Rise or Fall

Chapter 344: The Other X

ATTENTION

Over 2.6 Million words written thus far and I can hardly begin to gather them now. I apologize for those of you I was unable to contact during this last year of extreme silence. I never meant to make you worry or feel abandoned. As we all well know, the world has drastically changed, including my own sliver of it. I've made significant improvement in my physical and mental health. What I hate to admit is how the latter has been so horribly affected by the X-Men film franchise produced by 20th Century Fox Studios. Without hyperbole, I declare that movie series as a whole to be one big assault on the mind and spirit. Even more so during these unprecedented times of despair and misery pushing media we're currently living in. There is a rich irony regarding my unexpected love of X-Men First Class leading to the longest work I'll probably ever write. Expressing my unbridled rage for its sequels reignited my desire to write that was severely injured across these last few years. Unfortunately, the muse could not care less about mutants. This 10th Anniversary Chapter will be the last for quite a long time. Rise or Fall is not complete and will not be for very likely a year or more. I know most of you will no longer care by then, but a proper conclusion is what I owe to RoF for allowing me to continue honing my craft and giving me more good times than bad. I'm also thankful for all of you Fam members and I really hope you keep in touch via the facebook Rise or Fall group, finding me on tumblr under alwaystigersgirl, or contacting me directly at . I know with all of the sorrow going on in the world that—

(Interdimensional portal opens and a massive rocky as well as a blazing figure emerge)

Ben: Oh, for cryin' out loud, Heiress, is this a big anniversary special or your last will and testament?

Johnny: You want to wrap up the sob fest with the RoFians already? Blade's starving and he's got that 'urge to kill rising' look.

HM: And he can chew it over with Twix. This is important.

Ben: Important like just about everything else goin' on with you? New house, your family's big Christmas celebration this weekend—

Johnny: Taking the plunge into becoming your own boss and the F4's personal publicist. Though, I'm gonna need you to stop with the whole giving us equal attention thing and get a little more flame-focused.

Ben: (Rolls eyes) Yeah, because playin' favorites always works out for superhero team sagas, right?

Johnny:…. Yeah, good point. Scratch that. Here's a better idea, Mel. Why don't you go relax and let me and the Ever-Lovin'-Blue-Eyed-Everest here finish up with your little Fam-base here?

HM: Well…. You'll be nice, right?

Ben: Without a doubt, sweets. Go on in and ask the Suzie-Q to warm you up some nice cocoa.

HM: Okay. Thanks, guys. (Blows kiss before disappearing through the portal)

Ben: How's it goin' there, folks? Definitive Ben Grimm here as portrayed in live action by RL Fantastic Fan Michael Chiklis.

Johnny: And on an infinitely hotter note, I'm Definitive Johnny Storm as portrayed in live action by Chris Evans- and absolutely no one else across the 21st Century. You're probably wondering what we're doing here, right. Well, it's like this- Mellie still loves you guys. It's just that…

Ben: Your mutants are a bunch of super-powered, unsympathetic sociopaths and havin' sentinels grind them into dust is better than they deserve.

Johnny: Which also accurately describes the brains behind the X-Flops, Bryan Singer and Simon Kinberg. AKA Sinister and Shadow King.

Ben: Bite your tongue, flame brain. You know never to say that name out loud.

Johnny: Sinister or Shadow King?

Ben: Kinberg. Let that hack get within a thousand miles of us and boom, we're the Fantastic Fails. Anyway, folks, on behalf of the Heiress, the X-Men may have fallen big time, but thanks a ton for ten years of risin'.

Johnny: Now that mutants are in the crap heap, look forward to new content featuring the big players from certain other Marvel movies…

Ben: That's right. We're talking about the M…. SU. Marvel's Stepchildren United.

Johnny: As in all those 2000s to early 2010's flicks with great actors Hollywood execs conveniently forgot about.

Blade: As you've forgotten the 1998 'flick' that started it all…

Ben: Geez, fang face, where'd you come from?

Blade: The existential jury's still deliberating that one.

Johnny: Oh, hey there, Definitive Blade as portrayed in live action by Wesley Snipes.

Blade: (Clears throat)

Johnny: And Marvel Movies' Meal Ticket.

Blade: Speaking of meals… (Smirks at Johnny paling) get moving. We're having Italian.

Ben: On New Year's Eve? Every decent place is crowded out by now.

Blade: Not at the Baxter Building. Frank is cooking tonight.

Johnny: Cool, Definitive Frank Castle as portrayed in live action by Thom-

Blade: Boy, get to stepping.

Johnny: And flame on! (Flies into the portal followed by Ben)

Blade: (Looks back) As a certain guardian devil would say, have no fear in the New Year (Leaps and vanishes into the portal)

Early November 1962

Autumn conditions led to the sun beginning its decent before the average working joe signed out on his timecard. Recent rain reduced the colorful leaves to soggy clumps of brown rubbish along the sidewalks. Well-groomed with bearded face indecipherable, the meditative man strode across the city streets. A steel gray trench coat and thick black gloves shielded his remarkable physique from the unrelenting winds. Unsurprisingly, he received a number of stares and various levels of excited whispers as he continued his path. He bestowed acknowledgement on none of the on-lookers, except for a few gaping children who eyed him in sheer fascination. For them he lowered his apathetic mask enough to offer small furtive smiles.

Nearing his neighborhood but still an engrossed resident of his own mind, he hardly noticed as the rest of the human population dwindled. The increasing cold air, tykes needing to tend to their homework, overworked husbands craving a beer, and dutiful wives needing to prep for the evening meal likely accounted for it. Never drifting from reviewing his multiple mental memorandums, he paused outside of a dilapidated property. Removing his glasses as well as a handkerchief from his coat pocket, he cleaned his foggy frames while mutely reciting dialogue to himself. His posture did not alter when he noticed four other reflections joining his in the building's cracked mirror. Even without his eyewear, he immediately saw they fell into, what he referred to as, the three F's. Fair-skinned, flabby, and the third word he promised his wife he would stop vocalizing in front of the children.

"Either you have a gun," he folded and slipped his glasses into the breast pocket of his suit, "or you have a problem."

Two carried hunting knives, one a lengthy chain, and the fourth a large pipe.

One of the blade handlers instructed, "Drop your wallet and there won't be a problem."

"No, can't do that one," he informed. "It was a birthday gift from my kids. If you're trying to panhandle, you boys look like you're eating pretty high on the hog to me."

"Who the hell do you think you're calling boy, you damn c—"

As soon as the first speaker advanced on him, the would-be mark revealed and dosed his face with pepper spray. In another swift move, he seized the two-by-four propped up behind him and bashed the wailing assailant in the head with it. He did the same when the next encroacher attempted to swing his chain at him. He dropped the plank of wood and snatched the chain when he went to clutch his throbbing head and bloody ear. Spinning the chain theatrically, he gestured for the remaining two to try their luck next.

All males then reacted to the suddenly animated trash cans that vigorously rolled over. They collided with and knocked down three of the assailants. The last one, thoroughly terrified, attempted to retreat. His desire for a rapid departure did not come to pass as his mouth lost a number of teeth to a fist adorned with brass knuckles. A second punch sent him to the ground, allowing the unexpected combatant's full form to be viewed. Flexing his fingers, he stepped forward a few paces. Under a streetlight, his icy blue eyes made direct contact with the distant pair of fiery brown. Both of their expressions inscrutable beyond faint attempts to catch their adrenaline loaded breath, neither dropped his guarded gaze for several tense seconds.

When the stranger started to close the distance between them, he gripped the chain even tighter.

Stilling in place, the other male removed his brass knuckles before presenting his hand. "Erik Lehnsherr."

Eyes narrowing, he cagily accepted the shake. "Malcolm X."

"Buy you a cup of coffee?"

Before he could answer, one encroacher appeared to rouse, alerting them both. A single but hefty stomp from Erik's foot to his chest produced an audible crack along with a cry.

The metal wielder then nonchalantly addressed the activist again. "I'll drive."

IIIIIII

Only a handful of patrons lingered in the dining establishment. A plump, middle-aged waitress brought the two mugs of caffeinated brew and slices of pumpkin pie to the rear window table. The dapper customer bobbed his head and wordlessly held out a dollar bill. The pleased server accepted and thanked him before heading back towards the counter. Taking a sip of his coffee, Erik watched as his associate hung up the payphone.

"How is your wife?"

"Please, I was just in Los Angeles. Close calls are nothing new for us." Malcolm reclaimed his seat. "This might be the nicest greasy-spoon I've seen in all five boroughs."

Erik replied, "I'll give your Big Apple this much credit. Finding a venue with a kosher option is no quest for the Hope Diamond."

Right after that exchange, a domineering silence enveloped their table. In almost synchronized motions, both consumed their black coffee and pie. They hardly blinked, let alone dropped eye contact. Mistrust filled the brown irises while a cryptic smugness radiated from the blue. Once they both lowered their forks for the last time, the staring continued for several seconds

A smirk etching across his face, Malcolm finally inquired, "Who the hell are you?"

Erik only reminded, "I thought we established that much. Erik Lehnsherr. Don't concern yourself- most of you Americans can't properly pronounce it."

"Cut the clowning, man. Earlier today at my rally- you were there, weren't you?"

Erik came back with, "You remember me? I don't know whether to be flattered or self-flagellating over my slipshod reconnaissance."

"Neither." Malcolm then informed, "Houdini himself couldn't make guys like you blend in with my usual crowds."

"Perhaps but from what I observed, I wasn't the only one there."

"You're not like the rest," Malcolm claimed matter-of-factly. "No saccharine grin, no schoolgirl giddiness over witnessing real live political upheaval, no desperate attempt to assure me that you're not one of the 'bad ones'."

Erik snorted. "I can assure you those particular words will never part from my lips."

"You're not one of the wolves in sheep's clothing, either. Still, you're some form of predator. Since coincidence is a crock, why were you following me?"

Erik answered simply, "You're a curiosity. You can't fault me for wondering who you are in your natural habitat. Without your grandiose soapbox and press mob."

Malcolm further questioned, "And that doesn't sound at all twisted to you?"

"Considering the fact that you're still sitting across from me of your own volition, if I am so depraved, I'm in good company. Though, I suppose that's true in more ways than one."

With a raised eyebrow, the

activist prompted, "How so?"

"For starters, imprisonment ended not long before yours began."

"Your name, that accent, kosher dining, immigrant, now imprisonment?" Malcolm listed calculatingly as the puzzle pieced itself together. "Were you a criminal or captive?"

Erik determined, "Both as far as they were concerned."

Malcolm deduced, "That's what you're doing here." At Erik's quizzical countenance, he clarified. "From Western Europe to these United States is no more than jumping from Dante's ninth circle to the seventh."

"A vast number would disagree with that assertion."

"Only because being here allows you to do what too many of my cowardly people try to. Pass."

Erik asked him, "Is that an earnest critique or concealed envy?"

Malcolm released an incredulous scoff. "You were sleepwalking during that rally if you think I want to blend in with them.

"Yet you assume I do, despite conflicting evidence," Erik pointed out. "We wouldn't be sitting here right now if I possessed such cowardice."

"I hope you're not holding your breath for a thank you."

"From you? The thought repulses me. This little sit-down is all the reciprocation I desire."

Malcolm wondered, "Are you writing a book or something?"

Erik chuckled at that. "Narcissus has met his match if you believe me such a fanatic. I reserve that sentiment for Tony Bennett. "

"Then, what are you after?"

"You consider me different from what you perceive to be my kind. I see the same with you," Erik enlightened. "In a sea of educated, amiable, idealistic freedom fighters you're a brazen, gutter-taught, anarchy-driven asshole."

"Where do you get off insulting me like that?" Malcolm retorted. "I'm a nationalist, not an anarchist."

"A distinction with minute differences," Erik stated dismissively. "Have you ever considered aligning with the others? Particularly, that reverend-doctor cherub?"

Now, Malcolm laughed openly. "Hebrew, please. I will tell you like I tell everyone else. That 20th Century Uncle Tom is not the Sam to my Frodo. I've never even met him and have no desire to. Outside of high school science classes, opposites don't attract. They erupt."

Erik's gaze only displayed additional intrigue. "You believe that to be so absolute? There's no possibility of two polarizing personalities uniting for the betterment of their own species?"

After a short silent moment, Malcolm responded, "The dreamers are only dead weight to the awakened." He got to his feet. "You have a good night, Lehnsherr."

Erik stood after him. "Hold on, X."

Getting into his coat, Malcolm peered back at him. "Look, the pie was decent, but if you're hankering for colored company, you can have your pick all through Harlem."

"I'll give you a ride "

"Can you cut the Good Samaritan gimmick already?"

"Now, who's being insulting now?" Erik said wryly. "As far as I'm concerned, you can swan-dive off the Brooklyn Bridge." He put on his own outerwear. "But I'd wager your children would prefer for you to return intact."

With a put-upon countenance of reluctant irritation, Malcolm went out to the waiting sedan with him.

In the passenger seat, he brought up, "You're a fanatic of Tony Bennett?"

Behind the wheel, Erik started the car. "You've read Tolkien?"

Malcolm uttered, "Damn pie-inhaling Hebrew," before shifting his vision towards the window.

IIIIIII

After a round of bargaining between the two Ivy Leaguers, Hank promised to wrap up lab activity before the clock reached single digits. The Professor's sister still laid blue and snug among her pillows and Egyptian linens. A robust workout left Alex too exhausted for past torments to penetrate his sleep state. Sean required lifting and zombie-walking from the library to his bed. Hoisting Frank up from where he had fallen to the floor while wrapped in a blanket cocoon proved easier. Unsurprisingly, the most difficulty echoed from the youngest's bedroom. Laying down with the little boy, the telepath tamed Joey's terrors before worse than the flickering reading lamp resulted. The rest of the second floor secure, he went to retrieve his missing protégée.

Green eyes fixated on the outdoors, she pressed her nose against the glass pane.

You're going to take a topple out of that window if you're not careful.

Becky acknowledged the Headmaster entering the living room with, why isn't he home yet, Prince Charles

If I know Erik, it's any one of a hundred reasons for such a delay. My best guess involves a certain white rabbit. The little girl giggled, and he sat by her on the sofa. And don't smash your nose in that way, Princess. It isn't ladylike.

Becky managed to peel away from the window and reclined against him. Charles cradled and rocked her as best he could. She nearly drifted off until her mind alerted her to the incoming presence of the other mutant elder. Getting the same inner notice, Charles allowed her up to hasten for the foyer.

The metal wielder could hardly exercise his magnetism to lock their sanctum before he heard, "Erik's home," followed by the charging figure in bubblegum pink pajamas.

"And Rebecca's out of bed- again." Erik swept her, maintain some semblance of a reproachful gaze. "Have you been giving Charles trouble?"

"Nothing of the sort." Charles arrived in the living room doorway. But Erik certainly has-again.

Stroking Becky's back through her cascading curls, Erik returned let me put her down then I'll listen to your diatribe in its entirety.

And how. You know she's restless when you stay out for so long. Where on Earth have you been?

Erik started to ascend. With the other X.

Charles raised a puzzled brow. Come again?

I'll fill you in over a game. Erik continued up with Becky. Go on and set up the board, Sam.

Even more intrigued than usual by his newly acquired brother, the telepath made a path for the parlor.

IIIIIII

Early February 1963

Deep within the woods behind the awe-inspiring Xavier Mansion, its inhabitants merrily frolicked all through the blanket of snow. At least, the youngest girl exuded merriment. Secure between the two standing Headmasters, Becky played with two of her Christmas dolls. The other fledglings frolicked most fervently from opposite snow blockades. In teams of Hank-Raven, and Frank and Alex, Sean, and Joey, they pelted each other with snowballs.

Though Joey possessed not even half of the momentum and speed of the older boys, he nonetheless tried to keep up. With the tiny blonde tucked between them, Alex defended their territory like a wolf with evolved thumbs. Sean's long arms aided his throws. Under the impression that WWIII had begun, Frank rapidly flung snow like grenades. If not for her current blonde state, Raven's reflexes would have already won the day. Still, her effort refused to fade.

From their observant position, Erik crowed, "Keep your eyes open, Frank! Sean, we're upping your strength training regimen. Hank, Raven, stop holding back- too late, you're both dead."

Giving him a side look, Charles asserted, "If any of them ever take up a team sport, you're staying home."

When Hank discarded his shoes and boots to unleash his massive feet, Alex hissed, "Oh, sh-" before he and Sean ducked to cover Joey from the snow bombardment.

"Alright, enough is enough." Sean leapt to his feet only to declare, "Plan B," and dash off into the thick of trees.

Taking time to attach Joey to his back, Alex went after the redhead.

"Hey!" Linking gloved hands with Frank, Raven gave them chase.

When Hank looked ready to take off barefoot, Charles put forth, "It's hardly 30° out here. Do you want your feet amputated?" At Hank appearing in favor of that option, the Professor commanded, "Put your boots on, Henry."

After the younger male somewhat grudgingly complied, Erik went after him to track the others.

Exchanging a look and shrug with Becky, Charles knelt to join the little telepath and her dolls.

Once the household regrouped, the youths lined up on the highest mound they could find on their sleds. The riders comprised of Hank with driver Raven and Becky in the middle, Alex let Joey up front but kept arms locked around him, and Sean who indulged Frank to drive. From his viewing point at the base alongside Erik, Charles made a show of twirling his hand as he conjured a sparkling illusion for their signal. The drivers propelled forward, producing sprays of snow and ample jubilant reactions from the participants.

When they came in second, Sean insisted, "Okay, I call foul. This whole thing is rigged."

Erik inquired, "On what basis?"

Sean elaborated with, "On the basis that Hank gets two total foxes."

"And you get a Frankenstein," teased Alex.

Frank turned his head towards the blondes and stuck out his tongue. "At least Frankenstein can drive, last place."

"Franklin," the British telepath's 'treading into time-out territory' tone quickly got the boy's attention, "let's all remain sporting."

Affected by the remark, Joey looked at Alex remorsefully. "Sorry I made us lose."

The older blonde shook his head hard. "Hey, you're amazing to still be getting used to this. We'll get 'em next time." It gladdened him to see Joey appeased.

"Erik and Charles come on the next one." requested Becky.

"Pleeeease," Joey seconded with his lower lip protruded.

Without either admitting they want a go, the Headmasters joined on

For the next race, Becky rode between Hank and driver Erik, Joey between Raven and driver Charles, and Frank managed to wiggle in between Sean and driver Alex. Charles' team made it first, followed by Erik's, then Alex's.

"That's it. Paste Face is a jinx." Frank hopped up before Alex could bat at him. "Go with me this time, Rae, please "

"Sure thing, Lovebug," the shapeshifter agreed. "But let's pack it in after this. We have to get this flock fed soon."

For the final round, Raven hugged Frank from behind, Sean drove Charles, and Joey decided to go between Alex and driver Erik. Opting to watch, Hank held Becky as they took in the other mutants' descent. An ecstatic Frank made it first and fell into the snow with Raven during a celebratory embrace. A tie came about between Sean and Erik. They received no time to debate breaking it as fresh snow started to fall. For a split second, Sean believed he saw a flicker of pride on Erik's face. The congratulatory pat Charles gave to his back instantly warmed the redhead.

Gear and toys gathered, the nine began their trek back to the house. Erik carried Becky while Hank dragged a sleigh and kept his free arm around Raven. Sean, Frank, and Alex pulled the other sleighs with the latter tugging Joey along on his. From behind, a covert Charles snapped a few pictures of his worn but mighty brood.

IIIIIII

For their evening meal, Raven and Frank prepared hearty minestrone soup with rolls and salad. Despite it being Sean and Alex's night to clear and clean the kitchen, Becky, Joey, and Hank helped so they could all retire to the den that much sooner.

Erik lit a fire and they all sipped mugs of hot chocolate. Raven and Charles sat on the couch and Hank on the arm closest to the shape-shifter. Joey nestled against Alex on the loveseat. Sean and Frank knelt at the coffee table playing checkers. In an armchair by the fireplace, Erik held two Sweet Imps on his lap, Becky and the white teddy bear he gifted her.

At the floor lamps flickering, Alex brought Joey in closer. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"It isn't him," Charles easily determined.

Hank walked over to the closest window, beholding the increased accumulation. "We could be looking at another two feet of snow by morning. Better conserve before a fuse blows."

In a unison wrist motion, Erik and Joey switched off the lamps. The little shared a brief furtive smile with the elder.

Alex put forth, "Anybody else missing LA?"

At the multitude of hands that raised, Frank scoffed. "Oh great, you guys have gone all west coast wimpy on me."

"Short of Alaska, none of these United States can compare to Polish winters." Erik's recollecting voice gained the entire room's attention. "From December and often well into March, everything disappears beneath a freezing wet blanket with unrelenting, merciless winds and hidden ice."

Retaking his seat, Hank inserted, "I believe you're referring to the greater Chicagoland area."

Erik asked pointedly, "And how many times did you go out to chop wood?"

"Touché," Hank rescinded.

"Yeesh, Erik, did you have to get water from the town well, too?" wondered Frank.

The wry Headmaster replied, "No, we were forward thinking enough to keep buckets scattered about the property to collect during rain showers."

Sean reacted, "Oh, that'd be cool! You could just dance 'em in by the metal handles like Fantasia."

Erik let off a small throaty chuckle. "No, but I do believe I was the only schoolboy with a self-slicing ax."

Frank proclaimed, "Now, that's cool."

Less than an hour later, the Headmasters had no need to make the bedtime announced. Joey and Becky dozed off within minutes of each other. After so much wintry activity on top of training earlier in the day, heavy eyelids became contagious among the other youngsters as well. With the chessboard swirling before them, Sean and Frank decided to resume their third game the next day.

"I'll take her." Hank collected Becky from Erik.

When Alex stood with Joey, Charles requested, "Stay with him until I come up, please."

"Gotcha," Alex saluted as they departed.

Charles shared a hug Raven and she kissed his cheek before going with Hank and Becky.

Placing an affectionate arm around Sean for a moment, Charles instructed, "No literary or telephone detours, please."

"And no sudden bursts of tomfoolery." Erik ran a hand through Frank's hair. "We'll be right behind you, shortly."

Frank lightly grumbled, "Thought Charles was supposed to be the mind-reader." A tap to his bottom from Erik's palm propelled him to catch up with Sean.

Once the common room cleared, Erik and Charles gathered the empty mugs. After depositing all nine of them into the dishwasher, the men began their own path towards the second floor.

"You also need to rest soon, Lab Rat," Erik noted. At the younger man's resulting expression, the metal wielder dutifully assured, "And right after rounds I'll heed my own advice."

At the top of the stairs, they parted for the youngest children's bedrooms. After sitting with Becky for a few minutes, Erik checked in on their other charges. Before calling it a night, he quietly peered into the master bedroom. Going in fully, he better adjusted the covers around the pajama clad Professor. As often the case, the slumbering state subtracted even more years from his British brother's face. Using his fingers to comb through the lush brown hair, Erik stealthily slipped out into the hall again.