To Raise a Tempest... Ch 6 Disclaimer in Ch 1 Remy's mind reeled at the thought of Charles Xavier deliberately infecting Liz with the Legacy Virus... and how would it complicate the needs of his Guild and those of his beloved Candra, whose aim was to become the sole Majestrix of the Coda... Hank continued talking softly to Liz and Phoenix, "No matter now gray you perceive his motives to have been, Charles has always extended a helping hand to mutants, stricken with disease, dangerous powers and persecution, Lady Braddock... He extended an invitation to you, to stay at the Institute for treatment under my care." [And your invitation is appreciated, Hank,] she replied gently, [but earlier, I spoke of an individual's right to choose how they live-and I choose to face this, fighting all the way, because I can't be the only one it will effect like this. I will not sit around that hypocrite's so-called school and watch him brainwash people!] Henry's voice softened, "They fight, no matter how impossible the odds are. Better they believe, to die on their feet, than live on their knees..." Liz nodded, [Quite so, my friend, quite so! You weren't there the last time he ran a bio-scan of me, Hank...] ----------------------- A few weeks ago. The ultra-tech med-lab housed in one of the sub-basements of the Xavier Institute. Various sensors and systems surround the English telepath as world reknowned geneticist Charles Xavier checks the progress of one of his "guests". "This may hurt a little, Ms. Braddock," he intoned with clinical detatchment, more interested in the results of the mysterious disease on a half-alien hybrid than he was with the individual woman. [Hmm... Well, Doctor Xavier,] she replied telepathically, knowing it made him quite ill at ease, and this reality gave her a perverse sense of satisfaction: she could read him, but he was unable to read her. "I am sorry, child..." he began. Liz sat up, her violet eyes drilling into him as the multicoloured lights reflected off her pale skin, her voice dangerously soft, "I am not a child, 'Doctor' Xavier. You forget that I am nearly your own age, and since you expect to be treated with the courtesy due an adult, I expect the same from you." The bald telepath swallowed, unused to anyone talking back to him, "...as I was saying, the skin rash is an external manifestation of the cellular degeneration being caused by the Legacy Virus inside you. I can provide you with pain relievers if it is bad..." Her enigmatic violet eyes bored into him, with an unrelenting quality that reminded him of a predator as she pulled on her scarlet kimono, [I've endured worse.] He suddenly changed the subject, no longer trying to emulate any form of bedside manner, his tone carrying an underlying demand that she felt backed up by the power of his mind. A faint, mocking smile toyed around her lips, as the attempted "suggestion" skittered off her impenetrable psychic shielding, [Plans, Doctor Xavier? What could I possible have planned? Have you forgotten? I have this Legacy Virus of yours... I'm supposed to die, yes?] He then tried to twist her words, still unable to banish the lump in his throat, not knowing just how powerful a telepath she was, to be able to mindspeak past his shields, and counter his probes and promptings. "You misunderstood me, Ms. Braddock," he replied, pleased that his voice didn't betray how nervous this wild card of a Briton made him, "I merely meant that as the disease progresses, will you stay here at the Institute so that we can continue treatment?" Liz flung her long violet hair over her shoulders before pinning it up with a pair of mei fa sticks, a derisive snort echoing from her otherwise cultured demeanour, [Study me is more the like, isn't it? Poked and prodded like a laboratory animal? You can't wait to see what the results are on someone who is not merely human-but rather a half-human hybrid with both racial psionics as well as a paltry precognitive mutation, yes?] Charles had swallowed again, his silence her only answer-and in this case, a ringing affirmative to what she had Seen. Her words, and the cold smile had elicited an unfamiliar emotion in Xavier: Fear. [I think not, Xavier.] she had replied as she left the med-lab, [I am going to live, as I always have.. with the wind at my back and steel in my hands!] The woman called Psykeye left quickly, giving Charles no time to remark on her enigmatic statement, nor the implication that she knew some of his deepest, darkest secrets. ------------------------------- Hank's blue eyes narrowed as she shared the memories of the exchange with the Avenger, "Now what?" [I do what everyone else does, Hank,] she replied, knowing that no blame lay with the former X-man, come Avenger, [I shall persevere, and make my existence something to remember-and if I'm successful, something Xavier will never forget!] "I seem to remember a curious conversation I had with him as well," Hank replied, "Not long after the Russian girl passed away-we may be piecing together pieces of a puzzle. We do know that you were deliberately infected with a tailor made version of the Virus... Let me see if I can remember all of this! This was about the time that you and our Cajun charmer were standing Charles on his ears with your weekly 'disappearances'-shortly after the funeral." ----------------------------- Outside the Institute, the spirits of some were slowly healing, while inside, a pall is cast over the joy the others would feel at seeing a budding romance. Illyana Nickolievna Rasputina passed away four days ago, and there was seemingly nothing Charles Xavier, founder of the Xavier Institute, could do but watch. And at her passing, the Russian girl took something very important with her: A small piece of his fanatical belief in his Dream of harmony between mutants and humans. For what hope do Xavier's "children" have in saving mankind, when they can not save one sick little girl? The question haunted him immensely, as badly as the earlier appearance of an stunning Englishwoman some weeks before, whose telepathic abilities were unknown to him, and whose "devotion" and "cooperation" he could not assure in his usual manner. He had felt no particular guilt at taking other, more drastic, measures to assure her loyalty and connection to the school, but only time would tell if such measures would pay off! Hank's presence wasn't helping him concentrate on what needed doing right now, either.. his doubts rang loud and clear to the world's most powerful telepath, and those could prove...useful. "I'm sorry I wasn't more help, Professor," Hank had said as he hung from the ceiling, reviewing notes on Illyana's case. "Never fault yourself for having confidence in your abilities, Hank," Charles replied, keeping his tone carefully neutral as his subtle mindtouch went unnoticed by the indigo-furred scientist. "Well, it's a fine line between confidence and arrogance, isn't it, Charles," Hank replied, with a bitter tone in his voice, his deep-seated guilt and depression making it tougher for Charles to bolster that confidence, "and I have crossed that line, I do believe." "You were justifiably upset that Moira and I did not choose to consult your expertise in bio-genetics and meta-human medicine." Charles stated simply, not realizing that he was fighting a loosing battle. "I was, and still am hurt that you refuse to treat me like a colleage and fellow intellectual with some small expertise in such matters, Charles." Hank said quietly, "I might have, with the input of other intellectual, such as Forge, Reed Richards and Hank Pym, also formidable intellectuals in their own right, been able to resolve this dilemma with some degree of panache, but I was wrong, wasn't I?" Charles remained silent at the bitter, accusatory tone in his former student's voice, as Hank sat down opposite him, "And now, your hubris states you in the face as you sit here, baffled by these readouts of Lady Braddock, and others Moira has been treating at her facility!" Charles became immediately defensive, which alarmed Hank, "I did warn you that this virus is rather unique, too..." Hank raised an eyebrow, "Hmm.. 'Unique.' Such a cold, clinical word, Charles." "Did you find something?" the bald telepath demanded as the McCoy gazed as the screen, fiddling around in his pockets for something. "Actually, I was wondering where my glasses were," he replied distractedly, "I can't read a think on this screen without them, you know." Hank reached up to scratch his head, and felt them perched there, "Ah, there you go, Dr. McCoy-that's much better! Oy, vey! Look at me? Still weeks shy of thirty and already falling apart!" Charles tried to shift gears, into a mode he was never comfortable with, but one that might serve as a last resort in this situation: sympathy. "Hank, I know the pain you are feeling." he began, trying to bolster the words with feelings of warmth and sympathy-even though his empathy rating was next to nil, "There's no need to hide behind the fatade of the absent-minded academic..." Hank turned to Charles, his blue eyes narrowing suspiciously, "It's one I've become comfortable with over the years, Charles. I assure you, I have grieved enough in private. You and Moira are aware of what you're dealing with here, aren't you?" Charles became defensive again, "We discussed it, Hank, but I don not think it would be prudent to jump to any conclusions-at least until she and I have had the opportunity to further study the Virus in a living specimen." Hank didn't think much of the cryptic comment at the moment, because he was too busy examining the files and information displayed on the screens around them, his voice skeptical, "Well, Charles, if what I see on this DNA helix is true-you may have far more patients with which to study your virus than you could possibly imagine... And, heaven help us all if you can't do something..." ----------------------------- Phoenix shook her head, remembering the man Charles had once been, "That's just plain spooky, Hank. Do you think he'd actually infected Liz at that point?" "In retrospect, I do believe so." the Avenger replied somberly, "Because it wasn't look after she started looking after you in the med-lab, that I ran some discrete scans of her, noting certain physical changes that were visual, as well as tell-tale signs on a physical level: chills, discomfort around large groups of people-a sure sign of increasing psychic sensitivity. Your distrust of Charles increased, as well as your refusal to allow him to treat you after his initial work with you, Liz. And then there was that "other" run in you had with Kwannon Yashida not long after..." Liz sighed, [But what does that gain us now? We know what he's done, not only to me, but to Ororo and what he did to Jean, Kitty, and other students of his-and yes, even Kwannon seemed to have more redeeming qualities than he does!" ---------------------------- Not long after the last time she let Charles Xavier examine her, Liz Braddock had taken to keeping to herself when she wasn't with Remy, or helping Cable tend Emma and Jean. She took comfort in her solitude, letting Emma drill her on telepathic exercises, so long as they had shared her body; and sparring with Cable to keep her reflexes sharp. She and the cyberneticly enhanced mercenary had gained a mutual respect after long nights of trading "war stories" while keeping an eye on the two comatose psychics in Remy's more frequent absences. One morning, quite early, she had awakened from a Sight-dream, and couldn't go back to sleep. She'd left the boat house to run along one of the trails that some other resident had worn into the forested grounds over the years, enjoying the crisp autumn breeze that cut through the air. A faint presence nearby set her on alert as her escalating telepathic senses picked up the thoughts of a familiar intruder, but not even the disturbing things she's been discovering behind the walls of the Institute could preoccupy her mind to the point where Liz's lifetime of training fails to instinctively control her actions! [Psylocke.] she thought, half to herself as the shadowy figure leapt out of the tree, attempting to tackle her as she swiftly rolled clear of the Oriental woman's path, leaving Kwannon to roll to her feet into a crouch. The Briton Sister glared down at her fellow Coda, the scarlet Bloodmarques on their faces identifying them as members of Majestrix Artemis' faction, as Kwannon gazed curiously at her, [I merely wished to see-how you were...] Liz's austere beauty was a wonder to behold, even Kwannon couldn't deny its effects upon her, making her breath catch in her throat. [Oh, I understand, alright, Kwannon.] she replied coldly, [You wished to out my reflexes-see if I could still perform-to see if this bloody damned Legacy Virus is slowing me down? Rest assured, m'dear Kwannon, I can still do everything I used to...and more! I can still hit-still hurt-and if need be, I can-and will-kill!] And the woman called Psykeye breathes in deeply, centering her self, reinforcing her psi-shields, concealing her motives from Kwannon as she whipped her concealed hand back as she grabbed her doppelganger's extended hand and flung the Oriental woman face first into the very tree she'd jumped out of. [Don't you ever try that again, Kwannon,] Liz informed her, [I could have killed you!!] [Or I, you, Psykeye,] she sputtered, finding herself thoroughly pinned, with a razor-sharp dagger pressed into her throat, forcing her into a very uncomfortable posture from which Kwannon couldn't break free. [Why did you interrupt my morning constitutional?] Liz demanded, [Can't any peace or solace be found on this Goddess-forsaken estate be found with out the interference of every busybody in existence?] Kwannon shook her head, rubbing her throat warily, [Liz Braddock never did any of those things....] The Briton raised an eyebrow as she straightened up, [Well, maybe she should have! Then she'd have never been mauled by the Slaymaster!] ----------------------------- [That was the last time I saw Kwannon Yashida,] Liz told them as she thought about the imposter who'd usurped her life with the spandex set, [At least my brother was able to persuade the world that I was living as a total recluse on our ancestral estate.] "That's what I remember Jean hearing," Phoenix replied, "Something about the world renowned super-model, Liz Braddock, being mugged and blinded some years back-about the same time that the female Captain Britain disappeared from the scene, too." [It was quite the thing that he and I decided was best to conceal my whereabouts and allow me freedom of movement, after I came to the Institute originally.] she replied, and it so happened that I fell into Ororo's team, during which time Magneto lead the school... How was I to know what manner of man Charles Xavier was? He was in outer space at the time, and Kwannon didn't possess an exact imprint of my memories, just the most prominent ones.] "So, now, Liz Braddock is no longer a recluse, and what of Kwannon Yashida?" Phoenix asked as they waited for Cable and Madame to complete the core dump to the abandoned SHIELD facility underneath Emma's corporate head shed, "Didn't you agree to leave her with Artemis?" [Aye,] Liz continued as she finished her water, still enjoying Phoenix's telekinetic "chair", [We did, Hank and Remy were there with both of us when we confronted her, and they were with me when I later confronted Shinobi Shaw over his part in all of this fiasco. Shee's been very open with me since Remy and I were attacked by Worthington at the Hellfire Club gala. I've evidence that the attack on yo-well, Jean anyway, Emma, Ororo and Worthington by that FitzRoy bloke was no co-incidence, either. Jean body-jumped into Emma..and later, we found out that Jean's body had been destroyed by the Sentinels that FitzRoy had commandeered. I think we'll find some answers in some of the things we're transferring over to Frostbytes, luv.] "I sure hope so, because I think I'm entitled to some answers on what happened to both Jean, myself as Black Queen, back in the day, and to Maddie," she said softly, her golden eyes glittering in the dim light. Beast returned from examing Madame, "My dear ladies, I do believe that we can safely transport Madame to Frostbytes, but it will require scrupulous split second timing from both of you, to keep her psyche stable as she will encounter a short period of sensory deprivation, and to transfer her to the tender ministrations of Emma's awaiting medical team, our fine, fiery femme. I trust your Sight-gift will be of use, in guiding Phoenix, yes?" [Aye, time to gestalt again, luv,] Liz told Redd, [I can "See" the precision of the timing... You'll have to remove all the life support equipment and 'port her while I keep a mindlink to her to prevent her from returning to an autistic state.] |I am as ready as I will be, my dear,| Madame informed her, though her mindvoice was tinged with a hint of trepidation, |I will trust my life and my sanity to you lovely lassies...| Liz's amethyst butterfly signature unfolded its wings over the old woman's forehead, while Phoenix's fiery raptorial Aspect reached out with gentle claws to lift the woman's frail form from the life support equipment of the Great Machine she was momentarily lifeless...the mind numbing silence of the Between was alleviated by Liz's mindlink, which was deftly switched over to Emma as the remote team took over.