The house squatted on the rise of a mountain, double story and a light green touch to the surroundings. A large veranda sat above the entrance door and 'round the back was a wonderful garden bursting to the brim with glowing green trees and rich grass, a crystal clear creek snaking through the front yard, completing the fairy-tail look.
This was the house Gerrant lived in, sitting snugly on the side of one of France's many mountains. Over the years, many mutants with the ability to not die, weather it was a healing factor or delayed aging, and they had jokingly called it the Immorals, a play on word immortals and the fact most had a detached feeling to the world when everyone around them started to die.
It was time for Nick to enrol. I didn't know the exact requirements, but I knew Nick would be able to get in no problem. Jörg may or may not join, but that was all up to Gerrant.
Despite the house looked like it was two stories, the house descended down and down further into the ground, with so many layers and entrances and exits I don't know if everyone remembers them all.
With Z dead, Gerrant had to get used to the fact he was basically on permanent house lockdown and anyone who saw him knew he was just a skeleton. Thankfully, he wasn't the most gruesome sight there was in the House of Immorals, where one guy goes around with every injury he's had plus the wrinkly old look on everything he has.
A small boy with squinty eyes answers the door, takes one look at me and practically screams in delight.
"Oh my god it's Lyall Howlett!" and then I'm being dragged into the house, down a stairs and through a door that blended into the walls. Beyond the door was more stairs, this time wide and made of hard earth that slightly dipped in the middle from so many people walking down it.
It opens up to a huge hallway, circular wooden table and seats everywhere. There were well over 10 mutants in here, all Immorals.
"LOOK! It's Lyall HOWLETT!" he screams into the relatively quiet hall. Everyone turns to squint at me in the dim light and watches Victor, Jörg and Nick follow down the steps. I look back to see a sly smirk on Victor's face. Was he up to something? "The oldest mutant and founder of LYALL!"
I double take. What was LYALL?
But those words seemed to excite everyone, people standing up to come up to me and shaking my hands. Victor got a few acknowledgements, but it all seemed to focus on me.
"What the fuck is going on Victor?" I hiss to him and his smirk gets more pronounced. "What is LYALL?"
"Come on, Lyall, don't you remember agreeing to rename WMPL to Limitless Yielding Aarde Lusus-naturae Legion? It's only chance it abbreviated to your name, after all." He replies and Nick giggles in my arms. He doesn't really speak, only making a few faces every now again, but he was curious as hell for a 17 year old.
"Who's that?" the boy from before peers up.
"Nick Fury, my adopted son. He was born in 1890." And, since it was 1907, he was physically 3 and a half years old. "This is Jörg, and he has a mild healing factor. We don't know if he can be an Immoral."
"Well Fury is most certainly allowed to be an Immoral, but we'll see in a few years if Jörg is one or not." A very old and familiar voice slides into the conversation and I turn around to greet Gerrant.
His grinning skull opened with soft creaks when he spoke, just as I remembered, and his empty eye sockets seemed to flicker in the low lighting. His bones were as just as dry the last time I touched him, the uncomfortable sensation of his breath crawling down the back of my spine almost welcoming.
"Mate," I sigh, "When was the last time I saw you?"
"When you told me Queen Victoria baby sat Jörg and Nick while you were at the Boer War." He replies, voice bone dry.
Hehehe. So many skull jokes around Gerrant.
"Five years is still long, mate," I counter, smirking inside at my pun. Gerrant doesn't move his head, but I get a very strong feeling he was raising his non-existent eyebrows. Time didn't exactly count around here. You did it whenever you wanted.
"So, I see this is the first time you've learnt about LYALL?" Gerrant continues, jaw clacking. I huff in annoyed anger.
"Yes. I don't know why you named it after. The least you could do was add in Z, David, Lucy, you and Victor." I argue as Nick slides his hands down the two bones of Gerrant's forearm, the radius and ulna, and a spectacular look grows on his face when his chubby fingers slide in between the bones. Carefully Gerrant dislodges Nick's curious fingers, but in payment Nick return to poking at the finger bones.
"Because you were the one behind the idea and convinced the rest of us to actually form LYALL in the first place." Gerrant calmly replies, giving Nick a giggling fit when he pokes him in the cheek.
"St-ahhhp." Nick hiccups.
"Ah," Gerrant turns his skull to Nick, taking full interest in him. "Delayed education?"
"Well, not really. The Queen certainly taught both Jörg and Nick a few things."
"Heyyy," the boy who welcomed us in tugs on my shorts. He couldn't have been more than 5, but something tells me he is as old as Gerrant. "Show me your claws! Are they bone like Gerrant is?"
"Uh-huh," I squat down to his height and set Nick on the floor, who slumps into a sitting position and reaches up to Gerrant with both hands, thinking he'll pick him up. When that fails, Nick turns to Victor, who grudgingly complies (I knew that Nick had Victor wrapped around his finger, but the only problem was which one).
"Tell me your name first," I turn back from smiling gently as Victor settles Nick on his hip.
"Gay Billowson," he shyly mutters and looks at me, expecting. With a smile I hold out my fist, and he waits for my claws to come out.
"You goin' ta give me a fist bump?" I ask and when he knocks his fist against mine I let my claws slide out slowly, pushing his fist away. His face is spirit-lifting.
"Thank you Lyall," he whispers and tackles me in a hug. "I don't think I could've survived this long without other mutants and Immorals."
"Billowson hasn't aged the day his mutant ability awoke when he was 11, but he can die from anything else. I found him about to do dive off a building when I was enlisting for the newly made group of LYALL." Gerrant sits down with a rattle of bones and his jaw just simply opens and closes when he speaks. "This is why we renamed it to LYALL. Us founding five? We just did the grunt work."
"I disappeared on you several times, leaving the WM- uh, LYALL, all on you." I snap back and turn to glare at my old friend. "Don't you dare say you didn't do anything. Plus, this Immorals? That was all on you. Don't put yourself down Gerrant. It just isn't right."
Gerrant's skull just grins back, not a muscle moving.
Despite my previous smouldering anger, I couldn't help but laugh to myself. Hehehehe.
[x]
Despite the flashy new 'automobiles' that could go an astounding 80 km/h max, (meaning that everyone drove them at only 60 or 50 km/h) it took us well over a month to just get to the capital of Russia, Moscow.
I'm only going to Tunguska to find out why there was, well, will be a massive explosion. The area I'm aiming for is a very rural place, with tiny towns dotting the surrounding grounds. Victor already knows why we're going to Tunguska; it only took him several hours before he finally asked.
He's baffled why I would want to explore a measly detonation until I explain that no one was truly able to completely interpret the event, not even when I died.
"But, I, I don't get it. Why wouldn't it be explained? You, said that technology is far more advanced than todays, so -?" Victor mutters under his breath, careful not to draw the attention of the lady next to Victor. It was less expensive to go by train to the nearest major city near Tunguska than by car, and much swifter.
"Yes, but this is 1907. Today, pictures are still black and white; telephones need someone else to call up anyone and women are still suppressed." I sigh and lean my head on Victor's shoulder. Despite the fact now that Queen Victoria was gone and everyone was less… inflexible, many were still supporting stiff upper lips and hated any signs of affection. The lady next to Victor mutters something and it doesn't take long before she's vacating the seat. "People don't have rigid surveying techniques or the better understanding of science. It's very easy to mistakenly record it wrong and that error is copied and pasted over and over."
"But didn't you say it happens in half a year? Why are we going so soon?" Victor grumps, folding his arms.
"Well, first we have to check out the place, and someone said there's a group of mutants camped out nearby. Plus… I sense a disturbance in the force." I stifle a giggle. "Nah. I donno. By the time we're there, it'll be only a week before hand and ya know, there are mutants in the immediate area."
"…Was that a reference…?"
"Victor! Don't tell me you haven't watched Star Wars!" It takes my brother a second before he realises I'm teasing him.
"It's from the future, isn't it." Victor grumps, and he scowls at the man across from him. Once the guy notices, it looks like he wet his pants. The man followed the lady pretty quickly.
"The force is strong in this one. Do you think we'll clear out the train by the time we get to our stop?"
Victor sits in silence, and I laugh quietly.
[x]
With the native mutants found, enrolled and gone, it was time to really sniff out Tunguska. The problem with using Amy's memories is that she doesn't actually know where in Russia it is, let alone the general area. It had taken me nearly an hour to find a place called Tunguska and unfortunately it has a lot of unexplored areas. The remaining 2 weeks up to the event will be spent on finding the most likely area it will occur. Until then, we were reduced to touring through the forests surrounding a place called 'Старойу' a name I had no idea how to translate.
It was up to the brim with mutants, with an astounding 6 (a record) all of them without knowing about each other. The 'meet & greet' session was a time I would look back on and laugh.
It wasn't until a travelling merchant passing through did we get any leads other than the haunted house, and the 6 mutants mucking around with their combined powers. He spoke of a house 10 km from the nearest crossroads, which in total was nearly 1,000 km, that when he camped there for the night things kept disappearing and reappearing. Sometimes it was in the exact spot, sometimes it was malformed and sometimes they reappeared right in front of his eyes. Judging by the scared-rat look on his face, it was very, very real.
We left the next day.
The so-called second haunted house was barely a shed. There was only one wall of wood on the outside and you could peak through the beams without a problem. The forest surrounding it swallowed it right up, trees extending their branches to form a dome around the shelter. Bushes, undergrowth, new and old leaves crawled up to the edge of the wooden barricade, possibly growing further. The wind sighs as trees wavered in the cold breeze, branches freely moving in the rare moment of no snow.
The door opens easily, hinges wailing deeply, and inside of the dwelling is nothing but a cement floor broken by little green sprouts desperately trying to grow.
"This it?" Victor grunts and lightly runs his thickened nails down the side of the wall. It splits around his fingers in greeting. "Seems… far too bare."
I sneeze, once, twice, three times. Victor casts a worried glace over; I hadn't sneezed since the day my mutant genes kicked my smelling sense into overdrive. I dismiss him with a wave of my hand and pull out a carved wooden swan to set in the middle of the floor.
"There; prime object to fling around." I smile at Victor, hands on hips. Supposedly it looks more shark-like than friendly. I settle on the floor, staring intently at the swan and within a second the grain is carved into my head, every line, every crack, and every knob. Having perfect memory sometimes fucking sucks.
Victor settles on the floor, sighing and joins in the staring. It doesn't take us long before the only noise is soft breathing and nature's songs carrying on around us.
I don't flinch when a sharp cold snowflake bites into my exposed arms, more sliding through the ligneous roof. Soon small petite birds find our radiating heat and snuggle into the lines of our clothes, fighting for a little piece of warmth. Victor's denude legs are a prime spot for the birds, as is under my hair.
Darkness falls, possibly sooner thanks to the slow snow shrouding Tunguska and the heavy grey clouds blanketing the sky. It isn't long before I give into the normal instinct of falling asleep when the owl next to my ear gives a startling hoot, the first sound in ages.
The birds scatter as I flinch away from the sudden sound piercing my ear, the massive gathering of birds screaming in fear as their perch began to move upwards. Victor sees why I'm still moving and stands up carefully to avoid squashing any birds.
The swan was gone. Completely, utterly gone. The dust around the swan hadn't been disturbed, and the wood was too heavy for any bird to pick up.
"What…" I drag my fingers over the surface that had once been occupied. Victor crouches down beside me and I have to smother a laugh when I realise a very grumpy barn owl still squats on his shoulder. "Nice friend."
"Oh shut up. Not like you don't have one." Said kingfisher finally got its feet and wings untangled from my hair and flies away in panic. I raise both of my eyebrows when the barn owl shuffles closer to Victor's head, clearly not caught. "Anyway, I saw it disappear before my eyes."
"Too busy falling asleep. Thanks Victor for being here." Chirping, I nudge Victor's side. The owl gives me a dirty glare, but flies off. Victor rolls his eyes in reply.
"But what took it?" I mutter, finally getting into the mood. "I-I don't understand. It's just a swan."
"I -"
My gut clenched. Victor crumples next to me, no floor under his feet to stand up. I felt like I was flying, in the most unexpected, unpleasant and throwing-up style. Flying through space faster than I had ever imagined. The stars around us blurred as we were thrown out of where we were and to –
"𝓣𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓛𝓎𝒶𝓁𝓁, 𝓥𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇…"
-and bam, the feeling passes, the whisper gone. In its place was the easily identified wind howling past my ears as I fell arse over tits in mid-air. My mind swam as I tried to establish where the bloody hell I am. A sharp pain down my arms draws me to the fact Victor was next to me, looking as shocked as I am. His limbs flail as he tries to stand upright in the thin air. He tries to shout something, but the wind rips it away. I doubt he even heard what he said.
My eyes water, despite my healing abilities, as I flip upside down and the curve of the Earth slowly disappears as I fell. As we fell I could see the grey smudges of human settlement, wide blue oceans spreading across all around us and just the shocking slap of so much green. Falling at most 350 km/h from at least the top of the ionosphere would give anyone a shock, much less two people who haven't even flown in a plane yet.
However high we were, our speed was punctured with frequent stops and starts as I tried to reach over to Victor to grasp his arm. With him changing his position, from above of me to below and then above again, it was increasingly hard to reach over to Victor. Several times he 'floated' away, and in those scary seconds I though he was going to land in China and I in Russia.
I shuddered as I try to forget the fact we've got to land sometime and the tiny voice in the back of my head whispering "I'm not sure we're gonna make it" and fight the force of the wind to reach my brother.
"𝓛𝓨𝓐𝓛𝓛-" he screams and 100 kilometres from the Earth's surface we finally grasp hands. Something shivered in the air around us and a golden glow encases us, but the decent doesn't stop. Victor wraps his arms around my body and I copy him, squeezing my eyes shut.
It takes a few heart-stopping moments but the air around us heats up and with an ear-drum shattering sound, every cubed millimetre in the yellow circle erupts. This time, unlike falling down, I'm flung sideways, and for a scattering flash I can see a streak of black flying away opposite from me.
I black out from pain.
[x]
"𝓛𝓎𝒶𝓁𝓁! 𝓛𝓨𝓐𝓛𝓛! 𝓞𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒻𝓋𝒸𝓀'𝓈 𝓈𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓛𝓨𝓐𝓛𝓛 𝓦𝓗𝓔𝓡𝓔 𝓐𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤?"
The voice is muffled. I try to move but the dirt layered above me compresses any movement. Pain sparks up, possibly the wounds can't heal until I move my limbs into a preferred position. Ignoring the pain, I fight, twisting and shoving everything away from me and tries to dig towards the voice.
"𝓗𝑒𝓎! 𝓗𝓔𝓨! 𝓘'𝓂 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒! 𝓗𝓔𝓛𝓟!" Someone nearly stumbles as they clamber over to where I was shouting, getting closer with every noise. Slowly, they started to dig, our fingers clashing when light stabs into my barely-healed eyes. Hands grip under my arm pits and I'm dragged out of the grave. I cough, throwing up clumps of dirt, sticks, blood, and insides in multiple motions.
"𝓘 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒾𝓉 𝒶 𝒽𝓊𝑔𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝑜𝒸𝓀." Says the voice and it takes me almost 5 seconds before I realise its Victor. His language – is strange. It's not English. It's a completely different. "𝓘𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓇𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝓃𝑜𝓌."
"𝓦𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑒 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔?" I gasp, kicking my legs so they could finally heal from being crushed to smithereens. I turn to grip the hand Victor laid on my shoulder and blink when my eyes snap into perfect focus. "𝓟𝓊𝓉 𝒶 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 – 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑒 𝔀𝒆𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰?"
In the, ah, landing, our clothes should've been ripped, torn, burnt up, and in all honesty, utterly gone, but the clothes we were wearing were perfectly fine, and mine were even slowly fixing themselves over the patches sticks and stones that used to be sticking (hehehehehe) through my legs and stomach. My clothes seem to be a looser version of a cat suit, not quite second skin. The sleeves and chest area was the best bit; they had cracks all through them and lava flowing freely, a brightly glowing red liquid defying all physics and gravity, not even burning through the fabric to scorch my skin. Victor dips his finger in the lava on my forearm and hisses, wrenching his hand away.
Victor is even freakier. He has long black trousers, a button up shirt barely seen under a trench coat that feels like cotton, but I have the sense to second guess that observation. On the back is an embroidered logo, one that is possibly on my back too. It just a massive cluster of string and pieces of fabric, criss-crossing and dividing and doubling back; to the normal eye it looks like a sowing gone wrong, but I can make out the characters emblazoned.
"𝓜𝒶𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝓥𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝓒𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒹, 𝓘𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝓖𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹." Victor's eyes flicker back up to mine in undoubtedly pure shock.
"𝓠𝓊𝒾𝒸𝓀, 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒," I turn to face my back to Victor, snapping my right arm out so it can set in the correct way. He brushes his hand over my back, a touch I can feel through the thick fabric.
"𝓜𝒶𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓍 𝓛𝓎𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓗𝑜𝓌𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉, 𝓘𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝓖𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹." Victor mutters lowly.
"𝓦𝒽𝒶𝓉 -?" Victor just heavies a huge sigh and turns me around to hug. I twist my head to lean against his shoulder and finally I see my landing stretch. My shocked silence is enough.
Behind us are a massive pile up of trees, dead animals, bush and a fuck-ton of dirt. Under our feet is freshly turned forest dirt, and my eyes go up and up and up from our feet and it just doesn't stop. It looks like a dirt road coming to a dead spot at the deep hole I just climbed out of.
"𝓗𝑜𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀," I breathe, reaching down to grasp a handful of dirt from the ground. It's far finer than normal forest dirt. I return to look at the hole I was buried in. Peering down, it's easy to lose the bottom without good eyesight.
"𝓘 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝓛𝓎𝒶𝓁𝓁. 𝓘 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓌𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝓘 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓘 𝓌𝑜𝓀𝑒 𝓊𝓅. 𝓘 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀; 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 – 4 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈. 4 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓁𝑜𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓁𝑜𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃." Victor turns to give me a look. "𝓛𝓎𝒶𝓁𝓁, 𝓌𝑒 𝓪𝓻𝒆 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓣𝓊𝓃𝑔𝓊𝓈𝓀𝒶 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓁𝑜𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃."
I could care less about the explosion; yeah, so what, it was us. It was gonna happen anyway with or without us.
But it happened again – this time only a month, but I had lost a whole month and I don't know why.
It's just…
…𝓌𝒽𝓎.