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365 Days Without an Incident; [Cyclops]
Topic Started: Jun 18 2015, 12:49 PM (248 Views)
Dazzler
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June 15th
Xavier Institute
3pm


Summer was in full swing, both in regards to insurmountable, record levels of temperature and a dogged, slow-burn party-time atmosphere. Work in NYC was easier to find; she played lots of open air park shows, both as a headliner and an opener. It wasn't stadiums and it certainly wasn't stadium money, but it was a nice steady flow of performance and while performance was less her favorite thing than the creative leg of music, it was still enjoyable, especially when she could meet the fans that were unswayed by the court of public opinion retrograde thinking.

Inspiring mutants in her own way and on her own terms - while she didn't have the scope or the means she used to, it was infinitely more rewarding.

She'd been contacted by the Xavier Institute - A campus festival of sorts was brewing, and, as one of the few and the proud of the mutant number in the entertainment field (at least openly so) they had expressed interest in a show. Dazzler was her own agent these days, moreso than the one she actually kept on retainer (despite his seeming reluctance to do anything for her), and so most of her shows were arranged intrapersonally, and not through any sort of paid channel - this kept her with more money for her work, even if it was a bit less efficient.

The Campus was beautiful, as was expected -- Dazzler had only seen it once before, and it was a burning, ashen hulk of a wreck at that point, with terrorists and students and faculty all scrambling for the upperhand in a brutal battle. She had stuck to the makeshift trauma camp set up that day, where misaligned mutants had thrown away previous difficulties in an effort to collectively band together against human violence.

It was a bruised moment, but an important one.

But now things seemed almost idyllic. The world had not threatened to stop turning in quite some time and she wasn't sure if that was comforting or unnerving.

She waited in Scott Summers' office as she'd been directed to, her clothing smart but casual, a far cry from any of the wild outfits of her previous stage existence and yet still a far cry from her casual attire when she could afford private jets and Gucci customs.

She felt wrong for being here - so often had she been at odds with The X-Men, if only by proxy, that she felt like she was in the lion's den, but at the same time, that wasn't the Institute's MO. They seemed very forgiving (though not forgetting), so she didn't know if it was nerves or guilt or both that kept her uncharacteristically fidgeting in her seat.
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Cyclops
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"But Mr. Summers, I can't help it," the boy whined as he half walked, half ran next to his school's headmaster and math teacher. "I tried, I really did, but I..." he looked around and, after making sure that there were no girls around to hear, said, "I... got termites."

Scott shook his head and thought to himself that at least mutant children had creative reasons for not doing their math homework. "Mr. Ludlum," he said, "I'm certainly not going to fall for that. If your wooden form was infested with termites, I imagine you'd be far too ill to spend the past three days in a video game competition with Mr. Carlson."

Frank Ludlum, codenamed Pinocchio, with the power to turn into a wooden facsimile, blanched and said, "Oh... um... you knew about that?"

With a slight smirk, very slight of course, Scott said, "One of the problems with living with your teachers. We know everything you're doing, even without the fact that Mrs. Summers is a telepath. I want three days worth of homework on my desk by the weekend, understood?"

"But Mr Suuuuummmmers," the fourteen year old's voice took on that pleading tone that made nails on a chalkboard sound like a Miles Davis album, "That's not faaaaaair..."

"I could demand them tomorrow," Scott pointed out, "I think three days of time to do three days of work is the definition of fair." They'd reached his office, where his 3pm appointment was waiting, "By Saturday, Mr. Ludlum, now, if you'll excuse me..." he opened his door.

"DAZZLER!" Frank gasped as he saw who was waiting for Mr. Summers. "You're DAZZLER, right?! Right?! The Sight of the Sound is like the story of my liiiiiife! Mr. Summers! Mr. Summers, is she going to play here?! Is she? Oh my god, are you?! Please, say yes! PLEEEEEEASE!"

"Mr. Ludlum! Mr. Ludlum!" Scott clapped his hands sharply to grab the boy's focus, "Miss Blaire and I have business to discuss. Excuse us for a little while, and I'm sure when we're done, Miss Blaire will be happy to sign autographs or whatever afterwards." He stepped into the office and closed the door, Mr. Ludlum's face as close to the opening as he could get it without getting his nose pinched off. "You know he's out there texting half the dorms right now. I'm sure you're prepared for that sort of thing," Scott said, as he offered Miss Blaire his hand. "I'm certainly not." Which, of course, was a lie. There were few things Scott Summers was not prepared for.

He took his seat behind his desk, looking at the young woman who had been both friend and foe, much like any other in this waxing waning life, and he said, "So, what can I do for you, Miss Blaire? Do you have concerns or needs for the bonfire concert or is this meeting for another reason?"
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Dazzler
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Dazzler's unique perception of the sound spectrum allowed her a certain set of extra sensory eavesdropping, and so, barring any sort of sound canceling device she usually heard people from a mile away.

As such, the conversation between Cyclops and Pinnochio was no secret to her, and she half winced when the door began its inward swing and his face and voice seemed to take a sudden swing away from feigned illness and into starstruck idolatry. He was a cute kid, knots and all, but his squeeling voice combined with the strange manner in which it was produced gave her skin cause to raise its hackles and give her goosebumps.

Scott entered, the door shut, and Alison was fairly certain that, if he didn't fear whatever ramifications might come, Ludlum would've have simply let himself in right back in.

"Not lately." She replied to Scott, trying to decide if it was humor or deadpan seriousness. She hadn't been plagued by fans in some time. Her homes, one in Beverly Hills and the other a penthouse in midtown, had long been gotten rid of, and now she lived fairly secretly in an apartment in Greenwich Village. That said, while her universal appeal had seemed to fade in light of the scandals resulting in her outing as a mutant, it seemed to only bolster her fandom in the mutant market. Gigs in mutant town were often the best sellers and the most rewarding. It, in a way fostered a yet unearthed desire in her to really sink herself into the mutant culture, something she'd been loathe to do previously.

Maybe it was her shifting ambitions; she missed the luxuries of her old life but she certainly didn't miss the stresses or the commitments, and, after all that chaos with Dr. Doom's dream team, she just wasn't that in to self absorbed villainy anymore, and when things began to split and sides began to form it was hard not to examine if it was even a good idea to be there in the first place.

"I'm sure its a great group of kids you have here. I'm really not that big of a deal."

She looked around the office for a second, as if it was something she needed to do to gather her thoughts, and then, turning back to the Headmaster, she smiled and slapped her hands to her knees.

"I ran into someone the other day that I'm not particularly fond of." She said. "Old connections, seems they want me back, and as much as I miss some of the perks at this old job, I don't miss the work, as it were."

Her vagueness was about as subtle as shock treatment. "That said I'm a little afraid to tell them no simply because they aren't the type to accept not getting what they want and I know things that an NDA just isn't going to cover, dig?"

She leaned on his desk,half sitting, before realizing that this wasn't entirely professional, and stood again.

"I used to be part of a group whose past is so checkered, especially with regards to your outfit, that I'm frankly surprised you didn't insist I stay very far away from here, but the fact of the matter is my tenure with them is over and I'm not sure its entirely safe for me to know what I know. Part of the Hellfire Club is made up of dear friends but the rest of it is made up of people who wouldn't care if I wound up in a steel drum if it meant keeping a lid on any sort of secrets I know that they don't want getting out, and I was their courier, I know things that could bring down dynasties, but I have no desire to use any of that. I just want to start over."
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Cyclops
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Dazzler played off her fame, and Scott, who despite putting himself in the public eye as a representative of their people did not like publicity at all, nodded. He couldn't imagine purposely welcoming the photographers and fans. It wasn't in his nature to allow that much intrusion into his life, and even when he set himself out in front of the cameras to make a plea for the safety of his students, and to demand equality for mutantkind, he did so behind the mask of stoic expressionless control that he had spent so long cultivating. He hadn't really realized how polished a mask it had become until the younger version of him... no matter his origin... had reminded him.

"Our kids are amazing," Scott said, "Given the circumstances that so many of them have come from and the situations they could have found themselves in, our students are resilient and strong. They give me great hope for our future. It's why I fight so hard to protect them."

She revealed her reason for coming here then, her fears of the Hellfire Club and what she knew from what she'd done with them. Scott nodded his head as she talking understanding her concerns. The Kings and Queens of Hellfire were a grey lot, no matter which court they claimed, Black, White or the new rumored Red, and that meant they were an opportunistic, morally flexible group that did not and would never hesitate to save their own skins at the expense of another if there was a choice.

While the truth of the matter was that Miss Blaire had gotten herself into this mess, and bringing her here to the school was potentially inviting trouble, but Scott was not in habit of turning away people who genuinely wanted to change their lives.

"Well, Miss Blaire, I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to hold your past against you, considering my own moments of darkness recently." It had taken him quite a while to get over what the Hand had turned him into. She hadn't been nearly as manipulated as he had been. "Obviously, given the antagonistic nature of our organization and your former one, some of the staff might want to take a peek inside your thoughts to judge your sincerity, but, while I have my difficulties with social norms, I do tend to be a fair judge of character. I'd like very much to give you the benefit of the doubt."

He smiled, that one sided, tiny smirk that was the most the majority of the world ever saw, and he said, "My best friend is dating the White Queen, after all, so I suppose we'll have to come to some sort of arrangement eventually."
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Dazzler
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"We all make mistakes." she said as Scott remarked on past misalignments of character. "And I don't know all the details, but I know enough to know that, especially in our circles, the mistakes we make aren't always made without help."

She looked at a shelf upon which sat model airplanes and, examining them as someone who clearly didn't know much about aeronautics save that it was a convenient way to get around, she dwelled on them maybe a little too long.

"I don't expect anyone here to take my word on anything. I'm nothing to anybody here. If you want someone to take a dip in my thoughts, well, I don't have any terribly embarassing insecurities. Maybe some cellulite. Maybe some college regrets whose names I don't even remember..."

She turned back to Cyclops. "I just ask that any brain surgery be performed by someone who isn't an amateur."

Dazzler wasn't terribly good at asking. For the last eight years she'd never needed to ask for anything - she'd struggled before, but after the Hellfire Club arrived on her scene she simply didn't need to anymore. So this was new, the uncertainty. Fortunately it sounded like the X-Men, or at least their leader, was willing to play ball.

"I'm a singer, Scott. Can I call you Scott?"

Alison was trying to be cordial.

"I make music. I know music. I like music. I've gotten back to the roots of why over the last year and I'm really enjoying it. You run a school. I give music lessons."

She pursed her mouth for a second and angled her eyes in such a way that she appeared to be in deep thought, as if the method of asking hadn't quite come to her yet.

"I wanna help out somewhere, and I can't be a part of the Hellfire Club anymore. I can't pretend to ignore the fact that even at their best they're awful. I don't wanna be awful."
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Cyclops
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"We all make mistakes." she said as Scott remarked on past misalignments of character. "And I don't know all the details, but I know enough to know that, especially in our circles, the mistakes we make aren't always made without help."

"That doesn't absolve us from our responsibility to make things right," Scott said, grimly. "My brother stood in front of a court room, ready to be sentenced to death if that was the ruling. Thankfully, it wasn't, and Alex did not have to sacrifice his life to repay the damage done by him, done to him. The point is he took responsibility... as I've tried to do since my recent... misbehavior. If you've come here to escape your misdeeds and not accept the consequences, I'm not interested."

He folded his hands in front of him and let that last blunt sentence linger just a second in the air, before he said, "But I don't think that's why you're here. I'm not a great judge of emotion, Miss Blaire, and, despite my unfriendly reputation, I tend to believe the best of people. I prepare for the worst, yes, but I always have the hope that the person in front of me genuinely wants to be better than they are, to be stronger, more controlled, more productive. It's important to me that this school give them this opportunity. The man I would have been without this school was someone I couldn't be proud of and wouldn't have been worthy of the sacrifice my parents made when they saved my life. If you want to be better, Miss Blaire, and do something for the world rather than act as if it should do something for you, then this school has room for you."

Scott gave her just that barest hint of a smile and he said, "For what it's worth, I don't think you're awful, and there's a growing collection of young fans on the other side of this door who would probably burn me at the stake if I didn't allow you to become their new music teacher."
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Dazzler
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"Mr. Summers, I'm a former law student whose interests rested in pro bono work. That irritated my father more than my proclivities towards music. I have a vested interest in helping people, and I let basic greed cloud my eyes once already. I have no desire to run away from or ignore my problems, and that's why I never let myself fall too deeply into the Club to begin with. It didn't mesh, I wanted the benefits but none of the dirty work, and I couldn't convince myself that the whole lesser evil argument would ever really apply. I understand that I did bad things for bad people, and I understand that unlike you or your brother, I walked into ready and willing. S'why I'm here. Wash some of it off. Do that pro bono stuff I always wanted to do, you know? Help out. Do good."

She held a hand out to him "I'm here t0 help out. Whether its helping out your kids as a teacher, or helping out any other way, I'm here to help out."

She'd never really been one to expect gifts from the world. It was a living breathing thing after all,with its own intrinsic existence comprised of the lived experiences of everyone on it. To expect or even to wish for it to benefit one person was childish daydreaming, and she'd worked for everything, even what she'd gotten from the Hellfire Club hadn't come easy, it'd just come more readily, and ultimately at a higher cost.

She hadn't been turned into a monster, and she hadn't been turned into a zealot. She hadn't even really been forced to do anything awful. She'd just, well, sold out. And that weighed heavy on the mind of an idealistic creator. She was suffocating in somebody's pocket, and she needed to breathe. Here, now, with these intrepid people, she could teach. She'd just been offered a teaching position. Here among the youth of the new mutant generation she could learn, too. It was a trade-between, and it sounded better with each turn she gave it in her head.

"I mean, I don't have a teaching degree." She said. "I suppose I could work on that though."

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Cyclops
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Smiling, as best as Scott Summers ever smiled to someone who was not in his small but slowly expanding personal circle, at Miss Blaire words and promises, he accepted her extended hand and said, "You want to know the truth, Miss Blaire? I never technically graduated high school. I dropped out after ninth grade when I ran away from my state home and went to live in a warehouse with the man who gave me my glasses and made me a thief. While we stress the importance of education and our students can pass the New York Board of Education's exit tests and graduation requirements, there is a certain benefit to having several telepaths on staff."

He tapped on his glasses and said, "Helps when I have to renew my driver's licence as well."

All levity aside, however, Scott folded his hands in front of him on the desk, again, and he said, "The most important thing that you need to know, Miss Blaire, the most important lesson this school has for us, the most important reason for its existence, is that we give these children every opportunity to grow up and make the changes in the world that we might not be able to make. I want to believe that there will be peace in my lifetime. I want to hang up my X and know that it's not needed anymore, but I'm more realist than optimist, and I know that the fight ahead of us is nowhere near over. These children are the ones who are going to have to carry on this fight until peace comes. Despite my recent return from the grave, I'm not immortal. They're going to, someday, really have to carry on without me, and I'm going to make sure that they have every skill they need to do that."

Nodding his head towards Dazzler, Scott said, "Even if that means I have to listen to a bunch of tone deaf mutants sing pop songs."
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Dazzler
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She understood his meaning.

"I understand you're meaning." She nodded.

At least she thought she did.

"I think." she nodded again.

Tone Deaf and Pop Song jabs aside (she considered herself more in the veins of dance and electronica, if she was being honest), she smiled all the same. This felt like a beginning she was really looking for. The confrontation with Sage in the boutique had been something that had truly weighed on her, and despite her attachments to that goddamned wonderful studio flat in Greenwich village and despite her love for the quiet lifestyle her hiatus had given her, she didn't want to be stagnate. Here she had a chance to help the next generation and here she had a chance to do it through a medium and method that she cared about.

She wouldn't have to run secret communiques or deliver death notes between concerts. She wouldn't have to worry about her value to the Xavier Institute drying up and leaving her down and out. Here she could be genuine and creative and meet new and interesting people who weren't skeevs or deplorable people.

But mostly here she could just stop selling herself short and plying to a demographic she just wasn't interested in.

So one chapter ended and another began, Fame Monster to ArtPop, if one would excuse the analogy.

"My dear Mister Summers, I do believe I'll accept your offer of a position, and we'll see if maybe I can't help the tone deaf part in the process."
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