Chapter 112: Meeting the X-men

23rd February 2006, New York City

(Jasmine Sayre POV)

I chuckled inwardly at the nervous looks of the people standing in front of me. The X-men and the brotherhood, were looking at me warily while I was sitting on the couch, sipping tea. For some reason, I get addicted to certain drinks every once in a while. I end up drinking so much of it that I get sick of it and choose another drink. And the cycle goes on, kinda like the seasons.

A few decades ago, it was coffee. I drank so much of it that I was practically energetic all the time. Selene said that I was a nightmare. I don’t think I was that bad, to be honest, but whatever. The time I did drink nothing but alcohol for a few years were really fun. I did end up a bit overweight and I still don’t remember everything that happened during that particular period of my life. It was fun, I would never do it again, but I have to admit that I had a good time.

Anyway, right now, it’s tea season. I take another sip. Ah, delicious. What was I doing again? Oh, yeah, the X-men and brotherhood are watching me. Well, I’m not going to start talking. I just smirk at them, waiting for them to respond.

It took a couple of minutes but Summers ends up the one caving, “Where the hell did you get your tea?”

Huh, didn’t expect that question. I tilt my head and say, “I made it.”

His face reddened, “How?”

“With water and a splash of milk. And the tea leaves, of course. The trick is to steep the leaves in the water for a few minutes. The flavor is a lot deeper that way.”

The boy almost snarled at me, “You know what I mean!”

“I do?” I ask, as innocently as I can.

I could feel his face heat up, trying to repress his anger as much as possible, “Yes! You do. How were you able to make milk without even going to the kitchen?”

I grin at him, “Magic!”

“Don’t be ridiculous; there’s no such things as magic!”

I keep smirking at him, “If you say so…”

I then close my fist and pretend to pour an invisible kettle into my cup. A brown liquid fell out of my hand, and fell into the cup. It’s a common magician’s trick. And by magician, I mean the fake ones. I actually do dress up as a stage magician at times, playing tricks for children, generally at hospitals and orphanages. It’s actually quite fun, pretending to be a fake magician. I even once got Selene to participate. She said that she didn’t like it, but that small twitch in her lips told me that she actually had fun. The kids are really cute though. I actually went by the stage name Zatanna Zatarra, just for the kicks of it, who is actually one of the characters in the DC universe I created when I wrote these books. They probably thought I was a cosplayer or something.

Anyway, I smirk at their gaping faces. I probably don’t look like any sorcerer they ever met. I was dressed in a T-shirt with the phrase ‘I’m a witch, try me bitch’ written on the front. Add in the Jeans and sneakers I was wearing, I look like delinquent, not the strict history teacher, the kids saw at school.

I frown for a second, as I feel a telepathic probe intending on invading my mind. I rebuked it immediately, “Do you mind? That’s awfully rude.” I turn and look at the bald man in the wheelchair.

The man looked shocked at being detected and I smirk in triumph. The idea being trying to make them as uncomfortable as possible. Especially that bald idiot that calls himself ‘the most powerful telepath on the planet’. I mean he’s impressive and all for a mortal but I knew a few wizards and sorcerers that far surpassed him in the mind arts.

I look around and decide that it’s time to greet them, Hey, kids. How’s it going?”

The kids in question were still gaping at me. I continue, “Jean!” the girl stiffened at my voice, “how is it learning under Strange?”

The girl quickly broke out of her stupor, “yeah! It’s been great. Learnt a lot from him.”

“I noticed. You control is getting a lot better.” I look at Logan, “James. It’s been a while…”

Logan scowled at me, “Who the hell are you?”

I mock gasp, “Oh, dear me! You don’t remember who I am, do you? Stricker must have done a number on you…”

At the mention of the name Striker, Logan held his head as if he had a killer headache. I look at the white haired woman, “Huh, it’s been a while since Gaia had a champion. So what’s your name?”

The woman looked at me confusingly, “Ororo.”

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I look her up and down, sensing her magic, “Disappointing. You have merely scratched the surface. I can only imagine what your patron is thinking.”

Before she could say anything, I turn to the resident shapeshifter, “Nice to see you out of school, principal…”

Looking at my left, I see an awkward Wanda; she’s still not used to human contact after so long being alone. I grin at them, “Sorry kids, I’m not gonna name you individually. Oh yeah, I forgot to introduce Wanda to everyone. Everyone, this is Wanda, my apprentice. Wanda, this is everyone.”

It must have taken the bald idiot the control of a saint to not yell out what he said next, “I’m afraid there must be some sort of mistake. Young Wanda is supposed to be in a psychiatric facility to help her control her powers. Having her outside presents a danger for everyone around her. I have to ask you to return her to her previous lodging.”

Previous lodging? Psychiatric facility? I can feel Wanda stiffen and her anger rise at the man’s words. I send her a soothing feeling using my telepathy. She relaxes, understanding that I won’t give her away.

I tilt my head, with a look of confusion on my face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Wanda has never been in any psychiatric facility.”

The man smiled at me, I wanted to punch him in the face, “I’m afraid she has. Here let me show you the files…”

He opened the computer to see the files, only to find nothing. He rolled over his office to look for what I presume are the physical files. I smirk inwardly; he’s not going to find anything. I used the mist to subtly manipulate reality into the fact that Wanda has never been to the Vault. It changed the memories of the non magicals automatically and edited documents, computer files included, but it cannot affect the minds of mutants and mages. It’s a formidable change in reality so I can’t be completely thorough and I don’t think that Wanda would want her father or brother forgetting about her.

I almost lose it when Xaviers rolls back towards me with an angry expression on his face, “What have you done?”

I keep the same innocent façade, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Wanda was never in a mental institution. Are you sure you haven’t lost it in your old age? Dementia is a serious matter, you know.”

It’s funny seeing the man almost lose it, “Wanda is supposed to stay in the Vault. She’s a danger to everyone around her. Her powers are uncontrollable.”

“Ah, you mean the Vault, the prison that your half brother was being held at before escaping. I wonder why someone as young as Wanda would ever be forced to be held there. She’s not a criminal, as far as I know. I remember you saying something about a mental institution not a prison. Are you sure you didn’t imagine everything?”

The bald telepath composed himself, realizing his mistake, “I’m sorry my dear, my temper got the better of me. My fear of young Wanda hurting someone overwhelmed me. But I must ask you to give her to me. She needs to return to her former residence. You have no idea how much damage she could cause with one lapse of control.”

“I’m sorry, Professor Xavier, but I cannot do that. You see, legally, the girl is my ward. And considering that there is no proof that she was ever a danger to others, nor is there any proof of psychotic behavior or of prior incarceration, I cannot, in good conscious, help you imprison an innocent girl for no good reason. Perhaps if you had any documents proving that your words are true, things would have gone differently. For now, I’m afraid, you cannot simply imprison people just because you want to.”

Xavier looked like he swallowed a lemon, not believing that I didn’t immediately agree with what he’s saying. Has anyone ever refused him anything? Suddenly, I feel a much deeper probe attacking my mind. I defend it, of course, but this was getting annoying. “That’s enough, Professor Xavier. Your behavior is appalling and extremely rude. If this is how you run your institute, then I have doubts about leaving my students in your care!”

I like using fancy speak to make people uncomfortable. I can see why he uses it with his students. Not as fun when you’re the one being scolded, is it?

The man looked abashed, “Apologies, Ms. Sayre. It seems that my curiosity got the better of me.”

Curiosity my ass! But I still won that round so that doesn’t matter much. “I’m afraid that I’m a very busy woman, Professor Xavier, is there anything you wish to speak of before I depart?”

“Yes, I have a few questions. What happened to Cain?”

“Ah, yes. Your half brother became the champion of an Elder God known as Cyttorak. Not a particularly evil god, if I was honest. There are far worse. But he’s mostly battle hungry and tends to enjoy destructions. He became the champion by integrating a gem containing a small shard of the essence of the god himself. It made him nigh indestructible and almost unstoppable once he gains any sort of momentum. But it also clouds his mind to have the same values as Cyttorak, mainly violence and destruction. Instead of fighting him, I simply removed the gem, removing his connection to the elder god.”

Xavier frowned at me, “What about the gem?”

“Locked and sealed away. No one is getting it anytime soon.”

“I would have preferred having the gem under our protection.”

I snort, “and I would like my students to actually do their homework. We don’t always get what we want, Xavier.”

The man understood that he had no place to argue on this matter. He stood silent for a moment, “One last thing. Who are you? You’re not just a history teacher, that’s for sure.”

I smirk at him, “I am who I am, I am who I was, and I am who I’ll always be. I’d say that it was a pleasure but it really wasn’t. As for you kids, don’t forget to study for the test on Monday. Trust me, if you don’t, your grades won’t be pretty.”

I get up with Wanda following my lead. Then I was interrupted by Logan trying to grab me. “Seriously, James? This is not the time.”

“I need answers. Who the hell is James? What do you know? Do you know who I am? Who I was?”

The man looked desperate and I don’t blame him much. Losing your identity like this must be frightening. It was more of a defense reflex; his powers chose to destroy his memories because they were too painful, because the trauma was too much and it was easier to remove them so that he wouldn’t go insane. I have to say that Stricker is a sick fuck for what he did. But perhaps, I was too harsh on him but him remembering will cause him nothing but pain in the long run. However, I might as well throw him a bone

“Perhaps I do know who you are, perhaps I don’t. It shouldn’t matter either way. You are who you are, just as I am who I am. Who you were previously is not more important than who you are now. Appreciate what you have for you will find only pain and sorrows if remember.”

The man looked at me and unsealed his metal claws, “Please, you’re the only lead I got.”

I sigh, and with a snap of my finger, Logan’s claws retract. “Farewell, James Howlett.”

I turn around and leave, with my apprentice following me. They do not attempt to stop me.