-X- X-Men: Foundations part 2: Changing World Summary Chapter 1: Bright Stars Chapter 2:Stand Still Chapter 3: Empire State University Chapter4: Distant Early Warnings Chapter 5: Brand Annex Chapter 6: Open Secrets Chapter 7: Change of Faith Chapter 8:Winter Breaks Chapter 9: Healing Breaks Chapter 10: Ice Skate Eve Chapter 11: Razor's Edge Chapter 12:Last Call Chapter 13: Thoughts Ignite Chapter 14: Red Tide Chapter 15: The Pass Chapter 16: Spring Breaks Chapter 17: Kid Gloves Chapter 18: Second Natures Chapter 19: Prime Movers Chapter 20: Moving Parts Chapter 21: Barriers Fall Chapter 22: Hand Over Hand Chapter 23: Hand Over Fist Chapter 24: Open Hand Chapter 25: Open Hand Closed Fist Chapter 26: Racing Heart -XX-
X-Men: Foundations part 2: Changing World
Chapter 10
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Ice Skate Eve After multiple dropped hints either went over Scott’s head or were thoroughly ignored by him, Jean gave up on the possibility of ice skating at Rockefeller Center for New Year’s Eve and instead began planning a welcome back to campus outing for everyone... including Ted. Ororo was quick to point out that Scott could have avoided Ted altogether if only he’d agreed to New Year’s Eve. “Thanks, Ro,” Scott offered dryly. He was guessing Ororo was still smarting over having to pay off this bet (and she had hoped his agreeing to New Year’s Eve would get her off the hook while Jean was focused on Scott). Ororo wasn’t wrong though. Jean had clearly been hoping Scott might express interest... only when he wouldn’t budge had she pivoted to plan B. In this case, plan B was Morningside Park on the edge of campus, where ESU students were running a winter village, and where Scott and Ororo were currently lacing up rented ice skates. Ororo was no more happy about it than Scott was. Maybe her mood would improve once Emory and Misty arrived... Scott’s own mood improved when he saw that Ted Roberts and Cal Rankin had come with Amanda and Meggan, like a double date. His relief was short-lived, however, when Ted proudly explained – almost immediately – that he and Jean would be working more closely together this semester. Apparently lab assignments and duty rosters had been shuffled after the Brand event. Ted seemed enthused for the changes and keen to talk about upcoming research after the brief break from their projects... where Cal did not. Apparently Cal’s lab hadn’t fared as well in the restructuring. Jean looked slightly flustered by Ted’s charm offensive. So, just like that, Scott was back to resigning himself to Ted. “Well, come on,” Scott prompted, trying not to grumble. “Let’s get this spin around the ice over with.”
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Emory and Misty arrived a short time later, allowing Ororo the excuse for a break. Misty had arrived ready to skate, her own ice skates slung over one shoulder. Ororo was quick to point out she’d already skated when Scott followed her off the ice a few moments later. He made a surrender motion, insisting he wasn’t there to retrieve her at Jean’s request, just taking a break himself. Emory pretended to hide from Misty’s view behind Scott. Misty only shook her head. “All of you can sit here like a bump on a log if you want to – I’m going to have a good time.” Scott took a seat alongside Ororo and Emory, temporarily giving up on skating, as Misty made her way onto the ice. After updating each other on their winter breaks, talk turned to the new semester, and the latest copy of the Excelsior. “I dropped by the station earlier to talk to S.J. Hodge and Gyrich have been keeping up their pressure campaign over the break – using Excelsior TV and the Excelsior print special editions to continue making ridiculous demands on behalf of their Concerned Students group.” “Trying to exert influence over the ESU administrators,” Ororo assessed. “According to S.J., they’re close to terrified, if they don’t play ball there will be repeats of the Brand Annex protests.” Emory paused by a beat. “We need a way to counter their demands, and show they don’t represent the whole of ESU’s student body.” “Sounds like you have something in mind,” Scott stated. “This might sound a little crazy, but I want to found my own student group in counter-protest. Maybe it is a little crazy – even S.J. was floored when I told him – but ESU had a strong student social protest movement in the 60's. I think we can tap into that history and revive it for the modern era. At the very least, we can draw attention away from Gyrich’s Concerned Students and get people talking about real issues that matter, things that affect daily life on campus, especially for minority students.” “Do you think counter-protests and counter-demands will be enough to get the attention of university administrators?” Ororo asked. “Long answer, I don’t expect the establishment is eager to listen to any of us. They’d rather we just go back to our classes and stop making a fuss. Whether we succeed or not will likely depend on building up a large enough base of support among students and faculty to be an effective lobby on the administration. Gyrich and Hodge will always have the advantage of their last names, family money and status; they automatically get a place at the negotiating table. We’ll have to get there on the strength of our convictions – and, frankly, there aren’t that many of us to start with.” Misty followed Jean reluctantly off the ice. They were far from done, pausing only long enough to rest for a few minutes. Jean was ecstatic to have finally found someone as enthusiastic for this venture as Jean was. Misty was having a blast skating, singing and dancing along to the music as she did so, and she and Jean were fast becoming friends. “When they did this back in ‘68,” Emory continued as Misty and Jean joined them, “they demanded that ESU enroll more African American students, hire more Black faculty, and improve conditions for African American staff, students, and faculty already on campus. Black enrollment increased from two to six percent the following year.” “Numbers haven’t exactly continued to skyrocket since then,” Misty noted. “No. If anything, they’ve stagnated at about eight percent, two decades since the ‘68 movement.” “Somebody has to hold their feet to the fire,” Ororo concluded. “This level of inequity cannot stand.” “I think the student group is a great idea– you should organize it,” Scott added. “We should organize it,” Emory corrected him. Scott looked between Emory and Ororo. “No offense, but– Why me?” “Short answer, I want folks I can trust on board. If this goes the way I want it to, we’re going to get Gyrich’s and Hodge’s attention. Maybe Pensive’s Church of Humanity as well. And we’re going to ruffle their feathers.” Emory grinned. “Good chance this gets messy before it’s all over with. From what I saw of you at the Brand protest, I don’t think you’re afraid to take a little heat for a good cause.” “Good trouble,” Scott considered. “You know it. Interested?” Scott nodded. “Yeah. I’m in.” “If you’re taking volunteers, I’m in too.” Scott glanced behind himself. Ted and Cal had returned from their ice skating break, each with an armload of drinks and snacks, which Ted now offered around the table. It was Cal who had spoken up. “Us too,” Amanda volunteered herself and Meggan. “Anything to shut up those terrible Church of Humanity protests.” “If that’s your opening pitch, you could probably recruit half of campus on the spot,” Jean noted, to all-around laughter in agreement. Scott smiled at Emory’s obvious surprise. While Emory had been quick to float his idea by Scott and Ororo, further support was equal parts welcome and unexpected, and Scott couldn’t help feeling proud of his new circle of friends... even Ted. It wasn’t yet the widespread support they’d need to make this work, but it was a solid start. After the short break for hot chocolates and snacks, Scott headed back out onto the ice at Jean’s insistence. Meanwhile, Amanda and Meggan convinced Ororo to join them and Cal in a stroll through the winter village. “It’s wonderful!” Meggan insisted. “Reminds me of home,” Amanda said. “Very much like a European outdoor holiday market,” Cal agreed. Ororo didn’t take much convincing to lose the ice skates, but she was honestly intrigued by the enthusiasm in their descriptions. Emory assured them he’d catch up with them later. Misty had stopped to listen to Emory’s pitch to Scott and Ororo and was still sipping at her drink instead of rejoining the others on the ice. “You here to make sure I get in my set on the ice,” he kidded her. “Warm me up to handle my Heroes for Hire coaching duties?” “Don’t take this the wrong way, Em, but why involve this ESU crowd in Heroes business?” “You say that like I’m not ESU.” “You’re still Harlem,” she insisted. “You didn’t have a problem involving Ororo,” Emory called her on that logic. “Ororo’s people are Harlem. I don’t know about these other jokers, or where they come from.” Emory rolled his eyes. “It’s not a turf battle, Misty.” “No– but it is about shared understanding, values, loyalty. Do what you gotta do to push ESU to be better while you’re there; if these folks will help you do it, great! All I’m saying is, we have enough problems in Harlem without bringing in more rich white folk who think they’re either here to run things or to play savior.” Emory raised an eyebrow in silent question. “Jean Grey told me Summers was offering to coach the Heroes kid’s hockey team with you – to pay off a bet he made with Ororo.” Emory laughed. “Technically, according to Ororo, ice skating tonight with Jean is the bet pay off. Coaching hockey later is completely voluntary, just like it is for you and me.” “You really don’t see the difference?” “Luke has no problem accepting Rand’s support. I’ve got no problem earning myself an ESU diploma. But at some point, it’s more than just transactions– it’s actual friendships. You’ve got no problem with Colleen Wing. Doesn’t get more rich than Professor ‘Penthouse’ Lee Wing.” “Colleen grew up poor, in a tiny village, in Japan; she’s sharing a dorm room with me, not living at her father’s penthouse or in one of Rand’s Park Ave. high rise buildings– Like Luke, she doesn’t need or want all that fancy stuff.” “She’s not Harlem,” Emory insisted. “She’s Harlem enough,” Misty countered. “Her people are definitely not Harlem,” he tossed her earlier criteria back at her, tongue-in-cheek. “Fine. I like playing Samurai– that what you want to hear? Your pops would be crushed; I traded in nonviolence for Kung Fu.” Emory shook his head. “It’s more than that, and you know it. It’s not all tit-for-tat, not just transactional. It’s more than what she can do for you. You like Col– same as I like Summers; that’s what I want to hear. Stretching out a little is a good thing.” Misty remained skeptical but she had to concede on that point. It had been the luckiest break ever, drawing Colleen as a roommate. Misty hadn’t told anyone that Col was training her as a PI, or that the two of them had plans to put those PI and Kung Fu skills into good use – go into business for themselves after they finished school. But even without all that, Misty would still find Colleen Wing a fascinating and fun friend to have. Despite any outward differences between them, Colleen was good people. Misty stubbornly changed the subject back to Summers. “If you’re counting on this guy to have your back, you’d better be sure he won’t cut and run on you when things get tight.” “No, I don’t think he will,” Emory concluded simply. Emory had talked to his family over the break to bounce his plans off them. He hadn’t really known how they’d react to his plans or to his including Summers or Ororo in them. His parents’ reasoning on the matter had surprised him. They responded with stories about serving with white kids in the Freedom Rides. “Side by side,” his mom had remembered, with a rare fondness from her when it came to remembering those times. “Many of them were well-off white kids too,” his dad added. “They understood the risk and still chose to be there. Sure, some broke under the strain, but some of ours broke too.... Most all of us were kids, and most held the line and took the abuse. No other reason than they felt it was the right thing to do. Had a fire inside their bellies, same as in us, telling them to stand tall....” Emory was as surprised to find his folks more cautious about Ororo than about Scott. “It can be hard for a Black person who is not of America to understand what it means to be Black in America. Whether your friend knows it or not, that’s a big part of what she’s asking when she asks you to show her Harlem....” Emory was already starting to realize that Ororo’s interests were not so much for him, but for the whole package that came with him. An entry point into a whole new world that she wanted to be a part of. He wasn’t so sure about his own place in her world.
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All along Morningside Park, on the edge of ESU’s campus, spring greenhouses had been converted by industrious ESU students to house elaborate holiday light displays, scenic snow-covered vistas, crafts displays, food booths of every possible stripe, or carnival-style games. Ororo greatly enjoyed walking the makeshift marketplace with Amanda, Meggan, and Cal, but Meggan was the most animated of their bunch, alive with child-like wonder. Meggan tended to imprint and follow everything around her like a baby hen, always soaking in the world sponge-like, always happy to be learning something new. In addition to being dorm neighbors, Ororo and Amanda had intersected frequently with one another over the previous semester at ESU. Early on, they’d discovered they shared overlapping interests in natural sciences, often working shifts together at ESU’s Museum of Natural History. And they had spoken often of an experience they both shared: of considering themselves outsiders across multiple societies, and of resulting interests in the study of history and sociology. Meggan was more complicated. At first Ororo had thought her quiet nature and social deficits a result of her status as a foreign exchange student. That was all true, but there was also more. Meggan was learning a new school and a new society’s customs as a student, but she was also learning how to interact with the larger world, nearly from scratch. As a small child, Meggan had had little to no socialization outside of her immediate family, who had traveled Europe and the UK constantly, living among their own extended family and speaking primarily Para-Romani dialects. What she knew of the outside world had largely been filtered through what she saw on television rather than through human interaction. Eventually Meggan’s family had crossed paths with Amanda’s in Bavaria. And when they decided it was time to move on, the teenage Meggan elected to stay behind for a while as part of Amanda’s extended family. The two had been like sisters ever since. Carried away with Amanda’s stories of travels through parts of the world Ororo had never seen – while Meggan skipped happily from booth to booth, finding each one more wondrous and brimming with happy memories than the last – Ororo found the whole winter village utterly charming... until finally they came to an abrupt stop. At the edge of the clearing, as if purposefully relegated there and only begrudgingly given space at the edge of the festivities, was a group from the Church of Humanity. No lights. No greenhouses. Just empty ground and a line of picket signs, their owners left huddling in the cold behind their signs. Most of their signage was devoted to unfavorably contrasting the secular winter village (and its perceived pagan festival history) with the proper religious holiday of their church. Their protests were drowned out by purposefully loud and cheerful holiday music blaring from the brightly lit booths nearby. Cal gave a groan. “They never miss an opportunity to ruin a good thing, do they?” “Ignore them,” Amanda advised. Meggan was staring, big blue eyes suddenly welling with tears. “So much unhappiness. Why?” “They dislike so many different people and things,” Ororo noted quietly, “I honestly don’t know how they keep track of it all.” They turned back to the winter village, Meggan quickly running ahead of them again. “I wish I could dismiss them as easily,” Cal noted, somewhere between envy for Meggan’s blend of innocent goodness mixed with a bit of naivety, and his own sadness. “Fairly sure there’s absolutely nothing about me they don’t find mortally offensive.” Amanda put an arm around his shoulder in solidarity as they kept walking. Ororo learned that Amanda and Cal shared a painful family history as war-torn refugees. Amanda’s Romani family had been trapped in Germany during World War II, while Cal’s family had fled to Europe as Armenian refugees following World War I. “I’m lucky,” Amanda later explained to Ororo (while the two of them watched Meggan challenge Cal to carnival games), “in that the experience pulled my family closer together after the war. It also made us more likely to take in outsiders. Cal had the opposite experience. He doesn’t speak of it much, but I gather his grandparents turned to a very ancient, ultra orthodox religious sect for safety after the purge. His parents were raised in that church, isolated within a cult-like religion that was super strict and not very tolerant of modern life in general. “When they came to America the Church of Humanity took them in, converted them to what passes for their religion. I don’t know the whole story after that, but I know that Ted Robert’s family more or less adopted Cal when his own family threw him out a few years ago.” Ororo nodded. “I imagine his feelings toward the Church of Humanity run painfully deep.”
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Scott was startled awake the following morning well before light. He stifled a curse and fell back into his pillow, catching his breath and waiting for his heartbeat to return to a normal pace. His nightmares had begun moving away from vague but disturbing feelings and images (falling, being trapped, or waking to find himself alone in a strange empty place) to more concrete and more confrontational imagery (fights he’d gotten into at the Home or on the streets, or later altercations with Jack Winters). The most frustrating part was that, while at the mansion, he had started to feel better. The dark cloud he’d been under had lifted. Just being there reminded him of the more recent past, his own sense of purpose, and he’d felt whole instead of damaged... hopeful for the future instead of trapped inside his own head. Scott slid one foot to the floor as he reached for his watch on the study desk beside his bed. In the process his knee hit the desk chair and he cursed bitterly. That wasn’t right. He never left things out of place. It was self-defense, in case he ever needed to find his way blind. Everything stayed in its set place, especially his sleep goggles or a spare set of glasses, always in the top drawer – out of sight – always in arm’s reach when not in his bag or his back pocket. He pulled the drawer open now, to make sure, and breathed a sigh of relief to find his glasses still where they belonged. Either he’d forgotten to push the chair back into place after he’d unpacked – not likely – or Cam had been here while he was out... strange, he hadn’t noticed that before bed. Surely he wouldn’t have slept through Cam’s coming and going, no matter how weird his dreams were getting. Scott sat on the edge of the bed, fastened his watch into place, and turned off the alarm set to wake him. 5:30AM. Close enough. The light wouldn’t catch up with him for a while yet... he got out of bed and dressed to run anyway. He’d asked Ororo over the break, if she still thought about what happened with Shadow King and D’Spayre. She’d looked at him a little funny before conceding: “Sometimes.” But she’d not felt the need to elaborate, and Scott hadn’t known how to inquire further when she didn’t volunteer anything along the lines of his own experience. He guessed that could be reassuring... assuming whatever Ororo remembered didn’t affect her enough for her to want to share it. He remembered Jean’s admonition to him over the break, and the promise he’d made to her, mainly to ease her worrying over him. That seemed to be the pact they’d collectively landed on. If it was bad, they’d tell each other. Scott laced up his sneakers and made an effort to set those troubled thoughts aside. He hoped a good run would clear his head. They had Moira’s new ethics class first thing this morning. That was something to look forward to... and he preferred to avoid a repeat of Jean’s worrying over him first thing this morning. Besides, maybe this time there was no malevolent force to blame... just what was in his own head.
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Scott’s run went long, meaning he barely had time for a shower and a coffee, but he made it in time to take the seat Jean and Ororo had saved him at the front of the lecture auditorium. Meggan nudged Amanda and giggled at his arrival. She waved at them from across the aisle. Scott and Ororo waved back. Scott caught sight of Cal and also Trish Tilby. No Cameron Hodge to be seen; if he was around he was usually with Tilby, but she was sitting behind Amanda today instead. Bonus, Scott thought to himself. No Cameron Hodge, and Scott had made it to his seat without drawing Jean’s attention over his late arrival. Of course, that may have been because she was currently deep in conversation with Ted, off to Ororo’s other side. Scott was ready to call that a draw. He grinned when he heard Jean shush Ted just as Dr. MacTaggert introduced herself to her lecture class. Maybe his morning was looking up after all. After introducing herself, Dr. MacTaggert introduced her lecture series. “After I was asked to speak at the Brand Annex opening ceremony (and there was a fair bit of backlash in reaction to the opening), Dr. Waren asked me if I would be willing to lecture on the topic of Ethics in Emerging Sciences. However, if the specifics of science and research are not to your interests, not to worry. We’ll touch on a little of everything throughout the semester. Science and medicine. Politics and governmental policy-making. Education and basic, everyday, responsible citizenship. “I’d also ask that you submit yourselves and your peers, if interested, to take a turn as guest lecturers. I took on this class because I saw a need to address current events from an ethical perspective, and I’d like to do so from as many different points of view and walks of life as possible – not just you lot all listening to my charming Scottish brogue, top of the mornin’.” The class dissolved into polite laughter before Dr. MacTaggert proceeded into her lecture.
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By the time class let out, Amanda had gotten the scoop from Tilby that Cameron Hodge was out of their ethics class. Apparently he’d changed majors to mass communications. Seemed his mother, especially, had wanted him to go into accounting; his father was allowing the move so long as he added a poli-sci minor. Henry Peter Gyrich had likewise given up the class by swapping out his poli-sci major for a minor; Gyrich was otherwise sticking with his statistics curriculum. Tilby unhappily remained because, as she reminded Amanda – with an affectation of martyrdom – ethics was still required for journalism majors. “It should be required for everyone,” Meggan insisted. No one argued that point, especially in light of Cameron Hodge and Henry Peter Gyrich. “Don’t forget,” Jean insisted, “hockey practice this afternoon!”, making Scott and Ororo both laugh at her newfound enthusiasm for the sport. Jean had really hit it off with Misty Knight and couldn’t wait for the combination of another visit with more ice skating. Ororo invited Amanda, Meggan, and Cal to join them, but they declined citing afternoon classes. “Then it will be up to Ro to tell me where you all disappeared to to avoid skating yesterday,” Jean teased. “Oh, Scott! Misty told me she was learning Kung Fu.” “Way to bury the lead behind ice skating,” he retorted playfully. Scott had expressed interest in furthering his martial arts training, but thus far had only learned of children’s classes available through Heroes for Hire, much like their youth hockey teams. Jean only smirked back at him, clearly implying that he had missed out, before she resumed chatting with Ororo. Scott walked along with them in route to their psych. lecture, again feeling a bit of regret that he hadn’t been able to fit that one into his schedule. About halfway there, during a lull in the conversation, he noted a difference in Jean’s chattiness. No Ted. “He dropped it this semester,” Jean confirmed when Scott asked if Ted was still going to psych. class. “But I thought that was his area of interest.” “I don’t think he really wanted to drop it,” she explained with a frown. “Other classes were just more demanding than he expected.” She didn’t have to mention that his research commitment hadn’t been on the chopping block... making Scott wonder anew at Ted’s interest in Jean. Was it possible he was more interested in having a brilliant lab partner than pursuing a romantic interest? Or was he covering for one intent with the other? After that, Jean redirected her and Ororo’s conversation back to yesterday’s adventure with the winter village. “Meggan was really excited for it, but I think she’d follow you and Amanda anywhere.” “Some may find that degree of cloy innocence alluring; it is not a quality I find attractive.” Jean looked shocked for an instant; then reacted to Ororo’s bluntness by almost choking on the sip of coffee she’d just taken and struggling not to giggle as she caught her breath. “I only meant she seemed a bit enamored, in a hero-worship sort of way.” Jean had seen that quality from Meggan toward both Ororo and Amanda, and at times toward herself and Scott too. It shocked her a bit when Ororo jumped straight to romantic interest. Scott chuckled; he hadn’t seen that angle either until Ororo pointed it out... but in retrospect. Yes, Meggan was one of those people who seemed to have unabashed childlike enthusiasm for everything around her... but she was most definitely enamored with Ororo. And Jean still managed to be shocked when Ororo skipped straight past the social norms they tended to take for granted. But Ororo’s unique intuition also managed to pick up a lot of undercurrents that Jean in her own slightly sheltered innocence or Scott in his pragmatic tunnel vision tended to not always see. They had reached the triple J. building, and Scott peeled off to get to his shift at the radio station while Jean and Ororo continued on across the quad. As Scott walked up the steps he noticed Tilby and Cam, in conversation off to one side. It didn’t surprise him that neither of them looked particularly happy, but that did worry him. He picked up his pace and jogged the last few steps up to the front doors.
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“Well, what did you think of the ethics class?” Cam challenged with a barely disguised sneer. “You know the class is trite and nearly useless,” Tilby responded, “but its instructor is a person of interest.” Tilby also had to admit the company was nicer. While she put up with Cam, she had no stomach for Peter Gyrich, and even less use for Mike Pensive. Besides, she’d had more than her fill of Hodge, Gyrich, and the rest of the country club set over the holidays. She’d been ready to get back to school and her journalism work. Her holiday breaks were always like that, it seemed. Too many meaningless parties and appearances for the sake of making an appearance. Always jumping through hoops to keep up with her father’s side of the family. Never enough time to just sit quietly with her mother or visit with her grandparents. “So. You think you can dig up dirt, then?” Tilby rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not your and Gyrich’s personal oppo machine.” “How many times do I have to remind you, you want the same scoop we do.” He was right about that, and he knew it. Tilby had an instinct for stories... and she knew there was one here. “You don’t have to like our motivations, but our interests align, or perhaps our enemies.” Tilby shook her head tiredly. “You have to make everything personal, Cam.” She could tell when she was being used, and that fact grated on her, more all the time. “You just remember, those people are not your friends! Those foreigners, and the Westchester rejects with their loser friends. You remember, I’m the one who helped you when you needed help.” “How could I possibly forget, Cam?” “You could try showing some gratitude. You’re writing for the Excelsior now, after all, not the NYC College Examiner. That complaint could easily have gotten you tossed out.” Tilby knew he wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t angry about it anymore. Her folks had been out of line; what they said to Amanda had been terrible. And Cam had been right there in the aftermath, ready to insist she go to war over it rather than simply apologize on their behalf and ask Amanda to let it go.... Amanda would have taken an apology. Cam was the one who collected enemies like normal people collected souvenirs. Tilby didn’t feel like re-litigating that episode; she changed the subject back to the present. “I’m getting you a story– a real story. Brand Corp. isn’t investing a small fortune in ESU just for the honor of underwriting the Human Genome Project, and they’ll expect more in return for their efforts than good publicity.” And Moira MacTaggert wasn’t here to sit on the sidelines with an ethics lecture class. And way too many former scientists from Brand Corp. just happened to be involved in the Annex, from Miles Waren to Karl Lykos, to the Westchester connection – Jean Grey was thick as thieves with Hank McCoy, who traced all the way back to Ralph Roberts and to Maddicks himself. Tilby didn’t believe in one coincidence when it came to Brand and Roxxon, much less a whole hatful.
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Back at the Heroes for Hire home offices, Scott set a bag full of hockey equipment down with a thud on the lobby floor. Between this morning’s extra long run and several hours of afternoon hockey, he was feeling sore and generally exhausted. Luke Cage only scoffed at him as he easily deposited two more bags alongside Scott’s, but he also invited Scott back for later in the week. Luke had been at this long enough to know, it was rare to find somebody who was good with kids and had enough patience and attention to detail to successfully corral a bunch of rambunctious kids over extended practice sessions and actually accomplish something with them. Scott grinned and gave a nod in answer. Emory slapped his back. “You’re in real trouble now, Summers,” he joked of Luke’s low key approval. Scott’s attention was drawn to a flyer on the lobby bulletin board, just as he remembered something Jean had said earlier. “Hey, any chance I could work out an exchange?” Scott motioned toward the flyer. It was a sign up sheet offering Kung Fu for kids’ self-defense... touting its value as a positive influence to keep neighborhood kids free of bullies, out of gangs, and away from the bad influences of street violence or drug use. “Some adult classes for myself in return for helping teach some of the kids’ ones?” Luke shook his head. “Not my department.” He motioned to Colleen Wing who, along with Misty, had taken seats on one of the comfortable lobby sofas. Scott and Jean had briefly met Colleen Wing when they’d arrived to pick up sports equipment a few hours ago. She’d been here watching the Heroes shop while the rest of them were gone. Luke sat down alongside them now. “Martial arts is Colleen’s thing. Rand’s too, I guess, but he’s not exactly what we call–” “Reliable?” Misty offered. “Predictable,” Colleen said. “Normal.” Luke concluded. They all laughed. “This the same dude?” Colleen asked Misty, glancing at Scott. Misty nodded. “Emory’s friend.” Scott remembered what Ororo had said a while back about his copy of The Art of War having gotten some attention around here. Colleen looked him over appreciatively (for long enough to make Jean scowl), before she decided, “I’m handing this one off to Rand–” she paused. “Or Shang-Chi.” Luke scoffed louder this time, slapping his knee in an over-the-top expression of mirth. Scott glanced at Emory for translation. “What am I missing?” Emory gave a shrug. “Shang-Chi is something of a martial arts wunderkind, a runaway Rand came across in his travels.” “He teaches kids– the little, little kids,” Luke added to more laughter. His laughter abruptly tapered off when the front door opened. It was well after regular business hours by now and Luke shifted in his seat to see who was arriving. “Might we have a problem here?” Ororo asked Misty. “Nope. That’s just our landlord.” Ororo did a double take. She had met Danny Rand once previously; on that occasion he’d looked like any other businessman, present for the ribbon-cutting ceremony to mark Rand Enterprises’ opening of Lasker Rink. Today he looked nothing like an ordinary businessman. “And Summers’ prospective martial arts instructor,” Colleen added. “Which one is which?” Jean murmured. The older and taller of the two resembled a hung over college kid, slouching in an oversized sweatshirt with its hood pulled up over a disheveled mop of blonde hair. He stayed by the door while Colleen called the boy over and explained that Scott was looking to learn Kung Fu. The boy, by contrast, was neatly dressed with good posture, but looked too young to start high school, much less teach anything. He looked Scott over for what seemed like several minutes, even longer than Colleen had. “I could teach you Kung Fu,” he decided, “but what you desperately need is Tai Chi. I’ve rarely seen an aura in such a state of turmoil.” Scott looked between Emory and Luke again, half expecting the laughter at his expense to start up once more. Emory only gave a shrug. “I know it sounds like a bunch of mystic mumbo jumbo–” Luke concluded, “But he’s always right about your aura, chi, life force– whatever he wants to call it.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t get all that,” Jean interrupted pointedly, looking across the room at Rand, who was still skulking around in the shadows by the door. “I was distracted by the rich guy turning his line of dojos over to child management– no offense,” she added toward Shang-Chi. If the truth was told, Jean was more likely getting her hackles up over Scott’s being told he was somehow deficient for training. “None taken,” the boy answered, “and looks can be deceiving” he replied calmly. Finally Rand spoke. “Shang-Chi was trained from birth; he is as deadly as any assassin, despite his tender age.” Jean looked between Ororo and Scott. Ro seemed sold on this crazy idea; Scott looked more skeptical, but was considering it. Luke stood. “Let’s show him the push thing.” “Show him....?” Colleen questioned. “He means Push Hands,” Shang-Chi explained. “That’s what I said,” Luke insisted, grinning. He got down low, into an almost sumo-like stance, facing Shang-Chi. Shang-Chi gave a slight bow and went through an elaborate series of flowing stances before settling into a stance that nearly mirrored Luke’s. Then Luke charged, his sudden fierceness matched by a startling battle cry. He got within inches of Shang-Chi’s outstretched hands before he was brought to a stop, then stood still, as if straining to push himself forward against an invisible barrier for several moments. “Say when,” the kid challenged. Finally, Luke relented. “That’s all I got.” Shang-Chi stepped aside and Luke ran forward like a charging bull through a red flag, the matador having harmlessly moved aside. Luke straightened and stood still, hands on hips, catching his breath and shaking his head wordlessly. “Woah.” Scott, otherwise speechless, sputtered, “You have to teach me that.” Shang-Chi just stared at him, long enough for Scott to realize he was possibly being rude, even though that was exactly the opposite of what he intended. “I mean, could you teach me? I mean, I’d like to learn from you, if you’re willing to teach me.” The silence held. “What? Am I supposed to call him ‘Master’ or something like that?” he asked Colleen. “That’s how they do it in old Kung Fu films.” Jean snickered an instant before Shang-Chi burst out laughing. “Na, I’m just messing with you now– I’ll teach you.” Then Emory, Luke, Misty, and Colleen were all laughing again. Rand chose that moment to cross the room, his sudden movement quieting the laughter. He moved, deliberately, like a stalking cat, toward Jean – enough so to make Scott and Ororo each edge a little closer to her side – before he came to a stop and calmly lowered his hood to study her. “You have a power whose origin I cannot place, Jean Grey. It is something almost– otherworldly. Certainly, you wield a power not of this realm.” His statement shook her into silence. Luckily, no one else seemed to know what to make of it either. “Well, hell, why don’t ya tell us something we don’t already know?!” The awkward silence held for another beat before Scott purposefully grinned, laughing it off, and Jean tossed him a grateful smile. Normal conversation resumed after that. But neither Scott nor Ororo were quick to relax their guard toward Daniel Rand after that odd exchange.