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Yet Another Bloodied Return
Topic Started: Nov 5 2008, 12:05 AM (562 Views)
Cyclops
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
Time: Coming on Evening
Day: Same day as Overheated, Five Hours Later




The flight was five hours, five hours to cross half the world. This was not a passenger leisure flight, this was not a multistopped continent hop. This was a supersonic experimental military jet with enhancements and modifications culled from the subconscious of some of the world's greatest aerodynamic engineers, as determined by the needs and tactics devised by the superheroes who used it for their main mode of transport, particularly the selfishly proprietary mutant who was her main pilot and who currently had been forced to relinquish her to one of the only other two pilots he allowed to helm her by the injuries that made it necessary to keep him in a semi-sedated state in the back of the passenger compartment.

Scott had been sedated, not so much because of the pain or because he was near death. No, an emergency iv of the Angel's healing blood had taken him from critically injured to serious. If he allowed the transfusion to continue for as long as it should, he would quickly be on his feet with almost no scaring to show for the vicious attack made by the young dinosaurian, but that was not what was going to happen, which was one of the reasons the others had chosen to knock their wounded leader out. Scott was notoriously a bad patient. He tended to try to move too soon, give orders from his bedside, demand reports even when too weak to comprehend them. It wasn't because he wanted to be difficult, and not because he didn't trust things to be done to his satisfaction if he wasn't around, because his team knew him and his ways enough to do things as he would want them done when he was out of commission for whatever reason.

But Scott wanted things in his control for the same reason that he would ask that the transfusion of Angel's healing blood be stopped as soon as possible, even if he wasn't fully recovered. Being infirm reminded him too much of waking up from a year of nothingness with his body weak from disuse, and his mind confused from injury. He'd always tried, since that time, to keep both in shape now, even when his knee was shattered by Mystique's crowbar, so that he would never have that sensation of helplessness again. Christopher Summers's eldest boy was not as complicated as he seemed to those who could only see the mass of complexes and rigid regulations that made up his external public presence. Inside, he was simply a man trying to live up tot he sacrifice his parents had made in their burning plane, a man who desperately wanted to be worth the legacy left him by his mentor. The pain of injury would lead him to analyze how to prevent this from happening, to make him better than he was before.

He wanted the world to be better and he was more than will to give everything he was to make it so, and so, perhaps, sometimes, it was necessary to force him to except the help of others. So, he was sedated, drifting in and out of consciousness, his eyes bandaged as his facial wounds made it impossible at the moment to wear his visor.

The Blackbird cut a path of urgency through the sky, pushing its ceiling to maximum height so as not to interfere with commercial and civilian traffic, broadcasting its SHIELD authorized emergency access permissions on all frequencies, especially when entering American Airspace off the coast of New York, dropping its subsonic speed and making its approach for the Vertical Landing into the underground hangar that rested securely beneath the school's basketball court. The alarm had sounded as the hatch prepared for opening, scattering a pick up game some of the students had been holding in the last fading moments of sunlight, and they watched as their teachers, their guardians, their heroes landed the magnificent black craft with Warren's innate piloting skill proving why he was one of the only men that Scott allowed to pilot his baby.

As the Blackbird's engines shut down and the entry hatch slid open, Scott, as if aware that his plane was no longer in flight, stirred, not opening his eyes, trained to show caution always. Jean would know he was awake, perhaps Warren would as well, the pair knowing Scott better than anyone, even before he turned his head, blind and questioning. "Sit rep..." he murmured, "Phoenix, someone, report."
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Jean
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Telepathy, Telekinesis
JP between Scott and Jean



Five hours seemed like an eternity as she sat on the side of Scott’s cot. After the monitors were hooked up and machines beeped to the sound of Scott’s heart, she started cleaning up the blood; something she felt she’d done a lot of over the last years.

“You know, this is beginning to become a habit with you,” she said softly as she cleaned off his face as best as she could, taping his eyelids down before she started the bandaging. She ignored the small pouch of Warren’s blood draining into her own arm and focused on Scott. But she was glad that the pounding migraine had already subsided, Warren’s healing blood repairing the damage had done to her mind, at least physically; deep within her thoughts, she began to wonder about the futility of it all.

It didn’t matter that Scott drifted in and out of consciousness, missing half of what she said; he seemed to simply know that she was there and she felt the calm in him. “Maybe we should give in to the inevitable and move next door to the infirmary,” she teased, saying the same thing when he was going through rehab for his shattered knee.

He missed most of what she said, as she suspected, but it wasn't as important what she said, as it was that she was talking to him. Scott, feeling the tape on his eyelids, knew she was caring for him as she best knew how, and he was comforted by it. Though one side of his face was bandaged, the visible side of his mouth quirked upwards in the grin he reserved for her alone, "That's no place to raise our children," he whispered, his words slurred by the hampered movement of his mouth, and jaw. He squeezed her hand, putting enough strength in the grasp for her to know that he was going to be ok.

She returned the comforting pressure of his fingers. “Maybe not but you know me, always planning ahead.” She pulled the blanket higher over his bare chest, mindful of his temporary sutures; the blood-soaked remains of his uniform tossed thoughtlessly to one side. She lifted one corner of the bandages and eyed the progress Warren’s blood was making on the wounds.

People came in and out of the med bay, checking on Scott’s progress and expressing their best wishes.

:: The Afghan girl decided to come back with us :: She thought to Scott, not sure who might walk in at any moment. :: Being in America is going to be a culture shock. Ari seems to have made a good impression on her, perhaps that’ll help. ::

Scott nodded, at her report and said, "Good... I'll put in a call to SHIELD... have them clean her village out of threats, rebuild the damage Magneto caused..." He drifted as the sedation tried to suck him back into unconsciousness, and then he seemed to rouse himself, "You're ok? Anyone hurt but your incompetent husband?"

“Do I have an incompetent husband? Did I get married again and didn’t notice? Or maybe,” she gently kissed his forehead, “that’s delirium from blood loss talking? Making you confuse the word incompetent with amazing.” Leaning over him, she formed a semi-private space between them. “I think I should just keep them switched,” she said softly and gently squeezed his hand, “to cut down on confusion for you. Yes, my very incompetent husband was the only one of us injured. But fortunately, he’ll bounce back soon.”

Suddenly she felt the tale-tell slow of momentum and whine of the engines that heralded their landing. “And, I believe, Warren sent a message ahead to have Josh Foley ready for our arrival. You’ll be as good as new.” She cocked an eyebrow at him, even though he couldn’t see her, “You aren’t going to give him a hard time, are you?” She said in mock seriousness. “Working on you is going to make him nervous enough.”

As Scott couldn’t walk to the infirmary, Jean began securing him to the stretcher. :: If you’re very good and don’t fuss too much, I’ll get you a lollipop when he’s done. ::

Scott was already drifting off again as he murmured, "I never give people hard times... jus' try to make them better..." He smiled a little at her mental teasing, "Grape lollipops are my favorite." He felt her tighten the straps around him and he said, "Good work out there, Jeannie... we'll talk about... you going one on one with... with Magneto later..." And then, his breathing settled into a softer deeper cadence as he fell into sleep.

In truth, she could’ve carried him to the infirmary without any trouble, but she waited for Warren and the others. They were a team, in the good times and when one of them was hurt. Scott was her husband but she was also conscious that he was their friend and leader as well, loved by them in their own way. As they walked him through the corridor to the infirmary, she pushed away the morbid observation of how much they resembled pall-bearers.
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Logan
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The only thing one might notice about Logan strolling down the hallway was that he seemed in a very foul mood. Well, fouler than usual. The school's resident security specialist always seemed to have a scowl on his face to some. Logan didn't mind being feared by the large majority of the student body. Self defense was required, but he liked to keep his advanced classes to those who had the balls to cope with being taught by someone they were afraid of just to get stronger. You never knew where that was going to come from, which student would surprise you and sign up because they understood how vital it was that they know how to survive.

His current intimidating manner had nothing to do with his attempt to make the student body shit themselves in his presence. No, this was good old fashioned personal problems, a reason for scowling Logan was now determined not to have again. He understood why it had ended with Mina, really. After all, he knew he was not exactly the best role model. Fact was that Logan was not always good with kids. He just never understood them. In fact, it was a wonder that he got along with them as well as he did, considering that he had no memories of childhood. Oh and he smoked. And he drank. A lot. Enough to kill some men. Didn't even get drunk when he did that. He had tried to make it work, he really had. For a moment, he thought he had something, thought that maybe he could have a slightly normal thing in his otherwise royally fucked up life.

She was gone now though, and had made it evident that he shouldn't carry a torch for her. She had taken care of her daughter, of course. She was out looking for Xavier and that was not a place to leave her. She was staying with someone else, family. She had been unclear about exactly what kind of clue it was or where she was going, which made Logan think it was a very unlikely place to look. Like all the first students though Xavier had changed their life completely, gave them hope and they believed he was alive. Logan did too. He had been in SHIELD for a long time and there were two rules Fury lived by when it came to meta humans and death. The more powerful they are, the less likely they will stay dead, and if there's no body they are still alive. Xavier was the most powerful telepath in the world. Period. There was him, and then there was other people. He was nice about it, using his powers to help people, not invading their minds without permission, making vague mental suggestions. Logan had read that were he to ever use the full extent of his telepathy the possibilities were unknown. He fell right into the definition of people you should not, for any reasons, assume are dead. Didn't change that he probably wasn't where Mina was looking.

He walked down to the arriving Jet to see the injured Cyclops and Jean. His hearing picked up the tail end of their conversation.

"If by discuss you mean give red an official medal of ass-kickery," Logan said as he helped them carry Scott to the infirmary. He was seriously impressed that Jean had gone head to head with Magneto. Logan knew that the man was more than powerful. He was powerful, smart, tenacious, and he wielded his power with almost perfect control, "Seriously Jean, I'm impressed," he said. Logan didn't pay compliments often, but he felt this one was earned. After they had set him on the bed, Logan addressed the question that was likely on their minds. He generally didn't greet incoming teams in person, even if someone was injured. Oh, he'd make his way down to the infirmary, but he didn't meet them at the plane.

"Look, I know there's a mission to discuss, but we've got some issues here," he said, "Mina's got a lead on the professor and has decided to go look for him. We're currently without a headmaster, or headmistress."
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Elixir
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You know what I hate the most about math? All the rules. Everything has to be a certain way. You get one lousy number wrong and suddenly your answer can be so completely different by the end of a problem that you're stuck feeling like one of those monkeys that flunked out of writing Shakespeare.

Josh glared at the large gray smudge leering back up at him from the paper, mocking him and his tenuous grasp on the laws of arithmetic. Lip curling in a frustrated growl, he flipped his pencil around and began scrubbing at the already worn spot on the page with a half-worn erasure.

This crap has made me so stupid I'm making comparisons that don't even make sense? What does Shakespeare have to do with math? Gah... hate it hate it hate it hate it hate it hate it hate it hate it...

The rip of torn paper distracted him from his monotonous mental rant as the gray material was forcefully ripped in two by the constant erasure, exposing the wood of his desk. The dark surface peeked from the hole as if it were outright laughing at Josh's tribulations and caused the golden mutant's look of surprise to transmute into a furious stare. “Gah,” he cried out, slamming his math book shut before throwing it over his shoulder, content with only hearing it thud on what he guessed was the wall opposite of him before landing on the ground. He didn't bother to look; he didn't care enough. Instead, he threw himself against the back of his chair in an effort to propel the piece of furniture on its hind legs as he ran his golden palms over his face.

Can I cry? Nobody's in here right now. Would it be too much if I cried? I'm sure it's not the first time math has made a sixteen year-old guy cry. I think I'm entitled to do it at least once over math. This is painful. I basically get abandoned here... my family would hate me if they remembered the truth, but none of this hurts near as much as high-school trig. Seriously... the same problem for forty minutes and no matter how many times I rework it, I make one little mistake somewhere. I know what this is... this is the world's attempt to break every teen's spirit by giving them impossible things like this to do. I'm a mutant... isn't that enough?

Suddenly his pocket began to vibrate, causing Josh to fall back on all fours in his seat as he scrambled for his phone. Pulling it out, he peered into the screen covering the top half of the piece of hardware – '1 new message'. His brow furrowed in curiosity as he stared at the words on the small screen, 'Mr. Foley. Please report to the Institute's Infirmary'.

What? Do they have to do some blood tests on me all of a sudden? Like checking for mutantey stuff? I hope there's no more needles. I hate needles and I got poked more times in the first week here than I ever have in my entire life. Josh finally gave the abused math book laying on his floor a look, still... whatever it is, it has to be better than this. Torturous needle-prodding wins.


With the correct ends of a stethoscope jammed into his ears, Josh was tapping quietly on the amplifier to see how well he could hear the gentle thump of flesh against steel, pausing between taps to determine if he could make out any sound when he merely rubbed a finger across the disk. Satisfied with the results, he began to whistle some random bit of tune as he held it close to his mouth and slowly began backing it away, then bringing it closer again. He was so wrapped up in his little experiment that the sound of the doors being thrown open took him by complete surprise. Quickly pulling the earpieces out, he laid the instrument down as he whipped around to see who it was coming in.

It was more than a little surprising to see more than a few of the Institute's top faculty in one place. Mr. Logan, Mrs. Grey, Mr. Starsmore, Mr. Logan...

Am I in trouble?

Then he noticed Mr. Summers' bloodied face. “Hey... what happened?”
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Warren Worthington
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“Ass kickery?” Warren questioned with a raised eyebrow and a smirk as he came down the ramp in time to hear Logan’s words. The phrase sounded a little strange coming from the feral. Warren walked up next to Jean to help with Scott, squeezing her shoulder lightly as he did so, knowing that the fight and the injury to her husband were probably taxing but also that she was strong... far stronger than maybe any of them realised and while Magneto was limited to magnetism, there was very little that could hold the red head back.

Turning back towards the plane, he focused on Kurt, Ari and the Afghan girl. “Ari, Kurt, could you bring our newest recruit to the Infirmary, please? Get one of the female staff to give her a thorough check up and then we can see about settling her in properly afterwards. And Ari... get yourself checked out as well.”

As they walked towards the infirmary Logan explained why he had come down to meet them. “She just took off?” He asked, frowning. However urgent the lead might be, it seemed more than a little irresponsible of Mina to simply take off, especially as the majority of the senior X-Men were on a mission at the time. This wasn’t really the news any of them needed after an unsettling mission.

At the moment, he couldn’t really think of anyone who could take over; Scott’s interpersonal skills combined with ShadowX made him a bad choice, the latter being the same for Jean. Hank was busy with the Infirmary, Warren himself had enough to juggle and Logan was... Logan. Mina had really left them with a difficult position.

“Once Scott’s been looked after, we can hold a meeting to discuss what to do now.” Warren suggested as the doors to the Infirmary opened. “We still have a new student to sort out as well.” He reminded them as their sudden entry caused one of the occupants of the Infirmary, a young golden skinned student to spin around suddenly, questioning what was going on.

“We had a little run in with the Brotherhood on a mission, Josh.” Warren explained, moving to Scott’s side. The X-Men’s leader was sleeping at this point, sedated, which was probably for the best considering his stubborn tendency to try and take control over every situation.

Now that they had stopped the bleeding and transfused some of his own blood into Scott, Warren wasn’t too worried about the injuries, having already ascertained that they didn’t go down to the bone or vital organs. He would still rather they were sorted sooner rather than later, to spare Scott anymore pain and ensure his sight wasn’t damaged. It wasn’t, however, really his place to order Josh around. That he would have to leave to Hank or Jean.

Reaching for a stool, Warren pulled it up alongside Scott’s bed, before he extended a hand to Jean, taking hold of one of hers and tugging her gently towards the seat. “Sit. And don’t think about pulling a Scott with me, Red.” He commanded with a grin.
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Dust
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The plane journey had been a little intense at the easiest for Sooraya. When waking up in mid flight, forgetting where she was, she had nearly started screaming about kidnap till she remembered just in time where she was. After that she had spent the entire journey gazing out in wonder over the view from the window that she could just see from where she had been seated. It had been majestic for the girl who hadn't even travelled on a train before, let alone a plane. Also on the plane ride, a lot had been explained to her. However, when the plane started to land, she had dug her nails into the seats arm-rests, not realising that it wasn't crashing into the ground like in that Hollywood movie that she had seen on the projector in the middle of the town center.

Being asked to go to the infirmary, Sooraya had struggled a little with understanding what that was. However, she guessed it was where they were taking Mr Summers so she had followed them to the place, a few steps behind, being lead by Ms Ari, who seemed nice. A lot nicer than some people that she had met that day. It certainly was different from home. For one, the air tasted different, cooler, it was definitely that. It also felt that she was slightly out of sync, like the day had been fast forwarded while she had been sleeping. If she had known the word for it, Sooraya would of guessed it at a form of jet-lag. However, the odd feeling that she had been feeling ever since she had been stopped in her sand-form had now gone.

Looking around the corridor that she was walking down, Sooraya was a little in awe at some of the things. It wasn't like she had been living in the middle ages, yet these things seemed different, even the floor she walked on seemed new. As she followed the winged man Mr Worthington the Summers and some others, plus a hirsute man who they had met at when they had disembarked the plane, she stopped behind the door briefly, before entering. It all looked so clean, fresh, rich, it was a little overwhelming.

In front of her as she entered, she saw the most percuiliar sight. There seemed to be a teenager, around her age, yet his skin was the most golden tone. However, after meeting a blue furry demon-like creature earlier and the afore-mentioned Angel, the afghan girl took no major reaction other than one of slight curiostity as she looked at him from a distance. Moving to an aside chair, she sat down watching as the others entered.

"Will Mr Summers be fine?" she asked outloud, worried over the man who led those that saved her villages health. If something bad happened to him, she would be overwhelmed with guilt, for not being strong enough to fight Mr Erik and his followers off herself.
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Chamber(Old)
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Psionic Biokinesis / Telepathy
::Little run-in? Yeah.:: Chamber repeated wearily, slumping into a chair and dragging a palm across his features. Mentally noting Josh’s presence, his thoughts cast back a couple of months, back when the golden-skinned kid had been the one in the infirmary bed and Scott had been the one trying to explain the details. Funny how things turned out…except somehow, it wasn’t funny in the slightest.

Sooraya’s concern seemed a stark contrast to what they had witnessed on a television screen forty-eight hours ago. What had transpired since had blurred at the edges, rolling together into one very long sequence of events that didn’t quite fill in all the hours that had disappeared to the excursion.

::He’ll be fine, luv,:: he replied, briefly wondering what she thought of having a telepathic voice injected into her head. Most people reacted in alarm at first; surprisingly, she hadn’t even commented or completely freaked out or called him some sort of monstrosity, despite the fact he hadn’t re-covered the undulating mass of energy boiling away where his chest was supposed to be. Not a single comment. Strange. Perhaps she was simply being polite-- coming from England, where practically everyone had a mouth on them and spoke their mind before their brains could catch up with their voice, Jono often found the opposite unusual. There was more of that in the States as well- people keeping their opinions to themselves, that was…hospitality almost exploded out of their ears at times. The biokinetic wasn’t exactly sure which he preferred…being abused by raw British attitude, or having everyone polite and hiding what they really thought of you behind the sparkly white sheen of a well-practiced smile. Mind you, there was even less of that to go around when you were a mutant, so it was all relative.

It wasn’t really necessary for him to be in the Infirmary, but to be perfectly honest he didn’t particularly feel like separating from his team before they had been debriefed, and certainly not before he knew they were all ok. Christ, had anything serious happened he would’ve marched straight into the Brotherhood HQ and throttled Magneto himself. If he knew where the damn place was… Regardless, what could the wanker really do to him?

The headmistress thing poked at his mind; the Brit wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Things here seemed constantly volatile, rollercoaster riding from one day to the next; it was almost a given that people came and went, that they would have psychotic villains to butt heads with, and that someone somewhere would have some sort of dramatic announcement to make. The three givens of Xavier’s Institute: death, taxes, and a crazy situation for every day of the week.

::She mention what sort of lead she has? Or where she was headed?:: Chamber shot at Logan, since no one had asked.
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Ari Boyd
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[From Overheated]

While the five hour ride to Afghanistan had felt like ages, the five hours back felt even longer. There was a certain quiet on board that wasn't going to go anywhere until Scott was safely inside the mansion's infirmary. The brunette checked on the couple a few times, but mostly she gave them privacy. If something happened, Jean would let them all know.

She made sure to sit next to Sooraya, just in case the young woman had any questions, and there would certainly be many once she got over the initial shock of everything that had just transpired. Unlike the trip to the middle east, Ari didn't nap this time. She needed to be alert. Just in case.

Finally, the jet was landed and Ari unbuckled from her seat, following closely beside Scott's stretcher. Logan had greeted them, which was slightly odd, since he normally didn't do that. His words however, were slightly surprising and Ari's eyebrows raised, her heart giving a leap within her chest. "Really, that's kind of good news, right?" she asked no one in particular, realizing that losing a headmistress wasn't great, but there was a reason for it. She would miss Mina, but the reason for her leaving was more gripping. Ari had always held out hope that the Professor was alive. She just...didn't feel like he was gone. And his sudden disappearance, with no trace of where he'd gone, were too surrounded by mystery for her to believe he was simply dead. Like Logan, she also held the belief that 'no body' meant there was still hope.

Warren issued out a simple order and Ari gave a short nod, "You got it. I'll take her right now..." Ari's eyebrow quirked, a small smile on her lips, "Thanks for the concern, but really War, I'm alright. Sand in your butt isn't really an injury, it's just annoying," she said, a small attempt at humor. She might be achy and tired, but it was nothing a nice hot shower and some proper rest wouldn't take care of. Scott and Jean had definitely come off the worst, and along with Sooraya, they were the first priority.

She nodded as he mentioned they would hold a meeting after Scott was taken care of, "We'll be back soon." Ari smiled at Josh as they entered the infirmary, suddenly extremely glad of his powers. "Hey Josh, ready to work?" she teased, clapping his shoulder. She lingered for a moment while Jono asked Logan more in-depth about Mina's sudden disappearance and then she moved toward Dust, "Sooraya, would you come with me? It's just down the hall and it'll just be a quick check to make sure you're alright."

With a poignant look toward Jean, she tapped her temple, "Let me know if anything changes." With that, she beckoned to Sooraya to follow.

*****

True to her word, the check up had gone quickly enough and soon Ari was leading Sooraya back to the infirmary. "We'll get to setting you up with a room shortly. You don't have anything to worry about, okay? Your home will be just fine while you're here," she said.

Peeking her head back into the infirmary, she reported, "Everything's checked out. Sooraya's in tip-top shape, if not a bit exhausted from our little 'run-in' with Magneto." Still leather-clad, Ari took a seat, "Feeling better, Scott?"
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Elixir
Unregistered

“We had a little run in with the Brotherhood on a mission, Josh.”

The Brotherhood. He'd seen some of them not too long ago, sauntering through the gates of the Institute as if they owned the place, or at least been long-time friends of the owner. The only one he really knew specifically was Magneto... the leader of some form of mutant terrorist group for years, apparently. Josh really didn't know too much about him, to be honest. While his mom and dad could spout hours of hate-filled rhetoric about Magneto and all mutants in general, Josh had been too busy drawing, skateboarding, playing video games... generally being a kid. Still... you had to be living under a rock on the moon to not know who the Brotherhood or Magneto was.

Miss Boyd walked in with what Josh assumed was a girl under all those robes and that mask. Okay... new girl they picked up on their trip. Has to be. I would've noticed someone dressed like that running around the place. Glass clapped him on the shoulder, "Hey Josh, ready to work," she said with a playful tone in her voice that was lost upon the golden mutant. “Um... what,” he asked in response, giving her a slightly worried look, but her smile eased his mind enough to pick up on her teasing. Giving her a weak smile in response, “Uh... yeah. Mr Summers looks kinda bad. Is it bad?”

He slipped past the strange girl he'd met, offering her a muttered apology as he made his way toward Scott, his eyes bouncing from Angel to Jean – extremely careful to avoid even looking in Chamber's direction – then looking back to Scott, as he placed a hand on his forehead, “Ok... I dunno what I'm doing at all. What happened to him?”
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Jean
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Telepathy, Telekinesis
She should’ve done more… could’ve done more but… she held back and Scott was the one who paid. As much as she bantered with him and tried to ease his pain, the fact the she was responsible bore down on her.

"If by discuss you mean give red an official medal of ass-kickery," Logan said as he helped them carry Scott to the infirmary. "Seriously Jean, I'm impressed," he said.

Logan’s voice at her back was a surprise, as was the man himself. Rumors clung to him thicker than the smell of cigars: he was a ninja, he was a samurai, he owned a bar in Asian and hobnobbed with crimelords, he fought the Nazis in WW2, he had a higher government clearance than the President, he was the oldest man in the world, and he’s forgotten more about fighting than any other person could ever know. Whatever the truth was about the man they’d been suspicious of at first but then accepted as part of their family, she’d come to respect him as one of the most determined and ferocious fighters she’d ever seen. If Death ever came for Logan, it would have to be as the man slept; otherwise there’d be a hell of a fight.

“Thanks, Logan,” she said, offering him a weak smile; she appreciated him comments but it was the best she could manage at the moment. “I only wish I’d been a bit better.”

They carried Scott to the Infirmary and heard the news about Mina. Warren asked the questions that were mirrored in her own thoughts – why? How? And the most important from a practical standpoint, what do we do now? It was always the people left behind who had to find some way to pick up the pieces and keep going.

Jean nodded to Ari as she tapped her temple and took Sooraya away. She stood at Scott’s side, her mind too shocked by it all. Thankfully, Warren was there and seemed to know just what to do. “Sit. And don’t think about pulling a Scott on me, Red.” He said as he eased her onto a stool. “You getting bossy on me too, War?” The quip was a reflex more than an actual attempt at a joke. As interested as she was about Mina leaving, she was more interested in Scott’s recovery. Jean gave Logan a mildly guilty look; undoubtedly, he would know where her sympathies at the moment lay and if it made a selfish person, then so be it.

Jean looked up at Josh as he entered the gathering of his teachers around a bloodied and broken Scott. “Ok... I dunno what I'm doing at all. What happened to him?” The boy said and probably would’ve turned pale if his new complexion would’ve allowed it.

‘A feral mutant with claws nearly disemboweled him,’ was what she thought but her brain kept her tongue in-check. “He was clawed very badly,” she replied and gestured for him to come closer.

“You can do this, Josh.” She said, laying her hand on Scott’s head, not noticing the sweat and sand that stubbornly remained in his hair. “It’s what you’ve been training to do.”

She looked down at Scott, wishing she could stay by his side as Josh finished the healing that Warren’s blood began, but long ago, she and Scott both committed themselves to Xavier’s dream; he would understand… actually, he would expect her to do what she could for the school, and he was in no danger now. She reached out and grasped Warren’s hand, feeling the warm comfort of her old friend.

“We have a lot to talk about. I suggest we give Josh some space and discuss things in Hank’s office,” she said, indicating the glass partitioned office at the other end of the room. Even if she couldn’t be there to hold Scott’s hand, she could watch the progress. She turned her face to Josh and gave him a reassuring smile, “Don’t hesitate to shout if you need anything.”

:: You’ll be well soon, darling. I’ll be here with you. :: She spoke into Scott’s sleeping mind as she kissed his forehead and got to her feet.
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Cyclops
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
Two Days Time Jump



"You're looking well for a man who got his face ripped off two days ago, Cyclops," came the greeting on the other side of the video phone. "I was almost expecting us to have matching eye wear."

Scott managed half a smile, the side of his face that had been torn healed by the combination of the remarkable abilities of young Josh Foley and several transfusions of Warren's blood, but still somewhat tender and bruised feeling. His torso was, of course, where Josh had focused his attentions mostly, the wounds being more critical there. The untrained boy had done far better than anyone had suspected he would, and Scott, while not usually approving of healers, had to admit that it was relief to have it all taken care of so quickly and expertly.

"I have enough problems with my vision, Director Fury, I have no real desire to double the complaints by halving the number of eyes." Scott smirked, "Besides I wouldn't want you to be accused of starting a trend."

"They must have you on pain killers, Summers, that was almost a joke," Fury said.

"I've been known to make those on the rare occasions, " Scott said, "And, I don't approve of narcotics."

"Of course you don't," Fury said, shaking his head slightly. Mutants and young leaders, he couldn't understand either of them. Scott "Cyclops" Summers was one of the worst examples, single minded and almost stubbornly determined to be.. what? The best? Not in so many words, but he was holding himself to a standard that Fury, much older, much wiser, much less inclined to believe in ideals, felt was the over eagerness of a boy soldier who had never really seen war. Mutants were an over confident lot, trusting in their powers to change the world... both sides of their personal ideologies. "So, I am assuming that you didn't disobey your good doctor's orders to phone me up for ideal chat."

Scott, leaning back on his pillows, closed his eyes behind his glasses, for a moment before saying, "No, Director, I wanted to check up on the status of Fariji."

"The village your newest student was protecting," Fury said, "You couldn't have one of your team mates fly out there and check our progress?"

"There are very few people I let pilot the Blackbird," Scott said, "Besides, I wouldn't want you to feel like I don't trust in our government to take positive steps in something that would benefit a mutant."

"Tut tut, boy, you're growing bitter in your old age," the Director of SHIELD said, from his lofty perch miles above the city in a floating battle ship, "We've cleaned out the remaining warlords in the foot hills surrounding the village, and the Red Cross units we've requisitioned are already rebuilding the damaged structures. Satisfactory?"

"It's a start," the young X-Man said, "I'll let the girl know, she'll be pleased. Now, if we can talk about the Sentinel Program..."

Fury fixed his eye on him so sternly that Scott could practically feel the tension through the video lines. "Number one, this is not something I am prepared to discuss with your over the videophone, and number two, I promised McCoy that I was not going to let you... how did he put it... 'demonstrate the very inflexible passion of a Shakespearean cavalier.' I assume that means I am not supposed you rile you up onto your pro-mutant equality soap box. Come and see me in a few days when you're out of that sickbay."

Scott sighed, but could see the validity in his words, "I'll do just that when I'm released. Thank you for the quick response on Fariji."

"Believe it or not, Cyclops, SHIELD is not about oppressing the mutants."

"Tell that to the Edraitii, Director, Cyclops out." He snapped off the videophone, disconnecting the link as he pushed the rolling tray with the device on it away.

He sighed and rubbed knuckles on the side of his face that had been injured. He still not have entire feeling on it from the severing of the nerves, but he knew from experience that that distant itch beneath the skin meant he was healing. That was going to distract him from working on the charter he was planning to draw up, now that the school had decided to run itself by a committee now that Mina had taken her leave of absence to go find Charles Xavier. Scott, Jean, Warren, Hank and Logan were going to form the group that worked to continue this school and to help the students old, new and potential, through these fragile days ahead...

... hopefully the lessons and life experience that each of these varied mutants would serve to make them a strong and united front...

... or else this as going to be pure chaos.

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