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1X08 – Scarlet – Act II
“Hey, Kitty,” Scott stopped the young woman in the hall way in front of the cafeteria at breakfast, “you got a sec?”
“Sure,” she smiled at him with veiled sarcasm, “got another computer-based mission for me?”
“Ah, no,” he didn’t look like he wanted to get into it with her about the Professor’s ‘no-mission’ policy, “I was looking at the schedule and thought I’d fly you home the day before Thanksgiving, if that’s not too late for the start of Hanukkah? It’s just, getting departure and landing times, arranging all the students who want to go home for the weekend, it’s a little crazy.”
“I think it’s kinda fun that Hanukkah starts on the same day as Thanksgiving this year,” Kitty started to laugh, “I’ve been calling it Thanksgivikah.”
“Nice,” Scott chuckled, “I like it. So, will that work for you?”
“Actually,” Kitty bit her lip like she was afraid of asking, “would you be able to fly me out on Saturday? Or Sunday?”
“I could,” he frowned, “but won’t you miss the first day of Hanukkah?”
“Not planning on it,” she gave him a sad smile, “you know, I’m not the only Jewish student here anymore, but I’m the only one with a family I can go back to.”
“Right,” Scott nodded, “Ken and the Tibbon sisters.”
“Yeah,” Kitty continued to smile, this time a little hopeful, “they were disowned, cast out, I don’t want them to feel like they’ve been forgotten by God as well.”
“That’s very sweet of you,” he gave her a genuine smile, “I think God would approve. Yours and mine.”
“I like to think so,” she grinned.
“Your mom going to be okay with you not coming though?” he asked her, just to make sure.
“She has a new boyfriend,” Kitty rolled her eyes and shook her head, “he’s a Baptist.”
“I have a feeling that’s a conversation I don’t want to get in the middle of,” Scott frowned.
All Kitty did was sigh and give him an exacerbated look. It was way too early in the morning for this.
…
Rogue and Dom walked arm and arm down the sidewalk that lead to the Bella-Agra warehouse, both dressed in leather jackets and jeans. To anyone else, they looked like a biker couple out for a stroll to the bar that was two blocks past the target.
As they approached the building, Dom sent out sonic waves psionically to gage the depths of the top soil and other layers of bedrock under the building, the voids being where new structures were built.
“Is it as bad as I thought?” Rogue asked after they passed the warehouse.
“There is a large open area underneath the basement,” Dom answered, “an extra floor that isn’t on the city plans.”
“Any chance at breaking in from below?” her eyes gestured to the sewer grate as they passed.
“I think so,” he had a thoughtful expression, “the ground here is sturdy, tightly packed from previous excavations.”
“We want to break in, not break the building,” Rogue smirked.
“Let’s walk behind the building on the way back,” Dom told her as they reached the bar, a casual kind of place, open at lunchtime to serve the local offices. “I want to get a better look from a different angle.”
“Sounds good to me,” Rogue grabbed the door, “and you’re buying.”
A few minutes later, Rogue and Dom were sitting at one of the round tables, chowing down on burgers, fries and beer. Rogue had slipped off her main gloves and was wearing a fingerless pair so she didn’t get the leather all greasy.
“Hickory smoked burger my butt,” Rogue frowned at her burger, “a dab of Worcestershire sauce does not make one hickory smoked.”
Dom furrowed his brow, “You mean Woos-ta-shire sauce?”
“That’s what I said,” Rogue gave him a look, “Worst-a-sure sauce.”
The Greek decided to let it go and went back to his beer, “So, are we going to talk about it?”
“It what?” Rogue played off easily, smearing ketchup on her burger.
“Wanda is back,” he said bluntly, “I heard she left on not-so-pleasant terms. That’s why I was put on your team.”
“Your job is safe,” Rogue smirked.
“That is not my concern, this job or the next, you know that,” he pointed to his temple, she had absorbed him on occasion, “but already there is sniping between Pietro and Wanda. She left and now she is back but seemingly not of her choosing. These things do not bode well.”
“Wanda didn’t leave, she just… transferred,” Rogue sighed, sitting back in her chair, “and trust me, this isn’t anything, if the twins really got mad at each other, you’d know it, the whole building would come down around your ears.”
“This does not instill confidence in me,” Dom crossed his arms, “first, Pietro is gone all the time, then Xavier creates these ‘X-Men’, and then Magneto sends Wanda back here. Now, I don’t mind being left in the dark, secrets are made not to be seen, but when I can hear the growl of a bear, I am not going to stand thoughtlessly.”
“Wanda left for… personal reasons,” Rogue admitted, “and if I thought she wouldn’t mind knowing, I’d tell you, but I’m pretty damn sure she’d hex me into a newt if I did.”
“Is it because Pryo?” Dom asked.
“Hhmm?” Rogue had to put two and two together, “Oh, no, she has no clue Pyro likes her, not that Pyro would ever tell her,” she couldn’t help a laugh, “hopeless that Aussie is, but whatever, I am no matchmaker, I only did that yesterday because I couldn’t get the man to stop singing ‘Everything She Does Is Magic’ in my head.”
Dom raised a brow, “I thought you did not bow down to the voices?”
Rogue shrugged and went for her beer, taking a swig, “The point is, Wanda left, she had good reason to, she needed to get away for a bit. Her coming back is not a sign of the pending Apocalypse. As for Pietro, the two are twins, if they didn’t get on each other’s nerves then I’d start to worry.”
…
Pyro used the binoculars to spy Dom and Rogue walking back behind the building, “Doesn’t look like anyone has paid any attention to them.”
“Looks are always deceiving,” Wanda said dryly from where she was leaning against the window frame at a new location overlooking the back end of Bella-Agra.
“I’m going to meet them,” Pietro grabbed his jacket from where he had laid it across a stack of cinderblocks, “I’ll have them relieve you for the night shift.”
“Drum bun,” Wanda told him in Romanian with a sarcastic lit to her voice.
Pietro looked a little perturbed, but shot out of the room.
“I can take first watch if you like,” Wanda told him as she moved back to the perch with the camera trained on the main entrance, a notebook with guard movements and other important notes sitting next to it, “I finished The Candle and the Wick but I haven’t decided what to read next,” she held up her tablet pc, “I prefer paper but sometimes electric is a necessary evil.”
“Is it really evil if it’s necessary?” Pyro asked, moving over to the table where he left his notebook.
“Depends on how you want to classify evil?” she responded thoughtfully, “After all, we are technically evil, yet we fight against those who do evil against our kind.”
“Who is more evil?” John gave a half chuckle as he sat up on the table, tucking his legs beneath himself, notebook on his lap, “The evil doer or the person who does evil to stop them?”
“Did…” Wanda frowned, “did you just bastardize a Star Wars quote?”
“Um,” he looked guilty, “yeah.”
“Oh,” she shook her head, “so you think that there is no ‘necessary evil’? Just evil and more evil?”
Pyro shrugged, “Don’t rightly know.”
“You don’t?” Wanda frowned at him, “then you wanted to be rhetorical.”
“To be honest,” Pyro gave her an almost boyish, sheepish, grin, “it was just a thought, something that popped into my head.”
“You randomly thought up a rhetorical existential thought,” she raised a single brow, “with no intention of seeing it through?”
“It’s a habit,” he shrugged, gesturing to the notebook in his lap.
“Still writing down on all those wayward thoughts?” she offered a sympathetic smile, “Instead of acting on them?”
“Yeah,” he laughed with perhaps a touch of embarrassment, “I think everyone prefers if I write down what I think what would happen if I used this building’s unfortunate design flaw and the natural gas lines to create a twenty foot mushroom cloud instead of actually attempting it… though I’m sure I could get it to at least thirty.”
“Write it down as forty,” she offered, “I’m sure you could manage it, but this way you’ll not be disappointed if you can’t.”
“Nah,” he shook his head, “forty is unrealistic, there is too much of a wind… and you were being facetious, weren’t you?”
“Just a bit,” she smirked, eyes going back to the screen, “but hey, if Magneto gets his way,” there was a note of satire to her voice, “we stop having to be afraid, hide who we are, and you can burn down buildings to your heart’s content.”
“While that would be true in theory,” Pyro said thoughtfully, “it’s a moot point.”
“Why so?” she asked out of curiosity, slightly distracted by one of the guard movements which she noted down.
“Because Magneto won’t win,” the Aussie answered simply.
Wanda paused, not sure if she heard him right, and turned her head slowly towards him, “What do you mean? He won’t win?”
“Logistics, statics, historical precedent, cultural imperatives,” he rattled off easily, “Magneto might gain a victory but it won’t last. He’s talking about subjecting an entire race of individuals at a time when the human race is acutely aware that this is a bad thing, and with the means to reproduce and distribute a social conscious awareness unlike anything seen before in human history,” he shrugged, “right now, mutants are known only by a few and society as a whole has no say in how we will be treated.”
“But if they do become aware,” she interrupted him, “humans tend to fear what they don’t understand, and we could become the next holocaust if we don’t protect ourselves.”
“True,” he nodded, “but Magneto’s proactive agenda guarantees his status as villain, even beloved dictator, but in the end, the next generation will always demand better, either by their fear, their love, or their greed.”
“If you believe Magneto’s mission is doomed to failure,” Wanda shook her head, “then why are you here?”
“I love fire,” he said with a completely straight face, “and pyromania is generally not considered acceptable in the normal populace, because apparently it’s okay to see beauty in graffiti art, which is technically illegal, but it’s a mental defect to see beauty the flicker of a flame, the smell of burnt matchsticks, and the ripples of a flashover.”
“I think…” she tried to put what she was thinking into words, “it’s the loss of property and life that most people are against.”
“Then what I am to burn?” he asked softly. “I would happily obey any general rules or guidelines for safe and perhaps even productive fiery endeavors, but I am given no reprieve. It is man’s instinct to fear fire, so those who embrace it… well, there is obviously something wrong with them.”
“There is nothing wrong with you, Pyro,” Wanda replied, “nothing wrong with any of us.”
“And that is why I’m here,” he gave her a soft smile and she thought deeply on his words, but then his head popped up, “and also, I like cherries.”
Wanda blinked… that was completely random.
…
“I need tape,” Kitty was poking around the institute’s ‘reception’ area.
Meg was on duty for the after school shift which lasted until dinner. She went through one of the drawers, pulling out a role of scotch tape, “Here you go.”
“Thankies,” Kitty smiled, then noticed the girl’s outfit of a sweater and plaid skirt, “is that one of your new shirts?”
“Yeah,” Meg said proudly as she turned to show it off, you wouldn’t be able to see the Velcro seams unless you were looking for them, “I like not having to have the heater straight on me.”
“I bet,” the girl grinned, “you look good.”
“Tidy,” the Welsh girl tried not to blush because it really clashed with her pink hair.
“See you at dinner,” Kitty started to walk away.
“Hey, Kitty,” Meg jumped up to stop her, then look a little embarrassed that she did so.
Kitty turned back, “Yeah, Meg?”
Meg was unnecessarily quite, “You know how Professor has us write what we’re thankful for on a piece of paper for Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah,” Kitty leaned on the counter, “he types them all up anonymously and puts them on the bulletin board for everyone read.”
“Do you think,” her voice went a little whispery, “would it be really horrible of me to be thankful I got free clothes that actually fit my wings? I didn’t even ask for them or anything.”
Kitty blinked, pressing her lips together as she mulled that over, “Possibly borderline.”
“Possibly borderline horrible?” Meg said as if she might be able to live with that.
“It’s not like you’re getting new clothes just because,” Kitty explained, “your wings are beautiful but regular clothes aren’t even made with regular humans in mind, let alone mutants.”
“I’m always having to hem people’s trousers,” the Welsh girl nodded, “but that might also be because apparently I’m the only person in this school who can use a needle and thread.”
“You might be on to something there,” Kitty laughed, then a thought struck her, “hey, you thought about taking seamstress classes? Make your own clothes?”
Meg raised her brow, “Xavier’s doesn’t offer seamstress classes.”
“No, but the tech college does, the one me and Doug went to for computer courses,” Kitty was trying to remember the details, “there are high school intro-level classes and they count as credit, you take it instead of your elective. The school fits the bill and everything. You’re a freshmen this year, right,” and when Meg nodded a ‘yes’, Kitty continued, “then you can take one in your sophomore year, or at latest, Junior year, I’m not sure how it’s set up for those classes. But it’ll be online, so look up the reqs and tell the Professor or ‘Ro.”
“Sounds like it would be fun,” the girl frowned, “but I doubt they are going to spend good money on a seamstress class. Computer science is one thing, but fashion? No way will they go for that.”
“Oh, I dunno,” Kitty smirked at her, “considering how many mutants we’re getting with physical mutations, having a seamstress around could come in very handy.”
Meg thought about that for a moment, “I see your point.”
“But mostly, if you are really interested in fashion, then the Professor will totally back you,” Kitty assured the girl, “because it’s what you want to do, and that’s the only reason he needs.”
“You really think so?” she didn’t seem to be buying it.
“The Professor is always telling us that we may be mutants, but we’re still human,” Kitty explained softly, “which means we all have our quirks, our likes, dislikes, and talents. As much as we should never be afraid of our mutant abilities, if fashionista is your secondary mutation,” she grinned, “well then, Paris and Milan, here you come.”
…
Dom and Rogue were standing in one of the warehouses, overlooking Bella-Agra., it was their turn to watch. Rogue had her eyes on the screen while Dom was writing notes on a map of the area including the sewage system and other underground features.
“I think this will work,” he said mostly to himself, “we just have to make sure no one notices us on the other side of this wall here,” he pointed to a line he drew from the sonic image he was able to produce using his geokinesis, “we will be going on blind.”
“We can use Wanda for that,” Rogue said after a thought, “we’ll have to see what the Probability Matrix says at the time, but unless they have a camera directly on that wall, she should be able to make sure no one is looking our way.”
“Is that within her abilities?” Dom raised a single brow, “being able to affect things she cannot see?”
“It’s more difficult for her,” the woman admitted, “but if that’s all she has to focus on at the time, then she can do one big thing as easy as doing several smaller things.”
“Ah, of course,” he nodded and went back to his map.
“Oh, look here,” Rogue got his attention and he moved over to the screen.
“Who is that?” he asked as he saw a man in a nice suit flanked by a body guard enter the building.
“Doosan,” Rogue frowned, trying to figure out what this meant.
“You said he didn’t have any vested interest in Bella-Agra,” Dom was equally worried at what this might mean.
“He doesn’t,” Rogue closed her eyes as she tried to recall some of the memories she had taken, “he basically lets it do what it wants as long as the money comes in.”
“Could this be a response to you absorbing him?” Dom considered.
“Maybe,” she rubbed her mouth and chin as she thought, “I mean, usually the mark doesn’t remember the few seconds before I absorb them because it doesn’t have time to imprint on the memory, but that’s always been a general thing I noticed, I’ve never really sat down and did a scientific study on it.”
“Pyro does say he dreams when he is absorbed,” he added, “perhaps Doosan is similar and does not react typically and at least remembers the trigger word?”
“It’s possible,” Rogue shook her head, “and if he tells them that someone has been poking around then I don’t have to tell you we might just be a little screwed here,” she ran the numbers, “we’d have to go in guns blazing and that is not conducive to actually finding out what’s really going on in there.”
“Let us see how the security reacts,” Dom offered, “that should tell us what we need to know.”
…
Cedric Doosan waited in the lab on the first level of the warehouse, fiddling with an empty beaker in his boredom.
“Mr. Doosan,” an older man in a white lab coat came into the room, “I got your message about security, you didn’t have to come down here.”
“You don’t seem to think it’s a viable threat, Doctor Rowland?” he put the beaker down.
“You didn’t exactly give us much to go on,” Rowland replied bluntly, “besides, the security for the ‘special projects’ section is much more advanced than I think you realize.”
“About this special project,” Doosan crossed his arms and leaned against the table, “you mind filling me in on some of the particulars?”
Rowland gave him an indignant look, “You didn’t seem to care when I came to you with the proposition, you didn’t even look past the dollar amount of revenue.”
“That was before I was getting assaulted for whatever it is you’re doing here,” he shot back evenly. “You told me what you were doing wasn’t illegal.”
“Not technically illegal is what I said,” Rowland countered, “but I’ll show you what we’re doing downstairs if you answer me this one question.”
“What?” he replied wryly.
Rowland looked him straight in the eye, “Do you really want to know?”
…
Rowland watched as Doosan left the building, now only letting the concern on his face show.
“Have you checked all our security measures as I asked,” he asked his head of security.
“Twice,” he nodded, “the lab will be mostly empty after tomorrow with the holiday, but the patrols will be the same and we have our automated security measures.”
“Good,” Rowland was still not all that happy, “the people we might be dealing with aren’t likely to be your average thieves.”
“I understand,” he said and Rowland glanced across his lab.
They were too close to let it all come down to this.
…
Pietro had joined the team at the warehouse, watching the video of Doosan coming and going.
“Have they done anything to denote they are on to us?” he asked as the video ended.
“Not that we can tell so far,” Rogue said, “but we don’t have a look inside the building, lord knows what kind of security they got in there.”
“Pyro said he tried to hack in,” Pietro nodded, “but their security is on a closed internal system.”
“That’s smart,” she agreed, thinking for a second before saying, “we’ve got some faces, want me to absorb someone?”
“Would probably be a good idea,” he told her, “but not tonight, tomorrow. Then we break in the next night, so make sure you don’t give the guard of your choosing a reason to worry.”
“I know the drill,” Rogue said dryly.
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