Truth is Overrated: I was a late bloomer. An old man swooped in and then dropped me into the crazy world of his School for Mutants my senior year of high school. To the surprise of everyone else, I turned out all right. It's been a long time since I called the Institute home, but now I'm back and I think I might be here to stay. Sequel to Normalcy is Overrated.
Disclaimer: The X-Men, SHIELD, the Avengers, the Brotherhood of Mutants, and any other familiar characters are not my property. I claim no ownership of them. They are the creation and property of their creators and the rich assholes that control their every movement. I simply like to toy with them.
"The truth is overrated." – Paul Westerberg
~Chapter Thirty-Eight~
I watched the Blackbird rise up with the aid of my strength, watched myself force it up into the air. I saw myself fall, and then I saw myself rise. Over and over, I watched the scene from afar like a voyeur, determined to dissect each second to analyze for reasons I couldn't even begin to understand. I stared into Jean's green eyes and watched them blaze with an inhuman color, fire leaping from her very soul to escape her with an untamable violence.
Then I blinked and I was chewing on something sugary and sweet. My teeth tore through the sticky dough and my tongue laved at the flecks of glaze that were stuck to my lips. I smiled to myself in spite of the rambling voice complaining about the traffic.
"I swear I hate when we get this patrol, Dani. Do you know the last time we managed to make it back to the station for shift change and I made it home on time? I don't, I sure as hell don't and neither does Lisa. She rants and rants about her to-do list and all I want to do when I get home is eat, shower, sleep, get some, and sleep some more!"
I chuckled and popped the last bite of glazed doughnut hole into my mouth before I shook my head. "You have to admit that you're not the best at managing what little free time you have, Bart. Maybe instead of complaining about the fact that the plate of food she saved you from dinner has gone cold, you could, I don't know, thank her?"
"You would take up for her. What is it, some sort of code that says that all women have to stick together?"
I glanced over in his direction and rolled my eyes at the pained expression on his face. With one hand on the steering wheel, he checked both side mirrors and the rearview mirror before he shifted the patrol car into the right lane and we made a right turn. I recognized the area, as it was in a section of Hell's Kitchen that we were often stuck with in spite of our shining records.
Tucking my used napkins back into the paper bag that had held the doughnut holes, I rolled the bag into a tight ball and shoved it down into the pocket of my door. There were also two extra magazines for my Glock, a beautiful G17, tucked into the pocket of the door.
"Think we'll see that vigilante they've been talking about at the station running around tonight?"
Shrugging, I glanced up towards the rooftops of the buildings as we drove past them. It was still an hour until dusk, but the city seemed to be slumbering already. "I hope not. I've read the articles and the police reports, same as you. Running across that guy means you're in a heap load of shit. No thanks!"
He laughed in response and we were quiet, both listening to the scanner as another squad car called in for a wagon. No matter how quiet the city seemed, there were still people getting into trouble.
"You still going upstate this weekend for that birthday party you've been talking about for weeks?"
Smiling, I gave a noncommittal grunt in reply. In truth, I was ecstatic about my trip back to the Institute. I didn't visit all that often, partly because of my busy schedule but also because sometimes it just seemed weird. Was it home? I wasn't sure where home was, but since Marie, Lori, and Logan was there, it sure felt like the closest thing I'd had to home since I'd left Grandma Janie's house.
Most mutants, if they are to manifest an active mutation, do so sometime during the height of puberty. Something about the hormones – I wasn't quite certain how the science of it worked. I, on the other hand, was a late bloomer. My mutation, a source of confusion to everyone at first because I'd been unable to control it, had manifested in a sporting arena full of people. I'd been arrested on the spot and eventually spirited away by Charles Xavier, Scott Summers, and Piotr Rasputin – three men who would later become mentors and friends.
Lori's birthday was seen practically as a national holiday by all of the inhabitants, past and present, of the Xavier Institute. As the X-Men's first official baby, she was spoiled beyond comprehension and her little chubby face was the topic of discussion in many a text and video chat. Everyone planned to return for her birthday, to celebrate with her and Marie and Johnny, and I was truly excited to see everyone.
It had been too long. Marie wasn't the only one that constantly hounded me, that tried to manipulate me into returning for a visit for whatever reason she could come up with at any given time. Jubilee, Kitty, Bobby, Tabby, Pete, and even Jean and Scott sent texts or e-mails that weren't all that subtle. It made me excited to go back home.
"So did you find a good gift? Lisa said that she had a few ideas if you weren't sure what to get your niece." Niece wasn't entirely accurate, since Marie and I weren't actually blood. But, given everything that we'd been through together, our unwavering friendship, it was the only relationship title that truly fit. "Thanks, by the way, for showing off her baby pictures to Lisa last weekend when you came over to watch the game. She's got baby fever, again."
In spite of his hectic career and busy schedule, I knew that Bart wanted a house full of kids. He'd confided in me once that he and Lisa had decided to wait a few years, until he was promoted and they could afford to move into a larger home, before they had any more kids. But, I knew without a doubt that he was excited about the prospect of adding more children to their brood.
Or, more accurately, he was probably excited about trying to add more children to their growing brood.
"If Lisa's smart, she'll call in a substitution from one of the guys in the bullpen. God only knows why she'd want another brat that looks anything like you!"
The radio crackled with an address nearby. "All units be advised, 10-34 K, subject is armed and dangerous. Any units in the area?" the dispatcher inquired calmly.
I glanced over at Bart and grimaced at the steel set of his jaw, but I reached out for the radio mic and brought it closer to my face. After a beat, I cued the mic and spoke clearly. "This is Unit 13. We're approximately five minutes east of location. We'll assess the situation, over."
"10-4, Unit 13. Will standby unless a request for backup is issued."
I clipped the mic back into place and drew in a slow breath. When I felt the slow build of adrenaline, I tried to think soothing, happy thoughts. It simply wasn't wise to go into an unknown situation hyped up on adrenaline.
The next ten minutes passed in a practical blur. We went in quietly, no lights or sirens, and parked near the main entry. The residence was a two-story remodeled warehouse that housed fifteen apartment units, a utility room on the main level, and a gym in the basement. The address given by the dispatch indicated that our suspect was believed to be in the second floor.
We followed procedure to the t. Weapons drawn, we identified ourselves, our purpose, and moved through the first floor easily. He took one wing and I took the other. We radioed to notify each other when our sections were clear, and then we took opposite stairwells to climb to the second floor.
That's about when all hell broke loose.
"Lower your weapon!" I ordered in a clear tone as a large and fit man shoved a tiny and frail woman out of an open apartment door. He shifted his weight immediately, swinging around so that her tiny body acted as a shield in front of him. I took in all of the details quickly, mentally noting that he appeared to be somewhere around 6'3" and in the neighborhood of three hundred pounds; mostly muscle. Dark hair, dark eyes, a scar over his left cheek. "Drop the knife, sir!"
The woman whimpered and I looked over her quickly, noting that she stood almost a foot shorter than the man holding her captive. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tangled knot, and her bright blue eyes were red from crying. There were several marks on her face, neck, and arms that led me to believe that she'd been attacked quite recently.
When the man snarled, I eased into my firing stance – legs shoulder width apart and arms outstretched levelly. "I'll cut this bitch if you so much as come a single step closer! I'll fucking do it!"
My radio crackled and I refused to let my frustration show when dispatch inquired about the suspect. But, the man heard well enough despite the fifteen feet separating the two of us.
"Tell them it was a false alarm! Tell them something! Right now!"
I unclipped the mic from my right shoulder, gun still clutched in my right hand, and made the call to dispatch. "Dispatch, this is Unit 13. Please be advised that it was a misunderstanding. Requesting 10-85, over."
"10-4, Unit 13," the dispatcher replied immediately before the radio went silent.
The man's expression hadn't changed, so I relaxed the slightest bit. He wasn't familiar with any of the codes, which meant that he didn't realize I'd requested an additional vehicle on-scene. All he'd heard was the word misunderstanding.
"Sir, please drop the knife and step away from the woman. This doesn't have to end this way." I lifted my left hand into the air, in surrender, and slowly holstered my gun at my hip. Then, I lifted my right hand into alongside my left.
"Stay right fucking there!"
"I'm not moving a muscle, sir," I reassured him with an innocent smile. "My entire goal revolves around a happy ending for everyone; the only way we're going to all see a happy ending is if you let the woman go, without harming her, and drop your weapon."
The next few seconds passed in a blur, a blur I'd later have a difficult time fully recalling. The armed assailant turned his head towards the left; something in the apartment must have drawn his attention. Within a split second, he was tackled from the side by my partner.
I surged forward and into action and helped to pin the man to the ground. The woman wailed in pain and I closed my hand around the blade of the knife before it could plunge into her ceratoid artery. While it certainly wasn't pleasant to feel the serrated blade slicing through tissue and muscle, I was able to block out the pain so that I could focus on shoving myself between the woman and the assailant.
"Put your hands behind your back! Get down on the ground and put your hands behind your back!" Bart ordered over and over again, but the man fought back like a hellcat, vicious and frothing at the mouth. With a bit of a grimace, I pulled the deadly six-inch blade from my hand and wiped the blood on the front of my uniform. His eyes were a little wild when he glanced over at me, but I let Bart take control of the situation as he put his knee in the assailant's back and forced him down onto the ground. "Stop resisting! Stop resisting!"
The sobbing woman wailed and threw her arms dramatically, and I pushed her back with my free hand. "Ma'am. Please, try to remain calm."
She spat words and glared up at me with glossy eyes, but nothing she said made any sort of sense. Gesticulating, she motioned towards the open apartment door and then back towards where Bart was putting the cuffs on the assailant. "Run." I blinked in confusion when her distorted words finally made some sort of sense. Only, they didn't. "Run!"
The earth trembled and I blinked a few times to clear my blurry vision, but the world didn't make any sense. Something rushed out of the open apartment door, but it didn't look human. It was a monster, a monstrous being over seven foot tall covered in dark, thick fur. It roared, inhuman and fierce and predatory.
"Bart!"
The assailant on the ground fought back, and broke free of Bart's hold as the beast lunged toward my partner. In the space of a few breaths, everything went horribly wrong. The assailant, having not been properly pat down, was able to find another weapon on his person. As Bart lifted his weapon and ordered the beast to stand down, the assailant lunged up and swung a butterfly knife at the back of Bart's neck.
I felt the scream as it got lodged in my throat, and all sense of protocol was forgotten as I surged forward, feet no longer on the floor. A guttural growl escaped me and I launched myself first onto the assailant. Using my superhuman strength and my training, I overpowered him easily and wasn't bothered when the blade of the knife sliced through my wrist. His eyes widened in surprise as I snapped the bones in his forearm and rendered his arm completely useless. His hand spasmed and he screamed shrilly as I ripped the blade from his grasp and then thrust him backwards with an open palm-shove against his ribcage.
When I pivoted to face Bart and the beast, I realized that I'd made an unforgivable mistake.
Bart was on the ground, barely moving and mostly silent, and I screamed, blade clutched in my hand, and charged at the beast of a man that knelt next to my partner with clawed hands perched over his chest. I barreled into the beast, tossing him back several feet, and crouched next to Bart and assessed his injuries with a sweep of my dark eyes.
I dropped the blade beside me and checked for a pulse, finding it thready and a growing pool of blood beneath his head. There were several wounds across his lower abdomen, and his left arm – both areas left unprotected by the standard issue vest he wore under his uniform. His chest rose and fell unevenly and blood seeped from his parted lips as he stared up at me with confusion in his dark eyes.
"Officer down! Officer down! I need an ambulance at my location immediately! Officer down!" I radioed in and ignored the dispatcher when they asked for more information. "Bart, dammit Bart. Just hang on, man."
My mind was blank; all of the hours I'd clocked at the Institute practicing first aid and the courses I'd taken at the academy completely forgotten as I pressed my bloody hands against the deep wounds in his gut. I kept muttering his name and promising him that I just had to get the bleeding to stop and then he would be okay.
The world around me ceased to matter, at least for a minute or two. In those moments, I pleaded with the universe, with any Makers, and begged for my friend's life.
No one listened.
"Da-Da-Dani. Am I – Am I—"
"You're going to be just fine, Bart. Don't you even worry that stupid ginger head of yours!" He laughed in response and I flinched as warm blood spurted out of the wounds in his gut. His face was pale, too pale, and it was with a sinking feeling of dread that I stared down into his bloodshot eyes. "You're just tired. I told you that you needed to stop chugging down so much caffeine. You know how you are when you crash."
His pale lips, slippery with his own blood, twitched into a droopy smile before his eyes rolled back in his head. That quickly, he was simply gone.
I knelt beside him for a few more minutes, applying pressure to the wounds in his gut and talking to him in quiet tones. In fact, I didn't even notice the arrival of two more officers. I heard people talking, and ignored them as I talked about Lori and Marie to Bart. The tears streamed down my cheeks and landed on his still-warm body as I told him about how much Lori enjoyed coming into the city for lunch dates, and how her smile made me ache with something I couldn't even define.
"Evans. Evans." The hand on my shoulder drew my gaze, and I blinked at it a few times before I allowed the uniformed officer to tug me to my feet. I slid a little bit, only belatedly aware of the puddle of blood beneath my boots. Eyes glazed over from tears, I blinked a few more times and the man's face slowly came into focus. "The ambulance is inbound, but I'm sorry – he's gone."
Another guttural growl escaped, but it wasn't from me. The beast, the thing at least partially responsible for the death of my partner, fought against the second officer as he attempted to cuff the unruly thing. Never before in my life, not even when I'd seen the horrible things that William Stryker had caused mutants to do, had I ever hated mutants as much as I did right in that very second.
Fueled by grief, rage, and stricken by frustration, I broke every promise I'd ever made to myself or to the two superiors that knew about my unique abilities. I pushed off of the ground with such a great force that it crackled under me, and I slammed into the beast with all of my weight. I caught him by surprise and he screamed angrily as we slammed into surface after surface. Wood splintered, cinder block gave way, concrete exploded, rebar bent, and I kept flying and using him as a battering ram until we somehow exited the building and I slammed him into the pavement outside.
A crater fifteen feet wide surrounded us, encircling us like an x marking the spot. The beast, to my disappointment, was dead. I heard the shouts, onlookers witnessing the terrible incident and officers on scene ordering me to drop my weapon and put my hands above my head.
Waving my hands around isn't a good idea, I thought to myself as I rose slowly. Covered in specks of blood, most of which wasn't mine, I put my hands behind my head and turned to face the carnage that I'd caused to the building that now housed Bart's body.
"I'm sorry, Bart."
A/N: I used good ol' Google to look up NYC police codes. According to my findings, 10-34 is an in progress assault with a knife. 10-85 requests an additional unit, but Dani failed to request a specific type of unit. Forgive me if these codes are not up to date or if they're outright wrong. I do my best to stay true to reality. Also, if you're still around, you better hang on to your seats. The last few chapters are going to be a whirlwind.