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Issue #24 |
"Unchecked Power" Epilogue: It All Comes to This Written By Doug Bookey and Aaron Stanley |
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There was something about this life he missed. The heroics might be more tangible, but there was something almost more fulfilling inside the building his father built. Standing at the center of a wall full of glass, Warren looks out into the city. A slight smile pulls at his face, as a vision of his childhood returns to him.
His father would always stand in the same spot, looking out into the city, just as Warren does now. The ringing phone removes him from remembering happier times, and he turns back to his desk. His wings move forward for a small stretch and they fold back behind him once again. “This is Worthington,” he answers, “What can I do for you?”
“Warren,” he hears a woman speak his name through a connection not quite clear. “Something terrible has happened.”
He grabs for the handset, killing the speakerphone connection the moment he recognizes the voice, “Kitty? I can barely hear you.”
“Something’s wrong, can you get to the Mansion?”
Warren moves to the window again, “I don’t know Kitty; I have several meetings planned for this afternoon.”
Static garbles the line and Warren once again has trouble making out her voice, “Its Bobby.”
The line clears out the static and nothing but silence is broadcast, “Warren!”
Kitty Pryde’s voice fills the empty room as the Satellite phone finally finds a clear connection. A slight breeze passes over the transmitter. Warren Worthington is long gone, out the open window as his wings strain against the high winds of an incoming storm.
Sore muscles will heal, meetings can be rescheduled, his friends in the X-Men always carry their priorities but he and Bobby were two of the first. The five of them are more family than teammates; there was no question in his mind at his responsibility. Warren Worthington toyed with giving up the false names and uniforms twenty minutes before, but all of that suddenly mattered very little.
<hr>
She turns the rotary dial on the master radio control, “he’ll be there, I think.” Kitty says in the interphone, broadcasting to everyone wearing a headset. “The Avengers weren’t answering; I couldn’t get a hold of Hank.”
A small delay provides a second or two without any voices over the radio. “We’re several minutes out, keep your attention on monitoring the emergency frequencies, I’ve got a bad feeling something isn’t right.”
“Like sticking your friend full of sedatives?”
“Enough of that,” Scott Summers throws out a short voice, “Just get it done.”
She rolls her eyes, “My Captain, my captain.”
Kitty feels two hands on her shoulders coming from behind her. She looks up to see the woman that had always been like a second mother to her, Storm smiles, “He’s awake now.”
She smirks with a crooked eyebrow, “Well good for the popsicle.”
“You didn’t call Miss Clarke, did you?”
Again her eyes turn in her sockets, “I’m not an idiot Ororo, we’ll be there in a few minutes there’s no need to worry Bobby’s little girlfriend.”
Kitty turns her face back to the communication station, her microphone nearly touching her mouth she holds down her transmit button, “Did the popsicle have a nice nap?”
“You’re not being nice Kitty, Bobby is doing well,” Kurt’s accent comes through her channel.
“What’s Scott’s deal, sedating him like that anyway?”
“Kitty, I can still hear everything you say, could you monitor the guard frequencies and keep the gossip to a minimum?” Scott’s voice sends a chill down her spine, and before he realizes the channel was still open he continued, “Jesus, Alex. Is this the tactical mess that’s left of my team?”
Even at the rear of the aircraft, Scott Summers’ voice still echoes his last complaint. Cecilia Reyes trying to find something to say to the groggy patient staring up at her, instead Bobby Drake doesn’t bother fighting with the restraints around his arms and feet, his head simply rolls to the side, “What a mess today is.”
Cecilia traces her hand through the mess of hair on his head, trying to comfort him at the very least. “We’re all running on high gear; don’t let him get to you Drake.”
He does not utter a sound, Cecilia shakes him and concern falls over her, “Drake?”
The monitors squeal as alarms sound. Drake’s heart rate slows, his body temperature drops and the machines in the make shift infirmary all scream. “Pryde! I need McCoy on the radio, now! I don’t know enough about Drake, I can’t treat this!”
A cold hand wraps around Cecilia’s wrist, “don’t get stressed, Doc. This is me going back to normal, it just hurts a little.”
A scowl grows over Cecilia’s face, “Tell me, next time.”
Bobby forces a smile, trying to lighten the mood as usual, “my bad.”
<hr>
A pair of feathered wings holds Warren Worthington aloft, the blue-skinned mutant glides over the closed and locked gates of Xavier’s property. His feet touch the ground and his wings fold into their place at his back. Warren straightens his tie and jacket slowly making his way to the front door.
The door to his left swings and faster than the wealthy mutant could blink, he is greeted by the barrel of a pistol, held by a man wearing the blue and white uniform of a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. “State your business,” speaks the man with the gun. “Identify yourself.”
The weapon does not frighten him, “how about you tell me what S.H.I.E.L.D. is doing in my home?”
“I asked you…”
The man could not finish his sentence as he vanishes from sight, pulled back into the room by a woman wearing a similar but newer color schemed uniform. Judging by her stature Warren was sure of at least one thing, she was in charge. “I’m sorry, Warren,” Rogue looks over her shoulder to the man stumbling to his feet. “It seems some people don’t like to listen.”
He looks her up and down, “I supposed the uniform answers my question to where you’ve been?”
“Come inside Warren, we need to talk.”
His arms fold, “How about we talk here?”
“Two reasons. The most important being that I owe you an explanation, and secondly I’d rather you be inside so I can keep my eye on you.”
Two men walk up to either side of Warren, holding their weapons on him. He shifts his eyes to both men, and then to the woman in front of him. “Do you want this to turn ugly? The others are on their way.”
Rogue steps forward, letting the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem show itself. “Don’t make this week any harder than it has been, sugah. I don’t want anyone hurt.”
“Says the woman who brought soldiers to a place that supposed to be her home?”
“My home? You know what its’ like to walk inside here like this? But then again, how long did it take for you people to stop looking at me like I was going to turn on them at any moment, all those years where I was little more than a tactical advantage.” Rogue’s voice is calmer than Warren wanted to hear for her little diatribe, “you know what it’s like to be second guessed, a victim of your choices. No, Warren, this might have been your home, it was never mine.”
Any emotion is removed from her face, “Gentlemen, escort him inside and set him down next to the civilian.”
“Two men with guns,” Warren almost laughs at her, “I hope you can do better than that when Alex gets back.”
She smiles right back at him, “Idiocy does not suit you Warren, you’re much smarter than that.”
<hr>
The air cracks as the blackbird shatters the sound barrier just inside New York’s airspace. The injured man at the Navigators position doesn’t like what the radar is showing him. Small enough contacts to be ignored by a traditional aircraft bounce back to his screen all over the satellite image of the grounds of Xavier’s estate.
“Alex I need you to climb another two thousand feet and slow to a cruising speed.”
The pilot replies: “that’ll put us well into range of radar.”
Ignoring Alex’s statement, Scott narrows the target radius, “Storm, I count at least ten contacts that are solid enough to be hazards. They’re faint, but Forge’s radar enhancements will most likely expose more as we get closer to the mansion.”
She looks back from the co-pilots chair, “What’re you suggesting?”
“My injuries being what they are, and Bobby is still sedated enough to keep him out of any fight. We’re at a huge disadvantage and without Warren here I absolutely need a pair of real eyes in the air, I don’t want to rely on instruments alone.” He counts several more targets that appear and disappear on his screen. “These guys are all over the campus, this might get ugly, and I need you in the air to provide us some aerial defense.”
She stands from her chair and moves off the flight deck. Sliding the wireless communicator into her ear, “Are you still working on a plan?” Ororo asks the fearless leadership usurper.
“Kurt,” Scott broadcasts over the interphone, “I need you to take over the Co-Pilot chair, I need you to land this bucket when I have good enough coordinates. Kitty I want to hear some radio chatter, search the mansions’ frequencies and tell me what you hear.”
The fingers of his working arm fly through the navigation controls, keeping a keen eye on their GPS. “This day can’t get any worse, the hangar deck is covered, and they’re pushing us into a hole. Bobby needs medical attention and we’ll be surrounded the moment we land.”
Alex peers over his shoulder, watching his brother work overtime at the controls, “Kitty,” he asks over the interphone, “any word from Warren?”
“I can’t get through his comm. All I hear is static if he’s even wearing the damn thing.”
“Wonderful.” Cyclops replies, sliding a visor over his face, “We’re fighting blind.”
<hr>
It is not a sight Warren is not accustomed. Xavier’s Mansion is almost devoid of life except for the handful of mutants in the main gathering room. A young man he barely recognized had just turned away the maid service. It was almost business as usual, if it were not for their uniforms. Rogue had given up her green and gold for the color scheme of Fury’s mutant division, and standing in the room with her are two other men dressed much like her and wearing military rank insignia.
The youngest of Rogue’s trio would not look the winged mutant in the eye, Chris Bradley was not willing to attempt to hide that he hated what his part in this assignment. A feeling Warren could at least appreciate; however, he could not approach Rogue with any other emotion besides disdain.
“I still can’t believe any of this,” the blue-skinned mutant sighed, “I don’t see any proof to the things you say. Frankly I’ve never trusted Fury.”
“Trust him or not, I don’t think your opinions matter much Warren. You’re barely a reservist in this merry little band anymore; don’t you have better things to do?”
His eyes are almost grey, cold as his voice, “Jean is dead.”
“I know.”
“Bobby was hurt.”
“He’s fine,” she corrects.
Warren leans forward, “Do you really expect me to be anywhere else? We have not heard the first word from you after Elizabeth was killed. You’re the one I never expected to see again.”
“I’m surprised you noticed I was even gone, but you all never cared much about anyone other than yourselves.”
Warren laughs, “You like to think that. Yet Bobby was always there for you when Remy would not give you enough attention. Nice to see how you remember that cross country trip you took with him tagging along.”
“Judge and jury as always Warren, loyal to the bitter end. And that’s just what this is flyboy. I’m not enjoying this, but I have to do it.” The S.H.I.E.L.D. Major spits back at the wealthy man and simply walks away.
Rogue isn’t yet outside the room and Warren speaks up, “You run a real tight operation here, honestly do you think Havok’s team can’t handle the three of you?”
“Honey, if you think I’m playing my entire hand, you can keep living your pipe dream. Bolt here has been blocking that signal you’ve been trying to send. Frankly, Havok’s most powerful member is down for the long count, and the team has been dealt a huge psychological blow. They won’t be in the mood to fight, and if they are? Well, I’ve brought enough to keep us occupied for a long while.”
Warren Worthington extends an angry expression toward the woman who he thought was a friend to his extended family. “I don’t’ like this anymore than you do, Warren, just do us a favor and let us get it done and stay out of the way.”
<hr>
The roar overhead escalates as the unusual aircraft halts in mid air. Vertical nozzles point downward and the Blackbird balances on a delicate pinpoint of directed thrust. Steadily the craft falls closer to the earth; its landing gear already extracted the large jet makes a soft touch landing on the green of Xavier’s property.
A hatch lowers itself to the ground and a man with a splinted arm shuffles out first. Cool and collected, the man wearing a slit of red over his eyes searches the grounds. Two more men and a woman follow close behind him in a perfect defensive formation. Each has their eyes peeled in the direction assigned by position, the cardinal points of a compass would be proud.
There isn’t a slight wind or a cloud in the sky, and movement at the main house brings the group to a quick stop. His fist closed and held high enough for anyone to see, the people behind Scott Summers react at the very second he made his gesture. The others kept their eyes where they as they were told, the East, South, and North; Scott Summers focused his potentially deadly gaze to the woman and the two others flanking her coming at them from the West.
They keep themselves tight to each other, as the female leader of the trio approaches. They were dressed in red and black. Not a uniform that any of the X-Men could claim they recognized, but as Rogue’s face came into view brought another kind of shock. “X-Corps?” Alex Summers asks his brother’s opinion with only that word, his question met with a disapproving look that sent him back to his assigned area.
“Let’s hope not,” Scott replies. “Be ready.”
“Scott,” Rogue calls out as they’re barely in vocal range. “I need to ask you to stand down, there’s no reason for fightin’ today.”
The color of the emblem escapes Scott, though the gold emblem blanketed in red there is no mistaking that eagle. “S.H.I.E.L.D.” The leader mutters under his breath, loud enough for the others to hear.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask why you’re threatening us on our property, Rogue.”
The three S.H.I.E.L.D. dressed mutants stop within a meter of the four X-Men. Their faces all ring a bell to Scott’s memory their names however escaped him. Rogue takes the lead of the other two and walks forward, showing a careful gesture to make a more personal discussion distance with a man she respected, “Evenin’, Cyclops.”
“Rogue.”
The lack of emotion on the visible region of Cyclops’ face didn’t surprise her. “You’re curious why we’re here, no doubt.”
“And the probable battalion you have hidden around here.”
Her smile betrayed her defeated thoughts, “You saw them?”
“Radar, Shi’ar technology, you should know these things.”
“To business, then.” Rogue spoke, clearing her throat and fished out a folded piece of paper from a pocket in her uniform.
“That would be the best course of action.” Cyclops coolly spoke.
“X-Men, you are hereby disbanded under the authority of the office of super human affairs director Valerie Cooper, and are so instructed to vacate the premises under the supervision of the S.H.I.E.L.D. delegated authority of Major Bethany Sutton. All rights and properties belonging to one Charles Francis Xavier are hereby frozen pending liquidation for failed actions to undermine the sovereignty of the government of Genosha and the dangers posed to the by the persons loyal to the alleged terrorist Charles Xavier.”
The defensive posture of the four X-Men dissolves as they each come to stand beside Cyclops. “Alleged Terrorism? Are you certain you’re speaking of Charles?”
“Please, Cyclops, I’m not finished.”
“Hold on, who the hell,” Havok quiets as Cyclops shoved him back behind the line of X-Men.
“Let her speak.”
“Thank you.” She speaks after a deep breath, “Scott Summers, for your inability to keep Jean Grey under your control, and allowing her powers to reach an unstable level and decimate an entire town. You are hereby under arrest for the murders of four thousand, three hundred and fifty seven lives snuffed out by the actions of Jean Grey-Summers. According to your pact made with Nicolas Fury after the first emergence of the Phoenix, you are to surrender yourself to the custody of S.H.I.E.L.D. and to be charged with the numerous lives lost through the actions of your wife.”
The X-Men turn their heads to the astonishingly non-responsive face of their long-time leader. Nightcrawler attempts to bring something up, but no comforting words can be brought to the surface. “Alleged terrorism against the Genoshan Government?” Cyclops speaks without breaking a single word. “Doesn’t sound like you’re too sure.”
“Innocent until proven guilty, Scott. You should know these things.”
“Right, I imagine I should, but thank you.”
“For?”
A wide angle of crimson light takes down all the members of Rogue’s delegation to their feet. Cyclops steps forward, closing the beam emitting from his eyes and focuses it directly onto the nigh invulnerable Rogue. The force hurdles the woman at least fifty yards before her body digs into the ground, plowing the surface of Xavier’s property. “Innocent until proven guilty,” Cyclops points to the other two men trying to get to their feet, “Then we have an innocent man to rescue.”
Havok and Shadowcat leap to their duties, as perfectly trained soldiers should. Squaring off with Radius, Shadowcat allows her fist to pass though his shielding untouched. His face bleeds as her semi-solid fist cracks his skin. The former member of Alpha Flight stumbles back and attempts to wipe the blood from his mouth, as the usual his skin cannot make contact. “You’re a clever girl; I had you pegged for wanting to fight the brat your own age.”
The limp body of Chris Bradley flies through the air, the young mutant hadn’t a chance.
Kitty smiles, her attention back to Corbo, “Force fields are lame.”
“Yeah, they might be,” he leaps onto her, tackling the girl before she has time to turn herself intangible. Pummeling his fists into her face keeps her mind off protecting herself with anything more than flailing arms.
Almost unsure of what had happed, Kurt springs to action while Havok joins his brother in keeping Rogue down. Making a futile grab for Corbo, Kurt vanishes and reappears soon after without his intended target.
Jared Corbo stands, a battered Pryde lies still at his feet. He grins, turning to face Nightcrawler, “Come on preacher man, whatcha got?”
The opening of the battle lasted a mere few seconds before the sounds of ammunition belts and clanking metal storms the grounds. Boots pounding into the grass, a company of Blue and White standard S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers surround the small band of X-Men and the standing officer orders them to close. Jared Corbo leads from the front, closing in on the X-Men. Havok tries to repel their advance, a yellow blast of plasma burns into the air around Corbo and he shakes it off. Corbo snaps a finger and Alex Summers is down. “Stun blast, Charlie is in the trees man, he’s everywhere.” He mocks the X-Men with a smile he does not care to hide.
The red flow of light ceases. Cyclops surveys everything around him. Two of his number down, an easy hundred soldiers closing in to arrest the remaining. Kurt meets eyes with Scott and he understands without a word. The circle of soldiers moves closer, forcing Kurt closer to the unconscious X-Men and the moment he is able he drops to the ground. Touching Kitty and Alex, all three bodies vanish in a plume of purple smoke.
“He’s got a range of two miles if he doesn’t bring anyone with him. He’ll be too tired to run anywhere.”
Cyclops returns Corbo’s smirk. “That might be true, but who’s going to search for them?”
His sentence finishes and a white-hot blast of electricity burns through the sky. The air expands rumbling, and the current halts before it’s anywhere near the crowd of soldiers. Everyone stares in amazement, not an eye is lost to the spectacle above them. The lightning scattered through the air as though it rounded itself past a dome. Tracing the fingers of electricity and the sound of the rumbling thunder, all eyes fall on Bolt.
Catching the lightning in his open palms, Chris screams as the pain filters through his body. He’s able to ground most of it, burning the grass all around him he tosses his hands upward, the light flying from his hands as though he just challenged Zeus himself.
Two balls of collected lightning travel back through the sky, her screams sound almost as loud as the thunder. Scott is only barely able to alert the teleporter to catch her. His aerial defense, his secret weapon, taken out with a dramatic show made to look like ease. Christopher Bradley falls to his knees to catch his breath, his gamble paying off, but his body would surely pay for it later.
“So, anymore tricks up your sleeve?”
Corbo’s words signal the Soldiers to train their weapons on Cyclops. “A hundred or so of us, one of you, how about you play this the smart way?”
The tactician looks all around and Corbo holds his soldier’s movements, “hey man you’ve got a good group of people, they hold their own. But you’ve got S.H.I.E.L.D. against you. There’s no hope for you fight us all off.”
Cyclops releases his hold on his fists. Relaxing his hands with a hesitation only lasting a moment, slowly his hands find their way atop his head. “Good Boy Scout, now drop to your knees.”
He follows Corbo’s orders, anger starting to well inside his chest. He breathes deep to try and compose himself, watching as Rogue gets to her feet after force-feeding her a continuous blast from his eyes for two minutes straight. She stumbles forward and Scott notices something different in the air he breathes, a mist forming as he exhales.
“Oh what now?”
A voice calls out from the frigid air, "Doc Holiday, right in the nick of time I'd say."
Ice forms over the rifles of every man holding one, soldiers begin to drop to the ground. The cold rattling their bodies in short order as Bobby Drake collects himself from solidifying mist in the air. Standing beside Cyclops, Iceman faces down with Radius, “It’s the damn OK Coral over here, a guy just can’t take a nap.”
Bolt and Rogue pass through the crumbled line of their soldiers, coming face to face with the remaining conscious X-Men. “Chris, glad to see you’re up and about,” and the Iceman turns to Rogue, “How about you tell me what the hell is going on, and without all that legal crap.”
“Look Bobby, like it or not, Xavier is a fugitive. He gathered a team of mutants to try and take down the government of Genosha and install himself as the Prime Minister. And Cyclops caused…”
“Stop.” Bobby halts her speech, “We don’t need to bring up Alaska, I was there.”
“Fine.”
Scott steps in front of Iceman, pointing a finger that nearly strikes Rogue’s face, “You know we’re not going to simply lie down and let you take our home, like it or not we’re going to fight for it.”
Bobby rolls his eyes and Scott rambles on. “You, have no right,” he stammers, “No right. To.” He turns his head toward Iceman, standing behind him with his arms crossed over his chest. Scott falls to the ground, without another word said.
“Serves ya right, at least you’ll have a bigger headache.”
Surprised, “Did you, you just?” Rogue can hardly form a sentence.
“I used to do the same thing to Emma all the time, she got off on it. Seems Scotty can’t take the cold.” Stepping over Cyclops, Bobby came face to face with Rogue. “So the way I see it, we’ve got two options. Vacate the Mansion, or fight S.H.I.E.L.D. everyday of the week like we live some sort of sitcom?”
Rogue nods her head. “So instead of fighting all of this out and coming up with the same conclusion where someone gets hurt.” He glares at Bolt, “why don’t we do the right thing here and you let us get our belongings.”
“I don’t think I heard you right,” S.H.I.E.L.D.’s delegated commander mockingly cleans her ears, “Did you just make a mature decision.”
“Don’t push it alright, I’ve had a long week, and right now my father is looking easier to deal with.”
Rogue calls off her officers and the soldiers move back toward the center of the house for medical attention. The whip of cold removed from the air, Bobby sheds his ice clothing and runs a hand through his hair, “We have to figure out where we’re all going.”
“Warren is inside, he’s arranged for moving trucks to be here within the hour.”
Bobby peers down at Cyclops, “You’re not seriously going to charge him for everything Jean did?”
“Officially, yes. But Fury has something else in mind I’m sure.”
He and Rogue walk side by side to the house. Zelda doesn’t waste a second, at the very site of him. Running to him, she immediately slaps him across his face. “Warren said you got hurt!”
Bobby cuts an accusing eye to his good friend, “I’m fine, I guess, but I get slapped for it?”
“I was worried about you.” She defends.
He points to the winged-mutant, “Then slap him, he made you worry!”
<hr>
Twelve hours pass, the night turns full circle and tries to beat off the rising sun. A restless night in the Xavier Mansion for sure, but two men in particular haven’t slept a wink. A girl curled up in Bobby Drake’s lap sleeps soundly; the conversation rolls on unabated as he moves his hand through Zelda’s golden hair.
“Ororo already packed?”
Bobby frowned, “Yeah, she left two hours ago. I have her cell if you need it.”
“I have it,” Warren smiled, “Who else is left?”
“Kitty really doesn’t have anywhere else to go, she can’t even remember why her mother won’t let her come back home. Though Cece’s medical clinic sounds like a sweet deal and all, I’m sure no amount of help in the world would make Cece want to hire her.”
Warren sips from a hot mug of coffee, “I wish I could hire all of you, but Zelda and Cecilia are the only two not on Val Cooper’s hit list. You’ve got your CPA, it’s just I can’t appear to have the X-Men on my staff while maintaining a reputable business.”
“It’s cool man, we’ll find our ways.” Drake looks down at the sleeping woman, “I’ve been putting off introducing her to the parents anyway, that’s at least a start.”
Standing from the chair, Warren stretches his wings, “I wish I could do more to help.”
“As always buddy, you do more than enough.”
“Wish it felt like that,” Warren sighed, “but I’ll make some calls and see what I can find.”
He replied with just a simple nod, watching Warren Worthington leave the Mansion just as other friends had in the past. At least this one wasn’t in police custody. “Zel,” he shakes the girl in his lap, “it’s time to get moving, get your sexy self in gear already.”
“Since when does Bobby Drake get up before ten?” She gives him tired smile.
“On the days when Bobby Drake doesn’t get any sleep,” he laughs in return. “I think there’s still food left in the kitchen if you want breakfast, but I have to get the others moving if we don’t want to outstay our welcome.”
There wasn’t any humor in his voice this time, and Zelda didn’t wait around to push the matter. A frown on her face and for the first time Bobby didn’t make a joke to turn it around. “You want anything.”
“No thanks, we have to be out of here in the hour.”
<hr>
Mutant Town
“The building has been vacant for months. Wear and tear on the exterior brickwork and broken windows had taken care of through the recent days by workers all of whom had no desire to talk to the people. Moreover, the strangest thing occurs after seven months of disuse and abuse; a large moving van has been sitting outside the double door entrance and a number of men and women take their turns appearing from the building and emptying the contents of the truck.”
“Two days the populace has watched, and for two days the moving patrons have watched in turn. The blond man does a lot of pointing, almost as though he’s sizing up different people, men and women both, who does he see as threats here?”
Not impressed, a man turns his back to a man with green skin, draping the jacket over his massive shoulders. “You talk too much old man.” He speaks with disrespect to the man many decades his older, “besides, there’s nothing is new here, we just have to throw out the welcome mat.”
The old man sighs, “Do you what you must.”
“Look!” The massive man turns back quickly, his pointer finger jutting out of an otherwise closed fist. His stance weakens as the body had already vanished before he could rightfully intimidate the older man. Seeing nothing in his vision he turns back around heading out of the alley, “I hate teleporters.”
He stood and watched them for at least an hour, loosening the tie his employer forced him to wear, he took a drink of his water as another showed up. Dressed identical, the first man waved to a group of two others to follow, just as the blue demon stepped outside on his own.
“Hello, neighbor.” The man in the black and white suit spoke as they approached Kurt Wagner. Working on his third trip for small furniture as his partner took a moment to grab a drink of water, he thought quickly of his options as the other men surrounded him.
Kurt wore a smile on his face. As the men did their best to intimidate him with their numbers, he took a quick mental picture of his surroundings. For the acrobat it would be no difficult task to leap into the air and bound off the building and onto the lamppost, giving him the edge in unarmed combat. However, the bulge at their chest ensured they could be wearing firearms, no sense in causing harm to an innocent. “May I help you, gentlemen?”
The thick accent threw the four men off for a split second, “Where you from?”
“Germany,” Kurt answered wish a shortness in his tone. Feeling perturbed over the ignorance of the strong-armed interrogators, Kurt sighed, “Can I help you?”
“We got a bit of a problem.”
“And I would be glad to be of help to you, just tell me how I might be of service.”
Two of the men snicker amongst one another, the first man waves his hand and they quickly silence. “You see, I represent the landlord around this part of town.” The massive man squares his shoulders at another try to intimidate Kurt, “So I need to talk to whoever is moving into this place.”
Flesh turns to metal, as the skin peels away to reveal several knives where there were once fingers. Kurt’s smile never leaves his face, “by all means, gentlemen, please, follow me.”
Two of the men follow Kurt; the others remain outside near the rear of the truck. With knives not far from his back, Kurt is mindful of his pace. Inside the building, Kurt leads the men through a series of hallways and into a back room where a Puerto Rican woman halts a conversation with another man with sunglasses perched atop his head.
“What the hell is this?”
The Doctor’s words halt the suit-wearers, one grabs Kurt’s shoulder in order to keep the mutant close to them. “Doctor Reyes, this is a man whom is too good to introduce by name, he only refers to himself as the middle man of someone called, The Landlord.”
She looks to the other man in the room, and his hideous Hawaiian print shirt, “this is your doing isn’t?”
Bobby Drake moves his head with a negative response, “Sorry Cece, whoever’s joke this is, I wish I could claim it.”
“Pryde!”
A brunette woman peers into the room from the hallway, the doctor whips her head around to face her, “Did you suddenly grow a sense of humor?”
Katherine Pryde stares at Cecilia Reyes blankly, “not that I’m aware of.”
“Right, fine.” Unimpressed over the men’s stance, and their silence, Doctor Reyes turns her attention toward them. “So, did you happen to check out the fact that I own this place without question. What bank do you work for?”
“I think you misunderstand out position, little girl.”
“Ah great, here it comes.” Bobby mutters and starts the timer on his watch.
“Your position! You half-witted simpleton, what makes you think you can walk in here and demand anything!” Cecilia storms a beeline toward the man who offers all the vocal insults. “You’re an insufferable little man who thinks they can strong arm me? You’ve got another thing coming!”
“Cece,” Bobby attempts to speak, but a straight finger raised to the ceiling quiets him quickly.
“This is going to be a clinic when all my supplies are moved in place. I’m the doctor here, and I don’t care if you think I’m some newcomer and don’t belong! I can show you just how many places I can cut on you that won’t take your miserable life!
“Your Half-Scan friends don’t seem to have any manners,” An almost reptilian- skinned man hisses as though he tries to force every word out with some sort of cliché.
“I’ll show you where I keep my damn manners!”
A plume of smoke appears and the blue-skinned mutant vanishes, only to reappear with Kitty Pryde in his arms on the opposite side of the room. Cradling her fist, she finds it difficult to move her hand. She watches all eyes as they fall onto her, "Well nobody else was going to stand up for us, to hell with him."
"You hit pretty hard for a girl," the man says, rubbing his hand across his chin, "fast too. Almost felt it all." His skin then turns to stone.
The man with knives for fingers moves backward as the second man pushes him slightly. He walks toward the woman with the gall enough to strike him. Kitty Pryde just smiles and waves Kurt away. Kitty smiles as he swipes an open palm and it moves through her, "Keep it up asshole; I can do this all night."
Bobby Drake holds himself against a wall, not showing an ounce of concern on his face as the man swings at Kitty and continues to swipe through her intangible form. Cursing, as his movements meet no resistance, Drake grows tired of listening and waves his hand through the air otherwise staying against his perch. The thug falls on a very random patch of ice, his head bouncing against the cement floor, the X-Men stand over the thug and snicker.
Each time the stone-man’s limbs try to meet solid ground they slip on a new patch of ice, Bobby laughs, "Hey man, this building isn't a rental; it’s privately owned an operated. A clinic, you see if we ever get the good doctor moved in. So whatever you're selling, we're not interested."
The thug mutters some things under his breath, and a flash of bright light fills the room and a body flies through the drywall near the wall Bobby leaned. A pair of creased black trousers hangs from the newly made hole and Alex walks in with a brown paper sack, "who're these guys? Goodfellas rejects?"
Alex sets down the groceries, and turns over his shoulder, "There're two more outside on cell phones. I got twenty bucks reinforcements are coming, and they won't down as easy as the first two."
Bobby sighs, "why does this always happen? We can't even move in without fecal matter hitting an oscillating device."
Kitty shoves past him, "yeah whatever Popsicle." Her voice trails away as she heads out the door. She sets her sights on the one closes to her, walking toward him as though she were death itself. Her almost ghost-like hand shoves through the molecules of the cell phone, rendering it useless. She grabs the device as her hand becomes solid, and shoves it into the man's face.
"So what, S.H.I.E.L.D. sent you guys here too? What the hell is your problem?"
The second man's phone starts to melt in his hand; the man drops it in an almost screaming fit as the burns on his hand surpass his pain threshold. "You got no idea what you're doing," a newcomer to the scene tries to intimidate the others with a manufactured commanding voice. He forces his left arm away from his body as a blue stream of energy shifts from his fingers toward Bobby Drake.
The beam impacts, ice crystals form on his chest and Bobby brushes them off his jacket. "You can't be serious."
Standing next to Bobby, Kurt wears a smile on his face, "your trademark is in jeopardy, mein fruend."
"Like hell," Bobby smirks, "negative energy is nothing, but pulling the heat from my body is like internet sex. In the end, it's all pointless and you're still a virgin." A wave of his hand and everyone feels the air grow colder. Snow and ice solidify from the formerly invisible air, crudely formed legs hold up a man-sized mass of ice bleeding cold air from every direction.
He stares down the man in the suit. "Whatcha got?"
The suited man steps backward, crystals of ice falling from the skin of his hands. The cold, frostbitten skin of his hands. "That's right," Bobby, laughs along with his other teammates, "that's the direction you need to be moving, backward. Or I'll play rock'em, sock'em with your face."
He turns tails, sprinting into the growing crowds of people watching the former teammates of the Uncanny X-Men fend off their unwelcome guests. Kitty Pryde shrugs her shoulders, "They're not a lot of fun, Bobby. Least they could've done was put up a fight."
"They weren't S.H.I.E.L.D. agents," Alex chimes in,” Rogue gave us her word she wouldn't have us followed if we vacated the mansion."
"So, then, who were they?"
The rest of the group shrugs their shoulders at Bobby's question. "Kurt can follow the pansy, keeping to the rooftops and keeping an aerial observation on his movements."
Bobby turned his head to Kitty, his left eyebrow crooked and turning upward. "Better idea." He winks at her and walks into the crowd. Looking for someone willing to answer a question, he stops in front of a middle-aged man, green skin with ears almost made of leaves.
"You would rather not know the answer to the question you seek to ask of me, young man." The apparently old-timer speaks. Ask your blond friend, he seems to have a good idea of what you were dealing."
Bobby Drake turns his head for an instant; Alex shrugs his shoulders and offers a nervous smile. Turning back, Bobby motions to ask the plant-faced man another question, he stops before words form at his throat. Instead, he finds a different man standing in the place the older man had stood. "Where did he..."
Two women on either side of Bobby point down to the pavement, and the dandelion growing from a crack in the black top. "Wonderful, cryptic old guys that turn into plants. I thought people were normal in this town?"
The crowd moves their heads in a collective unison a shared scowl worn in the eyes of everyone in attendance. Backing away, Bobby moves his own eyes to the crowd of fifteen or so people staring his down. His hands are up, pushing outward against the air between himself and the crowd, offering something of a peaceful gesture, "Not what I meant. Not what I meant."
"Yeah pal, sure it wasn't." A scaly blue quadruped speaks up with a thick accent, "How about you tell us what you meant?"
"You think you're better than us?" A man wearing the bottom half of a horse roars with a quick anger behind him.
"Bloody half-breed," an old woman speaks up, half her body drooping as though she had no bone structure to speak.
"Nice one Drake." Alex Summers laughs. "Cece doesn't live here for a day, and you've got the whole neighborhood against her."
Bobby's hair flies up at the back of his head, the skin of his scalp smacks as a hand flies across. "Nicely played, clown boy."
"What?" He throws up his arms almost in surrender. "It was an honest question."
"Honestly stupid." Doctor Reyes says as her eyes roll about their sockets. The crowds’ laughter not lost on the former fighting members of the X-Men, as they go about their own lives, back to more interesting gossip on who these newcomers really are.
"Alright, fine. I'm not much of an interrogator, how about next time we let Kitty do the talking? Then she can ninja kick the crap out them!"
Not amused, they file into the building one by one. Kitty stops to whisper in Bobby's ear, "You’re losing your touch Bobby."
Left alone in the midday sun, Bobby stares at the empty facade of the building Warren had purchased for Cecilia. His head turns back to where the crowd once stood, the dandelion gone as was the crowd. "Welcome to Mutant Town, X-Men. Hope you survive the electric bills."
