Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I created Eraser, but if someone else has done so, I was not aware of it.
This is my first attempt at fan fiction and I am posting right before I start grad school, so unless you beg me to update it more frequently, I don't know when I will get another chapter loaded.
The alley was dark and reeked of decay. A rat squeaked and scampered, barely avoiding being stepped on by the steel-toed combat boots pounding through the slime. The boots were attached to long legs used to running quickly and quietly. However, the legs were beginning to tremble and falter as the runner was lagging, exhausted from going at an all out sprint down the back ways of the city.
The rat, thinking itself safe, moved out to watch the fleeing figure, not noticing until too late what the runner was fleeing from. A second set of boots crunched the rat's tail, and it shrieked in agony as it fled back to the shadows to nurse its poor damaged tail.
None of this had any impact on the pursuer, intent on the chase. While tired from keeping up with the fleeing boots, there was only one thought on his mind. Kill.
Finally, the shadowy figure made a mistake. It turned down into a dead end, one with no doors or means of escape. It tried frantically to climb, tearing and gouging its hands as it slipped down the dirt-covered wall. It had only seconds to spare as the pursuing figure caught up with it. It whirled and began lashing out in a series or swift kicks and arm chops designed to stun, maim and even kill. The assailant was unmoved. Quicker than expected, he parried the blows, and even managed to land a few of his own. Finally, after several long, tense minutes, He had the mysterious figure pinned to the ground, an arm across the throat and a knee resting just below the solar plexus, applying just enough weight to cut oxygen intake so that it was gasping for breath, vision going red.
"Alright, bub, I think you have some explaining to do."
Instead of responding to Wolverine's low, guttural growl, the figure reached out, grabbed his sideburns, and pulled him down for what could have been mistaken for a kiss, but with much more lethal intent. As the figure inhaled deeply, a shimmery light began to coalesce around Wolverine's forehead, growing brighter with each inhalation. Then, to the horror of the rest of the X-men who were finally catching up with the two, it began to waft towards the wide-open mouth of the pinned figure. Before anyone could shout a warning, the light disappeared into its mouth. When the light disappeared, Wolverine collapsed in a heap on top of his assailant. A throaty chuckle emerged from the hood, freezing everyone in his or her tracks. When the figure made to push his bulky figure off, Professor Xavier probed with his mind into the head of the hooded menace that managed to fell one of his most dangerous X-men. What he found there stunned him.
He recovered quickly, though, and sent a strong wave of telepathic energy to render the figure unconscious. It collapsed, and the hood fell back to reveal blood red lips, which held a sneer, even when out cold. Xavier wheeled closer, beckoning the rest of the team to retrieve their fallen comrade, and to secure the menace they had been tracking for weeks. Eraser. Never in all his years would Charles have thought that the perpetrator of some of the most horrible acts against mutants he had even seen was a woman.
"So this is Eraser", mused Jean Grey, looking down at the woman lying restrained on one of the medical tables in the lower level lab. "She doesn't look old enough to drink, much less to have stolen the souls of over a dozen mutants."
"Those are all we know of", replied Charles. "When I touched her mind I sensed there was many more imprisoned there. We will have to keep her here, under sedation until we learn more about her. Like what could possibly cause the mind of a healthy young woman to snap and begin absorbing other mutants."
"Maybe we should ask her." The voice came from a newcomer. Scott Summers looked down on the young woman through his ruby quartz visor, his eyes as usual giving no indication of how he was feeling. Jean went over and placed her hand on his arm, using her touch to reassure him.
"We will get to the bottom of this. They aren't lost to us, just...hidden."
Scott looked at his wife, expelling his frustration in a long sigh. "I know."
Charles, who had been intently studying the young woman, suddenly looked up at Jean. "I have an idea."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Jean as she attached the electrodes to the young woman, Logan and Professor Xavier.
"Yes. From what I saw when I stunned her, there is more going on beneath the surface. If we want to get to the root of the problem, we must start" he tapped his head. "In here."
Jean looked uneasy. "I hope you're right, because I don't know if I can pull you back if she realizes what you are doing."
"My intuition tells me that it won't be a problem. Just ready Logan's body for when we are able to retrieve him."
Charles lay back and closed his eyes. Tentatively, he probed at the young woman's mind, feeling at the mass of fury and chaos that swirled there. He pushed at the barrier that kept him from her conscious mind, and with a sudden snap, he was in. The mind was an extraordinary thing, he mused, capable of creating a world within itself as real as the conscious world. It was to the world that he ventured, reaching out until suddenly, it sucked him into it, and when he became aware of his surroundings, he was face down in the dirt. He made to get up, able to walk in the reality within the young woman's mind. He began dusting himself off, looking at where he was. It appeared to be a military tent, with a cot, footlocker and an officer's desk. He moved towards the desk to try and get a clue as to what the reality was about, when from out of nowhere there was a swarm of figures clad in fatigues and masks. They grabbed his arms and restrained him, pushing him to his knees.
"How did you get here?" Demanded one of the masked people. There was lots of murmuring among the crowd.
"He only takes in new ones when he is awake." "But he's asleep! We can only fight when he sleeps" "Has something changed?" "He doesn't seem hostile..." "Not like the last one that came through."
Charles looked around, trying to ascertain whom the leader was. Suddenly, the crowd grew silent, shifting to allow a newcomer through. A woman, clad in fatigues like everyone else, stepped in front of him. Unlike the others, she wore no mask, and the weariness of her authority was etched on her face.
To be continued....