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Title: The New Mutants II, Volume VII
Author: kanedax
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Rating: R for language and mild violence
Spoilers: The New Mutants I & II (see above)
Summary: It's the Ass-Kickingest Ass Kicking Class ever; plus the students prepare to see an old friend and hear from another
Notes: Oops. So, you know how last volume I said it was Volume VII? I lied. This is Volume VII, the other is a false imitator called Volume VI. Also, I hope part of this chapter doesn't come off as too Queer Eye, but I wanted to try to get people into some semblance of their 616 costumes. I'm also trying a little more of a one-take writing style, I hope it's not too confusing. As usual, I don't own the X-Men, 20th Century Fox, Marvel Comics, or apparently too many production notes for this particular chapter.
Previous Chapter (Debrief) / Next Chapter (Research Mode)
“Nice combo, Shiro.”
“Domo,” Shiro replied to Remy.
Thank you, a digital voice said from the wall. Remy looked over at the speaker and shook his head. The system Forge set up in the school for its current and future foreign students wasn’t brilliant in its complexity. It registered genetic signatures in each student entering or exiting a room, and automatically set itself to translate any foreign language spoken by someone matching the coordinated signature.
It made life a lot easier until Shiro and Cecelia started picking up some more English, but Remy couldn’t help being reminded of an old movie his grandpa liked to watch every now and then back in New Orleans called WarGames. He resisted the urge to ask Shiro to say something like “Let’s play Global Thermonuclear War” or “How about a nice game of chess?”
“It ain’t fair he’s a ninja,” Sam groaned, pulling himself off the ground. “He’s from Japan, everyone knows karate in Japan.”
Shiro laughed and said something in Japanese.
That is possibly the most stereotypical item you could have spoken, the wall translated in not-too-perfect English. The entire class broke out laughing, anyway.
“Back to work, everyone,” Remy yelled, and continued walking around the Danger Room. All of the students who had returned to Ass-Kicking Class, those who currently weren’t sitting upstairs falling asleep to Kurt’s study of William Yeats, were doing a great job getting back into things. And the first years, despite a few hitches, were catching on very well.
“Remy!”
Okay, maybe more than a few hitches, he thought as he walked over to Paige and Cecelia.
“Reyes is using her powers,” Paige pouted, throwing combos that, while a little rough, were pretty decent. Every time it came close to a connection, a small purple energy field would appear between her and Cecelia.
“I cannot help it,” Cecelia said, obviously running short on breath, “I cannot, um, cerrado le apagado.”
Shut it off, the wall said.
“Alright, at ease, Guthrie,” Remy said, putting his hands up. “Does it hurt when you hit her force field?”
“Not any more than if I was hitting her normally,” Paige replied quietly.
“And it doesn’t hurt when she hits them, right, Cecelia?”
“No lastima,” Cecelia said, bending over to catch her breath, “sino que me cansa hacia fuera más rápidamente.”
It does not hurt, but that tires to me towards outside more quickly.
“Ummm,” Remy said, turning towards the wall. “I think there’s a few more kinks that need to get worked out, but I understand what you’re saying.”
“But how am I supposed to do this if I can’t hit her?” Paige asked.
“The point of this class isn’t to hit her,” Remy said. “The point is to make sure you have the moves down for when you do have to hit someone someday.”
“But…”
“And I should say, cher,” he continued, “you’re doing a fine job so far. Great reflexes, great coordination, you’re picking up the combos faster than anyone else.”
“Well,” Paige said, blushing, “I’m a cheerleader.”
“That’ll probably do it,” Remy said, turning to Cecelia. “Whenever you’re ready to go, you get to go on offense for a bit. That fine?”
“Okay,” Cecelia responded, waving him off.
Remy took that as his cue to continue around the rest of the room. Jimmy and Lucas, the only two sophomores left besides Remy, were matching up fine.
“No problems here?”
“Nah,” Lucas said, knocking Jimmy’s kicking foot out of the way and throwing two pulled punches towards his stomach.
“He asked me to put up a field,” Jimmy gasped, pushing Lucas’ second throw past him, “so any contact I gave wouldn’t be an unfair advantage.”
“That’s sporting of you,” Remy said admiringly, but Lucas just shrugged.
“I wouldn’t want to accidentally knock him across the room,” he said. “Besides, it’s better exercise when I can work up a sweat.”
“Well, just keep your field away from Starsmore,” Remy said, turning to the last group, “he can’t…”
He paused in mid-sentence as he saw the final pairing of Jono Starsmore and Franklin Richards. One half of the pairing was standing around with his arms crossed, staring down at the second half who was sitting on the floor.
“What’s going on?”
“I can’t hit him,” Franklin sulked, “he’s got that fucking full-body chastity belt on.”
Jono sighed through his nose, and began typing on his wrist pad.
“I don’t care if it’s padded,” Franklin said to Jono before the computer could even say a word, “I could still break my hand.”
Jono stared at him angrily, his eyes narrowing over the metal plate covering his mouth.
“What?” Franklin said defensively. “Like I was going to wait for you to finish typing?”
Jono flipped his arm back up, preparing to type again.
“If you don’t want me to read your mind, you’d better type faster, Jabberjaw.”
His arm flipped up again, but this time the hand was in a fist, flying down at Franklin. Remy caught it before it could make contact, and Franklin jumped to his feet.
“Jesus!” he yelled. “You kiss your mom with that mouth? Wait, I suppose you don’t.”
This time Lucas had to run up next to Remy to keep Jono from lunging at Franklin. “Calm down, Chamber,” Remy grunted, wrapping his arms around Jono’s waist. “He’s not worth it.”
“Of course I’m not,” Franklin cackled. “I could sue your ass for assault.”
Remy looked around the class to discover that the other five students were all staring at the conflict. He turned to Franklin and decided the best way to resolve this would be quickly.
“You want a partner, mon ami?” he asked Franklin. “Come on up to the front of the class.”
“Sure thing, Frenchie,” Franklin laughed, stepping up to the front and standing opposite Remy.
“Would you like attack first, or defense?” Remy said, pulling back into a ready stance.
“I’ll take defense first,” Franklin replied, still laughing. Remy stepped back, and launched forward with a three-punch combo followed by a thrust kick. Franklin dodged all three punches easily, and simply hopped out of the way of the kick.
“Come on, Teach,” he said loudly. “I saw those coming from a mile away.”
“Reading my mind, huh?” Remy replied.
“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” Franklin countered.
“Your turn,” Remy said, and as Franklin prepared to attack, Remy yelled to the class, “Lesson One of proper defense. Relying on a plan of attack is good…”
Franklin’s first flew forward, and Remy caught it, and spun around to throw an elbow into Franklin’s stomach. Franklin doubled over, gasping.
“But instinct is better when you don’t have time to think. Right, Franklin?”
Franklin looked up, still trying to catch his breath. “My turn?” he gasped.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“Okay,” Franklin grinned, and Remy felt a sharp blow to his forehead. As he landed on his back, he realized that Franklin had never even moved.
How’s that for instinct, Gumbo? a voice said in his head.
Remy crawled to his feet, and saw that Jimmy, Lucas, and Jono were looking like they were ready to charge at Franklin. The four new students, however, had a look on their faces that he didn’t like. Was it admiration?
“Another rule,” he said, forcing himself to not stagger, “is to follow the laws of a fight. A time may come when you may need to use your telekinesis in a battle. Just like I may need to charge the clothes on your body and turn you into something resembling chunky spaghetti sauce.”
Franklin’s smile faded from his face as he saw the picture that had emerged in Remy’s mind.
“But that’s not this fight,” he continued, his voice suddenly dropping all hint of emotion. “I was raised on a code of honor. And I intend to keep it, just as I intend to make you keep it. Jimmy, step over here, would you?”
Jimmy looked at Remy, and then smiled. “Sure thing, Gambit.”
“Jono,” Remy continued, “You might want to step to the back of the room. I wouldn’t want your internal organs shutting off.”
Jono nodded, then stepped towards the back wall, where he leaned comfortably. The bottom half of his face was gone, but anyone looking at him could see the satisfaction in his eyes.
Jimmy stepped between Remy and Franklin, who was suddenly looking decidedly more uncomfortable. “Twenty feet sound good?”
“A twenty foot radius, yeah,” Remy said, his voice still flat. Jimmy nodded, and Remy felt his mutant power leave his body. No great loss for now, he thought.
“Now, Franklin Richards. Let’s spar.”
Ororo Munroe growled.
“Still having troubles, girl?” Moira said, laughing.
“They’re in the news again,” Ororo said, staring at the computer monitor.
“What did they do this time?” Moira asked, scribbling notes as she flipped through a medical journal on her desk.
“They…” Ororo paused, then slammed her hand on the desk in frustration. “They caught Maximoff!”
“What?”
“Defenders Foil Mutant Terrorist Plot,” she read from the website. “Son of Magneto Captured As Ringleader.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Moira asked. “After everything that happened at the Raft, he had fallen off our radar.”
“That’s not,” Ororo stammered. “That’s not the point!”
“What is the point?” Moira insisted. “Honest to God, Ororo, I’m still having difficulty understanding why this Project Defender is such a bad thing. Isn’t it a great step forward in human/mutant relations? The government saying ‘Hey, maybe mutants aren’t such a bad thing, after all?’”
“Because they’re not mutants,” Ororo said, glaring at the computer. “They’re humans who were given mutant powers.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No, it’s not. The government’s not saying ‘Up With Mutants.’ They’re saying ‘Up with mutants that we hand-pick and sterilize to make sure that they’re one of us.’ It’s Weapon X all over again. And it gives humans more reason to fear the mutants who aren’t under government control.”
Moira closed her journal. “And none of this animosity has anything to do with Franklin’s parents lying to you about their mutation?”
“You’re itching for a fight, aren’t you, Doc?” Ororo said, running her hands through her hair.
“I just…”
“The animosity is coming from the fact that there’s something else going on here,” Ororo continued. “That Project Defender might be something dangerous. It’s coming from the fact that Reed and Sue Richards could have told me that their genetic manipulation had gone beyond eye color, but they didn’t. It’s coming from the howling noise that I heard in the Baxter Building that their secretary passed off as machinery.
“It’s coming from the fact that, despite their contention that they’re a well-oiled machine by stopping this terrorist attack and by stopping a few other catastrophes in the past two weeks, they were pretty damn sloppy on the bridge. Through all the media coverage, through the fact that they’ve become the next American Idol, they accidentally blew up a bus, almost killing at least one passenger as well as one of my students. Add to that Peter’s bit of information saying that one of their members, possibly the strongest member of their team, was seconds from taking a swing at another one of them.”
Ororo sighed. “They’re reckless, they’re sloppy, they’re dangerous,” she dropped her head into her hands, “and they’re still doing more good in the world than we can.”
Moira’s breath caught. “Ororo…”
“Charles is dead,” Ororo said sadly. “Scott’s dead. Jean’s dead. Emma’s dead. Logan’s gone. Hank’s off to save the political world. Kurt’s a pacifist. The fact is that the X-Men are currently one middle-aged man and one middle-aged cyborg who have been out of action for too long; four teenagers who have seen too few battles and too much death; and me, the fearless leader who’s led the team for less than two years and has ten corpses to show for it.”
“Professor Munroe?”
Ororo jerked up at the voice coming from the door. She hastily wiped her face, which she discovered had become wet.
“How did class go, Remy?”
“It was educational,” he said, and Jono snorted laughter as he walked past him into the lab.
“No major problems, Jono?” Moira asked as he jumped up onto the table. He pulled over the keyboard and typed:
It was the ass-kickingest Ass Kicking Class ever.
“Wow, I’m surprised the computer could even figure that word out,” Moira mumbled.
“So what time are we heading out?” Lucas asked as he and Jimmy walked into the lab.
“Hmm?” Ororo asked, her eyes once again looking at the article.
“The concert,” Lucas said. “It’s tonight, remember?”
“Oh, right,” Ororo said. “Sean and Forge are taking you.”
“You’re not coming?” Lucas asked dolefully. “But, it’s Alison’s first concert.”
“I know,” Ororo replied. “But I have too much to do around here. More research to do on this Project.”
“Dr. McTaggert?” Jimmy asked. “Jono?”
“I have some research I need to get done,” Moira said, “and Jono’s containment suit isn’t strong enough for a mosh pit yet.”
Sorry, guys, Jono typed. Give her my regards, though, okay?
“Okay,” Lucas said sadly.
“Well, if the concert starts at eight,” Remy said, looking at the clock on his cell phone, “we’d better start getting ready.”
“Alright,” Jimmy said, and the three turned to leave.
“Lucas!” Ororo yelled, and Lucas turned back. “I’m sure they probably have some after-show thing scheduled already, but go ahead and let her know she and the band are invited over after the show, or tomorrow afternoon if they’re not too tired. I do want to see her, it’s just, you know…” She motioned to the computer.
“Sure,” Lucas replied, visibly brightening as he ran to catch up with the others. He jumped into the elevator just as it was closing.
“So,” Jimmy asked off-handedly, “do we even know where we’re going?”
“Madison Square Garden,” Lucas said. “It’s on the ticket.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jimmy said, “but do we know where in the Garden we’re going? I mean, have any of you been there before?”
“Um, I saw a few basketball games on TV, but aren’t there a few different buildings?”
“Well, I think there’ll be signs, probably,” Remy said as the door slid open.
“I forget,” Jimmy said as they stepped out into the main hall, “The Nets play there, right?”
“No, the Nets are in Brooklyn,” Lucas replied. “The Knicks play at the…”
They stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“Wow,” Lucas breathed.
“Seconded,” Remy said.
“What?” Rogue said from the top, walking down. “Kurt let us out of class early so we could get ready.”
“I’d say he did the world a favor,” Lucas said. She was dressed in a tight low-cut dark green top with dark green mesh covering her hands, arms, and exposed cleavage. Her legs were also clad in the same tights/mesh combination, underneath a short green skirt.
“You can push your eyes back into your head, fellas,” Theresa said from behind her, coming down in a yellow t-shirt with a green zippered sweatshirt over it. She walked over to Remy and poked him in the stomach. “You, especially.”
“You look great, too,” Remy said, kissing her forehead.
“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “My dad’s playing chaperone tonight, I couldn’t get away with an outfit like that. I have to play Miss Roger’s Neighborhood.”
Rogue patted her on the shoulder. “Hon, I have six boys bouncing around in my head, and they’re all saying you’re hot.”
“Make that seven,” Remy said, wrapping his arm around Theresa’s shoulder. She sniffed the air, then pushed him away.
“The seventh needs a shower,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“I’m on it,” he replied, hopping up the stairs.
“So, wait,” Jimmy said, turning to Rogue. “If you have six guys in your head, and only three girls…”
“Yeah?”
“Does that make you kinda gay?”
Rogue’s mouth dropped open. “Wait, what?”
“Nevermind,” Jimmy said quietly as Lucas smacked him in the back of the head.
“Well,” Rogue said, shrugging, “I guess technically, it would make…”
A ringing from her purse interrupted her train of thought. She down, confused, then looked around the hall.
“Everyone’s here, right?” she asked the two.
“I think so,” Lucas replied.
“Huh,” she said, pulling the phone from her purse. “I wonder who’s calling. Hello?”
“I guess we should probably get ready,” Lucas said. “All the big kids have a head start on us.”
“Oh, my God!” Rogue squealed into the phone, making the two of them jump. “Hi! I was wondering if you were ever going to call!”
“Yeah, we probably should,” Jimmy said, and the two started up the stairs. As they did, Paige and Cecelia crossed past them.
“Yeah, sure,” Rogue said, her face falling. “Hang on a second.”
“Are you two ready?” Theresa asked.
“For what?” Paige responded.
“The concert,” she replied, “didn’t anyone tell you?”
“No one said about a concierto,” Cecelia said.
Concert, the wall said.
“I know,” Theresa replied to the wall. “Alison Blaire. Front row tickets, and meeting her backstage afterwards. You guys in?”
Cecelia’s eyebrow raised in unrecognition, but Paige’s breath stopped.
“Hey, guys!” Rogue yelled up to Lucas and Jimmy. “Do you know where Jones is at? He wasn’t in class.”
“I haven’t seen him,” Lucas replied. “We’re heading to the dorm, want us to look there?”
Paige screamed. “Alison Blaire!”
“Could ya?” Rogue replied, flinching at Paige’s scream. “Wait there for just a minute.” She put the phone back to her ear. “I’ll hand you off, as long as you promise you’ll call for real sometime? To talk? Good. Miss you, too.” She tossed the phone up the stairs, and Lucas caught it. “Tell him to bring it back when he’s done.”
“Can do,” Lucas said as he and Jimmy walked down the hall towards the boy’s dorm. One of the bedroom doors opened as they passed, and the two burst into laughter as Peter walked out.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Dude,” Jimmy said, looking up and down at Peter’s suit and tie, “we’re going to a concert, not a bar mitzvah.”
“So?” Peter replied defensively. “This is what I always wear when I go to concerts.”
“What concerts have you been to?” Lucas asked.
“I don’t know,” Peter said, the seams of his coat straining against his shrugging shoulders. “Moscow Boys Choir, the Russian National Orchestra?”
“This is a completely different concert, Pete,” Jimmy said, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder. “Go grab Rogue, she’ll be able to dress you right.”
“Um, okay?” Peter replied, still confused as Jimmy pushed him towards the stairs.
“Weird guy,” Lucas chuckled as the two continued down the hall.
“He grew up in Siberia,” Jimmy replied. “I’m guessing Nickelback didn’t put his area high on their world tour calendar.”
As they turned the corner into the room, they found Jones laying on his bed.
“Hey, Jones, there’s a holy shit what’s wrong with you?” Lucas said.
“Moira says I have the Black Death,” Jones muttered, snorting a quart of mucus back into his nose. “Either that or the bubonic plague, she said the tests’ll be coming back soon from the SDC.”
“Ouch,” Jimmy said. “That sucks. So you won’t be able to come to the concert?”
“It’s sarcasm, Leech,” he replied, pulling a Kleenex from a nearby box and honking into it. “I think it’s just a mild strain of polio. And, no, I’m not going. Sucks, but I can’t really move right now.”
“Man, that bites,” Lucas said, remembering he still was holding the phone in his hand. “Oh, Rogue says you have a call.”
“Thanks?” he sniffed, pushing himself up and taking the phone. “Hello? Oh, hey. What’s long distance? That doesn’t exist anymore, remember?”
Lucas and Jimmy turned to the others in the room.
“Sam, you coming to the Blaire concert?”
“Alison Blaire?” Sam said, stuffing his clean clothes into the drawer. “Nah, I ain’t into that kinda stuff.”
“Oh, okay,” Lucas said. “From the sound of things, I guess your sister’s going.”
“Tell her to have a good time,” Sam replied.
“Don’t worry,” Lucas continued, “I’ll try to keep the guys looking for a grope in the mosh pit away from her.”
Sam paused in mid-stuff, then slammed the drawer shut. “What time do we leave?”
“Sure, what do you have?” Jones said into the phone, then closed his eyes. Seconds later, he opened them. “Nope, they’re both unlisted... Sure I can, but it’ll take me a second to hack in. What did you say the first name was again?”
“Shiro?” Lucas asked. “Any interest?”
“No thank you,” Shiro replied through his heavy Japanese accent. “Still having, what do you call, jet lag?”
“Fair enough.”
“Nope, still nothing,” Jones said groggily. “What was the second one?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me?”
Jimmy and Lucas turned to the bed in the far corner, where Franklin Richards was laying. He had an ice pack strapped to his forehead with a belt, and was holding another bag of ice on his jaw. Lucas saw the area under his lip was still stained from the bloody nose he had received from Remy’s victory.
“No,” Jimmy said.
“Well, I didn’t want to go anyway, baldy,” he replied bitterly.
“Fair enough,” Lucas said, barely containing a smirk.
“Yeah, I found him,” Jones said, sitting up straighter. “Have a pen? It’s 1360 King’s Ridge Rd in South Kingstown, Rhode Island. I can get you MapQuest directions if you… or you can use a map, whatever.”
“Tag,” Remy said, walking in with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“I’ll hit it next,” Jimmy said.
“I should be fine,” Lucas said, sniffing his pits. “I didn’t even break a sweat.”
“Fucker,” Jimmy joked, grabbing a towel.
“Hey, quick question,” Jones said. “Does healing factor mean you can’t get sick, either?”
Lucas and Remy both looked at him in confusion, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Just checking,” he continued. “Wanted to make sure Rogue doesn’t catch my scurvy. Talk to you later, Wolverine.”
As he slapped the phone closed, he saw the two staring at him.
“What?”
“That was Logan?” Lucas said loudly.
“Yeah,” Jones replied.
“Ppph, dude!” Lucas spit. “If I had known, I woulda said something to him!”
“He was just calling for a few addresses,” Jones said, breaking for a room-rumbling sneeze.
“Don’t worry about it,” Remy said, pulling a blue dress shirt on over his purple t-shirt. “He’ll call again.”
“Yeah, he’d better,” Lucas grumbled. “Leaving without saying goodbye.”
“He does that,” Jones said, wiping his hand beneath his nose. “You’ll get used to it. Actually, this is the first time I think he’s ever called. Usually he just shows up.”
“Call it a good sign,” Remy said, grabbing his trench coat from the bed. “I’ll see you guys downstairs.”
“Yeah, see you in a few,” Lucas replied, digging through his drawers.
As Remy walked back towards the stairs, Bobby’s room opened, and he and Kitty stepped out.
“Hey, Remy,” Kitty said as the two joined him. She was dressed in jeans, a blue jacket with a red and white stripe over a blue shirt. “How’d class go?”
“Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves,” Remy said.
“It’s great that you’re doing this,” Bobby said, buttoning his dark blue shirt over a light blue t-shirt. “Can’t wait to start the advanced class.”
“I’m thinking of pulling out some weapons, actually,” Remy said as the descended the steps. “You guys can handle a bo staff?”
“Why not?” Bobby said. “I always wanted to be Donatello.”
“See?” Rogue said as she and Peter came out of his room and walked downstairs, “You look better already.”
“Are you sure this looks good?” Peter said nervously. He was dressed in a tight red shirt with yellow striping down the sides. The sleeves were short enough to show off his large arms, and the front strained against his muscles.
“So who dressed him, Rogue?” Bobby asked. “Was it Jubilee?”
“Actually, I think it was Kitty,” Rogue said playfully, and the girl in question coughed nervously.
“Well,” Kitty replied faintly, “I always said he has good arms to have.”
“Isn’t this a little, I don’t know, not much?”
“You don’t hear me complaining,” Paige breathed, her hand on her chest. Cecelia shook her head slowly in agreement.
“Don’t worry, Sug, you’ll fit in perfectly,” Rogue replied, squeezing his arm.
“I’m so glad I’m in charge of this hormone platoon,” Sean sighed as he joined the circle. “Really.”
“Ah, they’re young, Cassidy,” Forge said from behind him. “Let ‘em gawk while they still have a chance to do something about it.”
Sean turned to his daughter, who was blushing furiously. He sighed again.
“Don’t worry,” he said to Theresa, “I’m not going to cramp your style, or whatever. Unless you give me a reason to.”
“Daaaad,” Theresa pleaded.
“Fine, fine,” Sean said, throwing his hands up. “We’re playing limo driver tonight, not chauffeur. You guys can go and enjoy yourselves, and we’ll be bumming around in the Starbucks across the street.”
“The life of the old folks on a Friday night,” Sam said as he and Lucas came down the stairs. “Thrill a minute.”
“Hey,” Forge said, “I still look young enough to get carded.”
“They card at AARP meetings?”
“Funny,” Forge replied. “One more quip like that and you’re walking. And what’s with the getup?” At this, he pointed his cybernetic finger to Bishop’s throat.
“What?” he said, his hand falling on the red bandanna wrapped around his neck and draped over a blue t-shirt. “It looks cool, doesn’t it?”
“Nah, it looks fine,” Forge said, shaking his head. “Kids’ fashion today,” he mumbled to himself. “I’ll never get it.”
“Is everyone here?”
The group looked down the hall, where Ororo was walking towards them from the elevator.
“Yeah,” Bobby said, counting heads, “Except where’s…”
“I’m here, I’m here!” Jimmy yelled, leaping down the stairs and pulling a black stocking cap on over his head.
“I want everyone to be careful,” Ororo said seriously. “There’s going to be extra security tonight at the concert, so everything should be fine. But there still might be a few wackos out there who aren’t too keen on seeing a mutant celebrity. So watch yourselves.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they all said.
“If things start getting ugly, you have cell phones,” she said. “Call Sean or Forge.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Jimmy said, pulling Rogue’s phone out of his pocket with two fingers and carefully handing it to her. “You might want to get a few disinfectant wipes for it first.”
“If things get really bad,” Ororo continued, “Well, Theresa knows how to scream really hard.”
“Being a little paranoid, aren’t you, Professor?” Sam asked.
“Probably,” Ororo said. “I’ve just had my head in too many projects. But I’m also your headmistress, so you’re supposed to do what I say. So I say go, have fun, keep alert, and bring her my support.”
“Okay, folks!” Forge said loudly as the group noisily walked towards the front door. “Looks like we got an unlucky number thirteen here, so we’re gonna have to spread out. I’m driving one van, Sean’s driving the other, so we can go seven and six. Or eight and five if someone wants to share a lap.”
“Not Theresa.”
“Dad!” Theresa whined teenagerly as the door closed behind them. Ororo walked to the window and pulled aside the curtain, watching the group pile into the Academy’s minivans.
“Have fun,” she said quietly, then turned back towards the elevator, the lab, and the Defenders.
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