevin twisted in his grip and seized his attacker around the throat. He was rewarded with the twisted satisfaction of hearing Foley cry out in anguish as Kevin's power went to work on him as well.

"It's all your fault!" Kevin screamed in Foley's face. "You were supposed to take care of her! You should have fixed her!"

Kevin tightened his grip, but though at first his power began to devour Foley's flesh just as it had everyone else he had ever touched — his father, Laurie's arm, her murderer's face — Foley's soon flared to life to fight back against the assault. The golden glow spread outward from beneath Kevin's hands until his entire body was gleaming in the night. Then Kevin felt something e never had before as a hand touched his cheek from behind; the power that had been a part of him most of his life failed. He suddenly felt weak a dizzy, and lost his grip on Foley's throat as he momentarily collapsed onto his side in sick exhaustion, and his power failed him entirely.

Ms. Marie stood over him and hastily backed away.

"Everybody stay back!" she cried in warning as the police and crowd tried to press in around her. "Oh ..."

The last was murmured in a voice halfway between surprise and embarrassment as her clothes immediately began to disintegrate. For a moment Kevin's mind refocused enough to realize what had happened — she had stolen his power, leaving him helpless as the police closed in. Kevin managed to get his feet underneath him, and with a snarl made for an area where the crowd was thinnest. Though his powers were neutralized everyone backed away from him in fear nonetheless, giving him all the opening he needed to flee from the chaos, and disappear into the night.

###

Mary watched everything unfold from across the street, well away from where Drake could spot and recognize her. The woman the abominations called Rogue was left standing nude on the street as the power she stole from the boy who had murdered Garrity disintegrated her clothing, until someone brought her a coat to wrap herself in that wouldn't be damaged by the appropriated powers. The residents of Salem backed away from the scene, half out of fear and half by the police cordoning off the area.

She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. It was time to make the call.

###

Stryker bobbed and swayed as the car bounced along the road, and he grimaced and rubbed his bad leg as it barked in protest at the jostling. He bore the discomfort without a word of complaint to his driver, however, and leaned his head back against the headrest.

After several minutes of riding in silence his phone rang, and Stryker activated his headset.

"Stryker," he said.

"Reverend, it's Sister Mary," the woman on the other end of the line said.

"Yes, my dear, what is it?"

"It's done, sir," she said, and Stryker felt a smile creep onto his lips at the news.

"Was there a reaction?"

"Yes, sir. Some panic, and the locals are keeping their distance. One of the abominations was killed."

"Did Brother Garrity deliver his message?"

"Yes, sir." There was a noticeable catch in Mary's voice audible even over the phone, and Stryker frowned.

"What is it?"

"Garrity is dead, sir," she said. "One of the abominations killed him."

Stryker took a deep breath. Casualties were an expected outcome of warfare, but a good commander never made such sacrifices in vain, nor did he disregard the lives of his men. And sometimes, such deaths served a greater purpose. "In front of the public?"

"Yes, Reverend."

The smile returned to his features. "Do not grieve, my child, for God has summoned righteous Garrity to his side, and his sacrifice was not made in vain. He has shown these abominations for what they are, and that will serve us all in the battle to come."

"Thank you, Reverend," she said, and he could all but hear the smile in her voice; even the simplest words of comfort could work wonders lifting up the faithful. "Do you have any further instructions for me?"

"Continue watching Salem for now. Once the mutants have departed return to the warehouse. The time of God's reckoning is at hand."

To be continued...

---

A Note From The Author

This was another difficult episode to write, this time for several reasons. The main obstacle was just plain and simple writer's block, so there was a lot of just trying to force myself to move forward. I actually didn't have a really clear idea of exactly how this episode was going to play out. I know how I wanted to end the first season, the problem was the build up to it. Psylocke was originally not in my plans, but adding her has actually helped to set up exactly how I'm going to get various pieces where I need them for the finale.

The other reason this episode was such a challenge was because I know just how divisive the murder of Laurie Collins was for readers of the books — probably even more so than the bus bombing that preceded it — but I really needed to use it to set up things for the future, particularly as Wither, much like Psylocke, was never part of the original plan so once I added him I needed a way to drive him out of the school without the other elements of the original New X-Men run that contributed to his departure. That didn't mean proceeding with killing Laurie wasn't still an incredibly delicate thing to do, but as much as I hate grimdark I felt that the deaths in the bus bombing and Wallflower's murder is incredibly important to the development of the cast to come over the course of the finale.

In other news, as I'm sure most of you know there's been quite a few developments for X-Men: Apocalypse that break the continuity I've established with New Class, particularly with Jubilee and Psylocke. I've therefore made the decision that I will not be altering what I've written to fit with Apocalypse. New Class will therefore occupy its own continuity following from Days of Future Past rather than trying to make it fit, which frankly will take far more work than I really want to do .

And for those who are interested, be sure to check out the entry page for New Class on TV Tropes! Feel free to update it!

Finally, I'm pleased to announce that my next book — and first full-length novel, Bait And Switch — has found a publisher! So if you haven't already, check out my debut novella No Good Deed... (ISBN: 0615888038 and ASIN: B00FYJCQL8).

Until next time!