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'THE DEMON IN ME'
BY SERGEANT SCARLETT
CHAPTER EIGHT: 'RENEWAL'
Lessons the next day were a subdued affair. Storm, Scott and Logan were in and out all day, checking up on news of Rogue's condition, but as the Professor gently reminded them, he could always contact them through their thoughts if he had anything to report. It wasn't only the teachers on edge; Bobby refused to talk to anyone, firmly believing that what happened to Rogue was his fault; how that could be possible puzzled many of the other students. Kitty was sending round a cup for donations for flowers and a Get Well card. Warren passed the time by brooding. John? He refused to take this lying down.
"John, for the last time, no," repeated Scott, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. His lesson had been disturbed yet again, and was beginning to get agitated. Couldn't the boy just be shocked into silence like the others?
Scott had been severally mistaken when he thought a blind John Allerdyce was a well behaved John Allerdyce. In fact, Scott had decided that this John was probably worse than ever in terms of behaviour, and use of language. While listening to his response, Scott realised that John's cynical, stubborn nature far surpassed that of a mere nineteen-year-old.
"For Christ's sake, Mr Summers," John seethed through clenched teeth, "do I have to spell out in multi-coloured alphabet shapes for you? Marie is my friend. I'm asking you with as much sugar coating as I can bear for you to just let me pop down to the med bay to see her. Please." The last word was added with clear resentment.
Scott sighed inwardly, much like the rest of the class.
"I'm afraid I can't allow that, John. Let's knock that notion on the head once and for all, and get back to our lesson. I'm sure your fellow students don't want any more distractions today." Scott turned back to the board and continued writing out the assignment for homework.
It all seemed too much for John. With as much force as he could muster, John swept the books and folders from his desk, hurling them in Scott's unsuspecting direction. One book hit Scott squarely on his back. The class held its breath while waiting for their teacher's response.
John stood up slowly, carefully, and faced what he hoped was Scott Summers' infuriated scowl. The thin, wiry frame of John Allerdyce with a bandage across his eyes and a cane for support was hardly
threatening, but something told Scott as he observed the boy that just giving him a detention wouldn't suffice. This would have to handled delicately.
"John," began Scott in a forcibly calm voice, "sit down."
"You just don't get it, do you? None of you do!" John's tone was livid. "Marie is in danger. That Cure isn't safe. You need treat her before it kills her, for fuck's sake! Why does no-one listen to me? Oh yeah," he added as an afterthought, "because John Allerdyce is an insane, blind ex-terrorist who can't be trusted."
At this, John lifted his arm, pointing at directly at Scott. Cyclops felt his eyes widen and he panicked, moving instinctively backwards. It seemed all too familiar. The next second, a wild ball of fire would be shot from John's palm, which would engulf the entire classroom in red hot flames. Scott could hear the screaming, he could smell the smoke... he felt his own flesh burning...
John brought his hand to his bandage and tore it off, revealing his eyes for the first time since returning to the mansion. All jaws in the classroom hung open as the students gazed into the pale blue, lifeless eyes of the former pyrokinetic. The deep gnash which crossed diagonally across his worn face fell over one eye, which, to Scott, showed clear evidence of John's haunted recent past. The wounds around his eyes were horrific, showing indefinite disfigurement. Scott had to look away.
"I may be blind, Summers, but I can see that she is in danger."
Scott felt himself crumble in defeat. He couldn't deny that John had a point. "John, if you sit down now, I will speak to the Professor about your concerns." Just has Scott thought he'd got through to the boy, he felt an uncomfortable chill run through his body as he looked into John's eyes.
The dullness had been replaced by something Scott had never seen before. John's eyes were blazing, not just with rage. His once blue eyes were dancing with angry flames. And it wasn't only his eyes that had changed. Scott observed in horror as John's entire body stood straight and poised, lithe and agile like a tiger. His hair seemed to move to its own accord from being unkempt to the style he'd had three weeks ago, at Alcatraz. A manic grin pulled at the corner of John's mouth. Scott moved back again, this time stumbling. The class looked on in horror as John moved with complete ease towards their teacher, his steps confident.
"It's Pyro, Summers, Pyro. Care to try telling Pyro what to do?" His voice was calm and self-assured, but no-one present could mistake the hidden malice; the taunting.
"Now, John, just listen – "
Scott's attempt to reason with John was cut off by a cruel, acidic laugh. His eyes glinted roguishly.
"I don't think so." He kept perfectly still for a few moments, just staring at Scott straight in the eye, which unnerved the teacher more than he'd like to admit. Not knowing what else to do, Cyclops raised his hand to the protective visor over his eyes, preparing to strike John if needs be.
John startled everyone by suddenly grabbing a young female student by the arm and yanking her harshly to her feet. He held her arms tightly behind her back with one hand, while the other was at her throat. The girl whimpered, her eyes fearfully begging Scott to do something.
"Hush there now, doll," John whispered seductively into the girl's hair. "Nothing's going to happen to you, provided Cyclops does as he's told."
From across the room, Scott gulped. He needed help.
Logan was sat by Rogue's side in the medical bay, keeping a close eye on her sleeping form, when the doors slid open, revealing Professor Xavier, and a very haughty looking Dr Hank McCoy. Logan was on his feet immediately.
"What is it?" he demanded. "What's wrong?"
The Professor stepped in. "Calm yourself, Logan. Hank's here with some news for us. There's no need to panic."
"On the contrary, Charles," Hank said gravely, "there's every need to panic at this stage." Logan and Xavier froze with dread, not wanting the doctor to continue.
"I've been in contact with some old colleagues of mine at Oxford University. A sample of the Cure was sent there before it was even publicised. They've been examining it ever since, and I finally have the results."
He produced a series of papers from his briefcase and handed them to Xavier, who began studying them with caution. Logan waited apprehensively. Within moments, an uncertain shadow passed across the Professor's face.
"What does this mean, Hank?" Charles asked softly.
The blue-furred mutant cast a concerned glance at Rogue's unconscious body before answering. "It seems that while the sample of Jimmy's X-Gene was being examined and processed in the lab at Alcatraz, it... mutated."
"Mutated?" cut in Logan. "How?"
Hank hung his head sadly. "It came into contact with a chemical, one we're uncertain of yet, but we do know that for those who have taken the Cure, in some cases, will suffer from some... side effects."
Logan and Xavier were still confused, so Hank elaborated.
"It's a virus."
The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife. The only sound was the gentle beeping from Rogue's heart monitor.
Hank continued, his voice thick with emotion. "I've received news of some of the first cases. The initial group of people who took the Cure have experienced a return of their powers. It happened much like it did the first time, when they developed them under an emotional trauma. Not everyone
has been infected by the Virus. I know of only ten per cent of the first testing group who are currently suffering."
"Ten per cent? That's still a lot of lives on the line, Hank!" Logan exclaimed. "How do we know who's been infected?"
"Those who took the batch which was contaminated, that's fifteen per cent of the total which was produced," said Xavier, while reading from the notes. "How serious is this, exactly?"
The doctor's eyes closed before answering. "How the Virus affects a mutant depends on his or her mutation. Class one and two mutants, as far as we can tell, suffer from mild headaches, fainting, and a slight enhancement of their powers."
"Rogue's Class Three," said Logan quietly. "What about her?"
"Class Three and Four mutants will experience a significant enhancement in their powers. Depending on the power, it could be fatal. I know of one man in Seattle who was a Class Four telepath. He's currently suffering from hearing is own thoughts repeated and magnified to such a loud volume that his brain is shutting down. There's nothing we can do for him."
Logan shook his head furiously. "No... No!" He was immediately at Rogue's side. "What's it going to do to her, Professor? What if it's already happening?"
"Calm down, Logan."
"The hell I'll calm down!" He leaned to reach from Rogue's hand, but was stopped by Xavier.
"Logan, you of all people know the dangers of Rogue's mutation," he explained sadly, "my guess is at the moment her mutation is backfiring on her. She's draining herself of her own life-force."
"What can we do?" interrupted the Wolverine sharply. "How long will this thing last?"
Silence.
Logan narrowed his gaze, looking angrily at Hank, his hands balled into fists. "You don't know, do you?" he growled.
Xavier was about to speak, when he suddenly went very still, clearly listening in on someone's thoughts. Hank observed the sudden change.
"What's wrong?"
The Professor looked worried, his face etched with concern. "Logan, you and I need to visit Scott's classroom." He was moving towards to door, with the others following him.
"Charles, what's happened?" asked Hank, alarmed.
Xavier looked anxious. "We may have another affected by the Virus."
"Right, everyone outside!" Scott shouted, trying in vain to keep his voice calm. Pyro stood in the centre of the room, his eyes still blazing, and his grip around the young girl stronger than ever. The rest of the class made to get up and move towards the exit.
Pyro chuckled. "Everyone, stay where you are. You don't want your classmate turning to ash, do you?"
No sooner had he finished his sentence, the door was hurtled open by a livid Logan, his metal claws glinting, ready to be used if necessary. Hank and the Professor followed behind, both looking incredibly disturbed.
"Come on in," Pyro grinned, "the more the merrier." He turned to face the newcomers. "Now, this is what happens when I don't get what I want. Do you want to see firsthand what I'll do when I'm really pissed off?"
The whole room held its breath, but instead of Pyro harming the girl, he pushed her away from him and clutched his head with his hands, screaming as loud as his lungs would allow. Those present covered their ears as Pyro dropped to the ground, writhing in pain.
"Leave me alone!" he bellowed. "GET OUT MY HEAD!"
Suddenly, the ear-piercing shrieking stopped, and Pyro slowly got to his feet, his expression dazed and confused. Looking at around, he shook his head in disbelief. He glanced over to the Professor, suddenly realising he could see again.
"What the..." and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.
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