By

Jim R. McBriarty
 

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
 

Betsy was in the middle of her morning jog, winding her way along the Institute's main driveway, when she saw the mail truck coming up Greymalkin Lane. Deciding that she could use the break anyway, she went up to the main gate and waved as the truck approached.

The carrier waved back and stopped the truck. "You might want some help," she told Betsy as she handed over a full bucket of mail. "You guys got a lot of catalogs today."

"It's better than bills," Betsy pointed out as she took it. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Once she was inside the gate again, Betsy took a moment to sort through and separate everything. She gave one large envelope a closer look when she noticed the return address, one of the 'cover' post office boxes that the Avengers used to send non-secure information to the Mansion.

She opened the envelope, and grinned when she saw the contents. Tossing everything back into the bucket, she started hefting it back to the Mansion.  Jean?

Yes?

Could you give me a hand with the mail? We got a lot today.

Be right there.

Jean arrived about three minutes later and took hold of the bucket with her mind. "Got it."

"Thanks. We got a surprise today."

"What's that?"

Betsy showed her, and soon both women were laughing. "Okay," Jean said with a giggle, "we have to do something with this."

Betsy thought for a moment. "I have an idea. I'll call Muir Isle, and you run this through a scanner. Get Rogue and Ororo, too. They'll want in."

"Right."

Will was gently shaken awake by Rogue. "Whu?"

"'Roro needs you downstairs," she told him apologetically. "She said it'll only take a few minutes."

He nodded and rolled out of bed, changing into sweatpants and a T-shirt as Rogue left the room. Putting on his glasses, he left the room and shuffled down the stairs, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn.

"It's him!"

Will looked up with a snap, and nearly screamed in horror.

Hanging just above the stairs was a twice-life-size copy of the picture that Janet van Dyne had taken of him. Underneath it, in italics, was a caption: Sexiest New Hero.

At the base of the stairs stood Rogue, Ororo, Jean, Betsy, Kitty, Rahne, and Meggan. They were all wearing T-shirts that bore a copy of the picture, and the words Archetype Fan Club. In unison, they let out a girlish squeal.

At that point, Will did the sensible thing, fainting dead away.

Logan stepped out from behind the stairwell, shaking his head reprovingly. "You are cruel, cruel women."

"Damn right!" was the cheerful reply.

A few minutes later, Will was revived through an application of smelling salts. He looked up, saw that the ladies were still wearing the T-shirts, and groaned. "It wasn't a nightmare..."

"'Fraid not," Rogue told him with a smirk. "And it gets worse."

Will looked at her in disbelief. "How is that possible!?" His voice squeaked slightly at the end.

Kitty handed him a laptop. "The votes were tallied at a Web site. Take a look at the comments."

"I'd really rather not."

"Oh. Okay. I'll just read them to you, then." She smirked as Will's head thunked back against the couch.

"Gimme that," he said a moment later, snatching the paper from her and glancing at it.

OMG he is like so hawt i want 2 hav his babies!!11 we r totaly gunna get maried!!1 OMG!!!!1
WTF!! Liek ohmigawd That is SOOO Not TRu! i so h8!! Him!!111 Hes the Suxorz!111!

I SOOOO LUV HIM I WANT TO CARRY HIM OFF AND MAKE BABIES HE LOOKS JUST LEIK KIEFER DOESHN"T HE?!!!

SQUUUEEEE!!!! I So Voted 4 him! And heWONB!! I so told that Natilie that He's WIn!!

Will covered his face with one hand. "I'm going to bury myself in the backyard," he announced. "You can wake me next spring."

"Oh come on," Meggan said, draping herself over his shoulders, "we're just getting started."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Okay, girls," Rogue said with a laugh, "let's break it up before I have to send him to an analyst."

Will glared at her as the other women left, still laughing. "This was your idea, wasn't it?"

"Betsy's, actually."

"That woman needs help," he muttered as he dragged himself back to bed.

After being awoken for dinner, Will spent some time in his workshop, where he began work on a new project: a potter's bench for Ororo. He was still cutting the lumber to size when Rogue came by. "You ready for bed yet?" she asked.

"I'm really not that tired. That nap threw off my body clock a bit. I'd like to get all of this cut before I turn in."

She nodded. "Don't stay up too late. We have a Danger Room session in the morning."

"I shouldn't be too long."

True to his word, he stepped back into their room about an hour later. He found Rogue was reading in bed. "What's the book?"

"Mythic Ireland. I was thinking at looking at some of the old sites the next time we're there."

He nodded approvingly and started undressing. "I have to get the sawdust out of my hair before I turn in. What time is our Danger Room session?"

"Eight. I have lunch duty, and you have dinner with Betsy."

"Great. I'll have to convince her that bangers and mash is not a complete meal." He peeled off the rest of his clothes, tossing them down the laundry chute as he entered the bathroom. A few minutes later, the water reached a temperature that he liked, and he stood underneath the showerhead, eyes closed, as his muscles started to relax.

He opened one eye as he heard the click of the shower door opening. Rogue stepped in, dressed in her transparent body stocking and mask. "I thought you could use some help scrubbing your back."

"There's an irresistible offer."

He turned around as she applied some body shampoo to a washcloth, working up a lather. Soon, he was rumbling in appreciation as she moved the cloth along the contours of his shoulders.

She followed the curve of his spine, applying just enough pressure to unknot his muscles, then nudged him to signal that he should turn around. Before she could even say anything, she found herself wrapped in his embrace, his lips pressed to hers.

Will's kisses were usually tender and gentle. This one was most definitely not. Hungry and passionate, its heat quickly stoked her own inner fire as well, and she responded to him with a gasp that matched her own need.

He slowly made his way down her body, nipping at the pulse point of her throat, while lightly tracing one hand down her side. She backed up until she hit the wall of the shower, pulling him along. Curling her arms around his neck, she floated up just enough to keep her weight from throwing him off-balance. She wrapped her legs around his waist, then laced the fingers of his right hand with her left, guiding it to where she wanted.

Please, her eyes begged him.

A moment later, she buried her head into his shoulder with a gasp. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she nodded at him to continue.

Because the sensations were so new for her, things progressed quickly, and he soon found that he had to support her weight, because she was unable to muster the concentration needed to fly, and her knees were to weak to support her weight. All she could voice was a babble of thoughts, which spoke of love and want and need and never leaving...

With a throaty sigh, she collapsed against him as the last of her energy was spent. The next few minutes were a blur as he carried her out of the shower, convincing her to stay awake long enough to sit on the lip of the tub while he quickly dried himself off and changed. Returning in a thin sweatsuit, gloves, socks, and a mask, he gently peeled her own clothing off her, then toweled her dry. He tied her hair back, then carried her over to the bed, turning off the lights as he spooned against her.

She awoke feeling all kinds of wonderful, light, and happy. Lifting her arms above her head, she let out a stretch that started at her fingertips and slowly moved down until it reached her toes. Opening her eyes, she turned over to awaken Will, then stopped.

She could tell instantly that, despite still being asleep, he was not happy. His face was lined with strain and worry, and tension seemed to be etched into his muscles. She watched as his head moved from side to side, as if he were denying something.

Worried, she gently shook his shoulder. "Will? Will, wake up."

His eyes opened almost instantly. "Is it morning already?"

She nodded. "You okay?"

He blinked. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You looked like you were having a nightmare."

"Did I?" He looked like he was thinking for a moment. "Nothing I can recall."

She looked at him dubiously for a moment, but decided to drop the matter. He'd tell her when he was ready. "It's almost seven-fifteen," she told him. "We should grab breakfast, then suit up for practice."

"What's our objective today?" Bishop asked.

"I thought we'd try something different today," Xavier said from the control room. "This will be a straight-out brawl."

The walls of the Danger Room vanished, replaced by a seedy-looking bar, complete with about sixty appropriately seedy patrons.

"Your goal is to be the last ones standing. Rogue, you'll be counted as down if you take a hit that would disable an average woman of your height and weight."

"Got it. Non-lethal force only, right?"

"Right. Beginning in five... four..."

"Triangle formation," Rogue informed Bishop and Will. "Two meters apart." They nodded and got into position.

"...One."

The room was instantly thrown into a frenzy of motion, as a veritable wall of bodies surged towards the trio. Will quickly set the tone by grabbing a nearby whiskey bottle and smashing it over the head of the first person who neared him. Bishop got into the spirit of things by throwing a chair, and Rogue, being the competitive sort, overturned a table and kicked it, sending it sliding across the room and bowling over several opponents. "That's three for me," she announced.

"Are we keeping score?" Bishop asked as he dodged a punch.

"It helps to keep track of things," Will informed him, ducking and weaving through the crowd. Pulling his cane out of the air, he gave it a quick twist in the center. It separated into two pieces, each about forty centimeters long. He quickly used these ersatz escrima sticks to down several of his opponents, As they fell to the floor, he shoved them off to the side, keeping them out from underfoot.

Picking up another table, Rogue utilized it as a battering ram, flying back and forth across the room and driving their antagonists against the walls.

The fight was over in minutes. The three X-Men stood in the center of the room, the floor around them littered with groaning bodies. "What was our time?" Bishop asked.

"About four minutes," Xavier replied.

"Not bad for no weapons."

"You just like the sound of gunfire," Rogue told him.

"... Your point...?"

After cleaning up from the session, Will got back to work on Ororo's bench. An hour or so of chiseling and planing got most of the mortise and tenon joinery done. He had modified the original plans for the bench so that it could be broken down into its component panels, then quickly reassembled later, to make winter storage easier.

Ororo came by just before lunch. "Very nice," she said, looking at the bench.

"Thank you. Did you want it stained?"

"I prefer the natural look of the wood, actually."

"I'll just put a few coats of deck finish on, then."

She nodded. "Why did you put the tool drawers off to the side?"

He answered by opening the two large doors on the bottom, which fell forward to reveal large, triangular bins. "One for soil, one for mulch. I lined the insides with laminate, which should be easy enough to clean."

"Is that why you put holes in the tabletop?"

"Right. You'll just have to brush everything in. The bins have drainage holes in the bottom, so things won't get waterlogged."

"And it comes apart?"

"The drawers slide out, the bins come off by removing the hinge pins, and you just unbolt the top and sides. It'll all fit into a corner of the greenhouse."

"You certainly earned a break. Lunch awaits."

Lunch, a collaborative effort between Rogue and Henry, was a light soup and salad combination. As they ate Will and Betsy conferred on the dinner menu, deciding to take some of the leftovers from the refrigerator and make a casserole. Once that was prepared, Will caught up on some paperwork for his businesses. He attempted to sort through some of his files as well, a project which quickly became sabotaged by Smoke, who decided that loose papers on the bed and floor were, under feline law, hers to claim as toys and bedding.

Rogue, fortunately, entered the room before Will was forced to commit any actions which would get him in trouble with the Humane Society. Biting back a laugh, she picked up Smoke, deposited her in the hall, and shut the door. "Want some help?" she asked.

"Could you? I just want to get this stuff into something resembling order."

Working together, they quickly arranged the files into chronological order, then into categories of interest, such as utilities, stocks, commodities, and retail businesses. Looking at one proposal, Will started another pile. "Let's call this one 'Research and Development,'" he said.

"Okay. What's the idea?"

"Electrostatic carbon reclamation. It'd be used to pull the loose carbon from industrial smokestacks. We'd need to quintuple the efficiency before it gets anywhere, though." He thought for a moment. "I wonder if the carbon would be pure enough to create buckyballs."

"Why's that?"

"Well, if I can make a profit by producing products that use buckyballs and nanoutubes using the reclaimed carbon, then I can knock down the prices for the scrubber units. That'd reduce the costs for industries, and being environmentally responsible would look much more attractive."

"Everybody comes out ahead."

"Pretty much."

After about an hour, they had worked their way through nearly half of the paperwork. Rogue labeled some hanging folders, and the sorted files were placed in the cabinets that Will had added to the bookcases. "Do you want this stuff scanned into your laptop?" she asked.

He considered it. "No, it'll take me longer to go through computer documents, and I need hard copies of most of this stuff for legal purposes, anyway. If I run out of room, I'll just build more cabinets, or rent a storage unit."

She nodded, glancing at the clock. "Didn't you want to put dinner in the over about now?"

He nodded back. "And I should heat up some veggies while I'm at it."

"Corn?"

"Works for me."

The alarm claxon sounded just as dinner was being placed on the table. Will and Betsy let out identical growls of frustration, which Logan found incredibly amusing. "Hey, at least you weren't in the shower," he commented. He noticed that Rogue blushed at that statement, but said nothing.

Will teleported to the War Room ahead of the others, and walked up to Bishop, who sat at the monitors. "What's the situation?"

"Juggernaut and Black Tom. Bank robbery, looks like."

"Lovely."

The rest of the team arrived about ninety seconds later, and Bishop filled them in. "Where are they?" Ororo asked Bishop.

"Downtown Atlanta. The financial district."

"Great," Warren groused. "I have a branch office down there."

Bobby looked at the clock. "Jus past six. The area's still going to be packed."

Will turned to Ororo. "I have an idea."

Cain Marko stomped his way down South Washington Avenue, ignoring the police cars that followed him. He noted with approval that no one had opened fire on him. He didn't like hurting civilians, and any bullets that ricocheted off him could hit somebody in the crowd.

He gritted his teeth when he saw the X-Men about a block away from him. Why couldn't they have decided to pick on Magneto today? He's overdue, anyway.

He blinked when one of them raised his hands in a peace gesture and started walking towards him, alone. He decided to stop and wait. I don't recognize him. Must be new.

"Good evening, Mister Marko. I'm Archetype. I have a proposal for you."

Cain braced himself for a trick. "What is it?"

He glanced at the sack of money that Cain carried. "What's the ballpark figure on your take?"

Cain thought about it for a moment. "About three-quarters of a mil."

The man nodded. "If you give me five minutes, I will give you, from my own funds, that exact amount. It will be in U.S. bearer bonds, coupons attached. Much easier to transport and hide than cash, and untraceable besides. In exchange, you give us the cash, to be returned to the bank, and we all walk away from this without causing any damage."

Cain needed a moment to process all of that. "You want to pay me off?"

"I want to avoid a fight that'll do nothing but cause damage... damage that will cost more to fix than you stole. I won't miss the money. I'm rich enough for it not to matter. But that bank may have problems."

"... And you'll just let me walk away?"

"Did you cause any damage?"

"Not this time."

"Then what reason would there be for us to fight?"

"... You got five minutes."

"That was somewhat anticlimactic," Henry said at the dinner table twenty minutes later.

"Would you have preferred a fight that did nothing but get us injured?" Will asked as he poured himself a glass of water.

"Well, no... but it seems morally questionable to me."

"How so? Did I ask him to commit an illegal act? Did I take any funds away from the bank? Did I commit fraud against any person or group? No, no, and no. It was unusual, but it was in no way unethical."

"How are you going to explain losing a quarter million to Jeff at your next budget meeting?" Rogue asked him.

"I won't have to. The account that I took those bonds from predates my retaining Jeff. I've never told him about it, and he doesn't know it exists."

"But where'd the money come from in the first place?"

"When I started to really concentrate on making money, I had Jeff put me on a monthly allowance. I intentionally overestimated what I'd need, then took the excess and put it into bonds."

"Does the I.R.S. know about it?" Bobby asked.

"Don't see why they would. It's in a safe deposit box in Monte Carlo."

"And how much is in there?"

"...Mmmm, about one hundred eighty mil, plus or minus five."

"And that's your emergency stash?!?"

"No, that's my untraceable stash. My emergency stash comes to somewhere between thirty and forty billion. Not all of that is liquid, though, so I'll take a loss if I cash out suddenly."

Warren complained of a headache and left the table.

"But back to our original subject," Henry interjected. "Do you think it wise to make deals with our opponents?"

"It depends on what you think our objectives are. Do we want to concentrate on confrontation with them, doing out damnedest to take them down, or should we focus on harm reduction, and accept the fact that we're never going to bring everyone around to our point of view? In fact, I'd argue that our opponents are an integral part of a diverse society. If we didn't have anyone working against us, then I'd be worried about our message and methods."

"Why's that?" Jean asked.

"Think about it. Name the three main political entities that are run by superhumans: Latveria, Avalon, and Genosha. All of them are, either mostly, or totally, fascist states, that have used superpowers as a way to control their populace. All three isolate themselves from the outside world, and all three keep a tight rein on personal freedoms, preventing the formation of any political opposition. Doom manages it through his technology, along with the fact that the state enjoys the near-monopoly of a planned economy. Magneto's created what's basically a cult of personality. He controls the economy, too, since only he, Exodus, and a teleporter or two can come down from orbit to get any supplies. I wouldn't be surprised if he restricted media access up there, too. And from what I've read on the old Genoshan regime, their creation of the mutate system was religiously based as much as it was economically. They seem to have merged the Dutch Reformed Church with the principles of the Christian Identity movement to justify their actions. Given those examples, I wouldn't be too optimistic about any future mutant-dominant societies."

"I have to admit, that isn't much of a track record," Xavier said. "Do you think it's an automatic risk for any superhuman involvement in politics or social reform?"

Will thought about it for a moment. "Depends on whether the government in question has guaranteed the personal liberties of its citizens. Are constitutional safeguards in place, or can they be wiped away by whoever's in power? And what difference, if any, is there in the legal status of superhumans and baseline humans?"

"How so?"

He shrugged and pointed to Logan. "There's a man who walks around with deadly weapons in his hands. Legally, is that any different than carrying a concealed firearm? Do we make a distinction between the two? Should individuals who have potentially deadly powers be obligated to register themselves as deadly weapons, or to carry indemnity insurance to cover damage that they might cause?

"What about medical issues? Henry, some mutant physiologies require unusual treatments, right?"

"Of course."

"That raises issues of medical confidentiality, insurance coverage, and practitioner safety. Does a doctor about to treat an emergency admission have a right to know that their patient has an ability that could pose a risk to others? If the power is consciously controlled, what's the result when the patient is in agonizing pain, or sedated? What about possible contraindications between medications and a specific power? If the doctor doesn't know about the mutation, and administers treatment that results in harm, can they be held liable?"

"Those are valid concerns," Henry admitted, "but they're being buried under anti-mutant hysteria."

"Then we have to set the terms of the discussion before the fringe groups, be they the F.O.H. or the M.L.F., become the ones in control of it."

"And how would you do that?" Ororo asked him.

"By re-framing the argument entirely. The mutant/human conflict has been approached like a social struggle, but I think that its nature is better reflected by perceiving it as an economic struggle.

"If I went up to somebody on the street, and asked them their opinion about Spider-Man, or the Fantastic Four, or Iron Man, I'd generally get a positive response. That's because their origins, however unlikely, are not out of the realm of possibility in the mind of the average person. They're viewed as people who hit the lottery.

"Mutants, on the other hand, are born with their abilities, although most don't show up until later in life. You're either a mutant or you're not, and there's no way to change that. Mutants are the idle rich, an aristocracy of power, and they're resented in the same way.

"Magneto is the poster boy for 'evil' mutants, and, unfortunately, his background and mannerisms reinforce the idea of being aristocratic. He's arrogant, well-educated, European, scientific, and emotionally cold... all qualities that American society associates with the aristocracy. So an individual's reaction to him is based on their perception of his social status just as much, if not more, than by his status as a mutant."

"And what about us?" Jean asked.

"Depends on what team you're talking about. X-Factor, in its current form, us playing by the rules set for it by the government, so while they lose some autonomy, they gain a lot of credibility with law enforcement and the media. Excalibur's links with the British government are a bit looser, but they still manage to work within the system and get a sympathetic response from the public. X-Force manages to stay under the public radar, so it's not really an issue. But there was quite a bit of resentment against X-factor back when you lived on that ship, because you were perceived as being separate from, and literally above, the public, even if it was unintentional on your part.

"As for us... to be honest, sometimes I think you've hurt your cause just as much as you've helped. It. You've saved the world on multiple occasions, but you've managed to flatten big chunks of it in the process." He paused for a moment, thinking. "That's not a bad idea..."

"What's not?" Xavier asked him.

"Setting up a trust fund to compensate for property damage resulting from our battles. I can fund it anonymously at first, then own up to it later if I ever decide to go public. Could somebody please write that down before I forget about it?"

"Already done," Ororo said, as she scribbled on her PDA. "Any other ideas?"

"Has this become a brainstorming session?"

"Why not?"

"All right, then. Just to toss out an idea... how about a team geared specifically towards repairing environmental damage? They could be sent to areas that have been devastated... either through a natural disaster or the idiocy of man... and help restore things." He leaned back and thought for a moment. "An ideal roster for that team would be... Meggan, Ororo, Pyro, and Bobby."

"Why?" Ororo asked. "Wait, I get it. Earth, Air, Fire, and Water."

"And it's gender-balanced," Rogue pointed out. "Adds to the power."

"Right," Will continued. "It wouldn't have to be a formal team... just something that we could assemble quickly if an emergency came up."

"I don't know," Henry mused. "Actually, given the acceleration of environmental degradation, a permanent team might not be a bad idea. Their preventative work could be more valuable, in the long run, then rescue operations. Let me do some research on the idea."

"I have to admit, that sort of team would be a public relations bonanza," Scott said, "but we'd probably run into problems with various governments."

"We could run it through SHIELD," Logan suggested. "Nick could cut through most of the bureaucratic crap for us, and he'd leave us alone, for the most part. I'll run the idea by him next poker night at Ben Grimm's."

Will nodded and stood up. "I'll give Stephen a call and see if he has any suggestions that would help... oh, hell, let's just call it the Green Team." Picking up his dishes, he left for the kitchen.

"He just undercut Magnus' entire philosophy with a two-minute argument," Xavier noted in amazement. "I'm tempted to take him to Avalon with me just so I can watch him make my old friend's head explode."

Rogue entered their room just as Will was finishing a telephone conversation:

"Okay, is she being trained by anyone right now? Do you have a contact number for her? Sure, she can call whenever she finds the time. Okay, thanks, Stephen. I'll let you know what she says."

"What who says?" she asked once he had hung up.

"A young lady by the name of Topaz. She's an empathic healer who's worked with Stephen before, and she has quite a bit of magical talent, besides. I'd like to find out how she'd feel about working with us. Stephen also seems to think that we can help each other along with our training."

"That's worth looking into, at least," she agreed as she flopped onto the bed. "Feel like doing anything?"

He thought for a moment. "Bookstore run?"

"I'll get my purse."

They returned an hour or so later, Rogue with a few magazines and a bodice-ripper, Will with a stack that represented a good-sized chunk of the Dewey Decimal System. "How you manage to keep track of four different plot lines at once is beyond me," she told him.

"It's not that tough. I'm usually reading a novel, a history book, and something contemporary. I know it's time to start focusing when I get the mental picture of Hugh de Payens spouting off Objectivist philosophy while driving a Jeep during Patton's invasion of Sicily."

"I can see that."

She changed clothes as he put his books away, and curled up against him as they settled into bed. They had barely gotten the covers straightened before Smoke jumped up and made herself comfortable in the space between them.

"You're cramping my style, cat," Rogue complained as she shut off the light.

Author's Note: Thanks to elise_blithe and alec_troven of Sages of Chaos for the 'fangirl talk'.

Picture if you will: A man sits at a desk, staring at a computer in shock, smoke billowing from his ears. The Arizona Iced Tea slips from his hand and falls to the floor. He's just realized that his little 'hobby' has passed the 500-page mark. He thinks about how much he has left to do, and groans.

Hobby, my ass, he thinks...