Author's foreword and disclaimer: Ok, so this story occurs in a somewhat confused place, that being, somewhere just after the conclusion of the second X-men movie - however, some characters that I just love from the comics HAD to be in there, particularly Gambit, and so I've thrown some people in there who may not necessarily have been around at the time when X2 supposedly took place. If you're not into that then you probably will spend your whole time going, ' OMG, I can't believe she's done that, it so didn't happen here or that way!'
I KNOW.
I've taken particular liberties with the Phoenix concept also, given the way they ended X2 I figured this was a nice way to resolve it.
With that said I should also state, as most do, that I have, and am claiming, no ownership of the X-men characters, I'm merely pushing them about a little for my own amusement.
Bryn Harper aka Oblivion, Dylan Barlow and the Templar Administration are however all figments of my very own imagination.
Aurial
Themes: Identity, love, trust, betrayal, frustration, loyalty, hatred, altruism.
Note: Some medium level violence. Adult content.
IDENTIFIED
Bryn gently rubbed her temples as she sat in the bumper-to-bumper peak hour morning traffic - It had been yet another restless night. The world around her was a buzz of activity that never ceased, not even in sleep, and it was beginning to take its toll on her both physically and mentally.
" Move!" Bryn growled suddenly in frustration, directing her irritation at the car in front of her.
To her amazement, and horror in fact, the red Gli Lancer coupe sitting directly before her silver Pulsar LX shuddered, and then moved horizontally off the road and onto the median strip. The driver of the car looked about frantically for the cause of the abrupt relocation but found no great force, only the space in the traffic left by his vehicle.
Bryn blinked and swallowed, also looking around to see if anyone was peering at her - No one had heard her outburst of course, with her windows closed, only she was privy to her command that had indeed been carried out.
Ever since puberty hit, Bryn had witnessed similar strange events occurring around her, but had tried her best to ignore and suppress whatever it was that gave her the ability to exercise her will.
By the time the Lancer driver had recovered and gotten back on the road, Bryn's irritation had subsided into a sullen brooding that usually followed an incident, as she called it. When she reached work, all she really wanted to do was hide under her desk and pretend as if the world did not exist.
Her mind spun in endless circles, seeing every tiny atom for everything that it was and could be - The barrage of information and emotion was never ending, but all hidden away behind a cold and indifferent mask that she held whenever in public. There were few she called friends because of this, but to those she cared about, she was absolutely loyal.
People stepped quickly out of her way when she walked down the halls of the school, opened doors that barred her path and greeted her with respect, but Bryn could never tell if this was because they truly felt it, or because her countenance commanded it.
Today was little different, except for an additional feeling, an itch in the back of her mind that was slowly growing in intensity, a feeling of imminence. She carried this with her to class, warning her students that unacceptable behaviour would be met with extreme measures, but not one single student defied her, sitting in silence as she spoke and working furiously at her request.
Then all hell broke loose.
Gunfire, or, at least what sounded like gunfire, automatic, rattling on and off and very close, so close that most of the students and Bryn herself actually ducked.
" Stay here," Bryn instructed as she ducked out of C4 and back into the English and LOTE staff room. In the courtyard, beyond the glass windows stood several men in black trench coats, holding what did in fact look like automatic weapons.
Bryn forced the lump in her throat down as she watched the men turn to where one of the assistant principals stood with a group of prospective parents, cowering against the far wall. Horrified, her pupils dilated, her brain throbbing inside her head as if threatening to burst from her ears. White-knuckle fists formed at her sides - Fear, fear and indecision. Then her feet moved, and she was standing outside the staff room, glaring over at the armed assailants even as they raised their weapons to the unarmed group. Mahogany eyes narrowed as her lips moved, speaking out a silent command, as if the world was listening to only her and would obey.
" To me," she voiced inside her head, a loud, echoing voice inside her skull, filled with confidence, strong and undeniable.
Hands lifted and outstretched, fingers splayed.
Shouts of alarm rang out, and were cut short by a click and slap as those automatic weapons were wrenched free of the hands of the gunmen, and were swiftly delivered to Bryn's hold.
Her lips quivered as all eyes turned to her, teeth grit, her body pumping adrenalin furiously. It took a moment for the gunmen to react.
One reached for the holster at his waist, the other ducked behind the bushed of a raised garden bed while his partner took aim. Fluidly Bryn swung her arm as she began forward with a powerful stride, and as if she had struck the man physically he was thrown backward, so hard in fact that he did not rise from where he had fallen against the cold concrete.
" Don't moof," a thickly German voice commanded, and Bryn felt something cold and hard press against the back of her skull.
Bryn froze, petrified and wide-eyed, even as the assistant principal and his group watched on with similar expressions.
This time it was barely even a thought in Bryn's mind that cause the gun to cripple, bent in half as if it was made of rubber. The man blinked in utter shock, but did not hesitate to draw back the ruined weapon with a view to clubbing Bryn with it.
" Ah!" Bryn uttered, and the length of bent metal untwisted in his hold and then snaked around his wrists, binding them together.
Shaking as her fingers curled into her palms and out again, Bryn turned deliberately, peering at the obviously bewildered gunman with eyes like balefire.
" Get down," she instructed, and instantly the man lowered himself to the ground, even though she carried no weapon of her own. " And stay down."
She then looked once more at the other gunman who still lay unconscious, and then to the assistant principal.
" Call the police," Bryn told him, and without a single breath's hesitation, he scuttled off to do just that.
When the police arrived the story they were given by the many witnesses varied from a bizarre gun battle with the ' phantom like' teacher, to her treating the gunmen like naughty students - All agreed however, that Bryn had put herself in the line of fire, and managed to avoid both injury, and casualty.
As it turned out, the gunmen were actually after one of the prospective students' parents, who had some weird connection with the Lebanese mafia. Bryn didn't really care, all she wanted was for the police to be done with her so that she could go home. Unfortunately, some fool had called the press, and before Bryn could protest there were cameras going off in her face.
Bryn was glad to get indoors, doors that she could lock and windows across which she could draw curtains. Even three days later people were still following her around and asking her about her mutant powers, suspicious even though she had averted harm not caused it. She was lucky, however, that her family was a loving one, and offered her support for this new found revelation - There was no history of mutation in her family however, which made Bryn wonder why exactly she had in fact become one.
She was exhausted, feeling completely run down, surprised that she had not yet opted to take a day off.
After a long day at work, mostly discussing security measures, previously un-addressed, she was glad to sink down on the couch with a cup of tea. The peace however, was not going to last very long at all.
As if the wind gods had just collectively expelled a breath directly at her house, Bryn heard every inch of her home shudder and then fall still. With a small frown she pulled back the curtain and revealed her back yard and the sky beyond, that was blue and nearly cloudless.
She nearly dropped her cup of tea when the doorbell rang, and with a growl of both irritation and pain, as her aching body protested her movement from the couch, she headed to the door, and swung it open.
There, beyond the wire door, stood a man in perhaps his late thirties, early forties, flanked by a short young brunette woman and a slightly taller man with blond hair. They could have been one of many contingents of reporters that she had encountered over the past days, and she was certainly not in the mood to deal with them.
" If you're here for an interview," she croaked, her voice nearly gone. " You can forget it."
" Are you Bryn Harper?" the older gentleman questioned mildly, peering at her intently.
" Look," Bryn coughed, holding herself up by the doorframe. " I am not in the mood for this ok?"
" Your gift...." the man began, spreading his hands.
" My gift?" Bryn grunted. " Is none of anyone's business."
With that, Bryn flicked her finger, and the heavy door closed loudly.
" Kick it down," the man commanded.
" Sir," the brunette said sharply, cold urgency in her voice. " She isn't breathing."
The man frowned.
" Get in there lieutenant," the man ordered, and needed to say little more for the young man belted the door with his balled fist and it smashed inward as if it had been made of no more than cardboard. Beyond, down the hall a little, he could see Bryn's feet, and her unconscious form was soon surrounded by not only the man and his male and female companion, but also half a dozen armed men in black SWAT suits.
" Brendan," the man barked into a communicator on his wrist. " Get out here now."
Bryn had gotten as far as the bedroom door before she felt as if she had been hit by something heavy. It had felt like a brick wall crushing down on her chest, forcing the air from them and dropping her unconscious to the floor.
CPR was initiated by the young woman while the young man checked for a pulse.
" Nothing Sir," he declared.
Another plain clothed man appeared, pushing the uniforms aside.
" Still nothing Sir," the young man replied, looking up to the one named Brendan.
" Restart her heart," the man, who appeared to be in charge, instructed.
" Stand back," Brendan said, kneeling down beside her. " Clear."
A spark ignited from the end of Brendan's finger, and Bryn's body jolted violently when he touched it to the centre of her chest - she lay still but for the slight motion of her chest rising.
" Her heart is beating," the young woman sensed.
" Get her onto the helicopter," the leader told them, and the young man lifted her effortlessly from the floor, following his commander back toward the door. There were no questions about removing this woman from her home and loading her onto the immense black, unmarked helicopter, they simply followed, and when all were aboard, lifted the modified aircraft from where they had parked it in the street, into the sky and out of general viewing.
Bryn murmured weakly as she was attached a heart monitor to her, and peeled back her lids like they weighed a tonne.
" Wha?" she managed.
" Relax," the man told her. " You went into cardiac arrest."
That was all he had time to tell her before she slipped back into unconsciousness.
I KNOW.
I've taken particular liberties with the Phoenix concept also, given the way they ended X2 I figured this was a nice way to resolve it.
With that said I should also state, as most do, that I have, and am claiming, no ownership of the X-men characters, I'm merely pushing them about a little for my own amusement.
Bryn Harper aka Oblivion, Dylan Barlow and the Templar Administration are however all figments of my very own imagination.
Aurial
Themes: Identity, love, trust, betrayal, frustration, loyalty, hatred, altruism.
Note: Some medium level violence. Adult content.
IDENTIFIED
Bryn gently rubbed her temples as she sat in the bumper-to-bumper peak hour morning traffic - It had been yet another restless night. The world around her was a buzz of activity that never ceased, not even in sleep, and it was beginning to take its toll on her both physically and mentally.
" Move!" Bryn growled suddenly in frustration, directing her irritation at the car in front of her.
To her amazement, and horror in fact, the red Gli Lancer coupe sitting directly before her silver Pulsar LX shuddered, and then moved horizontally off the road and onto the median strip. The driver of the car looked about frantically for the cause of the abrupt relocation but found no great force, only the space in the traffic left by his vehicle.
Bryn blinked and swallowed, also looking around to see if anyone was peering at her - No one had heard her outburst of course, with her windows closed, only she was privy to her command that had indeed been carried out.
Ever since puberty hit, Bryn had witnessed similar strange events occurring around her, but had tried her best to ignore and suppress whatever it was that gave her the ability to exercise her will.
By the time the Lancer driver had recovered and gotten back on the road, Bryn's irritation had subsided into a sullen brooding that usually followed an incident, as she called it. When she reached work, all she really wanted to do was hide under her desk and pretend as if the world did not exist.
Her mind spun in endless circles, seeing every tiny atom for everything that it was and could be - The barrage of information and emotion was never ending, but all hidden away behind a cold and indifferent mask that she held whenever in public. There were few she called friends because of this, but to those she cared about, she was absolutely loyal.
People stepped quickly out of her way when she walked down the halls of the school, opened doors that barred her path and greeted her with respect, but Bryn could never tell if this was because they truly felt it, or because her countenance commanded it.
Today was little different, except for an additional feeling, an itch in the back of her mind that was slowly growing in intensity, a feeling of imminence. She carried this with her to class, warning her students that unacceptable behaviour would be met with extreme measures, but not one single student defied her, sitting in silence as she spoke and working furiously at her request.
Then all hell broke loose.
Gunfire, or, at least what sounded like gunfire, automatic, rattling on and off and very close, so close that most of the students and Bryn herself actually ducked.
" Stay here," Bryn instructed as she ducked out of C4 and back into the English and LOTE staff room. In the courtyard, beyond the glass windows stood several men in black trench coats, holding what did in fact look like automatic weapons.
Bryn forced the lump in her throat down as she watched the men turn to where one of the assistant principals stood with a group of prospective parents, cowering against the far wall. Horrified, her pupils dilated, her brain throbbing inside her head as if threatening to burst from her ears. White-knuckle fists formed at her sides - Fear, fear and indecision. Then her feet moved, and she was standing outside the staff room, glaring over at the armed assailants even as they raised their weapons to the unarmed group. Mahogany eyes narrowed as her lips moved, speaking out a silent command, as if the world was listening to only her and would obey.
" To me," she voiced inside her head, a loud, echoing voice inside her skull, filled with confidence, strong and undeniable.
Hands lifted and outstretched, fingers splayed.
Shouts of alarm rang out, and were cut short by a click and slap as those automatic weapons were wrenched free of the hands of the gunmen, and were swiftly delivered to Bryn's hold.
Her lips quivered as all eyes turned to her, teeth grit, her body pumping adrenalin furiously. It took a moment for the gunmen to react.
One reached for the holster at his waist, the other ducked behind the bushed of a raised garden bed while his partner took aim. Fluidly Bryn swung her arm as she began forward with a powerful stride, and as if she had struck the man physically he was thrown backward, so hard in fact that he did not rise from where he had fallen against the cold concrete.
" Don't moof," a thickly German voice commanded, and Bryn felt something cold and hard press against the back of her skull.
Bryn froze, petrified and wide-eyed, even as the assistant principal and his group watched on with similar expressions.
This time it was barely even a thought in Bryn's mind that cause the gun to cripple, bent in half as if it was made of rubber. The man blinked in utter shock, but did not hesitate to draw back the ruined weapon with a view to clubbing Bryn with it.
" Ah!" Bryn uttered, and the length of bent metal untwisted in his hold and then snaked around his wrists, binding them together.
Shaking as her fingers curled into her palms and out again, Bryn turned deliberately, peering at the obviously bewildered gunman with eyes like balefire.
" Get down," she instructed, and instantly the man lowered himself to the ground, even though she carried no weapon of her own. " And stay down."
She then looked once more at the other gunman who still lay unconscious, and then to the assistant principal.
" Call the police," Bryn told him, and without a single breath's hesitation, he scuttled off to do just that.
When the police arrived the story they were given by the many witnesses varied from a bizarre gun battle with the ' phantom like' teacher, to her treating the gunmen like naughty students - All agreed however, that Bryn had put herself in the line of fire, and managed to avoid both injury, and casualty.
As it turned out, the gunmen were actually after one of the prospective students' parents, who had some weird connection with the Lebanese mafia. Bryn didn't really care, all she wanted was for the police to be done with her so that she could go home. Unfortunately, some fool had called the press, and before Bryn could protest there were cameras going off in her face.
Bryn was glad to get indoors, doors that she could lock and windows across which she could draw curtains. Even three days later people were still following her around and asking her about her mutant powers, suspicious even though she had averted harm not caused it. She was lucky, however, that her family was a loving one, and offered her support for this new found revelation - There was no history of mutation in her family however, which made Bryn wonder why exactly she had in fact become one.
She was exhausted, feeling completely run down, surprised that she had not yet opted to take a day off.
After a long day at work, mostly discussing security measures, previously un-addressed, she was glad to sink down on the couch with a cup of tea. The peace however, was not going to last very long at all.
As if the wind gods had just collectively expelled a breath directly at her house, Bryn heard every inch of her home shudder and then fall still. With a small frown she pulled back the curtain and revealed her back yard and the sky beyond, that was blue and nearly cloudless.
She nearly dropped her cup of tea when the doorbell rang, and with a growl of both irritation and pain, as her aching body protested her movement from the couch, she headed to the door, and swung it open.
There, beyond the wire door, stood a man in perhaps his late thirties, early forties, flanked by a short young brunette woman and a slightly taller man with blond hair. They could have been one of many contingents of reporters that she had encountered over the past days, and she was certainly not in the mood to deal with them.
" If you're here for an interview," she croaked, her voice nearly gone. " You can forget it."
" Are you Bryn Harper?" the older gentleman questioned mildly, peering at her intently.
" Look," Bryn coughed, holding herself up by the doorframe. " I am not in the mood for this ok?"
" Your gift...." the man began, spreading his hands.
" My gift?" Bryn grunted. " Is none of anyone's business."
With that, Bryn flicked her finger, and the heavy door closed loudly.
" Kick it down," the man commanded.
" Sir," the brunette said sharply, cold urgency in her voice. " She isn't breathing."
The man frowned.
" Get in there lieutenant," the man ordered, and needed to say little more for the young man belted the door with his balled fist and it smashed inward as if it had been made of no more than cardboard. Beyond, down the hall a little, he could see Bryn's feet, and her unconscious form was soon surrounded by not only the man and his male and female companion, but also half a dozen armed men in black SWAT suits.
" Brendan," the man barked into a communicator on his wrist. " Get out here now."
Bryn had gotten as far as the bedroom door before she felt as if she had been hit by something heavy. It had felt like a brick wall crushing down on her chest, forcing the air from them and dropping her unconscious to the floor.
CPR was initiated by the young woman while the young man checked for a pulse.
" Nothing Sir," he declared.
Another plain clothed man appeared, pushing the uniforms aside.
" Still nothing Sir," the young man replied, looking up to the one named Brendan.
" Restart her heart," the man, who appeared to be in charge, instructed.
" Stand back," Brendan said, kneeling down beside her. " Clear."
A spark ignited from the end of Brendan's finger, and Bryn's body jolted violently when he touched it to the centre of her chest - she lay still but for the slight motion of her chest rising.
" Her heart is beating," the young woman sensed.
" Get her onto the helicopter," the leader told them, and the young man lifted her effortlessly from the floor, following his commander back toward the door. There were no questions about removing this woman from her home and loading her onto the immense black, unmarked helicopter, they simply followed, and when all were aboard, lifted the modified aircraft from where they had parked it in the street, into the sky and out of general viewing.
Bryn murmured weakly as she was attached a heart monitor to her, and peeled back her lids like they weighed a tonne.
" Wha?" she managed.
" Relax," the man told her. " You went into cardiac arrest."
That was all he had time to tell her before she slipped back into unconsciousness.