Worthington Labs, Alcatraz Island, Earth 10005
Warren Worthington, Jr. was a lot of things. The owner of a wildly successful company, the developer of the first ever cure for the X-gene, and obscenely rich.
Today, he was also horribly nervous, walking briskly down the hallways of Worthington Labs, formerly the prison facility known as Alcatraz, alongside his business associate, Dr. Kavita Rao. They'd been given the heads-up by the military lined up outside that the island's security had been compromised, that they were to evacuate as quickly as possible.
The two mutants that stepped out in front of them, looking fierce and quite ready for a fight, weren't going to make that easy. Warren spun on his heel, Kavita following along with him, and they tried ducking down another hallway.
"Going somewhere?"
Dead end. Surrounded. Warren, Jr. swallowed and glanced at his companion as the trio closed in around them.
"You're the guy that invented the cure, right?" The male mutant said, levelling Warren with a look. He got a nervous nod in reply.
"Yes. I am."
It wasn't as though the answer wasn't obvious. Lying would have just provoked them further. As it stood, the truth was getting him manhandled by the two female mutants, and all that he could do was struggle as the two easily overpowered him.
Kavita's protests echoed loudly in his ears, pleas that they not hurt him. He appreciated that. He did.
But when the male mutant wrapped his arms around her, whispering that everything would be okay until she calmed down, and then shot a barrage of quills through every inch of his skin directly into her body... Warren found himself wishing that she hadn't cared enough to say anything at all.
The women dragged him away as Dr. Rao's body crumpled, lifeless and bloody, to the floor.
Now it was his turn to protest, to beg, abandoning his dignity to plead for his life as they dragged up straight to the edge of the roof, murder in their eyes. Down below, cartridges filled with the cure that he'd developed were flying back and forth, downing the hostile mutants left and right. Up here, there wasn't anything of the sort. Up here, it was just him, and them, and they were holding him over the edge.
"No! No, please, don't do this! I only wanted to help you people!"
Wrong answer.
"Do we look like we need your help?"
And then they let go.
Wings! Aerial surveillance!
Warren's nose wrinkled a little as he looked down at the chaos below him. It was quieter up here, at least, though now and again he'd hear Karla's voice breaking into his mind to report this or that about what was going on inside. She'd caught wind of his father's psychic scent. He was still alive. Good news, at least, even while that cure was stripping away the dignity of a good many people who had, ultimately, been rightfully afraid that it would be turned into a weapon and used against them.
Hell, he'd been peppered with a few of the darts himself since he'd taken off, the human soldiers down below mistaking him for one of Magneto's Brotherhood. He'd nearly had a heart attack the first time one of them flew his way, even if it had been deflected harmlessly from the shield that Karla had created for him.
He was pretty sure that trying to 'cure' a flying mutant while he was circling around a hundred feet in the air was actually attempted murder. Thanks, down there. He really appreciated your efforts to uphold truth and peace and the superiority of homo sapiens as a species.
Only kind of not.
He was circling around again when he spotted movement on a nearby portion of roof. Four figures, three of them very obviously overpowering one, heading toward the edge. He frowned, circling around closer. And then swallowed as they dangled the man over the edge.
He didn't want to know what was being said. All he knew was that, whatever it was, it was enough to convince the three on the rooftop that dropping his father was clearly the best of all of their options.
At least that was a death sentence that Warren was well-equipped to issue a pardon for. The Eyrien sticks that Karla had handed to him were being tucked into his belt as he swooped into a dive, scooping his father up into his arms like a tossed about ragdoll, clearly terrified, but apparently uninjured.
While Warren, Jr. worked on regaining his wits, his son was levelling him with a look.
How do you feel about these wings now, Dad?
[Still NFB, Still NFI, and to be continued in the comments, with glacial_witch at the helm of Warren's old man! Also. WHAT ARE THE ODDS that this post has the same number as the Earth designation number for the movies? Laughing all the laughter, over here.]
Today, he was also horribly nervous, walking briskly down the hallways of Worthington Labs, formerly the prison facility known as Alcatraz, alongside his business associate, Dr. Kavita Rao. They'd been given the heads-up by the military lined up outside that the island's security had been compromised, that they were to evacuate as quickly as possible.
The two mutants that stepped out in front of them, looking fierce and quite ready for a fight, weren't going to make that easy. Warren spun on his heel, Kavita following along with him, and they tried ducking down another hallway.
"Going somewhere?"
Dead end. Surrounded. Warren, Jr. swallowed and glanced at his companion as the trio closed in around them.
"You're the guy that invented the cure, right?" The male mutant said, levelling Warren with a look. He got a nervous nod in reply.
"Yes. I am."
It wasn't as though the answer wasn't obvious. Lying would have just provoked them further. As it stood, the truth was getting him manhandled by the two female mutants, and all that he could do was struggle as the two easily overpowered him.
Kavita's protests echoed loudly in his ears, pleas that they not hurt him. He appreciated that. He did.
But when the male mutant wrapped his arms around her, whispering that everything would be okay until she calmed down, and then shot a barrage of quills through every inch of his skin directly into her body... Warren found himself wishing that she hadn't cared enough to say anything at all.
The women dragged him away as Dr. Rao's body crumpled, lifeless and bloody, to the floor.
Now it was his turn to protest, to beg, abandoning his dignity to plead for his life as they dragged up straight to the edge of the roof, murder in their eyes. Down below, cartridges filled with the cure that he'd developed were flying back and forth, downing the hostile mutants left and right. Up here, there wasn't anything of the sort. Up here, it was just him, and them, and they were holding him over the edge.
"No! No, please, don't do this! I only wanted to help you people!"
Wrong answer.
"Do we look like we need your help?"
And then they let go.
Wings! Aerial surveillance!
Warren's nose wrinkled a little as he looked down at the chaos below him. It was quieter up here, at least, though now and again he'd hear Karla's voice breaking into his mind to report this or that about what was going on inside. She'd caught wind of his father's psychic scent. He was still alive. Good news, at least, even while that cure was stripping away the dignity of a good many people who had, ultimately, been rightfully afraid that it would be turned into a weapon and used against them.
Hell, he'd been peppered with a few of the darts himself since he'd taken off, the human soldiers down below mistaking him for one of Magneto's Brotherhood. He'd nearly had a heart attack the first time one of them flew his way, even if it had been deflected harmlessly from the shield that Karla had created for him.
He was pretty sure that trying to 'cure' a flying mutant while he was circling around a hundred feet in the air was actually attempted murder. Thanks, down there. He really appreciated your efforts to uphold truth and peace and the superiority of homo sapiens as a species.
Only kind of not.
He was circling around again when he spotted movement on a nearby portion of roof. Four figures, three of them very obviously overpowering one, heading toward the edge. He frowned, circling around closer. And then swallowed as they dangled the man over the edge.
He didn't want to know what was being said. All he knew was that, whatever it was, it was enough to convince the three on the rooftop that dropping his father was clearly the best of all of their options.
At least that was a death sentence that Warren was well-equipped to issue a pardon for. The Eyrien sticks that Karla had handed to him were being tucked into his belt as he swooped into a dive, scooping his father up into his arms like a tossed about ragdoll, clearly terrified, but apparently uninjured.
While Warren, Jr. worked on regaining his wits, his son was levelling him with a look.
How do you feel about these wings now, Dad?
[Still NFB, Still NFI, and to be continued in the comments, with glacial_witch at the helm of Warren's old man! Also. WHAT ARE THE ODDS that this post has the same number as the Earth designation number for the movies? Laughing all the laughter, over here.]