Into the Fire - Part 1

Posted on Tue Mar 5th, 2024 @ 2:50am by Scott Summers & Jean Grey

Mission: Episode 4: The Savage ConneXion
Location: Beat Street Club
Timeline: August 29th, 1990

While Scott had more luxurious accommodations available to him, he had never checked out of the dank motel room. It served as a home base well enough for his purposes while he traveled abroad. For the past week, he'd been in Japan. Before leaving, he’d paid the manager for a week’s rate and asked not to be disturbed. One cab ride to JFK International later and he began his 13 hour flight to Tokyo's Narita International Airport.

From there, he had pulled every favor he could think of in pursuit of the half-baked lead from what was arguably a fever dream about Jean. Most of them came through his contact with Shiro Yoshida, the son of a fallen Japanese ambassador to the United States who had waged a one-man war against Washington, D.C. after his father's assassination on American soil. The X-Men had stood against him in a vicious battle, but in the end Sunfire, as Shiro had presented himself, was brought to heel. But the mercy shown him by the X-Men cooled his anger and gave him much needed perspective. In the diplomatic fallout to follow, Sunfire became a frenemy of sorts. His Japanese nationalism prevented any deep friendship from forming, but the honor shown to him in defeat by his enemies suggested that his uncle’s propaganda may have been in error and his violent retaliation premature.

While relations remained fragile, Scott was desperate.

It had taken two days of waiting at the embassy in Tokyo before Shiro even returned Scott's messages. By that time, word had reached him of the battle in Niagara Falls. Part of him regretted not being there for it, but Professor Xavier had set him on a new path. That much was clear. The X-Men had prevailed without him. And Jean had somehow gotten a telepathic message to him and him alone. This was his mission to see through to the end, whatever it may be.

Thoughts of Aurora and the baby milled about the back of his mind, but Scott wasn't one to indulge distractions. With purpose came focus and a singular mind. The X-Mansion was back in the States. This was Tokyo. Mission creep was unacceptable.

Finally Shiro returned his phone call. At first he seemed indifferent, but Scott could be very persuasive. In the end, Shiro had agreed as a matter of honor. Scott left the the embassy with the promise of help from the Yoshida family’s political connections.

That help came in the form of access to the the Japan Oceanographic Data Center. Scott went there and spoke with the top leading oceanographers in all of Japan. When explaining the situation, every detail mattered. Scott had stayed up half the previous night going over detail of that ill-fated mission and landed on a few starting points. First, the Blackbird had been returning from a southwesterly direction. If his…whatever it was…contained any truth to it, then the Blackbird had returned from an island in the South Pacific.

The criteria Scott had requested had to do with islands which held significant energy bursts outside of known volcanic chains and other areas with regular seismic activity. Those energy expulsions were sporadic but always in the same location. From that preliminary profile, the JODC began extrapolating further criteria to begin a search. After several hours, they produced a set of coordinates and politely dismissed Scott from their lab. It was unlikely that only one set of coordinates was a match. Then again, maybe it meant nothing. Scott could go there and find nothing but a deserted island.

---

It had been a rough week. The 14 hour return flight back to New York gave him plenty of time to think, and it was hard to believe he had run through all those events so quickly. In some ways, it felt like months had passed. But he came back to New York with coordinates for the best guess of where this Krakoa island could be.

It wasn’t enough to call in the cavalry. Everyone in Scott’s life already thought poorly of him. If he came to them with a crazy story like this and it didn’t pan out, then he might not get a second chance with them. No, he needed to go check it out himself first. If Jean was there, then he could rally the team or at least bring in Professor Xavier. Until then, this was something he had to do on his own.

Except that getting to any remote South Pacific island was next to impossible. Short of stowing away on a barge or arranging a complicated chain of chartered flights, there was no way he could get within a thousand miles of the location. All of that could take weeks. But… maybe there was someone who could.

All Scott needed was to get a bearing on that guy’s location.

A knock came at the motel room door not long after Scott had finally returned from the airport. He smiled. With any luck, this might be that bearing now.

A woman clad in a leather jacket and jeans stood outside of his motel room. While her height and build were rather average in stature, her attitude was anything but. A touch of a scowl was plastered on her face and she exuded an attitude that was just daring for anyone to mess with her; in short, the woman seemed tough as nails.

“Jesus, this place is depressing.” She surveyed the outside of the motel and what little she could see of his room. “Are you Scott? I’m Jessica Jones from Alias Investigations.”

Scott unchained the door and opened all the way. “That’s me. Did you find him already?” Even behind his ruby-quartz glasses, Scott looked impressed. “I hope that doesn’t mean he’s locked up again.”

Jessica took a single step into the room, her combat boot hitting the ground with a loud thud. She continued to look over the motel room as she entered, her hands in her jacket pockets to make it feel like a causal surveillance, it was anything but.

“No, he’s still out. He’s just laying low, trying to be a good boy.” Jessica finally looked at him. “What do you want with a washed up villain anyways?”

“That depends,” Scott said, noting the demeanor of the woman. She was no nonsense and carried herself with the weight of someone who could take care of herself. “Are you up for making a little extra money?” He walked to the back of the motel room where his shoes and jacket were.

“I’m always interested in making a little extra money.” Her tone remained flat and deadpan despite accepting his proposition. “What do you have in mind?”

Scott returned with his jacket zipped. “You seem like a pro, so you know what this guy is capable of. If I go see him, he’ll probably flee before I can get close. I just want to talk but I can’t do that if he… vanishes. So, you go for me and give him a message. Tell him Cyclops wants to see him. He’ll know what that means.” Scott looked down at her from his towering 6’3” vantage point and asked, “How much is that worth to you?”

She didn’t falter as Scott’s tall stature stepped in closer to her. The woman was fearless.

“He’s got eyes everywhere in his neighborhood, so he’ll see both of us before we’re anywhere near him. He’s going to scatter like a roach the moment he gets nervous.” Jessica sighed and contemplated what she would do for a moment. “I guess I can go in from the roof, his eyes are on the ground, not the air…” She tapped her boot while she continued to think. “For you, you down-on-your-luck sad sack, an extra hundred bucks. One-fifty if I have to punch anyone.”

All of that was so true that it didn't even faze him. Scott gave her a mirthless smirk. Maybe it would be worth extra to see her punch someone.

“Deal.” He pulled a crisp Benjamin from his billfold and handed it over. “So where do we find him? Not far at that rate, I'm assuming.”

“Some dive bar in Manhattan, The Beat Street Club, as if the name doesn’t tell you everything you need to know. Come on, glasses, we’ll take the subway. That Jeep of yours will draw too much attention.” Jessica began to walk towards the nearest station, ignoring the New York traffic as she walked.

Eight stops and a transfer later, Jessica and Scott arrived at an area of Manhattan that was rundown brick buildings and an excess amount of trash, a few homeless people huddled in the dark corners attempting to sleep, and a few clusters of teens on every other corner. Not the worst that New York had to offer but also not the best, it was a place where trouble found you if you lingered for too long. Jessica stopped several blocks away and turned her back to a bar front with a ratty orange awning and a sad neon sign that simply said ‘Bar’.

“That’s the place.” Jessica positioned herself so it looked like Scott was looking at her and not the building. “He lives on the second floor, right above the bar.” Jessica’s brown eyes shifted behind him quickly. “Shit, the kids are watching us already. I’m going to have to take the long way around.” She shoved her hands in the inner pocket of her jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Jessica placed two cigarettes in her mouth and lit them before handing one to Scott.

“Smoke that while I go talk to him.” Jessica demanded. “It will make you look less…” Her hands vaguely gesture at him from head to toe. “Suspicious.” She took a few steps away and stopped. “Oh, and don’t let anyone inside that bar until you see me walk out the front door.”

Scott wasn't a smoker but he could give a performance if that's what was required. He took the cigarette and stuffed it in one corner of his mouth. Even that was a little much.

“Thanks,” he grunted through a burning throat and palate. Do not cough. Do not cough. Do not…. “I think.” He coughed. Damn it.

As Jessica walked off, two of the kids on the corner slowly followed her, leaving a single teenager a couple blocks away from Scott. The kid stood between him and the front door of the bar, leaving him with a slight disadvantage if he did have to chase them.

Standing outside, mostly flicking ash into the street, Scott began to notice the additional lookouts and setups littering the city block. The way the trash was stacked on the corner, how mirrors were placed in open windows, even the spots where the homeless had set up camp, it was all tactical. Suddenly, this block didn’t feel like just another run down part of Manhattan. It was an intricate set up designed to rapidly share information and sabotage any intruders.

Another thirty minutes passed and Scott was starting to think he was scammed out of an additional hundred dollars when Jessica finally walked out of the front door of the Beat Street Club, a full bottle of whiskey in hand.

“All right, Scott, he’s all yours. We had a little chat peppered with some casual threats. Now he’s waiting for you inside and he knows what will happen if he runs.” Jessica started heading back towards the subway station. It was a fairly easy additional hundred bucks but she wasn't about to get suckered into another task with 'Glasses'. Jessica had her own agenda. “Thank you for choosing Alias Investigations.” Jessica quickly departed, leaving Scott to enter the bar on his own.

The Beat Street Club looked and smelled exactly as you would expect it to. Poorly lit and smattered with mildewed posters of alcohol brands and pin-up models, the joint smelled like stale smoke and seemed like a place where only the lowest of the low would care to have a drink. Behind the bar stood a wiry man with a shaved head and numerous thick black tattoos. Polishing a bar glass as he waited, looking up with a touch of dread when Scott walked into the bar. The man knew exactly who this was, Cyclops of the X-Men, the same man who had sent him to jail for a very long time.

“Hey, Porter,” Scott said. “Give me a stout.” He put five dollars on the bar top. “And fifteen minutes of your time.”

The man tending bar obliged Scott's request with some hesitation. Slowly, he reached for the bottle, never taking his eyes off Scott. There was a look of panic in his eyes and the expectation that he might run seemed like a very real one.

As he popped the top off the bottle he was handed, Scott said, “I'll be honest. I came here because I need your help.” Maybe the honesty would disarm the villain turned barkeep. There was a lot of history between these two. It might be the first time Scott stood before him without his visor.

“Looks like honest work hasn't been too kind to you.” Noting the number of young people hanging about the bar, Scott knew he was being weighed by more than just Porter. “But then looks can be deceiving. How many runaways do you have watching the place? At least ten by my count. You're not living the high life. Would it be silly of me to think you care about more than wealth and fortune these days?”

“No, I’m not looking for dirty money…” His voice was soft and submissive. “I’m not looking for any trouble either.” Telford Porter had once gone by the name ‘Vanisher’ where he used his mutant power of self-teleportation to go on a one man crime spree. He was stopped only when they wiped his mind, making him forget that he was ever a mutant before being incarcerated. Thanks to the X-Men, he had to rediscover his powers in shocking and horrifying ways once his prison sentence had been finished. Now reformed and trying to live a quiet life, Cyclops was not a welcomed guest.

“I’m honest enough to keep my nose clean, I keep to…” Porter trailed off as a little girl came through the back door. No older than six, the girl’s skin was alarming pale and her hair white.

“Jana won’t share!” She shouted at Porter. “Telly, make her share.”

“Okay, okay.” The tattooed erstwhile villain stepped out from behind the bar and quickly escorted the girl to the backroom. Porter quickly returned to his position behind the bar after helping the little girl and seemed unnerved, even upset with everything Scott had seen.

“The kids are like us.” Telford felt compelled to answer the unasked question. “Most don’t really have anyone, so we stick together. I made a lot of mistakes in my life, I’m just trying to make sure they don’t do the same.”

“If there's anyone you don't have to explain that to, it's me.” Scott drank his beer in silence for a moment. “I've made some mistakes myself. Trying to make right what I can. Right now I'm flying solo. If you help me, then I'll know I can trust you with some additional resources for these little ones.” Afraid the other man would turn him down, he added, “Please. Someone is missing. I might know where she is. I just need someone to get me there. Do that and I'll do whatever you ask.”

“You must be desperate, hunting me down the way you did. You made sure I couldn't teleport three feet when you sent me to jail. Do you know how hard it was relearning my abilities after my sentence?” Porter looked back towards the door the little girl came out from before looking at Scott again. He didn't want to be angry anymore, he had more to live for than he ever had, but he also knew how persistent Cyclops could be and Telford didn't trust him. Even if he was alone, Telford didn't need one X-Men hanging around here, most of the kids were good but a few got into enough trouble to make things complicated sometimes. “As long as I don’t end up in jail again and you help me get these kids some stuff, I’ll help you. What do you need?”

Scott let out the breath he'd been holding. Desperation wasn't even the half of it. But at least the other man was taking him seriously.

“Jean is on an island somewhere. I have possible coordinates. If she's there, then she's with some very bad people. I need to know for sure. Get me to that island, help me scout it out some, and if possible find some sign of her.” He finished his beer and slid the empty over. “Either way, I'll create an endowment for these kids and others like them. That's the deal.”

Telford looked down at the dirty tile floor. He wasn't expecting a trip out of the city, let alone to some island. He was confident that he could do it, but he didn't want to. A part of Telford wanted to run again, to skirt all responsibility and find someplace new and impossibly far away. Running fixed a lot of problems until you got caught. Then he thought about what that woman said she would do if he ran away, and what Scott would do if he helped. He couldn't let these kids get hurt; he sure couldn't turn down the opportunity to make some real money for them. Porter would have to fight his desire to flee and risk someone he did not trust. Why? Because he had made the stupid mistake of actually caring about other people.

“Deal.” Telford reluctantly raised his hand to shake on the deal.

“Deal.” Scott shook the proffered hand. "Get your affairs in order, we leave tomorrow."

To Be Continued...