xp_logs | Wendy: Second Star On The Right

Ororo and Remy finally make it back to the Mansion, Arcade in tow.

The car had taken them to a plane waiting at SeaTac airport. Sara had been handed off to another ambulance. Mr Chambers had explained that all three would remain in a hospital in Las Vegas under guard until either of them decided what to do with them. He made no offer of medical care for either of them, leaving Remy to find the emergency care kit on the private jet and lever it open.

The flight to New York was fast, and was mostly lost on both of them. They had taken time to attend to each other's wounds, at least as best they could, and had ignored even the offer of food, sleeping most of the way. So, battered, exhausted and vile smelling, they finally stepped off the plane and on to the tarmac of the airport.

Standing beside his car was Arcade, in the same white suit and smile as he'd met them with two weeks ago. He, and his staff, were actually applauding, and it took all of Remy's willpower not to try and choke the little bastard.

"There they are, folks! The winners!" Arcade walked up to them, still clapping. "You two look like hell. Really, I mean like hell. There's still guy who works the strip, they call him, uh—" Arcade snapped his fingers a couple of times. "Vegas Dave. That's him. Begs money off the tourists leaving the casinos. Man, even he looks better and he gets rolled two week by the cops."

"What do you want, Arcade?" Ororo asked flatly, utterly unimpressed by the gathering of people or the thinly-veiled insults. She had spent most of the plane ride dreaming of her greenhouse, and wanted nothing more than to burn her clothes, spend several hours in a bath, and then disappear among her plants for the next 24 hours. At least.

"No, no, it's not what I want. I've already got everything I wanted. You both did well, slick. Over a hundred and eighty million in the bank so far." Arcade grinned, not the slightest bit put off by her hostility. "But if you don't want your payout--"

Remy shook his head. "Not a chance, Arcade."

"Good, good. Get in the car." Arcade nodded and the doors were opened. "Have to leave the windows down though. You both smell pretty ripe."

Ororo slid into the backseat, keeping her expression carefully blank despite the fresh twinging of the cut across her back. She certainly wasn't going to let him see her pain.

Remy slipped in beside her, not bothering to hide his expression. He hurt all over.

Arcade climbed in. He rapped on the glass and the car started. Arcade settled back in his seat as they started off. "Boy, was your ex-wife pissed off when you survived. I actually had to have her banned from the hotel!" Lowenstein chortled to himself as they headed outside of the city and towards Westchester.

What was she going to say when they pulled up outside the mansion? Ororo had no idea, but stranger things had shown up in the driveway before. She only hoped that there wasn't some other, more devious plan in mind for when they reached the mansion. As she rested her head against the cushion her gaze fell upon the blinking bracelet that still encircled her wrist. "When are these going to be removed?" she asked, looking over at the red haired man.

"Oh, right! I forgot." Arcade pulled a strange looking tool out of his suit pocket. "I really shouldn't. You know how much these things costs to make? Over six million. And that's not even talking research and development in that." He slid the tool into a recessed slot, and twisted it. There was a thin hum, and the clasp snapped open. "Originally I was going to market it as a correctional solution, but they don't have that kind of money. Now we're working on a larger
version, for insurance companies and hospitals. Like one of those MRIs, to stop powers during treatments and shit. Oh, and a much smaller cheaper version for the casino. Mutant wants to come in and gamble, snaps one of these babies on at the door and gets it taken off as he leaves."

"Congratulations," Ororo muttered, rubbing at her wrist, grateful to finally be free of the bracelet. "I am sure many people will benefit from your humanitarian efforts."

"It makes money. That's the important thing for now." Arcade shrugged. The difficulty in perfecting it, the challenge in the creation, that was why he did it. Now, money just helped keep score.

The limo pulled up in front of the mansion, and stopped at the door. There was no way Charles wasn't aware they were coming, not this close. Standing on the front porch was a man in an FBI windbreaker, not looking at the car, just watching the grounds off to one side. Arcade noted him, as they got out of the car.

To say that Ororo wanted to sink to her knees and kiss the familiar ground would be a bit of an overstatement, but not much. As it was, she let out her first genuine smile in days as the wispy clouds overhead cleared and sunshine shone through, lighting up each brick and cobble around them.

Remy pulled himself out of the car, holding his side. They'd crudely stitched up the knife wound, but the movement pained him. Arcade ignored both of them, taking a moment to look at the agent before starting to walk confidently towards the door. "Let's get this done, kids. I've got a dinner in the city after. One of those new fusion places, where they serve you wildebeast filet in a Thai duck sauce or something."

"We did it," Ororo murmured, casting a glance sideways at Remy. Her tone and expression showed that she was just a little shocked at this, still.

"Not yet." Remy shook his head. There was still the Professor's involvement to consider. He could turn everything around, if he chose to. Limping after Arcade, Remy walked into the mansion.

Lowenstein paused to let Ororo lead, looking carefully around as he did. "I like the passive sensors near the doorframe. Biometric identification?" He put up his hands. "Wait, don't tell me. I know you won't anyway. But nice micronization. I really need to hire your tech man away. And the Professor's decorators. This is nice."

"The less you say, the better," Ororo informed him curtly, hoping that no one happened by upon this scene quite yet. It would be difficult to explain, especially since she was unsure what Scott had told the staff and students about her absence. "Wait here. I will speak with Professor Xavier and explain to him what you propose."

Arcade just grinned back at her, putting his hands in his pockets and looking around. He looked way too pleased with himself. Remy on the other hand sunk down into a chair, to wait for Ororo to return.

_______________

It felt a little strange, using the Professor's phone, though at least Ororo had eschewed sitting behind the big mahogany desk and instead perched on one of the chairs in front of it. She leaned over the desk, dialing the extension for the boathouse and crossing her fingers that Nate was in. If he wasn't, that meant going out and informing Arcade that there were currently no telepaths in the mansion, and she could only imagine the gloating if that were to happen.

Nathan was sprawled on the couch, reading through a few files from the backlog that had accumulated during his 'vacation' when the phone rang. Frowning, he reached behind his head to the end table and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hello, Nathan. It is Ororo. I have returned to the mansion... in fact, I am currently in the Professor's office," she told him. "I know this is very strange and abrupt, but I must ask you a favor."

Nathan sat up, his frown deepening as he set the files aside. His relief at hearing Ororo's voice - he'd been a bit suspicious about the sudden 'personal business' that had taken her away for this long - was tempered by the undertones in her voice. "What's going on?"

As quickly and succinctly as she could Ororo told Nathan about the circumstances of her disappearance, leaving out the gory details but underlining Arcade's involvement and the terms he had set should they win. "And we won," she finished, fingers tangling nervously in the cord of the phone. "Against all odds. And he is here now, and has agreed to have his memories altered. I know that it is unsteady ground, but I think perhaps it would be for the best... I think it would be safest."

Nathan was silent for a long moment, absorbing the information. "And Charles is in the city and not immediately reachable... I suppose Lowenstein's not inclined to sit around and wait, either." His voice was calm, if a bit stony. When he thought about it, he doubted Charles's likely response to this, in any case.

"Yes. Which brings us to the favor I would ask of you. He is completely willing to do this, Nathan, since Remy and I have fulfilled our part of the agreement. It would be safer for all parties involved... I cannot believe I am asking you to do this, but..." Weariness threatened to overtake her again and Ororo had to take a deep breath to steady herself. "I just want for this to be over."

"You want me to remove his memories," Nathan said. Just to make sure that she in fact knew what she was asking. The silence on the phone was answer enough, and Nathan rose, ignoring the twinges of pain in his back. "I'll be there in five minutes. I'll come through the hidden entrance, so Lowenstein won't see me enter. Let's not give him any reason to back out of the deal."

The shock she felt at Nathan's agreement was only slightly less than her relief, and she made a mental note to thank him profusely when this was all over. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Nathan. I will be waiting for you."

She didn't have to wait long. Well within the promised five minutes, the hidden entrance to Charles's office was opening and Nathan was stepping in, his expression cool and remote. "We may both have some explaining to do," he said, his voice steady but oddly distant. "Afterwards."

"Then we will explain... I owe many, many more than you do," Ororo said, rising from her seat. "But for now, let us deal with this so that Lowenstein can leave us alone for good."

"Yeah," Nathan said quietly. "Let's show the bastard in."

_______________

Stepping out of the office, Ororo immediately turned her gaze to the redhaired man who was currently eyeing one of the paintings on the wall with a practiced eye. "Excuse me, Mr. Lowenstein," she said, her voice soft but firm. "It seems there will be an adjustment to our
plans. Will you please step inside so we can discuss them?"

"Of course." Arcade walked in, looking around and taking everything in. "This reminds me of one of our suites. You know, we've got the theme ones; Arabian Nights, greco-roman, all that shit. This one is like the Lincoln suite. Very classy, very old money charm. I think I might change the name to the Xavier suite. How about that, slick? A little old money, a little activist respectability. The Europeans will eat it up."

Remy had said nothing, just following them in and slumping into a chair.

"What exactly am I removing?" Nathan's voice was cold, his gray eyes flat and utterly unreadable. He was leaning against the wall of the office, arms folded across his chest. "I wouldn't want to slip and leave you a vegetable."

"Just the memories pertaining to the theft in the casino and the involvement of anyone from the mansion," Ororo said. "I believe that is what we agreed upon."

"Absolutely. I've got a telepath back at the casino. She's mapped out the areas of my brain that you should be in. I don't think I need to tell you that any playing about outside of that makes our deal null and void, do I? Yeah, I didn't think I did." Arcade grinned at Nate. "How the hell did you work unnoticed for all those years, man. Look at you. Six plus feet of beef stands out in Europe. Well, maybe not Scandinavia, but otherwise..."

"Any preference as to what covers your trip here?" Nathan asked flatly, not responding to the man's version of 'small talk'. "Talking to the Professor about medical applications of some of your equipment? Visiting old friends? It doesn't do any good to remove the other memories without providing your mind with a logical reason for having been here in the first place. Your mind will want to fill in the hole, otherwise."

"Let's stick with the Xavier suite. Besides, it's not like I don't have other legitimate reasons to be interested in this place." Lowenstein said cheerfully, and elicited a chill from those in the
room. Arcade might not have reasons for revenge once they were done, but obviously it wasn't the last they'd see of the man. "You know, the FBI jacket really suited you."

"Uh-huh." Without moving, Nathan reached out telepathically from where he stood. He had never had the bad habit of using a physical gesture to accompany his powers, and he wasn't about to start now. Freezing Lowenstein in place, he reached deeper into his mind, looking for the memories in question.

It took... surprisingly little time. Whatever telepath Lowenstein had on staff - and not a particularly apt one, from the clumsy way the memories in question had been highlighted - had at least succeeded in making it easier. Nathan turned to the part of his own mind where the
memories of some of the techniques Askani had taught him were stored, drawing on them just as he had back in Prague. It was easier, too, in that the memories were years-old and not all that detailed. Constructing something to fill the holes, so that Lowenstein's mind wouldn't notice the change, was easy enough.

There was sweat standing out on his forehead by the time he finished, though, and he had the beginnings of a punishing headache. Lowenstein sat there in the chair, blank-eyed, and Nathan looked at Ororo. "He'll come to in a couple of minutes," he said brusquely, straightening and
heading towards the hidden entrance. "Remembering an appropriately social excuse for having dropped by."

It was all that needed saying. And he didn't feel like being here when
Lowenstein woke up. Without another word to Remy or Ororo, he left
through the hidden entrance, the wall closing behind him.

It didn't take as long as Nate thought, Arcade starting to blink only a minute after he'd disappeared. He shook his head a bit, and stood up. "Must have nodded off there. My doctor prescribes all this shit for my hypertension, knocks me right out; bam!" He snapped his fingers. "Just like that. So, tell Xavier that I like the place a lot. Very cosy. If he applied some half decent tech programs in here, it could be the mutant MIT."

Arcade reached into his pocket and placed a cd down on the desk. "There's all the information and releases for the hospital in Las Vegas. Once you contact them, you can move them where ever you want. Hell of a race, you know. I know I had to force you both into it," his voice went vague for a second. "however, I did that, but still, you have to admit, huh slick? After all the time, all the danger..." Arcade grinned hugely and spread his hands.

"Wasn't it fun!"