X-men Evolution: The Beginning
Prologue
All right, I'll give disclaimers! I don't own X-Men (love to! Rogue is SO fine!), and certainly am not going to sell this (who would buy it!!!), so please don't sue the ass of me and my penniless person.
The bald, old, tired man sat in a wheelchair in his pyjamas close to a large bank of computers. He had on his head a strange helmet, connected by thick wires to the bank of computers. This man, the tired old man, was in fact the creator of the worlds greatest protection team, the X-Men. His powers more than made up for the fact of the loss of the use of his legs, a present of a Nazi soldier in World War 2. He did not seem to look much, thanks to his modest ways, but the man who sat in the chair was the most powerful psychic in the world. He sighed, studying the readout of the screen in front of him. This did not look good.
He didn't even look up at the soft footsteps behind him. When he had heard the beeping of the computers, he had not wished to awaken Ororo, the woman otherwise known as Storm, a powerful elemental averter – in other words, she controlled the weather. Thanks to the Professor, the young woman was no longer controlled by her powers. She was now his helper, pushing him around his mansion, and showing him the simple reasons to keep living, despite the use of his legs. She was the one who had unwittingly given him the idea of the X-Men. It had been long before he had known what he was, just after he had helped calm her powers. She had been pushing him through the gardens, a long forgotten pastime since his electric chair, but he had been in the pit of depression then.
He had sullenly accepted the invitation to the lake nearby, and he watched it glitter in the sun. He had looked at Ororo as she reached out and a butterfly landed on her finger. He always marvelled at her, at how her beauty shone through her, even though she contained a beast within. She fondly had covered the insect, before holding it out to him. He had stretched out his hand, the butterfly landing on his hand and flapping its wings. He had held it close to him, then he had looked at Ororo, who was looking out over the lake. She had seemed deep in thought then, and then she had said dreamily, "Just think of this, Professor. Just look at the beauty. What would happen to it if a misplaced individual came? What if there was no-one to protect these free lands, where each and every one of us live in our own little world?"
He had looked at her, deep in thought, then he said, "Well, Ororo, what could we do? I, who have lost the use of my legs, could not be of much use to anyone. And you, for what you are, would be shunned and repelled from the hands of those you would try to help…" he had then slipped back into depression. Ororo had knelt before him and looked into his eyes. He had turned his head, she always unnerved him when she did that.
"Professor, even the smallest man can make a difference. And even if I were shunned, where would the fault be in trying? If we made no attempt at all to help a dying people, like America and Ethiopia, would that not be a sin? I am new to this way of life, and have much to learn. As do you, my mentor." She had smiled then, and I had seen within her eyes what she saw in her image of the perfect world. She saw no prejudice, and no pain. It was then that she remarked, "Why, Professor, I do believe I have shaken you from your stupor. I see in your eyes the hopes and dreams of your youth!"
I had been very confused. "But Ororo, I just saw that image in your eyes!" She had shaken her head, and then said the sentence which I have never forgotten:
"Professor, what you see in my eyes is but the reflection of yourself. Before, when you looked in my eyes, all you saw was the shattered shell which you had been. But now you have realised again what you saw in me; Hope never dies, no matter what shape or form it comes in, and as all Hope is the same, so is every person." I had smiled at her, and then she grabbed the handles at the back of the chair and wheeled me away from the lake.
From that moment, I devoted all my time and vast riches, which I by now had plenty of, and started on my project. What I had thought of, I never knew, but it had spurred me on, and my idea grew until it had taken shape outside of my mind.
Back in the present, I heard a low growl behind me. I jerked and twisted my chair around. Logan stood nearby, another student of mine from long ago, who was now a mentor at this academy.
"What's up, Chuck?" he growled, moving closer and looking at the screens. I saw his eyes especially focus on 'Advanced Mutancy' flashing in red.
He groaned. "Ohhh, boy. That doesn't mean what I think it means, does it Chuck?"
I ignored the nickname. "Yes, it seems we may have another Juggernaut on our hands. We must reach him before the Brotherhood do."
"So, I'll wake the kids and prep the jet while you fill them in." He turned and started to walk away. I smirked at his back, then thought it cruel to wake up the children.
"Logan?" He turned back to me.
"There is no need. He is already here, and he has been heading here for some time. He will be at the door in a few minutes."
Authors Note: Ooh, scary! Who is the new mutant? What can he do? What is his past? Read next time, on : THE BEGINNING!
Prologue
All right, I'll give disclaimers! I don't own X-Men (love to! Rogue is SO fine!), and certainly am not going to sell this (who would buy it!!!), so please don't sue the ass of me and my penniless person.
The bald, old, tired man sat in a wheelchair in his pyjamas close to a large bank of computers. He had on his head a strange helmet, connected by thick wires to the bank of computers. This man, the tired old man, was in fact the creator of the worlds greatest protection team, the X-Men. His powers more than made up for the fact of the loss of the use of his legs, a present of a Nazi soldier in World War 2. He did not seem to look much, thanks to his modest ways, but the man who sat in the chair was the most powerful psychic in the world. He sighed, studying the readout of the screen in front of him. This did not look good.
He didn't even look up at the soft footsteps behind him. When he had heard the beeping of the computers, he had not wished to awaken Ororo, the woman otherwise known as Storm, a powerful elemental averter – in other words, she controlled the weather. Thanks to the Professor, the young woman was no longer controlled by her powers. She was now his helper, pushing him around his mansion, and showing him the simple reasons to keep living, despite the use of his legs. She was the one who had unwittingly given him the idea of the X-Men. It had been long before he had known what he was, just after he had helped calm her powers. She had been pushing him through the gardens, a long forgotten pastime since his electric chair, but he had been in the pit of depression then.
He had sullenly accepted the invitation to the lake nearby, and he watched it glitter in the sun. He had looked at Ororo as she reached out and a butterfly landed on her finger. He always marvelled at her, at how her beauty shone through her, even though she contained a beast within. She fondly had covered the insect, before holding it out to him. He had stretched out his hand, the butterfly landing on his hand and flapping its wings. He had held it close to him, then he had looked at Ororo, who was looking out over the lake. She had seemed deep in thought then, and then she had said dreamily, "Just think of this, Professor. Just look at the beauty. What would happen to it if a misplaced individual came? What if there was no-one to protect these free lands, where each and every one of us live in our own little world?"
He had looked at her, deep in thought, then he said, "Well, Ororo, what could we do? I, who have lost the use of my legs, could not be of much use to anyone. And you, for what you are, would be shunned and repelled from the hands of those you would try to help…" he had then slipped back into depression. Ororo had knelt before him and looked into his eyes. He had turned his head, she always unnerved him when she did that.
"Professor, even the smallest man can make a difference. And even if I were shunned, where would the fault be in trying? If we made no attempt at all to help a dying people, like America and Ethiopia, would that not be a sin? I am new to this way of life, and have much to learn. As do you, my mentor." She had smiled then, and I had seen within her eyes what she saw in her image of the perfect world. She saw no prejudice, and no pain. It was then that she remarked, "Why, Professor, I do believe I have shaken you from your stupor. I see in your eyes the hopes and dreams of your youth!"
I had been very confused. "But Ororo, I just saw that image in your eyes!" She had shaken her head, and then said the sentence which I have never forgotten:
"Professor, what you see in my eyes is but the reflection of yourself. Before, when you looked in my eyes, all you saw was the shattered shell which you had been. But now you have realised again what you saw in me; Hope never dies, no matter what shape or form it comes in, and as all Hope is the same, so is every person." I had smiled at her, and then she grabbed the handles at the back of the chair and wheeled me away from the lake.
From that moment, I devoted all my time and vast riches, which I by now had plenty of, and started on my project. What I had thought of, I never knew, but it had spurred me on, and my idea grew until it had taken shape outside of my mind.
Back in the present, I heard a low growl behind me. I jerked and twisted my chair around. Logan stood nearby, another student of mine from long ago, who was now a mentor at this academy.
"What's up, Chuck?" he growled, moving closer and looking at the screens. I saw his eyes especially focus on 'Advanced Mutancy' flashing in red.
He groaned. "Ohhh, boy. That doesn't mean what I think it means, does it Chuck?"
I ignored the nickname. "Yes, it seems we may have another Juggernaut on our hands. We must reach him before the Brotherhood do."
"So, I'll wake the kids and prep the jet while you fill them in." He turned and started to walk away. I smirked at his back, then thought it cruel to wake up the children.
"Logan?" He turned back to me.
"There is no need. He is already here, and he has been heading here for some time. He will be at the door in a few minutes."
Authors Note: Ooh, scary! Who is the new mutant? What can he do? What is his past? Read next time, on : THE BEGINNING!