Prompt Post: ROUND SEVEN
ROUND SEVEN IS CLOSED
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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... )
“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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