Reluctantly throwing off his nocturnal cocoon of blankets and pillows, James Lennox sleepily fights back the rising sun that continues to consume his dusky world with hated morning glow. Surveying the remnants of a once respectable living quarters, the mutant known affectionately as Neocount strips off his confining woolen layers and stumbles drunkenly to the private bathroom.
Adjusting the flowing water to a steamy 115º, the war weary teen steps out of his pajamas, careful to avoid disturbing the hastily wrapped gauze bandages that stemmed the flow of his juvenile blood. Turning his stiff shoulders to rejuvenate the needed bloodflow, he stares bleary-eyed into the fogging mirror. You look like a cow after Sid got a hold of it he jokes. Silently cursing himself for chuckling too hard, he painfully resumes his former standing position after having been doubled over in a wave of pain from his newest in a long line of Sid-related jokes.
His mirror now too fogged to reflect anything but a ghostly image of his numerous injuries, Neocount cautiously enters the steaming shower. He shuts his blood-shot eyes and blindly gazes up at the tiled ceiling. With each drop of water, tense and taut muscles ease their grasp, allowing the injured mutant a few moments of painless respite. Thoroughly soaked and loose, he gingerly removes the stained bandages, washing the cuts and abrasions with a washcloth. Swirling beneath his feet, a crimson river flows downward, seeking an escape and finding it in the gauze covered drain.
He absently counts the injuries strewn across his medium frame and gives up when it seems there is no end to them. Squirting a dab of shampoo in his hands, he lathers up his raven black hair, washing out all the bits of ash, dirt, scabs, and miniscule pieces of debris from Blackchurch's otherworldly domain.
Gently closing his eyes, he allows the few remembered scenes from the fiercely pitched battle to scroll across his mind. Painted across a surreal canvas, an unearthly sky of blood churns the senses. Breaking up the field of crimson are streaming tendrils of ink that move of their own volition. The view remains unbroken on all sides, but seems pinched on the far corners, as if falling off the edge of the earth. Barked orders ring hollow as each side tries to tear down the walls of the opposing force. He sees Viola buzzing Apocalypse, only to be snatched from the air like an iron-willed butterfly by a child who's too careless and destructive of its' toys. Grasping her in one of his steel-gauntletted hands, he plucks her downy wings, littering the battlegrounds with feathers from heaven. Not content with his first violation of her newest mutation, he proceeds to brutally snap the delicate bones of her wings and tosses her aside like a broken rag doll amongst the bodies of charred students and disemboweled demons.
Following in Viola's footsteps is the berserker Sid, who lashes out viscously, gutting and decapitating all who dare stand in her way. Leaving a bloodied trail of mangled corpses and missing limbs behind, Sidney charges the newest flank of demons summoned by the warlock Blackchurch. With each successive wave of attack, Blackchurch's minions grow smaller and weaker, a sign of their creator's rising weariness.
Neocount himself fought with the heart of a lion with the courage to match. Fresh from the training ingrained by Psylocke and Wolverine, his powers reaching heights unknown, Neocount waged battle against the impossible odds. Using his DNA manipulation powers, he quickly wove protective cocoons of human hair around each injured mutant who could no longer fight or defend themselves. Shielding himself in a skin of flexible enamel, the hardest tissue type found in the human body, James dodged from body to body checking each to see who still lived and who would fail to return. When it became apparent that only mutilated corpses remained, he grows out foot long nails on each finger and began a merciless campaign of impaling demons. When a nail broke loose in the fleshy remains of a victim, another quickly grew to replace it. In a rage that would make Sidney proud and a body count Wolverine, Neocount never quit until the last remaining speck of energy was consumed in the fighting process.
I never did find out who brought me back to the real world he muses. Shaking himself from his reverie, James slumped back against the wall and turned off the now chilly water. He allowed himself to slide down the porcelain white walls, resting his head against the mosaic walls.
***
Several hours passed without interruption until his friend and roommate Synapse gently rapped against the bathroom door. "You in there, Neo?" he inquired. "It's almost lunchtime. Better hurry before Sid beats you to the buffet line." Synapse turned away from his friend and made his way frugally through their room, careful not to step on a landmine of dirty clothes or textbooks.
Back in the world of the living, Neo stepped from his slippery bed and reached for a dry towel. With a steam-free mirror, he again stares blankly at the mess that matches him movement for sore movement. There has to be a better way he thinks. A better way and a better dream. Peeking from behind the door, he cautiously scans the room. Satisfied that no one is present, he streaks from the bathroom into his closet, selecting and equally disregarding outfits that would cause him any amount of discomfort.
From the opposite corner, a cold and commanding voice chimes, "Cute butt." Twirling around, James confronts the owner of the voice. Standing before him like a goddess of leather waiting to be worshipped by followers of bondage, Emma Frost shifts her slight frame onto her right knee-high boot. She cocks her head to the side, awaiting an answer destined not to come out intelligently.
His face drained of all remaining blood, the unwary victim of the White Queen's gaze stutters incoherently. As he forces his jaw to utter something understandable, he becomes painfully aware of his nakedness. Grabbing for an article of clothing to hide his being behind, he manages to get out a few garbled words. "Wha..Why..Aren't..I thought..Oh God."
Lifting her eyes from his trembling hands, she responds: "What are you doing here? Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be with Sean? I thought nobody was in here. Oh God, I'm not ready for this? Is that what you wanted to say?" A slick grin crosses her features, revealing perfect teeth of pearl white.
"Uhh, yeah, something like that, mam," he manages to get out. "Everything except that last line, that is, sir..um, mam." "I know," she replies. "You're not my type, at least…not yet."
Standing frozen in his spot, a frog caught in a hunter's flashlight, he could do nothing but nod his head up and down.
"I'm sure you are wondering why I'm here. Allow me to fill you in, dear child. I know that you and your roommate are up to something. Your mutant abilities make my psi-probes hard to read your quaint and amusing dribble of thoughts. I shall warn you only once. The consequences of your actions can be quit severe." Placing an undue amount of stress on her final word, the stricken mutant merely continued to nod his head. "I will find out what you two have planned and put an end to it. I do not like not knowing what my students are up to. There are other ways, as they say, of making you speak. If I need to cut into your head to do so, so be it. It certainly won't be the first, or the last time, that I have tried that particular approach. Remember what I have told you, James Lennox. Should you wish to continue your days here at Emma's School for Gifted Youngsters…"
Her unfinished threat trailed off as the former White Queen of the Hellfire Club made her way to the exit, oblivious to all that stood in her way. It was just another unspoken treat in her arsenal of methods for painful information extraction.
Staring transfixed at the swaying form of his teacher, he watched as she closed the door, leaving just enough of it open for a casual voyeur to peek inside. Forgetting his previous notion of finding non-restrictive clothing, he quickly donned anything that looked right and bolted for the door before any other student or unwanted teacher made him perform another solo show.
***
Jogging down the intertwining hallways of Xavier's Mansion, he bumped into his companion, Synapse. "Took you long enough," he kidded. "I saw the White Queen leave our room. Hope she didn't catch you in any compromising positions." Though gritted teeth, Neo breathed, "She didn't and leave it at that." Bringing up his hands in mock peace, Synapse made a mental note of asking a fellow telepath to fill him in on the missing details of his friend's encounter with Emma. Coming back to the topic he wanted to ask the slightly shaken youth, he asks: "Is everything ready? You all packed?" Before he could finish his line of questioning, Neocount brusquely pushes his friend against the wall and quickly surveys the empty halls. "Quiet, fool! You want her finding out about us? That's why she was in our room. She's on to us, but she doesn't know what we're doing! We have to get out of here quick before she finds out. Do you see the way she dresses? I know she carries a whip around here somewhere and I don't want to be on the receiving end of it, you here me?
Letting go of his collars, James steps back, embarrassment coating his face. "I'm sorry, Syn. I don't know what got hold of me. I promise I won't do it again. Promise." His only response to the apology was, "She caught you naked, right?" With a devilish grin on his face, Synapse took off down hall laughing at his friend's unfortunate plight.
Detouring to the left, Neocount headed towards Chaos' study in order to replace the bandages he removed earlier. After a few wooden thumps, a distant "Come in!" was heard. Pushing against the oaken door, he made his way into the study. He took a seat nearest to the Doctor's desk and waited patiently for his imminent return.
"Ahh, Neo. I was expecting you today. How are your wounds healing?" "There fine, sir," came the timid reply. "I had to remove them this morning to take a shower…which remains me that they're still lying there, clogging up the tub. I hope I left the fan running." A silenced snicker from the doctor brought a quick grin to his patient's lips. "Very well, then. Go into the next room and remove your clothes. I'll be along shortly with some fresh bandages." With that, each mutant went to their prospective destination.
Carefully folding his clothes and setting them aside, Neo made a careful read of the various degrees and awards that was hastily put up, probably to reassure all future patients that Chaos lived up to his word as a trustworthy medical practitioner.
"Where would you like these medical records, Chaos?" Stepping from the self-appointed mutant physician's front office, Emma entered the examining room to a very familiar site. Startled by the dreaded voice, Neo whirled around and flattened himself against the wall, placing a snatched diploma over his crotch. "I see you have all the right credentials," she said in her most salacious voice. "I'll just leave these here for the good doctor. Please let him know that I'm sorry I missed him, but not too sorry now. Let's see, that makes that score two for me, none for you. How ever will you catch up? Hmmmm."
Having completed her appointed task, the White Queen turned sharply on her three inch white leather-stilettos and exited the office, again leaving the door open for any future free shows.
Feeling very much like a worm and ready to crawl underneath the floor tiles, he plunged for the opened door and slammed it shut. With a quick turn of the lock, a grateful rush of air left the terrorized youth's lungs. In the corner, Neo found a temporary respite from his nakedness and donned a lab coat. The coat hung barely above his wobbling knees, but it felt very much like wearing a snow-covered mountain. All the more better, he thought.
A round of knocks to the tune of Metallica's Exit Night brought Neocount to his knees. "Is that you, sir?" he intoned. "Yep, it's me. Guess the White Queen dropped off my records. Hope she didn't catch you with your pants down." Sniggering to himself, he allowed a few moments for the exasperated mutant to unlock the door and allow him in. "You know you could have left your underwater on, right? I'm not bandaging everything on you."
***
Gently closing the door behind him, the freshly wrapped teen made his way towards the cafeteria. Angrily voicing its emptiness, Neocount's stomach set off a cacophony of growls, grunts, and rumblings. "I know. I know. Just a minute," he replied as he rubbed his rioting innards. Hoping for no more interruptions, he jogged towards his intended destination. A myriad of sounds came from behind the cafeteria doors. It seems as if each student had a different war story to tell, with everyone reciting it at once. A few cries were heard above the noise as a student mourned the passing of a fellow student or friend.
Setting his tray on the metal counter, James made his way through the various appetizing delicacies displayed before him. His mouth watered and his eyes weighed, tasted, and digested every morsel dropped onto his plate. Taking his plate to a table set on the stage, he squeezed himself between a fully sated Synapse and a gorging Sidney. "Let me know when you go up for seconds, will ya shrimp?" she asks in between hearty mouthfuls of beef stew. "This is my forth bowl, you know? Every time…" Not allowing her to finish her sentence, the entire table repeats by rote, "Every time I'm in battle, it takes a lot of food to replenish my energy. It's because of my mutant metabolism that I don't gain any weight." Giving a good evil-eye look over at everyone who repeated her sacred mantra, Sidney returned to her soup bowl, once again engrossed in the meaty chunks of beef and cubes of Idaho potatoes.
"Are you still up to going, Syn? I can have my bags packed tonight if you want." "Better make it earlier than that, buddy. The White Queen cornered me earlier demanding what my plans are. I don't know about you, but I have no interest in licking her boots, I don't care if they're imported Italian leather boots or not." Raising her head from her now empty plate, Sidney retorts, "The only boots you'll be licking tonight are mine, White Queen be damned." With that point clearly made, she once again made her hallowed journey to the chow line. Leaning across the table, Viola nestles her head on her palms and quips, "Well, I wonder who the bitch is in this relationship." As if on a pre-destined cue, the collective table rings out, "Syn is."
Feeling the pressure as two dozen eyes lock on, Synapse taps Neocount on the shoulder and beckons for him to follow. The two boys, eager to be away from any further ridicule, zigzag amongst the crowd of fellow students and make their way towards the Imperial Rose Gardens.
"The roses just don't look the same when Ororo isn't here to take care of them, huh?" Answering noncommittally about the wilting roses, Synapse ushers his companion deeper into the heart of the gardens. Taking a seat on a curved marble bench, they begin the final plans for departure. "It's getting too risky to stay here. I don't know if we'll be able to survive another attack." "You're preaching to the choir, Neo. This last will leave me a permanent scar across my shoulders from when Sauron tried to run me through with his wings. I have one final detail to accomplish and then we can leave." In answer to the boy's inquiring look, he responds: "I have to write Sidney a letter. I just can't leave her hanging. You know, we've been getting along pretty well. I think I like her. A lot. It'll only take a few moments anyway. Can you be ready to leave after lights out?" "Yeah. While I was in Chaos office earlier today, I found the keys to Dr. McCoy's jeep. We can take that. You do know how to drive a stick, right?" "Would you believe me if I told you yes? Don't look at me like that. I only just got my license a year ago. It's not like I'm an expert or anything. I've watched Logan drive his jeep before. I have a rough idea of how it's done." Frowning in grave dismay, Neo questions, "Just how rough?"
With the final preparations in place, the two leave in separate directions to tour the campus one final time and to put the finishing touches on their grand escape.
***
Taking a pen from the drawer and wetting it with his tongue, Synapse clears his mind in an attempt to write his first Dear John letter.
To my Sidney,
I hope you'll find it in your heart to one day understand why I am leaving tonight. I know we were just starting to get comfortable with each other and open up more about our pasts. I'm truly sorry for leaving you without a proper good-bye, but it's for the best. If anyone found out our plans, Emma would lock us both up in a safe and swallow the key. Neo's mom has been missing for some time now. We're going in search of her. Along the way, we hope to find out about his missing father and about a friend of mine, Clarice. I saw her the other day. She was serving as Apocalypse's slave. Her eyes were all glazed over, like a zombie. Apocalypse is controlling her and I need to rescue her. You understand, right? I hope you do. For both our sakes, please say that you do. I need to go now. Stay safe. I want to see you again if we return from our journey. I'll be thinking of you always and forever.
Love,
Syn
Placing the letter in a plain envelope, he sealed its precious contents away with tears of remorse and anguish. Tucking the letter into his jacket pocket, Synapse returned to the business at hand, packing only the needed essentials for the midnight run.
***
The next few hours passed painfully slow. Each future escapee spent the most part peering guiltily over their shoulders and jumping at every voice. To cool their frayed nerves, they sought solace in the recreation room. Losing their minds to the rhythmic tonk-tonk of the paddleball, the lagging hours soon dwindled away.
As the hands approached ten minutes until eleven, a deep brogue echoed forth from the loud speakers. "Okay lads 'n lasses. Only ten minutes 'til yer bedtime. Finish up what needs finishin'. Emma and I'll be aroun' shortly ta tuck yer wee heads in. Nighty night."
Peering from over her trashy romance novel, Destiny grumbled, "I hate it when he talks like that. Who does he think we are? How many 'babies' do you know that have saved the world from death and destruction and we have? How many?!"
The rest of Destiny's tirade was muffled under a well placed pillow, courtesy of Gremlor who promptly returned to his deep snoring.
"She does have a point, ya know?" Inferno said. "Anyhoo, I'm pooped. This is one flame that's bedding down for the night. Later ya'll." A mixture of "Good nights" and "Later" followed the fiery mutant as he shut the rec room door.
Glancing from across the game table, Synapse beckoned to his opponent towards the door. Nodding in ascent, they left together, each lost in their own embroiled thoughts.
***
Eleven o'clock came and went. One by one, the bedroom and hallway lights flickered out; a sense of calm settled everyone in for the night. All was well in the mansion except for one lone room. Working by flashlight, two young men checked and rechecked their torn and wrinkled pack list. "Stop shaking your hands," hissed Synapse. "Well, I'm scared. I've never ran away before!" Neocount hissed back through gritted teeth. Letting the anger fall away from their eyes, the two went back to their work.
Midnight approaches and all but the lightest of sleepers remained nestled in dreams of happier moments. The work continued.
Twelve-thirty. The office lights of Chaos' office wink out as the weary doctor made his way to the private living apartments of the faculty. The final preparations are underway.
It is now one in the morning. The appointed flight time for two adventure bound mutants. Neo struggles into his hiking backpack, careful not to bump into any of his surroundings. Once that task was done, he helps Synapse with his pack, making slight adjustments to the straps for a more comfortable and quiet fit. Giving one final go-over around the room, Synapse places his right hand and Neo's left shoulder, giving him a brotherly squeeze. "You know it's not too late to put a halt to all this foolishness." "It was too late the very first time I thought of leaving. You ready?" "Ready."
With one hand on the door and the other on the handle, Neo eases the bedroom door open. With both ways clear, Neo steps out to the left and starts slinking down the hall. Synapse heads to the right. The have practiced this maneuver many times in the past week. In exactly two minutes and 25 seconds, both should reappear from the dark and next to Dr. McCoy's awaiting jeep.
As the escapees make their way down the hall, the moonlight through an unshuttered window picks up the cool metal frame of a motion sensor. Under normal circumstances, the detector would have done its job and two certain mutants would have curtailed their journey and headed back to their rooms, but this is not one those circumstances. Having no need for rest (as he doesn't have a corporal form), Interfaceless hops gleefully from detector to detector, unbeknownst to the fleeing students, overriding each one to give them that much of a better chance for survival. "Good luck," he wishes, "We're all standing behind you."
Taking a left-hand turn at the hallway intersection, Neo drops to a crawl and inches his way along the carpeted path. Due to a recent rise in attacks, Sean had installed heat detectors throughout various hallways. Anything that generates heat above 85º sends an instant warning to Cassidy's room. After causing several minor classroom disturbances, Inferno was punished by having to install each one of the 20 heat sensors. Sean's punishment for Inferno also proved to be a good omen for Neo and Synapse. Peeking from behind a closet door, Inferno reaches forth with his hand and slightly adjusts the room temperature. Shivering from the drop in temperate, Neo rubs his hands together briskly and moves on, trailed only by the vapor rising from his mouth. From the closet, a muffled, "All the way, baby" goes unheard.
Taking a side detour towards the girls' dormitory, Synapse gently pats his front pocket, reassuring himself of its cargo. "Four-oh-one A, 401B, 401C, ahh, here it is. Four-oh-one D." Pulling the letter from its protective sheath, he brings it to his lips, in remembrance of the few brief kisses that his lips shared with Sidney's. The rising blood pressure in his ears pulsed in time with every second on the clock. Had his mind been free and clear of distractions, his fingers would have registered the slight tug of his letter as he slipped it underneath the doorframe. Rising slowly and walking down the hall, he failed to hear the soft sob of a lone berserker girl whose heart had just been crushed.
Only fifteen seconds remained on the clock for the boys to reach the underground parking lot. A feint click is heard coming from the west garage entrance. A moment later, it's repeated from the east entrance. The two boys approach the blue jeep and gently lay their packs in the back. Tossing the keys to Synapse, Neo manually lifts the garage door, allowing just enough room for the jeep to pass. As the door closes, another sound echoes dully from within. Too absorbed in their activities, it too, goes unheard. Leaning against an antique Harley-Davidson, a shadow comes to life as a smoking Cuban cigar welcomes the flame from a glowing matchstick. From beneath a heavy gray cloud of smoke, a gutteral voice is heard: "Lucky for you boys, I just gassed up the jeep. Enjoy the ride kids. There's no turning back now."
Shifting from first to second gear, the jeep jolts forward, grinding in complaint to the novice at the wheels. As the engine revs down, the mansion grows smaller and smaller in the murky background. The jeep follows the black pavement of Greymalkin Lane. Picking up speed, the boys settle in for a hard night's ride. A new life on the road, tempered by the adventures that await them. A slight mist hangs drowsily above the road, blanketing every feature around them in a shroud of white. Dawn rapidly approaches, and with it, anything.
***
From far atop the spires of Xavier's mansion, a silhouette is framed by the pale granite window, alit from behind by a single wavering candle. From the hand of the ghostly figure comes a long, thin shadow. With a sharp crack, the figure returns to its lofty room, haughtily laughing at the fleeing figures far, far below.
Neocount.