Chapter 17
"Should we call the mansion and let them know that we're back?" Rogue asked after they had finished going through customs.
"Good idea. The last thing we need is Bishop coming out blasting when we show up in the foyer." He dug into his pocket. "A dollar in quarters should cover the call, right?"
"Right." A minute later, she was talking to Warren. "You two sure you don't want a ride?" he asked.
"We'll be teleporting over in a few minutes," she assured him. "We just wanted to give you some advance notice."
"Okay. Hank just finished making lunch. We'll put out places for you two."
"Thanks. See you in a few. They're ready for us," she told Will as she hung up the phone.
"Good." He hefted his bags. "Let's go that way," he said, inclining his head. "It looks relatively deserted."
Rogue picked up her things and followed him. She wasn't quite sure when it happened, but as they continued to walk, the airport faded away, to be replaced by the mansion, directly in front of them.
The door opened as they approached, and Ororo came out to greet them. "Welcome back!" she said warmly.
"It's good to be back," Will said.
After a few minutes of saying hi to everyone, they sat down for lunch. Hank had made a Caesar salad and sandwiches, but Will and Rogue spent most of the meal fielding questions about the trip.
"Enough of the sights," Bobby said, "get to the important part."
"What's that?" Will asked.
"What did you bring me?"
"Just for that, you go to the end of the souvenir line."
"Drat."
"Did Moria examine you while you were at Muir?" Hank asked him.
"Yes. She said I was fine."
"I'd still like to do a battery of tests on you."
"Yeesss, maaster," Will replied in a Peter Lorre voice.
"Do you feel any different after your experience?" Xavier asked him.
Will thought about it for a moment. "Yes I do, but I honestly can't pinpoint just why I do. Maybe Hank can find something."
"Anything exciting happen around here?" Rogue asked.
"Not really," Logan replied. "It's been pretty quiet."
"Good. It's going to take me a day or two to get my mind back to thinking about work." She looked at Will. "Show them your arms."
"All right." He stood up and rolled his sleeves back.
Logan got up and examined the dragons closely, then whistled. "Whoever did that sure knew their stuff."
"I'll tell the Sidhe you said that. I'm sure they'll be flattered."
"Are they the ones who did that?" Ororo asked.
He shook his head. "No. They acted as intermediaries for something far older. Well," he said, "enough of 'What's My Mysterious Power?'. Let's distribute the loot."
Rogue decided that Will must have brought most of the souvenirs while she was doing her shopping. He gave Xavier a pair of Corinthian leather gloves, and Henry a silk tie. "I decided that something blue would be a safe bet," he told him.
"Good move," Henry replied.
Logan got a wooden box, about a foot long. "I found this in a Dublin antique shop," Will said. "I can date it later, if you want."
Logan opened the box and unwrapped the contents. "This is a tanto!" he exclaimed.
"Yes. I knew about your fascination with things Japanese, so it seemed appropriate. From what the dealer told me, the seller had an ancestor who was on one of the first successful voyages of the British Navy to Japan."
"That would make this thing about two hundred years old."
"That's about right," Will agreed.
Warren was given a set of three linen shirts. "Interest for the one I owed you," Will explained.
Ororo received a set of silver bracelets. "I thought that they might go well with your uniform," Will suggested.
"They're lovely," Ororo responded. She looked at the bracelets closely. "The workmanship is exquisite."
Betsy received a necklace, inset with amethyst. "It was the only purple thing I could find."
Bishop got a large dagger, with steel that was a dark blue and veined with small ridges. "Damascus steel," Will explained. "Stronger than anything machine-made. Well," he said as he stood up, "that should be everything."
"Hey!" Bobby yelled.
"Just kidding," Will replied with a smile as he snapped his fingers. A leather jacket appeared in Bobby's lap. "I had to estimate your size."
"What about Scott and Jean?" Logan asked.
"I got them a clock for their house. Where are they, by the way?"
"They went shopping," Betsy offered.
"Ah. Do you want to let them know? I'm going to dump my laundry down the chute, then get some sleep."
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Rogue asked him.
"Hm? Oh, I forgot the girl!" he said, slapping his head.
"Who are you, Ted Kennedy?" Hank asked.
"Do you want to tell them, or should I?" he asked Rogue.
"I'll do it. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to announce that, for the time being at least, Mister Riley and I are an item."
There were a few raised eyebrows at that. Bobby looked at Henry, then held out his hand. "Pay up, Hankster."
Will and Rogue looked at each other, then at Bobby and Hank. "Do you mean to tell me that you two were betting on whether or not we would start going out together?"
"Of course not!" Bobby said, indignant. "What kind of people do we think we are?"
"We were betting on when," Henry supplied.
"One more question," Rogue asked. "Do we get a cut?"
"Well?" Ororo asked Rogue.
"Well what?"
"What is he like?"
Rogue was silent for a moment. "Ororo, are you asking me as leader of the X-Men, or as a friend?"
"You can give me two answers, if you're more comfortable with that."
"Okay. My professional opinion: He's impulsive, capricious, cynical, and unpredictable. He tends to be aloof, not so much because he's uncaring as because he's listening to something only he can hear. He didn't do any physical exercise that I saw, but that may be because Hank had told him to take it easy, instead of any kind of neglect. He enjoys pulling the occasional con, as long as he's pretty sure that no one will get hurt. He has no problem throwing his weight around if he takes offense to something."
Ororo nodded. "Very good. Now tell me as a friend."
Rogue smiled. "Ororo, he's gentle, kind... almost doting. He goes out of his way to make you feel comfortable, and enjoys springing pleasant surprises on you. He's willing to compromise, and doesn't insist on always getting his way. He showers you with compliments, but they're not phony. He goes out of his way to help his friends if they need it, but he doesn't look over their shoulders while he's doing it. He has a sense of humor, although it's a little twisted. He has a great deal of respect for people who do grunt work, and goes out of his way to show it."
Ororo smiled in return. "It seems you're quite smitten with him."
"I am," she admitted. "The weird thing about it is, I've been reviewing what we did during the trip in my mind, and I can't find a single instance where he wasn't just being himself. He may play a role once in a while, but it's one that's a part of the con game, and he doesn't play it with friends."
"Well, we should find out more in the next few weeks," Ororo said, standing up. "Do you think he's asleep yet?"
She nodded. "As long as he's lying down, he falls asleep instantly."
"I'll talk to him later, then."
"There are two other things you should know, Ororo - and they're for you personally, not as an X-Man."
"Really? What are they?"
"He's an ocolophobe. It's sort of like having claustrophobia in crowds."
Ororo frowned. "We'll have to look out for that. What else?"
"You might want to have a nice long religious discussion with him. In his own words, he serves the Goddess."
Ororo's eyebrows shot up at that. "I certainly will have to talk with him. Thank you for letting me know."
"No problem. Did Kurt send you guys any information on what happened?"
"Standard mission logs. Nothing out of the ordinary. We'll need some input from you."
"On that particular event, or the whole trip?"
"Just on what happened at Glastonbury. Whatever happened between the two of you is your own business."
"Thanks."
Logan took charge of dinner that night, over Will's objections. "You're still on vacation until Hank gives you his OK," Logan said firmly.
Will fumed at that for a few moments. "Doctor McCoy?"
"Yes?"
"Can you fit in a physical for me tonight? I'd like to get back to work."
"That shouldn't be a problem. Should I just make it a general physical, Charles?"
"I'd add a strength test and a treadmill run, just to be safe."
"Right. Meet me in medlab at eight, Will."
"Ninety miles an hour," Henry said in wonder, "and he isn't even winded."
"He hasn't flatlined either," Xavier added. "All right, Archetype," he said into the microphone, "that's enough for now."
Will slowed down gradually, then stopped. "Okay, what next?"
"Let's try a strength test. I'll set up the weights." Henry tapped at the keyboard for a moment, and a weight bench appeared, with a hydraulic bar crossing above it. "Do you feel up to this, Will?"
"All set," he replied as he got under the bar and got a grip. "How much weight are we starting with?"
"I'd prefer not to tell you. It might hinder your performance."
"Sensible. Say when."
Henry and Xavier looked at each other for a moment, and Henry set the weight for 75 kilos. "Logan said that was pretty much his upper limit during his daily training," Henry informed Xavier.
Xavier nodded. "All right, you can start, Archetype."
"Okay, here goes." Will took a deep breath and pushed.
The bar rose smoothly, and impossibly fast.
"All right, guys," Will said, "enough with the joking. I know I'm scrawny, but giving me some weight besides the bar might be useful."
Henry and Xavier looked at one another. "Okay," Henry said as casually as he could, "just kidding. We'll be adding weight slowly and progressively. Let us know when it gets to be too much."
"I promise to cry uncle."
"He benched how much?" Logan asked.
"Three hundred kilos," Henry replied. "He leg pressed five."
"And he had no idea he was doing it?" Scott asked.
"None. He wasn't even exerting himself until the last few reps."
"Have you told him?"
"Not yet."
"You should, Hank," Jean supplied. "We don't want him destroying something because he doesn't know his own strength."
"Good point. That brings up a question: do we want him training with the team again yet, given his new abilities?"
"I say yes," Logan replied. "Let's face it, we've been facing some pretty heavy hitters lately. An extra powerhouse, even one who hasn't been tested to his limit yet, would be a big help."
"I'm inclined to agree," Jean added.
"So am I," Ororo supplied, "as long as we continue to test him in training."
"Scott?" Xavier asked.
Scott was quiet for a moment. "You all know my feelings about him. I think we're jumping the gun, considering that the man's technically still on his probation period."
"You're not counting his recovery time?" Warren asked.
"I'll admit that it gave us some insight into his personality, but we still don't know much about his capabilities. If you're all willing to admit him, though, I'll go along."
"All right, it's settled then," Xavier said. "Who wants to be the one to get him?"
"I'll do it," Jean volunteered.
"Archetype, would you and Rogue come down to the War Room, please?"
"We'll be down in a minute, Jean," Rogue said, flicking on the intercom. "Is there a problem?"
"Something needs to be taken care of. Is Bishop with you?"
"Right here, Phoenix. Should I come along?"
"You may want to be here."
They all looked at one another, shrugged, and walked to the elevator.
"Any ideas?" Will asked as they descended.
"The Professor likes to lay it on mysterious every once in a while," Rogue told him. "You get used to it."
As they stepped off the elevator, they were surprised to find that the lights were out. With the exception of the computer consoles, the room was completely dark.
"Where is everybody?" Rogue asked.
"They're all sitting at the table," Will supplied.
"Well," Warren said, "so much for the element of surprise."
The lights came on to reveal all of the other X-Men, sitting at their accustomed places at the conference table.
"What's the deal?" Rogue asked.
Jean stood up. "Will, would you come here a moment?"
"Over the years, the X-Men have tried to avoid becoming a militant group, but we've taken a few customs from the military when they seemed appropriate. One of those customs is for someone who's been promoted to receive their rank insignia from the most senior officer. Since I was the first X-Man, that task falls to me." She took a large box from the table and opened it, removing the standard blue and gold uniform of the X-Men. "We don't require you to wear this, obviously, but it does have some symbolic value for us," she told him.
Will said nothing, but took the uniform gently in his hands, looking at it for a moment. "I'll be right back," he said shortly, in a subdued voice. He walked out of the room.
"What was that about?" Bobby asked.
"Oh, come on, Bobby," Warren said. "He's doing what we all did when we first got our uniforms. He's trying it on."
"Wouldn't his room be more appropriate for that?"
"Not if he's going to modify it," Betsy pointed out.
They chatted together for a few minutes. Jean, Betsy, and Xavier quieted down suddenly, however, and turned their attention to the direction that Will had just gone. "Did you feel that?" Xavier asked, looking at Jean.
Jean nodded. "What did it feel like to you?"
Xavier thought about it a moment. "Like two pieces of a puzzle came together."
"I agree," Betsy said.
About a minute later, they heard , and saw, Archetype return.
The only piece of the standard uniform which he wore was the belt. He had made modifications to his own costume design, though, which echoed the 'X' motif. He had changed his shirt to a standard grey denim dress shirt, and had added a bolo tie with an 'X' logo for the clasp. A similar logo adorned the band of his fedora. He had replaced the overshirt that he had worn with a black vest.
"Well?" he said, his eyes glowing slightly. "Do I pass muster?"
Logan studied him for a while, looking him up and down, then nodded. "I like it."
"So do I," Ororo added. "It's a little dark, but a very impressive design."
"Let me be the first to say it then," Xavier announced. "Archetype... welcome to the X-Men."
Chapter 18
"Okay, guys," Bobby said over the Danger Room microphone, "the object of this scenario is to rescue everybody's favorite animatronic demographic unit, the Mannequinov family."
"The what?" Will asked.
"It's a running joke," Logan informed him.
"What kind of trouble did they get into this time, Bobby?" Warren asked.
"Well..." the Danger Room darkened for a moment, and their surroundings became a cityscape, lit by twilight. A row of townhouses towered above them, and the lights in most of them were out. "Little Svetlana is growing up, and is outgrowing the vices of youth. She's taken up a new hobby."
As Bobby spoke, an orange light started to glow from the top floor of one of the townhouses. "That's right, everybody," Bobby continued, "Svetlana is now smoking in bed!"
"Why, that little tramp!" Warren exclaimed.
"Angel, see if you can spot anyone from the roof," Ororo said in a commanding tone. "I will start a small rainstorm over the building. Archetype, teleport Wolverine and yourself inside the building."
"I wish I could oblige, Storm, but I can't do that."
"What?" Storm asked. "Why not?"
"I'd explain, but we don't have time. Just trust me. I can't teleport us up there."
"We're in trouble," Warren said.
"Oh, we can work around it," Will assured him. "I'll get them out."
"How?" Logan asked.
"I'll just walk in and get them."
"Those aren't illusions, Archetype," Ororo snapped. "Those flames will burn you."
"Yes, they will," he confirmed. "Would you be so kind as to drench me, Storm?"
Ororo, Logan, and Warren looked at one another. Logan shrugged. "Let's play along, 'Roro. He's got me interested."
Ororo looked above Will for a moment, and a small rain cloud appeared over his head. A moment later, he was rained upon with a virtual sheet of water.
"Thank you," he told Ororo, as he dripped upon the 'ground'. "Keep an eye on the third floor." He walked directly into the flames of the building.
"Bobby," Ororo said as he entered, "keep an eye on his vital signs."
"Right." A moment later, he continued: "His vitals have sped up. He must be in overdrive."
"Avoiding the flames by being too fast for them," Ororo realized. "Ingenious."
"He's on the third floor now. Now back on the second."
A few seconds later, one of the windows shattered as a chair flew through it. Will stood at the center of the resulting hole, flanked by the automatons representing the family.
"How will you get them down?" Logan yelled up to him.
Will grimaced for a moment, then glanced around him, scanning the burning room. "There's nothing here that I can use as a rope or ladder. Angel, can you haul them down?"
"I'll be right up." A moment later, he was picking up the first of the robots. "How are you getting down?" he asked Will on the next trip up.
"The simplest way of all," was the reply. "I'll wait 'till after you're done."
Warren was able to take down both of the 'children' in one trip, since they were somewhat smaller than the other robots. "What about him?" Logan asked as he landed.
"He said he'd take care of himself," Warren replied.
"How will you get down?" Ororo yelled up to Will.
Will simply shrugged, and stepped off the edge of the building.
He hit the ground a moment later, was still for a few moments, then got up with a groan. "That's gonna hurt in the morning."
"Uh... simulation over," Bobby said. "Report to debriefing."
"What was the idea with jumping?" Bobby asked Will a few minutes later. "Ororo could have floated you down on a gust of wind."
"Not without fanning the flames, she couldn't," he disagreed.
"Why didn't you just let me carry you down?" Warren asked.
"The flames were getting too intense. I could see that you were flinching from the heat as you picked up the last two victims."
"Would you pull that stunt in combat?" Logan asked.
"That particular situation wouldn't exist in a combat scenario. The only reason that I didn't just teleport everyone down was that the distance that I was moving subjectively was not the same as objective reality."
"Here we go again," Bobby groaned. "His explanations always give me a headache."
"Try meditating. What you see in the Danger Room is a very good illusion, but it's still an illusion - at least while you're using holograms that give a deceptive idea of distance. If I had teleported the two of us the fifty feet straight up that that distance appears to be, I'd actually be sending us into a solid wall, and we'd both be dead. I can see past the illusions that this room creates, and I can't resolve the differences between illusion and reality in my mind."
"Why didn't you mention this during your session with Rogue?"
"Because the dimensions during that sequence weren't altered. The distances between us stayed the same."
"We hadn't counted on this," Warren told Ororo in a worried tone.
"I have a possible solution," Ororo suggested, looking at Will. "When we have a scenario that involves you, we will simply keep subjective distances the same as those in the Danger Room."
"That could limit us," Warren observed.
"Not really," Bobby disagreed. "We can use some old programs, back from the days before we used Shiar technology."
"That could work," Warren conceded. "We can do some sessions outside once in a while, too. We haven't done that in a while, and I sort of miss it."
"So do I," Ororo admitted.
Logan stood up. "Me and the rookie have to get goin', 'Roro. We've got a hand-to-hand combat test today."
About an hour later, Xavier and Henry were interrupted from their security updates when the door opened suddenly. "Charles, you should come to the gymnasium... now."
"What is it, Ororo?" Xavier asked, concerned.
"The training session between Archetype and Wolverine has escalated."
"How so?"
"It's turned into a brawl."
As Logan ducked yet another swing from Archetype, he tried to figure out exactly when things had gotten out of hand.
The session had started smoothly enough, with Will following Logan's lead through several katas. Will started out uncertainly, lagging behind Logan by a few seconds as he watched the details of the martial dance. As the cycle of the kata progressed, however, Will caught up with Logan, his motions becoming smoother and more precise in the process. By the end of the kata, he was moving with complete balance and poise, his eyes closed and his face impassive.
"Not bad," Logan complimented him.
"Thanks. I've been practicing."
"When have you had the time?"
"Oh no," he replied, tapping the side of his head, "I've been practicing up here."
Logan couldn't think of any reply for that, so he gestured for Will to take up his place on the mat. "Today's your qualifier," he informed him. "If I think you're good enough to pass, then you'll qualify for missions where things are likely to get rough."
"As opposed to your usual missions, where you toss a coin and the loser goes home, right?"
"Don't be a smartass. You're on offense."
Logan took a defensive stance, watching Will closely. The man had been full of surprises the past few days, combining techniques from a dozen different styles. Logan, who was one of the best hand-to-hand combatants in the world, had to admit to himself that he was impressed with the man.
"Will I be on offense through the whole match?" Will asked.
"We'll be switching off. Your move, rookie."
Archetype didn't move. "Wouldn't it make more sense for us to be in uniform?"
"We'll move on to that later. Are you stalling?"
"Not at all." He bowed deeply, and Logan, through a reflex born of years of exposure to Japanese culture, bowed back, lowering his head as Will had done.
Which prevented him from seeing Will, who continued the bow, rolled forward, and hit him square in the face with both feet.
Logan staggered back slightly, allowing Will to get back on his feet. Logan shook his head slightly, clearing it. "Not bad," he said again, as he dropped to one knee and struck, aiming for Will's midsection.
Will twisted, following Logan's punch, spun around, and drove his elbow into Logan's left shoulder, following up with a drum punch to the side of his head.
Logan hit the mat, stunned, but got up a moment later. "That's it," he warned. "The kid gloves are off."
Will smiled coldly in return. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
They both became a blur of motion for the next few minutes. Logan, who wasn't fighting at anything approaching his maximum ability, used the opportunity to study Will's style. He recognized elements from tae kwan do, savate, and drunken boxing at various points in the match. But while Will was able to perform the motions, he seemed to have no spirit behind them. He wasn't centered, as he was during the kata, but disjointed and erratic.
Okay, Logan thought to himself, I know how good he is when he's calm. What happens if I piss him off?
Let's find out.
When Will came in for his next strike, Logan parried him easily, sending him to the mat with a three-part combination to the face and jaw.
"Enough games," he told Will, who spat blood as he stood back up. "Time for today's lessons. Lesson one," he said as he punched Will in the abdomen, driving the air out of his lungs and causing him to double over, "you're the student, I'm the teacher. Lesson two," he continued as he sent Will sprawling to the mat with a roundhouse kick, "don't mess with teacher."
Will lay on the floor for a moment, unmoving, and Logan became impatient. "Come on, get up. I didn't hurt you that bad."
Will got up, facing away from Logan, and slowly turned around. His eyes were glowing brightly; his face, however, was like stone. He took a defensive stance, but Logan saw an opening and took it.
Archetype ducked the kick easily, responding with a combination of blows to Logan's abdomen and chest, and finishing with a punch to the side of his head.
Logan got up instantly. He had rolled with the final punch, and wasn't as dazed as he had been the previous time. "All right, rookie," he growled, "let's dance."
Over the next few minutes, Archetype did something that few people in the world were capable of: he made Wolverine break a sweat. They didn't let up, each landing blows which stunned the other. Strangely, neither of them showed any signs of fatigue. Logan knew that his healing factor kept fatigue toxins from accumulating in his bloodstream, but Archetype seemed to actually get better as they went along.
Their fight could likely have continued for several hours if Xavier and Ororo had not intervened. "That is enough, gentlemen!" Ororo said in her command voice.
"Tell it to him, 'Roro!" Logan shot back, as he ducked a blow which powdered the concrete wall behind him.
"Charles, can you do anything?" Ororo said, her face concerned. "If Scott sees this, Archetype will never gain his trust."
"I agree." Xavier replied. Archetype! he projected. Stop this at once!
The response that he got was an incoherent jumble of images and emotions. He 'saw' a trench filled with the dead bodies of soldiers holding rifles and combat knives. The view shimmered, to be replaced by endless columns of soldiers carrying spears and large rectangular shields, marching in perfect cadence underneath a stone arch. The image shifted again, becoming a samurai slashing his way through a forest of enemies single-handedly.
"I can't get through," he finally said in exasperation.
"Then we do it my way," Ororo said grimly. She raised her hands, her eyes went completely white, and a lightning bolt hit Archetype, stunning him for a moment.
Will turned slowly and looked Ororo up and down. "Oh, puh-leez," he asked in an amused voice, his eyes dimming, "did you actually think that would hurt me?"
"Well," Ororo said, somewhat defensively, "I thought it was worth the try."
"You get points for effort," he assured her. "Well, coach," he asked Logan, "do I get pass muster?"
"Yeah, you pass," Logan told him grudgingly. "He's qualified for field work, Chuck."
Xavier nodded. "Warren will brief you on the Blackbirds this afternoon," he told Will. "Now hit the showers, both of you."
"Yes, sir," Will said, flicking Xavier a two-finger salute.
"And I want to talk to you after lunch," Xavier told him.
Will blinked. "Am I in trouble?"
"Not yet, but you're working on it."
Will rubbed his jaw as he opened his locker. "You throw a mean right, you know that?" he asked Logan.
Logan shrugged. "I've had plenty of practice." He looked at Will's hand, which was rapidly swelling up. "You okay?"
"I broke it on that last punch. It'll heal up in about half an hour," he replied as he took off his clothes with his left hand.
"Sure you don't want Hank to look at it?"
"Nah. There aren't any open wounds, so I should be fine." He grabbed a towel and went into the showers.
"You know, between your tattoos, your hair, and those scars, you aren't exactly going to get any undercover work."
"This from the walking Brillo pad? I've had cats that had less body hair than you do."
"Don't get cute," Logan said as he followed Will into the showers. "Can you tell me something?"
"What?"
"What happened to you back there?"
Will leaned against the tile for a minute. "Has Rogue told you guys any of what happened to me in Ireland?"
"Not much."
"Can you take what I'm about to tell you on faith?"
"Sure," Logan shrugged.
"I told Rogue about an experience that I call the Chorus. Well, the Chorus is sort of like my own personal soundtrack."
"You'd better run that by me again."
"Remember when I told you that I can see trends that lead to the future?"
"Yeah."
"I don't see them as much as hear and feel them. The different variables that affect the future manifest themselves to me as notes of music. By listening to the tune, I can make an educated guess as to what the next movement is going to be. Sometimes, though, the Chorus becomes so loud that all I can do is just follow it along for a while. That's what happened when you clocked me."
"So you weren't fighting me, as much as you were going along with the song."
"Right. I don't think I would have hurt you, but I was doing my best to take you down."
"If you'd been fighting anybody but Rogue or me, you would've done it."
"That's good to know. At least now I know I can hold my own."
"By the way, I added a laser sight to your pistol. It's small enough to not be a problem, but with your aim, I think you'll need it."
"Thanks," Archetype replied dryly. "Is it a standard laser sight?"
"Yeah, nothing fancy about it."
"I've got an idea. Think Beast could fiddle with it a little?"
"And do what?"
"Well, I was thinking that the beam could give us away. Since my vision extends into the infrared, why not give me a laser sight that puts out an infrared beam?"
Logan blinked, then grinned. "I like it!"
"Thanks. Well," he said, wincing a bit as he wiggled his broken hand, "I'd better go catch up with Angel. See you at dinner."
"Okay, I thought it would make more sense for us to start from the back and work our way forward, since it'll be a while before you do any pilot training."
"If ever. I'm still not sure that your systems are shielded as well as you think," Will told Warren.
"We'll see. This is Blackbird Gold, our new plane. Forge designed and built her, and shows up every once in a while to patch her up and do tests."
"I notice she's a forward-swept wing design. How does she handle below Mach 1?"
"The stabilizers are a custom design. She's smooth as silk."
"And top speed?"
"Both Blackbirds can do Mach 3. In emergencies, Mach 4."
"Rogue had mentioned that this one has V-TOL capability."
"That's right. Let's go inside." They climbed the ladder that led into the belly of the plane. "Offensive and defensive systems are on your right."
"You carry offensive weapons?" Will asked with some surprise. "I thought you considered yourselves a defensive unit."
"We do, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared. Most of our offensive systems are anti-aircraft missiles, but we have a few mutant-specific systems."
"Dampening units?" Will guessed.
Warren nodded. "The effect's sort of like a concussion grenade. Hank came up with the idea during our days in X-Factor."
"Where would I sit?"
"Over here," Warren said, pointing to a row of seats across from the Electronic Countermeasures station. "We listened to your suggestion, and placed you away from as many critical systems as we could."
"Good. What's the other plane like?"
"Inside, the configuration's pretty much the same. Outside, just picture a really big SR-71."
"How did Xavier swing that?"
"He has a lot of contacts that he doesn't let anybody know about - not even the senior team members."
"Makes sense. What you don't know, you can't reveal."
"Jean used to tell me about people who come and talk with Charles in the middle of the night, then leave before daylight. We've never asked him, but we think that Charles may have had connections with "Kelly" Johnson, the man who designed the SR-71, and hired him to design a larger plane."
"I'm sure the fact that Xavier is Old Money helped."
"I know it did. I've used some of those Old Money connections myself, and Emma Frost is the embodiment of the Old Money mentality."
"I haven't had time to really get any connections started," Will mused. "Maybe I should start planning that in."
"I still show up at the occasional dinner party. I'll wrangle invitations for you and Rogue one of these days."
"I'd appreciate it. Time for lunch," he said, glancing at his watch.
"Let's get going, then. By the way, I heard your workout with Logan got a bit intense."
"I have the feeling that Xavier is going to rake me over the coals for that." Will said ruefully.
"How's the hand?" Logan asked as Will and Warren entered the kitchen and sat down.
"Good as new," Archetype replied.
"I heard you gave Wolvie a run for his money," Rogue told him.
"If he'd gotten any nastier, I would've popped my claws," Logan confirmed.
"You gave him the Blackbird tour, Warren?" Xavier asked.
Warren nodded. "He's got the basics down. We'll go into more detail later."
"After your conference with me, Will, you have perimeter security detail."
"Lunch is ready," Ororo said, as she and Bobby brought over two large bowls, one containing spaghetti and the other, sauce, meatballs, and sausage. She then looked at the table, frowning. "I forgot something."
"We left the bread on the counter," Bobby supplied.
"I've got it," Will said, glancing at the counter. His eyes flashed, and the basket of bread appeared on the table.
"Thanks," Bobby said, sitting down.
"Is perimeter detail done in or out of uniform?" Will asked.
"With the exception of Bishop, we do it in civilian clothing," Ororo told him. "It reduces the risk of having to answer difficult questions if someone sees us from the road.."
"Any off-limits places that I should know about?"
"Devil's Rock, near the west end of the gardens," Xavier informed him. "I'll explain why later."
"I just walk along the perimeter and look for anything unusual?"
"Just let out a psychic 'yell' if you encounter anything. I think that would be more dependable than a communicator in your case."
"Don't be a hero, in other words."
"Exactly."
"I can live with that."
"Why didn't you tell us that you could do that?" Xavier demanded as Will entered his study.
"Why hello, Xavier, I'm doing quite well, and yourself?" was the response.
"Just answer the question, Will," Jean said in a weary voice.
"Because I didn't know that I could," he snapped irritably. "You all seem to think that I have an idea of how my powers work. I hate to disillusion you, but I don't know much more than you do."
"Can you at least tell us what happened, from your point of view?" Ororo asked.
"All right," he said tiredly as he sank into a chair. "This is the best I can give you in the way of an explanation.
"I don't dream the same way as I did before my accident. I used to just have normal dreams, dealing with my life and imagination."
"That doesn't happen anymore?" Jean asked.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "Now, all my dreams have some sort of meaning, or agenda, behind them." He glanced at Xavier. "You want to know how I was able to hold my own with Wolverine? Ever since I started training with you guys, I've been having dreams about war. Do you know what lucid dreaming is?"
"Yes. It's a state where the dreamer is aware that he or she is dreaming, and is able to affect the outcome of the dream."
"Almost all of my dreams are lucid dreams. Lately, they've been taking one of two forms. In one, I'm somewhere in the Far East - I have a feeling that it's not a real place, but instead, a synthesis of various places in the world. I've been getting my brains beaten out pretty regularly by an old master who appears to be about ninety years older than God. When I wake up, I usually remember what I've learned during the night. That's how I was able to do so well against Wolverine."
"What's the other kind of dream?" Jean asked.
"I'm sitting at a desk in a massive tower. It's circular, and the desk, and me, are floating in midair. The tower is nothing but books. There's no entrance, and the tower goes down, and up, as far as I can see. I can travel to any place within the tower, pick up any book, and find the knowledge that I need to solve whatever problem that I have. I know, Xavier, beyond a doubt, that all the knowledge within the collective consciousness is contained in that library. I also know that, given enough time, I can learn all that information."
"So that's how you view the collective consciousness?" Xavier asked. "As a gigantic library?"
"More like the ultimate multimedia experience. Maybe an example would help. Let's say I want to learn about architecture. I think about architecture and start floating up or down to a specific area of the library. When I get to a certain point, I find that a certain book is glowing. I take the book off the shelf and open it. I sort of dive into the book, and someone that I know has something to do with architecture - let's say Frank Lloyd Wright - is standing next to me. He starts instructing me in the basics of architecture, and let's me know how I'm doing. Time really doesn't really mean anything to me while I'm dreaming, so I can learn as much as I want to until I decide to take a break."
"Do you ever know how far along you are in your studies?" Ororo asked.
"My instruction is usually chronological in order, so I can usually make a good guess. I can leave a bookmark in the book when I leave, so I can go back later to where I left off." Archetype looked at his watch. "I'd better get outside. My watch starts in ten minutes."
"How will you be proceeding?" Ororo asked.
"I'm just going to run the perimeter. I'll compress distance when I'm visible from the road, so that no one sees me."
Xavier nodded. "Let someone know if you run into trouble. We'll signal you when your watch is over."
See you later, then." He got up and started walking towards the door.
"By the way," Xavier said, "Jean, Betsy, and I will be testing your psychic defenses while you're out there. Just do your best to get us out of your head."
"Right." Will shut the door behind him as he left.
"Opinions?" Xavier asked Jean and Ororo.
"He was telling us the truth," Jean said. "Nobody could make up something like that and expect to be taken seriously."
"You realize, of course, that he has the potential to become one of the most intelligent people in history," Ororo put in. "Immortality and ultimate intellectual access - I'm starting to decide that Valerie was right, Charles."
"So am I," Xavier admitted.
"When do you want to hit him?" Jean asked.
"Let's try at about two-thirty. You'd better let Betsy know."
Will went up to his room, changed into hiking boots, jeans, and a black shirt. He put on his wrist sheath and slipped another knife into one of his boots, then went outside and started jogging towards the front gate. Once he reached the gate, he turned to the left and headed towards the southwest corner of the estate.
Once he was out of sight from the road, he increased his speed, keeping himself down to about five miles an hour, a speed that was just slow enough to be taken as a wind sprint if seen in a glance. The terrain started to pass by at a more acceptable pace, and soon he reached the edge of Breakstone Lake. As he turned towards Spuyten Dyvil Cove, he decided not to walk on Jean and Cyclops' property without their permission. He slowed down, concentrated, and teleported to the other side of the cove. He then continued skirting the edge of the small mountain which housed the Blackbirds and their runway, heading back towards Graymalkin Lane. He slowed down again when he got within visual range of the road. Once he was hidden behind the wall, he stopped for a moment to do a visual sweep of the area.
A few moments later, he dropped to his knees as the worst migraine headache of his life hit him like a hammer. He glared up, where he could see the astral forms of Xavier, Betsy, and Jean looking down at him. "You're doing this, aren't you?" he spat.
This is only a minor attack, Xavier's voice said inside his mind. What will you do if there's a major telepath going up against you?
"Oh, I don't know," he growled, "how about this?"
GET OUT OF MY MIND!
The force of that one thought was like a cannon shot, snapping the three telepaths out of their concentration. They all caught the image of an immense tower, windowless and impregnable, and heard a door slam shut as they were hurled back. An instant later, they all found themselves back in their bodies.
"How... did he do that?" Betsy gasped.
"A pure, undifferentiated psychic wave," Xavier said clinically, "then a solid mindshield. I have to admit, it's a solid combination."
"What's he doing now?" Jean asked.
Betsy looked out the window. "He's back on his patrol."
"Well, I think that we can now put psionically attacking him on our list of dumb things to do."
"Make sure to underline it."
Chapter 19
"Get up," Rogue said to Will, pulling a pillow off his head.
He squinted his eyes against the morning light. "Have you no respect for the dead?" he groaned.
"Yeah, but since you can't die, the question's irrelevant."
"Ha, ha." He glanced at the clock, squinting blearily, then back at her. "And why, pray tell, have you woken me at six A.M. on a Saturday morning?"
"I'm keeping a promise I made to you."
He thought about that a moment. "Okay, I give up. What promise was that?"
"Today, you learn how to drive. Don't worry," she assured him, seeing the apprehension on his face, "we'll be staying on the mansion grounds, so there won't be any other cars. Nothing can go wrong."
"Well?" Bobby asked Henry. "What do you think?"
"I can't figure it out. Warren?"
"Well, Jean said that she didn't do it, and Ororo didn't even know about it." He looked around. "I don't see any angles of approach that would do it either."
As Warren finished speaking, Jean approached them. "Well, there's a first," she commented. "I wonder what their explanation is."
"How am I going to explain this?" Rogue said to herself, burying her face in her hands.
"Look," Will said apologetically, "I'm really sorry about this."
"It's not really your fault," she replied. "I guess what you did made sense, in a way."
"Well, I didn't want to kill the deer or damage the car..."
"And you couldn't teleport the deer without killing it..."
"Right..."
"And you told me that, when you panic, you teleport straight up."
"Exactly." He looked out the window of the car. "How long do you think it's going to take them to get us down?"
"Bobby'll probably want to take pictures first." She glanced outside. "You know, I'm really amazed that the roof can handle this much weight."
"Are you busy this weekend?" Warren asked Will at breakfast. He had risen early, and no one else, outside the two of them, was up yet.
"Not especially. Why?"
"I've been invited to a charity dance. There's going to be some big money there, and I remembered that you wanted to get acquainted with high society, so I wrangled an extra invitation for you."
"What's the dress code?"
"Black tie."
Will frowned. "I'll have to dig my tuxedo out of mothballs. Could I get away with a silver tie and cummerbund?"
"I think so."
"Good. Is an escort expected?"
"The invitation's made out for two."
"I'll let Rogue know about it, then. Will Miss Braddock be accompanying you?"
"I haven't actually asked her yet, but I'm sure she'll say yes."
"Let's see, then," Will said thoughtfully. "Today's Tuesday, so they should have just enough time."
"To do what?"
He broke into a grin "Finish shopping for new dresses."
"What is taking them so long?" Warren muttered as he paced around the foyer. "We're going to be late."
"I'll teleport us if it comes to that. Let them have their fun. I think it's genetically programmed in them, anyway. Some Austrolapithicines probably waited around for Lucy to come out of her cave, and women have kept the racket going ever since."
"I wouldn't let Rogue hear you say that."
Will snorted. "I'm not that crazy," he said as he got up, donned a grey overcoat, and slipped his gloves on.
"We'll be right down," Rogue's voice announced from above them.
"You may want to activate your image inducer now," Will advised Warren as he twirled his hat with one finger.
"Good idea." Warren took the device, designed to look like a cellular phone, from his suit pocket and activated it. A few moments later, his skin shifted from its normal azure to a Caucasian hue.
"I'll be keeping my powers in check tonight, so you shouldn't have any problems with that," Will remarked.
"You two all set?" they heard from behind them.
The next sound heard was that of two jaws hitting the floor as the men turned around.
Rogue was dressed in a subtle outfit which combined a dark green body stocking with an autumn red velour dress, shoes and gloves. The dress hugged the curves of her body closely, showing off her striking figure. Betsy wore a silk gown whose color straddled the line between being violet and black, and which was both backless and slit up to her hip.
"Well?" Rogue asked.
"What do you think?" Betsy interjected.
"Eep," Warren chirped.
"Oog," Will added.
"I think they're impressed." Betsy said to Rogue.
"What gave you that idea?"
Will recovered first, getting Rogue's coat from the closet and offering it to her. After she slipped into it, he crooked his arm to her. She smiled and took it gracefully.
Warren followed Will's lead and offered the same service for Betsy. "I'll drive," he offered.
"We're taking the Rolls, right?" Betsy asked.
"It seems appropriate," Will answered. "Anything else would be out of character."
"That one slipped by me," Rogue confessed.
"Warren is old money, while I'm nouveau riche. He'll drive the Rolls because anything else would be below him, and I'll be in one as a way of showing that I'm ready to join high society."
Warren thought about that for a moment. "You're right. If we're going to play the role of ultra rich, than that would be in character."
"Do you have the tape recorder?" Will asked Rogue.
She nodded. "It's in my purse. It's got a range of five meters, it'll last for four hours, and activate at any of our voices."
"Perfect. Let's get going, then."
Will held the front door for everyone, and Warren pulled the Rolls Royce out of the garage a minute later. Will held the back door open for Rogue, and let Betsy into the front.
"No cane?" Rogue asked.
Archetype shook his head. "Won't fit with the role."
"What role?"
"If this were solely a public function I'd bring it along, so that I could project an image of a kindly, beneficent philanthropist. This is mostly a business function, though, so I have to come off as someone who has a great deal of drive, with the intellect and experience to back it up." He turned to Rogue. "Can I borrow your make-up mirror for a few minutes?"
"Sure," she said, digging it out of her purse and handing it to him.
"Thanks." He opened the mirror and looked at his own face. "Okay. My name is Will Riley," he said, talking to himself under his breath. "I'm a certified genius in the financial world. The companies that I own are becoming the best in their industries. Millions of dollars rest on my every decision. My vision is making me a force to be reckoned with. I have the seasoning of experience behind me, I've paid my dues, and I'm ready to enter your world."
He closed his eyes. Rogue watched, fascinated, as his face acquired lines, the set of his jaw strengthened, and the pockets of skin under his eyes sagged slightly.
When he opened his eyes again, they were intent, watchful, and penetrating. They were the eyes of a predator. "What do you think?" he asked Rogue.
"How did you do that?" she replied, wide-eyed.
"The trick is to get into the right mindset. Once I start thinking a certain way, I let that way of thinking reflect itself in my face. If I went there looking the way I did before, no one would take me seriously. This'll also serve as a rudimentary psi-defense."
"Not bad," Betsy said, impressed. "You look like a timber wolf."
Will nodded to her in acknowledgment. "What name will you be going by for this?" he asked Rogue.
"Why don't I go by May O'Hara again? We're both used to it."
"May O'Hara?" Warren asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Long story," Will and Rogue told him at the same time.
They reached the club about an hour later. They left the car in the lot, and, after leaving their coats in the check room, they entered the social hall of the club.
Some hall, Rogue thought. Looks more like a football field. The room was massive, decorated in a Gothic Renaissance style which had been popular in the mid-eighteenth century. High-backed benches lined the walls, broken up at regular intervals by large fireplaces. About twenty tables, set for eight each, were placed throughout the room, and a large entranceway at the opposite wall was hosting a cocktail party. An orchestra was playing soft jazz in one area, and some couples, mostly older ladies and gentlemen, were slow dancing to the music.
"Gee, this is going to be exciting," Rogue said sarcastically under her breath.
"Appearances can be deceiving," Will told her. "Watch and learn." He walked straight to the gathering of people near the bar, Rogue following closely behind him.
"Scotch and soda," he told the bartender. "What would you like, May?"
"The same," she answered, puzzled. He had told her he didn't drink.
After the bartender had given them their drinks, Will told her, sotto voce, "It'll look strange if I don't have a drink in my hand." She nodded in understanding. "Is the recorder on?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Good." He gestured with his head. "The penguin suit over there is big in mining. He owns some of the larger mineral deposits in the Southwest. Name's James Broadmoor. I met him about a year ago. Play along." He walked over to the older man, who sported a balding head and a handlebar mustache.
"Jim!" he said, enthusiasm in his voice. "Haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"
Broadmoor looked at him closely. "Riley? Is that you? Haven't seen you since the Leinster deal." He had a pronounced Texas drawl.
"I've been traveling. Wanted to get a first-hand look at my holdings. May I introduce May O'Hara?"
Rogue took that as her cue and inclined her head towards Broadmoor gracefully, flashing him a brilliant smile. "Pleased to meet you, sir."
Broadmoor's smile widened. "Ma'am, I am utterly charmed. May I ask where you're from?"
"Mississippi, sir."
"You have no idea how refreshing it is to meet a flower of the South here among these New England zombies. How did you and Will meet?"
Will and the others had discussed how to answer this question before they had left. "Will's helping to finance some research at the institute where I work."
"And may I ask what your specialty is, Ms. O'Hara?"
"I'm doing dual work in avionics and biologically imposed synaptic trauma." Well, it's not exactly a lie, she thought to herself.
Will watched Broadmoor's eyes glaze over, as he had expected them to, and decided to make his move at that point. "I'm new to this crowd, Jim. Can you make some introductions?"
"No problem," answered Broadmoor, who seemed grateful to be back in familiar territory.
Over the next hour, they made the rounds of the room, and were introduced to most of the people who Broadmoor considered influential, as opposed to those who were, in his view, living off the success of their predecessors. He included Warren in this list, as Worthington Industries was no longer under his direct control. Warren had, apparently, also earned Broadmoor's scorn because he was a member of the Hellfire Club.
"What have you got against the Hellfire Club?" Will asked.
"Riley, the only reason I'm here at all is that this is a charity function. I don't mix it up with the high and mighty rich folk around here because they annoy the hell out of me. I became rich by working hard, and by being very lucky, just like you did. Those Hellfire Club types, the ones who are in every social club in the books, but haven't worked a day in their lives, have some damn nobless oblige idea that the world is theirs to run behind the scenes."
Will snorted. "I know the mentality."
"And there's a big example of it over there," Broadmoor said, gesturing with his glass to a young man who was mingling through the crowd. "Johann Dieter. Parents died a few years ago in a boating accident in Malta, and he inherited the family fortune. Does nothing but attend parties and flirt with girls. My friends tell me he averages a girlfriend a week."
"A waste of perfectly good carbon, in other words."
"You got it. Rumor has it he does a lot of blackmail to entertain himself. He must have spies or something, because he learns secrets that people thought were buried forever. Oh, great," he groaned, "here he comes."
"Mister Broadmoor!" the young man said with obviously feigned pleasure, "how wonderful to see you again. And who are your companions?" He had an accent which Rogue, through her association with Nightcrawler, was able to identify as Austrian.
"This is Will Riley, and Miss May O'Hara," Broadmoor said, as he gave Archetype a look which said that he was sorry to put them through this.
Rogue felt a familiar sensation then, a prickling at the front of her head. She was being lightly psi-scanned. She wasn't too worried, as she had been taught psychic defenses by Professor Xavier, and it was a sloppy attempt at a scan at best.
Looking at Archetype, she saw that he was aware of it too. His eyes narrowed a moment.
Dieter's eyes widened, and he blinked, shaking his head as if clearing it of something.
Will looked at Broadmoor. "Jim, can I have a moment with Mister Dieter? I have a business proposition that I'd like to discuss with him."
"Sure, Will. I need a refill anyway. Be right back." Broadmoor walked off towards the bar.
"Mister Dieter," Will said in a voice so low that only Dieter and Rogue could hear, "I would strongly advise you not to try that again."
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Dieter protested.
"That is a lie," Will said flatly. "Again, don't try that on me or my friend here."
"Are you threatening me?" Dieter asked, his voice rising slightly. "I'll have you know that I am..."
"I couldn't care less who you are," Will said, cutting him off. "I'm simply offering you advice. However, if I were going to threaten you, I'd say something like this: If you ever pull a silly-ass stunt like that on me again, I will have certain people in my employ arrange it so that you will no longer be a biped. That's threatening you. See the difference?"
Dieter's face went absolutely white. "Yes, I see."
"Good. Now run along home. You were just leaving, weren't you?"
Dieter left the room with as much dignity as he could muster.
"Goddess save us from amateurs," Will said under his breath.
"That isn't an amateur coming our way, though," Rogue told him, looking across the room.
"Who's that?"
"That's Emma Frost."
"Got it." Will had been studying the history of the X-Men in chronological order, and had just reached the Dark Phoenix incident.
Emma crossed the room gracefully, acknowledging Rogue with a nod. "Very impressive, Mister Riley. I've wanted to do that to Dieter for months."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Miss Frost. Any reason for the visit?"
"I just thought we should talk for a minute. We both seem to be covering the same ground, and I don't want us tripping over one another."
"Sensible."
"How has your takeover of the Interim Conglomerate been going?"
"I expect to have controlling interest within this financial quarter."
"Good. Do you plan to fire all of the board of directors?"
"I think that one or two of them can be persuaded to vote along with me." Seeing Rogue's look of confusion, he explained. "Interim has a division which is developing a bio-technological chip which my spies say is slated to become part of the next generation of Sentinel. I plan to scuttle that project."
"How are you planning on that?" Emma asked, curious. "If you just terminate the project, the government will get suspicious."
"Not if it's part of a reorganization of the entire company. I think that a few forced resignations in the right place will send the whole project down into flames."
"You'll lose a fortune."
"I can absorb it."
"You'll still be under contract, though."
"I'll just give the engineers seventy-two hours to throw something together. It's not like that isn't standard industry practice."
"Good point."
Will studied the room for a moment. "I should do a bit more mingling. Here." He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Emma. "That has my personal e-mail address and the phone number of my financial advisor. He also serves as both my attorney and personal secretary, so he can make all the necessary arrangements if you want to talk with me."
"You're his only client?"
"I am now. All the others are dead. Of natural causes," he added hastily, as he saw the looks that Emma and Rogue gave him. "He worked for an old family."
"Oh," Emma said, recovering. "Well, enjoy your evening." She nodded to Rogue again and melted back into the crowd.
"I think she was impressed," Rogue remarked.
"Are you hungry yet?"
"Starving."
"I made reservations for the four of us at Delmonico's. Why don't we grab Warren and Betsy and get going?"
"Sounds good to me." After a few minutes of searching, they found the two of them dancing, cheek-to-cheek, to one of the slow songs. Rogue was about to tap Warren on the shoulder, but Will restrained her by the shoulder gently. "Let them finish out this song," he said in a quiet voice. "They get too little private time as it is."
"Will," she said, smiling, "I don't believe it. You're a romantic."
He shrugged. "We all have our weaknesses."
"Who said that was a weakness?"
As the song ended, they gestured for Warren and Betsy to join them. "You two ready to eat?" Archetype asked.
"I could stand a bite," Warren replied.
"So could I," Betsy added.
"Shall we get going, then?" They wove their way towards the door, gathered their coats, and got into the car once the valet had brought it over.
"Which way?" Warren asked.
"You got me," Will shrugged. "I'm still learning how to drive, remember?"
"Great," Warren grumbled.
After a false start that put them in the wrong direction, they arrived at Delmonico's, and enjoyed a wonderful meal, during which they discussed Warren's opinions of the various clubs he'd frequented during his playboy days. Will insisted on picking up the tab, and again gave his personal thanks to the chef, a habit that Rogue assumed he had picked up during his days in cooking school.
As they made their way through the darkened parking lot back to the car, Will stopped for a moment, listening. "Get down," he snapped, pushing them to the ground.
A moment later, they heard a crack, and Will spun around, collapsing to the ground, his hand grabbing at his left shoulder. He was up before anyone else could make a move, his eyes aglow as he glared at the surrounding buildings. A snarl curled across his face as he vanished.
"Rogue, get after him!" Warren snapped as he pulled off his jacket, handing it to Betsy. A moment later, his shirt tore apart into shreds as his wings unfolded.
Both he and Rogue were in the air in seconds, scanning the tops of the buildings. Warren found Will a few moments later, chasing after a figure who was running wildly. "Got him," he said tersely as he dove towards them.
Johann Dieter had been seriously unnerved by his encounter with Will Riley.
A large part of the success that he enjoyed was due to his telepathic power. It was low-grade, to be sure, but it allowed him to get a good idea of what the people around him were thinking. Since the people he usually dealt with were utterly paranoid about respectability, they tended to keep the things that they wanted kept secret near the tops of their minds, so to speak, making them easy to scan. He had made quite a bit of money by demanding payment from his victims to keep quiet. This Riley person was putting that in jeopardy, and Dieter was far too fond of the good life to put his future in the hands of a damned Irlander. He had followed their car as they left the club, keeping his shields up to make sure that Riley couldn't pick him up.
He ran as soon as he made the shot, because he knew that he had inhaled as he fired, throwing the barrel off slightly. Riley might still be alive, and he had no desire to see that man again.
He heard a scraping sound behind him a few seconds later and turned around, immediately wishing that he hadn't.
Riley was coming after him. His left shoulder was still bleeding, sending rivulets of blood down his arm and soaking his shirt. His eyes were glowing like a pair of lanterns, and he had a look on his face that could only be described as murderous.
Dieter started panicking at that point and stopped watching where he was going. He tripped on the short wall in front of him, and tumbled over the edge of the building.
A hand grabbed him just as he was about to fall.
Riley's hand.
Dieter looked up into Riley's face, looking for some trace of compassion, some sign of mercy that told him he wasn't going to die.
He found none.
"Well, what have we here?" Archetype said in a deceptively friendly voice. "If it isn't my friend Herr Dieter. Tell me, what's a nice boy like you doing on a rooftop in the middle of the night?"
Dieter was so terrified that he could only respond in German. Archetype shook him. "In English, you idiot," he said in a disgusted voice. "Oh, never mind."
"You could have killed one of my friends down there," he informed Dieter with a growl. "If you wanted my blood, I would have been more than happy to give you satisfaction at one place or another. This was way over the line. If you want to play with the big boys, then you have to be willing to pay the entrance fee."
"Will, don't!" Warren yelled as he landed. "He's not worth it."
"He's a parasite," Archetype said clinically. "No one would miss him."
"We'll let the police take care of it."
"He'll buy his way out of jail and be out of the country in a day."
"Please don't, Will," Rogue asked him as she landed with Betsy in her arms.
"Wonderful," Archetype said sarcastically. "You realize you three just blew your identities, don't you?"
"We'd prefer that that over seeing you become a murderer."
He stared at her levelly. "What makes you think I'm not already?"
"Because I know you won't kill for no reason."
His face softened at that for a moment, then stiffened again.
"Nice try." He looked back to Dieter. "Auf Wiedersehn."
He let go. Dieter screamed as he fell.
All of ten feet. A Door opened below Dieter, depositing him back onto the roof.
"I wasn't going to kill him," Archetype said quietly, "but he needed to be taught a lesson."
Rogue swallowed, putting her heart back in her chest. "I understand."
He looked back at Dieter, who was still on his back, gibbering in terror. He walked over to him and grabbed him by the collar. "Listen to me very closely," he said. "You are going to take the next international flight out of America. If I were you, I'd bring as much money as I could carry, because within the next week, I'm going to own every company that you hold stock in. There are going to be bellhops worth more than you. If I ever see you again, I'm going to finish what I started here."
He let go of Dieter, who kept babbling, then looked at Betsy. "Can you do something that'll keep him from remembering what you three look like?"
"Yes. You want him to remember your face?"
"I want my face to haunt his dreams," he told her in a bleak voice.
"How's your shoulder?" Warren asked Will as they made their way back to the car.
"I still have to get the bullet out." He was carrying the rifle in his good arm, since they didn't want it lying around, and he had recovered the casing.
"There's a first-aid kit in the car," Betsy said. She opened the trunk and removed one of the Portable Triage Units that were standard issue for the X-Men.
"Just give me the forceps."
"No anesthesia?"
"I'll live." He gave the rifle to Warren, who unloaded the bullets, and took the forceps from Betsy. He shrugged out of the jacket, handing it to Rogue, then sat cross-legged on the ground. He held the forceps in his teeth while he dug his wallet out of his back pocket, then replaced the forceps with the wallet in his mouth, biting down on it as he removed the bullet with the forceps.
Rogue felt slightly sick as she watched him. "Why don't you wait until we get back to the mansion?"
He didn't answer until he had removed the bullet, glaring at it for a moment before spitting out the wallet. "Because I'm going to start healing in a few minutes, and I'd rather not be cut open again because this thing was still in my system." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
After a few seconds, the hole started to close. Once a scar had covered the wound, he got up. "That'll do for now. I can take care of the rest in the car. Let's get going."
Henry studied the scar when they returned to the mansion. "Looks like a clean wound," he remarked to Will as he swabbed it with disinfectant. "You did a good job."
"It should be healed completely by morning," Will replied. "Were any of the others hurt?"
"Betsy has a slight scrape on her knee."
"You did good, rookie," Logan said as he leaned against the opposite wall. "I didn't think you had it in you."
"I scared the hell out of Rogue."
"She'll get over it."
"What did you do with the rifle?"
"Put it in the armory. I thought we could use a sniper one of these days."
"Good. Are we done here?" he asked Henry.
"That should be it. Are you going to bed?"
"Once I shower this crap off of me. Some night off."
As he exited the medlab, Will saw Rogue leaning against the wall next to the elevator. She had changed out of her dress, and was now wearing a sweatsuit with the school insignia on it. "How are you feeling?" she asked him.
"A little sore. I should be okay by morning. How are you?"
She was silent for a moment. "You scared me," she said in a quiet voice.
"I know," he said, just as quietly. "I'm sorry."
They said nothing as they entered the elevator. After a few seconds Will spoke again. "I
didn't even think. I saw that he had put the three of you, especially you, in danger, and a part of my mind
went into automatic. If any of you had been hurt, I probably would have killed him." He leaned against the elevator wall and sighed. "That's a frightening thought. I knew I was dark, but not that dark."
"You would have killed for me? For any of the X-Men?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"In a cold minute. You're my family now. That puts certain obligations on me."
"To kill?"
"To die, if necessary."
"I didn't realize you felt that strongly about it."
He looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, now you know," he said gruffly as the elevator doors opened. "Good night."
"Wait a second," Rogue said suddenly, restraining him by his uninjured arm. She looked down the hall and saw Ororo coming up the stairs. "Storm, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Is there a problem, Rogue?"
"I just want you to do something for me. Will, stay here a second, okay?"
"Uh, sure," he said, confused.
Rogue spoke quietly with Ororo for about half a minute, then they both returned.
"Rogue asked me to give you something for her," Ororo told him. Then she kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"Thank you," Rogue said in a whisper.