Thanks for the comments, I'm glad that you like this. My apologies if this chapter is terrible. I don't have a particularly good excuse, but try and plod your way through it anyway. :) Reviews appreciated as always.
CHAPTER 6
It was the fourth day of work, and the majority of the students were taking their new responsibilities with much more enthusiasm than anyone had expected. Of course, only around twenty had been forced to go to work. The rest had either been thrown out of their interview or were still at a stage when their powers were unstable, and therefore potentially dangerous. As for the X-Men, all but Wolverine had stayed in the school to teach the remaining students.
"Take a seat, everyone," Xavier told the X-Men. Everyone sat. "I have just received a disturbing phone call from Logan."
"Disturbing in what way?" Jean breathed anxiously (I'm not entirely sure how that works). "Is he alright?"
"I believe his exact words were, 'I've joined the circus and I'm not coming back.'" Xavier's mouth twitched slightly.
"Wise decision."
"Shush, Scott. I am very concerned for Logan's welfare, because if I'm not you'll be happy and boring," Jean reprimanded.
"But I thought he was at the day care centre," Storm said, frowning.
"He decided to leave." Xavier shrugged. "I can't think why."
"Oh, I can," Scott snickered. "Yeeaaah, another point to me." He pulled a notepad out of his pocket and carefully marked a tick next to his name. He giggled. "Four more points and I get the girl."
"Shut up," Xavier advised. He continued, "I will not tolerate Logan's behaviour. Firstly, three days ago he left behind an unfinished bowl of pasta. It has grown mould. He must clean it up before running off anywhere. Secondly, although he earns a surprisingly large amount at the circus, we are only receiving $9 of it per week. He spends the rest on unicycle lessons."
"He's changed. This is not the Logan I enjoy wearing short skirts around and then flashing my engagement ring at just to spite everyone around me," Jean mourned, hanging her head.
"Yes, but who's going to clean that pasta up?" Xavier persisted. "We can't afford cleaners because Logan wants to ride a unicycle. I won't allow the kids to help, because yesterday they approached me about a previously dormant aspect of their mutations. They cannot clean up mouldy foodstuffs that are above 7% carbohydrate or their hands will explode.
"Also, remember that position I gave him? The Controller? Well, I've realised that it's actually important. The kids are going crazy now that there's no one to sell them balloons."
A shriek from outside briefly interrupted their meeting. "Bounce the balloons, bounce the balloons, I want a balloon, balloon, balloon, birdy bye bye ballloon—!"
"Well, what do you want to do about it?" Scott asked the Professor, crossing his arms.
"I know where he is. Scott, you will go to him. He'll come back if you say the right things."
"What?"
"It's reverse psychology, or something. Oh, I can't remember. Just trust me. I'm very clever."
-----------------------------------------
Jubilee sat at her special shiny flea training table, head lowered in concentration.
"Go on," she whispered. "Jump! Oh, go back, dearest. Go to Timmy. Yeeeeeess… you're wonderful, you are. Yes, you are! Jump! Clever poppet!"
-----------------------------------------
"You go."
"No, I went last time."
"You go."
"I'm scared of that kid."
"And I'm scared of what I'll do to her. Go."
St. John sighed, not so much with irritation as dread. He slowly and carefully stood up, and walked towards a small, blonde girl standing alone, way on the other side of the field. The rest of the children were with Clown, playing indoors. She was the oldest of them all, but age had not done terribly much for her maturity level.
"You're back," she commented, cocking her head to one side.
"Don't I know it," replied John sourly.
"You're fatter than you were twenty minutes ago. Your body must be catching up with your face. And you're still smoking."
"I don't smoke." Breathe, John reminded himself. She eyed his lighter curiously.
"Let me try."
"Try what?"
"I want to make fire." Without waiting for an answer, she quickly snatched the lighter from his hand. He blinked.
"Wha —hey, you can't do that!"
At the sound of shouting, Bobby looked up from his newspaper. He saw John in the distance, waving his arms frantically and trying to take something from 'the She-Thing', as they called her. Wait, he'd got it back. It glowed brightly, and looked suspiciously like his lighter. John stumbled, and seemed to lunge at the She-Thing. Horrified, Bobby leaped up from his chair and sprinted towards them.
"Don't do it!" He yelled at John. "Don't do it! Don't hurt her!" He raised his arm, preparing to freeze the fire. John turned around looking slightly confused, holding a flame in one hand and his lighter in the other.
"Holy –" He quickly dodged a stream of fine white mist that shot out of Bobby's outstretched hand. The She-Thing screamed. The scream stopped abruptly as the ice formed around her body, and soon encased her completely.
Bobby slipped, colliding head-first with the block of ice he had just created. Some of it shattered and fell on top of him. There was a brief, shocked silence.
"Look!" John suddenly yelled, gesturing wildly at the girl he had been arguing with only sixty seconds ago. Only her face was visible from within her unshakable prison. "Look, you idiot, look what you've done! She's dead!"
Bobby rolled around on the floor, clutching his head. "What I've done," he groaned. "You were the one who was about to set her on fire."
"What? How? The only thing I saw was you leaping at us and then freezing the girl! Oh, shit, what are we going to do…" He started to kick Bobby. "Quick, get up, unfreeze her."
Bobby rose unsteadily to his knees, massaging his head. His face was slightly green. "Ducks…" he said faintly, collapsing back onto the floor. He passed out, leaving John to wonder how they would explain this to the police.
CHAPTER 6
It was the fourth day of work, and the majority of the students were taking their new responsibilities with much more enthusiasm than anyone had expected. Of course, only around twenty had been forced to go to work. The rest had either been thrown out of their interview or were still at a stage when their powers were unstable, and therefore potentially dangerous. As for the X-Men, all but Wolverine had stayed in the school to teach the remaining students.
"Take a seat, everyone," Xavier told the X-Men. Everyone sat. "I have just received a disturbing phone call from Logan."
"Disturbing in what way?" Jean breathed anxiously (I'm not entirely sure how that works). "Is he alright?"
"I believe his exact words were, 'I've joined the circus and I'm not coming back.'" Xavier's mouth twitched slightly.
"Wise decision."
"Shush, Scott. I am very concerned for Logan's welfare, because if I'm not you'll be happy and boring," Jean reprimanded.
"But I thought he was at the day care centre," Storm said, frowning.
"He decided to leave." Xavier shrugged. "I can't think why."
"Oh, I can," Scott snickered. "Yeeaaah, another point to me." He pulled a notepad out of his pocket and carefully marked a tick next to his name. He giggled. "Four more points and I get the girl."
"Shut up," Xavier advised. He continued, "I will not tolerate Logan's behaviour. Firstly, three days ago he left behind an unfinished bowl of pasta. It has grown mould. He must clean it up before running off anywhere. Secondly, although he earns a surprisingly large amount at the circus, we are only receiving $9 of it per week. He spends the rest on unicycle lessons."
"He's changed. This is not the Logan I enjoy wearing short skirts around and then flashing my engagement ring at just to spite everyone around me," Jean mourned, hanging her head.
"Yes, but who's going to clean that pasta up?" Xavier persisted. "We can't afford cleaners because Logan wants to ride a unicycle. I won't allow the kids to help, because yesterday they approached me about a previously dormant aspect of their mutations. They cannot clean up mouldy foodstuffs that are above 7% carbohydrate or their hands will explode.
"Also, remember that position I gave him? The Controller? Well, I've realised that it's actually important. The kids are going crazy now that there's no one to sell them balloons."
A shriek from outside briefly interrupted their meeting. "Bounce the balloons, bounce the balloons, I want a balloon, balloon, balloon, birdy bye bye ballloon—!"
"Well, what do you want to do about it?" Scott asked the Professor, crossing his arms.
"I know where he is. Scott, you will go to him. He'll come back if you say the right things."
"What?"
"It's reverse psychology, or something. Oh, I can't remember. Just trust me. I'm very clever."
-----------------------------------------
Jubilee sat at her special shiny flea training table, head lowered in concentration.
"Go on," she whispered. "Jump! Oh, go back, dearest. Go to Timmy. Yeeeeeess… you're wonderful, you are. Yes, you are! Jump! Clever poppet!"
-----------------------------------------
"You go."
"No, I went last time."
"You go."
"I'm scared of that kid."
"And I'm scared of what I'll do to her. Go."
St. John sighed, not so much with irritation as dread. He slowly and carefully stood up, and walked towards a small, blonde girl standing alone, way on the other side of the field. The rest of the children were with Clown, playing indoors. She was the oldest of them all, but age had not done terribly much for her maturity level.
"You're back," she commented, cocking her head to one side.
"Don't I know it," replied John sourly.
"You're fatter than you were twenty minutes ago. Your body must be catching up with your face. And you're still smoking."
"I don't smoke." Breathe, John reminded himself. She eyed his lighter curiously.
"Let me try."
"Try what?"
"I want to make fire." Without waiting for an answer, she quickly snatched the lighter from his hand. He blinked.
"Wha —hey, you can't do that!"
At the sound of shouting, Bobby looked up from his newspaper. He saw John in the distance, waving his arms frantically and trying to take something from 'the She-Thing', as they called her. Wait, he'd got it back. It glowed brightly, and looked suspiciously like his lighter. John stumbled, and seemed to lunge at the She-Thing. Horrified, Bobby leaped up from his chair and sprinted towards them.
"Don't do it!" He yelled at John. "Don't do it! Don't hurt her!" He raised his arm, preparing to freeze the fire. John turned around looking slightly confused, holding a flame in one hand and his lighter in the other.
"Holy –" He quickly dodged a stream of fine white mist that shot out of Bobby's outstretched hand. The She-Thing screamed. The scream stopped abruptly as the ice formed around her body, and soon encased her completely.
Bobby slipped, colliding head-first with the block of ice he had just created. Some of it shattered and fell on top of him. There was a brief, shocked silence.
"Look!" John suddenly yelled, gesturing wildly at the girl he had been arguing with only sixty seconds ago. Only her face was visible from within her unshakable prison. "Look, you idiot, look what you've done! She's dead!"
Bobby rolled around on the floor, clutching his head. "What I've done," he groaned. "You were the one who was about to set her on fire."
"What? How? The only thing I saw was you leaping at us and then freezing the girl! Oh, shit, what are we going to do…" He started to kick Bobby. "Quick, get up, unfreeze her."
Bobby rose unsteadily to his knees, massaging his head. His face was slightly green. "Ducks…" he said faintly, collapsing back onto the floor. He passed out, leaving John to wonder how they would explain this to the police.