The Chaos Factor
Chapter Four:"A Face in the Crowd"
by Jim Cannon

   The three of them jammed into the cab made for a tight fit, even
with Samantha in the passenger seat, and Thor complained several times
that there were easier ways to get to Queens. But both Sam and Rogue
insisted that their quest was a civilian one, and should be followed
without resorting to the use of powers. Thor played along, though he
didn't much care for it. Reprising his role as Sigurd Jarlson,
mild mannered construction worker, Thor dressed in jeans and a heavy
wool sweater, hiding his massive hammer under the bulk of his
clothing. A pair of glasses and a hair tie to keep his golden locks
away from his face completed the transformation from god to man.
   Sam still couldn't believe that Dr. Strange moved to Queens. Strange
moving out of the village was just so preposterous -- even if his
Sanctum Sanctorum was destroyed in a magickal battle. A man like
Strange could easily have found another house or even an apartment
somewhere in the Village. It was a shame he did not.
   Thor chattered incessantly throughout the ride, commenting on a
myriad of subjects. The cab driver responded well to Thor's outgoing
manner, and soon the two of them were conversing like regular folks.
Rogue sat quietly, watching the city roll by through the open window
and wondering about the wizard. Sam could tell the girl was full of
doubts, and evinced discomfort at having to share a cab with Thor.
Years ago, during her debut, she and the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants
attacked the Avengers. Rogue almost defeated them singlehandedly, and,
by all reports, she had dismantled Thor himself quite handily.
   Sam wondered how it would feel to sit with someone she had beaten
the crap out of, and never expected a kind word from, let alone a
helping hand. Sam guessed that Hawkeye's reaction to rogue, while
cruel, was easier for the young mutant to understand and deal with.
Thor's unreserved friendliness seemed to make Rogue uneasy, as if she
expected the next shoe to drop right on top of her.
   The truth of Thor's gregariousness, as Sam well knew, was simply
that Thor was an easy going, friendly sort of guy who didn't hold
grudges very long. Especially not against someone whose heroic actions
overshrouded her villianous ones. Rogue had proved time and again in
the past, as an X-Man, that she was one of the good guys. Thor
respected that, as much as he respected anyone who could defeat him in
single combat.
   Funny how Hawkeye, who had started out as a criminal himself, would
be so suspicious of Rogue.
   Such thoughts entertained Samantha Nelson for the better part of the
drive to Queens, and by the time they reached the borough, she was sick
of them. Tired of her silence, she decided to jump in on Thor's
discussion with the cabbie, and was soon embroiled in a political
debate bewteen a thundergod and a mortal cab driver.
   The debate did not last long however, as Thor soon began giving
directions to Strange's house. In a short while, they reached their
destination.
   Strange's house could not have been more un-Strangelike. It was a
simple, two-story home with a fenced in yard, a respectably sized front
porch, a two car garage, and several flower pots spread out on the
porch. The house was painted a bright white, with light blue trim and
roof tiles. A happy chimney puffed gray smoke into teh air.
   As Sam exited the car, she looked at Thor and said, "Are you sure
this is the right house?"
   Thor smiled. "Indeed it is. I think its a good choice, too. Very
nondescript."
   True enough, Sam supposed. Who would expect the Sorceror Supreme of
Earth would live in such a place? She payed off the cab driver, and
told him they wouldn't need him any further.
   As they passed through the gate into the yard, Thor remarked, "I do
believe Reed and Sue Richards once had a house on this block."
   "Really?" Rogue asked. "When was that?"
   "It was quite a few years ago, but..." Thor looked around at the
neigborhood. His eyes suddenly lit up. "There," he gestured toward a
house down the road that appeared to be newer than the others on the
street. The tree in the front yard of the house could be seen to have
some wicked burn scars all over its trunk.
   "Reed and Sue didn't live here long," Thor said with a grin.
   Sam shook her head. One more example of superhumans trying to lead a
normal life, only to prove that such a thing was impossible. Even she,
who had vowed to keep out of the business, was easily sucked back in to
the same circles of heroes and villians.
   Rogue felt the same way. The idea that Reed and Sue Richards tryed
to live in Queens, only to have their home destroyed, hammered home the
notion that once one had super powers, there would never be any peace.
You didn't even have to be an X-Man for that kind of horror to happen
to you.
   Thor hit the doorbell, and the three of them could hear the
resounding sound from within. Sam had a moment of disorientation; the
whole scene was just so bizarre. The mighty Thor, wearing a sweater and
glasses, ringing a doorbell in Queens, while one of the Uncanny X-Men
and a geologist from Seattle looked on. They waited, and Thor gave Sam
and Rogue a reassuring smile.
  With a click, the heavy door swung open, revealing a slightly built
young man with long, dark hair streaked with white. "Can I help you?"
he said.
  Sam's jaw dropped open. That voice -- but the face --
  "Afternoon, Stephan," Thor said. "These ladies have a favor to ask of
you."
   Doctor Stephan Strange looked Sam and Rogue over, noting Sam's shock
and Rogue's uncertainty. "My apologies," he said. "I'm afraid I didn't
recognize the three of you immediately. Please, come in." He stepped
back, and gestured for them to enter.
   Sam mastered her surprise and stepped into the house. She had so
many questions, she didn't know where to begin. Rogue was at her heels,
still nervous about the whole prospect of using magic to solve her
problem, especially since every other attempt to date had ended in
total failure. Only Thor seemed unperturbed, and he whistled a juanty
tune as he followed Rogue into Dr. Strange's new home.

              *   *   *    *   *   *   *

   After breakfast, Dick jogged back to the house as quickly as he
could. Rasputin decided to take his time walking back, as he had some
thinking to do, and Dick was only too happy to let him. Despite their
talk on the beach and subsequent discussion over hot cakes and bangers,
Dick still felt slightly uneasy around the mutant. Someone with the
incredible power of Colossus who could not control his temper was a
danger to everyone around him.
   Dick slipped back into his room the same way he escaped, and quickly
showered and dressed. In less than twenty minutes he was out in the
hall and heading for the main rooms. He passed a chain-smoking Brit in
the hallway who gave him a piercing glare. Dick didn't recognize him
and wasn't impressed. A little voice in the back of his head urged him
to lay the little man out, but Dick ignored it.
   He found Kurt Wagner in the kitchen, fixing some eggs and listening
to the local news on a small radio.
   "Guten morgan, Herr Grayson," Kurt grinned, holding the frying pan
with his tail and adjusting the stove with one hand while he cracked
and egg with the other.
   "Morning, Kurt. Is Des awake yet?"
   "I haven't seen her, but it is my experiance that teenagers are
notoriously late risers. Worried about her?"
    Dick shrugged. He felt it wouldn't be polite to voice his fears
when he was a guest. But maybe he could fudge a little. "Just a bit,"
he confessed to Kurt. "She's young, and she's scared. Things are moving
too fast for her. Yesterday she was a normal girl. Today she's in a
house teeming with metahumans."
    "Ja, I understand," Kurt said, thinking of those first few weeks
with young Katherine Pryde.
    Dick deliberated for a moment, and then said, "Can I ask you a
favor?"
    Kurt blinked, pulling himself out of his reverie. "Certainly," Kurt
said.
    "I need to make a few phone calls..."
    "Ach! I should have thought of that myself. Of course you can.
There's a phone in Moira's study, down the hall and to the left." Kurt
suddenly grinned. "Of course, if you'd prefer a vid-link..."
    Dick smiled tightly. "No, a phone will do." Just his luck. the only
person on the island who knew his secret identity had an impish sense
of humor. He slipped back out of the kitchen while the elf chuckled,
and made his way to MacTaggert's study.
    He found the room on the first try. It was surprisingly small and
nondescript, more of an office than a study. On one wall was a bookcase
filled with medical texts, while the other three walls were bare. A
modern desk squatted in the center of the room, and on it was set a
desk lamp, blotter, a photo of a young boy, and a telephone.
   Dick sat on the desk and grabbed the phone. He dialed quickly, and
then waited while it rang. On the third ring, the answering machine
picked up. It was Linda's voice, predictable. "Bzzz... Hello, you've
reached the home of Wally and Linda. We're not here right now, but if
you leave your name and number, we'll get back to you as soon as
possible."
   <Beep>
   "Wally, this is Dick," he started, but was cut off as someone picked
up the phone on the other side.
   "Dick! Whats up?"
   "Wally? Where were you, across town?"
   "Uh...no. I was screening your call."
   Same Wally West. Irrepressible and unresponsible. No, that was
unfair. Wally was responsible. His priorities were just more oddly
organized than most people's.
   "Anyway, what can I do for you?"
   Dick grinned despite himself. "I need a favor, Wally. I'm stuck on
Muir Isle in Scotland for the time being, and I need some things from
my apartment."
   "And you thought you'd call West Express. Sheesh." Dick could
imagine Wally's expression: shaking his head and rolling his eyes. But
he knew Wally's indignance was all show. "Say... Muir Isle," Wally said
said. "That sounds familiar..."
   "Its..." Dick started, but Wally suddenly cut him off.
   "Excalibur!" he exclaimed. "Those British mutants live on Muir. I
remember working with them when I was in the JLE. What are you doing
there? Undercover?"
   "Exactly," Dick said. "I'll explain it all when you get here.
Anyway, you know what I need?"
   "I can guess," Wally said, and Dick heard his grin.
   "Good. When can I expect you?"
   "Oh, I figure I'll take my time. Maybe even take a boat out to the
island so your cover isn't ruined. Say... two hours?"
   "Cool. See you then."
   "See ya, Dick." There was a click, and Dick knew Wally was on his
way to Gotham already.
   And it was Dick's turn to call Gotham as well. Alfred picked up on
the first ring. "Wayne Manor, Alfred speaking. How may I help you?" The
dry, British voice was more familiar to Dick than his own, and he was
surprisingly happy to hear it.
   "Hey Alifie, how are you doing?"
   "Dick -- how splendid to hear from you. I am well. And yourself?"
   "I'm doing okay. I just wanted you guys to know that I'm in
Scotland, and I'll probably be here for a while."
   "Scotland?" Alfred said incredulously. Dick thought he could discern
a bit of English prejudice in the way Alfred pronounced the word.
"Whatever for?" the butler continued.
   "Remember Maggie Halloran?" Alfred murmurred the affirmative. "Well,
she has a daughter named Desdemona, and Des just manifested metahuman
abilities last night. I'm sticking around Muir Isle to help her cope
with them."
   Alfred sighed. "How very much like you, Richard. I hope you aren't
gone too long. I had quite gotten used to you being around again."
   "I'll try to keep the trip short, Alfie." Dick could tell by
Alfred's pitch that the butler wasn't the only one who missed him, and
he cursed himself for the warm feeling it gave him.
   "Do you need anything?"
   "No, no. I'm having a friend take care of that."
   "Very well."
   "Well," Dick said, "I don't want to tie up the line too long. Tell
Tim to keep his head down, and tell Bruce -- " Dick faltered, still not
sure what to say.
   "I shall, sir," Alfred said.
   Dick breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks Alfie. Take care of
yourself.
   "You too, Dick. Goodbye."
   "Bye." Dick hung up the phone and then shook his head. Even after
all this time -- dropping the Robin identity, creating his own image
and becoming his own man, taking up the mantle of the bat -- he still
couldn't relate well to the one man he had the most in common with, the
man he very much considered his father.
   What was it Bruce had said -- "I suppose that is the way it always
is among fathers and sons."
   Dick wiped the grin off his face at the memory; one of the few times
Bruce had ever opened up to him and expressed his true feelings.
   He decided to go wake Desdemona and make sure the girl was alright.

            *   *   *   *   *   *   *  *   *

   The ride into town was interesting. Primarily because I hadn't
driven anything myself in quite a long while. Technically, my driver's
license wouldn't expire for another two years, but I had spent several
subjective years lost in the dimensions, without driving stick or
automatic. It took me a few moments to orient myself when I settled
into the driver's seat.
  "Something wrong?" Tasha asked.
  "What? No, of course not," I said quickly. I found the ignition
switch, slipped the keys inside, and started the van up. I was
inordinately proud of my ability to do so much. I turned around and
glanced back at the six kids spread out in the spacious accomadations
of the van. "Everybody buckled in?" I asked.
  There were murmurs of affirmation, and for one wild second I felt
like my father. Then I turned back to the wheel, and eased teh van out
of the driveway and towards the main road.
  Tasha fiddled with the radio for a little bit, but by the time I
pulled onto Kirby Drive, she had popped a Who tape into the deck. That
was fine with me. The kids were quiet in the back, and I glanced up at
the rearview mirror. Simon and Sandra were sitting together, and looked
fairly comfortable, while Alissa was practicaly sitting in Michael's
lap. Dana stared out the window on the passenger side, watching the
landscape scroll by. Louise was leaning back in her seat with her eyes
closed.
   I looked over at Tasha, and gave me a smile and a nod.
   "How are you guys settling in? I haven't had much chance to talk to
you guys, and I was wondering how you're all doing." I thought I'd
start slow.
   Most of them mumbled that everything was fine. Apparently I wouldn't
be getting through to them anytime soon.

   We stopped at the Arcade, a closed off series of streets that formed
a kind of tiny marketplace where people could get out in the air and
walk around while they shopped. Much better than a mall. The kids
bolted as soon as we stopped the car, but I made them promise to meet
us back at the van in an hour. They acquiesced, though I almost had to
throttle Hawkins before he agreed.
   I must have looked grumpy, because Tasha patted my arm
sympathetically. "You can't expect too much right away. All this is
still new to them. Let them get used to eachother and themselves before
you try to be their big brother."
   I sighed. "I suppose you're right. But I still feel like a failure."
   Tasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, not that again."
   "What?" I said.
   "Gerard Thomas Tolken, you are not and have never been a failure.
You are a human being, not a god; no matter what your hype says. Now, I
don't want to ever hear you moaning that you're a failure ever again,
or I'll leave you."
   I have to admit, I was a bit taken aback by Tasha's vehemance. I
just stared at her, my mouth open like a drawbridge.
   "Do you understand?" she asked, her eyes colder than I'd ever seen
them.
   "Yes," I said slowly, and she rewarded me with one of her bright
smiles. "There, thats settled," she said.
   "Now where do you want to start?"
   "Um..." I thought intently.
   "Oh, you want to get to work on your wardrobe?" she said, smiling
hugely. For a moment, I hoped Dr. Doom might carpet-bomb thecity, but
she dragged me into American Eagle with nary a glimpse of a
supervillian to save me.

   We picked up some Ben&Jerry's later, and settled down on a bench to
enjoy the ice cream and watch the people go by. I was relieved to put
all the packages down. Four new sweaters, a dozen pairs of slacks,
three jerseys, some winter gloves, and a new leather jacket. All but
the last Tasha had picked out and made me try on. To my chagrin, every
store we looked in had my size in stock. By the time we got out of the
Banana Republic, I was beginning to smell a conspiracy.
   On the up side, I was able to score the new Jordan book, *Crown of
Swords*. His trilogy was out of control, but for some reason I was
addicted to it.
   "So how is work?" I asked innocently as I spooned Cherry Garcia into
my mouth. Tasha groaned.
   "Don't. I'd rather not talk about it," she grumbled. "Oh, look,
Ralph Lauren's... we haven't gone in there..."
   "And we're not going to," I said. "I'm not wearing any of that
stuff. I wore enough preppy clothes back at school. Bad enough you've
got me wearing sweaters."
   She smiled. "Well, maybe we could..."
   "And you're not changing the subject that easily, dear. What is
so terrible at work that you won't tell me about it?"
   She looked away for a moment, and when she turned back to me, her
expression was strained. "Gerry, please, I'd rather not. Just don't."
   I opened my mouth to protest, but was cut short by a shout from
behind.
   "Hey Mr. Tolken, Miss Hawthorne!"
   We turned, and saw Mike and Alissa heading for us. Tasha waved them
over, and I spooned another chunk of Cherry Garcia into my mouth.
   As they approached, I said, "For the last time guys, call me Gerry."
   "And I'm Tasha," Tasha added.
   Mike shrugged, and Alissa grinned. "Okay, okay," she said. "You guys
been doing a little shopping or what?" she continued, eyeing all of my
bags.
   "Tasha thinks I'm out of clothes," I said. "And he is," she added,
patting my forearm. I shook my head and grinned like an idiot.
   "And what have you two been up to?" Tasha asked, taking my hand. She
squeezed tightly. She wanted me to know the discussion was finished. I
gave her a light squeeze of my own, implying that iur talk was only
discontinued for a short while.
   "Not much," Mike admitted, adjusting his sunglasses. "We found a
killer music store, but y'knoe, we're kind of low on funds."
   I blinked. "I'm sorry... I didn't even realize... You guys want some
money?"
   "What? No," Mike said quickly. "I mean, you're already letting us
stay at your place rent free. I can only accept so much charity,
y'know."
   Alissa nodded. "Thanks anyway."
   I nodded as well. "Okay. If you two feel that way, fine."  But as I
said that, I started thinking. Quite a number of my kids came from
impoverished or lower-middle class homes. Only Libby and Sandra could
boast that their families were independantly wealthy. But it would be
too risky to let any of teh kids get jobs "off-campus." At least, not
yet.
    There had to be a way to help them out, without making them feel
like dependants. Hmmm.
    I thought about the problem for most of the ride back to the
mansion as well.

                *    *    *    *   *   *   *

    They were outside Harry's when it happened. One minute they were
stumbling toward the jeep, Logan's legs only a little more steady than
his, and the next moment the world exploded.
    Remy woke with a pounding headache, a broken nose, and no sign of
the short Canadien anywhere. The only blood he could find was his own.
Which meant even Wolverine didn't fight whoever sucker-punched Gambit.
He felt the lump at the back of his head, and decided two somebodys
must have hit him simultaneously while his mind was distracted with
alcohol.
    Not a hard thing to do, considering how much the Cajun drank that
night. But the little berserker should have been on his toes,
regardless of how much booze he consumed. Thats how the healing factor
worked.
    Remy limped to Logan's jeep, and thought maybe, just maybe, Logan
was playing a trick on him. Maybe, when Remy got in the jeep and drove
back to the mansion, he would find the Canuck already there, laughing
at the crude joke.
    Not bloody likely, though.
    Wolverine was missing. Again. Maybe it was time for somebody to do
something about Logan's frequent, unscheduled vacations. Remy started
the jeep. The hard part would be convincing Cyke to let him do this
himself...

NEXT: Dr.Strange, the Flash, and a training exercise.
***********************************************************************
Matt G: I tried getting back to you man, but your return address was
all messed up. Write me again, okay, so I can get back to you.

Nightwing (C) DC Comics

X-Men, Thor, Dr. Strange, etc. (C) Marvel Comics

In no way do I mean any disrespect to either company. This story is
done in fun only.

Everything else -- story, characters, setting, etc. -- belong to me. I
hereby give permission to transmit this story electronically so long as
no money changes hands and the document itself is not changed in any
way.
(C) 1996 James M.G. Cannon

Mail me at: x8cg@music.stlawu.edu

archived at: http://www.stlawu.edu/x8cg:http/chaos.html