1X04 – Midsummer Night’s Dream – Act I | X-Men: The (fan fic) Series

1X04 – Midsummer Night’s Dream – Act I

1X04 – Midsummer Night’s Dream – Act I

Meg chose to wear a hat to cover her pink hair. Sure, no one would really give her a second glance walking around with off-colored hair in the middle of New York City, but she still felt self-conscious about it which made her feel perhaps a tad silly.

The cab pulled up outside a tall brick building and Miss Munroe exited first, looking very tall and exotic with her dark velvet skin and silk white hair, like she belonged in the fashion district. She paid the cabby as Meg scooted out and joined her on the sidewalk. It wasn’t long before both of them where on the seventh floor of the building being greeted by Warren in the reveal room of Madame LeFlore’s Tailor Made Boutique.

“’Ro, Meg, I’d like to introduce Madam LeFlore,” he gestured to an older, slightly plump lady wearing a dress that could only be described as ‘high fashion’ seeing as no one other than those in the fashion industry could get away with wearing it, “she works wonders with strategically placed Velcro and folds.”

“Warren is too kind,” she smiled and gestured towards Meg, “now, let us see these beautiful wings of yours.”

A bit timidly, Meg pulled off her floor length jacket. Since her wings were like a butterfly’s and could flex a little over 180 degrees, she could tip them down and not have to worry about her coat getting caught on them like Warren did. She let her wings flutter a moment because they felt a bit stiff from being held down for so long and then settled.

“I like the color palette,” LeFlore nodded, “I’m thinking bold colors but we’ll see what Jim has to say on that.”

“He should be here any minute now,” Warren looked at his watch and was distracted by the sounds of someone in the outer room, “speaking of which.”

“Sorry I’m late,” the dapper, older gentleman in a grey suit with silver hair said as he walked in, “no excuse for it, so I’ll just be fashionable and call it good.”

Meg blinked, she couldn’t believe her eyes, “Jim Colt? Your personal stylist is Jim Colt?”

“I only hire the best,” Warren shrugged it off.

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself the best,” Jim played it off, “but I won’t argue.” He laughed and turned towards Meg, “This must be Megan, what a striking young woman.”

“You know about mutants?” Storm eyed the famous stylist and TV personality warily.

“I’m in fashion,” he waved her off as if that explained everything.

“I trust Jim completely,” Warren assured the headmistresses, “and Madam LeFlore. Meg’s in good hands.”

Storm considered this for a long moment then conceded any objections with a nod of her head.

“I was thinking bold colors,” LeFlore gestured to Meg.

“Yes,” he crossed his arms but then lifted one hand to hold his chin, “definitely want to embrace the daring of her coloring. I’m thinking whimsical, not fairy costume, but light and fun. Appropriate for a girl her age.”

“I like it,” LeFlore nodded in agreement, “I have a blue fabric that will make the yellow in her wings just pop.”

“Um,” Meg laughed nervously, “sounds good.”

“Come,” LeFlore gestured towards the work room, “let’s get your measurements and do some sketches.”

…

Storm watched as Meg was led away, knowing they would be awhile.

“Are you going to be here Warren?” she turned to the man.

“Ah, yes,” he was looking down at his cell phone, sending emails. “I promised Jean I’d talk to Meg, but I know better than to interrupt either of those two at this stage. I’ll have time later.”

“Would you mind if I left Meg in your care for a bit?” she asked but left little room for it to be a question.

The man glanced up, “What are you up to, ‘Ro?”

“I need to pay someone a visit,” she told him simply.

Warren gave her a rueful smile, there was only one person she could be going to see in New York City.

…

“Alright,” Rogue and Dom sat the last bags of groceries on the kitchen counter, the area now littered with them, and Rogue look pointedly at Pietro, “we did the hard part.”

With a shrug, Pietro was off like a streak of silver light, taking the few hundred dollars of groceries, legitimately bought because no sense in causing trouble over some literal spilt milk, and putting them up in the cabinets and refrigerator in record time, even the plastic bags were thrown in the recycle.

“There,” he said when he was done, “if you can’t find anything don’t come crying to me.”

“Thanks mate,” Pyro gave him a pat on the shoulder and headed over to open one of the cabinets, then the next one, and the one after that, “hey, where’s my Vegemite?”

“I hid it,” Pietro drolled, “so you’d stop perpetuating the stereotype.”

“Hey!” the fire mutant got indigent, pointing his finger at their leader, but then his eyes shifted and he smiled, “Oh! Treasure hunt!”

“That should keep him occupied for awhile,” Pietro rolled his eyes as the rest of them headed into the living area portion of the warehouse. On the sofa was Pietro’s duffle which he grabbed and slung over his shoulder, “I’ll be gone a few days, contact me if you need me, but after recent events I think some continued downtime is in order. Any questions before I go?”

“Magneto has no missions for us?” Rogue frowned.

“Not as yet,” Pietro shook his head. “He’s acting on some of the information you obtained during your captivity but keeping us out of it, trying not to make it too easy for them make the connection.”

“Right,” she nodded, it made sense.

“Like I said, take a few days, all of you,” he looked between the three of them. “Anything else?”

They shook their heads and instantly Quicksilver disappeared with nothing but a hint of a breeze in his wake.

“Do you know where he’s gone?” Avalanche asked her.

“You’ve asked me that before,” she looked up at the man, “and the answer is the same, yes I do, and it’s nothing you have to worry about.”

The Greek spread his hands in acquiesce and headed over to the sofa to crash in front of the TV, “What do you think Pyro,” he turned his head towards the man who was still going through the cabinets, “want to hit the bar tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said distractedly, “sure.”

Dom then looked at Rogue, “You coming too?”

“Maybe,” she frowned as she thought about it, “if I get back in time, don’t wait for me though.”

“Where you going?” he asked curiously as he flipped channels to Bar Rescue.

“Figured since I was back in town I’d go see Irene,” she shrugged, leaning slightly on the sofa.

“Ah,” he nodded, “how has she been?”

“Same old, I guess,” Rogue frowned again, “she’s been taking everything pretty well since her and momma got into that fight,” she shook her head lightly, “but then she probably saw it coming.”

…

“Why does four of a kind beat a full house?” Kitty asked impatiently in the cabin.

“It’s all about the odds,” Logan replied gruffly.

“Ugh,” came her exasperated sigh and the shuffling of cards.

Scott looked over his shoulder to see the four passengers playing poker, though because there was no central table and moving back and forth across the aisle a lot could make things complicated, flight wise, they settled for five card stud instead of Texas Hold’em.

“You can join them,” he commented to Jean who was looking down at her FAA-approved touchpad.

“Hmm?” it took her a second to realize what he was talking about, “I’m good, rereading my flight training manual, seeing what didn’t get absorbed the first time.”

“So you’re going to keep with the lessons then?” he asked her conversationally and frowned when he realized it might have come off as condescending.

Jean gave him a little smile, tugging at the corner of her lips, “It will be a tough fit between teaching, working on my grad thesis, and of course this whole X-Men thing, but I think I’ll manage.”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate—”

“I know what you meant,” she assured him with a small laugh, “but yes, I’m going to get my flight time in.”

“Good to know,” he had a thought, “how about you take her for a bit?”

“What,” her eyes widened a little, “now?”

“Sure,” he gestured to the red sky, “it’s clear out, turbulence is minimal, and I’ll be right here.”

Jean took a long breath and let it go slowly as she considered his offer, “Okay, but one lesson, that’s all I’ve had, remember.”

“You’ll do fine, you’re a fast learner,” he assured her and watched as she put her hands on the controls to release the Cessna from autopilot, “just keep her steady on the horizon.”

“Steady on the horizon,” she repeated, eyes intent on the console.

He smiled at her, noting that she had done everything correctly and there was a little dip on the changeover, but overall she was doing a great job of just flying straight. It seemed like a simple, basic thing, keeping the plane even, but it was an extremely important lesson to start with.

“Okay, my deal,” Kitty said and he once again heard the crack shuffling of the cards, “one, two, three, four,” she spoke aloud as she parceled them out, “one, and two, and three, and four.”

“One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!”

Scott gripped his brother’s hand in his as their thumbs began to attack each other, trying to pin one down. He almost got Alex’s thumb but his brother was just that much quicker and was able to get on top of his thumb, pressing down hard.

“Hah!” Alex squeakily shouted, “I win, again!”

“You know,” Scott was annoyed, as one gets when they are fourteen and lose to their twelve year old sibling, again, “one of these days you need to let your big brother win.”

“Sure,” he beamed back at him, “a week from never.”

Rolling his eyes he adjusted his ruby quartz glasses which were perched on top of his head. About to come up with a retort, the plan rocked suddenly.

“I got it,” his father said as he started to fiddle with the controls.

“What was that,” his mother asked as she moved into the co-pilot seat after another rough bump.

“Just turbulence,” he commented, getting the plane under control but it was still shuddering, rain starting to pelt against the windscreen.

“The reports did call for a little weather,” she pulled a clipboard from between the seat and console, “we’re not too far out from Kaneohe, or do you want to try to make it to Hickam?”

There was another sudden drop, not too bad, but one Scott definitely felt in his stomach.

“Call in to Kaneohe,” his father told her, “it’s looking pretty bad out there, this isn’t ‘a little’ weather.”

His mom picked up the radio transceiver and asked for the Marine Air Base at Kaneohe on Oahu Island, requesting leave to land due to the storm.

Knuckles white on the control stick, his father glanced back at them, “You boys buckled in tight?”

“Yeah, dad,” Scott replied back, checking his brother’s seatbelt as well.

“Good,” he nodded and put his full attention back to flying, “we’ll be landing soon, just going to be a little bumpy. Everything is going to be fine.”

The plane started to rock slightly and on instinct Scott’s hands gripped the controls.

“Sorry,” Jean called back into the cabin.

“Only an air pocket,” he told her, “can’t avoid them, just don’t over-correct.”

“Right,” she nodded and took another long breath, checking the gauges. “Where are we going to layover?”

“Hudson Bay, Saskatchewan,” and as an afterthought he added, “and we’ll stop there on the way back, you can go on your beer run then, if you must.”

There was a snicker from Logan.

“You know, the M2 is great, Scott,” Jean seemed a little timid about her next words, “but she’s limited on her flight time being a personal aircraft,” she chewed on her lip a bit, “if we’re serious about taking on the Brotherhood, we’re going to need something that can travel a lot farther, across the world even.”

“I had thought of that,” he sighed, he his loved plane but he was limited to North America unless he did a lot of layovers, crossing the Atlantic or Pacific was almost completely out. “I’ll look into it, see about any planes for sale some of the other pilots might know about, maybe we can talk the Professor into getting something bigger.”

“Oh,” Bobby’s indignant voice called from the back, “you are not messing up my budget for next year! I have that thing mapped out! With graphs!”

The cabin erupted in laughter and Scott turned back to stare out at the clear… red… sky. Not a storm cloud in sight.

…

Ororo Munroe entered the lobby of Forge Technologies, an R&D firm which housed some of the industry’s brightest engineers and fabricators. Needless to say, security was tight with guards posted at all the entrances, metal detectors compulsory, and names badges with fingerprinting a necessity.

Striding up to the front desk, her presence alone was enough to get the receptionists attention.

“Can I help you?” one of the three receptionists asked.

“Yes,” Ororo smiled, “I’d like to speak with Mr Silvercloud.”

“Do you have an appointment?” she said the words knowing full well Ororo didn’t.

“No,” Ororo admitted easily, “but give him a ring and tell him there is a woman in the lobby who would like to discuss the weather. It looks like it might storm.”

X-Men: The (fan fic) Series

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