Disclaimer: I own nothing contained herein other than the idea.
A/N: This chapter is written in the third person.
And now to answer reviewers (And to thank them muchly)
misskris: I'm excited about where this is going too!
ShinigamiPheonix: Thanks! None of my fics have ever been called brilliant before!
mAd RoGuE: You're probably right… but I won't tell until the end…
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Some days just don't turn out the way they are supposed to. This was one of those.
It didn't seem that way at first, of course. Days like that never do. It was beautiful out, warm and sunny and seventy-five degrees. Birds sang, flowers bloomed… you know, the usual wonderful day type crap. Scott was sitting in the courtyard of the institute, soaking up the sun and the fresh air, and just enjoying life in general. His perfect morning, however, was abruptly shattered by a number of noises from the living room, particularly exclamations of outrage. He got up, and ventured into the mansion, grumbling about irritating and loud younger teenagers. What he saw in the living room dropped his jaw.
The entire population of the institute was standing by the TV, watching as the President of the United States spoke about a series of new laws focused on what he termed "possible terrorist threats." In essence, mutants were now required to wear an armband with a double helix stitched on to it. The United Nations, as well as most major world religions, was supporting the laws. Because that influence, every nation on the planet had, in an incredible display of agreement, taken up the laws.
Scott felt sick. He faintly heard the others in the background, but their words were unclear. He stumbled over to the couch, and flopped down, staring at the screen. The muttering of the other mutants was becoming more agitated. Some of the more excitable ones were panicking. The noise increased. The TV just kept playing the speech. Tension was building in Scott's mind, his blood was pounding in his ears, and that infernal TV just kept—
Silence reigned. A crater now sat where the TV had been, as Scott slid his glasses back up the bridge of his nose to cut off his eye-beam. The entire room stared in shock. Then the Professor broke the silence.
"Thank you, Scott." He then addressed his students. "In regards to these events, I will not control whether or not you register and get the armband. I personally will not, and I will encourage you to avoid taking the easy way out, but it is up to you… Jean, I believe it may be necessary to purchase a new television in order to keep us informed. It would be advisable to do so before restrictions increase."
"Yes, Professor." Jean grabbed her purse and headed out the door.
Over the next few weeks, things became steadily worse. Mutants with the armband were promised protection from bullies or rioters. Each day students from the Institute, especially the younger ones, came home with ashamed looks on their faces and bands on their arms. Soon the government was offering "shelters to protect the mutants from the humans," isolating any who took refuge from the outside world. Violence was increasing, as was regulation. In addition, the Morlocks were attacked, and some of them captured. Nobody knew where the captured ones had gone, so the surviving Morlocks had taken refuge in the Institute.
Then the final blow came. The residents of the institute were once again watching the evening news, to find out if anything else was going to happen to them. Today, it was.
" 'Also in today's news, Dr. Bolivar Trask claims to have created a machine that can detect and neutralize dangerous mutants. While this may sound similar to his failed Sentinel Project; it has some important differences. Dr. Trask, what are those differences?'
'Well, the Morbot is made of revolutionary biotechnology. It can detect the psionic signatures of mutants anywhere on earth using a revolutionary biochemical. In addition, the Morbot secretes another fluid that renders all who come in contact with it unconscious. It is actually a person, man or woman, who has volunteered, and has been genetically altered to produce these and other chemicals. They also have cybernetically enhanced strength and speed, and can fly.'
'Doctor, what do you say to allegations that you have been illegally experimenting and dissecting mutants?'
'All I can say is, who cares?'
--Laughter—
'But seriously, I have been experimenting and dissecting mutants, but they were from a group of terrorists living in the sewers. The abilities in the Morbots are actually taken from them. The terrorists called themselves Morlocks, hence the name Morbots.'
'Thank you, Dr. Trask, I'm sure we will all sleep better knowing that we are safe from the mutant menace.'"
A chill spread over the room. Then came a broken sob. Callisto, the tough leader of the Morlocks, was on her knees, crying. The rest of the room was silent, in respect for the Morlocks who had been captured and dissected. The world had just become a far more dismal place—people they knew had fallen.
As bad as things had been before, the Morbots made it steadily worse. Taking refuge in the "shelters" became mandatory by law. Mutants caught outside could be charged with terrorism, and put to death without a trial. Lynching increased, and the mutant death toll skyrocketed. The X-Men had quit going to school, and the Brotherhood had joined the Morlocks at the Institute. The Institute was on a permanent Defcon-4 setting, to protect the mutants from all comers. When the Morbots came, however, it didn't help.
Tension filled the air so thickly it could be felt. The rooms were dim, as power had been siphoned off to the defenses. Jamie came running in, panicking. "They're coming, the Morbots are coming."
Instantly the atmosphere went from tense to fearful. Somehow, everybody knew that the end had come. It was a very unpleasant feeling, really. Kind of a sinking in the bottom of the gut, a little bit of nausea… that sort of thing. Anyway, they were sitting there, in the pit of despair, when there was a crash. The defenses were down. It was over.
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A/N2: Come on people, review!