Disclaimer: Not mine. You know.
Quick Note: This is post-X2. I have very little knowledge of the comic series but I will be introducing mutants from them not seen in the movies. Not yet, anyway. And of course, one original character. Must flex artistic muscles, you see.
Bampf.
"Kurt, you have to stop doing that. You don't want to scare the poor thing away." Storm took her companion's arm and they stepped warily into the dark alley.
"What kind is this one?" Kurt whispered.
"Don't know."
"Is it a boy or girl?"
"Don't know."
"Adult or child?"
"Don't know."
Kurt blinked at her. "Then what do we know?"
"We know he or she is a mutant wandering for days all alone in a particularly nasty part of the city." Storm answered, keeping her eyes scanning. They didn't know yet what this mutant was capable of. "And that's all we need to know. Do you see anything?"
Kurt squinted through the darkness. Storm couldn't help but smile at how timid he seemed, being on his first "real" mission. The Professor had sensed this new mutant and Storm was the usual volunteer for "the invitation". Unfortunately, this was their first "invite" since the Alkali Lake incident three months before, and Storm's former partner was gone.
"I see nothing." Kurt murmured. "Are you sure the mutant is here?"
"Positive." Storm said. "The Professor pinpointed exactly here."
"But I see noth – "
Crash!
Behind them to their left the rusty ladder of a fire escape came crashing down into the dumpster below it. They rushed over and peered into the dumpster. Nothing.
"The ladder is rusty, it my have just broken." Kurt said, pointing at it. Storm took the ladder and inspected it. The bit of twisted metal that held the ladder to the fire escape was still far too thick to have been torn away by just gravity. It needed some added weight.
"Perhaps we should contact the Professor? Ask him again where we must look?" Kurt suggested.
But Storm was still looking into the dumpster. Then, in a burst of insight, Storm reached into the empty dumpster and poked.
A young boy yelped.
Kurt nearly teleported in surprise. "What was that!"
Storm smiled softly. "Invisible."
The boy knew he was caught. There was no escaping the white-haired woman and her creepy blue friend. Her creepy blue friend who could appear out of nowhere. Apparating. Well, that's what they called it in Harry Potter, anyway.
Still, he wasn't ready to show himself. For reasons unknown to him, he remained invisible, knowing full well it was stupid and they knew he was there anyway. Maybe he could just curl into a tight ball and disappear like the apparating blue guy.
"Sweetie, we're here to help you." The white-haired woman spoke softly. The boy recognized the tone as the kind used to soothe crazy people at the mental hospital. While this wasn't exactly flattering to think about, it occurred to him that this lady wasn't out to hurt him or anything. Still, he remained silent.
The blue guy, who was scary enough just being blue, stepped into a stray beam of light from a street lamp. This brought his scariness to an entirely new level of scary. His face! His ears! His hands! His tail!
He cowered. The two strangers looked curiously at each other, but the woman realized.
"That's Kurt. He wouldn't hurt a fly." The woman whispered. Kurt heard and looked slightly discouraged as he stepped out of the light. The boy instantly regretted fearing him. The blue…man's expressions were very human.
"And my name is Ororo Munroe, but you can call me Storm. Whatever you like." She smiled encouragingly.
"In the Munich circus I was called the Amazing Nightcrawler." Kurt added helpfully. Storm smiled as if it was some kind of inside joke.
Munich. Yeah, the blue guy definitely sounded European. German or something.
"We're just like you…" Storm said softly.
What was that supposed to mean?
"I'm sure you saw Kurt's power." She waved at him and Kurt disappeared. Bampf. He reappeared on Storm's other side. "And mine…"
Storm stepped back from the dumpster and spread her arms. The boy watched in awe and fear as her eyes clouded into a perfect white. A swift, biting wind swept down the alley. Impossible…
A crack of thunder. Bolt of lightning. The boy looked out from the alley and saw that a few feet away, the skies were still clear, the moonlight filtered through only a few clouds. He looked up at the sky above him and saw the rain clouds gather.
"Want some rain?" Storm asked with a smile. A few second later a few drops of drizzle trickled down onto him. Then, in an instant, the clouds cleared.
Storm's regular eyes returned to normal.
Holy crap. This lady controls the weather.
And that guy could apparate.
All of a sudden he didn't feel like he was being confronted by creepy strangers. It was stupid to let his guard, just because they had powers like him didn't mean anything…but still…
Kurt leaned close to him, his horrifying face turned up into a warm, inviting smile. "So what's your name?"
He looked at Kurt, then at Storm. He took a deep breath.
"Kevin."
He sounded young. Very young, in fact. Storm was overjoyed that they had gotten him to speak. This may be the easiest invitation yet. Besides Kurt, Wolverine and Rogue were the last ones, and while Rogue wasn't especially difficult (the hardships were mostly Magneto's fault), Logan was more than a handful.
"Can you become…visible, Kevin?" Storm asked softly.
"Yeah…but…" the boy hesitated.
"But…?"
"I'm not, uh, wearing anything…"
He wasn't able to make his clothing invisible too, apparently. Storm looked at Kurt and he nodded. Bampf.
"Kurt's gone to get you some clothing from our jet."
"Your jet?" They had a jet?
"Yes, you see, we're from a sch - "
Bampf.
Kurt appeared, holding a small hooded sweater and a rather large pair of what appeared to be Logan's X-Men uniform pants. Kevin wrinkled his nose, not at fashion choice, but the smell of brimstone that quickly spread through the alley.
"It was all I could find." Kurt said sheepishly. Storm nodded her thanks and passed the clothes to Kevin, who took them. They couldn't get over the strangeness of the clothing floating in the air like that.
Then he began to appear.
Storm and Kurt looked at each other in surprise. They were both thinking the same thing. The way he appeared, bits of nothingness turning over like loose scales to form pale human skin, was alarmingly similar to the changing effect of Mystique.
This thought was forgotten, however, and the boy fully appeared, still standing in the dumpster. He grabbed the edge and climbed over, his bare feet splashing in the small puddle Storm had formed earlier with her display.
Kevin was tiny. He was barely five feet tall and very skinny. His tousled brown hair wasn't long, but sticking up as if in effort to make him look taller. The small blue sweater was loose on him and the tight leather pants of Logan were being clutched up to his chest. He peered up at them through scared blue eyes that looked way too experienced in stress that his age should have allowed.
"How old are you?" Storm said squatting lower to be at eye-level.
"Thirteen."
Kurt could not hide his surprise. The boy looked no older than ten. Storm, however, put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
"The perfect age."
"For what?" Kevin asked timidly.
"To attend our school."
Kevin stared out the window. This was his first time ever on an airplane, and this was some ride. It wasn't just a regular airplane like people at school go on, this was a jet. An X-jet, which he guessed meant it was special. The lights from houses below him sped by so fast they all melded into one long streaming of light. Kevin wondered how fast this thing was going. He wasn't pushed back into his seat or anything, so he definitely didn't feel any of the speed. Or maybe it was just the really uncomfortable seatbelts Ms. Munroe had buckled him with. There were like, a billion straps to fiddle with.
"He's thirteen years old, professor. He should fit in nicely with the other eighth graders."
He knew Ms. Munroe was talking about him on the little intercom thing. She and Kurt had grilled him with questions before he got on the plane. Where he was from, why he was alone, where did he live now. They had frowned sympathetically at his answers "here", "my dad's sick", and "back in that alley".
Kevin sensed they wanted him to elaborate, so he did. His mother had died so long ago he had no idea who she was, and his father had made a point to never talk about her. He heard from the old lady, his former babysitter, that his father had gone completely insane at losing her, so much that Kevin had to be transferred to a foster home as a baby for several months. After he pulled himself together, it was always just him and his father, as long as Kevin could remember. Until about two years ago, when his father got his new job. He would leave at weird hours at night and return in the morning to greet him, acting like he hadn't just left his only son all alone at night in their little apartment in Jersey City. Whenever Kevin would ask what his new job was, his father would shrug it off with a "I'll tell you when you're older, sport.". But as his father got more and more into his mystery job, he got quieter, more isolated, and far more snippy with his son. He had never hurt him though, until that one time, less than seven days ago.
"Dad…?" Kevin asked, obviously frightened. His father took no notice as he sat at the table, furiously scribbling on several papers, all stamped at the heading with the letters "F.O.H."
"What is it, sport? I'm busy." He grumbled.
"It's important…" Kevin squeaked.
"All right!" His father slammed his pen down on the table angrily and swiveled vehemently toward his son. "What the hell do you want, sport!"
"I-I was in the bathroom…and I was thinking about how the kids at school make fun of me sometimes…"
"Stand up for yourself, damn it! Now if that's all, Kev, I really have to do something right now." His father started to turn back toward his work.
"Dad."
"WHAT!" he turned back toward his son and nearly fell out of his chair. "What the – "
Standing before him, where his son once stood, was clothes. Just clothes. The clothes Kevin had been wearing, only Kevin wasn't there. Floating clothes.
"Kevin!" he yelled and shot out of his chair, afraid to touch the clothes. "Kevin where the hell – ?"
"I'm right here, Dad." Kevin raised his hand and his father watched in horror as Kevin's long sleeved shirt rose by itself. "I-I was wishing I could become invisible…and then I did!" Kevin reappeared suddenly, back in his clothes. He had a tentative smile on his face, as if he expected his father to be proud.
"No…not…no…" his father murmured, grasping the table for support.
"Dad…?"
"You…you….your mother…!" he ignored Kevin, and instead stared down at his papers.
"Dad? What happened Dad? What about mom?"
"YOURE ONE OF THEM!" his father exploded, overturning the entire table and scattering his work papers everywhere. They floated back down, and an alarmed Kevin caught sight of the tiny print below the stamped F.O.H. Friends of –
"STOP IT! STOP DOING THAT!" his father roared. Kevin fell back against the wall.
"What? What!"
"SHOW YOURSELF, damn it!" his father grabbed his sleeve so roughly Kevin was sure he was bruised. When he looked down to check, he saw that his arm was invisible.
"I-I didn't mean to!" Kevin stammered. "Y-you scared me!"
"I SAID SHOW YOUR FUCKING SELF, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"
Kevin wasn't even sure he was visible yet, but at that moment the old lady from next door shouted through the door.
"I-I don't know what you're doing to your son in there M-mr. Reed, but I've called the police!"
"BITCH!" he fumed, and he threw Kevin back at the wall. "You, you little bastard, stay the fuck away from me. Filthy mutated monster!"
"D-dad!" Kevin sobbed.
"YOU'RE NOT MY SON!" Mr. Reed roared. "YOU'RE NOT MY SON. I DON'T HAVE A SON, NOR DID I EVER HAVE A WIFE! I NEVER HAD THIS FUCKING FILTHY LITTLE FAMILY!"
Kevin stared through moist eyes. Where was all that coming from? About his mother?
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU LIED TO ME!"
Just then they heard sirens. Kevin got up and ran to his room, locking the door behind him. His father sprinted after him, holding a kitchen knife.
"Get back here! GET BACK HERE! I'll SHOW you your fucking mother!"
In all his confusion Kevin actually considered opening the door. Then the knife slammed through the thin wood and he opted not to. He backed himself up into the corner of the room, catching sight of himself in his mirror. He was invisible. Hastily, Kevin stripped off his clothes, shoved them into the closet, and sat in the corner, leaving no sign of his existence.
He listened as the old lady next door explained to the police about the yell she heard, and the crashing. As they handcuffed his father, now raving completely random things that didn't seem to make any sense. As the dragged him away. As they opened the door and looked in, searching for him. After a full fifteen minute search of his tiny room they concluded that he must have jumped from his window, over the alley, and onto the next building, making his way down. He would soon be classified as a runaway. They never noticed the near inaudible sniffles of the naked boy in the corner.
Later that night Kevin bravely stepped out of the room, feeling very strange walking around naked, and made his way out of his apartment. He had to step over the police tape. Several policemen were still around, questioning the other tenants. He knew they wouldn't see him as he softly padded down the stairs. There, while no one was looking, he slipped into a police car.
He needed to see his father.
The cop arrived soon and gunned his engine, not noticing the slight contour of his backseat were Kevin was sitting. He hummed as he drove and Kevin waited patiently to be taken to the police station where his father was sure to be. To his surprise, the cop did not turn the street to the station. Instead, he kept going straight and soon Kevin found himself at St. Thomas's Mental Care Institute of New York.
What was he doing there?
He quietly followed the cop into the obscenely white building. Kevin blanched at the whiteness of everything. If they weren't already insane Kevin was sure they would become insane after being here in all the white for so long. He shivered as several patients wobbled by. He was sure some of them saw him, as they laughed mindlessly and pointed at the empty space in his general area. Nurses kept them under control as they stood in line for their meds.
"Harrison Reed." The cop told the receptionist. Kevin's head shot up. His father.
"Room 301"
He followed the cop into the elevator and to the room, still very aware that he was stark naked, and paused at the door. His hesitation caused him to miss his chance as the cop shut the door behind him. Kevin mentally berated himself and pressed his ear up to the door.
" – relapsing again." He heard a female voice say.
"Again?" the cop asked.
"It's happened before. Twelve years ago, actually. His wife was found brutally murdered in their kitchen. Mr. Reed was found hugging the bloody body. Apparently she had been torn to shreds by a kitchen knife."
Kevin froze, his heart skipping at least twenty beats.
"And he went crazy then, too?"
"Very. They had to take his baby son away for nearly a year."
"Did they find out who did it?"
"No. Never. Mr. Reed never saw the murderer. The only piece of evidence we could find was a fingerprint-less kitchen knife. It was done right there in their kitchen. Mr. Reed was raving nonsense about mutants, but it was obvious this was done by a regular human."
Mutant? Was that what he was? Kevin listened some more.
"We couldn't find his son." The cop said. "We think he might have ran away after his father broke down and tried to attack him."
The nurse paused thoughtfully. "I wonder what broke him down this time? Usually it takes a lot to get this kind of severe relapse."
Kevin bit his lip. It was him. Him and his –
"Mutation." The police said suddenly. "This guy was firmly against mutants. I saw papers all over the floor in his kitchen. They were plans. Plans on how to kill mutants. He was an active member of Friends of – "
Kevin didn't want to hear anymore. He ran, not caring that the slapping of his bare feet was echoing down the hall. Several patients, who of course did not see him, became alarmed and screamed, confusing the flustered nurses. Kevin didn't care. He ran.
When he got back to his empty, disheveled apartment he ran straight into the bathroom and shut the door. He stared at himself, seeing nothing. Then gradually, his face began to appear. He tear-stained cheeks, his blood shot eyes. His arm reappeared, sporting an impressive bruise from earlier. Soon he was all there, all human.
No. Not human.
He went to his room, grabbed his school back pack and overturned it, emptying it of all his schoolbooks. He ran to his closet and grabbed a few pieces of clothing, his drawing pad, and a few candy bars he had stocked there. Then he zipped it up. He picked out the clothes he was wearing that same day and put them back on. Then he did what the police thought he had already done, jumped out to the next building and ran away. Before he ran, however, he looked back into the window of his old room. It was still stuck in his door.
The large kitchen knife.
Kevin ran.
"Kevin? Kevin!"
"Huh? What?" Kevin was shook out of his thoughts and found himself staring into the face of the "Amazing Nightcrawler".
"We are here."