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1X03 – Alekhine’s Gun – Act I
Jean watched through the open door as a silver Ford Taurus pulled up the drive of Xavier’s Institute for Higher Learning. Instead of going to the garage, it stopped at the front entrance, the driver quickly opening the rear door. The first man out was simply dressed in a nice suit, the kind of person who could fit in at a lawyer’s office on any given day, especially since he carried a large portfolio in his hands.
The assistant stood to the side and another gentleman, mid-twenties, with prim though slightly shaggy blonde hair, exited the vehicle. Under a stylish black coat he wore a form fitted polo shirt which showed off a nicely toned body, one that had been described as ‘positively angelic’ by the E! News fashion mongers. How close to the truth they were they would never know…
“Yes,” he said into the phone glued to his ear, “but if we don’t ship by the end of the month then we might as well hand the contract over to Tsurayaba Engineering.”
The man smiled at Jean as he berated whoever it was on the other end of the phone.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized once he hung up, handing the phone to his assistant and trusted friend, “if I’m going to prove I’m able to run Worthington Industries one day, I have to start running it today.”
“It’s alright, Warren,” she returned his smile. Her friend was the heir to a rather large Fortune 500 company started by his grandfather, Warren Worthington the First, and Jean imagined having that much weight on his shoulders wasn’t an easy thing. “The Professor is speaking with a student but he’ll be ready to see you in a moment,” she closed the door behind them.
“Ah, yes, more business,” he frowned, starting to shrug off the long coat he wore, the other man coming to his aid to slip it off over the peaks of two large, white wings, “thank you, Cameron,” he told the man then stretched, the wings expanding to almost twice the length of his arms, “that feels so good, been stuck in meetings all morning.”
The angelic mutant had to turn sideways in order to fully extend his wings which had grown out from his shoulder blades starting when he was eleven. His new position gave Jean a look at his backside and she noted the barely visible creases in the fabric of his shirt under his wings. One could barely tell that Velcro was being used to hold it together so from the front it looked like it fell over the torso properly, naturally.
“Warren, Cameron,” Bobby came down the hall, holding his own portfolio. “The Professor is busy but I thought we’d go ahead and crunch some of the numbers, get it out of the way.”
“Can do,” Cameron nodded, walking over to the Iceman, “I’ve had a look at your quarterly reports for last school year, I’ve got good news and bad on our end.”
“That’s usually how most my dates go,” Bobby frowned leaving most of them to chuckle.
“Mind if I steal Warren for a moment?” Jean asked as they started to head down the hall.
“I’ll never mind,” the winged man grinned brightly at her.
“Yeah,” Cameron either didn’t see or ignored the exchange, opening his portfolio to hand a thick folder over to Bobby, “we’re good here.”
The two numbers guys walked away down the hall and Jean ushered Warren into the sitting room. “How are you, Jean? I heard you were in Philadelphia yesterday, something to do with this ‘X-Men’ business?”
Jean sighed, “We’re not X-Men, that was… oh nevermind. I suppose it’s stuck now if even you’ve heard it.”
“I do try to stay out of mutant affairs, it’s better for business,” he said unapologetically, then his voice turned soft as he stepped closer, “but I worry about you. What has Scott gotten you in to?”
“Nothing none of us can’t handle,” she bristled slightly.
“But taking on Magneto and his goons directly,” he reached up and stroked her cheek, “I’ve heard what some of them are capable of. Horrible things.”
“Which is why we need to stop them,” she took his hand from her face, but didn’t stop holding it.
After a moment he sighed, “Someone does, yes, but… be careful. You’re one of my dearest friends, I hate the thought of you getting hurt.”
“Good thing I’m not going to get hurt then,” she smiled, pulling away from him slightly. She liked Warren, she did, he was handsome, rich… everything a girl could hope for in a man… but he was a friend, a good friend, but still a friend. “This isn’t the reason I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?” he followed her over to the French doors leading out onto the patio.
“You remember Megan Gwynn?” she asked, gesturing to the group of kids playing outside as part of their gym class.
“Of course, little Meg,” he smiled as he spotted her, “how are those fairy wings of hers coming in?”
“Despite their delicate looking nature, they are quite strong and durable,” Jean thought back to what JP had said, “if they keep growing they should be able to create enough lift for her to fly.”
“That’s fantastic,” he was grinning now, “I can’t begin to explain how… incredible it feels to fly. I don’t get to do it often enough these days. She’s going to love it.”
“I don’t doubt she will,” Jean turned to Warren, “but until then, she’s grounded as her wings can’t support her weight and… well… kids already have so many pressures put upon them these days…”
“You’re afraid she’ll develop some kind of self-image complex?” he asked, his brow furrowed in thought.
“Basically, yes,” she sighed. “It’s hard enough to teach these kids that there is nothing wrong with them, especially the ones with physical mutations, add that on top of the real threats of bulimia and depression… we worry about her but we don’t want her to feel as if she’s being smothered.”
“You want me to talk to her,” Warren knew what she was getting at, “one winged mutant to another.”
“If you would?” Jean gave him a hopeful smile. “You know more about what’s she going through than most.”
“Of course,” his face lit up and she knew that look, “when is her birthday, soon I hope?”
“A couple months ago actually,” Jean frowned.
“Ah, well, I’ll make it work,” he waved her off and grinned. “Why don’t I take Meg to see my personal stylist and tailor? We can redo her whole wardrobe with shirts and dresses specifically designed to fit around her wings. Not only can I sneak in some bonding time but what young girl doesn’t get cheered up by a closet full of new clothes?”
“I think she’d love that,” Jean couldn’t help but smile broadly at him, “thank you.”
“Think nothing of it, us winged ones need to stick together after all,” he continued to grin but his eyes took on a bit of a sneaky tint, “however, there is one small thing you can do for me in return?”
Jean raised one red eyebrow, “What happened to winged-one solidarity?”
“This winged one remembered he was short a date this Friday,” he took her hand like a gentleman, “how would you like to do me the honor of accompanying me to a rather large gala being held at the Cloisters?”
“Um,” she blushed a bit, it wasn’t often she got asked out on dates, though she often wished a certain someone would get up the courage to do so, “will you still help Meg if I say no?”
“Of course I will,” he said like a respectful gentleman.
“Then I’ll say yes,” she almost reluctantly agreed. It would be nice to go out. “Just how big of a gala would this be?”
“Only one of the biggest parties of the year,” another voice joined them and both turned to see Betsy walk into the room. Instinctively Jean removed her hand from Warren’s. “So big, it’s been talked about for months. I’m pretty sure Warren waited till last minute to ask you so that you wouldn’t have time to back out.”
“Why would I back out?” Jean frowned.
“He didn’t say?” the purple haired Brit gave Warren a disapproving stare. “It’s being put on by the Hellfire Club’s New York chapter.”
“The Hellfire Club,” Jean started to get incensed, “those self-indulgent, self-obsessed…” she struggled with the right curse word but her manners wouldn’t allow her to say what she was thinking. “They wanted to recruit my father years ago and when he refused they tried to ruin his name.”
“Yes, I know,” Warren frowned, holding up his hands in defense, “but my father is a member, as was his father, and it means something to him. Right now I have to play nice with dear old dad and go to this function. They inducted a new Black King, changed up the whole council, perhaps they’ve changed?”
Jean shook her head, “I don’t know.”
Betsy got a rather devilish look on her face, “Oh, why don’t you come, you can keep me company.”
“You’re going?” the redhead asked at the same time Warren did.
“My parents belong to the London chapter,” she shrugged, “so I was given an invite. I was going to claim something came up on the night, would make my father terribly disappointed, but he’d get over it.”
“And who would you be taking, Betsy?” Warren eyed her suspiciously.
“Let’s see,” she tapped her finger against her lips, “who could I get on short notice who is handsome and gentlemanly?”
“Betsy?” Jean had a pretty good idea who she was talking about.
“You’ll excuse me, I need to go find Scott and inform him he’ll be escorting me to the gala,” she smiled at both of them with just a twinge of mirth to her lips before she turned and left, the two mutants watching her disappear through the doors just as Bobby stuck his head in.
“Hey,” he looked between all three of them slightly confused, “the Professor’s ready for us now.”
…
Kitty shouted as she landed on her rear for the seventh time in the last hour. This time she just sat there, catching her breath, trying not to get frustrated, failing of course.
“Up, half pint,” Logan said gruffly.
“No,” Kitty said breathlessly, “I’m good right here.”
“That’s a good place to be,” the Wolverine crossed his arms, “if you wanna be stomped on.”
With a resigned sigh and roll of her eyes, Kitty struggled to her feet. “What’s the point of standing if you’re just going to knock me back down again?”
“When you can answer that,” he gave her the closest thing to a smile the man could muster, “you won’t need me to tell you.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then shook her head, “So we go again?”
“Nah,” he seemed to take pity on her, “let’s work on some defensive moves.”
“Okay, but I want a different partner,” she frowned at him, “your bones are metal, it’s like trying to throw a house over my shoulder.”
…
Scott sat at the conference table with his laptop, tapping away, JP across to his right. “Why is it I miss one day of teaching and yet I feel like I’ve fallen behind a whole week?”
“I’m not sure even the laws of physics can explain that one,” JP laughed, a bunch of books strung in front of him.
“Oh,” Scott glanced up, “did ‘Ro sign off on the field trip to the American Museum of Natural History?”
“I hope that means you’re volunteering to chaperone,” JP asked wryly.
Scott was saved having to answer by Betsy gliding through the door making a beeline straight towards him.
“Scott Summers,” she said in a very commanding voice.
“Betsy?” he raised an eyebrow at her.
“Friday, we leave at six,” she came around the table and put her hands on his shoulders, “wear the tux you wore for Hank’s award dinner last year and your ruby glasses with the gold trim, I’ll wear something to match.”
“Huh, wha?” he managed to utter but she had moved on towards the other exit.
“Remember, six,” she opened the door, “traffic to the Cloisters can be hell and we don’t want to be too fashionably late.”
Scott blinked several times at the empty spot Betsy was just standing in. “What just happened?”
“If I have to explain that to you,” JP chuckled, “then you’re worse off than I thought.”
…
“And this is what we’re looking at,” Cameron handed over the paperwork to the Professor.
“Worthington Industries contributions will account for about eighteen percent of our operational budget for this school year,” Bobby added. “That’s down by five percent but with the increase in student body and paying off the renovations we did over the summer, it’s more of our costs going up than Warren being any less generous.”
“I’d give more,” Warren was quick to add, “but people are starting to pay attention to me as a serious entity instead of as Warren Jr’s eccentric son. I start putting too much money into my old alma-mater and this place will find itself under a microscope by some very shrewd, very dangerous, businessmen.”
“We understand,” the Professor gave him a thoughtful smile, “and your generosity has been greatly appreciated over these past few years.”
“I can see about finding more sponsors,” Warren frowned, “but it’s difficult, especially while hiding the fact this is a mutant school. To everyone else it’s just another private institution, nothing special.”
“And that is how it needs to be right now, unfortunately,” Xavier signed the forms and passed them over to Bobby to sign as the school’s accountant.
“Charles,” Warren edged in slightly, “about this whole X-Men business. Do you think it’s wise? Especially as you’ve always championed a peaceful co-existence between us and humans?”
The Professor sighed but met the younger man’s blue eyes, “I would prefer if we were not put into this position in the first place, but the Brotherhood has forced our hand.”
“So you stop Magneto,” Warren shook his head, “what then? Do you really think the government will see us as less than a threat?”
“You think we should let him be?” Bobby asked incredibly. “The man supports murder and subjugating the human race, genocide even.”
“He’s in the wrong, yes,” Warren quickly assured the man, “but perhaps he’s the wrong target?”
Xavier tilted his head just a bit. “What are you saying, Warren?”
“What I’m saying,” the winged mutant sighed, “is that removing Magneto from the equation could be more trouble than it’s worth. I’m taking this from a business perspective. Right now everyone is looking at the Brotherhood, they’re the biggest threat to them, so that is where all their resources are. Once they’re gone, those resources are going to turn towards other mutants, this school in particular. They aren’t going to care if we took Magneto down and claim peace, we will still be viewed as a direct threat to government and military operations.”
Bobby frowned, “You sound like you don’t think we could ever live in peace with humans?”
“I think it’s a reality we can’t take off the table,” Warren admitted.
“We’ve always known that the bigger battle is not with the Brotherhood,” Xavier informed him, “but at this time it is the only one we can fight. We must prove ourselves to those who think us threats, we shouldn’t have to, but we will anyway, and then we can look into the ‘bigger picture’ as it were.”
…
“Agent Duncan,” Val greeted the older gentleman as he walked into the busy command room, “you’ve been briefed?”
“On the way over,” he nodded and followed her across the room into a hallway, “my director has signed off on me being assigned to Homeland Security as a special observer to the Council on Superhuman Affairs.”
“I want to make something clear,” she spoke curtly, “you’re an observer only, you have no authority here otherwise, even to the FBI agents I have on staff which you technically outrank.”
“Of course,” he gritted his teeth a bit at that but he knew he was taking a powerless position, well, in some ways.
“Secondly,” she opened a door and gestured for him to enter, “I know you’re friends with Xavier and Summers, you’ve been covering for them for some time.”
“It’s not exactly been a secret,” he said dryly.
Cooper shut the door, “Summers asked me to bring you in, he didn’t have to say why, he wanted a spy.”
“Spy is a harsh word,” Duncan shrugged off the implication, “I’m simply here to make sure you don’t forget that mutants are still people, they have rights just the same as everyone else.”
“Rest assured, that’s something I don’t forget lightly,” she stepped forward, holding her own against his height and stature, “and you should never forget that you are a federal agent duly appointed to serve and protect your country.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” he stared her down and neither blinked.
The blonde woman simply smiled and turned towards the one-way glass, “You’re just in time for the interrogation.”
Following her line of sight, Duncan’s eyes laid on the young woman sitting in the chair, her bare hands cuffed to the table. The dress blouse she was wearing was torn but didn’t fall indecently on her. Her dark hair was a mess, the white streak smudged with dirt. She stared defiantly at the one-way glass.
“This should be interesting.”
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X-Men: The (fan fic) Series 
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