I apologize to anyone who thought that last thing I posted was a real chapter. Yeah, but I did leave a note at the bottom of the text explaining myself there. So reading the author's notes are a good thing. Here's the real chapter. Bon appettite.
To "annoymous": Did Prof. Xavier really know how to walk? See I don't know everything about the original comic. I din't know about that...I do really appreciate knowing about these things. Thanks!
The REAL Chapter 4
"Sweetie! Time to get up!" a voice that was strait out of the fifties called.
Duncan ran a hand over his face and pushed back the covers. He was this close to
the championship cup...and just a few more plays from getting a long awaited kiss from Jean.
Damn dream. It had felt so real.
Quickly getting dressed he grabbed breakfast and gave his rather plump mother a
kiss on the cheek.
He grabbed his keys and was soon driving to school.
Life was good for the teenager. Last night at the resturant he had scored with one of
the younger cheerleaders. Jean need not know anything about that.
He frowned remembering the 'almost' kiss that had happened between them in his
dream. She was so damn virtuous. If she wasn't willing to even give herself up to him.
Chicks: he sure as hell didn't understand them.
The kid's hands were bound to the metalic table underneath him. All and all with the
restraints around him he resembled
A mental health patient with straps, strait jacket, and needles in his arms.
As Logan walked in the kid was making vain attempts to move his head from side to
side. He was muttering strange phrases: coming
in and out of French.
So far the Profesor hadn't been able to probe this young man's mind. He had said
there was some sort of mental barrier that was keeping him from the young mind. But surely, in a day or
two the dam holding back all the memories and thoughts of the young man would break, and then he
would know what made this kid think that he could attack anyone of these kids. Especially Rogue...
Logan remembered what it was like to be on the outside of everything, and though
he had done so on purpose, it was still hard running around the country without anyone there. Rogue put
herself outside the circle of society on a life and death basis.
And lately she had been slowly letting others except her, and let herself leave her room more
often. Now was all that ruined.
The older man threw his fist fown on the table by the boy and let all the contents fly
through the air and land on the floor.
He gazed at the claws protruding from his bawled up fists and looked back at the kid.
Putrid, filthy, horrible, damned...thing, more like.
Logan frowled within his throat and was looked at the sharpened knife on the floor appealingly.
His next course of action was obvious as he picked up the small object and-
Felt it ripped from his fingers and flung across the room. Logan turned and looked at the
half-sized shadown rolling into the room.
"Violence isn't always the answer, Logan." The proffesor stated.
"It has always worked just fine for me." he rubbed at his nose with his thumb, and thrust his
hands into his pockets, "I just don't think this one is hurting enough for all he did to her."
"Yes...about that. Logan, we can't be too rash on deciding what's to be done with him. I haven't been able
to breach this...barrier, but I have picked up a few thoughts from him. And I assure you they are criminal,
but I didn't sense anything about a hatred, or attack on Rogue."
"Fe. I'm sure once he cracks, we can see all the horrid little details he went through."
"Be that as it may, we'll have to wait, just the same."
Logan moved away from the bed and walked toward the proffesor. The two left the room and
headed off towards the Danger Room.
As the metallic doors slid into place and the room was bathed in darkness, a pair of red on black
eyes opened.
Only one place she had ever seen before in her life had been as dark as the place she was in
now; the cave where Mystique had revealed her true intentions, and where she had decided to join the
x-men. And even in that small, cramped, unlighted cave there had been company. Here, wherever here
was, was dark, silent and completely unoccupied except for one.
Rogue squinted trying to find any crease of light anywhere. As it was everything was
completely black. And the silence was so grave that it left a ringing in her ear.
Except for the beep that pierced through the air every few seconds.
Rogue stood still for fear that any movement would result in injury. And with the headache
crushing in the back of her head, the hurt every time she breathed in or out, and the small aches all over
more pain was not wanted.
But the sound was getting annoying, and the inablility to see even the hand that she passed in
front of her face was too much to bear for much longer.
With every fiber of her being she wished someone to be there to help her. Even Jean would be
wanted company. She was so concentrated on bidding help to come that the pain seemed to ease away.
And she could swear she felt a hand on her forehead, brushing her hair away from her face.
With a great amount of effort she opened her eyes.
And surely she must be dead for a devil was standing over her, holding a gloved hand over her
forehead.
To "annoymous": Did Prof. Xavier really know how to walk? See I don't know everything about the original comic. I din't know about that...I do really appreciate knowing about these things. Thanks!
The REAL Chapter 4
"Sweetie! Time to get up!" a voice that was strait out of the fifties called.
Duncan ran a hand over his face and pushed back the covers. He was this close to
the championship cup...and just a few more plays from getting a long awaited kiss from Jean.
Damn dream. It had felt so real.
Quickly getting dressed he grabbed breakfast and gave his rather plump mother a
kiss on the cheek.
He grabbed his keys and was soon driving to school.
Life was good for the teenager. Last night at the resturant he had scored with one of
the younger cheerleaders. Jean need not know anything about that.
He frowned remembering the 'almost' kiss that had happened between them in his
dream. She was so damn virtuous. If she wasn't willing to even give herself up to him.
Chicks: he sure as hell didn't understand them.
The kid's hands were bound to the metalic table underneath him. All and all with the
restraints around him he resembled
A mental health patient with straps, strait jacket, and needles in his arms.
As Logan walked in the kid was making vain attempts to move his head from side to
side. He was muttering strange phrases: coming
in and out of French.
So far the Profesor hadn't been able to probe this young man's mind. He had said
there was some sort of mental barrier that was keeping him from the young mind. But surely, in a day or
two the dam holding back all the memories and thoughts of the young man would break, and then he
would know what made this kid think that he could attack anyone of these kids. Especially Rogue...
Logan remembered what it was like to be on the outside of everything, and though
he had done so on purpose, it was still hard running around the country without anyone there. Rogue put
herself outside the circle of society on a life and death basis.
And lately she had been slowly letting others except her, and let herself leave her room more
often. Now was all that ruined.
The older man threw his fist fown on the table by the boy and let all the contents fly
through the air and land on the floor.
He gazed at the claws protruding from his bawled up fists and looked back at the kid.
Putrid, filthy, horrible, damned...thing, more like.
Logan frowled within his throat and was looked at the sharpened knife on the floor appealingly.
His next course of action was obvious as he picked up the small object and-
Felt it ripped from his fingers and flung across the room. Logan turned and looked at the
half-sized shadown rolling into the room.
"Violence isn't always the answer, Logan." The proffesor stated.
"It has always worked just fine for me." he rubbed at his nose with his thumb, and thrust his
hands into his pockets, "I just don't think this one is hurting enough for all he did to her."
"Yes...about that. Logan, we can't be too rash on deciding what's to be done with him. I haven't been able
to breach this...barrier, but I have picked up a few thoughts from him. And I assure you they are criminal,
but I didn't sense anything about a hatred, or attack on Rogue."
"Fe. I'm sure once he cracks, we can see all the horrid little details he went through."
"Be that as it may, we'll have to wait, just the same."
Logan moved away from the bed and walked toward the proffesor. The two left the room and
headed off towards the Danger Room.
As the metallic doors slid into place and the room was bathed in darkness, a pair of red on black
eyes opened.
Only one place she had ever seen before in her life had been as dark as the place she was in
now; the cave where Mystique had revealed her true intentions, and where she had decided to join the
x-men. And even in that small, cramped, unlighted cave there had been company. Here, wherever here
was, was dark, silent and completely unoccupied except for one.
Rogue squinted trying to find any crease of light anywhere. As it was everything was
completely black. And the silence was so grave that it left a ringing in her ear.
Except for the beep that pierced through the air every few seconds.
Rogue stood still for fear that any movement would result in injury. And with the headache
crushing in the back of her head, the hurt every time she breathed in or out, and the small aches all over
more pain was not wanted.
But the sound was getting annoying, and the inablility to see even the hand that she passed in
front of her face was too much to bear for much longer.
With every fiber of her being she wished someone to be there to help her. Even Jean would be
wanted company. She was so concentrated on bidding help to come that the pain seemed to ease away.
And she could swear she felt a hand on her forehead, brushing her hair away from her face.
With a great amount of effort she opened her eyes.
And surely she must be dead for a devil was standing over her, holding a gloved hand over her
forehead.