I.
"Scott Summers is a jerk!"
Paige Guthrie spun on her heel and pointed at Jubilee as if Jubilee was actually Scott Summers. Her sky blue eyes shone with defiance and her blond hair fell about her face, which only made her appear look that much more disheveled and upset.
Despite Paige's outburst, Jubilation Lee, simply called Jubilee by everyone she knew, responded by nonchalantly turning another page in a fashion magazine, complete with underweight, rail-thin women wearing clashing colors and tacky designs only because of the name attached to them. She blew a semi-large pink bubble, sucked it back in, and continued chewing.
A light summer breeze fluttering through the thin drapes did nothing to cool Paige's anger. The chirping birds and playful laughter fell on deaf ears as Paige looked to Jubilee to say something that would make her feel better.
"Hayseed, you are like so trippin' right now," she finally replied without looking up from her magazine.
Paige felt her anger rise again, but knew that she wasn't really mad at Jubilee. "Are you saying I don't have a right to be upset? You at least got to go to L.A. I've been stuck here doing nothing. I'm supposed to be an X-Man!" Her country accent always became more noticeable when she was angry and this time was no exception.
Jubilee flipped another page. "Paige, it's not like you're the only one stuck in X-Limbo here. I mean, I'm not like assigned to a team either. I've just been sitting in on some of Hank's totally boring classes. Besides, like nothing really good happened in L.A."
Jubilee didn't want to elaborate on the situation that had arisen while she was in L.A. She was just glad to be back at the Xavier School for Higher Learning.
Paige thrust her fists down at her sides. "You don't understand."
"Like, enlighten me, oh husky one," Jubilee rolled her eyes and reeled disgustedly at the sight of a bright orange, sleeveless shirt, with dirty green stripes combined with muddy brown capris and pink flip-flops.
Paige sighed, her anger rushing away with a deep breath. "Everything's changed. The X-Men aren't the same. It's not like when we were with Generation X."
Jubilee slammed the magazine closed. "We're not going to be like that ever, Paige. Everett and Angelo are gone. Sean's lying in some hospital and will probably never talk again. Jono's off playing rogue X-Man with issues of his own. Professor Xavier left us. Jean Grey is dead. Ol' Frosty's running the show like she's the White Queen again. Most of us didn't even get the chance to stay here. And on top of that, people hate us more than ever. Did you really like expect everything to be the same?"
Paige felt her cheeks redden not with anger, but with grief and regret. "I shouldn't have come here. After the whole thing with Mr. Cassidy and the X-Corps, I should've gone home."
Jubilee's angry expression softened a bit. "I—I'm sorry. It's just been like hard, you know? Things are changing and they don't seem to be in our favor." Jubilee paused then changed the subject, "How are you and Warren doing?"
Paige turned away. "I'd rather not talk about that."
"That bad, huh?"
Paige stuck her thumbs in her jean shorts pockets, reflecting on the sudden relationship that had developed between her and Warren. It wasn't that she didn't care for him, but she felt that he may be uncomfortable with it, especially with the age difference between them. When Scott opted to send Warren to Genosha, it seemed to only worsen the situation. Secretly, Paige was glad for the break, hoping that maybe when he returned, things would somehow be okay again.
She sighed again then said, "I'm going to the Danger Room. I think I just need to let off some steam."
Jubilee stopped for a second, and put her magazine to the side. She flung her legs over the side of the bed and replied. "I'll go with you. I think I need to cut loose on some old school baddies too."
Jubilee and Paige quickly changed into their old Generation X uniforms, snug red and yellow outfits, each with a unique twist for the individual students. Jubilee donned her yellow trench coat. Paige had no individual flair for her uniform, but her ability to shed her skin, uniform included, added enough individuality for Paige.
They made their way to the express elevators that lead directly to the basement, where the Danger Room was located. Jubilee and Paige smiled at a few students that they knew, but most of them were strangers. Many of the students passed without a second glance, rushing to get to class or their own individual training sessions.
Both Paige and Jubilee stopped when they saw the headmistress of the Xavier Institute sauntering toward them.
"Jubilee, Paige, what, may I ask, are you two doing?" Emma's disapproving eyes scrutinized every inch of their uniforms then retuned to bore into their eyes.
Paige frowned. "We were going to the Danger Room, if that was okay with you, Ms. Frost." Her voice was as icy and cold as she could possibly get it.
"Well, it's not. Unless you have a specific training program that you are a part of, you are not permitted to use the Danger Room. Besides, I don't see any one with you who would supervise the session."
Paige's mouth almost fell open, "I can't believe you."
"Look, Frosty. Just because you stepped up your game and became headmistress doesn't mean you can treat us like children," Jubilee shot.
Emma crossed her arms and fell into a condescending expression. "Dear Jubilee, it seems that anytime someone establishes rules that you have to follow, they're treating you like a child. Well, I have news for you. I am headmistress of this school. And since the both of you are staying here, you will abide by any rules that are set forth. People much older than the both of you follow them, so there's no reason that either of you should feel like you're above the law."
"We were your students, Ms. Frost. Why are you acting like—" Paige trailed off.
"A bitch?" Emma finished. "Because I can," Emma gave one last disapproving glance toward Paige and Jubilee before walking off without any further explanation.
Paige and Jubilee watched Emma sashay down the hallway and disappear around a corner without another glance toward them.
"My apologies and regret for the situation that just transpired," Hank McCoy stepped from around a corner. Though he smiled, behind his pronounced brow was an expression of disapproval mixed with worry.
Jubilee gave a half-smile. "Were you eavesdropping?"
Hank shook his head, "Why, Jubilee, I am appalled and astonished that such grave accusations are being cast my way." He smiled, though it was only slightly noticeable with his new cat-like features. "I would like to extend the offer to be your supervisor for your Danger Room session if you would have me."
"Thanks, Hank," Jubilee smiled fully. She realized Hank was simply trying to smooth things over.
"What does she have against us?" Paige glanced back toward the corner Emma disappeared around.
"Do not presume it is you she has the difficulty with. Emma is simply trying to establish her role as head mistress."
"Sounds like you're making excuses for her," Paige replied as they entered the express elevator. Jubilee pushed the button to take them to B1, where the Danger Room was located.
"Bad excuses," Jubilee added.
"I never professed to be good at it," Hank replied.
They passed only a few more students then found themselves in the Danger Room. It was the same as Jubilee remembered from her days as an X-Man. Normally a plain room with metal walls, floor, and ceiling, there seemed to be nothing particularly special about the gymnasium sized room. However, once a program was entered, the room would transform into any environment complete with varied terrain, weather, and even simulated wildlife. It became a world of its own, and today, Jubilee and Paige were ready for it to be a war-zone.
"I'll monitor the session through the control room," Hank said. He padded off to another set of sliding doors then was gone.
"Any particular program you want to run?" Jubilee asked.
Paige winked, "Hank, load program 18753. Danger level—medium."
Hank gave a furry thumbs up as he punched in the request. Only a few seconds later, the background changed and they found themselves inside of a lavish lobby area. The polished tile floors gave a double image of the large marble statues, glass doors, gold fixtures, and lavish oak desks that populated the area.
"Arminthorpe Corporation, huh?" Jubilee grinned. She distinctly remembered the corporation that threatened their team time and time again not so long ago. Despite the trying times, Jubilee wished she was back there with her Generation X teammates. She positioned herself in an offensive fighting stance, her hands already flashing with power.
Paige smiled back and touched her face. With a violent rip, her skin separated from her body, revealing a metallic version of her body.
"You know, that still grosses me out, Hayseed."
Armed soldiers suddenly appeared from the elevators, offices, hallways, windows, repelling off the balcony, and entering the area through any means possible to reach their target.
"That's why I do it, Jubilee. Now, let's teach these guys a lesson Generation X style."
II.
Thomas Cale, a well-known historian, stumbled into his bedroom and slammed the door. He doubted that the oak door would hold against the intruder for long, but he figured it would give him enough time to do anything that might save his life.
He rested against the door for only a moment before some of the adrenaline drained from his system, which brought the deep gash across his arm to his attention. Thomas though he had been swift enough and agile enough to avoid the attacks but from the looks of things, he had grown slow in his old age.
The historian's eyes darted across the room looking for something that could serve him as a weapon. His mind flashed back to his daughter's insistence that he purchase a gun. The older man scoffed at his daughter, telling her no one wanted to attack a historian...he didn't need anything that dangerous in his house. Now, he wished he had listened to his daughter.
He rushed from the door upon hearing the heavy footsteps of the knight approaching the door. A knight, a figure he had read about and taught about in various classes was here now, but instead of being the honorable, chivalrous being the school history book presented, Thomas now witnessed, the ruthless, relentless murdering instincts of this knight. Surely, there was something bizarre about this knight. There was no way that he was really an assassin, sent to kill an old historian with a touch of senility.
Still, Thomas kept his hand pressed against the laceration between his shoulder and bicep, despite the throbbing pain and streaming blood. This knight was definitely here to kill him.
He ran to the opposite side of the room and opened the doors to the balcony slightly. He then back tracked and quietly slipped into the closet, hoping that his plan would work.
From the darkness of the closet, he could only rely on his ears to feed him information. The heavy door flew open, banging against the wall and an end table badly positioned behind the door. The heavy footsteps were now in the room. Thomas could feel each step vibrate the floor, but he kept his composure and silence.
The footsteps retreated toward the balcony.
Yes, my plan is working, Thomas gladly thought to himself.
He heard the glass shatter, probably from a swipe of the large broadsword that the knight wielded. The footsteps came close to the closet and just as Thomas thought they were going to pass, they stopped.
Thomas held his breath and closed his eyes, silently praying to a deity that before then, he did not believe in.
He sat there so long, he thought the knight had abandoned his post from in front of the closet, that Thomas had simply been so deep in prayer, he had blocked out all sound, to include the retreating footsteps of his pursuer.
A few more soundless moments passed. Every fiber in Thomas's body seemed to be focused on hearing anything out of the ordinary, no matter how minute. The ebbing silence suddenly became deafening as Thomas strained to hear anything.
Nothing. The sound of nothing. It could be as silent as space, or as deafening as the engine of an airliner. Thomas had been hit by both of these extremes, which was both disorienting and frightening. Still, a glimmer of hope for his fate slowly returned.
Thomas shifted slightly realizing that his foot had fallen asleep. Annoyed by the tingling feeling, Thomas shifted more then slowly stood. He stayed alert, listening for any approaching footsteps. Nothing.
He reached for the door handle and turned the knob, a small squeak seeming like a pounding alarm for the night. He stopped turning. Nothing.
Thomas pushed open the door, slowly at first, peering into the small sliver of bedroom he could see. Nothing.
Pushing it open farther, Thomas got a much larger view of the bedroom. The only thing out of place was the open door that now rested only inches from the end table it had slammed into earlier. Still nothing.
Thomas poked his head out then took a timid step into the bedroom. Nothing.
He took another step and realized his foot hadn't fully woken up yet. He fell.
As Thomas pummeled toward the ground, he felt the swipe of a sword barely miss him. If he had been standing, he surely would have been decapitated.
Thomas hit the floor hard as the sword sunk into the wood doorframe of the closet.
He looked over his shoulder and realized the knight was much more than a ruthless assassin. He was a patient stalker. There was no way Thomas could escape this menace. He knew minutes before he actually lost his life that he was not going to survive.
Thomas scurried across the floor using his elbows to pull himself along. The knight moved quickly and grabbed Thomas by the back of his tweed coat. Snatching him back, Thomas found himself sailing through the air, stopped abruptly by a wall.
Dazed and racked with pain, Thomas's eyes focused to find the knight standing directly in front of him.
No, this was wrong. He was a meek and mild historian, who had taken an interest in the occult through the centuries. He was a high school teacher, and taught sometimes at the community college for summer school. He was a widower, losing his wife to cancer ten years ago. He had never married again. Thomas had been a great father to his daughter through her twenty years of being alive. There was nothing about him that was extraordinary or that made him stand out so much that someone would want to come and kill him in such an elaborate manner.
"Don't do this. I don't have anything you want," Thomas hurriedly whispered.
The knight pushed back the helmet cover and for the first time, Thomas saw the face of his attacker. It was at that moment that he knew for certain he would not escape his fate. He was a simple man somehow involved in a plan far beyond his knowledge and wisdom. He wished he had only a few hours to find out why he was being killed, why this mysterious figure stood before him, and if he ever had a chance to avoid his fate.
The armored figure said nothing, only lifted his broadsword high above his head.
His eyes grew wide as the blade swung down forcefully, submerging Thomas Cale into a world of darkness.
III.
Rich Cale hadn't slept well in the past few weeks, which is why he ignored the light rapping on his door. He had fallen asleep what seemed like five minutes ago and didn't want to lose that. However, the knock resounded much louder, snatching Rich from his uneasy sleep.
"Who is it?" Rich wasn't able to hide the fatigue or annoyance in his voice.
"It's Mike. Can I come in?"
Rich's eyes remained closed as he responded, "I'm naked. Come back later."
The familiar squeak of the door and subsequent closing of the door told Rich his ruse didn't work. He could feel eyes staring at him even though the darkness of the room.
"What do you want?" Rich groggily asked.
Michael sighed. "When most people see someone they haven't seen in at least two years, they usually start the conversation like, Hey or How's it going. You make me feel like an unwanted guest."
He took a cautious step into the darkened room. It was daytime when he arrived, but no sun shone into this room. It resembled a tomb. Dark, cold, and unfriendly. The light from the hallway reached Rich's bed, casting him in a pale white light.
Michael took a moment to study Rich Cale. Though it had been two and a half years since they had last seen each other, Rich hadn't changed one bit. His dark hair, stoic features, piercing eyes were all still the same. He still had his goatee. The only thing Michael didn't see was Grimore, Rich's presumed pet cat.
"What are you doing here, anyways?"
Michael sat in a leather recliner before answering. "Well, Rich, for those of us that don't own a company, we had to settle on simply going to school. For most of us, it was away from Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. We left only a short while after you did. The school was closed down about a year after we left."
Michael shifted in the chair. "I was able to transfer some of my credits to a pretty good school. I just graduated on the first of June. This is my last official summer break, so I decided to do a little sightseeing. We never had the chance to see the great estate of the Cales, so I decided to come out here to check it out. My next stop is Japan."
Michael smiled, hoping that Rich would lighten up. However, Rich's reply was sour and cold. "My door was locked. How did you get in?"
Michael sighed loudly, hopefully expressing his agitation to Rich. "There's no lock that a telekinetic can't open, Rich," Michael replied in a tone that indicated to Rich he should have known that. "Tasha let me in the front door and told me you shut yourself off from the world up here."
Michael reached for a floor lamp next to the recliner and flipped the switch, turning the dark room into a friendlier, lighted environment. "So are you going to talk to me or what?"
Rich covered his head with the dark blue quilt draped over his bed. "It's nothing any of you need to be concerned with."
"So that translates into there's actually something wrong and you're not telling anyone because you think you can handle it on your own."
Rich sighed impatiently, annoyed with Michael's continuous pursuit of information that Rich wouldn't divulge. Why couldn't he just go away and leave him alone?
"Rich, when Tasha told me that you had been acting strangely, I was concerned. This isn't like you at all." Michael shook his head, "I would expect Vincent to lock himself in his room and not talk to anyone, but not you."
Rich threw back the covers. "You don't know me that well," Rich retorted.
Michael was stunned by the tone and message he received. "Look," Michael stood, "I don't know what's wrong, but I didn't come here to argue with you. We've been through too much to let you wither away in some dark room, because you were acting too proud to ask for help when you needed it. I respect you, Rich, and you have people around you that care about you. Don't push them away."
Michael turned off the lamp, crossed the room, and left without looking back.
Rich sighed heavily, pulling the quilt back over his head. He dropped off into an uneasy sleep, but it was only a few minutes before another nightmare invaded his slumber.
IV.
Detective Randall Harris rolled his head from side to side then tried to focus on his work, but his eyes kept wandering to the news paper clipping taped haphazardly on his desk. He studied the article for the tenth time that day, somehow getting the distinct feeling that something was going to happen.
He looked at the headline again, "Cale Family Murdered in Castle". He remembered the entire night vividly.
The rain was coming down in torrents as Harris drove to the Cale residence, a large, old castle obviously passed down through the generations. Olivia, the switchboard operator, had made the call over the radio network. Harris just happened to be in the area.
He drove past the gates and up the driveway, and that is where he saw the Cales' son. He was standing in the middle of the front yard, completely drenched. Even thought rain streamed down his face, Harris could see the lines of tears down the boy's face.
Harris quickly got out of the vehicle with an umbrella. "Here, kid, take this," he gruffly offered.
The boy simply stood there, his hands slack by his sides, his face racked with emotional turmoil. Harris led the boy to his car and sat him inside. Harris was reluctant to leave the boy alone, but since he was the first on the scene, he wanted to ensure the perpetrator was truly gone.
He retrieved his gun and took cautious steps inside. The front door had been left wide open, but the house was dark. Too dark. It was times like this Harris was thankful for his keen night vision.
Harris peered around the large entry area, listening for any strange sounds. It was when he stepped into the living room that the familiar and repulsive metallic smell of blood invaded his nose. He stepped around the couch and saw that the father and mother had both been stabbed with a sharp object, either a large knife or a sword. Either way, they had been stabbed multiple times.
The remembrance of the scene brought Harris back to his senses. The ten-year anniversary of the incident was only three days away. In all his years as a detective, he knew that unsolved mysteries usually had a way of surfacing on their anniversaries. As much as he didn't want it to, his gut told him that the murders back then were just the beginning. Though he had no reason to be suspicious, hit gut instinct warned him of impending danger.
Harris picked up the phone and dialed a number.
"Yeah, this is Harris. Can you let the chief know that I'm going to take a week of leave? Yeah, I've got some things to take care of. Thanks, Olivia."
Harris hung up the phone and looked at the worn article. He hoped that he was just jumping to conclusions, but still, he wanted to reach Rich Cale before anyone or anything else did.
Notes:
This takes place way before the current organization of the X-Men. After the breakout of the new teams, Jubilee and Paige were both left off of any active roster.
This story crosses my own Generation X story and 616 X-Men, which explains the existence of the new characters and the reference of past situations. In my Generation X story, seven new students joined the school and they had a slew of adventures together. However, to align the story with 616 continuity, the school closed down, Everett and Angelo both have passed away (current continuity), Jean Grey has passed away as well, and Emma is headmistress of the institute, which is where this story picks up. This story is meant to be a stand-alone story.
If you're curious about the new characters or any of the mentioned past situations, check out Generation X: Volume 1 and Generation X: Volume 2.
The first scene is taken from Uncanny X-Men 173, where Kitty, talking to Illyana Rasputin, shouts that Professor Xavier is a jerk.
Rich Cale and Grimore were created by Richard B. Sampson, Jr. who has stories posted on this site as well. Be sure to check them out!