![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
x-cyclops.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsScott is sitting his coms shift, brooding, when a call comes in from MacInnis. Calls from MacInnis have historically not been cause for celebration, but occasionally the old rat bastard comes up with something very good.
He was really going to have to see about sticking someone else with his share of the coms shifts, Scott thought, staring at the newsfeed screens without really seeing them. Sitting here gave his mind entirely too much time to wander, and these days that wasn't such a good thing. Besides, what good was being the boss if you couldn't occasionally pull rank?
He reached out and started flipping through the newsfeeds for lack of anything better to do, willing something, anything to catch his eye. It wasn't that he necessarily wanted a crisis. Okay, so he really didn't. But something to focus on would be good.
It turned out there was rioting going on in Khartoum; Scott settled on the CNN coverage and watched, marveling at the idiocy of the anchorwoman's questions to the correspondent in the field. CNN switched after a mere five minutes to a discussion of the latest celebrity break-up and Scott snorted disgustedly, flipping through the feeds again.
He'd paused on the BBC to see if they'd picked up on what was going on in Khartoum when a call came in. Straightening in his chair, one hand going to his headset, Scott frowned at the lack of a number displayed on the terminal.
"X-1-1," he said cautiously.
"It's MacInnis," came a familiar gravelly voice. "This line's secure from my end, too. That you, Summers?"
Oh joy. "Yeah," Scott said shortly. "Should I get Nathan?"
"Not just yet. I've got something for your team, if you want it." The old bastard was sounding vaguely amused, now. Well, at least he wasn't calling in a panic, Scott thought somewhat crankily. MacInnis calling in a panic tended to lead to violence, explosions, and multiple X-Men in the infirmary. "It's a bit time-sensitive, but I think it might appeal."
"Okay," Scott said with patience he didn't really feel. "Want to fill me in?"
"How would you like to catch Gideon Faraday red-handed in the act of human trafficking?"
Scott's jaw dropped, just a little. "Human trafficking?"
MacInnis gave a bark of laughter. "I know. Damned unsubtle of him, isn't it, considering his usual modus operandi? But I've got solid intel that he's going to be in Vladivostok tomorrow to buy a mutant with unspecified but valuable powers from a group working out of Skovorodino."
Something to focus on. Scott's mind was racing immediately, sorting out possibilities. "Tomorrow. Have you got more information?"
"Oh, plenty. They're shipping this poor bastard - I don't have a name - via train to Vladivostok. They're already en route. I've got the train number, some details about who all's aboard, and I know where the meet's supposed to be at the end of the line. Give me a secure email address and I'll dump what I've got in your lap." Scott did, and after a moment, MacInnis laughed again, although it sounded more like a cough. "Whatever this mutant can do, Faraday must be damned determined to get his hands on him, to come himself."
"One more reason to make sure he doesn't." Not the most important - if they were going to do this, it would be a rescue mission first and foremost, but still. Thwarting Gideon was its own special brand of ‛worthwhile'. "I'll have to bounce this off the others."
"Let Wisdom at my intel if he wants," MacInnis said. "Some of it's verified, some of it's not, and I've got some holes. Although Nathan's got some damned fine connections in this part of the world, too, if I'm not mistaken. Maybe between the two of them they can fill in a few of the gaps." He rattled off a phone number. "Call when you've decided what you're doing, but make it today. If your bunch can't swing this I might be able to get a couple of the Pack here in time to do something."
"All right." Scott paused. "Thanks," he said, and it didn't even sound grudging.
Another coughing laugh. "Yeah. Happy early Saint Patrick's or whatever. Let me know, Cyclops."
*Click*.
Scott stared at the screen blankly for a moment, then took off his headset and bent over the keyboard, calling up the team board.
He was really going to have to see about sticking someone else with his share of the coms shifts, Scott thought, staring at the newsfeed screens without really seeing them. Sitting here gave his mind entirely too much time to wander, and these days that wasn't such a good thing. Besides, what good was being the boss if you couldn't occasionally pull rank?
He reached out and started flipping through the newsfeeds for lack of anything better to do, willing something, anything to catch his eye. It wasn't that he necessarily wanted a crisis. Okay, so he really didn't. But something to focus on would be good.
It turned out there was rioting going on in Khartoum; Scott settled on the CNN coverage and watched, marveling at the idiocy of the anchorwoman's questions to the correspondent in the field. CNN switched after a mere five minutes to a discussion of the latest celebrity break-up and Scott snorted disgustedly, flipping through the feeds again.
He'd paused on the BBC to see if they'd picked up on what was going on in Khartoum when a call came in. Straightening in his chair, one hand going to his headset, Scott frowned at the lack of a number displayed on the terminal.
"X-1-1," he said cautiously.
"It's MacInnis," came a familiar gravelly voice. "This line's secure from my end, too. That you, Summers?"
Oh joy. "Yeah," Scott said shortly. "Should I get Nathan?"
"Not just yet. I've got something for your team, if you want it." The old bastard was sounding vaguely amused, now. Well, at least he wasn't calling in a panic, Scott thought somewhat crankily. MacInnis calling in a panic tended to lead to violence, explosions, and multiple X-Men in the infirmary. "It's a bit time-sensitive, but I think it might appeal."
"Okay," Scott said with patience he didn't really feel. "Want to fill me in?"
"How would you like to catch Gideon Faraday red-handed in the act of human trafficking?"
Scott's jaw dropped, just a little. "Human trafficking?"
MacInnis gave a bark of laughter. "I know. Damned unsubtle of him, isn't it, considering his usual modus operandi? But I've got solid intel that he's going to be in Vladivostok tomorrow to buy a mutant with unspecified but valuable powers from a group working out of Skovorodino."
Something to focus on. Scott's mind was racing immediately, sorting out possibilities. "Tomorrow. Have you got more information?"
"Oh, plenty. They're shipping this poor bastard - I don't have a name - via train to Vladivostok. They're already en route. I've got the train number, some details about who all's aboard, and I know where the meet's supposed to be at the end of the line. Give me a secure email address and I'll dump what I've got in your lap." Scott did, and after a moment, MacInnis laughed again, although it sounded more like a cough. "Whatever this mutant can do, Faraday must be damned determined to get his hands on him, to come himself."
"One more reason to make sure he doesn't." Not the most important - if they were going to do this, it would be a rescue mission first and foremost, but still. Thwarting Gideon was its own special brand of ‛worthwhile'. "I'll have to bounce this off the others."
"Let Wisdom at my intel if he wants," MacInnis said. "Some of it's verified, some of it's not, and I've got some holes. Although Nathan's got some damned fine connections in this part of the world, too, if I'm not mistaken. Maybe between the two of them they can fill in a few of the gaps." He rattled off a phone number. "Call when you've decided what you're doing, but make it today. If your bunch can't swing this I might be able to get a couple of the Pack here in time to do something."
"All right." Scott paused. "Thanks," he said, and it didn't even sound grudging.
Another coughing laugh. "Yeah. Happy early Saint Patrick's or whatever. Let me know, Cyclops."
*Click*.
Scott stared at the screen blankly for a moment, then took off his headset and bent over the keyboard, calling up the team board.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}