|XMen First Lessons
Author: E-Raptor PM
It's three weeks after Cuba and Charles, Hank, Sean and Alex are recruiting students for Xavier's school, but with Eric raising an army, will the new students even have time to learn their code names before they're thrown into battle?Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Sci-Fi - Chapters: 15 - Words: 27,733 - Reviews: 19 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 9 - Updated: 06-16-12 - Published: 02-15-12 - id: 7840117
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hello fellow fictioneers! This is E. H. back with another completely random fanfic! (Ok, I've only written two…) This one is currently half done or so but I will make you all suffer by posting ONE CHAPTER AT A TIME! I know right? I hate it when authors do that… And now I'm ONE OF THEM! Ok…ok…calm down…All right…here's the beef. No, not beef…Ham! No one ever says ham! Ok gang, here's the ham… whether or not I continue posting depends entirely on whether or not there are any readers. I'm gonna sound all charity collector here, but tell your friends! ...Please? …Anyone? …Bueller? Ok, I'll shut up now…Enjoy!
"I've got one."
"What?" Said a half-asleep Hank McCoy, awakened by Charles Xavier's sudden remark.
"I've got one Hank, a mutant." Hank squinted as he turned on the lights in the van and stretched as much as the confined space allowed. He had fallen asleep on the wheel at some point and he was eternally grateful that the van had tinted windows, lest a passer-by see his tufts of blue fur and bright yellow eyes poorly concealed by a ridiculous hat and over-sized trench coat. He yawned (though it sounded more like a lion clearing its throat) and sighed heavily, turning to look at the Professor in the passenger seat.
Professor Charles Xavier was a young man in his mid-30s with mid-length, slightly curly brown hair and unusually bright blue eyes. He, in sharp contrast to Hank, was wide awake and alert as ever. Hank looked at him as he lowered his right index and pointer fingers from his temple and repeated,
"I've found a mutant."
"Oh, right." Hank answered roughly. He started up the engine. "Where at?"
"Just go straight, he walked through my sights about five minutes ago."
"Well why didn't we go after him right away?" Hank complained tearing into the empty street from the parking lot with a loud screech of tires on New York asphalt.
"Oh Hank, you're so peaceful looking when you're asleep." The blue creature rolled his eyes and tried not to punch holes in his stick-shift with his two-inch-long claws.
"Who do you think they are?" Hank asked as Xavier told him to turn a corner. Once again the telepath in the passenger seat raised his fingers to his temple and closed his eyes with a kind of strange serenity.
"Turn right." Xavier commanded, not needing to open his eyes to know there was a turn in about ten feet. The van nearly tipped over as Hank just barely made the curb. "Come on Hank, we're going to lose him if we don't hurry up, he's moving very fast." Hank couldn't tell if Charles was messing with him or not. One thing was for sure, Charles' driving instructions left no time for turn signals, so they were lucky this part of New York wasn't busy at three in the morning.
"Stop." The Professor suddenly commanded, and just as Hank slammed on the brakes, a man in a white t-shirt and torn blue-jeans ran across the street right in front of them.
"Geeze!" Hank yelled, honking the horn and punctuating it with a furious roar. The man in the street stopped, saw the roaring creature in the driver's seat, and ran screaming into an alley.
"Oh, very nice Hank. Now we have to go get him on foot."
"We?" Hank couldn't help but correcting.
"Right, you." Xavier instinctively flexed his hand where it rested on his unfeeling knee. There was an extremely awkward pause. "Well, get on then!" The Professor said suddenly, shocking Hank out of the driver's seat and into the road where he proceeded to tear off after the man they were pursuing.
This left Charles Xavier alone in a parked car in the middle of an abandoned street in the bad part of New York City, left out of the action…again. He let a rare fit of rage through and slammed his fist on the door to his left. He never lost it when there were other people around him, but now he was alone. He could let that one pass.
In a very small corner of his mind, he sensed the presence of Hank and the other mutant disappearing into the distance. There wasn't another soul anywhere near him right now. He was utterly alone. He hated it. He had always been among friends. They either followed him, or he followed them, but now that wasn't an option. Perhaps for the one-millionth time in three weeks Charles concentrated his entire mind on moving his right leg. Then his left. Then his ankles. Then his toes. Nothing. Not a twitch of movement to prove to him that his legs were even there. He thumped his first on the door again. At least he could still move his arms…
Xavier sat in his angry stupor for about five minutes before realizing that Hank wasn't back yet. What the heck was taking him so long? The confined space of the car was starting to make him claustrophobic and he turned and looked at the stainless steel wheelchair in the space behind him. He looked back at his legs. He made something between a sigh and a groan at the sight of them, mentally debating whether or not to attempt to get the wheelchair out of the car. Hank might be back by the time he managed to pull it off.
Xavier figured it would be best not strain himself. He didn't want to throw out his back and have to rely on others to cart him around all the time as well. Charles closed his eyes and settled back in his seat. He felt the unfamiliar heat of a tear of his cheek. Opening his blue eyes he brushed it away with his thumb, looking in amazement at the wet drop. When was the last time he had cried? He had been in enormous amounts of pain…he had been shot in the back…but he had never cried…
Before Charles could think about it anymore, he heard, rather, sensed, the scream of a girl. It chilled him to the bone to feel it. It was a shrill scream, as clear as if the victim was standing right beside him. The only way he could tell it was a telepathic communication he was receiving was the experiences he had had in his dealings with Emma Frost. A telepath's mind was very different to that of any other, human or mutant. This wasn't Emma though, this was a girl, a young one…and she was in great distress, pain even. Every fiber of Charles' being was screaming for him to go to the child's aid.
Concentrating all of his willpower to communicate through her yells, he tried to contact her.
Who are you? My name is Charles Xavier. I can help you.
The screams paused for a moment, then a tortured shriek interjected with the words of a young girl yelled back to him.
Help me! They're going to kill me! Help me!
Without a thought, he unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed open the door of the van. He was halfway out the doorway before he realized his mistake. He hit the asphalt hard in the side of his head. The girl's voice disappeared abruptly into thin air like a door had slammed shut and there was blackness.