Obligatory Disclaimer:
The X-Men and all associated characters are the property of Marvel Entertainment Group.
The WoD and the concept of Mages and associated points are copyrighted to White Wolf Games.
Jason Voorhees, Camp Crystal Lake and the Friday the 13th films are copyright to New Line Entertainment.
All of these characters are being used without permission. In a nice way, though.
All other characters are copyright myself, and I would prefer it if I were at least informed if you feel the need to steal them.
I am making no money whatsoever from this fanfic.
***
Brief Note:
It's a strange combination, I know. Hopefully it shouldn't turn out too badly.
***
Chapter Two:
Present Day...
Cursing under her breath in Italian, Bekki Torelli put one foot and both hands on the sleeping bag sticking out of the top of her rucksack, and pushed down as hard as she could.
Her hands sank into the slightly shiny, rustling material, but other than that her latest attempt to fit everything into her pack didn't work. Pulled off-balance by her hands' sudden drop in height and the fact that she was standing only on one leg, Bekki wobbled and very nearly pitched forward into her own pack, managing to right herself only at the last minute.
"This," she said to the world at large, "is a bad omen."
Then, with renewed vigour - or perhaps a last-ditch, all-out attack on the sleeping bag - she set about the rucksack and its contents one more time, pushing the sleeping bag into every available space inside the pack she could find. It didn't work, though. For every corner or piece of the sleeping bag she managed to force into a space, another would pop up from somewhere.
This, Bekki decided, needed more swearing, this time in a mixture of English and Italian. That earned her a few curious looks from other pupils around her, adding to the small crowd of onlookers who had already gathered to watch the show. After all, it wasn't every day that you got to watch Rebecca Torelli being brought low by an inanimate object.
Bekki really, really wanted to hit something. She cast a prospective eye over the people watching her, who knew well enough to back away or suddenly find something else to do. She stuck her tongue out at the few who remained, more out of exasperation than anything else.
"You know, some help would be nice," she said to them. "It's not a free show, after all."
A hand came from behind her and righted the rucksack, which was in danger of toppling over and spilling its contents everywhere as a result of the pummelling it was taking from her. "You know, you'd find this a whole lot easier to do if you actually folded the sleeping bag," said Nate Grey as he stepped around her and started pulling the offending article out. Bekki glowered at him.
"It was folded," she told him, hands on hips. "It's not my fault if the material they use to make these things won't stay in the shape you want it to, is it?"
"Yeah... but using it as a punching bag? Gym's that way, sweetheart, you know that." Nate folded the sleeping bag up expertly, making it into a package about a tenth of its original size. He then pushed it back into the top of Bekki's rucksack and, before it had a chance to expand and start unfolding again, quickly pulled the drawstrings tight, closing the top over and holding everything in.
"Yeah, well... I know where I'd rather be going right now," Bekki, trying not to look impressed at her boyfriend doing the seemingly impossible, admitted. "Four days? We'll all be dead from cold in two!" She started tying her red hair back, using a hairband she had been wearing on her wrist until then. "And if the weather doesn't get us, the mosquitoes will. We'll all end up swelling up like watermelons."
"It's not that bad," Nate assured her. "I spent two years camping out under the stars every night, remember? And I'm still here, and not in the least bit shaped like a watermelon."
"Yeah, but you didn't have a choice in the matter," Bekki reminded him. "This is a school trip, for crying out loud! And I'll bet Apocalypse killed all the mosquitoes or something. Survival of the things that don't bite huge chunks out of you or something."
"You have a unique talent for finding the worst in everything, don't you Rebecca?"
"Yeah - I'm just a curmudgeonly bitch, ain't I?"
Picking up the rucksack, Bekki and Nate made their way over to the school minivan, where the other two members of their little field trip had been waiting. Kyle Anderson and JJ Summers looked about the same way that Bekki felt. Only Nate actually seemed to be looking forward to the excursion.
"I'm going to die from caffeine withdrawal," JJ was saying. "I'll slip into a coma some time on the second day, and the rest of you will have to eat me to stay alive".
"I'll tell your father you died well, then," Kyle replied without missing a beat. "Oh, and can I have your computer?"
JJ, smiling all the while, raised his middle finger at Kyle. "Touch my computer and die horribly and in many pieces," he advised.
Bekki went to put her rucksack in the back of the van. She tossed it in rather more harshly than she should have done, but as she was feeling a great resentment towards rucksacks in particular and camping gear in general at that point, she was past caring. The pack bounced off a couple of the other packs there before landing on its front with a dull thud. After that, she returned to her friends at the side of the van.
"I'm just surprised Logan is letting us take so much stuff," Nate was saying as she returned.
"I wouldn't call a tent, a sleeping bag, a first aid kit and a small amount of food a lot," Kyle replied. "I don't know how to put a tent up! And how're we supposed to cook the food? And what happens if the clothes we've got get soaked or wrecked or something?"
"So speaks he who lived on the streets for four years," Nate replied, trying not to laugh.
Kyle glared daggers at Nate. "So I've been coddled by the affluence here and lost my finely-honed survival skills," he muttered. "It's not a crime, is it?"
"I give it two hours before you go native," JJ told him, trying to mollify his sulking friend. "At least he's letting us take torches, and not have to light burning hunks of wood or spontaneously develop night vision."
Kyle, nyctophobic for as long as he could remember, simply nodded grimly. Almost unconsciously, his hand moved down to the side pocket of his combat pants, where his own torch was and rested there for reassurance.
"Knowing Logan, he probably wanted us to go naked except for a few streaks of camo paint and a combat knife," JJ continued as he looked up at the sky.
"Yeah, but Chuck said the school's insurance wouldn't cover it," a gruff voice from behind the van said, making all four of them jump.
"That figures," Bekki said, recovering quickly.
A short, stocky and rather hirsute man who could nearly always be found with a cigar between his teeth, Logan didn't look one bit like the typical teacher. Nor was he. This particular class of his was known among the student body as 'Survival 101', and this was the field trip part of it. If it wasn't for the fact that it was a compulsory class, it's likely that no- one would have taken it. But the Xavier School for Gifted Children had some strange classes indeed; 'Survival 101' was positively tame next to some of them. Taking his students out in small groups for a few days camping in the woods, as far away from civilization as he could get away with was his idea of teaching.
"You all ready to go?" Logan asked from around his cigar as he lit it. "'Cause we're only burnin' daylight here, an' it'll be tougher to put those tents up in the dark."
There was a chorus of desultory noises of agreement, and the four students got into the minivan. After a brief scuffle over who got to sit by the windows, everyone was seated and ready to go - albeit not too happy about it.
Bekki, having secured a window seat, promptly wound it down and lit up a cigarette of her own - only to have it taken out of her mouth almost immediately by Logan. She raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.
"Whole purpose of this little excursion is to have you kids learn to survive out in the open with just the bare essentials," he told her without any signs of compassion. "So that means no mobile phones, no laptop computers, no caffeine-" here he was looking directly at JJ, who pretended to sulk - "-and no cigarettes. So hand 'em over, darlin'."
Bekki was almost ready to argue with him. Almost, but getting killed on the survival training field trip before they had even left the school grounds would probably be grounds for a fail, so grudgingly, she handed over her two packs of Marlboros.
"You'll get 'em back at the end of this little excursion," Logan told her. "Don't worry; they ain't my brand," he added when she gave him a rather sceptical look.
Logan got into the minivan's driver's seat, and started it up. "Everybody ready?"
"I have a bad feeling about this," JJ informed everyone.
"That's 'cause you're going to be without caffeine or computers for a few days, kid. It'll do you some good, believe me."
"... True but if I get eaten by wild rabid raccoons, you're the one telling my father, remember?"
"That, Summers, is why God invented permission slips," he replied before putting the minivan in gear and starting off as if the engine had personally insulted his honour.
And they were off.
The X-Men and all associated characters are the property of Marvel Entertainment Group.
The WoD and the concept of Mages and associated points are copyrighted to White Wolf Games.
Jason Voorhees, Camp Crystal Lake and the Friday the 13th films are copyright to New Line Entertainment.
All of these characters are being used without permission. In a nice way, though.
All other characters are copyright myself, and I would prefer it if I were at least informed if you feel the need to steal them.
I am making no money whatsoever from this fanfic.
***
Brief Note:
It's a strange combination, I know. Hopefully it shouldn't turn out too badly.
***
Chapter Two:
Present Day...
Cursing under her breath in Italian, Bekki Torelli put one foot and both hands on the sleeping bag sticking out of the top of her rucksack, and pushed down as hard as she could.
Her hands sank into the slightly shiny, rustling material, but other than that her latest attempt to fit everything into her pack didn't work. Pulled off-balance by her hands' sudden drop in height and the fact that she was standing only on one leg, Bekki wobbled and very nearly pitched forward into her own pack, managing to right herself only at the last minute.
"This," she said to the world at large, "is a bad omen."
Then, with renewed vigour - or perhaps a last-ditch, all-out attack on the sleeping bag - she set about the rucksack and its contents one more time, pushing the sleeping bag into every available space inside the pack she could find. It didn't work, though. For every corner or piece of the sleeping bag she managed to force into a space, another would pop up from somewhere.
This, Bekki decided, needed more swearing, this time in a mixture of English and Italian. That earned her a few curious looks from other pupils around her, adding to the small crowd of onlookers who had already gathered to watch the show. After all, it wasn't every day that you got to watch Rebecca Torelli being brought low by an inanimate object.
Bekki really, really wanted to hit something. She cast a prospective eye over the people watching her, who knew well enough to back away or suddenly find something else to do. She stuck her tongue out at the few who remained, more out of exasperation than anything else.
"You know, some help would be nice," she said to them. "It's not a free show, after all."
A hand came from behind her and righted the rucksack, which was in danger of toppling over and spilling its contents everywhere as a result of the pummelling it was taking from her. "You know, you'd find this a whole lot easier to do if you actually folded the sleeping bag," said Nate Grey as he stepped around her and started pulling the offending article out. Bekki glowered at him.
"It was folded," she told him, hands on hips. "It's not my fault if the material they use to make these things won't stay in the shape you want it to, is it?"
"Yeah... but using it as a punching bag? Gym's that way, sweetheart, you know that." Nate folded the sleeping bag up expertly, making it into a package about a tenth of its original size. He then pushed it back into the top of Bekki's rucksack and, before it had a chance to expand and start unfolding again, quickly pulled the drawstrings tight, closing the top over and holding everything in.
"Yeah, well... I know where I'd rather be going right now," Bekki, trying not to look impressed at her boyfriend doing the seemingly impossible, admitted. "Four days? We'll all be dead from cold in two!" She started tying her red hair back, using a hairband she had been wearing on her wrist until then. "And if the weather doesn't get us, the mosquitoes will. We'll all end up swelling up like watermelons."
"It's not that bad," Nate assured her. "I spent two years camping out under the stars every night, remember? And I'm still here, and not in the least bit shaped like a watermelon."
"Yeah, but you didn't have a choice in the matter," Bekki reminded him. "This is a school trip, for crying out loud! And I'll bet Apocalypse killed all the mosquitoes or something. Survival of the things that don't bite huge chunks out of you or something."
"You have a unique talent for finding the worst in everything, don't you Rebecca?"
"Yeah - I'm just a curmudgeonly bitch, ain't I?"
Picking up the rucksack, Bekki and Nate made their way over to the school minivan, where the other two members of their little field trip had been waiting. Kyle Anderson and JJ Summers looked about the same way that Bekki felt. Only Nate actually seemed to be looking forward to the excursion.
"I'm going to die from caffeine withdrawal," JJ was saying. "I'll slip into a coma some time on the second day, and the rest of you will have to eat me to stay alive".
"I'll tell your father you died well, then," Kyle replied without missing a beat. "Oh, and can I have your computer?"
JJ, smiling all the while, raised his middle finger at Kyle. "Touch my computer and die horribly and in many pieces," he advised.
Bekki went to put her rucksack in the back of the van. She tossed it in rather more harshly than she should have done, but as she was feeling a great resentment towards rucksacks in particular and camping gear in general at that point, she was past caring. The pack bounced off a couple of the other packs there before landing on its front with a dull thud. After that, she returned to her friends at the side of the van.
"I'm just surprised Logan is letting us take so much stuff," Nate was saying as she returned.
"I wouldn't call a tent, a sleeping bag, a first aid kit and a small amount of food a lot," Kyle replied. "I don't know how to put a tent up! And how're we supposed to cook the food? And what happens if the clothes we've got get soaked or wrecked or something?"
"So speaks he who lived on the streets for four years," Nate replied, trying not to laugh.
Kyle glared daggers at Nate. "So I've been coddled by the affluence here and lost my finely-honed survival skills," he muttered. "It's not a crime, is it?"
"I give it two hours before you go native," JJ told him, trying to mollify his sulking friend. "At least he's letting us take torches, and not have to light burning hunks of wood or spontaneously develop night vision."
Kyle, nyctophobic for as long as he could remember, simply nodded grimly. Almost unconsciously, his hand moved down to the side pocket of his combat pants, where his own torch was and rested there for reassurance.
"Knowing Logan, he probably wanted us to go naked except for a few streaks of camo paint and a combat knife," JJ continued as he looked up at the sky.
"Yeah, but Chuck said the school's insurance wouldn't cover it," a gruff voice from behind the van said, making all four of them jump.
"That figures," Bekki said, recovering quickly.
A short, stocky and rather hirsute man who could nearly always be found with a cigar between his teeth, Logan didn't look one bit like the typical teacher. Nor was he. This particular class of his was known among the student body as 'Survival 101', and this was the field trip part of it. If it wasn't for the fact that it was a compulsory class, it's likely that no- one would have taken it. But the Xavier School for Gifted Children had some strange classes indeed; 'Survival 101' was positively tame next to some of them. Taking his students out in small groups for a few days camping in the woods, as far away from civilization as he could get away with was his idea of teaching.
"You all ready to go?" Logan asked from around his cigar as he lit it. "'Cause we're only burnin' daylight here, an' it'll be tougher to put those tents up in the dark."
There was a chorus of desultory noises of agreement, and the four students got into the minivan. After a brief scuffle over who got to sit by the windows, everyone was seated and ready to go - albeit not too happy about it.
Bekki, having secured a window seat, promptly wound it down and lit up a cigarette of her own - only to have it taken out of her mouth almost immediately by Logan. She raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.
"Whole purpose of this little excursion is to have you kids learn to survive out in the open with just the bare essentials," he told her without any signs of compassion. "So that means no mobile phones, no laptop computers, no caffeine-" here he was looking directly at JJ, who pretended to sulk - "-and no cigarettes. So hand 'em over, darlin'."
Bekki was almost ready to argue with him. Almost, but getting killed on the survival training field trip before they had even left the school grounds would probably be grounds for a fail, so grudgingly, she handed over her two packs of Marlboros.
"You'll get 'em back at the end of this little excursion," Logan told her. "Don't worry; they ain't my brand," he added when she gave him a rather sceptical look.
Logan got into the minivan's driver's seat, and started it up. "Everybody ready?"
"I have a bad feeling about this," JJ informed everyone.
"That's 'cause you're going to be without caffeine or computers for a few days, kid. It'll do you some good, believe me."
"... True but if I get eaten by wild rabid raccoons, you're the one telling my father, remember?"
"That, Summers, is why God invented permission slips," he replied before putting the minivan in gear and starting off as if the engine had personally insulted his honour.
And they were off.