Prompt Post: ROUND SEVEN
ROUND SEVEN IS CLOSED
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Flat view.
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<< ROUND SIX | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND EIGHT >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There is a delay on comments appearing when there is a URL in the message body. This is due to an LJ anti-spam ( Read more... )
Triggers: AU, slavery, racial slurs, anti-feminist views and comments, mpreg, violence, dub-con, potential non-con, mindfuckery. There might be more, I will warn when/if we get there.
(This will be a long, long project, so bear with me :))
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Fire rains on us.
I stand, searching through the dust and sand and millions of deaths for a glimmer of hope.
Instead, I find Erik Lehnsherr.
The man stands on top of the smashed Blackbird in black and yellow, an ominous presence amidst the silent chaos. I keep my eyes open, watching through the burn as dark shapes rise from the ground.
Erik looks at me. Under the heavy helmet he wears like an insignia of power and a new beginning, his eyes catch and lock with mine. I don't have to know what he is thinking to know exactly what he is trying to tell me.
I will reshape the future. With or without you.
The sea smells like blood. Soon enough, there are screams in the oppressive air.
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15 months later… British Columbia, somewhere up north…
The alarm blares urgently across the ground. The moment I step outside of my office and into the dark corridor, I can see Hank already making his way to the front of the house. Not far behind, Sean is running down the wooden staircase, bleary eyes and wearing only his pajama pants.
I reach out, searching for the intruder and finding Logan running through the snow, holding someone in his arms.
Charles, Logan projects, hurry, we need help.
I pull the sweater tighter around myself and make haste for the front entrance.
“What’s going on, Professor?” Sean asks, no longer looking tired. I know I must look troubled, because Sean stares at me with worry evident on his freckled face.
“Wolverine is back with an injured party. Sean, please go and reassure the others that this is not a threat.” Months of being subjected to the whims of a corrupted government and slave handlers have left many of the rescued ones in the house fearful and easily spooked. After what they went through, it’s not far-fetched to believe that in their fragile mental state they can succumb to terror under the sudden outburst of the siren.
Sean nods and makes his way toward the back of the house, while I turn to rush the other way, passing the foyer and out through the open doors. I can see Hank, a dark shape against the bright snow, hunched over Logan and another form.
I stop short. Logan is the one who catches my eyes. “Good grief, friend, what happened to you?” I ask, looking at the large gash that runs down the side of his face and the tattered, bloodied clothes he is wearing.
“No time for that, Charles, the girl,” Logan growls impatiently, waving aside his injuries to focus on someone else’s.
The girl he speaks of is lying across Hank’s thigh, breathing shallowly. She looks to be in her twenties, with long brown hair and heavy, white bangs. I reach out, attempting to read her mind, but Logan pulls me back.
“Don’t touch her skin. She has the power to absorb your power, and in this condition, there’s no way she’ll be able to control herself.”
So she’s a mutant.
“Hank, let’s get her inside,” I say, tapping Hank on the back.
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“I found her a few miles down the mountain. She was conscious enough to tell me not to touch her, and then passed out soon after.” Logan grabs me by the arm, halting our steps. “Charles, I believe her mind has been tampered with. She was near delirious when I saw her, insisting repeatedly that she must see you.”
I frown, both intrigued and concerned. No one should be able to find this place. When I set out a year ago to find a hideaway for the X-Men, I intended for it to be absolutely untraceable and well-secured, far away from civilization and prying eyes. I did not want it to suffer the same fate that my childhood mansion did. This girl is the first one to have come so close to our base.
“I’ll take over from here,” I tell Logan as we pass the kitchen. “Go get some food and rest. We’ll talk tomorrow about your journey.” I pause. “If those don’t heal by tomorrow, I want you in the infirmary before breakfast.”
Logan only nods and leaves. He must be really tired, to not even bother and protest like he often does with everything I say.
Hank is settling her on a bed when I enter the room. The infirmary is a white, pristine space with five beds placed next to each other, separated by a thick curtain. This room has come to be in use quite often, as we discover and infiltrate more compounds where the slaves are kept while they wait to be sold off.
“The girl is suffering from mild hypothermia,” Hank speaks before I can ask. “She’s completely exhausted, and very weak. I’ll start her on fluids and see if she improves.”
I nod, gloving my hands before reaching out to touch her temple. I hear her gasp, and then my mind is awash with bright colors and images.
A woman holding a young child in her arms, crying helplessly until she dies...
A teenage girl, kissing a boy for the first time and is terrified when he falls to the ground, unconscious…
A group of women, huddled together in a corner, crying as a man in uniform writes them off as either fertile or sterile…
An explosion. The doors are unlocked… people running and screaming…
A man, silhouetted against the stormy sky, calling for mutants to join his force, to fight against the terror that the humans have come to call the Repopulation Project, to stand with him as they rise to the forefront of the world, to protect our race against theirs…
A woman with red curls and blue skin, taking the hand of a beaten down, world weary girl…
Sweats drip down my face as horror overcomes me. I try to pull away, but the girl - Rogue - takes my hand in a dead grip. Her dark eyes bear into mine, and then blinding white fills my vision.
I’m sorry, I hear in the wide expanse of my mind - Rogue is apologizing - but the thought is brief before it is overtaken by a much more powerful force.
Charles, we meet again, a slow, seductive drawl that is both familiar and despicable rings in my mind.
Frost, get out -
I must admit, I do admire you for keeping yourself hidden for so long. Magneto will be so please…
I feel cold all over at the mention of his name, and unbidden a picture of him enters my mind, as I remember him, in his black turtleneck, complacent as he moves a chess piece with long fingers…
Your strategy is impeccable, Charles, but your unwillingness to sacrifice your players prove to be your undoing, Erik had said, once, smiling to take the edge off his comment. I had laughed, then, not knowing how true his words would come to be.
Magneto will be pleased to know how much he means to you, Frost says, her tone mocking. Though I suspect he’ll be better pleased once he finds out where you are…
I scream, straining to gather my power to obliterate her presence from my mind. There is pain searing through my arm like millions of knives twisting, gouging flesh. I hear Hank in the background, saying something, and then there’s darkness as I fall and fall.
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“Professor, here, drink this.” It’s Suzanne who speaks, surprising me. I thought it would be Hank who would be here.
I struggle to sit up and take a sip of the water with the pills. As my headaches have become worse over time, Hank has specifically formulated a pill for me that works wonders. It doesn’t completely ease the pain, but it allows me to at least think.
I open my eyes. Suzanne is looking back at me with curiosity and concern.
“Where’s Hank?” I say, then, “Where’s Rogue?”
Suzanne frowns. “I’m assuming Rogue is the new girl, in which case, she’s with Wolverine. I think Hank’s trying to convince him not to kill the girl until you wake up.”
I pull the cover off, groaning when my body protests at the movement. Suzanne is immediately at my side, sliding an arm around my shoulders. “Professor, don’t strain yourself. Give the med a few seconds to kick in before you rush off to defend a mutant who’s just tried to kill you.”
“She didn’t try to kill me,” I correct her. Only tricked me into revealing my whereabouts.
“Didn’t look that way when you were screaming bloody murder,” Suzanne retorts dryly, looking as fierce as Logan does when he is ready to tear someone into pieces. It’s no secret that Suzanne Chan, a slim, petit mutant of a girl, idolizes and adores Logan more than anyone in this house. It’s not hard to see why. After he busted her out from Bodega Bay and subsequently took her under his tutelage, building her up from a scared young child filled with anger and revenge to a competent, deadly weapon. He was the one who gave her the code name Sway, referencing her ability to bend time to her will.
Like Logan, she’s fiercely loyal and protective of those she cares for, but unlike him, she thinks before she acts, something I’ve come to be infinitely grateful for, as she possesses both the understanding necessary to care for some of the mutants we take in and the level-headedness and reasoning important to keep them from succumbing into grief and vengeance.
“Come on, Sway,” I say, taking her hand. “Help me to where the boys are holding our guest captive, please.”
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I hesitate at the door, wondering if I should read his mind. The thought is short-lived. There’s more urgent matter to attend to. Now that Frost has discovered where we are, this place is no longer safe, and that means we must find shelter elsewhere, and quick.
Logan is indeed with the girl when I come into the room, sitting on a cushioned chair and watching Rogue like a hawk. He looks much better than he did last night. The gash on his face has completely disappeared, and, changed into trousers and a black jumper, he looks as close to ordinary as he ever does.
“Charles,” Logan says without looking up.
I turn to Rogue, lying on the bed with her arms and legs securely bound, looking in all appearance as if she is asleep.
“I’m assuming the girl is still alive,” I say by way of greeting.
Logan growls low in his throat. “Hank drugged her, otherwise I’d have put her in a more permanent kind of sleep.”
“I’m glad you did not, my friend,” I say, relieved that Logan exercised restraint in this situation. “She is only a pawn in Magneto’s game. She is innocent.”
Logan spares me a glance. He must have heard the bad news in my voice, because he says, dangerously, “What?”
I sigh, bracing myself. “Last night, when I was attempting to read her mind, I was instead attacked by Emma Frost. She used Rogue to find us.”
Logan is immediately on his feet, his claws protracting with menace. I was afraid he would react badly. After joining the X-Men, Logan has taken to be quite territorial. The mushroom cloud settled over his home over a year ago, where he lived with his wife. The radiation killed her, leaving him with nothing but unbridled rage and anguish. With the Mutant Control Acts in place, it was impossible for anyone to roam the streets freely without being caught by the Sentinels, a special government force whose sole purpose was to track down non-registered or “dangerous” mutants.
When Logan came to me, he was hardly a man, so wrought with rage and pain. It was not a pleasant process, putting him back together. This place is the only place close to a home for him, and for it to be stripped from right under his feet… I can only imagine how it must feel.
“I’m afraid we must evacuate as soon as possible. I predict we have a few hours, top, before we are attacked.”
Logan growls, turning to Rogue. “The fucking bitch.”
He is on the girl before I can even blink, his claws at her throat. Horrified, I reach out with my mind, attempting to calm him down but finding myself grasping onto nothing.
The reservoir of my power, the familiar presence that nestles within my very being, is now a black, endless void.
I stumble backward, shocked.
My power is gone.
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More soon? Please?
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I stand on the edge of the cliff with complete, inky darkness surrounding me. Beneath is the roaring sound of the waves crashing against rocks, loud and beckoning, its sweet smell and its promise irresistible.
It’s very easy, I think, to just take one more step and be embraced by the water, be protected from the darkness.
Charles.
I hear my name, the word almost whispered in my ear. I hesitate. Even in the darkness, I know there’s something behind me, a monster, perhaps, if I am prone to dramatic visualization. The gray-eyed monster, screaming my name in a gruff, drawn out growl. He’s calling to me, his words indiscernible, coming closer. I’m afraid to turn around, to look back and see him, to listen to the words he’s saying and be persuaded. He doesn’t want to hurt me, he wants me to know, but why should I believe him when his stench is smoke and burning flesh and ruthlessness?
You are no different. I flinch at the darkness, its laughter and unforgiving truth.
Just take a leap, the water cries, the waves thrashing from down below. I want to, I tell the water, but the monster, he’s crying. I hear his sobs, hideous noises dragging out of a congested throat. He sounds like he’s dying, and inexplicably that thought grabs at my heart in a fist, tight and painful.
I make the mistake of turning around, and like a door kicked open, his words fall into my ears like rain, clear and cold.
Charles, please, stay with me, stay with me.
I can’t stay with you, I try to make him understand. I have to go.
You can’t leave me, not again. Charles…
Again? I thought we were strangers, but if that is so then how can his trembling words and ragged, sobbing breaths be so familiar?
I wonder who he is, I want to know.
And naturally, as how knowledge will eventually kill the cat, Erik materializes in front me, drenched in blood and tears.
Charles, he says, holding out a hand that’s maimed to the point beyond recognition. I will follow you if you leave me. I will always follow you.
The water is rising, tugging at my feet in its current. I gasp, surprised at the cold, death-like feeling around my feet, and lurch toward the hand that’s extended in front of me.
My fingers curl around a gush of blood, and the darkness swallows me whole.
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I’m sorry, I hear her voice in my head. Your power should come back, this is only temporary.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know,” she sounds genuinely upset. “Soon. Please, I had no idea Emma would do that. All I wanted was sanctuary.”
“Who gives a fuck,” Sean snarls. “You exposed us. We can’t stay here anymore.”
Hank takes Sean by the arm, bending down to whisper something into his ear. I don’t hear what they say, too focused on the more pressing matter at hand.
“You’re part of the Brotherhood, are you not?” I question her, curious. “Why do you seek sanctuary from me?” Do you honestly not know of our history? I bite back, feeling turmoil of emotions rising inside.
At this Rogue’s face turns ugly. She holds herself back from tears of betrayal, her entire body trembling at the effort. “I was tricked. They didn’t want me. They only wanted…” Words fail her. Rogue turns away from us, and uncomfortably I listen as she sobs into the dead silence of the room.
Logan is less than impressed. “If you think that a few pathetic tears is going to save your sorry life...”
Suzanne nudges him in the ribs before coming forward and unbinding the ropes around Rogue’s hands.
“Come now,” she says gently. “We understand what it feels like to fall into the hands of those who use us for their own purpose.”
Suzanne turns to me questioningly, and I sigh, knowing that her words are true, and let them wash away the last of my anger.
“Sway, please find her some clean clothes and take her to the kitchen,” I smile slightly to prove that I am sincere. “I daresay you’re hungry.” Rogue sniffs, but at least she stops crying.
“Everyone else, please follow me. We’re going to need to devise a plan get the rest of our friends out of here safely, and us out alive.”
As we make our way to the drawing room, I pull Hank aside.
“What is going on with Sean?” He’s been acting odd all morning, and indeed, has been extremely withdrawn for the past week. It’s not normal for Sean, bright-faced and naturally cheery, to be acting that way.
Hank looks extremely uncomfortable, refusing to meet my eyes as he shifts from foot to foot hesitantly.
“Hank…” I say warningly.
Hank takes a breath and, as if it’s taking him all his might to say, manages to mumble two words, “Sean’s pregnant.”
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No, when it happens, I am alone with Cerebro in my office, having dispatched all the others to get everyone - about ten mutants and humans we rescued a week previous - off the mountain. Hank and Sean have taken control of the SR-73, bringing those who are most severely injured down to the mutant friendly clinic hidden away in Washington. Logan is moving down the mountain by foot, along with two mutants who are well enough to travel, with the intention of scouting and diverting as many away from the house as possible.
While waiting for Suzanne to erase all evidence of the fertile ones who have been rescued in the past year, I keep a watch on the premises. With my power still slowly seeping back in place, I need Cerebro to communicate across distance, as well as to make certain nothing is coming and leaving without my knowledge.
As it turns out, it’s useless to worry about being thorough.
Azazel bursts into existence in a puff of smoke, apple red and dangerous as I remember him. Standing next to him is Angel, her wings aflutter and her lovely face twisted in a smile.
“Professor,” Angel says, her voice soft and threatening all at once. “It’s been a while.”
I do not reply, opting instead to connect with her mind, hoping to immobilize her before she can do any damage.
“Ah ah.” A hand curls around my throat, and I gasp, grappling at the purposeful fingers as Cerebro is wrenched from my head. Azazel leans down, whispering into my ear with a sadistic laugh. “None of that, Professor, or I’ll have to hurt you.”
His words make me shudder. I have seen Azazel in action, have heard of his ruthlessness time and time again. He has come a long way from his crude method of dropping people off a great height, and I do not wish to find out how creative he can be just yet.
“You’re not here to kill me, then,” I say instead, buying time. I can feel my power much more definitely now, feel its shape as it realigns with my being. Soon enough, I will have its full capability at my fingers.
“Hardly,” Angel replies, coming closer. “Magneto won’t be too happy even if a single of your hair is disturbed.” She runs a finger down my hair, and I refrain from snapping at her.
“Though he did tell us to bring you back using any means necessary,” Azazel adds delightedly, his nails scraping down my throat. “Angel, the Wings, before he can use his power.”
I feel cold all over at the mention of the Wings, a device the government uses to suppress mutant’s power. So this is not an attack on the mutants I protect. All Erik is after, all along, is me. Irrationally, anger rises inside of me like a monster.
With or without you, Erik had said. Without me, he’s been doing fine. He refused my hand to seek a terrible future and robbed me of my childhood home, and now, he’s come to take the last thing I have any control over. The anger roils over me like heat, unstoppable and blinding.
“I won’t come with you,” I say stubbornly, digging my fingers into Azazel’s hold.
“You don’t have a-“
A bullet shoots through the air, catching Azazel on his shoulder. He howls savagely, arms going slack around me, and I take the opportunity to slip away, diving for the gun from under my desk. When I turn around, he’s gone.
“Professor, run!” Suzanne is at the door, firing bullets at Angel at the same time she tries to freeze time around the quick moving shape.
I waste no time, hurrying toward her as I dodge Angel’s projectile acid. The wall explodes and sizzles right next to Suzanne, who bangs into the table on her left and tears her knees on the table edge. The glass vase falls to the ground, shattered. Angel lets fly another acid spitball. I manage to roll away in time to see the acid burns a hole through the carpet on the floor, right where I was standing a second ago.
I turn to Angel, catching her eyes. Angel, stop, now.
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And then, all at once, with no forewarning, Suzanne screams, startling me and subsequently breaking my concentration. Angel shakes her head and speeds down to where I crouch on the floor, her face twisting, furious.
What follows happens in seconds but feels like eternity played out in slow motion. I watch, horror bound, as Azazel winds his arms around Suzanne. Stupid girl, he snarls, face ugly as he bends her head backwards at an impossible angle, his blood dripping from his arm onto her pale, terrified face.
I raise my arm, throwing my power at him. Too late, I think helplessly, feeling Angel appearing behind me and pulling something taut around my head.
Don’t be naïve, Professor, she murmurs, and that is the last thing I hear, along with Suzanne’s piercing cry as Azazel’s razor-sharp tail reams right through her chest.
The world vanishes.
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Thank you for the lovely comments :) Things should be picking up from here on out!
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OMG this is amazing. Seriously.
Loving it.
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A misunderstanding that spirals out of control leads to a relentless war that knows no reason nor purpose, and anyone who stands between the two world powers become casualties.
The submarine that Shaw is hiding inside is half-crushed on the beach. With the single-mindedness of one who’s been nurturing revenge in his heart for too long, Erik seeks out his maker. He doesn’t care about the imminent war - that I learn soon enough - and certainly does not feel any sympathy toward humans whose stupidity and fear turn them into weapons of war. They are, after all, the ,inferior race.
The USSR ship continues to tread water, and the US missiles are set to fire, neither side backing down. I stand between the two causes I vow to protect, not knowing, perhaps for the first time in my life, what course of action to take.
In the end, I bite my lip and turn toward the submarine, searching for Erik. He’s found Shaw, in the engine’s room. I watch them through the crack in the glass, horrified, pleading for Erik - don’t let me down, Erik, no - but Erik never bothers to listen; he is too wrapped up in his own pain and the victorious taste of revenge.
I feel the moment Shaw dies, like a light snuffed from within black walls. The darkness chokes me, warped like a sickness, and I release him, waiting for Erik with a multitude of emotions - disbelief, hopelessness, betrayal.
The only thought that run through my mind when Erik speaks, detailing his vision for a better future, is how stupid I am, to believe in him, to have faith that he would do the right thing.
To think that I mean something to him, like he does to me.
I watch him, tears and bitter hurt blinding me, before the nuclear missiles fall on us like shooting stars, and know with dreadful clarity that nothing will ever be the same again.
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I don’t realize I am awake until I feel gentle caresses on my face, my neck. My head feels groggy, as if it’s wrapped inside a box with walls made out of metal. I lay there, almost paralyzed, uncomprehending for what seems like forever, waiting for my mind to clear.
It doesn’t.
I raise my arm, trembling from the sheer effort, and swallow the bile that fills my mouth at the touch of something cool twisting around my head. The edges of the Wings are sharp against my fingertips, a mocking, laughing presence holding half my soul captive.
Soon after democracy was overthrown and a dictatorship was elected to rule lands where humans still resided, the Wings were engineered to reign control over mutants. With half the world’s population wiped out, it soon became clear that those who were still alive didn’t fare any better. The radioactive energy that consumed the others rendered the reproductive organs of many, most women useless.
But worse than that, it gave a number of mutant men the ability to carry child.
The government was quick to pick up on this, and soon the Repopulation Project was put into effect. A simple test revealed women and mutants who were able to bear children, and who weren’t. Those who could were taken and kept in compounds, stripped of their rights, waiting to be sold into slavery with the sole purpose of getting impregnated. Those who could not, were brought to the Colonies, areas where the atomic bombs made their mark, where no one goes except to dispose of radioactive waste, so they could clean up under the watchful guard of the Sentinels. There they died horrible, painful deaths.
The Wings, on the other hand, is a symbol of slavery, worn by those who can bear children to ensure their complete submission.
I’ve talked to “slaves” I rescued, and they claimed the Colonies were a sweeter death than being subjected to the whims of mankind.
Jaded, weary of the world, I am beginning to see where they are coming from. The Wings were one of the first things to be created as ordained by the Mutant Control Acts, and humans and mutants alike quickly took to them, ready to abuse their power for their own ends.
The Wings are government properties, but for the right price, anyone can procure one. The thought of having complete mastery over mutants is a hard thing to resist, despite changed time.
And now I wear one on my head, like a slave, like the slaves I've spent the last year fighting tooth and nail to free.
The irony is hard to miss, and harder to appreciate.
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I sit up and take in my surrounding. To my surprise, and not little nostalgia, I am lying on my bed in my family’s mansion. The room is exactly as I’d left it, there’s the half-finished chess game on the table in front of the fireplace, where the fire is crackling warmly; there’s the muddy-brown throw unmade over the couch, the one Raven vowed she’d burn one day, the desk in front of a modest bookshelf buried under papers and maps, and the tapestry of a fantastical war hanging over the wall opposing the bed, covering childish doodles and paints Raven and I made when we were convinced we were going to grow up and become wandering artists. The familiar smell of sandalwood and spice washes over me, and for a second I’m a child again, lying in the wide, plushy bed with Raven pressed against my side, whispering in the dark about adventures in faraway lands, where she’s a princess and I am the old, boring wizard who won’t let her do anything fun and is too wise for my mere eleven years.
“Raven,” I say, turning to Emma for the first time. She looks exactly as I remember her, lying on the bed next to me, perfect blond curls and ruthless smile splayed out like a deceitful dream.
“Where’s Raven? I want to see her.” Since the moment she disappeared with Erik, I have not seen her again. The achingly familiar surrounding makes me realize how much I’ve missed her.
Emma pouts mockingly. “Really, Charles? No one else you’d rather see?” Mirth dances in her eyes, telling me there’s a running joke that I am not a part of. Christ, she’s annoying.
“Tell me where Raven is or leave me alone,” I retort as coldly as I can manage. It’s not hard. Emma frowns at me and stands up from where she’s leaning on the bed.
“Then I shall leave you alone, cranky old dear,” Emma huffs, flourishing her cloak as she makes her way to the door, her heels clicking loudly on the polished wooden floor.
I hear the lock turns from outside and listens until the sound of her steps is gone. I am here at the Xavier Mansion, and that only means Erik is close by. All at once the shock hits me - I’ve been captured, I did not leave clear instructions for the other X-Men, Suzanne is dead, and Erik… Erik is responsible for it all.
For the first time in a long time, loneliness creeps into my bones, palpable, cold.
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