Shifting Sands -- The Lone Wolf And The Goddess
Prologue
Story by D. Briganti
written by Valegra
Jean Gray Summers worried over almost everything. She
was the first to admit that. Call it a childhood hang up if you will, but it
was just something that she did. She worried that her hair wouldn’t curl in the
morning. She worried that a disaster would strike at any moment rendering the
entire universe to a pile of space rubble.
Call her jumpy to the point of insanity, but she
worried that the sun wouldn’t rise the next morning, that her teeth were
overdue for a check up, that her pathetic attempts at cooking would someday
kill her husband. But most of all she worried about her friends. Her friends were
as much her family as her husband, Scott Summers, was and she loved them as she
knew she would love her own brothers and sisters if she had any. They knew she
worried about them, so they usually didn’t worry her. But today Professor
Charles Xavier founder of the School for Gifted Youngsters, now the Institute
for Higher Learning was doing something that had her pacing the main foyer of
the institute and... well... worrying.
The sound of muted foot falls interrupted her pacing
as Ororo Monroe walked casually down the main stairwell of the mansion followed
closely by Charles Xavier, the man responsible for her worry, who was
negotiating his hover chair down the systematic structure of the stairwell
steps. Glancing briefly at her mentor, Jean turned her gaze upon Ororo and
immediately noticed she was dressed to travel. More specifically, she was
dressed for a mission of espionage. She was wearing one of the uniforms that
Xavier had fashioned for all his X-men. The uniforms were made of a delicate,
light weight Shi’ar material like nothing of this world that fitted to the
wearers body like a second skin while at the same time providing the protection
of a bullet proof vest. The uniform that Ororo was wearing wasn’t her usual
fashion. Over a dark blue tee, Ororo was wearing a short pull over jacket that
barely reached her navel. The jacket was midnight blue almost black to match
the slacks she was wearing with it. The front fastened with a silver zipper
that only zipped half way down her chest. It was loose with long sleeves that
zipped at the wrist. The slacks she wore were tight fitting but loose as well
in the event that she would need to kick. On her feet were a pair of boots the
same color as her jacket and slacks with a half inch heel. The boots reached her
knees and peeking from her left, Jean could see what looked like the hilt of a
small dagger. In her hand she carried a small black duffel bag containing only
God knows what. And at her waist was a small communication unit no larger
around than the lens of a pair of standard size glasses. There was a large X
carved into its center, Jean knew.
It was the communication unit that had Jean worrying
most about the get up. Xavier was having Ororo go under cover, yes, but the
fact that she was wearing one of the smallest com’s Hank was able to fashion
indicated that whereever she was going, there would be electronic equipment
around that could pinpoint her immediately if she were wearing anything larger.
The communicator was, in fact, little more than a homing beeper.
Jean knew she should be more confident about the plan
Xavier had decided to enact, but she wasn’t. Sure Ororo was capable, of that
there was no doubt. And Okay, so Scott had agreed with Charles that this was
the best way to go about the mission. But damnit, this was not a good idea!
Ororo could be killed. She should at least have back up!
"Jean?"
Jean was pulled out of her mental tiff by the calm
inquiry in her mentor’s voice. Looking back at Charles Xavier, Jean was
concerned to notice that both he and Ororo had made it to the base of the
stairwell and were both watching her as if they expected her to do something
rash.
Jean squared her shoulders. Ha, she would do no such
thing! She vowed silently.
"Yes, Professor?" she answered reaching for
a small smile that she was proud to notice came off real well.
"You aren’t worrying, I hope," the older man
asked with a half smile raising an eye brow. Beside him, Ororo looked away
trying to hide her amusement.
"Uh, no professor," Jean lied wiping her
sweaty palms on the seat of her jeans. Stepping forward she and Ororo exchanged
a hug. "Good luck, ‘Ro. Be careful." she said quietly.
Ororo Monroe returned the embrace with equal emotion.
When they pulled apart, she nodded. "I will, Jean. Goddess willing, I will
be in and out with little incident." With those words the second in
command on the field and leader of the X-men’s blue team gave one last look
over her shoulder to Xavier then turning left the building.
She’d barely stepped out the door before Jean blasted
Xavier with a mental shout. This cannot possibly be the best strategy to adopt,
Charles, she stated telepathically crossing her arms defiantly across her
chest. Lordy, lordy, she was not going to pout.
Maybe you're right, Jean, but in any case it is the
fastest. Consider this: we cannot send an entire team to scout a stronghold
that's within the midst of an area that groups a horrendous population of
F.O.H. If we do, the eventuality that our cover is blown rises dramatically.
One of the X-men are bound to be recognized. So, we must rely on the abilities
of only one X-man. Besides being one of the best trained, Ororo is also one of
the best thieves ever created. She has both the knowledge and skill to
effortlessly break into the stronghold and hopefully find or not find the
information that we are searching for. Charles Xavier responded also
telepathically.
Throwing up her arms in defeat, Jean began pacing once
again. "If it was a thief you were after, Charles, you should have sent
Remy. At least along with her. He’s almost as good as she is and when it comes
to stealth, he’s one of the best." she said knowing that Ororo was
probably miles away by now and hardly likely to hear this conversation.
"That, Jean, is not an option. Though I wish I
could have sent Remy with Ororo. I agree, Remy is just as unlikely to break
their cover as Ororo is. But if something would go wrong, Remy would be more
apt to make matters worse by using brute force, then Ororo would be trying to
just get out. We cannot afford to rile the F.O.H. until we know for sure what
they are hiding."
"I just know this is a bad idea," Jean
mumbled. Turning, frustrated, she left Xavier and went the way of Ororo only
moments ago. Only when she stepped out of the mansion, she didn’t take off into
the sky, she turned and headed to the side of the building.
Scott Summers, the X-Man known as Cyclops, was sitting
under a tree, quietly carving a piece of wood with a knife he’d bought in Salem
Center just that morning. He raised a brow in something of the same fashion
that Xavier had earlier when he saw his red headed wife stomping towards him.
He waited until she was settled beside him with her arms wrapped around her
drawn up knees before attempting to find out what was wrong.
"Jean?" he asked.
"I'm worried about Ororo," Jean said without
preamble knowing exactly what her husband was asking. "Charles is sending
her right into the belly of the monster!"
Scott smiled. Putting his carving and knife down, he
reached an arm around her and pulled her close. "Come on, Jean... The
Professor and I have both discussed this. ‘Ro is the best one for the job.
You’ve got to trust us and trust in her."
Jean sighed. When it came to trust, the X-men had hers
completely. Still, anything could go wrong and trust wasn’t exactly a shield of
adamantium. It wasn’t even tangible.
"You're right, Scott, but I have such bad
feelings about this assignment! Anything having to do with the Friends of
Humanity, worries me."
"I wouldn’t be too concerned if I were you,
honey. A lot of things worry you," Scott teased bringing a small smile to
his wife’s lips. "Don't worry about Storm, she'll be back. She isn't one
to let a bunch of fanatics stop her!"
"I don’t think I’m worried so much about ‘Ro’s
abilities, Scott. I just don’t like that she’s going out there alone. Anything
could go wrong." With that, Jean rested her head on her husband's
shoulder, staring thoughtfully at the roof of the mansion. Anything.
*****
Ororo Monroe remembered a time when she enjoyed the
adrenaline rush that was part and partial when it came to moving stealthily
through the night. She remembered how she used to anticipate the challenge
almost daring anyone anything to get in her way. Back then she was invincible,
there was nothing that could stop her; no lock she couldn’t pick, no safe she
couldn’t crack, no building she couldn’t enter. At that time long ago the sight
of the heavily guarded compound situated snugly in the middle of a rural
dwelling showing all signs of possessing the latest in electronic security
including time safe locks, cameras in every crevice, laser cannons set to fire
if any of the laser triggers were tripped, and probably even an automatic lock
down mechanism, would have made her wipe her palms together in glee. But this
wasn’t that time ago, where if she failed she had nothing to lose but her life.
Today, here, now, she was older and what she was about to do was neither a
conquest or a game. She wasn’t here to prove anything. She was here to do a
job, and a lot depended on her success.
'So you had better not blow it Ororo,' she thought to
herself.
Professor Xavier had recently brought to its end an
investigation on strange activities regarding the sightings of giant human-like
robots soaring over the hills surrounding the village over which Storm now
found herself... robots that dangerously resembled the hateful creations of one
amongst the old enemies of the X-men. One by the name of Bolivar Trask. Storm
was there to see for herself, for the X-men, weather or not the robots were
actually the metallic creations of Bolivar Trask. She had to know, as did all
mutants, really, if they were really Sentinels, the long dead project of a mad
inventor.
Storm leaned back into the shadow of a large tree. The
compound she faced was nearly four city blocks long the height however was an
impressive seven stories. The structure itself was made of white brick and did
not contain many windows. Through the few it possessed, glowed the yellow light
of a well lit inner facility. Surrounding the building on all sides was a fence
that topped ten feet with cameras spaced along its length at twelve foot
intervals. Their lenses rotated indicating that they were indeed active. Who
ever owned the facility didn’t want any unwanted guest. Storm would bet one of
her hidden stashes that the fence was also electric. Even though she couldn’t
actually see the current, the grass just beneath the fencing was burned away a
good several inches. There was only one road into the compound, though Storm
could see a helicopter pad just beyond the fencing to her left. The one road
led to the only entrance through the fence which was guarded by three men with
caliber weapons, a guarding station equipped with the latest in alarm
technology, and two large dogs with even larger teeth chained to the side just
within the perimeter.
Needless to say, a person would be a fool to try to go
through the front door. Storm was not a fool. Keeping to the shadows of the
thicket just several yards beyond the fence, she kneeled to one knee and
unzipped the bag she’d brought with her. Extracting the small camera she
planned to use to document the expedition, or more specifically the evidence,
she threw the camera strap around her neck. Making sure the camera fell safely,
she then pulled out a set of ten metal wires. Reaching further, she pulled out
a small piece of cloth with holes poked out of it. The holes were poked out in
pairs and in each she wove one of the wires through. When she was finished she
tied the makeshift utility belt around her upper right thigh. Pulling a
miniature shovel out of the pack, she dug a crude but deep hole in the ground
under the tree in a matter of seconds with the help of a little moisture which
helped soften the dirt. When all this was done she took out one more item
necessary for her trip into subterfuge. Pulling her hair up on top of her head
and securing it with a thin strip of leather, Storm placed the black stocking
cap on her head making sure that not even one strand of her hair escaped.
Rising slowly until she was standing tall and
determined, she moved cautiously around the tree weaving a path through the
rest of them to the fence by manipulating the wind, she was able to move
swiftly and silently without either of her feet touching the ground. There
would not be a trail to give her away.
Without the rest of the X-men, she was on her own.
Until she was at least several miles out of the town, she could not even call
them, least she invite someone to pick up the signal. When she went over the
fence there would be no turning back.
But Ororo Monroe, adopted daughter and prized student
of one of the best thieves to ever live, wasn’t worried about turning back. She
had a job to do and she planned to do it.
story by David Briganti written by Valegra