AN: A co-op story by Dragon Spirit Fighter and Draven Doll.
Summary: Just an idea I had for a possible third movie. A young boy with a peculiar gift is on the run from the government when he is taken in by Professor Xavier. It is now up to the X-Men, as well as some unlikely allies, to protect the boy, and Scott, trying to get past his loss of Jean, takes the boy under his wing. What they may discover, however, is that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to his past. First chapter, and a couple others, will be from his point of view.
Disclaimer:We don't own any of the original X-Men, though the protagonist of this fanfiction and his family, and a number of other original characters, belong to Dragon Spirit Fighter and Draven Doll.
(Scott's voice)"Mutation, it is the key to our evolution. It is how we have evolved from a single-celled organism to the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few hundred millenia, evolution leaps forward."
"Chris! Come on! We're gonna be late!"
I don't answer. I don't want to go to the movies with my brothers. I wouldn't mind so much, but it was the theater they're planning on going to. I don't like how it makes me feel. Normally I'd really like to go, even to that theater, but there's something wrong today. Something that makes me feel uncomfortable.
"Chris! Let's go!" my mom calls from downstairs.
"Aww, ma, let him stay if he wants to! You'll be back in a few minutes, anyway!" one of my older brothers called from out in the front yard.
"You know I have to run errands after I drop you off. Your brother is too young to stay here by himself."
I don't know why they keep calling me their brother. I don't look anything like anyone in my family. Everyone else is either a brunette or a dirty blonde. My hair is red, though my mom tries to be nice and calls me a "strawberry blonde." I'm not just your average carrot-top, either. I'm a firey-orange, brand-new-crayon-right-from-the-box redhead. And my eyes? Don't even go there. Everyone in my family has either brown or hazel eyes. And me? Well, apparently some step in my genetic ladder has a kink in it, because my eyes are green. We're talking leprechaun green, not just that jade green that most people have. It makes me wonder what my real family looks like.
That's right, I'm adopted. Most people try to adopt a kid that looks somewhat like the rest of their family, so that they can get those cute "Oh, he looks just like you!" comments. Well, I used to look like them. I've seen my baby pictures. I had brown hair back then, and blue eyes, since I was just a baby. When I was around four, I guess, my hair started getting lighter, and I became a dirty blonde, like my brothers. I was seven, though, when my hair started getting darker, but a brighter color, and my eyes started getting darker. Finally, I woke up one day, and I was suddenly a green-eyed, firey-orange redheaded mutant.
Now, I'm ten, I've been having these feelings for almost two years. You know that gut feeling that you get sometimes when you have a bad feeling? That's what they are, only it's almost as though I can sense the future. I get the gut feeling, and if I end up going to the place that I have a bad feeling about, I start seeing parts of what is going to happen.
That's why I don't want to leave the house, why I don't want to go to the movies, and why I don't want them to leave, either. Last time I felt this way, the restaurant we had been eating lunch in earlier that day was on the news that evening. The oven had exploded, no survivors.
It's not always the future, though. Sometimes, when I dream, I think I see the past. There's a beautiful woman smiling at me, though there are tears in her eyes. I like to think that she's my mom, my real mom, even though she doesn't look much like me, either. But it always ends with a flash of bright light, and the next thing I see is my adoptive mom.
"Christopher! I mean it! Let's go!"
"Mom!" I whine. "I don't feel very well!"
"Ohhhh, no you don't, mister, you're not getting away with that! Get your little rear end down here now!"
"Awwwwww," I roll off my bed and drag myself down the stairs. My oldest brother, Jeff, casts a critical eye up at me as I reach the bottom.
"Do you have to wear that? You look like some kind of freak!"
I look down at myself, then back at him, scowling. It wasn't much different from how I always dressed: Black jeans with an orange t-shirt and red sneakers. Is it my fault that no other colors look okay on me?
"Jeff, quit it, he looks fine," my mom scolds. "You all set, sweetie?"
"Mom, please, I really don't want to go!" I give one more try. "Or, could we go to a different theatre? Pleeeease?"
"What on earth has gotten into you? I thought you wanted to go see this movie, and it's only playing at the theatre near here."
"I do, but can't we go a different day?"
"Alright, mister, I've heard quite enough. You're going, and that's final, you know you're too young to stay home by yourself."
"I'm ten years old!"
"I don't care, the rule in this family is that you're not allowed to stay home alone until you're twelve."
"I'm not part of this family, and you know that!" the second that leaves my mouth, I feel bad. I knew that my adoptive parents tried so hard to make me feel that I was part of their family, and it hurt their feelings when they knew I didn't. Without another word, I go out the door after Jeff.
"Jeff, please, we have to leave!"
"SHHHHHHHH!"
"Will you keep quiet already?"
"Aaron? Come on!"
"Knock it off!"
I shut my mouth, I've been trying to get my brothers to leave ever since mom dropped us off, and neither of them are listening. My stomach's turning somersaults, and my hands are sweating like crazy. Right when the lights went off, I looked at one of my palms, and it was glowing red, like what happens when I sometimes hold a flashlight against my hand. Every time I blink, I see flames, and sometimes I don't have to blink, I just see fire consuming a building or a giant explosion. Now I'm getting desperate.
"Aaron, I don't feel good, we have to go!"
"Shut up!"
"Jeff, please!"
"I told you to keep quiet!"
I run. I just get up out of my chair and run. Finally, I was out of the theatre, but I still have to get out of the building. But what about everyone else? I look around frantically, finally seeing a fire alarm. I don't care that people are watching me, I just run up to it and lift the cover, so close to saving everyone else.
"What do you think you're doin', kid?" a hand grabs my arm, and I look up to see a police officer standing over me.
"Sorry, mister, but I have to get everyone out of here! Something's gonna happen!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Something's gonna happen and everyone here is in danger!"
The officer's losing his patience, and he grumbles something under his breath about "prankster kids" when he looks at all the people who are watching us.
"Everyone go about your business, we've had a lot of kids playing pranks lately, and there is nothing to be afraid of. And you," he turns to me. "You're leaving right now." He drags me to the door, and once we're outside I just run and pull him with me, because at this point my hands are on fire. Suddenly, a huge explosion of sound and heat pushes us to the ground, and I roll under a bush when the officer lets go of my hand in surprise. Turning to look back at the theater, the roof is covered in flames and fire is reaching out of the broken windows as people frantically run out of the building.
"No . . ." I stand up, shaking my head. "No! Jeff! Aaron!" I run toward the theater, but a hand takes hold of my shoulder.
"Where do you think you're going? You're coming with me, and you're going to tell me how you knew about this."
"No! I have to find my brothers! Let me go!" I pull away from him and run toward the theater, jumping into the nearest window. Despite all the smoke, I can see perfectly, and the heat from the flames doesn't hurt me. I just run, run toward the hall where my brothers are. I find them in the stampede of people trying to find their ways out, and I just grab their hands and lead them outside. We reach the parking lot, and they both fall to the ground, staring in disbelief at the burning building. Aaron turns to look at me, trying to figure out what happened.
"Chris . . . how did you?"
"I just knew, I'm able to know."
"There he is! Someone stop him!" the police officer who stopped me earlier yelled from across the parking lot.
"Chris, run! We'll explain everything to mom! Go!" Jeff yells, shoving me in the other direction as he gets to his feet with Aaron, running to stop the officer. Taking one look back and watching them tackle the officer to the ground, I finally turn and run as hard as I can. But where am I going to go?