To Catch a Killer - Part 1

Posted on Thu Jan 16th, 2025 @ 9:19pm by Pietro Maximoff & Bobby Drake

1,596 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Episode 6: X-Fernus Agenda
Location: Boston, Massachusetts
Timeline: December 3, 1990

The once-bustling square was eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the bare branches that waved from the sparsely spaced tree planters. Bobby Drake stood alone in the heart of the scene, his breath visible in the crisp late autumn air. His usual carefree demeanor was absent, replaced by a contemplative stillness as he surveyed the area where Senator Kelly had met his end.

The ground was clean now, no trace of the chaos or bloodshed that had rocked the nation three months ago. The podium was gone, replaced by a plaque that had been enshrined into the concrete where Kelly breathed his last. Bobby could see it clearly in his mind—the split-second of horror that had played out on live television.

He crouched near the spot where Kelly had fallen, brushing his gloved hand over the earth. “Iceman,” he muttered under his breath with a wry smile. “More like Cold Case Man.” He straightened up, scanning the rooftops of nearby buildings, his eyes narrowing at potential vantage points.

"No witnesses, high-powered rifle, perfect shot," he murmured to himself. "Gotta be up high… but not from any of these buildings."

As Bobby continued his recon, the sound of a sudden gust of wind grabbed his attention. Before he could react, a familiar blur of silver and blue zipped past, circling him before coming to an abrupt stop.

“I got them!” Pietro said with a tone that said he was pleased with him as he held a case file in his hands. “They really buried these files. I didn’t think they would have moved them to the basement archives so soon. It feels like they really don’t give a damn about solving this murder.”

“Or someone is stalling big time,” Bobby suggested.

Quicksilver looked around the empty square, it felt haunted thanks to how vacant it was. “Did you find anything here?”

“No, not really.” Bobby shook his head and quirked his mouth in a frown. “All I can figure is the shot had to be fired from really far away. This place was swarming with cops and feds but nobody saw anything. We gotta think outside the box.”
Looking at the folders in Pietro's hands, Bobby asked, “So where do we start? Find anything good in there?”

“I haven’t read the whole thing just yet, I just made sure I got all of it.” Pietro opened the files and searched for Kelly’s autopsy report. He found the photos and the details about his head injury. “The bullet hit him back and to the left.”
Quicksilver looked up and surveyed the scene of the crime. “That’s a weird angle of impact, especially with the distance in which the shot was made.”

“You're about his height,” Bobby said. “Go stand by that plaque.” He gestured over to the stairs where the podium had once stood.

Pietro was there in the blink of an eye.

“Right...” Fast guy. How could Bobby forget? He walked in a semicircle, looking upward and trying to calculate for next.

“Projectiles over long distances follow a parabolic path. They don't go down in a diagonal line.” Bobby might be a dope on the streets but he found an untapped skill in math, particularly at the college level. “That means if I create the right arc from the point of impact...”

Bobby held both hands together and squared them over Pietro's head like he was framing a camera shot. One eye narrowed as he stuck out his tongue to one side.

“... I might be able to draw a curved line to the shooter's location.” He smacked Pietro on the shoulder. “Don't move!”

Taking a deep breath, Bobby exhaled between his hands. The mist shot forward into a thin, curved line that looked like an icy strand of spaghetti. It went upward and between multiple tall buildings and disappeared into the Boston skyline.

“Hey, think you can see where that goes?” Bobby asked.

“On it., Pietro said with a nod and he was gone in the blink of an eye. His speed increased to a level that made the rest of the world stand still, he merely had to follow the shimmer of the ice projectile as he moved beneath it. Only when it made impact with the near top of John Hancock Tower did he turn back and return to Bobby.

“It came from that huge skyscraper over there.” Pietro pointed at a tall glass covered building. “I didn’t see which floor but it was almost at the very top.”

Bobby nodded. “Cool. Let's go take a look.”

Taking to the air in his ice sled, Bobby followed the scenic route while Pietro ran along the ground and up the side of the tower. It wasn't just leisure, though. Bobby watched the misty trail of his reproduced and backtraced ice bullet to see any irregularities. So far it seemed a perfect parabola with no sudden deviations or obstructions. The trajectory indeed led to the John Hancock Tower.

By the time Bobby arrived, Pietro was already on the roof, waiting impatiently.

“There isn't any real question,” Bobby said. “The bullet came from here.” Turning around, Bobby saw it was at least ten football stadiums away from the steps where they began, maybe more given the downward angle. “That's one hell of a shot. No wonder they blamed mutants.”

Bobby looked around the rooftop. “Did you, like, run up the side or something? We need a way down so we can look around the shooter's actual perch.”

“Hey, you don’t share all your secret skills, why should I?” Pietro said with a smirk. He made his way over to the door on the top of the building and with a rough tug and then as pull he managed to manhandle the door open. “Let’s just go inside and look. They had to have been in an empty room and one that faces this direction.”

Bobby took the lead. Even though Pietro could clear the floor much faster than him, this had been Bobby's idea. It was his mistake should breaking and entering result in consequences. The floor was an unused commercial space with cubicle dividers stacked up on palettes across the entire space. It appeared utterly deserted. Nobody had been up here in months.

“Whoever picked this spot knew what they were doing,” Bobby mused as he scanned the entire expanse. “Alright, that puts the shooter on the far side, but let's be on the lookout for anything weird.”

They made their way over to the far wall which was floor to ceiling windows. One of them was askew as if brusquely forced open and unable to close properly. There was no sign of damage.

“This looks like the spot.” Bobby made a finger gun with his hand and pointed downward at the distant public square. He squinted down his finger and pulled it as if it was a trigger. “I don't know what I'm doing. I've never shot a gun before. What do you think?”

“Umm… your angle is a little off.” Pietro replied as he adjusted the position while staring out at the public square that was a mere quilt square from this height and distance. “There was a breeze that day and the angle of impact was more to the right, his head fell back and to the left.”

As Pietro took a few steps he bumped into an uncomfortable looking armchair and a potted plant. The jostled furniture moved a little and the shell of a bullet rolled out into view. “Hey now, what’s this?”

“Bingo,” Bobby said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. After retrieving the bullet casing like a dog turd, he handed it to Pietro for safekeeping. “Hey, now. How many shots were there? Doesn’t it seem kinda’ like a rookie mistake to leave this behind? Maybe they ran out of time or just didn’t care.”

“If you could nail a headshot from this far away would you be worried about clean up?” Pietro commented as he examined the casing in the bag. “It seems like it’s a weird size.”

Bobby began flipping through the files that Pietro had brought in search of the answer to his own question. “Yeah, it was one shot,” he confirmed. “From an… unknown caliber? What does that mean? How do they not know what kind of bullet it was?”

The file was full of pictures, but the ballistics report was heavily redacted by a black marker.

“Do you know anybody that could make heads or tails of this?” Bobby looked at Pietro with hopeful desperation. It felt like they had stumbled on something important, but they had reached the extent of his personal expertise on the subject.

“I actually do,” Pietro said with that pleased and cocky smile that so frequently appeared. “But he’s not on great terms with the Brotherhood… then again neither am I.”

Quicksilver tucked the shell and the Kelly file into his bag while he pondered their next move. All of this felt significant and if they were going to figure out what actually happened to Senator Kelly, Pietro was going to have to take some more risks. “I guess we’ll go knock on his door and see what happens, you feel like going to New Mexico?”

“There's a New Mexico?” At first Bobby furrowed his brow in disbelief, but he quickly crashed a mischievous grin. “Nah, I'm just kidding. Let's go!”

TBC

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