Hello, all, and thank you for coming to my fanfic! I really hope you
enjoy it, it's taken a bit of work. Anywho, that's all I really have to
say. On with the fanficcery!
Chapter One: The Chase
Greta paused in her steps at an entrance to an old alleyway, leaning over with her hands on her knees and taking deep breaths. Quickly, she glanced to the left to see if, by some miracle, she had managed to outrun them. No luck. She could still see the bright red hair and the glint of moving wheels in the moonlight down the dark street to her left. Still facing the alleyway, she turned her head to the right. As she started to regain her breath, she peered into the gloom of the darkened road. The pavement was glistening from the recent rain, and steam billowed up from the sewer grates. Greta's eyes narrowed as she scanned for some familiar place that she could duck into for shelter. There was none. So she focused on the alley in front of her.
The ground in the narrow gap between buildings was filthy. There was at least a five-inch layer of green muck to wade through if she went that way.
_Heaven knows where it *came* from_ Greta thought as she took another slowing gulp of air. She glanced to the left again. They were close enough now that she could make out what they really looked like, now. Not that she wanted to. In fact, she thought she had seen enough of them throughout the duration of their little 'chase.' At this point, she was getting rather desperate.
_Oh, to be curled up at the subway station right now_
Greta sighed. There were only two options left for her to take; she could either run into the street to her right, prolonging the chase...or she could take the mucky alleyway to (hopefully) her salvation.
_Definitely the alleyway._
Greta concentrated and held her hands out flat by her sides, arms fully extended, with her palms parallel to the ground. She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow, concentrating on signaling that...little pulse...from her brain to her hands. When she opened her eyes again, she was 'floating' about a half a foot above the ground. Her face remained knitted in concentration as she began to walk forward, above the slime. It became easier as she went along, but she still made sure to keep her steps steady.
_Ugh, imagine falling down into this stuff in the middle. No, wait! Don't, you'll lose your concentration._
Breathing a sigh of relief, Greta stepped down from her 'perch' in the air. She peered over her shoulder behind her. Sometimes she just couldn't believe what she could do. She had left near-parallel tracks in the muck behind her, right below where her hands had been.
_Oh, *crap*._ She thought. _His wheelchair will probably be just the right width for him to go through those *tracks* I laid out for him. Grrr, no time to think about that now. Gotta keep movin'. Maybe I can get to Agnes's house in time..._
Greta darted quickly to her left and went down a couple more alleyways. Fortunately, these were *not* coated with slime. In what seemed like the knick of time, she reached Agnes's house. Agnes was an old lady that Greta sometimes spoke to. She knew the ways of the street, and would occasionally teach Greta a trick or two about getting by. In exchange, Greta would provide good companionship and ridiculous stories about some of the people whom she had seen in the subways of New York City.
"Agnes," she panted, pushing aside the grimy curtain. "I need somewhere to crash for awhile. Can I-"
She stopped. There was no-one in Agnes's shelter. Of course, it had just rained! The shelter was sopping wet!
_Ugh, I'm such an *idiot*!_
A surprisingly loud voice came from behind her: "You are most definitely *not* an idiot, Greta."
She gasped nearly inaudibly and turned around. Then she froze.
Not because she was scared, but because, all of a sudden, she couldn't move.
Greta strained against the force that held her, fighting with all her might. Fear threatened to take over her body, but she fought it, too. Then she threw all her strength into trying to turn around and run.
No luck.
Next she put all her force into trying to lash out at the two figures in front of her, one standing, one sitting. As she fought, she noticed that all four eyes before her were closed, and two foreheads were creased. The redhead appeared to be biting her lip.
After awhile, Greta stopped fighting, exhausted. The two in front of her relaxed visibly, and the bald guy opened his eyes. The redhead stopped biting her lip, but she looked like she was still concentrating on something. Greta found that she could move her face, and narrowed her eyes at the bald man, who was looking directly into her eyes.
"Who are you guys? Cops? Do you want my money or something? Are you..." an idea dawned on her. "Are you guys looking to get off on me or somethin'? 'Cause I *will* fight you, no matter *what*."
Greta didn't want to ask about her name: she didn't want to give them any information about herself. They wouldn't know for sure that it *was* her name unless she told them. And she didn't even want to *think* about how he had known what she was thinking.
"Greta..." Greta tried not to flinch. "We want to *help* you. We know who you are, and we know what you've been trying to hide from your friends." Greta kept her face blank. "We know that you're a mutant..." Greta fought to keep her features impassive, but her eyes widened a little bit. "...and we want to offer you a more...permanent home for you. A better home than the streets. We can offer you an education, and good food every day. Now-"
"Why do you wanna help me so bad?" Greta blurted. _Ahh, what a dope! I just gave myself *away*!_
"We want to help you...because we are like you, Greta. Now, could you please stop insulting yourself? A smart girl like you should know better." At this, her eyes widened further.
_Can you read my mind or somethin'?_ She tested.
_Yes, Greta. *Now* do you believe we want to help you?_
Greta gasped quietly. She *knew* she hadn't cooked up that voice in her head. That had been *him*.
"Jean is going to release you now. Will you promise not to run?" said the bald guy quietly.
"I'm not promisin' anythin'."
The bald guy nodded, but Greta guessed it was just for show. The redhead opened her eyes slowly and looked up, and Greta felt the invisible force holding her go slack. She stayed put. The bald guy smiled, steepled his hands together, and began:
"My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and I run a boardinghouse for mutants..."
***
So whaddaya think? Is it cool? Is it stupid? I wanna know what you think! So review, consarnit! Oh, and don't worry, there's *tons* more to come. This is just the *introduction*. Check back soon!
Chapter One: The Chase
Greta paused in her steps at an entrance to an old alleyway, leaning over with her hands on her knees and taking deep breaths. Quickly, she glanced to the left to see if, by some miracle, she had managed to outrun them. No luck. She could still see the bright red hair and the glint of moving wheels in the moonlight down the dark street to her left. Still facing the alleyway, she turned her head to the right. As she started to regain her breath, she peered into the gloom of the darkened road. The pavement was glistening from the recent rain, and steam billowed up from the sewer grates. Greta's eyes narrowed as she scanned for some familiar place that she could duck into for shelter. There was none. So she focused on the alley in front of her.
The ground in the narrow gap between buildings was filthy. There was at least a five-inch layer of green muck to wade through if she went that way.
_Heaven knows where it *came* from_ Greta thought as she took another slowing gulp of air. She glanced to the left again. They were close enough now that she could make out what they really looked like, now. Not that she wanted to. In fact, she thought she had seen enough of them throughout the duration of their little 'chase.' At this point, she was getting rather desperate.
_Oh, to be curled up at the subway station right now_
Greta sighed. There were only two options left for her to take; she could either run into the street to her right, prolonging the chase...or she could take the mucky alleyway to (hopefully) her salvation.
_Definitely the alleyway._
Greta concentrated and held her hands out flat by her sides, arms fully extended, with her palms parallel to the ground. She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow, concentrating on signaling that...little pulse...from her brain to her hands. When she opened her eyes again, she was 'floating' about a half a foot above the ground. Her face remained knitted in concentration as she began to walk forward, above the slime. It became easier as she went along, but she still made sure to keep her steps steady.
_Ugh, imagine falling down into this stuff in the middle. No, wait! Don't, you'll lose your concentration._
Breathing a sigh of relief, Greta stepped down from her 'perch' in the air. She peered over her shoulder behind her. Sometimes she just couldn't believe what she could do. She had left near-parallel tracks in the muck behind her, right below where her hands had been.
_Oh, *crap*._ She thought. _His wheelchair will probably be just the right width for him to go through those *tracks* I laid out for him. Grrr, no time to think about that now. Gotta keep movin'. Maybe I can get to Agnes's house in time..._
Greta darted quickly to her left and went down a couple more alleyways. Fortunately, these were *not* coated with slime. In what seemed like the knick of time, she reached Agnes's house. Agnes was an old lady that Greta sometimes spoke to. She knew the ways of the street, and would occasionally teach Greta a trick or two about getting by. In exchange, Greta would provide good companionship and ridiculous stories about some of the people whom she had seen in the subways of New York City.
"Agnes," she panted, pushing aside the grimy curtain. "I need somewhere to crash for awhile. Can I-"
She stopped. There was no-one in Agnes's shelter. Of course, it had just rained! The shelter was sopping wet!
_Ugh, I'm such an *idiot*!_
A surprisingly loud voice came from behind her: "You are most definitely *not* an idiot, Greta."
She gasped nearly inaudibly and turned around. Then she froze.
Not because she was scared, but because, all of a sudden, she couldn't move.
Greta strained against the force that held her, fighting with all her might. Fear threatened to take over her body, but she fought it, too. Then she threw all her strength into trying to turn around and run.
No luck.
Next she put all her force into trying to lash out at the two figures in front of her, one standing, one sitting. As she fought, she noticed that all four eyes before her were closed, and two foreheads were creased. The redhead appeared to be biting her lip.
After awhile, Greta stopped fighting, exhausted. The two in front of her relaxed visibly, and the bald guy opened his eyes. The redhead stopped biting her lip, but she looked like she was still concentrating on something. Greta found that she could move her face, and narrowed her eyes at the bald man, who was looking directly into her eyes.
"Who are you guys? Cops? Do you want my money or something? Are you..." an idea dawned on her. "Are you guys looking to get off on me or somethin'? 'Cause I *will* fight you, no matter *what*."
Greta didn't want to ask about her name: she didn't want to give them any information about herself. They wouldn't know for sure that it *was* her name unless she told them. And she didn't even want to *think* about how he had known what she was thinking.
"Greta..." Greta tried not to flinch. "We want to *help* you. We know who you are, and we know what you've been trying to hide from your friends." Greta kept her face blank. "We know that you're a mutant..." Greta fought to keep her features impassive, but her eyes widened a little bit. "...and we want to offer you a more...permanent home for you. A better home than the streets. We can offer you an education, and good food every day. Now-"
"Why do you wanna help me so bad?" Greta blurted. _Ahh, what a dope! I just gave myself *away*!_
"We want to help you...because we are like you, Greta. Now, could you please stop insulting yourself? A smart girl like you should know better." At this, her eyes widened further.
_Can you read my mind or somethin'?_ She tested.
_Yes, Greta. *Now* do you believe we want to help you?_
Greta gasped quietly. She *knew* she hadn't cooked up that voice in her head. That had been *him*.
"Jean is going to release you now. Will you promise not to run?" said the bald guy quietly.
"I'm not promisin' anythin'."
The bald guy nodded, but Greta guessed it was just for show. The redhead opened her eyes slowly and looked up, and Greta felt the invisible force holding her go slack. She stayed put. The bald guy smiled, steepled his hands together, and began:
"My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and I run a boardinghouse for mutants..."
***
So whaddaya think? Is it cool? Is it stupid? I wanna know what you think! So review, consarnit! Oh, and don't worry, there's *tons* more to come. This is just the *introduction*. Check back soon!
