Gene Wars
Disclaimer; I only own Bailey and no one else (unfortunately!)
Chapter One: A New Arrival.
This was it. Least ways, that was what she hoped. It was cold and lonely where she was; she knew she had to escape. Her eyes wandered down to her hands, blood-stained, grazed and bruised from hours of pointless resisting. Her body, bare but for a white gown, ached like she had never known, every joint complaining violently every time she moved and every graze catching on the gown. Four hours ago, she'd laid here thinking the same thing; I'll die next time, then I'll be useless to them. Let me die...
She blinked away the wave of emotion that rose up her nose to her tear ducts. Not here, she thought, not now. She sat upright, trying to ignore the protests her body gave, and hobbled weakly to the chair beside the grate they tossed her water through. Her first few days here, the water had been clean, cold, refreshing. Now it was silty and warm and tasted like mould. She looked out into the sterile corridor beyond. Her clothes... a simple red tank and jeans... underwear... she laughed to herself. God, I'm locked in a frigging prison and my first thought is underwear, she thought. She had to get out of here.
"Oh, are you awake Miss Watson?" the man asked through the grate. She looked at him with as much contempt as she could muster. "I'll fetch you some water, don't want you dehydrating, do we? We found out so much from you." He walked off down the corridor, whistling some annoying tune which grated on her nerves.
The idea struck her suddenly, and it brought with it a bizarre flashbulb of hope and what she hoped was courage. I'll need it. She waited for the warden to bring her water before grabbing his hand and grinning semi-manically as he dropped dead. I love electricity. The keys were in her hand and she was unlocking the door before the enormity of what she'd done swept over her. Officially a murderer, and no longer a lab rat. She dressed quickly, wincing as her grazes touched her clothing, especially on the waistband of her low-slung jeans and where her bra-clasp went. She shook her head dramatically and felt instantly dizzy. Fabulous.
She turned and hacked her way into a nearby computer and printed off a schematic of the building before pulling on a white coat and walking out of the door of... wherever she was. In all honesty, she wasn't even certain of what city she was in. No matter. She reached the street uninterrupted where she discarded the lab coat and got her bearings. San Francisco. Fuck. A loud, resonating smash drew her attention, away to her right. She had a sudden feeling of dread, terror... Just emotion, and she knew she had to get to the noise. Whatever it was. Hell, she mumbled as she began sprinting down the empty streets, out of wherever I was two minutes and already looking for trouble. She gasped as she reached the riverside. The Golden Gate Bridge was ripped from its stanchions and draped lethargically over the river to Alcatraz. She smiled briefly before heading over the twisted tarmac, pausing behind a large people-mover and watching the battle. It was obvious who was losing. A group of mutants, lead by some grey-haired woman floating in midair, where having the seven colours of crap beaten out of them. She sighed. A man she recognised as a powerful mutant named Magneto seemed to be leading the other mutants. He'd been on the news which the wardens had watched on their small TV in the corridor outside of her holding cell, and she'd watched through the grate. Magneto was anti-Homo Sapiens, anti the cure and anti everyone who wanted or received it. Judging by the number of mutants attacking the island, he had convinced a fair amount that he was right, and she guessed almost 200 had rallied to his cause here and now in the battle. My family are Homo Sapiens. He was evil, she had decided, and he won't win this fight. Whatever it's about. She smiled and leapt over the car, running blindly towards the battle and suddenly finding herself pinned to the wall by a tall, rough-looking man, adamantium claws protruding from his knuckles.
"This ain't no place for a kid," he informed her, a Canadian accent audible above the fight.
"Good job I'm not a kid then, eh?" she replied in her perfect English accent, smiling wickedly as she spun on her heel and tossed a lightening bolt at a nearby car. It exploded. "Get out of my way, little boy," she grinned cheekily and shoved him out the way, back-flipping over a nearby car and tossing electrical currents around the place like they were candy canes at Christmas.
"Who's the broad?" Logan asked as the girl from the battle field sat slumped on the floor of the foyer. Ororo was trying to get her to talk, and it wasn't working.
"I'm not a broad, thank you," she growled with a sinister grin. Logan rolled his eyes and lit up his fourth cigar of the half-hour.
"Just... Tell us a little about yourself," Ororo offered with a kind smile.
"Me? Oh, yeah, Bailey Watson, most people call me Bail. Urm... Are we done?" Logan sniggered and shifted from the wall. She glared back. She was pretty, but for a long, pale scar which stretched from her hairline on the left side of her face, down her jaw line and finished roughly where, had she been male, she would have had an Adams apple. Her chest, slightly visible under her tank top, bore large, white scars up and down, as well as along both arms and the right hand side of her neck. On her back she had a tattoo of wings in navy blue outlined in silver, stretching from the tops of her shoulder blades down to her waist and intricately details so much so that they looked 3D. Deep auburn hair with a side fringe, grubby from what looked like weeks without being washed, was thrown in a neat bun, and her eyes, though dishevelled and empty, were a deep, dark midnight blue, endless pupils which, if one got close enough, there could almost be seen a spark inside. She was tall, almost 6 foot, and athletic in build with a slight tan.
"No, actually, we're not, so, Bailey, what powers do you possess?" Logan demanded, ignoring Ororo's warning glare.
"We'll continue this in my office, Miss Watson, please, follow me," Ororo smiled, offering her hand down to the other woman. Bailey got to her feet and followed Ororo up the stairs, sticking her tongue out childishly at Logan as she rounded a bend in the stairs. "Right in here." The room was large and decorated lushly, with comfortable armchairs and a smart desk housing a small laptop computer and vase of roses. "Now, I hope you will find yourself able to talk to me openly without Logan around."
"Yeah, he seems... Tetchy," Bailey nodded, rubbing her head. She hated pretending to be anti-social, it gave her such a headache. "Listen, Oreo, I-"
"Ororo," the woman replied with a sigh, not looking up from the form she was filling in on Bailey.
"I really don't know what help I can be, I mean, you just lost your leader and half your team, I've never worked with other mutants, I-"
"Do you know anything about science?" The question completely threw Bailey off her rant.
"Eh?" she retaliated, sounding more cockney than snooty.
"Science? Our science teacher, Scott Summers and the biology teacher Jean Grey, passed away recently, and we're looking for a replacement. Only up to the end of high-school level, nothing particularly strenuous but-" She paused and glanced up, pleading at Bailey with her eyes.
"I can't! I'm selfish, bitchy, irritable, moody, sarcastic-"
"Logan's been teaching them so far."
"Sign me up." Storm laughed and wrote down the subject.
"Now, come on, date of birth?"
"1st of November, 1980."
"Powers?"
"Urm, I can generate electricity and move stuff around. People call me Fallen, though my parents used to call me October 'cause I was born at midnight on October 31st. They got to pick my birth date."
"All-Souls, nice motif for your job. Forensics?"
"Of course. I enjoyed it, as well as the interesting sideline in general subhuman crime." Ororo's eyebrows rose. "Scars?" Bailey indicated. "Vampire's are vicious creatures. Don't have any here, do you?"
"No, they are not considered mutants. Of course, if one came to us seeking assistance, we would take them in, but they are not invited," Ororo explained, keeping her eyes off of the scars covering her companions' skin.
"I don't mind people looking at them, you know. This one is my personal favourite," she showed Ororo an oval shaped scar on her right wrist.
"Oh, yes, sorry, I-" the door opened as she spoke. "Warren, could you please show Miss Watson up to room 17?" Bailey smiled at the blonde in the doorway, walking after him towards the door.
"Thanks, Ororo," Bailey smiled as she left. Her eyes flickered over her companion's general body, catching sight of his wings held tight against his back, though not strapped down and held outside his shirt. She looked away, trying not to make him uncomfortable. "You could probably call me Bailey, you seem a bit too old to be a 'student' around here."
"Alright, Bailey," he replied shyly.
"You been here long?" she asked, beginning to chew her thumb nail.
"Couple weeks," he replied, eyes on the ground.
"Warren, eh? Worthington, by any chance?"
"Yeah." He sounded sad to be associated with Worthington Labs.
"Nickname?" she asked through her mouthful of thumb.
"Angel. You know, 'cause of these... Things." She glanced back at his wings but looked at the door he stopped outside of. "Here's your room, Miss Watson, I'll, see you around." And he was gone down the corridor.
"Class, settle down please! That includes you, Marcus!" Ororo shouted as she stepped into the lab-style classroom. "This is your new biology teacher, Miss Watson, though she is also going to be teaching physics and chemistry. Now, behave for her first lesson!" Ororo sat in the front row and gave Bailey an encouraging smile.
"I figure I'm going to start with something easy, so I decided on kidneys." She tried not to laugh at their nervous expressions shared around the room as she unveiled a large tray of kidneys. "Smile everyone, it's dissection time." Then she did laugh. All of the boys paled, the girls shifted uncomfortably and one had to run from the room. Bailey covered the organs back over and motioned for someone to go and deal with the girl sent running for her lunch. She continued the lesson just on the theory work of the kidney, as the prospect of a dissection even made Storm pale.
"She's psychotic!" Bobby informed Kitty as they sat outside on the grass after classes.
"Sadistic maybe," Piotr smiled, chomping on a pretzel as Warren crash landed again. "Still having trouble with your landings?"
"Shut up, its hard!" Warren yelled back, rolling over and laying on the grass to catch his breath.
"Your centre of balance is way, way off. When you land, you should be aiming to land on just the balls of your feet rather than your arse," Bailey told him as she walked up the slightly incline from the house, a book clasped in her hand. She'd bound her hands up in bandages to cover the worst of the injuries and, after a brief trip to her apartment, was now wearing a knee-length skirt and white, crisp shirt with a few top buttons undone. Deep gashes were evident on both her knees, bruises covering most of them. Her hair, now clean and dry, was up in a neat ponytail with her bangs tucked just behind her ears.
"It's not that easy," Warren panted back, wiping perspiration from his forehead.
"Not really. You are a higher mammal, therefore you are more intelligent than birds, insects and flying fish, so you should be able to coordinate your body to land. It's simple physiology," she smiled, knowing that assuming that someone was a higher mammal was, in fact, very rude of her. "Look, Flyboy, just simply land on all fours and you wont embarrass yourself." She shook her head as she walked away, trying to concentrate on her book about blood stains.
Needless to say, when she looked out of her bedroom window, Warren landed safely on all fours.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I'll try and get the next chapter up within the next week, no promises, but that's my aim. Please R+R!