xp_logs | Scott meets Angelo

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Angelo sat in today's doorway, half-heartedly asking passersby for spare change while trying to hide his face. It wouldn't do for some random stranger to decide to kill the mutie, after all. As he begged, he slid his hand under his shirt to his rosary, praying that he'd soon have the money to get out of town.

Scott spotted his mark as he drove past him, and looked for a place to park. The car was only a rental, so he wasn't as concerned as he might be if it was his own. A place was soon spotted, and he walked down the street, casually but definitely heading toward Angelo's doorway.

"Hey," he said as he stopped next to the kid. "Can I talk to you a minute?"

Angelo looked up suspiciously, registered that he'd never seen this guy before, and contracted his skin to be on the safe side.

"About what?" he asked warily.

Scott laughed lightly, and shook his head. His face tilted upwards, looking at the sky but it was hard to tell where his eyes were, because of the red-lensed shades. "Damn. Anything I can think of to say will just come out sounding shitty, you know? Like I'm coming onto you, or trying to convert you."

"I've been thinking about what to say since the Professor told me to come out here, and I still can't think of anything good." He squatted down, near but not too near.

"My name is Scott Summers. And I'm a mutant." He looked at Angelo, or at least appeared to.

Angelo took that in. "Prove it", he said finally. "But not if it's going to hurt. Otherwise how do I know Torres didn't send you?"

He looked down at himself and laughed again. "Do I look like someone a gang would send? A bit too white-bread, alas." Scott sighed. "Problem is, my mutation is a bit destructive.

"We'll see if we can do a small demo, though." He reached into the small pack on his shoulder, and pulled out his visor. Closing his eyes, he swapped the shades for the visor, and looked up at Angelo again. "Got something you don't mind being destroyed?"

Angelo shook his head. "'Fraid not. I pretty much ran with what I had on me. But there might be a loose brick or something lying around..." He glanced around, and came up with an empty soda can someone had dropped. "Will this do?"

"Should." He looked around the street. It was going to be flashy, so just in case, he was ready to grab the kid and run for it. But there wasn't any other choice. "Throw it along the sidewalk, there, where no one's walking." He reached toward the side of his visor, waiting.

Angelo obeyed, sending the can skittering over the concrete, and waited to see what would happen.

Scott took a breath, then adjusted the stream for a narrow beam, blasting the can into shreds of aluminum that fluttered around. He had angled it for the destruction, rather than a light beam to just push it along the sidewalk. He glanced around, wondering how many people had spotted the red-white beam of light, then quickly switched back to the sunglasses. "Less obvious," he grinned, looking slightly guilty. "Now, how about I take you for a drive and explain the wonders of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters?"

Angelo nodded slowly. "OK, so you're really a mutant, so you can't be anything to do with Torres. Guess I'll hear you out, then. But not in a moving car. Buy me a coffee and maybe some lunch, and I'll listen."

"Deal. You know a good place that's not to far? I don't know how many people might be gathering pitchforks thanks to that display..." Scott stood up, sliding the visor back into the pack.

"Sure, there's a place right round the corner. The owner's been good to me, these last few days. And the food's great." Angelo stood up too, preparing to go with his possible rescuer. "This way."

Scott glanced around once more. He'd been away from the school long enough that his paranoia was higher than normal. But no one was pointing, or fleeing in terror. Then he followed Angelo. "Perfect."

When they got to the restaurant, Angelo walked right in, and greeted the owner. "Hey, Mike. You'll be pleased to hear I don't need to eat for free today. And if the guy who's paying is for real, I might actually have a way out of here."

He fell silent as Scott came through the door, and sat down at his favourite table.

Scott looked at Mike and nodded a greeting, then sat across the table from Angelo. "We can only hope." He slid a menu out and perused it. "Should I let you order for both of us? Since you know what's good here, I mean. And feel free to get whatever you want. I know what it's like on the street." He pursed his lips in memory.

"How old are you anyway, Angelo?" He peered over the menu, trying to judge his age, and wondered if he was correct.

"You do?" Angelo asked in frank disbelief. Like the guy had said, he was way white-bread. Hard to believe he'd survived on the streets. "Oh. I'm seventeen, as of two weeks ago."

He called over to Mike, "The usual, please. Times two."

"I know, I don't look it. But when your mutation has a detrimental effect on your home life, you don't have much of a choice. Especially if that is a foster home or an orphanage.

"But someone finally offered me help. That someone is Charles Xavier."

"And he's the guy who sent you to find me? He wants to help?" Angelo asked, coming around to the idea just a little more.

"Yes. He's been searching for mutants, using his own abilities. He knew when yours manifested, and thought that you might have some trouble. So we wanted to offer you an alternative."

Scott asked for a water, and sipped it as he spoke. "The Institute is a private school, but there's people of all ages there. Mutants of all ages. With all kinds of abilities. And they are all learning how to use those abilities."

"Trouble? That's putting it very lightly," Angelo said bitterly. "And I have to say, anything sounds better than the way things are now. I'd just been hoping to get some money together and get out..."

"Thing is..." Scott paused, a small smile edging at the corner of his mouth, "we're in upstate New York. Think you can handle a coastal change in scenery?"

Angelo didn't even try to hide his relief. "Handle it? The further away from here, the better, and I'd never have got that far on my own. New York sounds great."

Leaning back in his chair, Scott's smile widened. He looked younger when he did that, like he could pass for someone Angelo's age and not likely 10 years older. "Good. We'll have to drive most of the way back. I have a few things that still need to be checked on. You got any stuff you need at a crash pad? Or whatever you call it these days."

Angelo's face darkened suddenly. "Nope. Can't go home, so all I've got is my clothes, my rosary, and a gun that doesn't work."

Scott nodded. "Let's eat, then we can head to the car. I can tell you more about the school, and what you can expect. Maybe even a few 'who' you can expects. And you can tell me a bit about you. Sound good?" Scott offered his hand across the table.

"OK, deal." Angelo shook Scott's hand, then dug into the rapidly cooling food.