The MCRT, Morlocks, MGH and Murder

Part 2: Chapter 9

The last time Remy had spoken to either of his two rookies was three days ago, when the two of them had embarrassed themselves down in the tunnels by seemingly forgetting nearly everything the Academy had taught them. Red had been alive then, but obviously not well. He wondered what the reaction might be when he informed Kurt and Anna Marie that he was dead.

Kurt Wagner was, as usual, guzzling coffee and chatting more than working. He was wearing a billowy white pirate-esque shirt and pants that resembled silk pajama pants more than slacks. Hung around his scrawny neck was a multi-colored scarf. His partner, Anna Marie Caldecott had straightened her wavy auburn hair, drawing more attention to the shock-white strands that framed her pretty, winter-pale face. If Kurt was a pirate today, than Anna Marie resembled the ‘mod’ look from the sixties, with her muted makeup and pale floral blouse.

“Hey guys,” he said neutrally, without any sense of what had happened just three days ago. And then added, without preamble, “We’ve got an autopsy to attend.”

His voice was hoarse and gravelly, and on top of that he sounded nasal. And yet, he was there, still ordering them around. Kurt seemed annoyed at his presence, which was to be expected. Anna Marie, on the other hand, gave him a sympathetic look and then asked, with a slight laugh and a playful tone, “Who died?”

He coughed, and groaned out, “Red.” He knew he didn’t need to give any more details; it wasn’t too often Kurt or Anna Marie got out from behind their desks or came out from underneath their paperwork. They would clearly remember who Red was.

Anna Marie’s big green eyes got larger and her pretty mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise. She managed a, “How?”

“That’s what a medical examiner is for,” Remy replied, but it was obvious he had an idea and just wasn’t going to tell them.

Kurt broke the silence between the two Southerners with an annoyed response. “This autopsy is in the city, ja?” Because he spoke fluent German, he sometimes used the words for emphasis, probably because he liked the way he sounded when speaking it.

Remy hated it when he phrased statements as questions. “Yes. How fast can you get us there?”

“Me?” Kurt asked, stupidly, knowing exactly what Remy had in mind, but wanting him to actually say so.

Remy instead said, “Or can’t you take both of us?” Kurt could take it as insult to his powers if he wanted to, and Remy figured he probably would.

Anna Marie suppressed an urge to roll her eyes or smack both of them upside their heads. Men. Kurt bristled at Remy’s nonchalant insult and said, “When I jaunt, it makes people feel a bit nauseous. And you seem pretty sick already… ja?” For some people, teleporting – and phasing – had similar side effects as motion sickness or vertigo. He slightly hoped Remy was one of those unfortunate souls.

Remy did not have a decent comeback, and instead said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Been ready,” Kurt replied. To be totally truthful, teleporting through line-of-sight (LOS) teleportation for a distance of nearly thirty-five miles was no cake walk, especially not since he had probably 300 extra pounds of luggage. However, he had no intention of letting Remy know how many jumps he’d have to do, or how difficult it might be. Stupid, probably. Necessary, absolutely.

He hooked a thumb under the collar of his WWII navy pea coat and swung it stylishly over his shoulder. Then, he took hold of Anna Marie by her waist with his prehensile tail, securing her tightly. He then grabbed Remy by the back of his sleeve and jerked him off balance. And with a ‘BAMF’ they were off.

It had been ten years since Anna Marie had been to an amusement park, but when she landed it was the only thing she could think about. It was like being on about fifteen roller coaster rides at the same time. Kurt put her down gently and she managed to walk about three steps to the side of the building before she held tight and closed her eyes. She willed herself not to throw up.

Kurt wasn’t nearly as careful with Remy as he had been with Anna Marie, and let him go as they were exiting the final teleport, sending Remy nearly cascading into the side of the building. Thankfully, for Remy, his reflexes were always spot on, and he managed, just barely, not to fall on his face. With all of Kurt’s running starts and leaps, Remy was not surprised to find his head spinning, considering he was not held securely in place as Anna Marie had been, but had been thrown off balance with each new jump through dimensions.

However, his concern was for Anna Marie, who still had her eyes closed and was leaning more on the building than on her own two feet. “You okay?” he asked, coming over to her and touching her lightly on the elbow. If his partner had been a teleporter he would have insisted to be teleported around, if only to get used to the feeling. And if he were a teleporter he would insist on teleporting his partners around, so they got used to the feeling. It didn’t surprise him that neither Kurt nor Anna Marie had thought of this.

She slowly opened her eyes, thankful Remy’s body was shielding the bright sun from her eyes. Sun on snow when dizzy wasn’t a good thing. She nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat, and keeping her dignity intact, she replied, “I’m fine, Swamp Rat, and I’m not gonna ruin your shoes.”

She managed a small smile and continued, “Though no promises once we go in there.” She meant the morgue, of course.

He nodded, knowing it would be both Anna Marie and Kurt’s first time seeing an autopsy. Logan may have taught them the basics when it came to brutality, but this was slightly different. There would be no reassurance that the brutalized was okay in this case, because he wasn’t. He was dead.

Because Anna Marie didn’t like the unspoken foreboding sense she felt Remy was feeling, she continued with, “What about you, sugar, you gonna make it?”

Was he going to make it – sure. But was he okay? Not really. He felt as if he had played football without a helmet or any padding. His sinuses were pounding. And Red was waiting inside the morgue, the unfortunate final stop for his body.

“Yeah,” he lied, mustering up a small, slightly reassuring smile. “I’m good,” Then, he focused his attention on his other rookie, because he wasn’t born yesterday and could practically hear Kurt saying how exhausted he felt. “Do you need a minute?”

Kurt stood up as straight as he could, and tried to ignore the concern he heard in Remy’s voice. Surely, it was the empathy and nothing else. “Nein, I’m fine.”

Good, Remy thought, everyone was pleasantly lying to everyone else, and trying to save face. He held open the door for them and said mildly, “We’re obviously in no hurry here. When we get there, don’t be ashamed if it becomes too difficult to handle. Just take a break and come back if you can.” Remy would not treat them as he had been treated for his first autopsy. He would be calm, concerned and cautious of their every emotion. And if necessary, he would have them leave. He had done the majority of his tutelage, except for the required ‘Logan time’, under ex-X-Man Lucas Bishop, a man with a chip on his shoulder, who had treated Remy as if he were the enemy. He was now living in a mutant community not far from here, committed to staying there until every mutant was given equal rights. He was also in anger management for reasons Remy clearly remembered.

The morgue smelled like death and chemicals, as usual, and after showing their badges, Remy and his rookies were led into a conference room, where they were to meet the ME handling the case.

A robust man with rosy, full-of-life cheeks, came over to them and said in a low, rumbly voice, “Agent LeBeau, I presume. We’ve met once before, I’m Dr. Paul Hodstetter.”

Remy smiled and shook the doctor’s clean, not yet gloved hand, pretending he was familiar with him. He introduced his two rookies, and then said, “I’d like a copy of everything sent to Dr. Jean Grey in Westchester. Including blood samples, tissue samples and anything else you think is pertinent.”

“Of course, Agent,” Dr. Hodstetter said jovially. “Just leave me the contact information before you go. Now, the three of you must scrub up, locker rooms are next door to the autopsy room. I’ll see you shortly.”

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