Free The Ultimate X-Men by Unknown Author Page B

white men’s oxford shirt over a black leotard. She didn’t wear any makeup and kept her dark hair, streaked with gray, pulled back in a ponytail. The tray under her arm tipped me off that she worked there. The one raised eyebrow told me that she regarded me with some amusement. I tell you, that’s the blessing and curse of being a mutant: I have this incredible power inside me, but on the outside, I still look like a gangly farmboy. To this lady I must have looked like I’d wandered in off the street, which, well, I had.
    “What’s the Odyssey, Homer? You here for cheer or you just come to do the pet shop window thing?”
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    What language was she speaking? “Um ... I, uh . . . is there a phone here?”
    She eyed me coolly. “Smoke signals for paying Indians only. Buy a cup or take your dime elsewhere.”
    I sighed. “Okay. Fine. One cup of Earl Grey, please.” She nodded. “Phone’s in the back next to the Che Guevara collage.”
    I said thanks and made my way to the back of the cafe. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, incense smoke, and a couple other kinds of smoke I wasn’t sure I recognized. I caught snatches of conversation where words like words classism, paradigm, Mugwump, and yage stood out to my virgin ears. Also a name that I didn’t expect to hear. Mine. “Sam.”
    I turned to see him sitting at a dark table in the far corner. Truth to tell, he was the last person I’d expected to see in a place like this (aside from me, of course). He had been in the first class at the Xavier Institute, back before my time. And while I’m pretty much the last X-Man to date, he’s the first, the best. But for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what he was doing sipping coffee in the back of a beatnik coffee shop.
    He waved me over. I joined him. Even his clothes, while surprisingly stylish, seemed out of date. He wore a suit nearly the color of the wet pavement outside, with a thin tie, and while I hate to say it, he looked like a character out of those Man from U.N.C.L.E. episodes my friend Roberto likes so much. Mind you, it fit right in with the mood of the cafe. But it seemed odd not to see him in his traditional blue-and-yellow battle-duds, or in the sweatshirts and jeans that he wears when he’s fixing the planes or the machinery
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    in the Danger Room. Come to think of it, this was the only time I could remember seeing him not working. A stray beam of light glinted off of his red sunglasses as he took a sip from his coffee cup.
    As I walked to him, the cafe seemed to brighten up a little, as a strange place only can when you spot a friendly face. Although friendly generally isn’t the first word I’d use to describe Cyclops. I found him a little intimidating. ’Course, if I had the power to kill people just by lookin’ at them the wrong way, I don’t suppose I’d want to make too many friends either. In many ways, the X-Men’ve never had as capable a leader as him. But friendly? Heck, he’s always been nice enough to me; just distant is all.
    I shook his hand, always respectful of his authority as leader of the X-Men.
    “Scott. What’re you doing here?”
    “Same thing as you, I suppose. Care to sit down?”
    My eyes flicked to the phone. Scott sat within spittin’ distance of it. “Um, in just a minute. I have to make a phone call.”
    Well, there was no way around it, sure enough. I didn’t want Scott to know about my momentary lapse in judgment. But I couldn’t leave that kid up on the roof to hurt himself or cause who knows what kind of trouble. Facing away from Scott, I placed the call to the police, trying to keep my voice as low as possible without sounding too suspicious.
    So much for that. I pretended to cough over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of him, staring at me intently. Busted! I thought to myself. Not for nothing has he been the field leader of the X-Men since I was in grade school. He sussed the situation out pretty quickly. He had his