Virginia, United States - 1973
Time traveling fifty years into the past in order to prevent a doomed future was already hard to fathom for Logan, but reuniting with the younger versions of his companions was a whole other can of worms he couldn't wrap his head around.
Charles, Hank- Both young and considerably immature with regards to Charles' dark demeanor. Hank wasn't quite there yet either, but was still immature in a different capacity. Let's just say if you told Logan that this lanky, sheepish kid would be a United Nations Ambassador one day, he'd call bullshit.
Thoughts dissecting their strange predicament swirled through Logan's mind as he absently scanned the suburban street they were driving along. In his peripheral vision he could see Charles donning a grimace that he probably didn't realize he was showcasing. It wasn't a great neighborhood. The homes looked like halfway houses with their busted up features and defects, but Logan wasn't turning his nose up at it. Some people might have argued that the world was in a shitty period of time, with the war and general corruption aiding that idea, but they didn't realize how good they had it. Logan had simply seen too much destruction to find a row of unkempt homes some sort of disgrace.
Everyone there was alive, free and blissfully ignorant. He envied them greatly.
It didn't seem much like Charles to be so judgmental, however Logan remembered that the Professor wasn't entirely in the right headspace at this time. Sometimes when you're angry and insecure, you have the unhealthy urge to cope by belittling those around you. Logan understood how that felt but it was strange seeing a mentor of his struggling with the same pathetic battle that he'd gone through. Again, it was bizarre seeing the men so young, walking a similar path as Logan once had.
His eyes focused on something bright past Charles' unimpressed expression, discovering a clue that would lead them to what had them roaming this random street.
Logan slammed on the brakes, making an unbuckled Hank fly into the back of Charles' seat, to which the Professor was jarred forward viciously. In the end, two pairs of annoyed eyes were trained on Logan as he put the car in reverse and parallel parked in front of a ratty looking home. He ignored them, pushing his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose as he got a better look.
"I think this is it..." Logan whispered to himself, peering out the car window to find a shabbily painted house with an orange Volkswagen buggy sitting in the gravel driveway.
Familiarity flared in the man's chest; He knew that car alright. Only difference was this car wasn't rusted over and practically falling apart unlike its future self, which was rather run down after being in commission for so many years.
"Why in the hell... would you bring us to this dump?" Charles asked from beside Logan, cringe primed on his face as he scoured the property with hesitant eyes.
The overgrown lawn had the residency looking like a jungle smack in the center of suburbia. Ivy webbed along the brick siding, one of the windows had a crack in it, the gravel from the driveway was scattered all over the place and it was all topped with five... six... seven trash bags that littered the sidewalk.
Given the disturbingly dirty home, Logan began to second guess whether or not this was the right house. That is until he spotted the house number: 999. This was it.
"Looks better than your run down school if you ask me," Logan hummed defensively as he stepped out of the car, booted feet crunching on the scattered driveway pebbles without caring enough to see the Professor's reaction to his personal dig. Yeah the home wasn't the most inviting but the least Charles could do was not be so blatant about his snobbishness.
Hank sighed from the backseat, feeling hurt on behalf of the man sitting ahead of him, who merely winced at Logan's jab from behind his gaudy sunglasses.
Charles Xavier's entire life had been dedicated to his school up until recent. After everything he'd done with Moira in the CIA- Banding a ragtag team of mutants together, teaching each of them how to harness their powers and ultimately losing many of them due to some corrupt ideology forged by both Erik and Shaw- Charles knew that he wanted to do all that he could in order to keep other young mutants on the right side. To keep the impressionable from thinking that the world hated them and that they needed to retaliate against humans. There was peace to be found and Charles was determined to show that truth to as many mutants as he could. This passion manifested itself in the form of his Westchester mansion being transformed into a private school, meant to give the mutant youth an alternative route of education. A route that allowed them to understand the power they wielded.
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. A discreet name, yes, but it worked out flawlessly. Life after being crippled from the waist down seemed to have had no effect on Charles considering the gallons of joy he lapped up from seeing his halls crowded with smiles. Mutant smiles. The classes were informative. They earned their credits fairly and worked hard to understand the world and themselves, each student discovering that there was opportunity to be had within his school. Everything was washed in a bright, dazzling perfection. But nothing stays gold forever, right?
Vietnam was like a tsunami overtaking a pleasant shoreline, plunging down onto anyone in its warpath. The conflict had swept nearly everyone in attendance off to the sweltering jungles thousands of miles away. Only the youngest children remained while everyone else had no choice when it came to the conscription, including their teachers too. But soon each lonely student leftover found a way back to their parents, completely abandoning the utopia that had once existed in that mansion.
The halls became grim, not a soul in sight. Not even Charles. He'd morphed into a ghost of who he once was. Everything he'd ever wanted was within his grasps, then mercilessly pulled back and torn apart right in front of his eyes.
Hank McCoy, one of the remaining X-Men from the CIA all those years ago and close friend of Charles, did his best to raise the Professor's spirits. But it was a lost cause. He soon realized that being a friend to talk to wasn't cutting it as Charles dove head first into the deep end of alcoholism, and he was refusing to come up for air. So Hank went above and beyond to try and offer his dear friend some solace.
After many years of research and understanding previous mistakes, Hank was able to perfect a serum that kept his mutation under control. When he tested it on Charles, it had the miraculous side effect of renewing the man's legs, successfully allowing him to walk again. But the price was a hefty one. Any shred of Xavier's telepathy was wiped clean from his body. Given that the solemn Professor was drowning in depression and whisky, walking didn't seem too bad. At least he'd have one of his basic freedoms returned to him. What good was telepathy doing for him anyway?
Now Charles was breathing again- But it didn't feel much like he was living.
Until Logan arrived, things had been at a standstill in the maddening maze of substance abuse, which Charles was stranded helplessly in. Nothing ever made him second guess Hank's serum until that hard-ass stranger showed up, speaking of a doomed future and the person who'd been the cause of it. Someone who Charles knew all too well. Someone he never failed to think about at least once a day, often sitting in his desolate room with only the thought of their sweet memories before life inevitably split them apart.
Raven- His dearest sister, Raven. If anyone was going to yank Charles from the ashes, it would be her. And so that was why he was doing what he could to change the grisly tide of their current path.
She needed him, and Charles would be there.
"Why are we here?" Hank asked. As he and Charles stumbled from the car, Logan peered back with a peeved expression.
"To see an old friend," He grumbled over his shoulder, leaving Hank to sigh and trudge through the gravel and onto the porch step with Charles grumpily following suit.
The front door vibrated with the loud rhythm of music coming from within the home, sounding vaguely like David Bowie. Whoever was inside was jamming out obnoxiously, it seemed.
Hank knocked on the door, frowning as he immediately got a splinter on his knuckle from the decaying surface of it. He backed off the porch step and worked to remove the minuscule piece of wood, already having had enough of this run down place and idiotic plan of Logan's.
"Hold on!" A shrill voice yelled over the climaxing music. The song was cut abruptly and suddenly Logan was able to bask in the peace and quiet. Just being able to stand outside beneath the warm sun felt all too alien. He listened to the birds chirping and the low hum of streaming traffic, taking a deep breath as if he could physically absorb the moment. It'd been a long time since he was able to do something so simple as stand on someone's doorstep without the threat of death.
Tearing him from the peace was the front door swinging open, revealing to Logan a surprising image.
There stood a breathless girl, blonde hair curtaining around her flushed face as she stared expectantly at the three men on her doorstep. So many memories flooded Logan as he took in the sight of her. Everything from the Beach Boys band-tee tucked into her black skirt to the dilapidated, green tennis shoes she wore was all nostalgic to him despite the fact that the 1973 version of her was actually the real throwback. The whole time shift thing was really starting to fuck with him.
"Can I help you guys?" The girl asked, pushing back the mound of snowy blonde hair that ended up on her shoulder before crossing her arms. She was immediately on the defensive at seeing the trio of men standing there ominously. It didn't help that Logan was providing her with a confusing introduction.
"Jesus. This is so weird." Logan chuckled as he was rushed suddenly with all of the old memories, unable to handle looking at a younger version of Allie Gertrude Simmons.
In the future, Allie was in her early fifties and practically done with the pile of shit called life. She came to Xavier's school not long after everything that had happened on Alcatraz (which was a cumulative shit storm of events, if you weren't aware), looking to do something with her Master's in Psychology. Apparently working at a school centered around mutants caught her eye after she'd been fired from her previous job for simply being one with the X-Gene. The whole ordeal had her in a state of rage for some time, so she really worked hard at being a great teacher, rising to fame amongst the students in no time.
As soon as Logan accidentally ended up in her classroom while looking for Rogue, they'd become a friendly pair that would often exchange harmless jabs and relentless banter, all in the name of both being old and tired. But within their seemingly surface level friendship lied something deeper. Not romantic, of course. Just a great deal of understanding. Maybe it was just the fact that they were late night drinking partners, always befuddled and chortling away in Xavier's cramped kitchen like it was some sort of ritual they had. That was the true way to access Logan's heart, after all.
So to be standing there in front of the teenaged Allie... Well- it was extremely surreal but equally as hilarious for nothing more than absurdity's sake.
"Are you alright, man?" Allie asked, backing away from the strange group of men slightly while closing the door so she was staring at them through a thin crack, her wide eyes being the only thing peeking out. "You guys aren't like... kidnappers or anything?"
Charles annoyedly prodded Logan's side, glaring at the husky man beside him who was reveling in far too much comic relief despite the urgency of their situation. Not to mention he felt like they were borderline harassing a random teenager, so it all would best be done quickly before they were chased away by some mother wielding a baseball bat.
"No, we are not kidnappers," Logan reassured the blonde, hands seeming to shake the thought away in front of his chest. "But I would like to politely ask if you'd get into our car."
"What the- Excuse me?" She gasped from behind the door. Her concerned gaze flicked around to the other men, seeing that they didn't seem amused with what the strange guy was saying. Borrowing his words, she began to shut the gap that they were speaking through. "I'm gonna politely ask that you leave..."
Logan put his fist on the door, actively trying to wear a softer expression so he didn't actually scare Allie away. It was hard evading the humor he'd been so used to using with her but now wasn't the time to let it soil the plan. She had a lot of power behind her. And he was certain they could use it to benefit them.
"Look, in all seriousness now, we need your help," Logan began again, sounding far more sincere. "We know that you're different, Allie."
Allie froze and frowned intensely up at the man. She was clearly startled by him exposing her for the secret that she wasn't even sure he actually knew. But being a mutant was a frightening thing, so her mind could only fathom that he'd been speaking of her abilities, despite him only vaguely confessing his claim. The girl tried shutting the door again but his pressure against it was unstoppable no matter how hard she sank her feet into the hardwood and pushed back.
"How do you know that? H- how do you know my name?" She interrogated through gritted teeth while frantically trying to get the damned door closed, shoving all of her weight onto it with no avail. With a defeated sigh, Allie stood straight and leaned back against the hallway wall, gazing through the threshold to find that the strangers were just patiently waiting for her antics to be done. Once the towering gruff one saw that she wasn't going to continue fighting, he brought his arm down and began to craft a clumsy explanation.
"Long story short, I know you in the future," Logan confessed. Allie blinked once- twice. This dude was high, right?
He could see her disregard for that very outrageous truth, so Logan continued pressing in the hopes he could make Allie crack. "Look, I'm going to say something really regrettable but I hope it's enough proof for you."
With uncertainty, Allie gestured for the man to go on.
"Alright," He groaned with a gradual cringe rising to his features as Logan realized the words that were about to be uttered by him. "The first time you got your period was in your sixth-grade art class and the only reason you found out was because you were sitting on some kid's varsity jacket and when you sat up there was a bunch of blood left on it- and when he got his jacket he asked what the hell happened to it and you just told him that someone came by with red paint and accidentally spilled some onto it and he ended up wearing it like that for the rest of the school year."
Allie's face was frozen with horror behind the door. But Logan wasn't done adding salt to the wound he'd just dealt her. "And poor Aaron Finson never found out because you were too embarrassed to admit it. Thus why I need you to kindly get in my car."
"No- I- what the fuck- HOW...?" The blonde stammered out, shaking her head in absolute disbelief. "I've literally never told anyone that. Ever."
"Except for me. You just drunkenly admit it a couple decades from now over a very competitive game of Truth or Dare," Logan hummed, then threw a thumb toward the men behind him, "And now two other people have the luxury of knowing your most embarrassing moment. Congrats."
Charles and Hank both rolled their eyes at the man and impatiently waited for the awkward exchange to wrap up, however both secretly found the story somewhat entertaining. But the mission!
"We need into the Pentagon," Charles said, getting straight to the point, stowing away any lighthearted thoughts. Logan's chit chat was not getting them anywhere. In fact it probably wasn't a good idea to be getting other mutants involved in their mess but they'd already gotten their foot in the door with this Allie girl, so they may as well just get on with it.
"Look," The blonde said with an incredulous chuckle at Charles' insane statement, "I'm sorry. I seriously am at a loss here- I am very weirded out and I'm done with whatever this... degrading experience was. Please just leave me alone."
She began to close the door once more with an uncomfortable smile until Logan decided he'd had enough. He was going to get this girl to come with them one way or another- at which point made him actually consider kidnapping her. But he figured he'd play the trust card first.
"Allison." He commanded the girl sternly by her full name, putting his fist against the door yet again. "You are not the only one with a gift..."
Lifting up his other arms to her view, Logan used his mutation, pushing out the three bone-like claws of his hand, the sharp ends slipping past the skin of his knuckles. Once the claws were fully extended, somewhat obscuring his face to the girl, he could see that she was more serious now. There was a moment of silence. A moment of disbelief and contemplation.
"I..." She started, "I didn't know there were others."
Charles' face softened. These were the moments that he loved. It was what he strived for. He wanted to introduce mutants to that sense of community, to help them gather the courage to be themselves around each other. Seeing that glimmer of hope in Allie's eye made him the slightest bit happier as he continued to loiter on her doorstep.
The tiny exchange helped to heal a piece of his brittle heart, making the man stand a little taller.
"There's more than you can even imagine," The Professor assured, actually smiling for once. The girl stared at him before donning a more serious expression.
The front door shifted. She let it slip open, at which point Allie crossed her arms and squinted at all of them while leaning on the rotting door frame. "So the Pentagon thing isn't a sick joke? You're seriously trying to get into THE Pentagon?"
She put her hands up, arranging them at various angles to create a somewhat pentagonal shape. The men shared in a second of silence to process what the girl was struggling to gestured until they nodded back at her, prompting Allie to then say, "Why?"
"Everything is a risk," Logan told her with a deepening tone. She could see the worry forming along his face in harsh wrinkles, something dark lingering there as he continued. "Mutants... are at risk. They'll be hunted, enslaved and killed in the future if we do not fix the past now. Which is why I am here. It's why we need you."
It was such a vague tale that she had no reason to believe given the insanity of the stranger's claims, yet he seemed physically and emotionally sure of every word. Allie could feel him- his energy. She could sense the primal, splintering fear blooming within his heart and knew that he wasn't lying. There were gruesome, traumatic images behind his intense gaze... and it made her shudder suddenly before she shook her head.
All it took was that dreadful realization to get her bounding back into the house where she exchanged her tennis shoes for a pair of leather, knee high boots that she fumbled with upon returning to the men. Kneeling down and lacing up the boots, Allie glanced at them between her work.
"I'm going to be honest- this is fucking crazy, and really weird, but I will help you guys... just no funny business," She stated firmly, waiting for them to nod in agreement when she stood up straight and ready to go. Hank, Charles and Logan each gave her what she wanted, bobbing their heads in desperation. "If we get caught, I'm telling them you kidnapped me and forced me to do whatever it is that we do. And if anything else goes wrong, which it probably will, I will do my best to help but I am too young to fuck up my life this badly."
"You got it kid. I promise this is for a good cause," Logan sighed, completely understanding everything she was laying out on the table.
She met him with a somewhat uneasy look. "I know."
He then turned on his heel and started heading to the car. Charles hurriedly ran to the driver's side. "I'd prefer to drive this time!"
Allie snatched a pair of round lensed sunglasses from a chipped ceramic bowl right inside the hallway before exiting the home, the thud of the shutting door being the final heartbeat of her old life. Now all her normalcy was minimized to a droning flatline. An end of an era, though the fresh feeling of a new one quickly swept through her like a breeze. The steady thumps of change burst to life. This was only the beginning.
The blonde naively popped her shades on with the flutter of anxious butterflies in her stomach, realizing that this was an exciting opportunity- while twisted and highly criminal- she understood the severity of the situation. She'd seen it in the stranger... seen the lifetime of despair. She understood fear very well and Allie had never witnessed a more truthful one than what was murky and sinister in his desperate gaze. The girl wouldn't be sitting around doing nothing after what she saw.
So she skipped to the car with innocent anticipation, unknowing of what was to come.