I’ve had superheroes on the brain for a while now, and there are a number of reasons for this. However, Beast of the X-Men is someone I just can’t get out of my head — also for a number of reasons. Ever since All-New Marvel Now!, when Brian Michael Bendis took over as the guiding hand of the X-Books, Hank has been in worse shape than usual. He pretty much broke the multiverse going back in time to get the original X-Men; he underwent another mutation that turned him into a cross between an ape and an elf; his future self was brainwashed by the son(?) of Charles Xavier into becoming one of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants and subsequently died; he succumbed to the power of the Black Vortex, becoming an all-powerful nemesis; and finally he threw a hissy fit when the other X-Men confronted him about his hypocritical, out-of-character actions, leaving the Jean Grey School before Secret Wars hit.
I firmly believe that in better hands Hank can be a really fascinating and fun superhero. But to be honest, he hasn’t been written well in a long time and the current X-Universe being what it is, it’s unlikely he’ll be better served any time soon.
I keep thinking that it would be neat to allow the status quo of the X-Men to settle for one god-damned minute in order for characters to evolve and grow in ways other superheroes get to do in the Marvel universe. The period after the Schism — where Cyclops and Wolverine split mutantkind in two with their differing ideologies — is a great one to go back to for that. Here, we see the older generation stepping into roles of mentorship and command. New mutants dealing with their own evolution in the unending battle for acceptance are coming up, learning the lessons of the previous set and adapting them to their own time. It’s a rich setting, and one that suits Beast perfectly.
So here’s a conversation between Wolverine and Beast, who is signing up for a position at the Jean Grey School of Higher Learning.
Hank McCoy slipped between the trees with a feline grace that somehow enhanced the bulk that looked to be at odds with it. His boots — modified to fit his new digitigrade stance — whispered along the undergrowth of the forest, leaving only the lightest of tracks on a path he scented more than he saw.
It figured that Logan would want to meet him out here. A quick scan of the area told him there was a cabin somewhere in this wilderness, though most people would have a devil of a time finding it. He had to leave his car behind a couple miles ago, slinging a backpack over one broad and furry shoulder to walk the rest of the way.
It wasn’t a bad day for it. The sun shone through a thick canopy of leaves, small pockets of light reaching the ground ahead of him. A gentle breeze carried the scents of the forest to him; trees struggling to procreate in the springtime, birds and animals that remained out of sight but which were present just the same, the slight but noticeable trace of Wolverine leading him forward. It was even cool enough that he didn’t feel overheated as he moved. Since his latest mutation, his fur had gotten thicker, enough to shift the range of temperatures he was comfortable with. It had been a long adjustment, and he was only now becoming comfortable in his own body again.
Which is why he had no hesitation dropping to all fours (though he looked around, as if to check for anyone watching him) to speed up his pace; it was nice to take a stroll in nature, but he wanted to be prompt for his meeting. Logan might not care about punctuality, but he certainly did.
Hank had only recently taken to exploring the new, bestial attitudes that flitted across his ever-thinking brain. Since becoming a bouncing blue cast member of the musical Cats, he had difficulty accepting his new-found fondness for raw meat, or the powerful instinct to chase or pounce others. It disturbed him, not just because they were present, but because sometimes they were so strong. The Cassandra Nova business hit him where he lived there, and it was a long way back to being unafraid of himself. He had hoped getting back to what he did best — being the chief scientist for the X-Men — would complete the healing of that trauma and allow him a chance to feel like himself again at long last.
But first, he would have to convince Logan to take him on.
He loped between the trees quickly now, his paw-like hands churning up leaves and dirt as he galloped along. Wolverine’s scent became stronger now, along with the smell of coffee, alcohol, cigars and burning wood. He paused for a moment, then pivoted towards the northeast. Another few minutes, and dense wood gave way to a small clearing with a modest cabin squatting right in the center of it. He scanned the area with sharp and slitted eyes. The birds were at ease here, and he spotted a squirrel or two darting between the safety of two tree trunks. A lazy plume of smoke rose from the cabin’s stone chimney, and another one rose from the porch. Logan was there, wearing simple jeans, a flannel shirt and boots. He was chewing his cigar like it was his breakfast. The mutant stared right at him as he stood and stepped out of the trees.
“Hank,” he said, as if he had been waiting this whole time.
“Logan,” Beast said, clapping the dust off of his hands as he cleared the small distance between himself and the new headmaster of the Jean Grey School. “It’s so nice of you to invite me to your summer home.”
Wolverine shook Beast’s hand without smiling. Hank wasn’t offended; it was a weak joke. “I just figured you’d want to meet somewhere private. Those SWORD guys still after you?”
Beast waved him off. “Heavens, no. That was sorted a little while ago, thank the stars. Dr. Henry McCoy has a spotless record once more.”
Wolverine simply grunted, turning to sit on one of the chairs next to the cabin’s door. “Have a seat. Can I get you something? A beer?”
Hank glanced at the chair; it was solid wood, but a bit too narrow for his hips. He chose to lean against one of the porch posts instead. “No, thank you. It’s a bit early for me to indulge. I did bring you something, though.”
He slung his backpack off his shoulder and opened the zipper with a claw. “I know it’s customary to bring a token of esteem in these situations; most would have gone with a fruit basket of some sort, but I figured you’d appreciate this more.”
Wolverine eyed the bottle of whiskey, staring at the label once it was handed to him. “Single malt, huh? Not bad.” He wasted no time twisting the top off and taking a long swig.
Beast glanced at him, then looked out over the clearing. “Yes, a small batch distillery from Cork that I thought you’d like. I thought the apple notes were quite a nice distinction.”
His ear flicked as he heard the bottle upend once more, a full tumbler of the stuff disappearing down Wolverine’s throat in the span of a few seconds.
“Mmm, it’s all right.” Logan sat the bottle down on the porch, then exhaled. “Now that you’ve broken the ice, want to get this over with?”
Hank grinned. “Certainly. Though I have to admit I was surprised you wanted to interview me for the position. We’ve worked well together before, and we seem to be of the same mind on what we want for these children.”
“We are. But I need to know where your head’s at. You left the X-Men, Hank. You went out to space with your girlfriend and only reached out to me when you found out I was rebuilding the school.”
Hank furrowed a brow. Was Logan upset about his defection? Or something else? It was hard to get a read on him; his scent was mostly covered by burning tobacco and the stinging alcohol he had drained a half-bottle of in under a minute. “If you’re worried about my commitment, then you certainly don’t need to be. I believe I’ve proven myself to be quite dedicated to causes I believe in.”
“True. But you’ve also had a hell of a time of it in the past six months. This school is going to be a target for a lot of people…maybe some of our own’ll be gunning for us or our kids. You sure you’re ready for that?” Wolverine kept his voice even, calm, but there was something about that question…
“I’ve been fighting to protect the innocent for over a decade now, Logan. It’s my life’s work.” He turned towards the mutant, arms folded. “And you’ve provided me with the opportunity to continue it.”
“So why didn’t you open the school yourself? Why wait for someone else?”
Beast blinked. “I…didn’t think I could do it on my own.”
“Who said you would have been?” Wolverine stretched out, leaning back in his chair.
“Call it an educated guess. I am many things, Logan, but a leader of man and mutant I am not. I’ve never been comfortable convincing others that my choices are the ones that need to be followed. I don’t have the knack for it that you or Scott or Ororo do…”
“You think I want to be a leader, Hank?” This time, Wolverine smiled. “I’m stepping up to this because somebody’s got to. You’d think that one of Charles’ students would want to be the ones to take on his legacy…”
“But Scott is becoming increasingly militant, and Jean is no longer with us. Warren….good heavens, who knows what’s happened to Warren. And Bobby is…well, Bobby has his own issues.” Beast shook his head. “As much as it pains me to say it, none of us are capable of doing that at the moment. But you are. Let me help you.”
Wolverine stared at him for a long time. “Of course you’re going to help me.” He stood and stepped forward, offering Hank a hand. “Welcome to the Jean Grey School, Dr. McCoy. She’s going to need you.”
Beast beamed, showing the full measure of his fangs before he could help himself. “Thank you. Now, shall we talk about compensation?”
Wolverine grunted; it’s what passed for a laugh most of the time. “Free room and board, provided you design the school and lead the building of it.”
Beast blinked. “You mean the mansion isn’t rebuilt? How…far have you gotten in this process?”
Wolverine slumped back into his chair and picked up the bottle of whiskey. “So far, I’ve hired on a Vice-Principal to help rebuild Charles’ dream from the ground up. Not a bad start.”
Beast took a deep breath and grabbed the whiskey when it was handed to him. He took a swig himself, straight from the bottle. “Not a bad start at all, my friend.”
From the Desk of Jakebe T. Rabbit 