Hello, greetings and salutations fellow readers! The name's Cyprin, and I welcome you to the madness that is my story: the Devil's Shadow! This story has been in the making for quite a while, and has received quite a few overhauls since I first posted this story back in 2009. I'm always striving to improve the quality of your experience as readers, and if there is anything I haven't: caught/reread/added I would be eternally grateful if you let me know so I can fix it right away!
In terms of when does this story begins, I would like to highlight that this story is set a week after The Beast of Bayville. In my previous drafts of this chapter, I've always forgotten to put that little piece of information in. My bad! Now without further adieu, please enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing for everything belongs to Marvel and the brilliant studio that brought this wonderful series. The only thing I will ever own are my OCs...they're mine. Mwhaha...
Silence filled the empty hallways of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. The quiet halls were shrouded by the pitch-black darkness. The only source of light illuminating the dark halls was the pale light of the moon, its rays glimmering through the windows. Most of the institute occupants were tucked away in their beds. All of them were fast asleep, save for one person.
A man in wheelchair moved silently down a dark blue metallic hallway. On his way, he passed a few circular shaped doors with a large bluish-gray 'x' design on them. He continued on his way, heading towards a door at the end of the hall. It was similar to the other doors, but it had a small blue sphere in the center. The wheelchair slid to a slow stop in front of it. Reaching over to panel on the doorframe, the man pressed his hand on the scanner. It scanned his hand with a low hum, the blue sphere lit up dully.
"Welcome Professor."
The heavy steel doors hissed opened granting him entrance. Wheeling himself inside, the steel doors slid close behind him with dull hiss. The room was a large hollow sphere, a long bridge stretched all the way to the center of hollow sphere. He moved quietly down the ramp, the only sound was the electronic hum of the motorized wheels.
He slid the wheelchair to a stop at the console at the end of the ramp. He reached out to pick a metal helmet, placing the cool metal on his head. Reaching over to the console, he typed a few commands on the keyboard. The steel doors behind him made a low locking sound, sealing the room from the inside.
"Engage Cerebro."
The lights dimmed until the room was almost completely shrouded in darkness. A faint electrical hum filled the hollow room as the metal panels trembled. The metal room instantly vanished in a very faint white flash before a large holographic globe appeared in its place. The globe was decorated in numerous blue dots on varies parts of the holographic globe. The man closed his eyes and concentrated his mind on the map. One by one a few of the blue dots turned red, while some disappeared off the map completely.
He opened his eyes, turning his attention to the monitor built into the console. For the past few days there was minor mutant activity recorded in the area around Italy. He typed in a few commands as a list of names materialized on the screen.
After briefly skimming through the list of names, he noted that there wasn't a
lot of signatures listed in this particular area. He typed out a few particular codes, hoping to limit his search to the area surrounding the city of Rome. The holographic map zoomed in slowly on a single red dot that was flashing very faintly.
He raised an eyebrow. "Identify this mutant signature."
After a few seconds of waiting a file appeared on the monitor. It took the monitor a moment to load the file. A picture of a teenage boy appeared on the screen. He looked to be about sixteen or seventeen years old, and had a very lean figure that stood about 5'6.
His skin tone was a pale white, and his short hair was a pale blonde color that almost looked as white as snow. The most defining feature of this teen was his icy blue eyes. They looked like they could stare right through you and directly into your very soul. He was dressed in a black private school blazer, with a black and white checkered tie, and black dress pants.
"Scan is now complete."
The computer pulled up a full bio of the teen, listing everything from the teen's name to his blood type. Skimming the bio briefly, the man stopped towards the end of the page.
He frowned.
Unable to determine powers.
With a quiet sigh, he removed the helmet placing in back on the console. Typing a few final commands, the computer saved the file and shut down instantly. Backing away from the console, he turned wheelchair towards the door and wheeled back down the bridge.
The doors opened as he wheeled towards them. The lights in the room dimmed until it was once again pitch black. Passing by a few more doors, he finally stopped his wheelchair at one particular door at the end of the hall. It opened with a low hiss.
Wheeling himself inside, the man wheeled over to small table near the door. Various papers and books were scattered around on the table. A small box filled with a variety of different sized test tubes. He glanced towards a far corner of the room. A large blue furred simian wearing a white lab coat sat working in the corner. On top of its head, sat a worn pair of frameless reading glasses. Holding up two different test tubes in its hands, the scientist studied them in light of a table lamp.
"Hank?"
The blue furred man jumped slightly in surprise, almost dropping the test tubes. Glancing over at the man near the doorway, he offered the professor a small smile in return. Placing the test tubes into a metal holder, Hank turned his body to face his former mentor. He moved his glasses off his head, and placed it on the table behind him.
"Charles, what a pleasant surprise!" Hank greeted suppressing a yawn. "I thought you were in bed already. What can I do for you?"
"I'm surprised you're awake as well, Hank." The professor smiled not missing a beat. "I was just monitoring some recent mutant activity. I've been keeping tabs on one particular signal for quite some time. Cerebro has been registering multiple minor power fluctuation occasionally over in Europe."
"What kind of fluctuations?" Hank raised an eyebrow.
Charles frowned. "I'm not sure to be honest. It might just be small power flares from this newly active mutant. But that's not what's bothering me, Hank."
"Is there something on your mind, Charles?"
"Normally when I use Cerebro, it provides me with very brief summary of a mutant's powers. But for some reason Cerebro hasn't been able analyze this particular mutant's powers. Something about this makes me feel...quite uneasy."
Hank brought his hand up to rub his chin, nodding his head slightly. "Perhaps it's just a minor malfunction? I'll have Forge come by later, and see if we can find anything wrong with it."
"That's probably for the best." Charles agreed, with a small smile. "In the meantime, I think we should investigate this power fluctuation case as soon as possible. I'm leaving you and Ororo in charge of the Institute. I'm going to pull both Scott and Jean out of school to go with me this time."
"The situation must be serious, if you're taking them with you." Hank joked lightly.
The professor chuckled under his breath. "As they say, better safe than sorry."
(-)
Michael Soletta yawned for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. He could faintly hear his Professor rambling about the Ancient Egyptians and how they recorded their history through Hieroglyphics. He had already skimmed the chapter the night before, so this wasn't new information to him. The blonde rolled his eyes, turning his gaze to the window next to him. The trees on the campus blocked the harsh sunlight from shining through the glass windows.
What a drag. He thought sourly.
It had been the same mainstream routine everyday for the past few weeks. He would go to class and listen to the teachers' drone about various subjects, all the while saying it was to prepare them for life once they graduated or some other B.S. like that. It wasn't like he cared anyway.
"You see class; the Ancient Egyptians used a formal writing system that combined logographic and alphabetic elements," Professor Rosso explained as he wrote down a few notes on the black board. "Egyptians used cursive hieroglyphs for religious literature on papyrus and wood."
Michael rested his left cheek on his hand. Heaving another sigh, he turned from the window back down to his history book. Here at St. Agatha's Private School for Higher Learning, the blonde didn't have any friends to associate himself with. There were a few people in the student body that had tried on multiple times to have him join their school activities. Their requests, however, fell on deaf ears and by now they just ignored his existence.
"Scholars generally believe that Egyptian hieroglyphs came into existence a little after Sumerian script, and were possibly invented under the influence of the latter." The aged teacher moved from the blackboard to the projector, placing a worn timeline sheet on the glass monitor.
Man, can he be anymore boring? The blonde snorted.
Turning his gaze back to the window, he watched a pair of birds fly by before they landed on the nearest branch towards the glass. He felt an unexplained pulling feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched them hop around on the branches. Was he envious of their freedom? The freedom to be able to go anywhere?
Now that he thought about it, the only reason he was at this school was because of his grandfather, Salvatore. The old geezer always told him that the heir to the Soletta Household had to be the best at everything, including academics. The blonde glared at his reflection on the smooth glass. He couldn't explain it, but there was something about the old man that always infuriated him.
"Mr. Soletta!"
The blonde teen jumped slightly in his seat, turning his gaze from the window to the side of his desk. Professor Rosso glared down at the blonde, his aged textbook clutched tightly at his side.
"I'm sorry Professor Rosso. What was the question?" Michael asked sheepishly. He tried to conceal a wince as the aged Professor's scowl deepened.
"Honestly, Mr. Soletta! This is the third time this week that you've spaced out! How your grandfather manages to put up with you is a mystery." He growled almost condescendingly. "Perhaps one of your fellow classmates would be willing to repeat what I just said."
The gray haired educator rolled his eyes. Annoyed at the blonde's lack of attention, he turned on his heel and walked towards the front of the class. Placing his textbook down on his dark oak desk, he turned back to look at the class as a whole.
The blonde felt his fists clench at the mere mention of the wrinkled bag of bones that was his grandfather. He felt the familiar surge of anger and annoyance. The aged professor moved behind his desk and pulled his chair out to sit down.
As the professor moved to sit in his wheeling chair, the wheels on the chair started to glow a faint black. Without warning the chair moved on its own and slammed against the back wall. The aged man was sent toppling down to the linoleum floor, landing hard on his backside.
"Dannazione!" He cried out angrily.
The whole room erupted in a mixed series of shocked gasps and roars of hysteric laughter. The professor reached up painfully to grab the corner of his desk as he pulled himself up, muttering a series of curses under his breath.
Michael watched in silent shock as the professor tried to regain his bearings. It was then the blonde teen felt a small tingling feeling nipping at the tips of his fingers. Risking a quick glance down at his right hand, his icy blue orbs grew wide with surprise and fear.
The tips of his pale fingers were outlined in a faint onyx black glow.
W-What the hell? He stared at his right hand. The blonde teen felt his breath hitch sharply in his throat, making it slightly difficult to breath. N-no. Now isn't the time for an anxiety attack. J-just take a d-deep breathe.
The blonde slowly took a few deep breaths to clear his mind. He could feel himself beginning to calm down slowly. The more he repeated this process, the easier it became for him to regulate his breathing.
Risking another glance at his right hand, he almost sighed out loud when the onyx glow had faded from his fingers. The blonde slid his shaking hand into the side pocket of his black blazer.
While the blonde was busy trying to regain control of his breathing, the gray haired professor gingerly rubbed his stinging behind. After regaining his bearings, he sent out a scathing glare at the laughing class. The steely gaze was enough to quell the class' laughter and fill the room with a sense of dread as the fifty-five year old professor scowled.
"That is quite enough!" He hissed venomously.
Taking a few seconds to brush himself off, Professor Rosso reached over to firmly grab the back of his chair. Keeping a firm grip on the back of his chair, he pulled it back towards his desk before slowly taking a seat.
Gently nursing his throbbing temple with his forefingers, the fifty-five year man old glared one last time at the class and opened his mouth to issue another reprimand. Before he could even start, the shrill ringing of the phone by the door filled the air.
"What is with all these ridiculous interruptions!?" He growled angrily. Sliding out of his chair, the middle aged man trudged over to the school mandatory phone. He reached to grab hold of the phone cradle as it continued to ring shrilly.
Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he picked the phone off the switch and brought it up to his right ear.
"Room 302, Ancient History." The professor grunted. The already present scowl on the aged man's face slowly grew deeper. "I see. Do you need him in your office now or at the end of clas— I'll be sure to send him down right away."
Gently placing the phone back on its cradle, the history professor turned to face the silent class. His blue gray eyes scanned the room, and locked themselves with a pair of confused ice blue eyes.
"Mr. Soletta," He said in a calm voice. "It appears that you're wanted in the Headmaster's Office immediately. Please gather your things and go there immediately."
Michael looked at him confusion. His classmates were quietly muttering amongst themselves. But they were silenced by another glare from the gray haired instructor. The blonde remained frozen in his seat; this only made the fifty five year old glare harder at him.
"Well?" The aged professor snapped. "Are you just going to keep sitting there, or are you going to the Headmaster's office like I asked?"
Michael nodded numbly; his cheeks flushed a faint pink. His classmates laughed at him, the pink blush quickly turned into an unattractive shade of deep red. Quickly grabbing his books, he fast walked out the open door. Professor Rosso closed the door behind the blonde before whipping around to face the class silencing them with another steely glare.
"As for the rest of you!" He snapped clearly annoyed with their laughter. "Because of your disruptive behavior today, I want a five page paper on the Holy Roman Empire on my desk by tomorrow! I expect it to be single spaced, and written by hand!"
The entire class groaned indignantly as the aged professor made his way back towards the board and resumed writing.
(-)
After making his hasty exit from his classroom, Michael stopped to catch his breath in the next hallway. He stopped by one of the many marble pillars decorating the hallways. Leaning against the closest one, the blonde ran a shaky hand through his blonde hair and took a few deep breaths.
"O-okay, breath just b-breath." He whispered shakily.
After a few more deep breaths, he felt his body cease its shaking completely. With a small sigh, he pushed himself off the pillar to continue his trek down the hall. He turned a corner and felt something collide into him, knocking him off balance and sent him to fall backwards. The blonde fell back onto his butt, his history book slid across the smooth floor.
"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going, are you alright?" A concerned voice asked.
The blonde looked around for his History book, scrambling to pick it up. The owner of the voice offered him a hand, which he took after a moment of hesitation. Lightly brushing off his pants, the blonde looked at the person that bumped into him. It was a girl that looked to be a few years older than him. The first thing he noticed immediately was her long flowing fiery red hair, and her brilliant emerald eyes. Taking a quick glance at her clothes, he noted that she clearly wasn't a student here.
"I-I'm fine. Sorry, but I need to be somewhere." He stammered nervously. "Please, excuse me."
He moved around her and quickly made his way down the hallway. He walked passed a tall boy with brunette hair and red sunglasses. He could feel the other teen's eyes watching him before he darted around the nearest corner.
The tall brunette raised an eyebrow before reaching his red headed companion. He offered her a small smile. "So you ran into our guy, I take it?"
"If you mean knocked him over by accident, then yes I ran into our guy." The red head nodded with a sheepish smile.
"When did you become such a klutz, Jean?" He teased lightly.
"Oh, shut it Scott! It's not like I meant to do it on purpose." The red head snorted, in good nature.
(-)
The blonde teen walked down a flight of stairs that led right to the main office. After checking in with the secretary, he made his way towards the Headmaster's room. Staring at the dark oak door for a brief moment, Michael sighed to himself then raised a hand to knock softly on the door.
"Come in." A muffled voiced called from the other side.
The blonde took a deep breath then reached for the doorknob. He twisted the brass doorknob, and pushed the door open a little to poke his head inside the room. He saw the headmaster, Dr. Reid, talking animatedly with a man in an wheelchair. The two looked like they were in deep discussion with each other. The headmaster's eyes turned from his guest to the door where Michael's head peeked into the room, he offered the blonde a brilliant smile.
"Ah, Michael there you are! Please come inside." Dr. Reid called, waving for him to come inside. "If you could take a seat, I'd like to introduce you to an old friend of mine."
The blonde nodded nervously. Sliding inside the small office, closing the door behind. He nervously walked further inside the room, before taking a seat in an unoccupied chair. The young headmaster flashed the blonde another pearly white grin, motioning with his hand to the man in wheelchair.
"Michael, please allow me to introduce you to Professor Charles Xavier."
The man in the wheelchair turned his chair slightly to face him. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Michael." Charles offered the blonde a warm smile. "Dr. Reid has told me a lot about you."
"It's nice to meet you as well, Professor Xavier." The blonde retorted with a barely concealed nervous smile.
Charles extended his hand out for the blonde to shake, which he took with a little hesitation. The moment their hands met, Mike felt a sharp surge run through his hand. He drew his hand back sharply as if he had been burned by something. His eyes widened with fear, the onyx black glow had returned on the tips of his fingers.
"Michael? Is something wrong?" Dr. Reid asked concerned.
The blonde jumped slightly. The onyx black glow instantly disappeared. He looked at his fingertips with a mix confusion and fear. Just what was going on? What was this onyx black glow, and why was it suddenly appearing on his fingertips?
"Michael?"
Michael snapped out of his thoughts by a concerned voice. Dr. Reid had gotten up from his chair and knelt in front of him, one of his hands gently resting on his left shoulder. The young headmaster gently rubbed the teen's shoulder in a soothing manner.
"Are you alright?" He asked gently.
"Uh y-yeah. I'm fine, just felt a little dizzy is all." Mike lied with a weak smile.
The young headmaster didn't look convinced, but let the matter slide without another word. He gave the teen a small pat on his shoulder. The young Doctor moved to sit on the front of his desk, crossing his arms in front of him.
"You're probably wondering why we've called you down here." Charles moved his arms to rest on the armrest of his wheelchair. "I wanted to meet with you, and offer you a place at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters."
The name did sound familiar, but wasn't it some kind of private school in America? Why would this man come all the way out here just to extend an invitation to him. He wasn't anything special; there were clearly better candidates at this school than him.
Is this guy for real? Mike thought in disbelief.
"I take it that you don't believe that you're special enough for my school?" Charles asked, seeing the look of disbelief in the teen's eyes.
The blonde's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't said that out loud, had he? Was this guy reading his mind or something? But was that even possible? No, don't be ridiculous! There's no such thing as mind readers, he was just being paranoid for god's sake!
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid that I must decline." Mike said, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. Something about this guy unnerved him. "Surely there are other students here that would be better suited for your school?"
The Professor frowned.
"Michael, you shouldn't think so little of yourself. From what Dr. Reid has told me, you are a truly gifted individual." He leaned forward his chair, offering the blonde an encouraging smile. "I only ask that you please give what I've said some thought."
"I have Professor. I'm comfortable here, really I am. But thank you for the offer." The blonde put on a false smile. Turning his gaze to the young headmaster standing in front of him patiently. "Sir, if it's alright with you, may I go back to class?"
"Of course Michael." Dr. Reid smiled.
The blonde stood slowly, nodding to the professor then made his hasty retreat out the door. On his way out of the office, he saw the same boy he passed in hallway sitting in the office. Mike looked around the empty halls before deciding that the coast was clear so far.
Without a second thought, he sped walked down the hall towards the academy's auditorium. Unbeknownst to him, the same red headed girl from earlier was watching him walk down the empty halls.
What are you up to? She thought curiously.
Jean?
What's up, Professor? Jean asked, looking around to see if anyone was watching her.
I want you to follow him. I think he could use someone to talk to right now.
I'm on it. Jean smiled, starting down the hallway.
(-)
She found the doors to auditorium after a few minutes of really looking for it. Pushing the door open enough to stick her head in, the sound of a piano filled the air. It wasn't anything fancy but the tune had upbeat tone to it. Slipping inside, she took the nearest seat at the back of the auditorium. A single spotlight shined brightly on center stage where the piano was located.
Michael Soletta sat on the black piano bench. His pale fingers moved fluidly and elegantly across the keyboard. If one looked close enough, they could see him tapping his foot as he played. If she listened hard enough, she could hear him singing faintly to himself.
"Well, sometimes I go out by myself
And I look across the water.
And I think of all the things, what you're doing
And in my head I paint a picture.
'Cause since I've come on home
Well, my body's been a mess
And I've missed your ginger hair
And the way you like to dres-"
The red head recognized the song almost instantly. This particular song had been overplayed on the radio almost religiously. Lately, she had grown tired of hearing it whenever it came on radio. But this time seemed different. This teen seemed to bring new life to this song, and so much so that she found herself tapping her foot to his voice.
She felt her foot make contact with an old discarded water bottle, causing it to fly down the concrete steps and echo loudly in the empty auditorium. The blonde stopped playing abruptly on stage. Whipping his head to the right, the pale teen looked out at the darkened auditorium with a cold glare.
"Chi è là?" He snapped annoyed.
Sharp pain shot through his fingers, causing him to let out a small cry of pain. Before he knew it, a spare stool shot off the stage and flew in the air before soaring across the room towards the back of the room.
Jean raised a hand to her head almost instinctively and stopped the stool with little effort. With a quick hand gesture, the stool floated harmlessly into the aisle next to her seat. The blonde shot up from the piano seat before briskly walking towards the end of the stage.
"Chi è là?" He repeated louder this time.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spy on you," Jean admitted sheepishly. She moved away from her hiding spot and made her way down the aisle. "I was just wondering who was playing the piano in here."
Mike let his body relax when his mysterious onlooker came into view. "Hey, you're that girl from earlier. At least, we didn't collide into each other for a second time."
"I wanted to apologize for that, I wasn't really paying attention at the time." Jean said, taking a seat on a nearby band chair. "This is a pretty amazing school."
"It is." Mike agreed, trying to suppress the tremor in his voice. "Come to think it of it. Judging by the way you're dressed, you don't go here do you?"
Jean nodded. "You're right, I'm here visiting. I don't think I could stand wearing a school uniform everyday, though."
"You'd get used to it eventually. Trust me if I could, I'd ditch the blazer and dress shoes."
The two chuckled together. Mike moved to sit on the edge of the stage so they could see each other eye to eye.
"Mind if I ask you something, mystery girl?" He asked, getting back to business.
"Sure, ask away. I'm Jean by the way."
He nodded his head towards the back of the auditorium. "You probably think I'm crazy for asking this, but how'd you do that back there?"
"Like you, I have a gift." Jean smiled, causing him to blush slightly. "You and I are more alike than you know Michael."
"I don't remember giving you my name." Mike raised an eyebrow in confusion. "And what do you mean a gift? I wouldn't exactly call what I just did a 'gift' per se. Whatever I just did can't be considered normal."
"Tell me, what is considered 'normal' these days. There are so many different definitions for the word 'normal' that people can't tell what 'normal' is anymore." Jean chuckled, offering him a small smile. "Tell me something Mike, have you ever heard the term mutant?"
The blonde looked at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads. He tilted his head to the side at the term. Mutant? Normally, you'd hear that kind of word in a science fiction movie or something.
He thought back to last time he had seen a science fiction movie. Usually when you think of mutants, you imagine some kind of horribly disfigured creature. What did mutants have to do with this conversation?
Well you see, unlike science fiction movies. Mutants are very real and are not horribly disfigured creatures like they're portrayed in the movies.
The blonde let out a small cry and wildly looked around for the source of the voice. He looked back to Jean, who smiled innocently at him. He stood up abruptly, glaring at her.
"What the hell was that?" Mike demanded angrily.
"Like I said, you're not the only one with gifts." Jean smirked, pushing herself off the hard plastic chair. "My name is Jean Grey, I'm a student at the Xavier Institute and I'm a mutant."
"The Xavier Institute? I thought that was just a prep school for geniuses." The blonde stared at her in disbelief. "You're telling me that place isn't a school, but a place for mutants?"
"It's not just a place for mutants, but a school for them." The red head corrected him calmly. "And we'd like to extend an invitation to you."
The blonde looked down at his feet, refusing to meet the girl's emerald gaze. He was a mutant? A mutant? No, it couldn't be true. Could it?
Without realizing it, his feet started to move of their own accord and had him jumping off the stage. He stumbled when his feet hit the ground as he ran towards the nearest exit. He could hear Jean calling out to him, but he ignored it. Shoving the door open, the blonde ran into the quiet hallways as the auditorium doors slamming behind him.
"Well, that worked out great." Jean frowned.
(-)
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Professor?" Scott asked, turning their rental car off the highway. "I mean you said it yourself, he turned down your offer."
In the backseat sat, Charles chuckled at his student's skepticism. The telepath turned his gaze from the window to the teen looking back at him through the rear view mirror.
"Scott, we can't always to expect someone to come with us back to the institute. There are some that would rather choose to stay where they are." Charles paused for a moment, turning to look back at the window. "Although, I don't think it would be wise for him to remain here."
Scott pulled the car to a stop at a traffic light, and looked both way for oncoming traffic.. He glanced back in the rear view mirror. Charles had placed his chin on his left hand, staring off with an almost glazed look. Scott knew that look. The professor was conversing with someone telepathically, most likely Jean.
"Professor?" Scott called.
The telepath moved his gaze from the window, a frown started to spread across his lips. Scott glanced back at the light, it had just turned green. Moving his foot from the brake, he lightly pressed on the gas pedal causing the car to jerk forward slowly.
"Jean just checked in, it appears that she unintentionally scared him off." The telepath sighed tiredly. "He should be heading home right now, since the academy is just a few blocks from his family's estate."
"We're about ten minutes, and 3 miles away." Scott said, checking the GPS. He frowned, glancing back into the rear view to look at the telepath in the back seat. "Why are you so worried about Jean scaring him off?"
Charles frowned for a moment before putting on a neutral face. "You see Scott, I have reason to believe Mr. Soletta's powers are driven entirely by emotion. Much like Ororo, the level of control would be affected by Michael's emotional state."
Scott raised an eyebrow. If the teen's powers were anything like Storm's, then one wrong move could be disastrous. Now he understood why the professor was so nervous about this teen. Glancing at the GPS, he turned down a road with a long stretch of metal fences lining either side. The car passed two medium sized manors before reaching its destination.
Scott pulled the car to a slow stop in front of a large metal bar gate, in the middle of the gate was a large uppercase cursive S. The gates jerked slightly, then slowly slide open allowing the car entrance to white manor before them. Scott lightly pressed on the gas pedal, beginning their slow drive up the driveway.
There were various gardeners stationed on either side of paved driveway tending to the various plants on the lawn. He drove up to the front steps of the manor, where a maid and a woman dressed in a formal black and white pantsuit stood waiting.
The woman in the pantsuit smiled, motioning for the maid to open the back car door for her guest. She stood at about 5'5, and had her long pale blonde in a low ponytail that she kept over her right shoulder. Her eyes were sapphire in color that held a calming and serene aura.
"Professor Xavier, welcome!" She said, flashing a pearly white smile. "Dr. Reid said you were handsome, but he didn't say just how handsome you really were."
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Soletta." Charles greeted, reaching out to shake her outstretched hand. Scott opened the door to the driver's side, stepping out and handed the keys to the maid. "Please allow me to introduce one of my students, Scott Summers."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Scott! But please call me Rosella!" The blonde smiled brightly. "No need to be so formal with me. Won't you join me inside? Michael should be already in his practice room."
The group moved over to a ramp on the side of the stairs, and made their way up the ramp. They entered the building through the front glass doors adjacent to the ramp. The small group moved down the nearest hallway filled with various paintings and antique looking vases. The faint sound of a violin could be heard playing from behind one of the doors. Moving towards the door in the middle of the hall, Rosella frowned as she listened to the violin through the door. She knew that particular piece that was being played behind the oak door.
"Is something wrong, Rosella?" Charles asked, looked towards the dark oak door.
Rosella merely shook her head, offering them an apologetic smile. "It appears that he might be in one of his moods. He only plays this particular song when he gets in one of his moods."
She reached out for the door handle, and slowly twisted the handle before pushing the door open. The sounds of the violin filled the hall as Rosella opened the door wide. The room itself was spacious, filled with three larges selves of books and a few different types of instruments. Michael stood, with his back to them, in the middle of the room by the windows.
His normally neat and tamed pale blonde hair was ruffled in various places. He almost looked like he had just rolled out of bed. He'd taken to wearing his uniform loosely. The dress shirt collar was left unclasped, the top two buttons were left undone and his tie was pulled loose. His black blazer was draped over a nearby chair, and the sleeves of his button up were rolled back pass his elbows.
The blonde slowly turned his body to face the door, all the while continuing to play the soft melody. His icy blue eyes were closed tightly. The small group slowly trudged their way inside. The maid silently made her exit and closed the door softly behind her. The haunting sound of the violin came to an abrupt end. Michael opened his eyes, lifting the slender bow off the strings.
Michael's peaceful face contorted into one of annoyance as he glared at the group standing in front of him. "Koko de nani o shite iru nodesu ka?"
I hope you guys have enjoyed the first chapter, and there's plenty more where this came from! Any and all translations were done through Google translator, which I'd like to add is not a perfect translator or credible source. If any of the translations are wrong/incorrect, I deeply apologize! Please tell me your thoughts about this chapter, constructive criticism is always appreciated. No flames please, it never helps anyone in the long run. Don't forget to R&R, and I will see you all in the future!
(Revised author note: 5/1/16)
After a lot of thorough rereading and heavy editing, I'm very happy how this final edit came out! I think I've done this about a total of...8 times? Either way, it was certainly worth it in the long run if it can help me to improve as a writer. Possible revisions will be taken into consideration for the future, until then see you all soon!
Translations:
Italian:
Dannazione!
Damn it!
Chi è là?
Who's there?
Japanese:
Koko de nani o shite iru nodesu ka?
ここで何をしているのですか?
(What are you doing here?)