A word of thanks to Phrykyh for doing his usual editing job.

And, finally, all back chapters of this can now be found at my webpage, Left of Nowhere. http://members.fortunecity.com/smoot/ is the place.

This pre-chapter crap's too long. Now, to the main attraction.
 

Questing
by Matt W. Bowyer

Chapter 5
 

Remy shot off of his back leg and drove his shoulder into the gunman’s side, the force of his attack knocking them both on the ground. Remy used his own momentum to straddle across the man’s upper body and drive his fist three times into his jaw. He waited for a long moment, fist drawn back, before slowly rising to his feet.

Remy ran a hand through his long brown hair, his eyes fixed on the gun lying about five inches from the gunman's limp fingers. He looked as if he wanted to kick the weapon across the garage.

"Uh, Remy?"

Remy glanced up at the sound of Bobby's voice, and harsh red-on-black eyes met panicky brown ones. "What?" the Cajun snapped.

Bobby stared unblinking into Remy's eyes. "L-look over there," he stammered, pointing across the parking garage, down the path of the bullet.

Plain, unabashed shock dominated Bobby’s face. Remy searched it for a moment, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter, presumably to charge should the need arise.

When he shifted his gaze down the lane, the lighter fell from his hand, clattering on the asphalt.

Alexander stood in the center of the lane, his black hair blowing slightly in a wind only he seemed to feel, with his right hand extended in front of him. A small gray bullet hung in the air before him, completely motionless.

A strained and determined look crossed his face, his dark brown eyes fixed on the bullet in front of his slightly trembling hand. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. His breathing was barely audible.

The man took in a deep breath, and cautiously stepped to the side of the bullet, never taking his eyes from it. He kept his arm stretched out, his palm still facing the bullet. The same determination was in his eyes, despite the slightest waver every now and then.

He cocked his head to one side, as if he were just seeing the suspended bullet for the first time. He then reached forward, grasped the bullet between his thumb and his forefinger, and carefully held it up at eye level.

Then he released the bullet, and it fell to the floor with a slight tinkling noise, settling to a stop right in front of his feet. The same intensity still burned inside his eyes as he met the gaze of each of the X-Men, one by one.

Then a smirk slowly made its way across his lips, and the fire retreated from his eyes. “Well, -that- was rather close to being incredibly inconvenient.” 

“I’ll say it for Hank,” Warren said, his voice hollow. “’Oh my stars and garters.’”

“I was going to go with ‘holy shit,’ but whatever works for you...” Bobby trailed off.

Alexander let his arm drift back down to his side, and he tucked it into his leather jacket. He shot a sideways glance to the blond man, the same grin still spread across his face. “I’m fine, really,” he said with a slight laugh. “Simple.”

“Simple?” the man exclaimed, and look ready to continue that train of thought until a sharp look from Alexander cut him off. “Fine, simple,” he grumbled, stepping out from the car. “Simple as a bloody Erector set, there, ya happy?”

Remy raised an eyebrow, and then sidled over to Scott. “Go talk to ‘em,” he said in a low voice.

Scott regarded him flatly. “You.”

“You’re de leader,” Remy insisted.

“I don’t stop bullets with my hand,” Scott countered.

“Logan stops dem wit’ his head. He should go.”

“Good idea.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but if you’re done, we’d like a word with you,” Alexander said, stepping forward a step or two, the same grin spread across his face.

Scott hesitated for only a second before stepping forward as well and crossing his arms over his chest. “We’d like the same.”

“Understandable. I’m sure you have some questions, as do we,” the man conceded, nodding to himself. “We also should probably move somewhere other than here. I’m sure someone will be showing up shortly to investigate the gunshot.”

“Valid point. One second, if you will,” Scott asked the man as he gestured to the other X-Men.

Alexander nodded. “As you will. I’d like a moment with my partner as well.”

Scott nodded back, and then motioned the others over.

Logan was the first to speak. “Articulate little bastard, ain’t he?” he half-growled.

“I noticed that too, although he’s not acting overly condescending or harsh towards us,” Warren pointed out. “He’s definitely a good speaker. He sounds a lot like I did some time ago.”

“Well, oui, Wings, but you were a stuck-up self-centered prick wit’ somet’ing rammed about twelve feet up y’ass,” Remy said in a perfect matter-of-fact voice.

“And he was able to say it with a straight face,” Bobby added jovially.

Warren’s eyes darkened.

“So where d’we take ‘em?” Logan asked when it became clear that no one else was going to.

“That’s what I was going to get to,” Scott replied. “Warren, is your SoHo loft available tonight?”

Warren shook his head. “Not tonight, sorry. The place is an absolute wreck. I haven’t cleaned it since, well, since Betsy and Jean left.”

Remy nodded. “Know de feeling. I haven’ even gotten somet’ing to clean off de –“

“Remy!” Bobby interjected.

Remy raised an eyebrow. “—de desk in m’ room. De hell’d you t’ink I was goin’ to say?”

Bobby thought for a second. ‘I’d really rather not say, if that’s okay with you.”

“If you’re done?” Scott asked, not unkindly. When Bobby and Remy nodded, he echoed the movement. “Should we take them back to the mansion?”

Warren’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re actually considering that?”

“Warren, they’ve already proven they know a great deal about us. I wouldn’t put it past them to know about the mansion in the first place. Either way, I’d like Hank to meet them both. Maybe he can give us a hint on whatever that ‘Alexander’ fellow’s power is.”

Bobby nodded. “Good idea. Plus, if they act up, we out number them seven to two, counting Hank and Bishop. Probably by more, though, since Bishop does have more weapons than your average state militia.”

“An’ I’d prefer to have ‘em on our home turf, too, should anythin’ happen,” Logan added.

“So de matter’s settled?” Remy asked, looking around for any objections.

Scott nodded. “We’ll take them to the mansion. Warren, once we get moving, call ahead and get Bishop. Tell him to keep an eye out for anyone else besides our friends who might be suspicious. Remy, stay behind them, and let us know if anyone else comes with them. The rest of you, just keep an eye out.”

Bobby nodded. “Gotcha, Slim.”

Scott walked back to his previous position in front of the two men and politely waited for them to finish their discussion. When they broke, both of them had small, sly grins on their faces. Alexander quickly hid his.

“We’ve decided on a place to talk all this over. Do you know where the Xavier Institute is?” Scott asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Alexander nodded. “We do indeed. Will we be following you out there, though?”

“More than likely, yes. There is one thing, though.”

The man cocked his head to the side. “And what’s that?”

Warren stepped forward. “We really don’t even know who you are. At all,” he pointed out.

Alexander grinned. “Ah. Yes. Apologies, really. I’m Alexander Pratte. Pleasure’s mine.” He stepped forward and briskly shook Scott’s hand.

The other man stepped up after Alexander finished and extended his hand to Scott. “And I’m Ian Summers.”

“Ian Summers?” Bobby asked, grinning despite himself. “Imagine that. So, Scott, which inter-dimensional time-traveling super-powerful illegitimate son is this?”

Scott looked at Ian’s hand for a moment. “None. The city’s still standing and he hasn’t tried to kill me. He can’t be related to me.”

Ian grinned widely as he shook Scott’s hand. 

Alexander tucked his hands in his pockets again. “If it’s all right with you gentlemen, we’d like to take care of the rest of these introductions at the Xavier Institute. We need to go get our third member.”

Warren arched an eyebrow. “Third member.”

“Yes, again, apologies. I forgot to mention the third member of our group, Margaret Kauffman. She’ll be accompanying us to the Xavier Institute.”

Warren nodded sagely, and then raised his other eyebrow. “You said your group. What is this group, if I may?”

Alexander shot a glance at Ian, who minutely shrugged. “It’s the three of us. Alexander, myself, and her,” Ian answered. “We’ve been together for some time.”

“Ah. I thought that you might have a name for it or something.”

“Oh, we do,” Ian said, ignoring the surprised look Alexander had on his face.

Warren waited for a moment. “And it is...?” he finally prodded.

“The ‘Flip Mode Squad,’” Ian replied proudly.

Warren seemed to let that one go.

Scott let out a deep breath, and then turned to Alexander. “So, should we wait here for you, or just go ahead and meet you at the Institute?”

“It’d probably be best if you went on. We’ll be along shortly, once we get Margaret. I don’t think we’ll have a problem getting there, really,” Alexander said. “We shouldn’t be long.”

Scott thought for a moment, and then said, “All right. We’ll see you there, then.”

Bobby leaned forward before anyone turned away. “I’ve just got one question, though, Alexander, before you leave. I mean, what with that bullet-stopping thing earlier, I just wanted to ask you something.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“What –is- the Matrix?”