"They call me The Professor," the man in the wheel chair said as he rolled down the ramp and into the room, "I am the mastermind of most crimes this side of the world." He was small, perhaps only because of the chair, blad and much more fit then you'd expect a rich, powerful thief in a wheelchair who sat behind a desk to be.
He eyed the man from across the room where the only form of light came down from the overhead lap and onto a long white table. Something didn't sit right with the twenty-two-year-old, the pay to just hear the old man out was all that kept him from wandering out of the room right then and there.
"Yeah we know who you are, Professor," A thin man with a thick New York accent said through a piece of ice in his mouth. Bobby Drake code name: Ice-man, not from anything he'd done of course, but from the fact that the man was always chewing on a piece of ice. They said that before he went on a heist he often bought the largest drink he could and just filled it with ice. The cup was infront of him now, his hand dug deep into it like it was a bag of popcorn. He wore a button up hawian shirt that was all but buttoned up, shorts, a straw fedora to cover up his short snap of brown hair, and flip flops.
"I wasn't saying it for you, Ice-man" the professor snapped, "I was saying it for our guest."
All eyes where on him now, making him even more uncomfortable. He waved to them and gave them each a small nod. He knew most of them through rumors, or news papers.
Jean Grey, once a T.V. show mentalist, she became a criminal after her show tanked leaving her with piles of debt. Rumor had it that recently she took a liking to faking her own death after a job only to rise up again when the stream of cash ran dry giving her the codename: Phoenix. They said her hair was never the same color when the job was done, and right now it seemed an unnatural, yet beautiful red. She herself wore a green tee that seemed to cling to her in ways no other could pull off. She gave him a small smile, which he couldn't help but returning.
Ororo Munroe, an african beauty with snowy white hair, he could tell if it was dyed or not, that fell short on her shoulders. She wore a black tank that accented her skin, quite nicely and a leather jacket and driving gloves. Code-named: Storm, on account of the tazzer she carried, and her driving skills made anyone feel as if they where riding through a tornado from what he'd heard.
The last he'd looked at before The Professor spoke again was the cajun, Remy LeBeau. He'd heard alot of tales about Remy, but from what he'd heard, the man in the trench coat had more than earned his nickname: Gambit. Any mission with the man could go down south pretty fast, with him taking the money and making a break for it.
"Professor," Phoenix said in a sweet voice, "Not that I'm not thrilled to have a new face around, but why?"
The Professor smiled, "Why don't I have him introduce himself to us?" The older man nodded to him.
He stood, "My name's Scott Summers."
Ice-man sat forward in his seat, "Wait, wait, wait," He pulled his hand out of the his hand out of the cup to hold both together to form a "t", "Time out. You're, Scott Summers?"
"I am," Scott replied.
"The Cyclops?" Gambit said in his thick southern accent.
"The one and only," Scott sighed. He hated the name the media had straddled him with after his job at McCoy Bank, where he'd wore a red eye patch and emptied the bank sending it so far into debt it collapsed. He'd donated most the money to charity corperations keeping only one million dollars, that way he could think of himself as more of a hero than the villian.
"Well, Professor," Gambit smiled, "Things just gotta hell of a lot more inter'stin'."
***
"James!" His partner cried from across the room. That small little twirp was going to get him into a lot of trouble if he didn't watch it. Anna Marie stepped into his office a new case in hand, "I got us a good one." Anna had earned the nickname Rogue around the office over the fact that she liked to swindle the best cases from the guys putting them together, and James knew he wasn't going to like where this was going.
He opened the folder and looked down at the FBI file, "Jesus Christ, Anna!" He couldn't help but smiling, a lot of trouble, "How'd you come across this one?"
She smiled at him, putting one hand on her hip and brushing back the long strand of hair where none of her normal brown pigmentation came through, "New guy, kinda cute. So you wanna take it?"
He looked at the case file again, "Yeah, we'll take it! This guy, what do they call him?"
"The Professor," Anna said dramatically, "Thought you might like that one, he only strikes once every two years or so and big targets."
James smiled, "Like the 'Apocalypse' Gem Erik Lehnsherr of Magnus jewelers is moving this Friday?"
"Exactly," Anna said tapping her nose.
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