A/N: Thanks for the review, greenskinned. I didn't notice until I read what you said regarding Bobby and you're right! (For this story) I had in mind the comic version of Iceman, who can be immature and a class clown.

Anne Marie - You'll have to continue reading to find out if there is a cure for Pyro or if it's permanent!

What the Hell?

Chapter 15

The Spark Before The Flame

Rogue waited briefly for John to come up behind her. As her hand rose, a fist formed; before making contact with the door, she mentally heard two words that allowed entrance.

They entered the office and stood side by side. The Professor was facing the window behind his meticulously neat desk. Rogue glanced at her boyfriend wondering what he was thinking.

Professor Charles Xavier barely moved as he made the wheelchair rotate to face them. He was smiling for two reasons. First, he glared in John's direction, "He's reminding himself to refill his lighter. He's also conjecturing what I've been doing all this time to find Erik."

John looked at her but held his tongue—not showing any signs of regret. Rogue felt her boyfriend's gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but Professor X silenced her with his hand before she could utter a word. "As you both know, I don't typically enter your minds without permission, but—"

"You don't have to explain or apologize," John interjected and then smirked, "It's not a crime to have some fun with your gift once in a while." He shrugged and added, "I have nothing to hide."

"What can I do for both of you?"

John countered. "Why ask the question when you already know the answer?"

The Professor's expression remained the same at the rhetorical question.

"What do we know?" John asked bluntly.

"It's been very quiet, I'm afraid."

He shifted his weight. "Well, as you already know, I want to help find him, and destroy what he hopes to accomplish."

Xavier nodded. "I thought you didn't play well with others . . ."

John snorted, "I was young, angry, and arrogant when I said that. I still am, I suppose, but I know I can't do this on my own."

"And you don't have to," Rogue added.

Less than twenty minutes later, everyone Professor Xavier telepathically asked to meet him in his office had arrived. Rogue and John had moved, planting themselves on either side of the desk, facing each other. They all stood in a half-circle, Scott at the peak with Jean and Storm at his sides. Kitty followed Bobby to the right. Last in, Logan made his way to the left, next to Rogue.

"I've called you all here to announce that it's time to accelerate the search on Erik with John's assistance."

Scott's ruby gaze locked on John. "What are your thoughts?"

"He's a sneaky son of a bitch and prefers underground bases. He doesn't find anything wrong with praying on the weak—those that are forced to hide. There hasn't been any news or we would've heard something, so that tells me this operation is extremely low-key and not aimed at humans . . . yet."

"Unless the humans he targets have no family," Storm suggested.

"Why would he betray his own kind?" asked Kitty.

Rogue answered resentfully, "He's done it before."

"John, what do you propose?" Scott asked.

"We scout mutant hangouts." He received more confused looks than he anticipated. "Why is it that Magneto knows about them and you don't?" he said, sighing, the question not directed at anyone in particular. "The hangouts are usually located underground or in abandoned buildings in desolate areas. You'll find the more interesting looking mutants underground. Ideally, the scout should be someone The Brotherhood—if present—won't recognize. They should also blend in." John took a breath before saying, "I want to give Magneto a surprise visit when the time is right." He shook his head because he knew what they were thinking, his tone hardened, "I'm going. Don't talk me out of it." He told everyone in the room. "I'm dead either way."

"Fine," Scott sighed and crossed his arms, "I mean . . . it's not, but okay; we have to discuss this, though. How are you going to protect yourself?"

John thought about the question before saying, "There have to be gadgets lying around that can give me some sort of defense."

"I'm not comf—"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take, Scott." John's eyes and tone matched in texture—firm and unbreakable.

The leader of the X-Men looked at his mentor for support.

Professor Xavier could make someone say or do anything he wanted, but he knew if he tinkered with John's mind, it would be the final act to push him over the edge. Xavier accepted the fact that either way blood would be on his hands. He knew the final decision the young man made was firmly wrapped in much thought and perseverance, and no matter which way he looked at the situation, he couldn't justify interfering. "It's his choice, Scott."

Scott's body hardened, but he didn't push.

Jean felt the disapproval coming from her husband, offering, "I'll do what I can to shield you—we all will try—but I can't make any promises."

John nodded. "I'm not looking for any. There are no guarantees in war."

Logan grunted. "Who is going to be the mole?"

The room fell quiet, until . . .

"I'll do it."

John moved from his spot to get a better picture. "She could pull it off," he said after a few moments. "If Kitty runs into trouble she can't be touched. What do you say, Leader?"

"Yeah, okay. I can't argue with that."

"For once," John muttered.

Hearing the comment loud and clear, Logan grunted in amusement and agreement.

"I'll make a list of the mutant hangouts I'm aware of. Kitty should be dressed like she's a runaway . . . Logan can help with that."

"On it." One set of Logan's claws ejected as he opened the door.

Kitty gasped as she realized where he was headed and what he was going to do. "Wait," she yelled, taking off after him.

"I don't know what she's worried about," said John, "I'd bet everything I don't have that she can beat him without breaking a sweat." He snorted, "Hell, she won't even have to catch her breath."

"John, go to the basement," Scott instructed. "I'll meet you there in a little while."

"I'll come with you," insisted Rogue.

"Let's go." John looked over his shoulder, "Drake, are you coming?"

The trip to the basement was a quiet one. Once into the hall, Rogue's fingers intertwined with John's. John was the first to comment since leaving Xavier's office, "That went better than I'd expected."

"What if Kitty is asked to demonstrate what she can do?" asked Bobby from behind.

"Well, she can warn them first, which might make them reconsider or she can show some of her talents."

"I assume they'll have to see something," Rogue said.

"We could talk about all of the possible outcomes," replied John, "but ultimately it'll probably work out differently than we'd covered." He placed each hand in the back pockets of his pants. He felt cool metal on his fingers.

"I wonder what's in this room."

"We'll soon find out."

In the short space of silence, John started to laugh. "I was vulnerable when I had my power, so how is it any different now, really?"

"If you think about it . . . most of us are, actually," Rogue said. "Scott is just trying to protect the team. There's a lot of weight on his shoulders and he blames himself for everything; that's the burden of being the leader, I guess."

The doors to the elevator hummed open. Scott stepped out and made a beeline for the door without uttering a word. He placed his palm on a black pad. After he removed his hand, it lit up with a ten-digit keypad, each number highlighted by a red circle. He quickly punched in the code, convincing the door to slide open and allow access.

The lights in the room illuminated automatically once Scott stepped in. John couldn't believe the things he saw. The technology looked so futuristic; even Steve Jobs would be impressed.

Cyclops stopped in the middle of the room and turned around. "As you can see we're stocked with—using your term—gadgets, but finding something that contains no metal will be a challenge," Scott said, stiffly.

"Got any flamethrowers?" Joked John, but there was no amusement in his voice or facial expression.

Scott regarded the young adult and said, "I know you're not serious, but what I'm going to say will be really important." He paused briefly and then told the well-known hothead to 'focus'. The leader of the X-Men purposely let the word soak in, before adding, "The mission always comes first. Personal feelings need to be pushed aside. Can you do that, Mr. Allerdyce?"

"Y—" John stopped short to raise his voice a few notches and to add confidence to his tone. "Yes."

"Good. Let's go find you some sort of defense."

All members of the team regrouped in the Ops room. John fished out the list of underground hideouts from his pocket, unfolded it and placed the crumpled sheet of paper onto a huge digital map. He smoothed out the wrinkles as best he could. When John touched an area on the map a red marker appeared. When he finished, there were a total of eleven markers. The map was projected on the wall for all to see with ease. "There are probably more, but these are the locations I'm familiar with. I've personally been to these." With blue markers, John indicated the five areas he'd visited. "I think we should hit the spots where you will find by definition living and breathing freaks." He held up his hands to defend his words. "For the record, they call themselves that! I'm not being intentionally insensitive." He took a breath and continued, "Kitty, be prepared for disdain. They don't care for normal folk." John ended the sentence using a southern accent. He tipped an invisible cowboy hat to her and winked. "Bobby, Rogue and I were talking and if you're asked about your power or required to demonstrate what you can do . . . I think it's best to keep the story close to the truth. Either they can believe you or you can destroy something of value—their choice." He held up a finger indicating he wasn't done, "Or . . . you can act naive—your choice."

Kitty's navy hooded sweatshirt was torn and holey in various spots; jeans were worn and torn at both knees. Fake plastic-framed glasses hung from the collar. "Whatever the situation calls for . . . that's what I'll do."

"Kitty will be going in alone," Scott explained. "We won't have eyes, but we'll be able to hear and we will intervene if necessary. The objective: to find out if anyone has seen anything odd that has happened within the last few weeks. The ultimate goal: finding the needle, of which, is Magneto. K—"

"The sharp pain in my ass," muttered John.

"Agreed," Logan said through clenched teeth.

Unfazed, Scott continued, "Kitty, I know I don't have to tell you this, but be aware of your surroundings and listen carefully for anything that you think is relevant to our objectives." He paused. "Everyone else, suit up and meet at the Northern garage in twenty minutes."

Kitty Pryde couldn't help but wonder if they'd find anything here since the first two hideouts they tried had been deserted. Ducking slightly, Kitty cautiously walked through the inclining storm drain. The only sounds she heard were those that came from her own movement. At the end of the drain, she hopped off and went right as that was the only option that didn't require revealing that dead-ends mean nothing to Shadowcat. Kitty trudged along the damp and chilly tunnel, stuffing both hands into her pockets. The further she went, the darker her surroundings became. She fished out a glow stick, bent it to break the inner container and shook the stick to fully mix the two components within: hydrogen peroxide and phenol. The stick glowed neon green as Kitty held it as far as her arm could extend in front of her. Kitty's heart rate increased at the sight of an opening. The entrance was half the height of a standard door. She ducked, keeping the glow stick close to her body. "There's no one here," she whispered, "I'm going to take a look around." Unlike the opening, inside she was able to stand up straight. Whoever inhabited the space took everything except for trash and crates, which, Kitty assumed were used as chairs. She picked up each one to make sure nothing was hidden underneath. Under the second to last crate, a piece of torn paper caught her attention. In white bold letters, it read '…ID OF THE GENE THAT MAKES YOU UNHUMAN? SPREAD THE WORD!' She bent down to pick it up and continued to read: 'Screenings will be held—' "Shit."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, Jean," she responded in an even tone, "I think our objective just got a little more specific. I found something, but it's not complete. It seems like someone is claiming they can remove the x-gene, but unfortunately the location where the screenings are taking place was ripped off." Kitty folded the flyer and slid it into her back pocket. "I'll be out in a little while."

An hour later, Kitty entered the next mutant hangout. She didn't really know what to expect but she didn't expect it to look . . . so . . . normal. She made a noise in disgust at herself. Normal. What was normal anyway? From the entrance door-frame, Kitty scanned the room; mentally noting the people and the environment. She stopped counting heads after ten. As she walked in she decided to sit on a vacant stool by the bar between two sets of couples. The shelves were empty as well as the countertop. No one seemed to notice or seem to care she was there. Even though she wasn't complaining it made her feel slightly uneasy. Anti-mutant groups were growing rapidly each day, thus, in this world, if you were a mutant you had to be very cautious. She truly believed that would change one day, but for now, that's how it was.

Both pairs were distracted by their own conversations. Kitty leaned to one side so she could pull out the flyer without standing. First, she asked the pair to her left if they'd ever seen that advertisement. Both girls responded with 'no'. She did the same with the couple on the right receiving a 'no' and a 'nope' to her question. After asking a few more inhabitants of this current space the answers were no different.

"Have you seen this?" she asked once again, her interest fading with each unhelpful response.

"Why?"

That little question changed her stupor like shoving smelling salts under an almost down-and-out boxer's nose. Kitty cocked her head to the side, regarding the rough-around-the-edges type in front of her. He was much taller than she was, and his long black hair covered the majority of his face. He was the first to ask her a question. She'd conjured up a story for that question which involved a missing friend, but the vibe she felt coming from this man required a different story. "The location is missing as you can see, and I want the gene that makes me considered . . . a freak . . . gone!" Kitty resisted the urge to cover her mouth as she realized her tone had inadvertently elevated. On top of that, she sounded so convincing; even she almost believed the words that came out of her mouth. "So, can you help?"

A/N: Thanks for reading! I love to hear your thoughts, so please leave a review!