Note: I do not own any of the characters stated (e.g.: Xavier, Scott, Jean…etc…) They all belong to Marvel Comics and Stan Lee. If there are any 'new' characters that aren't in the comic, movie, etc then they were just conjured up from my own imagination.
DO NOT SUE ME PLEASE! (cue Puss in Boots big eyes... O,O)
Synopsis: This chapter is about how Scott Summers/Cyclops started out. And how he got recruited.
(*abcd*)-telepathic speak | ("abcd")-normal speech | ('abcd')-thoughts
1 – Scott Summers
"I'm a monster…" Scott Summers whispered to himself, while he was curled up in a ball in a dark alley somewhere in Westchester, New York. The autumn night air was cold and sharp as it whipped through the nine-year-olds' dark brown hair, causing more of his thick locks to fall in his face. His shirt and jeans was tattered in some places and his thin jacket wasn't enough to shield him from the icy cold breeze. Scott shivered as he blindly stood up and tried to walk again, his skinny legs barely holding up his weight, looking for food. Or garbage can. Anything… His stomach rumbled noisily, hinting at his hunger.
Everything was pitch black to the little thin boy. He then felt tears well up in his eyes as a wave of emotion overwhelmed him. Scott quickly placed his small hands over his face, feeling for the blindfold that was over his eyes. He had torn a piece of his already holey shirt to cover his eyes…
'My eyes…' he had thought.
"Help me…" he croaked helplessly, feeling the mossy brick wall as he walked, his feet clumsily knocking over pieces of litter and scattering them around. The noise calmed him, in a way… It made him think that maybe there were people who could help him.
Scott stopped short as a realization dawned on him.
Nobody could help him, he thought.
Because he was a monster.
"Hey Summers!" One of the older orphans, eleven-year-old Tommy, called, running after him. "Scott! Where're you going?"
"Just a walk, Tom…" Scott mumbled, adjusting his jacket. The denim was thin, but he thought it would be enough to protect him from the autumn cold. Autumn was slowly coming to a close, making its curtain call for the coming winter, but Scott thought he could handle the chill.
"Now? Come on, the guys planned something really cool outside! Join us!" the other boy said excitedly, pulling Scott's arm enthusiastically. "It'll be great fun!"
But Scott pulled his arm away, wanting some time to himself… It had been five days since he came to the orphanage from the hospital… After knowing that he had lost both his parents and his younger brother, Alex in the recent plane crash. He wasn't really up for much 'fun'.
"I'd rather not… I won't do any justice for you guys… I just don't feel like it right now…" The nine-year-old said somberly. He shrugged Tommy off and continued his walk; he hadn't even left the curb yet.
"Come on, Summers!" Tommy said fiercely, yanking on Scott's arm harder, persistent and insisting.
Scott was about to really tell Tommy off. But before he could respond, a sharp stabbing pain shot into the back of his head suddenly, knocking him to his knees. His body crumpled onto the curb, as he clutched at his head and shrieked in pain.
"Scott? Scott! Are you alright?" Tommy asked, panicking quickly.
"ARGH!" Scott responded with a yell, as he lowered his head. It felt as if his skull was splitting into two. The pain then spread into his eyes, causing them to tear rapidly. He felt a wave of heat come over his eyes as he squeezed them closed, the pain was stinging them. as if someone had stabbed a dozen needles into each eyeball. Scott had never felt this much physical pain before. His whole body shook as his eyes were filled with nothing but pure agony.
"Help me!" Scott screamed, turning towards Tommy and flashing his eyes open. But when he opened them, he felt the heat being replaced with a more bearable warmth. But all he saw was redness. Bright scarlet washed over everything his eyes laid on. He then saw Tommy being thrown off his feet screaming and smash into the orphanage home. The orphanage suddenly split into two. The loud, deafening noises of bricks crashing and wood splitting onto the ground followed by the sound of screams emanated from the scene frighteningly, nearly shaking the ground Scott was standing on. Scott then fell back onto the ground in shock and he felt as if his eyes were projecting some sort of laser that he couldn't stop. The pain in his head started to melt away, but he quickly shut his eyes closed, and opened them again. As he feared, everything around him was tinted red. A big, fluffy cloud above him split into two, proving that the 'lasers' were still there. Scott shut them closed again and ran away from the demolished orphanage blindly, crying and yelling for help.
"SOMEBODY HELP ME!" Scott screamed helplessly, stumbling on his own feet. "I-I can't s-see! Help!"
But nobody tended to the distraught boy. Instead, he heard rapid footsteps and shouting, all heading towards the orphanage. He felt people pushing past him, making him fall onto the wet road. Scott shrieked when his arms and knees scratched painfully against the rough stones of the road. He dared not open his eyes. Running blindly, trying to feel his way around by smoothing his hands against the ground and crawling, the last things he heard were the cries of people, the honking of cars…
And the sound of his cries unanswered.
Two long days had passed since that accident. But at the thought of it, Scott started crying again, pulling his knees up to his chest as he fell onto the floor again, with his back against the wall. He could feel his weak ribs against his jeans clad thighs and he felt the dried wounds that marred his exposed knees. The smell of drains and smoke nauseated him, making him cough horribly.
"Help…" the boy sobbed, recalling how merely opening his eyes could cause destruction and disaster. Not to mention demolition to buildings as well. He felt cold and alone in his little alley, with nothing but rats and roaches as his company. His blindfold the only thing keeping him sane and others safe.
When Scott had managed to stop sniffling and sobbing, he heard the sound of wheels approaching him. Not the kinds on bicycles or cars. It sounded more mechanical… Like a wheelchair… But it didn't sound like the wheelchairs he was used to hearing. This one was different.
"Scott Summers?" A deep, calm, male voice suddenly said, making Scott flinch slightly. Scott didn't recognize this man's voice. But it was real. Afraid and shy, he simply nodded towards the direction where the voice was coming from.
"My name is Charles Xavier… I come from the Xavier Mansion Institute for the Gifted…" the man said, and Scott felt a warm hand touch his small right shoulder.
"What do you want from me?" the boy asked weakly, his throat raw and dry. "Nobody can help me… You have to leave…"
"I just want to help you…" the Charles Xavier man said again. "With your…gifts."
Scott gasped. "You m-mean…my…e-eyes?"
"NO!" Scott cried, his voice cracking as he quickly shot up. "Y-you can't! M-my eyes! They're-They're…"
"I know, Scott.," Charles said calmly. "They emit optic blasts, or beams. Very powerful things… I know about the orphanage…"
"WHO ARE YOU?" Scott shrieked, frightened as he tried to back away. But he couldn't see, and heard the wheels heading towards him again. "H-How do you know all this?"
*Because I'm like you, Scott…* the boy suddenly heard in his head and his body froze. It was that man's voice. But it felt like an echo in his head. *I too, have these… powers. I am a telepath. But over time I have learned to control my abilities... As can you.*
"W-Wha…" Scott stuttered, feeling his temples. "H-How?"
"I can help you…" Charles said, and Scott felt two hands on his blindfold.
"DON'T!" he yelled, stopping the hands.
"Just keep your eyes closed, son." Charles said calmly, and removed the blindfold, revealing Scott's closed eyes. He then felt Charles put something over them.
"You have to trust me, Scott. Nothing bad will happen... Just open your eyes." Charles said.
Hesitantly, Scott trusted the man and slowly opened his eyes. Again, even in the night, everything was tinted a sheer shade of ruby red. But he realized he wasn't destroying anything. The walls and buildings around him were still intact. The boy turned his head to the right, and saw a bald man sitting in a mechanical wheelchair that looked like it was made of an advanced kind of technology. The man whom he presumed as Charles Xavier wore a black sweater with a dark grayish jacket and black slacks. On his face he had a calm and friendly smile. The first smile Scott had seen in over two days.
"H-HOW…" Scott gasped, feeling his heart thundering against his ribs.
"They're ruby-quartz shades, Scott. When I found you, I managed to fashion this accessory to neutralize your optic blasts. Besides them, you're the only thing immune to your powers." Charles explained.
Scott couldn't believe it. He could see... Sure, everything was tinted red... But...
'I can see...'
"Th-thank you!" Scott cried happily. He wasn't destroying anything and he could see. He threw his thin arms around Xavier's neck, tears spilling onto his cheeks. "THANK YOU SO MUCH MR. XAVIER!"
Charles smiled at the boy. "You can call me Professor. Now… if you don't mind… I would like you to come with me," he said. "To my home. The Institute. I would like to help you… And people like you."
"There are more of me? People like me? Or you? With powers?" Scott gasped hoarsely, his eyes widening behind his new shades.
Professor Xavier nodded. "Yes. But I have yet to find them. If you come with me, I can help you learn how to use your powers. Control them. Like how I learned to control my telepathic abilities. Let me help you, Scott."
Without hesitation, Scott nodded. He had a feeling that this… Professor Charles Xavier could somehow help him. He managed to help him see again. Scott decided to rather wear ruby quartz shades for the rest of his life than be a wandering, lost boy with destructive eyes and no future. What did he had to lose?
Within minutes, the Professor had guided young Scott into a dark black car with tinted windows. Scott helped the Professor to get into the passenger seat. He then clambered into the backseat, and saw that the driver of the car was a woman. Even through the sheer red tint of his shades, he could see that this woman had coffee colored skin and long white hair. The woman turned to face Scott, her full lips stretched into a kind and warm smile.
"Scott, I'd like you to meet Ororo Munroe." Professor X said, gesturing to the woman. "Or Storm, as you will come to know. She has the ability to control the weather."
"H-Hello…" Scott said to the woman, Ororo.
"Hello, Scott. It's very nice to meet you…" she said, her voice calm and soothing. Scott wondered how Professor X had found Ororo, but he knew that would mean prying into other people's lives. People which he didn't know that well yet.
"You can rest now, Scott." Professor X assured him. "We're merely going to Westchester County. To my home. To your new home."
That struck a memory in Scott's head.
"The orphanage!" he yelped, panicking, but Professor X held up a hand to stop him.
"All taken care of, Scott. Do not worry," he said reassuringly. "You can start anew in my Institute. A new life."
Scott nodded, and relaxed a little. He then calmed down and leaned back against the smooth leather of the car seat. Before he knew it, he had fallen into a deep sleep. Sleep that he hadn't been able to have for two days straight.
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