Eric sprung into action, immediately leaning over the sobbing and choking child and using his powers to manipulate the barbed wrapped around the boy's eyes and throat. Those were the most crucial areas, as they couldn't risk moving the child without blinding him or severing his larynx. If he attempted to remove the ones on the boy's wrist, ankles, and knees as well; they ran risk of him bleeding to death before they could staunch the blood.
All this Eric analyzed in seconds, mind slipping back into the 'survival' mindset that had kept him alive all this time. It was indeed fortunate, in this case, that Eric was used to such a way of living; for Charles, after his initial loud exclamations, had froze up in horror at the sight before him.
Sobbing, trembling boy, black hair matted with blood and filth, lightly tanned skin marred with scars and bruises. Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, bleeding and from seemingly nowhere; an odd trunk with brass clasps not three yards away.
A loud and horrified curse, closely followed by a pained and terrified cry, snapped Charles from his stupor. He snapped his gaze from the trunk back towards the gruesome scene before him – only to see something that would forever be burned into his mind, to haunt his nightmares for years to come.
An image that would change his ideals on homo sapiens… and subsequently change the future.
It was the sight of a sickly-pale, but determined Eric calming and holding down the wriggling child as he eased- Charles threw up a bit in his mouth- a bloody dick from the child's anus.
As soon as it was free the child collapsed back into the dirt, shuddering deep gasping sobs and mumbling a hoarse litany of, "'Lease 'ncle… 'lease, 'l be good… sto-stop 'ncle, 'lease…"
Teary blue eyes met burning, furious grey as Charles choked out, "H-how? Wh-why…?"
Eric's voice was cold, biting, clipped. "I would venture to guess that, wherever or whenever this child came from, was in the process of being raped when he transported himself here, thus cutting off the bastard's dick that was shoved inside of him." Charles winced at the condemning, un-minced words. "As for why; well, they don't necessarily need a reason; any old one will do. Abnormal, more powerful, less powerful, different-"
"Fweak be good 'ncle V'non… 'lease, fweak be good…" The child's trembling voice broke into Eric's speech, and he quickly leaned down and gently picked up the emaciated boy in his arms; ignoring the startled and pained cry.
"Or freak." Eric whispered, walking forwards until he and Charles were mere inches apart, where Charles had no choice but to see the truth in Eric's eyes. "This is the darker side of human nature, the side that you refuse to see that exists, and is so much stronger than the light side. From bullies on the playground to Sebastian Shaw, homo sapiens will always look down on those who are different. You ask why, Charles? Because they are inferior, and they know it. You do too. After this, how can you not?"
And he brushed past his friend, making his way towards the Blackbird, leaving Charles to the large, odd trunk and his own thoughts. He hadn't said that to be cruel, but he knew that Charles needed to hear it, to see it. His hope for peaceful co-habilitation was impossible, and if he didn't see it soon, there's no telling what horrors the future may hold. He did this, not because he was Charles' enemy, but because he was his friend.
Charles sighed as he hoisted up the trunk and jogged after Eric. The German had given him a lot to think about, but this was not the time. There was a tortured, mysterious mutant that was in dire need of medical aid. His ideals and any doubts thereof would have to wait.
First and foremost, came the strange, mystifying child with the initials HJP – if the faded embellishment on the side of the trunk was anything to go by.
No one noticed the lone, green and silver phoenix feather laying in the dust until the wind caught it and bore it aloft, taking it to a safer place… much like its owner.
Two weeks later, and their mystery mutant showed no signs of wakening. He remained unconscious, sleeping, deep within a magical healing coma that bathed his body in a light golden glow.
Despite their best efforts, no information could be found on their mysterious HJP from Privet Drive.
Eric waited anxiously, watching the young child whom he felt eerily connected to; and his heart grew heavier and heavier with every hour of motionless silence. And he wondered, if the God that his mother used to tell him stories of, really, truly existed – how could He allow this to happen? …Again?
And when Charles could detect not even a flicker of sentient thought, they began to despair.
So they continued with their mission, wandering from state to state, gathering a myriad of mutants to add to their little… collection.
Angel Salvadore… American… Fly-like Wings…
Armando Munoz… Mexican… Adaptation…
Alex Summers… American… Level Three Plasma Bolts…
Sean Cassidy… Irish… Supersonic Vocal Chords…
James Howlett… Canadian… Accelerated Healing – DENIED
Despite the rather… rude brush-off from the scruffy man in the bar; Charles and Eric couldn't help but grin in amusement.
"Well, that was the last one of our matured mutants on file… Four excellent prospects – this is shaping up to be quite the exciting, successful enterprise." Charles turned to his friend, eyes alight; completely oblivious to the way Eric's breath hitched.
Eric mentally shook himself from his ridiculously fluffy and enamored thoughts. "Yes, indeed. Keep in mind though, they're young and inexperienced. They'll need training."
"And training they'll get! Ease up Eric, this is exciting! And between you and me, we'll make them one bloody fantastic team." Charles was fairly bouncing in his seat; their personal limo en-route to the airport, where they were catching the first flight back to the base.
Suddenly the car phone began ringing. He exchanged a raised eyebrow with Eric, before leaning forward and lifting the receiver to his ear. "Hello, this is Charles Xavier."
"Charles! Eric! He's waking up!" Raven's voice was so loud that Eric heard it loud and clear; and Charles held it away from his ear with a wince.
"Raven! Easy, slow down! Now what are you talking about?"
"It's HIM! Y'know, HJP or whatever! The machines started going all beepy and whirwhirwhir and Hank was totally panicking, and…" There was a brief scuffle, and a "Give me the phone"… "No! I can explain perfectly fine!"… "Beepy? Whirring? Really? That's the extent of your technical knowledge?"
Tired of not getting any information, curiosity eating him alive, Charles yelled down the receiver, "RAVEN! GIVE HANK THE PHONE, NOW!"
There was a pout, followed by a, "Hmph, fine, whatever."
Finally, "Thank God, Charles. He's waking up. I got some readings from the neural scans, and his heart rate is picking up. The creepy glowing thingy" – "Oh yeah, now that's technical"… "Shhh!" – "is fading. Slowly, but it's fading. Normally I'd give him another five to six hours before he's fully out of his coma; but given how quickly he's healed everything else, I'd estimate more around three."
Charles' mouth dropped open and he turned wide-eyed to Eric. "He's awake… he's waking up…" He whispered, too quiet for Hank to hear over the phone.
"Charles? Charles, did you hear me? Charles!"
Eric, seeing that his friend was too shocked to answer, took the phone from Charles' nerveless hand and pressed it to his own ear. "Hank? We'll be there in two hours. I want a car waiting for us at the airport; I'll drive." He then hung up, not waiting for a reply.
"Charles? Are you alright?" Eric waved his hand in front of Charles' sightless eyes; slightly startling him.
Charles turned baby blue eyes that were moist with relieved tears to his friend. "Eric… he's waking up…"
Eric smiled, looking out the window towards the airport that they were pulling into. "Yes… finally."
Maybe there is a God, after all…
Emma Frost scanned the ocean's surface one last time before stepping back and shutting the periscope; hands slightly clammy with nervousness. She walked over and leaned over Azazel's shoulder, looking intently at the readings. She gently kissed a red pointed ear and smiled softly as her lover relaxed marginally at the gesture. "There's nothing on radar?"
The crimson demon sighed and shook his head. "No; and before you ask, nothing on sonar either."
"You're sure?" Janos asked, interrupting their conversation. But, rather than be insulted with the small slight against his technical skills; Azazel understood, and merely shook his head the negative. After all, the worry that filled both him and Emma, was apparent in their third lover as well.
Emma braced herself, squaring her shoulders. "Then we have a problem." She didn't need to give voice to the fact that the one they feared most was in the next room.
But before she could inform their 'Master' of this new setback, both Janos and Azazel had grabbed one of her hands each. Azazel bestowed a light kiss on her palm, while Janos gently squeezed her hand in encouragement. Their silent message was clear: Be careful, we love you.
Emma smiled slightly at the concern. She made a split-second decision, and connected with both their minds. Familiar with her presence, they sighed in relief at the assurance. Now they could mentally be with her as she faced the volatile, powerful, insane mutant in the next chamber.
Emma nodded and let go of their hands, the task of steeling herself infinitely easier with her two lovers' fortifying presences in the back of her mind. Without any hesitation, she strode to the desk and lifted the lid of the container holding the switch; the button to activate the secret chamber. She took one last deep breath, and pressed it; stepping back and hiding her emotions and feelings behind an ice cold mask of indifference and apathy as the door opened and bathed her in glowing blue light.
The sight within terrified her.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" The madman, her 'Master', Sebastian Shaw; gazed hungrily upon the nuclear reactor before him, giving off the ethereal cerulean glow. "It's the reason we're here. We're the 'Children of the Atom'."
Emma didn't say anything; knowing that no response was required – and happy for it. His plan still frightened and horrified her in equal measure each time she thought of it; and the knowledge that she was powerless to do anything ate at her.
She decided to give him the bad news right away, sort of like ripping off a bandage. She took strength in her lovers' worry and concern, a tangible and soothing weight upon her tormented mind. "We have a situation… the telepath – I shouldn't be able to sense him at this distance." Despite the brief touch of his mind she'd sensed upon the yacht, a mind infused with good intentions and grand ideas, Emma worried that Charles Xavier would turn out to be no more than another too-powerful megalomaniac in the making. "It's like his reach is… amplified."
She could see the gears churning in Shaw's eyes, and echoed what she could see forming there – without even needing to read his mind. "They're recruiting."
Shaw's face hardened, and Emma (and her mental lovers) braced themselves. "You'll be going to Russia-" They all internally sighed with relief – to Emma, that would be a walk in the park. But the next words sent an ice cold stream of horror to crawl down their spines. "I'll deal with them."
Emma nodded and quickly exited the room, leaving her Master to his sick obsession with the reactor. In her mind, relief at not being punished warred with fear at what Shaw had planned for Lehnsherr and Xavier.
As the door shut behind her, she exchanged worried and apprehensive looks with Azazel and Janos. But none of them could do anything – didn't dare to. And Emma, not for the first time since she'd accepted to join the Hellfire Club… didn't know what to do.
Harry awoke silently, nary a muscle twitching nor a hitched breath to signify his return to consciousness. He had learned long ago to use this precious time to take stock of his surroundings and any possible threats.
First he mentally examined his body; and was surprised to find himself in relatively good condition. He could feel the bandages wrapped around his chest, wrists, ankles, knees, and eyes; and immediately he knew that he wasn't at the Dursleys. There was an underlying ache that encompassed his whole body; but nothing like the all-consuming agony from… before.
Harry firmly refused to think about that night.
There was a low murmuring, as though from a far distance; along with a steady beeping something from somewhere to his left. Wherever he was smelled… odd, like mixture of antiseptic and new furniture; but a waft of something that smelled suspiciously like spaghetti drifted through the room. He could sense and hear a person puttering about the room; the occasional sound rattling instruments and off-tune humming signifying another presence in the room checking and watching him.
All in all, Harry had no clue where he was; and that terrified him.
"I know you're awake." A slightly stuttering voice said, breath wavering excitedly. "Y-your heart rate picked up a bit there, a-and your eyes aren't m-moving behind your lids, a s-sure sign that you're out of your REM s-sleep cycle." There was no way that the man could have predicted Harry's reaction to the all-too-familiar stuttering.
In a split second Harry had bolted from the bed and across the room, waving his hand and pinning the man to the wall before flipping the hospital bed and using it as a shield between him and the door. Harry sent out a wave of magic, uncaring if his captors were muggle or wizard – Harry was getting out of there now.
His magic rebounded off of his prison, giving him the dimensions and obstacles in the room; much like a sonar worked. Harry sensed that he was in a rectangular room, with only his upturned bed and a couple chairs between him and the partially open door. He tore the needles out of his arm – Muggles, then? – before sending out one more cautionary wave of magic; but the results remained the same.
"W-wait, j-just wait… we're here t-to help y-you. W-we sa-" But Harry was in no mood to listen, so with a wordless Silencio sent at the trapped human on the wall; Harry was off, running full pelt out of the room.
Keeping up steady pulses of magic, Harry ran from corridor to corridor, desperately trying to escape the metal enclosure.
After what seemed like an eternity, Harry finally reached a door, a bolt of magic telling him that there was only one room between him and the blessed outdoors.
One room, with five occupants. Three boys, two girls from what he could tell.
So far Harry had encountered no opposition, and that fact both relieved him and set off warning alarms in his head.
Harry put his ear to the door, trying to determine if they were a danger or not. He strained to hear their conversations through the cool metal.
"… C'mon Alex, you can do it! Alex Alex Alex ALEX! Whoo-hoo-hoo! Yeah, that's the spirit!..."
"Fine. Just, get down when I tell you to."
Harry sensed as one of the boys stood up and walked… through a window? No, it was broken, he just walked through the empty hole in the wall. Harry wondered what they were doing as the other two boys and girls crowded around the hole to watch whatever this Muggle… Alex?… was doing.
"Get back! Get BACK! Oh, whatever…"
But it mattered little. Right now, all that mattered was that all of the occupants of the room now had their backs to the door; and subsequently, to him. It would take very little effort to take them all out.
Decision made, Harry opened the door and stepped leapt through, just in time for his magic to sense the flash of red light that decimated the statue in the courtyard.
Harry faltered, before flying into action.
His slight, momentary hesitation allowed him to reevaluate the situation before acting accordingly.
Red light = Cutting Curse.
Cutting Curse = Wizard.
Wizard = Danger.
New Objective: Escape while taking out as many as possible. If necessary, lethal force permitted.
It didn't matter if the wizard was Light or Dark. Harry'd had too much experience with wizards hell-bent on hurting him, with only the barest few the exception. He wasn't going to stick around and see into which of the two categories this newest wizard fell into.
A lightning-quick, silent Stupify hit the tall boy holding a soda bottle, and he dropped to the floor with a muffled thump as the glass bottle clattered and rolled, spilling the rest of the contents. As one of the girls yelled and the rest whirled around, Harry flicked his wrist and pinned the other girl to the wall; in the same manner as the stuttering fool still in the medical bay.
But before he could do anything else, the other three's reflexes finally kicked in as they dove behind furniture and attacked.
Harry momentarily faltered as the final girl grew wings – wings! – and took to the air. Harry quickly leapt to the side and cursed himself as his momentary lapse as he was nearly caught by a gust of displaced air.
Wait… no, that's not what it was… Harry quickly examined the high-pitched blasts with his magic as he dodged the Conjured balls of fire from the flying girl. What he discovered horrified him.
The boy was casting a curse that concentrated sonic waves to such a degree that, if it struck him, could and would burst his eardrums – and possibly his brain.
Harry, acting with a speed and power that was almost instinctual, grabbed a couch, Transfigured it into a metal, satellite-shaped concave, leapt into the path of the sonic Curse, and caught it with the steel bowl.
The effects were immediate. The satellite dish caught and amplified the Curse, before reflecting it and dispersing it back from where it came. The blast of the Curse managed to not only send the boy smashing into the wall; but also caught the flying girl – maybe she had a creature inheritance? – and sent her crashing to earth, screaming. Her head clanged against the metal torso of the fallen statue, cutting off her screams as she moved no more.
Harry shook from behind the safety of the metal disk, breathing harshly into the relative silence. He sent out another, particularly strong pulse of magic to feel out the status of the downed wizards around him. All four were either unconscious or bound, and all relatively unharmed.
Wait, all four…?
Harry gasped before dropping to the ground; and not a moment too soon. Another pulsing red Curse shot over his head, singing the tips of his hair, before tearing through the wall behind where he'd been standing.
He'd forgotten about the third boy still in the courtyard, the one who'd cast the first Cutting Curse.
You're getting sloppy, Harry…
Harry, making another split-second decision that had saved his life more than once, leapt out from cover, dodging beams of uncontrolled and haphazard red light, and grabbed onto the leg of the unconscious boy with the penchant for Sonic Curses (was there such a thing?).
Then he Apparated.
Eric and Charles ran down the corridor, heading towards the faint sounds of combat that Charles sensed the second they stepped off the private jet.
Suddenly, Moira was running alongside them, speaking about something that seemed oh-so-important mere days ago; and now felt wholly insignificant now; "We've tracked down Shaw's movements. He's meeting with the Russian Defense Chief in Moscow. The plane for Russia leaves in an hour. We need-"
"Yes yes, whatever, not now Moira!" Oblivious to the indignant huff from behind them, Eric and Charles never slowed their pace; not even when they came around to corner and were met with the sight of a decimated courtyard and statue, with a prone Angel lying in the grass and Alex standing over her protectively.
Before they could take in anything else, however, there was a muffled POP, and two bodies appeared directly over the blond boy, seeming to float for a moment before gravity took over and they both landed on Alex – painfully.
Their boy – their mysterious, battered, broken HJP – merely tucked and rolled with the fall, shooting up to his feet and into a ready battle-stance that was all-too familiar to the war-hardened Eric. The sight of the boy, who couldn't have been more than thirteen, caused something within that Eric had long since thought dead in his chest to clench painfully.
But, even though he was nearly covered from head to toe in crisp white bandages, literally, the raven-haired child looked anything but broken. An observation that was clearly reinforced when Alex groaned under his friend's dead weight – the red hair gave the body away as Sean's – and HJP whirled around and sent a bolt of red light at the fallen blond, rendering him immediately unconscious.
But, if one were looking, (and Charles and Eric most certainly were) you could tell that he was physically and mentally exhausted; from the slightly labored breaths and the telling trembling of his limbs.
Both men were abruptly torn from their examinations as Moira – who'd they'd complete forgotten – exclaimed from beside them, "WHAT THE HELL?"
Charles could have gladly strangled the woman when the child whirled around in shock and fear. He could clearly see the emotions play across the remarkably open face; and as such, saw the exact moment that their boy realized that he didn't have the energy to fight anymore.
Which meant, it was time to escape.
With a wave of his hand and a yelled phrase that sounded something like, "Wyngardeeum Levyosa" the decimated statue in the courtyard began to float over towards one of the walls. Then, with a complicated motion of his fingers, the metal began rippling and changing; before, in the time between one blink and the next, a tall metal ladder sat propped against the building, reaching all the way to the top.
It was apparent that the boy was going to escape using the roofs. Eric couldn't help but be grudgingly impressed.
In the time it took them to recover from their shock, the boy was already half-way up the ladder. And, in an abrupt moment of clarity, Charles knew that, if he didn't stop the boy right now, they'd never see him again.
"STOP!"
Harry, as weak and exhausted as he was, hadn't thought to reinforce his natural mental barriers.
So, as the loud, echoing, authoritative voice ripped through the air and his mind; Harry let forth a startled cry of agony and arched his back against the intrusion.
Unfortunately, this caused his sweat-slicked hands to slip from their hold on the smooth metal rungs; and before he knew it he was falling down down down…
Then a thump, a muffled curse, all-too-familiar pain, and oh-so-welcome, blessed black met him.
As soon as the body hit the ground, Charles realized that he'd unintentionally, in his panic, let his mental barriers down.
With that knowledge, Charles let forth another long list of cuss words even worse than the ones uttered upon this same boy's discovery.
He blushed under, but otherwise ignored Eric's incredulous and admonishing raised eyebrow; choosing instead to examine the, once again, unconscious body of HJP below him.
Suddenly, there was a muffled thump and a yelp of shock and pain, as the magic pinning Raven to the wall vanished; sending the girl crashing to the ground, only to land – as determined by the muffled, decidedly masculine groan – upon the also unconscious body of Darwin; who'd been downed first before he even knew what was happening.
Suddenly there was a voice yelling in his ear through the com-piece, as the magic silencing Hank's voice also vanished, leaving him free to yell the same phrase he'd been screaming for the last ten minutes, "HE'S AWAKE! HE'S AWAKE! HE WOKE UP AND IS LOOSE IN THE COMPOUND!"
Both Eric and Charles both yelped before yanking the chips out of their ears before they were permanently deafened.
"No shit, Sherlock." Eric growled, and Charles snorted.