"Check his pulse."
"I've got nothing on the reader."
"Keep trying dammit! We can save him!"
"He's flatlining. Intubate him."
The emergency room was buzzing with nervous movement and tense energy. It was rare to see a homeless kid in the E.R. Usually they died on the street, alone. But this one was different- He'd fallen into the front door of the hospital with a weak 'help me' and passed out.
"He's coding!"
"Get that intubator in! Dammit, get it in!"
On the bed, a sickly looking boy of maybe 17 lay, semi-conscious, in a haze of pain. His skin was a pale grey color, his black hair matted to his forehead by sweat. The doctors and nurses were forced to hold him still as they worked. His brain was rebelling against his body. And it was killing him.
"Paddles hot… Clear!"
There was a sharp clap of noise as the boy's back arched off the bed, then fell back against the sheets.
"Again! CLEAR!"
And again the paddles sent electricity rocketing through his body, trying to jumpstart his heart.
"Come on… Clear!"
The boy's body fell against the bed a third time, and the steady stream of monotonous noise that issued from the reader brought silence to the room as the head doctor turned it off.
"… Someone register the Time of death. Get his picture out, try to see if we can get an ID. And call the police."
There wasn't much hope for an ID. After all, one out of every ten of these cases came up with nothing. But the police were absolutely a necessary precaution, even with a dead body. Because sometimes these street kids turned out to be muties.
And as the four gaping holes in the ceiling, tens of thousands of dollars worth of destroyed instruments, and lawsuits from other patients proved, no risk was too high to prevent any more potential damage, monetary loss, or patient danger.
They moved the kid's body onto a gurney and pushed it into the hall, the doctor not zipping up his body bag in case they actually found someone who might have known him. Shrill whines sounded from the room the doctor had just left and a nurse poked her head out the door.
"Doctor, we have a coder." The strain was evidence in her voice as he moved towards the door.
"Not two in one day, come on." He muttered angrily, as he stepped into the room. The doors closed behind him and clicked, sound vanishing from the dim, sterile white hallway, blue shadows bathing the body in melancholy darkness.
And in that melancholy darkness, two iridescent eyes snapped open and a shuddering gasp of terrified breath came from the 'corpse' that had just been pronounced dead.
"Come on, Jamie, gimme back the remote!" Wailed a high-pitched voice as footsteps raged down the hall outside the kitchen of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters.
"Kids're gettin' rowdier and rowdier every day." A growling voice muttered from the doorway. A tall, wide-shouldered brutish looking man stood looking down the hall after the rampant children.
It was a fairly nice night for a Sunday when the kids would have to be going to school the next day. Logan, the stoic self- imposed bodyguard/ resident bad ass/ training hard case, rolled his eyes and turned to the other resident of the kitchen- Charles Xavier, one of the greatest minds in the history of the world.
The bald genius gave a faint smile and touched his fingertips together.
"A little bit of a romp will be good for them."
"Yeah, but not so good fer the house, Chuck." He muttered. This elicited a small chuckle from Xavier.
"They should be allowed to enjoy themselves. This has been a rough transition back into normalcy." He pointed out.
"Speakin' a' which," Logan started, "Do ya know how X-23 has been settlin' in?"
"I have a name, old man." Came a gruff new feminine voice as a well-tanned, lithe brown-haired girl entered the kitchen, headed for the fridge.
Logan frowned, but it was obvious he was also somewhat amused. Xavier's smile only grew- Like 'father' like 'daughter'. Although X-23 (Laura was her real name) was a relatively new addition to the X-Family she'd come to fit in well, probably due much to her closeness with Logan.
Laura walked to the fridge and opened the lower door, rummaging around inside of it for something. When she pulled back, she was holding a bag of french fries in her teeth and a beer bottle in one hand.
"Whaddya think yer doin'?" Logan growled, eyebrows shooting up. He strode over to the moderately-unfazed girl.
She took the bag out of her teeth. "Having some food, what does it look like?"
"You're not drinking a beer."
"Why not? You do it all the time."
"Yeah but I'm of legal age, smartass." He swiped the beer out of her hands while Charles sat, rather amused, at the other side of the room, smiling widely.
"Ah, Logan, Laura, if I may-" He started, only to be cut off by two stalwart glares and a chorused 'no'.
He smiled genially and put his hands up innocently. "Don't mind me." He wheeled himself out of the room as the two glared identically at each other.
The moon outside was full and outside some of the older students were playing night-football. His smile flickered. For some reason he was getting a feeling of foreboding. His smile died completely, and he turned from the window. Something big was coming. And there would be no going back.
The boy knew he was in trouble the second the alarm went off. The doctor had probably realized he was gone, and pulled it or something.
His bare feet slapped against the cold floor as he ran down the hallway- He felt a little wobbly, and his limbs felt sluggish, as if he were running through water. It was dark in the hall- He felt strange, as if something in his head was a little heavier than it should be.
Where are you going? He thought to himself. He thought? His head felt cloudy. He stopped, turning around. Nobody there. He chastised himself for his nerves. He'd just woke up as a dead man and now he was hearing things. Wonderful, wonderful news.
"Hey!" Came a shout from down the hall, and he turned back for a moment to see a couple of policemen turning the corner, now sprinting towards him.
He turned and kept booking it for the door. Now that he was waking up a little he could run a little better. He put his hands on the wall to keep him from running into it, breathing hard.
The elevator door was ten or twenty feet away. He would never make it. Then there was a soft ding and the elevator door started to slide open. He charged into it and turned around, panting, as the doors slid shut.
"Thanks man, I really-" He stopped as he realized that there was nobody else in the elevator. A chill went up his spine.
Where are you going? He shivered again and told himself to shut up. The elevator doors dinged pleasantly open and the boy left the small metal room sprinting towards the doors of the hospital, which were sliding closed.
He poured on the speed, every last ounce of energy he had forced into him getting himself through that door before they shut, locking him inside.
Push it. He thought. See what happens. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to move faster.
An odd feeling swept through him, as if his lungs were expanding more than possible, and an odd sensation as if he were hearing the high-pitched whine of an idle TV nobody had bothered to turn off. The scent of ozone filled his nostrils and the taste of copper filled his mouth.
He felt an incredible surge of energy and his body leapt forwards in a blur of motion. It felt as if someone had tied a rope around his chest and violently yanked him forwards.
For a moment he was airborne, the force of the acceleration lifting his feet off the ground, and he sailed for a couple of feet almost an inch above the ground before touching back down with a stumble and slamming into the doors.
The doors crumpled under the impact as though he were a cannonball. The breath whooshed out of him as the doors bent backwards before him, the impact sending him skidding to the ground just in the gutter.
He glanced back at the hospital, at the twisted, outward-bent doors. He wondered what the hell had just happened to him- He'd always been a little more thick-skinned than the other kids but… Door-breaking material, he was not. He hoped.
The elevator dinged, and the boy figured he'd better not stick around. He scrambled to his feet and raced off for the nearest alleyway, angling towards one with a clothesline.
A cop car drove past a dark alleyway, and for a few seconds the alley was quiet. Then the scuffling sound of something heavy behind a dumpster and the faint sound of a curse preceded the flailing form of a boy launched out into the alleyway.
"Oof. I need an aspirin." He mumbled, looking up at the clothesline two or three floors up. He climbed up the fire escape ladder onto the staircase, and then jogged the extra flight, getting onto the outside of the staircase, clinging to the bars like a monkey.
He needed to judge this well- If he missed he'd really hurt himself. But the jump was long; He wouldn't be able to make it in one even if he weren't dizzy with hunger and sleeplessness.
He closed his eyes, trying to think, and ran a hand through his close-cropped black hair. He sighed through his nose. Do it. And god damn it he needed to get that voice out of his head. You know you can do it. Just do it.
"Maybe I'd be more willing if I knew what 'it' is." He mumbled. But he knew, even if he wanted to deny it. So he dug deep into himself and searched for what he'd felt earlier in the hospital.
He looked at the line. He needed to go there. That was where he needed to be. He focused all his concentration towards that direction- And he was yanked violently off the bars with a yelp as his velocity suddenly shot him towards the wire.
He spazzed in midair but managed to grab the wire. It snapped and he resisted the urge to holler, instead swinging down on it like a vine. He hit the ground running (Well, stumbling) and then slammed right into the dumpster across from him.
The breath whooshed out of him and his forehead bounced off the lid as his momentum carried him back to a standing position, after which he promptly dropped backwards to the ground. "Ugh… Me Tarzan…" He rubbed his forehead, wincing.
Oddly, he'd broken through those hospital doors like they were made of aluminum… But the dumpster seemed normally solid. He kicked the stupid thing and winced as it hurt his foot.
He staggered to his feet and grumbled incoherently. He pulled a pair of dark jeans off the line and a Metallica shirt, which he was very happy with. He pulled them on, lamenting the lack of shoes, and made his way back out into the street. It was around one or two in the morning now, and there was next to nobody out. Except for a very mismatched assortment of colorfully clothed goons trying to sneak into a bank.
The boy's brow furrowed. One of them was huge, another one was crouched like a frog, wearing a hideous green jumpsuit with an odd metal chestplate.
Another was standing a head or two above each of them save the fat one, wearing what appeared to be a fishbowl apparatus on his head, and the last had silver hair, and was wearing a bizarre teal outfit with metal platings.
He made a face. What the hell was the circus doing in town? And what were they doing robbing a bank?
"Hey, guys! Whaddaya doing?" He hollered to them. They froze and turned slowly towards him. They definitely didn't look like circus performers. They started talking amongst themselves. He couldn't hear what they were saying but there was an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He took a step back. A thin, pale man with slick dark hair and a long black trench coat stepped out from behind Fat Man. Froggy said something to him and pointed down the street to the boy.
He took another step and turned to run. Where are you going? The boy froze. I've finally found you. Don't go, my boy. I am Mastermind. We're going to get along swimmingly.