Disclaimer!!! X-Men Evolution belongs to Marvel Comics and the Kids WB. I do not own it in any way shape or form, nor do I intend to make any money off of this thing. It's for everyone's enjoyment (at least I hope ;) and that's all. The characters belong to their respective creators, and are used with permission. Yay! Fun! Enjoy! And anyone whose character will be involved or is involved, there's a small note for you at the bottom.
The gabled house on the outskirts of the city, several miles away from the highway, was an eavesdropper's heaven. The trees outside were thick and shady; there were numerous groves and clearings in which to hide. The gray shutters and blue siding hid a wealth of secrets, and the snoop that managed to gain entrance would find much to occupy them... Imagine, for a moment, that you are that person, a detective rooting for secrets in someone else's home.
You might find information that would make you rich. There might be horrible, terrible secrets...
X
"Er, I'm really, really sorry," Lee Nelson said, looking, crimson-faced at the wet sheets, "This is so embarrassing."
"Don't worry about it," Mark told the teenager kindly, "It happens to everyone. Sometimes you just lose control."
"I know, but... I was having this weird dream..."
"Don't worry, Lee," the older man repeated, eyeing the girl as they both stripped away the sodden blankets, "It's difficult for mutants to keep control of their powers, especially at such a young age."
She sighed deeply and placed a small stuffed animal on a shelf to dry; its ears hung limply over its face, damp and forlorn. "I know. I do, really."
"Good," Mark said, with a cheerful smile. He was almost a foot taller than Lee; in some of the lower rooms of the house he was forced to duck through the doors. Carrot-colored hair stuck out in wings over his ears, and he had a slightly goofy, youthful appearance. He was still in boxers and undershirt; the early morning emergency had roused him straight from bed.
A dusky face popped back into the room and instantly let out a moan of dismay. "Lee, -again-?" Jenna Sintor complained. The water had seeped to her side of the dormitory and made the carpet around her bed damp and soggy. She took angry footsteps across the room, squishing on the soggy rug as she went, and examined the damage. "Mark, can I -please- change room mates?" she asked, suddenly sounding much nicer than when she'd been talking to her classmate.
Mark scratched his head and examined the two girls, one sheepishly pushing the glasses further up her nose, the other glaring at the mess that had been created on the floor. "I'm sorry, Jen, but I think you're going to have to work it out between yourselves. That's part of what the Institute's all about. Besides... You haven't slept here all week, you've been in the garage." He yawned abruptly. "Now, I'm going to go get some coffee."
Lee shrugged at Jenna with an absent smile. "Coffee sounds like a good idea to me. Care to stop by the kitchen?"
Jenna gave her a long, wordless look, and stomped out of the room.
X
Leanna Shaw Nelson was her full name, but she was rarely, if ever called that. Whether it was too unusual, or there was some hidden reason against its use, the girl just found it easier to go by the moniker Lee. It always caused some confusion with new recruits, but they got used to the nicknames quickly enough. They had to, because there were code names to remember as well.
"Lee, Lee!" someone called.
"Yes?"
"Just the person I wanted to see," Daniele said, hurrying over. The second member of the trio of adults running the Institute, she was tall, with dark brown hair, skin, and eyes. Her hair, though fairly short, curled tightly upward, and her voice, when she spoke, was deep and had a Portuguese accent, although her English was perfect. At the moment, she was carrying a large pile of laundry, and her eyes peeped over the top.
"Really?" Lee asked dubiously.
"Don't sound so surprised," Daniele admonished her.
"Er, okay, I won't, but... why?"
"Well, we've a new recruit this morning, and I want you to show him around."
"Uh, am I really the best person to do that?"
Daniele shifted the laundry around, as several silk shirts threatened to slip out of the sides. "You have been here the longest, Lee, and even if you're not our most dedicated student, you know the Institute inside and out. Look, I've got to run before I drop all of these clean clothes on the floor and it will be your fault."
"Okay, okay, I understand... Where is he?"
"Living room," Daniele said, giving her a stern look (inasmuch as any expression could be seen, over the top of the clothes). "Don't mess this up, please."
"Okay, okay," Lee repeated.
"Good. Boa sorte."
"Good luck, yeah, I need it," Lee muttered. "Me, a tour guide. Bah." She dragged her scuffed sneakers down the stairs, idly tucking her hair behind her ears as she went. It popped out again, as it always did, so she changed nervous habits, and pushed the glasses further up the bridge of her nose, where they'd been slipping. A crash and a tinkling noise in the living room made her pick up her pace, jogging down two stairs at a time.
Lee poked her head into the room. "What happened?" she demanded, looking curiously at the boy who must be the newest recruit. He was tall, with rather messy brown hair and blueish gray eyes. He was actually, she thought, with some embarrassment, not bad looking at all, even if he did look mortified.
"Uh - I, uh - I'm really sorry. Really, really sorry, but that picture just fell and the glass broke. It's, um, a part of my mutation." He looked slightly defensive, but mostly apologetic.
"It's okay," Lee said, conveniently forgetting her own embarrassment that morning, "My roommate's pissed because I accidentally soaked her bed. It happens." She put a chair on top of the broken glass. "There. That should keep anyone from accidentally stepping in it."
"Are you sure? It looked kind of expensive..."
"Don't worry, no one liked that picture, anyway," Lee said truthfully, "You're doing us a favor."
The boy sighed, and glanced at his shoes. "Great. What a way to start out my first day here..."
"I said, don't worry about it," Lee said. "Daniele gets angry if she hears anyone angsting about their powers."
"It's not angst," he said defensively, "It's... Impractical?"
"Look, let's forget about it, okay? I'm Lee. Lee Nelson." She held out a hand to shake.
"Cameron D'Amore. Uh, just call me Cam." They shook hands in a friendly manner, and then Cam looked down at the two large bags of luggage. "Do I get my own room?"
"Nope. This isn't exactly a mansion, so you have to room with one other person. Here, do you want help with your bags?"
"Sure." He handed her the smaller one, and picked up the larger in both hands.
"Follow me," Lee said, "I'll give you the grand tour of Casa Champlain."
Cam looked as though he wasn't sure whether to smirk or smile, and ended up in a somewhat uncomfortable mix between the two. However, he followed quietly enough when Lee turned around and headed back up the stairs.
"Daniele?" she yelled.
"Yes, Lee?"
"You might want to look at the living room with a vacuum cleaner, okay?"
"Argh! My work is never done!"
"Don't mind her," Lee quickly reassured Cam, "She's just been busy this morning."
"...Right."
"Okay! Up here are the dorm rooms, and the instructor's bedrooms. They're actually smaller than the dorms, so we don't have it all that bad," Lee said. "Guys room only with guys, and the other way around... You're allowed to have members of the opposite sex in your room, but the door can't be closed."
Cam grinned. "That's really stupid."
"Yeah, I know. It's not like there's going to be mad orgies or anything... Right. This is going to be your room," Lee said, knocking at one of the doors, one that had a poster with a large French flag splayed across its front. "Rafe? Are you in there?"
"Come in," a male voice called.
Lee juggled the bag from her left to her right hand, and opened the door with a bit of difficulty.
X
Whatever Cam had been expecting when his parents sent him to the Champlain Institute, this wasn't really it. Somehow, in the news, mutants had either seemed to be heroes, with wonderful powers, or villains, evildoers bent on the destruction of the human race... So far, the mutants he'd met seemed like normal teenagers. He didn't even know what sort of power his future roommate had.
"Go on, introduce yourself," Lee whispered to him as she placed his bag on the spare bed. It had clothes all over it, along with some CD's.
"Right, right," Cam said, glancing at the tall teenager flopped on the other bed. "I'm Cameron D'Amore, call me Cam."
"Rafael Robuchon, please to meet you," said the guy Lee had addressed as Rafe.
"Rafe, it's 'pleased to meet you,'" Lee corrected.
"Yes, yes," Rafe agreed. "Pleased." He looked at the messy room, as though seeing it for the first time. "Here, let me help you with the clothes... Room's a little less clean than I thought when it was just me."
I'll say, Cam thought to himself.
"You can unpack later," Lee said, "I'm going to show you around the rest of the Institute."
"Nice meeting you," Rafe's heavily accented voice called after them as they left.
Cam smiled, just a bit. Perhaps this wasn't going to be as bad as he thought... Maybe he could forget the fact that his parents didn't want him? The fact that they were afraid of him? No, that wasn't something you could submerge so easily. With time, maybe... He shook his head, as if physical motion could clear his thoughts, and followed after the girl with the glasses.
"We're not at full strength yet," she was saying, "So far it's me, Rafe, Jenna, and you. There are still four more spots, and we might be expanding, Mark says. We're never going to be as big as those showy -X-Men-. Damn Americans."
"I'm American."
"Yes, but you're an honorary Canadian, now."
"Weird logic, but thanks, I think."
"It's the highest compliment you can receive, believe me. Now. Downstairs... Here's the training room. It's mostly for martial-arts type stuff, we do the rest of our powers training out in the woods where no one can see us... That's part of Daniele's power. She can make a whole plot of land unnoticeable and unreachable. Things and people, too."
"Heeeey. Now -that's- a cool power."
"Yeah, but she's been practicing for a long time. None of us students are that good yet."
"Oh."
Lee continued down the hall, closing the door on the training room. "This is the kitchen, you can come here if you're hungry... They don't begrudge midnight snacks."
"That's good to know," Cam grinned.
"Indeed."
X
Nikki Luapay ran through the forest, ducking underneath the low-hanging branches and hopping over the undergrowth. The bow and quiver of arrows slung over her back were an unnoticed weight; and the exhilaration of the hunt gave her lungs the extra breath of air she needed to follow after the white-tailed stag. He leapt ahead, crashing frantically through the trees and bushes, but she was gaining on him. The large male deer was already wounded, one of her arrows protruded from his back.
She chastised herself silently; normally, Nikki shot to kill, without causing any undue pain to the creature she hunted. Both Nikki and her grandfather lived on the meat they caught and whatever else they needed, Grandfather picked up from the small convenience store four miles down the mountain. Today, however, her aim had faltered and now, she could see the blood trail the frantic animal left. Abruptly, the noises stopped.
She hurried forward, and found the stag lying on its side, attempting to stand. Blood seeped steadily from the arrow wound in its back. As always, she felt truly sorry for taking the life of such a beautiful creature... However, venison meat was quite tasty, and putting the animal to use, instead of stuffing it and pinning its head to a wall, was rather justified in her moral code.
Taking out her hunting knife, she walked over to the stag, careful to avoid its thrashing forelimbs. Nikki was about to cut its throat when the sound of someone clapping caused her to whirl around in surprise. She knew the picture she must make; a tall girl with strands of sweaty dyed hair clinging to her forehead, and a very sharp upraised knife in one hand.
"Bravo," said the woman, watching her.
"Who are you?" Nikki asked.
"Someone who's interested in what you have to offer."
If she'd been on guard before, Nikki was suddenly even more restrained now. "And what would that be?"
"I know your powers. I know what you can do."
On the ground, the stag stopped struggling, closed its eyes, and died.
Nikki stared back at the woman. She was a short, white-blonde person, with equally light green eyes, tilted upward and framed in pale lashes. She was not dressed for the woods, or for any other logical place that Nikki could think of. A padded black leather jacket and tight black leather pants, with knee high black leather boots - what else was the woman dressed for, except for a spy movie? "Who are you?" she repeated.
"Me? You can call me Rán, for now, at least," the woman (Rán?) said. "Here. I'll help you carry Bambi, there, and then we can go and talk to your grandfather."
Here, Nikki laughed in earnest. "You? Carry -that-? You must be out of your mind."
Rán shrugged, and walked over to the deer, lifting it up easily with both hands. Nikki stood there and gaped at her. "You really are a mutant? You aren't just trying to trap me..."
"Don't be silly," Rán snapped, and began walking off with the deer in her arms, wound aimed away from her body. "I want you to join my school for mutants. It's called the Champlain Institute, and it's in Canada."
"I'm getting tired of repeating everything you say in questions. How about we don't talk, until we get back to the cabin."
"If you want," said Rán.
The walk back to the cabin was an awkward one. The woman didn't seem to be much of a talker in any event, and the several-hundred pound deer that the blonde held in her arms was not exactly a conversation prop, in any event. Nikki walked ahead of her into the interior, calling, "Grandfather? Are you there?"
"Chumani?" he replied, using the old nickname that meant dew drops, "Han." Which meant yes.
"Grandfather!" she repeated, and hugged him tightly when he came into the room. She had always felt a strong affection for the man who'd raised her as his own, and there was a bond, definitely a bond. As they hugged, Rán walked in behind her, flicking a drop of blood from one delicate hand.
"Nikki? You know this woman?" the old man asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, Grandfather. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. She knows... about me."
"Even your...?"
"Yes, I do, Mr. Luapay," Rán said smoothly. "I'm an emissary, if you will, from the Champlain Institute. Although we're new and not very large, yet, we're recruiting talented children from across the globe. Your granddaughter - your Void - has, we feel, special abilities that merit her selection into the school."
She talks like a lawyer, Nikki thought.
"Would you let us accept her and teach her how to develop her mutation?"
Grandfather smiled quietly, wrinkled face creasing even more in the expression. "I never make my Chumani do anything she does not want to. Nikki? How do you feel about this?"
"I don't know, Grandfather," she said, "It just seems a little sudden. You know. Surprising. Shocking. I wasn't really ready for it..."
"You can have a couple of weeks to think about it," Rán said, "I can stay for a bit to explain, but I have a teaching job I need to return to. We've our own jet, so I can fly out and pick you up should you decide to attend."
"Well," Nikki said, glancing towards her Grandfather for approval, "There's no harm in listening, right?"
"There never was."
"Okay, then," Nikki said, "We'll hear what you've got to say."
Rán smiled expansively, showing very white teeth. "I -knew- you'd see things our way."
X
Jenna Sintor groused to herself as she walked through the green-carpeted hallway. "'Coffee?'" she mocked, sighing gustily. "That Lee Nelson... Bah." She would work off her irritation in the safe haven of the garage, where it could be channeled to useful application. The school's high tech van had proved to be not as high tech as they thought, and rather than take it to the mechanic's to have the problems fixed (and have him exclaiming over some of the... defensive capabilities), Jenna had volunteered to look at the problem.
She was not as comfortable with it as she was with the motorcycle that was almost her other self, but she was pretty familiar with most of the systems, enough so that she'd definitely be able to right what the original maker (someone the X-Men knew - trust them for shoddy construction) had started wrong.
Jenna had changed into a pair of cut-off overalls, because Lee had soaked her favorite pair of work shorts by accident. Although she rolled her eyes again at the thought of the well-meaning troublemaker, Jenna smiled when she opened the door into the garage. It felt like home, in a way nowhere else in the Institute did. Every nook and cranny, she had already memorized.
"All right, let's see what's wrong with you today..." she murmured, as she approached the van, rubbing her hands together to loosen her fingers. The van sat expectantly on its jacks, raised several inches off of the ground. Today she planned to look at the parts and systems located on the bottom... Jenna found the piece of metal attached to a set of wheels and lay backwards on it, staring at the ceiling. Propelling herself forward with her feet, she slid underneath the van and began to work.
As she did so, one hand formed first into a flashlight so she could examine the problem. It took several minutes to "develop" the tool on her hand, even though a flashlight wasn't particularly complicated. She had to envision the thing in her head entirely... For some of the more complicated tools, Jenna had to use a tool belt, also slung around her waist.
All cares melted away when she was fixing something in the garage, the tension from her shoulders and from her mind. Grinning like a little child in a toy store for the first time, Jenna set to work, diagnosing the problems and fixing them.
X
Rafe Robuchon was writing a letter home. "Chers mère et père," he began, chewing on the edge of the pencil, "Tout est bien. Il y a un nouvel étudiant nommé Cameron; il semble assez gentil. Enverriez-vous s'il vous plaît certains des champignons bons? Il n'en semble pas y avoir autour ici..."* He paused, chewing on the pen thoughtfully. Suddenly, the end burst in his mouth and he spit out ink, disgusted.
Rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, Rafe stalked into the hallway bathroom, ready to brush out his teeth and get rid of the ink taste - he could hardly bear to have horrible food in his mouth for very long, let alone ink! Oh well. It had been a clumsy mistake; he'd live, to be sure.
Looking at himself in the mirror, Rafe was fairly pleased with what he saw. While in no way an egotist, he knew that he was good-looking. Gray-green eyes, framed pleasantly by light wire-framed glasses, short brown hair and a clean looking face (except for the temporary ink spots on his lips, of course), in general, a face one could trust.
And he was, of course, a person you could trust. Rafe rarely told lies, or at least tried not to whenever possible. He didn't smoke, only drank socially and never to gross excess, and was courteous to girls - they usually loved that. Rafe was, to all appearances, a clean-cut boy on the cusp of adulthood.
Was that why they had approached him? Was that why the mysterious men had tried to recruit him for some sort of shadowy organization? He'd said no, of course, but for some reason, the slightly paranoid idea that the strange encounter was not yet finished had lodged itself in his head.
Rafe spit blue-tinged water into the sink, and looked at himself in the mirror again. He was no little boy, to jump at fairy tales, was he? There was nothing to be afraid of. He was a mutant in the midst of mutants, learning to control his powers. Some day, he would become a master chef, like his parents before him. Nothing to worry about.
And speaking of parents... Rafe spit again, and returned to his room to finish their letter, banishing all thoughts of strange men and mystery groups.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*The letter says, "Dear mother and father: All is well. There is a new student named Cameron, he seems nice enough. Would you send more of the good mushrooms? They don't seem to have them here..." I used Babelfish at www.altavista.com to translate it, so any faults are entirely theirs. Actually, all of Rafe's French will be created by Babelfish, unless someone actually knows French. Hee! :)
If your character isn't in this chapter, they will be in it soon. Don't sweat it, okay? If you've got any ideas, put them in your reviews! I can't promise I'll use them, but I'd like to make this at least a bit interactive. Also, if you see a character you think yours would be paired up with, than go ahead and tell me. Any complaints about personalities, go ahead and tell me too... this is your fic as much as it is mine, and I want you guys to be happy with it. :) I'm trying not to be -too- long winded down here, although it's difficult. I think that's all. Hope you enjoyed!
The gabled house on the outskirts of the city, several miles away from the highway, was an eavesdropper's heaven. The trees outside were thick and shady; there were numerous groves and clearings in which to hide. The gray shutters and blue siding hid a wealth of secrets, and the snoop that managed to gain entrance would find much to occupy them... Imagine, for a moment, that you are that person, a detective rooting for secrets in someone else's home.
You might find information that would make you rich. There might be horrible, terrible secrets...
X
"Er, I'm really, really sorry," Lee Nelson said, looking, crimson-faced at the wet sheets, "This is so embarrassing."
"Don't worry about it," Mark told the teenager kindly, "It happens to everyone. Sometimes you just lose control."
"I know, but... I was having this weird dream..."
"Don't worry, Lee," the older man repeated, eyeing the girl as they both stripped away the sodden blankets, "It's difficult for mutants to keep control of their powers, especially at such a young age."
She sighed deeply and placed a small stuffed animal on a shelf to dry; its ears hung limply over its face, damp and forlorn. "I know. I do, really."
"Good," Mark said, with a cheerful smile. He was almost a foot taller than Lee; in some of the lower rooms of the house he was forced to duck through the doors. Carrot-colored hair stuck out in wings over his ears, and he had a slightly goofy, youthful appearance. He was still in boxers and undershirt; the early morning emergency had roused him straight from bed.
A dusky face popped back into the room and instantly let out a moan of dismay. "Lee, -again-?" Jenna Sintor complained. The water had seeped to her side of the dormitory and made the carpet around her bed damp and soggy. She took angry footsteps across the room, squishing on the soggy rug as she went, and examined the damage. "Mark, can I -please- change room mates?" she asked, suddenly sounding much nicer than when she'd been talking to her classmate.
Mark scratched his head and examined the two girls, one sheepishly pushing the glasses further up her nose, the other glaring at the mess that had been created on the floor. "I'm sorry, Jen, but I think you're going to have to work it out between yourselves. That's part of what the Institute's all about. Besides... You haven't slept here all week, you've been in the garage." He yawned abruptly. "Now, I'm going to go get some coffee."
Lee shrugged at Jenna with an absent smile. "Coffee sounds like a good idea to me. Care to stop by the kitchen?"
Jenna gave her a long, wordless look, and stomped out of the room.
X
Leanna Shaw Nelson was her full name, but she was rarely, if ever called that. Whether it was too unusual, or there was some hidden reason against its use, the girl just found it easier to go by the moniker Lee. It always caused some confusion with new recruits, but they got used to the nicknames quickly enough. They had to, because there were code names to remember as well.
"Lee, Lee!" someone called.
"Yes?"
"Just the person I wanted to see," Daniele said, hurrying over. The second member of the trio of adults running the Institute, she was tall, with dark brown hair, skin, and eyes. Her hair, though fairly short, curled tightly upward, and her voice, when she spoke, was deep and had a Portuguese accent, although her English was perfect. At the moment, she was carrying a large pile of laundry, and her eyes peeped over the top.
"Really?" Lee asked dubiously.
"Don't sound so surprised," Daniele admonished her.
"Er, okay, I won't, but... why?"
"Well, we've a new recruit this morning, and I want you to show him around."
"Uh, am I really the best person to do that?"
Daniele shifted the laundry around, as several silk shirts threatened to slip out of the sides. "You have been here the longest, Lee, and even if you're not our most dedicated student, you know the Institute inside and out. Look, I've got to run before I drop all of these clean clothes on the floor and it will be your fault."
"Okay, okay, I understand... Where is he?"
"Living room," Daniele said, giving her a stern look (inasmuch as any expression could be seen, over the top of the clothes). "Don't mess this up, please."
"Okay, okay," Lee repeated.
"Good. Boa sorte."
"Good luck, yeah, I need it," Lee muttered. "Me, a tour guide. Bah." She dragged her scuffed sneakers down the stairs, idly tucking her hair behind her ears as she went. It popped out again, as it always did, so she changed nervous habits, and pushed the glasses further up the bridge of her nose, where they'd been slipping. A crash and a tinkling noise in the living room made her pick up her pace, jogging down two stairs at a time.
Lee poked her head into the room. "What happened?" she demanded, looking curiously at the boy who must be the newest recruit. He was tall, with rather messy brown hair and blueish gray eyes. He was actually, she thought, with some embarrassment, not bad looking at all, even if he did look mortified.
"Uh - I, uh - I'm really sorry. Really, really sorry, but that picture just fell and the glass broke. It's, um, a part of my mutation." He looked slightly defensive, but mostly apologetic.
"It's okay," Lee said, conveniently forgetting her own embarrassment that morning, "My roommate's pissed because I accidentally soaked her bed. It happens." She put a chair on top of the broken glass. "There. That should keep anyone from accidentally stepping in it."
"Are you sure? It looked kind of expensive..."
"Don't worry, no one liked that picture, anyway," Lee said truthfully, "You're doing us a favor."
The boy sighed, and glanced at his shoes. "Great. What a way to start out my first day here..."
"I said, don't worry about it," Lee said. "Daniele gets angry if she hears anyone angsting about their powers."
"It's not angst," he said defensively, "It's... Impractical?"
"Look, let's forget about it, okay? I'm Lee. Lee Nelson." She held out a hand to shake.
"Cameron D'Amore. Uh, just call me Cam." They shook hands in a friendly manner, and then Cam looked down at the two large bags of luggage. "Do I get my own room?"
"Nope. This isn't exactly a mansion, so you have to room with one other person. Here, do you want help with your bags?"
"Sure." He handed her the smaller one, and picked up the larger in both hands.
"Follow me," Lee said, "I'll give you the grand tour of Casa Champlain."
Cam looked as though he wasn't sure whether to smirk or smile, and ended up in a somewhat uncomfortable mix between the two. However, he followed quietly enough when Lee turned around and headed back up the stairs.
"Daniele?" she yelled.
"Yes, Lee?"
"You might want to look at the living room with a vacuum cleaner, okay?"
"Argh! My work is never done!"
"Don't mind her," Lee quickly reassured Cam, "She's just been busy this morning."
"...Right."
"Okay! Up here are the dorm rooms, and the instructor's bedrooms. They're actually smaller than the dorms, so we don't have it all that bad," Lee said. "Guys room only with guys, and the other way around... You're allowed to have members of the opposite sex in your room, but the door can't be closed."
Cam grinned. "That's really stupid."
"Yeah, I know. It's not like there's going to be mad orgies or anything... Right. This is going to be your room," Lee said, knocking at one of the doors, one that had a poster with a large French flag splayed across its front. "Rafe? Are you in there?"
"Come in," a male voice called.
Lee juggled the bag from her left to her right hand, and opened the door with a bit of difficulty.
X
Whatever Cam had been expecting when his parents sent him to the Champlain Institute, this wasn't really it. Somehow, in the news, mutants had either seemed to be heroes, with wonderful powers, or villains, evildoers bent on the destruction of the human race... So far, the mutants he'd met seemed like normal teenagers. He didn't even know what sort of power his future roommate had.
"Go on, introduce yourself," Lee whispered to him as she placed his bag on the spare bed. It had clothes all over it, along with some CD's.
"Right, right," Cam said, glancing at the tall teenager flopped on the other bed. "I'm Cameron D'Amore, call me Cam."
"Rafael Robuchon, please to meet you," said the guy Lee had addressed as Rafe.
"Rafe, it's 'pleased to meet you,'" Lee corrected.
"Yes, yes," Rafe agreed. "Pleased." He looked at the messy room, as though seeing it for the first time. "Here, let me help you with the clothes... Room's a little less clean than I thought when it was just me."
I'll say, Cam thought to himself.
"You can unpack later," Lee said, "I'm going to show you around the rest of the Institute."
"Nice meeting you," Rafe's heavily accented voice called after them as they left.
Cam smiled, just a bit. Perhaps this wasn't going to be as bad as he thought... Maybe he could forget the fact that his parents didn't want him? The fact that they were afraid of him? No, that wasn't something you could submerge so easily. With time, maybe... He shook his head, as if physical motion could clear his thoughts, and followed after the girl with the glasses.
"We're not at full strength yet," she was saying, "So far it's me, Rafe, Jenna, and you. There are still four more spots, and we might be expanding, Mark says. We're never going to be as big as those showy -X-Men-. Damn Americans."
"I'm American."
"Yes, but you're an honorary Canadian, now."
"Weird logic, but thanks, I think."
"It's the highest compliment you can receive, believe me. Now. Downstairs... Here's the training room. It's mostly for martial-arts type stuff, we do the rest of our powers training out in the woods where no one can see us... That's part of Daniele's power. She can make a whole plot of land unnoticeable and unreachable. Things and people, too."
"Heeeey. Now -that's- a cool power."
"Yeah, but she's been practicing for a long time. None of us students are that good yet."
"Oh."
Lee continued down the hall, closing the door on the training room. "This is the kitchen, you can come here if you're hungry... They don't begrudge midnight snacks."
"That's good to know," Cam grinned.
"Indeed."
X
Nikki Luapay ran through the forest, ducking underneath the low-hanging branches and hopping over the undergrowth. The bow and quiver of arrows slung over her back were an unnoticed weight; and the exhilaration of the hunt gave her lungs the extra breath of air she needed to follow after the white-tailed stag. He leapt ahead, crashing frantically through the trees and bushes, but she was gaining on him. The large male deer was already wounded, one of her arrows protruded from his back.
She chastised herself silently; normally, Nikki shot to kill, without causing any undue pain to the creature she hunted. Both Nikki and her grandfather lived on the meat they caught and whatever else they needed, Grandfather picked up from the small convenience store four miles down the mountain. Today, however, her aim had faltered and now, she could see the blood trail the frantic animal left. Abruptly, the noises stopped.
She hurried forward, and found the stag lying on its side, attempting to stand. Blood seeped steadily from the arrow wound in its back. As always, she felt truly sorry for taking the life of such a beautiful creature... However, venison meat was quite tasty, and putting the animal to use, instead of stuffing it and pinning its head to a wall, was rather justified in her moral code.
Taking out her hunting knife, she walked over to the stag, careful to avoid its thrashing forelimbs. Nikki was about to cut its throat when the sound of someone clapping caused her to whirl around in surprise. She knew the picture she must make; a tall girl with strands of sweaty dyed hair clinging to her forehead, and a very sharp upraised knife in one hand.
"Bravo," said the woman, watching her.
"Who are you?" Nikki asked.
"Someone who's interested in what you have to offer."
If she'd been on guard before, Nikki was suddenly even more restrained now. "And what would that be?"
"I know your powers. I know what you can do."
On the ground, the stag stopped struggling, closed its eyes, and died.
Nikki stared back at the woman. She was a short, white-blonde person, with equally light green eyes, tilted upward and framed in pale lashes. She was not dressed for the woods, or for any other logical place that Nikki could think of. A padded black leather jacket and tight black leather pants, with knee high black leather boots - what else was the woman dressed for, except for a spy movie? "Who are you?" she repeated.
"Me? You can call me Rán, for now, at least," the woman (Rán?) said. "Here. I'll help you carry Bambi, there, and then we can go and talk to your grandfather."
Here, Nikki laughed in earnest. "You? Carry -that-? You must be out of your mind."
Rán shrugged, and walked over to the deer, lifting it up easily with both hands. Nikki stood there and gaped at her. "You really are a mutant? You aren't just trying to trap me..."
"Don't be silly," Rán snapped, and began walking off with the deer in her arms, wound aimed away from her body. "I want you to join my school for mutants. It's called the Champlain Institute, and it's in Canada."
"I'm getting tired of repeating everything you say in questions. How about we don't talk, until we get back to the cabin."
"If you want," said Rán.
The walk back to the cabin was an awkward one. The woman didn't seem to be much of a talker in any event, and the several-hundred pound deer that the blonde held in her arms was not exactly a conversation prop, in any event. Nikki walked ahead of her into the interior, calling, "Grandfather? Are you there?"
"Chumani?" he replied, using the old nickname that meant dew drops, "Han." Which meant yes.
"Grandfather!" she repeated, and hugged him tightly when he came into the room. She had always felt a strong affection for the man who'd raised her as his own, and there was a bond, definitely a bond. As they hugged, Rán walked in behind her, flicking a drop of blood from one delicate hand.
"Nikki? You know this woman?" the old man asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, Grandfather. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. She knows... about me."
"Even your...?"
"Yes, I do, Mr. Luapay," Rán said smoothly. "I'm an emissary, if you will, from the Champlain Institute. Although we're new and not very large, yet, we're recruiting talented children from across the globe. Your granddaughter - your Void - has, we feel, special abilities that merit her selection into the school."
She talks like a lawyer, Nikki thought.
"Would you let us accept her and teach her how to develop her mutation?"
Grandfather smiled quietly, wrinkled face creasing even more in the expression. "I never make my Chumani do anything she does not want to. Nikki? How do you feel about this?"
"I don't know, Grandfather," she said, "It just seems a little sudden. You know. Surprising. Shocking. I wasn't really ready for it..."
"You can have a couple of weeks to think about it," Rán said, "I can stay for a bit to explain, but I have a teaching job I need to return to. We've our own jet, so I can fly out and pick you up should you decide to attend."
"Well," Nikki said, glancing towards her Grandfather for approval, "There's no harm in listening, right?"
"There never was."
"Okay, then," Nikki said, "We'll hear what you've got to say."
Rán smiled expansively, showing very white teeth. "I -knew- you'd see things our way."
X
Jenna Sintor groused to herself as she walked through the green-carpeted hallway. "'Coffee?'" she mocked, sighing gustily. "That Lee Nelson... Bah." She would work off her irritation in the safe haven of the garage, where it could be channeled to useful application. The school's high tech van had proved to be not as high tech as they thought, and rather than take it to the mechanic's to have the problems fixed (and have him exclaiming over some of the... defensive capabilities), Jenna had volunteered to look at the problem.
She was not as comfortable with it as she was with the motorcycle that was almost her other self, but she was pretty familiar with most of the systems, enough so that she'd definitely be able to right what the original maker (someone the X-Men knew - trust them for shoddy construction) had started wrong.
Jenna had changed into a pair of cut-off overalls, because Lee had soaked her favorite pair of work shorts by accident. Although she rolled her eyes again at the thought of the well-meaning troublemaker, Jenna smiled when she opened the door into the garage. It felt like home, in a way nowhere else in the Institute did. Every nook and cranny, she had already memorized.
"All right, let's see what's wrong with you today..." she murmured, as she approached the van, rubbing her hands together to loosen her fingers. The van sat expectantly on its jacks, raised several inches off of the ground. Today she planned to look at the parts and systems located on the bottom... Jenna found the piece of metal attached to a set of wheels and lay backwards on it, staring at the ceiling. Propelling herself forward with her feet, she slid underneath the van and began to work.
As she did so, one hand formed first into a flashlight so she could examine the problem. It took several minutes to "develop" the tool on her hand, even though a flashlight wasn't particularly complicated. She had to envision the thing in her head entirely... For some of the more complicated tools, Jenna had to use a tool belt, also slung around her waist.
All cares melted away when she was fixing something in the garage, the tension from her shoulders and from her mind. Grinning like a little child in a toy store for the first time, Jenna set to work, diagnosing the problems and fixing them.
X
Rafe Robuchon was writing a letter home. "Chers mère et père," he began, chewing on the edge of the pencil, "Tout est bien. Il y a un nouvel étudiant nommé Cameron; il semble assez gentil. Enverriez-vous s'il vous plaît certains des champignons bons? Il n'en semble pas y avoir autour ici..."* He paused, chewing on the pen thoughtfully. Suddenly, the end burst in his mouth and he spit out ink, disgusted.
Rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, Rafe stalked into the hallway bathroom, ready to brush out his teeth and get rid of the ink taste - he could hardly bear to have horrible food in his mouth for very long, let alone ink! Oh well. It had been a clumsy mistake; he'd live, to be sure.
Looking at himself in the mirror, Rafe was fairly pleased with what he saw. While in no way an egotist, he knew that he was good-looking. Gray-green eyes, framed pleasantly by light wire-framed glasses, short brown hair and a clean looking face (except for the temporary ink spots on his lips, of course), in general, a face one could trust.
And he was, of course, a person you could trust. Rafe rarely told lies, or at least tried not to whenever possible. He didn't smoke, only drank socially and never to gross excess, and was courteous to girls - they usually loved that. Rafe was, to all appearances, a clean-cut boy on the cusp of adulthood.
Was that why they had approached him? Was that why the mysterious men had tried to recruit him for some sort of shadowy organization? He'd said no, of course, but for some reason, the slightly paranoid idea that the strange encounter was not yet finished had lodged itself in his head.
Rafe spit blue-tinged water into the sink, and looked at himself in the mirror again. He was no little boy, to jump at fairy tales, was he? There was nothing to be afraid of. He was a mutant in the midst of mutants, learning to control his powers. Some day, he would become a master chef, like his parents before him. Nothing to worry about.
And speaking of parents... Rafe spit again, and returned to his room to finish their letter, banishing all thoughts of strange men and mystery groups.
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*The letter says, "Dear mother and father: All is well. There is a new student named Cameron, he seems nice enough. Would you send more of the good mushrooms? They don't seem to have them here..." I used Babelfish at www.altavista.com to translate it, so any faults are entirely theirs. Actually, all of Rafe's French will be created by Babelfish, unless someone actually knows French. Hee! :)
If your character isn't in this chapter, they will be in it soon. Don't sweat it, okay? If you've got any ideas, put them in your reviews! I can't promise I'll use them, but I'd like to make this at least a bit interactive. Also, if you see a character you think yours would be paired up with, than go ahead and tell me. Any complaints about personalities, go ahead and tell me too... this is your fic as much as it is mine, and I want you guys to be happy with it. :) I'm trying not to be -too- long winded down here, although it's difficult. I think that's all. Hope you enjoyed!
