7. Actions and Absence

A week had passed since Miguel received the message on his computer. Keeping quiet, he went on about his business as usual, early Danger Room training on Sundays, afternoon sessions with Xavier and Ororo three days a week, three PM Danger Room training four days out of the week, and quiet time during his Cowboys games and WWE shows. Trips into town were a rarity for him but a few of the mansion's occupiers caught him bringing in bags from sporting goods stores. He never showed them what he had bought and never spoke of where he was going.

It wasn't until a Saturday night when a few of the mansion's dwellers witnessed him entering the kitchen dressed in his usual cargo and wrestling shirt attire with his backpack slung on one shoulder when they began to question him. Dinner had been served nearly two hours ago with the older students eating a late dinner.

"Hey, Miguel, hungry?" Remy asked as said young man entered the kitchen. He looked him over and saw he was ready for a night on the town. "Where you headed?"

"Out," Miguel replied.

"Out where?" Jean asked.

"Outside."

"Aren't you, like, going to at least have dinner?" Kitty asked kindly.

Stopping at the door, Miguel turned and eyed the table. A leftover half of a roast sat in the middle of the kitchen table with a bowl of garlic potatoes no one had touched and a casserole dish half filled with baked macaroni and cheese. His stomach growled, letting those around the table know how hungry he was.

"Sit, eat, drink, but you don't have to be merry," Kurt added.

Letting out a sigh, the Mexican mutant dropped his bag by the door and grabbed a plate beside Marie. He spooned a glob of potatoes on it and proceeded to eat in silence, not noticing the others were watching him with a panicked look. Forkful after forkful of the seasoned spuds entered his mouth until his plate was cleaned. He then grabbed a glass of Kool-Ade and gulped it all down before heading out the door.

"He…he ate the potatoes," Kurt stuttered. "He actually ate the potatoes."

"Ah know, Ah can't believe it mahself." Marie had a wide eyed look on her face as she stared at the empty plate.

"Mon Dieu," Remy said.

"You think he'll survive the night?" Jean asked.

"Don't know. We may have to call the hospitals later just to be sure he hasn't been admitted to one," Scott answered.

"Excuse me?" Kitty exclaimed, offended. "But my garlic potatoes are not poisonous. At least he was nice enough to eat some, unlike the rest of you."

"Kitty, that wasn't him being nahce," Rogue said. "That was him being too hungry to know how deadly your spuds are."

With a huff, Kitty flicked a spoon full of potatoes at Rogue who acted as if they were burning her skin off.

It didn't take Miguel long to find a bus stop some mile away. A half hour trip through the city later, he got off at an abandoned warehouse. At least it seemed abandoned. Using a black light, he searched the entrance over before finding what he was looking for, directions on where to go next. He entered the warehouse and found where they indicated him to go to, going downstairs and through a set of heavy double doors into a dim room where a large crowd of people stood hollering around a circular pit with a cyclone fence keeping them from falling in.

As he headed further in, he took in his surroundings and saw two men fighting in the center of the pit with their blood staining the sand. Women wearing next to nothing flaunted their best assets to the men around them as they served them drinks and took bets on the two brawlers. It was an underground fighter's paradise.

"Hey, you," a burly African man said as the mutant approached him. "You here to see or participate?"

"Do Ah look like the type who's here to watch?" He handed the gate man a printed out paper with his information on it. "How much?"

"Five hundred to fight. Winner gets thirty percent of the house winnings during your match and loser gets nothing."

Reaching into his bag, Miguel grabbed a handful of money and handed the gate man the required cash. The man in turn handed a young Asian woman by his side a slip of paper and whispered in her ear. He was then led to a locker room by the scantily clad, blue haired woman with tattoos covering her arms and piercings in her nose, cheeks, and lips.

"You a mutant?" she asked as they made their way to the back.

"Why," Miguel asked as the crowd of people yelled loudly from one of the two men in the pit being knocked out.

"Cause we match up mutants with other mutants and negate their powers to make the fights interesting. Any mutant can fight using their powers but few can actually fight without them."

"Yeah, Ah'm a mutant."

"Then you'll need to wear the suppression collar in you locker. Here's the number and combination." She handed him the piece of paper as they arrived in the change room. Other fighters were dressing or readying themselves for their fights as they made their way to his locker.

"You'll dress and store your stuff here. Your suppression collar is inside. Put it on and it will activate when you're in the arena. After you come back in here, it will deactivate and you can take it off. Get ready, you fight in twenty minutes."

Leaving him on his own, the woman left him to change. Exactly twenty minutes later, he was summoned and entered the arena. A much larger man with a round belly and tattoos on his bald face and head parted a curtain at the top of a staircase and motioned for Miguel to step through. The moment he passed the curtains, his collar emitted a high pitched beep and a green light came on. Sure enough, when he tried to form his claws, they just wouldn't appear.

"Alright, alright, the next fight will feature a very familiar face," a man holding a microphone shouted over the mass of spectators. "The one and only Warpath!"

The crowd cheered as a large Native American mutant around the same size as Juggernaut emerged from one side of the arena. He stood tall wearing a pair of cowhide pants and a headband with a pair of eagle feathers hanging from it. His long, black hair partially hid his inhibitor collar around his neck.

"And we have a new comer to our circle," the tattooed man continued. "Let me hear it for…eh, you know what? Who cares? We're just here to see him get his ass handed to him."

With that marvelous introduction, Miguel stepped out into the pit wearing a pair of green camo MMA trunks and black MMA gloves. His ankles were taped up and hair pulled back in a ponytail. He was greeted by jeers from the crowd but did hear several whistles from the women.

"Now, for the sake of our newest victim, I mean gladiator…my bad, I got Alzheimic here for a second, I shall recite the rules…beat the ever holy s$#t out of the other guy before he does the same to you! Now let's get this fight…started!"

As the crowd cheered and the microphone man took his leave to begin commentary of the fight, a yellow box flashed a red light repeatedly before turning green and emitting a loud buzz. Both men met in the center of the ring with Warpath being the more aggressive of the two. A mighty muscle loaded arm barely missed connecting with Miguel's head as he ducked but was met with a knee to the chin and knocked flat on his back.

Mounting Miguel's upper body, Warpath laid into the leaner man with vicious rights. Most were blocked as the downed mutant covered up but some made it through. Sacrificing his face, he grabbed his attacker and pulled his legs up, knocking him on his back as he took him by surprise. Now Miguel was the one on top and landing rights and lefts of his own.

"Oh! It looks as if our new guy has some fighting spirit after all! At least this won't be a one sided fight…again."

As Miguel wound up to deliver another hit, Warpath slapped both side of his head, popping his ears and forcing him back. With his attacker grabbing his head in pain, the Native American kneed him in the stomach and landed a double ax handle to his back. The smaller man fell to his knees and was met by a kick to the face. Blood stained the sand as he crawled away to gain some distance between the two.

"Where are you going?" the mic man taunted as Warpath drug him back by the hair. "Your card says your name is Apex, so why you runnin' like a little b%&#h? Come back, have some-ohhh, that's gonna leave a mark."

Landing at the base of the pit's wall from being smashed into it, Miguel forced himself to move out of the way as a foot came down hard where his head was.

"You see? That's why you should always floss your toes, kiddies. You never know when you're gonna be putting your foot in someone's mouth like my friend Apex here who is anything but."

Back on his feet, Miguel dodged several incoming punches when he picked his spot to fight back. Leaping into the air, he landed a spinning roundhouse kick to Warpath's jaw. The larger man took several steps back and shook his head clear of the stars he was seeing.

"A lucky hit by Apex," the mic man flatly said. "Oh well, we all can't have a flawless victory. Now, Warpath, are you gonna take that from him?"

The answer to his question came quickly as Warpath charged Miguel and rammed him into the wall. Fists found their mark as they pummeled his stomach and brought him down to the floor.

"Now, while he's weak, finish him!"

As Warpath got ready to land the finishing blow to the back of the downed mutant's head, Miguel decided it was time to end this his way. When the large fist came to connect with his head, Miguel caught it and used the momentum to throw him into the wall where he landed upside down.

"Whoa, did you see that? The little man did some Kung Fu s#$t on Warpath. We must have a Keanu Reeves type of mother f #$er up in here tonight."

Taking a running start, Miguel roared and performed a baseball slide into Warpath's face.

"This ain't Apex! This must be Stelio Kontos! He gained so much speed then wha-bam!"

Miguel paused a moment to let Warpath get to a kneeling position before winding up and delivered an uppercut to put him down. So much strength was behind it that it felt as if he broke his fist on contact. As Warpath fell to the ground unconscious, Miguel grabbed his hand as his name was announced as the winner.

"Alright, fellas and lady fellas! Let's hear it for Apex!" Most of the crowd cheered for the winner with the others complaining for losing the bets they placed. "Now get his rookie ass on out of here and bring on the next two fighters!"

Once he was back in the locker room and his collar deactivated, Miguel was approached by a man taller than him with pitch black hair and a wide mutton chop covered jaw. Beside him was a blonde woman in a white cat suit and cloak who looked fondly at the half naked winner.

"Very impressive," the man said. "Most impressive. You are the first one to defeat Warpath without the use of any powers. What's your real name, young man?"

"Why do you need to know?" Miguel asked as he pushed past them and began to take off his gloves at his locker.

"Because I would like to know the real names of my fighters. Makes hiring them so much easier if I don't have to worry about two or more with the same name."

"Miguel."

"Miguel, what?"

"Miguel Cortez."

"Well Mister Cortez, I'm Sebastian Shaw and this is my associate, White Queen. I hope you plan on sticking around for a while. We could use more entertaining fighters such as yourself."

"Ah don't think so," Miguel told him as he took a seat and unwrapped his ankles. "Ah only came here for one thing and Ah got it."

"But we could give you so much more," White Queen broke in. "You made a nice purse here tonight. Twenty three large. Think of what fighting for the Hellfire Club could do for you."

"She's right," Shaw took over. "Money, power, women." He stroked the back of his hand on the woman's hair. "It all could be yours."

"I don't think so," Miguel told him as he took his clothes out to take a quick shower before heading back to the mansion. "I don't need to be in a club to make money. If I come back, it'll be because of my decision, not anyone else's."

"Such a shame," Shaw said as Miguel headed to the showers. "He could have a bright future with us. I would love to see what his powers are."

"Soon, Shaw." White Queen told him.

"Make sure he gets several invites a week and tell security I want to know when he comes back. Perhaps we'll persuade him somehow."

Returning to the mansion was slower than he intended, mainly due to the injuries he sustained with his powers suppressed. He never minded them as he would be completely healed in the morning. Looking back on his little experiment, it did not go the way he thought it would. He had lost his temper again. The only difference this time was the collar he wore kept his powers from killing him like Xavier had warned. The thought of not continuing this current course of action crossed his mind but the thought of what his abuela constantly told him weighed heavy on his mind. It was just so much easier to give into his anger than let it go, but he did feel better letting it out like he did.

He left the mansion shortly after seven that evening and it took roughly forty five minutes to get to the underground arena. It was now close to one in the morning as he approached the kitchen door he left through. All the lights were off except for the security ones around the perimeter and doors. While exploring the grounds by himself, he had discovered several keys hidden among the rocks near the building, which is how he gained entrance on his return.

The trek upstairs was rough as every muscle in his body ached. He thought he would be caught twice when he heard movement within the bedrooms he passed by but no one came out to find him sneaking back in.

The first thing he did once inside his room with the door shut was drop his bag. It only carried his trunks, gloves, athletic tape, and money won, but felt extremely heavy. The second was to take off his shirt and the third was fall on the bed where he quickly drifted to sleep, keeping in mind how he kept from losing his temper until the very last. It would only be five hours till he woke up for early Sunday training anyway.