XF: There's No Place Like Home

[x-gambit.livejournal.com]

Wisdom, Betsy, and Remy follow Emma Frost to their new home, as she outlines exactly how to repay the favour that Pete called in.



"The East Village. Emma, you splurged." Remy said sourly. While it was far from the centre of drugs and crime in Manhattan these days, it still held the slightly run down and desperate signs of its past. Emma's white limousine had dropped them off after meeting her in the office, and she walked up to the front of what looked like a converted brownstone.

"Remy, darling, I appreciate the fact that you mostly know Europe and suffer severe learning disabilities, so I won't take offense. Nothing in Manhattan is cheap anymore." Emma gave him a look. "Almost nothing in Manhattan is cheap anymore, that is."

Betsy suppressed a snort but ending up coughing rather lamely.

Emma produced a set of keys and unlocked the front door, while Remy traded a look with Wisdom and Betsy. The Brits only shrugged and followed Emma up the stairs. Remy trailed along after, having had little experience with Frost before. Emma walked through the doors, unlocked a second set and opened them up into a lobby.

"I bought this building a few years ago. It's a converted brownstone, three stories and the location is excellent. I had planned to tear it down and put up something a little more income friendly, but there's a group trying to designate it historical, and the zoning commission is slightly less entertaining to deal with than Shaw." Emma shook her head. "So, I thought I'd give it to you."

All three of them traded a look. Pete eyed the building suspiciously.

"The neighbourhood is fine by me, but when I said 'roof over our heads', I really was thinking of something a little less like a block of council flats."

"I'm hoping living here won't be made mandatory," Betsy interjected, looking up at the slight water damage on the ceiling. She didn't put much effort into hiding her scowl at the decor. "I still have my flat on the Upper West Side. Thankfully."

"The building was originally two brownstones, dating back to the early twentieth century. It's an Ernest Graham design, which I'm sure means nothing to most of you. Originally, both were freestanding with a park area between them. However, the owners in the fifties decided to combine the two buildings and open up more apartment space." Emma walked down the left hall. To her left were doors to apartments and a staircase at the end of each hall. To the right was a large line of glass that opened on to the small courtyard in the middle of the building. "There are three apartments on each side on the first floor. The second and third floor apartments are two bedrooms, so there are only two per side."

She neatly turned the corner into an open space. "Common areas on the north end on each floor, and at the south end on the second and third floors. Roof access is on the third floor, south end common. Access to the courtyard is through those doors in the north commons and main lobby at the south on the first floor. Basement access is at the north end, but it's just the furnaces, HVAC, and garbage. Yes, there is sewer access, Pete. I can tell by that calculating look."

Pete looked slightly defensive. "Look, it's not my fault I've been attacked in the night by mad bastards with guns one too many times. I like to know I'm staying in a place with a few extra exits, that's all. Oh, and he was the bloke that designed the Flatiron and the Chase National, among other things."

At everyone's surprised look, he shrugged. "For one thing, I like New York almost as much as London. For another, the trust fund for his will set up the American School Of Fine Arts, and I was a guidance counselor for a year or so. I've run across his name a few times."

"It looks pretty run down." Remy said, scuffling at the dingy linoleum floor with his shoe.

"Honestly," Betsy started. "This place could use a few hard rounds with a Bolivian-trained assault cleaning service I know of. They're quite good. A bit militant, perhaps. But who wouldn't want to take their cleaning seriously."

"I've had workers in here for the last month refitting it. All of the structural supports have been checked and reshored, plumbing refurbished the heating and airconditioning have been newly replaced, along with the wiring. There is a proper alarm system installed that you would appreciate, Wisdom. Monitoring takes place as part of my company's system. So the building is in excellent shape." Emma pulled down a strip of yellowed wallpaper. "It's just not very pretty, which means if you care about living here, you can figure out how you want it to look. Manly colour wheels and carpet samples, darlings."

Emma had reached the front of the first floor again, leaning against the desk. "Three keys from your point of entry, front door, interior doors and the first floor doors are the same, and then individual apartment keys. Front desk will be manned so try not to kill anyone out in the lobby. I've had them soundproof the floors, so your neighbours shouldn't hear you plotting. Oh, and you have a tenant. There's an old man on the first floor, in the south west apartment. He's been here for fifty-two years and is pretty much impossible to evict. Try not to show him your capes, hmm?"

"Emma," Betsy tried chastising her friend but failed with starting twitch of a smile.

"If I catch anyone wearing a bloody cape around here, I'll string 'em up by their intestines." Pete muttered. "The whole fucking point of the exercise is that no-one will fucking notice."

"Which she is quite well aware of, I'm sure." Walking over toward the window, Betsy stared out at the vagrants lining up the wall on the end of the street. ~I doubt this is the best you could have provided, Em.~ A warm feeling was all the response she got. Betsy joined her cohorts as their tour ended and walked out the door. "Though I'm sure it'll be easier to remain unnoticed in a place society has certainly forgot."

"Moira and I devised the most charming little way to hide your various nefarious activities." Emma smiled as they climbed back into the limousine. "There's a stack of papers we still need to clear, but the basic idea is that we're going to put together a think tank; a research center designed specifically to provide mutant considerations to all ranges of products, industries and services."

"I don't follow." Remy said.

"Colour me surprised, darling. Most think tanks are special interest firms, designed to provide a specific perspective on issues and innovations. The GOP has been very effective with their conservative associations. In this case, we're going to do so from a mutant perspective. If I know you Wisdom, and of course, I do, you're planning on a range of specialists to help your little quest. That means we need excuses as to why." Emma leaned back against the white leather. "This will be a legal business, darlings. Taxes, wages, the entire overboard affair. I've set up a team to provide most of the materials you'll be expected to produce to make the business legitimate. In fact, the association with Xavier's makes so much sense that it's also a cover in and of itself."

Pete nodded. "Seems pretty workable. And it'll give us a certain amount of cover is anyone is stupid enough to get caught somewhere they shouldn't be - of bloody course a think tank might be interested in anything cutting edge involving mutants, and no, we had no idea it was classified ten levels past top secret, no-one told us."

He shook his head.

"No, no-one in their right mind would buy that. But it's a workable cover, anyway. Cheers."

"I've made arrangements to ensure anyone you recruit will have the right qualifications on paper, and just so Charles doesn't give me his pained 'education professional' look, there is a system by which they will be required to actually qualify for the certifications. However, this will allow them to work at their own pace, and eliminate any conflicts with your schedules. There's a setup for salary, benefits, the usual package. Now you two, on the other hand, are more of a problem. Since you're a red flag to intelligence agencies around the world, Pete, and you don't actually exist, Remy, neither of you appear in any of the documentation. I've set up a discretionary account to cover you both. Try not to go spend crazy. I did just buy an island after all." Emma took a sip of her drink and swirled the ice cubes around in the glass.

"Betsy, on the other hand, has absolutely sterling credentials, which is why she will officially be the President of the center. I'm sorry darling, but I need someone who can also do the social rounds, and neither of these two clean up as well."

"Oh joy," Betsy retorted dryly. "I'll be sure to add it to my CV."

"We should have office space arranged by next week," Emma continued. "And I've cleared you for access to one of the company planes out at Kennedy. It's not the Blackbird, but it will get you to where you need to go with fewer questions then having to fly Delta. Just please try not to use it to invade China or something."

Emma rapped on the glass and the car started. "Now, for you all, I have the most exciting reception planned. About six days of paperwork to complete all the transfers and arrange the final details. Someone find a suit to stuff LeBeau into first. I do have a certain image to maintain, afterall."