Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. The canon ideas and original characters (Charles Xavier, Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner, Robert "Iceman" Drake, Jean Grey, Erik "Magneto" Lehnsherr, "Black" Tom Cassidy, Peter "Colossus" Rasputin, Sean "Banshee" Cassidy, Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock, a.k.a. "Psylocke", and Mastermind) were created by Stan Lee and Marvel comics; therefore, X-Men belongs to them. Jennifer Kaneshige, David Forslund, and I co-own our original character David Forslund, but his nickname "Blacklight" belongs solely to me. I also created and own the characters Jet "Viper" Black, Kristina "Phantom (X)" James, Tamiko "Sonic" Kaneshige, Caleb "Hephaestus" Tucker, Deanna "Medusa" Barnes, Matthew "Falcon" James, Tina Andrews "Gypsum" Black, Hanna "Evie" Black, Jason McCleod, Lauren "Sable" Shadoan, Dennis Owen, and any other character ultimately unrelated to the original Marvel universe. This story, "The Hunt for Black Tom", is © Kristina Jones 2003, and any plagiarism or copyright thereof without the explicit consent of the author is prohibited.
X-Men: "The Hunt for Black Tom"
"I'm not a perfect person. There's many things I wish I didn't do. But I continue learning. I never meant to do those things to you. And so I have to say before I go that I just want you to know. I found a reason for me. To change who I used to be. A reason to start over new. And the reason is you. I'm sorry that I hurt you. It's something I must live with everyday. And all the pain I put you through. I wish that I could take it all away, and be the one who catches all your tears." -Hoobastank, "The Reason"
"I've been driving for an hour just talking to the rain. Said I've been driving crazy, and it's keeping you awake. So give me one good reason to say why I should stay. 'Cause I don't wanna waste another moment saying things we never meant to say." –Michelle Branch, "Breathe"
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Author's Comment: I'm very proud of this chapter. It's taken a long time to write, but it's finally completed. Though, the last bit was done in a hurried moment to escape a dreaded writer's block, so I'm afraid that there's a German speaking sequence in there that has randomly spoken dialogue, but I couldn't find anyway to fix it. Sorry about that. Other than that, I'm very pleased with it. Enjoy!
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Chapter VI: Sinister EchoesCrouched in the bed of her truck, Kris cradled her head upon her knees, shivering in the cold and bitter wind. A clear plastic wrapping, speckled with crumbs, lay on the flooring beside her, and she stared at it with a tinge of regret upon her face. Her stomach growled. The small muffin had not been enough for her. She shivered, as she stared at the stretching interstate that she had already driven. Sighing, she began to feel the hundreds of miles that now lay between her and the school. She was startled when the ringing of her cell phone from inside the truck suddenly sounded through the open window at the driver's seat.
Standing, she leapt gracefully from the bed of the truck and opened the door. Fumbling with her purse, she removed her phone and stared at the screen. The number was one that she did not recognize, and frowning, she climbed back up into the bed and hesitated picking it up. Finally, she bit her lower lip and answered. Putting it to her ear, she greeted quietly, "Hello?"
"Hello, Kris," a deep, smooth accented voice greeted from the other end. "How has the long drive been? Know where you're going yet?"
"Who is this?" she inquired, shifting her weight atop her knees as the cold wind rushed about her. Closing her eyes when there was no reply, she projected her thoughts out over the line. She tugged hard at the sound of his breathing at the other end, and her head pounded the farther she reached and harder she pulled. His breathing paused, and she could sense that he felt her pulling at his thoughts with rigorous effort. "Black Tom…" she whispered, releasing her grasp from his thoughts, gasping for breath at the sudden relief from the strenuous exertion. Hot sweat rolled in drops down her cheeks despite the freezing air that blew, stinging around her.
He let out a laugh and said, "And you're a telepath—strong one too."
Grimacing, she stood in long held in rage, and asked, "Where are you? How do you know me? How did you get this number?"
"So many questions," he commented with a snicker. "Why don't you just find out the answers yourself?" he suggested. Kris paused and searched her own thoughts. Her temples were throbbing, and she had no wish to stretch her mind like that again. "Tut dein Kopf weh, Phantom?" he mocked with a light laugh.
Seething in inner fury, she fought the pounding in her head, and she whispered coolly, "No, I'm fine." And with that, she sat down and squeezed her eyes shut in utmost concentration. Throwing out her mind again, she let out a slight groan of strain. Pain throbbed inside her temples, and the burning sweat flowed over her lashes, mixing with stressed tears that rolled over her cheeks. His laughter echoed sinisterly in her consciousness, but her stubborn will caused her to push harder, her heart pounding inside her throat. In long moments that felt like hours, she found him and flooded his senses. A misty picture swam into her sight, and there she saw a bruised and bloodied Tamiko, her beaten form bound to a metal chair.
"Kris… don't tell him anything!" her best friend shouted, agonizing pain rasping in her throat. "Don't say anything!" Her voice suddenly went silent as a sharp pain stung at Kris's neck.
Tears stinging her now wide eyes, she leaped to her feet and shouted, "Damn you, you bastard! If you lay a finger on her, I swear to God—you son of a bitch—I'll kill you!"
Cassidy failed to speak as he let out a mocking laugh. "Don't worry, Phantom. Medusa is keeping her quite comfortable." There was a moment of silence, and then suddenly a shriek of pain resounded in the background.
Pushing back the tears, her hand went to her mouth as she fell to her knees. Cursing, she muttered, "God damn you, you son of a bitch!" Her lips quivered against her fingertips as tears rolled steadily over them. "Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. Release her now, or I'll kill you!"
"I do believe that you are in no position to demand, Phantom. Right now, I am the one with your best friend, and I'm the one holding the syringe." Kris was blinded by tears as Black Tom continued, "Tell me, Kris, which is more important to you—killing me in a defiant act of revenge, or saving Tamiko from this serum? You know what this injection does if given enough. All that you have to do is look at Jet's daughter." He paused, waiting for Kris to speak, but words failed her. Sighing, he added, "But, only three in every twenty people even react to it. Shall we find out if your friend falls into that ratio?"
"No!" Kris shouted. "No, you mustn't. Tami is innocent. It's me you want, Tom. Don't hurt her anymore. I'll do anything you tell me. Just don't hurt her." Her voice faltered as her ribs were racked in sobs.
"Very well," he relented with an unseen smile. "Listen carefully. You must do everything I say, or I will have her—"
"Yes, yes!" Kris interrupted in fright and urgency. "Anything! I'll do anything!"
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53 Hours Earlier
A solemn night was upon the mansion, and a soft and gentle snow fell over the fields. Kris lay awake in bed, staring out the balcony windows at the silent snow. Her hair fell lackadaisically into her shimmering blue eyes, and she gave out a long sigh. It was cold.
Shivering beneath her flannel pajamas, she continued to watch the snowfall against the blackness of the night. The mansion was deadly quiet.
Rubbing her eyes, she leaned over to the nightstand and removed a pair of glasses from their case next to the digital clock. Placing the thin glasses over her nose and ears, she stared around before heaving another sigh and decisively climbing out of bed. Walking past the windows, her feet stinging on the cold wooden floor, she silently opened the door and slipped out into the hallway.
Wandering along almost silently, she found that she had crept downstairs and was now standing in the foyer, looking around. She could not decide why she was even there. She had simply felt compelled to get up and move. There she stood, for long minutes, casting her eyes around the silent darkness. Suddenly, as though it was meant to happen the entire time, a soft voice rang out through the silent corridor. Jolting, her body quickly melted away, and she stood there, invisible in the hallway, staring down toward where from which the voice had come.
Moving closer to the end of the hallway, she suddenly became aware of a shaft of light from beneath a door. She stopped next to it, completely able to hear the voices from inside.
"It's not that I don't want to tell her this myself," a man was saying, a strength and wisdom in his voice that felt sturdy and safe. "It's simply that I do not want her to go out looking for him."
"But can we be sure that this is true?" Kurt's voice inquired, his soft accent making Kris's heartbeat subside in comfort.
"Come on, Kurt," a voice that sounded distinctly like Sean Cassidy, a great mentor of Kris's when she was younger. His Irish accent was very prominent as he proceeded to say, "Lehnsherr has been saying it for years. Even before Kris ever came here."
At this, Kris's stomach tightened, her heart beating inside her throat. What was this about? Stepping closer to the door, she listened intently.
"I know," Kurt said, his voice quivering in trepidation. "But Magneto is known to be dishonest and…"
"Blood doesn't lie, Kurt," the man with the strong voice interrupted. Kris suddenly realized that it was Xavier talking. At this comment, she felt her stomach turn, and she suppressed the urge to turn and run, but stood her ground, intent on hearing more. "The simple fact that Erik was brave enough to come here himself and inform me was…"
"But you can't believe everything he says, Charles!" Kurt's voice rang in a disbelieving shout. Kris could feel the cool and comfortable emotion that streamed around her when Kurt was around begin to tighten in anxiety and fear.
There was a pause and then Xavier's voice said, "I understand that this hurts you, Kurt. You are the closest thing to a father Kris has ever known, but you must also understand that you are not her father."
"Scheiße!" Kurt exclaimed in a trembling yell. Kris jumped in shock, tears hanging in her eyes. "I might as well be, Charles," he continued after a moment. "I have cared for her more than that lying Lehnsherr ever could. She should be my daughter!" He cried this last part loudly, and with such honest conviction that Kris had to struggle hard to hold back a sob of gratitude and fear.
Was any of this true? Had Magneto come to Xavier to tell him that he really was her biological father? Reflecting on this, Kris had to bite down on her fist to force back the tears. For ten years she had been so devoted to believing that Magneto was a liar, that none of it was true. But at hearing the words come from Charles Xavier's own mouth made her tremble in fear and shock. Suddenly, it occurred to her that it could all be true, that she was in fact the daughter of the man she despised most in the world. But the more she thought, the less she could control her emotions, and she sank to the floor, dissolving into silent tears.
In a room upstairs, David stood near the fireplace, staring down into the flickering flames, tears hanging on his eyelids. He let out a sigh and shook his head, his dark hair falling over his face. Looking down to his hands, he glanced intently at the folder he held open in his palms. The pictures of him, of Jet and Magneto all smiled back up at him. He turned a page and stared at charts and graphs, equations and puzzles all written in his own hand. A tear escaped his cheek as he closed his eyes and shut the folder slowly. Letting his arms fall to his sides, the folder slid out of his hands and fell into the fire. Opening his shining eyes, he felt an intense relief fall over him as he saw the papers burning and crumbling in the flames. "It's gone," he whispered with a smile of relieved satisfaction.
Her feet slapped loudly on the cold wooden floors as Kris ran up the stairs and down the hall. She had become visible again as she ran recklessly down the corridor, tears streaming down her face. Coming to a full stop in an open doorway, she fell into the doorframe, holding her up, her arms trembling madly. Staring into the bedroom, she realized to whom it belonged. She had not noticed that she had run straight to Jet's room. There, she looked at the empty bed and floors, knowing that he was not inside.
Slowly, she stepped inside, her legs shaking as she struggled to remain on her feet. She looked for Jet, and then saw through the glass doors that led onto the balcony, that he sat on a chair, snowflakes in his black hair. There, he looked disheveled and melancholy, a cigarette in his hand. She stared at him for a long moment, tears flooding her eyes. Had he any idea as to what she had just overheard? A steady fury was growing inside of her, and all she wanted to do was scream. Decisively, she strode across the room found on the spread of the bed an open pack of cigarettes. Bursting into another string of tears, she grabbed it and crushed it in her fist. She did not care that he smoked, and she did not intend to throw the cigarettes at the wall as forcefully as she did, but she felt no other way to release her anger.
"Why?" she whispered to herself, falling onto the bed, crying into her hands. "Why does it have to be me?" she asked in a moan. The room was unbearably cold, and she was shivering beyond control. Staring around, she quickly dissolved from sight when the balcony door slid open. Jet stepped inside and looked around, his face seeming certain that he had heard someone. After moments of searching, his misty eyes fell upon her invisible form, for he could taste the heat of her body.
"Kris?" he asked the now silent room. At this, Kris stood and ran out the door, not caring whether he could hear her or not. She ran as quickly as possible to her own room, knowing that he was following her. There, she snatched her clothing and stuffed it into a gym bag that she had at the foot of her bed. Clutching the bag to her chest, she knew that he would not be able to see it, and she watched as he ran into the room, staring around anxiously.
When he stepped out from the doorway, she slipped past him and proceeded to run down the stairs and out the doors. Her feet ached in pain when they came into contact with the snow, but she surged forward.
Willing herself to visibility, she struggled with the heavy door of her pickup truck, but pulled it open finally and climbed inside. She made to shut the door, but Jet stopped her, throwing himself against it. "Where are you going?" he asked.
"I don't know!" she yelled, pushing him away, but he only held his ground. "Let me go," she shouted forcefully. "I want to go!"
"No!" he yelled in response. "Why are you leaving?" She refused to speak to him. But the tears continued to pour from her eyes. There was a silent moment, and Jet looked at her in realization. "This is about me, isn't it?"
"No," she whispered, falling into the steering wheel, resting her head there. "Just go away," she stated softly, holding her tears back. "It has nothing to do with you." The only thing she wanted now was to disappear, to become someone else. But Jet would not move. He simply stood there, staring at her.
"What's wrong?" he whispered in concern.
"Go ask Xavier," she let out bitterly. "I don't want to stay here, Jet. Just let me go. Please…"
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Jet stared at the heavy tire tracks in the snow. He stared for endless minutes, unsure of what had just happened. The wind whirled about in a freezing tempest, and Jet finally conceded and moved inside. As he approached the front doors, Kurt came bursting out in a frenzy, his yellow eyes wide in fear.
"Was geht?" he screamed in trepidation and disbelief as he stared at Jet's dumbfounded form. Breathing slowly, Kurt struggled with unseen tears and calmly asked, "What's going on?"
Jet stared long at him, steady and resolute as he fought to find the most appropriate words to say. But words failed him. Though, his countenance revealed the truth of the matter, and Kurt saw the answer inside of Jet's eyes.
"She's gone…" Kurt whispered, his soft voice falling with the silence of the cold snow. Jet stared at him as Kurt simply stood there, frozen in thought and dissolved in sadness.
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"Those are my conditions, Phantom," Black Tom sneered from the other end of the line. "Take them or leave them."
Kris sat in the bed of the truck, filled with unease and fury. Finally, she spoke, "So that's what you want, Tom? You want me to simply find you, alone and without escort, and you'll let her go in exchange for 'discussion' with me."
"That's all I want," he said smoothly.
Kris felt that she could not breathe. "And where am I supposed to find you?" she inquired in a whisper.
He chuckled and replied, "Now that I can't tell you. But you can find someone who knows." There was a pause and Kris inquired:
"Who?"
"Three days, Phantom," he stated, ignoring her inquiry, "that's all I'm giving you. Goodbye." And he was gone.
She listened to the penetrating silence over the phone line for long moments, her jaw set and eyes fixed forward. With tears in her eyes, she hung up the phone, swung down to the snowy road and climbed back into the driver's seat. Revving the engine, she turned the truck around and headed quickly back to the mansion.
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Kurt paced the halls, teleporting into empty rooms whenever anyone approached him. He wanted to be alone, but most of all, he longed to have Kris back.
"Kurt," someone called to him from down the empty hallway, "don't run away, Kurt. I have to ask you something." Kurt turned slowly, sadness burning deeply in his golden eyes. It was David, his brown hair tousled and carelessly strew about, his glasses sitting comfortably on the bridge of his nose. "It's about Kris," he said hesitantly. Pain seared in Kurt's gaze, but he remained silent and still. David continued, "No one is telling me anything. Where is she? Why is she gone? How long has it been?" His questions flowed rapidly over his lips, and Kurt simply held up a three-fingered hand.
"David, why are asking me this?" he asked, his soft accent gentle and quiet. "Has someone asked you to ask me? Is it Tamiko?"
"That's why I'm asking," David whispered almost mournfully, "because Tamiko's disappeared too."
"Was?" Kurt exclaimed in a strained whisper.
"She left to go into town last night, because she said she needed to buy a few things, but she hasn't come back," he explained in a hurry. "No one can find her. Not even Bobby." Anxiety written into his passive face, he added, "You must tell me where she is!"
"I don't know," Kurt answered quietly. "Kris could be anywhere, and Tamiko… I have no idea." David probed him with a serious glance, and Kurt finally answered, "Kris left because she decided to run away."
Silence. David stared at him. "What does that mean?" he asked, almost angrily. His frustration and worry were growing by the minute, and he said, "Why did she leave?"
"Because she thinks that Magneto is her father!" Kurt screamed in tense exasperation. "Aber bin ich! Ich bin! But I am! I am!"
"It's not true, is it?" David asked slowly, softly. Kurt turned away before he teleported with a soft bamf. David stared at the small trace of black smoke where he had disappeared, confusion and disbelief in his gaze. Kris had sounded so sure that she was not Erik's daughter, he thought. She seemed as though she would never believe it, because it was not true. Shaking his head, he looked away toward the end of the hall just as he heard the doors burst open downstairs. Something inside of him turned in nervous joy. Inside of him, he knew who had come through the door.
Downstairs, Kurt was standing near the doors, staring at the deep mahogany, lost in thought. He jolted in surprise when the doors burst open and Kris came running inside in a tearful frenzy. Her weeping eyes met Kurt's and she fell into his arms, burying her head into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms protectively around her, his head in her hair, tears in his own eyes. "Gottseidank! Thank God!" he exclaimed in his tears. "Wo warst du? Wo? Where were you? Where?"
"Sorry, Vati. Es tut mir leid, I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry," Kris let out, and Kurt only held her tighter in compassion.
"Das ist OK, Phantom. Ich habe dich vermisst, It's okay, Phantom. I missed you," he whispered, stroking her blonde hair. "Es ist OK. Ich liebe dich. It's okay. I love you." Kris looked up at him and nodded in understanding. After a long moment, Kurt inquired in a gasp, "Liebst du mich? Well, do you love me?"
"Ja, ich liebe dich. Du bist mein Vater, Kurt. Du bist. Yes, I love you. You are my father, Kurt. You are," she said with a laugh. Tears hung in Kurt's eyes, and Kris reached up and gently wiped them away with a soft smile on her face. He embraced her again, and she rested her head on his shoulder. As she looked out over his shoulder, she set eyes on David, who had suddenly appeared as he came down the stairs. He stared back at her in silence, a strange light in his eyes.
She could feel a pleasant warmth in his gaze, and she smiled.
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It was dark inside her bedroom as Kris leaned against the window staring up at the cloudy night sky. "I'm telling you this, because I have to tell someone," she stated matter-of-factly. Sighing, she turned and added, "And because something inside of me says that Xavier won't know if I tell you."
David stared away from her, avoiding the gaze of her eyes. "What makes you think that?" he asked quietly, his disposition tense.
"Because," she replied, stepping toward him, "I don't know what you're thinking right now." She stared into him, expecting an explanatory reply, but he only sighed.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, somehow you are able to block your mind from me to where I can't see what you're thinking," she answered astutely. "Which makes me believe that you can do it with others."
He only laughed and shook his head. "That's absurd, Kris," he let out almost mockingly. "I can't do anything like that."
Stepping away, Kris leaned into a bedpost and whispered, "I don't care about that. That's just what I think. I don't want an answer right now. I just want you to know that I have to find Tami before…"
David stood from his chair across the room and paced to the window. He stared at the pale light of the half moon for a few moments, then asked, "How are you going to find her?" Holding out a hand, he stared deeply into the moon, and a small light started to grow in his palm.
"I don't know," she answered softly.
David then stared at the small orb of light in his hand as he said, "I can't spontaneously create light, Kris. I have to obtain it from sources of light. Like now, I simply tapped into the light of the moon and extracted a small bit of its energy." With this statement, he passed the light magically between his two hands. Kris watched as he did this, curiosity on her face. "I can harness it, make it mine. But I eventually have to return it back to the source," he continued, passing the light out of his hands and it faded away. "There, back in the moonlight."
"That's all fascinating, David, but what's your point?" Kris asked.
"We're all limited by rules and regulations," David said, "but there might be times where we can bend them." As he said this, the orb of light suddenly appeared in Kris's own hands. "But in order to do that, we have to get back to the basics. We can't overcomplicate things. If Black Tom was honest about his deal to you, then the answer to finding Tamiko is easier than you're making it. And once you've realized this," he continued, and the light in Kris's hands disappeared, "you're on the right track."
He smiled at her before walking back to his chair in thought. "So, who is the person Tom was talking about that can help you? Someone like him? Someone you know?"
And suddenly it dawned on Kris, and her eyes grew wide in realization. "David," she said, "I know exactly who he was talking about. I can't believe I didn't think of him before."
She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands limp in her lap. "I'm going to have to go the city," she let out.
"So when do we leave?" David inquired enthusiastically.
"What do you mean 'we?'" she let out in surprise and indignation. "There will be no 'we.' I have to do this by myself. It might be dangerous."
He stared at her stubbornly. "Frankly, Kris, I am insulted. You don't give me nearly enough credit," he teased. "I have done a great deal of 'dangerous' work in my time."
"Fine," she conceded quickly. "But how are your acting skills?"
"What do you mean?" he asked in nervous curiosity.
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"This is ridiculous!" David let out as he stared at himself in the mirror the next morning. Kris stood behind him, observing his appearance. The man who stood in front of her was hardly recognizable. From his hips hung a pair of extremely baggy, blue cargo pants, and his feet were fitted into a pair of red and blue striped high-tops. He wore a small red t-shirt that exposed two sets of biceps, one of them decorated with a tattoo of tribal stripes. His long hair had been transformed into a dirty-blonde ponytail while his glasses were a pair of rose-tinted, half-moon lenses.
"I don't think it's that ridiculous," Kris countered with a playful smile. "That tattoo makes you look kinda sexy."
"Oh shut up!" he blurted out, hitting her over the head with pair of socks. She laughed and dodged away from him. Turning, he looked back into the mirror, displeased and annoyed. "I don't look like myself at all."
"That's the point," Kris giggled from her seat on the floor, where she had fallen in her attempt to escape him.
"I don't see you all dressed up in some sort of alter ego," he complained.
"That's because I haven't gotten dressed yet. Don't worry, you're not nearly as ridiculous as I'll be," she answered with a smile. "You just wait."
Hours later that morning, when Kris finally opened the bathroom door, David had to stifle a fit of laughter. The young woman who stood before him was almost unrecognizable. From the black miniskirt that barely brushed the tops of her thighs to the purple halter-top that fell to her naval, she was completely transformed. Her back was graced with a sunburst tattoo between her shoulder blades, and a set of four African tribal stripes encircled her right wrist. She wore a pair of trendy sunglasses over her eyes, and her hair shone out in a shiny hot-pink. She stared over at David and smiled mischievously.
"You're right," he let out, "you do look ridiculous!" At this he burst into more laughter. "Who on Earth is going to believe a set-up like that?"
With a sarcastic, tolerant smile, Kris answered, "We're going to New York City, David. There we'll find an inconspicuous club; lower Manhattan. It's called "The Firetrap." Basically, we find this club, and then I find just the fool who'll fall for this outfit. He'll then take me to one of his private rooms for a little fun, and there, I will tell him who I am and what I need."
"And just who is this 'fool?'" David asked humorously.
Kris stared at him, a smile playing on her lips. A confidant air in her voice, she answered, "His name is Caleb 'Hephaestus' Tucker."
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