Chapter 1: Forgotten
"YAHHH WHOO!"
Whooping in delight, he sprung onto the railing and skidded, the wood screeching on the cold, wet cement, the vibrations traveling up through his legs and into the rest of his body, creating sensations that made him grin and fall into the familiar vibes. He kicked off, gripping the edge and flipping, kicking the tail in the air and catching it with his left foot before the whole of the trick had ended. He landed gracefully, holding the railing lightly on impact, laughing aloud with delight as the final shakings ebbed through his feet.
The mutant known as Evan Daniels spun around, running his hands through his hair, itching at the back of his scalp as he started walking back through the darkened tunnel. He'd just knew, the minute that Callistro took him through the passage way to get to the lightened tunnels that divided one part of the city from another, that the railings would be absolutely perfect for the tricks that had made his skating career worthwhile, all of it. The railings were far enough from the wall that they could be reached easily with one hand, and they created the little sparks of fire that burned and ebbed out slowly in the dark beneath them.
He didn't have a board, of course; he'd left it behind, like everything else he'd had to leave. Stun had offered to provide a distraction while he'd run in and gotten a trunk pulled together, but he had stopped her, knowing that the Institute was too dangerous when guarded -- especially when filled with his former classmates. He'd made a makeshift one for the moment; a whittled board out of the draft that brew down the sewers, cut with sharp spikes and cut diagonally. The wheels had been the hard part -- but lucky for him, the tunnels ran into the garbage disposal plant (they were guarded against the acids -- thank you, Weld), and he'd been able to polish off a few there.
Feeling the pull of the moment, he noticed the tides of the slosh that lined the inner passages was riding up on his torn sneakers and winced again, then slowly let way to a small smile. He was being ridiculous -- acting the same way he had when he had first allowed himself to look down. It didn't bother him any more, really. The sludge just was another thing to add on to his list of "things to get used to" -- and he'd checked it off, along with the other members of that particular list.
He was happy for the small ways that he noticed that his body got used to the pulls; the plates on his face and body were softer than they'd been when they'd first emerged, painfully. It was probably due to the humid atmosphere and the dark, where they weren't hassled by the blinding rays of the sun and damaged the glands of the bone-structure.
Blinding rays. He'd have to get used to that, too. He was beginning to sound like the rest of them.
Not that he didn't want to, of course. They were wonderful, caring for him and allowing him to join their safe haven of the underground -- "the belly," as Scaleface called it. He smiled softly, peering ahead and turning a sharp right, noting the marks on the walls he'd made earlier. She was content to help him at anything he asked; she always smiled when he arrived, as if he somehow made her happier by simply being there. It was enlightening just to feel that, making someone happy. He hadn't done it merely for weeks before he come down, shunning his friends and even his aunt, horrified at what the rest of them had become and why they had. But as he took another right and entered the second set of tunnels, lit by small candles welded into the walls, he knew that he was just being happy again, despite the fact that he felt that most of the Morlocks didn't like him for some reason. He'd asked Callistro about it one day, crawling in beside her in one of the small crooks that she used for her daily meditation, which helped her control her sight somewhat.
"Why do they hate me?" He'd asked, feeling his anger point at the daggers of bone beneath his skin and the slabs on his face hardening while the rest of his uncovered body convulsed in goosebumps. "Why me?"
After asking him repeatedly to leave, she had given up eventually, but the anger in her voice was still evident. "They don't hate you, Evan. They just are… skeptical, I would say."
"Skeptical of what? Its not like I'm going to turn around and stab them in the back with one of these." Pulling a small dagger from one of the joints in his finger, he blew it softly and it hit the end of the tunnel ahead of them. "I wouldn't. I couldn't."
"I know." She sighed, pulling her knees to her chin and staring at him thoughtfully. "But I don't think they know that. They're not as trustful --"
"--As me, because they've gotten the bad side of human nature," he finished for her, his voice echoing thoughtfully. "But haven't I, too? Isn't that what I'm down here for?"
"You tell me," she said shortly. "I'm not the one who lived your life for you."
"What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "Everyone has come to depend on each other in the society above, Evan. I did. You did. Your friends still do." She pointed down the hall, to where Scaleface and Stun were playing chess, chattering slowly and running fingers through each other's hair. "They didn't."
"That's not my fault."
"They've not led sheltered lives. Like you. Like the kids in the school you were at. Those kids, you, were lucky, are lucky; they have a place where there are others like them, where they don't get beaten for nothing they did, where they have quiet sessions on learning and how to control the things that God has blessed them with." She shrugged. "Or cursed, depending on how you look at it. My brethren here, they've never seen days where they've never been discriminated against. You have a friend up there, the one who's blue?"
"Kurt."
"Yes, him. He has a projector that allows other people to see a different boy, one not covered in blue fur." She laughed bitterly. "Your professor is providing the chances that we never had. If he'd been around twenty years ago, maybe… but no," she shook her head, standing above him and looking down, rolling her shoulders quietly. "They don't hate you. They just don't know how to trust anyone who's been a norm in life, who had the probability they never had." A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she had run a hand through his bleached locks affectionately. "That I never had."
And before he'd been able to speak, she'd walked off, calling out that she was going to find a place where she could meditate in peace without the hassles of a teenager living in a sewer.
He frowned, now, touching the plates on the sides of his face and the spikes lining his spine. They were softened, sure, but they were still there and he knew, thanks to the poison, that he'd never be rid of them. A part of him mourned; he'd never be able to live life the same way again, the sheltered the life that he'd lived for all of his life. But a part of him was relieved; at least now, he wouldn't have to hide who he was. He wasn't a coward and he wasn't about to show his face in public, either; it was a sort of in-between place, one that he knew he could be in for the rest of his life. What chance did he have, now that it was gone, and never coming back…?
"Reminiscing again, man? Don't you ever get tired of that?"
He jumped, dropping the makeshift-board behind him, the bones prickling under his skin as he whirled around, tackling the figure hanging onto the porthole and calling a couple spikes up from his fingers. He felt coughing vibrating under the slabs and blinked. He knew that voice… "What the fuck?" Sucking the blades back into his skin and blinking at the figure below his sprawled fingers.
"Hey man," The boy below him said helplessly, showing a flash of white teeth and lifting his arms shakily. "What's up?"
"Ray?" He stood, offering a hand, confused, and the taller took it, standing. "What -- what are you doing down here, man?"
"Visiting you, obviously." The older boy's smile vanished as he stared down at his clothes -- civilian garb, at which Evan was surprised. "Aww man," Ray said, rubbing at the black T-shirt with obvious disgust. "I just bought this shirt yesterday!"
"Shouldn't you be… you know, at school?"
"School? Right now?" He laughed, running a hand through his dyed hair amusedly. "Man, I wouldn't go back there if my life depended on it. They look at me, you know, like I'm a freak, and I hate that so much --"
"Yeah." Evan nodded, understanding the feeling, but feeling anger tinge his cheeks red. "And why are you here, again?"
Berserker looked at him curiously, his hands still brushing the last drops of the flush from his shirt. "I thought I told you, man. I'm visiting."
"I told you guys to leave me alone." His voice was hard and he was seeing red; the sharp points were piercing his skin, and his eyes narrowing, he pointed at the boy before him. "I'm fine. The Professor sent you down here, didn't he?" Spitting into the slush beneath their feet, he turned, his hand stopping the other before he could speak. "Tell him I don't want any help. I'm fine."
"Evan, wait."
He stopped, and turned, staring back at him angrily. "I don't need your charity, Ray. I'm fine."
"Yeah, and I suppose that the fact that you're carrying a thing at your side that vaguely resembles a skateboard means that you've forgotten everything, that you hate us all, that we were never good for you and that you're sorry you ever stepped foot above ground."
His cheeks flushed once more, but more from the combined emotions running through his head than the respected anger. He couldn't find anything to say and that angered him; where was his stupid wiseass side when he needed it?
"Listen," Ray said quietly. "I didn't come 'cause of the Prof. I came 'cause of you." He pointed to the ground by his feet, where Evan noticed a large black trunk and vaguely wondered why he hadn't seen it before. "See that? Yeah, man, that's from your room, sent by your friends. Mmmm," He murmured, nodding bitterly at the other boy's expression. "The ones you've forgotten about. And I can remember something about a long letter from your aunt, and some homemade cookies from Kitty, and some books from Kurt. Too bad you hate them; otherwise I'd give it to you along with the news that they're sending more. But no, I'll just send it back and tell them the message was not received with happiness and they're better off feeding a porcupine cheese muffins, how 'bout that?"
He knew his face was probably beet-red by now, and he sighed while Ray grinned. "Logan?"
"Logan."
"Great on wheels."
"He said you'd say that. Care to help me get this someplace light?"
"So… this isn't the Professor's idea?" He asked, panting, while they lugged the heavy trunk towards a better-lit area. "And what is in this, anyway? Did someone send me rocks?"
"Nope." Berserker wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. "Although those cookies weren't a piece of cake, not that she'd make that. Said it would fall apart before it got here." They reached a torched hallway and he stood up, cracking his neck, and then looked at Evan quietly.
"We kept it from the Prof., although we knew that he knew that we knew that he knew. He didn't stop us, and since we kept it from him even though we knew that he knew, he never said a word." The teenager shrugged. "He's pretty cool sometimes."
They lifted the lid and Evan looked into the dark interior, his teeth flashing suddenly as he reached in. "My board!" He hugged the fiery wood and grinned. "Man, I thought I'd never see it again!"
"Yeah, well in case you haven't noticed, Scott waxed it. Told me to tell you not to scratch it on anything or else."
"Or else what? He'll blast me to the next dimension? That thing Forge created'll do just fine, actually. Quick and painless. I'm fine, really." He put the board down gently, smiling radiantly as he laid a hand on it. "I won't do anything to it."
His clothes were neatly packed in thin plastic-wrap with a small note from Jean on front telling him to take care of himself; his basketballs and a small pump were lying near the bottom, along with a battery-operated light and his CD player. Kitty's cookies were wrapped in tinfoil -- they weighed a ton and when he tried to bite one he nearly broke his teeth while Ray laughed his head off. Kurt's books looked brand new; skating planners and a new calendar was slipped inside "War of the Worlds." He tucked the letter from his aunt inside the pocket of his tattered jeans, vowing to read it later.
"So? What do you think?"
"Its awesome," he said sincerely. "Thank you."
"Aww, it was nothing, man," Ray said happily, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Anything for a fellow mutie in need. And I was implored to do it, on account of the fact that I still haven't given you that Garbage CD back, yet."
"Yeah, where is that?"
"Oh, I dropped it off to a suffering orphan family in the middle of the streets. They need it more than both of us, having five children and all."
"You forgot it."
"Yes."
"Mmmm."
"You know I can't remember anything without being called upon twenty times."
"You remember when the Powerpuff Girls are on."
"That's pure choice. I believe that --"
"It's a brilliant show, full of leadership and pure, clean fun."
"I think too much about my obsessions, don't I?"
"Yes."
"Knew it."
"So… why you?" Evan asked, leaning on the trunk. "I mean, did you pull straws or something?"
"Seems like something Jean would have us do, doesn't it? Actually, she was pretty quiet, considering the circumstances. No, I volunteered. Can't have a fellow stuck down here in the deep dark sewers without a light, you know?"
He frowned, staring at the boy in front of him with narrowing eyes. "You knew I was here. In this tunnel." He searched the face of the boy in front of him as it twisted guiltily. "No one knew, did they? Where I was? You didn't use Cerebro, you didn't have the Prof., and it only brings you to a five-mile radius. You knew. How?"
He swallowed, leaning against the wall and started to speak, when suddenly he was knocked over and on the floor again with the mush seeping into his hair, as he coughed.
"Berserker…" Scaleface hissed, her scales plainly showing as she stared at him with narrowly slit hazel eyes. "Why are you here, rage boy?"
He coughed again as her claws pushed him deeper into the crusty outline and he smiled weakly. "I'm here for Evan," he said quietly. She snarled and transformed further, staring at him with her pointed teeth dripping with saliva, her face livid with anger.
"I knew it! You're here to take him back, aren't you?" Changing back into humanoid form, she wrapped her hands in her black gloves, growling at the boy she held under her foot.
"No --"
"Yes! He'll be gone and we'll never see him again! You treacherous bastard!" She spat in his face. He blinked, face convulsing in disgust. "You said you'd never leave! And now you've decided to take him, too, back to that school where all of you run around like chicken roasting on a stick --"
"You don't understand!" Ray bellowed, squirming under a firmly pointed claw. "I'm not here to take him back! I came to give him his stuff back!" Pointing at Evan, he gave her a half-moon, raising his arms helplessly. "I couldn't take him away from here if I tranquilized him, Scales. He's rooted and wouldn't leave you guys if his life depended on it."
She snorted, and pressed into his chest. "Scales, now, is it? At least the porcupine's faithful. Well, fine, go ahead; come down here like you own the place, strutting about waving your stupid ass tail in the back of the tunnels, oblivious to the fact that you've been gone, and you've been forgotten." Baring her teeth, she tied her hair back with the band on her wrist and glared down at him as she released her claws from his battered shirt. Laughing bitterly, she gave him one last kick and set off across the halls. "Everything that is gone is forgotten, rage boy. Remember that. It'll come in handy someday."
And she disappeared into the dark, whispers falling into the halls.
"Man…" The boy whispered. "She hasn't changed a bit." Smiling up at the shocked face waving into focus in front of him, he smiled weakly and sat up halfway.
"AND DON'T MAKE ANY SUDDEN MOVES, WE'VE GOT YOU TAILED, DAMMIT!"
"Nope, not a bit. Care to help me up?"
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