They call us terrorists. Personally, we prefer the term "freedom fighters."
Ten years after the events that lead to the release and subsequent demise of Apocalypse, the government's chokehold on mutant rights is being challenged more than ever. A covert group of vigilantes, styling themselves "the Outlaws," seeks to win freedom for mutants through subversive, non-violent tactics. However, when they're challenged by the Friends of Humanity, and a powerful villain bent on mutant superiority, all that might just change.
The Outlaws
"Senator Kelly?" At the sound of his name being called, Robert Kelly paused, glancing back over his shoulder with twinges of disdain. This close to Election Day, he was becoming less and less tolerant of interruptions, particularly when he was on his way to a meeting with his campaign manager.
"Yes?" he responded, just barely managing to keep the edge out of his voice; it had been a rough morning. The picket-line outside of his campaign office was becoming harder for the regular police to manage—they would have to call in the SWAT team soon, or the Mutant Response Division. He wasn't entirely sure why they hadn't done so already, but at least his own team was on duty, guarding the building from the high probability of a mutant attack. So far, the worst he'd suffered was one of them throwing a full cup of coffee at him—it had missed, but the foam had burst against the pavement, splattering his shoes and the legs of his slacks with dark liquid. Good thing he'd worn black today.
Looking flustered, the young woman who had called his name hurried up, struggling with a briefcase and something shiny hung around her neck. She was dressed in a light grey suit-jacket with matching knee-length skirt, and a white button-up blouse underneath, her dark hair hanging down to her shoulders. She looked up at him with eager grey eyes, and said "So sorry to bother you, sir, but I'm with the Bayville Sun," she held up the press card dangling on a cord, "We're doing a piece on your campaign, and I was hoping—,"
"I'm sorry, Miss…?" he interrupted, holding up a hand to forestall her.
"Keen. Diana Keen," she said, holding out her hand to shake his. He took it, gave it a brief shake, and then stepped back.
"I'm sorry, Miss Keen, but I'm on my way to a meeting. If you want to speak with my secretary she can set up an interview, or you can attend my gala tomorrow." With that, he turned to continue down the hall to his office.
Determined, the young reporter hurried after. "But, you see, sir, we were hoping to do a piece on your presidential campaign, and how you came to be such a rising star on the political landscape. I mean, just a few years ago you were a high school principal, and well, Bayville is where you got your star—,"
"Yes, yes, I understand all that," Kelly interjected as he reached the desk where his secretary, Rebecca, was typing away at her computer. "Rebecca, this is Diana Keen. Find her a free space on my schedule for an interview."
"Yes, senator," the girl responded without looking up.
"Is Donovan here?"
"Yes, he's waiting in your office."
"Good. No interruptions then, unless the building is on fire."
"Yes, senator." The girl was like a robot, but at least she was efficient.
"Oh, and one more thing," he said, circling around her desk. He leaned in to conspiratorially whisper in her ear, "Check the employment records of the Bayville Sun."
"I'll tell your wife you'll be late, then," Rebecca responded out loud, so as not to arouse suspicion. Yes, she certainly was efficient.
"Thank you. Good day, Miss Keen," he said with a nod, before sweeping into his office and shutting the door.
"Uh, you too senator," Diana called after him, a bit too late.
"If you could have a seat, Miss Keen," the secretary said, "I'll be with you in just a moment."
"Oh, actually, could you tell me where the restroom is, first? I just need to freshen up."
"Down the hall, to the left," was Rebecca's stoic reply. Diana nodded her thanks, and disappeared down the hallway. She noted with some disgust that the walls were lined with framed photos and quotes of and made by Senator Kelly. Together, human-kind must strive to overcome these dark times, one read. She had to fight the urge to take it back to his office and smash it over his thick head. Violence doesn't solve anything, remember?, she thought with a smirk.
The bathroom was tucked into a smaller side hallway along with a janitor's closet and a water fountain. Once inside, she locked the door behind her, and hurried over to the sink. "Did you get all that, Eye-Shot?" she whispered into the microphone hidden under her hair.
"Loud and clear. Better hurry up, though. I upped the volume when he was whispering to the secretary; he was asking her to check employment records for the Sun."
"Well shit," she muttered, adjusting her earpiece. It would only take a few minutes for Kelly's secretary to figure out she was a fraud, then. Just focus, she thought, you can be quick. Breathing deeply, she gripped the edge of the sink, closed her eyes, and "left" her body. The first time she'd done this had been so jarring, she had had trouble finding her way back. She'd panicked, but the mind and the body are like opposite ends of a magnet—her consciousness had been sucked right back in. Needless to say, she hadn't tried doing anything like that again for months.
Today was different, though. Now she knew what she was doing. With her eyes shut, she concentrated, picturing the space around her and moving toward it. There was a rushing in her ears, and then she was floating, unrestricted. Once she was free of the cage of her body, she could "see" the minds of everyone around her. The world lit up with the glowing pinpoints of minds—there were hundreds, even thousands, but she was only interested in one of them.
In this transient state she physically useless, despite her ability to see the world unfettered by her comparatively clumsy body. She couldn't hear anything that wasn't happening within a few feet of her physical body, and visually, the world was at best, muddled. Floating in a sea of elevated consciousness, she was really nothing more than a ghost—invisible, and intangible, and like a ghost, able to possess the minds of the living.
Well, some minds. Humans, so far, proved to be too strong of will for her to just invade, even when she had a willing host. During her training she had gotten better at leaving her own body, but possessing the minds of her friends was difficult, and possessing the mind of somebody unwilling was nigh impossible.
That was why it was a good thing Senator Kelly had a fish tank in his office. Eye-Shot had noticed it while they were scouting the building, making her the prime candidate for infiltration. All the same, she would have preferred if she could have stayed outside, and projected herself from a safe distance, but her range was limited. There were no good places to hide near the building, and parking was prohibited, especially for suspicious, unmarked vans like the one Calvin drove.
It was difficult to judge space and distance in this form, but she knew the lone mind flickering over the vague outline of a desk and computer was Rebecca's, and the two behind her were Kelly and his campaign manager. She knew all too well that the secretary was hunting for information on her alias—Keen was her codename, and Diana had been a friend of hers in grade school. From a great distance away, she could hear Eye-Shot urging her to hurry. If you hadn't insisted that I actually talk to Kelly, none of them would know I was here! It was easier for her to identify the mind of somebody she had met before, though. Kelly's mind shone like a beacon of arrogance and douchebaggery, pacing back and forth in the foggy dimensions of his office.
The minds of his fish were another thing. Small, but still bright, flicking around before her. She chose the brightest—what Calvin swore was a lion fish—and plunged forward into its mind.
Instantly, the world became dense, shimmering, and wet. The fish jerked awkwardly, and if she hadn't spent the last several days practicing possessing the mind of their mascot—a betta fish named Betta Bob—she would have been wholly unprepared. As it was, it was still a bit shocking.
The tank in Kelly's office was built into the wall, not a tiny bowl set on a counter. For a moment the voices she was hearing were so muffled that she feared she wouldn't be able to make out anything they were saying. Focus, dammit! Navigating the fish's body was difficult, but she managed to get him to float closer to the glass. Fish-Vision wasn't exactly ideal, but she could see the big blob that was Kelly pacing back and forth in front of her, and a shorter blob sitting in what she assumed was a chair a few feet away.
"…speech should be a big hit. Your backers there are all too willing to throw money at your campaign."
"Vipers and vultures," Kelly said. Their voices sounded garbled, but at least she could make them out now. "Creed will be there, yes?"
"Of course."
Creed, Keen thought with more than a touch of triumph. The only person they could be talking about was Graydon Creed, the founder and leader of the Friends of Humanity, a vile and bigoted anti-mutant group. If she had been in her own body, she would have done a victory dance. This was definitive proof that Kelly was working with them. Not enough to convince the media, but it was more than enough for the Outlaws, and to sow the seeds of doubt amongst his supporters. Hating mutants was fine and dandy, but abducting, torturing, and murdering them was still more or less viewed as "distasteful."
"Keen, it's been five minutes. You got anything good?" Of course there was no way she could respond to Calvin now, but her silence would be as good an answer as any.
"He told me he'd like to go over his plans with you. I can arrange for you to meet with him privately, if you'd like."
"That's fine," Kelly agreed dismissively.
"Any place in particular you would prefer?"
"Someplace private, with no media around."
"That goes without saying."
Ugh, tell me where, Keen thought furiously. If she could find out, they could bug the room beforehand; make sure that that conversation was on tape.
"How about the Leland Hotel? It's out of the way, and it has an underground garage." Yes!
"Fine, fine."
"Keen, that secretary is on the move," Eye-Shot's voice crackled into her ear from fifty feet away, just as the door to Kelly's office creaked open.
"Sir," Rebecca said, "I just got off the phone with the Bayville Sun. There's no one named Diana Keen working there, not even under a pseudonym." Shit.
With a groan, she expelled herself from the mind of the fish, and found herself jackknifing violently back into her own body. Head swimming, she stumbled for the door, struggling to regain her composure as she jerked the door open and tried her best to hurry down the hallway, away from Kelly's office. The longer she was out of her own body, the worse the transition was when she returned. Even a few minutes left her feeling lightheaded and out of sorts. If it hadn't been for all the extra training she'd put in for this, she might have keeled over, but that wasn't an option right now.
"Keen!" Calvin snapped in her ear.
"I'm here, Ca—Eye-Shot."
"Jesus, give me a heart attack, why don't ya. You gotta hurry, Kelly's on the phone, and I'll bet any amount of money he's putting an APB out on you."
"I'm trying," she said through gritted teeth, "You try possessing the mind of a damned fish and walking in a straight line after."
She heard him scoff, and mutter something about her being foolhardy. Well, he was safe and cozy in a building across the street, watching Kelly's office through a window, and she was the one risking her ass trying to get some dirt on him. Being reckless sort of came with the job.
"Miss Keen?" Rebecca's voice echoed down the hall, "Miss Keen, Senator Kelly would like to speak with you." Yeah, I'll bet. With her mind steadying, Keen picked up the pace, trying to hurry without running. There were other people meandering about the building—working grunts, mostly, but she knew it wouldn't be long before security caught up with her.
"There's movement, Keen. I can't see you, or Kelly, be careful." Risking a glance over her shoulder, Keen caught a glimpse of some men in black suits and sunglasses, and swore under her breath before ducking into a nearby staircase. After nearly stumbling and breaking her neck, she ditched the high-heels she'd been made to wear, and broke out into a jog, skipping a step here and there in an attempt to gain ground.
When she emerged from the stairwell on the ground floor, she was relieved to see the hall she was in was deserted. Uncertain of where she was, she picked a direction and rushed past doors marked "storage," seeking an exit.
"Keen?"
"I can't find a way out," she hissed, feeling frantic.
"Where are you, maybe I can—,"
"I saw her head downstairs," a male voiced echoed down the corridor. With a gasp of fear, she spun, turning in circles, trying to spot a way out—any way out. The nearest thing to her was one of the storage rooms. In an act of sheer desperation, she grabbed the doorknob, feeling victorious when it turned, and slipped quietly into the room, easing the door shut behind her.
"Maybe she's already out of the building," another voice said, muffled now.
"No, there's guards at every door."
"Maybe she can go through walls, like that X-bitch."
"If she could do that, why go through all the trouble of pretending to be a reporter?"
"Fuck if I know. These freaks are crazy and unpredictable."
Keen bit her tongue to keep from screaming. The bastards would get what was coming to them, but now was not the time. She crouched behind the door, waiting for them to pass. Once they were gone, she would bolt out the door and run the other way.
"Let's check in these rooms. Maybe she's hiding—this hall's a dead end, y'know?"
"Right."
No. She backed away from the door and looked around the room. It was filled with old office furniture, all covered in a layer of dust. As quickly and quietly as was possible, she found a desk to wedge herself behind, and resigned herself to waiting.
"Eye-Shot," she whispered.
"Where are you?"
"I'm hiding in a storage room. They're going to find me."
"No they're not."
"Yes, they are. Listen—,"
"Keen!"
"Listen. Kelly is going to have a meeting before his gala tomorrow with Graydon Creed. They're going to be at—." The door creaked opened, and Keen snapped her mouth shut, hugging her knees to her chest.
"Where? Keen? Where are they meeting? Keen!"
"Somebody opened this door recently. Look at the way the dust is flying around." A light clicked on, and she cringed away from it, breathing hard.
"We know you're in here. Come out with your hands up, and no funny business or we'll shoot!" For a moment she considered ignoring them, but she knew it would be futile. They would search the room more thoroughly, and they would find her. Unfolding her legs, she emerged unsteadily from her hiding spot.
"Don't hurt me," she said, trying to sound weak, to lull them into a false sense of security.
"Shut up. Turn around, and get down on your knees," one guard sneered, leveling his gun at her. Shaking, she did as she was told, smiling as she closed her eyes. They weren't going to like what she did next. "We found her," she heard him say into his radio, "need backup down in storage."
"Keen?" Calvin's voice seemed strained.
"They have me," she said.
"What's she saying? Who are you talking too?"
"Cybele, listen, we're going to get you out of there."
"No. I won't let them take me, and I won't let you risk it."
"Cybele, what are you going to do?"
"Shut her up! She's got a communicator!"
If they took her, they would question her; they would do unimaginable things to her for information and "research." She had heard the horror stories of mutants captured and experimented on, tortured and tormented until they were mere shells of their formers selves. She wouldn't let that happen to her, nor to any of her teammates.
With a deep breath, she prepared to project her consciousness. "Leland—," she managed to whisper before the taser struck her in the back. Electricity coursed through her body, and she collapsed, shaking violently on the floor, but her consciousness was already free of her body, and hurtling toward the two brightly glowing minds in the doorway. When she tried to take them, they resisted, and the pain burned more deeply than any weapon ever could. From very far away she heard somebody screaming as though they were being sliced into pieces by a white-hot knife. It took her a moment to realize that the sound was coming from her own mouth, but it didn't matter. There was nothing she could do now except make sure they didn't take her alive.
X
It's been ten years since the series ended (sob) and nearly as long since I've written Evo fanfiction. I figured it would be fun to write about the state of the world ten years later, and I always enjoyed "submit your original character" stories.
So, if you'd like to submit a character, the form, and additional info on the Outlaws is on my profile. Please submit your app through private message, not as a review. Any apps submitted in review form will be deleted, but you may submit them again through PM.