Foreword

Over five years ago, I wrote my first Fanfiction story, based off the Generation X title. Back then, my motivation was simply to revive one of my favorite series that had unfortunately been cancelled. After several iterations of the story, I finally published it on the site. Two years and seventy chapters later, I finished, kind of. I was simply amazed at how this story had developed life of its own and had continued to grow and mature as time went on. But it wasn't just the story that grew…I did too. I went on to write several more stories, but I kept coming back to this one. After all, it was my first.

With more experience and a sharper eye, I took a hard look at my first story and in some places asked myself, "What the hell was I doing?!" Grammatical mistakes, timeline mistakes, some lack of character development, disjointed and rushed storylines—I was horrified. What began as simple editing turned into a major rewrite of the story.

If you're reading this story for the second time, you'll see some things are the same. But you're also going to see some major differences, like new storylines, new characters, and more of the characters you know and love. For those reading it the first time, I hope you enjoy the flashback to the Generation X days and the new adventures they find themselves in. ~ Mike N.

I.

Dr. Niles Cain drove his 2005 Jeep Cherokee through the picturesque neighborhood of Elmwood Grove, the late summer sun creating a dream-like haze over the entire scene. He drove slowly past the Victorian-style houses, accented with their manicured lawns and stone walkways. The playful laugh of children, barking dogs, and cicadas filled the air, along with the smell of barbeque and a hint of wildflower.

Behind curtained windows and opened porch doors, families settled in for the evening, totally unaware of the dangers lurking around them. And for that, Niles envied them all. Knowing that one of the strongest benefactors of the city was nothing more than a front for a madman hell-bent on creating his own race to rule over the world wasn't a nugget of knowledge Niles cared to have.

And the worst part about it was that his profound work in genetics was partially, if not wholly responsible for the power they now had.

After pulled into his driveway and got out of his vehicle, Niles gave Mrs. Chancellor a courteous wave and smile then headed into his own house—a two-story, ivory colored home with a sizable oak tree that the neighborhood kids loved to climb. The inside was reminiscent of a museum, filled with dark wood furniture, various artifacts from across the world hanging on the walls and filling shelves, and a neutral, relaxing tone throughout the entire house.

But his office was a different story. Niles would have called it organized chaos, but to anyone else, it was simply a mess of books, professional journals, and papers. Niles spent most of his time there, constantly performing research for the Arminthorpe Corporation.

The Arminthorpe Corporation…

Niles slid into his worn leather chair and brought his computer out of its sleep mode, bathing the darkened room in a faint glow. Niles kept the curtains drawn, which blocked out any ray of warming sunlight, keeping his office cold and unfriendly. But when he thought of the Corporation, those were the only feelings that stirred in him.

Niles was thirty-four and had spent the past eleven years with the Arminthorpe Corporation. Despite his relatively young age and time with the Corporation, Niles had quickly become one of the most-renowned names in genetics research. With his remarkably handsome face and muscular build, Niles looked more like a Hollywood actor than a geneticist, which is probably why he became the face of Arminthorpe, representing the company on a global level to discuss advances in their genetic research.

His research landed him several awards both from the Corporation and at a national level, which propelled him to stardom within the world of biology and genetics. As such, the Corporation allowed him to run his own division and supplied the resources for his projects. However, that was probably the worst thing that could have happened to Niles.

With the computer fully powered up, Niles focused, his hands flying across the keyboard. In response, various windows and lengthy information files appeared on the screen. To anyone else, it would have looked like a barrage of mumbo-jumbo, but Niles understood all of it—and it knotted his stomach.

His eyes already blurring, Niles blinked a few times, gave them a quick rub then focused on the screen once again. In front of him were all of the hidden files and secrets the Corporation didn't want him to know or have, but now, Niles fully understood the true agenda of his benefactors.

I have to destroy the Arminthorpe Corporation.

The thought itself seemed extreme and overdramatic, like a lone hero against the dominating, inherently evil corporation, but that's exactly what Niles was faced with. He didn't want to risk getting anyone else involved, though he realized that anyone involved with the Corporation was intertwined in a nefarious web. Right now, Niles knew that if he didn't do something, those closest to him would suffer a fate worse than death.

Glancing toward the window, Niles could see a sliver of night sky through a small break in the curtain. Hours had gone by, yet to Niles, it felt as if he had only stepped into his home minutes ago. Making a few final keystrokes, Niles was satisfied he had enough information to take Arminthorpe down. But there was something way too easy about this…

Suddenly feeling uneasy, Niles saved the files, creating a hidden, password-protected folder, which was then embedded in several layers of encoding. He then pulled up his e-mail, ignoring several new ones, and opened a blank e-mail. He composed a message quickly, encoded it, and then sent it.

And that's when he heard a noise downstairs.

It was a muffled shuffling, as if someone were trying to sneak around but made a wrong move. He almost instinctively knew that the Corporation somehow discovered Niles' plan, and now, they were coming to find out what he knew. And possibly kill him.

Niles stood slowly, careful not to give away the fact that he was on to the intruder. As he crept toward the door, Niles listened intently for any other indication that someone else was in his house. Focusing his senses, he heard soft, rhythmic breathing and felt the negligible shift in air current.

Taking a bat that his nephew had given him, he stepped out into the hallway, aware that the intruders were still down on the first floor. Still, the shape-altering shadows darkened otherwise familiar doorways and rooms, creating the illusion of hidden horrors. He moved stealthily, aware that though his senses were peaking, the intruders could easily mask themselves from him and quickly ambush him.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Niles took one at a time, ready to swing at the slightest provocation. The darkness thickened on the first floor, and Niles kept his back pressed to the wall as he maneuvered into the dining room then the living room toward the front door. But he didn't make it.

"Come now, Niles. You weren't thinking of using that, were you?"

A lamp clicked on and a familiar face stared back at Niles. Mason Arminthorpe, the head of Arminthorpe Corporation. He had only met the man a handful of times, but every single time reaffirmed Niles' notion that the man was untrustworthy and dangerous. Seeing him there, in his favorite reading chair, menacing shadows darkening his face simply put the final nail in the coffin.

Niles took an aggressive step towards Mason. "What the hell are you doing here? This is my home."

Mason politely smiled. "And here I figured you'd show a much more hospitable behavior toward me, Niles. You have an impeccable career and an unimaginable future—and I gave them all to you. Besides, your work is what brought us to this point. We're just here to ensure you see it through to the end."

He straightened his charcoal gray suit and double Windsor knotted tie, his poster-worthy smile never faltering. He then ran his fingers though his dark, thick hair, taking an aggressive step towards Niles. "Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Niles let a smile cross his lips. "Well, you know, I never do things the easy way!" With a grunt of power, he closed the gap between them and swung the bat at Mason's head. Barely flinching, Mason blocked the wild swing with his arm, shattering the bat upon contact. Taking a step back, he couldn't believe what he had just seen.

What the hell is he? For that matter, what the hell am I?

Preoccupied with Mason's reaction, Niles failed to notice another figure behind him, until a strong blow nearly rendered him unconscious. He stumbled and crashed into the wall, using it for support as he tried to focus.

Niles blinked, and suddenly Mason towered over him.

"Now, you're coming back to the Corporation. You and your kids."

At the mention of the kids, Niles felt a rush of adrenaline. "Like hell!" A quick, unexpected sweep threw Mason off balance, giving Niles a narrow window of opportunity to ram his shoulder into Mason's stomach then finish with a straight right to his jaw.

The other man grunted as the air rushed out of him, and he tumbled backwards. Niles would have rejoiced, but he felt a shift in the air and ducked just as three glowing daggers stuck in the wall.

Niles spotted the knife thrower, and though he was remotely surprised, he didn't show anything but contempt. "Trent. I should have known you would be here."

Trent, a younger version of Mason, gloated over Niles. "I don't miss accidentally, Dr. Cain. Surrender."

Niles stared up at the younger Arminthorpe. From what Niles knew, he could create psionic throwing knives, which were telekinetically guided to their target, enabling Trent to hit his target most, if not all of the time. But the boy was young, impetuous, and inexperienced, which Niles could use to his advantage.

He sprang up, and just as Trent threatened, he created three more daggers and launched them at Niles. But Niles proved to be much faster as dove to the side, the daggers sailing over and under him as he flew through the air. As he landed next to the couch, Niles grabbed hold of it and with one hand, slung it in Trent's direction.

The couch split in two, the halves sailing past Trent and hitting the floor with a dull thud. Surprised, Niles saw that Trent wasn't without his own backup—Lucas Arminthorpe stood in front of him, his arm outstretched and an impatient look etched across his face. Mason had recovered as well, and smiled as Niles found himself in a standoff with the three of them.

"Don't make me hurt you, Cain," Lucas said, his voice void of any emotion at all.

Niles regarded the boy carefully, noting the sleek, body-fitting suit he was wearing. Then he recognized it—a strength enhancing uniform, the first of its kind to be created. They were supposed to originally be issued to a special military group designed to immediately respond to any threat. Especially the mutant kind.

He tried to recall the special features of the uniform, but too many things were rushing through his mind, and he had trouble concentrating. Instead, he tried to buy himself some time. He said to Lucas, "This is madness. What are you trying to do here?"

Lucas shook his head, disappointed in his teacher's question. "Don't act as if you don't know. Matrix detected your acquisition of the Corporation's files long ago." Smirking at Niles' clenched jaw, he continued, "You didn't think that we wouldn't find out, did you? We've been monitoring you ever since you went on your sabbatical, Doctor."

"Then you knew I wouldn't just sit by idly and let you get away with what you're planning," Niles directed his comment at the trio of Arminthorpes. "Those kids are living normal lives now, no thanks to any of you."

"But they're not normal. You know that," Mason countered with a matter-of-fact tone. "And neither are you."

Niles froze. He had realized that something strange and out of his control was happening to him. But now he knew that whatever this change was, the Corporation caused it. And that fact sent a chill up his spine.

Before Niles could say or do anything else, Lucas pointed his hand at Niles and an energy-laced, snake-like projectile shot out. It wrapped tightly around Niles' chest, pinning his arms to his sides then tightening, restricting his breathing. He struggled only for a moment before a burning sensation filled his entire body. The flash of pain continued to strobe inside of his head before everything went black. He fell to his knees then toppled to the floor, unconscious.

Mason smirked haughtily. "Take him back to the lab and secure him in one of the containment units. We don't need anymore trouble from him. And dispatch the Darkmen for those children. We can't afford any more delays. Understood?"

"Yes, father," the siblings responded in unison. Lucas threw Niles over his shoulder with ease, courtesy of the suit, and fell in line behind his father and Trent as they exited the house, plied into a dark, unmarked SUV, and drove off into the night.

No one would even realize until it was far too late that Niles' fate had been sealed.

II.

Unable to sleep, Professor Charles Xavier maneuvered through the quiet halls of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, his Shi'ar provided hover-wheelchair humming softly as Charles glided across the floor. Lately, he felt as though sleep was a commodity that he was learning to do without. There just seemed to be no time for it as new emergencies and threats erupted at any given moment, seemingly back to back.

No rest for the weary, Charles thought to himself as he entered his office. He pulled up to the large oak desk, a gift given to him by Moira MacTaggert, and turned on his computer, intending to check for any abnormal disturbances through the console link to Cerebro. But a flashing envelope icon in the bottom, right-hand corner caught his eye. Clicking on it, a message labeled urgent appeared on the screen.

Professor Charles Xavier,

I don't know if you remember me or not, but we met about ten years ago at the National Genetics Symposium in New York.

Charles, gifted with extraordinary psychic abilities, remembered the meeting as if it was yesterday.

The young, highly sought after geneticist had just finished a presentation on genetics and the role they played in something that was becoming a growing concern—mutations. Charles had been impressed with Dr. Cain's research, which included journals by Dr. Hank McCoy, long-time X-Man and Avenger.

There was a fifteen-minute intermission to grant the next presenter time to prepare their presentation aids. Thankful for the break, Charles happened to run into Dr. Cain in the hallway.

"It bothers me that I still don't understand the relation between DNA mutation and inner workings of controlling it. Genetic mutation isn't a simple strand of DNA that's different—Dr. Hank McCoy discovered that quite some time ago—but a whole genetic makeup alteration that actually affects the entire body. But there's some missing link, which makes the whole thing seem like magic."

"It's not magic by any means, Doctor." Charles then finished telepathically, "It just is."

Charles chuckled slightly as he remembered the perplexed and astonished expression on the doctor's face.

Niles's eyes had the fire of discovery burning brightly, as the scientist in him leapt at the chance to acquire the answer to something that had eluded him for quite some time. "You can…" Niles glanced around, leaning in closer and bringing his voice to a whisper. "You can project your thoughts? But how? I mean, what part of your brain controls that? How does it affect your body?"

"Being a mutant is a natural occurrence, as is the control of the specific abilities we inherit or develop. Think of it as, someone that is double-jointed or can curl their tongue. These things are genetic as well, with no solid explanation as to why. Yes, for some, their bodies are altered for the sake of self-preservation. Someone who controls lightning would have an adaptation to repel the effects of lightning themselves.

"Which would make their body immune to electrocution and the like," Niles finished. "But the actual control, I mean how do you control lightning? I mean, you just whip your hands around in the air and it's controlled?"

Charles laughed at the simplistic question. "I can't answer that completely in the short time we have. However, my school helps mutants to understand and gain control over their powers. Some of us have devastating powers that could easily destroy, which has fueled much of the government intervention with mutant rights and activities. At the same time, those powers can be used to promote and enhance the communities around us. The science between the person and the power will always be a mystery, but the fact still remains that mutants…"

An announcement for the end of the intermission interrupted Charles's last few words, as the crowd began to slowly make their way back into the auditorium.

"Looks like we've got to get back for the next presentation," Niles regretfully said. He wanted to spend much more time talking to Charles, finding the answers to the questions that had eluded him and his colleagues for so long. But instead, he said, "Professor, I appreciate your time."

Charles reached in his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Here's my contact information, including my e-mail address. You still have questions, I can tell. Feel free to contact me at any time." He handed Niles the card, then remembered something, "Oh, and by the way Hank McCoy works at the school, so maybe you could have a sit-down with him as well."

Had Niles died and gone to heaven? The most prolific mutant rights activist and one of the world's best scientists together? In one place? He couldn't believe it. But a huge grin spread across his face in anticipation. "Thank you, Professor."

"Now, I can only hope that this next presentation is as insightful as yours."

The rest of the symposium had noteworthy speakers, but Charles found himself impressed by Dr. Niles Cain because of his energy, dedication, and open mind, a rarity in the field of science. Most were focused on their work and finding answers for everything to prove something to the world, but Niles was truly interested in what he did. His demeanor was genuine, and Charles knew that he had the best of intentions with his research. If anything, Niles could potentially become a welcome ally in the fight of mutant-human equality.

Returning to the e-mail, Charles continued to read.

Since then, I've uncovered some disturbing information about the Arminthorpe Corporation. If anything happens to me, I fear that others may be in danger as well. Don't worry about me, but find Michael Lawson. He'll know what to do from there. I apologize for getting you involved now, but please, if someone doesn't help them, I think something terrible is going to happen to them.

Charles sat for a moment then reread through the message again, pondering over the legitimacy of it. It seemed so out of the blue, but then again, it had come from Niles' e-mail address at an odd time. If anything, it wouldn't hurt to launch a simple investigation to see if there was merit to Niles' claims.

He decided not to e-mail back, but to actually send someone to first find Michael Lawson, who had been mentioned in the message. Then, they could try to find Niles, and uncover exactly what was going on. But with his own X-Men indisposed, Charles had no choice but to utilize another resource—the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.

"Emma," Charles telepathically summoned.

Taking a moment to answer, Emma groggily responded, "Though it seems your mutant power is to never sleep, mine isn't, Charles."

"My apologies for the early morning intrusion. We may have a situation on our hands."

"What crazed lunatic has blown up the mansion this time?"

"Nothing of that sort. I received a strange bit of correspondence, which I'm forwarding to you as well. An old acquaintance has requested that we find a young man, who may be in danger."

"Mutant?"

"I don't know at this point."

"The local police can easily handle this. This doesn't sound like anything for us to get ourselves entangled in. Besides, I though we were taking a step back from the mutant adventures of the X-Men. These kids need the chance to be normal for a change."

"My aim isn't to disrupt the intentions of the school. And I have a feeling this is more than the police can handle, considering the Arminthorpe Corporation may have something to do with this."

"Hmmm…the Arminthorpe Corporation. They're involved in advanced genetics research and other biological and ecological endeavors. They're a financial powerhouse as well."

"Correct. My acquaintance believes that he has found something that could possibly endanger his and this young man's life. Considering the resources and reach of the Corporation, this could be something way out of the police's league."

Emma sighed. "Can it wait until I've had my coffee at least?"

"Nothing is pressing at this moment, but I believe that time is limited."

"We're on it…in the morning. I'm going back to sleep. You should do the same."

"And Emma…thanks."

"I only agreed so I could go back to sleep."

Charles ended the telepathic communication, hoping that tomorrow morning wouldn't be too late. He spent the rest of the night in his office, unable to go back to sleep.

III.

Pain jolted Niles from his unconsciousness. His eyes shot open, but clenched quickly, the harsh florescent light from above an unwelcome first sight. He realized the aching was simply an aftereffect of Lucas's attack, leaving his body weakened and his mind groggy. As his eyes adjusted, Niles took in his surroundings.

The prison was all too familiar—Niles had helped create them. The inside was a metal gray color, everything blending together underneath the light. The walls, sink, toilet, floor, ceiling…it all was the same exact color, constructed from an alloy of adamantium and steel. It was impossible for him to break out.

Niles stood, stretching his stiff muscles. Surprised that he was still in khakis and a dark blue Polo shirt and not in some straitjacket or hospitable gown, he dusted off his clothes then took a quiet step towards the door. The small slit only let him get a glimpse of the hallway, but he knew exactly where he was—the fourth sub-basement floor of the headquarters building, a part of the building that had extremely limited access, held only by a select few of the Corporation.

At one time, he had been one of them.

Sitting back down on the rigid mattress, Niles could only hope that Charles had acted upon the e-mail. It was too late for him—which he had already accepted—but maybe they could get to the kids in time. At least they would have some kind of protection to prevent the Corporation from getting their hands back on them.

But their overall plan was still unclear. What were they planning on doing with him? What did the kids have to do with it? And why was he suddenly developing powers of his own?

Now that he was back on the inside, he pledged to do everything in his power to get to the bottom of this whole situation before it was too late for the kids. And himself.

Notes:

Generation X and all characters related to Marvel belong to them. Any other characters are fictional.

This story begins after Generation X #46; however, there will be a few noted differences as the story progresses