Timebomb
"Another nightmare about to
come true will manifest tomorrow"
Disturbed - Prayer
It began as a normal day at the Xavier School for Gifted People; classes went on as normal, the Teachers going about their business as they always did. It was in Professor Xavier's Physics class that things started to happen. As the older gentleman was using his powers to illustrate what he was talking about, as was his habit, there was a knock at his door. "Come in Ororo" He said before she had a chance to announce herself, and she came in with four small drab green dossier's with her. "Sir, may I speak with you, it's urgent. " The professor looked at her and nodded. "Alright class, I want a diagram and a full description of a Black Hole on my desk by Friday" He said, dismissing the class. He turned in his wheelchair and looked at Ororo. "Yes Ororo, what is it?" he asked. "The dossier's you asked for come today, and there have been some irregularities at the high school." "What do you mean irregularities?" He looked at her, slightly confused. There wasn't much that he didn't know about that went on at the school where his students attended normal classes. "Well, I think we've found a few timebombs" The Professor looked at her. These were mutants that usually had sporadic jolts of power, which gave them the nickname 'Timebomb', as they had no idea when they'd go off next. "How many Latents has Jean found?" he asked, looking at her. "Four sir, and one of them attends the high school with our students" "Really, well then, see if they'll come" he said, looking at her. "Yes sir" She said. Ororo knew that the Professor didn't like the term 'Timebomb', and she quietly left the Professor's classroom, a bit ashamed. Professor Xavier went to the window and looked out it. "A latent within my powers range and I didn't feel it? Puzzling." was all he said as he watched the sun set.
"Gavin! Gavin Strommier! Get in this house this instant!!" A shrill female voice echoed through the alleyways as a young man trudged towards the dumpy little apartment that he had called home. He looked up, his adoptive mother was standing there in a bathrobe with her hair up in curlers. "Sorry ma`m, getting late week groceries" he said, holding up two bags of groceries. "You know you should be home at 6:30p.m sharp every night!! It's almost seven! Do you know what a state you've put me and your father in!?" she said, taking the groceries, with no word of a thank you, and the young man walked into the living room/t.v. room. "Sir, I'm sorry I was late, sir, we were getting low on lunch meat and milk, so I went and bought enough for the rest of the week" "What kind?" "Honey Ham and 2% milk, just as you said" "Good work, now go do your homework" was all the greasy lump of a man said as he channel surfed. Gavin walked to his room in the basement and went to work. He sat down and looked at himself in the small mirror, a broken shard of a larger mirror that he had found and smuggled into his room, and sighed. He was 17, a skinny young man with scraggly hair and a pockmarked face. His muddy green/brown eyes were hard to see through the mop of dark hair that covered his face. He tossed off his backpack, sat down at his desk, and began to work. He was finished at eight o'clock, and as he sat down on his bed to begin to read, he heard a loud 'CRASH!' from upstairs. He got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing a mop, broom, dust pan and bucket as he did. His adoptive mother was standing at the doorway, tapping her foot on the ground and looking at him. "Your father decided to try and pitch his beer bottle into the waste basket from the t.v. room. Of course, it went through the window. Now go and clean it up!" she screeched at him. Gavin nodded and went. He had the mess clean in about five minuets, as the window had broken into large chunks, and they were easy to pick up. The last shard, a long one about four inches wide, slipped from his hand as he was picking it up and slit the fleshy heel of his palm deeply. He sucked in his breath as the bright blood began to seep from the wound. He picked up the shards of glass and pitched them, not paying any mind to his wound. Before he went inside, he wrapped his hand in a shred of cloth from his shirt, then stuffed it in his pocket. He walked inside and looked at his mother. "It's done, can I go to the bathroom?" "Go on, go on, don't want no-one from your blasted school phoning and saying I have a dirty, smelly son" she said as she turned away from him. Gavin shrugged and walked to the bathroom and unwrapped his hand, still bleeding and filled with dirt. He washed the cut out slowly with cold water as he was always taught, then poured a good amount of rubbing alcohol on the cut. He winced, but was silent. He wrapped the hand in a large bandage, then covered it with a flesh-coloured tensor bandage. Gavin went back downstairs to his room and pulled out his book. It was a journal that he had kept since he had learned to write. It was really a folder, but he had punched holes through the margin's of the paper he had and put corresponding ones on the folder and bound it together with some metal wire he had found one day. Every week he would unbind the pages and add more to the folder. Gavin's mind was on autopilot as he unbound the pages, nearing two thousand now, and added this week's pile, another fifty or so. He re- wrapped the folder in its cloth and sat it back under his bed. Gavin looked at himself in the mirror again. He knew that he was on the bottom rung of life, a young adoptive boy who was worked like a slave for his family, treated much the same at school, the students giving him a hard time about the way he dressed or about his hair. The students never really pushed him though, they just enjoyed pestering him. Gavin lay down on his bed and simply stayed there until he fell asleep.
It began as a normal day at the Xavier School for Gifted People; classes went on as normal, the Teachers going about their business as they always did. It was in Professor Xavier's Physics class that things started to happen. As the older gentleman was using his powers to illustrate what he was talking about, as was his habit, there was a knock at his door. "Come in Ororo" He said before she had a chance to announce herself, and she came in with four small drab green dossier's with her. "Sir, may I speak with you, it's urgent. " The professor looked at her and nodded. "Alright class, I want a diagram and a full description of a Black Hole on my desk by Friday" He said, dismissing the class. He turned in his wheelchair and looked at Ororo. "Yes Ororo, what is it?" he asked. "The dossier's you asked for come today, and there have been some irregularities at the high school." "What do you mean irregularities?" He looked at her, slightly confused. There wasn't much that he didn't know about that went on at the school where his students attended normal classes. "Well, I think we've found a few timebombs" The Professor looked at her. These were mutants that usually had sporadic jolts of power, which gave them the nickname 'Timebomb', as they had no idea when they'd go off next. "How many Latents has Jean found?" he asked, looking at her. "Four sir, and one of them attends the high school with our students" "Really, well then, see if they'll come" he said, looking at her. "Yes sir" She said. Ororo knew that the Professor didn't like the term 'Timebomb', and she quietly left the Professor's classroom, a bit ashamed. Professor Xavier went to the window and looked out it. "A latent within my powers range and I didn't feel it? Puzzling." was all he said as he watched the sun set.
"Gavin! Gavin Strommier! Get in this house this instant!!" A shrill female voice echoed through the alleyways as a young man trudged towards the dumpy little apartment that he had called home. He looked up, his adoptive mother was standing there in a bathrobe with her hair up in curlers. "Sorry ma`m, getting late week groceries" he said, holding up two bags of groceries. "You know you should be home at 6:30p.m sharp every night!! It's almost seven! Do you know what a state you've put me and your father in!?" she said, taking the groceries, with no word of a thank you, and the young man walked into the living room/t.v. room. "Sir, I'm sorry I was late, sir, we were getting low on lunch meat and milk, so I went and bought enough for the rest of the week" "What kind?" "Honey Ham and 2% milk, just as you said" "Good work, now go do your homework" was all the greasy lump of a man said as he channel surfed. Gavin walked to his room in the basement and went to work. He sat down and looked at himself in the small mirror, a broken shard of a larger mirror that he had found and smuggled into his room, and sighed. He was 17, a skinny young man with scraggly hair and a pockmarked face. His muddy green/brown eyes were hard to see through the mop of dark hair that covered his face. He tossed off his backpack, sat down at his desk, and began to work. He was finished at eight o'clock, and as he sat down on his bed to begin to read, he heard a loud 'CRASH!' from upstairs. He got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing a mop, broom, dust pan and bucket as he did. His adoptive mother was standing at the doorway, tapping her foot on the ground and looking at him. "Your father decided to try and pitch his beer bottle into the waste basket from the t.v. room. Of course, it went through the window. Now go and clean it up!" she screeched at him. Gavin nodded and went. He had the mess clean in about five minuets, as the window had broken into large chunks, and they were easy to pick up. The last shard, a long one about four inches wide, slipped from his hand as he was picking it up and slit the fleshy heel of his palm deeply. He sucked in his breath as the bright blood began to seep from the wound. He picked up the shards of glass and pitched them, not paying any mind to his wound. Before he went inside, he wrapped his hand in a shred of cloth from his shirt, then stuffed it in his pocket. He walked inside and looked at his mother. "It's done, can I go to the bathroom?" "Go on, go on, don't want no-one from your blasted school phoning and saying I have a dirty, smelly son" she said as she turned away from him. Gavin shrugged and walked to the bathroom and unwrapped his hand, still bleeding and filled with dirt. He washed the cut out slowly with cold water as he was always taught, then poured a good amount of rubbing alcohol on the cut. He winced, but was silent. He wrapped the hand in a large bandage, then covered it with a flesh-coloured tensor bandage. Gavin went back downstairs to his room and pulled out his book. It was a journal that he had kept since he had learned to write. It was really a folder, but he had punched holes through the margin's of the paper he had and put corresponding ones on the folder and bound it together with some metal wire he had found one day. Every week he would unbind the pages and add more to the folder. Gavin's mind was on autopilot as he unbound the pages, nearing two thousand now, and added this week's pile, another fifty or so. He re- wrapped the folder in its cloth and sat it back under his bed. Gavin looked at himself in the mirror again. He knew that he was on the bottom rung of life, a young adoptive boy who was worked like a slave for his family, treated much the same at school, the students giving him a hard time about the way he dressed or about his hair. The students never really pushed him though, they just enjoyed pestering him. Gavin lay down on his bed and simply stayed there until he fell asleep.