1407 Greymalkin Lane, Salem Centre, NY, 10274
Rose O'Connell's ' live' feed from the debate hall was playing again on NBC, for the ninth time - Cyclops had kept count - three hours after the original broadcast.
Each of the X-men showed signs of impatience. With no direct contact with any of the investigation officials or journalists, they could only rely on the media for ' up-to-date' news reports.
Television, internet postings, radio, press releases - they tried them all.
But all there was, amounted to little. Each report was a concealed copy of another, and another, and another. Like themselves, the news agencies had learned nothing new... or perhaps there was nothing more to learn? Perhaps, without even starting their investigation, they had reached a dead end.
They tortured themselves with the possibility.
" ... Zilch!" Bobby grunted in disgust. " Not a thing on TV, radio... or anything else."
" There has been little or no development," Archangel rephrased Robert's comments. " Cyclops - we cannot continue to rely solely on media reports. There is nothing for us."
Cyclops paced the room. His nerves had begun to fray; for with every minute, every second that passed, he could feel himself getting further and further from the kidnappers, and further and further away, from ever finding his mentor.
The thought vexed him. Without realising it, he had become more edgy, more irritable.
" We can't do anything else," he snapped. " We need more information. We're not even sure what happened yet... Val can tell us, but in the meantime we have to find out as much as possible... so just- "
" - Be patient, yeah. We heard'cha the first time, Slim," Wolverine growled at him. " Whassa matter? Mama's boy ain't got the guts to go out and play?"
" I'm not here to take your insults, Wolverine..." Cyclops did not care what he said. If Wolverine pushed him any further, he would be very, very sorry.
" Then what'cha gonna do about it?" They were pushing each other, and they both knew it. Wolverine challenged Scott's leadership every chance he could, and insulted him often, face to face. From his remarks, one might think that Wolverine looked down on Scott. But there was much more to it than met the eye.
Though he was usually levelheaded enough to avoid confrontation, stress had, nonetheless got to Cyclops. He would not allow Wolverine to sit there and insult him in this way...
The glint off the red quartz of his visor spoke volumes.
As if in reply, Wolverine's adamantium claws slid out from the back of his hands.