X-Men: The (fan fic) Series

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1X03 – Alekhine’s Gun – Act III

“How did you get yourself talked into this?” Bobby asked as he pulled Scott’s tux jacket down from hanging on the closet door.

Scott himself was attempting to knot his bow tie and his third attempt was almost a charm. “I didn’t, I was kinda volun-told by Betsy that I would accompany her tonight.”

“Yeah, and I bet you put up a real fight there, huh,” Bobby grinned while he dusted off the jacket’s shoulders. “Do you think she’ll mind you wearing black pants and a navy blue jacket?”

“What?” Scott’s head snapped up and he looked between the trousers he was wearing and the coat in Bobby’s hand… it wasn’t until he saw Bobby’s failed-to-hide grin that he gave a frustrated sigh, “Ha ha, pick on the guy who’s color blind.”

“Don’t make it so easy,” Bobby laughed back, but before Scott could retort he added, “so are all three of you riding with Warren or are you and Betsy going by yourselves?”

“I thought we were going in separate vehicles,” Scott turned back to the mirror and tackled the tie issue again, “but Jean and Betsy were adamant it would be ecologically inconsiderate to take two cars down to the City.”

“So you’re going to be stuck in the back of a limo for over an hour with two beautiful women because they don’t want to add to the hole in the ozone layer,” Bobby was grinning even broader, “finally, a silver lining to global warming.”

Sometimes Scott really wished he wasn’t forced to wear glasses all the time because they really ruined the effect of rolling his eyes at a person.

Thankfully something went right and he managed to get the tie fixed up in time to hear his phone ring. Picking it up from his desk he saw that it was Fred Duncan calling.

“Hey,” Scott said as he answered it.

“Summers,” Fred’s voice came over even and strong, “one second, securing the line.”

Scott paused as Bobby gave him the nosy ‘well, who is it?’ look and Scott batted him away.

“That’s better,” the agent came back over. “I wanted to let you know Rogue is finally being moved.”

“Homeland has had her there for two days,” Scott frowned, “and the Acolytes and Brotherhood haven’t done anything.”

“We know,” Duncan said grimly, “and if they were going to try something, now would be the time.”

“Are they moving her overland or by air?” Scott contemplated what Magneto’s next move might be.

“Classified,” the agent said regretfully.

“Can you tell me where she’s being moved to?” Scott tried.

“Classified,” he repeated, then added, “and technically I shouldn’t even be telling you this much.”

“I understand,” Scott frowned, wishing he knew more but trusting Duncan to look out for everyone’s best interests. Glancing down at his fancy clothes, “Do you need a mutant escort?”

“Interesting idea,” Duncan seemed to muse over the idea, “but I doubt anyone would go for it. Homeland has taken point but there are several military and government entities involved in this… it’s one Mad Hatter short of a tea party around here.”

“Right,” he could only imagine what it would be like, trying to take into consideration all the possibilities of what could go down. Mystique could sneak her way through the ranks, slitting throats as she went. Sabretooth would be much less subtle. Magneto could halt a train or pull a plane from the sky. As for the Acolytes… anything goes.

The biggest question was why hadn’t they attacked yet. He figured it would literally be hours before they at least attempted to rescue Rogue… surely they weren’t planning on abandoning her? The Acolytes and Brotherhood may be many things which put them on the sliding scale of villainy, but when it came to their own, you could trust them to always put their fellow mutants first.

“Well,” Scott finished up, “if you need us, call. If you can’t get a hold of me, try ‘Ro.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Duncan said softly.

“Me neither.”

…

Pryo and Dom were playing quarters on the table, attempting to bounce their perspective coins into a full plastic cup of beer. Whoever won got to drink the beer which was imported as neither could stomach American brewed.

The room looked as one would expect from four men living there for two days with no place else to go. They weren’t necessarily slobs but they had gotten too used to Rogue’s tendency to always clean up after them. They never asked her to do it, she just did.

 

He glanced over at Piotr sitting in the corner, sketching away. Sometimes he felt knew more about the quiet Russian than he did about Rogue, one of his best friends, though that wasn’t saying much, and mystery was the spice of life.

Pietro walked in from the adjoining room where Piotr and Pietro had their beds. The quick footed mutant had a tendency to sleep when he had to go days without speeding. It was the easiest way for him to keep slowed down plus he did not have to suffer keeping pace with the sloths.

“Rogue’s on the move,” he was texting something on his new phone.

All three men glanced up at his words, now they were going to have some fun.

…

Scott shuffled uneasily in the entry hall with Bobby as he fidgeted with his tie, still unable to get it exactly right.

“I never asked,” Bobby was leaning against the wall, “what is the Hellfire Club anyway?”

“A mix between the Freemasons and the Skull and Bones from what I’ve been told,” Scott shrugged.

“So,” Bobby thought about this for a second, “they are a bunch of wealthy and influential people who like to get together and pat themselves on the back?”

“Pretty much,” Scott frowned, he wasn’t going to enjoy this at all.

“What’s their hook then?” the Iceman asked.

“Their hook?” asked Scott.

“You know, their specialty,” Bobby shrugged, “Skull and Bones are out of Yale, Freemasons, dunno, built the Pyramids or something.”

Scott laughed but then shook his head, “You best ask Betsy or Warren.”

“Speaking of,” Bobby was looking down the hall and Scott turned his head to see his ‘date’ and Jean walking down the hallway, Kitty trailing beside them.

Betsy was in a strapless dress, something in the red spectrum was all he could tell due to his perpetually rosy vision. A rather expensive looking set of pearls graced her neck while her hair was done up in curls.

The British bombshell got impatient with Jean who was on her cell phone and snatched it from the woman. “Warren, you driving all the way up here just to turn around and drive back, twice, is pointless. Now be a good environmentally responsible multi-billionaire and learn a little patience. We’ll be with you in an hour,” and with that she hung up on the man and handed back the phone, “There.”

The red head had a look on her face between a thank you and a frown while Kitty giggled. Jean was dressed in something dark, likely in the green spectrum, a v neck with no sleeves, the fabric at the shoulders wrapping around in a twist to travel down one side of her back in a rope leaving much of her skin bare to the small of her back. Her hair fell in delicate waves and her jewelry was minimal, tear drop earrings, a matching necklace, a thick diamond bracelet over her right wrist, and gold colored gloves to match a sash that draped across her waist.

This wasn’t the first time he had seen the woman done up in her finery but he always had to keep himself from staring.

Bobby leaned over and said, “Global warming.”

Scott tried desperately not to grin or laugh and the girls simply gave the Iceman strange looks.

“Well,” Betsy moved forward and took Scott’s arm, “I believe the car is waiting outside.”

“I could have drove,” Scott frowned at her.

“What would be the fun in that?” Betsy pouted at him.

“Hey, Betsy,” Bobby got her attention, “don’t you worry someone might ask about your hair?”

The tall Brit, even without her six inch heels, looked down at Bobby pointedly, “I ask them how much their obviously fake tan, nose and/or hair line cost them.”

Kitty giggled, “Burn!”

“Well,” Scotty cleared his throat, forcing himself to stop staring at Jean, “the car is waiting.”

With that the three headed outside to the waiting stretched town car, locally hired of course, that would take them to Worthington Tower. As Scott got comfortable, sitting across from Betsy and Jean… he silently thanked Global Warming, not that he’d ever tell Bobby.

…

Kitty and Bobby saw their friends off and then headed back inside the mansion. “Didn’t Jean and Betsy look glamorous? Some have all the luck.”

“Yeah,” Bobby laughed back thoughtfully, though he was referring to Scott. “Hey, Jubes talked me into taking her, Meg, Sofia, and the new girl into town, wanna come?”

“Shopping, tempting,” Kitty laughed, “but I got training with Logan here in a bit.”

“You’ve been training every night since our last run in with the Acolytes,” Bobby pointed out, “you’re not really making any progress.”

“Hey,” she punched him in the shoulder and he shrugged it off.

“I’m just saying how it is,” he defended himself, “you’re not exactly built for combat, Kitty.”

She stopped him in the hallway, hands on her hips, “Cause I’m a girl?”

“Cause you’re a ballet dancer who’s never gotten into a fight in her life,” Bobby frowned at her, “it’s not that you don’t make a good addition to the team, your phasing and mad hacking skills are awesome, but…”

“But I’m a ninety pound weakling,” she was upset and he kicked himself for letting his mouth run away from him.

“None of us want to see you get hurt,” he said quietly, not sure how to salvage the situation.

Kitty’s jaw was clenched and she was shaking her head back and forth, he wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or yell at him. Eventually she turned and stormed off down the hall.

“Kitty,” he called out to her but she threw her hand up in a ‘not talking to you’ gesture and disappeared around a corner. Mumbling to himself, “Way to go, jerkface.”

…

“Dom, spot me,” Pyro had his personalized flame thrower on, he’d been itching to use it for days.

Avalanche came over and tapped at the fuel gauges, “Everything looks good, you’re topped up.”

“Brill,” he slipped on his fire jacket then turned to his friend, “want help with your vest?”

“Yeah,” Dom reached down and picked up the flak vest that he had ‘acquired’ earlier and pulled it across his arms. Pyro made sure it was on straight and secure before Dom pulled down the velco straps. Picking up Dom’s jacket for him, Pyro helped him put it on and when the man zipped it up you could barely tell he was wearing the vest.

“Everyone ready?” Pietro asked as he put on his silver racing jacket.

“Ready,” answered Dom as Pyro said, “Yeah” and Piotr, who was standing in a loose sleeveless shirt which offered no protection whatsoever, said “Da.”

“Alright,” Pietro looked at each one of them, “we get into positions and we wait… remember, this isn’t just about getting Rogue back, we’re going to be sending a message.”

“What kind of message?” Piotr asked.

“That the Brotherhood, that mutants, are the superior beings,” for a moment there the guy almost sounded exactly like Magneto, “and the government needs to back off.”

“I don’t like killing,” the Russian spoke adamantly, “it is not what I agreed to.”

“Don’t worry big guy,” Pietro grinned, “that’s the beauty of pulling this off, proves that we don’t have to kill humans to stop them, that we are that much better than they are.”

Pyro raised his hand, “Ah, I still get to burn something down, right?”

Quicksilver nodded, “Absolutely, but we do want them to take us seriously, so no Lord of the Rings reenactments this time.”

…

Storm, Jean, Jeanne-Marie, Jubilee, Rogue… even Meghan with her fairy-wings, they all looked tougher than Katherine Pryde with her naturally thin frame and wiry muscles. She was considered the school’s biggest computer geek, behind Doug, and was treated as such, stereotypes and all. In truth, she hadn’t always been into computers, her first love had been ballet.

Kitty had been selected to be the lead in the Nutcracker and if her mutant powers hadn’t kicked in she’d still be in the Ballet Chicago school today instead of Xavier’s. True, she never counted on ballet as a career, it was too much like sports, one wrong move, a torn tendon, and she would never dance again. But until that day happened, it was the most fun she could have.

Humming Swan Lake to herself as she stood in front of the wall mirror in the gym, Kitty began to tip up on her toes and spin, following the steps she had memorized years ago. Upon exiting the pirouette, she took four quick strides and then jumped, doing the splits in the air before dropping down to her toes only to bounce again.

A few more dance moves and she realized she was being watched.

“Oh, hey Logan,” she said as she turned and saw him walking up the aisle of work out machines.

“Not bad there, half-pint,” he gave her a rare compliment.

Kitty rolled her eyes and shook her head, “I’m a half-step off, didn’t get nearly enough air on my jump or speed on my spin, and don’t even mention my arches.”

The Wolverine scratched his chin and frowned, “Uh, okay, looked fine to me.”

“Yeah, but what do you know about ballet?” she said sarcastically. “Probably about as much as I know about fighting.”

“I know that Anna Karenina jumps in front of a train at the end,” he offered.

“Spoilers,” Kitty replied cheekily.

“Bobby told me he put his foot in his ass earlier,” Logan said bluntly.

“Is that what you guys really think,” Kitty frowned, “that I shouldn’t bother fighting?”

“I think you shouldn’t try fighting like them,” he stood up beside her. “It might have come to your attention that I’m not exactly gifted with great height.”

Kitty giggled and then covered her mouth. It was true, she was almost as tall as him which meant he was the second shortest member of the team.

“Now, I recognize this, that’s why I fight the way I do,” he threw a few faux punches to her sides and she flinched even though she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, “I dig in, go for the gut shots. If the fella is the right shape then an uppercut, right under the ribcage, explodes the heart with one claw.”

“Um, ah,” she knew that Logan had a pretty checkered past but she didn’t really want to think about all the people he must have killed, and how, “that’s gonna give me nightmares.”

“There are plenty of ways to put a man down without killing ‘em,” Logan assured her, “we just need to figure out what works for you.”

Kitty sighed, “Maybe I could get the Brotherhood to pass out from laughing so hard at my presence, little miss ballerina, I could wear a tutu and everything.”

“Hhmm,” he eyed her thoughtfully, “you might be onto something there half-pint.”

“Wait, what?” she raised one brow.

“You have a non-threatening demeanor,” he pointed out the obvious, “you can use that to get inside your target’s strike zone, give yourself the element of surprise.”

“Oh,” it clicked for the dancer, “like a sneak attack?”

“Uh, yeah,” he gave her another one of those looks but continued on, “it wouldn’t work twice in most cases but if you do it right, it can be very effective.”

She thought about this for a long moment, running scenarios through her head, “You really think that’s my niche?”

“It’s a start,” he nodded, “a good fighter has many weapons in his arsenal, we’ll figure the rest out as we go.”

“Right,” she smiled, feeling much better now than when she came into the room, enough to ask a question that had been bugging her the last few minutes, “Oh hey, Logan, how do you know the ending of Anna Karenina?”

“A few memories still rattle up inside here,” he pointed to his temple, “but I have a distinct memory of once being asked by a woman if I knew the story of Anna Karenina.”

“Oh,” she said neutrally, Logan usually wasn’t one to talk about his past, especially any ladies he was ever involved with.

“Yeah,” he frowned at the memory, “she followed up the question by pushing me in front of a train.”

…

Rogue sat quietly in her seat on the plane, not that there was much else for her to do, seeing as her ankles were cuffed to the chair. Her hands were also bound together, the cuffs connected to a chain that wrapped around her midsection. At least her mutation had one benefit, because she was never alone she never got bored, she could always strike up a conversation with a voice.

Currently Pyro was keeping her company, telling her stories and really bad jokes. Occasionally Pietro would pop up, assuring her that he had a plan, it would be a good plan too.

She sighed, even with having her friends in her head it wasn’t the same, they were too one-dimensional, missing pieces of their personalities, unable grow outside what they were, never creating new stories or thoughts. Essentially it was like talking to a bot, granted, a much more sophisticated program than anything man made, but a bot none the less.

“Won’t be much longer now,” Special Agent Valerie Cooper came over to sit across the aisle from Rogue.

“Yay,” she replied unenthusiastically.

Cooper ignored her, “These accommodations will be something more long term.”

“Will it have a day spa?” Rogue asked mock-hopefully.

“And rest assured,” she continued, “there will be no further incidents like the one that happened back in Philly, the gentleman in question has been punished for such an unacceptable violation.”

Rogue paused and raised one eyebrow at the woman.

“You didn’t think we’d find out?” Cooper asked curiously. “I’m surprised you didn’t say anything, you don’t seem that type.”

“And what type would that be,” Rogue frowned, “mutie terrorist? I’m sure you’re all just falling over yourselves to listen to anything I have to say.”

“You made the choice to join the Brotherhood,” the blonde pointed out, “but that aside, no woman deserves to be treated that way, it would have been properly investigated.”

“Oh, brother,” Rogue rolled her eyes, “I was wondering how long it was gonna take for you to try the whole ‘female bonding’ ploy in the good cop/bad cop routine.”

“Do you really think that’s my game here?” Cooper asked in all seriousness.

“Pretty much,” the mutant shrugged. “I know every trick in the book, lady, felt most of them first hand via third parties,” she gestured to her temple, “makes for some boring conversations.”

“But surely you can detach yourself from those memories,” the agent stared at her curiously, “it still wouldn’t be the same as feeling them directly.”

Rogue raised an eyebrow, “Trying to decide if it’s worth breaking out the water-boarding?”

“Just trying to understand you better, Rogue,” Cooper sighed, “because despite what you might think, the Council on Superhuman Affairs is more than simple anti-mutant rhetoric. The Brotherhood has made itself out as an enemy of humanity, if we can better understand why they feel the need to do this then perhaps we can avoid a full out war.”

“I’ve heard this song and dance before,” Rogue rolled her eyes.

“Doesn’t make it any less the truth,” Cooper pointed out.

“You start with pretty words and assurances,” her voice was rife with disgust, “then Jews are forced into camps for the sole purpose of dying, Indians are given blankets laced with cholera and typhoid, black men are injected with syphilis as if they were lab rats, a whole nation of Congolese forced into working until they drop dead, thrown into mass graves. Forgive my cynicism but humanity doesn’t have a very good track record.”

“Is that your game then,” the agent shook her head, “do unto others before they can do unto you?”

“Pretty much,” she answered unabashedly. “I’d like to think that we could all get along, human and mutant, but really, like that’s gonna happen.”

“It’s attitudes like that which will ensure war,” Cooper frowned at her.

“Do you really think this could end any other way,” Rogue laughed, “regardless of what the Brotherhood does?”

“Maybe,” she said evenly.

Rogue regarded the blond for a moment, then thrust out her hands as far as she could reach in a mockery of a handshake, “Prove it.”

Cooper stared down at Rogue’s offered uncovered hand and while her face remained neutral, Rogue could literally see the wheels turning in the woman’s head. After a good minute of no reaction from Cooper, Rogue leaned back in her chair, “Thought so.”

“Rogue,” Cooper sighed, “you have to realize that by perpetuating Magneto’s anti-human sympathies you’re only ensuring that this can do nothing but end badly.”

“Sugah,” Rogue smiled just a touch, “there is only one way any of this could possibly end.”

“And what way is that?” the agent frowned.

Rogue ignored her question and instead asked, “Do you play chess?”

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