An Unexpected Mission
Title: An Unexpected Mission (The New Mutants 1.2, Chapter 6)
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: X3, Previous Chapters
Rating: PG13 for language and suggested nudity
Summary: A New Mutant gets his first taste of life as an X-Man
Notes: The original version of this chapter can be found here.
I don't own these characters. They belong to Marvel Comics, Disney, and 20th Century Fox.
Triangles Revisited / Previous Chapters / A Day in the Life
"Do you want to get fired?"
Emma Frost, the sun shining on her from the windows of the Parisian cafe, quietly set her teacup on the table. "Ororo, dear," she said, "I think you’re overreacting a bit…"
"Overreacting?" 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."
"Jesus Christ," Ororo muttered, leaning back in her plush white chair. "I’m gone for less than a week, and the school’s turned into a war zone."
"You’ll have to speak to Forge about that. He's the one who installed the gun in the--"
"Why were they down there to begin with?" Ororo interrupted, her eyes crackling 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 pour you a 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, Arthur Centino, Connor Jones, and Lucas Bishop on the other."
"Then why didn’t you--?"
"I was going to," Emma explained. "But then I decided that it would be good for the new students to learn exactly what being a student of this Academy is all about."
"By putting them in front of a gun and opening 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. 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."
"Sounds like something you'd believe," said Ororo. "You acted that way quite a lot before you joined us."
"You cut me," said Emma, clasping her hand to her breast with dry sarcasm before continuing. "I decided to let them have their fun, confront them the next morning, and dole out their punishment accordingly. Allow them to fully realize that there are rules in this school, even when they think that the professors aren't watching.
"Besides," she added with a small smile, "What we learned far outweighed the harm that was actually done."
Storm leaned back with a sigh, looking around the small café. She wearily ran her hands through her short black-and-white hair. "So what was the damage?" she asked eventually.
"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 by the time he’s done eating lunch, and two or three holes in the sub-basement hall. Figuratively, we’re learning more about two of our more mysterious new students."
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?" Ororo asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Jack Daniels, I believe."
"And why did he have a whiskey bottle?"
"Not important," said Emma with a dismissive wave of her hand. "A bottle shouldn't damage that kind of equipment unless it hit in just the right place at just the right angle. I spoke with Mr. Drake and Miss Pryde after the incident, and they agreed that there was no possible way that the bottle should have struck where 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 alter its angle in mid-flight. Almost like it recalculated its own trajectory to strike the laser in the right place at the right time."
"How is that possible?"
"The verdict is still out," Emma said. "Between Bishop and Centino, Moira and Sean are like kids at Christmas with all the tests they're running. But I think it’s safe to say that there’s more to Arthur Centino than hollow bones and four fingers"
"Bishop? Lucas Bishop?" Ororo asked. "What happened to him?"
"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 repeated, her fingers tightening on the armrests.
"Well... he... bumped his head…"
"That’s all?"
"After the laser threw him against the wall."
"What?"
"But it didn’t do any damage, Ororo," Emma lifted her hands, attempting to calm Ororo, whose eyes had gone white. "I saw the holes the gun made in the wall and in the floor, and Bishop should have been gutted. But he wasn’t. There wasn't a scratch on him."
"So he’s invulnerable?" said Ororo, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Beyond that. He was glowing red after he was hit. Sean's a bright boy, and put two and two together quickly. Lucas had absorbed the attack, and discharged it from his body as an energy wave. Thankfully, Sean had gotten him into the Danger Room before this discharge took place, so no one was hurt beyond a pair of Bishop's pajamas.
"Again, they’re running tests. But, to put it bluntly, Lucas Bishop appears to be a giant battery. He absorbs energy, stores it, and releases it. And I mean any kind of energy: he absorbed the energy from his collision with the wall just as he absorbed the various energies from the laser blast."
"Wait," Ororo said, shaking her head. "He’s had this energy pack in his body since his mutation manifested, absorbing every bump and bruise, and he didn’t know it? How is that possible?"
"Moira believes it’s because he hadn’t yet stored enough for it to affect him. It took a blast in the chest from a massive laser beam, a beam that would have fricasseed an average human, to charge him enough to make a difference."
Ororo sat back in her seat. "Amazing."
"Remember, Cerebro read him as a Class Four mutant," Emma said. "Maybe even higher. I think as he matures, as he comes to learn how to control and harness the energy he absorbs, he could become something amazing. 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 felt for most of his life. A social outcast even before he 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 bruised and beaten. 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. I read that in him last night, as well. He was ready to pack up his bags and go home. And he could. He could live a normal life without having his power under control, because most people don’t get hit with Buck Rogers’ photon gun on a daily basis."
"But it might not take that much," Ororo said with an understanding nod. "If he gets in a car accident, or if his house starts on fire, there could be trouble. If he hasn’t learned to control the energies he absorbs from the impact or from the flames, how many die when that energy releases itself? Or what happens if he doesn't release it?"
"I think," Emma said, "When it comes to Lucas Bishop, it’s going to take a lot of training to reach his full potential. 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 briefed him on 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."
"Of course it wasn't," Emma sighed.
"It was caused by a mutant. An extremely powerful one, obviously."
"So many children exploding these days," Emma said with a roll of her eyes. "I blame the media. Horrible role models."
"I’m about ten miles out of the town, I just have to find a quiet place to land before I… wait a minute…"
Ororo’s head jerked to her right, intently staring at the couple sitting at the table near theirs.
"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?"
"Apparently."
"Well, every day’s a learning day, I suppose."
"I have to go," Ororo said, tapping her fingers 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 opened her eyes, allowing her vision to adjust to her new surroundings. Those "mind meetings," one of her specialties, were relaxing for what they were (and the Parisian cafe setting was always one of her favorites), but they always left her with a momentary sense of disorientation.
She quickly regained her composure, and sent out a mental call.
Forge, she thought, quickly regaining her composure.
Jesus Christ! Emma! Damn it, I have to get used to this mind-link shit again.
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 name when we were together the first time, Frost thought icily, and I would prefer you not call me 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?" she asked into her headphone mic.
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 to hone in on."
"And what are you seeing?"
"Everything," he responded simply. "X-rays, gamma rays, ACRs, GCRs, solar particles. Every type of cosmic ray that you learned about in astronomy and astrophysics, and they’re all funnelling into 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?"
"I think we found our mutant. And he’s moving. I'm bringing up your HUD."
"Okay," Ororo responded, tapping the buttons on the control panel as the windshield was replaced with a digital version of the forest below There was a glowing spot about fifty feet from where the jet hovered. "I’m going to land, see if I can get a closer look."
She lowered the landing gear, but before she could start her descent another bright flare erupted from glowing spot.
"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. With the display shut down, she could see a bare patch of ground where there had been trees just seconds before. "Any ideas, Forge?"
There was a silence on the other end of the communicator. Seconds passed by interminably.
"Forge?"
"Shh," he responded. She could almost hear the synapses firing, his mutant power fully in effect. Ororo could do nothing but circle the area, hoping that another energy flare didn't knock the X-Jet out of commission completely.
"Yeah, I got something," he responded finally. "I can build a containment field generator, 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 lying around the mansion where I should be able to make something on the cheap and the quick."
"Do you have him tagged?"
"He's tagged," he said. "I’ll keep my sensors tuned to him after you head back. Just so long as Flash Gordon 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 the authorities away from the area until we get back. Maybe come up with some evacuation excuse to keep away any hikers. I’ll be at the mansion in an hour. Will you be ready by then?"
"No reason to see why I won't be," said Forge. "But one other concern: I could make a device to protect you from any blasts, but I won’t be able to make that and the generator in the course of an hour. So how are we gonna get the gizmo 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, sitting shirtless atop the med lab's examining table, turned to the door to see Professor Frost leaning against the frame. Forge slid past her and began scouring the office.
"Ummm," Bishop stammered, 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. Aye, we're done," Moira responded, tearing her eyes away from Forge, who was stockpiling her personal equipment in his arms. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Special project," Forge responded, snatching Moira’s stethoscope from her neck. "Headmistress's orders."
"And these orders involve my centrifuge?"
Forge paused, looked down at the metal box in amidst his pile. He closed his eyes, deep in thought, and opened them two seconds later. "I’ll build you a better one tomorrow," he replied simply, and then hustled out of the office, trailing numerous power cables behind him.
"Am I in trouble?" Lucas asked quietly, jumping down from the examining table.
Emma opened her mouth, then looked at Moira, who was giving her a bemused look.
"Actually," she said slowly, "why don’t you follow Professor Forge? I need to speak with the doctor."
Lucas nodded, pulled his shirt back on, and left the office. The two women watched him leave, then Emma leaned against the examining table, and leveled her gaze 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," said Moira reulctantly, flipping through a series of charts she was holding, "the tests have revealed quite a lot. 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, etcetera."
"And?"
"And he absorbed all of them," Moira said. "The scanners I had hooked up to him measure 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 that runs mild pulses of electricity through the body, and they don't make it to the other side. The body absorbs the entire pulse. I even put a tongue depressor in his mouth, and it reads in his toes. He absorbs every type of energy that comes in contact with his body," Moira replied. "Kinetic, potential, thermal, electrical, plasma. And from what we saw last night, his body can only hold so much before it has to release it."
"We knew this already, though, didn't we?"
"We did," 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 nodded.
"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, then counted off on her fingers. "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. Yet he’s amazingly fit despite it. His body fat percentage is incredibly low, and he has a lot more muscle mass on him than others his age without ever lifting a weight. He can’t remember the last time he was sick. 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 half that time.
"I think his body is capable of doing a lot more with this absorbed energy than we anticipated. He'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 unofficial opinion, the limits are endless with this boy."
Emma furrowed her eyebrows, looking to the door.
"Why do you ask?" Moira asked, her brow furrowed in suspicion.
"Moira," Emma said slowly, "How much energy do you think he can hold?"
---------
"What are you doing?" Lucas asked, sitting down next to Forge's work table.
"Hand me that Philips, would ya?" Forge asked, pointing down to the pile of equipment at the far end.. 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. "That’s awesome! Can I see the blueprints?"
Forge shook his head, leaning down to tinker with 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, his eyes wide. "Are you a Tommyknocker?" he asked in awe.
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 actual books," he said. "I read comics when I was a kid, of course. But 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 explained. "I was part of the UN force that got sent in there when things heated up about ten 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 hands... hand."
"Wow. That's crazy."
"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 build it. Now this one," he said, leaning back to examine his work, "she's only temporary. I’m working on a schedule and with limited equipment. Don't worry, though, it should hold up fine until you’re done using it."
"Okay," Lucas said, then did a double take. "Wait, what?"
"Oh, shit," Forge said, grabbing his forehead. "They didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
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. The two were joined seconds later by Professor Cassidy, who walked into the room and stood between the two, silently mediating. Lucas watched the byplay of silent facial expressions, slowly becoming aware that he was witnessing his first psychic argument. Lucas turned to Forge, a look of confusion on his face. Forge opened his mouth. Closed it. Exhaled through flapping lips, shrugged, and turned back to the table.
"No more arguments," a voice came from outside the lab, and Ororo Munroe walked in to join the group. "From what I heard from Moira and Emma, I trust his abilities. Peter would be the next closest option we have, but I don't even think his steel skin could take the punishment. If we try to take it out from a distance, physically or psychically, might be risking a more devastating event if it’s knocked unconscious. With Logan gone, he's the only one who can withstand whatever it is the mutant's eminating."
"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. It's my call. I say he goes."
"On your own head be it," Moira grumbled, leaving the lab in a huff.
Lucas raised his hand slowly. "Ummm," he said quietly, "What are we talking about?"
---------
His hands clenched tightly on the armrests, his chest rising and falling heavily against the seatbelt. He could feel the cold sweat trickling down his forehead, but his fingers refused to release themselves long enough to wipe it off.
"You alright?" Professor Cassidy asked from the seat next to him.
Lucas turned to him, and smiled sickly, his dark face pale. "Yeah, just-" he swallowed. "Just never been in a plane before."
Sean nodded.
"Especially one that can probably go Mach 2," Lucas added.
"Mach 5, actually," Forge said proudly 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. Professor Munroe wore the same sail-like cloth under her arms as Professor Cassidy, silver where his was basic green, silver trim down her arms where his was yellow. Mr. Forge had a long black leather headband, with one arm and one leg cut off the suit, exposing his mechanical appendages. Both he and Munroe wore black versus Cassidy's dark green leather, but the cut and design were otherwise identical.
"So do I get a costume, too, Professor Cassidy?" he asked despite himself.
Cassidy smiled. "Maybe someday, boyo," he responded. "You’re making a pretty good step towards earning one, 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, 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." I'm on a mission.
"My codename’s Storm," Munroe continued. "Professor Cassidy is known as Banshee. Until we get back to the mansion, those are our names."
"What about you, Mr. Forge?"
"Who said Forge is my real name?" Forge said, looking jokingly at Storm.
"So you’re just Forge?"
"Maybe?" he said mysteriously. "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. 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? The big one with the construction vehicle parts? No, wait, that's Devastator. But I think there's still a Demolisher...
Battery?
The Living Laser?
Bishop?
He rolled it around the tongue in his head. Pictured it on the cover of a comic book, in bold colors.
Might work…
"Now remember, Lucas," Cassidy (Banshee, Lucas corrected) 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.
"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, yeah?"
"Scanners say we’re close, Storm," Forge said, fiddling with the console.
"I'm finding a place to land," Storm responded.
"Better make it a ways back," Forge said. "This puppy’s looking ready to pop. The energy concentration’s higher than it was when you were here last."
The X-Jet settled into a clearing. The back hatch opened, and the four of them walked out: Storm, Banshee, and Forge in their imposing leather uniforms, Bishop wearing a pair of baby blue hospital scrubs.
"We have a pair of your normal clothes here in the jet, Lucas," Banshee said, sensing Lucas's discomfort. "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," Forge said. "And, don’t worry, I’ll make sure Stormie here averts her gaze when you come back. Don't want her to suddenly think I'm less of a man, you know?"
"Funny," said Storm, crossing her arms. "Very funny."
Lucas nodded absently, staring off into the forest. "I… I can actually feel it," he said. "The energy."
The three looked at him, surprised. He turned to them, just as surprised himself.
"It’s like a wind, or something," he explained. "Like there’s more energy behind me than in front, pushing towards that one spot."
Banshee shook his head in wonder. "You’re one hell of a mutant, boyo."
"Now you remember your instructions, right?" Storm said, putting her hand on his shoulder as Forge handed him his makeshift device: a box no larger than a dictionary, with two buttons planted on its face.
"Yeah," said Bishop, juggling the machine as Forge also handed him a flashlight.
"Give them to me."
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 nervous look back at the three X-Men, and then entered into the forest.
---------
As he walked towards the source, Lucas Bishop’s legs began to shake. That sweat was back again, but now his hands were occupied with clutching the machine. He was too afraid of what would happen if he dropped it to even wipe the sting dripping into his eyes.
So this is what it’s like to be really terrified? he thought, swallowing a sour taste in his mouth. To truly be afraid for your life? I changed my mind. If this is what being an X-Man is about, then you can have it.
He stopped in his tracks, his arms trembling. He slowly turned around. Took two steps back towards the jet. 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. The only person who can save them.
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.
Alright, maybe not all of that was true. But it was close enough to help. He smiled, and turned back towards the source of the explosions. Let the energy flowing against his back press him forward like a sail in the breeze.
A twig snapped beneath him.
"Who’s there?" he heard a voice yell from the forest. Lucas could hear fear in that voice. Terror, even.
"Hello?" Lucas yelled in reply.
"Don’t come any closer!" the voice yelled back. It sounded male.
That answers one question.
"My name’s Lucas!" he yelled. "Lucas Bishop!"
Damn it, no names! You already broke the one rule Storm told you!
"I’m here to help you!" he pressed on.
"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 could blow at any moment, and we need to make sure it stays safe. Make sure to stand between him and the device at all times."
He tucked the device to his chest, wrapping his arms around it as tightly as he could without accidentally pressing the buttons. He then, very slowly, started walking backwards. He could feel the wind of cosmic energy again, this time a gust on his face rather than his back. 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! I need to... I need to get away!"
"You won’t kill anyone else," Bishop said. "But I need you to trust me. I can’t turn around right now to see you. How far away am I from you?"
"Don’t get any closer!"
Oh, so helpful, Bishop thought, rolling his eyes.
"You have to trust me," Bishop repeated. "What’s your name?"
Silence.
"What’s your name?"
"Alex," the boy said, barely audible.
"Okay, Alex," Bishop said, suddenly feeling like he was channeling every hostage negotiator he had ever seen in the movies. "You might not like what I’m going to ask you to do, but you have to do it."
More silence.
"Alex?"
"What?"
"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. You're absorbing energy and releasing it in explosions. I’m holding a box that will make sure that you won’t blow up again, but you need to blow up first so you can, I dunno, empty your chambers. Do you understand?"
"Is it a bomb?" Alex asked, his voice rising, "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 help you."
"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 green 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 pain like he had never felt before. The laser blast was just a rap to the knuckles compared to this. It was as though every molecule in his body was on fire.
As quickly as it began, the flare disappeared and Bishop found himself in a clearing. The trees that had surrounded him hadn't even been knocked down. They had simply vanished, reduced to char in moments. But the pain in Bishop’s body, in his everything, didn’t disappear. The heat felt a thousand degrees higher than in the Danger Room. He looked down at his body, the hospital gown now shredded. His skin was no longer black, but instead glowing like a flourescent lightbulb.
Forge's device was in one piece. Lucas had protected it.
He hoped.
Bishop 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 had been burned off hours ago, maybe even in his first explosion.
Move! his mind yelled. Come on, I’m dying here, MOVE!
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 and the flashlight in front of young man.
Push the button, Bishop tried to say, but only a wheezing gasp escaped. He grabbed Alex's head, aimed it at the box. Pointed quickly at the green button. Then ran.
Push the damn button, Alex, he thought as he ran, trying to hold onto the energy as long as he could. Don't make all this damn pain for nothing.
A little further, his mind screamed.
Fire! his body howled. I'm on fire! Put it out! PUT IT OUT!
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, pushing himself of the stairs of the jet's ramp and staring into the woods where Forge was pointing.
"You wouldn’t be able to," Forge said. "At least, if the generator worked, you wouldn't. 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, unmindful of his voice.
"All energy rays, huh?" Storm asked with a smirk.
"Yeah?"
"Does that mean it stops sound waves?’
"Ahhhh, fuck!" Forge said, stomping his foot with a clang.
"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 trench's path.
"Good thinking," Forge said, slapping Sean on the shoulder.
Storm ran into the jet, coming back seconds later with a pad of paper and a pen. "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. Storm grinned and shook her head, but did Bishop a favor by focusing her attention on the note, then re-entered the jet. Seconds later the black blob had reached the bottom of the ramp, crossing over Storm’s note. It vanished.
"Ah, Jayzus," Banshee said, averting his eyes at the sight of young Alex. "Why does everyone have to be naked? Storm!" he yelled into the jet. "Bring out a spare flight suit, or a Speedo, or something! Anything!
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, his eyes darting up and down the men's uniforms.
"We're not," said Forge. "But I’ll be honest with you, kid: 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. "I want to get a genetic signature for you first. I'll be sending it back to the lab so we have a decent idea what to do with you before--"
Forge paused, 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, who was pulling on a spare flight suit, one that once belonged to Hank McCoy. It was far too big for him, and blue hair still sprouted from its seams.
"Hey, kid," he asked carefully, "You have a brother named Scott?"
Triangles Revisited / Previous Chapters / A Day in the Life
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: X3, Previous Chapters
Rating: PG13 for language and suggested nudity
Summary: A New Mutant gets his first taste of life as an X-Man
Notes: The original version of this chapter can be found here.
I don't own these characters. They belong to Marvel Comics, Disney, and 20th Century Fox.
Triangles Revisited / Previous Chapters / A Day in the Life
"Do you want to get fired?"
Emma Frost, the sun shining on her from the windows of the Parisian cafe, quietly set her teacup on the table. "Ororo, dear," she said, "I think you’re overreacting a bit…"
"Overreacting?" 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."
"Jesus Christ," Ororo muttered, leaning back in her plush white chair. "I’m gone for less than a week, and the school’s turned into a war zone."
"You’ll have to speak to Forge about that. He's the one who installed the gun in the--"
"Why were they down there to begin with?" Ororo interrupted, her eyes crackling 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 pour you a 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, Arthur Centino, Connor Jones, and Lucas Bishop on the other."
"Then why didn’t you--?"
"I was going to," Emma explained. "But then I decided that it would be good for the new students to learn exactly what being a student of this Academy is all about."
"By putting them in front of a gun and opening 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. 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."
"Sounds like something you'd believe," said Ororo. "You acted that way quite a lot before you joined us."
"You cut me," said Emma, clasping her hand to her breast with dry sarcasm before continuing. "I decided to let them have their fun, confront them the next morning, and dole out their punishment accordingly. Allow them to fully realize that there are rules in this school, even when they think that the professors aren't watching.
"Besides," she added with a small smile, "What we learned far outweighed the harm that was actually done."
Storm leaned back with a sigh, looking around the small café. She wearily ran her hands through her short black-and-white hair. "So what was the damage?" she asked eventually.
"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 by the time he’s done eating lunch, and two or three holes in the sub-basement hall. Figuratively, we’re learning more about two of our more mysterious new students."
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?" Ororo asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Jack Daniels, I believe."
"And why did he have a whiskey bottle?"
"Not important," said Emma with a dismissive wave of her hand. "A bottle shouldn't damage that kind of equipment unless it hit in just the right place at just the right angle. I spoke with Mr. Drake and Miss Pryde after the incident, and they agreed that there was no possible way that the bottle should have struck where 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 alter its angle in mid-flight. Almost like it recalculated its own trajectory to strike the laser in the right place at the right time."
"How is that possible?"
"The verdict is still out," Emma said. "Between Bishop and Centino, Moira and Sean are like kids at Christmas with all the tests they're running. But I think it’s safe to say that there’s more to Arthur Centino than hollow bones and four fingers"
"Bishop? Lucas Bishop?" Ororo asked. "What happened to him?"
"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 repeated, her fingers tightening on the armrests.
"Well... he... bumped his head…"
"That’s all?"
"After the laser threw him against the wall."
"What?"
"But it didn’t do any damage, Ororo," Emma lifted her hands, attempting to calm Ororo, whose eyes had gone white. "I saw the holes the gun made in the wall and in the floor, and Bishop should have been gutted. But he wasn’t. There wasn't a scratch on him."
"So he’s invulnerable?" said Ororo, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Beyond that. He was glowing red after he was hit. Sean's a bright boy, and put two and two together quickly. Lucas had absorbed the attack, and discharged it from his body as an energy wave. Thankfully, Sean had gotten him into the Danger Room before this discharge took place, so no one was hurt beyond a pair of Bishop's pajamas.
"Again, they’re running tests. But, to put it bluntly, Lucas Bishop appears to be a giant battery. He absorbs energy, stores it, and releases it. And I mean any kind of energy: he absorbed the energy from his collision with the wall just as he absorbed the various energies from the laser blast."
"Wait," Ororo said, shaking her head. "He’s had this energy pack in his body since his mutation manifested, absorbing every bump and bruise, and he didn’t know it? How is that possible?"
"Moira believes it’s because he hadn’t yet stored enough for it to affect him. It took a blast in the chest from a massive laser beam, a beam that would have fricasseed an average human, to charge him enough to make a difference."
Ororo sat back in her seat. "Amazing."
"Remember, Cerebro read him as a Class Four mutant," Emma said. "Maybe even higher. I think as he matures, as he comes to learn how to control and harness the energy he absorbs, he could become something amazing. 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 felt for most of his life. A social outcast even before he 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 bruised and beaten. 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. I read that in him last night, as well. He was ready to pack up his bags and go home. And he could. He could live a normal life without having his power under control, because most people don’t get hit with Buck Rogers’ photon gun on a daily basis."
"But it might not take that much," Ororo said with an understanding nod. "If he gets in a car accident, or if his house starts on fire, there could be trouble. If he hasn’t learned to control the energies he absorbs from the impact or from the flames, how many die when that energy releases itself? Or what happens if he doesn't release it?"
"I think," Emma said, "When it comes to Lucas Bishop, it’s going to take a lot of training to reach his full potential. 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 briefed him on 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."
"Of course it wasn't," Emma sighed.
"It was caused by a mutant. An extremely powerful one, obviously."
"So many children exploding these days," Emma said with a roll of her eyes. "I blame the media. Horrible role models."
"I’m about ten miles out of the town, I just have to find a quiet place to land before I… wait a minute…"
Ororo’s head jerked to her right, intently staring at the couple sitting at the table near theirs.
"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?"
"Apparently."
"Well, every day’s a learning day, I suppose."
"I have to go," Ororo said, tapping her fingers 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 opened her eyes, allowing her vision to adjust to her new surroundings. Those "mind meetings," one of her specialties, were relaxing for what they were (and the Parisian cafe setting was always one of her favorites), but they always left her with a momentary sense of disorientation.
She quickly regained her composure, and sent out a mental call.
Forge, she thought, quickly regaining her composure.
Jesus Christ! Emma! Damn it, I have to get used to this mind-link shit again.
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 name when we were together the first time, Frost thought icily, and I would prefer you not call me 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?" she asked into her headphone mic.
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 to hone in on."
"And what are you seeing?"
"Everything," he responded simply. "X-rays, gamma rays, ACRs, GCRs, solar particles. Every type of cosmic ray that you learned about in astronomy and astrophysics, and they’re all funnelling into 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?"
"I think we found our mutant. And he’s moving. I'm bringing up your HUD."
"Okay," Ororo responded, tapping the buttons on the control panel as the windshield was replaced with a digital version of the forest below There was a glowing spot about fifty feet from where the jet hovered. "I’m going to land, see if I can get a closer look."
She lowered the landing gear, but before she could start her descent another bright flare erupted from glowing spot.
"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. With the display shut down, she could see a bare patch of ground where there had been trees just seconds before. "Any ideas, Forge?"
There was a silence on the other end of the communicator. Seconds passed by interminably.
"Forge?"
"Shh," he responded. She could almost hear the synapses firing, his mutant power fully in effect. Ororo could do nothing but circle the area, hoping that another energy flare didn't knock the X-Jet out of commission completely.
"Yeah, I got something," he responded finally. "I can build a containment field generator, 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 lying around the mansion where I should be able to make something on the cheap and the quick."
"Do you have him tagged?"
"He's tagged," he said. "I’ll keep my sensors tuned to him after you head back. Just so long as Flash Gordon 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 the authorities away from the area until we get back. Maybe come up with some evacuation excuse to keep away any hikers. I’ll be at the mansion in an hour. Will you be ready by then?"
"No reason to see why I won't be," said Forge. "But one other concern: I could make a device to protect you from any blasts, but I won’t be able to make that and the generator in the course of an hour. So how are we gonna get the gizmo 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, sitting shirtless atop the med lab's examining table, turned to the door to see Professor Frost leaning against the frame. Forge slid past her and began scouring the office.
"Ummm," Bishop stammered, 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. Aye, we're done," Moira responded, tearing her eyes away from Forge, who was stockpiling her personal equipment in his arms. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Special project," Forge responded, snatching Moira’s stethoscope from her neck. "Headmistress's orders."
"And these orders involve my centrifuge?"
Forge paused, looked down at the metal box in amidst his pile. He closed his eyes, deep in thought, and opened them two seconds later. "I’ll build you a better one tomorrow," he replied simply, and then hustled out of the office, trailing numerous power cables behind him.
"Am I in trouble?" Lucas asked quietly, jumping down from the examining table.
Emma opened her mouth, then looked at Moira, who was giving her a bemused look.
"Actually," she said slowly, "why don’t you follow Professor Forge? I need to speak with the doctor."
Lucas nodded, pulled his shirt back on, and left the office. The two women watched him leave, then Emma leaned against the examining table, and leveled her gaze 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," said Moira reulctantly, flipping through a series of charts she was holding, "the tests have revealed quite a lot. 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, etcetera."
"And?"
"And he absorbed all of them," Moira said. "The scanners I had hooked up to him measure 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 that runs mild pulses of electricity through the body, and they don't make it to the other side. The body absorbs the entire pulse. I even put a tongue depressor in his mouth, and it reads in his toes. He absorbs every type of energy that comes in contact with his body," Moira replied. "Kinetic, potential, thermal, electrical, plasma. And from what we saw last night, his body can only hold so much before it has to release it."
"We knew this already, though, didn't we?"
"We did," 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 nodded.
"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, then counted off on her fingers. "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. Yet he’s amazingly fit despite it. His body fat percentage is incredibly low, and he has a lot more muscle mass on him than others his age without ever lifting a weight. He can’t remember the last time he was sick. 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 half that time.
"I think his body is capable of doing a lot more with this absorbed energy than we anticipated. He'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 unofficial opinion, the limits are endless with this boy."
Emma furrowed her eyebrows, looking to the door.
"Why do you ask?" Moira asked, her brow furrowed in suspicion.
"Moira," Emma said slowly, "How much energy do you think he can hold?"
---------
"What are you doing?" Lucas asked, sitting down next to Forge's work table.
"Hand me that Philips, would ya?" Forge asked, pointing down to the pile of equipment at the far end.. 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. "That’s awesome! Can I see the blueprints?"
Forge shook his head, leaning down to tinker with 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, his eyes wide. "Are you a Tommyknocker?" he asked in awe.
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 actual books," he said. "I read comics when I was a kid, of course. But 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 explained. "I was part of the UN force that got sent in there when things heated up about ten 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 hands... hand."
"Wow. That's crazy."
"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 build it. Now this one," he said, leaning back to examine his work, "she's only temporary. I’m working on a schedule and with limited equipment. Don't worry, though, it should hold up fine until you’re done using it."
"Okay," Lucas said, then did a double take. "Wait, what?"
"Oh, shit," Forge said, grabbing his forehead. "They didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
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. The two were joined seconds later by Professor Cassidy, who walked into the room and stood between the two, silently mediating. Lucas watched the byplay of silent facial expressions, slowly becoming aware that he was witnessing his first psychic argument. Lucas turned to Forge, a look of confusion on his face. Forge opened his mouth. Closed it. Exhaled through flapping lips, shrugged, and turned back to the table.
"No more arguments," a voice came from outside the lab, and Ororo Munroe walked in to join the group. "From what I heard from Moira and Emma, I trust his abilities. Peter would be the next closest option we have, but I don't even think his steel skin could take the punishment. If we try to take it out from a distance, physically or psychically, might be risking a more devastating event if it’s knocked unconscious. With Logan gone, he's the only one who can withstand whatever it is the mutant's eminating."
"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. It's my call. I say he goes."
"On your own head be it," Moira grumbled, leaving the lab in a huff.
Lucas raised his hand slowly. "Ummm," he said quietly, "What are we talking about?"
---------
His hands clenched tightly on the armrests, his chest rising and falling heavily against the seatbelt. He could feel the cold sweat trickling down his forehead, but his fingers refused to release themselves long enough to wipe it off.
"You alright?" Professor Cassidy asked from the seat next to him.
Lucas turned to him, and smiled sickly, his dark face pale. "Yeah, just-" he swallowed. "Just never been in a plane before."
Sean nodded.
"Especially one that can probably go Mach 2," Lucas added.
"Mach 5, actually," Forge said proudly 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. Professor Munroe wore the same sail-like cloth under her arms as Professor Cassidy, silver where his was basic green, silver trim down her arms where his was yellow. Mr. Forge had a long black leather headband, with one arm and one leg cut off the suit, exposing his mechanical appendages. Both he and Munroe wore black versus Cassidy's dark green leather, but the cut and design were otherwise identical.
"So do I get a costume, too, Professor Cassidy?" he asked despite himself.
Cassidy smiled. "Maybe someday, boyo," he responded. "You’re making a pretty good step towards earning one, 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, 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." I'm on a mission.
"My codename’s Storm," Munroe continued. "Professor Cassidy is known as Banshee. Until we get back to the mansion, those are our names."
"What about you, Mr. Forge?"
"Who said Forge is my real name?" Forge said, looking jokingly at Storm.
"So you’re just Forge?"
"Maybe?" he said mysteriously. "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. 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? The big one with the construction vehicle parts? No, wait, that's Devastator. But I think there's still a Demolisher...
Battery?
The Living Laser?
Bishop?
He rolled it around the tongue in his head. Pictured it on the cover of a comic book, in bold colors.
Might work…
"Now remember, Lucas," Cassidy (Banshee, Lucas corrected) 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.
"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, yeah?"
"Scanners say we’re close, Storm," Forge said, fiddling with the console.
"I'm finding a place to land," Storm responded.
"Better make it a ways back," Forge said. "This puppy’s looking ready to pop. The energy concentration’s higher than it was when you were here last."
The X-Jet settled into a clearing. The back hatch opened, and the four of them walked out: Storm, Banshee, and Forge in their imposing leather uniforms, Bishop wearing a pair of baby blue hospital scrubs.
"We have a pair of your normal clothes here in the jet, Lucas," Banshee said, sensing Lucas's discomfort. "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," Forge said. "And, don’t worry, I’ll make sure Stormie here averts her gaze when you come back. Don't want her to suddenly think I'm less of a man, you know?"
"Funny," said Storm, crossing her arms. "Very funny."
Lucas nodded absently, staring off into the forest. "I… I can actually feel it," he said. "The energy."
The three looked at him, surprised. He turned to them, just as surprised himself.
"It’s like a wind, or something," he explained. "Like there’s more energy behind me than in front, pushing towards that one spot."
Banshee shook his head in wonder. "You’re one hell of a mutant, boyo."
"Now you remember your instructions, right?" Storm said, putting her hand on his shoulder as Forge handed him his makeshift device: a box no larger than a dictionary, with two buttons planted on its face.
"Yeah," said Bishop, juggling the machine as Forge also handed him a flashlight.
"Give them to me."
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 nervous look back at the three X-Men, and then entered into the forest.
---------
As he walked towards the source, Lucas Bishop’s legs began to shake. That sweat was back again, but now his hands were occupied with clutching the machine. He was too afraid of what would happen if he dropped it to even wipe the sting dripping into his eyes.
So this is what it’s like to be really terrified? he thought, swallowing a sour taste in his mouth. To truly be afraid for your life? I changed my mind. If this is what being an X-Man is about, then you can have it.
He stopped in his tracks, his arms trembling. He slowly turned around. Took two steps back towards the jet. 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. The only person who can save them.
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.
Alright, maybe not all of that was true. But it was close enough to help. He smiled, and turned back towards the source of the explosions. Let the energy flowing against his back press him forward like a sail in the breeze.
A twig snapped beneath him.
"Who’s there?" he heard a voice yell from the forest. Lucas could hear fear in that voice. Terror, even.
"Hello?" Lucas yelled in reply.
"Don’t come any closer!" the voice yelled back. It sounded male.
That answers one question.
"My name’s Lucas!" he yelled. "Lucas Bishop!"
Damn it, no names! You already broke the one rule Storm told you!
"I’m here to help you!" he pressed on.
"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 could blow at any moment, and we need to make sure it stays safe. Make sure to stand between him and the device at all times."
He tucked the device to his chest, wrapping his arms around it as tightly as he could without accidentally pressing the buttons. He then, very slowly, started walking backwards. He could feel the wind of cosmic energy again, this time a gust on his face rather than his back. 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! I need to... I need to get away!"
"You won’t kill anyone else," Bishop said. "But I need you to trust me. I can’t turn around right now to see you. How far away am I from you?"
"Don’t get any closer!"
Oh, so helpful, Bishop thought, rolling his eyes.
"You have to trust me," Bishop repeated. "What’s your name?"
Silence.
"What’s your name?"
"Alex," the boy said, barely audible.
"Okay, Alex," Bishop said, suddenly feeling like he was channeling every hostage negotiator he had ever seen in the movies. "You might not like what I’m going to ask you to do, but you have to do it."
More silence.
"Alex?"
"What?"
"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. You're absorbing energy and releasing it in explosions. I’m holding a box that will make sure that you won’t blow up again, but you need to blow up first so you can, I dunno, empty your chambers. Do you understand?"
"Is it a bomb?" Alex asked, his voice rising, "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 help you."
"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 green 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 pain like he had never felt before. The laser blast was just a rap to the knuckles compared to this. It was as though every molecule in his body was on fire.
As quickly as it began, the flare disappeared and Bishop found himself in a clearing. The trees that had surrounded him hadn't even been knocked down. They had simply vanished, reduced to char in moments. But the pain in Bishop’s body, in his everything, didn’t disappear. The heat felt a thousand degrees higher than in the Danger Room. He looked down at his body, the hospital gown now shredded. His skin was no longer black, but instead glowing like a flourescent lightbulb.
Forge's device was in one piece. Lucas had protected it.
He hoped.
Bishop 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 had been burned off hours ago, maybe even in his first explosion.
Move! his mind yelled. Come on, I’m dying here, MOVE!
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 and the flashlight in front of young man.
Push the button, Bishop tried to say, but only a wheezing gasp escaped. He grabbed Alex's head, aimed it at the box. Pointed quickly at the green button. Then ran.
Push the damn button, Alex, he thought as he ran, trying to hold onto the energy as long as he could. Don't make all this damn pain for nothing.
A little further, his mind screamed.
Fire! his body howled. I'm on fire! Put it out! PUT IT OUT!
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, pushing himself of the stairs of the jet's ramp and staring into the woods where Forge was pointing.
"You wouldn’t be able to," Forge said. "At least, if the generator worked, you wouldn't. 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, unmindful of his voice.
"All energy rays, huh?" Storm asked with a smirk.
"Yeah?"
"Does that mean it stops sound waves?’
"Ahhhh, fuck!" Forge said, stomping his foot with a clang.
"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 trench's path.
"Good thinking," Forge said, slapping Sean on the shoulder.
Storm ran into the jet, coming back seconds later with a pad of paper and a pen. "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. Storm grinned and shook her head, but did Bishop a favor by focusing her attention on the note, then re-entered the jet. Seconds later the black blob had reached the bottom of the ramp, crossing over Storm’s note. It vanished.
"Ah, Jayzus," Banshee said, averting his eyes at the sight of young Alex. "Why does everyone have to be naked? Storm!" he yelled into the jet. "Bring out a spare flight suit, or a Speedo, or something! Anything!
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, his eyes darting up and down the men's uniforms.
"We're not," said Forge. "But I’ll be honest with you, kid: 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. "I want to get a genetic signature for you first. I'll be sending it back to the lab so we have a decent idea what to do with you before--"
Forge paused, 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, who was pulling on a spare flight suit, one that once belonged to Hank McCoy. It was far too big for him, and blue hair still sprouted from its seams.
"Hey, kid," he asked carefully, "You have a brother named Scott?"
Triangles Revisited / Previous Chapters / A Day in the Life