Subject: [OTL]: (alt. Pryde/Wisdom/Marvelverse) Recoil Chapter 1/12 (R) Date: Thu, 10 Jun 2004 15:05:58 -0700 (PDT) From: Phil Hartman will1@earthling.net Recoil Chapter 1 by Phil Hartman DISCLAIMER: Jesse and Jake are mine. The rest are Marvel's. It's all fiction. No money is being made off of this. WARNING: Violence, language, themes, imagery and just plain nastiness. I mean it - this is NOT a happy fic. CONTINUITY: AU; same timeline as "Rebuke," "Twist of the Feather," and the Flatscan pieces. ------------------------------------------------------- 6/5/2004: The Chakral Stepstool Bookstore, Salem Center, NY: 13:24 hrs EDT: ------------------------------------------------------- Jesse Summers was busy. He puttered about, looking in boxes and examining books, keeping his mother in sight as his red hair flopping about his ears. He needed a haircut, but Jean hadn't had the heart to drag him off to the barber's, not with the week they'd had previously. The 4-year-old was still dealing with the departure of his oldest brother, Jacob - who, according to all reports, had found a job working as a private investigator in Albany. #I really do need to get ahold of Jake. Even if he told Rachel where he is, I can't let him off the hook that easily. His leaving really hurt Jesse ... it really hurt all of us. I know Scott and I made a mistake letting Jake think he might manifest powers, but -# Jean thought. "Mom?" Jean peered around the corner, smiling as Jesse's look of concern changed to one of relief. If her little boy could see her, and she, him, everything was all right. It wasn't as if he could hear her, after all. "Can I get this for Grandpa Charlie? It's got his name on the front," Jesse asked, brushing hair out of his green eyes and holding up a beat-up leather-bound book. "Sure, honey. I think he'd like that," Jean said carefully to allow Jesse to read her lips. The boy lit up - literally, since he was a photokinetic - and beamed at her as they headed for the front desk. #He could be an X-Man ... if not for that damned deafness. All it took was one opportunistic infection when he was six months old, and the nerves in his cochlea were too badly damaged for even the Shi'ar tech to repair,# Jean thought, fighting back tears. Cochlear implants were not something Scott or Jean had ever given much credence to - cybernetics were anathema to them, after their middle son Nathan had been infected by a techno-organic virus. His daily struggle to survive had made both his parents leery of any sort of inorganic crutch. Besides, Jesse had learned sign language remarkably quickly, and his skill in lip reading was almost a little unsettling. In any case, Jesse almost never complained about his condition, as long as he could see people's lips move. #And he's so caring. OK, maybe he doesn't clean up after himself all the time, and he can get cranky. But compared to how some of the other kids were when they were little, he's an angel,# Jean thought, smiling down at her baby - not quite a baby anymore, she realized with a pang. #Preschool this fall ... at least he can go to a public school ... hmm ... ?# Something - a twinge? - set Jean off, looking around the store as she sensed something was wrong - - and then there was thunder, and screaming, and small hands pulling on her pants leg - - and she looked down to see her little boy, blood all over his chest, and the clerk was screaming and wouldn't stop - - and another thunderbolt rang out, and something flew past Jesse's head, leaving a trail of blood, as someone ran past and grabbed his book and ran - - and Jean felt something strike the back of her head. And then it was black. ------------------------------------------------------- "No ... coordinates for Salem Center, Chakral Stoolstep - biosignature, Summers-Sextet-Glow. Engage." "Er, Boss ...?" VYSSSHMMMMM "Hey, that's -" "Yes. It is. I will be in the medlab. Alone. And if anyone even remotely related to Scott or Jean Summers comes to call?" "Yes?" "Let them in. No violence. And see them to my lab, unharmed." "Er ... OK, Boss." ------------------------------------------------------- "JEAN!?" Something in her throat - - ~JESSE?!~ - ~Jean. Someone took Jesse after he was shot. We'll find him, I swear. Please, let Henry and Cecilia treat you - you were struck at the base of your skull by a blunt object. Scott is here, and Rachel and Nathan are outside. We've tracked down Jacob, and he's on his way here.~ ~Charles - my baby - someone took - SOMEONE SHOT JESSE !?~ ~Twice. I'm sorry, Jean. God, I'm sorry ... but we will find this monster. And they will pay. Now please, rest.~ ------------------------------------------------------- X-Mansion War Room: 14:00 hrs EDT: ------------------------------------------------------- "Sage is collating all of the data now and cross-referencing things, but ... you don't want her and Bishop on this?" Xavier asked, watching Cyclops pace the floor. "She's a collector and analyzer, Charles. She works best here. Lucas means well, but he's not precisely subtle. And of course I'm right out, except for beating the living hell out of whatever pieces of scum shot and kidnapped my son, and blackjacked my wife," Scott Summers growled as he sat at the table across from his mentor. Xavier nodded, then raised a blond eyebrow. "I assume you mean to have someone else investigate this, then?" he asked his spiritual heir. Scott waved a hand over the input scanner and gave his mentor a weak smile. "Them?" Xavier asked as a hologram appeared. "He knows things none of us can imagine, has sources none of us can match. And she's been well-trained and has her ... unique ... investigative technique. Most importantly, he has the emotional detachment and she has the empathic investment we need in a balanced pair of PIs. Besides, we both agree that the Salem Center PD isn't equipped to handle a case like this," Scott emphasized. "I agree. The shooter teleported after he or she took the item which Jesse was going to purchase. That definitely puts this in their purview ... as finding Jesse will be in ours," Xavier said, watching the air start to crackle a few feet away. The crackle gave way to a flash, depositing two black-clad figures in the room. The younger of the two - a Caucasian woman who appeared to be approaching 30 - had her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and was wearing various leather items. Her male companion was dressed in a sloppy black suit and tie, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and two or three days' worth of stubble decorating his chin. He snorted at Xavier, then gave a small curse as the purple dragon on the woman's shoulder snorted flame at him. "Scott. Oh, God - I'm so sorry. How're Jean and the kids?" Kitty Pryde exclaimed as Scott got to his feet and returned her hug. "Jean's got a concussion, but she should be all right in a few days. Ray and Nate ... it's hard, Kitty. They'd love to see you," Scott said, trying not to cry as his remaining children entered the room. Rachel's puffy green eyes lit up as she saw Kitty, and the friends embraced. "Thanks for coming," the 14-year-old red-headed girl sniffed into Kitty's shoulder. "Like you even needed to ask. Hey, Nate," Kitty said, smiling weakly at Rachel's 11-year-old brother. The boy - whose blue eyes also were puffy, and the gold glow in his left one dimmed - unashamedly returned Kitty's hug before he wiped his face with his metallic left arm. "Hey, Kitty. Can you really find the shooter?" Nate asked, brushing white and brown hair out of his face in a fashion which made Scott flinch. #Jesse needed a haircut before -# Scott remembered, fighting back tears - they were difficult to deal with, given his powers. He tried not to start as a hand fell on his shoulder, and he turned at the smell of stale cigarettes and old liquor. "Summers. We'll get the bloody arse who did this. An' I promise I'll bring the piece of shite back here in cuffs so you c'n get first crack on him or her," Pete Wisdom whispered. "Th-thanks, Wisdom. Just ... take them alive, all right? And let the law deal with them," Scott asked, part of him wishing he could let go and accept Wisdom's recommendation for revenge. But he couldn't. He was still Cyclops. That was all that was keeping him together. His wife had been bludgeoned and was in the medlab, his daughter and middle son were alternating crying jags, his eldest son was on his way back from God knew where - - and somewhere, his littlest boy was hurt and in the hands of God knew who. #You know what you have to do,# Scott reminded himself, before facing Wisdom. "You find the attacker. I'll find Jesse. And Wisdom? By the book. Kitty, keep him honest. And for God's sake, be careful," Scott ordered, as he turned to hug his middle children and then to organize his hunting party. If the shooter wasn't the one who had kidnapped Jesse, then someone else was going to be the focus of Scott's anger. Part of Scott pitied the kidnapper. The rest decided to ask Logan about his brass knuckle collection. ------------------------------------------------------- INTERLUDE 1: 13:26 hrs EDT: Location undisclosed: ------------------------------------------------------- Shock could sometimes be beneficial, the being thought, as he ordered his devices to prepare his new "acquaintance" for surgery. #The boy is unconscious. Hopefully this means his memory of what happened will be blurred ...# the being pondered, as he set Jesse Summers' battered form on the operating table. The boy was lifted a few inches off the table by an antigravity field, and his clothes were removed by scalpel-tipped robotic arms. A hovering device, resembling a razor crossed with a fanboat engine, raced across Jesse's head, rendering the boy bald in a short period of time. The being winced as he took in the extent of the cranial damage, and the chest wound. The good news was that the bullet to Jesse's chest had passed through, and the better news was that it had missed any major blood vessels. On the other hand, the boy was still exsanguinating, and his left lung was collapsing. #At least that wound to the left side of his skull just creased it - no actual penetration. This shooter intended to stun the boy, not kill ... apparently. In any case, I should be able to repair the damage easily. And he has a common enough blood type,# the being thought, nodding as another surgical robot set up the transfuser and respirator. With that, the doctor set to work. #Fear not, Jesse. You will not die. And I will NOT allow this egregious violation of my work to go unpunished,# the doctor thought. "Scott, you and I must talk ..." ------------------------------------------------------- 14:05 hrs EDT: Chakral Stoolstep: ------------------------------------------------------- Part of the post-Parahuman Equal Rights Act arrangement between the X-Men and the SCPD had been that in cases of mutant crimes, Xavier's people had first crack at the forensics. Even before the X-Men had been outed, and publicly accepted, after O:ZT, there had been a certain ... understanding between Charles Xavier and certain Salem Center public officials. Xavier tended to make the city's workload easier when strange things happened, and literal generations of public servants appreciated any easing of their workload. Whatever the cause, after Pete and Kitty had been teleported into an alley across the street from the bookstore, they'd had no trouble getting through the police line. "According to the initial police report, the clerk saw someone wearing a trenchcoat and a fedora - yeesh, cliche attack - come up behind Jean and Jesse. The jerk pulled a handgun and shot Jesse twice, then struck Jean on the back of the neck and grabbed the book," Kitty spoke, reviewing the data scrolling across the lens of her "Sage-shades," as the X-folk had taken to calling the red-lensed sunglasses. "What the bloody hell would a fewkin' book nut want w'shootin' a small boy for a bloody leatherbound volume?" Pete grumbled, kneeling at the crime scene. Most of the bookstore was intact, except for a horrifically large bloodstain on the cream-colored carpet before the checkout counter. Pete ran a handheld multispectral analyzer across the stain, raising an eyebrow at the results, while Kitty looked over at the counter and the wall behind it. "Both bullets went ... through Jesse ... and hit the wall back here," Kitty said, fighting to keep her composure. All of the Summers kids were like younger siblings to her - Jean had been as much of a mother figure to Kitty as Ororo had, all those years ago, and Rachel, Nate and Jesse had always gotten along well with Kitty. #I want this bastard. I want this bastard so BAD,# Kitty thought, balling her fists. Lockheed nuzzled her cheek, and Pete stood and patted Kitty's dragonless left shoulder. "Luv ... the teleport sig from where Jesse was 'ported is different than the one at the front door, where the shooter jaunted," Pete said. Kitty looked at Pete with surprise, then compared the two signatures - the first had been taken by Bishop when he'd arrived with the SCPD (he moonlighted with them fairly often, and was quite welcome among their numbers, given the mutant activity in the area) and uploaded by Sage almost a half-hour earlier. "Oh, damnit ... this complicates things - duh, Pryde, obvious," Kitty chided herself. "Not necessarily, Kit. No need t'beat yourself up. Even y'r cig-smokin', whisky-guzzlin' boyfriend's got a heart-string flutterin' in sympathy this time, whether or not it's Summers we're dealin' with," Pete sighed. Kitty looked at Pete, whose face had gone grim, and hugged him. "Thanks. I needed that. Let's go over the crime scene and the forensics - wait a minute. The wave-pattern of the spatial distortion signatures ... the one for the shooter is kind of familiar ... so's the one for Jesse," she said, frowning. She double-checked them both, then cursed. "What's wrong?" Pete asked. "A whole lot. The first one ... oh, God. Scott's going to go berzerk. And the second one matches ..." Kitty groaned. "The second one matches a Stark Enterprises heavy-lift teleportation prototype that's supposed to be top-secret." Pete's face drained of color as he processed the news. "Oh, bloody shite. You mean the bloody pale-faced wank has the boy?" he muttered as Kitty grabbed his hand. "Yes, Pete," Kitty sighed, phasing them through the roof. "But we also need to go see some assemblers ..." ------------------------------------------------------- INTERLUDE 2: 15:00 hrs EDT: Location undisclosed: ------------------------------------------------------- The shooter cursed, sinking into the corner of their room. Why? Was security THAT paramount, so vital, that they had had to shoot that poor little boy? If Jean had become involved, things would have gotten worse, the shooter thought ruefully. Besides, the diary couldn't be allowed to come anywhere near Xavier. Not in this or any other lifetime. The possibility that he might read it and remember the past - Better not to think about that. Just breathe, focus and keep up the facade. And hope to God that Pryde and Wisdom weren't as good a team as their files indicated, and that Scott found Jesse alive. Because the shooter wasn't sure that they could justify even the risk they'd taken if Jesse did die. Not even for the diary's secrets. ------------------------------------------------------- tbc ... -------------------------------------------------------