Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Marvel.
Author's Notes: At the end
The cat watched the rat patiently, knowing that in the fullness of time the rodent would come close enough that she could pounce. The cat wasn't hungry and didn't really need to hunt the rat but she could no more ignore this nocturnal intruder padding softly through her alley then the earth could refuse to spin.
Keeping to the blackest shadows the rat scurried through the debris left in the wake of the human race, only too happy to scavenge from the tasty morsels that mankind had discarded foolishly, not that it comprehended the reasons behind such things. The rat and its feline observer were creatures of instinct and nature with little save their senses to guide them. Here in the middle of the night, they played their role in a game that had been played out a thousand times before by other creatures such as themselves.
However tonight things pan out differently as the rat came to a sudden halt, its nose twitching furiously as something tugged at its primitive brain, something that informed it of imminent danger. Possessing only one half of the fight or flight response the rat immediately darted for cover, just as a point in the air a few feet off the ground in the middle of the alley seemed to fold in on itself, contorting the air into a series of concentric circles, the largest being at least seven feet in diameter that spun quickly creating a semi substantial sphere. Loose garbage and detritus was sucked into an invisible vacuum that existed at the very center of the globe and a low-pitched whine grew in intensity until it became a scream. An instant later the fold righted itself like a rubber band, stretching and then snapping back to normality, pushing out a stale fetid air in place of the oxygen it had sucked in.
The cat watched this all with wary interest, every muscle in her body primed to flee at a moment's notice as an altogether more primitive part of its brain was still contemplating where the rat it had been stalking had disappeared to. In the place where the rat had been she now observed a large naked human sprawled on the dirty alley ground.
The fact that he was completely naked would have been unusual enough in and of itself but the thing that would strike any normal person seeing this man was the fact that he didn't appear completely human. Instead of left arm, there was a very large bulbous blob of sickly pale flesh almost two feet in diameter that went up over the man's shoulder to cover a large portion of his face as well. To all intents and purposes it appeared like the upper left side of his body had expended like a frog in a microwave.
It was a moment before the human male came to its senses, scratching the ground with the one good hand it still possessed until finally he was able to roll awkwardly on to his stomach. Suppressing a groan, it sat back on to its knees and groggily regarded its misshapen arm, moving it this way and that in an attempt to comprehend it.
Then the flesh began to pulsate and stretch unnaturally until finally rupturing outward with a spray of claret red as four smooth chrome fingers tore through the flesh with all the delicacy of butcher knifes. With his free hand he grasped at the flash, tearing at it to reveal a large muscular metallic arm, still covering here and there in thoroughly pulped flesh.
His right arm completely free now, he tore away the last vestiges of the flesh from the left side of his face to finally be free of the misshapen limb. His breath came now in an easy rhythm and he methodically began to process his memory. His first action was to bend down by the largest portion of the fleshy mess and thoroughly examined it until finally he found what he was looking for. With no effort and hesitancy he jabbed his metallic fingers into the flesh and pulled out an object, a perfectly smooth black sphere no bigger then a golf ball. He wiped it clean of any blood and concentrated on it carefully. Hearing a barely audibly click, he held it over his left wrist, where a small panel slid back to reveal a tiny compartment. He dropped the ball in and watched the compartment slid closed, no trace evident of the compartment or its contents.
Finally he got to his feet and took a deep breath, almost as if he was sampling air for the first time. He noted the cat sitting on the fence watching him with apparent interest. It was the first time he had seen such an animal though he knew what it was. One eye still on the cat, he mentally listed what he needed to do next: secure clothing and weapons, collect intelligence and complete the objective. The cat continued to watch as the man pressed down on his wrist, causing his entire being to flicker for a moment and then tanned flesh was replaced by the unlikely combination of a large trench coat and a neat navy business suit.
He strolled forward out of the alley and out under the glare of a street lamp. Looking around he noted a department store a small bit down the street and walked calmly towards it, already contemplating what he would need to do as regards intelligence gathering. Tomorrow he would visit the man who could tell him everything he needed to know.
Colgan's Bluff was one of those large areas of natural preserve that had remained untouched by the encroachment of man. Part of this was due to the natural beauty of the place though this by itself would not be enough to hinder the industrious or greedy. Colgan's Bluff was also the site of a historic battle between a group of Native Americans and expansion minded European settlers back when America was first being tamed, whether it wanted to or not. The details surround the battle had long since been lost but what was agreed was that it was an important event and a source of pride to the locals, meaning that land developers couldn't get a sniff of owning it due to its historical status.
Any frequent visitor to the lush gardens would readily inform you that the sight of the bald man in the wheelchair was not an unusual event but quite the opposite in fact. His visits were practically a fixture of the place. Though the person charged with wheeling him around often changed, his visits were regular enough that you could set you watch to them.
"It is a beautiful day for a walk, don't you think Rahne?" Professor Xavier asked the young girl as she gently wheeled him along by a natural waterfall that provided a noisy if pleasant background for the pair as they made their way leisurely about the park. For Professor Xavier these little nature jaunts were an opportunity for him to talk to students one on one without it seeming like he was conducting a formal interview which was often the case when they were summoned to his study.
"Aye Professor," she replied, her slight Scottish brogue reminding him of his dear friend on Muir Island who had sent the girl to him in the first place.
"How are you adapting to life in the mansion, my dear? Oh would you stop here please. I did always love this view," he asked before she had the chance to answer his original question. The view in question was a secluded part of the lake ringed by a group of particularly hardy evergreens. He shifted his chair himself until he was in his favored position. With his back now to Rahne, he sat silently waiting for the young girl to speak and not wanting unnerve her by watching her closely.
"Oh Professor, it's been marvelous," she began to gush, feeling like she could tell this kind man anything, "I was a wee bit scared at the start but everyone is so friendly and keen to help, that it feels just like home now."
"I'm delighted to hear that Rahne. When Moira sent you to us, she was hoping that you would find friendship and maybe learn some-" he stopped suddenly when he heard Rahne unceremoniously fall to the ground. Turning with as much speed as he could muster on the awkward terrain, he found himself facing a giant of a man, as near to seven feet as made no difference. Rahne was slumped at the man's feet in an untidy heap and he was holding a large shotgun in one of his paw like hands as if it were little more then a stick he had picked from the ground. Dressed in a tatty brown trench coat and business suit with his eyes hidden behind designer shades, he was an odd contrast of hobo and respectable citizen.
"She'll be okay in an hour or two," the man informed Xavier as he regarded him carefully, his voice deep and coarse, like he'd started smoking in the cradle, "and don't bother trying any of your mind tricks either, by the time you'd have the upper hand, I'd have at least emptied this gun into you and probably some of the others."
He stepped over Rahne and closer to the Professor, who noted another gun tucked into the man's belt.
"Who are you?" he asked, readying himself to probe in spite of the man's warnings. Something told the Professor that if the man wanted him dead, he already would be. The fact that he had taken the pair of them completely by surprise, he with his prodigious mind and Rahne with her heightened senses spoke of the man's prowess in stealth.
"That's not important. What is important is that you listen to what I have to tell you."
And for the next fifteen minutes the Professor listened in disbelief as the strange man stood before him and calmly related a horrifying tale, full of death and destruction on a scale yet unseen by mankind. By the time he was finished, the Professor himself felt physically drained. He shook his head as he tried to make sense of it all. Unwilling to accept it, he settled instead on for all to human denial.
"There is not the slightest shred of evidence for any of what you suggest," he muttered.
"I'm the evidence," the stranger informed him evenly, "and I know you've already had...premonitions."
"How could you know?" the Professor stuttered, disbelief slowly giving way to fearful realization.
"Like I said, I'm the evidence," he repeated.
"I didn't dare believe it...Of all my students she-," the Professor murmured.
"If you need further convincing, take a look," the man interrupted, tapping the side of his head, "just don't go too deep...you're not ready for what you might find."
The Professor leaned forward in his chair as a tendril of thought in the form of a dove glided from his mind and tapped on that of the stranger. To Xavier's mind's eye, the man's psyche resembled a fortress, defense upon defense lined up to halt any psychic intruder who would foolishly attempt to scale the walls of his intellect. He wasn't lying when he claimed that the Professor would have a hard time mentally beating him. The man was cooperating though, as Xavier found a path cleared through the defenses for him, a portcullis lifted to reveal a small path he was permitted to mentally thread.
It didn't take him long to find what the man wanted him to see. He floated down to a small plateau that afforded him a view of a disjointed skyline of memories ingrained on clouds that flashed through his consciousness. He tried to cling to some of them but they were like sand through his fingers, the harder he gripped the more got through.
As he struggled he became aware of something else, something close to the surface of the man's mind; something he wasn't meant to see. Unable to help himself he bolted towards it, aware instantly of mental defenses springing up to stop him, but he was already inside and he was too fast. Doors slammed shut behind him, too late to stop him as he slid through, moving unerringly closer and closer to the metaphorical mental treasure vault. He was almost to it when his avatar slammed into a wall that sprung from the ether. Straining forward he was almost able to reach it when-
"GET OUT!!"
Suddenly he was Professor Xavier back in his chair, panting from the exertion. The stranger was on one knee, a hand clasped over the side of his face in agony. The Professor stared at him in horror.
"It can't be..." he despaired.
"I warned you to stay away," the man growled as he rose to his feet, all sign of mental strain gone.
"What are you going to do?" the Professor asked, still struggling to grasp what he had witnessed.
"I'm going to stop this problem at the source. I'm going to kill Magneto," he replied as he turned to regard the lakeside view Xavier admired so much.
As Xavier watched him, he became aware of a new familiar presence, a noble soul wrapped in a feral instinct, rapidly approaching them from the main entrance. A moment later the strange man turned to face that direction too.
"Your bloodhound is coming...I would like to have met the man responsible for so much-" he stopped himself suddenly, as if remembering that there was someone around who could hear him. "Don't bother looking for me Professor, you or him. You won't find me and I don't need the distraction. I'm doing what needs to be done for the greater good." He strode passed the Professor without another word and disappeared silently into the copse of trees.
A few moments later Logan sprang into the small clearing, his blades deploying the instant he saw Rahne's comatose form.
"Professor," he demanded, bending down by the young girl's body.
"She's fine Logan," he responded more calmly then he felt.
"What happened Chuck?" Logan asked sniffing the air, picking up something unusual that smelled awfully like axle grease.
"I don't know Logan...I just don't know," The Professor collapsed back into his chair, still stunned by what had taken place. Among the jumble of experiences he had witnessed in the stranger's mind, one word seemed significant, perhaps a name or something else important? On the shores of the small lake in the company of a sleeping girl and one of his oldest friends he repeated the word to himself, trying to make sense of it all.
"Cable."
To be continued...
Author's Notes: The introduction is very Terminator-esque and there are facets of the story that are as well but then again Cable is basically a time-hopping, Apocalypse-hunting, super-soldier. The fact that he is also Scott and (fake) Jean's son means that there will be some interesting drama down the road as he interacts with them and other significant characters.