Summery: The mutant community makes its return.
Notes: Wanna ask me questions privately? My tumblr is theninjafromyesterday. I probably won't answer if it's anon, sorry.
Would it had not been for LYALL, then I would've been able to join the Howling Commandos.
LYALL, despite many sacrifices of countless mutants, had slowly started falling into corruption and under-the-table trading, selling secrets of other mutants and trading their locations. Currently, there was only one or two mutants selling out their own skin, but I had hope that staying around for a few years would be able to root out the ones who were about to turn to that kind of marketing.
Bucky had invited me to the Howling Commandos just I had received this information, telling me that all the other blokes wouldn't mind if I did.
"And," he continues, face lighting up "Your skill in languages would be a massive help. You'd be able to beat HYDRA to the ground for what they've done to you," he grins.
The words Sorry, I'm already occupied, sat at the tip of my tongue but I paused, looking away from Bucky to the group of men over at the firing range, practicing their shooting abilities.
Despite the strict soldier managing the lesson, the five men laughed and talked among themselves, asking Jacques questions through another man – his name was Gabriel, I think. Steve was in the heart of the group (his target riddled with pinpoint head and heart shots) putting his two cents forward in every single conversation that was occurring. Regardless of the fact that participating in three conversations would take everyone's concentration, Steve still sent worried looks towards Bucky and I.
Victor and Nick fooled around with the guns on the other end, other mutants joining in, cheating with their powers. I could see glances from all parties – the mutants, the Howling Commandos, passing soldiers and wondering nurses alike – to and fro.
Instead, what came tumbling out was "Hmm, we'll see." Bucky did seem slightly disappointed in the answer, punching lightly on my arm.
"Come on, you'll make history with us!" he brags, crooked grin stretching across his face.
"I've already made history Bucky," he did seem a little shocked at that fact, but I didn't go down that path "I'm not sure if the others are ready to accept a mutant."
"Well," Bucky seemed to get where I was coming from, eye brows furrowing. "I could tell them that you're interested in joining and see how they react."
He fidgets, not running off to meet with his mates and Steve quite yet.
"How…. What kind of shit do you get for being a mutant?" he murmurs, coughing after as if he wanted to believe that he didn't say that.
"Well, there's the extreme kind of stuff. I've had a shotgun held to my head by the same person I save from being killed. There was one time a would-be victim of rape threw dirt in my eyes as she ran away screaming. Uh, Jack the Ripper, remember him, the guy in London right, well I caught him and he was a mutant but he didn't realise it. When I told him he was, he committed suicide because he didn't want to be the "disgusting trash" that he used to hunt."
"Whoa – Jack the Ripper?"
"Yeah. Turns out all his victims were mutants. While I don't support suicide, I would've killed him myself."
"Shit man," Bucky breathes, and I see something harden in his eyes. "Why does everyone hate mutants? Aren't they the same as us, just a little different, like how Gabriel has black skin and we have white?"
"Mate," I huff, crossing my arms. "I wish everyone saw it that way."
Bucky stands beside me, waits for his heavy breathing to calm before sliding down to his group, while I strolled towards Victor and Nick.
"Hey," I say, watching as a woman's arm spreads before she hooks a bone offered by another woman to her make-shift bow. She lets it loose, skin snapping back to place. The arrow plunges into the target, ripping through it. The women who offered the bone wriggles her limp arm and the arrow comes flying back, smoothly entering her arm again without a scar. "Whoa, that was lit."
The group turn to eye the new comer, taking in my victory rolls and heavy army clothes. Grinning, I wave, introducing myself. Several people return back to their task of showing off, while others try to validate my claim, and others send their thanks my way.
Gerrant walks over, illusion still in place, his helper trailing behind him like a lost puppy. His old illusionists had developed a line dedicated to helping him hide his bones. The new one was lacking in the expressions department but made up for it in the finer details, such as smell and hiding the groaning of his bones.
"So, about LYALL," he starts, his imaginary jaw lagging just a touch too much, before correcting itself.
"Oh yes, I've been invited to the Howling Commados. I wasn't gonna join of course," I sigh when Nick frowns at the words "but I want to use this invitation to see if they're okay with my existence. I know Bucky is, but Steve acts uncomfortable in my presence."
Gerrant nods, resting his skull on his hands, the dry bones grinding together before the sound was cut off by the illusionist. "It would be best to see if Captain America supports the existence of mutants."
Those included in the conversation and those who were listening in all turn to face the local legend at once, his group of soldiers all facing Bucky with his news. They didn't seem to show any hostility at the prospect of me joining, although Steve had carefully arranged his face to be blank.
No, it would not do good if Captain America was racist.
"Hey Lyall," Bucky waves, taking a moment to greet Nick sitting on my shoulders before returning eye contact with me. "The guys didn't seem repulsed by the idea of hiking around Europe with you. They said that your warmth would be best for the cold winters, hahaha,"
I nod, letting Nick fool around with my hands as he plays an imaginary game on top of my head.
"Mum, take out your claws," he instructs, tapping my right hand. Slowly they extract, and Nick returns to playing with my hair and my claws.
"I wasn't expecting anything less," I tell Bucky, gathering myself to tell him our suspicions about Steve. "Its – ah – ya know, Steve…"
"Steve?" Bucky asks, narrowing his eyes, "what about him?" his cheerful aura hardens, turning thick and dangerous.
"He's being acting weird around me," I admit, "and the other mutants say that he doesn't like for who I am," Bucky frowns and the dangerous air loosens, turning thoughtful. Slowly I let my left hand relax, the claws retracting. Belatedly, I realise that Nick asked for my claws to be out because he knew this conversation could turn ugly. I reach up to pat his head in a silent thanks.
"I'll go and ask him," Bucky murmurs and he turns to leave.
"I'm sorry for doubting Steve," I call after his retreating back.
"Well I just fucked up," I huff, following Bucky from a distance to return to the camp. "Think we should leave?"
Nick paused in playing around with my hands, and sighed.
"I think so" he admits "Bucky wouldn't like anyone who doubts his friend."
"Well then," I pause outside our tent, peaking in to catch Victor's attention. "Shall we follow the yellow brick road?"
"Okay," he says, no questions asked, moving to roll up the sleeping bag.
In the years gone, LYALL had built an underground community a few hours from London, and several places all across the world. Despite many mutant's attempt, it was cramped, dirty and disgusting. Although there were several doctor mutants, illnesses still ran amok the mutant population.
This is the first thing I wanted to tackle, right along with the vermin that sold out other mutants. The problem – by the council of Mutant City (that really, really, really needs a new name) point of view – was that there wasn't any place in the world that could gather mutants across the world into this one certain point.
But I had an idea. A very grand idea, but an idea. And a back-up one.
Gerrant had been active in the mutant community, so much that everyone knew who the living skeleton was. Victor had appeared enough that a portion of the mutants knew who exactly he was, and a larger portion knew that he was still alive. Nick was still unknown.
Me? Nobody knew anything about me except Gerrant, Victor and Nick.
The so-called "mutant history" of LYALL painted me up to be a saint sent from God (despite me being atheist) and then ended my epic tales of saving mutants and killing anti-mutants by disappearing into the sunset, returning to god. Gerrant didn't care about the rumors (downside of being Immoral – either you lose your care factor of smaller things or you lose your effort to do anything. Unfortunately, Gerrant lost his care factor) and Victor thought they were too funny to do anything.
The council – which was where one of the vermin was hiding in – were more of an over lording group that word was high all and end all. This is exactly why corruption was already amok only a decade after its forming. This "council" would simply just have to go.
Currently they were seated in a very comfy room overlooking the kingdom they owned. The contrast the room and the rundown buildings was very clear.
"Hello Gerrant," the main leader – the vermin – greets, eyes flickering to his partners. "What brings you here today without notice?"
"I've brought my old friends along," he waves at the illusionist who lets the illusion fade, leaving a grinning skull. "You might recognise their names."
"I'm Nick and he's Victor," Nick grins, sensing the blood in the water.
"And I'm Lyall," I wave, stepping forward to hold out my hand. He recoils, blinking in shock, the feeling echoed by his coworkers. "A little bird told me about your under-the-table dealings. Care to explain?"
"I – uh – you can't be Lyall!" he stammers, tripping over himself to get away.
"I wouldn't think that Gerrant would bring anyone less than the real Lyall," I snap, grabbing his shirt coller and wrenching him closer. "You've been selling out other mutants, haven't you? Oh yeah, I know. In fact, everyone will know soon enough. Your death will be enough."
"But – but – you're Lyall, you wouldn't kill another mutant!" he screams, trying to push me away.
"I have lived through at least ten wars, killed humans and mutants alike. Its no skin off my nose if you die right here by my hand." He quivers, watching as I raise my left hand and slowly let the claws extract. His long tongue shoots out – his mutation – wrapping around the claws as I drive them towards his heart. I laugh.
"Even your mutation says you have a loose tongue," releasing his shirt, I stab the tongue with my right hand, the tongue loosening around my left as he screams. I spear him in the heart and force my hand down, slicing over his rib cage before sinking into his stomach and other organs.
His struggles quieten immediately.
Silence in the room. Victor, Nick and Gerrant are already conversing among themselves, ignoring the bloody mess at my feet. The other nine members of the council shudder in their seats.
"Is anybody else wanting to go toe to toe with me?" I sharply demand, casting an armour piecing glare to each man.
They shook their heads and sank back into their too-comfy seats.
"Fantastic. I have a few ideas for LYALL and the rest of the mutant cities."
"Hello motherfuckers," I say, lounging in the recently vacated seat, one hand holding up my head and legs crossed. Before me were all the vermin that sold out their own kind, all cuffed uniquely to combat their mutations. A few metres behind the row of prisoners were the reporters from the local newspaper (named after me, yet again). "You may be wondering who I am, and why you're here."
Gerrant stands proudly beside the chair, Victor and Nick slouched in the seats closest to me. The room that I recently killed someone had been moved from the high building to the largest plaza in the city. All regular humans had been barred from entering the city for today, so only mutants were here to witness my comeback. In the other hand not holding up my head, I held a microphone, connected to speakers all around the raised platform.
The reporters had the front row while the everyday mutants crowded as close as they could get.
"Well, I would just like to say, I was not taken by god in the end." It takes a few moments for several people to get what I was saying, whispers sweeping through the crowd. "Yes, I am Lyall. No, I am not a saint. No, I wasn't sent by god. I am an everyday mutant just like everyone else here."
"Now, these vermin before me have done something I do not condone. They killed their own kind, sold other mutants to humans and run underground trades that did not go under my radar." I stop in front of one man who doesn't even dare to raise his head to look at my shoes.
"This man sold over twenty people to the humans. So far, ten have died." I walk right.
"This man killed nearly a hundred mutants, not only in this city, but also undiscovered mutants."
"This man sold mutants to whore houses, pimps and drug lords. Out of the three hundred under his care, more than half have either died or are wasting away."
And so it went on. The plaza fell silent with the first man's crimes, the air growing tense as I went on. Finally, I came to the last man.
"This man did not necessary kill anyone, but he has shown corruption to who comes into this city to telling people they are not allowed to practice their mutations anywhere. I won't kill you, but you will be put into situations your actions forced other people into."
I pause and return to my seat.
"I won't kill them right here, as there are children present, but don't expect to see their faces in the future. If you have any concerns over their crimes, I am sure my son Nick would be happy to show you why I find them guilty." I wave a light hand towards Nick.
Victor stands to take the mutants off the platform.
"On to lighter topics." I say, walking forward to sit on the edge of the platform, closer to the reporters. "In my return to this city, I have realised a few things."
"One, you guys need to get over the fact that I was a saint, angel whatever. I don't believe in any god, so please don't put me with him."
"Two, there is still racism, sexism and homophobia rampant in this city. I thought you knew better."
"Three, this place is too small for the population currently, and the world population is only going to grow. Therefore, I have a plan to move this city and every other mutant city to a new location." The crowd murmurs, and the reporters start to talk over themselves.
"Please, put your hands up and I will point to you." They quieten, and all look towards each other. Finally, a man slowly raises his hand.
"The council already tried that path, Madam," he calls, and I nod, repeating the question over the mic.
"That is true, but you didn't know that the council did find an area suitable however it was too far for their backhand dealings to continue. That's why they denied the chance to move."
A smaller woman, whom had been shoved up the back, waved her arm like a madman.
"Yes?" I ask, making I contact with her. She seemed a little taken back when I called on her.
"I was wondering," she started, a little flush rising on her cheeks, "how do you plan to move all of us without the human's knowledge? And where exactly is this place?" Surprisingly, her voice carries through the microphone despite the distance. Shrugging, I continue without repeating her question.
"Well, I'm sure there are some people who own boats and if not, I can just buy one. And the island is undiscovered by mankind so far, and the council only found it because of mutant abilities. This island is about the size of the London area. It's off the coast of Australia; no I'm not talking about New Zealand."
The crowd murmurs.
"I need mutants who can build houses and mutants who have access or own transportation. That goes from cars to trains to boats to planes. I need you to make this happen."
"Any more questions? Then please, if you think you can help the mutant community, meet me and my crew at that building at 8 AM tomorrow."
Sometimes, I am really thankful about the fact that I don't need to sleep to function. In the past few days I had not slept one wink, and none were the wiser.
The island was off the coast of Western Australia, far enough from the coast that nobody would come across it, apart from a few lost boats.
Not many had bought their own boat with them when they moved to the mutant city, so I had to purge on the biggest boat using the Howlett fortune. To my surprise, it barely made a dent; my father must've had a lot of money stored away. Either that, or Stark has been messing with my accounts again.
In the end, I got a cruise boat made to carry over two thousand people and over 500 crew, and in total, over three thousand. I bought the boat from Howard for a ridiculously cheap price (for the boat) only to find out, when Howard dropped it off at Dover, that it was Olympic, the sister boat of Titanic.
A little note was also handed to me by a smug Howard, which was signed both by his father and Stark (the one who I worked with in the American Civil War). Stark had read about Titanic in the journals I wrote and wrote to his future successor, Howard's dad, to buy Titanic. Howard's dad continued the letter, stating he did not find the letter until after the Titanic sunk (and how did his long-dead ancestor and I know about the ship in the first place) so he bought the only surviving ship of the Olympic-class ocean liners, which ended up to be the RMS Olympic, just before it was being sold for scrap metal.
I waved off Howard as he started asking why I needed the Olympic and how I knew of them in the 19th century, and called for the trains to start rolling from the mutant city to Olympic.
(Victor and Nick had fun playing around on their decks. Howard's dad had someone fix Olympic up to the present day's standards and give it a face lift, so not a speck of rust or dust was in sight. That would change soon enough.
"This ship looks familiar," Nick remarks one day as I'm hanging of the bow of the ship. "Have we ridden it before?" I open my mouth to say no, but Victor beat me to the punch.
"You and I rode Britannia while Lyall was still fighting on the Western Front." Victor shrugs. "Britannia was Olympic's sister ship and it blew up while we were on it." I launched myself back onto the deck, hands placed on my hips.
"When was this? Why wasn't I invited?" I demand, a little salty.
"I couldn't find you, so I borrowed Nick from the Queen for a little while and took him on a boat trip. Oh, and their other sister ship was Titanic. The one that sank while all three of us were on it."
"I can't believe you didn't invite me to watching a ship blow up." I huff, throwing myself off the deck into the water below.)
There was the idea of concealing our trip, but I thought if Titanic's bad luck passed onto its sister ship, then it would be best to be able to contact people in case of emergency.
Surprisingly it was simple work moving all mutants from Britain's mutant city, and there was enough room for us to stop by France to pick up the mutants from Europe (which wasn't a lot as Europe was still mostly in the control of Nazi Germany).
Many passengers tried to pay me, stating that a trip like this would cost lots, but I turned them away, simply stating that I don't pay tax, so this was my contribution to the community.
The trip took a few months, as were most cruise ships, so I was reacquainted with the mutant world, and they with me.
During those months I also made a point to ask women first to do heavy jobs and ask the men to do the cooking, asking the few Muslims about their religion and giving them rooms to do their daily five prayers. Also, I mixed shades of skin with other shades of skin and calmly put down any and all arguments and all forms of racism or sexism.
Socially reforming a group of nearly three thousand people from the beginning of the 20th century was slow moving, but rewarding with every step.
I also got it slowly into their heads that showing their mutations wasn't a crime anymore, only near humans, so on this mutant-only ship, sailing towards an island that would soon be mutant-only. Many mutants had the power to fly, going from weather control to different types of wings. I saw a mutant whose wings were made out of two humongous Japanese hand-held paper fans, a beautiful design on the open fan depicting his mood.
And merely a week from the island, a call for me came.
And, I would like to announce my new update schedule: now twice a month! I'll update every first and fifteenth. :)
I would appreciate if you reviewed!