“This is getting out of hand,” Rogue said to Jean.
Jean replied. “I’m going to try to calm the crowd telepathically, but these emotions are running so strong, and with all this insanity, it’s going to be hard to concentrate.”
Rogue nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Jean grabbed her arm. “Don’t fly or do anything to call too much attention to your powers. It’ll only fan the flames ”
“How can I help?” Jubilee offered.
“Don’t,” said Jean. “It’s too dangerous. You go out to the lobby— we’ll meet you there. If they evacuate the building, stay close to the cops.”
“But, Jean, there’s got to be something I can do!”
The redhead glared at her sternly. “There are too many variables. I want you out of harm’s way.”
Jubilee pouted and took up her bag with her souvenirs. She got up and began climbing slowly up the stairs to the exit. When she was a few rows up, she turned to watch the scene. She saw Rogue wading into the fray below, trying to separate the combatants in the most agitated section. Someone tore up a seat, and she grabbed it out of his hands, unnoticed by him, before he threw it. Jean was at the edge of the crowd, her eyes screwed shut, apparently trying to get through to people mentally. This seemed to have no effect. A few seconds later, she opened her eyes again, and gazed intently into the morass. Jubilee concluded she had switched to her telekinesis, to try to blunt the blows of the audience rioters.
I hope Chris is okay, Jubilee thought. Her heart began to pound— what if the riot had spread backstage? Now that she thought about it— there was something she didn’t like about those big guys who escorted Chris off the ice. They might have been bodyguards ... or it could have been a trap. After all, the FOH goons had infiltrated the audience. Maybe they had infiltrated backstage security, too!
She had to get back there and save him. Jubilee ran up the stairs and out the doors, entering the outer passage where the refreshment and souvenir stands were. It was a madhouse out there, with people running around, trying to escape the arena entirely, and security guards vainly working to control everyone.
She ran around the circular passage until she found the door leading to the skaters’ entrance. A big security guard stood there, next to a sign that read, no one allowed beyond this point without credentials.
“Dam!” Jubilee said. She remembered now that you needed to wear a special badge on a cord around your neck, with a photo ID, to get into the restricted areas. Only skaters, their coaches, and the officials could get those. In frustration, she punched the plastic bag with her souvenirs . .. and got an idea.
She dashed into a bathroom. In all the commotion, no one was using it. Ducking into a stall, she shucked off her jeans and shirt, and pulled on the new skating dress Jean had bought her. She kept her sneakers—she’d seen skaters on TV wear them backstage before putting on their skates. For a final touch, she wore over the dress the T-shirt with the competition logo. Now she looked like a skater dressed for warm-up, though she hoped no one would notice her bare legs instead of the thick flesh-colored tights that were usually worn. She moved experimentally and found the outfit quite comfortable. Now she understood how Jean could have run around in that awful green minidress during her Marvel Girl days.
Ditching the bag with her street clothes in the bathroom, Jubilee ran back out into the passage. It had been announced earlier that after the men’s competition, the ladies were scheduled for a public practice session on the rink. Hopefully she could pass as a skater herself, perhaps having come early to cheer on a male teammate.
She returned to the restricted entrance and its stem doorkeeper.
“Excuse me, honored sir,” she said with a fake foreign accent. “I am skater from Madripoor. I lose pass. I must get in. My coach worry!”
The security guard peered down at her from a great height. Jubilee was petite and athletic—she certainly had the right figure for a skater. “I haven’t seen you in the practices before.”
“I miss practice. I just come from my country today. Please, kind sir! I lose coach, I lose pass, I must find him!” She put on her best pathetic face, and quivered her lower lip.
It worked. The security guard waved her through.
Yes! the teenager thought as she pelted down the stairs to the backstage area.
The atmosphere down there was like that of people in a bomb shelter during an air raid. They were fairly safe in the restricted area, but they were trapped as a tempest raged outside. Jubilee encountered a small group of female skaters who had already come for the practice, gathered in a huddle and talking in hushed tones. She recognized a couple from the skating tapes. If it had been under any other circumstances, she would have been starstruck and asked for an autograph, but other things concerned her now,
She pulled aside a well-known National champion in the group, a pixieish brunette dressed in a Team USA warm-up suit, “Have you seen Chris Kim?” Jubilee asked her.
“Do I know you?” the skater asked, squinting at her through too much eye makeup.
“Oh yeah!” Jubilee bluffed. “Don’t you remember that wacky time we had in St. Petersburg last year?”
The skater knit her brow. Clearly she didn’t remember, but she was pretending she did. “Oh . . . sure ... St. Petersburg. . .. What a party.. . . Um ..
“Chris Kim, I’m looking for him.”
“Last I saw him, he was being led out by two of Rupert Smythe’s bodyguards.”
“Led out? Out where?”
The skater shrugged. “I thought it was kinda weird. The safest place to be right now is down here. But I think they were headed to the upper levels. Maybe Rupert has a secret hidey-hole.”
“Why would Rupert Smythe’s bodyguards be guarding Chris?” The skater looked at her vacantly and twisted a curl around her finger. “Maybe Rupert lent them to Chris, what with the riot and all. Geez, can you believe Chris is a mutant? He seemed so nice, too.”
Jubilee, to avoid throttling the airhead, made her excuses and dashed off. Her fears were being borne out. Clearly, Rupert’s coach had been the one behind Chris Kim’s disqualification. She, and Rupert himself, could also have been in cahoots with the mutant-haters. The bodyguards could have indeed been part of the scheme, too.
They may be taking him somewhere they can rough him up ... or worse, she thought.
She darted through the maze of locker rooms and warm-up areas, looking for a stairway or something leading to the upper levels. She finally found an elevator marked roof.
Her instincts told her that was the place to go, and she entered the elevator.
Sure enough, when she came out onto a rooftop parking lot, she espied a very distressing scenario.
A few yards away, near the edge of the roof’s low surrounding wall, two large men were manhandling Christopher Kim.
Jubilee’s eyes widened, and her heart raced, but she remembered what she had learned from Wolverine. Stealthily, she crept along the shadows until she got close enough to hear what they were saying.
One of the thugs said, “So, you’re so upset about being called a mutie, and being pulled from the game, that’cher little pretty-boy heart just broke.” He shoved Chris toward his compatriot.
“Yeah,” the other chimed in, “so you ran up here and decided to end it all by jumping off the roof.”
Chris, his hair disheveled, one sleeve of his costume tom, exclaimed, “I can’t believe Rupert Smythe would go through all this trouble to expose me as a mutant just to kill me!”
“Actually, killing you wasn’t his idea,” replied the first thug. “It was ours.” He chortled cruelly. “One less mutie in the world. Even if you do look human.”
“Cute little skater boy? Mutie scum! Heh, heh, heh,” The other thug grabbed Chris by the shoulders and shoved him toward the wall.
Jubilee sprang into motion. With a flying leap, she sprang from the shadows, limned with the brilliance of her mutant light energy, which she hurled in tiny
, painful blasts at the attackers. The thugs lost their grip on Chris. She charged at one of the thugs, and butted him with her head in the solar plexus. He reeled backward.
Behind her, she heard Chris cry out, “Hey!” Spinning around, she saw to her horror that the other thug had his arm around the skater’s neck in a choke hold, and was dragging him closer to the wall. She kicked her first assailant to keep him down, then rushed to the other one. By now, he had hauled Chris onto the ledge and was trying to push him over.
“Yaaah!” Jubilee howled and elbowed the thug in the gut. It connected, but when he doubled over he lost his grip on the skater. Chris wobbled precariously on the ledge . . . then, he lost his balance, as Jubilee vainly hurled herself to try to catch him . . .
. .. but he didn’t fall. He just floated there, suspended in midair a few inches past the wall’s edge! Jubilee reached the wall and looked down—it was a good four or five stories to the parking lot below. Chris looked somewhat dazed, not really understanding the enormity of the situation.
Jubilee stared a few seconds, dumbstruck herself. He really was a mutant! He was levitating! Then, another thought came to her: If he realizes what’s going on, it could end up like in the cartoons; he’ll lose his concentration and he’ll fall. Carefully, so as not to startle him, she reached over and hauled him back to relative safety.
With sudden realization, he blinked, wide-eyed, and turned to peer back down at where he’d just been. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out.
Now Jubilee turned to the thugs, who were still nursing their injuries. “Hello!” she admonished, “you guys have the dumbest suicide plan I’ve ever heard! If the guy’s mutant power is to levitate, why would he kill himself by jumping off a roof?'
This only provoked them. They snarled and tried to rush her and Chris.
Now, Jubilee had another idea. She noticed Chris was still wearing his skates—he hadn’t even had time to put on the plastic guards to cover the blades. Remembering the claws on the feet of the velociraptors in Bobby’s danger room program, she yelled, “Kick ’em, Chris!” At the same time, she created more of her light show, which helped keep the thugs disoriented as Chris, fueled by adrenaline, sliced at them with the razor-sharp steel blades.
Howling with pain, nursing long, shallow but painful, cuts, the thugs were almost defeated when Rogue and Jean finally showed up
“For Heaven’s sake,” the redhead shouted at her. “Can’t you ever follow orders?”
Jubilee ran to her, with Chris in tow.
“She saved my life,” Chris said gratefully, as Rogue went to deal with the thugs.
Jean sighed. “Well, there is that, I suppose.”
Chris turned to Jubilee. “Are you a skater?”
“Uh, no, actually,” she replied sheepishly. “I’m just a fan.”
“What you are is a hero!” he exclaimed. “Thanks.” He gazed into her eyes gratefully.
“It was nothing,” she said, and blushed.
Rogue came up to them, dragging the chastened thugs. “Dang, ain’t this somethin’?”
The police had arrived shortly after Jean and Rogue had begun to help quell the riot, and things w7ere now back under control. The arena had been evacuated; the rest of the competition was postponed. Rogue turned the thugs over to the authorities. Down in the restricted skaters’ area, people were heading out as Chris, his rescuers in tow, rejoined his relieved coach, George Carson.
“Thank God you’re all right!” the middle-aged man cried upon seeing his student. “When those goons surrounded you, I had no idea what had happened to you. I was worried sick!”
“Those guys were in some kind of hate group. They tried to kill me!” Chris replied, “But this girl saved my life.” He presented Jubilee. “She’s a hero! She held off those two bruisers with nothing but some, like, martial arts moves and . . . what was making those little lights, a flashlight or something?”
Jubilee suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. “Oh, I did what anyone would have done . . ” She scratched the back of her head and shuffled her feet. “Urn, I’m with these guys.” She pulled over Jean and Rogue.
Carson shook Jubilee’s hand gratefully. “Thank you . .. thank you so much.”
Jean spoke up. “We were glad to help . . . how did things turn out with this disqualification?”
“Chris ... I have some bad news,” the coach said. “The officials reviewed the tape and documents that were submitted to them. They have an analysis proving that the way you do your jump . .. well, it defies the laws of physics. Is it true? Are you a mutant?”
The youth hung his head. “I think so. I can fly.”
Jubilee put in, “Well, not fly, exactly . . . levitate.”
Jean whispered to Rogue, “So, he was the source of the telekinesis I sensed during the warm-up, after all..
Chris protested, “I never knew I had these powers! This is news to me, too! I was just doing the jump the way I was taught.”
“I believe you,” the coach replied. “I know how hard you worked to learn the jump. But you must have been using your power without even realizing it.”
“Your powers musta kicked in between last season and this one,” Rogue deduced. “That happens at around your age.”
Chris’s eyes swam with anguish, “People hate mutants.” He turned to his coach. “Do you hate me, now, too?”
“Of course not,” the coach said. "I've known you your entire life. You’re almost like a son to me. I could never hate you.” He grew somber. “But the skating federation is suspending you from competition. They say your mutant ability gives you an unfair advantage. There’s going to be an official hearing.” His voice grew soft. “Chris . . . this could become permanent.”
“No!” he cried. “They can’t. . .”
“This has never happened before in skating,” the coach replied, “but with the current climate ... it doesn’t look good. A few years ago, I heard a skiier was disqualified for being a mutant... I think he was Canadian. . .”
“But the Olympics . . . !”
Rogue put an arm around the distraught boy’s shoulders. “Sugar . . . calm down. Don’t give up yet. If there’s a hearin’, they’ll have to make arguments, right?”
“I’ll defend you,” the coach resolved. “I’ll argue your mutant power is a God-given talent, like the talent for figure skating itself.” “That’s the spirit,” Jubilee said. “And . . . while you’re waiting for the hearing .. . you can stay with us.”
“What!” Jean exclaimed.
“Where do you live?” the coach asked.
“Upstate .. . Salem Center . .Jean replied. “We’re at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.”
The coach knit his brow. “I’ve heard the name . . . can’t place it, though. I don’t really have time to follow much outside the skating world. But it sounds very classy. And Chris is certainly a gifted youngster.”
“Um, um . . .” Jean stammered. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
Rogue said, “Actually, it is a good idea. With Chris out as a mutant, the media will go nuts. It’s the biggest scandal skating has ever seen. We can keep him out of the craziness for a few days.”
“Please, Jean?” Jubilee pleaded. “Chris needs peace and quiet right now. And the mansion’s been quiet for a while . .
Jean sighed. “All right.. . we’ll talk it over with the others. How do you feel about it, Chris?”
Chris Kim said nothing. He just stared into space.
Several days passed: dark, gloomy, rainy days. Chris went to Xavier’s mansion, but he kept to himself, staying mostly in his guest room. Jubilee fussed over him like a mother hen, cooking (somewhat ineptly) for him and popping into the room every hour on the hour with some kind of treat. It never quite got through to her when he would tell her he wasn’t hungry.
Finally, the results of the hearing came in. Chris took the call from his coach in the study, while Jubilee, Jean, and Rogue waited in the livi
ng room.
“I wish Professor Xavier was here,” Jubilee said, drawing up her knees to her chest as she sat fidgeting on the couch. “He always knows what to say in these situations.”
“He still won’t be back from Muir Island for a couple of weeks,” Jean said.
Rogue said, “So, I guess y’all heard the news about how they’re gonna investigate Rupert Smythe’s part in all this. I wonder how much he knew about the FOH plan to start the riot and attempted murder.” Softly, Jubilee said, “I heard the thugs say Smythe didn’t know they were going to try to kill Chris.”
“Hmm.” Jean remarked. “Well, whatever his part, that investigation could drag on for months, and until they have solid evidence, Smythe can still compete. He might make it to the Olympics after all.. . but his knees might not even hold out that long.”
“Poor Chris. Maybe this'll work out,” Rogue said, and crossed her fingers.
Just then, Chris stepped solemnly into the room. They knew, even before he said anything. And then, he told them, in a small voice. “I’m out. For good. I’ll never be allowed to skate again.”
He was met with saddened silence. Then, finally, Jubilee came over to him. “Um ... is there anything we can do?”
Chris shook his head. “I just. . . need to be alone . ..” Then he slunk out of the room.
Jubilee sprang to her feet and headed for the door.
‘"Don’t,” Rogue commanded.
The teenager turned back. “But he needs me!”
“Not now,” Jean told her “Let him be for a while. He needs to think things through.”
Rogue said. “You were the one who said he needed peace and quiet. Give it to him now.”
Jubilee sighed in exasperation and crossed her arms, but she slumped back down onto the couch.
Three days passed.
“Wake up, Chris! Today is the first day of the rest of your life!” Jubilee threw open the curtains of the skater’s room. The sun, out for the first time in days, streamed in. Chris had spent all this time in his darkened quarters, listening to the rain. Jubilee figured he’d had enough peace and quiet. If he didn’t do something, he’d be mired in depression forever. Or worse.
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