Fervent Feelings

X1 Chapter 6 - A Forgein Feeling

The five of us stand around the circular table in one of the many rooms beneath the mansion, the cool dim lighting casting long shadows on the walls as the nanotech display begins to rise and fall. The map of New York City materializes in the center, the small ticks of the tech weaving together as it moves. We watch as it zooms in, pinpointing a location.

"Magneto is here. Liberty Island," Scott says, his voice steady but laced with tension. The map focuses on the small island, just off the southern tip of Manhattan. "Presumably, his objective is to mutate the world leaders at the U.N. Summit on Ellis Island."

As the display shifts, Ororo crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing at the display. "He doesn't know his machine kills. And judging from what the professor saw, if Magneto gave Rogue enough power—"

"He could wipe out everyone in New York City," Jean adds, her tone grim as she watches the map expand to include the towering skyscrapers of the city.

Scott's focus sharpens. "All right. We can insert here at the George Washington Bridge, come around the bank just off Manhattan, and land on the far side of Liberty Island here." The metallic pieces on the map shift and adapt to Scott's every word, forming a path. I study the map, my fingers tapping anxiously against the cool metal surface of the table.

Logan, lean: against the table, shaking his head, skepticism clear in his eyes. "What about Harbor Patrol? Radar?"

"If they have anything that can pick up our jet, they deserve to catch us." Scott remarks.

***

I'm the last to change into my uniform, the tight black leather feeling foreign and stiff against my skin as I march up the jet hangar. The large space is filled with the low hum of machinery, and the scent of fuel in the air.

"So, did you finally lose your mind?" Ororo teases, turning in her seat to give me a once-over. A smirk tugs at the corners of her lips. "It looks good."

"Thanks," I murmur, holding my hands up to my face and wiggling my fingers. The fingerless gloves seem oddly fitting, likely designed so I can still use my powers without hindrance.

Scott glances over his shoulder, and the grin that spreads across his face is almost boyish. "Not one word, Scotty," I warn, raising my index finger at him.

He chuckles, turning his attention back to the console as he flicks on various switches and adjusts the knobs. The jet hums to life, vibrating underfoot with a low, powerful rumble.

I take a seat directly behind Jean, the chair across the aisle from me empty. The seatbelt clicks into place as I buckle in, and I pull on the headset, feeling the slight pressure on my ears. I watch Logan out of the corner of my eye as he struggles with the zipper on his own uniform, the leather squeaking in protest with every movement.

"You actually go outside in these things?" Logan groans, his frustration clear.

"Well, what would you prefer, yellow spandex?" Scott sasses back, not missing a beat.

Logan throws a skeptical glance over his shoulder, and our eyes meet. For a brief moment, there's a flash of something like amusement in his eyes. I can't help but smile at his discomfort. But just as quickly, the moment passes, and his expression hardens again.

The engine revs, the sound rising to a deafening roar as Scott pushes the lever forward. The jet lurches, and we're airborne. The sensation of the ground dropping away is almost disorienting.

"Whoa!" Logan mutters, gripping the armrests.

"Not fond of flying?" I quip, raising an eyebrow as I study his tense posture.