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1X07 – El Chacal – Act IV
The fire trucks and police arrived at the same time, Milson turning away from the body heading and over towards them, trying to figure out what he was going to say. Internal Affairs would be all over him once they got wind of this.
“What’s the situation?” one of the officers asked him as the firemen unloaded their truck and started to run a line.
“Possible meth lab explosion,” he explained as they walked towards the remains of the burning building, “multiple suspects fled the scene. If we can get some Uni’s to canvas we might get lucky.”
The man grabbed his radio and started to give orders for such a thing to occur. They were approaching the body and he took a deep breath, still unsure of what to say. He was positive there was a gun…
And now there was no body.
Milson stopped in his tracks, staring at the spot the woman had fallen. The grass did look disturbed, but there was no one there. Had he not wounded her as he had thought? Did she get up and run away?
“Detective,” the officer questioned as Milson stopped.
If the woman was alive, was she still wounded? Would they find her body and his bullet inside her? How would he explain that?
“Nothing,” he shook his head, better to keep things simple for now.
…
Later that night, back at the station, Milson sat, filling out his report.
“Looks like we caught another,” Captain Beems said as one of the El Chacal gang members was brought in and placed in the holding cell next to the desks.
“Fire crews have let the CSI team in,” Milson added as he leaned back in the chair, “right now the conservative estimate is 300k worth of drugs went up, not to mention their processing equipment.”
“Won’t put El Chacal out of business,” the man nodded, “but it will put a major kink in their operations. Maybe if we get these guys to talk, we’ll get somewhere.”
“Early days yet,” Milson smiled.
“A bust like this,” Beems added, “it’s gonna look good on your performance review.”
“Yes it will,” he was rightly pleased with that thought.
“What brought you out there, anyway?” the man questioned, “It was quite lucky you were there.”
“I was following a suspect, Doctor Reyes,” Milson had actually forgotten about her momentarily but figured the evidence found in the warehouse and arrested criminals would speak for itself.
“Doctor Reyes is a suspect?” the man furrowed his brow, “In what crime?”
“The clinic shooting,” Milson explained, “well, she is more of a person of interest.”
Beems tilted his head, “Did you have a warrant or did the chief sign off on surveillance?”
“Ah,” Milson blinked, he couldn’t even remember if he told anyone what he was doing.
“Come this way,” the desk sergeant was leading a woman through the area towards them, “the detectives will take your statement,” he then turned to Milson and Beems, “this is Misty Knight, she’s a local neighborhood watch, says she saw the whole thing go down.”
“Miss Knight,” Milson started, “if you’d like to take a seat I’ll—“
“Is this some kind of joke?” Knight backed away for everyone. “He was the one who started it.”
“What?” Milson gave her an incredible look.
“What do you mean?” the Captain asked.
“I saw this guy,” Knight pointed to Milson, “he went up to the barn, walked straight in, a few minutes later, shooting starts and the whole thing goes sideways.”
“Huh?” Milson blinked.
“Is this true?” Beems asked, warily.
“Of course it’s not true,” Milson nearly shouted at him.
“You went into that shed,” Knight accused, “you either decided to go vigilantly or you’re working with them.”
“You don’t know what you saw,” Milson shot back, “I never went near that shed.”
“Oh yeah,” she put one hand on her hips and jutted her thumb towards the guys in the cell, “ask them.”
“That’s a good idea,” he turned towards the three men in lock up who were leaning on the bars, staring widely at the incident.
“What the lady says,” one of them managed to utter.
“Yeah, yeah,” another piped in, “he was there alright.”
“Wha?” Milson’s jaw dropped, “they’re obviously lying!”
“Detective,” Beems said calmly, the whole station now looking at the group, “they probably are, but we need to do this by the book, I need you to hand me over your weapon.”
Milson stared between everyone, wondering what was happening, “I didn’t do anything.”
“Then the evidence will speak for itself,” the officer held out his hand, everyone quiet with a few of the men’s hands on their own weapons in case something happened.
Slowly, Milson unholstered his weapon, then took it by the barrel to hand it over to Beems who immediately pulled back the chamber and dropped the magazine. Taking a sniff, “This has been fired recently.”
The woman, the one he failed to mention, should he dare do so now.
“Did you go to the gun range today?” the desk sergeant asked hopefully.
Milson wasn’t able to answer, he was lost in the shock of the moment. He had fired his gun, at a woman who he thought was armed, who disappeared, and now everyone was saying he went in and started a firefight with a bunch of gang bangers…
“Sergeant,” the officer said, “I want you to take Detective Milson to the back and have him processed for GSR. The sooner we can clear this mess up, the better.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant gave the detective a regretful, “this way.”
“I know the way,” Milson gruffed, walking towards the processing area. In the background, he could hear Beems sit Knight down to take her statement.
He had no idea why this was happening to him…
…
After giving her statement, Misty left the police station and walked down the street for a couple blocks before spotting the green Ford Focus. Walking up to the vehicle, she paused only momentarily before slipping into the back seat next to the tall, jet-haired man that had showed up later.
“How did it go?” Jean asked from the driver’s seat.
“Pretty good actually,” Misty admitted, “the guys they caught fingered him for the shooting, his fellow blue’s also didn’t seem very optimistic about his innocence.”
“I’m sure the evidence will exonerate him,” Jean assured her, “there will be many things that won’t add up, I doubt he’ll actually see a court room, let alone jail time.”
“But he’s lost any chances at promotion,” Theresa said with a grin.
“Nor have any time to continue his witch hunt against Cecilia,” the man, JP they had called him, added.
Misty looked between them all, “As thankful as I am that El Chacal has been wounded and Cecilia is safe, someone want to explain what happened?”
“What do you mean?” Jean asked.
“I mean,” she said bluntly, “after I saw Cecilia safely aside, I saw you three walk into that workshop, not Milson, and yet the gang seems to be under the impression otherwise.”
“Yeah,” Jean said slowly, “not sure you’d believe us if we told you.”
“You’re mutants, aren’t you?” Misty wasn’t about to be subtle.
“You know about mutants?” Theresa said with some surprise.
“What don’t I know,” Misty laughed, “I’ve heard talk of them, people with special abilities, kinda like walking Steven King movies, but without the psycho clowns.”
“That’s grossly inaccurate,” JP quickly defended.
“But it’s still true though,” the woman continued, “telekinesis, telepathy, pryokinesis, super healing?”
“Among others,” Jean admitted.
“Then what did you do?” Misty wasn’t taking a brush off as an answer, “did you put the whammy on them?”
“Not so much…”
After having ran down from Westchester, Jean-Paul listened to Jean’s plan and decided that it was just crazy enough to work, or get them killed, either way, he was going to get shot.
Jean-Paul walked up to the shed with Jean and Theresa flanking him. Jean sent out a general vibe of ‘don’t look this way’ and he opened the door unchallenged. As they walked in though, they did gain the attention of the five gang members inside who pulled their guns immediately at the interloper.
“Who you think you are?” one of them asked harshly from behind a work table which held several beakers and other drug making paraphernalia.
“That’s not really important right now,” Jean-Paul said, but all the gang members could see in his stead was the form of Detective Milson. “I’m giving you the chance to close up shop, otherwise, vengeance is thine.”
Theresa snickered but went unseen, hidden by Jean’s illusion.
The gang members looked between each other, not believing this guy was for real. Through general consensus, they opened fire on Milson’s form. Most struck JP square in the chest, doing nothing to him thanks to his invulnerability. Jean put up a shield to make sure no stray bullets struck them.
“What the…” they stood in shock as it was obvious Milson wasn’t wearing a vest and Jean used her knowledge from television and movies to simulate his clothes getting torn.
“I warned you…” JP said gravely.
Theresa took a long, deep breath, then with precision let out a howling scream which shattered every piece of glass, including the beakers on the table. Chemicals mixed together and a fire started, almost instantly filling the area with smoke.
Jean grabbed Theresa and they ducked down in a bubble of clean air as the gang members shot widely and ran from the shed in fear.
“Right,” Misty wasn’t entirely impressed, “you put the fear of god in them, well, fear of Detective Milson.”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Jean admitted.
“What about his gun,” Misty asked.
“We needed him to fire it,” Jean said.
“And have reason not to want to mention it,” Jean-Paul added.
Exiting the building which was quickly catching on fire, Jean pointed to the approaching Milson and JP nodded. He stalked towards the man as previously discussed, Jean wrapping him in the illusion of Theresa, making JP’s phone look like a gun.
“Right, though next time you get a brilliant plan,” JP leaned forward, “can we leave out the part where I get shot multiple times?”
“You all crazy,” Misty shook her head.
“It worked though,” Jean countered, “Milson is off Cecilia’s case and the El Chacal are wounded, they might not ever recover.”
“Yeah, about that,” Misty shook her head, “I got a text from one of my contacts, turns out a gang from south side was behind the shooting. Seems they are interested in taking El Chacal’s territory. You just opened the door wide open for them.”
Jean frowned, not sure how to respond.
“The good thing is,” Misty continued, “we won’t have all the gang fighting, just your usual ‘respect my authority drive-by’s’. But in the end they’ll take over and it’s same shit, different day.”
“I’m sorry,” Jean uttered, “I thought…”
“Thought you could fix the problem in a day?” Misty laughed, “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“There has to be something we can do to help?” JP asked.
“You plan on moving down here and spending every waking hour keeping the gangs at bay?” Misty asked dryly, “and not to mention opening the job market and giving better access to education for minorities?”
“Ah,” Jean stumbled.
“Forget it,” the woman popped the door, “you did what you came to do. Call it a win and move on with your lives.”
“We can come back and help you if you ever need us too,” Jean quickly added.
“Like what, some kind of heroes for hire?” she laughed, swinging her feet out. “Heroes are just the last ones left standing after everyone else is dead.”
Misty slammed the door with a touch more force than necessarily and walked off down the street leaving the three mutants to consider her words.
…
The following morning saw Cecilia show up at the Xavier mansion.
“Wait,” the doctor held up her hand, “you stopped a possible threat to the pre-mature discovery of mutants… by using your powers right in front them plain as day?”
That effectively silenced everyone in the room.
“It wasn’t so much as revealing ourselves as mutants,” Jean cleared her throat, “but make the whole situation so incredible that it will be dismissed as the ravings of men who sampled too much of their product?”
Cecilia raised a brow at her, then shook her head, “As long as you all are happy and Milson is off my case, by the way, how did you know he was going to follow me?”
“Simple,” Betsy said from where she sat at one of the desks in the study, “we may have an aversion to changing people’s minds… but pushing them in a direction they were already heading is much less of a moral gray area.”
As Milson was talking to the desk sergeant, telling him he’d be out, a lady stood filling out a form. So intent on getting evidence on Reyes, he didn’t even notice her purple hair…
“Whatever works, I guess,” the doctor shook he head and let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks again for your help, but don’t take it personally if I say I hope not to see you all again for awhile.”
“Considering we only seem to meet when someone is hurt,” Scott spoke up, “none taken.”
…
Out on the patio, Sean looked disapprovingly down at his daughter, “You coulda gotten hurt.”
“I help Moira every day with two of the most dangerous mutants on the planet,” she countered, “a few thugs were nothing.”
“Never underestimate the propensity for any living being to commit violence,” he told her firmly, “you know Kevin and David’s habits, their quirks. Those gang members, you didn’t know how they would have reacted, what they could have done.”
“Sorry da,” she bowed her head.
“Don’t be sorry, lass,” he put her arms around her, “just be safe.”
The father and daughter held themselves for a moment until someone cleared their throat.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Xavier apologized as he rolled out onto the patio.
“Not at all,” Sean said, pulling away from Theresa gently.
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” the telepath frowned, “and I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask, how is David doing?”
Theresa gave him a questioning look, “You get the reports Moira sends you?”
“I do,” he nodded, “but you work with him, I thought you might be more… illuminating on the particulars?”
“Well,” Theresa paused as she considered her words, “he truly hasn’t changed. Better or worse. As long as we keep to the regiment, avoid triggers, he’s a nice, intelligent young man… you’d never know he was one wrong word away from attempting to destroy the fabric of reality… or the toaster oven… depends on who gets in charge.”
“Well,” Xavier attempted a smile but it was obviously pained, “one can always have hope.”
“Aye,” she agreed sympathetically, wondering just how much hope the man still had left in his son.
“We’ll be heading back tomorrow,” Sean added with a sigh, “and I’ll speak with Moira. We’ll look into converting part of the complex into a detainment area. I don’t like it, but violent mutants would be safer with us than in the hands of the military.”
“This of course assumes we can find a way to transport them there safely,” Xavier nodded, there was a lot of kinks to work out.
“That’ll be your problem,” Sean shrugged, “but I think we all agree, we may be mutants, but we’re all living beings, and should be treated as such.”
…
“Jean,” Scott stopped the woman as she was walking down the hall.
“Yes, Scott?” she asked with a smile.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” he gestured to the classroom behind him.
“Sure,” Jean nodded and followed him into the room, leaning against one of the school desks, “what’s on your mind?”
The man chuckled, “Do you ever get tired of saying that?”
“Never,” she grinned.
“Well,” he took a second and got a little more serious, “I wanted to talk you about what happened yesterday, with Milson and the El Chacal’s.”
“What about it?” she touched on his mind just enough to see he wasn’t exactly pleased.
“While I’m glad that we’ve helped a friend and did some damage to a drug gang,” he paused and moved his jaw a bit as he picked his best words, “I can’t help but think we went about it the wrong way.”
She raised a single brow, “The wrong way?”
“The plan was to give the police a lead,” he explained, “give them what they needed to take down the El Chacal’s properly.”
“And let Milson win?” she tried not to laugh.
“He’d be doing his job,” Scott pointed out.
“You weren’t in his mind,” she countered, standing up, “he was a horribly racist man, he didn’t deserve a win, legitimate or not.”
“I believe you,” he assured her, taking a step closer, “but that wasn’t our call to make.”
“Are you just mad that I didn’t follow your plan?” she couldn’t help but accuse him.
“No,” Scott seemed to get a little offended at the suggestion, “I’m worried that doing things like this does make us vigilantes, makes us no better than the Brotherhood.”
“We helped mutants and humans,” Jean countered, “and not just for our own gain. The Brotherhood only thinks about themselves.”
“No, everyone gets that wrong,” Scott spoke definitively, “the Brotherhood only thinks about mutants, how to keep all mutants safe.”
“What?” Jean shook her head lightly.
“Why do you think they haven’t actually killed any of us in battle?” Scott explained, “Sure, Sabretooth and Mystique will take a life without thinking, and they’ve had their chances, but they don’t because Magento won’t let them.”
“But… the Pentagon,” was the moment that rang most clearly in her mind.
“Mystique wasn’t working with Magneto yet,” he pointed out, “and she could have killed Kitty before but didn’t. Sabretooth was biding time waiting for Logan when he attacked Bobby,” Scott shook his head, “Magneto thinks that every mutant life is much more valuable than a human life, which is why he doesn’t attack this school and why he’s much more likely to imprison a mutant who goes against him than actually kill them.”
Jean stood still, trying to find an argument against him but came up with none, “Are… are you defending him?”
“I’m making a point,” Scott sighed, running his hand through his hair, “Magneto and Xavier, in their hearts, believe the same thing, but Magneto crossed that line where it became okay to simply do what you want, when you want, because in the end the goal is what matters. He is the vigilante.”
“Slippery slope,” Jean whispered quietly.
“Something like that,” the man took another slow breath, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of everyone else, it’s a moral gray area that even I’m struggling with because, yeah, the guy had it coming,” he admitted, “but everyone looks up to you, especially the younger students.”
“Right,” she sighed, “I get it, we have to show ourselves to be the good guys, or we’re no better than the Brotherhood.”
“I’m sure one day we’ll have to do the wrong thing for the right reasons,” Scott told her softly, “and I’d like a clearer conscious when that happens.”
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