The Blackbird roared through the sky, but it's high, keening whine was nowhere as impressive as the deep rumble of a Gundam, Duo thought idly, lounging on one of the soft seats, running his fingers through Heero's bloody hair. The four former pilots sat in the back of the plane, watching each other carefully. Heero was wrapped in a blanket and lying across his and Wufei's laps, two tourniquets fastened tightly about his forearms to keep him from losing anymore blood. Trowa, sitting across from him, raised a hand, fingers beginning to flick into complex configurations, the coded sign language that the doctors had taught each of them for use in covert communications. Out of habit, he used his callsign at the beginning, something they had been taught to do.
(03- These 'mutants' are quite strange.)
(02- Yeah, that 'Logan' guy doesn't seem to like us very much.)
(04- I'm more concerned about whether or not we are in the past. My Space Heart-) Quatre paused in the middle of his communication, organizing his thoughts before continuing,
(My Space Heart tells me that indeed we are in the past. Back home, I could always detect life coming from the stars, where the colonies were. Here, there's nothing.)
(05- We must be sure not to tell anything about our pasts or the Gundams. I'm not sure whether we should hide our real capabilities. Also, what exactly are these 'powers' they keep talking about?)
(02- I don't know, but I hope I have a cool one, like being invisible, or flying, or-)
(05- Duo.)
(02- Yes, Wuffers?)
(05- Shut up.)
Duo turned and stuck his tongue out at Wufei, violet eyes sparking with the prospect of a new adventure.
"What's that?" Kitty asked, fascinated with the fast signing. She shrank back into her seat as the new mutants stared at her for a moment, Duo smirking as he said carefully,
"It's a language we devised ourselves." Scott stared suspiciously at them through the red quartz of his visor; he was curious about the new mutants, especially the silent, bloodied one that lay stretched across Duo and Wufei's laps.
The one with green eyes- Trowa, if he remembered correctly- sat silently beside the blonde, his unnerving eyes roving over the occupants of the plane for a moment before he asked in his soft voice,
"Why are you all wearing those hideous uniforms?"
Scott and Jean bristled angrily and were both about to speak, only to be cut off by Duo chiming in, "Yeah! That guy with the visor on, the way you've got that yellow 'X' on your chest, you're basically saying, 'Here I am, shoot me!'"
"Speaking of which," Quatre said diplomatically, "I don't believe we know your names. Please, enlighten us." The nine teenagers glanced at one another before Scott, as their leader, elected to speak for them.
"I'm Scott Summers, also known as Cyclops. My power is optic blasts."
"I'm Jean Gray. My power is telekinesis."
"I'm Kitty Pryde, called Shadowcat. I can phase through objects."
"I'm Evan, A.K.A Spyke. I can create bone spikes."
"I'm Kurt Wagner, also called Nightcrawler. I can teleport."
"I'm Rogue." She elected to leave out her power; perhaps she could become friends with these silent young men, and she couldn't do that if they knew that touching her would knock them out.
Storm turned around, offering kindly, "I'm Ororo Munroe, called Storm. I can control weather. This is Logan-" She gestured towards the uncommunicative man that was flying the plane- "-he's called Wolverine, and he has a healing factor."
The new mutants stared at each other for a moment, and then they all looked at the bloodied boy as Duo said softly, "Like Heero, almost." Logan, hearing it, glanced back for a moment, before turning his attention to landing the Blackbird. Ororo finished, "This is Professor Charles Xavier; he's a telepath."
The four young men's eyes narrowed sharply as they stared at Xavier, seeming to weigh his worth. "You can hear our thoughts?" Wufei voiced suspiciously, obsidian eyes glaring darkly at the bald man in the wheelchair.
"Yes," the Professor replied calmly, seemingly unruffled by their dark, cold eyes. "I can also see memories, but I never go into someone's mind without permission." Trowa's lip curled in an instinctive sneer at that; no one needed permission. Miidi Une hadn't needed permission to betray him; Doktor S hadn't needed permission to destroy his life and mind.
The Blackbird landed with a thump, and Trowa stood, gently gathering Heero into his arms. "Scott will show you to the Medical Center," the Professor said as he rolled out of the Blackbird, "Where Hank can take care of your friend."
Trowa stopped short, Wufei, Quatre, and Duo coming to flank him as Wufei voiced strongly, "Heero doesn't need a doctor." Ororo frowned, pushing gently, "He's lost a lot of blood; of course he needs a doctor." The Oriental youth glared at her, saying firmly, "Heero doesn't need a doctor. If anyone is going to take care of him, it will be us."
The Professor nodded assent, allowing the new mutants to descend from the plane. His brow furrowed as they took only a passing glance at the venerable red-brick building before striding towards the door; usually even the most privileged mutants gasped when they saw the Institute for the first time.
Duo snorted; did they expect them to be impressed? They had seen much bigger and gaudier buildings in the Sanq Kingdom! The quartet ascended the steps, waiting patiently for a moment as the others followed them.
"Logan, please show them to the rooms on the north hallway of the second floor," the Professor requested. Logan grunted his acceptance and began tromping towards the staircase, his orange Spandex standing out brightly against the dark cherry-wood paneling.
He ascended it carefully, keeping all his senses trained on the boys coming up behind him. He could have sworn that Duo had said that Heero had a healing factor. He was more then a bit angry at that; he had always been the only one with a healing factor, and he was actually jealous, as petty an emotion as that might be.
"Here," he said brusquely, gesturing at the two doors that faced each other. "One room's got three beds, the other two. Take yer pick." The small blonde turned to face him, saying, "We'll stay in one room together, if you please." Logan scowled; it seemed that these new students were going to delight in turning every convention on its head! "Fine," he snapped, "Take the one on the left."
Duo went through it first, moving along the walls to take a post in the far corner. Wufei did the same in the opposite corner. Quatre stepped forward and walked easily to the window, his body language masking the tension he felt. Trowa came last, bearing Heero. Walking to the bed farthest from the window, he set the unconscious former pilot on the bed, smoothing his blood-soaked hair away from the clammy forehead before he stepped away.
Logan, watching silently, was actually impressed; the four boys moved with the silent grace and speed of assassins, their scoping out the room practiced and easy. They seemed almost too practiced; far beyond the level of all the Covert Ops groups he had practiced with. Where had they come from, he wondered pensively, that they would need to be so skilled in masking their paranoia?
Quatre turned away from the view of the Institute grounds, nodding the 'all-clear' to the others. "We'll need to change Heero's bandages," Wufei said softly, his gaze flicking over to Logan significantly. Logan, noticing their stares, grunted and left his post in the doorway. Dimly they could hear his pounding footsteps descend the staircase, becoming softer the further he moved away.
Duo took his post by the door, ready to turn away any who might attempt to come in. Quatre knelt beside Heero and began pulling off his blood-soaked jacket and shirt, exposing a slim, silver-scarred torso. Trowa searched through the three bureaus, surfacing with a white shirt that he quickly tore into strips. Wufei took the strips and, with surgical precision, stripped the bloody bandages away and tied the new ones on, stopping to check that Heero's healing factor had kicked in.
The torn skin was pulling together as he watched it, scabbing over for a moment, before pink, fresh skin replaced it, quickly lightening to silver. Grunting in satisfaction, he tied the new bandages on, slipping two fingers beneath to check the tightness. Trowa tossed him another shirt, which Quatre wrestled onto Heero's limp form.
Heero twitched in their grip, shockingly dark blue eyes flickering open to pin them in their places. Quatre and Wufei raised their hands, backing away; although Heero trusted the other pilots beyond all others, his paranoia was still an integral part of him, and it was unlikely that it would ever leave. Heero glanced around the room, confirming everyone's presence, before he began to speak in a clipped tone.
"Status?"
"You've lost about three pints of blood; your body is still replenishing it, so you can expect to feel a bit weak," Duo said succinctly, leaning against the door.
"Location?"
Trowa smiled wryly, replying, "Apparently we've managed to land ourselves in the year 2005, with a group of people that are called 'mutants.' They all have abilities, like teleportation or telepathy."
Heero absorbed the information quietly with no sign of surprise, agile mind quickly formulating a strategy. "They will attempt to interrogate us. We must give them no information about our pasts, our Gundams, or where we are from. If they ask about our family, say you have none. If they ask about your origin, say the name of a city that matches your ethnicity. If they ask how we came together, say we were on the run from-" he looked around, accepting suggestions.
"We
were on the run from the government." Duo suggested. Heero stared
at him, saying, "Cause?" Quatre sat crosslegged on the bed next
to him, elaborating, "They have many covert defense systems in
place. I noticed what seemed like laser guns hidden in statues and
bushes on the lawn."
Heero nodded, continuing, "We were on
the run from the government, and met in Berlin. You all have
knowledge of before-colony history, correct?" They all nodded,
Wufei snorting at the insinuation that he wouldn't have
knowledge of history. Heero looked around, noting the pastel yellow
shade of the walls and the white blinds, covertly scanning for bugs.
The others let him, well-accustomed to his paranoia.
A knock on the door made them whirl around, Heero with his gun trained on the doorway, Duo with a knife, Wufei with his sword, and Quatre and Trowa with pistols. The door swung open-
And Scott stepped in, face paling rapidly as he saw three guns pointed with deadly intent at him. Blinking, he attempted to even his voice out, saying with trembling calm, "The Professor wants to see you all in the small living room, so you can ask any questions you may have. Afterwards, one of the staff will interview each of you separately, in order to get your information for the resident database. How are you feeling?" This last was directed at Heero, who glared suspiciously at him, Prussian blue eyes dark with knowledge that no one should have the right to know, before he said in a clipped, flat tone, "My condition is satisfactory."
Scott raised an eyebrow above his crimson glasses, noticing the fresh white bandages and long-sleeved shirt that Heero was wearing. The five new mutants glanced at each other, seeming to do their unnerving telepathic communication, before each of them lowered their weapons, Wufei sheathing his sword, the others secreting them away someplace. Scott left the room, calling over his shoulder, "I'll lead you there!"
The former pilots entered the room cautiously, their eyes flickering about and cataloguing the locations of the occupants. Suddenly Doctor Henry McCoy lumbered in the room, big blue-furred face grinning openly, only to change to shock in the blink of an eye when five guns (Wufei having elected to change his weapon) were trained unerringly on him, five cold, stony gazes glaring at him over the barrels.
"It's all right," the Professor said calmingly. "This is Doctor Henry McCoy, or as we like to call him, Hank. I realize his appearance is frightening, but he's really a very kind person, when he's not endeavoring to stick needles in you."
It seemed impossible, but the temperature in the small room dropped even more, the eyes of the young men flinty-hard and suspicious. Hank raised his hands, grinning nervously as he spoke, "There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, then are dreamt of in your philosophy.' Hamlet, by the great bard Shakespeare."
Duo swore angrily as he holstered the gun, his nerves still tense and jangling from the shock. Trowa, Quatre, and Wufei followed suit, Heero flicking the safety on but leaving it in his hand. As one, they moved to sit on the couch facing the doorway, Quatre and Wufei sandwiched between the other three.
"Ah, you must be Heero," Xavier said peacefully, asking, "Do you feel all right? You lost a lot of blood." Heero's dark gaze flicked to him, rattling the older man.
Those dark blue eyes were so cold, so haunted, as though the fire of Heero's soul had gone out eons ago, leaving nothing but dead remnants screaming forever in the silence of those empty eyes. They were so blank, so lost, making it seem that the person whose eyes they were had never known a day of happiness, joy, or celebration; that sorrow, insanity, and regret had swallowed whatever was left of his soul, condemning him to exist forever in the emptiness.
"My condition is satisfactory," Heero repeated warily, his fingers twitching on the safety of his gun, forever unable to relax. "That's good," the Professor replied warmly, attempting to forget the hard gaze of his eyes. "Do you have any questions?"
Silence. "You don't need to be afraid," Ororo said kindly. "You can tell us anything; we won't betray your trust." The air in the room seemed to chill as they glared in unison.
Heero nearly burst out in hysterical, morbid laughter at the woman's naïve statement. Trust was nothing, a façade. Trust had catapulted him into a living nightmare. Trust was a goddamned lie wrapped in silk.
"I have a question," Duo said brazenly. "Just where in the hell do you get off, telling us that we can trust you? We don't even fucking know you!" Logan bristled at the insult, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
The Professor stared at them with sorrowful eyes; how harsh had their lives been, to make them so wary, so mistrustful? Clearing his throat, he said cheerfully, "It's time for us to interview you separately! Wufei, you'll be going with Ororo. Trowa, you'll be going with Hank, Quatre with Jean, Duo with Scott, and Heero with Logan."
The new mutants stared at the ones chosen to interview them with dead eyes.
The staff, who had seen Apocalypse, who had fought things that would send a normal person screaming in terror, stared back at the boys from the future, and shivered.
