(no subject)
See Previous Chapters Here
Title: The New Mutants, volume XVIII: Frailty
Author: kanedax
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Rating: R for language and violence
Spoilers: X3, The New Mutants volumes I-XVII (see above)
Pairings: None in this chapter
Summary: As Clarice and Jono attempt to settle in their new environment, Erik meets a man he thought was dead, and pays for it.
Notes: I'm definitely seeing the end of the tunnel to this story. But this chapter more than any made me realize what authors like Stephen King talk about where the story gets away from them and takes a life of its own. I didn't expect the ending until I typed it, and its altered my viewpoint on how everything is finishing. As usual, I don't have any ownership for any of these properties.
Previous Chapter (The Chamber) / Next Chapter (Unholy Alliance)
“Fascinating.”
“I should be keeping a tally board, Doc,” Forge said. “That seems to be the word of the day.”
“In my world,” Hank McCoy replied, adjusting the sensors leading into Jonothan Starsmore’s suit, “that’s the word of the day every day. How are you feeling, Jono?”
Fine, except I thought I was done being poked and prodded after I left the hospital, Jono typed on the computer next to the examining table.
“I’m sorry, my boy,” Hank said. “You’re here because Moira and the rest of the doctors have their hands full. That doesn’t mean we’re done trying to figure out what exactly is going on in that body of yours.”
“So what are you seeing?” Forge asked, leaning against the nearby desk.
Hank walked to the computer, and punched a few keys with his large blue fingers. Within seconds, various readings and graphs appeared on the screen.
“What I’m seeing is absolutely incredible,” he muttered. “Jono, you can still breathe normally, correct? Through your nose?”
Jono nodded.
“And food?” Hank continued. “You haven’t been hungry? Or thirsty?” Jono shook his head in response. “Fascinating.”
“Four,” Forge chuckled, which Hank returned with a patronizing look.
“Your mutation didn’t destroy your organs,” Hank said. “It replaced them. The energy feeds on oxygen, and it transmits through your body instead of blood.”
“Like a parasite?” Forge asked.
“Parasite is apt, but I’ve always considered it a word with fairly vulgar connotations,” Hank replied, leaning back in his chair, “but I suppose it’s fairly apt. It’s keeping Jono alive. Even better, it’s doing it without any food or liquids. It’s living on oxygen alone.”
And what’s it getting in trade? Jono typed. Hank shrugged.
“I couldn’t say,” Hank replied. “Like I said, parasite’s apt, but it’s not perfect. This is a part of you, Mr. Starsmore. It is you, not another organism. But sometimes mutations get… wonky.”
“Is ‘wonky’ a scientific term?”
“In light of recent events,” Hank sighed, “it might be fairly soon.”
“What do you mean?” Forge asked.
Hank turned to Jono for a moment, and then shook his head. “It’s nothing more than a theory right now, but… oh, I might as well talk about it,” he said. “Word gets around this place anyway, so what if one boy thinks I’m crazy?”
I won’t call you crazy, Doctor, Jono replied.
“Thank you, my boy,” Hank said, smiling. He turned to Forge. “It’s just something I’ve been noticing lately,” he said. “Even as early as a year ago, most mutations were fairly subdued. Control over this, transformation into that. Move your body from one place to another. Simple physics, really.”
“Right?” Forge said, leaning forward.
“Before I returned to this school,” he continued, “I could count the number of mutants on one hand who had the ability to create energy, to harness it. Scott Summers was one. Jubilation Lee also was, to a lesser degree, but even that could have simply been explained by igniting particles in the atmosphere. Unfortunately, we never got a chance to explore it further before… well…”
Forge nodded his head.
“But in the past year…” he raised his furry hand and counted off with his fingers. “Lucas Bishop. Remy LeBeau. Alex Blanding. Jono Starsmore. Possibly even Alison Blaire. In the past year, we’re talking about mutants that are creating new energy, or taking the fundamental building blocks of the universe itself and tapping into its power.
“Alex can use cosmic energies to destroy a house. Lucas absorbs energy released by simple molecular reactions. Alison’s taking sound waves, accelerating them up to the speed of light. Mr. LeBeau can vibrate molecules to the point of explosion, and Lord knows what his potential could be on that front. Nuclear reactions, a breakdown of the molecular structure, who knows?”
Hank turned to Jono. “And now we have a mutant who has self-sustaining energy in his body, feeding off the air and allowing him to survive.” He shook his head. “The humans tried to eliminate mutants, but it seems that Homo Superior is fighting back with a vengeance.”
“Why do you think that is?” Forge asked.
“I don’t know,” Hank replied. “As a scientist, I guess I could say that humans took an evolutionary leap forward when mutants first arrived on this planet two hundred years ago. But the fact that we’re seeing mutations of increasing potency just goes to show that we’re not done evolving yet.”
“That would make sense,” Forge replied, nodding his head.
“But it could mean more,” Hank continued quietly. “The part of me that screams out, saying that science is only part of the answer, says that we’re building up something more. That the genetics of the mutant race, the human race, are building up a defense system, an immune system. That something’s coming… Something big.”
Forge stared at Hank for a few seconds, and then chuckled uneasily, shaking his head. “You listened to a lot of Art Bell as a kid, didn’t ya, Hank?”
“Scientists always study the unknown, Forge,” Hank replied as the med lab door slid open. Ororo walked in, followed by Peter, Marie, and Clarice.
“How’d the drop go?” Hank asked.
“Just fine,” Ororo replied. “I still don’t even think I needed to be there at the drop point, but S.H.I.E.L.D. insisted. These three did great on their own.”
Peter shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not like they had much fight in them, anyway,” he said. “They’re still de-powered, and a little wobbly even after a few days out of the Raft.”
“It was too bad, really,” Rogue said. “I feel like kicking some ass.”
The group looked at her, puzzled. She dropped her head in embarrassment.
“Sorry,” she said. “Guess that was John talkin’.”
“I will say, Rogue,” Hank said, “You sure picked quite a collection of personalities to absorb.”
“Well, I can still be shy if I want to be,” she said, smacking Peter’s arm with her gloved hand. “Wanna go a few rounds in the Danger Room? I need to unwind.”
“You’re serious?” Peter said, taken aback.
Rogue smiled a wolfish grin that Ororo instantly recognized as one of Logan’s favorites.
“Come on,” Rogue said. “Chicken?”
“All right,” Pete said, shrugging and walking out the door. “Best two out of three falls.”
“Loser buys dinner,” Rogue said as the door closed behind them, leaving Clarice standing uncomfortably with the rest of the group.
“How are you doing, Clarice?” Hank asked, and she shrugged.
“Not bad,” she said quietly. “Felt weird to go back there.”
“I’m sure it did,” Forge said. “But you did the right thing.”
“I know I did,” she said, her hands wrestling with each other against her stomach. “It’s just…”
“Don’t worry,” Ororo said, putting her hand on Clarice’s shoulder. “We look out for our own here. You’re not in any danger.”
Clarice shook her head, her throat tightening. “I don’t know,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like anyone would really go out of their way to protect me here. After what I did. No one talks to me. Rogue and Colossus barely spoke to me during the mission. I was just along to get them where they needed to go.”
“Well, you weren’t exactly paired up with the Heckle and Jeckle,” Forge chuckled.
Clarice nodded, sniffing quietly, but remained silent.
“You did well, Blink,” Ororo said. “That’s all we’re asking of you. Why don’t you go up and get some rest, or a bite to eat?”
“Okay,” she said, and walked out the door.
“Poor kid,” Hank said, turning back to Jono.
“No kidding,” Ororo said. “Allerdyce didn’t exactly have the charismatic pull of Magneto, but he definitely had enough to convince a few people to go along with him. I recognized that when he was still a student here. He had a lot of good friends, like Bobby and Rogue, wishing that they had never met him.”
“So when he came out of Magneto’s shadow,” Hank mumbled, “he had the wherewithal to find people that he could actually boss around. Like her.”
“He ended up a lot like Magneto, after all,” Ororo sighed.
Clarice heard laughter coming from the kitchen, but as she entered, it abruptly stopped. There were three of the students sitting at the table: the boy with the glasses, the black kid, and the blonde girl. She hadn’t been able to get any of their names yet, since everyone conveniently disappeared whenever she was around.
The glasses boy gave her a distrustful look, then picked up his can of Pepsi and a handful of the pretzels that were in a bowl between them.
“I’m gonna go play some Halo,” he said, quickly exiting the room.
Clarice dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, speed-walking across the room to the cabinet, where she pulled out a glass, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
She brought the glass to the sink and filled it with tap water. Her hands shook slightly as it filled, clinking the glass against the faucet. She thought about opening the refrigerator, but quickly decided against it. Best not to eat anything that you’re not told you can eat, she thought.
“That’s okay, you weren’t interrupting anything.” The quiet voice shocked her so much that she dropped the glass into the sink, where she heard it land with a noise that could only mean it was cracked. She picked it up and, sure enough, the water that hadn’t spilled out was dribbling from the jagged line that had formed down the side.
“Oh God!” she cried, turning to the two. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to break it…”
“What’s wrong?” the boy asked, standing up and walking towards her. She instinctively took a step back, her rear bumping into the counter.
“I’ll pay for it I swear just please don’t tell the Professor I don’t want to get into any more trouble please.” She was near hysterics, and there were tears falling from her eyes.
The boy held his hand out. “It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “It’s just a glass. There’s plenty of them around here.”
“I don’t want to get kicked out, please!” Clarice cried.
“Geez,” the girl said. “Calm down. You’re acting like you killed someone.”
At those words Clarice broke down completely, dropping to the ground on her hands and knees, the glass shattering completely on the floor. The boy gave the girl a dirty look, and then knelt beside Clarice, being mindful of the broken glass.
“It’s okay, really,” the boy said quickly, helping Clarice up. As he grabbed a hold of her pink-purple arm, he gasped. “Ah, shit, you’re cut. Come on, let’s get you a Band-Aid.”
Clarice looked down at her hands to see small cuts on her plams, blood trickling from them. One or two still had shards of glass embedded in them.
“What was that noise?” said a voice from the door. Clarice was too fixated on her injury to look up and see who was speaking.
“It’s nothing,” the boy said. “Go grab a first aid kit, would ya?” She heard footsteps hustling down the hall. The boy helped Clarice over to the table, and pulled back a chair to let her sit. She hesitated for a moment, looked up at the boy to make sure she had permission, and sat down.
“Please,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to be any hassle. It’s just a few scratches, really.”
“Well, they may be scratches,” the boy said, “but some of them are scratches with glass in them. We should at least get a tweezers to get them out.”
“Should we bring her down to the med lab?” the girl asked.
“No!” Clarice said quickly. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” the boy asked. “You’re not a bother.”
“Here you go,” a voice said, and Clarice looked up to see the boy in the black suit walking in, carrying a small white box with a red cross on it.
“Thanks,” the black boy said, opening it. He pulled out the tweezers, looked at Clarice’s hand, and sighed. “Damn, now I’m chickening out. Maybe we should take her down to Dr. McCoy.”
“Oh, for Chrissake,” the girl said as she saw Clarice’s look of shock. “Don’t be such a wuss, squirt.” She plucked the tweezers from the boy’s hand, and pulled Clarice’s hand to her. Clarice shrunk back, but the girl just raised her hand and looked at her firmly.
“Calm down, Pink,” she said. “I’m not gonna hurt you on purpose, okay?”
Clarice nodded her head vigorously. Better to fix it here than in the lab, where the Professor and the Doctor were at. At least these three couldn’t kick her out. Not right away, at least.
“With a bedside manner like that,” the boy in the black suit said, “it’s a wonder you’re not a nurse.”
The girl gave the boy a dark look, and then turned back to Clarice. “Nice hair, by the way.”
Clarice was so taken aback by the sudden compliment that she barely felt it when the girl plucked a shard from her hand. She gasped in pain, anyway, but then quickly responded “Thanks,” before silencing herself again.
“Not exactly a wordsmith, are ya?” the girl said, deftly yanking a second shard before Clarice barely knew she was doing it.
“Not bad, Alison,” the black boy said admirably.
“When you’ve toured five continents with a full band, ten dancers, and a road crew,” the girl replied, “squeamish runs for the hills.”
Clarice looked up slightly at the girl, then put two and two together.
“You’re Alison Blaire?” she said, her fear temporarily replaced by fearful awe.
“You’ve heard of me?” Alison responded, a smirk crossing her face.
Clarice quickly looked down. “I have all your albums,” she said shyly.
“Ha!” Alison yelled, pulling the third and final shard. “It’s about time I had a fan around here!”
“What do you mean?” Clarice said. “I love your music.”
Alison looked at the two boys. “You’re in a minority around here,” she said dryly.
The boy in the black suit shrugged. “I was raised on Toby Keith,” he said. “Sue me.”
“What about you?” Clarice asked the black boy.
“Talk radio,” he replied quickly.
“Yeah, whatever, Bish,” Alison said. “I’ve walked by the boys dorm at night, and I can hear you sleeping to the heavenly sounds of Lawrence Welk.”
Clarice giggled softly, and the boy in the black suit cracked up.
The black boy (“Bish”) raised his eyebrow. “At least I can understand what they’re saying. He doesn’t have to rely on lip synching and ass shaking.”
Alison lifted her nose in the air. “My ass is one of my many talents, thank you very much.”
Bish chuckled. “Sorry, Albuquerque,” and Alison smacked him in the back of the head.
Clarice looked at the boy in the black suit, who was now laughing uproariously. Just watching him, watching the three of them, caused her to start laughing just as hard, for the first time in what she realized was a very long time.
The boy in the black suit calmed down eventually, then looked to Clarice. “I don’t think I introduced myself yet,” he said, holding out one hand, realizing he was offering the one she had cut, and quickly switched. “Alex. Alex Blanding.”
“Clarice,” she responded, shyly offering her hand.
“Lucas,” Bish said after she and Alex broke.
“Can I call you ‘Bish?’” she said quietly.
“Please don’t,” he said, giving Alison a look. “It terrifies me.”
“Have some pretzel,” Alison said, offering her the bowl. “then we’ll bandage that thing up, and you can tell me how you got your hair so purple.”
“It’s natural,” she said, brushing the shoulder-length purple hair from in front of her glowing green eyes.
“Really?” Alison said, snorting jokingly. “Would have never guessed.”
Metal-soled shoes clanged down the stone steps of Erik Lehnsherr’s hideout. Erik entered the chamber, and looked around.
“Lorna!” he yelled. “Pietro!”
“They’re not here,” a man’s voice responded. Erik spun towards the source. Sitting next to his desk, in a posture of exhaustion, was the silhouette of a man that Erik didn’t recognize.
“Who are you?” he yelled. “What did you do with Lorna and Pietro?”
The man slowly pushed himself to his feet, and walked towards Erik. The man had a thick beard, and was wearing a sweater and pants that looked as though they hadn’t been changed in days.
“Erik,” the man said wearily.
“How do you know my name?” Erik responded. Then he took another look at the man and placed him. He took two steps backwards, then attempted to run for the stairs, only tripping over his own feet in the process. Landing on the ground, he quickly flipped himself over to face the man.
“It’s you,” he said. “You beat me here.”
“I’m not the Phoenix,” the man said quickly. “But she is close, you will have to trust me on this. We don’t have much time to dally. Erik, it’s me. Charles.”
Erik burst into laughter. “Of course you are,” he said, looking down at his legs and up to the man’s thick hair. “You’re obviously the bald paraplegic who foiled my plans oh so many times.”
“Erik!” the man yelled. “We don’t have time for this!”
“Name the woman who turned you down at that bar in Israel.”
“What?” the man blustered.
“It’s a simple game, Charles,” Erik insisted.
“We don’t have time for games,” the man said.
“Of course we do,” Erik said, sitting up. “She said she’s going to kill my children before she kills me. My children aren’t here. I don’t know where they are. So games are just fine by me to pass the time.”
“Gabrielle Haller,” the man said quickly, “now Erik, if you would please…”
“How about at the research institute in Oslo?”
“Erik!” the man screamed.
“Come on, Charles,” Erik said.
“Lilandra Shar,” Charles muttered.
“My old friend,” Erik said, his voice thick with syrup.
“Good, now be silent,” Charles said, pulling Erik to his feet. “Phoenix is sharing this body with me. Right now she’s resting after the journey, but Lord knows when she’ll wake up again. She came here to find your children, and to find the person who killed Jean. You’re certain you don’t know where any of them are?”
“I don’t know for certain,” Erik said. “I’m fairly sure Jean was killed by one of the…”
“Quiet!” Charles yelled. “If you even have a clue, even an inkling, don’t let it into your head. I can wipe it out of your memory if I must, I have enough telepathic power left over to do it. But if I do, I don’t know how much longer I can control this aspect of me.”
“What do you want from me, Charles?” Erik yelled. “Right now I’m pretty much a sitting duck for whatever that… thing is. You sitting here telling me what not to do isn’t helping me stay alive.”
Charles dropped his hands from Erik’s shoulders, and stepped away, running them through his hair. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re absolutely right.”
“What do you know, Charles?” Erik said firmly.
“The Phoenix isn’t a telekinetic, that much I know,” he said quickly. “I have yet to see it do anything that Jean was capable of doing. It hasn’t even lifted a thimble with its own mind. It has limited telepathic capabilities so far, nothing beyond mind reading and telepathic communication. No mind control yet, outside of what it can do to me when it’s in control.”
“Jean never took on a form like that,” Erik said. “How is that possible?”
“I can’t say for sure,” Charles said. “Beyond knowing that, when it loses control and it comes back to me, it’s less like the body is changing. It’s more like it’s being pulled together. Like this body possesses the ability to convert its state. As for the armor, the sword, the flame… I couldn’t tell you.”
“Can it be stopped?” Erik asked.
“Possibly,” Charles said. “Go to the mansion. Tell them what you know. Tell them that I gave this information to you. Hopefully they’ll believe you. Beyond that, that’s all I can say.”
“Are you sure, Charles?”
Charles turned, and Erik could see the dark bags under his eyes. “Erik,” he said. “I’m so tired. I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself in any semblance of control.”
“Because it’s sharing your body,” Erik said slowly.
Charles nodded his head wearily, and before he could blink, Erik flew to him at super speed and closed his hand around Charles’ neck.
If I kill him now, Erik thought, the Phoenix dies with him.
As soon as his hand squeezed down on Charles’ windpipe, Erik was thrown backwards against the wall. He looked up to see the maroon armor of the Phoenix staring him down through its shadowed helmet.
Nice try, it said into Erik’s head, taking the voice of Jean once again. You woke me up. I don’t like getting woken up. I’m a cranky morning person.
“I will destroy you,” Erik groaned.
Suuure you will, the Phoenix responded. And you’ll do whatever you can, right? Attacking a defenseless old man like that? That wasn’t fair. For that…
The Phoenix swung its flaming sword upwards. Erik immediately felt a searing, agonizing pain in his right shoulder. His left hand instinctively flew to it, only to discover a definite lack of mass there.
You’re like the Black Knight, the Phoenix said, its voice filled with maniacal glee. “’Tis but a scratch!”
Erik’s head turned slowly to see his right arm lying on the ground next to him, the area where it was once attached cauterized by the flaming blade. Before he passed out from shock, the Phoenix made sure she was heard.
See ya later, honey, it said, turning towards the stairs. I hope you cross me again. There are still three more limbs where that one came from.
As the Phoenix flew up the stairs, disappearing, Erik was mercifully enveloped by the darkness of unconsciousness.
Previous Chapter (The Chamber) / Next Chapter (Unholy Alliance)