The X-Project

Last night, Garrison and Terry stood guard as Phillip and Jenny readied themselves for Muir. They don't make it.



It was an odd group walking through the lobby of the Grand Hyatt in New York City; a half dozen FBI agents in suits, a pair of uniformed NYPD officers, and in the middle of the cluster, a pair of nervous Genoshan teenagers, trying to see and remember everything they went past. One of the hotel managers came forward to meet them, and escourted them to a private service elevator and whisked them inside. The orders from the State Department had been simple and direct; the United States would take no actions until Jennifer Ransome's status as a mutant was confirmed by a world leading facility such as Muir Island. While part of the UK, if Doctor Moira MacTaggert came to the conclusion that Ransome's powers necessitated treatment that could not be found on Genosha, the UK was willing to grant her asylum on medical grounds, extending the same to Phillip Moreau.

It was an obvious smokescreen, but it had the advantage of muddying the waters enough that it did not automatically place either country on the opposite side of Genosha, or give their support to the claims that both teenagers had made about the island nation's mutant program. However, France had already put forward a resolution calling for an inquiry into the Genoshan program, and had quietly opened discussion with the UN Security Council as to concerns that could be considered a kind of weaponization. The media were hedging their bets at the moment, especially in the face of fierce denials from the Genoshan government and a lack of proof. The Genoshan government had confused things further by offering to let their mutant representatives speak before the UN about their program, which cast serious doubt on entire situation.

But that was a problem for the politicians, Garrison Kane considered, as the door opened and the hotel manager led off the car.

"Agent Kane, Agent Cassidy. We decided to open a room on the east wing of the 10th floor for you. This wing is under renovation, so there are no guests in the area. There's a shared bank of elevators, but anyone who is staying with us on this floor tonight will need to go the opposite way. I'm afraid because of the renovation, the room isn't the prettiest, but we've had it fully cleaned and prepared, if you don't mind the paint splatters." He motioned them towards a door and unlocked it. "We have a temporary security room set up by the stairs for you, and you'll have a direct line to our main security office."

"Thank you, Mister Renoit." Kane said, as the man headed away. The rest of the team started to move into position, and he faced the teenagers. "So, here's the deal. We're going to have an agent on the roof watching the facing, one at the top of the stairwell, two in the lobby, and two outside your room. We'll also have two police officers at the elevators, to stop anyone 'accidentally' going the wrong way. Terry and I will be in the security office, which means if something happens, we can be at this door in less than fifteen seconds. Tomorrow, there will be two cars to take you direct to Kennedy, where Muir is sending a private charter. So you'll be safe, no matter what. If you get hungry, call up room service. Otherwise, I know you both have a mountain of forms to fill out."

"Thank you." Phillip said, shaking their hands. "You don't know what it means to Jenny and I."

"Try and get some sleep. You've both got a busy day ahead." Garrison said, as they disappeared into the room. The agents took up post on either side, and Kane gave it one last look before heading off for the security room with Terry.

"Good kids. It's good that the Professor was able to wrangle a little legal two-step to get them to Muir."

"You think there's truth in what they're claiming?" Terry asked as she shrugged off her jacket to throw it over an empty chair. Under it, the redhead was dressed in loose-legged trousers and an untucked oxford-style shirt--comfort had already begun to claw at the professional image. She leaned over a computer set up and pulled a few surveillance feeds up onto the screen before dropping into a chair in front of them.

"I think they think it's true. I did a little digging, and there isn't much of an 'independent' media in Genosha. Government has Chinese like internet firewalls and most of the coverage we get comes from the GBC." Kane poured himself a coffee and sat down across from her. "So it could be, I guess. Makes sense when you think about it. A couple of the right mutants could replace hundreds of men and millions of dollars in equipment, turning whatever it is you mine into pure profit."

Terry could see potential uses for her own powers, and the thought was more than a little disquieting, judging by her expression. She just grunted in reply and looked over at the screen set up, reaching out to cycle through a set of feeds.

There was nothing more boring than guard duty, and they traded off seats watching the monitors, letting the other relax in the meantime. After a few hours, the computer beeped and Garrison tapped a few keys.

"Looks like they finally called down for room service."

"Sounds like a good idea. Think we could mooch some o' it?" Terry asked from her seat across the room. She turned a stretch into a rise and padded back to the table set up. "I would be eating the lamb o' Jayzus if it were put in front of me right now."

"A large chicken salad and a club sandwich with fries. Why is it that people always order the club sandwich first when confronted with room service? I don't get it." Kane picked up his comm. "We have a room service order for two due up in ten minutes or so. Two meals, sandwich and fries and a salad. Nothing else goes into the room." The agents would search the person who came up, checking their identification against the files and the cart thoroughly to make sure that their weren't letting in anything other than the order.

"If you want to order something, feel free. The Bureau has to comp us at least a decent meal while we wait."

"I thought the Bureau's idea of a decent meal was a McDonald's value meal." Terry searched for the room service menu, then took the other chair at the table. She curled into her seat and perused the listing, a frown etching lines into her face that normally disappear under her relentless cheer. "Want something yourself?" she asked and shoved the menu toward Kane. She reached for the hotel phone, but despite her stretching, it remained just out of the reach of her fingertips.

"Nah, I'm good." He was good on coffee for now. In the morning, he'd destroy one of the local breakfast specials. "Ah, and we have an elevator coming up." After a moment, the doors opened and a porter with a wheeled cart stepped out. He showed his ID badge to the police, and then to the FBI guard at the door. They checked the meal against the order and the cart, confirming that it contained nothing other than two meals, condiments and utensils. They frisked him briefly, but produced nothing more than a wallet, a phone, and a pen.

"You figured out what you want?"

Terry pulled her knee up under her and gained the extra few inches to reach the phone. "I was thinking the club sandwich," she teased while watching the frisking. When he rolled the cart inside, she hit the button for room service. Her order was something noodley from the menu.

"The love affair with a club sandwich. I mean, it's a BLT with some chicken in it. How is that the ultimate lunch?" Kane poured himself some more coffee. "I mean, at least a Monte Christo has some frying involved."

They bickered back and forth for a minute, before Kane put up his hand. "Why hasn't the room service guy left yet?"

Terry looked up from where she had been flipping through the menu and second guessing her order, and squinted at the screens. "How long has it been? Maybe they... needed help... opening a... a ketchup bottle?" she said slowly, drawing each increasingly improbable set of words out with a growing sense of unease. A second after she finished, she was up and out of her chair, heading for the door and only slowing long enough to snatch her holster off a chair.

Kane hit the crash button, sounding the alarm, and as promised, it took less than fifteen seconds for him and Terry to reach the door. Both agents guarding it had gone through, guns drawn, and tracked through the hotel room.

"Phillip? Jenny?" Kane called, but there was no answer. It only took a moment to search the room, but it was empty. The windows were all sealed and untampered with, the dropped ceiling didn't offer enough room for a child to crawl through, much less three adults, and there were no signs of struggle. The only thing out of place was the phone receiver lying off the hook on the desk.

Terry searched the bathroom and returned to the main room, holstering her gun as it became apparent they were now faced with missing persons instead of immediate and present danger. She crossed to the receiver and picked it up, holding it to her ear for a second before shaking her head at Kane. "Dial tone."

"The only way out of this room is that door." Kane said, gestured to it. "Two guards and a camera feed, and nothing got past. So where the fuck did they go?"

Terry carefully replaced the receiver back on the cradle and turned around slowly, shaking her head again at Kane. "Teleporter? Illusionist? Magic?" she said, throwing out options without any hope of immediate answer. "We'd better get started figuring out what happened in here."