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“I want to negotiate the release of my team mate.”
The words were uttered with total seriousness from a very serious face, but the ensuing silence had nothing to do with how serious it was.
“You can’t negotiate the release of a wanted terrorist,” Tony heard himself say. “You’re not old enough to vote.”
“Stark,” Steve snapped, but the boy on the screen was already looking more displeased, lips pulled into a thin line.
“I’m the active field leader of the X-Men, and we’re more than capable of launching our own rescue,” the young man stated flatly. “I’m contacting you in good faith. I suggest you take us seriously.”
“We do,” Steve tried to mollify.
“You’re so precious,” Tony gasped. “You’re this tiny, angry bundle of neuroses. How do you get that fucked up at your age?”
Tony missed the rest of the conversation, because Bruce and Natasha dragged him outside and well away from the communications system.
*
The X-Men, aside from being a terrible name that came from the ‘X’ blazoned in yellow across their black kevlar body armour, were a team of unknown abilities and unknown origin answering to an unknown power.
SHIELD didn’t like having so many unknowns, so the Avengers had been put onto trying to locate the small team of vigilantes that were operating out of a base somewhere in North America.
They hadn’t expected to come into conflict with them so fast, but an army base sent up an emergency signal, under attack, explosives and frozen equipment in the middle of a Californian summer and the Avengers had arrived in time to see silhouetted figures falling back under a hail of gunfire and return fire that had to be from some kind of laser weapon that Tony hadn’t seen before.
Which meant it didn’t exist.
But in the chaos of Thor crashing into the retreating terrorists, the X-Men had been forced to scatter and Thor had emerged grimly clutching onto his prize of one of their team.
Tony had not helped that situation either when he saw the fallen soldier. He was like a perfect ice sculpture of one of Michaelangelo’s wet dreams, a pretty young boy of fifteen made of the coldest ice that Tony had ever seen.
He probably shouldn’t have commented that the kid wasn’t even old enough to have sex in Kentucky, let alone handle firearms, because those really creepy and well defined ice lips had pushed into a pout and he’d fallen silent.
*
“We can’t really be talking about punishing him as a terrorist, can we? We should be slapping him on the wrist and sending him home to his Mom.”
Clint rolled his eyes at Steve’s wonderful, naive idealism. “He’s young enough to attack military targets, and he’s acquired super powers from somewhere. He might not be that young. He might be a thousand and just looks young.”
“I’ve seen child soldiers,” Tony had to agree. “It doesn’t make them less dangerous. And the bird’s right, he might just look like a child.”
“But can we take that chance?” Steve asked. “If he is a child, we have a duty to protect him, help him. Even if he’s a child who’s done awful things.”
“A child with super powers? He might be an alien. He might be-”
“Robert Drake, aged fifteen, of Port Washington, Long Island, only child of William and Madeline Drake,” Bruce cut in.
The team was silent a moment.
“Bruce?”
He shrugged a little. “Facial recognition software. Because I wasn’t distracted by the promise of new lasers or the ethics of child soldiers.” He displayed the record on the projector, laid it next to the mugshot they’d taken earlier. “And, at a guess, I’d say he’s homo sapien superior. A mutant.”
“Mutant?” Steve looked around the group, seeking clarification.
“A human with an expanded genome,” Tony explained without looking away from Bruce. “Will your sexy brain marry me, Bruce?”
“No,” Bruce replied dryly. “Most mutants keep a fairly low profile, I’ve only met a couple in my time travelling. But given the perpetual ice, the other strange reports from the other attacks-”
“We’re dealing with a team of mutants,” Tony finished. “Which is why there’s no record of tech levels or energy signatures from high level weapons.” He paused as that ticked over. “Dammit, that means that laser isn’t a new weapon, but I told you it wasn’t!”
Then the signal had broken through the SHIELD’s decryption and the feed went live to a young man with a hard mouth and the top half of his face hidden by a plain black mask.
“I want to negotiate the release of my team mate.”
He couldn’t have been a day over sixteen.
*
The X-Men were also clearly as paranoid as SHIELD and then some. They wouldn’t meet with any officials, wouldn’t allow any scans or tests, just a face to face meeting in a highly crowded shopping mall in the middle of New York city. They would answer questions, the Avengers would negotiate giving Drake back to them and, more likely, end up pulling them all in for deprogramming and or interrogation with SHIELD experts.
Tony was sent in with Natasha. They looked the least threatening and they had agreed, two and two.
Of course, Clint was hanging around at a distance, keeping an eye on things and Steve was tucked away in a store where he could look at strange collectibles and keep an eye on things.
Tony knew that they were young, but walking up and seeing the table occupied by a pair of teenagers were optimistically Juniors in high school brought back the horrid reality of what they were doing here.
He was lanky in that way only teenaged boys could manage. She was pretty as a model, with curves and the poise of a girl who knew she was beautiful and was comfortable with it.
And a red head. They made quite the striking group with two beautiful red headed women.
“Where is he,” the boy opened.
“And it’s good to meet you too, Tony Stark, this is my PA, Natalie Redfield.” He gestured to Natasha and she smiled Natalie’s smile, not her own.
The boy and girl shared a look and stood up.
“Whoa, what, wait, no, you can’t just walk off!” He grabbed at them, but they stepped back and his fingers grazed off track.
“No lying. You promised the truth and you’re lying to us already,” the girl said quietly.
“Natasha Romanov, I’m an Avenger,” Natasha cut in sharply. “No one wants this to end badly. You want Drake home and we want to be able to close the case file on your team’s file, Mr Summers.”
The boy went pale and Bruce’s voice cut across the earpiece Tony had forgotten to tap back on until then. “-is Jean Grey. And they’re both students at the same exclusive private school. The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youth.”
“I guess we know what ‘Gifted’ means then,” Tony said. “So, how about we all go and meet this Xavier and maybe he and SHIELD can come to some agreements about teenaged vigilantes and appropriate bed times.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea, Mr Stark. Scott and Jean will escort you to the school immediately.”
Then, things got a little fuzzy.
*
Fury had been unhappy that they’d still made no headway on the X-Men case. It seemed that every time they got close, something guided them off the course.
Something probably a powerful telepath. Tony was really sick of the memory lapses he was getting chasing this team of teenagers around. He wasn’t even having the fun of getting drunk to go with them.
“Maybe we could get him a portable centrifuge,” Tony suggested to Pepper. It was Bruce’s birthday next week, his fortieth, and Tony was determined to celebrate it in some way. He knew Bruce wanted someone to make a fuss, even if he protested that it wasn’t that big a deal.
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Yeah. you’re right, he might think it’s a suggestion to leave. What about a new Hulk containment cell?”
Then the snowball hit him on the back of the neck.
He didn’t shriek at all, it was a manly sound of manly shock, and spun around, but it was Summer, there was no snow and no way that just happened except the cold, melting evidence was sliding down the back of his neck.
His gaze briefly met a teenager’s, still all puppy fat in the face and pouty lips and something tickled in his mind before the boy was swept up by the giant young man ambling next to him, hung upside down under his arm. “Stop staring at strangers, Bobby.”
Tony shook his head and turned back to Pepper and the birthday party.