The next morning, the X-Men called S.H.I.E.L.D., and they came in to do what they do, which was to haul off the superpowered bad guy to somewhere he couldn't hurt anyone anymore... until he somehow got away. I was there when the convoy of armored vehicles showed up prepared to remove Skip from our custody.
He'd kidnapped Hisako and attempted to kill me at least two times that were capable of being proven. Yeah, he was getting locked up. He went quietly, though it wasn't like he could have fought back. His arms were broken, after all.
We made eye contact as Saberwolf marched him at blade-point into the back of the van meant to take him away. Neither of us backed down from the stare-off. The piece of shit really was my son, wasn't he?
I wasn't on my own. Once Mister Summers had finished with the rigmarole that came with the transfer, he came over to me to make sure everything stayed calm.
I looked over at the headmaster/leader of the X-Men, "What are they going to do with him? Like, where's he going?" I asked.
Mister Summers stood stern, arms crossed and serious. With what I'd heard about him, I knew he had to be sick and tired of time-travel bullshit, "Most likely, he'll be imprisoned in The Raft. A prison for superpowered individuals. Don't worry. S.H.I.E.L.D will know how to handle him."
On that, I wasn't so sure. But it was out of my hands at that point. If I really wanted him gone, I should have made sure I killed him after our fight.
Mister Summers noted how Skip and I tried to murder one another via eyesight, "Do you want to say anything to him before they take him?"
We were saying plenty with what we weren't saying. No need to ruin that tension with something petty like words, "No. I've said all I need to say. I'm pretty sure I'll see him again soon enough anyway."
"Oh, ye of little faith in the system," Mister Summers chuckled, "I'm just kidding. If he comes back, you'll be ready."
Damn right I would be, "Not gonna say you'll protect me?" I asked rhetorically.
Mister Summers raised an eyebrow behind his visor, "You need as much protection as I do at this point. Go enjoy your Sunday, Bellamy," He gestured with his head, signaling for me to get out of there.
"With pleasure," I replied. There were plenty of things I could do instead of dwell on something that was out of my hands.
XxX
The 'plenty of things' I could have been doing on my Sunday included gambling with my fellow miscreants while watching football in the common area.
Such miscreant luminaries included my main man Eddie, as well as Julian, Kevin, and Santo from the Hellions, and Victor Borkowski – a lizard kid from one of the other student training squads who was friends with the Hellions.
We'd been playing Texas hold 'em for less than an hour, and Julian had to buy back into the $20 pot four times already, because he always bet high. All of us beat him at least once when he went all in, which meant the rest of us were up.
"Fuck!" Julian threw his cards down on the table after going bust yet again. By now, the rest of us were used to his reactions and barely flinched.
Julian's own teammate rolled their eyes at his theatrics. Kevin, the winner of the hand, pulled in the chips he gotten from the rest of us, "You do realize that folding isn't just an option, sometimes it's encouraged."
"Don't need your shit right now, Kev," Julian grumbled, getting more money out of his wallet to join back in, "Deal me back in, Wing."
Eddie gathered up the cards, as it was his turn to shuffle for the rest of us, "Why are you complaining about losing? You're rich! Being down $50 for us is like being down $2 for you."
Not that we were necessarily playing to take any significant amount of money, but if he kept handing it over by trying to play out stupid hands, the rest of us were more than happy to take it.
"Because Jules hates admitting he isn't good at something," Victor said, "Heaven forbid he actually have to learn a new skill that doesn't involve lifting stuff with his mind."
"Is there anything else I need to know?" Julian shot back, "We go to a school for superheroes-in-training, not MIT, you nerds."
Ah, the root of the Hellions' approach to everything, "Yeah, because running face-first into the problem is always gonna solve it when we're fighting bad guys," I added, leaning back in my chair to take a glance at the game on TV, "Stop going in on every hand. Learn probability, dude. Take the small loss now to win big later."
Eddie snickered at me as he mixed the cards, "Don't you have to learn calculus and math shit from Armor, Bel?"
His attempt to take a dig at me simply glanced off my back, "Yeah, that was calculus. Probability is stupid-easy. There are 52 cards. Work backwards from there according to how much money you have left," I made it a point to gesture across the table directly at Julian, "Also, you can't bluff for shit."
Julian sneered and flicked his hand out to lift my bucket hat a few inches off of my head, "That's rich coming from the guy wearing a hat to cover his eyes."
"Hey, you never watched the World Series of Poker on ESPN?" I said with a grin, reaching up to pull my hat back down, "People wear hats and sunglasses during these things."
The game continued. We had snacks, TV, and conversation. It was the kind of relaxation I needed after everything that had been going down. We just chatted on about random stuff. Of course, I had to regale the table with Skip's very recent attempt to kill me and the subsequent beating I ended up laying on him. Thankfully, we didn't linger on that for very long.
Santo raised a point in the middle of one of our hands, "Who's moving into the office down the way from Frost and Summers?" The giant rock boy asked, barely able to hold his cards, "I saw them talking to some guy in there, said they would give him a tour of the place."
"What guy?" Julian inferred.
"That's what I'm asking," Santo reiterated, scratching his head.
I was also aware of what was going on, as I'd seen them out and about walking through the courtyard before, "I think a psychiatrist is taking that office to work with students," I said, throwing them a bone. Eddie knowingly shot me a glance.
Santo let out an interested hum, "The school is getting a shrink? A real shrink?"
"Basically," I said with a shrug, idly raising the stakes of the hand, "The guy was making butt-tons of money working as a therapist to celebrities and superheroes and whatnot," I already had a good idea of what was happening, so I figured there was no reason to keep it quiet now.
Santo chuckled and laid his cards down, folding for the hand, "He had to have been raking in the jack doing that. Why would he take a pay cut to come to this death trap?"
"Because he believes in the cause. Children are the future," I said sarcastically, getting a few laughs around the table. I wasn't being malicious, though. I had no beef with the man they'd hired for the job, "I don't know. His paychecks are probably still fat."
Most everyone let out sounds of agreement and started speculating about his salary. It was no secret that Xavier's had deep pockets. It kind of had to, what with the fact that the school bankrolled a superhero team, and had to repair big chunks of the school.
After having been quiet for a while, Kevin finally piped up when we started throwing around numbers on how much he was making, "Dr. Garrison just wants to help. He's a good doctor."
Julian sent a questioning glance Kevin's way before slowly realizing why he was defending the guy they didn't know. The Hellions must have been privy to his therapy sessions. But that didn't explain about me, "Why do you know so much about this, Marcher?"
I up and spilled the beans I'd been keeping to myself, "Because I've been the guinea pig for whether or not this would work in the first place," There was no point in hiding it at this point, seeing as how I wasn't going to be the only one dealing with Dr. Garrison soon enough, "I guess it got the stamp of approval."
"This is the shrink the powers-that-be made you go to?" Eddie asked, more to confirm his own assumptions, "So, does that mean you don't have to do it anymore?"
I snorted in amusement. As if. I probably needed it now more than ever, with what I'd recently learned, "No. It just means everybody else in the program has to do it now too," I took great pleasure in the looks of shock from Julian and Santo, "All of you have to sit your asses on the couch. Don't worry, it's comfortable."
Julian scoffed and flicked his cards down on the table, folding for the hand, "That sucks. I don't need therapy, though," He insisted.
I had my mouth open to rip into him, but Victor Borkowski beat me to the punch, "Are you kidding? Between the narcissism, the temper-tantrums, the classist traits, and God knows what else I'm missing, I'd say you need it more than anyone sitting here."
Julian's face started to turn a bit red at the accurate shots at his personality traits, "Shut up, Victor."
He did not shut up. In fact, the lizard boy just kept going, "-In fact, I'm pretty sure the only reason you haven't gone yet is because your family's rich. Can't take that status-hit," Very brave, to stir shit in the face of a moody telekinetic who wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. I could respect that. It seemed like a 'me' kind of move.
Seeing as how Julian couldn't just pick up his friend with his mind and pitch him across the room, he tried to change the subject... albeit, with his jaw clenched, "Are you gonna play cards, or play armchair psychiatrist?"
Victor chuckled, waving his hands to diffuse Julian's aforementioned temper, "No need for me to do that, you know, since we're getting a real one."
I had to agree with him for the most part. With Julian's usual first-impression attitude, especially to people he felt threatened by, he could have used some counseling. But, seeing as how Victor had already said everything I could have leapt at, I had nothing left to pick at Julian for, and no need to drive the point home any longer.
"If I had to do it, you have to do it," I tried to reason, knowing no one there was aware of my own thoughts on self, "I'd say Santo and Eddie don't need it, but I could be wrong. Wing-man, you hiding any deep-seated trauma from the rest of the team?" I tried to joke to lighten things up. There was no need for anyone to go into this with any stigma. There was nothing really wrong with requiring the help.
"How I feel? Feeling great, feeling good. How are you?" He replied with a shit-eating grin.
It got a chuckle out of me. I got a kick out of the Outkast lyrics, even if no one else at the table got them, "Well, no matter what, it's gonna happen now. I think it's an official part of the program. Just grin and bear it. Part of training to be an X-Man."
Santo rumbled with laughter, "You think half of the X-Men would have gotten to be X-Men if they had to be cleared by a therapist first?"
Despite coming from the most academically challenged amongst us, that was still the best point anyone around me made that day.