A Message in a Bottle

Posted on Wed Nov 15th, 2023 @ 6:00pm by Charles Xavier & Cameron Hood & Sean Cassidy
Edited on on Thu Mar 7th, 2024 @ 9:13pm

Mission: Episode 3: X-Tra Ecclesiam
Location: Professor Xavier's office
Timeline: August 15th, 1990

Sparring with Connor had its challenges. Cameron was faster than the big Dutchman, and a far better technical fighter. But technique and speed only take you so far when the person you're trying to pin can muscle through the lock, and climb onto your back. After an hour the two men broke, Cameron sweating profusely. He walked into the locker rooms while Connor was having some personal fun swinging around.

A dark cloud had formed over Cameron after his shower. He had earned several painful bruises, part due to Connor not checking his strength, and others due to having to twist and move in unfortunate ways. Cameron realised the discomfort would be part of his routine for the next few days while getting dressed. All in all, what should've been a fun technical challenge with Connor had soured his mood thoroughly.

He was looking forward to stewing in his bad mood as he exited the changing room into the mansion proper when a psychic ping announced Xavier's presence in his mind.

~Cameron, you're needed in my office~ The Professor's voice graced Cameron's mind far more lightly than usual, perhaps out of respect for his situation. ~There is an official here to see you. I would have given you more notice, but you were training Connor. Please come at your earliest opportunity~

Something fleeting akin to 'This can't be good' crossed Cameron's mind. Having taken notice of the fact that it's an official of some sort, and not a casual visit, Cameron made the executive decision to quickly run to his room. The space was kept more or less spotless. Military discipline, and an East African matriarch that ruled his childhood with an iron fist instilled cleanliness. He shifted from his sweats into jeans and his customary uniform olive drab t-shirt.

Three minutes later he knocked on Xavier's door. As soon as the first syllable of his permission to enter was given he had opened the door. Out of long practice he stepped through and stood at a relaxed at-ease somewhere between the door and the desk. Cameron took notice of the other person in the room, but didn't acknowledge them just yet. "You called, Professor?"

"Indeed," the Professor said from behind his desk. He indicated a man in a tweed business jacket. "Might I introduce Mr. Cassidy with INTERPOL. He has requested that I give you two the room, so I will take my leave."

As the Professor zoomed by Cameron, Cassidy extended a firm handshake to him. "Howya, Mr. Hood? I'm 'ere t'dee to enfarm ya that we have yer parents in our custody."

Ice slid into Cameron's veins. The hand he held was gripped tighter. Cameron's brown eyes locked onto Cassidy's. "And why exactly would my parents be arrested by INTERPOL." Cameron's tone hadn't exactly changed, but his entire body language exuded a tightly bound anger, a change that had taken less than a second.

"Arrrested?" Cassidy began chuckling despite himself. "Nay, Mister Hood. My apologies. Allow me to start oevar. Yer parents arre under proteective custody. Investigations into yer old troop re-valed a vast conspiracy. Your patrol leader, Corporal Daniel McBride, was shot an' killed in the line o'duty, only for MI6 to laern it wasn't duty but extracurricular if ye pardon the euphemism. INTERPOL got involved whaen the troop commander hisself went squirrely and ran. Now Captain Evan Edris is an international fugitive on the run along wit' aeveryone under his command, least those he hadn't killed. Seein' as how ye been officially MIA for the lion's shaere of this year, t'would appear the ol' captain blames you for exposin' the whole operation. Yer faemily has been in proteective custody so Edris couldn't get to ye through 'em."

"McBride's dead?" Cameron asked. The shock of the news slackened his grip on Cassidy's hand. That news echoed loudly in his ears. Loudly enough that the rest more or less passed Cameron by for the moment. A fear that had set up home in the back of his mind released with a pop. The relief he felt from that was almost euphoric, right until it registered that Edris wasn't dead.

Evan Edris was a dangerous man. The same could be said of all the troopers in 22 SAS. Cameron was dangerous man. Even without his mutant abilities, Cameron Hood was among the best and most capable killers in the British Armed Forces. That status put him among the most capable in the world. Evan Edris was a better.

"How many of 8 Troop are left?" Was the question Cameron was finally able to formulate. "How many of them are with Edris?"

"Roughlay 'alf the troopers 'ave been accounted fer," Cassidy replied. "Some killed while resistin' arrest, most being quaestioned as we speak. T'other 'alf remain at laerge with aevidence pointin' tarward Madripoor. All signs show that be t'spot whaere Edris went to ground. MI6 had a right shite starm ovar t'fact an SAS officer was moonlightin' for Southeast Asian crime lords, lemme tell ye." Cassidy bit the inside of his cheek. "As fer McBride, I'll level with ye... t'body was not recovered. Odds are good he is daeder than a doornail on accounta o' the explosion that claimed him, but if he got ye spooked then I wouldn't let ye guard down until Edris gets his reckonin' too."

"I've not let my guard down ever since I got away from them." Cameron answered. He had slumped into one of the chairs in front of Xavier's desk. Cameron wasn't entirely sure if he felt relieved or even more afraid. Before today, he assumed Edris and McBridge hadn't come for him because they had more to lose than gain from killing him. Now that equation had changed. "Are my parents under INTERPOL protection, the local plod, or by someone who could handle someone like me?"

Cassidy grinned wide, spreading his mustache and goatee across his face. "Why dontcha' ask 'em yerself?" Retrieving his briefcase, Cassidy opened it to present a very large, brick-like computer case that was not much smaller than the briefcase itself. He gently removed the portable computer, set it up on the Professor's desk, and then angled the attached transceiver antenna according to the pocket signal reader he produced with his other hand. "One moment..." He typed in password credentials, adjusted the antenna one more time, and then spun the portable computer around toward Cameron. On its little grainy screen were the low-resolution faces of Cameron's parents.

"Mum?" Cameron whispered. His voice had cracked. "Dad?" He asked again, now seeing his parents in moving picture for the first time in a long time. A hot tear ran down his face. He hadn't really cried since he was eleven, but even Cameron's stoic nature could be overwhelmed by such feelings of relief.

Cameron's mother smiled broadly. She hadn't seen her son in more than a year, and hadn't received a letter from his for over half that time. "My boy." She said, an RP accent she had acquired far away from London flavoured her words. Her tone was one of intense satisfaction.

Cameron's father only nodded. His more stoic nature, Cameron had received from him. But in the lines on his face, the way Cameron saw his father's jaw relax. It told him everything he wanted to know. Even through the fuzzy lines and poor resolution of the screen, Cameron knew just how happy his parents were.

"Just t'remind ye, both o' parents are in safe hands," Cassidy interjected. "But better if'n ye not know whaere. And t'same fer ye, Mister and Missus Hood. Yer son, Cameron, is doing gerd work with t'best o'them. Sad t'say, the connection don't last but a few minutes, so say your piece while ye can b'fore the satellite moves out o' position."

"Cameron." His father said. The mellowness of his original Bahamian accent had mostly bled away due to the influences of the English capitol. "You better stay whole, boy. I expect you back home when it is safe again."

The smile on Cameron's face grew even wider, so wide that his mother could not help but laugh at it. "Yes papa, I'll be back home as soon as I can."

"Good. I will make Johnny Cake." His mother declared. And like that, it was settled. His mother only made Johnny Cake when Cameron came home safe from 'his work'. Or on a birthday. Cameron was already looking forward to it.

"I love you." Cameron said. He hadn't expressed it often. But it needed to be said.

"We love yo..." His mother started, but her image fuzzed away before she could finish the sentiment fully.

"Apologies, Mr. Hood, but t'signal dropped," Cassidy said. "I hope that gave you a lil' peace o' mind though."

"A little, mister Cassidy. Though I'd much rather have them back in London, and Edris six feet under." Cameron straightened himself to a standing posture. He took two steps away from the desk before looking back. "Any way I can help facilitate that particular outcome?"

"I'll do ye one evan bettar," Cassidy said, "seein' how it's a family matter an' all. Any Intel gathered will go through t'proper channels before INTERPOL or any other LEO task farce can aurthorize an operation, but I reckon we both know folk liable to get in 'n out befare the law is any wiser. Now I never offared that and ye nevar haerd it. If'n ye agree, just don't say noothin' and I'll be on me way."

Cameron extended his hand in reply. "Thank you for the chance to see my parents, mister Cassidy. It's a load off my mind knowing they're alive and well."

"T'pleasure was me own." Cassidy returned the handshake with a charismatic grin. "Not enough good news gets shared in this line o' work. Gerd to know ya, Cameron Hood. I'm needed back in Europe, so I'd best be movin' along." He packed up the satellite computer and sealed the secure briefcase in which he carries it. Before he left, he gave Cameron one last look and chuckled. The original misunderstanding would have him laughing for days.