The same place.
Ten seconds later.
“Uh, kid,” Logan finally gave voice to what everyone was thinking, “I'm not sure how playing chess is going to help Jean with her predicament.”
“No… it's called an evil chess piece,” the boy answered, seeming a little embarrassed all of a sudden, “Don't worry about the name. My culture is a bit too on the nose sometimes.
“I’m one of the few remaining members of a semispiritual, extra dimensional race that is apparently dying out. We have long lifespans, but our birth rate is extremely low. The majority of my race die of violence or accident (but mostly violence) before ever reproducing. This chess piece is a magical artifact that will transform Jean into one of my species. It was created by one of our leaders to help us grow our numbers.”
“This is fascinating Gregory,” the professor chimed in, “But how does that help?”
“It will help stabilize Jean's powers. Part of the reason she's so volatile right now is because her psionic powers are going crazy. Sure, she's also angry, but the psionic fluctuations are making it worse.”
“So what you’re saying,” Jean interjected, “Is that my power is growing right now, and that I'm irritable because of it?”
“I mean, that’s a bit reductive, but essentially, yes?”
“And since Charles and Scott both did something worthy of death…”
“Hey, what did I do?”
“Face it bub,” Logan gave a sympathetic look to Scott, “I've been around a long time, met a lot of broads. Even if you don't think you did something wrong today, I guarantee you did something in the last couple of days that pissed her off that she didn't think was important enough to bring up… or worse, you’ve been doing something for a while that’s been festering. Your best bet is to ask what you did wrong, correct your actions going forward, and buy her some chocolate as an apology.”
“Logan, how you manage to say something both incredibly insightful and sensitive,” a calm voice with a very slight Kenyan accent was heard along with the sound of rubble being pushed aside, and a mocha skinned beauty with stark white hair rose from the ruins, taking a seat next to Jean, “and incredibly sexist at the same time amazes me.”
“Eh, I'm a product of my time, Ororo, but that don't mean I ain't learned a few things in my day.”
“I suppose that makes sense. Young Master Gregory, I don’t suppose you have another of those chocolate cones available?”
Gregory wordlessly conjured up another two cones, flashing a sympathetic look to Ororo, and handed one to her and the other to Jean, who by now had finished hers and was starting to look annoyed once again. Ororo accepted with a wordless grace and a nod of gratitude, but there was a subtle release of tension as she took the first dainty bite of her cone, and a slight upward turn of her lips betrayed her satisfaction.
“No, Logan,” Scott’s desire to mansplain made him completely disregard the older man’s sage advice, and his voice took on a self-righteous tone, “That’s not accurate. I’ve read multiple books on psychology and romance, and all of the doctors I’ve encountered say that a relationship should be about compromise. Relationships need to be 50-50, and couples should rationally discuss their differences and come to an effective solution.”
“Lemmie guess, kid,” Logan said with a knowing look, “All of those Psychologists were men.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with it?”
“Of course they were, Logan,” Jean pulled back from her cone long enough to give Scott a scathing look, and then turned to Ororo, “You see what I’ve been dealing with? He never admits he’s fucking wrong… even when he knows I’m upset, he just gets his calm boyscout look and gaslights me about my ‘feelings’ and ‘working together to find a solution’ until I’m suddenly agreeing with everything he tells me. It’s goddamn infuriating. I’d call him the king of gaslighting, but old Chuck here has him beat by a goddamn mile.”
“Jean, I’m sorry you feel that way…” Xavier began with his signature calm tenor.
“See what I mean?” Jean ignored him and elbowed Ororo, who wisely said nothing in response, but the slightest hint of a smirk could be seen behind the ice cream cone.
“...but I believed I was doing the best I could at the time,” Xavier continued, unperturbed, “Your powers were going out of control, invading everyone’s dreams in your hometown. I had to find a way to keep you from harming everyone in the mansion.”
“Oh, tooootally understandable Charles,” Jean said sarcastically, elbowing Ororo again, “My best friend had just gotten run over by a drunk driver… and suddenly I’m awakening psychic powers at the age of 12 years old. Yeah, I was dealing with some fucking trauma. I can understand that you felt like the only thing you could do was lock away my darker emotions, instead of… oh, I don’t know… anything else, right?
“I mean, It’s not like you’re rich and have access to a bunch of mutants with incredible special abilities or anything. It’s not like you could have… I don’t know… gotten me a cabin somewhere remote so I wasn’t affecting the people around me… and maybe gotten me some real fucking therapy?”
An underground base in an undisclosed location.
Right now.
A dark skinned man with a shaved head and an eyepatch occupied an expensive mahogany desk. A disassembled 0.45 automatic sat on a cloth in front of him, as the man lovingly oiled and cleaned the upper assembly. A brown haired woman walked into the office in a sharp Tweed/Bouclé skirt ensemble, showcasing her model perfect features and the most amazing pair of legs public service had ever witnessed. She set a folder on the desk as the man continued his weapon maintenance.
“Director,” the woman said with a professional demeanor, “the agents we have watching the school have reported that things seem to be calming down. But there appears to be a new, unregistered player at the scene.”
“Thank fucking god,” the man sighed and put the pistol assembly down, picking up the folder his subordinate provided, “That place has a new crisis every damn month. What the hell is it this time?”
“Sir, the agents we have watching the place aren’t close enough to hear the conversation, and as usual some unknown technology developed by Dr. McCoy is interfering with the directional mics… but it appears to be centered around the Jean Grey girl that was reported to be MIA and likely KIA in the cosmic storm incident a few months ago.”
“Another one?” the man’s jaw dropped, “I swear, death is like a revolving door in that place. I suppose that’s her evil time traveling twin or a clone going on a rampage or something. They'll probably be fine once the new girl discovers the ‘power of friendship’ or some crap. Who is the new player?”
“That’s what the folder is for sir, it’s everything we have on him. Gregory Seere, heir to Seere Industries. He’s been incognito for the last ten years, since his parents passed away in a boating accident. Reports say he was at an exclusive boarding school in Scotland, where he was able to earn both an MBA and a PhD in physics and mechanical engineering, and he’s returned now that he’s fulfilled the release terms of the trust.
“No other immediate family; though…”
“What kind of engineering, Hill?”
“What, sir?”
“What kind of Engineering, there are a bunch of different types of engineering. Does the kid build bridges or circuit boards?”
“Ah, sorry sir. Sorry, I misspoke, it looks like it’s… three PhD’s sir. The first was in electrical engineering, the others were in mechanical and computer engineering.”
“And he graduated at 20? So we have another wealthy orphan that’s also a genius? What the hell are these billionaires feeding their kids?”
“No idea sir, sorry. As for any additional family, our records have reference to an Aunt Fiona, and an Aunt Serafall. Both are independently wealthy socialites, though we've had a difficult time finding anything conclusive on either of them. They appear to be friends of the family, however, not true aunts.
“His Aunt Fiona has been seen a lot with him recently since he returned to the states, and it’s suspected that she has been supporting his lifestyle while waiting for the release of the trust.”
If you looked up the encyclopedia entries for boredom and skepticism, the flat stare the older African-American gentleman gave the woman would have been the perfect description.
“Great, so another fucking genius billionaire with dead parents? Are we opening a clearing house on dead billionaires now?”
“Ah, not quite a billionaire, sir. It’s all in the folder sir. The shares in his family business bring his net worth to just over nine hundred million. If you count the entire company, it would be well into the billions, but… well, I suppose if you count the apartment building in the upper east side, the property values in that area have risen steadily since…”
“Give me the cliffnotes version, Hill. If it’s not important, it can wait. First, what’s going on with the kid’s company?”
“It was a small tech company set up back in the 90’s by the boy’s mother. They held a few patents that were instrumental in setting up the wireless phone network we use today, and that helped put them firmly in the fortune 500 list.
“Their main office was in the towers when 9/11 happened, and they were forced to restructure after they lost their headquarters. Over half of the old board of directors were killed, and the new board pivoted to venture capitalism, specializing in hostile takeovers of smaller tech companies to obtain their patent rights.
“They currently produce nothing, making money entirely on so-called ‘vulture capitalism’ and on licensing fees for the patents they own, and are barely holding on to their fortune 500 status. The current board is resistant to change, and it looks like the shareholders are a bit nervous about a 21 year old kid inheriting 53% of the voting shares… even if that kid earned a Masters and three PhD’s before he was old enough to drink. There have been multiple attempts to ‘borrow’ his shares by the current board, but whomever has been managing the trust to this point has been doing an excellent job keeping their hands off of it.”
“Another symptom of our dying system, hoorah. And the kid, is he another mutant?”
“We assume so, Sir, though there is no record of it. His most recent blood tests showed no sign of a nascent X-gene, though that’s hardly conclusive. From what our agents in the field have gathered, he seems to have powers involved with teleportation and telekinesis, and possibly telepathy, though that’s unconfirmed.”
“Unconfirmed? My money is on some kind of mystical chosen one or some bullshit. What have they seen him do?”
“So far, he appeared on the battlefield without anyone noticing him, has a seemingly bottomless bowl of popcorn, can conjure ice cream at will… two flavors confirmed, vanilla and some kind of chocolate… oh, and he also conjured a two meter demon arm from the ground, though that was only there momentarily, and disappeared quickly afterwards.”
“What the fuck Hill!” The man’s jaw dropped once again, “Maybe lead with the gott-damn demon arm in the future?”
“Sorry sir. As for the unconfirmed telepathy and telekinesis, the battle was more than underway when he arrived, and it seemed like nothing would stop it without bloodshed… However, the kid did… something strange… and everyone calmed down. After that, he levitated a bunch of chairs out of the rubble so they could all have a sit-down.”
“Something strange? What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s… odd, Director. It seems to be a visual effect that accompanies the use of his powers. The agents on site described them as red runic circles.”
“Well, that’s fucking weird, but it’s one of the less weird things I’ve seen with this bunch. Alright, keep me updated with the situation at Xaviers, but we need eyes on the kid as well. We need to be careful with this one. None of the usual strong arm tactics, this kid will lawyer up six ways from Sunday and we’ll never get another person near him.
“You said he was getting ready to take over his parent’s company, right? He’s going to need a good secretary.”
“Sir, it should be ‘personal assistant’… ‘Secretary’ has sexist overtones…”
“Hill, you can give me the HR spiel later. Is Romanoff available? She’s had mental fortitude training, right?”
“She has sir, but we have her on a long term infiltration of Savlinova’s company right now.”
“Shit, well, I guess we’ll send in one of our other field agents. It’s not like we don’t use Romanoff every time some billionaire trust fund baby needs eye candy anyway, might as well change it up.”
“Sir, I think that’s incredibly disrespectful… Agent Romanoff is a highly effective field agent…”
“I’m aware, Hill. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s an extremely attractive redhead, and that’s what a lot of these assholes at the top of society look for in a ‘Personal Assistant’. I swear, these entitled pricks are always looking to fuck the help every chance they get.”
“Sir, are you saying we should use a ‘honey trap’ strategy?”
“Hill, I am ashamed of you,” the man answered with a mock sense of outrage, “The women working at this agency are all highly trained and professional operatives. I would never suggest that one of my agents goes as far as to seduce one of our observation targets.
“However,” he continued before Hill could interrupt, “If something were to happen between two consenting adults that just so happened to be attracted to each other, and that coincidentally engendered some loyalty for our cause… I wouldn’t complain. I’m just sayin.”
Back in Westchester County.
About an hour later.
The circle of mutants had grown. Participants now included a well-built teenage boy, a girl with chestnut locks, and a mischievous, thinner girl with a brown ponytail.
“So what you’re sayin, shugah,” the chestnut haired girl said as she munched on a butterscotch cone. She had a warm demeanor, but looking closely you could tell she was going out of her way not to touch anyone nearby. Her calm southern brogue was almost doing more than Gregory’s hormone cocktail to keep everyone calm and grounded, “Is that Jeanie’s powahs are goin’ all kindsa crazy, and exacerbatin’ the issue. She’s already havin’ a bad time suddenly remembrin’ her trauma, and the Professah’s cuttin’ off a part of her brain when she was a sprout wasn’t helpin’ none.”
“Yes, Anna, something like that,” Gregory nodded, “The chess piece will convert her mutant powers to innate devil gifts, which should stabilize it. Devil abilities don’t jump around like the X-Gene tends to. They are set very firmly on a stable progression curve.”
“So basically,” the thinner girl said with a glint in her eye while she worked on her own strawberry cone, “Jean is going through a mutant version of PMS right now. Little things are going to annoy the crap out of her, and something genuinely horrible, especially something done to her by a man, is going to seem like the end of the world?”
“I did not say that, Miss Pride. I would not say that, would never even think of implying that… especially to a woman’s face… but essentially, yes.
“Also, by the by, devils don't have a menstrual cycle like mammals do, either, so she wouldn’t suffer from those. Add that to the magical power and near infinite lifespan… Well, there are a lot of benefits to accepting my proposal.”
“I'm in, Shugah,” Anna Marie said without hesitation, “Gimmie one ah them pieces, I ain’t picky. I’ll take a pawn piece if yah got one.”
“Anna,” the Professor interrupted calmly, as he made a pointed show of ignoring the popcorn bowl being passed around on the men’s side, “There is no guarantee that this method will work with your specific problem. Your mutant power is always on, Jean’s power is something she uses consciously.”
“Actually professor, I believe it would help specifically with something like that,” Gregory interjected with a raised eyebrow, “I don’t know the specifics, but I do know that my kind has full control over their specific bloodline gifts. A mutant power that is ‘always on’ as you say, would be the perfect use for one of these pieces.
“However, Miss Anna,” the young man added, with a hint of reproach, “I must say, you are not above the legal age of majority right now. If there is one thing Auntie made me understand during our time together, it is continuous informed consent. The commitment involved with this decision is life changing, and essentially permanent. I could not, in good conscience, allow you to accept one of my pieces before you’ve reached your 18th birthday at the very least. I suppose, legally, if you had the approval of your legal guardian… but no, even then I likely wouldn’t agree.”
“Honestly, I think that’s the sexiest thing he’s said all day,” mumbled Jean around her fourth ice cream cone… this time chocolate chip cookie dough flavor, “And pretty much everything he says with that accent is hot.”
“I know right, it’s like a verbal vibrator in my ears,” the thinner girl giggled at her friend’s statement, “Well, I don’t know about you girls, but if was offered to me, I might just do it for the whole ‘menstrual cycle’ relief.”
“Kittie!”
“Professor Monroe, I’m just saying. Puberty sucks bad. I get some really bad periods. Like, open the floodgates bad, and the cramps are un-freaking-believable. You have no idea how hard it is to keep up this cheery personality when ‘Miss flo’ shows up for her monthly visits.”
“No, I definitely understand, Kittie,” the African woman shook her head, “I’m just saying, there are medications you can take if it's that bad.”
“Oh really? It feels like the medical industry is more interested in developing boner pills than something that helps with ‘girl problems’.”
“That’s not fair, Kittie. Hormonal birth control has been around since the 1960’s, and that’s been proven to help regulate a woman’s period. It’s not only for when you start having sex. Come see me after we’re done here, and I'll take you to my OBGYN.”
“Alright, all this period talk is totally grossing me out,” a teenage boy with ‘jock’ vibes sighed as the popcorn made its way into his hands, “Can we please change the topic?”
“Alright, fuck it,” Jean said, cutting off all further discussion, “I’m in. Where do I need to sign?”
“Jean, what?” Scott whined, “You don’t know anything about this guy, you literally just met him today! I love you! I don't care about your psychic periods. We can drink some Chamomile, watch a romantic movie… you'll feel better in no time!”
“Shut it Scott! I mean, the man has a universal period cure in his hands that also gives you magic power and makes it so you never grow old. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to be irritable and bleeding for at least a week out of every month? The thing could enslave me to him for life and I wouldn't bat an eye about using it.”