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Title: The New Mutants, Volume XVI: Like A Child
Author: kanedax
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Rating: PG-13 for language and bloodless death
Pairings: None
Spoilers: X3, The New Mutants, Volumes I-XV (see above)
Summary: The Phoenix is revealed
Notes: The things you learn writing fan-fiction. Throughout the course of this epic, I've had to do Google searches on Cajun dictionaries, Nebraska Forestry services, and Tunisian geography, not to mention all the brushing up I've had to do on characters that I loved ten years ago. As usual, I don't own the X-Men, 20th Century Fox, or Marvel Comics. But, after seeing them last night, I have Zox's two CDs. Check em out, you'll never see a better electric violin player in your life.
Previous Chapter (Making Amends) / Next Chapter (The Chamber)
“Ah, Logan,” Henry McCoy said as Ororo, Kurt, and Logan entered the med lab, “I didn’t get a chance to ask while you two had been here earlier, but I should probably check your vitals, make sure you’re up to snuff to start training again.”
“Don’t worry, Doc,” Logan said, grabbing a chair and straddling it, “I’ve already been training, and I ain’t even winded.”
“So I heard,” Hank muttered, pulling a stack of files from a nearby table. “I assumed that’s what all the grunting and yelling was coming from the Danger Room.”
“Aw, come on, Furball,” Logan replied. “A little grunting never hurt anyone.”
“Of course,” Hank said. “But you have to remember that you’re not the man you were even a few days ago. Your healing factor may still be alive and well, but you’re a bit more breakable now.”
Logan snorted. “Son, I’ve been in wars.”
Hank paused as he began to sit on his stool. “Did you just call me ‘son’?” He shook his head. “Anyway, what I mean is that your gung-ho attitude may have worked when your bones were impervious to any damage, but even I can’t believe that you can regrow a severed limb.”
“Meh,” Logan shrugged. “I’ve probably lost a few in my time. Civil War was thick with em, I hear.”
“Civil-?”
Logan turned to Ororo, who cocked her head in resigned acknowledgement. “I’ve seen pictures,” she said.
“Fascinating,” Hank replied dryly. “Now, before we get to the subject at hand, should we ask the children to leave?” He turned to the bed, where Bobby was sitting up with Kitty sitting next to him.
Ororo shook her head. “They’re X-Men now,” she replied. “They need to know this information as much as anyone.”
“Should we bring Pete down?” Logan asked, and Ororo sighed.
“We can fill him in later,” she said. “I want to get this over with so we can get down to deciding what’s next.”
“Fair enough,” Hank said. He opened one of the files. “First off, I looked at the reports you had given me, Ororo, dealing with the series of apparently psychic murders that had occurred in the past few months. At first, I was like you; I didn’t seem to see any pattern in what we had been given.
“But,” he continued, flipping through the pages in the manila folder, “I had a hunch, so I asked some of my friends higher up to give me some more detailed information.”
“And what did you come up with?” Ororo asked.
“These victims are connected in two different ways,” Hank said, then shook his head. “Actually, no, I misspeak. Give this information to anyone who doesn’t have much experience with paranormal phenomenon, and they would say that there were two different killers with two different motives. Half of the victims are linked in one way, and the other half are linked in another.”
He pulled one sheet, and handed it to Ororo.
“I ran a check of where they had all lived and gone to school at all points of their lives. I checked for any periods that matched up, and on many, there was one major connection.”
Ororo read the document, and found one name highlighted alongside four of the names.
“Red Hook Elementary?”
Hank nodded. “Half of the murder victims attended the same elementary school, all within three years of each other.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?” Logan muttered.
“It’s not far from here,” Kurt replied. “About fifty miles north, possibly? I came through there on my way here.”
“Wait a minute,” Logan said, sitting up. “Yeah, we went through there. It’s near…”
“It’s the town that incorporates the hamlet of Annandale-on-Hudson,” Hank said.
“That’s Jean’s hometown,” Ororo said, and Hank nodded in agreement.
“The same,” he said. “She attended elementary school with four of the murder victims. Of the others, one was a tenured professor at Oxford. Another attended Harvard for one semester then dropped out. The third, a woman named Gabrielle Haller, was a Red Cross volunteer at a refugee camp in Israel thirty years ago.”
“Charles went to Oxford,” Ororo said. “And Harvard. And a refugee camp…”
“Didn’t the Professor say he met Magneto in Israel?” Bobby asked.
“I would think,” Hank continued, “that it’s safe to say that the Phoenix has been at work for quite a while.”
“But why them?” Kurt asked.
“And how?” Kitty continued. “I mean, it’s not like Brian’s been disappearing, or anything.”
“I would guess,” Hank said, “that the motive might be something as simple as revenge. I haven’t dug much deeper than what you’re seeing right now, but I can theorize that somewhere there’s an old folder of school records that have the Red Hook students serving a few detentions for fighting. There’s a criminal record on three of the four that suggest they didn’t exactly grow up to be saints.
“As for the others…” Hank shrugged. “Charles’ record may show a failing grade in Anthropology at Oxford. Eyewitness testimony may conclude that he and the man who attended Harvard - at the same time, I might add - had not been the best of friends. Bad roommates? Competition over a woman? Who can say? The woman in Israel… Charles has never been very up-front about his past romantic history, but if they happened to cross paths in the past, and he got snubbed…”
“I couldn’t believe that,” Ororo said. “I mean, would Charles or Jean kill someone over something as petty as those?”
“I don’t know, Ororo, I’m only speculating,” Hank replied. “All I do know is that the Phoenix was living in Jean’s mind for years, since elementary school. Part of it transferred over to Charles and, being a being of hate and destruction, might have grabbed a hold of any negative feelings that it could find.”
“And when it needed targets,” Logan said, “more violence to feed off of, those were the ones that Jean and Charles would allow. Maybe not consciously, of course, but if they had to make a list of who not to kill, then these victims probably ranked near the bottom.”
“But,” Kitty said again, “Brian never left. How did they die?”
“He didn’t have to leave,” Hank said. “The Phoenix is a psychic entity.” He pulled out another folder and opened it. “In light of the events that have taken place here in the past few days, I could understand how you would miss the news of an eighth victim.”
“When?” Ororo said.
“Two nights ago,” Hank said, handing her the report, “A little after six pm Eastern time.”
“That was about when the attack happened,” Logan said. “I was just starting class with the three boys.”
“Alex, Alison, and Theresa all said that Jubilee had woken Brian up,” Ororo said, “and he had said he hadn’t heard Emma’s distress call.”
“That’s because the Phoenix blocked it,” Hank said. “Made sure he didn’t wake up, just long enough to leave and take out another victim. It probably didn’t realize that it was going to get its fill of psychic trauma minutes later.”
“So Magneto threw the attack at us to active it?” Logan asked, but Ororo shook her head.
“I don’t think Magneto’s that stupid,” she said. “From what Clarice was saying, the attack on the school was purely a distraction to keep our eyes and the government’s eyes away from The Raft long enough for him to break his kids out.”
“Which is something else we’re going to have to deal with,” Bobby groaned.
“We will, when we get back to full strength,” Ororo responded. “But Magneto would be the last person who would want to activate the Phoenix. I mean, it’s all about vengeance, isn’t it?”
“Then he wouldn’t be the last person who would want to activate it,” Hank muttered. “He’s on its hit list, sure, but he didn’t kill it.”
They turned as one to Logan, who sighed and shook his head. “God, I wish I still had my adamantium,” he growled.
“Phoenix knows we were all there,” Hank said. “Ororo, Bobby, Kitty, Peter, and myself. It might even recognize Jimmy and Warren as threats, along with Mr. Marko. But, thinking along that route, Logan would be a prime target.”
“Great,” Logan groaned.
“There are a few bright spots, though, if that could be said about the situation,” Hank replied. “I spoke with Dr. McTaggert while you were with the prisoner, Ororo. She said that, since the initial pulse, the one that has wreaked so much havoc across the mutant population, there have been two more. Each slightly stronger than the other.”
“So the Phoenix is gaining power?” Bobby said. “How’s that a bright spot?”
“It’s a bright spot that the pulses are happening at all,” Hank answered. “The first pulse occurred when Brian first turned into the Phoenix. Even when Jean and Phoenix shared the same body, it didn’t have the strength to take total control. I doubt that the Phoenix housed in Brian’s mind is quite as powerful.”
“Why’s that?” Bobby asked.
“Because no cities have been destroyed yet,” Hank said. "I can't even hazard a guess as to its potential power, either. It was sharing a body with Jean, meaning it had control of extremely potent telekinetic abilities. It's already demonstrated telepathy in the murder spree. But right now its in control of Brian, a mutant that we know nothing about."
"Here's hoping his mutant power is his ability to wiggle his ears," Logan said.
"Add to that," Hank continued, "that it’s now Charles Xavier’s mind that it’s fighting for control, and I would guess that these pulses mean that Brian is only being controlled by the Phoenix in short bursts for now. It’s gaining in power, to be sure, but it’s spending much of its time in human form, hiding out somewhere."
Water?
Erik Lehnsherr felt a cold liquid dripping on his face. A small amount ran into his parched mouth, and he knew.
Water!
His eyes flew open, and he attempted to stand. Unfortunately, his weakened condition only allowed his head to rise temporarily from the pillow.
A pillow, he quickly noticed. Where am I?
A man standing over him, dressed in shoddy ethnic clothing, began to speak in a foreign tongue. Erik’s brow furrowed in confusion before he realized what was being said.
“Arabic,” he mumbled to himself. “I know Arabic.
“Where am I?” he asked the man in Arabic. “How did I get here?”
“Oh, good,” the man replied in the same dialect, “You speak the language. I assumed you were some European tourist. You are in Chenini.”
“Chenini?” Erik stammered, looking around the small stone room. “Where is Chenini?”
The man looked at Erik in confusion. “In Tunisia. We found you in the desert. Do you not remember?”
Erik’s mind whirled. Tunisia? The desert?
He looked down to see that he was dressed in a sleeveless undershirt and his military pants. Then he remembered.
“I removed my cape and my coat,” he mumbled, “after a few hours. It was so hot…”
“Do you remember how you arrived there?” the Tunisian man asked. “We found you a day ago. Are you a part of some tour group? Or with the military?”
His mind pushed backwards through the fog that had been created by hours of parching heat and sun. He was wandering through the desert, but before that he was…
“The girl,” he growled. “She sent me here. She must have accidentally thought of this place instead of to the lair.”
No, his mind slowly pieced together. No, she didn’t follow me in, despite her intense desire to be anywhere but at the scene. And there was a look on her face. A smile?
“Oh, Clarice,” he said angrily. “You will pay for your transgression.”
“Hello, Clarice,” a voice said from nearby, and tittered madly.
“Who said that?” Erik replied, but the man looked at him with confusion.
What’s the matter, Erik? the voice replied, a voice that sounded so familiar. Not a Silence of the Lambs fan?
“Is something wrong, sir?”
“It puts the lotion in the basket.”
“Who are you?” Erik yelled, before realizing where the voice was coming from. “My helmet,” he said quickly to the peasant, “where is it?”
“The one you were carrying?” the man replied, turning to a nearby table. “It was laying near you when we found you.” He took it from the table, poured out some excess sand, and handed it to Erik, who snatched it from his hands and placed it on his head, sighing at the silence that followed.
Looks good on you, Erik, the voice echoed in his mind, and he bolted to his feet, swaying as his energy slowly returned to him. Too bad it doesn’t work on me.
He staggered out the door of the small house, and spun around, trying to find the source of the voice.
“Show yourself!” he screamed.
Boo, said a voice that his mind told him was coming from behind. He whirled around, and there, floating above the rock ledge, over the small dwellings carved into it, floated the armored creature from the Academy. It was not covered in flames this time, but its maroon armor shined its own sick light. It held the flaming sword next to it, and its skeletal metal wings flapped slowly.
”You,” he said quietly.
Miss me, baby? the voice of Jean Grey echoed in his head. Although he could not see a face inside the darkness of the helmet, Erik knew that she/he/it was smiling as it spoke.
“It’s good to see you again, my dear,” Erik said, smirking.
Too bad your mind tells me otherwise, Jean replied as the armored figure flicked its wrist, twisting the blade of its sword. The smirk fell from Erik’s face.
“What is that thing?” a voice screamed from behind him. Erik spun to see the peasant who had cared for him standing by the door, pointing skyward toward the cliff. “Why are you speaking to it?”
The armored figure cocked its head, and threw its open hand outward. Instantly, the man behind Erik fell to the ground dead.
It isn’t polite to point, Jean said. That Muggle should have known better.
Muggle? Erik thought absently.
Why not? Jean replied. It’s all magic anyway, isn’t it?
She’s insane, Erik thought, staring at the motionless body.
Be careful, Erik, another voice said in his mind. It was calmer, but had an edge of panic to it. Whatever you do, don’t agitate her. She’s weak, but growing more powerful by the-
Thank you, Charles, Jean said darkly as the voice of Charles Xavier was cut off. You see, Erik? You were right the last time you talked to me. When we were at my house, you said that he wanted to hold me back. And you were right.
The last time we spoke? Erik thought. She doesn’t remember everything that happened since then.
The armored figure tilted its head again, this time in thought. Erik could feel flaming tentacles probing his memory.
No, you’re right, she said. We have spoken since then. Thank you for reminding me. We were in the forest, and you told me that I could do whatever I wished. Then I attempted to de-power you and you told me to stop. I didn’t like being told to stop. Especially by you.
“Jean,” Erik said, fear creeping into his voice.
There is no more Jean, she said. This body is different than hers. It has the potential to be quite powerful, but not in the same way that hers was. I’ve tried looking everywhere for her, but she’s nowhere to be found.
What happened to her, Erik?
“I don’t know,” Erik replied. “I wasn’t there to see.”
Oh, yes, the voice that wasn’t Jean replied, feeling around some more. You ran away like a scared little human. They de-powered you, and then the soldiers attacked, and you scampered off with your tail between your legs. Leaving Jean to die. How did it happen, Erik? Did you do it?
“No!” he yelled. “I didn’t kill you.”
Of course you didn’t, you worthless piece of filth, she said. And of course you didn’t stay to watch me die, so you can’t tell me who did it. But don’t worry, I’ll find out.
“What are you going to do?” he said, his voice trembling.
The Phoenix is going to kill you, Erik.
Erik stood straight, the focus returning to his mind, as happens with many who are suddenly threatened with their lives.
“I’d like to see you try,” he said, lifting both hands to the sky. Two buses parked near the house lifted into the air, and he threw them at the Phoenix with all his might.
The thing didn’t flinch. It simply raised its sword, slicing first one bus, and then the other, in half as if they were crepe paper.
That was cute, the Phoenix said. Really, it’s quite adorable, thinking that you actually stand a chance against me. But don’t worry, Erik, I’m not going to kill you now. That wouldn’t be any fun. I want to see you squirm first.
“What do you mean?” he said, and an image quickly leapt to his mind. He felt the fiery tentacles snatch it.
Children, eh? the Phoenix snickered. Sounds like a quality first strike. In your lair? Perfect.
“No!” Erik yelled. “Please, not them! They are my only family!”
Awww, and he’s begging for their lives, how sweet. But they’re just human now? I thought you would want to be rid of them. They’re nothing but worthless Muggles.
“No,” Erik breathed. “You mustn’t.”
Don’t worry, baby, the Phoenix said, turning west. I’ll get them out of your hair. I can take care of you and whoever killed me after that.
Then the onslaught can really begin.
The Phoenix tilted its body towards the setting sun, and disappeared in a blink. Erik’s eyes slanted.
“Not if I get there first,” he growled, and sped off into the desert in a blur.
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