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1X08 – Scarlet – Act I
The Acolytes gathered around the sofa in the living room, looking up at the television which Pietro had synced with his tablet. He brought up an image of a four story office building somewhere in a semi-industrial area.
“Bella-Agra?” Rogue asked of the name clearly written on the building.
“According to their website and public records,” Pietro filled in, “it’s an agricultural research company, specializing in high yield crops.”
“Agricultural research?” Dom wasn’t very impressed.
“Big business that,” Pyro mumbled as he fidgeted with his lighter, “everyone is trying to solve world hunger, though if you believe conspiracy theorists big companies are more interesting in keeping a certain level of demand, just like pharmaceutical companies don’t actually want to cure cancer, cause where’s the money in that?”
“Thank you for that enlightening information, Pyro,” Pietro replied dryly, “but according to the documents we took from Homeland Security, this is suspected to be a front.”
“A front to what?” Wanda asked before he had a chance to finish, which was significant enough seeing as Pietro talked faster than most.
Only slightly annoyed at his sister, he continued, “It’s a genetic research laboratory. Could be a rogue government program, a foreign government, or someone with a lot of money looking to splice some DNA , but the US government doesn’t have enough, or care enough, to warrant the cost and effort of actually going in and seeing what’s up.”
“Genetic research,” Rogue took a better look at the building, “wanna bet they are knee deep in mutant DNA?”
“Only if I felt like being the fool,” Pietro nodded, flipping to the next screen which showed an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a nicely tailored suit, “this is the CEO on record, Cedric Doosan. Old money from his grandfather, he currently has his fingers into a lot of research companies, Bella-Agra among them.”
“Ran a background on him?” Wanda asked as she sat on the arm of the sofa.
“Of course I did,” Pietro willed himself to slow down, “and so did DHS. Got a whole lot of not quite dodgy enough to use as leverage.”
“Man that high up on the ladder,” Rogue mused, “he’s either the driving force or completely clueless.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he swiped at the screen and brought up the image of a spa resort, “Doosan will be getting a relaxing massage tomorrow, I want you to absorb him, see what you can find.”
“A day spa?” Rogue raised a brow, “You’re kidding me right?”
“Take Wanda with you,” he gestured to his sister.
“Sure,” Wanda spoke blandly, “since I was asked so nicely.”
“Wouldn’t want you to feel like you were here for nothing,” Pietro shot back.
“So thoughtful,” she replied mock-sweetly.
“Gee,” Rogue rolled her eyes, “no one can tell you’re twins or anything.”
Both of the Maximoff’s continued to stare at each other until by silent decree they decided not to continue with the ‘sibling banter’. They instead looked to Rogue who smirked.
“So nice to have the band back together,” Rogue joked.
…
The following morning saw the Xavier students dragging their feet through the mansion as they made their way to lunch.
“Meg,” Jean’s voice was in Meghan’s head, “please come to the foyer.”
“At least it’s not the headmaster’s office,” the winged mutant frowned and adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she turned around.
“What’s up?” Jubilee asked, her nose in the special edition of Josephine Martyr’s The House of Mavendore: Book One: The Scarlet Witch.
“Jean called me to the foyer,” she told her roommate.
“That’s weird,” the girl closed her book and slid it into her backpack, “want me to come with?”
“Nah,” Meg started down the hall, “then we’ll be both be late, at least this way I have a legit excuse.”
“Alright,” Jubilee started to open the door to one of the classrooms, only to stop as a long haired white Persian cat ran past, “hey, Sharon, that’s a new form. I like it.”
Meg smiled and headed down the winding hall to get to the front of the building where Jean was waiting for her. She found the red headed teacher texting on her phone, standing amongst three upright garment trunks.
“Is that…” Meg trailed off as she started to get more excited than she realized she would.
“Freshly delivered from Madam LeFlore’s,” Jean smiled and tucked her phone away.
Wings flapping, Meg nearly flew forward and grabbed the latch one of the trunks which opened sideways to reveal several clear plastic garment bags hanging on the bar. Meg couldn’t help herself and started to look through them, seeing many of the jewel tones that LeFlore and Colt picked out for her.
“There will be time later for that,” Jean said sympathetically but with a smile, “we need to get these up to your room and you back to class.”
“Right, right,” it was with much reluctance Meg closed the trunk, clasping the latch.
After a moment, the trunks lifted slowly a few inches off the floor, “Come on, you’ll have to tell me where you want them.”
With her lips smiling so broadly she nearly hurt her cheeks, Meg followed Jean up the stairs with the trunks bobbing behind.
…
Rogue slammed on the breaks as a car whipped out in front of her with no regard of little things like ‘right of way’ and ‘oncoming traffic, “Seriously,” she laid on the horn, “why is it a universal constant that three fourths of the world’s population do not know how to drive?”
“Hhhmmm,” Wanda crinkled her brow as she focused on the car in front of them, “fun fact, radiators have a separate section for transmission oil to be cooled. If the flow slows down because it’s not cooling properly, then the transmission doesn’t get oil and can burn out. When your transmission goes, sometimes it’s just cheaper to get a new car.”
Wanda snapped her fingers and a keen eye would see a small spark of reddish electrical energy jump across her finger pads.
“I’d turn here if I were you,” Wanda smiled, “our inconsiderate driver is about to find himself most inconvenienced.”
“Nice,” Rogue chuckled as she turned down a side road, “I told you taking that automotive class would come in handy.”
“You only wanted me to be able to fix your car for you if you were feeling lazy,” the Romanian smirked.
“Hey, you said it was easier to affect the probability of something happening when you understood how it worked,” Rogue took a corner, then started to pull up a drive, “I was just trying to help.”
“Uh huh,” Wanda shook her head, pulling a garage door remote from her bag, “what’s the probability that the spa uses the same frequency as this remote?”
“I dunno,” the Southerner grinned, “you tell me.”
“Let’s go with probable,” Wanda pointed the remote at the gate which then proceeded to open on command. Wanda feigned surprise, “well now, would you imagine that?”
The two had a good chuckle as they pulled into the employee parking, Wanda spying the camera which overlooked the area. Once again she focused on the device and snapped her fingers, a tint of rouge sparking. Nothing outwardly happened to the camera though.
“Let me guess,” Rogue opened her door, “the recording system randomly turned itself off?”
“A surge of energy to the right component causes it to reboot and it will have to manually be set to record again,” Wanda explained as they got out, “but the feed keeps rolling, so we’ll have to rely on good old guards not actually bothering to pay attention.”
“They never get paid enough,” she replied sympathetically.
Walking up to the employee entrance, Wanda waved a card key at the reader, changing the probability of the frequency to once again match. They made their way down the hall to the employee areas, stopping and hiding behind a door to let two individuals pass. Sometimes the simpler strategies are the best.
They started to go through the lockers looking for uniforms, “Man, I hope these are laundered,” Rogue mumbled as she smelled one of the shirts.
Wanda chucked and within a few minutes, the two were dressed like employees and walked unimpeded through the halls. They reached one of the computers stationed throughout the complex, but it was password protected.
“High probability the admin password is Spa Day,” Wanda told Rogue, “one word, no caps.”
Rogue typed in the word and was immediately brought to the desktop. “Not bad,” she grinned, bringing up the schedule. “Looks like Doosan’s appointment is in twenty minutes in room 34.”
“Which way is room 34?” Wanda frowned, looking at a building layout on the wall.
“Still can’t read a map?” Rogue tried to suppress a laugh.
The woman made a face, “Who needs maps when you can just change the probability of getting lost to nearly nil?”
…
Cedric Doosan made his way into his usual room, having already used the private bathroom to change into complimentary yoga pants and a soft robe.
“Where’s Alicia?” he asked immediately once he noticed the tall woman who was waiting behind the table, smile on her face.
“Alicia had an emergency,” the woman spoke with a European accent, “I’m Mary.”
“Mary, huh?” Cedric eyed the woman a tad suspiciously, Alicia had never missed a session.
“Would you like me to get the manager?” she asked and she turned her head towards the employee entrance and he could see the red streaks that lined her face in her wavy brunette hair which complimented her tan skin.
What he didn’t notice was her snapping her fingers behind her back.
Cedric frowned, surely there was no reason to bother management, after all, he had been coming here for a long time, it was bound to happen one day that Alicia would not be able to make every session. Why bother management when it would simply delay him and his time table.
“I suppose that isn’t necessary,” he concluded, “as long as you’re just as talented as Alicia.”
Mary smiled and held up her hands, wiggling them slightly, “I have magic fingers.”
He allowed himself a small chuckle at that and laid his robe over one of the chairs. With practiced ease he laid down on the table and got comfortable, preferring to lay his head on his arms.
“You ready?” she asked and he gave her a general mummer of encouragement.
A hot liquid was poured across his back, the warmth seeping into his knotted muscles. Then slender fingers started to work at the lower back first, moving their way up the spine.
“What kind of client are you,” Mary asked easily, “the kind that needs absolute serenity, or the kind that needs a sympathetic ear?”
“You talk more than Alicia,” Cedric said as he kept his eyes closed and focused on the soothing massage.
“Apologies,” the woman spoke lightly, “I have several clients where the knots are less of a physical pain and more of an emotional burden. I’m cheaper than a therapist.”
“Well,” he laughed, “I can assure you, these knots are plain old stress from working sixteen hour days and sitting in on too many board meetings.”
“Yes, board meetings can do that too you,” she went at the muscle just below the shoulder blade, “but it has to be worth it in the end.”
“It is indeed,” he smiled.
“You know, I’ve heard your name before,” she spoke as if she had forgotten something, “Bella-Agra.”
What would she care of Bella-Agra? was Cedric’s last thought before drifting off into a blissful sleep.
…
Rogue stood behind the table Doosan laid on, her eyes closed as she sorted through the thoughts that went through her mind.
“How’s it looking?” Wanda asked as she cleaned up having gotten the massage oil all over her hands.
“Plausible deniability,” Rogue frowned, “he knows that something non-kosher is going down at the lab but as long as the money is rolling in, he don’t care.”
“He give you the security codes to get in?” Wanda dried her hands.
“He doesn’t have that,” she shook her head, “he has people for that kind of stuff. He hasn’t even been there in months.”
“Well,” the woman sighed, “at least we know we’re on the right track. How long is he going to be out?”
Rogue frowned, thinking, “Another twenty minutes?”
“Sounds good,” she gestured to the employee door, “shall we?”
…
“Is this real cashmere?” Sofia Mantega asked as she literally petted one of the faux-sweaters as the group of girls sat around the opened garment trunks in Meg and Jubilee’s room.
“I dunno,” Meg disappeared into the bathroom, “Warren told them to use whatever fabric was best and put it on his bill.”
“I need to become friends with a multi-millionaire,” Jubilee was checking out a sparkly top while Sharon, in her cat form, was snuggled on one of the garment bags.
“I’m pretty sure he only did it for Jean,” Kitty commented from where she was looking through one of the trunks, “um, no offence to you Meg.”
“None taken,” she called out, “I pretty much figured that out the minute they told me about the shopping trip,” Meg stepped out of the bathroom, this time wearing a dark blue dress that actually had long sleeves and a back to it rather than the usual spaghetti or strapless dresses she was forced to wear to accommodate her wings.
“Oh,” Kitty smiled broadly, “you look so beautiful in that, you should totally wear that at Thanksgiving dinner.”
The rest of the girls gave her nods of appreciation and Meg blushed a little, “Everyone looks good when they have clothes tailor made for them.”
“This is not completely true,” Jubilee held her hand up, “some women look good even if they wearing sweatpants and yesterday’s t-shirt. I swear, that should be classed as a secondary mutation.”
“You think being able to wake up before 7am should be classified as a secondary mutation,” Sofia frowned.
“It’s not natural!” Jubilee defended herself.
“What should I try on next?” Meg sidestepped the two girls sitting on the floor and went to stand next to Kitty at the trunk.
“I like this,” Kitty held up a flowing shirt that looked a little fantastical.
“I’m not sure,” Meg frowned, “do you think that will make me really look like a pixie?”
“You have a pair of fairy wings,” Kitty gave her a sympathetic smile while handing her the shirt, “I say own it.”
“Hhhmmmm,” Meg wasn’t too sure but was saved by a knock on the door, “come in.”
Jean opened the door and stuck her head in, “I had a feeling I’d find all of you in here.”
“We’re having a fashion show,” Jubile gestured to the clothes everywhere, “it’s like we’ve been transported to Milan!”
Chuckling, “Well, I take it you are enjoying the clothes then, Meg.”
“Oh, yeah,” the winged mutant gave a little twirl in her new dress.
“I’ll let Warren know,” Jean smiled, “but you might want to call him and thank him yourself, and Madam LeFlore.”
“Of course,” it was only polite.
“Well then, I’ll leave you all to your fashion show,” Jean started to back away then paused, “oh, right, the reason I came up here. Sharon,” she got the cat’s attention, “when you turn back, go see the Professor, Dr McCoy will be in the area soon and he wanted to set up an appointment.”
“Hank’s coming by?” Jubilee perked up and turned to Sharon, “he’s really fun, you’ll like him.”
Sharon gave a noncommittal meow then stretched before laying back down on the plastic garment bag.
…
“Well, that was nearly useless,” Pietro frowned after Rogue and Wanda told him what they found out from Doosan.
“We know that Bella-Agra is indeed a highly questionable location,” Wanda crossed her arms, “worth looking into.”
“Which we already figured,” he shot back, “which is why I said nearly.”
“Are they always like this?” Dom leaned over and asked Rogue quietly.
“Comes and goes,” she replied just as quietly, “they haven’t seen each other in awhile so I’m guessing they’re making up for lost time.”
“I heard that,” the twins both said the same time, then gave each other slightly annoyed looks.
Pietro shook it off and continued, “Now we need to break into Bella-Agra and see what they are actually up to and if it involves mutants.”
“It won’t be as easy as the spa,” Wanda glanced over at him, “it had generic security that any kid with half a brain and a smart phone could get past. This place has top of the line security from a private firm, Iron Castle. We’re talking several fail-safes and even random access generators.”
“Yes, and the more the variables,” he nodded, “the harder it is to effectively manipulate the probability, which is why we’ll hold you in reserve to use your ability where it matters most.”
“We’ll have to old school the break-in then,” Rogue grabbed a tube from where it was lying against the kitchen island, “we picked these up on our way back.”
Popping the top, she slid out the blueprints and laid them on the counter, Dom commenting, “There will likely be changes and additions that were not added to the official records.”
“More than likely,” she agreed, “but it’s a good place to start.”
“We’ll need to do a stakeout,” Pietro added, “learn their systems and routines. Dom, Pyro, why don’t you head over there and find out what you can.”
“Actually,” Rogue popped up, “I could use Dom here, there are some geographical inconsistencies I want his opinions on first. How about Wanda go with Pyro.”
Dom glanced over at Rogue, at first giving her a questionable look before the light clicked on, “Yes, geographical inconsistencies.”
Pyro went stock still, just staring at Rogue as if she had gained another head.
“Whatever,” Pietro checked his watch, “I am thinking we break in the day before Thanksgiving. It will be short staffed and most everyone will have their minds on getting home.”
“Sounds good,” Rogue agreed.
“If we’re going to be doing a stake-out,” Wanda said, looking over at Pyro, “I’m going to go change. I’ll meet you in the garage in twenty.”
“Okay,” he said back her a bit blankly.
Wanda then headed up and Pietro disappeared per usual. Rogue and Dom started to look at the blueprints, oblivious to Pyro glaring at them.
“Why would you do such a thing?” the Aussie quickly asked after Wanda disappeared into her room.
“To get you to shut up,” Rogue grunted back, thumping one finger against her temple.
“I am such a traitor,” Pyro shook his head before rubbing one hand down his face.
“Oh, take the Taurus,” the woman added, “it will be less conspicuous than Wanda’s Ferrari.”
…
At some point later, Wanda and Pyro pulled up in a dark green Ford Taurus, parking in front of an industrial office building that was closed for the day. The two exited, Wanda having changed into clothes that were less high-fashion and more functional, but she kept her red leather coat as it was as functionally warm as it was stunning.
“We have three options,” Pyro tried to subtly point around as he pulled two bags out of the back seat, “these will give us eyes on the building.”
Wanda closed her eyes and took a slow breath, feeling the Probability Matrix that naturally flowed through the energy that was, well, everything. It was the same energy prophetic mutants could tap into in order to see into the future. Wanda couldn’t see the future, but she could affect the outcome of real-time events.
She considered that a much better use of the Probability Matrix.
“Come on,” she headed towards the building that would give them the best view of what they needed to see.
Pryo picked a lock while Wanda made sure no one was watching, including any security cameras in the area, and the two went up five flights of stairs to an empty floor. There were some random boxes and crates, so they made themselves a little sitting area.
“Always prepared,” Wanda chuckled as Pyro began pulling out everything from a tripod/scope/camera out of his bags to a small one-cup coffee maker and bottles of water.
“Stakeouts are not as glamorous as the movies make them out to be,” he replied as he offered her a small tablecloth to lay over her crate, “and they really don’t make them all that glamorous.”
“Always defying convention,” she shook her head with a smile and laid the cloth down before working on the tripod and scope as Pyro set the camera up with his laptop.
Within minutes, the scope was pointed at the warehouse’s main entrance with the camera feeding a live view to the laptop which was propped up on two cinderblocks in front of them. Pyro then made a pot of coffee, pouring it into one of the Styrofoam cups he brought with him, and handed it over to Wanda who held her hand up in a ‘nope’ gesture.
“Thank you, but to the victor goes the spoils,” Wanda explained, “I’ll have the next one.”
“Uh,” he stared at it for a second, then set it down and put the next cup to boil.
“We’ll want to do physical sweeps later,” Wanda got herself comfortable, “maybe even move once we have a better idea of how their security is set up.”
“Yeah,” Pyro poured a packet of sugar into his coffee, “but first, the fun of the waiting game.”
“Can you take first watch?” Wanda asked him, opening her bag and pulling out Rogue’s copy of the yet to be released Josephine Martyr book, “I really want to finish the chapter I was on.”
Pyro blinked at her rapidly, “Where did you get that?”
“From Rogue,” Wanda opened the book from where she had it marked, “apparently she knows a guy in the publishing house and got herself on the promotional list. Do you mind?”
“No, no,” he gestured to the screen, “I have the first hour, you get the next. If nothing happens, of course.”
“Of course, thanks” she smiled at him and then buried her head in the book.
…
Cedric Doosan was sitting in his limo when another man slid inside. “Did you find out who it was?”
“The cameras were disabled,” the man, his personal bodyguard, informed him, “all we have are descriptions of the woman which match your own.”
“I can’t believe I was so easily robbed,” he shook his head, “and for so little cash, they knew my cards would be cancelled immediately.”
“Perhaps we should find her and ask,” there was no displacing the unpleasant tone in the man’s voice.
“Yes,” he couldn’t help a feeling that was nagging at him, “when was the last time I visited our operations at Bella-Agra?”
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