(no subject)
Title: The New Mutants, Volume VI
Author:
kanedax
Rating: PG-13+ and non-graphic nudity
Fandom: X-Men movieverse
Pairings: None in this volume
Summary: A New Mutant gets his first taste of what the X-Men are all about.
Notes: This is volume six in what I'm hoping will be a continuing to be the continuing story of the Xavier Academy, post-X3. This one is considerably longer than the previous posts, at almost 6,000 words, and I'm expecting more posts in the future to be this length, as well. But that means there might be a little more gap than what I've had between previous volumes. I do have a definite plan for this story now, though, and I hope to see it through to the end. As always, I don't own the X-Men, the Marvel universe, or any characters from 20th Century Fox. I do own the new Weird Al album, though, and "Virus Alert" is really growing on me.
Previous Chapter (Triangles Revisited) / Next Chapter (A Day In The Life)
“Do you want to get fired?”
Emma Frost quietly set her teacup on the table. “Ororo, dear, I think you’re over-reacting a bit…”
“Over-reacting?” Ororo Munroe nearly screamed from across the table. “Someone could have been killed!”
“Yes, dear,” Emma replied, in the same maddeningly calm tone. “But no one did, did they?”
“Jesus Christ,” Ororo muttered, leaning back in the plush white chair. “I’m gone for less than a week, and the school’s already turned into a war zone.”
“You’ll have to talk to Forge about that. He was the one who put the gun there in the…”
“Why were they down there to begin with?” Ororo interrupted, her eyes flashing blue lightning. “That’s part of your job, to keep a psychic net on the area, make sure no one goes anywhere they shouldn’t.”
Frost sighed. “I will admit,” she said, pouring another cup, “in hindsight that that was the wrong impulse. Would you like some tea, dear? I can get Michel to get you a new cup.”
Ororo continued to stare, her eyes never blinking. Emma shrugged, and took another sip before continuing.
“I did make a scan. I found Kitty Pryde in the common room, falling asleep to the news. Bobby Drake in the kitchen; Remy LeBeau, Peter Rasputin, Artie Maddicks and Jimmy Cameron in bed. I read Jubilation Lee, Theresa Cassidy, and Alison Blaire wandering the hall on one end, and Arthur Centino, Connor Jones, and Lucas Bishop on the other end.”
“Then why didn’t you…?”
“I was going to,” Emma interrupted. “But then I decided that it would be good for the new students to learn exactly what being a mutant, what being a member of this Academy, is all about.”
“By putting them in front of a gun and starting to fire?”
“I told you, dear,” Emma said, “I didn’t know that it was there. Lord knows it wasn’t there when I was a student here. Forge told me that he put the gun in, but only after the, um, incident.
“No, what I decided, after I found the three boys, was to let them go. Let them think that they were getting away with it. Children tend to believe that they’re not doing anything wrong as long as they’re not getting caught.
“So I decided to let them have their fun, call them on it the next morning, and deal with their punishment accordingly. Let them realize that there are rules in this school, even when adults aren’t around.
“Besides,” Emma said with a small smile, “What we learned far outweighed the harm that was actually done.”
Storm sighed, leaning her elbows on the table, her hands running through her short black-and-white hair. She leaned back, looking around the small café.
“So what was the damage?”
“Literal or figurative?”
Ororo glared. “Shut up and talk.”
“Hmm,” Emma smirked, “since you put it so paradoxically… Literal damage, one laser gun that Forge can probably repair by the time he’s done eating lunch, and two or three holes in the sub-basement hall.
“Figuratively, we’re starting to see two of our new students in a different light.”
Ororo arched her eyebrow. “How so?”
“Ahhh, now she’s interested…” Emma said, rubbing her hands together. “First off, none of the X-Men stopped the gun. Arthur Centino did.”
“How?”
“He threw a bottle at it.”
“What kind of bottle?”
Emma thought. “Ummm, whiskey, I think. I couldn’t say for sure, since it shattered.”
Ororo’s eyes narrowed, her voice raised, “Why did he have a whiskey bottle?”
Emma shook her head. “Not important,” she said quickly. “What’s important is that he threw the bottle, while hanging upside down from the ceiling.”
“Lucky shot?”
“More than that. I spoke with Mr. Drake and Miss Pryde afterwards, and they agreed that there was no way that the bottle should have done what it did. It should have either hit the side of the gun, or fallen short completely.
“But Bobby swears that he saw the bottle slow down, and raise itself in mid-air. Almost like it recalculated its own trajectory, to hit where it did, and when it did.”
“How is that possible?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out,” Emma said. “Moira and Sean are like kids at Christmas, with all the tests they’re running on Centino and Bishop…”
“Bishop? Lucas Bishop?” Ororo asked.
“But I think it’s safe to say that there’s more to Arthur Centino than hollow bones and four fingers.”
“What about Lucas?”
“Oh, yes, Lucas,” Emma continued. “Well, when I told you that no one was hurt, that might have been… stretching the truth?”
“What happened to Lucas?” Ororo asked, her fingers tightening on the armrests.
“Well, he bumped his head…”
“That’s all?”
“After the laser hit him in the chest and tossed him into the wall.”
“What?”
Emma lifted her hands, attempting to calm Ororo, whose eyes had gone white. “But it didn’t do any other damage, Ororo. I saw the holes the gun made in the wall and in the floor, and Bishop should have been gutted. But he wasn’t.”
“So he’s invulnerable?”
“Beyond that. He was glowing red after he was hit. Sean realized what was going on, and brought him into the Danger Room for safety. Lucas had absorbed the attack, and discharged it out of his body in an energy pulse.
“Again, we’re running tests, but, to put it bluntly, Lucas Bishop is a giant battery. He absorbs any energy that comes in contact with him, and can store and release it at any time.”
“Wait,” Ororo said, shaking her head. “He’s had this energy pack in his body since his mutation manifested, and he didn’t know it? How is that possible?”
“Moira thinks it’s because he hadn’t stored enough yet for it to even affect him. It took a blast in the chest from a giant laser beam, a beam that would have fricasseed an average human, to charge him enough where it made a difference.”
Ororo sat back in her seat. “Amazing.”
“Cerebro said he was a Class Four mutant, maybe higher,” Emma said levelly. “I think as he matures, as he comes to learn how to control and harness the energy he absorbs, he could be amazing someday.
“But right now he’s just a child. The youngest student we have at the Academy besides Artie. When I scanned him last night, before the Danger Room incident, I sensed doubt. Fear. Anxiety. He was raised in a loving family, but has been flying solo for most of his life. A social outcast before he even learned he was a mutant.”
“I know all this already, Emma,” Ororo said.
“I know you do,” Frost rebutted. “But this changes things. He’s a scared little boy who’s suddenly learning that his talent, his ability, becomes more useful, more powerful, the more he gets the snot beaten out of him.
“We’re going to have to take it slow with him. Not push him too far, or he’ll run away before he’s ready. He could live a normal life without having the power under his control, because most people don’t get hit with Buck Rogers’ photon gun very often.
“But what happens if he gets in an accident? What if his house starts on fire, or he gets hit by a car, and he hasn’t learned to control the energies he absorbs from the impact or from the flames? How many will die when he releases that energy?”
Ororo nodded. “I understand.”
“I think,” Emma said, “When it comes to Lucas Bishop, it’s going to take a lot of training to reach the potential that he can achieve. Maybe more than any of us here at the Academy can offer.”
“Yeah,” Ororo sighed. “I think I might have some ideas, but they’ll have to wait till I’m done with this trip.”
“Of course,” Emma said, as a black-haired man in a tuxedo approached and picked up her empty cup, replacing it with a small piece of angel food cake. “Where did you say you are, again?”
“Nebraska,” Ororo replied, waving off the waiter who was attempting to offer her a slice. “Sage, Nebraska.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Emma said, cutting a piece with her fork. “The house explosion on the news?”
Ororo nodded. “Hank contacted me about it. The FBI told him the situation, and he’s trying to keep it out of the press as long as he can, to let us get a look before the state goes ape.”
“And what’s the situation?”
“That it wasn’t a gas explosion,” Ororo said calmly. “That it was caused by a mutant. An extremely powerful one, obviously. I’m about ten miles out of the town right now, I just have to find a quiet place to land before I… wait a minute…”
Ororo’s head jerked to her right, staring at the couple sitting at the table near them.
“What?”
“I just saw a flash off in the distance. Over in that forest.”
Emma looked at the couple, who seemed to be enjoying their cannelloni.
“Nebraska has forests?”
“A few, apparently.”
“Well, every day’s a learning day.”
“I have to go,” Ororo said, running her hands along the table. “Get Forge on the horn. I might need some assistance with some of the new gear he installed in the jet.”
Emma Frost opened her eyes, looking around her office. Those “mind meetings,” one of her specialties, always left her with a momentary sense of disorientation.
She quickly regained her composure, and sent out a mental call.
Forge, she thought, contact the jet. Storm’s going to need some of your tech.
Good timing, darlin’, Forge responded. I’m already in the lab.
I hated that when we were in school, Frost said icily, and I would prefer you not say that now.
A pause.
Of course, your Highness, Forge said, even his thoughts containing a hint of joviality. Come on down, join the fun.
Ororo squinted off in the distance, flying towards what she thought was the location of the flare.
“Picking up anything yet?”
A whistle from the speaker responded to her question.
“That’s not an answer, Forge.”
“I know, hon,” Forge said quietly. “But the readings I’m seeing are unbelievable. I’m running through all the spectral monitors, trying to find something.’
“And what are you seeing?”
“Everything,” he responded simply. “X-rays, gamma rays, ACRs, GCRs, solar particles. Every type of cosmic ray that you learn about in astronomy and astrophysics, and they’re all concentrating on one point.”
“Since I fell asleep in the Professor’s astronomy class,” Ororo groaned, “I’ll assume that’s bad.”
“It’s a hell of a lot of energy, is what it is,” Forge replied. “And… okay, this is interesting. There’s a shape down below, definitely reading on all those scales.”
“What is it?”
“Ororo,” Forge said. “I think we found our mutant. And he’s moving.”
“Okay,” Ororo responded, tapping the buttons on the control panel. “I’m going to land, see if I can get a closer look.”
She lowered the landing gear, but before she could start her decent another bright flare erupted from the trees, no more than fifty feet from where the jet hovered. Now that she was closer, she was able to see a clearing where the blast originated. Warning bells bleeped.
“Well, there went the landing gear,” Ororo said. “And part of the forest, too.”
“You can’t go down there, Storm,” Emma said from the speaker. “You’ll be vaporized before you get within shouting distance.”
“Damn,” Ororo muttered under her breath. “Any ideas, Forge?”
There was a silence on the other end of the communicator. Seconds passed by interminably.
“Forge?”
“Shhh,” he responded. She could almost hear the synapses firing, his mutant power fully in effect.
“Yeah, I got something,” he responded finally. “I can build a containment field, able to keep any cosmic rays from getting to him. Or her. I’m going to need some more equipment in order to build something permanent, but there’s enough stuff lying around the mansion where I should be able to make something on the cheap and quick.”
“Do you have him tagged?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll keep my sensors tuned to him after you head back. Just so long as Flash down there keeps away from any towns, he won’t hurt anything bigger than a few woodchucks.”
“Okay,” Ororo said, turning the jet around. “Emma, contact Hank. See if he can keep any authorities away from the area until we get back. I’ll be at the mansion in an hour, but my tires might make the landing a little messy.”
“That’s fine,” Emma said. “Do you think cleaning up melted rubber will be punishment enough for the students?”
Ororo laughed, pulling back on the stick to gain altitude.
“One other question, Storm,” Forge said. I could make a device that might protect you from any blasts, but I won’t be able to make that and the containment field in the course of an hour. How are we gonna get this to Cosmo?”
“Ororo?” Emma asked. “I have an idea.
“But you’re really going to hate it.”
“Lucas, can I speak with you a moment?”
Lucas Bishop turned to the door of the lab to see Professor Frost leaning against the frame. Forge came in behind her, pushing through the narrow entryway, and began scouring the office.
“Ummm,” Bishop said, turning to Dr. McTaggert. “Is that okay? Are we…?”
Moira didn’t respond right away, as her eyes couldn’t decide whether to give Emma a questioning look, or to give a look of horror to Forge, who appeared to be grabbing her personal equipment and piling it into his arms.
“Doctor?”
“Oh,” she responded. “Aye, we’re done.”
She started taking the sensors off of Bishop’s chest and arms, and then turned to Forge. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“No time to explain,” Forge responded, grabbing Moira’s stethoscope from her neck. “I’m on a deadline. Headmistress orders.”
“And these orders involve my centrifuge?”
Forge paused, looked down at the metal box in amidst the pile. He closed his eyes, deep in thought, and opened them two seconds later.
“I’ll build you a better one later,” he replied simply, and then hustled out the door and down the hallway.
“What do you need, Professor?” Lucas asked quietly, jumping down from the examining table.
Emma opened her mouth, then looked at Moira, who was giving her a slightly flabbergasted look.
“Actually,” she said slowly, “why don’t you follow Professor Forge? I need to speak with the Doctor first.”
Lucas nodded, pulling his shirt back on, and left the office. Emma walked in and leaned on the table, looking levelly at Moira.
“So what do we know?”
Moira continued to stare out the door. “What was that all about?”
“What do we know?” Emma repeated.
Moira sighed. “About Lucas?”
Emma nodded.
“Well,” she said, “the tests have revealed quite a bit. But they’re also hinting that we’re just scratching the surface.
“I ran the usual battery of tests on him. Reflexes, hearing, vision, body fat, that sort of thing.”
“And?”
“And he absorbed all of them,” Moira said. “The scanners I hooked up could measure, for lack of a better term, energy distribution. I would tap his knee with a reflex hammer, and his entire body would absorb the impact. Hook him up to a body fat calculator, the sort where it runs mild pulses of electricity through the body, and it doesn’t make it to the other side, the body absorbs the entire shock.
“Hell, I even put a tongue depressor in his mouth, and it shows in his toes.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means he absorbs every type of energy expended in contact with his body,” Moira replied. “Kinetic, thermal, electrical, plasma. And from what we saw last night, his body can only hold so much before it has to release it.”
“Well, that’s pretty much what we figured out already, right?”
“Somewhat,” Moira said. “But it goes beyond that. We had assumed that the reason he hadn’t released this energy in the past is because he hadn’t stored enough to that point, correct?”
“Correct,” Emma said.
“But after speaking with him, after running these tests, I’m under the belief that he’s been storing and releasing for quite a long time.”
“How is that possible?”
Moira paused, collecting her thoughts. “His metabolism is abnormally high for a normal 13-year-old. He’s not physically active; he told me he spent most of his nights sitting home on the Internet eating Cheetos, and only plays sports when his gym class requires it.
“But he’s amazingly fit despite it. He doesn’t lift weights, but his body fat percentage is incredibly low, and he has a lot more muscle built on him than others his age.
“He can’t remember the last time he was sick. Probably not since his mutation manifested itself.
“He broke his arm a year ago, falling down the stairs. At the time, his doctor told him it would take at least two months to heal. It took one month.
“I think his body is capable of doing a lot more with this absorbed energy than we anticipated. I think it’s converting it into additional metabolic energy, additional white blood cells. Right now it’s all guesswork, we still have a lot of studying to do. But in my unprofessional opinion, the limits are endless with this boy.”
Emma furrowed her eyebrows, looking to the door.
“Why do you ask? What’s going on?”
“Moira,” Emma said slowly, “How much do you think he can hold?”
“What are you doing?” Lucas asked, sitting down next to Forge.
“Hand me that Philips, would ya?” Forge asked, pointing down the table. Lucas picked up the screwdriver and handed it to him. “I’m building a containment unit.”
“A what?”
“A force field.”
Bishop’s eyes widened, then a grin crossed his face. “Woah. That’s awesome! Can I see the blueprints?”
Forge shook his head, leaning down into what appeared to be an alien amalgamation of Dr. McTaggert’s electronic thermometer, Artie’s GameCube, and the George Foreman Grill from the kitchen.
“Why not?”
Forge tapped the side of his head with his robotic arm.
“You memorized them?”
“I just thought of them 10 minutes ago,” he replied, never lifting his head from the machine.
Bishop paused.
“Are you a Tommyknocker?”
Forge froze, lifted his head, and arched his eyebrow.
“Huh?”
“Sorry,” Lucas said quietly, pulling back. “Stephen King. I read.”
Forge nodded his head, then returned to his work. “Never was one for fiction,” he said. “Ever since the war, I’ve had a big stack of car repair guides next to the toilet to keep me company.”
“The war?”
“Israel,” Forge muttered. “I was part of the UN force that got sent in there when things heated up about twenty years back. Lost my arm and leg in a suicide bombing.”
“So they gave you those robot things?”
“Nope, the good ol’ V.A. gave me some nice plastic ones,” he said with false bravado. “These I made with my own… um… one hand.”
“Wow.”
“That’s my mutant ability,” Forge said, tugging on a few wires to see if they stayed in place. “You tell me you need something built, I can find a way to build it.”
He leaned back on his stool, examining his work. “Now this one’s only temporary, since I’m working on a schedule and with limited equipment, but it should hold up fine until you’re done using it.”
“Okay,” Lucas said. “Wait, what?”
Forge opened his mouth to respond, but before he could he was interrupted by pounding footsteps. Dr. McTaggert stormed into the lab, followed by Professor Frost. The Doctor spun around in her steps, glaring at Emma, who looked back at her flatly.
Lucas watched the byplay of silent facial expressions, slowly becoming aware that he was witnessing his first psychic argument.
The two were joined seconds later by Professor Cassidy, who walked into the room and stood between the two, silently mediating.
Lucas turned to Forge, a look of confusion on his face. Forge opened his mouth. Closed it. Exhaled through flapping lips. Shook his head, and turned back to the table.
“No more arguments,” a voice came from down the hall a minute later, and Ororo Munroe walked in to join the crowd. “From what I heard from Moira and Emma, I trust him. Peter’s just steel, and anyone who tries to take it out from a distance might be risking a bigger event if it’s knocked unconscious. With Logan gone, I think he’s the only one who would be able to withstand it.”
“But if--,” Moira interjected.
“But if we don’t,” Storm said, “If it’s kept unchecked, more people will die. It won’t stay in that forest forever.”
Lucas raised his hand slowly. “Ummm,” he said quietly, “What are we talking about?”
Lucas Bishop’s hands clenched tightly on the armrests, his chest rising and falling heavily against the seatbelt.
“You alright?” Professor Cassidy asked from the seat next to him.
Lucas turned to him, and smiled nervously, his dark face paling. “Yeah, just-“ he swallowed. “Just never been in a plane before.”
Sean nodded.
“Especially one that can probably go Mach 2,” Lucas muttered.
“Mach 5, actually,” Forge said from the co-pilot seat.
Lucas’ stomach dropped. He looked around the passenger section of the X-Jet, the comic-book-loving part of him admiring the matching outfits of his three professors. All three were black leather. Professors Munroe wore the same cape/sail like cloth under her arms, silver where Banshee’s was gold, and Mr. Forge had a long black leather headband, with one arm and one leg cut off the suit, exposing his mechanical appendages.
“So do I get a costume, too, Professor?” he asked despite himself, turning to Cassidy.
Cassidy smiled. “Maybe someday, boyo,” he responded. “You’re making a pretty good step towards one now, I’ll say that.”
Lucas smiled. “Cool.”
“First rule if you want to be an X-Man someday, Lucas,” Professor Munroe said from the front, “When we’re on a mission like we are now, codenames are the rule. We don’t know who we’ll encounter, and we don’t want to endanger anyone we don’t have to. Got it?”
Lucas nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“My codename’s Storm,” Munroe continued. “Professor Cassidy is known as Banshee. We’ll tell you some more if you ever need to know more, but that’ll do for now.”
“What about you, Mr. Forge?”
“Sometimes,” Forge said, looking jokingly at Storm, “If your last name’s cool enough, you don’t need a codename. People just assume that you’re making it up cuz it’s so awesome. You know, like Ra’s Al Ghul or Sgt. Rock.”
“So you’re just Forge?”
He nodded. “Might want to think of something for yourself while we have some time here, Mr. Bishop. You know, for future reference.”
Lucas smiled and looked out the window front cockpit as the clouds flew by.
Absorbo?
Nah, too Silver Age.
Demolisher?
Isn’t that a Transformer?
Battery?
The Living Laser?
Bishop?
He rolled it around the tongue in his head.
Might work…
“Now remember, Lucas,” Banshee said. “If you decide you don’t want to do this, just say so. We can come up with another way, I’m sure. We don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, especially something that might be dangerous.”
Lucas thought it over, feeling that this was probably his last chance to pull out. His decision came soon enough.
“No, I’m in,” he said. “I want to help.”
“All right,” Banshee said, looking forward again. “Just don’t do anything that Moira will kill me for tomorrow, alright?”
“Scanners are saying we’re close, Storm,” Forge said.
“Alright,” Storm responded, pushing some buttons. “I’m going to find a place to land.”
“Better make it a ways back,” Forge said. “This puppy’s looking ready to pop. The energy concentration’s higher than it was before we left.”
The X-Jet settled into a clearing. The back hatch opened, and the four of them walked out: Storm, Banshee, and Forge in their black leather suits, Bishop wearing a pair of baby blue hospital scrubs.
“We have a pair of your normal clothes here in the jet, Lucas,” Banshee said. “If anything happens like last time, you’ll need them.”
“Is that always going to happen?” Lucas asked, unconsciously blushing when he looked at Storm.
“We’ve come up with a few ways to work around it, once we get the right supplies and manpower,” Forge said. “And, don’t worry, I’ll make sure Stormie here covers her eyes when you come back. Your wedding tackle is safe for now.”
Lucas nodded, then stared off into the forest.
“I… I can actually feel it.”
The three looked at him, surprised. He turned around, just as surprised himself.
“It’s like a wind, or something,” he said. “Like there’s more energy behind me than in front, and it’s all moving towards that one spot.”
Banshee shook his head. “You’re one hell of a mutant, boyo.”
“Now you remember your instructions, right?” Storm said, putting her hand on his shoulder.
Lucas nodded, clutching Forge’s device to his chest. “Get to the guy. Or girl. Protect the box. Tell him what to do, and hope he listens. Wait for the explosion. Activate the box. Run like hell.”
“And what should he do?”
“Pick up the box, follow the path back to the jet.”
“Good memory.”
“You should see me play Simon.”
“We’ll be right here,” Banshee said. “If you decide you can’t do it…”
“I can do it,” Lucas insisted. “You can count on me. I promise.”
“Good luck.”
Lucas took one last look back at the three X-Men, and then walked into the forest.
As he walked towards the source, Lucas Bishop’s legs began to shake.
So this is what it’s like to be really terrified? he thought. To truly be afraid for your life?
He stopped in his tracks, his arms trembling.
If this is what being an X-Man is about, then you can have it.
He slowly turned back up the path, then froze again.
No, another part of him said. There’s a boy or girl in there that’s probably more afraid than you are. You’re their only hope.
Be a hero.
Be a man.
Be an X-Man.
Lucas Bishop closed his eyes. Willed his mind to calm down.
You’re not Lucas Bishop right now, he thought. Your name is Bishop. You have the power to absorb lasers and shoot them at your enemies.
You’re a man that no one understands. A man who is outside the law, yet swears to uphold it.
You’re Bishop. You’re a badass.
He smiled, and turned around. He took more steps forward, his foot snapping a twig.
“Who’s there?” he heard a voice yell from the forest. He could hear fear in that voice. Terror, even.
“Hello?” he yelled in reply.
“Don’t come any closer!” the voice yelled back.
Well, it’s a guy, Bishop thought. That answers one question.
“My name’s Lucas!” he yelled. “Lucas Bishop!”
Damn, you already broke one rule!
“I’m here to help you!”
“Stay the fuck away!” the man screamed, his voice raising a pitch and nearly cracking.
“I’m here to help you,” Bishop repeated, looking down at the device.
Ah, shit, he thought. I almost screwed up again.
He quickly turned around, his back facing the voice. Your body should protect the generator from any explosion, Forge had told him.
He tucked the device to his chest and slowly started walking backwards. His mind briefly asked what would happen if the man was armed, but Bishop quickly pushed it away.
“I don’t want to kill anyone else!” The voice yelled, the fear turning into heart-twisting sorrow. “I already killed my parents. My sister. I don’t want to kill anyone else!”
“You won’t kill anyone else,” Bishop said. “But I need you to trust me. I can’t turn around right now, how far away am I from you?”
“Don’t get any closer!”
Fine, fine.
“You have to trust me,” Bishop repeated. “What’s your name?”
Silence.
“What’s your name?”
“Alex,” the voice said, barely audible.
“Okay, Alex,” Bishop said, suddenly feeling like he was channeling every hostage negotiator he had ever seen in films. “You might not like what I’m going to ask you to do, but you have to trust me.”
More silence.
“Alex?”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to blow up again.”
“NO!”
“Alex!” Bishop yelled back. “Trust me. You can’t hurt me. Now what’s going to happen is this. You blow up, to make sure you won’t do it again. I’m holding a box that will make sure that you won’t blow up again. Do you understand?”
“Is it a bomb?” Alex asked, his voice raising, “Are you here to kill me?”
“No, I’m not going to kill you, Alex,” Bishop said, reaching into his pocket for the other item Forge had given him. “I told you, I want you to blow up again.”
“I can’t control it,” Alex said quickly, “It just happens.”
“Then let me talk and get this out quick, okay?” Bishop said, amazed at the tone of impatience in his voice. Wasn’t I just scared for my life two minutes ago?
Alex fell silent.
“When you blow up,” Bishop said, “I’m going to put this down in front of you and run. I’ll explain why I’m running later, but trust me, it’s for your own good. When I run, push the button on the box. It’s going to get dark, so use the flashlight I put down next to it. It won’t let you see any further than 10 feet, but that should be all you need.
“Follow the path I just came down on. After about five minutes you should hear some voices telling you where to move. There’s a jet waiting for you, and it’s another place where you won’t have to blow up. They’ll take you somewhere safe, okay?”
“Why should I trust you?”
Bishop smiled. “Cuz we’re the X-Men, Alex.”
Silence emanated from behind him.
“Do you understand?” Bishop said, beginning to turn his head.
Alex screamed.
The world filled with a white light, and Lucas Bishop was filled with a white pain like he had never felt before. It was as though every molecule in his body was on fire.
As quickly as it began, the flare disappeared, but Bishop’s pain didn’t. The heat felt a thousand degrees higher than in the Danger Room. He looked down at his body, now naked and glowing with white energy.
The box was intact.
He quickly spun around to face Alex for the first time. What he saw surprised him. A blonde man, Alex was no more than twenty, twenty-one years old, which was much older than the terrified, child-like tone Bishop had heard in his voice. He was also unclothed, huddled in a fetal position on the ground. Bishop assumed his wardrobe was blown off in one of his previous explosions.
Move, his mind yelled. Move, I’m hurting here.
Bishop sprinted up to Alex, who now sat in the middle of a large clearing. Black ashes covered the ground, remnants of the trees that were unlucky enough to be caught in the discharge.
He set the box down in front of Alex.
Push the button, Bishop tried to say, but only a wheezing gasp escaped. He pointed quickly at the red button, and then sprinted into the woods.
Push the damn button, Alex, he thought as he ran, trying to hold onto the energy as long as he could.
A little further, his mind screamed.
Put it out! his body protested.
After two minutes in which Lucas Bishop ran harder than he ever had before, he dropped to the ground, and leveled all the trees within a fifty foot radius.
“Someone’s coming,” Forge said, pointing towards the path Lucas had entered.
“I don’t see anything,” Banshee said.
“You wouldn’t be able to,” Forge replied. “The field’s built to keep out any energy rays. That includes light. Whoever’s in there has a flashlight to see the path in front of him, but otherwise it’s like he’s walking in a cave.”
Soon enough, Banshee saw something he never thought he would see in his life. In the broad daylight, he saw a large dome of pure darkness slowly leaving the woods.
“Hey, over here!” Forge yelled. The blob continued to move in the same direction.
“All energy rays, huh?” Storm said musingly.
“Yeah?”
“Does that mean it would stop any sound waves?’
“Ahhhh, fuck!” Forge said, stomping his foot.
“Well, let’s hope whoever’s in there has some modicum of problem solving skill,” Banshee said, jogging over to stand in front of the path of the oncoming darkness. Bending down, he grabbed a stick and quickly started digging a small trench into the ground towards the X-Jet’s ramp.
After a minute the blob crossed the trench, stopped, and began to follow the path.
“Good thinking,” Forge said.
Storm ran into the jet. “I’m going to write up a note to put in his path, to tell him to stop and to turn the machine off.”
“Also good thinking.”
“And here comes the man of the hour,” Banshee said, as Lucas walked out from the trees. He held a leafy branch in front of his waist. Banshee and Forge burst into laughter.
“Come on, Lucas,” Banshee said, walking over to him with a change of clothes. “You can change under the Jet. Should give you some privacy.”
Lucas smiled, embarrassed, then quietly grabbed the clothes with his free hand and quickly shuffled away.
At the same moment, the black blob, now a black sphere, had reached the top of the ramp, crossing over Storm’s note. It shifted slightly, and disappeared seconds later.
“Ah, Jayzus,” Banshee said, averting his eyes, “Why does everyone have to be naked?”
Forge saw the look of fear cross the man’s eyes as soon as the field went down.
“Don’t worry, son,” he said. “You’re inside the ship. I rigged it with enough barriers to protect you from anything substantial.”
“Are you going to arrest me?” Alex asked.
Forge shook his head. “I’ll be honest with you, kid,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to you. You killed a lot of people. We’re just here to make sure that no one else gets hurt. Now are you going to cooperate?”
“Yeah,” Alex said quietly.
“Good man,” Forge replied, stepping up the ramp and pulling a device from his belt. “I have an idea for a containment suit for you, something that you can wear to keep the cosmic rays at bay, and diffuse any explosions that may feel the need to sneak out.”
He reached out and pressed the device against Alex’s arm. “But I’m going to need a genetic signature from you, so I can get…”
Forge looked down at the device’s display.
“Huh.”
He quickly walked to the front of the jet, where Storm was preparing her pre-flight routine. Lucas and Banshee walked up the ramp, closing it behind them.
“Moira,” Forge said into the radio, “I’m going to be sending you some readings. Let me know what you think.”
“What’s wrong?” Storm asked.
Forge turned to Alex.
“Hey, kid,” he asked, “You ever have a brother named Scott?”
Previous Chapter (Triangles Revisited) / Next Chapter (A Day In The Life)
Author:
kanedax
Rating: PG-13+ and non-graphic nudity
Fandom: X-Men movieverse
Pairings: None in this volume
Summary: A New Mutant gets his first taste of what the X-Men are all about.
Notes: This is volume six in what I'm hoping will be a continuing to be the continuing story of the Xavier Academy, post-X3. This one is considerably longer than the previous posts, at almost 6,000 words, and I'm expecting more posts in the future to be this length, as well. But that means there might be a little more gap than what I've had between previous volumes. I do have a definite plan for this story now, though, and I hope to see it through to the end. As always, I don't own the X-Men, the Marvel universe, or any characters from 20th Century Fox. I do own the new Weird Al album, though, and "Virus Alert" is really growing on me.
Previous Chapter (Triangles Revisited) / Next Chapter (A Day In The Life)
“Do you want to get fired?”
Emma Frost quietly set her teacup on the table. “Ororo, dear, I think you’re over-reacting a bit…”
“Over-reacting?” Ororo Munroe nearly screamed from across the table. “Someone could have been killed!”
“Yes, dear,” Emma replied, in the same maddeningly calm tone. “But no one did, did they?”
“Jesus Christ,” Ororo muttered, leaning back in the plush white chair. “I’m gone for less than a week, and the school’s already turned into a war zone.”
“You’ll have to talk to Forge about that. He was the one who put the gun there in the…”
“Why were they down there to begin with?” Ororo interrupted, her eyes flashing blue lightning. “That’s part of your job, to keep a psychic net on the area, make sure no one goes anywhere they shouldn’t.”
Frost sighed. “I will admit,” she said, pouring another cup, “in hindsight that that was the wrong impulse. Would you like some tea, dear? I can get Michel to get you a new cup.”
Ororo continued to stare, her eyes never blinking. Emma shrugged, and took another sip before continuing.
“I did make a scan. I found Kitty Pryde in the common room, falling asleep to the news. Bobby Drake in the kitchen; Remy LeBeau, Peter Rasputin, Artie Maddicks and Jimmy Cameron in bed. I read Jubilation Lee, Theresa Cassidy, and Alison Blaire wandering the hall on one end, and Arthur Centino, Connor Jones, and Lucas Bishop on the other end.”
“Then why didn’t you…?”
“I was going to,” Emma interrupted. “But then I decided that it would be good for the new students to learn exactly what being a mutant, what being a member of this Academy, is all about.”
“By putting them in front of a gun and starting to fire?”
“I told you, dear,” Emma said, “I didn’t know that it was there. Lord knows it wasn’t there when I was a student here. Forge told me that he put the gun in, but only after the, um, incident.
“No, what I decided, after I found the three boys, was to let them go. Let them think that they were getting away with it. Children tend to believe that they’re not doing anything wrong as long as they’re not getting caught.
“So I decided to let them have their fun, call them on it the next morning, and deal with their punishment accordingly. Let them realize that there are rules in this school, even when adults aren’t around.
“Besides,” Emma said with a small smile, “What we learned far outweighed the harm that was actually done.”
Storm sighed, leaning her elbows on the table, her hands running through her short black-and-white hair. She leaned back, looking around the small café.
“So what was the damage?”
“Literal or figurative?”
Ororo glared. “Shut up and talk.”
“Hmm,” Emma smirked, “since you put it so paradoxically… Literal damage, one laser gun that Forge can probably repair by the time he’s done eating lunch, and two or three holes in the sub-basement hall.
“Figuratively, we’re starting to see two of our new students in a different light.”
Ororo arched her eyebrow. “How so?”
“Ahhh, now she’s interested…” Emma said, rubbing her hands together. “First off, none of the X-Men stopped the gun. Arthur Centino did.”
“How?”
“He threw a bottle at it.”
“What kind of bottle?”
Emma thought. “Ummm, whiskey, I think. I couldn’t say for sure, since it shattered.”
Ororo’s eyes narrowed, her voice raised, “Why did he have a whiskey bottle?”
Emma shook her head. “Not important,” she said quickly. “What’s important is that he threw the bottle, while hanging upside down from the ceiling.”
“Lucky shot?”
“More than that. I spoke with Mr. Drake and Miss Pryde afterwards, and they agreed that there was no way that the bottle should have done what it did. It should have either hit the side of the gun, or fallen short completely.
“But Bobby swears that he saw the bottle slow down, and raise itself in mid-air. Almost like it recalculated its own trajectory, to hit where it did, and when it did.”
“How is that possible?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out,” Emma said. “Moira and Sean are like kids at Christmas, with all the tests they’re running on Centino and Bishop…”
“Bishop? Lucas Bishop?” Ororo asked.
“But I think it’s safe to say that there’s more to Arthur Centino than hollow bones and four fingers.”
“What about Lucas?”
“Oh, yes, Lucas,” Emma continued. “Well, when I told you that no one was hurt, that might have been… stretching the truth?”
“What happened to Lucas?” Ororo asked, her fingers tightening on the armrests.
“Well, he bumped his head…”
“That’s all?”
“After the laser hit him in the chest and tossed him into the wall.”
“What?”
Emma lifted her hands, attempting to calm Ororo, whose eyes had gone white. “But it didn’t do any other damage, Ororo. I saw the holes the gun made in the wall and in the floor, and Bishop should have been gutted. But he wasn’t.”
“So he’s invulnerable?”
“Beyond that. He was glowing red after he was hit. Sean realized what was going on, and brought him into the Danger Room for safety. Lucas had absorbed the attack, and discharged it out of his body in an energy pulse.
“Again, we’re running tests, but, to put it bluntly, Lucas Bishop is a giant battery. He absorbs any energy that comes in contact with him, and can store and release it at any time.”
“Wait,” Ororo said, shaking her head. “He’s had this energy pack in his body since his mutation manifested, and he didn’t know it? How is that possible?”
“Moira thinks it’s because he hadn’t stored enough yet for it to even affect him. It took a blast in the chest from a giant laser beam, a beam that would have fricasseed an average human, to charge him enough where it made a difference.”
Ororo sat back in her seat. “Amazing.”
“Cerebro said he was a Class Four mutant, maybe higher,” Emma said levelly. “I think as he matures, as he comes to learn how to control and harness the energy he absorbs, he could be amazing someday.
“But right now he’s just a child. The youngest student we have at the Academy besides Artie. When I scanned him last night, before the Danger Room incident, I sensed doubt. Fear. Anxiety. He was raised in a loving family, but has been flying solo for most of his life. A social outcast before he even learned he was a mutant.”
“I know all this already, Emma,” Ororo said.
“I know you do,” Frost rebutted. “But this changes things. He’s a scared little boy who’s suddenly learning that his talent, his ability, becomes more useful, more powerful, the more he gets the snot beaten out of him.
“We’re going to have to take it slow with him. Not push him too far, or he’ll run away before he’s ready. He could live a normal life without having the power under his control, because most people don’t get hit with Buck Rogers’ photon gun very often.
“But what happens if he gets in an accident? What if his house starts on fire, or he gets hit by a car, and he hasn’t learned to control the energies he absorbs from the impact or from the flames? How many will die when he releases that energy?”
Ororo nodded. “I understand.”
“I think,” Emma said, “When it comes to Lucas Bishop, it’s going to take a lot of training to reach the potential that he can achieve. Maybe more than any of us here at the Academy can offer.”
“Yeah,” Ororo sighed. “I think I might have some ideas, but they’ll have to wait till I’m done with this trip.”
“Of course,” Emma said, as a black-haired man in a tuxedo approached and picked up her empty cup, replacing it with a small piece of angel food cake. “Where did you say you are, again?”
“Nebraska,” Ororo replied, waving off the waiter who was attempting to offer her a slice. “Sage, Nebraska.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Emma said, cutting a piece with her fork. “The house explosion on the news?”
Ororo nodded. “Hank contacted me about it. The FBI told him the situation, and he’s trying to keep it out of the press as long as he can, to let us get a look before the state goes ape.”
“And what’s the situation?”
“That it wasn’t a gas explosion,” Ororo said calmly. “That it was caused by a mutant. An extremely powerful one, obviously. I’m about ten miles out of the town right now, I just have to find a quiet place to land before I… wait a minute…”
Ororo’s head jerked to her right, staring at the couple sitting at the table near them.
“What?”
“I just saw a flash off in the distance. Over in that forest.”
Emma looked at the couple, who seemed to be enjoying their cannelloni.
“Nebraska has forests?”
“A few, apparently.”
“Well, every day’s a learning day.”
“I have to go,” Ororo said, running her hands along the table. “Get Forge on the horn. I might need some assistance with some of the new gear he installed in the jet.”
Emma Frost opened her eyes, looking around her office. Those “mind meetings,” one of her specialties, always left her with a momentary sense of disorientation.
She quickly regained her composure, and sent out a mental call.
Forge, she thought, contact the jet. Storm’s going to need some of your tech.
Good timing, darlin’, Forge responded. I’m already in the lab.
I hated that when we were in school, Frost said icily, and I would prefer you not say that now.
A pause.
Of course, your Highness, Forge said, even his thoughts containing a hint of joviality. Come on down, join the fun.
Ororo squinted off in the distance, flying towards what she thought was the location of the flare.
“Picking up anything yet?”
A whistle from the speaker responded to her question.
“That’s not an answer, Forge.”
“I know, hon,” Forge said quietly. “But the readings I’m seeing are unbelievable. I’m running through all the spectral monitors, trying to find something.’
“And what are you seeing?”
“Everything,” he responded simply. “X-rays, gamma rays, ACRs, GCRs, solar particles. Every type of cosmic ray that you learn about in astronomy and astrophysics, and they’re all concentrating on one point.”
“Since I fell asleep in the Professor’s astronomy class,” Ororo groaned, “I’ll assume that’s bad.”
“It’s a hell of a lot of energy, is what it is,” Forge replied. “And… okay, this is interesting. There’s a shape down below, definitely reading on all those scales.”
“What is it?”
“Ororo,” Forge said. “I think we found our mutant. And he’s moving.”
“Okay,” Ororo responded, tapping the buttons on the control panel. “I’m going to land, see if I can get a closer look.”
She lowered the landing gear, but before she could start her decent another bright flare erupted from the trees, no more than fifty feet from where the jet hovered. Now that she was closer, she was able to see a clearing where the blast originated. Warning bells bleeped.
“Well, there went the landing gear,” Ororo said. “And part of the forest, too.”
“You can’t go down there, Storm,” Emma said from the speaker. “You’ll be vaporized before you get within shouting distance.”
“Damn,” Ororo muttered under her breath. “Any ideas, Forge?”
There was a silence on the other end of the communicator. Seconds passed by interminably.
“Forge?”
“Shhh,” he responded. She could almost hear the synapses firing, his mutant power fully in effect.
“Yeah, I got something,” he responded finally. “I can build a containment field, able to keep any cosmic rays from getting to him. Or her. I’m going to need some more equipment in order to build something permanent, but there’s enough stuff lying around the mansion where I should be able to make something on the cheap and quick.”
“Do you have him tagged?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll keep my sensors tuned to him after you head back. Just so long as Flash down there keeps away from any towns, he won’t hurt anything bigger than a few woodchucks.”
“Okay,” Ororo said, turning the jet around. “Emma, contact Hank. See if he can keep any authorities away from the area until we get back. I’ll be at the mansion in an hour, but my tires might make the landing a little messy.”
“That’s fine,” Emma said. “Do you think cleaning up melted rubber will be punishment enough for the students?”
Ororo laughed, pulling back on the stick to gain altitude.
“One other question, Storm,” Forge said. I could make a device that might protect you from any blasts, but I won’t be able to make that and the containment field in the course of an hour. How are we gonna get this to Cosmo?”
“Ororo?” Emma asked. “I have an idea.
“But you’re really going to hate it.”
“Lucas, can I speak with you a moment?”
Lucas Bishop turned to the door of the lab to see Professor Frost leaning against the frame. Forge came in behind her, pushing through the narrow entryway, and began scouring the office.
“Ummm,” Bishop said, turning to Dr. McTaggert. “Is that okay? Are we…?”
Moira didn’t respond right away, as her eyes couldn’t decide whether to give Emma a questioning look, or to give a look of horror to Forge, who appeared to be grabbing her personal equipment and piling it into his arms.
“Doctor?”
“Oh,” she responded. “Aye, we’re done.”
She started taking the sensors off of Bishop’s chest and arms, and then turned to Forge. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“No time to explain,” Forge responded, grabbing Moira’s stethoscope from her neck. “I’m on a deadline. Headmistress orders.”
“And these orders involve my centrifuge?”
Forge paused, looked down at the metal box in amidst the pile. He closed his eyes, deep in thought, and opened them two seconds later.
“I’ll build you a better one later,” he replied simply, and then hustled out the door and down the hallway.
“What do you need, Professor?” Lucas asked quietly, jumping down from the examining table.
Emma opened her mouth, then looked at Moira, who was giving her a slightly flabbergasted look.
“Actually,” she said slowly, “why don’t you follow Professor Forge? I need to speak with the Doctor first.”
Lucas nodded, pulling his shirt back on, and left the office. Emma walked in and leaned on the table, looking levelly at Moira.
“So what do we know?”
Moira continued to stare out the door. “What was that all about?”
“What do we know?” Emma repeated.
Moira sighed. “About Lucas?”
Emma nodded.
“Well,” she said, “the tests have revealed quite a bit. But they’re also hinting that we’re just scratching the surface.
“I ran the usual battery of tests on him. Reflexes, hearing, vision, body fat, that sort of thing.”
“And?”
“And he absorbed all of them,” Moira said. “The scanners I hooked up could measure, for lack of a better term, energy distribution. I would tap his knee with a reflex hammer, and his entire body would absorb the impact. Hook him up to a body fat calculator, the sort where it runs mild pulses of electricity through the body, and it doesn’t make it to the other side, the body absorbs the entire shock.
“Hell, I even put a tongue depressor in his mouth, and it shows in his toes.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means he absorbs every type of energy expended in contact with his body,” Moira replied. “Kinetic, thermal, electrical, plasma. And from what we saw last night, his body can only hold so much before it has to release it.”
“Well, that’s pretty much what we figured out already, right?”
“Somewhat,” Moira said. “But it goes beyond that. We had assumed that the reason he hadn’t released this energy in the past is because he hadn’t stored enough to that point, correct?”
“Correct,” Emma said.
“But after speaking with him, after running these tests, I’m under the belief that he’s been storing and releasing for quite a long time.”
“How is that possible?”
Moira paused, collecting her thoughts. “His metabolism is abnormally high for a normal 13-year-old. He’s not physically active; he told me he spent most of his nights sitting home on the Internet eating Cheetos, and only plays sports when his gym class requires it.
“But he’s amazingly fit despite it. He doesn’t lift weights, but his body fat percentage is incredibly low, and he has a lot more muscle built on him than others his age.
“He can’t remember the last time he was sick. Probably not since his mutation manifested itself.
“He broke his arm a year ago, falling down the stairs. At the time, his doctor told him it would take at least two months to heal. It took one month.
“I think his body is capable of doing a lot more with this absorbed energy than we anticipated. I think it’s converting it into additional metabolic energy, additional white blood cells. Right now it’s all guesswork, we still have a lot of studying to do. But in my unprofessional opinion, the limits are endless with this boy.”
Emma furrowed her eyebrows, looking to the door.
“Why do you ask? What’s going on?”
“Moira,” Emma said slowly, “How much do you think he can hold?”
“What are you doing?” Lucas asked, sitting down next to Forge.
“Hand me that Philips, would ya?” Forge asked, pointing down the table. Lucas picked up the screwdriver and handed it to him. “I’m building a containment unit.”
“A what?”
“A force field.”
Bishop’s eyes widened, then a grin crossed his face. “Woah. That’s awesome! Can I see the blueprints?”
Forge shook his head, leaning down into what appeared to be an alien amalgamation of Dr. McTaggert’s electronic thermometer, Artie’s GameCube, and the George Foreman Grill from the kitchen.
“Why not?”
Forge tapped the side of his head with his robotic arm.
“You memorized them?”
“I just thought of them 10 minutes ago,” he replied, never lifting his head from the machine.
Bishop paused.
“Are you a Tommyknocker?”
Forge froze, lifted his head, and arched his eyebrow.
“Huh?”
“Sorry,” Lucas said quietly, pulling back. “Stephen King. I read.”
Forge nodded his head, then returned to his work. “Never was one for fiction,” he said. “Ever since the war, I’ve had a big stack of car repair guides next to the toilet to keep me company.”
“The war?”
“Israel,” Forge muttered. “I was part of the UN force that got sent in there when things heated up about twenty years back. Lost my arm and leg in a suicide bombing.”
“So they gave you those robot things?”
“Nope, the good ol’ V.A. gave me some nice plastic ones,” he said with false bravado. “These I made with my own… um… one hand.”
“Wow.”
“That’s my mutant ability,” Forge said, tugging on a few wires to see if they stayed in place. “You tell me you need something built, I can find a way to build it.”
He leaned back on his stool, examining his work. “Now this one’s only temporary, since I’m working on a schedule and with limited equipment, but it should hold up fine until you’re done using it.”
“Okay,” Lucas said. “Wait, what?”
Forge opened his mouth to respond, but before he could he was interrupted by pounding footsteps. Dr. McTaggert stormed into the lab, followed by Professor Frost. The Doctor spun around in her steps, glaring at Emma, who looked back at her flatly.
Lucas watched the byplay of silent facial expressions, slowly becoming aware that he was witnessing his first psychic argument.
The two were joined seconds later by Professor Cassidy, who walked into the room and stood between the two, silently mediating.
Lucas turned to Forge, a look of confusion on his face. Forge opened his mouth. Closed it. Exhaled through flapping lips. Shook his head, and turned back to the table.
“No more arguments,” a voice came from down the hall a minute later, and Ororo Munroe walked in to join the crowd. “From what I heard from Moira and Emma, I trust him. Peter’s just steel, and anyone who tries to take it out from a distance might be risking a bigger event if it’s knocked unconscious. With Logan gone, I think he’s the only one who would be able to withstand it.”
“But if--,” Moira interjected.
“But if we don’t,” Storm said, “If it’s kept unchecked, more people will die. It won’t stay in that forest forever.”
Lucas raised his hand slowly. “Ummm,” he said quietly, “What are we talking about?”
Lucas Bishop’s hands clenched tightly on the armrests, his chest rising and falling heavily against the seatbelt.
“You alright?” Professor Cassidy asked from the seat next to him.
Lucas turned to him, and smiled nervously, his dark face paling. “Yeah, just-“ he swallowed. “Just never been in a plane before.”
Sean nodded.
“Especially one that can probably go Mach 2,” Lucas muttered.
“Mach 5, actually,” Forge said from the co-pilot seat.
Lucas’ stomach dropped. He looked around the passenger section of the X-Jet, the comic-book-loving part of him admiring the matching outfits of his three professors. All three were black leather. Professors Munroe wore the same cape/sail like cloth under her arms, silver where Banshee’s was gold, and Mr. Forge had a long black leather headband, with one arm and one leg cut off the suit, exposing his mechanical appendages.
“So do I get a costume, too, Professor?” he asked despite himself, turning to Cassidy.
Cassidy smiled. “Maybe someday, boyo,” he responded. “You’re making a pretty good step towards one now, I’ll say that.”
Lucas smiled. “Cool.”
“First rule if you want to be an X-Man someday, Lucas,” Professor Munroe said from the front, “When we’re on a mission like we are now, codenames are the rule. We don’t know who we’ll encounter, and we don’t want to endanger anyone we don’t have to. Got it?”
Lucas nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“My codename’s Storm,” Munroe continued. “Professor Cassidy is known as Banshee. We’ll tell you some more if you ever need to know more, but that’ll do for now.”
“What about you, Mr. Forge?”
“Sometimes,” Forge said, looking jokingly at Storm, “If your last name’s cool enough, you don’t need a codename. People just assume that you’re making it up cuz it’s so awesome. You know, like Ra’s Al Ghul or Sgt. Rock.”
“So you’re just Forge?”
He nodded. “Might want to think of something for yourself while we have some time here, Mr. Bishop. You know, for future reference.”
Lucas smiled and looked out the window front cockpit as the clouds flew by.
Absorbo?
Nah, too Silver Age.
Demolisher?
Isn’t that a Transformer?
Battery?
The Living Laser?
Bishop?
He rolled it around the tongue in his head.
Might work…
“Now remember, Lucas,” Banshee said. “If you decide you don’t want to do this, just say so. We can come up with another way, I’m sure. We don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, especially something that might be dangerous.”
Lucas thought it over, feeling that this was probably his last chance to pull out. His decision came soon enough.
“No, I’m in,” he said. “I want to help.”
“All right,” Banshee said, looking forward again. “Just don’t do anything that Moira will kill me for tomorrow, alright?”
“Scanners are saying we’re close, Storm,” Forge said.
“Alright,” Storm responded, pushing some buttons. “I’m going to find a place to land.”
“Better make it a ways back,” Forge said. “This puppy’s looking ready to pop. The energy concentration’s higher than it was before we left.”
The X-Jet settled into a clearing. The back hatch opened, and the four of them walked out: Storm, Banshee, and Forge in their black leather suits, Bishop wearing a pair of baby blue hospital scrubs.
“We have a pair of your normal clothes here in the jet, Lucas,” Banshee said. “If anything happens like last time, you’ll need them.”
“Is that always going to happen?” Lucas asked, unconsciously blushing when he looked at Storm.
“We’ve come up with a few ways to work around it, once we get the right supplies and manpower,” Forge said. “And, don’t worry, I’ll make sure Stormie here covers her eyes when you come back. Your wedding tackle is safe for now.”
Lucas nodded, then stared off into the forest.
“I… I can actually feel it.”
The three looked at him, surprised. He turned around, just as surprised himself.
“It’s like a wind, or something,” he said. “Like there’s more energy behind me than in front, and it’s all moving towards that one spot.”
Banshee shook his head. “You’re one hell of a mutant, boyo.”
“Now you remember your instructions, right?” Storm said, putting her hand on his shoulder.
Lucas nodded, clutching Forge’s device to his chest. “Get to the guy. Or girl. Protect the box. Tell him what to do, and hope he listens. Wait for the explosion. Activate the box. Run like hell.”
“And what should he do?”
“Pick up the box, follow the path back to the jet.”
“Good memory.”
“You should see me play Simon.”
“We’ll be right here,” Banshee said. “If you decide you can’t do it…”
“I can do it,” Lucas insisted. “You can count on me. I promise.”
“Good luck.”
Lucas took one last look back at the three X-Men, and then walked into the forest.
As he walked towards the source, Lucas Bishop’s legs began to shake.
So this is what it’s like to be really terrified? he thought. To truly be afraid for your life?
He stopped in his tracks, his arms trembling.
If this is what being an X-Man is about, then you can have it.
He slowly turned back up the path, then froze again.
No, another part of him said. There’s a boy or girl in there that’s probably more afraid than you are. You’re their only hope.
Be a hero.
Be a man.
Be an X-Man.
Lucas Bishop closed his eyes. Willed his mind to calm down.
You’re not Lucas Bishop right now, he thought. Your name is Bishop. You have the power to absorb lasers and shoot them at your enemies.
You’re a man that no one understands. A man who is outside the law, yet swears to uphold it.
You’re Bishop. You’re a badass.
He smiled, and turned around. He took more steps forward, his foot snapping a twig.
“Who’s there?” he heard a voice yell from the forest. He could hear fear in that voice. Terror, even.
“Hello?” he yelled in reply.
“Don’t come any closer!” the voice yelled back.
Well, it’s a guy, Bishop thought. That answers one question.
“My name’s Lucas!” he yelled. “Lucas Bishop!”
Damn, you already broke one rule!
“I’m here to help you!”
“Stay the fuck away!” the man screamed, his voice raising a pitch and nearly cracking.
“I’m here to help you,” Bishop repeated, looking down at the device.
Ah, shit, he thought. I almost screwed up again.
He quickly turned around, his back facing the voice. Your body should protect the generator from any explosion, Forge had told him.
He tucked the device to his chest and slowly started walking backwards. His mind briefly asked what would happen if the man was armed, but Bishop quickly pushed it away.
“I don’t want to kill anyone else!” The voice yelled, the fear turning into heart-twisting sorrow. “I already killed my parents. My sister. I don’t want to kill anyone else!”
“You won’t kill anyone else,” Bishop said. “But I need you to trust me. I can’t turn around right now, how far away am I from you?”
“Don’t get any closer!”
Fine, fine.
“You have to trust me,” Bishop repeated. “What’s your name?”
Silence.
“What’s your name?”
“Alex,” the voice said, barely audible.
“Okay, Alex,” Bishop said, suddenly feeling like he was channeling every hostage negotiator he had ever seen in films. “You might not like what I’m going to ask you to do, but you have to trust me.”
More silence.
“Alex?”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to blow up again.”
“NO!”
“Alex!” Bishop yelled back. “Trust me. You can’t hurt me. Now what’s going to happen is this. You blow up, to make sure you won’t do it again. I’m holding a box that will make sure that you won’t blow up again. Do you understand?”
“Is it a bomb?” Alex asked, his voice raising, “Are you here to kill me?”
“No, I’m not going to kill you, Alex,” Bishop said, reaching into his pocket for the other item Forge had given him. “I told you, I want you to blow up again.”
“I can’t control it,” Alex said quickly, “It just happens.”
“Then let me talk and get this out quick, okay?” Bishop said, amazed at the tone of impatience in his voice. Wasn’t I just scared for my life two minutes ago?
Alex fell silent.
“When you blow up,” Bishop said, “I’m going to put this down in front of you and run. I’ll explain why I’m running later, but trust me, it’s for your own good. When I run, push the button on the box. It’s going to get dark, so use the flashlight I put down next to it. It won’t let you see any further than 10 feet, but that should be all you need.
“Follow the path I just came down on. After about five minutes you should hear some voices telling you where to move. There’s a jet waiting for you, and it’s another place where you won’t have to blow up. They’ll take you somewhere safe, okay?”
“Why should I trust you?”
Bishop smiled. “Cuz we’re the X-Men, Alex.”
Silence emanated from behind him.
“Do you understand?” Bishop said, beginning to turn his head.
Alex screamed.
The world filled with a white light, and Lucas Bishop was filled with a white pain like he had never felt before. It was as though every molecule in his body was on fire.
As quickly as it began, the flare disappeared, but Bishop’s pain didn’t. The heat felt a thousand degrees higher than in the Danger Room. He looked down at his body, now naked and glowing with white energy.
The box was intact.
He quickly spun around to face Alex for the first time. What he saw surprised him. A blonde man, Alex was no more than twenty, twenty-one years old, which was much older than the terrified, child-like tone Bishop had heard in his voice. He was also unclothed, huddled in a fetal position on the ground. Bishop assumed his wardrobe was blown off in one of his previous explosions.
Move, his mind yelled. Move, I’m hurting here.
Bishop sprinted up to Alex, who now sat in the middle of a large clearing. Black ashes covered the ground, remnants of the trees that were unlucky enough to be caught in the discharge.
He set the box down in front of Alex.
Push the button, Bishop tried to say, but only a wheezing gasp escaped. He pointed quickly at the red button, and then sprinted into the woods.
Push the damn button, Alex, he thought as he ran, trying to hold onto the energy as long as he could.
A little further, his mind screamed.
Put it out! his body protested.
After two minutes in which Lucas Bishop ran harder than he ever had before, he dropped to the ground, and leveled all the trees within a fifty foot radius.
“Someone’s coming,” Forge said, pointing towards the path Lucas had entered.
“I don’t see anything,” Banshee said.
“You wouldn’t be able to,” Forge replied. “The field’s built to keep out any energy rays. That includes light. Whoever’s in there has a flashlight to see the path in front of him, but otherwise it’s like he’s walking in a cave.”
Soon enough, Banshee saw something he never thought he would see in his life. In the broad daylight, he saw a large dome of pure darkness slowly leaving the woods.
“Hey, over here!” Forge yelled. The blob continued to move in the same direction.
“All energy rays, huh?” Storm said musingly.
“Yeah?”
“Does that mean it would stop any sound waves?’
“Ahhhh, fuck!” Forge said, stomping his foot.
“Well, let’s hope whoever’s in there has some modicum of problem solving skill,” Banshee said, jogging over to stand in front of the path of the oncoming darkness. Bending down, he grabbed a stick and quickly started digging a small trench into the ground towards the X-Jet’s ramp.
After a minute the blob crossed the trench, stopped, and began to follow the path.
“Good thinking,” Forge said.
Storm ran into the jet. “I’m going to write up a note to put in his path, to tell him to stop and to turn the machine off.”
“Also good thinking.”
“And here comes the man of the hour,” Banshee said, as Lucas walked out from the trees. He held a leafy branch in front of his waist. Banshee and Forge burst into laughter.
“Come on, Lucas,” Banshee said, walking over to him with a change of clothes. “You can change under the Jet. Should give you some privacy.”
Lucas smiled, embarrassed, then quietly grabbed the clothes with his free hand and quickly shuffled away.
At the same moment, the black blob, now a black sphere, had reached the top of the ramp, crossing over Storm’s note. It shifted slightly, and disappeared seconds later.
“Ah, Jayzus,” Banshee said, averting his eyes, “Why does everyone have to be naked?”
Forge saw the look of fear cross the man’s eyes as soon as the field went down.
“Don’t worry, son,” he said. “You’re inside the ship. I rigged it with enough barriers to protect you from anything substantial.”
“Are you going to arrest me?” Alex asked.
Forge shook his head. “I’ll be honest with you, kid,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to you. You killed a lot of people. We’re just here to make sure that no one else gets hurt. Now are you going to cooperate?”
“Yeah,” Alex said quietly.
“Good man,” Forge replied, stepping up the ramp and pulling a device from his belt. “I have an idea for a containment suit for you, something that you can wear to keep the cosmic rays at bay, and diffuse any explosions that may feel the need to sneak out.”
He reached out and pressed the device against Alex’s arm. “But I’m going to need a genetic signature from you, so I can get…”
Forge looked down at the device’s display.
“Huh.”
He quickly walked to the front of the jet, where Storm was preparing her pre-flight routine. Lucas and Banshee walked up the ramp, closing it behind them.
“Moira,” Forge said into the radio, “I’m going to be sending you some readings. Let me know what you think.”
“What’s wrong?” Storm asked.
Forge turned to Alex.
“Hey, kid,” he asked, “You ever have a brother named Scott?”
Previous Chapter (Triangles Revisited) / Next Chapter (A Day In The Life)