Hell Freezes Over - Part 3
Posted on Mon Nov 11th, 2024 @ 2:03am by Scott Summers & Bobby Drake & Hank McCoy & Jean Grey & Pietro Maximoff
Edited on on Mon Nov 11th, 2024 @ 2:18am
3,573 words; about a 18 minute read
Mission:
Episode 5: Days of Fortune Past
Location: Manhattan, NY
Timeline: November 7th-9th, 1990
When the elevator doors opened with a ding, Jean Grey and Matt Murdock found themselves face-to-face with Aunt May, a fragile woman with a heart of steel. As they spoke, Jean felt the old woman’s sorrow deeply, her grief still raw.
"Peter was the future," May whispered, tears brimming. "He was supposed to help people, not… this."
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Parker.” Jean consoled the frail woman as she finally started to cry. “Peter didn’t deserve what happened to him. None of them did. We’re trying to stop this, to save more families from experiencing this pain.”
Murdock laid out the legal case for May, and with a shaky hand she signed the affidavit. Aunt May agreed to testify.
Meanwhile, Scott was deep in research mode at the X-Factor office. His fingers traced over the names on the list—the pawns of the Hellfire Club, individuals like Justin Hammer and Senator Peter Krane, who did the Inner Circle’s dirty work and funneled power and resources into the Hellfire Club's clutches. "We need more than names," Scott said. His focus was unshakable as he compiled dossiers on each pawn, sending them to Pietro for his next mission. With each connection uncovered, their chances of building a case against the Club solidified.
“If you lie with dogs, you’re bound to get fleas.” Pietro quipped as he examined the names and addresses of the lower level Hellfire pawns. “I’ll watch them and see who else is sleeping in their beds.”
Pietro darted through the shadowed corridors of a New York high-rise. He grinned as he bypassed the alarms, his superspeed making surveillance cameras irrelevant. Scott's words echoed in his mind: "Get in, get the hard proof, and get out." It didn’t take long before he reached a file cabinet deep in Norman Osborn's private office. Pietro’s hands blurred as he sifted through folders until he found what he was looking for—contracts, payouts, and deals linking Osborn to the Hellfire Club’s Inner Circle. Names like Shinobi Shaw and Graydon Creed popped up repeatedly. With the evidence in hand, Pietro paused, smirked at the security guard passing by, and vanished before anyone could notice.
The X-Jet touched down just outside Manhattan as Bobby sat huddled over a series of glowing monitors, his fingers rapidly tapping on the keyboard. Every click through his notes revealed another layer of the Hellfire Club's intricate web of corporate holdings. The screen flickered as he cross-referenced shell companies and buyouts from New York and DC to Albuquerque and Seattle. All known locations of Sentinel attacks. It took going to a few title companies in person but it had been worth it. Bobby's eyes narrowed, the pieces finally connecting.
He keyed in more commands, and there it was—a series of rapid transfers from American subsidiaries to shell companies in the Cayman Islands, all tracing back to a holding firm owned by Harry Leland, the Black Bishop who had recently died in the Hellfire Club raid.
"Gotcha," Bobby whispered triumphantly. Leland’s financial trail was the link they needed—assets moved just before every Sentinel attack, liquidating funds and disappearing into thin air. But there was one final lead: a corporate transfer involving a company owned by Shinobi Shaw. "We’re not done yet."
Jean and Murdock continued on their tour of visiting witnesses and victims not only from the Sentinel attacks but from those directly connected to the Hellfire Club’s shell corporations and the crooked senator’s campaigning. It was a delicate game of bypassing NDAs and knowing who would be willing to speak but individuals from Oscorp and Stark Industries were uncovered. But in the end, their testimonies were taken and confirmation that Sentinel manufacturing and money laundering was uncovered. Voices and stories taken from people directly impacted by these crimes created an even more harrowing stack of evidence against the Hellfire Club,
In the heart of New York, Pietro darted inside Senator Krane’s office, pulling out records that tied Hellfire Club assets directly to the anti-mutant legislation. Meanwhile, Bobby was tracking more money movements in real-time. When put together, they presented a fresh lead to a warehouse where surplus Sentinel parts were being stored. The pieces were all coming together. Over the course of those three days, they had not connected all the dots but the picture was clear enough—from corporate shell companies to private mercenaries, to the political pawns of the Inner Circle, Hell was about to freeze over.
As dawn broke on the third day, Bobby sprinted into the X-Corp offices waving around a thick binder over his head like a battle axe. "I’ve got it!" he announced. “Everything is right here! Harry Leland’s shell companies, Shinobi Shaw’s financial movements, and Norman Osborn’s payouts to Senator Krane’s campaign. Proof they’re all linked together!”
Scott ran his hands over his tired face and smiled a weary smile. “I’ll call the others then. We need to compare notes.”
Once again, X-Factor was gathered in the conference room. All of them were worn ragged with minimal sleep between their hard push to expose corruption and injustice in the highest levels of power.
“The Hellfire Club’s Inner Circle was not just pulling strings with Operation Zero Tolerance,” Scott said. “We know they were financing the Sentinel program and standing to profit from every attack. Now we decide what to do next.”
“Meilin is going to file another indictment into the case today, but they are still creating these new Sentinels at an alarming rate. We can’t wait for the legal system to shut them down in the next month or so, we need to stop their production today.” Jean said over her cup of coffee as she looked around the table at her teammates. “We need to take action now.”
The door buzzed, signaling a visitor.
“Just in time,” Scott said, “at least if it’s who I hope it is.”
He tapped the control panel in the conference room, unlocking the door with a soft click. As the door opened, the figure standing there was instantly recognizable, though not quite as Scott had imagined.
Hank McCoy—Beast—stood in the doorway wearing just an overcoat, his large frame hunched, dark circles under his eyes, and his usually well-groomed fur disheveled. He looked haggard, beleaguered, but there was still a fire behind his eyes, a kind of urgency that even his obvious exhaustion couldn’t dim.
"Hank," Scott breathed, stepping forward, his surprise palpable. "You look like you've been through hell."
"You’re not wrong, my friend," Hank replied, his voice carrying a weight that made the room feel a bit heavier. He gave a weary smile, stepping inside with slow but determined strides. "Latveria has a way of doing that to people."
As he walked further in, the rest of X-Factor looked up from their seats, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and concern. Hank gave them a nod, though the usual buoyant charm was missing from his movements.
“Yo, Hank!” Bobby shouted, happy to see his old friend seeming more like his old self despite his slightly manage appearance.
“You look like something my cat coughs up,” Pietro said with half a smirk as he appraised Hank.
“Hank…” Jean’s tone was a touch more urgent when Hank mentioned Latveria and her personal questions became too dire to ignore. She could see in the surface thoughts of his mind that he had come across samples taken from her in her captivity on Krakoa. ~*Did you find all those samples in Latveria? Did you manage to destroy them?*~
Rather than respond to them individually, Hank merely gave them a collective nod. His eyes lingered on Jean, though, silently confirming her private concerns. There may have been more to it though. ~We’ll talk later~
“Wait, you have a cat?” Bobby asked Pietro with a whipping turn of his head.
“Yeah, man, keep up.” Pietro said with a sideways glance at Bobby.
Hank took a deep breath, his usual eloquence tempered by the fatigue that weighed on him. His eyes were tired, but his determination was unwavering as he addressed X-Factor. "The reason I’m here," he began, his voice steady but carrying a heavy burden, "is to update all of you on the X-Men’s mission." He paused for a moment, as if gathering the strength to continue. "It took a toll on us... a heavy one. But we did it. We uncovered what we needed—what I needed—to synthesize a countermeasure for the nanotech that... that turned Warren into that abomination."
There was a crack in his voice when he mentioned Warren, but Hank pressed on, his words filled with an undercurrent of desperation. "We now have a chance to reverse it. But it’s not over yet. We still have to find the factory, find Warren... and Mara." His eyes flickered with the weight of that task. "Once we locate them, we can end this. But we cannot do it alone."
Hank’s normally composed posture slouched slightly as he looked at each of them. "The new class of X-Men—they're valiant, yes, but they lack the experience. A Sentinel factory is no place for fledglings. We need your help, all of you. You’ve been through the fire before. You understand what's at stake." He hesitated for the briefest of moments, then added with a note of sincerity, almost pleading, "Will you stand with us again, for one last mission?"
The room was silent, the weight of Hank’s words hanging heavily between them.
“Hank…” said Scott, speaking for all of them. “Do you even have to ask?” A stoic smirk creased his face.
“We’ll always come to help. Once an X-Man, always an X-Man,” Jean agreed with Scott as she reached out and placed her hand over Hank’s. “We’ll do whatever it takes, for Warren’s sake and Mara too. Tell us what you need.”
Pietro shuffled on his feet, a little uneasy over the sudden outburst of emotions between the former X-Men. Xavier’s school and his team still made him uncomfortable. In fact, it was the distinct lack of X-Men that allowed Pietro to feel comfortable with this team. Then again, it was nice to see them care about one another and be so willing to help when the others needed them. That pain in Pietro’s own heart became prominent in that moment as he missed his twin all over again.
“Yeah, if they need help,” Pietro mumbled to X-Factor, almost in shock at his own words.
Seeing their erstwhile adversary Quicksilver in the fold made Hank do a double take. Although he had been present when Pietro deserted the Brotherhood at the MRA meeting about a prior, it still hadn’t permeated the status quo of his mind. Turning an old enemy into a friend was a small comfort knowing with all they had lost.
“Thank you, Pietro,” said Hank, his voice choking a little. “Thank you, all.” He gave a sniff before he wiped his face with his sleeve. “If I may, I would like to leave copies of my research on the Prime Sentinel nanotechnology. It stems from what was recovered from Latveria and Washington, as well as my own recollections of captivity, spotty though they are. Vulnerabilities have been highlighted, so this information should be proliferated to as many allied groups as possible.”
Hank removed a floppy disk from his pocket and left it on the table. “I thought this Future Foundation of your neighbors upstairs would be a grand candidate, but I entrust it to my friends with X-Factor in finding additional suitable recipients.”
“We can do that,” Scott affirmed. He paused for a moment, reliving the conflict they’d had in the Danger Room from when Scott had publicly confronted him for having his head up his ass. “It’s good to have you back, Hank.”
“Yeah, for real!” Bobby agreed.
Chuckling at Bobby’s enthusiasm and biting his blue lip at Scott’s surreptitious meaning, Hank could only nod and hum in solidarity at first. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “It’s… it’s good to be back.”
“We’re here for you, Hank, whatever you need.” Jean briefly hugged his furry blue mass as piece by piece the First Class came back together into the indomitable force they once were.
“I…am… going to follow those last few leads.” Pietro seemed to be grasping at straws in order to find a worthy excuse to leave the conversation and this conference room. He still felt like the outsider in this group and that was all the more apparent when they acted more like family than teammates. In a blur of color, he was gone.
“Will you at least stay for breakfast, Hank?” Jean asked as today’s meeting concluded and they shifted into friends. It was an early morning for those residing in the Baxter Building, and Hank had been up all night in order to arrive for it. “I’m sure you’re hungry and it’s best to avoid the morning rush.”
At first Hank was going to decline, but as he saw the meeting break and the others disperse, he realized what Jean was really asking. She had always been the circulation that kept the team united. Even now when their work had taken them in different directions, Jean was still holding them together. The pause in his rush brought out the rumble in his stomach. “Truth be told, Jean, I cannot remember the last time I ate. Yes, breakfast would be delightful.”
~And I suppose you wish for more details on the samples we found and destroyed as well~ Hank hazarded a quiet thought that only Jean would pick up.
~* ‘I guess the word destroyed should be a small comfort. But yes please, I would like to know what happened’ *~ Jean pursed her lips as she attempted to stifle the wave of nausea and dread that overcame her.
“Let’s head back to our apartment,” she said out loud as she stood. Jean glanced over at Scott, a touch of concern in his stoic face thanks to their bond. “Could you give us a minute?”
Jean led Hank to their corner apartment, he had been to the Baxter Building before but never to their home. Hank had always had the propensity to isolate himself, lost in his research and his quest for learning, it always made him eager to go back to his lab. So Jean was happy that he agreed to stay and talk. Swiping her badge, Jean telekinetically held the door for Hank as he stepped in and examined Scott and her apartment. It was as tidy as expected and surprisingly modern in decor.
“The kitchen’s through here.” Jean led him through a dining room where samples of tablecloths and napkins were on display. Two choices were selected over the rest, a hunter green and ivory white.
As they entered the kitchen she offered Hank a too small bar stool for him to sit on as she began to busy herself with meal prep. “So what did you find in Latveria?”
After testing the stool and preferring to stand, Hank considered her question with care. The pretext was all too personal despite the casual tone. After a measured pause, he began, his voice lower, more contemplative. “Latveria… was, shall we say, far more revealing than I had anticipated.” His fingers drummed against the counter, the movement betraying his inner turmoil. “We located a cryo lab.”
He let the words hang in the air for a moment, knowing she would sense the weight behind them.
“Jean,” Hank continued, meeting her gaze cautiously, “your genetic samples… were there. Ova, stored in vapor tanks.” His tone was gentle, almost too gentle, aware of how devastating this could be for her. “But what troubles me most isn’t just the existence of these samples. There were other dewars… empty but clearly marked. It suggests…” He hesitated, not wanting to vocalize what he suspected. “Perhaps what I destroyed were merely backups, and the primary source—well, it could be elsewhere.”
He watched her face carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her but needing her to understand the gravity of what he was saying. “It’s possible they came from Krakoa which you destroyed, or that there’s another facility. The uncertainty gnaws at me because it leaves us with more questions than answers, namely, why?”
“The Phoenix Force.” Jean whispered the words as she struggled to remain composed. She felt like she was going to be sick so Jean placed a hand over her stomach as if it would stop the creeping nausea. “I don‘t know what it is, I mean not really…”
She sat down on the edge of the kitchen counter and Hank watched all the color leave her cheeks until Jean looked ghostly pale and deeply worried. “You saw the fire and destruction when you rescued us from Karaoke. I did that Hank, with an alien and mighty power that does not reside inside of me but reaches out to me, acts through me. I do not know what it is but it feels ancient and unstoppable… It scares me.”
Jean paused as she fought back against the tears and the panic that her capture instilled in her. She reached out for Scott through their psychic rapport and it helped fend off the worst of her fears and anxieties. “My capture and torture, this continued obsession with my body, it’s all because of the Phoneix Force but I don’t know to what end.”
She knew Hank had no more answers for her, that this sinister plan was unknown to him too. “Thank you, Hank, for finding those samples and destroying them. If there are more, we’ll do the same with them too.”
Jean had lost her appetite but she returned to fixing Hank the breakfast she had promised, she pulled bacon and eggs from the refrigerator and focused on the act of cooking to steady her nerves. “How are you feeling during all of this? You’ve endured your own challenges these past few weeks.”
“I must confess that I have not slept in days nor much at all in weeks,” Hank said, allowing his exhaustion to show, “not since the Sentinel attack on Beat Street. With Mara’s abduction, the resurgence of a horrendous enemy, and a greater web of interconnected events, I am reaching my veritable wit’s end with it all.”
Lowering his voice, Hank spoke freely as he only could with a merciful telepath such as Jean. “Truth be told, Jean… I have as though I am a man possessed. Peace eludes me and I fear for the true beast that I am awakening within.” He paused and looked away for a moment, preparing himself for a truer confession. “I… I could not remember my time in captivity. It ate away at me. So… I conferred with Moira in secret to devise a serum which might help unlock my cognitive potential in hopes that I could force a breakthrough… not only in my work but in my recovery.”
Eyes closed, deep breath, Hank let out with it. “Jean, I went against Moira’s recommendations. I administered the serum. There were no immediate side effects and I was able to recall crucial details which ultimately led us to Latveria and the Prime Sentinel countermeasures. But…” When Hank looked at Jean, his eyes were moist with pleading. “I fear I may be losing myself. What if I have done to my own mind what I once did to…” Rather than finish his sentence, he rolled his hand in front of him and observed the blur fur.
“Hank!” Jean gasped his name in that tone of shock and disapproval that no member of the First Class was immune to. “How could you? That was so incredibly dangerous and reckless!”
Once the surprise of his revelation wore off, Jean finally listened to what Hank was actually saying and the fact that he was worried over his wellbeing. “We’ll go to Reed. He’s the smartest man on the planet, we’ll show him what you did and he’ll run some tests and if something is wrong… we’ll fix it.”
There was a touch of desperation in Jean’s voice as she spoke. The idea that Hank may have caused his own demise created a panic inside of her. They had just come back together after such loss and hardship, Jean refused to believe that something like this would hurt them now. “You’re going to be okay, because you have to be.”
“Very well,” Hank capitulated, “but after we get Warren and Mara back. I want it…all to have been worth something.” He gave her an intense stare. “Promise me, Jean. Promise me that much.”
“It will be worth it Hank,” Jean left the kitchen and moved to embrace him. Her frame was small next to his but he felt the might and strength of her telepathic presence. Jean was sunshine and spring, that perfect balance of warmth and hope. “I promise it will all be worth it.”
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