John's soft footsteps echoed almost inaudibly as he padded slowly
down the seemingly endless hallway. The metal walls of the corridor mocked
him with silence, and he took a hesitant step backwards in uncertainty, his
head slightly cocked to the side. He tended to do this a lot when he was
nervous. Tall steel doors leered gloomily over his head as he stood in the
narrow passage, the darkness nearly challenging him to continue -- which
John almost reluctantly ended up doing, knowing he'd most likely regret it
later.
Though he probably would have died before admitting it, John was, in fact, quite intimidated. He didn't exactly know what by, but he was fairly frightened. It could have been the darkness, the silence, or even the excessive use of shiny metal, he didn't know. Or maybe it was the increasingly deepening doubt in his stomach that he was actually doing the right thing.
John shook his head resolutely. He was doing the right thing. He HAD to be. But what if he wasn't? What if all of this was a mistake? Even if it was, he couldn't turn back now, whether it was really physically impossible or not. He couldn't stand to see another innocent die. Not again.
A sharp turn in the hallway brought John to a halt. He'd heard something -- a faint noise from somewhere not far in front of him. He cocked his head again, closing his eyes to try and concentrate on the still silence, waiting for another sound. But none came. He stood like that, motionless, for so long to no avail that he began to doubt that he'd heard anything at all. But not long after came the same quiet murmur he'd heard before, resonating off the empty walls. A telepathic whisper.
He allowed a slight chuckle to escape his lips -- 'a telepathic whisper.' He grinned inwardly (as well as outwardly) at his instantaneous comparison to Professor Xavier, remembering all the many confrontations they'd had in his office. Obviously, none of them had been pleasant, for most of them had occurred because of the mere fact that John had once again done something wrong. His first "chat" had been for talking back to a teacher; his last for burning down the gym.
John's smirk quickly disappeared, and he cringed. 'My last.' That little visit with the professor had been one of the few things that had triggered John to make his final decision to leave with Magneto. Along with others, of course, mainly concerning his recently lost girlfriend. No, not girlfriend. That common title didn't do her enough justice.
Now that he thought about it, the whole "burning down the gym" thing hadn't really been his fault, though he hadn't even tried to explain that to anyone. They wouldn't have believed him anyway. Everything that went wrong at the school somehow ended up being connected to him in one way or another. It's not like he minded being the school scapegoat, but it didn't take long for it to really get to him that he was hated. Really hated -- by nearly everyone, even though some tried their best not to show it.
A third sound, softer this time (if that was possible) resounded through the once silent corridor, interrupting John's train of thought. Slowly, he brought himself to follow it, despite the feeling that each of his ankles was bound tightly to a 50 pound lead brick. He hadn't the slightest clue where he was going, and didn't care -- that was, of course, until realization hit him like a truck. The sounds were coming from the chambers.
Something clicked in John's mind, and he quite literally smacked himself on the forehead with his palm. He was afraid. All this time of avoiding the chambers was spent trying to convince himself that it was the torture of various children that repelled him. It wasn't. At the school he would have paid to see bloodshed. To see a good gore movie. But something in him had changed. Something had made him afraid. And he hated the feeling more than anything else.
He finally admitted it. John Allerdyce, tough guy, cocky, sadistic, egomaniac of the school had finally admitted to himself that he was afraid of something. And he was quite surprised that he'd pulled it off without severely maiming something. What would they think, all the mutants at his old school? What would they say if they saw him now, faintly shaking involuntarily in the piercing darkness of an abandon hallway? No doubt they'd laugh. He could almost hear Jubilee screaming at the top of her lungs; "I told you so! I told you he was evil! And look! He's practically dying of fright!" And Rogue would be there, glaring at him disdainfully whenever she gathered the courage to meet his eyes. And Bobby...
A violent shudder traveled up John's spine. Bobby. His best friend. What would he think? What was he thinking when he realized that John had given up on the X-men? That he'd joined the so-called "forces of evil?" John didn't care to know what he thought. He'd regret it if he knew.
But then again, since when did the infamous John Allerdyce care what anyone thought? Since when did anyone's opinion matter to him aside from his own? He was entirely capable of taking care of himself. He was completely able to make his own decisions. Yet wasn't it his own worthless, utterly stupid idea to join Magneto in the first place? Nice going.
Mentally shaking off his fear and doubts, at least temporarily, John hesitantly started off down the somewhat intimidating hallway. Complete silence surrounded him, making him want to scream just to reassure himself that he wasn't deaf. No other sounds from the chambers came, no silent echoes from the settling mansion resounded, no half-heard whispers played inside his head. Nothing but silence, ringing like church bells inside his ears.
Another corner. A doorway. A metal frame hanging coldly above his head. John looked at it, his eyes following the smooth, ideal surface of the glimmering steel. He slowly brought his hand up to rest on the metal, closing his eyes and running his fingers up and down the flawless beam. Maybe he was purposely wasting time, hesitant to enter the chambers that he stood numbly in front of. Maybe he was lost in thought. Maybe he wanted to know what it was like to be perfect.
Straining seconds ticked by. Precious time flew like a summer breeze, away into oblivion, as the young mutant slowly reopened his flashing green eyes. He drew his hand away from the doorframe, his gaze set defiantly towards the room in front of him. Hearing a small mutter from the farthest cage, he silently staggered forward, almost tripping on the obstacles of doubt that remained within his head. Nothing but the absence of sound greeted him as he continued down the room, staring wide- eyed at the last cell, his locked gaze never wavering. Hesitantly, cautiously, he peered around the corner, through the metal bars that stood like the barrier of a cage at a local zoo. His shaking hands found the cold steel rods as he scanned the piercing darkness within, his fiery irises darting wildly around before landing on a figure huddled tightly in the corner. A figure so memorable, so real, that it was near to impossible to believe. And so familiar. So damn familiar. And suddenly, it clicked. John knew what he was afraid of.
Though he probably would have died before admitting it, John was, in fact, quite intimidated. He didn't exactly know what by, but he was fairly frightened. It could have been the darkness, the silence, or even the excessive use of shiny metal, he didn't know. Or maybe it was the increasingly deepening doubt in his stomach that he was actually doing the right thing.
John shook his head resolutely. He was doing the right thing. He HAD to be. But what if he wasn't? What if all of this was a mistake? Even if it was, he couldn't turn back now, whether it was really physically impossible or not. He couldn't stand to see another innocent die. Not again.
A sharp turn in the hallway brought John to a halt. He'd heard something -- a faint noise from somewhere not far in front of him. He cocked his head again, closing his eyes to try and concentrate on the still silence, waiting for another sound. But none came. He stood like that, motionless, for so long to no avail that he began to doubt that he'd heard anything at all. But not long after came the same quiet murmur he'd heard before, resonating off the empty walls. A telepathic whisper.
He allowed a slight chuckle to escape his lips -- 'a telepathic whisper.' He grinned inwardly (as well as outwardly) at his instantaneous comparison to Professor Xavier, remembering all the many confrontations they'd had in his office. Obviously, none of them had been pleasant, for most of them had occurred because of the mere fact that John had once again done something wrong. His first "chat" had been for talking back to a teacher; his last for burning down the gym.
John's smirk quickly disappeared, and he cringed. 'My last.' That little visit with the professor had been one of the few things that had triggered John to make his final decision to leave with Magneto. Along with others, of course, mainly concerning his recently lost girlfriend. No, not girlfriend. That common title didn't do her enough justice.
Now that he thought about it, the whole "burning down the gym" thing hadn't really been his fault, though he hadn't even tried to explain that to anyone. They wouldn't have believed him anyway. Everything that went wrong at the school somehow ended up being connected to him in one way or another. It's not like he minded being the school scapegoat, but it didn't take long for it to really get to him that he was hated. Really hated -- by nearly everyone, even though some tried their best not to show it.
A third sound, softer this time (if that was possible) resounded through the once silent corridor, interrupting John's train of thought. Slowly, he brought himself to follow it, despite the feeling that each of his ankles was bound tightly to a 50 pound lead brick. He hadn't the slightest clue where he was going, and didn't care -- that was, of course, until realization hit him like a truck. The sounds were coming from the chambers.
Something clicked in John's mind, and he quite literally smacked himself on the forehead with his palm. He was afraid. All this time of avoiding the chambers was spent trying to convince himself that it was the torture of various children that repelled him. It wasn't. At the school he would have paid to see bloodshed. To see a good gore movie. But something in him had changed. Something had made him afraid. And he hated the feeling more than anything else.
He finally admitted it. John Allerdyce, tough guy, cocky, sadistic, egomaniac of the school had finally admitted to himself that he was afraid of something. And he was quite surprised that he'd pulled it off without severely maiming something. What would they think, all the mutants at his old school? What would they say if they saw him now, faintly shaking involuntarily in the piercing darkness of an abandon hallway? No doubt they'd laugh. He could almost hear Jubilee screaming at the top of her lungs; "I told you so! I told you he was evil! And look! He's practically dying of fright!" And Rogue would be there, glaring at him disdainfully whenever she gathered the courage to meet his eyes. And Bobby...
A violent shudder traveled up John's spine. Bobby. His best friend. What would he think? What was he thinking when he realized that John had given up on the X-men? That he'd joined the so-called "forces of evil?" John didn't care to know what he thought. He'd regret it if he knew.
But then again, since when did the infamous John Allerdyce care what anyone thought? Since when did anyone's opinion matter to him aside from his own? He was entirely capable of taking care of himself. He was completely able to make his own decisions. Yet wasn't it his own worthless, utterly stupid idea to join Magneto in the first place? Nice going.
Mentally shaking off his fear and doubts, at least temporarily, John hesitantly started off down the somewhat intimidating hallway. Complete silence surrounded him, making him want to scream just to reassure himself that he wasn't deaf. No other sounds from the chambers came, no silent echoes from the settling mansion resounded, no half-heard whispers played inside his head. Nothing but silence, ringing like church bells inside his ears.
Another corner. A doorway. A metal frame hanging coldly above his head. John looked at it, his eyes following the smooth, ideal surface of the glimmering steel. He slowly brought his hand up to rest on the metal, closing his eyes and running his fingers up and down the flawless beam. Maybe he was purposely wasting time, hesitant to enter the chambers that he stood numbly in front of. Maybe he was lost in thought. Maybe he wanted to know what it was like to be perfect.
Straining seconds ticked by. Precious time flew like a summer breeze, away into oblivion, as the young mutant slowly reopened his flashing green eyes. He drew his hand away from the doorframe, his gaze set defiantly towards the room in front of him. Hearing a small mutter from the farthest cage, he silently staggered forward, almost tripping on the obstacles of doubt that remained within his head. Nothing but the absence of sound greeted him as he continued down the room, staring wide- eyed at the last cell, his locked gaze never wavering. Hesitantly, cautiously, he peered around the corner, through the metal bars that stood like the barrier of a cage at a local zoo. His shaking hands found the cold steel rods as he scanned the piercing darkness within, his fiery irises darting wildly around before landing on a figure huddled tightly in the corner. A figure so memorable, so real, that it was near to impossible to believe. And so familiar. So damn familiar. And suddenly, it clicked. John knew what he was afraid of.