Title: XCorps and Xavier's School for the Gifted: East
Chapter: 1 Hospital
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel comics or any of their stuff, however much I wish it. I do, however, own Tips, Others, and That Place
Summary: Our story begins as we meet Tips, the last of his line from another world called "That Place." Starts out a little slow, but later chapters will heat up.
His vision was blurry. He couldn't see anything around him. Everything was just... a big blur. He hear... voices. Mumbling. What were they saying? He didn't know. Something came into his line of sight. He passed out again.
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Tips sat up, eyes still closed, holding his head in one hand. It hurt. Something must have done it. The Others?
No. He remembered entering the door... seeing someone... he couldn't remember anything about them... and then what? Falling, it seemed like he was falling forever.
He must have passed out. He was hurt pretty awful, and had been running for... God, he didn't even remember how long. Running from the Others. And then, he went through the door, and who knows how much the trip to this place took out of him. But now, now he had to take in his surroundings. He had to get out of here. Find somewhere to go, somewhere to hide until someone from That Place came to get him. His nameless homeworld.
A person -female, by the look- walked into the door of the white-walled room, holding something rather sharp. It was an odd room, as well. Bleak, full of beeping instruments and tubes. He himself found taht he was on some sort of odd bed. The woman looked surprised. "Oh good! You're awake!" she exclaimed, coming at him with that... sharp thing. Whatever it was, it didn't look comforting. Tips's eyes grew wide. "Oh, it's time for shots. I know some people don't like them, but it's really neccessary," the woman began, coming at him with that thing.
She blinked, confused. What on earth-? The boy was there one second, gone the next. Tips, taking advantage of her confusion, and now invisible to the naked eye, raced out of that odd room, knocking over and breaking quite a few things in the process. He didn't even care at this point; the boy just knew he had to get out of here. He had to get out of here. The need was almost primal, and kept repeating itself in his mind. He had to get out, he had to get out of here. Tips ran, down the halls one way, down the halls another, found stairs, knocked something else over, frightening workers in the building -whatever it was- and then continued. Down stairs, down another hallway, running, running, running.
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It seemed like he was running forever, like he would keep on running in this maze. Run, run, run.
And then... moonlight. He saw it, through a door. Moonlight, which could mean only one thing. Outdoors. And still, he ran.