Dark Evolution: How It All Began
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Marvel Comics and its affiliates. I own nothing.
Summary: We go back to the beginning of Evolution. While the cartoon was quite tame for its young audience, this story will be geared toward older readers. There will be drug use, sex, graphic violence, and mature themes. Readers' discretion is advised.
Rated T for now, but will move up to M later.
*These indicate psychic communication.*
'These indicate character thought.'
Chapter 1
Setting the Stage Part I
"Please don't let them kill me!"
Her cries echoed through the darkness as the car plunged downward, the icy water around her turning red from the blood that gushed from the cuts in her arms. She'd desperately tried to escape by attempting to break the windows with her bare hands, but all she managed to do was ensure death came quicker.
She was going to die. Oh God, she was going to die, and her family would never know…they would never know what happened to her.
So cold, so dark, so much blood…why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve this? Where were her friends? Why weren't they coming to help her?
"They're dead." The voice came from the deep.
She screamed.
Jean Grey woke up to a semi-familiar ceiling and discovered that she was unable to move. Her entire body was like a clenched fist – muscles locked and refusing to answer to her most basic commands. Paralyzed, she listened to her own heart thudding painfully against her ribcage, trying to relax, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind.
THUMP. Something hard and heavy hit the floor, and her body slowly started to unlock, gradually returning control back to her. She sat up in bed, and glanced around, trying to get her bearings. The room was familiar. The beds were on either sides of the room, hers being closer to the large closet space built into the wall. On her left were the windows, halfway open, inviting the cool late summer breeze in. On the other side of the room were study desks, both next to each other. Each bed had a small nightstand beside it, and Jean's showed a digital clock displaying 12:38 in green. The other, like the bed it belonged to, was empty.
It hadn't always been that way. Someone used to sleep there.
Jean never thought she would miss her old roommate as much as she did now.
She turned away from the opposite side of the room, only to notice a large textbook lying front cover down on the floor. Several more books hovered in the air. Exhaling wearily, Jean concentrated on the books. Moments later, they were back in their assigned places on her bookshelf.
Although it still irritated her to no end that her telekinesis acted up when she slept, at least she wasn't destroying her room anymore.
She threw the covers off her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. There was no point in going back to sleep now. Although the nightmare had faded from her memory, reduced to a vague collection of images she couldn't begin to make sense of, it left her with an uneasy sensation in the pit of her stomach, and she had to get out of this room. She slipped her fluffy white bathrobe over her pajamas, put on her slippers and headed out into the darkened hallway, quietly making her way toward the back staircase that led to the kitchen.
Time for a little ice cream therapy.
His mind was connecting to the thoughts of billions of people all at the same time. Visions of past and present flashed vividly before his mind's eye, coupled with the tidal wave of emotions that came with them. Charles Xavier was able to block all of them out and focus on one particular person, allowing his psychic-amplifying computer, Cerebro, to use the data he gathered to create a profile on that individual. Anything from their exact location right down to a specific house number, to their physical characteristics, to their birthdays. A red dot on the holographic map projected onto the wall in front of him lit up suddenly, and Charles zoomed in on it.
The image of a young girl appeared before his mind's eye, petite, with a delicate frame, long, chestnut brown hair. She was confused and terrified, as most mutants were when they first manifested. Once Cerebro had created a profile on her, he immediately sent it off to the printer in his study located on the ground floor.
"Number eighteen," Charles said, his voice echoing through the circular chamber.
"Are you going to contact them all?" asked the woman sitting next to him in her thick Scottish accent. She was of average height and build, with medium-length brown hair, clad in a white lab coat over a crisp doctor's uniform, her brown eyes hidden behind a pair of reading glasses.
Charles nodded. "I doubt I'll get a response from everyone, but it's worth the try."
"Well, Kevin seems to think he's getting a roommate. He actually cleaned his room."
Charles chuckled. "In that case, I can't disappoint him." He paused for a moment before letting out a soft sigh. "I doubt the others will share his enthusiasm."
"You haven't told them?"
"Not yet, Moira. I've been trying to figure out how to break it to them. What happened with Carol and the others, that's still fresh in their minds."
"Just tell them," Moira said. "It's been three years, Charles. I think it's time we all moved on with our lives."
Charles sighed again. "I know. I just don't want them to think that I'm trying to replace their friends by accepting new students to the Institute."
"I think they'll understand that," Moira said. "But you won't know unless you tell them."
"You're right," said Charles as he disengaged from Cerebro. "We do need to move on. All of us."
It was another busy night at Club Hellfire, one of the most upscale strip clubs in Manhattan. Every table was booked with high-rolling clients willing to pay a premium for top quality female companionship. Many of the club's best dancers were on hand and among them was a striking blond called Emma Frost, although here at Club Hellfire she was known as Veronica. No way Emma was giving them her real name, lest Professor Xavier find out about her double life and put a stop to it.
Luckily for her, the club didn't ask a lot of questions. So long as she was eighteen, which she was, a background check was not needed.
At the moment, Emma was in the middle of her second set. She was dressed in her sexy nurse outfit, which consisted of a half-button shirt that ran just below her breasts, a nurse's bonnet, a red thong, and matching heeled boots that ran halfway up her legs. She maintained a sultry expression, watching as the men cheered her on.
"Oh yeah, take it off baby! Take it all off!"
Emma flashed a grin as she unbuttoned her shirt, letting it fall to the floor, but she covered her large breasts to further tease the men. Some complained, of course, but a few more bills shoved in her thong earned them a full view. She danced around for a bit, moving to the beat of the hard rock track that was blasting over the sound system. Then a fiftyish man with greying hair and a beer gut got a face full of her breasts. And while he was enjoying the view, she managed to pick up a few stray thoughts.
*Amazing what company money can buy these days. God, Vicky never looked this good, not even when she was younger.*
Emma smiled again. What a naughty boy, spending company money on strippers. It would be a terrible shame if his dirty little secret got out. His poor wife's reputation would be destroyed once it got out that her husband of thirty years was going to strip clubs, which would lead to her saving face by throwing his ass out, which would then lead to her taking whatever money he had left, leaving him with nothing. Unless, of course, he was willing to hand over some hush money.
*I don't like the way you're thinking, Emma.* a voice cut into her thoughts.
*Oh, shut up, Regan. Don't tell me you're getting all moralistic on me.* Emma sent back.
*I don't care about the dancing. If you like the attention, that's totally fine. But blackmail, that's a path you really don't wanna go down.*
*Seriously, Regan, I don't need a second mother. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do.* Emma severed the connection and turned her focus back to the men ogling her, picking through their thoughts, trying to find some dirt on them.
She couldn't understand what Regan's problem was. She would be completely anonymous. The men would have no idea who was blackmailing them, and it wasn't like anyone would get hurt.
"You bitch. Why'd you cut me off?" Regan Wyngard demanded as Emma climbed into the front passenger's side of her Mercedes.
Like Emma, Regan was tall, blond, and full-figured, with fair skin and blue eyes. And like Emma, she was a telepath, with the added benefit of creating illusions.
"You were starting to annoy me," Emma replied as she buckled her seat belt.
"Well, sorry if I think what you're doing is reckless," Regan said. "You could go to jail for that."
"Not if I'm smart," Emma responded.
Regan sighed. "When the hell did you get so jaded, Emma?"
"Since I realized that life is too damn short and I'd rather not spend it trying to be what other people want me to be."
"Fair enough," Regan said. "I just don't want you to end up in a situation you can't get yourself out of."
"Regan, darling, I've got this." She tapped her head. "Remember?"
"Hey, just trying to offer some advice," Regan said. "Like good friends are supposed to do."
"And I appreciate it," Emma said. "But I can take care of myself."
"All right, I'll back off. Seriously though, stay smart."
"Always," Emma said. She looked down at her phone. "Shit. I said I'd be back for 1:30."
"You still have curfew?" Regan looked surprised. "Aren't you like technically an adult?"
"I'm not an adult until I graduate, apparently," Emma replied.
"Well, that sucks. And here I thought Professor Xavier was like this super chill, peace and love ex-hippie. According to my dad, anyway."
"Oh, if only that were true," Emma sighed. "He's got waaaay too many rules."
"Well, as much as I hate the dragon lady, at least she lets me do whatever the hell I want," Regan said.
"Dragon lady?"
"Yeah, she's like our landlady," Regan said. "Total bitch on wheels, but if you leave her alone, she leaves you alone."
"Why would you rent from her when you guys can afford to live in your own house?" Emma asked.
"It's complicated," Regan replied.
"Does your dad owe her money or something?"
Regan shook her head. "No. He's just helping her out."
"How nice of him."
"Like I said, it's complicated. Anyway, we have arrived at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. God, that sounds like something out of a Disney movie."
"I think the Professor is trying to turn us into one," Emma said as she opened the door and climbed out of the car. "Pick me up tomorrow?"
"Yeah, no problem," Regan said. "Text me in the morning."
"Sure." Emma closed the door and made her way up the driveway, waving to her friend until her car disappeared into the darkness.
It had been a long night, and not necessarily in a bad way. She always enjoyed her time at the club, even though she didn't really need to be stripping. She had a nice trust fund that she could live comfortably off of for the rest of her life, and if that should run out, she always had Frost Enterprises to fall back on, though it would be a cold day in hell before she ever accepted anything from her father.
It wasn't about the money, although she had to admit it was a nice little bonus. She did it because it was fun, and because she liked having this dirty little secret that nobody else knew about. And the whole blackmailing thing? Well, the idea of having total control over someone else's life was kind of a turn-on for her.
"Where were you?"
Emma jumped at the hand on her shoulder, spinning around to face the person who had unintentionally scared the shit out of her.
"Jesus, Alex," she gasped. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
Alex Summers smirked. "No, but I wanted to give you this." He pulled her to him and kissed her hard.
Emma inwardly cringed. Not that she didn't think Alex was attractive – he was absolutely gorgeous, with his muscular frame, slight tan, blond hair and intense brown eyes. But she wasn't interested in him. Sure, they'd had sex a few times, and it was fantastic, but that was all it was. Sex. Emma had made it clear from the beginning that she wasn't interested in a relationship. She thought Alex understood that. But lately he'd been acting strange. He wanted to be around her all the time, and he couldn't seem to keep his hands off her. It was honestly getting to be a bit too much for Emma, but she figured his girlfriend wasn't putting out, and he was desperate for a romp in the sack.
"Alex, I've had a long night." Emma pulled away from him. "I'm exhausted."
"That's too bad," Alex said. "I was hoping we could spend some quality time together, if you know what I mean."
"As wonderful as that sounds, I really need to go to bed."
"Not even a quickie?"
Emma shook her head. "Sorry. Maybe another time." She hurried up the front steps and into the mansion, and disappearing up the stairs before Alex could say another word.
Once inside the relative safety of her room, Emma kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto her bed. Only when her head hit the pillow did she realize just how tired she was. She was in dreamland within seconds, but her dreams were anything but sweet.
She wouldn't remember them upon waking, only that they had something to do with water.
To be continued. Please vote in the poll on my profile, and don't forget to leave a review.