Hey there, my fellow writers and readers; I hope you're doing great with your stories, of course. 😊
Anyway, here's a brand-new X-Men: Evolution oneshot that I cooked up one day. Basically, I was watching the Season 3 episode Mainstream, and I did my best to get into the mind of the character Duncan Matthews in that episode; he's the epitome of the character that is there for some episodes, but not all of them, and from my perspective, that is nuts (or rather, very messed up). So with that, I sat down and typed this up; I hope it's good, and I apologize if it seems to be short. (Quality over quantity — that's what I like, after all.)
Disclaimer: The geniuses at Marvel own X-Men: Evolution. I own the fanfics that I cook up from time to time.
I Guess I Am Selfish
Duncan's POV
How did I get so messed up?
I mean, I am a jock football player. I have the looks for girls to be attracted to me. And I am kind of cool... at least, I think I am. But then I wonder why I feel so confused. Maybe it's because I have to keep playing the role of the so-called "dumb jock" that I secretly don't like at all, because the "dumb jock" is said to be more concerned with his image instead of schoolwork. Or maybe it's because I don't use my brain the right way. When I do use my brain, it's usually in the wrong way, to make fun of either mutants or people who are different from me.
But then why do I feel so bad?
Oh, wait a minute — now I remember...
"Jean, I just want to say this doesn't change anything," I said.
"It doesn't?" she asked.
"Of course not. I'm willing to overlook your little problem completely," I replied. However, mentally and immediately I felt like giving myself a good, stern lecture, while simultaneously wishing I had chosen better words.
"Problem?" she hissed.
"Yeah," I said. "Besides, we could really put your mind-reading powers to good use, such as during the exams, or when we go—"
"You — you lughead! We are so through!" she said while first pushing my arm off her shoulder and then looking me in the eyes while placing her left index finger on my chest, her eyebrows furrowed. I could tell she was serious about what she had said.
I guess that's how breakups are when you're in high school and how divorces are when you're an adult. Divorce is hard on everybody — and not just the couple who decided on the divorce in the first place. No. Divorce hurts everybody, and in a big way, too.
I should know. My parents are divorced.
My dad — I guess I'm a little bit like him in the selfishness department. I remember when I was little, and I was in a store with him; I saw this little bank for a charity. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a penny, and was about to put the penny into the bank when a hand reached over and pulled my hand away. I slipped the penny back in my pocket.
"Don't even think about it, Duncan."
"But, dad—!"
He didn't listen to me. Instead he dragged me out to the car.
I still feel terrible about never getting to put that penny into the little charity bank.
And I kind of miss my dad now that he's gone.
Then there's my mom. I remember her comforting me whenever I got bruises or cuts on my legs and arms. But I also remember... those nights.
There were nights of when I would hear them fight — especially when they thought I was asleep, but I was actually awake and listening.
The screaming was getting louder as I sat on the top of the stairs. I was hidden from their sight, and could still hear everything they were saying.
"When I found you, you were a drunk, wasted away in a bar!" said my mother's voice — which was shrill when she was yelling and soft when she was being gentle.
"And when I found you, you were dancing around a pole in a bar. And look — even now you still are!" my father hissed in reply.
"Well, I'm making money, which is more than you can say," my mother snapped back.
"What did you say?" my father yelled.
"You heard what I said, psychopath!"
Then the next night, my dad walked out on me and my mom. I was seven years old then. I would remember that night forever. Maybe for the rest of my life, possibly. Often now, or whenever I'm alone, I cry in private, and I wish that my parents were still together.
Even now, I also wish I wasn't selfish. I wish I was kind, forgiving and always wanting to widen my circle of friends. But I guess I am kind of selfish.
More importantly, though, I wish I was able to break the stereotypes — of jocks, preppies and all that other stuff I keep hearing so much about. And I wish for something else too; I wish I was just a good guy who would actually like being a mutant if I was one.
And I strongly dislike being stereotyped. It hurts, bigtime.
It's almost like if you're an actor or actress, and you get typecast because of a role that makes you famous. And that probably has to hurt too.
I know what typecasting is. It's the process by which a film, TV, or stage actor is strongly identified with a specific character, one or more particular roles, or characters with the same traits or ethnic grouping. There have been instances in which an actor has been so strongly identified with a role as to make it impossible for him or her to find work playing other characters.
And as a matter of fact, I recall the 1984 movie The Karate Kid, and I knew which character I initially took a disliking to. It was Johnny Lawrence, who picked on the main protagonist Daniel LaRusso (whom I liked best of all). Sometimes, I wished I was in the movie so I could defend Daniel and knock out Johnny and his pals at the same time. That would teach them a lesson about bullying someone.
Of course, I cheered for Daniel when he was able to beat Johnny in the All-Valley Under 18 Karate Tournament with the crane kick technique, and Johnny not only becomes his former rival, but also shows good sportsmanship by giving Daniel the first-place trophy and believing that Daniel played a good match. From my perspective, it was a great scene to watch (and still is).
And Johnny's sensei, John Kreese (portrayed by Martin Kove), showed an example of why he was definitely the epitome of the sadistic sore loser, as well as why Johnny acted the way he did, too. When I watched the 1986 sequel The Karate Kid Part II for the first time, I picked up on something I thought to be superbly neat then (and still do whenever I rewatch it now) when it came to the parking lot scene.
Johnny was perfectly fine with his winning the second-place trophy, whereas Mr. Kreese certainly wasn't. In fact, Mr. Kreese smashed Johnny's trophy and then got Johnny in a chokehold (while almost making Johnny feel some remorse at how he'd treated Daniel before Daniel won first place in the All-Valley tournament, as well as the respect of Johnny and his friends). Then, Daniel's sensei, Mr. Miyagi (portrayed by Pat Morita), stepped in and rescued Johnny, and also taught Mr. Kreese a lesson in his own unique way: "For person with no forgiveness in heart, living even worse punishment than death."
If I was in Mr. Kreese's place, I would've accepted defeat graciously, as well as learned the hard way about how there's usually someone out there who's better than others — especially when it comes to excelling at certain things they can do and talents and skills they have.
Plus, if I knew how to do karate (and other martial arts, such as kung-fu and Jeet Kune Do) and was a mutant, I could inspire everyone, mutants and humans alike.
But I suppose I can't.
Nice feedback is superbly appreciated, of course.. 😎