Je ne possede pas le X-Men. (I do not own the X-Men.) I do, however, own Morgan, Argus, and a few other bad guys I'm going to introduce in this chapter, like Umbra, for instence. Just to be on the safe side, as me first. :D.
R&R please!
A soft knock on the door broke the horrified silence. "Enter," the Professor said wearily, closing his eyes for a moment. The door opened, revealing a crowd of children muttering quietly in the hall. Aurora, Bobby, and Rogue entered, the tall white haired woman telling Kitty gently to take the younger children down to the living room for now. The frightened Kitty nodded, gathering the whispering kids and herding them down the stairs. Aurora shut the door quietly behind her.
"What's happened? We saw smoke from the window," Aurora said, coming to sit down next to the stunned Scott.
"Morgan's not in her room," Rogue said quietly, fearing the worst.
"We know," said the Professor, and set about filling them in on the details of the situation…except for the specter of the deceased X-Man. Logan and Scott remained silent, torrents of feelings flooding their respective minds. Jean Grey, alive and stealing their students? It wasn't possible. Jean, alive…
"We'll have to go after her," Logan said finally. He stood; Scott followed suit.
"We'll go with you," said Rogue, gripping Bobby's hand. "Let's go."
"Who said we were inviting you?Needle-dickand I can handle it."
"Logan, stop it," said Aurora gently, placing a hand on his arm. "The Professorwill decide who'll be doing what, since he's the only one who seems to know what's going on." Scott looked grudgingly up at the Professor, eyes unreadable behind his sunglasses. The Professor gazed at him silently; perhaps they exchanged thoughts of comfort, for this "ghost" had reopened a scar that they had thought healed. Scott dropped his gaze and buried his face in his hands, shuddering with silent sobs. Aurora patted him on the shoulder.
"All of you shall go. I must remain here incase this is a diversion; if some outside force is behind this…" He shook his head. "Hurry; if the world that is being projected into Morgan's mind is the same as the real one, than you should find her under a large oak tree in Central Park in just under half an hour." He heaved himself out of his bed and into his wheelchair, pulling down on a carved blossom protruding from the wall panel beside the bed. The panel shuddered to the side, revealing a passage into the bowels of the mansion; the proverbial lion's den of the X-Men.
"Hurry, let's get you dressed."
Morgan blew through a red light, the screech of tires not reaching her ears through the mental fog. The smiling woman the Professor had called "Jean" waved at her from a corner. Morgan slowed slightly; the terrain surrounding her felt eerily familiar.
"Come, Morgan! It is almost time!" Jean called.
"Time for what?" Morgan inquired, dropping her bike in the grass and padding towards the lady. But even then, she couldn't reach her.
"My friends will be here soon! They'll tell you what to do." She glanced over her shoulder, as if in fear. "I must go now! Good luck!"
"Wait!" Morgan exclaimed, reaching out towards her as if she could drag her back. But the image flickered and was gone.
Morgan felt as though a fog had lifted from her eyes, taking with it a heavy burden that had cascaded around her head. She staggered to the side, her hand resting against the trunk of a tree for balance. The warm feeling that Jean's image had brought with her had vanished, leaving her feeling cold and utterly alone. She noticed her numb toes for the first time. Why would she leave the Institute without shoes? And where…?
She looked up to catch a glimpse of her surroundings and gasped. Central Park? How on Earth did she get here? And through the gate? She glanced around wildly to get her bearings.
The full realization of where she was hit her like a falling stone. The tree where she had spent the worst birthday of her life in a drugged stupor, left for dead by one of the gangs that roamed the city's streets. Only her "powers" had saved her from worse. But it had been bad enough; with hallucinations of demons and horrible creatures streaming through her head, it was a wonder that the whole city hadn't descended on her cries. She shivered, wondering what powers had brought her here.
A shadowy hand reached for her shoulder, spinning her around. She stifled a scream. It was only a small man, presumably homeless. "Can you…can you spare me a dollar, madam?"
"I'm sorry, I don't have anything," she said, beginning to become suspicious. Sure, she hadn't exactly been looking, but where had this man come from? How did he spot her, if he was as drunk as he seemed? "Excuse me," she said, moving to brush his hand off his shoulder. "I've got to get going."
"I think not," said the man, grabbing her hand tightly. His gummy eyes became yellowy-gold in color, akin to an owl's eyes. His skin turned a vibrant blue; even in the dim light of the streetlamps Morgan could see the scales. The toothless grin of the man changed into an even-toothed, pearly white smirk; his grisly, unkempt hair into short, vibrant red strands that came together at the back of the neck. The thickset man's body and clothes vanished, revealing a very feminine form beneath. Morgan gasped. The woman sprouted massive, bat-like wings and dragged her up into the air, dangling almost ten feet in the air. Morgan kicked and strained against the vice-like grip. The blue woman had to fight mightily to stay aloft.
"Stop your struggling, or there'll be trouble," the blue woman hissed, her golden eyes radiant with hatred for the struggling girl.
"Trouble?" came a voice. "Oh, there'll be trouble, alright."
The two struggling females whipped around, wide-eyed. Five people stood below them, wreathed in shadow. One stepped forward, raising his hand to his temple, a glowing red beam forming near his face. A man stepped in front of him slightly, stopping him from firing. The brief red light illuminated the faces of the two men. Logan and Scott!
Suddenly, Morgan remembered who and what she was. She was a mutant, one of the most powerful the world had ever seen. She had the power to anything she wished, as long as she had seen it done. And in her short life, she had seen many, many things.
Logan called out to the blue woman. "Release the girl, Mystique, and we'll let you leave in peace."
Mystique chuckled, an eerie, hollow sound that reverberated in Morgan's ears. "Release her, Wolverine? My pleasure." With a second horrid cackle, she rose higher into the air. She leered hideously at Morgan, then pushed her away.
A high pitched scream echoed through the park as Morgan plummeted the thirty feet to the ground. Suddenly her descent slowed as a great flapping noise filled the air.
Morgan, too, had sprouted wings.
Two great feathered eagle's wings supported Morgan as she drifted gently to the ground next to the astonished crowd. "Morgan!" Rogue cried, enveloping the girl in a tight hug.
"Marie, you're crushing my wings."
"Oh, sorry," said Rogue sheepishly, pushing Morgan away. "They're beautiful."
"Yes, they are quite impressive"
A deep, silky voice rumbled across the grass out of the darkness. The party of X-Men circled protectively around Morgan, whose wings rustled nervously in the wind. Mystique circled angrily above, forgotten. The source of the voice stepped out from behind the tree. It appeared to be a very old man, much taller and thinner than the Professor. He had an aura of imperiousness that positively radiated from his black clad form. A large red helmet and flowing black cape added to the effect.
"She's ours, Magneto. Back off," called Wolverine, the hard edge returning to his voice. Morgan was touched. She had no idea there were people willing to fight over her.
"Ah, quite the contrary, my metallic friend. You see, if I take her from you," he replied silkily, raising a hand, "then she becomes mine." Wolverine was flung across the clearing with a flick of the man's wrist. As if by a signal, Mystique dove towards the party of X-Men with a wild cry. Cyclopes turned his head, firing rapidly at the falling woman, but the target was moving to quickly. Mystique spread her wings at the last possible moment and grew massive, gripping talons. She reached for Morgan but missed, grabbing a large amount of Iceman instead. She dropped him quickly, landing and returning to her regular deadly blue self.
Morgan rolled aside to avoid the descending threat, and looked up. But it seemed she had leaped from the proverbial frying pan and into the fire; Magneto starred down at her, a lopsided grin on his face. He reached down with a gloved hand and gripping her shoulder, hauling her to her feet. "Umbra. Finish them," he said gruffly, dragging Morgan away. She saw a foggy figure out of the corner of her eye; a mutant that appeared to be made entirely out of shadow. He grinned, winking at the stunned Morgan and the swelled to great size to cover the battling X-Men, each of whom had their hands full with another of Magneto's minions.
"Look out!" she cried, but a thick rag was pressed over her mouth. A slickly sweet smell filled her mouth and nostrils.
She knew no more.