Links in the Chain, Chapter 2

X-Men fan fiction by Mitch Kelly

The X-Men and all the characters therein are the property of Marvel
Corporation. No infringement is intended. Shadowflash, Stalker and The
Highest Society belong to me!

There is some sexual content (innuendo really) and some of the language is a
bit strong! You've had yer warnin'!

Surpringingly, Jubilee and Shadowflash were up for breakfast at the same
time that Hank and Stalker arrived. Stalker was wearing a Blue Team uniform.
He had tried both Logan's and Gambit's spare uniforms, before deciding that
it was better to have one of Gambit's, which was rather long, than one of
Logan's which was vastly too short. Shadowflash and Jubilee manged not to
blush too much when Hank asked them how they had slept.

After breakfast, Hank convened a meeting. At nine, all the X-Men would meet
to discuss the matters that Stalker and Shadowflash had dashed across the
Atlantic to discuss with them.

The meeting began. Ororo Munroe, leader of the Gold Team, was introduced to
Stalker, and the meeting commenced. Storm had previously deferred chairing
the meeting to Hank. Hank stood up, cleared his throat, and began.

"Shadowflash, whom we know, and Stalker, to whom I extent a hearty welcome,
arrived here last night, with urgent matters that they deem require the
attention of the X-Men. Since neither the Professor, nor Scott and Jean are
here, I have decided to call an open meeting to discuss the matter, and to
decide upon a course of action. I suggest that we allow Stalker and
Shadowflash to briefly explain their reasons for approaching us, then open
the discussion. Agreed?" No one disented, but Storm raised a hand.

"Henry, if I may? If this involves affairs in the United Kingdom, then it
logcally falls under Excalibur's remit. Why did you not contact them?" She
addressed her remark to Shadowflash, who shrugged.

"Well, Storm, the fact is I don't KNOW anyone at Muir Island, I had no way
of contacting them, and frankly, I were too bloody worried to try! I decided
to come straight here, and put as much water 'tween me and the Brits as I
could."

"I see," said Hank. "Well, we can decide whether to pass this to Kurt or not
later. Stalker, what exactly did you find out?"

Stalker stood up.

"Well, as I said last night, I served with the SAS, up until three years
ago, when the government dismissed all the mutants from the services, and
the civil service, police, the lot. We all ended up on the streets. Now the
SAS, we're like a family: look after our own, protect former members, take
care of dependents, that sort of thing. There were four mutants in my
Squadron, and we all left at the same time. Well, for a while, they kept in
touch, then it sort of petered out. I got a bit suspicious, but before I
started poking my nose in, I got a note from my old commanding officer,
Major Blanche. The Boss said he needed a meet with me, on the Q.T.
"It turns out that someone high up had ordered him to sever links to us.
'How high?' I asked him. He says, 'Right up at General officer commanding UK
special forces.' He THEN tells me that GOC special forces wants to see ME,
personally. So off we go, to meet General DelaPoer, the GOC."

"The same DelaPoer that ran the Special Forces school in Germany for a
while?" asked Wolverine.

"You know him?" asked Stalker.

"Not personally," replied Logan with a shake of his head. "Has a good rep:
'nothin' too good for men who are the best', 'don't ask people to do
anything ya won't do yourself', that kind o' thing."

"That's him," replied Stalker."Well, it turns out that someone very, very
high up had ordered, not requested, but ORDERED, him to sever links to the
mutants formerly in his service. Him, and a senior officer at the Department
of Trade, who had both been really protective of their staff, had been
summoned by members of parliament, and told in no uncertain terms that their
careers were at an end if they didn't comply. DelaPoer decided to step
outside official channels and use me to keep an eye on the former members."

"So?" asked Psylocke. "It's a great shame what happened, but so what? I'm
sure there must be reason for it, and whilst I do not necessarily agree with
it, as a political decision, taken by a democratic government, it is not our
place to intervene."

"It is greater shame than you know," replied Bishop. "This action was a
precedent that was later used by many other nations to justify such policies
themselves. It was a starting point of many things that would have been best
avoided." Stalker looked confused.

"It's OK," said Jubilee. "The Bishenmeister comes from the future. He's seen
what's in store, and it ain't real sweet."

"Returning to the point in hand?" said Beast plaintively.

"Well," continued Stalker, "I learned that a LOT of the mutants that had
worked for the government had vanished. And not a random set either. Of
course, a lot of them that had been in government service were just plain
clerks, coppers or infantrymen, but there were a number than had held high
security clearance posts in different places. Not just the military, but
police, judiciary, government, the whole lot. And they were the ones that
had gone missing. A week before I met Shadowflash, I went back to DelaPoer,
in London, to tell him this, and to ask him what to do next."

"And?" asked Storm.

"And when I got there he was dead. Shot in  the back of the head at point
blank range. The house had been gone through: not ransacked, but
systematically searched."

"Not an amateur operation then?" said Bishop. This was the kind of challenge
he was best at. "Did he manage to defend himself?" Stalker shook his head.
"Then we have to assume either the assailants were professionals of the
highest order, or else he knew them, " Bishop continued. "You are of course
a prime suspect in this affair, since you fit both criteria."

"Hang on a bloody minute!" shouted Shadowflash "You aren't suggesting this
is a setup are you?" Bishop turned a steady gaze on 'Flash.

"Until we have a least SOME evidence, we cannot rule ANYTHING in or out.
That is the first rule of investigation." Bishop spoke slowly forcefully, as
if explaining something to a child. He and Shadowflash had clashed in the
past. Shadowflash looked daggers at the big man. For a moment, then tension
around the table was palpable.

"Look Bishop," said Shadowflash wearily, "I'm sorry. I'm a bit worn down and
on edge. Between when I met Stalker, and when we got here, we were attacked
three times. You thrive on it, mate. I don't." Bishop shrugged.

"We can of course establish whether or not Stalker was involved conclusively
later," said Hank. "With his consent, and your assistance, Psylocke?" Both
nodded. "In the meantime, please return to your narrative."

"Well," said Stalker, "By the time I got there, he'd been dead a while, so I
lit out straight away. They, whoever they were, had got everything useful,
as far as I could see, so I hopped out the door and got this." Stalker
dropped a data tape on the table.

"Thought you said they took everything useful?" said Wolverine.

"In the house, yeah, they did. But DeLaPoer was a smart bloke. He was a keen
gardener, and every week, he'd go out, and faff around with his roses. At
that point, he'd put a backup copy of his data tape under one of the rose
bushes. Just in case." Stalker shook his head. "This time, it was worth it.
I haven't had a chance to look at it, but with my notes," he threw a spiral
notepad onto the table with the tape, "it should at least give us some clue
as to what's going on."

"What happened after that?" asked Bishop, professionally. "Did they attempt
to neutralise you?"

"After a day, yeah, they did." Stalker nodded. "Suggests they found out
about me from what the stole. I was planning to get out when they came after
me. I just managed to get away twice before I met Shadowflash. The first
attempt was a direct attack, then after that, when they realised I wasn't
going anywhere fast, they tried to make it look like an accident. I was
lucky Shadowflash came along. He could pay to get us out of the country. I
was planning going to Liverpool and stowing away on a cargo ship. Better
this way."

"And yet they were able to follow you across the Atlantic?" Hank McCoy
mused. "This suggests great perseverance, and not inconsiderable resources.
I suggest that we adjourn the meeting, pending the confirmation of Stalker's
bona fides, and my checking this data. Do you all concur?" When no one
objected, the meeting broke up. "Stalker, if you would accompany me?
Psylocke?" The two left with McCoy.

Shadowflash looked at Bishop.

"Look Bishop, I said I'm sorry. It was pretty grim there for a while, and
then you outright accuse him of the murder!" Shadowflash shook his head.
"Sorry, I just lost it."

"I understand. Post-traumatic stress is perfectly normal. I simply wished to
establish your friend's innocence or guilt before we progressed any further.
Were he to be guilty, and let us be quite clear, he COULD be: it would not
be the first time we have encountered someone who can alter memories, he is
a threat to our security, and we must be vigilant. If he is innocent, he is
a material witness to  a murder, and we need to consider his security."
Bishop smiled. "When in trouble or in doubt - professionalism takes over. Or
at least that is what I strive to achieve!" Bishop extended a hand to
Shadowflash, who took it. "Now let us both try to put our differences in the
past, and work together in the future." Shadowflash was stunned. Bishop left
the room.

"I think," said Wolverine very slowly "That as soon as I get the chance, I'm
gonna get Hank to check Bishop over. I think he must be sickening for
something."

"Yeah right!" said Jubilee. "I mean, like who turned off the guy's
meanstreak generator?" With that, the remaining X-Men left the meeting room,
and went about the day's business. 

Meanwhile, in Hank McCoy's laboratory, Hank, Stalker and Psylocke were
sitting, talking quietly.

"So what you're saying is," said Stalker, as if to ensure he was
understanding correctly, "You can look inside my mind, and establish that I
DIDN'T kill General DeLaPoer?"

"Yes," said Psylocke. "Yes I can. But I will only do it with your
permission. This is something that the Professor has always been most
insistent upon: except in cases where delay might be fatal, we never probe
minds without permission. Also, it might be rather uncomfotable for you."

"I reckon I can put up with it," said Stalker. "After the 'Fan Dance', I
lost all sense of pain!"

"The WHAT?" asked Hank McCoy.

"The Fan Dance. The final bit of the SAS qualifying regime: you run and walk
across about forty miles of exposed mountain side in the middle of winter,
with full kit and a rifle, and complete it in about ten hours. The
mountain's called Penn-y-Fan, so they call it the Fan Dance." Stalker
grinned ruefully. "Then you get to do it again, and again, and again, to
prove you still can."

"I have never truely understood the military mind" said Hank McCoy. "Well,
perhaps after this, you and Bishop can sit down together and try to top each
other's war stories. Are you willing to begin?"

"Yes," said Stalker, albeit nervously.

"Very well," said Psylocke. "Just relax, and let me enter your mind." 
Several moments later, Psylocke awakened from her trance, and Stalker let
out a loud groan.

"Bloody hell! Did someone sneak in and wallop me while you weren't looking?"
he asked Psylocke.

"Sorry," she said. "It's unfortunate, but often people with strong wills
subconciously resist the probing of a telepath. The result is I get a little
more tired, and your head hurts worse! The good news is I found no evidence
of anyone having tampered with your mind, and that you did not kill General
DeLaPoer."

"Excellent news!" crowed Hank loudly, bringing another groan from Stalker.
"I suggest double-strength Tylenol, followed a tour of our facilities,
whilst I endeavor to unravel, decipher and precis the computer data you
brought to us. Later, I will conduct the medical examination I alluded to
yesterday. In the meantime, Psylocke, would you be so kind as to show our
guest the rest of the Mansion and the gardens?" Psylocke seemed more than
happy to comply, leaving Hank to play with the computer tape.

"Well, where would you like to see first?" asked Psylocke. 

"Not a clue," said Stalker with a shrug. Wherever suits you best, since it's
all new to me." Psylocke smiled and the two walked along the corridor.

Nearly an hour later, Psylocke and Stalker arrived in the kitchen. Psylocke
let out a groan. Shadowflash and Gambit were stood in front of the oven
arguing bitterly, or as they put it, "discussing".

"You wrong, bra. Do dis look like de sort o' man dat run out o' basil?" said
Gambit, pointing at his chest.

"Well the cupboard is bare, and since even I know you can't cook Cajun
without basil, I'd say you're stuffed!" cackled Shadowflash.

"PLEASE!" shouted Psylocke. "The two of you have only been back together for
a morning! Can you not last even that long without an arguement?" Gambit
merely grinned.

"Dis ain't no arguement, Betts. Dis a discussion, 'tween two experts, 'bout
important culinary matters."

"Then how come it sounds like a playground fight?" asked Stalker with a grin.

"Who asked you?" laughed Shadowflash. "I'll put the coffee pot on."

"Not for me," said Psylocke. "Tea for me I think."

"Tea?" asked Stalker. "What, REAL tea?"

"Of course," laughed Psylocke. "If one is truly British, one can't be
expected to have to rough it like the locals and drink coffee, can one?"
Psylocke reached up into the cupboard for proper teacups, a teapot and some
strong Earl Grey.

"Well," asked Shadowflash, "What do you think?"

"I'm a little overwhelmed, tell the truth." said Stalker. "The facilities
here are something else: the infirmary, the science labs, even the rec
rooms! And that Danger Room, d'you call it? That blew me away."

"It's even better when you see it working," said Shdowflash.

"Oh, but we did, " added Psylocke. "When you and Gambit were taking on that
Sentinel simulation, and you got flattened..."

"I'm out of practice," said Shadowflash with a scowl, to the great amusement
of those gathered around the table.

The four sat and talked together for a while, drinking coffee or tea
according to their preferences and discusing the morning's events. 
"How long do you think it'll take Dr McCoy to sort out that data?" asked
Stalker.

"It take 'bout half an hour my guess," said Gambit with a grin, "Den 'bout
another two hours to check an' re-check it. An' call him Hank, bra. He kinda
sensitive 'bout not bein' distant from people, an' he t'ink titles build dem
sort o' barriers." Stalker nodded, then looked up as Hank came through the door.
"Elizabeth, gentlemen? I have downloaded what was on the tape, and made a
preliminary analysis. Shall we discuss it now?" All four could sense the
tension in Hank's voice, and Gambit answered for all of them.

"Since we out o' basil, I can' cook lunch fo' while. I call de others, an'
see you in de meetin' room, neh?"

Mitch Kelly,
Analytical Chemist
mk00nf@csl.gov.uk
"You can't even COMPREHEND what I am...
I'm a force o' nature - the beast in the wild!"
- Victor Creed