1X02 – Pop Rocks and Pixie Stix – Act III

1X02 – Pop Rocks & Pixie Stix – Act III

“Rodin Museum,” the cabby was talking as he pulled into traffic, the three mutants squished in the back, “it’s closed on Tuesdays. Sure you wouldn’t like to go someplace else? Independence Hall maybe?”

“Rodin Museum, thank you,” Scott told him, that fact making him curious.

Within a few minutes, the taxi was stopped as a police barricade had been put up and was diverting traffic.

“Wonder what that’s all about?” the cabby asked.

“How far is the museum from here?” Scott was pulling a couple of twenties from his wallet.

“About two blocks,” the driver took the money.

“Keep the change,” he said and they filed out and headed in the direction the man pointed.

“Plan?” Bobby nudged his head towards the police who had blocked off the sidewalk.

“Jean?” he asked her with a grin.

The red head narrowed her eyes and what looked to be a sudden gust of wind sent every one of the policemen’s caps flying off into the street. It was only a momentary distraction, but it was enough for the three to slip under the tape to head down the street and turn into an alley.

…

“So, these are the Gates of Hell huh?” Pyro had already affixed his bomb against one of the hinges of the bronze works which was literally a very large door with hellish scenes portrayed both on the frame and the doors themselves. “I thought they’d be… bigger?”

“The place is surrounded,” Dom had a police radio to his ear, picking up the chatter, “they saw our little gift at the entrance, sounds like they’re holding back and digging in for a possible standoff.”

“Brill,” the fire mutant threw his duffle over his shoulder.

“We should stick around for a bit,” Dom clipped the radio to his coat’s lapel so he could keep an ear out for anything important, “till we’re sure they aren’t going to rush in, give Rogue and Quicksilver plenty of time.”

“That’s cool,” Pyro nodded, “want to check out the exhibits?”

Avalanche raised an eyebrow, “Will that keep you from lighting the building on fire?”

“I make no promises,” the Australian said with a completely straight face.

…

The small contingent of X-Men was watching the buzzing hive of agents while hiding at the edge of a building across from the museum entrance. Various emergency vehicles and black unmarked vans had the place effectively blocked off.

“Okay,” Jean said as she caught her breath, “the building was closed except for a couple of staff members who the Acolytes let go. There was a Claymore mine placed at the entrance, it’s just now been disarmed, the bomb squad is looking for less obvious traps.”

“Why would they want to blow up a Rodin museum?” Bobby asked.

“They wouldn’t,” Scott felt his brows knit as he ran everything they had learned through his head and tried to make sense of it, “are only Pyro and Avalanche in there?”

“They were the only ones spotted,” Jean confirmed, “and I can’t sense Rogue or Quicksilver, though I can barely feel Pyro and Avalanche at this distance.”

Making up his mind, he pulled out his phone, “I’m calling the school, getting Cerebro up and running.”

With that he headed back down the alley, the two following him, Bobby asking, “Where are we going?”

“Back to downtown,” he told him, dialing Xavier’s.

“What about Pyro and Avalanche?” Bobby asked.

Scott glanced at the building, “They’re just a distraction.”

…

This wasn’t the first time Jubilee had used the fire extinguisher on Ben and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Is my hair still on fire?” he asked, patting at his head.

“Nope,” Jubilee sat the extinguisher down with a thunk, “not that it matters. Being invulnerable to fire has its advantages.”

“Wish that applied to my clothes too,” Ben frowned, fingering the fringed edges of his collar and sleeves.

“Mr Hammil,” Xavier rolled up next to him, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he started to dust off the CO2 powder from his clothes, “it got away from me again. When I create fire, I dunno, I just feel like I want to become fire.”

“Yes,” the Professor said thoughtfully, “we’ll discuss this further, but at the moment you might rather wish to clean and change.”

“Thanks, Professor,” he said, embarrassment in his voice, gratefully heading towards the exit.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” James, an Apache Indian with long dark hair tied back, said to the group and without waiting for an answer jogged off after Ben shouting, “hey, roomie, wait up.”

“Professor,” JP walked into the room, pausing just slightly at the mess the fire extinguisher left, “Scott needs you on Cerebro. Kitty’s got the details, I’ll keep an eye on the kids.”

“Of course,” the bald man got that look in his eye when he was using his telepathy to skim everything he needed to know from the air, then headed out of the training room.

“What happened here?” JP gestured to the loose C02 all over the floor.

“Ben lit himself on fire again,” Jubilee didn’t sound all that surprised, in fact, no one except Sharon seemed at all fussed about Ben’s current mutational quirks.

“Well then,” JP shrugged, “let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

…

“Thank’s Kitty,” Scott spoke into his phone as they continued walking down the street. “Call as soon as the Professor has something.”

“Cerebro only picks up mutants actively using their powers,” Jean pointed out as he tucked his phone into his pocket, “his best bet is Quicksilver.”

“He knows,” Scott nodded at her, “let’s hope they haven’t already done whatever it is they were going to do,” he glanced around the area they had just left an hour or so before, “the café, we’ll start from there.”

Unknown to the three mutants, if they walked just ten more feet and turned to the left, they would have seen two strangely familiar individuals in the lobby of one of the buildings, though they would have to look twice to be sure.

…

“Miss Owens,” the gentleman greeted her in the lobby, “James Pierce, I hope you had a pleasant trip.”

“Two hours from Bangor,” Rogue said in her best New Englander accent, adding a lit of a flirt to her voice, “but we were laid out on the tarmac for over an hour, I hope that Philly cheesesteak I’ve heard so much about is worth it.”

“Well then,” he tried really had not to check her out as he shook her gloved hand but it was hard for the man seeing as Rogue had opted for a long sleeve blouse under her suit jacket which she left a few too many buttons open on, and a skirt that was just a little too high off the knee with classic silk hose complete with a line down the back, not to mention the blonde curly wig, “perhaps afterwards you’ll let me show me the best cheesesteak in town.”

Their plan was working, people where noticing them but not ‘seeing’ them. She smiled, “I think I might like that, oh,” she gestured to Pietro in a classic light blue business suit, hair temporarily died brown, “my assistant, Mr Billings.”

“Mr Pierce,” Pietro was not the most personal of the Acolytes and it showed in his bored expression as he took the man’s offered hand.

“Well, if we’ll head up to the offices,” James ignored Pietro’s demeanor, a little too interested in Rogue as they started to walk, “we’ll have to go through some security checkpoints, I do apologize, it can feel rather inconvenient, but as you know, we deal with a lot of sensitive data, we wouldn’t want anyone to go and steal it now would we?”

“No,” Rogue smiled sweetly at him, “cause that would be a real shame.”

…

Kitty sat on the floor with her touchscreen computer, leaning up against the desk which housed the interface unit for Cerebro. The Professor was hooked in, the helmet placed on his head and his eyes closed as he concentrated.

Cerebro was basically a large dome room with perfect physic autistics that allowed a telepath to focus and magnify their abilities with pinpoint precision. During the last remodel, the room was built into the sub-basement, the terrakinetic Christy coming in very handy to move all the dirt and Earth that was in the way.

“I can sense Saint-John,” he finally said, “he’s playing with fire but doesn’t seem to be causing much trouble at this time.”

“Scott doesn’t think they will,” Kitty wanted to agree with the optic mutant, he had a lot more experience with the group, but then the Acolytes weren’t exactly the nicest or sanest bunch.

“Let us hope he is right,” the Professor said gravely.

…

“Ever feel like you’re being watched,” Pyro snapped closed his lighter, tucking it in a pocket.

“We’re surrounded by at least half a dozen policing agencies,” Dom frowned at his friend, “of course we’re being watched.”

“Oh, yeah,” he shrugged, lifting up the guide book he snatched from the reception area, “the Burghers of Calais, in 1346 the English King Edward III laid siege to the French port of Calais. Eleven months later, Edward demanded the surrender of six of the town’s leading men, or burghers, in return for sparing its citizens. Rodin’s sculpture commemorates this episode and emphasizes the internal struggle of each man as he walks toward his fate wearing a sackcloth and rope halter.”

Dom stared at the bronze statue which was now tinted green, the six dour men walking to their fate, “It’s a comment on self-sacrifice?”

“That,” Pyro looked at them thoughtfully, “or of really poor fashion sense.”

…

“Let’s see,” Scott was standing next to the table the Acolytes had occupied in the photo, “they are looking that way,” he pointed the direction of two large buildings.

“We still don’t know if they were watching a business,” Bobby was slurping on an iced coffee, “or if they were after a person.”

“I think business is more likely,” Scott decided, “Jean, I know it’s a lot of people, but can you do a sweep of the buildings, see if you get a glimpse of anything amiss?”

“I think we have bigger problems right now,” she touched his shoulder and gestured to two black cars that pulled up in front of the café.

A woman, maybe fifteen or twenty years older than them, blonde hair and blue eyes, in a light grey pants suit, exited the car and looked straight at him. She held up her hand at the other men who also exited the vehicles and then made her way to the opening in the wrought iron gate that enclosed the tables. With purpose to her step, she walked straight up to the mutants.

“Scott Summers,” it wasn’t so much a question but a notification of fact.

“Yes?” he asked warily.

“I want to know why you’re here,” it was more command than request.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss…” playing dumb was easy to do seeing as he had no idea who this woman was nor what she wanted, other than the obvious.

“Assistant Director Valerie Cooper, Department of Homeland Security,” she introduced herself without even offering her hand politely, “and don’t tell me you didn’t know you were being followed the minute you showed up here, you do have a telepath after all,” her eyes flicked over to Jean.

The thing was, they didn’t know they were being followed. Scott let that fact slide for the time being and not let it show on his face. Instead, he approached the bigger issue, “Why are you following us?” and how did she know Jean was a telepath?

“Let’s cut the cloak and dagger crap, shall we?” she said tersely. “I know all about your special little school in Westchester, I know about the X-Men, and I know that I have two very dangerous men laying siege to a museum of priceless artwork. What I don’t know, is why you three decided that Allderdyce and Petrakis wasn’t worth your time and came back here instead.”

There were few times Scott appreciated always having to wear ruby tinted sunglasses, this way the woman would not see the subtle widening of his eyes. He knew the government had taken an interest in them and the school after Magneto split off to create his Brotherhood, but coming face to face with that fact sent an uneasy chill down his spine.

“Agent Cooper,” Scott gestured to the table, “I think we should talk.”

…

“But you see here,” Rogue leaned over to gesture to a part of the schematic, “this is clearly infringement of our client’s product.”

“Now, clearly is a strong term,” James was trying not to check out her cleavage which is exactly what she wanted him to do.

“I’m going to step out for a smoke,” Pietro rolled his eyes and stood from the conference table.

“Bring me a coffee when you’re done, would you?” she asked him, giving the man more reason to be away from the meeting.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, looking over at their mark, “and you sir?”

“Oh, ah,” he glanced away from her, seeming a tad bit guilty, “black, please.”

“Right,” Pietro headed towards the door.

James turned his head to watch the man leave, “Thank you.”

Rogue let her annoyance at playing the part of the eye-candy show on her face when he wasn’t looking. It really was playing pretend, having the things she couldn’t ever hope to get thrown back in her face, but that was something to think about later, right now she had a job to do. As soon as he returned his attention to her, she snatched back up her smile.

…

Pietro pretended like he was leaving, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his coat, fiddling with them in his hand. In reality, he hated the things, but no one questioned a smoker’s need to exit and enter at seemingly random times.

Acting as if he was paying more attention to the pack than to what was in front of him, he bumped into a man who was heading the other way. Using his speed he quickly traded badges with him as he apologized for his inattentiveness.

Going around a corner, the guards saw him leave but not streak back in again before the energy shield reactivated. If he avoided the cameras then no one would be the wiser as he made his way through the building towards the vault.

…

“You honestly don’t believe Allderdyce and Petrakis are going to cause any damage?” the woman sitting across from him asked suspiciously, but there was something in her tone that made him think she believed him.

“They might, if they get pushed into it,” Scott sighed, “but if destruction was their goal, the place would already be leveled, they’re good at that.”

“So why come back here?” she questioned.

“It’s our best lead,” he answered honestly. “The Acolytes like to get in and get out without anyone having been the wiser unless the point of the mission is to make a big splash. However, this time they were spotted. So I’m guessing they sent Pyro and Avalanche to distract you with their threats while Quicksilver and Rogue do whatever it is they came here to do.”

Agent Cooper regarded him for a long moment, “I had come to a similar conclusion myself,” she said sourly, “the building is empty of hostages, the booby traps so far have been easily located and disarmed. We both know they are putting on a show but at the moment my counterparts are much more concerned with the obvious threat.”

“You know our names, Agent Cooper, and what we can do,” Scott wasn’t exactly sure how much he should push things at this moment, “you know the Acolytes’ operating procedures… why do I feel like I should be more afraid of what you are going to do, than what the Acolytes will do.”

Again, she paused as she chose her words carefully, her eyes occasionally darting over to Jean as if she expected the woman to simply draw the answers out for him.

“This is my job, Mr Summers,” she finally said, “I identify and locate threats to the government and to the people of this country.”

“You consider us a threat?” he wasn’t going to beat around the bush.

“I think you could be,” she answered as if she was expecting that, “and I think you do to. Why else would you have a school to train kids how to control their mutations unless you considered them potentially dangerous to those around them.”

Scott couldn’t exactly argue with her, but she was seeing the issue from a slightly skewed angle, “A lack of education can make anyone dangerous, mutant or no. We’re giving these kids a chance they might not otherwise have.”

“All sounds right and noble, doesn’t it,” she eyed him warily, “but this isn’t a case of keeping weapons out of the hands of those with the will to use them… mutants are weapons. You can’t change that fact.”

“Being a weapon may be something we can do,” he said firmly, “but it is not who we have to be.”

There was something of an appreciative tint to her voice, “You’ll excuse me if it’s my job to assume the latter.”

“I won’t,” he replied honestly, feeling his phone in his pocket vibrate, “because as long as there are people like you, those who cater to the fear mongers, then Magneto wins.”

A touch of a smile edged at the corner of her mouth, “It seems, Mr Summers, that we’re at a philosophical impasse.”

“Happens to me a lot,” he grimaced, thinking back to the recent argument with Logan as he pulled his phone out, Kitty was calling, “excuse me.”

Accepting the call, Kitty came over quickly, “Scott, the Professor’s got a hit!”

“Hold on a second,” he told her and lowered the phone just a bit to address the DHS agent across from him, “Agent Cooper, like it or not, we’re both on the same side, just for different reasons. Agreed?”

After a moment’s consideration, she nodded, “Agreed.”

“We know where Quicksilver and Rogue are,” he said evenly, “so what I want to know is what we are going to do about it.”

X-Men: The (fan fic) Series

A series of short stories in a fictional X-Men TV Universe.