DISCLAIMER: Yeah, I've tried several times over the past couple of years,
but I just can't seem to scrape together enough money to own Marvel or X-
men. Looks like I'm stuck with my OC, Chantal.
Sphinx489~ Wassup, my hommies? Yeah, whatever. Hope you're enjoying my story, all. Au revoir. Oh, yeah. QUESTION AUTHORITY!!!
~"Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the
injury that provokes it." ~Seneca
~~~~~~~~~
"I didn't mean to!" I cry in agony as I stand to the side of the lab bed, Dr. Grey trying to calm me. "Do something for him!" A blue furred monster of a man dressed in a lab coat is peering over him. A few feet away, a tall man with red sunglasses paces back and forth, pausing every once in a while to give me an accusing glare.
"We know, we know," Ms. Grey says, grabbing my arms, trying to keep me still. 'It was just an accident. Things like this happen.' I jolt at the sudden intrusion into my brain, for the moment distracted as I shove it out. She winces. The man in sunglasses rushes over. "I'm alright, Scott." He turns to me, barely masking the fury on his not-so-perfectly composed countenance.
"What were you doing?!" he shouts into my face. "Especially after curfew! Jeez, one o'clock in the fucking morning! And now look what's happened." I choke on a sob. His presumable girlfriend pushes him away from my blurry line of sight.
"Quiet, Scott. It wasn't entirely her fault. He was out late, too. And her powers are still manifesting," I tone down my cries, intrigued by the scolding of a twenty to thirty year old man.
"Chantal." I jerk to see the blue furred beast beckoning me towards him.
"What."
"I need to know what happened that triggered your powers into action." I swallow deeply, reluctant to share. I'm still to unsure about my feelings for him. I just want to know if he'll be okay.
"Why?" I shoot at him, threateningly. The room grows deathly quiet as they all turn to stare at me. The angry force in my voice takes them all aback. "What does that have to do with the fact he's dehydrated and dying? Just help him!"
"He is, Sirène." I whirl on Professor Xavier, wrath barely contained inside me. "Gambit should be just fine. You on the other hand. Well, come with me, please." Hesitantly, I join him, adjusting my pace next to the wheelchair. Slowly, my nerves calm, fluctuating at ever sound. "Phoenix." He motions to the other telepath. She glances at Scott, giving him a signal that speaks volumes before she comes over to us - 'We'll talk about this later,' it said. He looks away, at Remy's prone form. The blue man administers something to Remy through an IV. We walk into the hallway, an unwelcome hush settling upon us until we arrive at Xavier's office. It's just as well. I can feel the anger boiling up and almost over within me again.
"Miss LaJolie," he begins, pausing until I feign attention, arms crossed. "It seems you have somewhat of an anger management problem. Can you tell me why?" I grunt.
"No."
'Why not?' I sit up straighter in the hard backed chair, glaring at his dark eyes and bald scalp. I thrust it out, only to be surprised by the fact it won't budge. 'What's wrong, Chantal? Tell me, please. We have done nothing here but try to help you. We only want to help Gambit now. Why are you so furious?'
'Because you won't get out of my fucking head.' I construct a 'wall' in my mind, hiding his voice behind it.
'Tell us.' I flinch at the entrance of another mind - Ms. Grey's.
'It's none of your fucking business,' I snap, making my mind create a whiplash of electricity, sending it towards her 'voice' at lightning speed. She shrieks in pain when it strikes and I feel the immediate ease of her slipping into oblivion, out of my head. But the professor's grip is stronger - he destroys the whiplash.
'Please. End this now,' he pleads in an authoritative tone, if that's possible. I bite back a nasty remark in a half-ass attempt to stop myself from causing more damage. It feels as if my anger is something I can't control. I perceive my powers trying to reach out and take his life from him as they'd almost done to Remy. With that thought, a sharp pang shivers through my heart. The professor takes advantage of it. 'We can help you control this - starting tomorrow.' That is the last thing I 'hear' before I black out, a mental blow knocking me unconscious.
* * *
A bright light shines in my eyes as I wake up. Fortunately, it isn't from an interrogation light as I first thought. It's simply streaming through my thin curtains. I groan, holding my head. Xavier rolls into my room.
"Good morning, Chantal," he says. I guess he doesn't really mean it after the trouble I caused last night. "Suit up. It's time for your first session." He tosses a box onto the leopard print comforter. I open it, revealing a black leather uniform. A red scarf belt sprouts from the folds. Not trusting myself to speak, I throw the covers off and stride to the bathroom.
With the door safely shut behind me, I open the mirror cabinet and take half a bottle of painkillers followed by a gallon of water. Don't worry, I'm slightly exaggerating on the painkillers, thing. The pain slowly subsides as my vision blurs and becomes clear again. I put the outfit on. Not to my disliking, I discover that it's a two piece. A long- sleeved leather leotard with a long v-neck and leg holes that come all the way up past the top of the accompanying pants. The leather pants have metal studs holding the sides together at even intervals. I grin, wrapping the belt around the 'hip' band.
Stepping out of my sanctuary, I join Xavier in an elevator where he simultaneously holds down two buttons. The door whooshes shut and then reopens. Exiting, I note the metal hallways have a more formidable look to them as we stop in front of a large metal door with a huge 'X' prominently displayed on it. We enter.
The room inside is humongous - larger than the gymnasium at my old school had been. Light glints off the walls everywhere, no windows in sight. Only two other people are present in the room. Scott and a gruff looking man with metal claws protruding from his hands. Both are dressed in similar uniforms - a solid one piece made of leather. I purr to myself when I notice that it's form fitting like my own.
"Sirène," Professor X says. "This is Wolverine. I believe you've already been acquainted with Cyclops. They are you 'anger management' counselors." He says the latter with a slight twinkle in his eye. "Logan, this is Sirène." Finished with introductions, he wheels to a different door than the one we'd previously entered and disappears, coming into view a few moments later in a transparent globe about two stories up. Computer screens jut from supports inside. "Let's start with a little provocation. Cyclops?"
Right on cue, the man shoots a thin red laser beam out of his eyes at my feet. Surprised, I jump back.
"What the hell was that for?"
"Training." The man called Wolverine lunges towards me, claws slicing through air as he rushes headlong at me. Screaming, eyes squeezed shut waiting for impact, I zoom into the air. "What the."
"Stop!" Cyclops shouts. "Sirène, what are you doing?" Slowly, I open first one eye, then the other. "How did you just do that?" Genuine misunderstanding showing on his features. I look around curiously, taking in surroundings at this new perspective. Ha, I tricked the old corn cob ass. Oops, did that come from my mouth? Must be an anger management problem. Heh.
I plummet to the floor, landing neatly just when I think Scott's going to have a heart attack.
Professor X speaks from his throne, "It is entirely possible that there is enough humidity in the air for Sirène to be able to lift herself off the ground. She is capable of shifting her whole body into water and creating it, too."
"All right. Enough of this bullshit," Logan snarls. "Let's get something done." Scott acknowledges him.
"Sirène. Attack me."
"What?"
"Attack me - or do you need more motivation?" Even as the words leave his mouth, he fires a wider beam at me. I howl in rage when I don't get out of the way fast enough. It strikes me in the thigh, a thin stream of blood seeping from the burned skin rupture.
"Bastard!" I plunge toward him, transforming into water. Halting just inches in front of him as Wolverine watches in semi-awe, I revert to human form and deliver a roundhouse punch that sends him reeling across the floor. The impact of his flesh against my fist feels good. Kind of strange and morbid, but I enjoy it.
Wolverine moves to intercept me, but Cyclops waves him away. Struggling for only a second to stand, he soon has both feet braced on the ground, engaging me in hand-to-hand combat. If that's what you can call it considering I've never had training for it before. It's more like him using professional tactics on me while I learn new ways to fend them off and deliver an offensive battle in unprofessional ways.
I howl in rage - a banshee cry rivaling all others, attempting to fuel my energy. I begin to feel myself becoming weaker, even though I've since stopped the use of my powers. Striking doesn't seem like such a victory unless my fist or foot or various body part is what causes it. I can sense my lower lip swelling a little.
I thrive on the bodily connection and, by the way Cyclops is fighting, so does he. We're both at our peaks, balancing on the very edge of the cliff before we dive into exhaustion.
I thrust an elbow into his ribcage, grunting as it starts to bruise from the force. He grip loosens around my neck and I grab his arm, using the water mass inside of him to flip his large, well-muscled body over my shoulder. As he skids across the floor, a wave of nausea washes over me, causing me to blink several times, shaking my head in the process although it doesn't help any.
Wolverine starts toward me, intent on finishing what Cyclops has started. I'm not so sure that it's part of the lesson plan or not, but then again, I don't think Xavier had actually meant for serious harm to come to any of us, either.
Before he could even drive a spiked fist into my abdomen, Cyclops blasts a beam again - not aiming, just shooting. It strikes its target. I fly across the dome, heat from the burst causing a large percentage of my water capacity to vaporize. Slamming my already sore and swirling head against the metal, my vision fogs, darkness threatening to encase everything. Goose bumps form on my skin and I shiver as my body temperature drops considerably.
Wolverine picks me up in one arm, slinging Scott over his shoulder with the other. I can barely make out through slitted eyes him signaling the professor. I'm hoping we're heading to the infirmary.
Sphinx489~ Wassup, my hommies? Yeah, whatever. Hope you're enjoying my story, all. Au revoir. Oh, yeah. QUESTION AUTHORITY!!!
~"Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the
injury that provokes it." ~Seneca
~~~~~~~~~
"I didn't mean to!" I cry in agony as I stand to the side of the lab bed, Dr. Grey trying to calm me. "Do something for him!" A blue furred monster of a man dressed in a lab coat is peering over him. A few feet away, a tall man with red sunglasses paces back and forth, pausing every once in a while to give me an accusing glare.
"We know, we know," Ms. Grey says, grabbing my arms, trying to keep me still. 'It was just an accident. Things like this happen.' I jolt at the sudden intrusion into my brain, for the moment distracted as I shove it out. She winces. The man in sunglasses rushes over. "I'm alright, Scott." He turns to me, barely masking the fury on his not-so-perfectly composed countenance.
"What were you doing?!" he shouts into my face. "Especially after curfew! Jeez, one o'clock in the fucking morning! And now look what's happened." I choke on a sob. His presumable girlfriend pushes him away from my blurry line of sight.
"Quiet, Scott. It wasn't entirely her fault. He was out late, too. And her powers are still manifesting," I tone down my cries, intrigued by the scolding of a twenty to thirty year old man.
"Chantal." I jerk to see the blue furred beast beckoning me towards him.
"What."
"I need to know what happened that triggered your powers into action." I swallow deeply, reluctant to share. I'm still to unsure about my feelings for him. I just want to know if he'll be okay.
"Why?" I shoot at him, threateningly. The room grows deathly quiet as they all turn to stare at me. The angry force in my voice takes them all aback. "What does that have to do with the fact he's dehydrated and dying? Just help him!"
"He is, Sirène." I whirl on Professor Xavier, wrath barely contained inside me. "Gambit should be just fine. You on the other hand. Well, come with me, please." Hesitantly, I join him, adjusting my pace next to the wheelchair. Slowly, my nerves calm, fluctuating at ever sound. "Phoenix." He motions to the other telepath. She glances at Scott, giving him a signal that speaks volumes before she comes over to us - 'We'll talk about this later,' it said. He looks away, at Remy's prone form. The blue man administers something to Remy through an IV. We walk into the hallway, an unwelcome hush settling upon us until we arrive at Xavier's office. It's just as well. I can feel the anger boiling up and almost over within me again.
"Miss LaJolie," he begins, pausing until I feign attention, arms crossed. "It seems you have somewhat of an anger management problem. Can you tell me why?" I grunt.
"No."
'Why not?' I sit up straighter in the hard backed chair, glaring at his dark eyes and bald scalp. I thrust it out, only to be surprised by the fact it won't budge. 'What's wrong, Chantal? Tell me, please. We have done nothing here but try to help you. We only want to help Gambit now. Why are you so furious?'
'Because you won't get out of my fucking head.' I construct a 'wall' in my mind, hiding his voice behind it.
'Tell us.' I flinch at the entrance of another mind - Ms. Grey's.
'It's none of your fucking business,' I snap, making my mind create a whiplash of electricity, sending it towards her 'voice' at lightning speed. She shrieks in pain when it strikes and I feel the immediate ease of her slipping into oblivion, out of my head. But the professor's grip is stronger - he destroys the whiplash.
'Please. End this now,' he pleads in an authoritative tone, if that's possible. I bite back a nasty remark in a half-ass attempt to stop myself from causing more damage. It feels as if my anger is something I can't control. I perceive my powers trying to reach out and take his life from him as they'd almost done to Remy. With that thought, a sharp pang shivers through my heart. The professor takes advantage of it. 'We can help you control this - starting tomorrow.' That is the last thing I 'hear' before I black out, a mental blow knocking me unconscious.
* * *
A bright light shines in my eyes as I wake up. Fortunately, it isn't from an interrogation light as I first thought. It's simply streaming through my thin curtains. I groan, holding my head. Xavier rolls into my room.
"Good morning, Chantal," he says. I guess he doesn't really mean it after the trouble I caused last night. "Suit up. It's time for your first session." He tosses a box onto the leopard print comforter. I open it, revealing a black leather uniform. A red scarf belt sprouts from the folds. Not trusting myself to speak, I throw the covers off and stride to the bathroom.
With the door safely shut behind me, I open the mirror cabinet and take half a bottle of painkillers followed by a gallon of water. Don't worry, I'm slightly exaggerating on the painkillers, thing. The pain slowly subsides as my vision blurs and becomes clear again. I put the outfit on. Not to my disliking, I discover that it's a two piece. A long- sleeved leather leotard with a long v-neck and leg holes that come all the way up past the top of the accompanying pants. The leather pants have metal studs holding the sides together at even intervals. I grin, wrapping the belt around the 'hip' band.
Stepping out of my sanctuary, I join Xavier in an elevator where he simultaneously holds down two buttons. The door whooshes shut and then reopens. Exiting, I note the metal hallways have a more formidable look to them as we stop in front of a large metal door with a huge 'X' prominently displayed on it. We enter.
The room inside is humongous - larger than the gymnasium at my old school had been. Light glints off the walls everywhere, no windows in sight. Only two other people are present in the room. Scott and a gruff looking man with metal claws protruding from his hands. Both are dressed in similar uniforms - a solid one piece made of leather. I purr to myself when I notice that it's form fitting like my own.
"Sirène," Professor X says. "This is Wolverine. I believe you've already been acquainted with Cyclops. They are you 'anger management' counselors." He says the latter with a slight twinkle in his eye. "Logan, this is Sirène." Finished with introductions, he wheels to a different door than the one we'd previously entered and disappears, coming into view a few moments later in a transparent globe about two stories up. Computer screens jut from supports inside. "Let's start with a little provocation. Cyclops?"
Right on cue, the man shoots a thin red laser beam out of his eyes at my feet. Surprised, I jump back.
"What the hell was that for?"
"Training." The man called Wolverine lunges towards me, claws slicing through air as he rushes headlong at me. Screaming, eyes squeezed shut waiting for impact, I zoom into the air. "What the."
"Stop!" Cyclops shouts. "Sirène, what are you doing?" Slowly, I open first one eye, then the other. "How did you just do that?" Genuine misunderstanding showing on his features. I look around curiously, taking in surroundings at this new perspective. Ha, I tricked the old corn cob ass. Oops, did that come from my mouth? Must be an anger management problem. Heh.
I plummet to the floor, landing neatly just when I think Scott's going to have a heart attack.
Professor X speaks from his throne, "It is entirely possible that there is enough humidity in the air for Sirène to be able to lift herself off the ground. She is capable of shifting her whole body into water and creating it, too."
"All right. Enough of this bullshit," Logan snarls. "Let's get something done." Scott acknowledges him.
"Sirène. Attack me."
"What?"
"Attack me - or do you need more motivation?" Even as the words leave his mouth, he fires a wider beam at me. I howl in rage when I don't get out of the way fast enough. It strikes me in the thigh, a thin stream of blood seeping from the burned skin rupture.
"Bastard!" I plunge toward him, transforming into water. Halting just inches in front of him as Wolverine watches in semi-awe, I revert to human form and deliver a roundhouse punch that sends him reeling across the floor. The impact of his flesh against my fist feels good. Kind of strange and morbid, but I enjoy it.
Wolverine moves to intercept me, but Cyclops waves him away. Struggling for only a second to stand, he soon has both feet braced on the ground, engaging me in hand-to-hand combat. If that's what you can call it considering I've never had training for it before. It's more like him using professional tactics on me while I learn new ways to fend them off and deliver an offensive battle in unprofessional ways.
I howl in rage - a banshee cry rivaling all others, attempting to fuel my energy. I begin to feel myself becoming weaker, even though I've since stopped the use of my powers. Striking doesn't seem like such a victory unless my fist or foot or various body part is what causes it. I can sense my lower lip swelling a little.
I thrive on the bodily connection and, by the way Cyclops is fighting, so does he. We're both at our peaks, balancing on the very edge of the cliff before we dive into exhaustion.
I thrust an elbow into his ribcage, grunting as it starts to bruise from the force. He grip loosens around my neck and I grab his arm, using the water mass inside of him to flip his large, well-muscled body over my shoulder. As he skids across the floor, a wave of nausea washes over me, causing me to blink several times, shaking my head in the process although it doesn't help any.
Wolverine starts toward me, intent on finishing what Cyclops has started. I'm not so sure that it's part of the lesson plan or not, but then again, I don't think Xavier had actually meant for serious harm to come to any of us, either.
Before he could even drive a spiked fist into my abdomen, Cyclops blasts a beam again - not aiming, just shooting. It strikes its target. I fly across the dome, heat from the burst causing a large percentage of my water capacity to vaporize. Slamming my already sore and swirling head against the metal, my vision fogs, darkness threatening to encase everything. Goose bumps form on my skin and I shiver as my body temperature drops considerably.
Wolverine picks me up in one arm, slinging Scott over his shoulder with the other. I can barely make out through slitted eyes him signaling the professor. I'm hoping we're heading to the infirmary.