As of last week I got to 200k views and with this chapter I'll hit 200k words! Wo!
"If your communication device fails, what are you to do, Electron?" My father asked.
"Get to a secure place, then contact the others." I was standing straight up, hands to my side, as I answered.
It was the day of our mission, and this was his version of a pop quiz to check our knowledge. "Correct. Cortex, what is the objective of our mission?"
"Sir, our primary objective is to free the prisoners." My friend, who was also standing up straight as a ruler, spoke. "The secondary goal is to gather more information on who in the US government is doing this and why."
My parent gave a pleased nod. "Very good. Cortex, what is the layout of the building we will enter?"
"We will enter the main building. However, the mutants are underground. There are a variety of underground tunnels in every direction that lead to various parts of the complex."
Nice work, Jacob. He's really grilling you here. You're answering these questions like a champ!
"Correct. Both of you, answer these next questions in unison. Which side are the children on?"
"Eastern."
"Where are the adults?"
"Western."
He seemed satisfied with these answers and asked harder questions. "What is the name of the nearest town? What are the coordinates?"
"Battle Mountain coordinates 40 degrees North, 116 degrees West."
"And why is this relevant?"
Neither of us skipped a beat. "In the event of an emergency, Battle Mountain is the rendezvous point."
"Perfect." The magnetokinetic nodded. "Cortex, what is of the highest importance during our mission?"
"Completing the mission."
"Wrong." There was a real sharpness in how he said that.
"Ensuring the safety of you," he looked at my friend, then his gaze drifted to me, "and Electron comes first."
He walked forward and had his back to us, hands clasped together. "Then, comes the primary and secondary goals of our mission. And if these objectives are achieved, it's acceptable to spend resources on ensuring the safety of others."
My friend spoke out of turn, clearly astonished. "Even the mission's secondary goal comes before the people we work with and their lives?"
My father turned back around, "The men and women you will work with knew what they were getting into beforehand and agreed despite the dangers involved."
"Both of you will respect this." Sure, he was technically staring sternly at both of us, but I knew I wasn't the person he was focusing most on. I could feel it in the difference in the intensity of his stare.
There was no room for argument.
"Understood." We said.
"Dismissed."
Like always, we took the stairs for privacy.
The door to the stairwell hadn't even closed before Jacob started speaking. "Magneto sounded pretty serious back there. Even by his normal uptight standards. That other comment was definitely for me."
"It was. Still, father's right about this. They knew the risks of doing this sort of mission, but signed up, anyway." A bit alarmed, I slammed the still open door closed. Hopefully, no one heard. "All we can do now is follow orders to the best of our ability and hope for good luck."
"I suppose you're right."
We ambled up the steps.
A thought occurred to me, "How are you feeling about going?"
"Oh, that? Great. Awesome. No issues here." It was impossible to not know his true feelings. First, there was that bit of doubt in his tone when he said, 'awesome'. Then, there was how the harsh LED lighting, combined with extremely reflective white paint, made his every expression visible.
"Hmmm." I checked my phone for any notifications while it was in silent mode. There were none.
"Being nervous is nothing to be ashamed of."
"I'm not."
He was going to keep denying it? Even when it was so obvious. "Really? Well then, I definitely believe you. Your tone is just bursting with confidence." Having a bit of fun couldn't hurt.
"Oh, shut it."
"As you wish, my liege." I threw in a mocking bow.
"Ugh..." The sound of my laughter echoed throughout the stairwell. If someone hadn't heard the slam, surely, they would've heard that.
When we made it to the living room, Toad was there.
"Time for your first mission, newbie."
"Yup." He emphasized the popping noise at the end of the word. Jacob gave a smile that he hoped didn't show his nervousness. He failed.
I felt a bit bad for him. "It's going to go well, Jacob. I'm sure of it."
"You two always use that stairwell, despite the elevator working."
I hadn't said that. Toad didn't, and Jacob certainly didn't.
We boys looked at each other for a second, then turned our attention to our right. My parent was drinking leftover tea from that day's lunch.
Our time perception warped, turning those two seconds into two millennia.
He said, "There's no need to tense up. I am merely observing a pattern."
He and Toad disappeared upstairs.
When both were out of earshot, Jacob said, "Why does Magneto have to do that?"
"Do what?"
"Everything. Showing up in places when we don't expect it. And just now, he brought up how we use the stairwell, but didn't directly ask about it."
"Oh, well... He's messing with us. Sometimes, he does that to get people to 'fess up. It's a mental thing. He also asks questions he knows the answers to. That ups the tension people feel,"
Cortex spoke with a sharp shimmer in his eye. "I think I've heard about behaviors like this from a school workbook. We had to match them to the categories of healthy and unhealthy. And this sort of stuff definitely wasn't on the healthy side."
His pointed manner of speaking didn't go unnoticed. "I appreciate the heads up, but there's no need to concern yourself." I did not want to talk about this.
This was a matter between myself and my father and he wouldn't do things that were harmful to me, right?
Toad reappeared to tell us that the other magnetokinetic would record a message for the other members of the mission. We would need to stay quiet for a while. Which saved me from an uncomfortable conversation with my friend.
Both of us worked on homework. It was not by choice. According to my parent, "Discipline is what turns boys into men." So even breaks should be productive.
"Your Dad only calls me Cortex now. It feels weird." My friend didn't find writing his essay on English nobility interesting.
"I can relate. It does at first." It was a pretty cliché reply, but I was working on a rather tough math problem.
"Hey, mind telling me more about the logic behind mutant names?"
"Oh, sure." I certainly appreciated any excuse to stop working.
"As far as my father is concerned..." I placed my pencil down.
Then I looked at my friend. "Cortex is your real name now."
"Real name? What, but why?"
A weird feeling of déjà vu came up. I was having the same conversation over again, but also not. I would've told my buddy about how weird it felt if he didn't look busy dealing with his own shock.
"Well... we aren't human. If we were just like them, they wouldn't feel the need to lock us up...There'd be no mission. We'd be just like anyone else. But we're not..." I let my voice fade there.
One pause for breath, and I began again.
"The only reason you and I get to have an education is because we look human. Well, if we don't have the same right to an education, or freedom from being locked up without cause, why keep a human name? Humans will never accept us. Not fully."
He seemed to consider my words with an unusual level of gravitas. I gave his hand a squeeze that I hoped felt comforting.
Honestly, I did that not just to help him out, but also to steady my heart. Knowing that others will hate you is one thing. But engaging with the idea and letting it linger still hurt.
"Stuff like that is why support for mutant names is strongest in feral mutants. They have visible differences that make them stand out."
His face winced. "So, it's a sign of rebellion? I like my parents. And I like my name. I don't want to betray anyone." He returned my squeeze with one of his own.
I decided to reassure him. "It depends. Some people see it as a sign of rebellion, other people see it as only clarification, and as a way to express their identity."
He nodded, and I took that as a cue to let go.
"Well said, son."
They must've finished.
The man said, "In my case, I see it as all three. However, Cortex, your reasons needn't be the same as mine."
The other teen frowned.
"It still feels weird. I prefer my real name or something like Jay or SJ. Or CJ even."
I saw a vein pop out of my father's head when Jacob said the words 'real name.' It was clear it took everything he had to not say 'Cortex is your real name.' This was not the time for a stern correction.
"You will get used to your mutant name, over time."
Funny how even when my parent was trying to act laxer, he often phrased things as a command. He couldn't help it.
"You have to. It's the safest thing. During a tense moment in battle, we can't have you using your human name."
The boy accepted that argument.
"Speaking of this, don't speak to the other mutants unless it is necessary. A polite chat can turn into a conversation that can reveal information about yourself. Then anyone with patience and an internet connection can find you. The identities of Jacob Sinclair and Cortex must appear separate."
It felt weird to see him give strict commands to ensure the protection of someone and not have them be directed at me. It was an enormous relief, though. Perhaps even a sign of trust.
"Electron," that stare focused on me. "Be sure to only call Cortex by his true name. Both of you need the practice."
"Yes, Father." I nodded my head a bit too quickly. I hadn't expected to be pulled into the conversation.
"Cortex will do the same."
"Understood." Even as stubborn as my friend is, he could grasp the importance of the order.
"We will depart in an hour. Make sure you're ready."
He left.
After checking to make sure we had everything, we played a quick game of Cero. Cero is a game where players matched cards they got from a deck based on type, color, and number. Without a match, they pick up another card. The first one to cero cards, which means zero in Spanish, wins.
"We should practice names like my father wants. But that doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun with it. I've got an idea." I took out several decks. While I shuffled, I put all but one switch deck card off to the side.
"What?"
"We play with multiple decks, and if any of us accidentally says a human name, they have to draw 25 cards."
"That's a great idea, Chris. wait... Darn it!"
We didn't count that first mistake.
The battle was cutthroat. During the first round, I hoarded my skip cards until the perfect moment. Then, I unloaded half my deck in skips before switching the color to yellow.
Right after it had taken him 7 draws before he had gotten a yellow card to use. So logically, he couldn't have had any to draw on. I won that round.
"Geeze, that was harsh."
I shrugged, "You would've done the same."
"Fair point."
He placed down a draw-six, knowing I'd contest that by putting down one of my own. This kept going, neither of us quitting our escalation.
I was super pumped. No way he could've had more draw cards than me. I had done a mental tally of all the draw cards I held and how many we used.
I knew I held more than half of all available draw-six cards in my hand. And given that I already had fewer cards overall than him, victory was assured.
His loss.
The number of cards the loser of the match had to draw went from 6 to 12 to 30.
*Snap* They came down in a flurry.
We just kept going. Me, then him. Me, then him. Then me.
But not him.
He'd run out.
He looked into his deck, finding nothing.
I could just taste victory. "We put down a lot of draw cards. Looks like you'll have to draw... 60 of them, Cortex." I bragged.
"Ok." He grabbed the cards.
Really? That's your reaction? That's it? He has to be up to something. No... maybe he's just gotten a bit more mature. And he's taken my father's advice about not being so expressive.
Just as I finished this thought, he said, "You know," He sighed, "I know you're counting cards. That's fine. Know why I'm not broken up about drawing 60?"
"Why, then?"
"Because these sixty cards. They aren't mine. They're yours. I'm just holding them for a sec."
I placed a blue #3 card down. "What are you even- "
With a slam on the table, the teen revealed his backup plan. If he had fewer draw six cards than me, he had brought a switch deck card.
I was dumbfounded. Sure, I knew we had one switch deck card to keep things exciting. I was the one who put it in. And that was how we played the game. But the odds of getting that many draw sixes and a switch deck card at the same time? They were so small that I banished the possibility from my mind.
"I'll be taking this." I didn't even have the presence of mind to hand the cards over. He had to take them from me. Then, he replaced them with all sixty cards he'd drawn and a bit more.
I lost that round. There was no coming back from that.
We didn't get to finish the third game. Toad came by and told us it was time to leave.
Once again, New York's enormous buildings disappeared behind a haze of white pillows.
"You know what I hate most?" Jacob tugged at his uniform.
"When the MealRun person gives you jam instead of jelly?"
"Yes, good memory. But, also, this," He glared at the fully black outfit he was wearing.
"This?"
"The fabric feels awful. I'm gonna scratch myself to death in this thing."
Of all the things he could complain about…
"It's literally a normal shirt and pants, bro."
"Yea, and that's the problem. It's freaking polyester! If your dad wouldn't murder me, I'd take the whole thing off and wear my normal stuff."
A raised eyebrow was my reply.
"Cotton, cashmere, silk. I don't mind a lot of fabrics, but I hate polyester. It feels sweltering in the summer and freezing in the winter, and let's not even talk about the texture."
I rolled my eyes. "Well, you're gonna need to deal. Don't be such a baby."
"I can deal, it's just... Hey! I'm no baby. I just take self-care seriously. Not like you, you miser. I saw the brand of hair products you use, and it put a shiver down my spine. Hummingbird shampoo? It's like you're some kind of masochist."
Poking fun at each other's habits was exactly the thing we needed after our earlier conversation. It felt safer, even as the insults went flying. Of course, neither of us meant it. It was far better at restoring my friend's nerves than anything I could have said.
A serious look from my father told us that soon we wouldn't be alone. Not long after that, we touched down at a small Nevada airport. From there, Toad drove us- myself, my parent, and Jacob to the rendezvous point. Sabretooth and Mystique had their own missions to attend to.
In the middle of the desert, the van stopped. The road seemed empty. Well, if you didn't notice a floating flaming cigarette. And didn't see its gray smoke.
A gaggle of people appeared before us.
This occurrence made me recall the iconic quote "beam me up Scotty," from Star Voyage and the technology used.
But it couldn't have been teleportation. Teleportation made a noise since it displaced air molecules. And that's the exact definition of what sound is.
We had heard nothing.
Our leader wasted no time in scolding the owner of the cig. His ruby red eyes took a moment for me to grow used to. He was not wearing the required attire. I envied that he could stand wearing a trench coat in such heat. The hum of a metal pole emerged from inside this same coat. It was a strange choice of weapon.
"How'd they do that?" Toad whispered. We were outside the car (in case he gave us more orders) but stayed a few steps behind, so my father's wrath wouldn't reach us.
It took me a moment, but I remembered something.
I explained, "There's a mutant here. She makes people not be seen by people's eyes. Not sure if she can do more, didn't read the whole thing."
I saw some classified documents about her powers while I was filing. It was fine for me to read these papers since it wasn't like I was going to tell anyone.
I organized the files once a month. That ensured a mess didn't build. It normally didn't take long, since my father, the person who most used it, carefully put files back. He seldom made an error. Usually, the real troublemaker was Toad, after he got something for my father or Mystique.
This incident made me remember that the last time I alphabetized and organized the cabinet, there was an out-of-place file. It was an aged brown in places and had several large crop circle-esque tea stains. On its cover, I read the words 'Rebirth 43'.
The cover also had the great seal of the United States. It's the circular image of an eagle carrying an olive branch and arrows that's put on podiums whenever the president gives a speech. But someone did not put it back the right way. Specifically, it was incorrectly put back in a way that was not typical of my father.
How did I tell the difference? My father tries to put things back properly. He's the type to only make a mistake if two words are the same with one difference, and typically, that difference would be in the middle of the word. Something like placing inept before inapt. Ok, the words are never actually that easy, but I'm not trying to give some of you PTSD flashbacks from high school chemistry.
However, Toad often either didn't care about putting things back properly or sometimes got moody and wanted to make my life harder. This depended on if he'd recently gotten yelled at for something. Given that the file was several letters off and half stuck out, this was probably his work. And he had been yelled at recently. Personally, I found his passive-aggressiveness comical.
I didn't get to read the file, though.
"She makes people invisible?" Cortex raised an eyebrow.
"No, not seen by eyes."I was careful to make the distinction "Cameras work fine."
A girlish voice said, "Yeah, and there are fabric restrictions."
"Holy," That was Toad.
"Shit!" That was Cortex and I. We had all spoken at once.
"Don't you know that it's rude to talk about people behind their backs?" A young girl or woman, she seemed borderline, appeared in our vision.
"And listening to people's conversations is rude," I shot back.
"Touché. I'm called Ultraviolet or Ultra for short. Also, what's-" An icy glare silenced her.
You'd think with a few weeks of prep, we'd have a ton of cool ways to play things off when awkward things happened. Awkward things like my father instantly killing the mood.
We didn't.
That didn't deter Cig guy. He smiled at us with reassurance. The lady we met also did the same. Then they and the others climbed into the van.
Our goal was to not get caught by any patrol cops in the area. It would've been hard to explain why a bunch of people in the same black outfit were driving near a government site. And something tells me that saying that we were in a choir group wouldn't have cut it.
The others were having a blast, chatting and laughing with each other. The two of us teens envied this. Still, engaging with them beyond a surface level would've been impossible. When someone tried to start a conversation, it never took longer than 5 seconds for my father to notice.
So instead, we watched the landscape go by. Well, that and harass each other through poking battles. The longest-lasting one went on for a full half hour!
The newly painted road shimmered in the oppressive heat so brightly that my eyes squinted. Its fresh coating of black tar and shiny yellow and white paint didn't help.
The landscape was a buffet of delights, with servings of red craggy mountains, bleached dead grasses anchored in pale sandy soils, and garnished with pops of green in the form of assorted cacti and shrubbery. An unrelenting sun laid directly overhead without a single cloud, and I was glad I'd brought a full jumbo-sized water bottle. The car's AC constantly bellowed, at times making us need to restate sentences.
"Anyone wanna see a lil' trick?" Instead of waiting for a reply, Cig guy shot a playing card out of a window, a black ace of spades. It glowed a fiery red and exploded! Then the card turned to dust and ash.
"That's so cool!" Jacob had pressed his entire face to the window to get a better look. It made him look ridiculous.
During the scolding Cig guy got for this act, we heard his name, Gambit.
We stopped the vehicle behind a large rock formation. From this vantage point, we could see the facility while taking cover. I'd need to take care of those fences…
Honestly, I wasn't scared or worried, but rather, I was excited. It had been far too long since I'd had a mission. Finally, I could again show my father that I was worthy of him training me. I'd gotten better in every way since my last mission, and I was desperate to show that. To prove that. I was sure if I did well, he'd let me out on more missions.
My parent wanted a teen that was trained, followed orders, took initiative, and was good at leading? Then I'd be that teen.
The sun had only just gone down when we struck.
I'd begged my father to let me take a more active role in the mission. I felt the gazes of many as I flew towards the facility, a small backpack in tow. My father's gaze was especially asphyxiating. He'd stayed back as I had wanted, but was flying close behind, ready to bail me out if things went south.
Jacob's gaze wasn't at all burdensome. He had a way of making people's worries vanish, even with a distant look.
I yanked down the power line. Then, I sent the wooden fencing flying over to the side and used that to roll over and destroy every car I could see. This had the bonus of setting off all mines that were on the ground.
With a moment of concentration, I found the engines of every vehicle that wasn't ours within a 16-kilometer radius. As we expected, several hidden cars and tanks were nearby, ready to reinforce the facility's security force. I couldn't allow that.
I can best describe the lingering hum of the metal as the feeling you got the first time you listened to the heartbeat of your mom or dad as a kid. It's a warm, intimate, and yet surreal feeling. I listened to these 'hearts' for a while and even took a moment to admire the newly tuned-up ones. Then, I squeezed them till they died. I did the same to any weapons the vehicles had.
Already, I felt a sense of victory. Unlike the destruction of the sentinels mission, this time, tanks would kill none of my teammates. I was diligent this time, and stronger. Still, my happiness died down when I reminded myself that the only reason that happened was because of my own failure. Not hearing the crunch of my teammate's bones now wasn't an achievement, but rather, what should've happened before. If only I were more skilled with my gifts then.
After this was done, it was safe for the others to proceed.
Soon, I wasn't alone in the sky. "Good work Electron."
"Thank you Fa- sir." I smiled while my eyes rapidly scanned all directions for threats. There were none.
The others in the van drove towards the building. We followed behind.
We soon came close to a group of armored men with guns. They weren't supposed to be there. I opened a compartment on the side of my backpack. The bullets it contained, glinted in the moonlight. The men soon became swiss cheese.
There was a bit of a ruckus from the others when they saw that. Most of it was praise.
"Very good," my leader said.
"Thank you, Sir," I couldn't help but smile.
I spied Jacob in the car. From my vantage point, he did not look happy. Instead, he seemed horrified. Not that I could blame him. Death isn't a fun thing to witness. His gaze went from us to the bodies, and back again.
"There's more of them ahead. Kill them." My commander told me. His eyes had a dangerous gleam, he was interested in seeing how much my skills had progressed.
"Yes sir." I wouldn't disappoint. The next men I encountered, I electrified to death. He rewarded me with a look that exuded praise. There was no small amount of pride, too. It was a very specific type of pride. The kind of pride he only showed when he saw my powers advance. It felt good to be useful to our cause again.
We got to the building.
As they got out of the car, I heard people talk about me in lowered tones. We brought ourselves to the ground. I took my place, standing behind my superior.
My commander forced the door to the building open, and we went inside.
Things proceeded as expected. The path we had charted in our simulations was taken; guards were killed. Jacob also got to use the device he'd trained with to open doors. The facial recognition system I'd cobbled together worked, but was more of a fun toy than a useful thing. We didn't need anything from them, so knowing their background was only useful for speculating which of the more irritable soldiers had issues because their dads left them.
Seeing either of us magnetokinetics easily yank doors from their hinges took some of the shine out of Jacob's new toy. Even so, it was nice that he deactivated cameras so thoroughly.
We rounded a corner and like the other times we'd engaged with the guards, our strategy was that my leader would be in front, and take out most of them, and I'd get anyone that remained.
The other's help wasn't necessary with some (rare) exceptions.
But things got weird.
Normally, my commander would have taken out 80-90% of guys on his own, with one enormous chunk of metal and a few gestures, but he didn't. His magnetokinetic feats were far more restrained. Admittedly, he eliminated about 70%. But that was still low for him.
I picked up the slack. If I had taken that as a cue that something was wrong, I wouldn't have been surprised about what happened next.
A boom from a loaded plastic gun's bullet being fired sounded near his position, which was to my right, but further ahead. I thought little of this.
But I did find it was weird that they'd gotten the chance to shoot, to begin with. Then, this happened again, and again. After I'd gotten rid of those in front of me, I broke the bodies of the men shooting by clobbering them with my shields.
This had never happened. Me killing people before my teacher had time to finish doing so. He had done it for me many times, though.
You know, I still blame myself for what happened after that.
More shots sounded in the barely lit room. And this time, my leader stumbled back.
What the? What's that red stuff on his arm?
"No!" I yanked a strip of metal out of the wall and cut the man in half at the stomach. His detached spine made one knocking sound as it collided with the ground.
How? Why? When?
I immediately electrified the others to death. They only cried out for a moment.
Then, I rushed to my parent's side.
His utter silence and lack of expression terrified me, but he quickly regained his footing, paid no mind to his injuries, and focused on what was in front of us, seemingly preparing for something.
What was going on? This could've been a simple mistake, but I'd never seen him make one like this before, ever.
I could hear numerous men approaching. We'd be able to take them, so long as the others and I improved our performance.
I didn't get that chance.
"Go." my superior yelled.
"But-"
"Now!" This didn't sound like an order, but a plea. At that moment, he was talking to me as a father to his son and not as a leader to his subordinate.
"Yes, sir." It was a good thing he told me in this way, or I would've stayed. My feelings of loyalty to him as my commander would've demanded it. However, this didn't at all compare to my feelings for him as my parent.
Jacob, Gambit, Ultra, and I went one way. The others stayed with my father.
We soon became close to invisible because of Ultraviolet's powers. As we left, questions that I couldn't utter tormented my mind.
How, how did they hit Father? This hasn't happened before. Is he going to be ok? No, don't think like that. I should go back to-No, I have no right to disobey orders. Of course he's going to be fine.
"So, what now?" Jacob said.
I say, "Complete as much of the mission as possible. Preferably all of it. We need to reconnect with the others. Hopefully, they're ok."
"Magneto just got shot, an' we don't even know how bad or with what. De mission's dead in de water." Gambit said.
Only one mishap and someone already wanted to desert? "The mission is dead when our commander says so." I insisted while glaring at him.
"Magpie ain't my commander. I'm just her' to get paid. Ya can't spend money if ya dead." Irritatingly, he was perfectly calm.
"I won't prevent you from leaving."
"Bold of ya to suggest ya could, mon ami."
I strengthened my glare, but he didn't return one in kind. Instead, he laughed.
"Let's agree to disagree, lil' guy. No sense in getin' mad at a kid."
I wanted to yell at him, but didn't. "Sure, let's."
"Where'd de guy even find ya, anyway?"
"I- It's not wise to talk like this in enemy territory."
"Ya even sound like him with yer word choice. It's almost cute if a bit twisted since yer so young."
I suppressed the urge to growl at him. "I'm 16."
"Yer point? Still, I'll admit I taught you wer' closer to 12."
We entered a small room. Some men stood up, quite surprised. With my shields, I took control of their guns and fired several rounds.
"By the Virgin Mary!" Gambit swore.
"What?" I didn't get why he'd yell.
"You and yer face, and all the stuff you can do... makes for quite the contrast."
I didn't dignify that with a response. We entered a room for more important people. You could tell by the lavish furnishings. I killed them just as quickly. Ultra gulped a bit and sighed when she thought I wasn't looking. And I knew Gambit or Jacob had their own not-so-positive thoughts on the matter, even if they were able to refrain from reacting. It kinda annoyed me since I was doing this to save them.
"Hey, look at this," the telepath said.
Cortex read from a previously printed out email with a .gov domain for both addresses. "Gerald Graves,
How goes your little project in the desert? While I understand that the low humidity is useful to keep equipment working, Nevada wouldn't have been my first choice. But then again, I suppose this assignment wasn't your first choice either, so you must make do.
The yearly budgetary review is coming up soon. I'm certain you'll find something that will justify the program's existence. If they can give money to scientists giving LSD to dogs, I'm certain they'll cough up something so you can play in a sandbox."
"Ugh, what a dick."
I had to agree with my friend there.
He continued, "Don't fret. In the event of you discovering nothing, your budget will be well used in my Weapon X program. You're welcome to visit, of course. Canada is beautiful at this time of year. You can use my plane, the Purifier. It came with my position. A scientist of your caliber is always welcome to join my project and what kind of friend from college would I be if I didn't offer?
Your work is extremely important but unfocused. My one criticism is that little is done to act on the knowledge you've gathered about the development of the X-gene in those demons you keep. Your dissection of young children and teens while keeping them alive is no doubt essential for this. Adult mutant biology is far too developed and stable for us to learn how this cancer manifests and metastasizes."
We exchanged silent glances. Gambit did a sign of the cross.
Voice now shaking, my friend read, "No doubt understanding this would be the key to the development of a better sentinel. One that responds and adapts to changing circumstances and perhaps even takes on the abilities of those pests.
The ease with which they destroyed the last type and the type before killed any enthusiasm for the project and all funding prospects. Still, I believe the concept is sound but unrefined.
With aid from our lord, we'll certainly bring those beasts to heel.
PS: I found your arguments in the Philosopher article you posted last week against the existence of God fascinating, but wrong, and I have taken the time to respond to them. I do love our little chats.
Your more successful friend,
William Stryker"
"If he says this to his friends, what does he want to do to mutants?" Ultra asked.
Gambit said, "Or is already doing..."
I froze, and a heaping of terrible memories crashed into my consciousness.
Then, I calmed down. It had to be a coincidence. That name. It had to be. My response was far better than my friend's.
"No, this isn't happening. I'm not here. Magneto did not get shot." He was behind us, pressing his hands to his face as he said, "This is all a dream. No one's getting tortured. It's too crazy and terrible to be real. "
Gambit, feeling charitable, gave the boy a brown paper bag that was nearby. The telepath huffed into it several times. When he was done, his eyes were red and full of tears.
That was a smart move by Gambit. It was probably the only thing that kept Cortex from screaming and revealing our location.
We found a map and could again orient ourselves. We were on the Northern side.
"Wait, this map, it doesn't look like our own." Cortex could barely speak, having spent so much energy breathing hard.
It had an image of a rectangle right where we were. This wasn't on our maps. We felt around and found a door that opened, leading to the outside world.
Gambit spoke, "Let's get outta."
I interrupted, "No, I will not. You guys are welcome to go. But, I'm not leaving until I do my best to help people here. You heard what they're planning to do. To even the kids."
"Well, if you're not going, Chr-Electron, I'm not." My friend always quickly finds his nerve whenever innocent kids are brought into the equation.
"Damn right." Ultraviolet had to agree.
Gambit, seeing that he was outnumbered, said, "Oh all right, fine. I'll help. Damn me for havin' a heart."
According to another part of the new map, a series of tunnels would lead us to the complex's Eastern side.
The adults would need to fend for themselves for a while longer.
As we walked forward, Ultra spoke in a low tone and said something hurriedly to Gambit. My eyes narrowed.
The man nodded and murmured something back.
Message sent, she moved backward to our position.
"Hey, you two."
"Violet?" I was the only one that spoke.
"Going to need you both to keep a low profile." She spoke in the same low tone and quick pace as before. "No way we're the only people to think about using this tunnel, and if you make a sound that interests the guards, I can't hide us from cameras."
I was the only one with the mental wherewithal to answer, "Got it. Will do." I matched her low volume.
Cortex gave a small nod, and I patted him on the back.
Letting them ambush us in those tight tunnels with nowhere to run would be risky. And could allow even the weak guards to injure or even kill us.
Honestly, I was more concerned about how badly my pride would've been hurt if I fell to them rather than the threat of dying or being captured. It would've felt to me the same as if any of you readers lost a fight to a baby.
Gambit climbed down the tunnel first. He observed the situation, then gave a nod, signaling that it was safe. Then went Ultraviolet.
No doubt they did this, so they'd be the first ones exposed to danger. This made me think of the behavior of a certain group of mutants from Westchester.
It felt rather tiresome; I preferred how my father treated me as an adult during missions, as it acknowledged my skills.
Or perhaps they were acting this way more to help Cortex? He had a habit of making friends with anyone and lacked experience. His intense reactions proved it. You couldn't miss it.
My friend clasped his hand together, did a quick prayer, then scaled down. I looked behind me, descended, and, as I did that, pulled down a metal door. It made a small creaking noise as it closed.
As we moved through the dark and cramped tunnels, I cut the power of various cameras, security systems, and lights. Yes, it obscured our vision, but also that of our enemies. Also, I randomized what I cut so our movements couldn't be predicted by looking at a trail of where cameras were destroyed and extrapolating our direction.
Our night vision goggles, though they showed the world in shades of ectoplasm green, were invaluable.
"Where'd they go? Squad 3 reported that they probably went this way." None of us had said that.
We ducked into a side hallway.
Another male voice said, "Instead of going through the tunnels, maybe they ran out the door. If the damn power wasn't cutting off so much, we wouldn't need to check every corner like it's the 1700s."
They came by the hallway we were in. Gambit took out a card but realized at that moment that exploding it in a tight space wouldn't have been wise. So, he held back. None of us even breathed.
They walked on.
However, one moved to turn on a light. Which was located where Cortex was. The telepath ducked and landed on his side. Thankfully, without a sound.
"Damn thing doesn't work," the guard said, pressing the switch again and again, unaware that Cortex had been standing there not even 3 seconds prior and was only centimeters away.
They continued onward.
That was close.
One man pulled out a black boxy-looking contraption. The static told us it was a radio. "Report, report. The lights of hallway 73 are down. We don't know why. Can we get a visual of the location? There's a supply closet with flashlights up ahead, but we don't know how close we are."
A man on the other end replied, though static obscured his words, "A23 B23, you are not alone. I repeat. You are not alone."
I hadn't turned off the cameras there. I was too busy hiding... And what a time for Jacob to not use his device. He was too busy not getting caught too; it seemed.
"What? But there's no one here."
"What are you, a moron? They're RIGHT there."
Gambit smacked one man with his bo-staff, then threw a barrage of exploding cards that incapacitated them. As expected, this was a bad call, as a great deal of shrapnel erupted from the wall, and water flowed through the now shattered pipes.
A combination of my shields and Gambit using his staff, allowed us to deflect the shrapnel.
We ran. This time, I destroyed every camera each time I sensed one. To hell with subtly.
Moments later, a far larger group of armored men approached, their suits made them look like astronauts.
No way I'd be able to stop them all at once. Not with so much armor. There were at least fifty. I could've made a shield, but if I stretched it to save everyone, it wouldn't have been strong enough to hold up. I'd need to prioritize.
But, they didn't see us. And this time, there was no one to tell them.
"No one's here," One said.
"Wait," the other said.
The third one pointed in our direction. "There!"
We weren't the only ones with night vision goggles; it seemed.
I jumped to my friend's side and conjured the strongest shield I could muster.
As their projectiles launched, Gambit released his cards. First, there were so many crashing and ringing noises that I struggled to make my shield endure the salvo of shots.
Then, there was a scream. The pitch told me in a flash that the shout was Ultra's. Next, it got quiet. The room and the yell.
To my left, my friend seemed incoherent and jumbled. He kept shaking his head and saying,
"This isn't real."
They reloaded their weapons with a clang.
No, electricity wouldn't work, the suits protect them.
I'd lost the last of my bullets to the inside of some man's chest cavities. Damn my arrogance and wastefulness, for thinking I could easily pick up more!
Sure, I could have ripped out the metal from the wall, but that wouldn't have killed them either. Not when I also had to spend so much focus on shielding.
A tactical retreat was in order, without the others.
Sorry Gambit and Ultra.
I gripped Jacob and prepared myself to fly. But, somehow he knew what I was doing. He slid out of my grasp.
"Stop this now!" He yelled.
The men, all 50 of them, froze in place. The culprit was obvious.
Nice going.
We were able to breathe and relax for a moment. Everyone looked a bit more relieved.
I don't even get why he says he's bad at using them. He can freeze 50 guys in one go.
Well, everyone relaxed a bit, except for Cortex. He was gripping his head in both hands as though he'd been struck, while shaking his head in a 'no' gesture.
"Buddy. Are you ok?" I was by his side in a moment.
Good idea, because soon his entire body went limp. His head would've hit the cement floor had I not been there to catch it. "Cortex!"
The guards groaned and seemed to begin to stir.
I tapped his shoulder. He didn't wake up. He did start mumbling "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't be mad."
Mad? What are you talking about?
One guard by now was standing up and shakily pointed the barrel of the gun forward.
Ultra called out, "Everyone, close your eyes."
I'm glad I did. Even with my eyes closed, I perceived a large light flash past.
"I can't see! Why can't I see?" He yelled. He fired his weapon but all the shots hit a wall to his left. Gambit slammed his bo-staff on the man's head, knocking him out.
But that still left us with the others to deal with, who at that time started to get their bearings. Given how head she was breathing, it was unlikely Ultra would be able to do that again.
I tried again, "Dude, Dude. Get up. Get. Up!"
"Ugh. No, not safe out. Is safe in." He rambled.
At this point, all of the other men stood up and began to seize up their fallen weapons in a groggy manner.
A felt but not mentally vocalized thought entered my mind. A thought about what my father would've wanted me to do, given my friend's condition and the situation. I slaughtered it.
I grabbed my water bottle and dumped its contents on my friend, hoping for something, anything.
His eyes fluttered open and as he did a quick curl up, he screamed. The other men screamed too. They grabbed their heads and kneeled on the ground. Finally, they completely collapsed.
They didn't move anymore after this. And they never would.
It took ten seconds for us to grasp what happened.
"Chris… I'm a murderer now aren't I?" He whispered.
"No."
"But they're dead."
"You said murderer, not killer." Yeah, not the best thing to say, but all I could think of.
A low grim chuckle that turned into a quickly repressed sob was his reply and I helped him up.
We exited the tunnels. Good thing that Ultra's injuries weren't serious. Once things were more relaxed, I noticed how our boots squeaked from the water. I also had the time to process what happened. The whole thing was infuriating. Jacob wasn't the only one with potent emotions from the mission.
To think, I would've had to leave people to survive and comply with orders.
The idea that I almost had to resort to that level of cowardice frustrated me. But after I saw how out of it my friend was after killing those scum, I was infuriated. How dare they make my friend grieve for their worthless lives?
It's too bad I can only kill people like them once.
Time to make up for my lackluster performance and get things back on track.
I would complete the mission. I would.
My priority was to kill everyone in my way. We entered a corridor with many scientists and a receptionist. No one had weapons.
I smashed a computer screen into the receptionist's head. The same one he was using. Then, I brought a fire extinguisher through the heads of all but one scientist.
I'm told there was screaming, but I don't remember that. It's a blur in my memory. I probably blocked the screams out.
"Where are the mutants?" I asked the last survivor.
"Ri-right this way."
The others followed behind us, but not too close.
He led us to a white hallway. As we entered, automatic lights turned on. There were mutants in the cells. But they weren't kids. We'd gone the wrong way.
Still, it was something. And given that I'd seen my father get shot, any sort of victory was a win.
Gambit used his cards to blow up the bars.
With exposure to light, we couldn't help but notice how slowly they moved out of their cells, how thin and pale they were, as well as the myriad of wounds on their bodies.
The scientist had the propriety to be embarrassed.
I say, "Are there more?"
"Well, um er." He didn't give a straight answer.
"Show me!" I demanded.
He led us into another room with more mutants in the back. Most of the ones from the first room refused to follow us in. And we soon found out why.
There was blood everywhere, the walls, the floors, and on various shiny and sharp-looking instruments of torment. After freeing the mutants, we seized all the evidence that we could, laptops, hard drives (external and otherwise), files, as well as the letters we found. Several photos were snapped as well.
"Not that I 'ave a ting 'gaist photos. But why ya doing dis?" Gambit said while placing some electronics into a bag.
"If we don't, we won't have any proof this happened. Then they can deny it. How can a trial occur without evidence?"
"Trial? We're tryin' to get past de 'kill on sight' phase. Why ya tinking like dat?
"Well, maybe a trial won't work now. But in the future. In a better one…"
A world where kids like us don't need to do this. I'd like that for my kids. Well, if I have them.
"That ain't never gonna."
"It won't if we don't try. The status quo means they win. That doesn't have to be. You saw what we did today and there's only four of us."
I then added "Beyond that, with these photos we can identify the victims. Have a team come back here and bury them with dignity. According to the customs of their culture and religion or lack of."
This was standard practice for us. It was our obligation to give back the dignity that was taken from the victims as no one else would.
"I'd-I'd like dat. Ya got heart mon ami." He spoke with a smile. A real one that had hope and said, 'Perhaps I've misjudged you. Maybe we don't need to be at odds?'
A loud bang shattered our moment of peace. There was no time to react.
On my left side, the wall had a new quarter-sized hole.
A sharp thump from Cortex slamming a heavy desktop on him sent the scientist to his knees.
"Thanks," I said.
"No prob, just returning the favor."
The man carried a flyer with friendly-looking smiling people that read, "God loves, man kills."
I didn't finish reading, my legs became jelly and I fell over.
In a moment I was back up. This was too much. I decided to lock what I'd seen into the depth of my heart and not think about it.
"Can't believe the nerve dey hav'. Bringin' god into dis!" We let Gambit have his tirade, which seemed to have started after seeing the man's crucifix and the flyer.
As for the mutants we had found? I'd never seen a more downtrodden group of people in my life. All looked utterly dead inside. Even when we cut them free, they didn't rush out of their bonds but lay there staring at the wall in a hazy, uncritical fashion.
We didn't know what to do. Luckily, Jacob persuaded them to get up. No, not with his powers. Well, unless you want to call empathy and compassion a power. We almost had to leave those people behind.
As you'd expect, we were too late for some people, or rather, all the victims of dissection.
Even today I wonder if there would've been a chance for them if I had done something different. It doesn't make much sense, but that's where I am.
I had our captive show us to a secret compartment and we soon entered the kid's section. Gambit, Ultra, and I freed the still alive kids. I didn't begrudge my friend for staying in the other room. You do not want to know what the dissected corpse of a 5-year-old looks like. Take my word for it.
Once we'd rescued all the children, I killed our (albeit forced) tour guide despite his pleas. He was a direct collaborator to their torment and deserved nothing less.
We proceeded with our plans and left the facility.
It disappointed us that my father and his group didn't greet us outside. Someone had destroyed the car. So we had to take a long trek through the desert.
A coyote tried to make off with one child, but Ultra shot it.
We got to the rendezvous point and let ourselves sleep in a shifty-looking hotel.
Honestly, I don't think anyone slept. We only closed our eyes and didn't move. Sleep implied a sense of peace that no one felt.
Still, I can only speak for the case of myself and Jacob, as the others were in different rooms. Neither of us spoke a word.
At some point, I gave up on sleep and roused myself from my bed.
Then, from a cracked open door, I saw a masculine shadow sitting in the kitchen. I readied enough electricity to kill a horse in my right hand and approached silently.
"Good, the lady from the front desk told me the right room number," That voice… my parent was alive! I bolted over and caught him in a tight hug.
He laughed and hugged me back. A lamp switch turned clockwise and soon the room was lit up.
He stood up, then inspected my face for any injuries. It pleased him that there were none.
We pulled away.
"Are you ok, sir? You were bleeding."
"Nothing I haven't suffered from before. You needn't worry."
"Ok…"
"What are you thinking that you aren't telling me?"
"I-I didn't even." I sputtered.
"You don't have to. I can tell from your expression." He said with his usual knowing glance.
"I was thinking that I'm glad you're ok. Because I'm not sure if I can help Ja-Cortex out on his own. Well, not just because of the fact that I need your help. I-it's-" I had a habit of my speech and demeanor going from a trained soldier to a vulnerable kid when things involved my friends and family.
My father understood this "I recognize what you're trying to say. Continue."
"Its-It's his first mission, and he said nothing after we got out. That shouldn't be possible. The guy's a chatterbox. I- just don't want him to be permanently scarred from this."
"Electron, him being scarred from this experience is inevitable." My parent spoke gently with compassion. He knew how hard this was for me.
Then, his tone shifted, it was firmer and resolute. "But the point isn't to eliminate pain. Better that this event scars his heart than a misunderstanding of reality deliver a bullet to his brain."
I hated when he talked like this. Not just because of the harshness of what he said, but because he was always right about these things. It felt like a doctor telling a patient that they had cancer.
"Understood sir," I said in almost a whisper. Nothing could be done. I had to accept reality.
"You needn't worry about taking precautions, none of the others have rooms close enough to hear us."
Precautions?
"Oh right. I wasn't saying 'sir' because of that. It was just a habit thing. Sorry."
"That's fine. It's not an insult. I simply enjoy hearing you call me father. I'm 'sir' to many people, but only a father to you."
His saying that made me feel the need to hug him a second time. And I did.
"Ugh." He groaned for only a moment before he went back to stoically enduring his unseen pain.
I was immediately full of apologies. "I'm so-"
"It's fine. My wounds were cleaned. You only irritated them a bit. They won't get infected."
Even irritating a wound is bad. Why do you always dismiss when bad things happen to you if it doesn't endanger your life? Oh, wait. That's a bit hypocritical.
"I understand. Father, why were you shot? I doubt it's because they caught you off guard, so maybe a new type of weaponry?"
That would have implications for you and me.
"No. I merely overestimated how long I had. My reactions were slower. When we return home, I will rectify this."
Overestimated how long he had? How long he had for what? What does that even mean? What would going home do? And what does his ability to react have to do with anything?
My father's attention went to the direction behind me, where the door was.
"Cortex, good, you're awake."
"Oh well. I-" the teen mumbled, "I never actually went to sleep. I heard some of your conversation, too. Sorry about that."
"It's fine. You meant no offense. Also, both of you sit down. We should talk."
We gathered around the table.
"You should be very proud of what you did today. I was extremely impressed. Not only did you get to the rendezvous point, but you also saved the prisoners. None of this was required of either of you. Especially, given how small of a group you two, Gambit, and Ultra made."
My friend looked at me then my parent. "Thanks. But most of that was Chris- err Electron. Gambit wanted to leave, and we found a secret way out, but Chris made everyone want to be brave enough to rescue them."
That's both a compliment and an assertion of my guilt. My father's priorities were our safety first and then the mission!
I wanted to both thank him for the credit and slap him.
"He also killed the most guards out of anybody, saved me from being shot, and got a guy to tell us where the hidden mutants were. So… I think he deserves a lot of credit."
The man's hum was indecipherable, "You're right. He does." I couldn't get a read of my father's intentions from his face. It was too impassive, too contemplative.
I'm in trouble, aren't I? Father's going to slap me when Jacob isn't here to see it and tell me not to be reckless, won't he? Well, at least he doesn't do that in front of people.
My parent spoke again "How are you feeling, Jacob? I've heard the mission has been hard on you."
The boy looked away and sighed. "I feel so many things that I can't understand it all. But it all combines to be something terrible."
"I see. Such feelings are natural. Tonight, you got a glimpse of the hatred many have for us because of our being mutants. That couldn't have been easy. If you'd like to talk more about these things, my door is always open."
My friend smiled, "Thanks Magneto."
He nods, "It would be the least I could do given your contribution to the mission."
Jacob's voice became a whisper. "I don't… know if what I did was all that good." Again, he looked away and this time gripped the cheap brown table with all his strength. "People died."
"People that were trying to kill you and harm others died." My father clarified. "You did nothing wrong."
The boy nodded. "Thank you. If it's ok, I think I'll try to go back to bed."
"That's fine."
Jacob went into the bedroom.
It was the two of us again.
He looked at me. I stared back but said nothing. I felt super self-conscious. A sort of staring contest ensued, both of us sitting quietly while waiting for the other to speak.
There were a few moments of silence, then he said, "What am I going to do with you?"
I spoke slowly to compose myself. Rather than sounding as he'd have liked me to sound, firm and confident, my voice was weak and vulnerable. "Sorry. I- I didn't wasn't sure if you were ok. And I didn't want the mission to be in vain." I inhaled and then said, "Plus if I left… I wouldn't have been able to look for you in the building."
My actions weren't only about saving those people. Honestly, I know that if I thought my father was outside, I would've left, just to know if he was alright.
There was silence.
"Are you upset with me, Father?" It was hard, but I kept myself from looking away. I only squeezed a silver fork in my right hand.
"Not quite. I'm merely concerned. It's a good thing that you have improved since your last mission. Being so reckless would've gotten you hurt even 3 months ago."
I nodded.
His stern 'I'm teaching you something important' voice addressed me, "Missions are important, Electron, but your life is more important. And in a situation where the worst happens..." He stared at me.
I felt my heart rebel at the idea.
"I don't want you even sharing a country with whatever or whoever killed me… Even so, I can't be angry with you." He sighed "If anything, given your personality and age, I'm at fault for not preparing you for such an eventuality. Still, don't worry about that. Get some rest."
"I will."
I entered the bedroom we shared. My friend was under the covers staring at the wall in his twin bed so I didn't see his face.
"Hey, Chris?"
"Yea."
"Those guys, you know, all of them, they really really hated us."
No surprises there.
"I'm talking visceral, every pore in their body hate."
I got under my bed covers. "Hmmm." I didn't care about their hatred one way or the other. But it was important to Jacob, so I listened.
"Well, the thing is. They were chosen to work there because they hated mutants. That's because everything that was being done there is illegal. And if someone ratted…"
I understood, "There'd be a scandal. And the politicians would throw the people running the facility under the bus."
Under the law, mutants were human. And had the same rights. But laws are only words on paper…
"Yea. Well, you know the icky thoughts I got from that one dude I controlled? Their thoughts were way worse and there were so many of them. I think just like before… my body just. Just shut down. To protect me."
When I realized this meant he was apologizing to the guards for them hating him, I again lamented that death was only a one-time occurrence.
I saw a cheap hotel clock, 2:57 AM, the red digits said. "If you feel guilty about it, don't. We got out in one piece."
"I don't. It's just… well I'd like to say that your weird mental barriers. I kinda anchored myself behind them for a bit."
That was the meaning of 'not safe out. Is safe in'!
I kept quiet. This was important.
"So, thanks. This also might explain why we hit it off so well. Like, I thought it was just because you're a cool guy, but I did always feel a bit differently around you. It's a bit of relief that you aren't as… loud as the others."
He then said "I thought it was weird that I was perfectly fine with hanging out with you. Like, sure, you're a good guy, but I didn't know that. You're connected to Magneto. A guy who's an internationally wanted terro- Ummm."
I turned over to face him. "It's fine."
He did the same. He said nothing, clearly trying to speak with tact "The guy isn't exactly popular. And he felt… off. He said things fine. But, I had and have a feeling that if the professor wasn't there, he would've made me go with him." He said that last part in a low whisper, careful to not let even a syllable escape the room.
He did force me to join him. Even if it was the best thing for me, that doesn't change the truth of things. Good thing that didn't happen.
"So, I was thinking 'I'm a guy that's ghosted people over their opinions about pineapples on pizza, why am I hanging out with Magneto's kid? He's bad news.' Nothing personal."
I was about to grimace but caught it. He was right. And showing how I felt would take attention away from him, the guy who needed it. My issues about being judged by the type of person my father is were my burden to bear. Not his. I would remain quiet.
"On the first few meetings, I was this close to not showing up. I mean, you remember, you were surprised I showed up sometimes."
He was right. I was surprised. A guy smart enough to not trust Xavier or my parent was a guy smart enough to not hang around that same man's kid.
"But something tipped the scale. Something about you. And I couldn't quite figure it out. Weird it took me getting so out of it for me to find out. But that's it. The truth. You were basically a windbreak. Sorry."
For a moment no one said a thing.
Then I did. "That's fine. I don't mind."
"I just said that I might have unconsciously hung out with you for selfish reasons and you're ok with it?"
I folded my arms and put my hands around my neck, then stared at the dark ceiling. "You didn't know. You're just getting help. By that logic, I'm using Father whenever he stops me from getting harmed by my powers. There's nothing wrong with wanting to feel safe."
If anyone could understand the torment of having powers they couldn't fully control and needing help, it was me.
If anything, it made me feel better about myself. In my own tiny way, I could give him the tiny bit of peace of mind my mentor gave me.
He spoke again "Anyway, when you splashed me, I was yanked out of my position behind cover and had to face all the stuff from before, but with less defensive shielding. I was weak from earlier."
"What! I- I, I'm so sorry. If I'd known." My face contorted as I realized the horrors I must've exposed my friend to, ironically to save him. I turned back over to him, fearful of his reaction.
"I guess it's my turn to say 'that's fine. I don't mind.'" He smiled, there was not a speck of anger on his face "Don't worry, not saying this to feel nice. I mean it. Splashing me saved both our lives. I was dead weight and would've gotten you killed."
That brought back the thought I'd so quickly snuffed out while in the tunnel. The idea of needing to leave him to save myself. Certainly, my leader wanted to use his powers but if he was given a choice, I knew there'd be no hesitation. He'd gone without a strong telepath for decades. He'd manage. Meanwhile, he'd invested years into training me, teaching me how to be useful to his cause. This wasn't even including the sentimental aspects. He would've wanted me to run and save myself. In an act that showed that I still had a mind of my own (even if I often didn't listen), I splashed my friend and dared to have hope.
He continued "Well, my brain was faced with an immediate threat. All that hatred and anger. It was sent back to them, the source. Like a mirror reflecting light. And that's why they died. People can give off those sorts of mental err let's call it waves. But sending it back? That kills them. Good to know. I just wanted the pain to go away. Didn't think about where it came from, or the consequences of getting it to go away."
"And you don't have to." I decided to cut in "That kind of stress. It might have killed you. You have no obligation to endure any of that. I call that self-defense."
His look of surprise made me continue, "Like I said, you're not a murderer. And it seems you're not a killer either. So I'm sorry for implying that you were. Your powers only gave back what they sent you. If a mirror shines the sun on a piece of cloth and it catches fire, is the damage the fault of the mirror or the person who placed it there?
"The- the person."
"Well, you didn't have any more choice to not reflect than a mirror does. So you're clearly not guilty."
A sigh that wasn't mine could be heard. It was the strongest one I'd heard throughout the mission.
I then asked, "So, if they didn't hate us so much, they would've lived?"
"Yea."
"Sounds like they got what they deserved then." I knew well the agony of shame and guilt. I didn't want him feeling that too.
"I- I guess they did." My friend was unsure about his innocence.
"They did. That's a fact." My firm insistence seemed to calm him down, "If you try to sleep, I'll do that too."
"Ok."
It took a while but soon the boy's tossing and turning went silent.
After some hours of sleep, we started on our way home.
I was very surprised to see Gambit had arrived to take the private plane with us. The others had already been taken on buses elsewhere.
"Gambit?"
"Electroboy."
"It's Electron." I scowled at him.
He laughed "I'm just teasin'. Ya make it too easy, kid."
"You're going to be on the plane with us?"
"That I am. Your Pa pay good and said if I stay near he'll pay for any kinda place I'd like."
"How did you?" My mouth made a big 'o' shape.
"So you are."
Gambit, I hate you.
Ok, how was it? This was my first time writing without a beta in a while.