Just Pizza

Posted on Thu Feb 20th, 2025 @ 2:34am by Charles Xavier & Jennifer Bryant

2,763 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Episode 6: X-Fernus Agenda
Location: Halifax, NS | Local Pizza Parlor
Timeline: December 4th, 1990

Jennifer smoothed down her dress needlessly one last time before stepping into the pizza. She had been here many times before but this was different. She looked around at the crowd, voices talking, laughing, people having fun. She wasn't sure Roni was exactly eager to see her, but she still wanted to see people. She searched the crowd for faces she knew.

The moment Jennifer stepped inside, the warmth of the pizza ovens hit her, carrying the scent of melted cheese and herbs. It should have been comforting—familiar. But the low hum of conversation inside the parlor took on an edge the second she crossed the threshold.

People were talking, laughing, sharing meals—but she felt their eyes flicker toward her, glances exchanged behind hands, words dropped to hushed murmurs. There was no way to know whether they were talking about her. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe not. Either way, the atmosphere had shifted, like a ripple in still water.

From behind the counter, a voice barked through the kitchen pass. "Yo, Jersey rules, sweetheart—sit anywhere!"

Jennifer startled at the unmistakable New Jersey accent, glancing toward the back of the parlor. The guy working the ovens barely looked up as he tossed a pizza peel onto the counter, already moving on to the next order.

Over in a corner booth, a menu lowered just enough to reveal a familiar face.

"Jen!" Roni called softly, lifting a hand in a small, almost hesitant wave. Her other hand pressed the menu against her chest like a makeshift shield.

Jennifer looked over at the man's voice. The New Jersey accent was unmistakable. Americans came up here often enough. It was one she had heard before and more often on television. But somehow it felt right at home in the pizza place. Pizza might technically be Italian (maybe) but she associated it with America and with places like New Jersey, New York, and Chicago. She smiled at the man.

Jennifer looked over at Roni. She smiled and waved. "Roni!" She was halfway over there before she really grasped that Roni was here on her own, practically hiding, and her face fell a little. But she didn't respond more than that. She was just going to be normal. Let Roni relax a little. She sat across from the other girl. "How are you?" she asked. "It's been a bit."

Roni’s smile was genuine, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was something tight in the way she held herself, her fingers gripping the edges of the menu like she was bracing for impact. She glanced around the room once before leaning in slightly.

"It has been a bit, yeah," she said, her voice light but cautious. Then, more pointedly, she asked, "So... where ya been, b'y?"

The slang was pure Halifax, the kind of phrase Jennifer had heard a thousand times growing up—casual, familiar. But coming from Roni here and now, it felt loaded.

Jennifer hesitated for half a second too long, and Roni pressed on. “One minute you're off to school in another country, next thing we hear, you're... back." She gave a small, forced chuckle, flicking her eyes to Jennifer's hands like she half-expected to see them glowing. "Things are gettin’ real weird in the States, Jen. And now all of a sudden here you are? Feels kinda'... I dunno. Like what's what, yeah?"

"I'm just visiting," Jennifer said, a little defensively. "I missed people here. It's another country but it's not like it's Japan. It's not that long a trip."

Jennifer pulled her hands back and lifted her own menu. "I just wanted to catch up. I'm sorry I haven't called more, but you were always nice to me."

Roni's fingers tensed against the menu, her lips pressing together like she was weighing whether to even say what was on her mind. She exhaled through her nose, finally shaking her head.

"You were always nice too, Jen," she admitted, but there was a heaviness in her voice. "That’s not the thing."

She glanced around the room again, lowering her voice further. "There’s been trouble. This preacher man—some Yank—came through town a few weeks back. Had people all riled up. Talkin' about...” She hesitated, barely above a whisper now. "Mutants."

She swallowed, like just saying the word left a bad taste in her mouth. Her eyes flicked to Jennifer again, searching her face. "People are freaked out," Roni continued. "Your cousin Andrew—" she winced, looking ashamed to even bring him up, "—he's been runnin' his mouth, sayin' stuff I don't even wanna' repeat."

Her grip tightened on the menu. "But I dunno, Jen. At some point you start wonderin' what’s real and what's just a load o' shite.” She looked up, meeting Jennifer's gaze with something raw—concern, maybe. Or doubt. "So, tell me... what’s real?"

"Doesn't everyone know already?" Jennifer asked in some frustration. She'd known Roni was uncomfortable and the others more so. She hadn't expected to have to come out to her. "Isn't that why you're the only one here?" She swallowed. "What's real is that I'm the same person I always was. What's real is that I could use a friend. This is how I was born. It's not something I chose."

Roni's eyes darted away for a moment, like she wanted to look anywhere but at Jennifer. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers curling tighter around the edge of the menu.

"It's not… I mean, it’s not that you’re a mutant," she said finally, stumbling over the word like it might burn her tongue. "My neighbor’s got Down syndrome, yeah? And he’s still a nice guy. So it’s not like that." She looked back up at Jennifer then, her throat working as she swallowed hard. "I want to be a good friend," she admitted, voice quiet. "But I’m scared to death."

She let out a shaky breath, then leaned in just a little, her voice dropping lower. "It’s all the stuff that goes along with it, Jen. You’ve seen the news. That Sentinel factory just across the border? Blown to hell! Who's to say it won't spill over here? Not all mutants are nice... like you."

Something between guilt and fear twisted Roni's face into a grimace. "There was that attack near Ottawa back in July. The government says it was mutant terrorists. And now people are sayin' there was really some secret department trafficking mutants. But the Canadian government says of course they weren't, so who do we even believe? We don't have Sentinels in Canada, Jen. So who's gonna' protect us from, you know... the bad ones?"

Jennifer stopped herself from vowing to do just that. Hadn't she just decide she couldn't? She couldn't share her own part in destroying that Sentinel factory or everything she knew about what the Sentinels were up. She half wanted to argue and half wanted to plead. She felt briefly insulted to have the X-gene compared to Down syndrome before she realized what an ableist response that was on her part. Maybe she had a lot of learning to do herself. Still, she felt a chasm between Roni and herself. "This stuff scares me too, Roni," she said, "but I'm not asking you to put yourself in the middle of it. I just want to have some pizza and not think about it for awhile."

Roni forced a smile and nodded, as if trying to convince herself as much as Jennifer. "Yeah... yeah, that sounds good to me too."

Before the moment could stretch into more awkwardness, the Jersey-accented man strolled up to their table from the kitchen, flipping a notepad open with an exaggerated flourish. "So, what's it gonna be, ladies? You orderin', or you just takin' up prime real estate?"

Roni let out a short, relieved laugh and leaned back in her seat. "I’ll have a slice of five-cheese, extra gooey, and—" she snapped her fingers, trying to think. "Gimme a Pepsi."

The waiter scribbled it down and turned to Jennifer. "And you? What's it gonna' be, sweetheart?"

"A slice with mushrooms," Jennifer ordered, "and I'll have a Pepsi too. Thank you!" She smiled warmly to the man. She was starting to feel better.

"You got it, sweet—" The man was cut off by the sound of shattered glass.

The first hiccup was innocent enough. A sharp, high-pitched eep—and the framed picture of a lighthouse above the counter rattled before crashing to the floor, sending shards of glass scattering across the tiles.

"Oh no, not again," a young girl whimpered, covering her mouth with both hands while her friends looked on with horror.

Jennifer and Roni barely had time to process that before—HIC!—a second burst of sound rippled through the pizza parlor. The large front window groaned, spiderweb cracks splintering outward from the center like something out of a slow-motion explosion. A few people gasped, chairs scraped backward, and the low murmur of conversations turned into confused whispers.

The girl's wide, terrified eyes darted around the room, her whole body trembling as she tried to suppress another hiccup. Jennifer could see her chest rising and falling too quickly, the panic setting in. If she didn't get a handle on this fast, the next one could be worse.

"Sorry," Jennifer said to Roni. She said it only because it was an interruption, though a lot might or might not have been read into it. She got up and walked over to the younger girl, trying to stay calm herself. "I need you to take a deep breath, ok?" she said gently. "It'll be ok."

The girl nodded, trying her best to follow Jennifer’s instructions, but the moment she inhaled deeply—

HIC!

A tremor rattled through the ceiling above, and a few flecks of plaster drifted down before a large chunk cracked loose, crumbling onto her head. She let out a startled sob, shaking the dust from her hair as fresh tears welled in her eyes.

Her friends scattered. One ducked behind the counter, another bolted for the bathroom, and a third made a break for the door, nearly knocking over a chair in their haste.

"Freak!" someone hissed from a nearby table.

"Somebody call the police!" another voice called out.

A rising panic filled the parlor, tension thickening in the air. The girl's lip trembled, her breath hitched with every gulp of air, and if this kept up, the next hiccup could be far worse.

Jennifer looked around. Her mind was racing. She looked briefly for Roni but saw the other girl had already run out. That sent a stab of pain through her but she couldn't spend time on it now. She looked back to the younger mutant. She was grasping for an idea on just what to do. She had no powers that worked directly on other mutant's powers. No powers to stabilize the ground. Could her powers stop hiccups? Electricity in a small enough voltage to be no threat to the girl but that might make the diaphragm relax? She wasn't sure. She wasn't a doctor. She wasn't going to get too experimental yet. "Stay focused on me. Let's go get you a glass of ice water, ok?"

A pitcher nearby was the closest source. The girl, barely holding herself together, nodded frantically and raised the glass to her lips. Her fingers shook, and a little water sloshed over the rim, but she drank. One sip. Then another. Her hiccups slowed enough that she covered her mouth with her free hand.

Nothing broke, shattered, or exploded. Her eyes went wide with hope.

But a sharp voice cut through the moment.

"Hey!" The pizza guy was storming toward them, his face red with anger. He jabbed a finger in her direction. "Get your mutie friend the hell outta' my joint!" he snapped. "Cops are on their way, and I ain't lettin' you two freaks wreck the place any worse!"

Jennifer felt anger surge through her as she turned to the man. Some of the lights flickered. An involuntary response on her part. But she wasn't going down that road. Not yet. Not if she could help it. She took a deep breath. "We were just leaving," she said, fighting for calm.

She looked back to the little girl and took her by the hand. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get out of here. What's your name, by the way? I'm Jennifer. Is there someone we should call?" She wondered if the girls parents knew or what her relationship was like with them. That might just be more trouble, but she left the question open-ended. If the girl had no one, she had a number.

The little girl sniffled, clutching Jennifer’s hand with trembling fingers. "Olivia," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I just wanna go home."

Then, suddenly, the world around the girls shifted and came to a standstill. A soft glow pulsed in the air, and out of nothingness, a familiar figure emerged—a shimmering telepathic projection, visible only to Jennifer.

Professor Xavier. And he was standing on two feet!

"You did a fantastic job, Jennifer." His voice resonated in her mind, rich with approval. "I detected the situation while conducting a routine Cerebro scan and was prepared to intervene, but you handled it with grace and restraint. Olivia is safe because of you."

His expression was warm, composed as always, yet touched with something akin to pride.

"I've already contacted Olivia's parents," Xavier continued. "They were frantic but relieved. They are en route to meet her at the nearby park. If you would be so kind as to escort her there, you should find them waiting."

Jennifer froze. She was a little overwhelmed by the professor's sudden telepathic presence, but also proud. "Thank you, professor," she said, likely looking a little odd to Olivia. She looked to the girl. "Your parents are going to meet us in the park. Just stay focused on that and you'll be home safe in no time."

As Jennifer guided Olivia away from the pizza shop and down the dimly lit street, the shimmering form of Charles Xavier walked beside them. The world around them seemed to soften in his wake—panicked onlookers averted their gazes, emergency responders failed to register their passing, and even the hum of the city quieted just slightly, as if reality itself was bent to accommodate their path.

They turned a corner, heading toward the park, and the Professor's gaze shifted toward her. "You have done well tonight, Jennifer," he said once more, his voice rich with warmth. "Not just in protecting Olivia, but in choosing control over power, empathy over anger. It is a lesson some never truly learn." His expression remained placid, but there was something searching in his gaze. "And yet, I sense that the question still lingers within you. The world. The mansion. Your place in both."

"I'd like to talk to you about that," Jennifer said, before looking to Olivia and then back to him. "Once she's home safe."

Once they touched grass, Olivia broke out into a sprint. "Mommy!" she shouted, her little feet carrying her toward a cream-colored sedan with a man and woman stepping out. She was so excited and relieved that she didn't even lookback.

"She's grateful," said Xavier's apparition which still stood next to Jennifer. "It may have slipped her mind to express it, but she will likely tell her parents all about you once the waves of relief wear off and her memory reasserts itself. But that is the price we pay as X-Men."

Xavier turned as his focus pulled away from Olivia's reunion with her parents and settled solely on Jennifer. The weight of his immense mind was like a gust of wind, though soft and accommodating, passing around her with ease rather than protest. "It's not often we get a thank-you." He canted his head a little and studied her askance. "The Blackbird is still prepped from a recent outing. Would you like me to send it for you?"

"Yeah," Jennifer said, biting her lower lip in thought. "I just...I do need to tell my dad I'm going back and grab my stuff from home. If that's ok?"

The Professor just smiled as his avatar vanished.

~Of course. I am on my way~ Somehow his voice echoed inside her head all the more after his psychic image was gone.

 

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