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1X11 – Pinnacle – Act I
“Hank!” Jubilee shouted just before she pounced, jumping up onto the man’s back as he stood in the hallway of the Xavier Institute, tablet in hand.
“Oh my,” Hank McCoy was hardly phased, his tall, stout, frame not affected in the slightest, “it seems I’ve developed a growth. Tell me, my dear,” he looked straight at Jean who was standing in front of him trying to cover her grin with her hand, “is it as bad as I fear?”
Jean cleared her throat but her cheeks were grinning, “Nothing one of your famous hot chocolate blends won’t cure, I’m sure.”
“Buwahaha!” Jubilee laughed as she ruffled the man’s close cropped black hair.
“Then I believe I should prescribe a dose to be taken immediately,” he nodded sagely but there was no mistaking the mirth in his eyes. To many, Doctor Hank McCoy, multiple Ph.D. looked like he should be playing football, as big as he was, but any that met the man knew he had too soft of a touch to do such things.
The three headed towards the kitchen, Jean checking her tablet, “Have you had a chance to look through all the test results I sent you.”
“Yes, I’m quite pleased with the development of Mr Proudstar’s muscular tissues,” he adjusted the specs on his nose and peered down at his tablet, “I was afraid the density was growing faster than his bones could keep up but it seems to have tapered down nicely.”
“We also have a new student,” she reached out and mentally opened the kitchen doors so they could walk through, “a locked shape shifter.”
“Oh, yes,” he nodded, ducking down so Jubilee wouldn’t get hit by the frame, “her genetic structure is quite fascinating, tell me, does she attribute feline traits as well or is the translation strictly cosmetic.”
“Sharon is totally half-cat,” Jubilee said helpfully.
“Doctor McCoy,” Scott and Bobby were just heading out and stopped to greet the man, “good to see you again.”
“And you, my boy,” Hank shook the man’s hand.
“You, ah,” Bobby was holding a straight face, “you know you got something on your back, right?”
“It has come to my attention, yes,” Hank shook Bobby’s hand, “but nothing a little hot chocolate can’t cure, I’m sure.”
“Oh, I may need to come back for that,” Bobby perked up, he wasn’t a fan of hot drinks in general but no one said no to Hank’s cocoa.
“I’ll make sure to whip up plenty,” the older man assured him before turning to Scott, “now, Scott, I did not see your yearly scans among the reports Jean so graciously prepared for me.”
“Yeah,” Scott replied slowly, giving him an apologetic smile, “there hasn’t been any change to the scar tissue in my brain in years. Don’t want to waste your time.”
“No time is ever wasted,” Hank told him, “perhaps momentarily displaced, but never wasted.”
“Word,” Jubilee replied to that.
“Maybe later then,” Scott gave in, “if you have the time.”
“Jean,” Hank turned to her, “please arrange for Scott’s scans and I will be sure to find time to look at them before I leave.”
“I’m sure we can arrange something,” Jean glanced over the man who had been avoiding her for a whole week. To say that things had been awkward since the empathy spike generated by Danielle Moonstar’s mutant ability affected the school would be a gross misunderstanding of the situation.
…
“You gonna tell me what happened between you and Jean?” Bobby asked as they walked down the hallway.
“Nothing to tell,” Scott brushed off easily.
“Please,” Bobby made a face, “you’ve been avoiding her like I avoid vegetables.”
Scott shook his head, he wasn’t going to dignify his friend’s assumptions with a response.
Thankfully, the conversation was put on hold when they both saw a woman standing in the sitting room. She had long blonde hair that was pulled back in a clip which fell over a dark blue jacket, the symbol of the US Air Force clearly displayed on the shoulder.
“Can we help you?” Scott asked, he wasn’t aware the school was having any visitors other than Hank.
The woman turned towards them and he got a better look at her, she had to have been twenty, maybe twenty-five, years older than him. She had a classic beauty but Scott recognized the stance of someone not afraid to stand their ground in a fight, “I was told to wait here for Logan.”
“You’re waiting on Logan?” this would be the first time the man ever had a visitor.
“Captain Carol Danvers,” she held out her hand with an easy smile, “US Air Force.”
“Captain,” he nodded and shook her hand, memories of his time on the Air Force base in Hawaii never too far from his mind.
“How do you know Logan?” Bobby asked and it was obvious the Iceman couldn’t figure out why she, or maybe anyone, would intentionally come looking for the feral mutant.
“We go way back,” she smirked.
“Well,” Logan came in through the patio doors, “if it isn’t Miss Marvel herself.”
“The Wolverine,” she turned towards him, “you haven’t changed a bit, still an ugly old goat.”
With shared chuckles, the two embraced like two old war vets who hadn’t seen each other since the battlefield.
“It’s been too long,” she straightened her jacket to show her insignia, “and it’s Captain Marvel now, soon to be Major.”
“Captain?” he gave her a grin, “Major, about damn time.”
“I’d love to sit here and catch up,” she took on a more serious persona, “but we have a Pinnacle, B-52 on the ground with two Arrows in the Quiver. I’d like your help.”
“You want Logan’s help with a rock band?” Bobby was thoroughly confused.
“B-52 Stratofortress,” Scott explained, “it’s a bomber jet, the Air Force has been using them since the 50s.”
“Oh,” Bobby continued to frown, “why would you need a bow and arrow on a plane?”
Danvers glanced over at Logan as if she was asking ‘is this guy was for real’.
“The ‘Arrows’ are nuclear warheads,” Scott quickly put it together, “and since Pinnacle is the code word for a nuclear incident against the national interest, I’m guessing the plane crashed and you haven’t located the crash site or the warheads.”
“That’s exactly what it means,” the Captain said with an unfortunate sigh.
“What happened,” Logan asked.
“Training mission, nothing that hasn’t been done a thousand times,” she crossed her arms, “but as they were flying over the Appalachians, they had a complete shutdown of their avionics. No reason for it, it’s not something that just happens.”
“There’s too many backups and fail-safes,” Scott agreed.
Danvers nodded her agreement, “The crew jumped but the pilot, Lockton, stayed on board to set her down in a non-populated area. He’s a good pilot, trained him myself, I have no doubts he set her down as safely as he could. That was about two AM this morning.”
“Then why can’t you find it?” Scott realized he was butting into a conversation meant between Logan and his friend but he was all too curious, planes and the Air Force were two things he knew very well. “The planes, the warheads, it’s all tracked by satellites.”
“The beacons all shut off,” she shook her head, “they got her on radar, gives us a general idea where she might have gone down, but the whole area is blanketed in a winter storm, making recovery difficult,” she turned to Logan, “and I heard that you were here so I was hoping to borrow your tracking skills. We want to get the nukes recovered before the public learns of the crash.”
“You know I’m always happy to lend a hand, Carol,” the shorter mutant nodded and he almost seemed professional to Scott, not a side he was used to seeing in the man, “and I’ll see if Storm can help us with the weather.”
“That’d be fantastic if she could,” Danvers seemed to like that idea.
“I’ll go talk to her and grab a few things,” Logan started moving towards the door, “just give me five minutes.”
“I gave you five minutes in Tehran,” she smirked, “I’m not sure Charles would appreciate that level of collateral damage to his school.”
Logan paused, pretended he didn’t hear her, and walked out of the room.
“Now that’s a story I gotta hear,” Bobby said as soon as Logan was out of view.
“Son, you ain’t old enough,” Danvers chuckled and then looked over at Scott, “you’re Scott Summers, aren’t you, Christopher’s boy.”
“Uh, yeah,” he nearly frowned at the mention of his father, “did you know him?”
“We flew a few missions together in the Gulf,” she told him, “I was even stationed in Hawaii for a few months, I’m pretty sure we met, or maybe it was your brother, but you couldn’t have been more than five years old.”
“That would have been Alex,” their family hadn’t moved to Hawaii until Scott was older.
Danvers offered him a sympathetic frown, “Your father was a good man, a hell of a pilot, I was sorry to hear about what happened.”
“Thanks,” he replied mutely.
“He actually gave me my callsign,” the woman tried to lift the air, “Miss Marvel.”
“That’s kinda cool,” Bobby said, “but why Miss Marvel?”
“Let’s just say I walked away from something I shouldn’t have if I was completely human,” she smirked again, “Chris said it was a marvel I was still alive, jokingly called me Miss Marvel, and it stuck.”
“You’re a mutant,” Scott wasn’t sure what to make of this, “and in active military service?”
“Not everyone in the military wants to slap us on a table and dissect us,” she told him firmly, “but it’s had its moments. That’s why Chris came to me when you manifested.”
“He did?” this was news to him.
“Who do you think told him about Charles?” Danvers smiled, “And you don’t think Logan just stumbled over this place?”
“Woah, small world,” Bobby laughed.
“Kid, you have no idea.”
…
“Now, Miss Silver,” Hank put his nearly empty mug of coffee down on the counter in the exam room, “I must say, your genetic structure is absolutely amazing. The way it’s developed to compress your molecules and displace your density is simply a marvel.”
“Ah, thanks,” Sharon sat on the examination bed, swinging her legs.
“No need to be nervous,” Jean assured the young woman, “we might call Hank a Beast but he is farthest from.”
“It’s not that,” she chewed her lip and frowned.
“I’ve put you ill at ease,” Hank apologized for presumed guilt.
“No, no,” Sharon assured him, “you’re just as Jubilee described.”
“Then what is troubling you young lady,” he fixed the perch of his glasses then looked between Sharon and Jean, “if it’s something you’d rather feel more comfortable speaking to Jean about, I am happy to leave the room.”
“Oh, it’s not like that,” Sharon laughed nervously, then just came out and said it, “it’s just, you smell funny.”
“Do I?” Hank instinctively lifted his arm to give himself a whiff.
“Not like that,” she quickly explained, “you just don’t smell like everyone else once you get under the perfumes.”
“Fascinating,” the doctor started to take notes, “you’re able to retrieve the natural sent from beneath the artificial scent of perfumes, colognes, cleaning products. This wasn’t in your file.”
“It’s kinda new,” she admitted, “I always had a good sense of smell in my human form, but lately I’ve been able to smell, hear, even see, more like when I’m in my cat form. I went and got a glass of water the other night and didn’t even realize the lights were all off.”
“Yes, your eyes are very much more developed like that of a feline’s, complete with tapetum lucidum,” he picked up a light and gingerly shined it in her eyes, the pupils dilapidating into slits like a cat’s, “along with a nictitating membrane, tell me, do you remember when they changed?”
“Ah,” she frowned as she tried to remember, “last year, sometime, I had changed back and forth a few times and always came back fully human, till the eyes.”
“Interesting,” he turned to Jean, “we need to run some more tests to see how her other senses are developing and what kind of structural changes may have occurred.”
“The five senses are easy to test,” Jean started to tap at her tablet, “but should we see if there is a psionic component? Cats do seem to have an uncanny sense of things.”
“Good idea,” Hank agreed, “and check for behavioral triggers,” he looked to Sharon, “you don’t have an unhealthy obsession with laser pointers do you?”
Sharon chewed her lip, “Maybe.”
“Oh good,” Hank laughed, “so do I. They are just too much fun.”
The girl covered her mouth as she laughed, but she was able to clear her throat and ask, “I’m not turning into a cat am I? I mean, I’m not going to one day not come back?”
“It’s a fair question,” Hank rubbed his chin, “but I’ve been told that you’re starting to actively work with your mutation, not fighting your transformations and therefore affecting what breed of feline you change into.”
“I can only get four breeds to work,” she told him, “and I have no control over color or size.”
“We’ll do more tests,” he gave her a hopeful smile, “but I believe that this is simply a ‘growth spurt’ of your mutation, especially seeing as you’re starting to ‘flex your muscles’ as it were. If you continue to develop your mutation as your body matures, then you will likely be able to control not only when you switch in and out of being a cat, but also individual aspects, such as your eyes.”
“Oh,” she said as if that hadn’t occurred to her, “that would be cool. I mean, I wanted to be able to control when I change but if I could have cat eyes whenever I wanted, that would be kinda awesome.”
“It would indeed,” he smiled at her, “but first things are first, you may experience random manifestations of individual aspects that go beyond the senses, such as claws or sharpened teeth.”
“That’ll be fun,” she said in a way that clearly meant the opposite.
“We all have our growing pains,” Jean assured her, “even I did. I would take claws over my telepathy kicking in at the most inopportune times any day, there are some things that just can’t be un-heard.”
Sharon slapped her hand over mouth and tried to stifle a laugh.
“You’re probably already used to the enhanced senses from using them in your cat form,” Hank added, “but if it starts to become too much, please let us know, I’m sure Logan would be happy to teach you how to sharpen and control those skills.”
“The Wolverine?” the girl raised a brow. “He smells even weirder than you.”
Hank smiled, “I’ll take that a compliment.”
…
“I don’t even need the Probability Matrix to know this is a hard sell,” Wanda frowned from where she was leaning against the kitchen island, all the maps and photos laid out across it.
“I have to agree,” Pietro was looking at one of the shipping documents, “Warren Worthington the Third isn’t just a mutant himself but he believes in Xavier’s dogma. He would never be part of a mutant trafficking ring.”
“Although, from a subjective point of view, it would be bloody brilliant,” Pyro piped up, “it would put him in the best position to both control the flow while at the same time diverting suspicions.”
“But how would he hide it from Xavier or Grey?” Wanda pointed out.
“They’re the good guys,” the Aussie shrugged, “they don’t go poking around unless invited.”
Wanda took a second to think it over, “I’ll concede that point.”
“I’ll admit that I don’t have more conclusive proof of Warren, or his father’s, involvement,” Rogue frowned, “but the evidence is stacking up that someone in a position of power at Worthington Enterprises is a part of this trafficking ring.”
“And you got this from Rowland’s guard?” Pietro at least did not shoot her straight down.
“He gave me a starting point,” she pointed to a picture of a warehouse, “they picked up several of their captives here, it’s a grain and commodities storage facility for Bella-Agra, perfectly legit cover.”
“Have you examined it?” Avalanche asked.
“It burned down the same day Doosan was attacked,” she told him, “authorities suspect arson.”
“Not it,” Pyro threw his hands up in defense.
Rogue gave the Aussie a wry look then went back to the information, “I did some back tracking and apparently Worthington Enterprises has a connection to Bella-Agra, in fact, it might be buying it out now that Doosan has disappeared.”
“That’s a business connection,” Pietro pointed out, “and it doesn’t surprise me, Worthing Enterprises is in to just about everything. Didn’t they just take over that huge yogurt manufacturing company?”
“That’s what I thought at first,” she frowned, “but all the dates the guard remembered picking up captives, those are the only dates Worthington Enterprises has ever shipped anything to Bella-Agra.”
“Now, that is interesting,” Wanda said with a smirk to her lips.
“I did more back tracing, checking out what was supposed to be delivered,” she shook her head, “it’s all bogus. But someone high up is just writing it off and since it’s not causing any significant costs or anything like that, the grunts are just ignoring it,” there was a note of disdain in her voice, “just doing their job.”
“Do we know where the shipments are coming from?” Pietro asked.
“All over the place,” she admitted defeat on that one, “from wherever they’re kidnapping the mutants. Worthington has distributions centers and offices all over the world, there are no common links I can find, yet.”
“We need to follow the rabbit hole,” Wanda added, “find out who is supplying the mutants to Worthington Enterprises.”
“Problem is, by the time we know of a shipment using these parameters,” Rogue let out a deep sigh, “the mutant is already on their way to the end destination and whoever dropped them off is long gone.”
“If they even continue to use Worthington distribution centers,” Pyro pointed out, “they may think it too risky now.”
“That too,” she frowned.
“Well, it’s more than we’ve had before,” Pietro was a bit optimistic, “do you think maybe a trip to Worthington’s corporate office would help?”
“Warren knows us,” Wanda pointed out, “he has every one of us on his security watch lists. It’s doable though, just a pain.”
“I thought this might be a job for momma,” Rogue told them, “but apparently she’s on a long term assignment.”
“I’ll talk to Magneto,” Pietro offered, “see if there’s an alternative. But for the moment, let’s keep this between us and keep our inquiries more generic. If Warren or his father are a part of this then there is no telling who could all be involved.”
“Even some of our own?” Wanda questioned him.
“I’m getting to the point where nothing is surprising me,” he replied wryly.
…
In a bubble of a nearly blinding storm, three figures flew by, lost in the backdrop.
“This is the search grid,” Wolverine said as he checked the GPS locator.
“Good,” Carol said as she held onto a harness that was wrapped around the man’s torso, herself floating in the air thanks to her mutation which gave her the strength to counteract gravity, to a point, “cause you’ve put on a few pounds in your old age.”
The feral mutant was clearly not amused as he tucked away the device into his jacket.
“I will stay above,” Storm told them as she floated on the winds, “I can push this storm farther North and give you a reprieve, but it will be delicate work as I do not want to dump twelve inches of snow over New England.”
“Understood,” Carol nodded to the woman, then looked down at Logan, “you picking up anything yet?”
“Nah,” he sniffed the air, “it’ll be better on the ground.”
“You want me to drop you any place in particular?” she asked him.
“Anywhere will be good,” he told her.
“Okay,” and with that she simply let go.
Logan fell like a rock, growling like a beast, but the Air Force Captain had no doubt he’d land on his feet with the grace of a feline.
“I commend you,” Storm said with a smirk.
“He’ll get over it,” she checked that her radio was secure to her belt and her thermal coat was zipped tight even though she didn’t really need it, “he always does.”
“Yes,” the woman nodded, “good luck in finding your friend.”
“Who needs luck when you have a Wolverine,” Carol winked, then dived down towards the Earth, looking for where the man would have landed.
“Hilarious,” he was all he said when she came to land in front of him.
“I thought so,” she smiled and then looked around to see nothing but white and trees, “got a direction yet?”
“Yeah,” he gestured to his left, “this way.”
“Just like old times, eh, Logan?” she said as they started to head that way.
He let out a rare honest laugh, “Just like old times.”
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