To Catch a Killer - Part 5

Posted on Mon Mar 3rd, 2025 @ 3:43pm by Scott Summers & Bobby Drake & Hank McCoy & Meilin Jiang & Jean Grey & Pietro Maximoff

3,047 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Episode 6: X-Fernus Agenda
Location: Manhattan | X-Factor Offices
Timeline: December 6th, 1990

At the Baxter Building, the Cerebra chamber was housed in a newly annexed floor beneath the X-Factor suites, a level that had once been a sealed-off research lab in the Baxter Building. With Reed Richards’ blessing, X-Factor had repurposed it into a state-of-the-art facility dedicated to mutant outreach, intelligence gathering, and crisis intervention.

Or so the plan was once they had it fully operational. The whole setup felt equal parts cutting-edge and otherworldly. And with Gyrich’s control still looming over Domino, they were about to put it to the ultimate test.

The room itself was an impressive fusion of advanced technology and bio-organic design, a stark departure from Xavier’s original Cerebro. Instead of a smooth, sterile environment, this chamber felt more alive—wires and conduits snaked outward from the massive central structure, intertwining like neural pathways. The walls pulsed softly with ambient energy, flickering between deep reds and muted blues depending on the system's activity.

At its heart sat the Cerebra core, a looming, almost eye-like construct that dominated the central chamber. Its curved metallic shell reflected the dim light, and a thick nest of cables and tubes fed into its surface, pulsing with raw telepathic potential. The circular entrance leading into the core was just large enough to give the unsettling illusion of being drawn inside, as if stepping into the mind of something vast and sentient.

In the center of this neural throne sat Domino, her posture tense as the sleek Cerebra headpiece fitted snugly over her temples. Unlike the old Cerebro helmet, this model was streamlined, its plating embedded with micro-conduits.

The soft hum of the chamber filled the air as Hank made final adjustments to the control console, his keen eyes flicking between power readouts and biometric scans.

Jean was seated just outside the threshold, watching the scene with a steady intensity. The crimson glow from the chamber reflected off her hair as she approached, her fingers absently flexing at her sides in anticipation.

Beside her, Pietro hovered restlessly, shifting from foot to foot as Bobby leaned against the nearby workstation, arms crossed.

When Bobby finally arrived, having lagged far behind Pietro who had rushed Domino far ahead of him, a deep hum filled the Cerebra chamber, a smooth, rhythmic pulse that echoed through the high-tech space like a living heartbeat that he could feel in his teeth.

Soft blue lights pulsed along the sleek, curved walls, illuminating the streamlined headpiece Jean was adjusting over her temples. Unlike Xavier’s cumbersome Cerebro helmet, this model was refined, compact ceramic rather than the bulky and cumbersome metallic original model.

Bobby approached with his usual swagger just as Jean was making the final adjustments.

"Tell me I didn't just miss the grand reveal," he quipped, glancing between Jean and Hank before his gaze landed on Pietro.

"Delightful as ever, Robert," Hank said without looking up from his console. His large, dexterous fingers danced over the controls with practiced ease. "Before Pietro updates us on the status of our high-risk houseguest, let me ensure we don’t fry Jean’s cerebral cortex with a rogue power fluctuation, hmm?" He flipped a switch and studied the data readout. "I’m running a final calibration to reverse the polarity on the dampening field. In theory, this should neutralize any inbound and outbound command signals while allowing Jean to establish a controlled psionic link to monitor any biofeedback from the subject.” With his mind focused on the task at hand, Hank turned clinical in his scientific jargon. “The power output is holding steady at—ah, excellent—seventy-two percent capacity. Any higher and we risk possible interference, any lower and… well, let’s just say I’d rather not find out."

Jean placed the headpiece of Cerebra on her brow with all the regal care as if it were a diadem she wore. Closing her eyes and taking a few steady, leveling breaths she felt the amplifying rush that the telepathic machine provided. She immediately noticed the difference between Cerebra and Cerebro. Cerebro was a powerhouse of a punch that became heavy and taxing to wield after an extended period of time; a telepath had to build up fortitude in order to use it. Cerebra was nothing like that, it was easy and fluid with its power and it felt like Cerebra was running alongside her rather than Jean having to carry its weight.

“This is different but in a good way.” Everyone in the room felt a brush of Jean’s telepathic presence as she performed a few mental adjustments to the amount of telepathic efforts she needed to provide. After a moment, an easy look of relaxed focus appeared on her face. “I’m with her, brain activity is normal and I’m not sensing any additional activity outside of the parasympathetic.”

“Her vitals are good.” Pietro replied as he watched the screen next to Domino. The woman’s eyes were closed in a false impression of serenity thanks to the sedative she had been given. “Heart rate is consistent and her blood pressure is good. Go ahead and get started, Hank.”

Hank adjusted his glasses while his blue-furred fingers tapped a quick sequence onto the console. "As the great bard once wrote, 'Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.'" His deep voice carried a mix of anticipation and careful optimism. With a final keystroke, the machine hummed to life.

The Cerebra chamber thrummed even louder with energy, pulsing with a faint glow as the reverse polarity configuration engaged. On the monitors surrounding them, lines of data scrolled rapidly, displaying biometric readouts and neural activity.

"Faraday effect has been achieved," Hank cheerfully announced. "And systemic stability appears optimal. I daresay, this is working far more smoothly than I anticipated.”

Bobby let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "That’s one thing going right. What about the other parts of the plan? We’re not just sitting here while Gyrich walks free, right?”

The door slid open with a faint hiss, and Scott Summers stepped into the room, his posture radiating quiet authority. "Meilin is in talks with the Department of Justice as we speak," he reported, his tone clipped but controlled. "The FBI will be arriving soon to question Domino on-site."

Bobby, standing near the control panel, turned to him with a raised brow. "Wait…they’re not taking her in?"

Hank interjected before Scott could answer, his voice measured but thoughtful. "Strictly speaking, they have no need. Given Domino's criminal status and her conscription into Freedom Force under the Mutant Response Division, she falls under the purview of the Thirteenth Amendment."

Bobby scoffed at that. "Slavery was abolished, remember? Or did they bring that back when I wasn’t looking?"

Sighing in response, Hank folded his hands behind his back. "That amendment abolished slavery except as punishment for a crime. Legally, Domino is not a free citizen—she is property of the U.S. government until her sentence is deemed fulfilled. As such, the FBI has no obligation to transfer her elsewhere for detainment. She already belongs to the state."

Bobby looked between them, then shook his head in disbelief. "That’s seriously fucked up."

Scott scowled, as well, his jaw tightening. "Yeah," he said tersely. "But we beat the system by its own rules. That’s the only way this works.”

~* ‘Scott, Meilin and the FBI agent are almost here.’ *~ Jean replied from inside Cerebra’s chamber. Her eyes were closed and her face serene but he could feel the tension inside of her that came from intense focus. ~* ‘The agent is named Fred Duncan, he’s a good man. He can be trusted with all of this.’ *~

“Hank, go ahead and start the procedure for removing the device from Neena.” Jean steepled her fingers as she focused on Domino and the work they were about to perform, the gesture was familiar to all of them and was a passive reminder to who trained her. “I’d like her awake and free to speak without limitations by the time the FBI agent is here.”

Hank adjusted his magnifying goggles, their soft glow illuminating the delicate circuitry embedded within the mutant control collar. His fingers moved with the fluid confidence of a seasoned surgeon, carefully working his tools along the device's failsafe mechanisms. Each severed connection, each delicately detached component, felt like unpicking a particularly insidious puzzle. Or perhaps defusing a bomb, which may have been exactly what he was doing.

“This is exquisite craftsmanship," he murmured, his tone one of detached academic admiration. "If one can momentarily ignore its morally abhorrent purpose, of course. Gyrich's engineers have spared no effort. However, as Victor Hugo so eloquently put it, ‘No army can withstand the strength of an idea whose time has come.’ And I dare say, this wretched trinket’s time has run out."

No one in the room had spoken much since the procedure began. Jean remained deep in concentration, her mental shielding through Cerebra powering a protective layer against interference. Scott, arms crossed, observed with an unreadable expression, his thoughts undoubtedly cycling through contingencies. Pietro, impatient as ever, tapped his foot in a blur of nervous energy, while Bobby simply watched, uncharacteristically silent with his wisecracks kept to himself.

Domino, the supposed enemy-turned-prisoner, sat rigid in the chair, her posture unreadable. None of them really knew who she was beyond the fact that she had been part of Freedom Force. The only one who had even crossed paths with her before was Scott, during the X-Men’s clash with Freedom Force in Washington D.C. in October. She was a ghost outside of that, her history a mystery, her allegiances uncertain.

Hank paused, frowning slightly. “Ah. A secondary failsafe—a localized neuro-trigger, independent of external signal.” His voice took on the thoughtful lilt of a man recalling an old challenge. “This reminds me of certain designs I studied during my 'indentured tenure' in Latveria. More complex… but fundamentally…”

A soft click.

Then another.

“... the same.”

And then, with a final flick of his wrist, the collar released. The device clattered onto the metal tray beside her with a hollow, metallic ring.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Domino’s sedation wore off and her fingers twitched before rising hesitantly to her throat. Her touch was careful, exploratory, as if she didn’t quite believe she was free. She swallowed once, then again, her sharp gaze flicking up to meet Hank’s. Her lingering recollection of their brief introduction before being put under came back to her.

“Hell of a bedside manner, Doc,” she murmured, rolling her shoulders. “Can’t say I’ve had many first dates that involved you getting that close to my throat.”

Bobby exhaled, half-laughing. “Okay. That’s not ominous or anything.”

The elevator alert chimed, breaking the tension.

Scott straightened. “That’ll be Meilin and Duncan.” His tone was all business. “Clean up the lab. We need to be ready.”

Domino flexed her fingers, taking in the room—the strangers, the wary glances, the unspoken questions. She had been an attack dog for Freedom Force, just another faceless enemy to these people. Now, she was sitting in X-Factor’s headquarters with no collar, no orders, and no idea what came next.

She smirked slightly, tilting her head at Hank. “So, McCoy. You always that good with your hands, or am I just lucky?”

Hank merely chuckled, wiping down his tools. “Ah, my dear… Domino, is it? I find that unlocking minds is a far more rewarding pursuit than simply unlocking devices. Though I do take a certain pride in both.”

Domino let out a low, amused hum. “Well, hopefully your friends are as good with the law as you are with control collars.”

Jean removed the headpiece that connected her to Cerebra and she too slowly blinked herself back to the present. The net of concentration that she had used to keep Neena safe during the procedure was shrugged off and she could take in more of her immediate surroundings once more.

“How are you feeling?” Jean asked Domino as she stood up and continued to collect herself.

“Good. Better,” Domino admitted while touching her free neck yet again. “The weight of the collar was more than the physical restraint.”

“I’ll get you something to drink.” Jean offered in her motherly way. “Sugar in your coffee?”

“How did you know?” Domino smirked as she realized the fault in her statement. “Right. Yes.”

“Neena. Please tell this FBI agent everything you know,” the redhead requested. “The more detailed your statement, the better we’ll all fair.”

“And I still think you should seek refuge at Asteroid M when you’re done,” Pietro chimed in, I can take you to the station and get you up there immediately. I know you consider it a prison, but you won’t have to watch your back and run up there, you can at least relax.”

Domino let her scowl slowly turn into a smirk. “I'll think about it.”

The doors parted again to admit a tight cluster of men in dark business suits, equipment packed in hard cases, and prominent FBI ID affixed to their jacket pockets. Meilin Jiang stood out in contrast with her white pantsuit.

Stepping aside to give them a full run of the room, Scott steeled his jaw in anticipation for what happened next.

Assistant Special Agent in Charge Fred Duncan carried himself with the authority of a man used to operating in high-stakes environments. His sharp eyes swept over the room, taking in its occupants, the discarded control collar, and—most notably—Domino.

“Neena Thurman, correct?” Duncan’s voice was firm but not unkind. “I understand you intend to confess to a capital crime perpetrated under duress or compulsion.”

Domino hesitated, her usual sharp confidence wavering for the briefest moment. She cast a sidelong glance at Meilin, who remained composed beside her, then exhaled. “Yeah. That’s the idea.”

Duncan nodded, as if he had expected that exact response. “Before we proceed, I need to establish something on record.” His gaze shifted to Meilin. “Ms. Jiang, are you officially serving as Ms. Thurman’s legal counsel?”

A beat of silence passed before Domino gave Meilin the smallest of nods.

Meilin, always the professional, smoothed her hands over her blazer and inclined her head. “I am.”

Duncan barely had time to acknowledge before one of his agents—one of the two assistants he had brought with him—picked up the control collar from the tray.

“Sir,” the agent said, holding the device up for Duncan’s inspection.

Duncan examined it, his frown deepening. “Yeah. That’s about what I figured.” He turned to his second assistant. “Get Judge Elkhart’s office on the phone. Looks like we need a head start on that arrest warrant.”

Scott watched the exchange with his usual impassive expression before stepping in. “We can move this to the conference room,” he offered, his voice steady. “More space, more privacy.”

Duncan gave him a curt nod. “Appreciate that.”

Scott gestured for Neena, Meilin, and the federal agents to follow, leading them out of the Cerebra chamber.

The conference room in question was the same one where X-Factor had hosted a summit between mutant allies only two months prior, a desperate attempt to push back against the passage of the Mutant Registration Act. It was fitting, in an ironic sort of way, how that room would now serve as the setting for what came next.

As the group filed out, Bobby leaned toward Pietro, lowering his voice just enough to keep it between them. “So, what do you think? Just like that?”

“It’s like Scott said, you have to beat them at their own game,” Pietro said with one of his cavalier shrugs. “It might not look like it but there is a lot of power in that conference room. Her confession and their clout will hopefully deliver the blow that will at least cripple the MRA.”

Quicksilver leaned against one of the still blue pulsing panels of Cerebra. “I think you and I put the final nail in the coffin and now the lid just needs to be hammered shut.”

Those words sent Bobby for a loop. When the infamous Quicksilver had defected at the MRA summit two months ago, he’d had his doubts along with everyone else. In fact, only Jean had been won over at first, no doubt due to her telepathic edge that assured her of Pietro’s sincerity. Since then, their former enemy had become an invaluable ally. The fact he had assisted in bringing Senator Robert Kelly’s assassin to justice was only evidence of that. Things had changed so much this past year, and not all of them for the worse.

“Yeah,” Bobby said, a weary smile coming over his face. In the past weeks of working for X-Factor, he had found more within himself than in the past several years of being part of the X-Men. Finding out that he had more to offer the world than just freezing it solid was the greatest Christmas present of all time, and it was one he had given himself. “I think you’re right.” He raised his fist and offered a bump. “Put ‘er there… partner.”

There was a brief pause as Pietro examined and realized what was being offered to him. He had come here to find Wanda after his greatest ally, his father, had failed to aid him. But he hadn’t expected to find such peace and acceptance with the former X-Men. They had always been someone he had been told to hate, to look down upon. For the first time since he arrived, he didn’t feel like an extra or someone they pitied, Pietro felt like he belonged.

“Partner.” He bumped first with Bobby as a genuine smile came over his face. “How about we order a pizza and play Nintendo to celebrate?”

After the whirlwind investigation of the past few days, Nintendo and pizza sounded like a dream come true to Bobby. They’d done the hard part. A little celebration was only fitting. “Now you’re talkin’ my language!”

FIN

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