From: fuzzy@athena.mit.edu (Dark Fuzzy Rules OK!)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.xbooks,rec.arts.comics
Subject: NEW MUTANTS: Kid Dynamo Chapter 10, Part 2
Summary: "Double Dare" concludes
Keywords: Mutants, Magneto, Marvel
Date: 22 Jul 92 03:11:49 GMT
Followup-To: rec.arts.comics.xbooks
Organization: Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Apologies to those who may be seeing this a second time; also
apologies to anyone who's been waiting all day for the second part of
this chapter.  It seems to have gone wandering off into cyberspace....

-connie

Kid Dynamo Chapter 10, Part 2
    "Double Dare"
    by Connie Hirsch
    
    I wondered how some of the X-Men felt, attacking in pretend one whom
 they had fought in deadly earnest before.  To make up with an enemy -- I
 bet they slept with their doors locked.  For all the good it would do them.
    For lack of anything better to do, I got out my flash cards and ran
 Mist through them.  She'd been so proud of her ability to read Asgardian --
 it turned out that she could sound out Asgardian runes: literacy, Asgardian
 style.  English, with its helter-skelter spelling, was proving a great
 burden to her.
    There was a knock on the doorway.  "There she is," said Sam to
 someone out in the hall.  "We've been looking all over for you," he said to
 me.
    Sharon came in bearing a vase of red roses.  "This came addressed to
 you," she said, putting it down on the study table.
    "You're kidding, right?" I said.  I'd never had anyone send me
 flowers before.  A sudden suspicion struck me -- what if it was Magneto,
 trying to suck up by "congratulating" on my Danger Room run.  Flowers
 weren't his style, but maybe the old guy had finally flipped his wig.
    "There's a card," Sharon said.  It was tied to the cut crystal vase
 with a red ribbon.  The vellum envelope was sealed with a drop of green
 wax.
    "Okay," I said, breaking it open, "so who is this from--?"  My voice
 trailed off.  There were no words on the plain white card, just a fancy
 letter or symbol of some sort, though I didn't recognize it.  "Anybody know
 what to make of this?" I said.  We passed it hand to hand.
    Mist looked over Sam's shoulder.  "It is Asgardian letter," she said.
  "In English you say ..."  She searched through the flash cards, picked up
 the one with a lion on it.  "For your letter 'El,'" she said.
    "'El'?" said Sharon.
    Sam and I thought of it at the same time, looking at each other.
  "Loki," I said at last.  "Goddamnit -- oh, damn him to Hell!"  I lifted the
 roses out of the vase and tore them into tiny shreds of petals, leaves and
 stems, which I liberally flung across the room.  "That for the flowers!" I
 said.
    Mist brushed some of the debris out of her hair, her expression
 carefully unchanged.  Sharon was open-mouthed.  
    Sam frowned.  "Was that really necessary?" he said.
    "If I just took them," I said.  "He might think I had forgiven him or
 something."
    "Ah know you're upset," said Sam, "but that's no cause to -- well,
 litter up the room.  There's always the wastebasket for things like this."
    "Oh, I'll clean it up," I said.  I swept my TK through the study and
 gathered what was left of the roses in a loose cloud.  "If he put a spell
 on any of this --" I said.  "It's too dangerous to leave around, even the
 vase."  I separated the water from the container and crumbled the lead
 crystal vase into silicon dust.  It made a pleasant tinkly noise.  I got up
 and went down the hall to the little guest lavatory, where I
 enthusiastically flushed the remnants.
    "That's the last of it," I said.  "And good riddance."
    "Feel better now?" said Sam.  
    "There's nothing like a good shred," I said.
    
    * * *
    
    After that, I didn't much feel like continuing Mist's lesson, and I
 don't think she was too enthusiastic about it either.  I was on my way to
 my room, crossing the big foyer, when Tom opened the front door, carrying a
 tartan suitcase.  "It's good to have you visit us again," he said to the
 person beyond the threshold.         
    "It doesna' seem the same without Charles," said a woman's crisp
 Scottish-accented voice.  She stepped into the room and I recognized her
 immediately, even though I had only seen her in pictures:  Moira MacTaggert. 
 In person she was both imposing and petite, a small boned brunette
 who gave the impression of being _honed_ without having any visible edges. 
 She had the same air of command that Noemi used to project.         
    She was turning to say something to Tom when her gaze fell on me.
  She stopped gracefully, her left eyebrow arching.  "You'll be Jessica
 Pierce," she said.         
    _Is that a command_? I wondered.  "You are Dr. MacTaggert," I said.
  "I've heard of you too."         
    "Good, then," she said.  "We won't have to waste time introducing
 ourselves."  She had a truly rough Scottish burr that drawled out of all of
 her words.  "You're one of the reasons I find mysel' here," she added.
    "Me?" I said.         
    "'Tis the lesser of two evils," she said cryptically.  "Tom, am I in
 my usual guest bedroom?"            
    "Yes, of course," Tom said, shooting me a glance and a shrug.        
 
    "Then Jessica can help me up to my room with my suitcase," she said. 
 "I must speak to her private-like."  I followed her up the stairs.  If it
 had been someone else, I might have objected; but Dr. MacTaggert had helped
 Xavier's and the X-Men often enough that I'd have to extend her the benefit
 of the doubt.         
    I put the suitcase on top of the bureau in the guest room.  It was
 wall-papered in a pretty speckled rose color, with lacy curtains and plain
 Shaker-type furniture.  The student rooms tended toward battered
 utilitarian, but considering the proclivities of the students, anything
 else would have been a waste of resources.  "Shut the door, if you will,"
 the doctor said.  She put her briefcase on the table and took out some
 papers.  "You've more of your father's looks to you than I thought," she
 said, surveying me as I came to sit opposite her.         
    "It's the hair," I said.  "Is that what you wanted to talk to me
 about?"
    "No," she said.  "Magneto asked me to gather your mother's medical
 records.  He knew I would be interested in her case."         
    "I don't know why he thought so," I said blandly.  "You are only a
 world-famous mutant genetics researcher."         
    She made a noise like a rusty chuckle.  "I do not want to raise your
 hopes, lassie," she said.  "But it was either ask you or ask your mother's
 relations some particular questions, an' I thought it more discreet if I
 asked you."         
    "Raise my hopes?" I said, sitting up.  "What -- about my mother's
 death and its cause?"         
    "Call it a hunch," she said to me.  "I have nothing but a suspicion;
 I'll ask Cincinnati Memorial to do the test if your answers gi' me a reason
 to." 
    "What test?" I said.  I still wasn't buying this, but I had to say
 it.  "Go ahead and ask me."         
    "Might you not slant your answers if you knew where I was headed?" 
    "I don't think your questions will have any effect on the outcome," I
 said.  "Noemi died because of Magneto's genetic tampering.  Period,
 paragraph."         
    "Lassie, a good diagnostician doesn't decide what the cause is before
 she starts her research.  You don't let your preexisting knowledge and
 preexisting prejudices start to flavor your opinion of the cause before
 you've got all the facts."  She spread out photocopied pages of medical
 history charts from the thick file in her briefcase.  "What I've got here
 may not be of any use in determining what went wrong, but I don't make that
 decision before I've seen it all.  Your answers on some trivial matters
 might provide vital information.  Do you think you can be objective in
 recalling certain memories of your mother?"         
    I looked down at my hands.  "I understand," I said.  "I'll answer as
 truthfully as I can -- all the more so because I don't believe it will make
 the slightest bit of difference."         
    I could feel her eyes on me, measuring.  "Verra well, then," she
 said.  "Did your mother often talk about her childhood?"         
    "Yes," I said.  "All sorts of stories."         
    "Did she ever talk about her younger brother Karel?"         
    "He died young," I said.  "Noemi said she never forgot him."         
    "Did she ever talk about how he died?"         
    "Oh -- polio," I said.  "That was back in the 50's -- just before
 they distributed the vaccine.  She talked about his hospitalization -- it
 was a terrible time.  For a while it looked like Noemi and her sister were
 coming down with polio, too."         
    "Hmmm," Dr. MacTaggert said, one of those "doctor" noises.  She
 smiled, but it wasn't a terribly happy one.  "They had symptoms of polio?"
    "I guess the doctors thought so; weakness, a stiff neck and a sore
 back," I said.  "But my grandmother prayed all night in the cathedral and
 in the morning they got better -- although I doubt that had anything to do
 with it."         
    "As I expected," Dr. MacTaggert said.         
    "So?"  I said, reminding myself to stay polite.  "What does this have
 to do with what killed my mother?  How could her brother's polio have
 anything to do with it?"    
    "Och, no, of course you wouldna' know," said the doctor.  "After the
 vaccines were developed, even a doctor will only see a case or two a year,
 unless they're treating backward people.  Back then, the doctors didna'
 know what we know now about the disease."    
    "What?" I said.    
    "Back then, we called it 'infantile paralysis', thinking it only
 struck small children, and always caused paralysis.  The epidemics were
 mysterious, because no one could say how polio spread.  For every case of
 paralysis, it turns out there may be a hundred asymptomatic cases -- merely
 a touch of 'flu'."    
    "You're saying she had polio?" I said.  "A mild case?"    
    "A blood test for antibodies would prove whether she had it at some
 point.  Your report of her symptoms when there was a confirmed case so near
 to her is enough to convince me to order the test," she said.    
    "But what does a case of polio have to do with what killed her?"  I
 said, my voice rising slightly.  "You can't get polio twice, can you?  And
 she wasn't paralyzed, not at all!"    
    "Calm yersel', Lassie," Dr. MacTaggert said not unkindly.  "Take a
 deep breath -- there -- now I'll answer some of your questions.  Yes, it is
 possible to get polio twice, though 'tis rare -- there are three known
 strains and having had one doesna' confer immunity to the others."    
    "So you mean she had polio?"  I said, outraged.  "That's the craziest
 thing I ever heard!"    
    "What did I tell you about jumping to conclusions in diagnosis?" Dr.
 MacTaggert said sharply.  "The illness that may have claimed your mother
 was not polio itself -- or so I believe."    
    I looked at her.  "Then what was it?" I said evenly.    
    "To tell the truth, it was not something I would ha' though on mysel'," 
she said.  "One of my older tenants had developed a weakness in his
 legs and arms.  I feared it was amylotrophic lateral sclerosis -- Lou Gehrig's
 
Disease -- and I sent him off to hospital in Glasgow for testing.
  'Twas na' sclerosis.  The doctor took one look at his medical history and
 diagnosed Post-Polio Syndrome."    
    "Post-Polio?" I said.  I felt like I could hardly dare to breathe.   
 
    "Do you know that the polio virus attacks the nerve cells?" Dr. MacTaggert 

said.  "And nerve cells do na' recover from such insult well.
  Those who recover from mild paralysis have stressed nervous systems that
 years of living wear down far faster and harder than normal."   
     She must have guessed from the look on my face that I was confused. 
 "'Tis only in the past few years that the syndrome has been recognized,"
 she said.  "The big epidemics of the 40's and 50's -- the children are
 getting old now, and we're seeing more cases because of the statistical
 hump."
    "So Noemi had nerve damage from her polio," I said.    
    "I do not declare it to be fact," Dr. MacTaggert said, putting her
 hand over mine.  "In an unsolved case such as your mother's, tissue and
 blood samples were taken in the autopsy and can be checked for polio
 antibodies and the presence of polio patterned damage."    
    "But why would it affect her in such a way?" I said.    
    "A mutant such as your mother uses her nervous system in unusual
 ways," she said.  "Whereas Post-Polio Syndrome affects fine motor control
 for most victims, it would seem to have affected fine, and later, gross
 control of your mother's fire powers.  From reading her medical history, I
 would theorize a kind of negative feedback loop was created, similar to
 cerebral palsy, causing further damage to her nerve cells...."    
    "Oh, God," I said, squeezing my eyes shut.  "Why did no one ever
 think of polio?"    
    "They didna' have her complete medical history," said Dr. MacTaggert.
  "Post-Polio Syndrome was na' recognized at the time, and the doctors had
 all too handy an explanation of the cause of her trouble."    
    "Magneto's gene therapy."    
    "His supposed gene therapy," she said.    
    "You believe that -- that lying megalomaniac," I said.    
    "And why not?" Dr. MacTaggert countered.  "The man has his faults,
 and pride among them -- pride and too much honor to lie."    
    "But couldn't the gene therapy have produced damage similar to that
 caused by polio?" I said.    
    "'Tis always possible, lassie," she said.  "And 'tis always possible
 pigs will fly, but it doesna mean they will."    
    Her hand was still on top of mine.  "As I said, 'tis no more than a
 theory and a hunch.  As a doctor, I've learned to put no more credence into
 hunches than they deserve, until they are proved or not.  I'll wait until I
 hear the results of the tests and the examination of the tissues before
 I'll say what killed your mother."    
    "Was there anything the doctors could have done?" I said.    
    "They could have stopped searching for a cause and worked on the
 symptoms," she said.  "They could have called in experts on mutant
 physiology -- but they didna'."    
    "Mother explained to the doctors about her legal status -- and they
 agreed to keep her case as anonymous as possible," I said miserably.  "It
 was because of me -- for herself, she wouldn't have cared."    
    "Och, lassie," said the doctor, "if only --"
    There was a knock on the door.  "Jess, are you up here?" Sam called. 
 Dr. MacTaggert looked up, annoyed.  Before she could say anything, he
 yelled again.  "It's real important."
    I followed her as she opened the door, with an expression like a
 thundercloud.  "Have ye lost all reason, lad?" she snapped.
    "Begging your pardon, Doctor," Sam said.  "It's an emergency."  He
 turned to me.  "Pick up the phone," he said.  "Empath is on the line from
 New York -- there's trouble."
    The first thing that flashed through my mind was to say "You're
 kidding."  But the expression on Sam's face was far too worried to dismiss,
 as much as I'd have liked to.  I wanted to go somewhere quiet and think
 about all the things Dr. MacTaggert had brought up, but I wasn't going to
 be able to -- not until this was cleared up.  "He's on the telephone?" I
 said.
    Sam jerked his head towards the phone on the desk, its message light
 blinking.  I went over and picked it up.
    The connection was full of static.  "Stay awake, Manuel," I heard
 Amara say.  "Jessica will be with us in a minute."
    "So... hungry," Manuelito's voice was so faint, breathless, filled
 with pain, that anyone but me would have had trouble recognizing it.  My
 heart was in my throat.
    "[I am here, little brother]," I said.  "[What is wrong?  Do you need
 me?]"
    "[Europa!]" he said forcefully and choked.  I could hear him gasping
 for breath, fighting for air.  "[We were attacked -- Central Park --
 Famine...]"
    "[Stay calm,]" I said to him. "[Do not waste your strength.]  Amara
 -- what's going on?"
    "I am grateful to have you on the line," she said.  "He's been
 lapsing into Spanish.  It seems the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are
 attacking New York City.  Manuel was in Central Park with some of his
 classmates when the Horseman called Famine attacked -- they are in a bad
 way, now. He's tried to reach the Hellfire Club and the Massachusetts
 Academy, without success."
    "[Please -- believe me,]" said 'Lito.  "[Please help.]"
    "[I believe you.  Where in the park?]" I said.  "[I will come for
 you, I promise.  Just tell me where you are so I can find you --]"
    I waited for his reply.  The line sounded suspiciously empty of
 static.  "[Are you still there?]" I said.  "Are we still connected?" I said
 to Amara.
    "Manuel?" she said.
    Doug cut in.  "We've lost the line," he said.  "Damn -- I couldn't
 trace it.  The trunk lines to New York have been going down left and right,
 and Empath's luck finally ran out."
    "What's going on?" Sam said behind me.  I hadn't been paying
 attention to him or Dr. MacTaggert. 
    "It _was_ Em -- Manuel," I said.  "He's in trouble, I'm sure of it.
  We were cut off."
    "Tell the others to meet us downstairs in the Mission Planning Room,"
 Sam said.  "Let's get a move on."
    
    * * *
    
    On the way down, Sam told me how Amara had answered the phone, then
 called for himself and Dani when she was sure the call was genuine.  It was
 lucky Amara had answered the phone, because anyone else besides me at the
 house might not have believed his plight.
    We were the next to last group to get to the room; only Roberto and
 Warlock followed us in.  Doug was crouched over the main computer console,
 typing frantically to bring the screens and other terminals to life.  I'd
 never seen the X-Men's full technical array put into operation; they had a
 sophisticated setup, beating anything the Pentagon had, I'd wager.
    "Everyone take your seat.  Let's get rolling," Dani said.  "Doctor
 MacTaggert, I'm glad you're here with us today, would you sit right here?" 
 She patted the chair next to her.
    The New Mutants wasted no time getting into place.  If nothing else,
 Magneto's discipline had taught them how to be organized in times of
 emergency.
    "Y'all have been told about the phone call," Sam said.  "Amara, Jess,
 would you comment on the authenticity of the call?"
    I didn't wait for Amara.  "That was Manuel," I said.  "He's in
 trouble!"
    "Hold up, Jess," he said.  "Amara, you picked up the phone first --"
    "I am also convinced of the authenticity of the author of the call
 and the seriousness of the emergency," said Amara.  "And I have less of an
 emotional tie to Manuel."
    I shot her an annoyed glance.  "'Lito would never lie to me," I said.
  "Not even if a gun was held to his head."
    "You have no doubt that it was Empath?" said Dani.  "I'm sorry, Jess,
 but it has to be asked."
    "It if was a fake, I'll eat my own hat," I said.  "Whomever would
 have to know an awful lot about 'Lito."
    "Which is not impossible for a telepath like the White Queen,"
 commented Roberto.  Across the table from him, Sharon nodded.
    "If that's so, we still have a situation that we've got to deal
 with," said Sam.  "Tom, I think it's time to call Magneto."
    "I don't know," said Tom slowly.  He pulled back the sleeve of his
 flannel shirt, looked warily at his "signal watch."  "He's supposed to be
 in New York City right now -- if he's already dealing with whatever's going
 on there, he's not going to appreciate being called home to deal with an
 emergency that's taking place in Manhattan."
    "Has anyone tried to call the Hellfire Club?" I said.
    "I'm ahead of you," said Doug.  "I've tried a number of times --
 including the special line.  I can get the Academy base -- but they can't
 reach Manhattan HQ either."
    "What's going on in New York?"  said Dani.
    "Your guess is as good as mine," said Doug.  "WCBS-TV is still on the
 air, but the transmitter is in New Jersey and they're showing an old movie
 with occasional bulletins to say they don't know what's with Manhattan."
    "Radio stations?" said Sam.
    "Better luck there, WNBC was still on the air up to five minutes ago
 -- reporting the so-called Horsemen of the Apocalypse were on the loose
 downtown."
    "So Empath's story is confirmed," said Sam.  "At least the outline of
 the situation."
    "It is possible," said Dr. MacTaggert, speaking up for the first time
 since we'd started, "that the White Queen -- or someone else -- is taking
 advantage of the situation."
    "We don't know," I said.  "But I'm not going to let the possibility
 that 'Lito is really injured go by."
    "Calm down, Jess,"  Dani said.  "We haven't decided we're not going
 to do anything, yet."
    "Magneto would be opposed to you doing anything," said Dr. MacTaggert.
    "Magneto isn't here, and isn't reachable," said Dani.  "We'll just
 have to use our best judgment."
    "Why should we do anything to help Empath?"  said Roberto.
    "Roberto!"  Amara said.  "We are allied to the Hellfire Club, for our
 mutual safety and protection.  He could not reach the Club, then he called
 here.  We would be violating the spirit of our agreement with them if we do
 not answer."
    "He called me," I said.  I got up.  "If you're not going to do
 anything, I will."
    "Wait up, Jess," Sam said.  "You're not going alone."
    "Hold on yourself, Sam," Dani said.  "We haven't decided anything...
 yet."  She looked around the room.  "The attack on New York is no fake.
  The White Queen, and the rest of the Inner Circle, are unlikely to have put
 this ... 'diversion' together on such short notice.
    "On the other hand, this would be an excellent opportunity for some
 third party to strike us while we're scattered," she continued.  "Accordingly,
 
we shouldn't let up our guard here."
    "Sounds like it's time to take a vote," Sam said.  "Does anyone have
 anything else to say?"
    "I got no particular desire to help Empath," said Illyana.  "But an
 alliance is an alliance.  And, he's Jess's friend."
    "I am am happy to fight for Jessica's friend," said Mist.
    "As am I," said Amara.
    "You should wait," said Dr. MacTaggert.
    "Doctor -- you don't get a vote," said Dani.  "Your opposition is
 noted, for the record."  Dr. MacTaggert looked startled, nodded
 reflexively.
    The eventual vote was eight for, two (Roberto and Sharon) against,
 and an abstention from Tom  ("You're going to do it anyway," he said, "and
 I know it's the right thing, but I can't bring myself to vote for rescuing
 that S.O.B..")
    Dani laid her plan out for us.  Three highly mobile members of the
 group -- Sam, Illyana and I would go to Central Park, with Rahne to help
 search.  The rest of the team would remain at the mansion.  "On red alert,"
 as Sam put it.  Dani would lead the home effort.
    "If you get separated, you can make your own way home," she said.
    We split up to get into battle gear.  "What the hell can I wear?" I
 said to Amara on our way up the stairs.  "For that matter what are you all
 wearing -- school uniforms?"
    "I should hope not," Amara said.  "We've put together masked costumes
 for occasions such as this."
    "Of course," I said sarcastically.  "What am I going to wear -- my
 jogging suit, with a ski mask?"
    "It lacks a certain something," she said.  "You hardly need a great
 deal of protection -- perhaps one of my silk himations?"
    That was one of her skimpy little Classical outfits.  Great if you
 were headed for an orgy.  "Not hardly," I said.
    She looked thoughtful.  "The helmet you wore, when you returned from
 Asgard, covered your face well enough for a disguise," she said.
    "It would look pretty dorky with the jogging suit," I said.
    "Dorky?" she said with a smile.  "Whatever that means, I'm sure we
 don't desire it."  She looked around my room.  "Why not wear your armor as
 well?"
    I lifted it up in the air.  The suit still looked like a leftover
 from the Trojan War.  "Why not indeed?" I said.
    I pulled out the black leather pants that had gotten me sent to Asgard 
-- why not?  Also a black turtleneck and a pair of Storm's discarded
  leather boots.  I put the armor on over it.
    Amara stood by watching.  "Are you not going to be too hot -- oh,"
 she said.  "You do not overheat, either."
    "That's right," I said, putting the helmet and checked myself in the
 mirror.  
    "Most impressive," Amara said.  I looked down at her.  "No one will
 know you," she said.
    "I sure hope so," I said.  _That way I won't die of embarrassment,
 anyway_.  I lifted myself down the hallway and into the foyer.
    Sam was already in costume -- a surprisingly sober outfit, complete
 with face-and-identity-covering helmet, and padding on elbows and knees.
  "Nice threads," I said.
    "Not too shabby," he said, giving me the once over.  He had to look
 up  -- with the modest heels on the boots, I was taller than he was.  At
 least two inches had been added, and the crest of the helmet easily added
 another six inches to my total height.  
    Rahne came downstairs to stand with us.  Her costume was in shades of
 orange and brown.  It really didn't leave much to the imagination, although
 her trim figure didn't need any help.  Her costume was made out of a
 special substance that would compact into a thin collar when she changed to
 her wolfen form.  She wore a mask that bared only her mouth and chin.
    She looked up at me with big startled green eyes.  "Ye look like a
 pagan goddess," she said.
    "Just so long as I don't look like a scared kid from Cincinnati,
 Ohio," I said.  "I'll be satisfied."
    "No chance of that," Sam said.  "No chance a'tall."
    "_There_ you are," Doug said, coming out of the first floor hallway,
 his arms full of stuff.
    "Let me," I said.  I gently lifted all the things out of his grasp.
  A medical kit, four little devices that looked like phasers from _Star
 Trek_, and two -- guns?  "What the hell is this?" I said.
    "Tranquilizer gun," he said.  "I cannibalized these from my new
 outfit.  You use the laser sight to lock onto your target, then the gun
 calculates height and weight and loads the correct dose into the dart."
    "Neat," I said, checking it out.  I strapped the belt and holster
 around my waist.
    "Ah don't expect to have to use it," Sam said, buckling his on.  "But
 Ah don't see how it could hurt to be prepared."  There were straps on the
 first aid case, and he put that on his back.
    "What are these?" I said.  Doug reached up and snagged one of the
 phaserlike devices; I relinquished my grip on it.  "Communicators," he said
 with a grin.  He flipped back the cover, it made a little chirp.  "It only
 has a range of about three miles and the batteries are only good for an
 hour of straight talk, so go sparingly."
    "Amazing," Sam said.  "This'll be a real help.  I was just getting
 around to wondering how we'd get together if -- when -- we found the
 Hellions.  Cain't send up a flare -- no flares."
    "If you give me another 15 minutes," Doug started to say, but was
 interrupted by Dani and Illyana's entrance, argument going full blast.
    "I don't care," said Dani.  "You run into trouble, you get everyone
 you can out and get back.  I don't want you popping back for reinforcements. 
 _Retreat_ and _regroup_ with us.  We're going to be on our own,
 too."
    "Yeah, right," snapped Illyana.  She was dressed in a crimson costume
 that was about as sharp as anything else I'd seen her wear before.  "Here,
 wear this," she said, handing me a little leather pouch threaded on a piece
 of string.
    "What is it?" I said, as she handed similar bundles to Sam and Rahne.
  The wolf girl sniffed and wrinkled her nose, holding the bundle out at arm
 length.
    "You could call it a charm," Illyana said.  "I want to be able to
 find you, later,"
    "'Tis black magic," said Rahne.
    "Give me a break," Illyana said.  "It's about as white as I get,
 okay?"
    "Furtop," said Dani.  "Let's argue about it later, after you've
 rescued the Hellions, okay?  Now is not the time to kick up a fuss."
    Rahne looked rebellious, but hung the bag around her neck anyway.
  Sam wisely chose to start speaking before she could say anything else.
    "We're all here and all ready, then," he said, nodding to Illyana.
  "Any luck in locating Empath and company?"
    The junior sorceress looked bilious.  "Can't pinpoint 'em," she said.
  "I think Roulette is there, and she's warping the manna field something
 awful.  Every time I put the crystal bob over the map of Central Park, all
 it does is make completely useless circles.  So we've got a lot of ground
 to cover."
    Roberto came pounding down the hall, so excited that his power was
 almost on, flashing little bits of blackness from the air.  "I got the maps
 from the computer," he said, puffing a little.
    There was a copy for each of us.  I studied mine: it was a U. S.
 geological survey map of Central Park and Manhattan.  I caught the scale
 and looked again -- the Park was much bigger than I'd imagined -- a half
 mile wide by two and a half miles long.
    "Okay," said Sam.  "Hellfire Club is here.  Avengers Mansion over
 there."  The locations were barely a few blocks apart, on the east side of
 the Park.  "Baxter Building's down there."
    "How are we going to avoid all the superheroes?" I said.
    "We'll do our best," said Sam.  "Bug out if you're approached -- if
 the Avengers are on hand, they can do a better job of saving the Hellions
 than we can."
    "Everybody ready?" said Illyana.
    "Be careful out there," said Dani.
    "Hey -- it's you that has to answer to Maggie if we don't come back,"
 said Illyana.  She gestured and bright disks of light came up from the
 floor.  This time I didn't try to dodge, however much I might have wanted
 to.
    
    * * *
    
    There was a sudden twist in the fabric of the universe.  I guess
 Illyana's teleportation interfered with my seeker sense somehow.  I'm
 forever sensing my immediate environment and I _felt_ the sudden change as
 much as I could see it.
    We were on the steps of some big building with two fountains on
 either side of us and big columns in front.  There were banners hanging
 between the pillars for Etruscan art and Vermeer.  Letters near the top
 identified the building as the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
    The New Yorkers near us had drawn away a little; a natural enough
 reaction when four people in funny costumes appear in a flash of white
 light.  Rahne was in wolfen form.  I was suddenly aware that people were
 _looking_ at me and I was very glad my helmet obscured my face.
    There weren't too many people around, really.  The doors to the
 museum were closed and traffic was gridlocked and silent on the street.
  The drivers weren't even blowing their horns -- some were standing in the
 streets by their cars.
    "Okay, okay," Illyana said, holding out her map.  "We're here, right
 on the right edge of the Central Park."  Her finger stabbed at the paper.
  "What's our assignment, O fearless leader?"
    "We'll split up and search as efficiently as possible," Sam said.
  "Ah'll take the north end of the Park, from the Southern edge of the
 Reservoir to the top near Harlem.  Magik, you and Wolfsbane will cover from
 the south edge of the Reservoir to the north edge of the skating rink, on
 foot.  Miranda and I will fly over any portion you haven't got to when we
 finish our parts."  I wondered who Miranda was when Sam turned to me.
  "Miranda," he said.
    "Huh?" I said, looking over my shoulder.
    "He's talking to you, dopeface," Illyana said, _sotto voce_.
    "Oh yeah," I said slowly.  After my first Danger Room exercise
 several weeks earlier, we'd discussed codenames; "Miranda" had been the one
 I had hated the least.  I still didn't _like_ it, but not was not the time
 to think up a better codename. 
    "You'll take south of the Skating Pond,"  Sam said, when he was sure
 I had caught up.  "Give a squeal on the communicator if you find our
 targets, or for that matter, anything you think we should know about."
    I studied my map for a moment.  That gave me a stretch of a mile or
 so long to cover.  
    "Remember, we're _not_ here to fight," Sam said.  "Call for Il --
 Magik to remove you if you engage hostiles; she'll get you out."
    "Check," I said.  It sounded like a vaguely professional thing to
 say.  With all the people looking on -- _tourists_, for God's sake, with
 kids in tow, taking pictures of us  --I felt constrained to put up a good
 front.
    "Take care, y'all," Sam said.  He tucked his map into his belt and
 took off in a cloud of smoke that stretched off into the sky like a smoky
 gray rainbow.  I watched him go and suddenly realized I was scared.  How
 had I gotten myself into this?
    "You okay?" Rahne said, a furry hand on my arm.  In her wolfen form
 she was still cute and petite -- if you didn't count the addition of sharp
 claws and teeth.  Still, you could tell it was her -- those soulful green
 eyes were as warm and smart as ever.
    "It's just --" I said.
    "You'll do a guid job," Rahne said.  "Our friends are depending on
 you."
    "C'mon Wolfsbane," Illyana said.  "We've got a lot of ground to
 cover, and _we_ have to _walk_."  She winked at me.  "Skip the heroics,"
 she said.  "You find trouble, don't hesitate to yell.  Good luck."
    They ran off through a gap in the crowd that surrounded us.  Nobody
 tried to stop them,not that I'd blame them.  A small female werewolf could
 give even a New Yorker pause.  When they passed out of sight I took a deep
 breath and lifted up into the sky and off into the unknown.
    
    To be continued in
    Chapter 11
    "Queen for a Day"
    
    This story (c) 1992 Connie Hirsch
    The New Mutants, Magneto, the Hellions, Loki, the Hellfire Club, the
 Horsemen of the Apocalpse, and all constituent characters (c) 1992 Marvel
 Comics Group.  
    This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without
 permission of the author.


--
**(Connie Hirsch  still: fuzzy@athena.mit.edu no longer: chirsch@lotus.com)**
        Oh life is a glorious cycle of song/ A medley of extemporanea       
   And love is a thing that can never go wrong/ And I am Marie of Roumania.    
						-Dorothy Parker