666; New York 2/2

[realitydeprived]

Title: 666; New York
Author: realitydeprived (Astro)
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing/character: Scott Summers/James Howlett (Logan)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13,333
Kink: Drug use, Sexual acts with a minor (age: 16/17)
Notes/Warnings:
(This fic includes murder, drug use, language and of course... le sex with a minor.) My first ever big bang. And to top it off, I’m losing my bigbang virginity to a kink community. Wee. When writing this I had the movieverse actors in mind. But imagine it how you wish. Scott’s shorter than Logan though *halo*. This is before Logan ever took part in the Weapon X Program, so he has bone claws as well as his memory and goes under the name of James Howlett; Logan as a moniker.
Some parts of this story I’m more proud than the rest. I’ve been pressed for time and so stressed, so if some parts seem rushed or even (worse) don’t add up, I apologize profusely. I’ve only had time to read over it myself about twice to really fix up any final details.

Summary:
Black ops sends James Howlett to exterminate the heads of two major Japanese and French corporations that threaten international welfare by smuggling out components of potential WMD’s. On the second night of their stay, they hold a formal gathering of inner-circle business associates and partners, granting the perfect opportunity to target and kill. James’s mission is, for lack of a better word, inconvenienced, when a stray falls into his lap; a street urchin; a rent boy whom he discovers to be another mutant.
Disclaimers: Marvel owns X-Men. No profit is being made off of this story. I also know nothing about espionage and assassinations. So this is just my imagination. Sorry if I haven’t watched 24/similar! Some places in the story are also fictional, but I tried to make it as believable as I could. ^^;

Artist: To my artist; thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. THIS POSTER and all banners you see was made by the oh-so-talented
chosenfire28 !

1 ; 2

--

The taxi came to a halt in front of a three storey brick building, given to rent for mostly wedding receptions, business parties like this one, and the occasional bar mitzvah. To the side of it was an alley way, leading in between all the buildings on this particular block. In other words; James’s escape route.

After paying the fare, he made his way up the small flight of stairs to meet two burly men that were obviously the guards for the front door, checking invites. As if it were a simple walk in the park, James stepped up the stairs and looked up to meet the eyes of a guard at least one head taller than him. “Name.” the man said, wrinkles forming on his eyebrows as they lowered in intimidation, creasing his ebony skin.

James hands him the invite; “Carlson, Ethan.” He drops, casually. The guard’s brow cocks as he exchanges looks with his comrade. James decided that he would be outright pissed if they thought something was up.

The first guard leaned in close to whisper into his ear; “Some big shot asshole is looking for you. If I wasn’t meant to be guarding him; I’d have kicked that mother into the curb… no offence.” James shrugged, smiling. “Stay strong, brother.” He finished. James nodded and made himself completely forgettable again. The guards were already looking into the next fashionably late-comer.

Upon stepping inside, James found himself in a main room with a winder staircase leading up to what smelled like where the food was prepared on the second floor. Food hands and employees of people he saw at the meeting the day prior were scattered about everywhere, mingling with the other employees they were about to collaborate with. Through the various pastries, strangers and entrees, James tried to isolate the scent of either the Japanese or Frenchman.

Tracking was simple-it was the hunting that would turn out to be the real sport. The plans were already slowly unraveling. There was an art to taking a life-it was a delicate, intricate art form. It has to be precisely executed, perfected to a craft. Now, to kill just one person without being seen was a feat James was more than capable of… but to consecutively execute two people? Well… that would be an entirely different story. They would have to be taken down in quick succession; for lagging behind on such a strict and demanding schedule as soon as the blood is spilled for one of the heads, meant his chances of being exposed would quadruple in a matter of precious seconds. James had yet to fail-and frankly, he didn’t plan on doing so for this job either. It’s a curious business-assassinating someone. Hours… days of work, all for the three seconds it takes for someone to thud onto the ground, dead.

Mingling only for the shortest periods between other guests, James avoided York each time he came around. It was really starting to irritate him… he overlooked the spontaneous thought of taking the bastard down just because he was a waste of air. As he walked about the level, he counted eight guards all up. One positioned up the top of the stairs, blocking level 2-where the scent of Shimizu and Lefévre was strongest, the two in the front door, and five scattered about the level. James had already found a pattern that the remaining five shared-every half an hour, one of them would go out the terrace at the side of the building for a quick smoke before going back in for the next guy to take over. Everything really was convenient today.

It didn’t take much to knock one unconscious outside with the sleeper hold, slip back in to find that five minutes in, one by one, each of the remaining four signaled each other to check outside while the guard at the stairs made his way up to where James presumed to be the heads. Easy.

--

James stood over the dead body (snapped neck) with his silencer, after waiting for the guard to knock on the door and warn the pair inside the room. He made out the foul language shouting from the other side of the door. Shimizu would be the first to die, it would seem. He inhaled… and in that second, everything in the world slowed down.

The door opened at a painfully slow pace-only when it was open enough for Shimizu’s eyes to widen in shock from seeing a gun in someone’s hand, did he try to close the door… but he was already dead. James kicked it hard, knocking the Japanese man-dressed only in his pants-to the floor. A sharp, audible pierce through the air, like a dagger thrown, and the bullet already passed through his brains, which now painted the ground beneath him in a solid crimson pool.

Just as fast, as if the life he had just taken totally flew over his head, the gun was now pointed at Lefévre; who was pathetically choking on a sob. “Make any noise…” James begins, his eyes quickly glancing towards the boy he saw yesterday sprawled and tied across the bed (he smelled drugs), “… and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

“W-who are y-?!” Lefévre demands, loudly…

A bullet through his shoulder, and he already chokes on his saliva. James says it a second time, warning him that he doesn’t want to repeat himself. “What did you give the boy?” he commands sternly.
“I-… it’s a drug we’re experimenting on. It’s… God, please don’t kill me!”
“… Continue, and I won’t.” James lied. It came so simple to him.
“It causes… a condition, similar to h-eat… in humans. It’s meant to enforce power-over the person t-aking it.”
“You said it was experimental… what are the side effects?”

Lefévre said nothing. Big, mistake. Another silent pierce through the air and the Frenchman writhed in agony at his freshly pained other shoulder.

“It’ll be your knee cap next if you don’t answer the question.” James warned again.

“Some of them died. They overdosed… it’s because it wasn’t worked out of their system!”
James sighed, for the umpteenth time since his mission started. It was now close to finishing. “How do you work it out of their system?” James demanded.

“Sweat… ess-entia-a-ally…” he sobbed, finding himself again, “sexual gratification.” He broke down. It truly, was a pathetic sight to behold. “It hasn’t taken effect yet… but-it won’t be too long. P-PLEASE, God, don’t kill me.”
James ignored the man and turned his attention to the boy. “What’s your name, kid?” his voice was firm.
“I-it’s Scott. What’s happening??” the only thing that covered the putrid stench of drugs from the boy, was the scent of pure, and powerful fear.

A creak was all it took for James to turn, find Lefévre trying to crawl out of the room, before a bullet flew between his eyes and the thud to reverberate around the room, signaling another dead body before he could finish mouthing the words ‘Please’. James’s mission was now complete. But he, in that instant, chose to accept a personal one:
The boy gasped at the sudden drop of the second body, but James continued to ask him questions. “You have to trust me… I’m going to get you out of here.” He said, not waiting for the boy to nod in reply. “Did they do anything to you?”

“N-not yet…” the boy gulped. “They just forced something, into me…” he groaned, his wrists were red from the constant tugging and pulling of the rags that tied him to his bed. (Rags, which James remembered, were his clothes when he was handed over to the two bastards). On the floor next to the bed post, James saw a syringe, freshly used considering the impressive strength of its scent. He needed to act fast. He was already losing major time as it was.

“Do you feel any different?” he asks, pulling out a knife stored in a holder around his ankle and cutting the rags with it. The boy, now free, curled into a ball and hyperventilated as James took off his blazer and placed it around him. The boy shocked at first, settled to the security of clothes around him, before calming down. James could hear the both of their hearts pushing their limits as it was. “I’m getting you out of here. You’re going to have to trust me…” he repeated. Scott nodded, not knowing whether or not his own life was on the line as well…

“Take the blindfold off,” James ordered, but the boy shook his head in defeat.
“I’m blind… it wouldn’t make a difference.”

James’s jaw locked in mad irritation. “Great…” he sighed. Moving towards the window, he slid the hatch open and looked around. To his right he found a steel shaft which all the plumbing from the entire building went through. Grabbing the boy’s hands, he guided them towards the pipe and told him that he’d have to climb down;

“It should support your body weight. We’re on the third floor. You do the math.”
“Wha-??” Scott was interrupted when James carried him, his legs locking around the small pipe, as he slowly allowed his palms to be burned as he slid down.

James turned back in time to find at least five guards making their way through the door, each armed and furious.
Upon quick visual inspection of the room, they find the two lifeless bodies of their bosses and immediately pull their triggers. James pulled his faster.

Shooting down two of the guards with skilled precision, but in turn, taking three bullets. To the chest, to his leg, and to his shoulder. James fell backwards in shock, going through the open window.

The fall towards the cement beneath was a long, silent fall, as James felt his tissue start to regenerate and the bullets being forced out of his system the way they came through. There was no way of describing regeneration without comparing it to something that felt like the most natural thing in the world… like breathing, or blinking. It just… happened. He fell, and his gun fell a few feet away from him.

James lay on the ground, still as night. Only the painful sound of silence rang in his mind, before that light he saw each time he died dimmed into nothing, and darkness overcame him. Drums… or a heartbeat, almost inaudible at first started beating faster… harder. Thrashing in his chest cavity, the pain was enough to bring tears to his eyes, salty excretion gathering at the corner of his peripherals as vague shapes of black and gray formed into navy waves of the night sky and the stars above it.

He had come back to life no more than five seconds after he had died. And he sensed his killers coming for him again… he was a mad dog.

==

It was a whole myriad of sounds; muffled, loud, explosive and putrid. Scott had used his hands to follow the sides of the building until he had found his way next to a large metal dumpster, on account of the smell. He had never felt more helpless in his life-not knowing what the hell was happening, and putting-if you will- blind faith in a man that had saved him from the equivalent of another night of slowly dying on the inside.

Everything sounded louder than it should have been-and his senses were going berserk. His heart thumped louder than the punches he heard before him, they almost matched in synch. The ground underneath his fingertips was cold, and rough, causing a shiver to form at the base of his gut. Saliva was all he could taste and smell, and though he was blind-the blackness he could see turned into colors he almost remembered. He was going to throw up. He was going to pass out. And he felt so. Fucking. Good.

As fast as the feeling of euphoria overtook him, he lost contact with it again, like wind. He was tired, and he could hear someone panting… punching.

“Kid, move!”

For the first time in five years-he opened his eyes. The world was all shades of red. Anger, love, hatred, passion, fire, death. Life. He opened them for just a second, and when he did, he captured the moment-every, single detail-in his mind, before closing them again. When you’ve been seeing black for the past five years, you tend to remember every detail of what you saw for that split second.

Two men falling away from concussive force in front of his savior; who was standing over the body of one of the guards. The older man had obstructions protruding from his knuckles… claws? Nevertheless, he looked absolutely vicious. Was Scott really to trust him?

Just as the weight of releasing pent up energy left his shoulders, so did his consciousness. Scott fell to the ground.

==

The guards came from the windows the same way Scott had done earlier on. James saw him through the corner of his eye, slowing treading his way deeper towards the alley way.

James’s hand rested on his knee as he slowly forced himself up, his back crackling back into place before locking and solidifying into its normal state. By then all three of the guards had already come down each with a gun at hand, and all aimed towards his head…

“No fucking man takes a fall like that without any damage to show for it.” One said angrily the biggest one of the group, obviously the head of their positions. James didn’t say anything, and instead took one step forward.

The gun cocked. “I wouldn’t do that pretty boy…” Another step. "Don’t even think about it," the guard cooed, now aiming the gun to his kneecap. James hated getting shot there. It stung the best.

"What do we have here?" another guard asked, turning around to see a helpless Scott fall back against a dumpster, curling himself into a ball.

James’s jaw locked. "I'm the one that you want. Not him."
“What, is the whore your little helper is he?” he said, gun now pointed at the boy.

“Kid, move!” James yelled, a morbid pain tingling his knuckles as he relinquished his hatred. The claws were sheathed and he cut the gun out of the guard’s hand instantaneously. The other guard kicked James’s chest out of reflex, causing him to lose balance and force himself to stand steadily again. The leader’s gun now locked on his head…

“You’re a fucking monster…”

Red. Blasting in front of him, knocking the other two guards down before depleting in thin air as suddenly as it came. James turned to the direction from which it came to find Scott, blindfold tattering from his eyes before falling unconscious. It clicked. Scott was another one. A mutant. James quickly ran to him; to make sure he was fine, leaning down, seeing him still mumbling incoherency, drifting in and out of his blackout. James carried him, as a lifeguard would to a drowned man, towards someplace… anywhere to hide themselves.

“Wake up kid… we need to get out of sight. The police will be here.”
“Bel…mont…”

James continued to walk, deciphering the slurs coming from the boy in his arms.
“B-belmonte… motel. Room 7.”

James knew of the place. And right now, he wasn’t one to argue any suggestions because a man with a blood stained polo holding a Goddamn drugged up teenager was anything but inconspicuous. James picked up his pace, and disappearing deeper into the darkness of the alleyways.

--

The boy was lying on the bed, the drug working its way through his system smelling stronger by the minute. James took a small towel from the bathroom and wet it with lukewarm water before pacing back towards the bed to place it on the boy’s forehead, who was by now, sweating as if he was the one that had just fought off bullet wounds and scar tissue.

James looked down at his polo shirt, shifting the hole on his left pectoral and shoulder, to find that his skin was now in tact again, and had dribbling blood as well. He started to unbutton it but was interrupted by a stir in the bed. The towel fell off the boy’s head as he shifted again, eyes closed soothingly. For a kid, and a guy no less, he did have some effeminate qualities like his lashes, cheekbones and lips. Not to mention the fact that… the kid was…

… a mutant… the kid was a mutant. James hardly remembered the last time he’d met a mutant that he wasn’t ordered to kill. Some masterpiece of his ‘kind’ he was. He sat down on the dining chair he had moved next to the bed earlier, and commenced with removing his polo shirt, dried blood clinging onto his skin on his shoulder.

“… so…” the boy panted in his sleep, stirring all the more, the sheet slipping below his chest… “… hot…” he finished. James sat up swiftly, contemplating his next move. The smell of drugs was getting stronger as the boy continued sweating it out. It wouldn’t be enough…

He walked towards him, placing a hand gently across his forehead to feel that it was burning up pretty damn fast. Scott suddenly stopped breathing, before pushing James’s hand away with his and sitting up, arrow straight on the bed in a violent shudder. Like an addict refusing human contact; whose skin crawled underneath the surface.

“Hey, hey, kid. I’m not going hurt you…” James started. “I’m here to-”
“-so… hot…” Scott repeated, panting, out of breath, as if it was a warning to James himself. James inhaled the potent lust and his pupils dilated shakily, his mutation picked up on the shear strength of the boy’s arousal, and it wasn’t a good sign he was responding to animalistic urges in an unwanted primal devolution.

He moved back, not trusting himself. It wasn’t about the fact that Scott was a whore… some street rat. He’d fucked a lot of escorts- both men, women in his lifetime… different countries, different backgrounds-but always an adult. Never a… a kid. And James had a really long and really healthy life.

…But the scent… he inhaled again, it was just now slowly starting to penetrate his body… he really didn’t trust himself by this point, his own hands clenched into a fist, tightening his grip on itself. His canines developed sharply as he turned away, considered fleeing. But he couldn’t. He fucking couldn’t. The kid would have OD’d by the time he calmed down and got back. There wasn’t anything else he could do. And fuck… did he want to seal the fucking deal.

If he didn’t know it, he would’ve believed he was reacting to the drug as well.

Scott swayed as he leaned on the headboard, breathing huskily, lips parted. He moaned as his arm gave way and he collapsed on the bed again after losing his balance. James moved forward and placed his hands on Scott’s shoulders, shaking him gently, one hand moving to cup his face. Scott hissed at the contact, as he grabbed the hand with his… the thin shine of saliva on his swollen, pink lips was visible under the cheap motel lighting as they came together to formulate the words that would be James’s undoing…

“F-f-uck… me.” The boy begged… Whispered… Writhed… Gasped… “Fuck me…”

James was undone. The boy was now prey, ripe for the taking. James placed one knee on the bed to get closer to the teenager in front of him, holding his shoulders as he shifted him to the open space on the mattress. Young hands shakily climbed the muscled columns of his arms as the boy pulled him down to taste the lips of the older man. James tasted the lust, the pure potent scent of desire on the boy’s tongue and without hesitation, he broke the kiss and turned the boy around-stomach first-onto the bed. Viciously ripping his blazer from the boy’s young frame, he let one hand slide down the groove of the kid’s spine, as the other hand was tensely snaked underneath the boy’s body, balancing his flat stomach as the kid found balance on both of his knees.

The room was now filled with the stench of lust from both parties. James undid his zipper with one hand and pulled his dress pants as low as it could go considering his kneeling position before pulling the boy’s briefs down in a similar manner; the sinfully round and sweaty globes of the kid’s cheeks spread before him as his angry, moist, erection slid and teased up and down the tight crevice, without at all entering. The shoulder blades of the boy underneath him tensed as young hands gripped at the sheets, as if his life depended on it… it did. James’s firm right hand started stroking the already dripping erection of Scott as he heard muffled pleasure-filled cries of agony escape the lips of the kid he was about to fuck senseless.

James leaned forward, his bottom lip tracing the nape of the boy’s neck as he finally guided his aching cock towards the boy’s desperate opening, causing another shudder to escape the boy underneath him. He pulled the boy’s hair with his free hand, forcing him to turn his head sideways, towards him, before stealing a kiss from that young, pretty mouth of his as he finally entered in a solid, slow thrust. He consumed the scream. Devoured it, really.

The kid was tight. So, fucking, tight to the point where it drove him insane. James slowly started working an irregular and unsteady rhythm as he grabbed at the boy’s hips on both sides, stopping him from pushing back against him, until he was sure the kid could take his girth. James grunted in the searing heat that surrounded his shaft, being inside him was electricity. Now, slowly building up a pace, he started thrusting in and out, stopping just before the head of his cock was about to leave, then ramming all of himself back into him, who was now crying loud in desperation at the unbearably hot stimulation. James spread his legs wider to allow himself more access as his free hands stalked their way up the boy’s adolescently toned arms, stringing his fingers through the spaces between Scott’s and holding tight, fucking him raw, wild…

The bed creaked angrily, the slick slapping of skin against skin, the pleasure gradually mounted to the point of no return. James repositioned his position to aim at the spot that caused the kid to scream loudest, as his arms snaked their way under the boy’s arms. Obviously the vocal moans meant that the boy was loving being split. He sat up and pulled the kid as well onto his chest, now fucking him vertically, thoroughly. Scott’s arms made their way back around James’s neck as his entire front was completely exposed, his own dribbling shaft bouncing in the air in synch with James’s deep, harsh thrusts. He spread his legs as far as it could go while their mouths fought over nothing but the feeling of pure euphoria. James felt the buildup of his load about to explode and before he finished, he depleted Scott with his bare hand; pumping out the slick white fluid as it spilled onto the bed , onto the boy’s own chest and down his hand, in a silent, breathless moan. James couldn’t fight back anymore either. He roared when he shot his seed deep within Scott. Heat dissolved the air-before disappearing from his olfactory radar.

Sweat coaxed, tired, and panting, the two bodies collapsed in unison, blacking out. The motel’s light bulb didn’t have a chance as the sun gradually came through the cracks of the closed curtains in the early hours of the morning.

==

Scott awoke on the bed, naked, sticky and head throbbing in pain, as the events of the previous night replayed in his mind. He choked on his breath. He did… he really did. The sudden realization of the emptiness around him caused a slight panic to surface. “I-is there anyone there?! Hello??”

“I’m here… I’m here.” He hears from the distance-where he remembers the bathroom to be. He heard the sound of a tap start running then stop just as quickly. His head shifted to compensate for his inability to see-not that it made it any better. Scott shifted awkwardly in his bed, feeling the dried up fluids on his flat stomach, his chest, and on his neck. He blushed furiously. “Th-thank… you. And… sorry. I’m fucking, so sorry.”

He was greeted with silence. And he shifted again, uncomfortably, pulling the sheets up to cover his body again. Not that it would’ve changed what had taken place… his head shot up immediately as he heard a door slide close and dampened footsteps across the carpet made their way towards him, before sinking onto a creaky chair next to the bed, to where his head now faced.

“… so, you’re an assassin or something.” Scott pointed out.

Silence. Scott shifted in his position, looking away, wishing he could just dig a hole and bury himself into it. He hears the clearing of a throat and James decides that he could ask the questions.

“How long have you been…” he pauses, contemplating on a way to finish it.
“A whore?” Scott assists, bitterly. “… a few months I guess. I dunno. It feels like it’s been my whole life.”

For the first time, James doesn’t know what to say… what was he meant to ask? ‘You enjoy it?’ He internally rolled his own eyes. So he decided to change the topic into a more… mutual one-“How about a mutant?”

Scott inner functions stop. He remembered the night before… the claws. The feral anger plastered all over James’s normally silent face. “You’re one too… aren’t you?”

Silence again.

Scott just snickers, thinking he might as well just be talking to a brick wall. “I don’t remember… it feels like it’s been forever.” He raised his knees underneath the sheets and rested his chin on them. “I just know that it’s made me blind since as far as I can remember. Everything I look at, I destroy… except me-unfortunately.” Scott turned his head uncomfortably, in the general direction away from the man’s company.

“… yeah. You’re right.” Scott hears, not shifting his position at all, as if not facing James would let him spill more of the truth. “I’m an assassin. A mutant.” Pause. Scott took the opportunity to ask what James’s mutation was. “I’m continuously and passively regenerating. I can’t stop it.” James simply answers. “It’s how I don’t get scars from the claws… it’s how I’ve lived so long.”

“How long is that?”

“… Too long.” James answered cryptically.

Scott sat silent, not knowing what else to say now… not knowing, actually, what the hell he was meant to do. One night changed everything. “What… happens to me now?”

He awaited a reply… it didn’t come fast. But it did come. “I know someone that can take care of you.” James answered. “He’s a brilliant man.”

Scott felt insulted at the idea. “So what?? You’re just gonna fuck me then hand me off to some random?!”
“I ‘fucked’ you, because you would have died.” James answered, unfazed.

It stung. It stung more than Scott could comprehend. “Then why didn’t you just fucking give me a blowjob or something?!” he retaliated. More angry than he intended.

“I’m not-” James paused.
“What? A whore. Hah. Of course.” Scott replied bitterly. Everything stayed settled in the room. There wasn’t any noise aside from Scott’s own breathing. He worried for a split second. He heard the man sigh. He didn’t want to linger on the subject though. So he changed it; “This room is reserved for me to be fucked. No one ever comes here but me and the client. The guy that works here is friends with my boss. He gets compensated.” He didn’t know why he was sharing this information. But it felt disgusting, he felt useless describing his life for the past few months. A sudden thought sprung in Scott’s mind.

“What’s your name?” he asked.
“… James.” He heard.
“James… take me with you…” he said, hopeful, turning around to face the direction of where the breathing was coming from.
“I can’t, kid. I’m sorry.” James said sternly. “You know what I do. I kill.”
“So could I… I-I could be like, your sidekick or something!” Scott pushed, desperately.
“I can’t let you have that haunt you for the rest of your life. I won’t let you.”

“I have nothing here.” His voice faltered.
“I can give you money-”
Scott only laughed bitterly.
“I can give you money, to make something of yourself. Go to school… study.”
“Yeah, I can see myself going places.” Scott laughed sarcastically. “A blind death ray kid that’s had 1 and a half years of street experience fucking people!”

“We’ll talk about this. I’m taking you with me. But I’m not going to let you do anything that isn’t good for you.” James warned. “Wash yourself. I’ll get you clothes and we’ll talk after I sign out of the hotel. I’m due to sign out in an hour. Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Scott sneered. “I’m blind, I’m not stupid. I’ve been here more times than I can count.” Holding the sheets around his waist, he slowly treaded off the bed and walked to where the bathroom was, tripping on James’s shoe on the way, before regaining balance. But not composure; he was blushing immensely. The door closed swiftly.

==

“Would you like to come in? I’m just going to grab my things and sign out.” James offered.
“No thanks… I’ll stay out here if that’s okay with you.” Scott replied, just as James had predicted.

He patted the boy on the shoulder before making his way to the front desk to tell the manager he was ready to sign out and that he needed someone to take his bag back downstairs. “Of course sir,” the man says, hoping out loud that James enjoyed his stay as he hands back his room card.

“May I use the phone? I need to call a friend for something urgent.” James asks, pointing towards the free phone on the side of the table.
“Of course sir, feel free.” They reply, before disappearing behind a curtain to yell at the boy to get on with it-the exact same boy that helped James beforehand… James was amused.

James dialed the number he knew like the back of his hands, and each crevice of what protruded from it. A soothing, calm voice answered the phone.

“Hello?.” The voice spoke.
“It’s me.”
“Ahh… James. How have you been?”
“You still have it old man…” James complimented. Something he so rarely did.
“I wouldn’t say old, James, considering you’re the one calling me.” He replied. James could only smile.

“I have a proposition for you…”

==

Scott looked up every now and again when he heard the rotating doors-to some probably grand palace where James disappeared to- swirl open. He’d been waiting outside for about twenty minutes. He counted, so he was sure. In that time, he had managed to refuse help from eight strangers that asked if he was alright or needed assistance with anything. He wished he had his old glasses. He hated feeling so… open, vulnerable, whenever people saw his eyes closed. He was at the point of irritation just before screaming, so he decided to not waste any more of his time and to start using his fingers to trail away from the building. A hand landed on his shoulder, gripped firmly and stopped him from moving any further.

“I told you to wait here.” He heard James say. Scott was very irritated.
“Why the fuck did you leave me waiting?! I’m blind. You think this is funny?!”
“You’re not blind. You just choose not to kill.”

Scott grit his teeth and seethed, turning his head away from the man next to him; the one that fucked him through and through the night before.

“A limo will be arriving to pick us up slowly. I’m going to meet an old friend, then I’ll leave for the airport.”

Scott didn’t reply. He shifted, and gulped. His breath hitched. James reassured him that his friend didn’t mind if he brought over company… not at all.

So they both just waited side by side for a while. For a moment… a long moment, Scott let himself enjoy the presence of someone he felt like he could trust. Just because of their… differences-to everyone else, that is. That moment was short lived when James placed his hand on the small of Scott’s back and led him towards the vehicle that was apparently before them.

“Where are we going again?” Scott asked, leaning his head on the glass tiredly as they both settled into the seats.
“To meet an old friend…” James reminded.

The limo left at once, and Scott heard the sounds of cars disappear as they left the heart of the city to wherever it was they were going… somewhere quiet.

--

Scott woke up to a sudden bump in the round. He choked as he sat up briskly, feeling his arms around in his surrounding space, James placed a solid grip on Scott’s shoulder. That always seemed to calm him down, for some reason… “Calm down…” he heard. “We’re almost there.”

By now, Scott couldn’t hear any signs of civilization outside… he actually heard wind, birds chirping. Just the sound of the wheels as it was making its way to some blind destination. “How long was I asleep for?” Scott asked, (so he could approximate the distance they about traveled).

“Not long… about half an hour.” James answered.

Scott heard the turning of a page and assumed James was reading a newspaper, or a book. It hit a nerve in Scott, who couldn’t remember the last time he held a book or something in his hand, let alone read something. He turned his head, thumb and index finger tracing the bridge of his delicate nose. Wishing there was weight on them, he guessed. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, James tells Scott to give him his hand. Scott’s unsure at first, but quickly pushes any roaming thought out of his mind… it’s not like it could have gotten any more awkward.

In his open palm, he feels the familiar shape of spectacles. Glasses…

“They’re shades. You can have them. You look uncomfortable without them… I can only imagine what kind of security they give you.” James empathized. Scott closed his hand and thanked him silently.

Now with a newfound relief he didn’t know he had, he put them on immediately, not particularly caring if they looked ridiculous or completely amazing. He just needed to walk around without people seeing that he was walking about with closed eyes. He really did loathe the whispers that he heard behind his back… actually, sometimes in front, too.

“We’re here.” James said suddenly, causing Scott to turn towards him in surprise.
“… where is ‘here’?” he asked, but there was no reply. The doors on either side of him opened.

“The house of that old friend that I mentioned.” He finally heard, as he felt his way out with a foot. As if the ground was icy cold water. It felt remote… silent. Peaceful.

The gravel shifted under his feet as he felt his way around the limo before James’s hand; the hand that handled him the night before-the one that had probably taken thousands of lives-was placed on his back once more, only to be led to a small flight of steps.

“Hello old friend…” a voice said. Scott jumped minutely-but noticeably, because the voice had started to pay attention to him. “Don’t be alarmed… it’s okay. You must be the young talent James had told me about.”

In that exact second, Scott felt his heart drop. He was now furious, taking a step back and yelling at James, the man he trusted. “You’re a fucking bastard you know that?! You lead me on and now you’re just gonna give me off to this perv?!” Scott trips from the step he had forgotten he had climbed just earlier but James was quick enough to grab a hold of his hands and pull him close.

“Calm down…” he says sternly-as a father would say to his son.
“It’s alright James…” the voice sooths. “Scott… I know you feel unsafe here. But you’re really safest now than where you were before…”
“You wouldn’t know anything about that!” Scott snaps back. “You know, if I wanted to, I could blast the both of you and your house to the ground right now.” Pulling his arm away from James’s grasp, Scott quickly turns and carefully walks down the stairs to God knows where.

Scott.

He paused. Did he really just- no.

Scott… do not be alarmed. You’re safe here… I can provide you shelter, and an answer to your blindness. But please, you have to trust me.

Scott stopped dead in his tracks. “W-who’s saying that?” he asks out loud.

My name is Charles Xavier. I’m a mutant Scott-just like you. Like James. He called me asking for help… something that he’s refused since I first met him. He wanted me to help *you*.

He feels James’s all too familiar hand, leading him back up the stairs and to meet the man that was just inside his head. “… h-how can you help me?” Scott inquires.

“With your cooperation…” the voice, now tagged Xavier, answered.

--

“… I’m sorry, for troubling you.” Scott said to James. “You’ve saved my life… I don’t know how I can repay you.”
“Just don’t give the old man any trouble…” James smiles. Patting the kid on the back one last time.
“I don’t know… what I’m meant to do here.” Scott admits… shakily. “It doesn’t feel right.”
“It will… in time. This will be your home now. You won’t ever have to deal with the things you’ve gone through anymore. Xavier’s word.” James reassures. “I need to leave now.”

“Why don’t you stay here?”
“… it’s complicated. I really need go.”
“… I’ll hear from you again, right?”

Scott stood there waiting for an answer. It never came. Only the sounds of a car leaving did he realize that the man that had saved his life had now left…

==

James waits at a small café, the people passing by paying him no attention at all. The wind whispered gently as a cool breeze overlooks all the insignificant people it passes. Ruby clacks with her stilettos against the pavement as she kisses James on the cheek before she sits down and makes herself comfortable, passing the waiter that’s offering her food with a hold of her hand. She was not the same.

“There’s another job that needs priority. But you’ve just finished this one. I recommend a break…” the look on her face was severe. James knew something was up.
“It must be big…” he tries to lighten the tension, but she just shakes her head seriously.
“Don’t take it James… you don’t have to. He experiments on mutants. He works with the government. This will be a serious mission.”
James holds out his hand, but the woman just refuses to hand him the folder. “…I’ve gotten a bad feeling about this one. It’s not going to be a walk in the park like all your other ones.”

James didn’t say anything, hands still outstretched. Moist silver eyes fall in defeat as she hands him the folder, already knowing the inevitable answer.

“William Stryker, hm?” James inquires, cocking a brow.
Ruby just replies with a nod.
“I’m going to be partnered?” he asked.
“If you take the job.”
“… who will be my partner.”
“James, I don’t trust this guy. He’s another mutant; an animal.”

“…”
“His name is Victor Creed. He gives me bad vibes, James… bad vibes.”
“And someone experimenting on mutants doesn’t?”
“… I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know.”

James slowly sat up from his chair, sliding a one hundred dollar bill towards her. “It was nice seeing you again,”… “And thanks for lunch.” He pushed the chair in and stroked her shoulder as he passed her. Moving towards the busier street to catch a taxi to the airport, James takes one last look to find her burying her face in her hands. His lip was a tight line. A yellow vehicle stops before him and he enters it quietly to leave the city.

As if he was never there to begin with.

[END]


And all art courtesy of.....!
chosenfire28