Chapter Text
“They’re living in the sewers, Professor!” Storm exclaimed, rising to stand, placing her hands on the meeting table.
Her vibrant blue eyes were flashing with rage, whisps of white hair falling to frame her face. The room was whistling with chilled air as to further ignite her claims.
This argument has been going on for weeks. After defeating Callisto in single combat, Ororo Munroe, codename “Storm” became the new leader of the Morlocks – sewer dwelling mutants too physically different to ever pass for anything resembling humanity.
It was always thought to believe the mutant gene ‘X’ became unlocked during puberty in young teenagers. Many such as Cyclops, Jean Grey, Kitty Pryde, Rogue, Gambit, Beast and Storm herself had their powers fully unleashed at this time, experiencing the trial by fire it is to hone in on their new abilities.
This is not the case for the Morlocks. These mutants were born and cast aside by their biological relations deeming them ‘too mutated to ever fit in regular society’, leaving them for the sewer folk to claim in their society.
Callisto as their leader would feed them, give them shelter and indoctrinate them into her hatred for humanity with the hopes they revolt and destroy the surface dwellers.
When Storm laid eyes on these Morlocks, she was reminded of her own orphancy on the streets in Cairo. She was reminded of the love her parents shared for her before their passing, a luxury these Morlocks were not exposed to.
“Their living conditions are dirty, there is no clean water for them to drink, nobody to care for them- to love them! They have no parents, Professor! We are the X-Men, it is our job to take in these children-”
“And do what, Storm?” Charles Xavier said, barely above a whisper. He has been mulling this over for some time and in some ways wholeheartedly agrees with her.
“As a team of mutants, we are different from humanity with our unnatural abilities. As educators in a school, we are able to share our experiences and traumas to benefit this next generation of mutants,” he gestured to the full meeting room, “we’re at full capacity with what we are able to provide with just those two aspects, and you expect us to take in infants, toddlers and small children too?”
Storm sat back in her seat next to Rogue. Much of the team were feeling as strongly as Storm was in their resolve to take in the Morlock children. Charles continued with his monologue:
“We are a team of super humans, often saving those who openly mock, ridicule and hate us. In our duality as educators and heroes, none here have any time to raise these children alongside these duties” Charles leaned forward in his chair, “I can barely get those of you here to take on night shifts in the dorms watching over our teens.”
He continued, now raising his voice a little: “How many of you would be willing to get up overnight to feed multiple children? To change diapers? To cook, clean, bathe, provide educational stimulation, sooth fevers, and calm down temper tantrums delivered by these powered children?”
“So, you would prefer we let the government take them? To let the government, that is known to openly hate anything different than themselves, to take these children and provide them all of those things you have just listed. You would trust them with that, Professor?” The last part sounded more of an accusatory statement than posed as a question. Storm was bringing more arguments to the table and nothing seemed to be softening her resolve.
The Professor released a sigh, bringing his fingers up to temples and massage them. He could hear many of the thoughts in the room about this. More than half of the team agrees they need to take them in. If a vote was proposed, he would have no choice but to take them in.
The mansion was large enough, they can absolutely house them. He had already thought out how he would renovate the area and section off portions to safeguard them from the more dangerous areas in the mansion.
“Of course I don’t trust them with this,” he sunk back into his chair, “Again, I ask, what would you have me do? What would you have any of us do, Storm? I can hear all thoughts in this room. All of you agree, we take in these children and give them a home but after that, your ideas begin to get a bit fuzzy around the edges.”
“Storm, you are one of the most powerful mutants in this room. If the world was in danger, would you sit back and make bottles to feed a mutant baby?” Charles directed his gaze to the other X-Men in the room.
“Gambit, sentinels are attacking the mall – you hold the toddler and let us all go without you,” he focussed on another member, “Rogue, this theoretical child is having an emotional moment and needs to be held and to sate them – are you willing to take that risk, to accidentally syphon a babies lifeforce into your own?” Rogue looked away from the Professors gaze, “not to mention all these children have abilities. What happens when you have a child that we cannot touch, a child that is on fire for example? A child that secretes toxins that could instantly paralyse us?”
Logan has not spoken on this issue from the beginning. He has opted to not get involved no matter how many times Storm or ‘Chuck’ would coax him. He was the best there is at what he does, and what he does is not look after infants. He was a miliary man, often in the thralls of combat.
The Canadian Army in World War II, Weapon X, Team X, Alpha Flight, The Avengers, and the X-Men all required his healing factor to benefit combat outcomes in fights. And he was good at that, not rearing babies. He did not have the patience or temper to raise mutant children, but he may know someone who does-.
-Charles stopped his accusations and his head suddenly snapped to the silhouette of Logan, locking his eyes onto his grim expression.
“What was that, Logan?” All eyes now swivel to stare at Wolverine. He grunts, pushes himself up from his comfortable lean on the door frame and stupors fully into the room, places himself on a vacant chair and draws it in.
“Seeing as though you’re hell bent on drawing me in to this conversation, Chuck, I’ve thought on it,” He grunted out, brows furrowed and hunching himself to rest his head on his knuckles, “and I may know someone who’s up to the task.”
Sitting alone in a booth, head placed in the palm of her hand and absent mindedly watching the spoon handle as she stirs her coffee repeatedly. Her eyes were deep in thought with a hint of gloom and she allowed a light sigh to exit her mouth. She placed her spoon down, reached into her bag and checked her phone: no new messages.
She has been waiting in this small café for nearly an hour and reluctantly ordered a coffee twenty minutes ago, which she has been stirring now for nearly as long. Raising the now ice-cold mug to her lips for the first time and taking a small sip, her brows creased together in thought as she savoured the bitter liquid.
It is a well-known fact that human organs once reaching the age of 30 begin to function a little less well, your memory begins to falter and your cells begin to die off.
Fortunately for one with a mutant healing factor, her cells would regenerate as soon as they would die – leaving her in a state of eternal youth with a lot of time on her hands. Unfortunately, the majority of relationships she has formed with other members of society are short-lived in her opinion, one lifetime simply not being enough to spend with the people she loves.
She was waiting for one such individual who was dwindling on the senescence of their existence and beginning their journey on leaving this lifetime.
‘Perhaps he just forgot?’ she thought to herself, looking out the window up to the sky. The grey clouds were slightly allowing the sun to peak through to reveal a rose-purple sunset.
She rose to her feet, placing enough money on the table to cover her bill and a nice tip, she left to the doorway and pushed revealing the crisp air filled with scents of charred street meats from the small tuktuk around the corner, crisp linen hanging from the tenants above the café and caramelised sugar-coated peanuts being peddled by another vendor.
She rose her hand to hail a cab and the next available one pulled in against the sidewalk. Opening the back door, she gracefully climbed inside, placing her handbag in the middle seat next to her.
“Where to, Senora?” The cab driver asked her without turning his head.
“The Evelyn on 7 East 27th Street, please” She replied with a small smile, firmly clicking her seatbelt into place, and pulling her hair from behind her neck to place it down her shoulder. The driver waited until she was comfortable before driving to her destination.
“Are you here for long or just visiting?” The driver asked, slowly coming to a pause at the lights.
“I haven’t been to New York for a while,” She asked, smiling at the driver in his rearview mirror, “I’ve only been back here for a couple of days, not sure how long I’ll stay for.”
“There’s always something to do here, Cariño,” He replied with a slight smile, “The night life is pretty wonderful if I do say so myself”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” She let out a small laugh and again reached for her phone to check again for a message. ’16:20: No new messages’. Placing her phone back into her handbag, her driver pulls in front of the entrance to The Evelyn.
“Do you prefer cash or card payments?” She asked, unclipping her seatbelt and opening her clutch revealing her purse within.
“Either works for me” he shrugged. She looked at his licence name and photo taped to the back of his seat. She reached into her purse and fingered through the contents, finding enough cash to cover her fare and tip, “I have cash.”
He turned to look at her, meeting her eyes and reaching out to accept her cash with a small smile, “Thank you, Cariño.”
She smiled in return, looking again at his name and photograph, “Thanks again for driving me, Mr Lockley.”
Logan waited by the entrance of the mansion for one of the members of the X-Men to return from an away mission. Despite his outward distain for many of the members of the X-Men, Wolverine particularly liked working with Nightcrawler.
Upon the Blackbird landing; Colossus, Shadowcat, Iceman, Forge and Nightcrawler exit via the front ramp. Wolverine immediately moves to intercept the small, blue man.
“Alright, Fuzzy Elf, we’re off” He grunted out. Nightcrawler bore his white teeth in a boyish grin.
“Although you call me these things, Logan, I am happy to see you here.” He chuckled out. They have an odd relationship built on mutual respect and bonded over their love for beer and their past rejection from society for being dubbed as “monster.”
“How well do you know New York, Kurt?” Logan asked him.
“Not as much as I might like, but I do know where a few landmarks are!” Nightcrawler exclaimed with glee.
“Alright, bub, this isn’t a field trip,” Logan grunted out, “We need to go and get someone, and she’s staying at The Evelyn hotel.”
Kurt prepares himself to teleport himself and Wolverine by placing a hand on his shoulder. “Who are we getting?” Kurt asked.
“An old friend,” Logan replied in a low tone. Kurt furrowed his brows inquisitively but chose to probe no more. He shut his gold eyes and focussed on the empire state building before teleporting away with a ‘Bamf’.
With a deep sigh, she plonked herself down onto the turquoise felt armchair in her hotel suite. She reached down and removed her heeled shoes from her feet before again checking her phone: “16:50. No new messages.” She let out a small groan, it’s unlike him to not see her.
She placed her phone onto the glass side-table next to her armchair and stretched out her fingers and hearing a slight pop of her joints, she relaxed into her chair and closed her eyes.
‘Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz’, her eyes opened and immediately reached for her phone. “The Evelyn Desk Service” was displayed on the home screen. Pressing the accept tile on the screen, she lifted the phone to her ear.
“Hello, this is room 301. Is everything ok?” She asked, leaning forward in her armchair.
“Yes, Ms. There’s, um,” the clerk paused, “There’s two, uh, gentlemen here that seem to know you by name here. Should I send them to you?”
Maybe he’s here, she thought to herself, “Yes, please send them to me. Thank you” she replied before hanging up. She put her shoes back on her feet, standing and readjusting her clothes.
Immediately, two harsh knocks were hammered into the door. She stopped in her tracks and reluctantly reached for the doorhandle. Regaining her composure, she shook off any nerves and opened the door to reveal someone she wasn’t expecting.
“Logan?” She breathed out with a surprised gasp.
“Hey, Sweetheart, it’s been a long time.”