Note: if on Mobile, switch to "Desktop Mode" so text within this Part displays as intended.
==========
Flashes
A family in a cockpit,
Cyclops and Jean Grey in one.
The mother instructs her sons: "Hold onto each other!"
Cyclops: "Hold tight!"
The parachute fails, young Scott slows their descent surprisingly, by blasting for the first time in his life.
Jean's telekinesis failing, adult Cyclops
blasts measuredly to slow their descent.
But the landing doesn't go as planned.
If the plane's destruction hadn't lit the parachute....
If the jet's destruction hadn't knocked them apart....
"ALEX!" A brother lost.
"JEAN!"
...."Scott...."
Blackout.
. . . .when Cyclops comes back to full consciousness, he's still in darkness. Is it the room or his eyes? He can't tell. It doesn't feel like anything but his visor is over his eyes. Though something is off him --the jacket of his uniform. Feels like the arm of his undershirt has also been torn or cut away.
He realizes he's on his knees; his hands are shackled behind him, and the shackles seem connected to chains in the wall behind him.
Gradually, he tries to stand. He's actually not restricted so much that he can't, though he learns the extent of his restraints when he's arrested within the distance of one stride. By the way he felt the pull on his wrists he can tell he's in a corner --and the chains seem crisscrossed, his left hand connected to the wall to his right and vice-versa.
Suddenly he becomes cognizant of nearing footsteps. The sliding-open of some mechanized door answers one question for him: it lets in just enough light to see.
Whether from some trick of the light itself or the oxidation of time, his metal contained chamber is revealed to have an eerie green patina.
A figure stands shadowed in the threshold.
Cyclops fixes them with a glare: "Where's Jean?"
"Hold that thought."
The voice sounds like it's coming from a point further back than the visible figure, who presently closes the short distance between himself and Cyclops and forces him back down onto his knees by way of force applied to one of his shoulders.
Another figure has come in, clad identically to the first in what appears to be a black lab coat. Cyclops notices the pockets of this one are bulging.
He tries to see with what as the second figure comes to stand behind him, but the first forces him to face front. He can just discern the shadow of someone else still standing outside the room. The enigmatic figure speaks again: "Best not try to seek anyone while your eyes must hide." Cyclops feels his visor being removed. Keeping his eyes shut, he listens.
There's a sound like the door opening, except smaller and closer-by. Something else is set around his head, over his eyes. It feels like a construct of thin metal. The front part actually sits right over his eyelids.
Enigmatic Voice: "Now, what was your question?"
". .What have you done with Jean?"
"Would you like to see?"
Horror sets in--"NO-!"--no use--
--KKZK-ZHOOOOOM!!!!
The contraption has forced his eyes to open--at the same time his handler has forced his head down-- --he's blasting into a hole roughly 10x10" that's been revealed in the floor-- --though all Cyclops can make out of what's inside is a screen which appears to be absorbing his blast.
It isn't another containment room. It isn't Jean.
After a decided length of time, the contraption is reversed; forcing his eyes closed. Cyclops breathes in a settling way.
Enigmatic Voice (enjoying this): "Baseline established. Time for Test # 1. Perish?"
Cyclops hears someone else enter the room, but only just; unlike the others this one seems to have stopped some distance in front of him.
Then things get strange. . . his body slackens as it feels like the power to his muscles has been shut off. "Uhn--" he feels the scientists holding his body in a certain position, then he feels next-to-nothing at all--only extremely dulled, residual sensations where the scientists have their hold on him.
He even can't hear--some foggy, wavering tone being all he can discern of the Enigmatic Voice speaking again.
Has his positioning changed? It's hard to tell. Now he's blasting again--evidenced only by a rushing that sounds more like it's coming from inside his own head than from the greater discharge of his blast--which he also can't see, save for a distant wavering light. Like watching a light show through closed eyes, except less vivid.
That tone of the Enigmatic Voice again; some different kind of nearly-lost sensation concentrated at a minute spot in Cyclops' arm, tone again. What gradually follows. . . . . .is the return of his muscle function. One of the scientists eases off as Cyclops regains the ability to hold his own body up. His senses soon follow-- --in almost blinding and deafening relief as he's kept blasting for a moment or so more. Then,
Enigmatic Voice: "That will do-"
-as it will for our current scene as we transition to one far away in distance, and a littler earlier in time-
Professor Xavier: "-do for now."
From the Danger's Room's Control Bay, he watches as the members of the X-Men involved in the day's training filter out, until only their leader remains.
Xavier moves to join him in the main room.
"You seemed somewhat unfocused, Scott. Most unlike you."
Cyclops turns to him: "In a real situation, I wouldn't have divided the team that way."
Xavier (matter-of-fact): "Circumstances don't always allow for such choice, which you've undertaken enough real missions to know. . .Is there something else?" Xavier checks in, "perhaps we scheduled this session too soon*?"
*Too soon after what, you may be smartly asking yourself? Stay turned and such details will be filled in! -Tra
Cyclops sighs. "No. . .I'm feeling optimum." Though Cyclops' tone of voice and stance -hands on his sides, staring down- belies optimal feelings. As if he were standing in question to himself: 'That being true, why didn't this go better?'
Xavier eyes perspicaciously a moment, then: "In any case, I'll expect to read what was the principal factor against your success in your after-action report."
Repositioning himself in the direction of the door, Professor X wheels out.
Cyclops broods a little longer.
Meanwhile, away from Westchester Country, a meeting is underway between the New York Police Department and The Association for the Betterment of Mutant Citizens. In attendance, NYPD's Chief Grymholt, ABMC's Warren Worthington III A.K.A. Angel, Dr. Hank McCoy A.K.A. Beast, and Jean Grey, who presently address the chief:
"The way your department's new focus on getting mutant criminals off the streets is being presented, makes it sound as though criminals are exclusively mutants."
"Have you been on the streets lately, Ms. Grey? The demographic has certainly become mutant heavy. Mutant youth in particular continue to prove themselves to be degenerates!"
"Isn't it more accurate to say, Chief Grymholt, that these mutants continue to exemplify the environment in which they presently live? Their powers manifest and more often than not they become ostracized. Some even by their own families. Their educational paths become compromised while any prospect to make a decent living vanishes, if they're not also thrown out of their homes."
"Isn't it more accurate to say, Chief Grymholt, that these mutants continue to exemplify the environment in which they presently live? Their powers manifest and more often than not they become ostracized. Some even by their own families, and nearly all of them by their schools and potential places of work. Their educational path becomes compromised while any prospect to make a decent living vanishes, if they're not also thrown out of their homes."
"So they have the right to commit these crimes?"
"That's not what I'm saying. But when the rights they should have are denied them, how else are they to live?"
Warren: "I've been able to review the case files of your recent detainees, Chief Grymholt, and their crimes are petty in nature.
Beast: "If I may share my two cents on the matter,
hard time hardly seems the rational response to purloined provisions."
"I understand your sympathies," -Beast and Warren, both obvious mutants, exchange a look- "but," the chief gives a mirthless chuckle, "try telling the storekeeper who's dealing with structural and inventory damages that the crime was 'petty'."
Jean: "In any case, these are people who require help, not incarceration. If that can be provided it'll be shown these are members of society, not menaces.
He fixes her with a rather skeptical stare: "So exactly what are you proposing, Dr. Grey?" "A halfway house for mutants," -there's that mirthless chuckle again; the chief shakes his head while Jean continues- "with resources in place to redirect them away from criminal activity."
Beast (you know...): "With opportunity for gainful employment, reimbursement can begin on those damages you mentioned before."
Fixing a stare on Beast, then shifting it between them with all the personality of a driver reluctant to yield to coming traffic, Chief Grymholt turns this over in his mind a minute. "I'll concede to reasonable points. Yet just where and how would you propose getting such a facility? There are many other, more well-founded places the city has to put its money, and space doesn't grow on trees."
Warren smiles like he was waiting for this question: "The money and space are already taken care of. My family owns a vacant building, purchased some time back as an investment which was given over to me. It's already adequate enough, requiring only
a few modifications which can be completed concurrent with occupancy."
Well they seem to have thought of everything, haven't they? "...Very well. The responsibility of the mutant detainees will be considered yours. Assuming you can keep them under control long enough to see reason; they can keep the collars for transport but after that, well, Trask Industries' contract is only with law enforcement for the present."
For the first time all meeting, Beast, Warren and Jean are thrown.
Warren: "What do you mean 'the collars'?"
The chief is surprised: "How do you think we've come to collar all these mutants? By literally collaring them. Trask Industries latest technology -Power-Inhibiting."
Beast: "My stars! We're not animals."
Off Jean's disconcerted face, we cut-back-to the Mansion.
Scott is now on his way to a certain location, papers in hand, when a familiar young voice pauses him: "Professor Summers. Hi. Are you busy?"
"Well that depends." He glances from Holo to down the hall, where the door to Professor Xavier's office is presently closed.
She gets it. "Oh- I just want to ask you something."
"Then you've got me." He holds his hands behind his back in an unhurried manner.
Smiling, Holo tries not to delay even so: "I was just wondering some things about your powers? If you don't mind answering. After -well -you know. Everything*..." she hurries past that, "I kind of got really interested in learning how everyone's mutation works for them. You know Dr. Grey's been showing me some of her X-gene work.."
*Now what is Holo referencing? Different question, same answer: You'll find out if you stick with the adventure! ~Tra
Scott nods, indeed aware of this fact.
"Well she told me about yours, after I asked," Holo seems a little embarrassed to admit that, but goes on, "and so, you absorb energy from the sun like a plant? I mean Dr. Grey didn't say it THAT way."
Scott smiles a little at Holo's manner. "Well I suppose it's something of a similar process to photosynthesis, though more like an engine with the fuel being certain photons; not strictly sunlight."
"Right," her embarrassment returns, "Dr. Grey said that. I think it's fascinating anyway how you absorb stuff that gives heat, but your blasts don't. And so um, behind your glasses or visor you're like, shooting all the time, right?"
(unfortunately) "Yes."
"So then, aren't you like, spending more energy than you're getting? Since there's less of that photon stuff in the dark, right?" Her brow furrows, like she doesn't understand 100% about "that photon stuff", but in any case- "Or even if there isn't and you're getting something all the time, you're also shooting all the time, so shouldn't that balance out into no blasts?
"Smart question. Presumably it isn't a 1-to-1 ratio. Simplified, think of it like every one particle supplying me with enough energy for ten blasts.
Holo nods, looking like she understands that much.
Scott adds: "We're also not sure if my mutation developed all at once. The absorbing part of it might've occurred well ahead of the blast part, giving me a head start."
"Oh yeah! Like you had -or have some, um, what is it called...."
"Energy reserves?"
"Yeah, in reserve."
While we hear a door open, Scott smiles at Holo. "You have a good head for this."
Holo beams. "Professor Grey said we'll start figuring out my powers soon."
"Good," he starts to shift towards Xavier's office, "a deeper understanding of your own powers is a good thing to have."
Pleased, Holo departs with a wave.
And turning properly, Scott finds who just exited Xavier's office-
"Hi, Emma."
"Goodbye, Scott."
"You're leaving early today?"
"I'm leaving full stop. We'll have to take our sessions up back at my practice. That is," she glances back at Xavier, "if you still trust them after your professor fills you in." Reverting attention to Scott, she seems contented by his 'why wouldn't I?' expression.
She strides off towards the entryway before he can verbalize the question, if he was going to, and Scott walks up to Xavier; now also out of his office observing the departure. "What just happened, Professor?"
"Emma Frost's empath abilities not only allow her to read others' emotions but to manipulate them. She was doing so on some of the students -innocuously, if that can be said, though any such practice can not be tolerated."
Staring towards the door, Scott's both in complete agreement and disbelief.
"I'm positive she never tried that in any of our sessions."
Xavier gives a "hm" as though making a note of that, or merely finding it interesting.
On her way out, Emma almost collides with Jean on her way in.
Jean: "Oh- excuse me."
"Telepathy on the fritz today?" the blonde quips.
"What?"
"Well, Scott knows where to find me if you ever do require a mind adjustment." She suddenly seems discomfited--though only for a second. Mysteriously smiling in the next. "Maybe a couples session? Until then."
"Goodbye, Emma." Jean's not sure what to make of her. More so, Jean's still affected by the events of the meeting.
Scott (as she walks up): "Let me guess, it didn't go well."
"Worse."
The trio reconvenes in Xavier's Office.
"...we told him we definitely won't be making use of the collars. We're trying to remove restrictions on mutants, not introduce more."
These new developments have them all disturbed.
Scott: "How do the collars inhibit mutant powers?"
Jean: "Right now only Trask Industries has that answer. Warren wants to meet with them, while Hank is seeing if he can borrow one from the police to analyze. We're not even sure how many they have."
Scott: "I knew there had to be something behind NYPD's latest enterprise."
Xavier: "Addressing this is certainly a priority. However, there exists another matter I was hoping you two would undertake."
They're all ears.
"There is a new anomaly I've noticed through Cerebro. An area with curious mutant signatures, though also a recurrent psychic disruption that is preventing me from getting a clear read. I know you're still tentative* towards standard missions, Jean, but your telepathy will be necessary for pinpointing the sources of each."
*For reasons relating to no longer wishing to use her powers in combative situations. At least not typically. ~Tra
Jean nods. "That's fine."
"When do we head out?"
Cut-to Cyclops & Jean Grey in the cockpit of the X-Jet, soaring through the skies.
"Jean?"
"Oh -sorry." Having suddenly been inattentive to her co-piloting duties, Jean brings herself back to them.
Cyclops finishes something on his side before setting his attention back on her. "You're nervous?"
Drawing a breath, she looks out the window, not really seeing: "Things that seem straightforward can turn out to be the opposite. . . .I just don't want to be caught in another compromised position."
Scott is silent at first, thinking everything over. . .
"We'll do what we can."
Not missing his use of "we", Jean "meets" his gaze; finding reassurance in both. A soft smile crosses her lips ahead of a recomposing breath being drawn.
A few moments pass before Cyclops hears her state: "I've missed this."
Glancing over again, he finds her actually looking out the window. "Still compares to views you've seen?"
She turns another smile his way. "I couldn't see those with you."
Getting it now, Cyclops smiles back before turning his own attention out the window; sharing the view. . .But soon, his face goes solemn. ". . .what was it like, knowing you could 'look in', anywhere, anytime. . ? I can't think there was too much you missed." His attention seems divided, and not just by piloting. It's as if he's bringing Jean into some conversation he's been having with himself.
Jean: ". . .It wasn't how you're thinking. I wasn't all-seeing. I still needed to know where to look, and focus."
To illustrate this point, the shot, depicting Jean staring out the cockpit window from a perspective as if we're looking at her from the other side, will first have Jean in focus and Cyclops, in the background, out of it.
Then, the focus will shift, and we'll be able to see how intently Cyclops seems to be taking this in; staring a moment before his head shifts somewhat downward, as if back to his own thoughts.
And the silence brings Jean's focus back to him. Regarding him concernedly before speaking: ". . .I haven't asked you how the training session went?"
Cyclops' answer comes at length.
". . .it was different -difficult. .using the Danger Room as intended again.
It-" his voice catches. He swallows. ". . .I wish it'd happened almost anywhere else."
He wishes more than that.
Jean looks down at her hands, turning one over. "If I had the power. . ."
He knows.
. . .Jean reaches her hand across the aisle. He moves his to meet it.
Though shortly, she shifts as though distracted by something.
This doesn't go unnoticed by him. "What is it?"
". . I think we're here."
That doesn't sound right; Cyclops checks the dash.
"We shouldn't be coming up on the coordinates yet for another--"
--Suddenly they hit turbulence --worse!
"We've been hit by something!"
He doesn't mean physically -all of the electronics of the Jet have shut down,
--as though by an EMP!
"Manual controls are also down--" their attempts to still pilot are met with futility; including Jean's try at telekinetically operating the system.
She shifts power concentration to outside the jet, trying to lift it in order to slow their now rapid descent "--I don't have it!"
Cyclops attention has whipped to the altimetre "--forget it--we're ejecting!"
Jean looks to him to see how he means--
--VZHOOOM--KRRSSSHHHH!!!!
--Cyclops blasts them a calculated exit, then reaches across to Jean with one arm while preparing to disconnect his seatbelt with the other.
Jean does the same; reaching towards him. With a nod, they perform the action in sync--and Jean manages at least to use her powers to ensure they don't lose each other as they're sucked clear out into the sky.
Holding fast to each other, Jean now concentrates on trying to use her powers to slow their own descent--little difference --it's telekinetic turbulence!
Cyclops holds tighter with one arm, at Jean's instant response holding tighter to him, he brings his other hand to his visor, countering their rate of descent with his blast; his plan from the get-go--
--but it's not over yet!
Shrapnel from the now crashed jet takes them off guard --and out of each other's arms!
Separately they go down.
Blackout.
Comments