Shadows and Secrets Book Three (A MCU FanFic)

Chapter 2: Rescue

    He was pushing Charles down the hall in his wheelchair, floating his phone to his ear.

    "I'm in New York now," informed That Boy, "I can be there in less than 20 minutes."

    "No," snapped Erik. That Boy wasn't coming within a 100 mile radius of Marjorie, and certainly not without a chaperone.

    Charles sighed, and held his hand out for the phone. Erik dropped it in his hand with a sour expression.

    "What Erik meant to say," said Charles to the phone, "is that you should wait for him to get there, and you can go together... I'm Professor Charles Xavier... I understand the need for urgency, but you should wait for Erik. His metallokinesis may be necessary... I think Erik wishes to go alone... By plane... Around an hour... Yes, that would be helpful... Excellent... Yes, she's going back to my school afterwards."

    Charles offered Erik the phone, and Erik floated it to his ear again. "Well?" he demanded.

    "I'll clear the roof of the tower for the plane and get Marjorie's things," said That Boy. "But if you aren't here in an hour, I'm going without you." Then he hung up on Erik.

    Erik briefly considered calling That Boy back so he could be the one to hang up.

    "That would be petty, love," affectionately corrected Charles.

~

    "Are you sure you don't want backup?" Charles asked again.

     "Yes, I'm sure," he promised. Erik didn't want XSGY to be down too many X-Men if it got attacked. "You found someone to cover my classes?"

    "I'll have Logan do it."

    "Okay–" Erik quickly kissed Charles "–I love you. Be safe, and keep your school safe."

    "I love you, too, so be careful, love."

    Before Erik could say he was always careful, Marjorie's more questionable friend popped out of nowhere.

    "Don't worry, Professor," said Wade Wilson, springing into a salute. "I'll go with him!"

~

    Erik touched down the plane to meet That Boy.

    In what Erik assumed was typical That Boy fashion, he was wearing all black, an intense glare, and was armed from head to toe. He was also carrying a black backpack Erik recognized as Marjorie's. Erik noticed a bandage wrapped around his right wrist.

    A blond boy—Barton—stood with him, dressed similarly but with a technologically-advanced bow and a quiver full of arrows. He also had a backpack.

    "Get in," ordered Erik, taking off once both teenagers boarded. Unfortunately, Erik could hear their conversation:

    That Boy addressed Wilson. "I didn't know that you would be here." He didn't sound too happy about it.

    "Of course I am! I'm here to save Marjorie!"

    There was a pause, and then That Boy said, "Barton said 'And everyone else—"

    "I know ASL," said Wilson. "But thanks for translating!"

    There was another pause. "So," started Wilson. "Does your arm vibrate? Can you—"

    "Please don't ever speak to me again."

    "That's not a 'no,'" sung Wilson.

    "I will literally break your entire body if you don't shut up."

    "Stop arguing," interrupted Erik before any fights started. "We're almost there."

~

    Erik, Wilson, Barton, and That Boy made quick work of the security guards before they could raise the alarm.

    Erik had to admit: they weren't bad. Quite the opposite; they were superb.

    Barton was possibly the best archer in the world, and Erik was impressed by how quickly he was able to fire shots. He didn't ever miss, not once.

He was already familiar with Wilson's fighting abilities, but was once again reminded of his role as a professional (though still, he had very unprofessional behavior) and skilled mercenary.

And as much as Erik hated to admit it... That Boy was even better than he remembered. That Boy was amazingly fast, and you could see the skill and purpose in every movement he made. He cut down the guards without hesitation or remorse, and Erik was conflicted with a grudging appreciation that he was protecting Marjorie, and an urge to never let them see each other ever again.

They reached the area of the floating prison that held Marjorie (thanks to a brief encounter with a sobbing guard who seemed more than willing to let the information slip after Erik dealt with them).

The six teenagers, all in various states of injury, were each enclosed in a different cell—luckily adamantium and not vibranium. Adamantium was stronger than vibranium by a shade, but Erik could not manipulate vibranium because the metal had no magnetic properties.

He barely spared the others a second glance—it was nothing personal, just Erik's priorities—and pulled the door off of Marjorie's cell's door.

She lifted up her head and watched him. Her pupils were dilated: what had they done to her? He walked over to her and knelt next to her; starting to undo her collar, being careful not to trigger the electromagnetic pulse.

"Are you alright, Marjorie?" he asked with concern. Erik crushed the collar into a crumpled ball once he got it off her.

She shook her head and offered him her arm so he could take off the bracelet as well. It popped off easily. So did the anklet.

Erik easily picked her up, walked back out of the cell, and handed her to Wilson.

That Boy, who had been talking with the three lucid captives and Barton, drifted over to Wilson to stare at Marjorie in a concerned way. Erik glared at him to say "if you touch her, you die," and then began the process of releasing the other captives.

~

They got back to the plane, Wilson carrying Marjorie, That Boy hovering around Wilson like he thought Wilson would drop her, Barton supporting Romanoff, the other Wilson supporting Banner, and Rogers half-carrying Stark.

Erik cleared his throat and turned to address the Avengers (minus Marjorie). "Do you have anywhere for me to drop you off?"

Rodgers glanced around at the group before answering, "Nat has a couple of safe-houses."

Erik nodded in encouragement and Rodgers recited the address.

~

After a several hour flight—thankfully quiet—Erik dropped off the Avengers, glad to be rid of the responsibility of seven more superhuman children.

All of them left except for That Boy, that is.

"You're taking Marjorie back to the school," he said. It wasn't a question. "Then I'm coming with her."