Disclaimer: My status of X-Men ownarage has not changed since beginning
this story.
A/N: Yay! I'm back! I had a great holiday, for those of you who care. This chappie will be really long to make up for disappearing off the face of the earth for a few weeks. K?
P.S.: Yah, yah, I know 'ownarage' isn't a real word, but hey! What am I supposed to call it?
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Opal wiped the determined tears from her face and shakily stood up. This wasn't the time to fall apart. She knew what she had to do. Her lips pursed in determination. She brushed a flyaway wisp of hair out of her eyes, and turned towards the door. She crossed the room to where she had left her hiking boots three days before. They marked the spot where the keyhole was. She took a slow, steadying breath. She had all the time in the world, right?
Right?
Wrong. Just at that moment, three men burst through the door of the demolished watch-room. All were heavily armed, and all wore fireproof suits over Kevlar vests. Each carried a large gun, and several smaller ones. Opal faced them. They were completely shielded. Fire proof. Bulletproof. They even carried oxygen tanks on their backs. Standing with the light from the office bleeding in behind them, they looked exactly like storm troopers from a 'Star Wars' movie.
Time for a little action.
Opal thought for a split second. Fire would be no use. Explosions, no. Telepathy, no. Telekinesis, no. Everything she thought of in that second didn't seem to fit the situation. They ran through the watch-room and into Opal's before she had a chance to think. Then the right power hit her. If she could kill a man with her mind. She didn't want to kill again, but if she managed it just right.
Opal reached out with a hand as she sent small pieces of her mind into their bodies. They weren't ready for this, and it caught them by surprise. Since her mental self was connected to them, she could read each of their thoughts. That was good. At least she'd know if she killed them. She focused on the young man to the left and read his feelings. It felt.odd to him. There was no other way to describe it. It was like he was a puppet. For some reason he was instantly reminded of Pinnochio.
Opal searched through their bodies, soaring through their bloodstreams. It was a strange sensation. Opal stopped flying around inside them, and guided her mental-self to their muscles. "Opal" then called heat from the fireball in her physical self's hands. Just the heat. Not the flame. She pushed the heat into their muscles. Into their nerves. Into their blood streams. The first dropped to his knees, dropping his gun. The others followed suit. Her feelings, by this time, were so intertwined with the young man she had been monitoring, that she actually felt his pain. All of his limbs felt as though they were on fire. They burned. Burned. The pain. It was eating him from inside out. It was over whelming. Agonizing. 'Make it stop," was his only thought. 'Make it stop! Please make it stop!' his mind was begging. His voice screaming out a relentless, babbling howl. Not really words, just and endless scream. It wouldn't stop. The pain. It just kept coming. Opal then realized that she, too was on her knees. She was sharing the man's agony. The connection between their minds had grown so strong in the seconds before the torture began, that Opal had herself been pulled in. She released her grip on the man, and his fellows. They lay gasping in pain. The unbearable agony. Opal herself was in pain. Probably more than them, as she had been sharing with each of them. She struggled to her feet, despite the torturous pang riddling her bones. Her anguish lasted but a few seconds after she dropped the hold. All she had to do was call forward the memory of healing, and she could stand once more.
There would be more coming. Opal knew that. If they did know that she was out, more were several more armed men yet to come. She didn't want to kill many more, and the pain casting had left her dizzy and gasping for breath. So much for sneaking out. She looked over to where her boots sat, marking her original exit. That would no longer work. She slipped her boots on her feet and tied them tightly. Then with a last piteous glance at her latest victims, still writhing in agony on the ground, she headed towards the watch-room. Opal treaded cautiously around the still smoldering room. Small fires remained where the desk had once been. Blood spattered the walls. Any other person would have winced away from all the destruction, but Opal strolled right through it, her face a mask of determination. If she were caught now, while she was still weak, it would be game over.
She walked through the open door. It was open because the 'Storm Trooper' guards had kicked it open, instead of bothering to twiddle the handle. It hadn't been locked. Idiots. Opal peered into the room beyond. It was gray. Dull gray. Actually, in truth it was many different shades of the same dull gray. The room was divided into several cubicles. Each had a computer, desk, small filing cabinets, and many other things you would find in similar dull, gray office buildings. The room was empty. The computers were. Off. The 'In- Out' bins on the desks were all empty. Opal walked towards the nearest computer desk. She put a hand out towards the computer. It was plastic. She picked up the screen. It was light as a feather. Well, not really. Maybe a very heavy feather. it was far to light for a computer screen. It was hollow. The emptiness of the room scared Opal a little. She half expected a tumbleweed to roll across the floor, like in old westerns. A tumble weed did not appear, but something did.
The something was a man. Not a strong, fit, armed man, like the others she had seen. But a rather fat man. The word 'rather' used loosely there. Very loosely. He was about forty. He had an air about him that told Opal that he thought himself the smartest man in the world. "Hello there," he said, his voice dripping false cheerfulness like poison. "My name is... of no importance. It does not matter. To my subordinates, I am Monsieur. My superiors call me. actually I have no superiors." He chuckled as if this was the most amusing thing he had ever heard. "I suppose you are wondering how you got here, as it was Magneto who abducted you. Hmm?" Opal glared at him. She would not give in to this petty game. "You got here," again he paused to chuckle that deep, stupid laugh, "because I made a.bargain with Magneto. I am not in allegiance with him. He is a mutant. I am human. We are opponents. You probably know, of coarse you know, that mutants are gathering forces preparing for this war. What you don't know is that humans are doing the same." A slow, wicked smile spread across his thin, cruel lips. "I needed to know how to defeat mutants powers. The only way I could find out how, other than collecting one of every mutant there is, was to find a mutant with every power. You. You are one of a kind. You were registered. You had your own file all to yourself. Sixteen pages about your potential. Quite impressive for a fourteen year old freak." Opal then realized something that she was surprised she had not. He was talking down to her. Not even that. His tone suggested that he didn't even find her human. Which, Opal remended herself, he probably did not. "I told Magneto," he continued, "that if he could find you for me that he could have anything from me he wanted. Lodgings, money. Anything. He said he would take the offer. Four days ago, when he delivered, I gave him three million." The man smiled again as Opal burned with unbearable hatred. She had been sold? He just kept grinning that stupid grin of his. Why wasn't he afraid? He had to know what she could do. He had to know that she had already killed three people. Maybe he just didn't care. But he would care. Once he was dead. She pulled out power after power, shooting them all at him. Fire, water, ice, pain, explosions. Anything she knew of she tossed at him, but he just stood there, grinning. "I'm not real," he told her, "Try and escape. If you can find me, then by God you may kill me."
The holographic disappeared. Opal screamed in agony and beat her fist against the nearest wall. She the proceeded to destroy the room, breaking apart the fake computers, throwing fire at anything she could burn. She turned towards the watch-room door, intent on finishing her destruction in there. But the room was gone. The door was gone. She stood breathing hard in the midst of ashes and plastic shards. What the hell was going on.
Then she heard the man's voice. "Good job," it said, "You deserve a better place to destroy. Here you are. Phase three" She furrowed her brow in confusion as the room disappeared and was replaced by a small parking lot surrounded by tall office buildings. Opal didn't get it. The man had been a holographic, but the things she had destroyed? How could that work? They were monitoring her. She could sense it. Then all of a sudden she knew. This had all been a test! The white room! The watching men! They had been real enough, the men. The only real things in a world of holographic fakes. They were still testing her, trying to find weaknesses in every power she could imitate. How do you fight that? She was sure that they would just keep feeding her 'phases' until she revealed every power she had. How do you fight something like that? How do you escape from a place that wasn't even there?
Opal looked around to the office buildings. If they had an inside.. She walked up to one. It was locked. She kicked the door open. It flew easily off it's hinges. It did have an inside. No people, though. They probably didn't want to take the time to create anything new. Even the building looked vaguely familiar. Opal looked around. It was an exact replica of somewhere. She couldn't remember where. She glanced around the room. A sign in the corner read MUTANT REGISTRATIONS OFFICE Opal grinned. She had been here before. It had been years ago. Hoping desperately that it was still there, she headed up the elevator towards the filing room, where lists of every registered mutants would be found. If only she could find a power among them to give her a clue!
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A/N: Does anyone actually read these?
A/N: Yay! I'm back! I had a great holiday, for those of you who care. This chappie will be really long to make up for disappearing off the face of the earth for a few weeks. K?
P.S.: Yah, yah, I know 'ownarage' isn't a real word, but hey! What am I supposed to call it?
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Opal wiped the determined tears from her face and shakily stood up. This wasn't the time to fall apart. She knew what she had to do. Her lips pursed in determination. She brushed a flyaway wisp of hair out of her eyes, and turned towards the door. She crossed the room to where she had left her hiking boots three days before. They marked the spot where the keyhole was. She took a slow, steadying breath. She had all the time in the world, right?
Right?
Wrong. Just at that moment, three men burst through the door of the demolished watch-room. All were heavily armed, and all wore fireproof suits over Kevlar vests. Each carried a large gun, and several smaller ones. Opal faced them. They were completely shielded. Fire proof. Bulletproof. They even carried oxygen tanks on their backs. Standing with the light from the office bleeding in behind them, they looked exactly like storm troopers from a 'Star Wars' movie.
Time for a little action.
Opal thought for a split second. Fire would be no use. Explosions, no. Telepathy, no. Telekinesis, no. Everything she thought of in that second didn't seem to fit the situation. They ran through the watch-room and into Opal's before she had a chance to think. Then the right power hit her. If she could kill a man with her mind. She didn't want to kill again, but if she managed it just right.
Opal reached out with a hand as she sent small pieces of her mind into their bodies. They weren't ready for this, and it caught them by surprise. Since her mental self was connected to them, she could read each of their thoughts. That was good. At least she'd know if she killed them. She focused on the young man to the left and read his feelings. It felt.odd to him. There was no other way to describe it. It was like he was a puppet. For some reason he was instantly reminded of Pinnochio.
Opal searched through their bodies, soaring through their bloodstreams. It was a strange sensation. Opal stopped flying around inside them, and guided her mental-self to their muscles. "Opal" then called heat from the fireball in her physical self's hands. Just the heat. Not the flame. She pushed the heat into their muscles. Into their nerves. Into their blood streams. The first dropped to his knees, dropping his gun. The others followed suit. Her feelings, by this time, were so intertwined with the young man she had been monitoring, that she actually felt his pain. All of his limbs felt as though they were on fire. They burned. Burned. The pain. It was eating him from inside out. It was over whelming. Agonizing. 'Make it stop," was his only thought. 'Make it stop! Please make it stop!' his mind was begging. His voice screaming out a relentless, babbling howl. Not really words, just and endless scream. It wouldn't stop. The pain. It just kept coming. Opal then realized that she, too was on her knees. She was sharing the man's agony. The connection between their minds had grown so strong in the seconds before the torture began, that Opal had herself been pulled in. She released her grip on the man, and his fellows. They lay gasping in pain. The unbearable agony. Opal herself was in pain. Probably more than them, as she had been sharing with each of them. She struggled to her feet, despite the torturous pang riddling her bones. Her anguish lasted but a few seconds after she dropped the hold. All she had to do was call forward the memory of healing, and she could stand once more.
There would be more coming. Opal knew that. If they did know that she was out, more were several more armed men yet to come. She didn't want to kill many more, and the pain casting had left her dizzy and gasping for breath. So much for sneaking out. She looked over to where her boots sat, marking her original exit. That would no longer work. She slipped her boots on her feet and tied them tightly. Then with a last piteous glance at her latest victims, still writhing in agony on the ground, she headed towards the watch-room. Opal treaded cautiously around the still smoldering room. Small fires remained where the desk had once been. Blood spattered the walls. Any other person would have winced away from all the destruction, but Opal strolled right through it, her face a mask of determination. If she were caught now, while she was still weak, it would be game over.
She walked through the open door. It was open because the 'Storm Trooper' guards had kicked it open, instead of bothering to twiddle the handle. It hadn't been locked. Idiots. Opal peered into the room beyond. It was gray. Dull gray. Actually, in truth it was many different shades of the same dull gray. The room was divided into several cubicles. Each had a computer, desk, small filing cabinets, and many other things you would find in similar dull, gray office buildings. The room was empty. The computers were. Off. The 'In- Out' bins on the desks were all empty. Opal walked towards the nearest computer desk. She put a hand out towards the computer. It was plastic. She picked up the screen. It was light as a feather. Well, not really. Maybe a very heavy feather. it was far to light for a computer screen. It was hollow. The emptiness of the room scared Opal a little. She half expected a tumbleweed to roll across the floor, like in old westerns. A tumble weed did not appear, but something did.
The something was a man. Not a strong, fit, armed man, like the others she had seen. But a rather fat man. The word 'rather' used loosely there. Very loosely. He was about forty. He had an air about him that told Opal that he thought himself the smartest man in the world. "Hello there," he said, his voice dripping false cheerfulness like poison. "My name is... of no importance. It does not matter. To my subordinates, I am Monsieur. My superiors call me. actually I have no superiors." He chuckled as if this was the most amusing thing he had ever heard. "I suppose you are wondering how you got here, as it was Magneto who abducted you. Hmm?" Opal glared at him. She would not give in to this petty game. "You got here," again he paused to chuckle that deep, stupid laugh, "because I made a.bargain with Magneto. I am not in allegiance with him. He is a mutant. I am human. We are opponents. You probably know, of coarse you know, that mutants are gathering forces preparing for this war. What you don't know is that humans are doing the same." A slow, wicked smile spread across his thin, cruel lips. "I needed to know how to defeat mutants powers. The only way I could find out how, other than collecting one of every mutant there is, was to find a mutant with every power. You. You are one of a kind. You were registered. You had your own file all to yourself. Sixteen pages about your potential. Quite impressive for a fourteen year old freak." Opal then realized something that she was surprised she had not. He was talking down to her. Not even that. His tone suggested that he didn't even find her human. Which, Opal remended herself, he probably did not. "I told Magneto," he continued, "that if he could find you for me that he could have anything from me he wanted. Lodgings, money. Anything. He said he would take the offer. Four days ago, when he delivered, I gave him three million." The man smiled again as Opal burned with unbearable hatred. She had been sold? He just kept grinning that stupid grin of his. Why wasn't he afraid? He had to know what she could do. He had to know that she had already killed three people. Maybe he just didn't care. But he would care. Once he was dead. She pulled out power after power, shooting them all at him. Fire, water, ice, pain, explosions. Anything she knew of she tossed at him, but he just stood there, grinning. "I'm not real," he told her, "Try and escape. If you can find me, then by God you may kill me."
The holographic disappeared. Opal screamed in agony and beat her fist against the nearest wall. She the proceeded to destroy the room, breaking apart the fake computers, throwing fire at anything she could burn. She turned towards the watch-room door, intent on finishing her destruction in there. But the room was gone. The door was gone. She stood breathing hard in the midst of ashes and plastic shards. What the hell was going on.
Then she heard the man's voice. "Good job," it said, "You deserve a better place to destroy. Here you are. Phase three" She furrowed her brow in confusion as the room disappeared and was replaced by a small parking lot surrounded by tall office buildings. Opal didn't get it. The man had been a holographic, but the things she had destroyed? How could that work? They were monitoring her. She could sense it. Then all of a sudden she knew. This had all been a test! The white room! The watching men! They had been real enough, the men. The only real things in a world of holographic fakes. They were still testing her, trying to find weaknesses in every power she could imitate. How do you fight that? She was sure that they would just keep feeding her 'phases' until she revealed every power she had. How do you fight something like that? How do you escape from a place that wasn't even there?
Opal looked around to the office buildings. If they had an inside.. She walked up to one. It was locked. She kicked the door open. It flew easily off it's hinges. It did have an inside. No people, though. They probably didn't want to take the time to create anything new. Even the building looked vaguely familiar. Opal looked around. It was an exact replica of somewhere. She couldn't remember where. She glanced around the room. A sign in the corner read MUTANT REGISTRATIONS OFFICE Opal grinned. She had been here before. It had been years ago. Hoping desperately that it was still there, she headed up the elevator towards the filing room, where lists of every registered mutants would be found. If only she could find a power among them to give her a clue!
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
A/N: Does anyone actually read these?