"The Mage"
Writer2Bpoet
-------------------------------------------- "Lifestyle Adjustments"
Sorry about the huge lag, everyone. I have been so, swamped at school, and distracted by the fires. Though I can't complain really, everything these days are keeping me on my toes.
Disclaimer: No, don't own any of the primary characters, it would be cool (have rights to our very own cartoon/show), but not yet in this lifetime. So, I'll have to digress. I only have exclusive rights to my own characters (fanfictions are cool that way).
Author's Notes: Yes, I know, no 'questions per-say have been raised yet as to the origins of Allen's abilities, but all clarities, and puzzlements shall be addressed in this chapter. In the mean time, it would be a GREAT assist if I had feedback. Mi gente, I need you to help me help you. If you like it, tell me. If you mistrust certain details, tell me. If you have any suggestions (in the words of my Playwriting teacher: "feeling the need to 'grope' another person's story"[aka - giving ideas, and suggesting add-ins], which I am not disinclined to accept, I will even give you special mention.) Also, on a more general note: does anyone know where Bayville is exactly, or rather where it is supposed to be, anyway? On another note, I am glad that the Apocalypse saga is finally over with, as this is supposed to take place just afterward. I will make the appropriate corrections. -------------------------------------------------------------------------
-Terance Residence, Altos Verdes, Later the same day (evening)-
Warren Terance walked in the front door, and leafed through the bills and junk mail. But he hardly saw any of it. His mind was still trying to process what he had been told in a rather strange phone conversation from earlier that afternoon. A call he had received from an 'Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters'. He still couldn't believe that one of his children had developed a.had at some point become a.a mutant.
He shook his head as he reminded himself what Mr. Xavier had said: "The development, and nurturing of these special abilities is not a curse, despite what popular media would lead the general public to understand. These new talents are simply adding to what talents the youngster already possessed. In fact, in learning to control these new abilities, the individual learns responsibility, accountability, and commitment."
'Well, it all sounded well, and good', thought Warren, 'but what follows after this Institute? How normal a life can one have?' He had to wonder, and worry, as a parent. But the decision, he had already agreed with his wife, was up to Allen. It was his future, after all.
Warren was skimming through the newspaper headlines when Allen came down the stairs. "Hey dad, anything interesting happen today?" Warren Terance gave his son a dry look.
"Well, I hear that you did. Have an eye-opening visit from some certain people did we?" He made it sound very commonplace, but he noticed that Allen had gone very silent.
Allen shrugged. "It was a unique experience, I suppose," Allen swallowed unconsciously.
"Yes, well, it's not everyday that you are handed such news." Warren had to pause himself for a moment. Allen sat down in one of the chairs. "Do you have any idea what.?" He didn't need to finish the question, Allen was already shaking his head.
"I'm starting to wonder if this isn't someone's really bad joke, or like a nightmare, or something."
Warren winced slightly. He had been bugging his son about dropping such phrases, and he thought he had been successful, but apparently not. He was once an editor of both his grammar school and high school newspapers, and so he was very particular about phrasing. His son, obviously, wasn't as particular.
Neither one of them knew what to say next. Allen had just summed it up for them: was it real, or was it not? Warren started flipping through the newspaper again, looking for the crossword, it helped him to gather his thoughts. Allen started to fiddle with his watch.
Allen was lost in his own thoughts. He had that strange twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach. It always happened when he was dreading something; in this case, the repercussions of the truth. On one hand, he was a mutant, and would be awarded all of the side-effects, good and bad. On the other, he and his family were the butts of someone's really bad joke, and any minute they would be surprised by one of those hidden camera shows.
He absent-mindedly began twisting his watch on his wrist. Being a sci-fi person, he couldn't help but think how much cooler his watch would be with some serious tech upgrades. He started to wonder what a watch might look like in terms of tech from Star Trek, say sometime in the 24th Century. That was when he started to notice the strange numbing sensation that was traveling down his left arm, down from the shoulder. It was at his elbow, and as he turned his arm to look at it, he noticed several suspicious looking bumps migrating down towards his wrist.
In the wake of these bumps, his arm was growing noticeably pale, and little silver trails were starting to form. They looked sort of like those lines you'd see on a microchip really up-close. But the seemed to follow a certain pattern, like blood vein patterns. Allen eyes widened slightly as he realized what was going on: he arm was being Borg-ified by nanoprobes. The migrating bumps had reached his hand, the veins and blood vessels taking on a silverfish look. And right below his wrist, where the watch sat, the skin began to tingle, almost itch, but he already knew what was coming, he had been expecting it: assimilation tubules erupted from his skin and sank into his watch.
Allen looked up to see what his father was doing. Warren was starting into the crossword, oblivious to what was transpiring in front of him. Allen looked back down at his watch. The tubules were already retracting, and the tingling in his arm was receding, but his watch was already beginning to change.
The front door opened, and Miranda Terance, wife of Warren Terance and mother of Allen, walked in. She had left the office early, but felt justified, considering the unexpected news that she had been informed of earlier that same day. She set her purse down in the living room, and entered the dining room. Warren and Allen were already there. Allen looked a bit surprised, and he glanced down at his arm for some reason, and then made an even stranger look. Warren was concentrating on the crossword, but looked up to great her as she entered.
"Evening, dear," he tried to sound carefree, but it sounded a bit forced.
"Allen," Miranda stepped over and touched her son's forehead, "are you alright? You look a bit tense about something." She realized how stupid she sounded; of course what they had been informed of earlier would be upsetting. Miranda was already having a geneticist she knew make some quiet investigations into whether it was she or warren who gave Allen this 'X-gene' that Mr. Xavier had told her about earlier that afternoon.
Allen was still looking at his watch as if disappointed about something. "No, it is nothing. I was just.thinking about.something." He sounded tired. Miranda made a mental note to have him lay down later. He must still be in a sort of shock from the news.
Miranda, herself couldn't really make sense of it, yet. Her son looked so normal, how could he be some sort of monster? She shook her head absently as she entered the kitchen to get dinner ready. Not monster, that was the media talking to her. Her son was simply talented, much differently than many others. She lost herself in the routine of cooking, it always helped her organize her thoughts.
She was still trying to figure out how to tell Melissa, Allen's older sister. She had moved out on her own a year earlier, and Miranda already knew that she would not take this well. And that wasn't even taking into account the rest of the family. She grimaced as she started to get the meatloaf ready.
Allen excused himself from the dinner table early that evening so that he could get up to his room. His mother told him he should go lie down, she said he looked pale. Allen had almost laughed. She had no idea. How could she? He glanced at his watch. For the most part it looked normal, but he could notice small details that were different, such as the series of changing codons on the upper-right margin. He pressed one of the buttons along the outside of the watch that was used to switch Function Modes. There were several different modes than before, and a couple of new ones.
One of the new ones looked like it was taking a series of scans of the local area. He could see a small display of some sort. He wondered if there wasn't a way to enlarge it. He tapped the display twice, and the digital face of the watch changed slightly, and a Holographic Multi- Dimensional display blinked into existence over his watch. He looked at the various readouts. Background radiation levels, sonic/noise measurements, temperatures, bio-sign displays, and in one corner there was a series of Borg codons. They seemed to be changing in a significant pattern. Sort of like a readout of a another sort, but he couldn't yet figure out what it was saying. It was so real.
He waved his hand, slowly, through the image display, and the Holo- screen was blurred, and interrupted, but returned to normal after he removed his hand. He tapped his watch face again, and the screen turned off. Yeah, it was definitely different. He was surprised by how calm and ordered his thoughts were.
"I know I should be on the verge of a mental breakdown, but why aren't I? God," he brushed his hand through his hair, "I'm even talking to myself. This still doesn't tell me what my ability is." He looked down at his watch. "I wonder if this thing takes verbal commands." He looked over at his bedroom door, and closed it, just in case.
"Computer," he said turning back into his room. The watch beeped at him. This just might work. "Computer, display biogenetic diagnostic of myself." The watch beeped at him again, and another holo-display popped into existence. It showed several segments of readings. But Allen couldn't quite understand all of it.
"Computer, isolate and display X-gene segment of DNA scans." The screen responded, and magnified a particular cross-section of Allen's holographically projected DNA. After a moments consideration, Allen took his watch off, and placed it on his dresser, facing him. The display deactivated, readjusted, and then redisplayed the last data requested. Too cool.
"Based upon current genetic readings, what is the projected effect of X-gene mutation?"
"Current genetic data is inconclusive. No other genetic patterns are available for examination."
"Damn, knew it was too easy."
"Please restate last command."
Allen shook his head. "Computer, deactivate display, and go to Idle Mode."
The system did as was ordered, and the watch sat as normally as before. "This is too cool, but what does it mean?" As a second thought, Allen refocused his attention on the watch. "Computer, respond to my vocal patterns, only." "Affirmative. Vocal recognition sequence, activated." Allen nodded. At least he was starting to get the hang of it. Sort of. He yawned, and realized how tired he was. He looked at the clock on the wall, and saw that it was just before nine at night. A bit early, but maybe he could approach this thing with a better angle in the morning.
The next day came and went, with little comment. Allen had decided to keep his watch a secret for now. On a different note he had been experimenting with a few things, and had managed to activate the nanoprobes again, and had injected some into his bedroom wall. His room was still undergoing changes. But as he realized that the nanoprobes were starting to spread to other parts of his house, he activated the computer that had formed in a corner of his room, and commanded it to restrict itself to the interior of his room. One thing he could be thankful for, was that these nanites were his, and not completely Borg, otherwise he had just doomed the world. He had started to think that his abilities were tech related until a couple days later, just one day before he was to move to the Institute. He was watching an episode of Charmed that morning, like he usually did, when he heard something outside in front of his house. He peaked through the living room curtains and saw one of the cats being cornered by one of the larger neighborhood strays. Allen tried to scare it away with a shooing motion, but as at that moment he was thinking about Charmed, and arm motion became a Throwback, that sent the stray flying several feet through the air where it landed on the walkway, on it's feet, and completely confused. Allen only looked at his hand, the right one this time, and wondered what would have happened if he had tried to blow the cat up. He got rid of that thought. It was like his mind had finally connected on some level: his powers were thought driven, sort of. Allen suddenly started to get a bit worried. He had too many thoughts to keep track of sometimes.suppose he wanted to wish someone was dead because they pissed him off, could he control it? He shuddered involuntarily. He looked back in time to see some demon throw a Lightening Orb at one of the Sisters. He wondered.a burst of energy seemed to funnel around his right hand, and in his palm hovered a Orb of Lightening Energy. He smiled as he thought of something. He concentrated on what he had designed for the look of the Mage, his character, and when he opened his eyes, he felt taller. He went into the entry hall, and looked in a mirror that hung on the wall. He saw the Dark Mage staring back at him. Yes, this could have potential. "Indeed, much potential." The Mage's voice spoke in place of Allen's.
-------------------------------------------- "Lifestyle Adjustments"
Sorry about the huge lag, everyone. I have been so, swamped at school, and distracted by the fires. Though I can't complain really, everything these days are keeping me on my toes.
Disclaimer: No, don't own any of the primary characters, it would be cool (have rights to our very own cartoon/show), but not yet in this lifetime. So, I'll have to digress. I only have exclusive rights to my own characters (fanfictions are cool that way).
Author's Notes: Yes, I know, no 'questions per-say have been raised yet as to the origins of Allen's abilities, but all clarities, and puzzlements shall be addressed in this chapter. In the mean time, it would be a GREAT assist if I had feedback. Mi gente, I need you to help me help you. If you like it, tell me. If you mistrust certain details, tell me. If you have any suggestions (in the words of my Playwriting teacher: "feeling the need to 'grope' another person's story"[aka - giving ideas, and suggesting add-ins], which I am not disinclined to accept, I will even give you special mention.) Also, on a more general note: does anyone know where Bayville is exactly, or rather where it is supposed to be, anyway? On another note, I am glad that the Apocalypse saga is finally over with, as this is supposed to take place just afterward. I will make the appropriate corrections. -------------------------------------------------------------------------
-Terance Residence, Altos Verdes, Later the same day (evening)-
Warren Terance walked in the front door, and leafed through the bills and junk mail. But he hardly saw any of it. His mind was still trying to process what he had been told in a rather strange phone conversation from earlier that afternoon. A call he had received from an 'Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters'. He still couldn't believe that one of his children had developed a.had at some point become a.a mutant.
He shook his head as he reminded himself what Mr. Xavier had said: "The development, and nurturing of these special abilities is not a curse, despite what popular media would lead the general public to understand. These new talents are simply adding to what talents the youngster already possessed. In fact, in learning to control these new abilities, the individual learns responsibility, accountability, and commitment."
'Well, it all sounded well, and good', thought Warren, 'but what follows after this Institute? How normal a life can one have?' He had to wonder, and worry, as a parent. But the decision, he had already agreed with his wife, was up to Allen. It was his future, after all.
Warren was skimming through the newspaper headlines when Allen came down the stairs. "Hey dad, anything interesting happen today?" Warren Terance gave his son a dry look.
"Well, I hear that you did. Have an eye-opening visit from some certain people did we?" He made it sound very commonplace, but he noticed that Allen had gone very silent.
Allen shrugged. "It was a unique experience, I suppose," Allen swallowed unconsciously.
"Yes, well, it's not everyday that you are handed such news." Warren had to pause himself for a moment. Allen sat down in one of the chairs. "Do you have any idea what.?" He didn't need to finish the question, Allen was already shaking his head.
"I'm starting to wonder if this isn't someone's really bad joke, or like a nightmare, or something."
Warren winced slightly. He had been bugging his son about dropping such phrases, and he thought he had been successful, but apparently not. He was once an editor of both his grammar school and high school newspapers, and so he was very particular about phrasing. His son, obviously, wasn't as particular.
Neither one of them knew what to say next. Allen had just summed it up for them: was it real, or was it not? Warren started flipping through the newspaper again, looking for the crossword, it helped him to gather his thoughts. Allen started to fiddle with his watch.
Allen was lost in his own thoughts. He had that strange twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach. It always happened when he was dreading something; in this case, the repercussions of the truth. On one hand, he was a mutant, and would be awarded all of the side-effects, good and bad. On the other, he and his family were the butts of someone's really bad joke, and any minute they would be surprised by one of those hidden camera shows.
He absent-mindedly began twisting his watch on his wrist. Being a sci-fi person, he couldn't help but think how much cooler his watch would be with some serious tech upgrades. He started to wonder what a watch might look like in terms of tech from Star Trek, say sometime in the 24th Century. That was when he started to notice the strange numbing sensation that was traveling down his left arm, down from the shoulder. It was at his elbow, and as he turned his arm to look at it, he noticed several suspicious looking bumps migrating down towards his wrist.
In the wake of these bumps, his arm was growing noticeably pale, and little silver trails were starting to form. They looked sort of like those lines you'd see on a microchip really up-close. But the seemed to follow a certain pattern, like blood vein patterns. Allen eyes widened slightly as he realized what was going on: he arm was being Borg-ified by nanoprobes. The migrating bumps had reached his hand, the veins and blood vessels taking on a silverfish look. And right below his wrist, where the watch sat, the skin began to tingle, almost itch, but he already knew what was coming, he had been expecting it: assimilation tubules erupted from his skin and sank into his watch.
Allen looked up to see what his father was doing. Warren was starting into the crossword, oblivious to what was transpiring in front of him. Allen looked back down at his watch. The tubules were already retracting, and the tingling in his arm was receding, but his watch was already beginning to change.
The front door opened, and Miranda Terance, wife of Warren Terance and mother of Allen, walked in. She had left the office early, but felt justified, considering the unexpected news that she had been informed of earlier that same day. She set her purse down in the living room, and entered the dining room. Warren and Allen were already there. Allen looked a bit surprised, and he glanced down at his arm for some reason, and then made an even stranger look. Warren was concentrating on the crossword, but looked up to great her as she entered.
"Evening, dear," he tried to sound carefree, but it sounded a bit forced.
"Allen," Miranda stepped over and touched her son's forehead, "are you alright? You look a bit tense about something." She realized how stupid she sounded; of course what they had been informed of earlier would be upsetting. Miranda was already having a geneticist she knew make some quiet investigations into whether it was she or warren who gave Allen this 'X-gene' that Mr. Xavier had told her about earlier that afternoon.
Allen was still looking at his watch as if disappointed about something. "No, it is nothing. I was just.thinking about.something." He sounded tired. Miranda made a mental note to have him lay down later. He must still be in a sort of shock from the news.
Miranda, herself couldn't really make sense of it, yet. Her son looked so normal, how could he be some sort of monster? She shook her head absently as she entered the kitchen to get dinner ready. Not monster, that was the media talking to her. Her son was simply talented, much differently than many others. She lost herself in the routine of cooking, it always helped her organize her thoughts.
She was still trying to figure out how to tell Melissa, Allen's older sister. She had moved out on her own a year earlier, and Miranda already knew that she would not take this well. And that wasn't even taking into account the rest of the family. She grimaced as she started to get the meatloaf ready.
Allen excused himself from the dinner table early that evening so that he could get up to his room. His mother told him he should go lie down, she said he looked pale. Allen had almost laughed. She had no idea. How could she? He glanced at his watch. For the most part it looked normal, but he could notice small details that were different, such as the series of changing codons on the upper-right margin. He pressed one of the buttons along the outside of the watch that was used to switch Function Modes. There were several different modes than before, and a couple of new ones.
One of the new ones looked like it was taking a series of scans of the local area. He could see a small display of some sort. He wondered if there wasn't a way to enlarge it. He tapped the display twice, and the digital face of the watch changed slightly, and a Holographic Multi- Dimensional display blinked into existence over his watch. He looked at the various readouts. Background radiation levels, sonic/noise measurements, temperatures, bio-sign displays, and in one corner there was a series of Borg codons. They seemed to be changing in a significant pattern. Sort of like a readout of a another sort, but he couldn't yet figure out what it was saying. It was so real.
He waved his hand, slowly, through the image display, and the Holo- screen was blurred, and interrupted, but returned to normal after he removed his hand. He tapped his watch face again, and the screen turned off. Yeah, it was definitely different. He was surprised by how calm and ordered his thoughts were.
"I know I should be on the verge of a mental breakdown, but why aren't I? God," he brushed his hand through his hair, "I'm even talking to myself. This still doesn't tell me what my ability is." He looked down at his watch. "I wonder if this thing takes verbal commands." He looked over at his bedroom door, and closed it, just in case.
"Computer," he said turning back into his room. The watch beeped at him. This just might work. "Computer, display biogenetic diagnostic of myself." The watch beeped at him again, and another holo-display popped into existence. It showed several segments of readings. But Allen couldn't quite understand all of it.
"Computer, isolate and display X-gene segment of DNA scans." The screen responded, and magnified a particular cross-section of Allen's holographically projected DNA. After a moments consideration, Allen took his watch off, and placed it on his dresser, facing him. The display deactivated, readjusted, and then redisplayed the last data requested. Too cool.
"Based upon current genetic readings, what is the projected effect of X-gene mutation?"
"Current genetic data is inconclusive. No other genetic patterns are available for examination."
"Damn, knew it was too easy."
"Please restate last command."
Allen shook his head. "Computer, deactivate display, and go to Idle Mode."
The system did as was ordered, and the watch sat as normally as before. "This is too cool, but what does it mean?" As a second thought, Allen refocused his attention on the watch. "Computer, respond to my vocal patterns, only." "Affirmative. Vocal recognition sequence, activated." Allen nodded. At least he was starting to get the hang of it. Sort of. He yawned, and realized how tired he was. He looked at the clock on the wall, and saw that it was just before nine at night. A bit early, but maybe he could approach this thing with a better angle in the morning.
The next day came and went, with little comment. Allen had decided to keep his watch a secret for now. On a different note he had been experimenting with a few things, and had managed to activate the nanoprobes again, and had injected some into his bedroom wall. His room was still undergoing changes. But as he realized that the nanoprobes were starting to spread to other parts of his house, he activated the computer that had formed in a corner of his room, and commanded it to restrict itself to the interior of his room. One thing he could be thankful for, was that these nanites were his, and not completely Borg, otherwise he had just doomed the world. He had started to think that his abilities were tech related until a couple days later, just one day before he was to move to the Institute. He was watching an episode of Charmed that morning, like he usually did, when he heard something outside in front of his house. He peaked through the living room curtains and saw one of the cats being cornered by one of the larger neighborhood strays. Allen tried to scare it away with a shooing motion, but as at that moment he was thinking about Charmed, and arm motion became a Throwback, that sent the stray flying several feet through the air where it landed on the walkway, on it's feet, and completely confused. Allen only looked at his hand, the right one this time, and wondered what would have happened if he had tried to blow the cat up. He got rid of that thought. It was like his mind had finally connected on some level: his powers were thought driven, sort of. Allen suddenly started to get a bit worried. He had too many thoughts to keep track of sometimes.suppose he wanted to wish someone was dead because they pissed him off, could he control it? He shuddered involuntarily. He looked back in time to see some demon throw a Lightening Orb at one of the Sisters. He wondered.a burst of energy seemed to funnel around his right hand, and in his palm hovered a Orb of Lightening Energy. He smiled as he thought of something. He concentrated on what he had designed for the look of the Mage, his character, and when he opened his eyes, he felt taller. He went into the entry hall, and looked in a mirror that hung on the wall. He saw the Dark Mage staring back at him. Yes, this could have potential. "Indeed, much potential." The Mage's voice spoke in place of Allen's.