Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. Ilehana Xavier belongs to Corrinth. All
other characters belong to me.
A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers out there; you really are all stars.
Scene 06
"You got yourselves involved in a petty bar fight!" Xavier was furious, glaring at his X-Men as they stood in his office in various states of drunkenness and with rapidly forming bruises on most of them. He looked from one to another slowly, knowing via his telepathy exactly how abashed each member of his team was. From Colossus, Jubilee and Bobby he sensed the most remorse. Gambit waited dutifully as he was capable of, arms folded defensively. Only Blaze dared meet the Professor's eyes. Havoc was not under Xavier's authority, but he and his friend were being both sobered up and lectured by Scott in the kitchen as Xavier spoke. "Can you even imagine what might have happened? What an effect this might have had?"
"None of us used our powers..." Bobby pointed out, examining the carpet carefully. "We were careful not to show that we're mutants."
"And Peter wasn't even there." Jubilee made sure the Professor realised this even as the room was dancing around her a little. Xavier glanced to Colossus; he really didn't look so well. And although Jubilee was right, this was hardly the state he expected an X-Man to come home in, visibly wavering on the spot as though he was going to fall over. He'd also done nothing to stop the fistfight.
"You are school teachers and X-Men!" Xavier roared. "What kind of an example is this for you to be setting for the students here! You three younger team members have disappointed me enough, but you, Blaze, Gambit, you should have known better! And am I to understand that you actually started this whole escapade?" He got no answer off them, but he didn't need one. "Get out of my sight." He muttered finally, the power of those words betraying his disappointment far more than any shout he could muster. "Gambit, one moment."
Blaze hung about outside Xavier's office, examining the damage to her nails and leaning on a pillar. Nobody else was about; the whole school as quiet as it ever got, but still she couldn't quite make out what was being said behind the closed office door. When it finally opened again, freeing Gambit from the Professor's wrath, she sighed and went over to him.
"And?" She asked; tilting his chin in her hands to better examine what was going to be a nice black eye by morning.
"He say I need action this much, he gonna have to sniff out a mission for me, an' tomorrow too." Gambit filled in with a sigh, wincing as Blaze poked the bruise on his face. "Don't know when I'se be back Mon Amie."
"Tomorrow's ages away." Blaze pointed out, half smiling as she let her fingers drop from his chin to her own throat. Dropping her eyes before meeting his slightly confused glance again, she tugged absently at a long curl. "Isn't it?"
"Huh." Gambit's voice was suddenly husky, a half-smile on his face now too. "Don't go tellin' Gambit the miracle cure we needed for you was jus' some good ole catfight, Chere..."
"There's nothing like letting off some steam." Blaze replied, stalking away from Gambit towards the stairs before glancing back over her shoulder. "You coming?"
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Day 03, Wednesday.........
Hank McCoy was beginning to think this whole idea of a vacation had been a very, very bad one. He'd come to this national park hoping for some peace, quiet and tranquillity. But last night he'd made the unfortunate discovery that his rented mobile home was parked ridiculously close to that of a gang of wild students intent on partying their lives away. Five times he'd gone across to ask them to turn it down, before seeking the park warden's assistance. The park warden however had been otherwise engaged, and so Hank was forced to spend the rest of the night with a pillow over his head and unsuccessfully pretend that he really could go without sleep.
He arose the next morning as the sun flung itself over the horizon enthusiastically. Its cheery brightness made Hank wince as he dressed, pulling on odd socks before deciding he didn't care. He knocked the full kettle of boiling water from the kitchen work surface by accident whilst trying to make instant coffee. Then, all a-fluster, he proceeded to bang his head against the cupboard door as he bent down to clear up the mess. Giving it all up as a bad job, he exited the caravan and stormed off into the surrounding countryside, well aware that at last the kids next door had gone to sleep.
His bad mood was finally starting to fade, calmed like a savage beast dosed with tranquillisers by the beauty around him, when the peace was shattered by obnoxious yelling. Humans, Hank thought angrily, could rarely appreciate the beauty of the natural world without trying to ruin it for everyone else. He followed the trail towards the sound of the screeching argument, the beast in his head roaring his displeasure. Rip them up; tear them to pieces for the racket they were making! Scatter them in the bushes like carrion; give them back to the wild things...
Rounding a corner he came face to face with the kind of domestic argument usually reserved for dramatic soap operas. Wedded bliss and a relaxing holiday did not seem to be doing this couple any good, the man held his middle-aged wife by her frizzy grey hair as she screamed at him and hit him with her compass. Determined to split them up, to restore some peace and tranquillity to the forest, Hank stormed forwards. His anger, all stored up, was like soda in a bottle. The more and more shook up he got, the closer he came to exploding with dramatic effects. So this was, Hank had reached his tolerance limit and passed it, and somewhere over he few hundred metres between him and the squabbling couple, Hank McCoy simply ceased to be.
He roared, stretching his arms wide and baring his teeth, making himself as big and as scary as possible; dominant and not to be trifled with. Suddenly aware they were not alone, the man and his wife looked up from their argument. Their faces paled, their jaws slackened and they stared at him. Hank stared right back for a second, taking their eye contact as a threat the beast inside him charged forward, muscles ripping through clothing, arms lengthening and solidifying as he charged, suddenly long and strong enough for him to propel himself forwards with his hands as well as his feet. His face began to change, the snarl rippling to form a squatter nose, broader mouth, and his hair turning blue at the roots. More fur covered his now bare skin, dense enough to resist the coldest night. The couple screamed at the top of their lungs, and ran.
The beast wanted to chase them. Hank fought back with all he had, horrified by what was happening to him. This wasn't right! The beast in his mind should be suppressed; the way Charles Xavier had helped him to suppress him all these long years! The beast paused, on the edge of another charge, and looked back over his shoulder, asking Hank if he wanted to join the chase? Hank in turn shook his head, indicating that they should return to the campsite. There was a mobile in the caravan, he could ring Xavier and get help. Hank glanced down at his now oversized hands, covered in blue fur and fingers tipped with dark nails, and hoped he could still operate a phone.
The beast paused, then turned and ambled back to the place in Hank's mind that was most familiar to it, willing for the moment to go along with his alter ego's plan. Slowly, Hank turned and trudged along in the beast's uncomfortable form and hoped no one else would see him like this. It seemed a shallow dream, but he could hope.
The campsite smacked of everything Hank hated about tourists, kids running around screaming and shooting water pistols at anything that moved, whether they wanted to be squirted or not. Proud parents armed with video cameras to capture the moment when a large, blue, hairy monster walked straight into the path of the ice-cold water. Their screams and shock and running enraged the beast still further, and suddenly Hank found himself sat watching from inside his own mind as the beast rampaged effectively through the campsite. In not very long at all, not a camper van was the right way up, no glass was unsmashed, no human left standing his ground.
Beast roared his frustration that already his fun was over, before turning his back on the collection of still-rolling video cameras and heading back into the vastness of the forest.
A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers out there; you really are all stars.
Scene 06
"You got yourselves involved in a petty bar fight!" Xavier was furious, glaring at his X-Men as they stood in his office in various states of drunkenness and with rapidly forming bruises on most of them. He looked from one to another slowly, knowing via his telepathy exactly how abashed each member of his team was. From Colossus, Jubilee and Bobby he sensed the most remorse. Gambit waited dutifully as he was capable of, arms folded defensively. Only Blaze dared meet the Professor's eyes. Havoc was not under Xavier's authority, but he and his friend were being both sobered up and lectured by Scott in the kitchen as Xavier spoke. "Can you even imagine what might have happened? What an effect this might have had?"
"None of us used our powers..." Bobby pointed out, examining the carpet carefully. "We were careful not to show that we're mutants."
"And Peter wasn't even there." Jubilee made sure the Professor realised this even as the room was dancing around her a little. Xavier glanced to Colossus; he really didn't look so well. And although Jubilee was right, this was hardly the state he expected an X-Man to come home in, visibly wavering on the spot as though he was going to fall over. He'd also done nothing to stop the fistfight.
"You are school teachers and X-Men!" Xavier roared. "What kind of an example is this for you to be setting for the students here! You three younger team members have disappointed me enough, but you, Blaze, Gambit, you should have known better! And am I to understand that you actually started this whole escapade?" He got no answer off them, but he didn't need one. "Get out of my sight." He muttered finally, the power of those words betraying his disappointment far more than any shout he could muster. "Gambit, one moment."
Blaze hung about outside Xavier's office, examining the damage to her nails and leaning on a pillar. Nobody else was about; the whole school as quiet as it ever got, but still she couldn't quite make out what was being said behind the closed office door. When it finally opened again, freeing Gambit from the Professor's wrath, she sighed and went over to him.
"And?" She asked; tilting his chin in her hands to better examine what was going to be a nice black eye by morning.
"He say I need action this much, he gonna have to sniff out a mission for me, an' tomorrow too." Gambit filled in with a sigh, wincing as Blaze poked the bruise on his face. "Don't know when I'se be back Mon Amie."
"Tomorrow's ages away." Blaze pointed out, half smiling as she let her fingers drop from his chin to her own throat. Dropping her eyes before meeting his slightly confused glance again, she tugged absently at a long curl. "Isn't it?"
"Huh." Gambit's voice was suddenly husky, a half-smile on his face now too. "Don't go tellin' Gambit the miracle cure we needed for you was jus' some good ole catfight, Chere..."
"There's nothing like letting off some steam." Blaze replied, stalking away from Gambit towards the stairs before glancing back over her shoulder. "You coming?"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Day 03, Wednesday.........
Hank McCoy was beginning to think this whole idea of a vacation had been a very, very bad one. He'd come to this national park hoping for some peace, quiet and tranquillity. But last night he'd made the unfortunate discovery that his rented mobile home was parked ridiculously close to that of a gang of wild students intent on partying their lives away. Five times he'd gone across to ask them to turn it down, before seeking the park warden's assistance. The park warden however had been otherwise engaged, and so Hank was forced to spend the rest of the night with a pillow over his head and unsuccessfully pretend that he really could go without sleep.
He arose the next morning as the sun flung itself over the horizon enthusiastically. Its cheery brightness made Hank wince as he dressed, pulling on odd socks before deciding he didn't care. He knocked the full kettle of boiling water from the kitchen work surface by accident whilst trying to make instant coffee. Then, all a-fluster, he proceeded to bang his head against the cupboard door as he bent down to clear up the mess. Giving it all up as a bad job, he exited the caravan and stormed off into the surrounding countryside, well aware that at last the kids next door had gone to sleep.
His bad mood was finally starting to fade, calmed like a savage beast dosed with tranquillisers by the beauty around him, when the peace was shattered by obnoxious yelling. Humans, Hank thought angrily, could rarely appreciate the beauty of the natural world without trying to ruin it for everyone else. He followed the trail towards the sound of the screeching argument, the beast in his head roaring his displeasure. Rip them up; tear them to pieces for the racket they were making! Scatter them in the bushes like carrion; give them back to the wild things...
Rounding a corner he came face to face with the kind of domestic argument usually reserved for dramatic soap operas. Wedded bliss and a relaxing holiday did not seem to be doing this couple any good, the man held his middle-aged wife by her frizzy grey hair as she screamed at him and hit him with her compass. Determined to split them up, to restore some peace and tranquillity to the forest, Hank stormed forwards. His anger, all stored up, was like soda in a bottle. The more and more shook up he got, the closer he came to exploding with dramatic effects. So this was, Hank had reached his tolerance limit and passed it, and somewhere over he few hundred metres between him and the squabbling couple, Hank McCoy simply ceased to be.
He roared, stretching his arms wide and baring his teeth, making himself as big and as scary as possible; dominant and not to be trifled with. Suddenly aware they were not alone, the man and his wife looked up from their argument. Their faces paled, their jaws slackened and they stared at him. Hank stared right back for a second, taking their eye contact as a threat the beast inside him charged forward, muscles ripping through clothing, arms lengthening and solidifying as he charged, suddenly long and strong enough for him to propel himself forwards with his hands as well as his feet. His face began to change, the snarl rippling to form a squatter nose, broader mouth, and his hair turning blue at the roots. More fur covered his now bare skin, dense enough to resist the coldest night. The couple screamed at the top of their lungs, and ran.
The beast wanted to chase them. Hank fought back with all he had, horrified by what was happening to him. This wasn't right! The beast in his mind should be suppressed; the way Charles Xavier had helped him to suppress him all these long years! The beast paused, on the edge of another charge, and looked back over his shoulder, asking Hank if he wanted to join the chase? Hank in turn shook his head, indicating that they should return to the campsite. There was a mobile in the caravan, he could ring Xavier and get help. Hank glanced down at his now oversized hands, covered in blue fur and fingers tipped with dark nails, and hoped he could still operate a phone.
The beast paused, then turned and ambled back to the place in Hank's mind that was most familiar to it, willing for the moment to go along with his alter ego's plan. Slowly, Hank turned and trudged along in the beast's uncomfortable form and hoped no one else would see him like this. It seemed a shallow dream, but he could hope.
The campsite smacked of everything Hank hated about tourists, kids running around screaming and shooting water pistols at anything that moved, whether they wanted to be squirted or not. Proud parents armed with video cameras to capture the moment when a large, blue, hairy monster walked straight into the path of the ice-cold water. Their screams and shock and running enraged the beast still further, and suddenly Hank found himself sat watching from inside his own mind as the beast rampaged effectively through the campsite. In not very long at all, not a camper van was the right way up, no glass was unsmashed, no human left standing his ground.
Beast roared his frustration that already his fun was over, before turning his back on the collection of still-rolling video cameras and heading back into the vastness of the forest.