CHapter 1
Professor Charles Xavier took a sip of his morning coffee as his eyes glanced across the morning headlines. There was nothing about mutants, which he considered to be a good thing. At least there wasn't any bad publicity or wild rumors or speculations going on at this time.
He glanced through the pages of the paper, not noticing anything of real interest and finally, after reading the comics, he set the newspaper aside. He then took another sip of his coffee and proceeded to eat his half-cold breakfast.
Normally he ate the morning meal in the company of the others, whether it was the students or a few of the teachers or a combination of each. This morning though he ate in solitude within the dining room, quite simply because he'd gotten up before everyone else. The sun had barely risen outside and its early morning rays were just pushing away the last of the nighttime darkness.
The professor caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to see none other than Logan peering into the dining room. The corner of Xavier's mouth twitched into a slight smile as he regarded his old friend for a moment. "Aren't you up kind of early?" Charles asked mildly, a trace of humor in his voice.
"I couldn't sleep," he replied, stepping into the room.
Xavier put the paper aside and glanced at his searchingly. He did not use his telepathy and would not unless he was asked, but he was always ready to talk if any of his friends or students had something on their mind. The professor was there to help, after all. "Is something on your mind?" he asked, ignoring what little food remained on his plate. There wasn't much of his breakfast left anyway, barely more than table scraps.
"I'm not sure," he replied. "I just have this bad feeling."
Charles frowned. He knew Logan quite well, especially since he'd been in his friends' mind before. "Can you be more specific?" the professor asked. He knew that the man known as "Wolverine" had been through a lot over his many years of life; he'd seen things that most of the students at this very school couldn't even imagine, not even after the battle with Apocalypse. He had more experience than anyone and the various hardships made Logan as tough as nails, yet he maintained his compassion and humanity. It was this trait that Charles truly admired.
"That's it. I don't know," he said. 'I just have this feeling. Maybe it's nothing." he walked over to the windows and looked out. "I think I'll go out later and see if I can find out why I feel like this. Just in case it is soemthing we should be worried about."
"Actually," the professor said, moving his wheelchair away from the table and approaching his friend, "I'm glad that you're here and that you've brought this up. There is something I need to discuss with you."
He looked down at him. "What?"
"There is something I need you to look into," Charles answered, meeting Logan's eyes evenly. "I received an information leak last night that makes me suspect there is something going on in a secret laboratory about thirty miles from here."
"Secret laboratory?' he frowned, not liking what that could mean.
"Yes," Charles said, touching his chin thoughtfully. "I learned that someone out there wants to 'upgrade' regular humans with a series of cybernetic enhancements, essencially turning these people into cyborgs in the hopes of giving humanity a 'leg up' against any potential mutant threat."
When the professor paused, he saw Logan's eyes darken a little. He knew that this subject might be a little close to home for his friend, considering that he knew what it was like to be experimented on and turned into something else. If nothing else, a silent agreement seemed to flow between them that this was a terrible thing to happen to anyone, human or mutant.
"I truly hope the reports I heard were wrong," Xavier went on before his friend could say anything. "However, I received word that they have a young woman there that they are conducting these experiments on. I would like someone to go there and infiltrate the lab to see what is going on. And..." He looked at Logan with a meaningful expression. "I had you in mind." Out of everyone, Wolverine had the most experience and he was the best at stealth tactics.
He was silent for a long moment then he finally nodded. "Got a map?'
"No, but I know where the base is," Xavier told him. "It's located beneath an abandoned warehouse building near the center of the city. Look for a street called Yellow Stone and take a left, onto a smaller road called Rugged Howe."
He nodded then stepped out of the room, heading to the garage where he'd parked his motorcycle.
Xavier watched him go, then he moved his wheelchair back over to the table and picked up his dishes. He took them over to the sink and placed them beside it so that they could be washed later.
I need to leave soon, he thought to himself. Just last night he'd gotten a phone call from the parents of a teenage girl named Brooke Alice Walton, a 17-year-old whose mutant abilities had recently manifested themselves. Today he would leave Scott, Jean and Hank McCoy in charge while he went to speak with this family.
Logan gripped the handlebars of his motorcyle firmly as he pulled out of the garage and away from the Xavier Insitute. A low growl escaped his throat, muffled by the soft roar of the engine as he entered the right lane on the street. It was very subtle, but he could tell that somebody had been using his ride without his permission again. He wasn't entirely sure who it was, but he had his suspicions.
He shoved the thought out of his mind for now, but not before making a mental note to check into it later. Right now he needed a clear mind to focus on what he was doing, and years of training and experience had taught him how to do that.
His eyes stayed on the road, darting back and fourth occasionally as he observed traffic and pedestrians; he was in a hurry but he didn't want to risk hitting anyone. The entire ride took about thirty-five minutes, during which time he only allowed his mind to wander a little.
If they are experimenting on someone there, he thought to himself, I'm gonna stop them. It wasn't what Xavier had said to do, but then again the professor hadn't said much of anything on the matter.
I know how to read between the lines, though, he thought. After knowing Charles for all these years, Logan knew that he wouldn't stand for someone being experimented on... would he? If nothing else, Wolverine wasn't going to stand by and watch it happen. Charles' lack of advisement was probably the equivalent of him saying, "Use your own judgment in this matter".
Logan recognized his destination easily once he pulled onto Rugged Howe, simply because it was the only abandoned warehouse there. The building looked as though it was getting ready to fall down at the touch of a feather... or even a sneeze.
His eyes flashed as he parked his motorcycle and glanced around, taking in his surroundings with his vision and his sense of smell. Yep, there were definitely people here... and there had been several vehicles coming and going recently, judging from the tire tracks and the faint scent of gasoline and worn rubber. His sensitive nose also picked up something else... apparently a dog had relieved itself at the corner of the building recently. Not exactly something he needed-or wanted-to know, but the fact registered itself in his brain.
He hid his bike behind a couple of bushes, keeping his nose and ears alert. Once he was certain that it was concealed, he extended the metal claws from his right hand and used them to rip a vent grate out of the wall. The vent was just barely large enough for him to enter and he felt his large shoulders pressing against the top of it, but he ignored the minor discomfort. It was hardly worse than the pain he felt whenever he extended his claws, and he'd been enduring that for decades.
He had no idea where he was going yet or what he was getting himself into. Isn't that the way it always is? he thought.
She had no idea what was going on. Vague images and impressions flashed through her mind, sometimes like brief bursts of light or wisps of smoke. She groaned in discomfort yet didn't hear the sound. Her throat had tightened and moved when she made the sound, so perhaps she had made the noise. She couldn't be certain, though.
A scientist, a man with short brown hair and large rimmed glasses looked up from his work when he heard he move. He frowned and walked over to her. Was she waking up? He hoped not. They weren't finished yet.
He paused then leaned over her and gave her a poke. "Are you awake?' he asked.
Her eyelids flickered a couple of times, then flew wide. It took her only a moment to realize that she was restrained on the surface of a metal table, with a metal clamp securing each of her ankles and wrists in place. She tested the restraints briefly and gasped in horror as she continued to look around, basking in her new surroundings.
"Where am I?" she demanded in a fear-filled voice. "What's happening? What are you doing to me?" She was nearly hysterical now.
"Now, now, just calm down," the man said. "You won't do us or yourself any good going into hysterics. If you just take a few deeps breaths and calm yourself I'll tell you what you need to know."
Her eyes were still as wide as saucers, and she seemed less than reassured as she looked at the restraints. She did, however, suck in a couple of deep breaths and let them out slowly. When she spoke, she was a little calmer. "Am I a prisoner?" she asked. "Why am I being held to this table?"
"It's just a precaution," another voice said just then. A tall man with graying hair stepped into view. He had distinguished features and he wore a white lab coat over a tuxedo. "We weren't sure if you'd be in control of yourself or not when you awoke."
"So you tied me down?" The woman's fearful tone was now mixed with indignation.
"We'll explain everything in a moment," the newcomer said. "I'm Dr. Zane and this is my assistant, Walter." With that, he turned to the said assistant.
"Walter, is everything... prepared?" His forehead wrinkled a little, and there was an intensity in his eyes that made the woman suspect that there was something he was asking his assistant that he didn't want her to know about.
The man nodded. 'Yes, sir." he said.
"But is it ready to activate?" Zane pressed, then leaned in closer to whisper something else to his assistant, something that the woman could not hear.
He looked at the computer screen. "It should be," he said.
"What are you talking about?" the woman demanded.
Zane spared her a quick glance and then seemed to dismiss her question entirely, as if she didn't deserve an answer. "Prepare to activate her brain implants and call me when you're ready to test the control chip," he told Walter. "I'll be in my office getting some lunch." With that he walked out.
"Wait, what?" the woman half-shouted. "Brain implants, control chip, WHAT?" But Zane was already gone, leaving her alone with his assistant and the instructions he'd left behind.
Walter turned to her. "There's no need to get hysterical," he told her. "It's for your own good anyway."
"No!" she snapped, tugging at the restraints. "Whatever you're doing-you can't!"
"I'm afraid we can." he walked over to the computer and began typing. He looked up at the screen as something began to load. "There."
She continued to protest for a moment longer, but then her expression changed. Her eyes became unfocused and she slumped down against the table again. Walter began to monitor her closely, but he knew what she was probably going through. These tests had been done on a couple of monkeys before they reached this point, and the animals had suffered from severe dizziness and nausea during this part of the process.
Right at that moment the intruder alarm began to blare throughout the base.
Walter cursed. This wasn't a good time. "Now what?' he clicked away at the keyboard until images from the security cameras popped up on the screen.
What he saw was a stocky, muscular man slipping past the security drone near the door-then using large, steel-like claws to slash through it when it attempted to open fire. Then in the next instant the figure turned to look straight at the camera. Walter tensed, almost feeling as though those dark, piercing eyes were looking straight through the lens and at him.
With an animal growl, the man jumped up and his steely claws flashed, then the image went blank.
Walter cursed and turned from the screen. He ran over to a phone and dialed the number to his boss's office.
"Yes, yes, what is it?" came the impatient voice of Dr. Zane.
On the lab table, the woman was starting to cough and wretch; Walter hoped she wasn't going to throw up.
"Umm.. sir. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but we have an intruder."
"Oh and you think I couldn't tell by the alarms blaring all over the place?" came Zane's angry retort. "Whatever or whoever has infiltrated the building is making short work of our security systems. Take the subject out of there and get her to safety-nothing else matters."
"Okay." he hung up the phone and went over to the girl. He pressed a button that released her and started to help her up. He slipped an arm around her waste and his other arm around her shoulders to support her as he moved her... then she lurched, and her stomach chose that moment to relieve itself of its contents... all over the front of his nice clean lab coat.
Walter made a face. How disgusting. He chose to ignore the mess on his coat for now. getting her out of there was far more important. He began to walk her toward the exit door.
Just as he neared the exit he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Two fully armed guards were thrown against the wall and slid down to the floor, unconscious. Then the muscular man with the steel claws that he's seen on the security camera rounded the corner and came into full view. The man looked like an animal somehow, yet had intelligent and calculative eyes, like a wolf planning its next move.
Walter stared at him for a long moment, not sure how exactly to react. His brain seemed to have shut down at that moment.
"Let her go," the intruder growled simply, taking a menacing step forward.
Walter took a step back, his eyes widening behind his glassed. "I'm afraid that is impossible," he told him.
"You better make it possible, bub," the muscular creature said, then dashed forward.
The man yelped in surprise then made a run for the door, though the girl prevented him from going very fast. He cursed. Why couldn't she regain her senses enough to at least walk on her own?
The other man-or whatever he was-easily caught up to them and grabbed Walter by the scruff of his neck, pinning him face-first against the wall. "Let her go," he growled, taking care to try and get the woman away from him without hurting her.
Walter's brain seemed to have gone into stand by. He merely stared at him with wide eyes. "Don't hurt me."
"Let me take her, and I won't hurt you," came the low, gruff reply. The girl moaned as if in response to everything that was going. She began to gag again, her eyes half-shut.
Yes, that sounded like a great idea. "She's yours." Walter was never known for his bravery.
The intruder took the girl into his arms as Walter released his grip on her. Just as the brute-like creature secured his hold on her... her stomach lurched again. Thankfully though she didn't hurl this time.
Wolverine took one last look at Walter and then turned and headed out of the nearest exit with the girl in his arms. He ran to the spot where he'd stashed his motorcycle... only to find that it was not there. He growled in annoyance, wondering who could have moved it and where it was.
A shot was fired; more security men were coming after him. He glanced around and then quickly decided that he couldn't hang around, not if he wanted to protect the girl. He began to run.
Charles Xavier maneuvered his powered wheelchair to the front doorstep of the Walton household. Once he reached the door he rapped his knuckles against it three times.
A few seconds passed, then the door opened. A pretty dark-skinned woman with black hair appeared. Her earlobes dazzled with pearl earrings and she had on a blue blouse. "Yes?" she asked aloud as she peered out the door, looking down at him.
"Hello," the professor greeted. "I am Charles Xavier of the Xavier Institute for gifted students. You are Mrs. Walton, I presume?"
She gave a little nod. "Yes, I'm the one who called you last night. Please," she invited as she swung the door wide open, "come on in."
A few minutes later both of them were in the living room, where Mrs. Walton served each of them some tea. "Thank you for coming," the woman said, though she seemed a little uneasy.
"Where is your husband?" Charles asked curiously, trying to make conversation.
"Upstairs," Mrs. Walton sighed. "Brooke hasn't wanted to come out of her room ever since... well, what happened at her school."
"May I ask what exactly happened?" Xavier asked in a kind voice. He took a sip of his tea as the woman hesitated, trying to gather her thoughts.
"Well," she began, "the first thing you need to know is that we only moved into this neighborhood a few days ago. It worked out because it's closer to where my husband works anyway, and when we found out about your school for mutant children... we felt that it might be the best thing for her. Especially since the school she was attending expelled her and none of her old friends will talk to her anymore."
Charles nodded gravely. Unfortunately this was the kind of thing he heard about often, every time he went to speak with a possible new recruit. But that was what he was here for; to help those who didn't fit in with regular humans, to help them learn to control their powers and find their place in the world. "So she used her powers at school, accidentally, I take it?" he pressed gently.
"Yes." Mrs Walton sighed. She hadn't even taken a sip of her tea, she simply twirled the teaspoon around in her fingers as she held the cup. "I don't know exactly what happened and I can't get Brooke to talk about it much. But from what the school principal said, apparently she somehow made all of the faucets and toilets..." Her face scrunched up as she tried to find the right word. "Well... she made them erupt. Not explode or anything like that, she just made water gush out of them, to the point where it flooded the entire girls' restroom and flooded out into the hall."
"Hmmm," Xavier mused thoughtfully. "It sounds like her mutant power is to control water. She can be taught to control this, if she is willing to learn."
Brooke's mother shook her head gravely. "I hope she'll be willing to give it a try," she said slowly. "My own Grandmother was a mutant, and I saw was it was like for her to try and live her life while hiding the fact that she was different. I just don't want my daughter to go through that. I want her to have a chance to be around others like her."
"We will do everything possible to make her feel welcome, and to help her adjust to this new stage of her life," Xavier vowed softly.
"Please do," Mrs. Walton pleaded. "It's hard enough for a normal human teenager to find their place in life and... just to grow up. I want this to be as easy for Brooke as possible."
Anything Professor Xavier might have said next was cut off when both of them heard voices upstairs. The voices weren't really yelling, but they were speaking loudly enough so that they could be heard.
"Brooke, you can't just spend the rest of your life here in your room," came a voice that most likely belonged to Mr. Walton. "I want you to come downstairs with me and get something to eat."
"No!" Brooke shouted from inside the room. "I'm not coming out! I'll never come out of here ever again! If you want me to eat bring the food up to me!"
"Brooke I want you to come out of this room right now," the male voice persisted. "I won't let you lock yourself away from the world like this."
"I'm never coming out! The world doesn't want someone like me anyway so why can't I just hide from it!"
"Oh dear," Mrs. Walton sighed with a knowing shake of her head.
Then Mr. Walton raised his voice even more. "I am going to count to three and you better open this door!" he shouted. "One..."
"Or you'll do what?" she called back. "Come in here and spank me? I'm too old for that!"
"Oh don't tempt me!" her dad barked back. "I'm still counting! Two..."
"If you come in here I'll flood the house!"
"No you won't! Two and a half..." Somehow it seemed like Mr. Walton's conviction was starting to falter a little.
Mrs. Walton gave Xavier a look that said, "I'm sorry you have to hear this" and took a nervous sip of her tea.
"No! Just leave me alone!" There was a loud rumbling in the pipes.
"I'll be back in five minutes," her dad finally said. His footsteps could be heard moving down the stairs. "And you better come down here before then."
"He's trying to save face and prevent water damage to the house," Mrs. Walton whispered to the professor, who raised an eyebrow.
"I don't need five minutes!" a second later they saw somebody in torn blue jeans as a pink tank top by the front window.
"Brooke!" Mrs. Walton half-shouted, already moving toward the front door to catch her daughter.
Xavier let out a muted cough, staying right where he was and casually sipping his tea as he listened to the family drama going on around him. Just as Mrs. Walton went out the front door, Mr. Walton appeared, having just come down the stairs.
"Ugh, that girl," he growled, then immediately straightened when he spotted the professor. "Oh, you must be the man my wife called last night," he said.
"Indeed I am," Charles nodded.
"I am so sorry you had to hear that," the man sighed warily. "Ever since this whole thing started, well..."
"Don't worry about it," the professor said gently, placing a comforting hand on Mr. Walton's arm. "I think that every family goes through something like this."
Mr. Walton still looked tense, but he seemed to relax a little. "Well, good to know I'm not alone, at least," he finally said. "But I'm not sure how well this is gonna go. I mean, Brooke won't come out of her room."
"Actually..." Charles glanced indicatively toward the window. "She did."
"What?"
As if in response, both of them heard the front door slamming shut. "You come with me right this instant, young lady!" Xavier blinked at the sound of Mrs. Walton's voice. If anything, she sounded more frustrated than her husband had and far more firm.
"Let go of me!" Brooke shouted. "You're hurting me! I can wlak on my own, you know!"
"Not if you're just going to walk out of the house again! Stop squirming and come into the living room with me!"
Now it was Mr. Walton's turn to cast an apologetic glance at the professor, and he looked toward the doorway with concern and wariness.
"Fine! I'll go into the living room! Now just let go!"
"Go on, then. Someone came all this way to see you, and you're the one who's keeping him waiting!"
The door opened and Brooke stepped into the room. She frowned, expressing her displeasure with an annoyed expression. She walked over to the sofa but paused when she spotted the professor. 'hey... aren't you that guy with the school?'
Professor Xavier faced her fully now, nodding and offering her a small smile. "Yes, I am. My name is Charles Xavier. Would you tell me your name?"
Right at that moment Mrs. Walton appeared in the doorway, appearing flustered and annoyed. Her current feelings became even more evident when she snapped, "I already told you her name on the phone; Brooke Alice Walton. And Brooke," she added, looking directly at her daughter, "you better be good or I-"
"Honey," Mr. Walton interrupted and stepped forward, placing his hands on his wife's shoulders in an attempt to sooth her. "Shh now, it's okay... just let them get acquainted, okay?"
For a moment it looked like Mrs. Walton would simply pull away, but then she stopped and looked into his eyes. "I'm sorry," she murmured as weariness seemed to settle over her like a heavy cloak. "It's just... these past few days... all of that moving, and... and..."
"I know," her husband comforted, pulling her close. "Come on, let's go into the kitchen and leave them alone, okay?" He used a free hand to stroke her hair, getting some of it out of her face.
She inhaled, exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Yeah, okay." She glanced toward Brooke and the professor. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely before her husband led her out of the room.
Once they were gone and the door had closed behind them, Charles turned to look at the blue-haired girl in front of him. "As you can see," he said lightly,
"you're not the only one being effected by this. Your parents are dealing with it, too."
"I know," she said, sitting down. "But at least they are normal. I'm a freak."
"You're not a freak," Charles told her. "There are many of people at my Institute who are just like you... just like us, actually," he added indicatively.
"Just like us huh?" she asked, her tone saying more than her words. "So your school is full of mutant freaks that society hates for no real reason."
"The school offers opportunities you can't find anywhere else," Xavier told her, trying to show her the bright side. "You can be around other people who know exactly what you're going through, people your own age. And you can learn to use your powers for the benefit of humanity. My hope and belief is that one day, people will no longer fear mutants just because we are different."
"I don't see why they gotta fear us anyway," she said. "It's already hard for me being who I am, being black and all. I'm the only African American in my entire school!"
"They fear what they do not understand," the professor said. "That is the problem with anyone who is even remotely different. The key to helping others understand you is by learning to understand yourself first. Do you want to do that?"
"Sure, I guess," she said, shrugging.
"Then would you like to come with me? I can introduce you to some people I think you will like very much," the professor smiled.
She shrugged again. It couldn't hurt. "I guess so."
He held his hand out toward her, offering to shake. "Then let me be the first to welcome you to the Xavier Institute," he said warmly.
She hesitated a moment then took his hand. 'I hope this is worth it."
"If you give a chance, I'm sure it will be," he answered her, giving her hand a grandfatherly squeeze before releasing it. "Now, shall we tell your parents your decision?"
"We might as well," she said, standing up. 'They're bound to find out anyway." she meant it as a joke but it didn't sound all that funny.