I was filled only with bitter anger.
Even though it was quickly being replaced with confusion and a decided need to leave, I strangled any weakness with a reminder of my loss for vengeance, for peace.
I was not going to be scared; to be scared was to be weak.
And I was not weak.
They had all seen it; seen my shining example of my power, when I lifted the boat anchor, something only machinery could have done. But even better yet, they had seen what I did once I had it hoisted in the air. Seen it not just collide with Schmidt's first league boat; they had seen it be ripped apart right through the middle with it.
It was a small success; but was soon followed by an embarrassing and infuriating defeat.
I couldn't stop the submarine's crude departure. I was unable to complete the final chapter of my revenge due to a sudden attack by one of Schmidt's lackeys. I didn't even have a chance to kill Schmidt. I came close; but it doesn't matter how close I got, that bastard's still alive. It doesn't matter that trying to stop the submarine nearly stopped my own heart. Nothing matters if he's still alive. It's only after he's dead, that I can let myself live.
My anger subsides to sadness as I remember her, I'm not the only one that I've disappointed.
Mother… I failed you…
"No you haven't." In the middle of a conversation he's suddenly interrupted to say this, the strange Englishman with the startling blue eyes, the one who decided it was his responsibility to save my life. He's apprehensive, an almost pained look on his face as he bravely meets my eyes, the others from the conversation stopping to follow his gaze towards me. I lock my jaw and blink away nostalgic tears, putting on a secure show to prove that I still have my strength.
"Stay out of my head." There's an iron slap of command in my voice, a suggested threat if he keeps it up; it frightens the others, but barely affects him the way I intended it to. He gives a small shrug of his shoulders before abandoning the conversation he was once involved in and walking with youthful steps he comes to meet my side, apology on his lips.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to. It's just..." He leans in closer and whispers, "You're just particularly emotional right now Erik, this makes your thoughts very loud to a telepath."
My eyebrows mesh together as I distinctly glare, projecting one single thought concentrated on him.
You had no right.
He receives it, and looks to the ground wetting his lips in an attempt to come up with a reply, before merely shaking his head in thought; once he has one he looks up at me.
"I'm sorry. I'll ask for permission next time." Anger flares as my chest constricts, too caught up to notice the loose circle he was talking to earlier aggressively expanding to include me.
"And what make you think that there will be a next time?"
"I-," He suddenly notices those that have joined us, I can't help but jump as I realized I've been cornered, "We… were wondering if you would like to… Join us." My eyes tick to look at each of them; the large man with glasses wearing a suit, a woman with shoulder length brown hair, and a younger woman with blonde hair. Two of them are from the CIA.
It starts with identification.
Fear rises from my belly and claws at my throat.
"No." I begin walking away from these people, these strangers, trying to tell them that I'm not interested.
Before you know it they'll be shoving tubes down your throat again.
"I won't let that happen, and if it somehow does, you can hunt after me in the same fashion that you do Schmidt. Please, Erik; stop and think before you let yourself go to waste and nearly get yourself killed again." I don't belittle him for listening to my thoughts again; instead I listen to what this English frat boy has to say. I stop in mid step and turn my head towards him. He notices and is less frantic as he continues to try and convince me.
"We want the same thing." But He's begging now.
Why is he so desperate for me, of all people, to join his ridiculous little group?
"And what is that?" I can't stop the bite escaping my tone.
"Schmidt."
Close enough.
"If I do by some misconstrued off chance decide to join, what will it bring?"
"You will be helping us stop Schmidt, better known now as Sebastian Shaw."
All I need is some of the government files to help me track him. Then I can leave.
"Fine." I turn around to face him better, who's not yet excited, not quite sure if I've actually affirmed anything.
"You'll help us?"
"Yes." His face instantly brightens up; brows raised, smile present, and blue eyes wide with genuine surprise. His hand grabs my forearm as he gestures for the other three to rejoin us. Once he sees them coming he looks back to me, blind joy still fixed into place.
I try to fight the feeling his mindless gesture of touch sends me.
This close, warm, pleasant feeling that my whole body seems to notice. And with him acting like he's known me all his life, it's starting to make me feel as though I've known him all my life.
"As I briefly stated before, my name is Charles Xavier, and these are some of my colleagues. Me and my sister, Raven, we have a high amount of the mutated X gene, much as yourself; thus giving us mutant powers like the ones you have. Of course, ours aren't anything like yours, seeing as you control metal. But, well, that's just beside the point." He's flustered in his ecstatic state and rants until the blonde haired girl presses her hand on his shoulder; he turns his body to face them in acknowledgement. Yet he remains looking at me, his self pride glowing; making me try not to look confused.
"Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to-."
He's going to say it wrong.
"Erik Lensherr."