The River

I don't own the X-ies

A.N. This takes place after the Liberty Island incident..

Chapter 1: Attempt Foiled

I'm a nothing. A failure. Isn't that right? Look at me. I'm a freak. I can't even fight right! I was beaten by a trecherous pansy-assed mutant. I can't build. My machine failed. The two things I ever prided myself in are gone. I've nowhere to go. Magneto's gone, and even if he did come back, what would he want to do with such a horrible failure? The outside world will have nothing to do with a freakish green monster. And I'd rather die than betray my own kind like the X-Men. So there's what I have to do. Nobody will miss the freak. The failure. The nothing.

With that in mind, Mortimer Toynbee gave one last mournful look over the rushing river, and gave the bars on the outside of the bridge a gentle squeeze. He looked up to the clouded sky, murmering one of the prayers he had learned at the orphanage all those years ago. The greenish fingers opened away from the cold metal, his eyes closed, his arms spread, and...

"Oof!" Oof? He was suspended above the water. Death is right there! Ten feet from me! And here I am in the bloody air. Oof indeed!

"I've got you!" yelled the unknown hero-figure above him. It was a man.

"Aww, fuck off, will ya? I's a big city! Lot's of bridges, and lot's of depressed nutters. Go on and play good samaratin elsewhere, awright?"

"Nice try. I'm pulling you up." Mort was slowly lifted from the air by the back of his shirt. He was soon standing on the outside of the bridge again, and looked down at the water longingly. A tug on his shirt told him that another attempt would do no good. The mutant sighed, and heaved himself over the bar.

Finding himself face to face with a little ancient Asian man, he tried to rid himself of the pest. "Boo."

The petite old guy gave a chuckle, and put a comforting arm around the put-out green man. "Alright, I get it! You've had enough of me, is that right? I'll just take you home now. Might I ask where home is?" Mort jerked his head back to the rushing water. "Well then it seems you'll have to come home with me, doesn't it?" He gave another small chuckle, and hailed a cab.

The man's insistance took Mort completely by surprise. "You really don' 'ave to, you know... I can find a 'otel..."

"Nonsense! I can't leave a guy alone after an incident like that! No, you'll stay with me for the time being." He held open the cab door. "I'm Hiroshi Yamada. And you?"

"Toad," said the mutant firmly. Why the hell wasn't this man afraid of him? He just sat there, jabbering on as if he was a normal person. He felt a little naked without his hoodie to hide his face from people.

"No! None of those nonsensical code names! What's your REAL name?"

Mort glared at the seat in front of him. "Mortimer Toynbee," he muttered, "Call me Mort."

"Pleased to meet you, Mort! Goro," he referred to the cab driver, whose name badge incidentally read "Akio", "you can drop us off here. I'd like to have a little walk before I get home. "Oh dear, where have I put my wallet?"

The cab driver was Asian as well, and turned around. "I'm Akio, Hiroshi. My father is retired. It's okay. I know you good for it. You pay me back, right?" He had an accent, unlike Hiroshi. He knows the cab driver?

"Thank you, Goro." They slid out of the car, and Mort looked up into...

China Town.

Hiroshi set off down the block. "That Goro is such a good man. Always looking out for me!" When his guest raised an eyebrow, he answered, "Him and his son live in my building."

They walked down the block at a leisurly pace, while Hiroshi informed Mort about every shop and person in the Japanese section of China Town. To his surprise, nobody on the street gave him more than a lingering gaze. "And this," he said with a voice full of pride, "is my dojo! I'm a martial arts instructor!"

Mort's eyes glazed over. "Really? I love martial arts."

"You're into martial arts!" The man's creased eyes filled with glee. "What do you know?"

"I'm a black belt in everything I've 'eard of," said Mort immodestly.

"Wonderful! Oh, see? The Lord does reward our deeds!" He clapped his hands together happily, looking to the sky. "I've been looking for a new assistant trainer!"

Mort looked quizically up at the sky, as if to say, "Wha' the fuck? I asked to die, and you give me 'im?" He looked down. "If you need an assistant, I'm looking for work."

"Yes, yes! You must stay!"

"So why don't you have an accent?" he said suddenly.

"Oh well I was born here. My parents were immigrants." They were walking again.

Soon they'd arrived at a tall brick building, and stepped inside. At number fifteen, Hiroshi fumbled for his keys. The first one wouldn't work. "Well that's odd. I'm sure that it's this one. See? I label them so I can remember." Sure enough, it read "Apartment". He gave it another try before the door came swinging open.

A tall young woman stood in the doorway. "Sumimasen, Hiroshi-san!" (Sorry, Mr. Hiroshi!) she said brightly, "This is my apartment, remember? You are in number sixteen across the hall."

"Hai. I remember now. Arigatou gosaimasu, Jin-chan." (Yes. I remember now. Thank you very much, Miss Jin.) He turned across the hall.

"Iie, it's not a problem. Itterasshai!" (No, it's not a problem. Take care!)

Mort didn't move out of confusion. "Erm..." he started.

"Are you a friend of Hiroshi-san?" she asked.

"San...? Um... I'm Mort. I'm staying with him as an assistant for the dojo."

"Pleased to meet you. I am Jin Hayakawa." He nodded, then followed his host into number sixteen.

I hope you like this one, 'cause it's really fun to write. Old people are so entertaining... heehee! Review or be forever covered in sticky tak!