Author's Note: I am very grateful for your reviews. However, I don't post my work simply to be told that I'm a good writer. While the ego-stroking is very nice, I would prefer it if I could receive constructive criticism of my work. As in, tell me what you liked and disliked. To those who have already done so, thank you! Did you see a mistake in the grammar? I'd like to know. Do you have a complaint about the way I've rendered their personalities? Please tell me! Similarly, please tell me what you enjoyed. Do you like my description, or think there should be more? Do you like the way I have shown the pilots as being damaged men? I want to improve my writing, both for my readers and for myself. And to those who have informed me that I have incorrectly rendered Wufei's name, more particularly the custom of putting the family one first, thank you! I do make mistakes quite often. I'm planning to revise those chapters once I am done with the story to correctly show this. Thank you all for reading this, and I'll now return you to your scheduled programming.
Duo cursed as he saw the claws glint in the moonlight. Why did Zero have to resort to that? It knew, goddamnit it knew all the hatred and pain and sorrow and terrible, terrible shame wrapped up in those unholy constructions of metal. Logan and Zero stood, silhouetted in the moonlight, the older man's eyes locked on Heero's damaged claws with an expression of shock.
Zero blinked once, and then Heero snapped back into control, his gaze focusing on the claws as a soft, low moan of agony escaped. Duo sprinted ahead of the others, grasping Heero's thin, bony shoulders and pulling him backwards. The two pairs of claws disengaged each other with a clink, Heero's arm falling limply to dangle from his shoulder.
He really didn't want to explain this, Duo thought sourly. Logan didn't seem the type to let up on a subject once he sunk his claws- hah hah, his puns were so wonderful- into it. Trowa caught up and stretched his arms out, allowing Duo to muscle Heero's unresisting body into the tallest pilot's arms, who then turned and loped back towards the Institute, bearing Heero.
The other pilots spared a glance for Logan, who stood, unmoving, on the grassy precipice, his face blank and mouth slightly open, and then turned and followed.
Logan withdrew his claws, blinking.
"What the hell's going on!" This didn't even remotely make sense! He was the only person known to have survived the implantation of claws besides X 23, wherever the hell she was, and they had destroyed HYDRA utterly, which ruled out Heero being a clone of him. So… either someone else decided to conduct the experiment- he was going to kill them- or… what?
For that matter, why in the world didn't the kid tell him about it? Those claws looked barely usable! In the brief glimpse he had caught, they were obviously deformed, twisted, bulging at one point but not at others, cracked and splitting slowly. But if they were adamantium, which could only be manipulated while liquid, how did they get that way? Did they have him stick his claws in a vat of lava or something?
He was definitely going to have a talk with Chuck or the kid as soon as possible. With a growl of anger, he began to walk towards the silent building.
"Come on, Yuy. You can do it." Wufei's words were surprisingly soft and encouraging, considering how he acted to everyone else. But here, with his comrades, the ones who accepted him and loved him no matter what he did, he could be this way. And right now, one of his comrades was in desperate pain.
Heero sat, now with a tattered shirt on, on their shared beds, staring at his hands, out of which protruded two silver sets of three claws each. Wufei had only seen them once before, and was still sickened every time he thought about them. Blood seeped from the torn apertures in Heero's flesh as he slowly, centimeter by centimeter, withdrew them back into his hands, the bulging parts and cracks and twists scraping torn skin raw and bloodied as they slid slowly back inside his hands, their progress slowed by the fact that they were unable to fit inside the streamlined tubes that had been designed for them.
"Almost there, Heero," Quatre said from where he laid prostrate on the bed, his arms bandaged and his consciousness swiftly drowning in the tranquilizer pills that were his only respite from constant foreign emotion. A few beads of sweat rolled down Heero's nose, dripping onto his hands. Trowa sat beside Quatre, emotionally exhausted and cleaning the switchblade knife carefully, ready to place it back inside the locked case that Quatre had purchased for it. Really, all of the pilots treated Quatre's knife like a ceremonial object. Duo was leaning against the door, a bottle of whisky in his hand, taking swigs every so often.
Thunk. The soft noise reverberated through the room as the last point of the claws disappeared, the raw skin swiftly sealing over. Heero flexed his fingers experimentally and sighed.
"If you are all planning to indulge tonight, it is safe. I won't be sleeping," he said. Wufei grasped his shoulder in a rare display of affection and disappeared into their shared closet, rummaging about for the booby-trapped suitcase that they all stored their drugs in. He removed a small bag of white powder and returned to their room, measuring out a small dose. He didn't want to be 'on the nod' for too long tonight; just long enough to cloud his brain so that he didn't have to see slick blood washing down his hands and dark, blue-black hair stiff with blood and his colony, home, shattering and splintering-
With the drug in his system, he carefully returned the bag to the suitcase, his limbs becoming rapidly heavy. He smiled at the familiar sensation and carefully lay down in his bed, closing his eyes and drifting into his earthly Nirvana.
Heero carefully cleaned up the empty bottle of Jack Daniels, the box of pills, and the remaining LSD capsules and stowed them in the suitcase, pushing it to the back of the closet. It was a good thing it was a Saturday; he did not feel up to dealing with Gray. Mostly it was her constant attempts to 'understand' him. He spared a brief moment of thanks that enough of the Zero System remained in all of the pilots to shield them from nosy telepaths.
He turned to meet Duo's gaze.
"I bet Xavier and Logan are going to drag you off to interrogate you today," Duo said in a far-too-cheerful tone from where he lounged on the bed. Quatre and Trowa remained asleep, spooned closely together in their shared bed. "Splendid," he replied dryly.
"I've been thinking... they have this big fighting team, the 'X-men'- Jesus Christ, could the old man get any more narcissistic- but they've never said what they're fighting against. Ask the Professor that. I'd bet it'll be interesting." Heero shrugged and slipped a shirt on, wincing as it rubbed against the healing scars on his back. He may have had a healing factor, but those scars were too deep to be healed in a night. "I'm going to walk around until Logan or Xavier drags me off. Do you want to wire me?"
Duo pitched him one of their gadgets, which Heero fitted into his ear and turned on. The receiver across the room crackled once and settled. "Good luck," Duo said with a whimsical smirk, waving Heero out of the room. Heero raised a hand in farewell and took one step out of their room-
"Heero-"
And fell into a crouch, gun pointed at Scott, who stood behind him, face ashen. "Do not do that again," he said. Summers nodded frantically. "Um, the Professor wants to see you. His office is up the stairs and two doors to the left." Heero rolled his eyes internally; all of the pilots had memorized the floor plans when they first arrived! He didn't need to know this, so, secreting his gun away in the holster strapped to the small of his back, he turned and ascended the staircase.
Knocking on the door, he heard the old man bid him to enter. He stepped inside, closed the door, and locked his hands behind his back, gaze roaming across the room. There was a large bay window behind the professor from which he could escape- but Logan, sensing his thoughts, moved from the corner to stand behind the Professor, blocking his way. The old man himself sat at his desk, fingers pressed together and gray eyes gazing at him sorrowfully.
Charles Xavier sighed internally; the young man looked as though he expected them to interrogate him! He stood with his back pressed against the door, shatteringly blue eyes gazing into his calmly, nothing shown but a cool, blank impassiveness.
"So, Heero. Why don't you have a seat?" He gestured to the chair before his desk.
"No, thank you, sir." Charles chewed on his lip in frustration for a second before he said, "All right, then. Logan has told me some of what happened last night. You have claws as well?" Heero's head dipped in a regal nod, dark sienna-brown bangs flopping forward to hide his eerily empty eyes. Logan's voice, tinged with amusement and frustration, intruded on his thoughts.
Looks like it'll be like pulling teeth to get him to talk, Chuck.
Unfortunately, yes. He focused back onto Heero, saying, "May we see them?" One elegant brow lifted before Heero lifted callused hands and turned them to face him. With an agonizing noise of crunching metal and cracking bones, overlaid with the slick slide of bloody flesh, six silver blades erupted from the tanned knuckles, the metallic color overlaid with the pink sheen of blood.
Charles stared at them, cracked, twisted, and splintered, and winced. "I would not be incorrect in assuming it is painful to extend them?" Heero nodded once. Logan spoke from behind him,
"Look, kid. We need a bit more information then that! Just nodding and shit- sorry, Chuck- and stuff isn't going to tell us much."
Heero sighed, his deep voice rasping with exhaustion and frustration.
"Yes, it is slightly painful." Charles heard Logan's snort of disbelief and smiled internally, saying, "Only slightly? I heard bones breaking." Heero shrugged. "The damage is negligible. The healing factor will repair them in short order."
"What about retracting them?" Heero smiled; Charles was frightened by the twisted sneer, the bitterness and distrust inherent in the slight quirk of a lip. "That is worse. The claws no longer fit in the sheaths designed for them; the sheaths are twisted in the wrong direction, so to retract them, I must make them go to the side and sheath themselves in my flesh. As such, to retract them requires massive rearrangement of my tissue. The healing factor works fast, so each time I retract them, there is new muscle to tear through." Logan stepped forward,
"Can I touch 'em?" Heero stared at the burly Canadian, eyes narrowed. "Very well."
Logan walked towards Heero, unnerved by the blatant urge to bolt that he could see in the kid's eyes. It didn't look like Heero was too keen on staying, that was for sure. The kid's eyes resembled the eyes of an injured wolf that he had seen in his forays through the Canadian wilderness: cold fire burning in their depths, a silent promise to fend off death with fang and claw for as long as possible, to claw his way out of the abyss by sheer force of will, accepting help from no one, and to finally accept death with an unalterable dignity. The hunted look didn't leave as he got closer.
The kid lifted his left hand, thrusting it forward to allow Logan to look at it. The older man curled his hand around the smaller one, calluses rasping against calluses, and bent his head, whisky-brown eyes inspecting the claws. He honestly had no idea what could have caused the massive damage. Adamantium had one of the highest melting points of any of the solids; the only way to melt it or warp it the way these had been would have been to force the claws into magma. This couldn't have been done, as what Heero had said implied that the sheaths for the claws were also twisted.
Logan was uncomfortably aware of the lithe, muscular body close to him and the warmth emanating from the kid. Heero's scent was a unique one; part gunpowder and metal, part blood and the slightest sharp hint of smoke. He found it oddly addictive, in a sense. 'Perverted old man,' he thought cynically. Like he could ever find the kid attractive. Heero was what, nineteen?
The kid shifted uncomfortably, prompting him to drop Heero's hand with a mental curse, ignoring the strange sense of loss that occurred as the scarred, slim hand left his grip. He grinned briefly at the kid in a sorry attempt to comfort him and returned to Chuck's side.
Bad damage, Chuck. Very bad damage; as in the metal melted and then reformed itself, which is impossible to do.
And you think that to ask him wouldn't be feasible?
Hell no! He'd probably just withdraw even more. I've dealt with his kind; they'll tell you what they want you to know, and no more.
I bow to your judgment, my friend.
Charles knitted his fingers together, tilting his head to the side. "So, Heero, Logan has told me about Zero. I'm curious as to what it is. It's obviously violent, but is it an alternate personality or such? Please enlighten me." Heero met his gaze squarely. "I do not wish to speak of it." With a sick, slick noise, the claws retracted, blood pouring from the torn apertures until the skin swiftly sealed over, prompting Heero to rub his knuckles fretfully and look back up.
"I'm sorry, but I do need to know about it, as it does pose a danger to the other students." The young man's eyes darkened, and for a moment Charles was uncomfortably aware of the weapons that he and his comrades seemed so fond of carrying about.
The other pilots, clustered around the receiver in their room, shared looks of trepidation. This was unexpected; they hadn't thought that the old man would be this persistent. Quatre, their strategist, scooped up the transmitter and whispered into it,
"Heero; tell him something of the truth. Just say that it's a rogue AI that infiltrated our minds. That won't reveal too much. Say that it was created to aid us in our operations. Don't say anything about the 'operations.'" He dropped the transmitter and joined the others in crouching by the receiver.
"You know, Maxwell," Wufei grumbled, "I was under the impression that sticking one's smelly shoes in my face was something undesirable. Just because we have to hide in the closet doesn't mean you can't be polite."
"Ah, shove it up your ass. Kidding, 'Fei, kidding! Don't take out the sword, please!"
Heero snorted internally. The old man was unexpectedly persistent. This could prove to be a problem. But this did prove to be an opportunity. "I will answer your question if you answer one of mine. You have this fighting team, the X-men, and yet you have not told us why they exist. The government seems to be taking a neutral stance toward the existence of mutants. The Friends of Humanity are too cowardly to attack you in open combat. For what purpose do the X-men exist?"
Logan appeared impressed, while the old man raised an eyebrow but answered readily enough. "The X-men exist to protect the non-mutants from other mutants who believe that humanity is a blight that must be extinguished. At times, a non-mutant will acquire enough funds to attack us in open combat. As such, we need to have the fighting team so that we can survive." Heero grunted.
"Now will you answer my question?"
"Affirmative. Zero is a rogue artificial intelligence that was created to aid Quatre and I in our operations."
"Operations?" Logan broke in. "What kind of operations are we talking about?" Heero's frigid gaze shifted to him. "That information is classified. Zero was intended to speed up our reaction times. Unfortunately, Zero broke free of the rigidly defined boundaries created for it and became dangerous. During the prototype testing, it burned itself onto our cerebral cortexes. It is now inextricably linked with Quatre and I. All information we learn is processed by it, and it learns and takes knowledge from us. It is dangerous, yes, but we are able to control it. Only at irregular intervals does it regain the strength needed to overwhelm the walls we have created."
The old man sighed. "I'll take your word for it. You may leave." Heero sneered at him, bowed once, and left the room.
"So, what do you think, Logan?"
"He's dangerous. These 'operations' he's talking about are obviously classified. All AI development is in the hands of SHIELD, so I'm going to go talk to Nick, see what I can find out. At the least, we'll find out if the kid's telling the truth."
"Why wouldn't he?" Logan snorted, lip lifting in a smirk at his naivety. "People like that, Chuck, know that information is power. Information of that magnitude is incredibly powerful. It's a good way to divert us from the truth, if he's lying." Logan turned to face him fully, all traces of merriment gone. "From what I've seen of the kid and his friends, they've got some big secrets, and I'm willing to bet my cigars on the fact that they'll stop at almost nothing to protect those secrets."
Rogue knocked on the door to Duo's room timidly, glancing behind her. She really hoped Kitty didn't think to check here. The door cracked open, and Duo's violet eye swept over her before it opened fully. Rogue stepped inside, and absorbed the strange tableau for a moment without speaking.
Wufei sat cross-legged in the window-seat of the large bay window, a large, shining sword laid across his knees, the Chinese mutant meticulously polishing it with a rag. His hair, usually bound up tight, hung free and loose about his shoulders. He glanced at her once with a vague look of disapproval and returned to his work, snorting audibly.
Quatre and Trowa were sitting on one of the beds, arguing over a piece of music that sat between them. Trowa looked at her once and dismissed her as being of no importance, which rather irritated her, and Quatre gave her a polite, distant smile and returned to his argument.
Heero was sitting at the desk, fingers flying across the keyboard in a blur of motion, shatteringly blue eyes staring into the computer screen as he took a sip of green tea and continued his work. He showed no reaction to her entrance. Really, that seemed better to Rogue then the veiled stares of the other three.
"Hey, Rogue," Duo greeted her cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe. "What can I do for ya?" She smiled at him and answered,
"Kitty and Jean are chasing me around to take me to the mall, and I really, really don't want to go. Can I stay here for a bit?"
"Sure. Want to play cards?" The Southern girl accepted gratefully, and found herself plopped down on the floor in front of Duo, who distributed a deck. "Time for Five Card Stud!"
Charles cut off the psychic communication and rested his head in his hands, sighing. Logan, attuned to his leader's moods, was there immediately.
"What's the problem, Chuck?" Charles lifted his head and smiled tiredly, waving Logan to have a seat.
"That was Eric Lensherr. He's bringing the Acolytes and the Brotherhood back to Bayville." Logan raised an eyebrow, controlling his dislike for Magneto with an effort.
"Okay. Why?"
Charles answered with a grimace,
"Trask is on the move."
Author's Note: I realize that not much happened in this chapter. However, it is needed. I wanted to give a bit more depth as to the pilot's reactions to Heero's claws, and show their beginning relationship with Rogue. She is going to be a key player in the plot. Next chapter, I'm going to focus more on the Acolytes, Brotherhood, and the X-men Evolution cast, rather then the pilots. Also, to Nova, your email address didn't show up in your review. Email me at my address in my profile with the url of the site, and let me take a look around before I give my permission to allow you to host it, okay? Thank you all for reading this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it.
