Edited: 3/5/16
Chapter 24 – A Dish Best Served Cold
"Sometimes there is absolutely no difference at all between salvation and damnation." - Stephen King
"I'm telling you, it wasn't me," John whined.
Storm fought the urge to turn and smack the fire manipulator. "For the last time, none of you are in trouble. The Professor just wants to talk to you."
"Yeah sure, that's what they all say," he grumbled, throwing his hands up dramatically while Bobby rolled his eyes at his back. John cut his eyes to the side and caught Alice's pale blue gaze. "Just you wait. We'll get in there, and he'll give that 'I'm oh so disappointed in you for…' look. As if the couch didn't spontaneously combust all on its own. Really, it isn't always my fault!"
Alice hid a smile behind her hand at his antics. "Well, you do like to play with fire," she pointed out. John pouted at her.
"So you're in on it too, aren't you?" Reaching between them, he gave her platinum blond hair a playful tug. Alice jerked away from the grab, panic flashing in her wide eyes, but stumbled when her prosthetic leg turned wrong. Kitty leapt forward and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl's waist to steady her. Once Alice was back on her feet, Kitty shot John a scathing glare.
"What's wrong with you, huh?" She demanded.
John scowled. "Nothing, I was just having a little fun. Lighten up." Alice patted Kitty's arm, which was still looped protectively around her middle.
"It's alright Kitty, I'm fine," she said breathlessly before giving John a hesitant smile. "No harm done."
"If the lot of you are done horsing around, the Professor is ready to see you," Storm's voice stalled Kitty's lecture before it could begin. The playfulness drained out of the teens as they shuffled into the small conference room and sat down around the circular table. Even though he'd been joking around, all of them felt the same unease at having been singled out for some sort of talk. Being cut from the herd never ended well in their experience.
Siryn sat on Kitty's opposite side, and gave her roommate a pointed look. She pouted back. Whatever this was about, it wasn't her fault. Siryn rolled her eyes, clearly not believing her innocent little me act.
"Good afternoon. I'm sorry to take you away from your homework, but I thought it would be best to speak with all of you before I shared the news with the rest of the students," the Professor said. His warm eyes landed on John, and the boy couldn't help but cringe. "You've done nothing wrong," he said with a teasing smile before he grew serious.
"As you are all aware, Logan is not the only stranger we took in." For a second, they stared at him in confusion, not making the connection. Then the little bit of color Alice normally boasted drained from her face.
"IX," she gasped. Kitty's hand found hers, and gripped.
"Yes. After his failed attempt at escape, I knew things couldn't continue the way they were. I was able to override his previous handler's control. It is no longer necessary to keep him locked up. With that in mind, we've decided that the best course of action going forward is to integrate him into the school as a student," Xavier braced himself for their rage, and he wasn't disappointed.
Pietro was on his feet so fast that he seemed to blur as his chair crashed backwards with the force of the motion. "What the actual fuck?" Even shocked as they were by the news, Kitty gasped at the curse word, unable to believe anyone would say something like that to the Professor. Without giving him a chance to call him out on his language, Pietro continued. "I mean seriously? What about all the people he's killed? You can't just let him go! He should suffer for what he's done. Even keeping him locked up isn't enough." His face burned with fury, and even though he wasn't moving, his outline grew fuzzy as his emotions shook his frame.
Xavier gave him a long look before speaking. "Tell me Pietro, if I took control of your mind right now and forced you to kill every person in this room aside from myself, should you be held responsible for the murders?"
That threw the young mutant. He opened his mouth, shut it, glared, and tried again. "That's not the same thing. IX knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn't some sort of mindless fucking drone."
"That's where you're wrong. While he isn't in a trance, he is also incapable of going against a direct order. The training he underwent was exceptionally brutal, and when it comes to free will, IX has none," Xavier said.
Pietro continued to glare, but finally he dropped his furious gaze before he turned to right his chair. He sat hunched in on himself, desperately wanting to continue fighting, but knowing it was useless. I don't care whose orders IX was following, the bastard still did it. He's a fucking monster, and he should have been put down the second they caught him.
Tears burned down Siryn's cheeks, and she reached up to rub them away angrily. Her face was a brilliant shade of red from locking her jaws so tightly. She knew if she opened her mouth, she'd scream, and that wasn't going to happen. The scar on her chest throbbed, and more tears fell. Last time she'd screamed, it almost killed her. She jumped when a large arm was thrown over her shoulders. Before she could react, she was pulled against Peter's huge chest. "Don't worry. I won't let him hurt you," he whispered into her curly red hair.
Alice began to hyperventilate, and Kitty bounced up and gave the distraught girl a tight hug, not helping her breathe in the slightest. "Everything will be fine, I promise. The Professor will make IX be good, and I'll always be here, and he'll have to go through me to get to you, and even if he does, I'll go right back through him to put myself between the two of you again." All of this was said on a single breath, and trying to decipher the insane chatter helped Alice calm down.
Then she busted into tears and clung to Kitty. "Promise you won't Kitty. Promise me you won't get in his way. Please," she sobbed. No one could stand against IX. It couldn't be done. Even though she hadn't been there long, Alice had seen enough. She'd seen IX take out mutants she would have sworn were unkillable, and he did it effortlessly. He was a connoisseur of murder. They caught him. That thought broke through her panic. She didn't know how they'd done it, but they'd subdued IX. Not once, but twice. He'd caused a lot of damage in his escape attempt, but he hadn't been able to get away. Maybe they are strong enough to hold IX. Hope settled into her heart like a broken winged dove.
"We'll face him together," Kitty whispered, refusing to promise not to defend her new friend. Alice gave a broken laugh at the thought. What could a cripple and a girl who could walk through walls do against a trained assassin?
Her voice still choked up from crying she whispered back, "I guess we'll die together then." Kitty stuck her tongue out at her.
"What are the oddsss that this doesssn't end in blood and fire?" Adelaide asked in a deadpan voice, making everyone turn and look at her. "What? Ssomeone had to ssay it. It's what you're all thinking anyway. Letting IX be a sstudent is like hiding bombss around the school and hoping nobody setss them off by accident."
Pietro gave a sharp bark of laughter as he locked eyes with Charles. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but when that bastard kills us all, it'll be our blood on your hands."
Xavier gave a grim nod. "I won't allow that to happen. IX will not have access to his power, and he has been given explicit orders not to harm the students." John flicked open his lighter and lit it. He studied the flame for a long minute before nodding.
"If he gets out of hand again, I don't care what Colossus says, I'm lighting him up."
It struck the group how serious the matter was when Xavier didn't shoot John down.
The sound of children talking, laughing, and messing around was a soft background chatter as they made their way down a long hallway. With Xavier's mental guidance, they made it to their destination without running into anyone.
Scott opened the door to a storage room and shepherded IX into it. "Right, so the boxes along the left wall are boys' clothes ages 12 to 15. I figure they ought to fit you. Go through them and pick out a wardrobe. Let me know when you're finished," he said before pulling out his smartphone to check his e-mail.
Normally, when a student came to them with nothing but the clothes on their back, Jean would set up a day trip to the mall. A group of kids, usually Kitty among them, would tag along and help pick everything out. Many of the children who came to them were alone, and didn't have families to provide support. Xavier always took care of their needs, but kids had a tendency to grow, so all of the outgrown clothing that was still serviceable was kept here. They packed everything up twice a year to take to Salvation Army. All of the clothes were still perfectly fine, so Scott had no problem using them for IX. After all, it's bad enough he's going to be around the students, I'm not going to take him out in public and endanger innocent lives, he thought darkly as he watched IX out of the corner of his eye.
Having dealt with children for the past several years, he expected the teen to protest. Scott would have been relieved if he had. At least then IX would be exhibiting normal teenager behavior. Instead the short male gave him a nod of understanding and began to neatly sort through the boxes. That was another point of oddity. IX combed through each box before replacing things the way he found them. It was almost refreshing. Dealing with adolescents could be difficult, and teenage boys were the worst when it came to cleaning up after themselves. He shuddered, remembering his time as a student and being put on bathroom duty as punishment. That experience taught him that girls could be just as nasty as boys.
It took the better part of three hours for IX to finish, mostly because he seemed to shun anything brightly colored or with graphics, which excluded the bulk of the boys clothing. Finally, he settled on five pairs of jeans in dark blue and black. Three pairs of cargo pants, black, blue, and grey. A dozen solid color t-shirts. Four black turtle neck sweaters. A black jacket, and four pairs of flannel pajamas in red, forest green, black, and blue.
"I'm finished," IX didn't need to speak since Scott had been watching him the entire time. All of the boxes had been packed back up and were again in their proper place.
The pile of clothes was smaller than Scott expected. "Are you sure that's all you want?" He asked.
"It is all I need."
Something about the response bothered Scott, but he dismissed the feeling. If that was all IX wanted, fine. Who was he to judge? "Great. Hank should be finished with your new ce- er room. Come on." With that, he turned and led IX back down into the halls beneath the school.
The cell was a twin to the first one he'd been placed in, with the addition of a few odds and ends. A wooden desk was tucked into a corner with a bookshelf next to it. A cherry wood bureau had been placed against the wall across from his bed. IX studied the room while Scott watched him, waiting for a complaint that never came. "Well?" He finally asked.
"It is acceptable." Scott bristled a bit at the emotionless tone, but didn't say anything. He doubted any other teenager would label the space acceptable.
"Do you need anything else?" Scott asked, ready to wash his hands of the assassin and go reassure Jean that IX hadn't eaten him during this little adventure. Every few minutes he'd feel her mind reach out to brush against his, and while he loved her dearly, it was like being tapped on the shoulder over and over again.
"No."
Scott backed out of the room and thumbed the button to close the door behind him. It was better than being gutted, but IX was damned creepy even when he wasn't doing anything homicidal. I wonder how the children will take to him? The thought wasn't a comforting one.
It didn't take long for IX to put the clothes away. The room wasn't all that different from IX's old room with X at the base. Though, instead of a bookshelf, he'd had a weapons rack. When Scott asked if he needed anything else, X had flashed briefly though his mind.
After the compulsion to complete the mission was gone, everything settled for IX. Except when it came to sleep. Even after weeks without the feral, he still woke up several times a night seeking his warmth. For the first time in his memory, his shoulder didn't ache. The bites had healed over into silvery crescents. Fingering the faded marks, IX silently wished X was waiting in bed for him.
"May I please have your attention?" Xavier's voice easily cut through the dinner chatter. He'd waited until everyone had their food and was seated before leading IX into the room. Now every eye turned to them. IX stood silently at his side, green eyes scanning the crowd. He quickly picked out the familiar faces while making note of each face he didn't recognize. His expression remained perfectly blank under the students' intense scrutiny.
"I would like to introduce a new student. His name is IX. I'm sure you've all heard a bit about him. Please know that he is as much a victim as the other students we've recently taken in. I hope you will all be able to accept him in due time," Xavier said, knowing the young mutant was facing an uphill battle.
Silence shrouded the room for the space of eleven heart beats before the wave of noise crashed over them. Questions, furious accusations, and more created a cacophony of sound that drowned out individual voices. The Professor let it go on for a couple of minutes so they could get it out of their system before sending a single gong like note through their minds. The students winced at the loud mental noise and fell silent.
IX's fingers twitched slightly. Without his weapons, his power, and the order to do no harm, the assassin felt naked beneath their hostile stares. That wasn't the only problem. Before he'd been cut off from his power, IX hadn't realized how often that strange energy sent out tendrils of power into the area around him as it fed information back into his subconscious mind. Now he felt like he'd lost a sense as important as sight or hearing. The room felt two dimensional, and the people in it seemed like painted card board cutouts. He couldn't get a proper sense of them without his power reaching out to catalog them. IX refused to allow his discomfort show, instead he stood in a pool of artificial calm, taking their mingled rage with the same indifference a mountain had for the howling wind.
"I'm sure everyone has questions, but we can work through those during classes tomorrow. Please enjoy the rest of your meal." Turning his attention to IX, he said, "You may sit with us tonight."
IX followed Xavier to the teachers table and took the seat next to him. He'd never been the center of attention before, at least not in a room where he wasn't about to kill everything that breathed. It was odd to eat under so many hostile eyes. Their relentless gaze settled on him, but he ignored it entirely. A low rumble of angry voices started, but they kept their tones low enough that Xavier didn't have to quiet them again.
As he ate, IX thought over his mission. Now would be the best time to start, he decided, thinking over his masks. There was his normal expressionless face, which wouldn't do. Then there was the Smiling Innocent he usually employed when forced to deal with outsiders he wasn't going to kill immediately. Looking up at the students, he slid his smiling face on. For IX, it was akin to slipping on a porcelian mask, and went as deep. The disarming smile curved his lips, but did not touch his dead eyes.
In unison, the students who were still glaring at him growled their displeasure at his false smile. IX stared blankly at them, the odd smile locked in place while he considered the situation. The Smiling Innocent wasn't the proper response, but the only other mask he had was The Frightened Waif. That particular mask was even less useful. It was the one he used when he wanted to draw a mark to him. It was easy enough to slash his arm or leg, put on the frightened child mask, and draw his victim or target in close for the kill. He had no desire to draw any of the mutants closer to him. All he wanted was to be left alone so he could complete his observations.
Perhaps my Wielder is correct, he thought as he continued eating. His human mask was too flimsy to handle any sort of long term infiltration mission. It didn't matter that he hadn't been created for such missions. All that mattered was what his Wielder needed him to do. If that meant learning a new discipline, he would do so.
Pietro stabbed his food so hard that his fork squealed off the bottom of the plate. Rage pounded the inside of his skull like a team of angry dwarves let loose in his head with pick axes. When that little bastard looked up and gave him a smug smile, he almost lost it. Not now, I can wait, he thought, gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter. He forced his eyes down, if he kept looking at IX he was going to do something regrettable and get kicked out of the school. Besides, if he attacked the monster now, the teachers would stop him before he could do any real damage.
Using the edge of her fork, Kitty sculpted her pile of mashed potatoes into the shape of a bunny. She nibbled her lower lip and tried to make sense of everything. Not wanting to, but unable to stop herself, she glanced back up at the head table at IX. He was smiling a creepy little smile that seemed impossibly wrong given the situation. Even if he wasn't facing a room full of people who would happily burn him at the stake, the smile was just…wrong. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it reminded her of those scary movies when creepy dolls come to life. His smile was a lot like those doll smiles. Shuddering, she hoped she didn't give herself nightmares. With a frown, she squished the bunny and started again, this time creating a pouncing dog. It wasn't right that the Professors were letting him go to school with them. Victim or not, he'd stabbed her roommate, and even if Siryn had one heck of a temper, she didn't deserve that. Kitty wouldn't forget what he'd done to her friend.
Click, snap, click, snap, click, sn- Bobby reached out and put his hand on top of the flipping lighter. "Stop already! Seriously, he's not going to go all homicidal over dinner with the Professor sitting right next to him."
John jerked his hand free of Bobby's grip and glared, but didn't flick the lid open again. "Anything's possible," he muttered under his breath, his sharp blue eyes never leaving the slight figure. Bobby snorted, and held his hand up to block John's line of sight, earning a hard slap in retaliation.
"Ouch!" he yelped, pulling his hand back. "Man, I think you want him to start killing people with soup spoons." That got John's attention, he turned and stared at Bobby.
"Seriously? Soup spoons? That's the best you could come up with?" John said with a smirk.
Bobby flushed, "Hey, he did turn a tooth brush into a knife! Imagine what he could do with a soup spoon."
"Uh huh. And you say I'm the paranoid one. I'll let the Prof know you think we should hide all the spoons."
"Whatever," Bobby huffed, glaring down at his soup.
Logan sat at the end of the table, his whisky gaze one of many resting on the slender youth. Eating dinner with the brats wasn't at the top of his list of things to do, but when Xavier revealed his dastardly plot to let the assassin out of the box, he decided to come. Just in case things went pear shaped, of course. The question he refused to ask himself was who he really worried about. IX attacking the students, or them forming a lynch mob to take the green eyed man down. When the crowd first started shouting, every muscle in his body tensed in preparation for a fight. Then Chuck's mind gong had left his mental ears ringing and calmed the budding mob.
Ignoring the food, and the still glowering students, Logan watched IX calmly eat his meal as if he were sitting among friends. Nothing in that small form indicated discomfort at the situation, and Logan tried to squash the burst of pride he felt as he watched the children try to intimidate him with looks alone and fail miserably at it. It would take a lot more than a dark look to affect his…to affect IX. Growling at his mental slip, he stabbed his steak with a fork before cutting a chunk free. IX wasn't his anything.
IX focused on the meal and forced his eyes to remain forward, no matter how they wanted to drift to the side to study X. Having the feral in the room bothered him in a way all the staring students didn't. It unnerved him how similar yet different the man was. The way he moved, the fact that he could speak, and more than anything else, the way he kept away from IX, all bothered him more than he was willing to acknowledge. X is a tool, a weapon like me. Now he is a broken weapon without value. Broken weapons do not require handlers, he thought, forcefully dismissing the feral from his thoughts.
"Were you able to get settled into your new room?" Xavier asked.
"Yes, sir." The Professor waited, hoping the teen would elaborate on his answer, but not having much hope for it. Unlike most people, IX had no qualms with silence and wouldn't speak just to fill it. Getting information out of him was harder than pulling elephant's teeth.
"Do you have any questions before classes start?" He tried again.
"No, sir."
Taking a sip of ice water, Xavier pondered his newest student. While he was already intimate with IX's past, that didn't tell him what the future held. Under his previous Wielder, IX had been a frighteningly efficient killing machine. Because Xavier wanted something entirely different from the assassin, he had no way to judge how things might turn out. Would he be able to handle just being a student?
"Are you excited to start your lessons?"
"No, sir."
Xavier sighed, IX had a lot to learn about how conversations worked. He noticed that IX had finished eating and decided to put an end to the awkward discussion. "If you're finished, feel free to explore the house and grounds. Do you remember your orders?"
IX gave him a look that said more elegantly than words what he thought about Xavier's insinuation that he might forget an order. "Do not harm the students or staff. Be in my room for lockdown at 9:30. Defend the students from outside attack. Complete all school work to the best of my ability, and be respectful to and obey the staff."
"Very good," Xavier cringed mentally, imagining a dog doing a trick. It was going to take a while to get used to IX's level of obedience. After all his years teaching children, having one that listened and did as he was told was downright frightening. "Leave your dishes on the table. The students assigned to kitchen duty will clear them away after everyone's finished eating." The use of chores as punishment was a long standing tradition at the Institute and there were always enough kids willing to break the rules to make sure everything got done. On the days there weren't enough hands, having a few telekinetics always helped.
IX accepted the dismissal and stood. He eyed the various paths through the dining hall before choosing to go straight down the center. While it would be safer to go along one wall, using the wall to defend one side, it would send the wrong message. IX could not harm the students, but any show of weakness on his part would be foolish.
Taking a slow breath, he moved silently down the aisle made between two long tables. A foot shot out in a childish attempt to trip him, IX moved so smoothly out of the way that the act looked choreographed. It reminded him of Wade and all the stupid things the mouthy mutant had done over the years to try and get a rise out of him. No one else made an attempt under the stern gaze of the professors.
Logan watched him go and fought down the primal urge to get up and follow like some kind of guard dog. IX could handle himself, and even if he couldn't, it was no business of Logan's. He wasn't tethered to the youth, and no matter what the idiotic beast inside his head thought, the boy was not his mate. Growling under his breath, Logan stood and went in the opposite direction while X howled inside his head, demanding that they follow where IX led. Damn it, for a big bad monster, you're so fucking whipped, he silently thought at X.
It took a little over an hour for IX to explore all of the public areas of the mansion to his satisfaction. He learned the layout, access points, ambush points, and hiding places. So far, the students he'd encountered did little more than glare at him before fleeing like a bevy of quail scattered by a stalking bob cat. Whenever he'd encountered a single student, he received a look of pure terror before they ran. Like dogs, they were braver in packs. Though still not quite brave enough to attack without provocation.
Finished with the interior, at least the areas he had free access to, IX headed for the front door. He hadn't had a chance to properly scout the mansion before he attempted to take Remy out, now he planned to rectify that. By the end of the week, he'd have every inch of the grounds and the mansion memorized.
IX stopped at the top of the stairs leading down into the courtyard to savor the cool evening air. It was a little after seven, and he still had a few hours to begin mapping out the land around the mansion.
A booted foot crashed into IX's back, slamming him forward. The air was driven from his lungs, but IX didn't falter. Instead he turned the fall into a roll. Pain bit into his shoulder when it caught the edge of one of the cement stairs as he tumbled down them with the skill of a trained stunt man. If the blow had been centered a little better, he would have been able to take them without hurting himself.
When he hit the bottom, IX came up in a low predatory crouch. Pietro stood at the top of the stairs, glaring down at him, his face twisted in a mask of inhuman rage. Do no harm to the students. IX straightened out of the crouch and waited.
"You killed my sister." The words were torn from Pietro's throat, each one reopening the soul wound.
IX stared up at him with graveyard eyes, so dead they would have looked at home in an angel statue poised over a lost child's resting place. "I have killed many people."
It took Pietro a second to understand what IX was implying. IX had taken so many lives that his sister was nothing more than another faceless corpse at his feet. Her death left no impression on the assassin. With a scream of raw fury, he threw himself down the stairs at IX. The raven-haired assassin couldn't follow Pietro's movements, not without his power to compensate.
He couldn't see the attack coming. Agony tore through him, the side of his head, his gut, his groin, ribs, ankle, back, sides. It was like being caught in a tornado made of fists and feet. All he could do was curl up into a defensive ball on the ground, his knees up to protect his internal organs, and his hands laced together to cover the back of his head in an attempt to keep the raging mutant from accidentally setting off the device and blowing his head off.
The pain grew with every blow, but it was the sheer number of strikes that hurt most. Pietro was not skilled when it came to causing harm, and half the blows were ineffective. IX bore the pain. He knew Pietro sought retribution, but didn't have what it took to kill. While he could hurt IX, and badly, he would not be able to kill him. Not that IX would be able to do anything if the other mutant was the killing type, but he might have considered contacting his Wielder in that case.
A blast of icy wind shot over him, sending the speed demon head over heels. "That is enough." Thunder rolled over head, making the words seem to echo with power. Pietro scrambled to his feet, his grey hair tousled around his head like the mane of an elderly lion.
"I-"
"No," Storm growled, another fork of lighting stalked from cloud to cloud. "I don't want to hear your excuses. The Professor is waiting in his office for you, young man." He cringed against her fury and the way her eyes seemed to flash almost white. The first blast of wind had knocked his own rage down like a tornado pulverizing a barn, and now he felt two inches tall. IX hadn't moved, and the sight of blood on the small male made his stomach turn uneasily. Was he still alive? Pietro had wanted to hurt him for what he'd done to Wanda, maybe even kill him, but looking at the pitiful shape now he just felt sick. Sick of the pain, the hate, the desperation, sick of everything. Most of all, his own actions sickened him. IX hadn't fought back. That was wrong. The assassin shouldn't have laid down and taken it. Then again, he always did for his other keepers.
Giving IX one last look, one of mingled sorrow and hate, he trudged back up the stairs and into the mansion to face the Professor.
Storm's furious eyes tracked the dejected boy as he made his way back up the stairs and into the building before she forced herself to turn to IX. Instinct fought with intellect. Had he been anyone else, Storm would have gone to him immediately to help, but fear held her immobile. The thick scar at her throat thrummed in time with her heartbeat with remembered pain. What if he was faking again, the fear whispered in her mind. Every muscle in her body protested moving forward and giving him another chance to attack even though she knew he wouldn't harm her.
At an impasse with herself, Storm compromised. "Are you able to stand?" She couldn't make the words compassionate, instead they came out clipped with strain. IX uncurled from his defensive ball. His face was already swelling, one eye completely shut. Blood flowed from his nose, his split lip, and his forehead. Storm watched as he moved, each motion controlled as he tested his injuries. It took a couple of minutes, but he managed to stagger to his feet unaided, though he couldn't put much weight on his left leg.
"Well? Come on," she snapped. It took all her will to turn her back on the assassin and head for the door. The skin on her back crawled as if it were covered in bees as she waited for the attack. Instead, she heard the dull shuffle of his halting steps behind her. Without looking back, she marched into the building and led the way down to Hank's territory. It seemed IX was forever doomed to end up in the medical ward.
"Please, sit down."
Pietro's arms were folded over his chest, and his shoulders hunched as if against an invisible blow as he sank down onto the chair. Pain throbbed in his fists, and even his feet ached from the sheer number of times he'd kicked the assassin. He stared at the top of Xavier's desk, unable to bring himself to look at the man.
"While I understand your anger, that's no exc-"
Instantly rage overwhelmed the shame he'd felt at his actions. Pietro shot out of the chair and slammed his reddened fists against Xavier's desk. Leaning forward he hissed, "Understand? You understand what I feel? Tell me, were you forced to watch your sister, the only family you had left, slaughtered like an animal before your eyes and not able to save her? She screamed for me to help her, did you know that? And that…that sick bastard slit her throat while she begged me to save her. He watched me as he did it, and his eyes were as empty as death. He didn't even care that he was killing someone. Don't you get it? He isn't someone who can be saved. Even if he was human once, he isn't human any more. He's a monster, and you're going to get people killed by letting him walk free as if he were human."
Xavier's spine stiffened as images were thrust into his head, screamed at him from Pietro's mind. He felt himself trapped in place, unable to escape. Saw IX come down the rows of cages and enter hers. Like Remy, the girl wore a restraining collar that would kill her instantly if she attempted to use her powers. Not that it mattered in the end. IX had taken her down with a brutal kick to the gut. Then he'd grabbed her hair, forcing her head back in a long arch before slashing her throat. Blood sprayed over the cement floor of the cage, painting it crimson and adding to other brown splotches, mementos of the previous occupants.
Stumbling back, Pietro sank into the chair and covered his face to hide his tears. "They never clean the blood. Even after she was gone, all I could do was stare at the stains. There was so much blood, and even after others died in her cage, I could always pick out which patches were hers." Xavier could barely hear the muffled words, but he didn't need to. He could see the images in Pietro's mind, and it sickened him.
"Everything that was done to you, your sister, and every mutant who ended up in that horrid place was tragic Pietro. I don't fault you for your rage, but I hope you won't allow the inhuman nature of the ones who held you captive strip you of your own humanity. IX is a convenient target for your pain, but even though he was the interment of your sister's destruction, he was not the true cause of it. IX was a tool, and nothing more. Revenge is a path that always ends in despair." Xavier's thoughts strayed to Erik, and how his once friend had never gotten over what was done to his family. That buried rage burned still, waiting to be unleashed on all of humanity.
"Even if you killed IX, it wouldn't change anything."
Pietro looked up, his eyes red from crying. "Killing him would keep him from killing anyone else," he sneered.
"Perhaps, but what would it do to you?" Xavier asked.
"What do you mean?" Pietro demanded, unable to see where Xavier was going.
"Killing is no easy task. Each death comes with a price, and you would never be satisfied with just one."
"That's crazy. I'm not going to turn into a murdering psycho just because I killed someone who needed to die."
Xavier's eyes narrowed. "No? I told you that IX was the tool. What about the ones who wielded him? What about the Doctor?"
Pietro growled, and rage almost blinded him when he remembered that foul creature. While he hadn't had much experience with the bastard, he'd abused his sister more than once. If he had his way, he'd show the Doctor what it felt like to become the experiment.
Sorrow flashed in Xavier's eyes. "Yes. Another death. But that wouldn't be enough either because he was also a tool. You would have to work your way up the chain, killing as you went, until you died or made it to the one who issued the orders. What then? It still wouldn't be enough. Instead, your hands would end up as red with blood as theirs, and you would become the monster you despise."
The words sank into him against his will, and again Pietro felt sick. He remembered IX's bloody face, and how small the kid looked, curled up on the ground like an abused child. If Storm hadn't stopped him, would he have beaten IX to death? Could he live with doing that to someone else? What about everyone else who'd hurt them? Could he kill them all?
Shame sank bitter claws into his chest, and Pietro's head dropped. No. Even though they deserved to die for what they'd done, he didn't think he had it in him to hunt them down. Part of him was disgusted by his own weakness, but the greater part felt relief. He didn't want to become like IX, not even to avenge his sister's memory.
"What happens now?" Pietro forced himself to ask, sure that he would be told to pack his things and go.
Xavier gave him a small smile. "Now? Well, you'll need to apologize to IX." Pietro glared, but didn't argue. "After that, I think a month of bathroom duty will serve as a reminder not to attack your fellow students."
Pietro's eyes widened in horror.
Hank glanced up from his computer when the door opened. Storm stood in the doorway, but didn't enter. He tilted his head at her, noting how her hair was frazzled from the wind, and recalling the sound of thunder earlier. That, coupled with her flashing eyes and scowling lips, made him want to sneak out the back way so he wouldn't have to handle whatever had the weather witch so out of sorts.
A few minutes later, he had his answer. IX limped in while Storm held the door open for him. It looked like the teen had been in a car accident. One arm hung lifelessly at his side, he was favoring his left leg, and his face looked like it had been used as a punching bag.
"I'm beginning to sense a theme here. At least you didn't leave a string of injured for me to deal with this time." Then he flashed Storm a look. "He didn't, did he?" Hank asked, not wanting multiple patients to begin pouring into the room after IX.
"No. Pietro chose to take justice into his own hands and beat IX up," Storm said sourly. In truth, she didn't blame him, and part of her was glad someone had given IX a little taste of his own medicine.
"Right. Well, I suppose I'll take it from here," Hank said, waving Storm off as he went to help IX.
He approached IX warily, as if he were a stray dog with a broken leg and not a thinking person. IX tracked him with the eye that wasn't swollen shut. "All right, let's get you out of those clothes and see what we need to do to put you back together."
IX allowed the blue mutant to undress him, not reacting when the gentle movements made the pain flare up. Once he was undressed, Hank got him onto the exam table and began poking and prodding him.
Bruises were already starting to form an intricate patchwork over IX's pale skin. "Does this hurt?" He asked as he began exploring IX's right shoulder.
"Yes."
"This?"
"Yes."
"Hmm, not good," he muttered before moving on with his examination. When he was finished, he gave IX a long look. "Well, it looks like Pietro did a number on you. Most of the damage is superficial, a lot of bruising and some deep tissue damage. You've got a sprained ankle, but I'm worried about that shoulder. It looks like a torn rotator cuff. If the tear is complete, we'll need to do surgery to repair it."
"That won't be necessary," IX's bland voice made Hank cringe. Is this guy even human? He wondered, unable to detect the slightest hint of pain in the tone, even though he could smell IX's pain and knew the youth was suffering.
"It will be if you don't want to lose mobility in your arm."
IX gave him a long look. "No. The injury will be healed by morning. If I had access to my power, I could heal it now."
About to protest, Hank's jaw snapped shut. He remembered the brain injury that should have left IX a vegetable, and the way it healed overnight as if it never happened.
"Hm, well, I guess we can reassess you tomorrow. You'll remain here tonight so that I can keep an eye on you." The damage wasn't that bad, but Hank's scientific mind couldn't pass up the opportunity to watch and document the healing process.
IX stiffened. "I have to return to my room before 9:30." Hank frowned at IX, remembering the lock down order Xavier included in the boy's control guidelines.
"I know that you have a curfew, but I would like you to remain here tonight. Contact Xavier and let him know."
Licking a drop of blood from his swollen bottom lip, IX focused.
Sir? Dr. McCoy requested I stay in the medical wing tonight. This conflicts with prior orders. Please advise.
Xavier's mind reached out to touch his, wanting to make sure he wasn't badly injured. Then it flicked out to Hank's, tasting his friend's curiosity. With a low mental chuckle, he returned to IX. You may break curfew if I, or another staff member, requires you to do so.
Yes, sir.
"I will remain here tonight."
Hank grinned. "Perfect. I'm going to be observing the healing process and will need to wake you up once every two hours to check your progress. Is that alright?"
"Yes, sir."
Something almost like guilt tickled the back of Hank's mind, but his inner mad scientist stomped it down before it could reach the surface of his thoughts.
After Hank finished his final examination, IX was released from the hospital wing. There was a gleam in the doctor's eye that IX was wary of. He'd expected Dr. McCoy to keep him, inflict new wounds, and observe the healing process in relation to different types of damage. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been the subject of a medical man's scrutiny, and once he was free, he silently vowed to stay as far away from the blue furred male as possible.
All of the injuries inflicted by Pietro had healed overnight, much to Hank's surprise and delight.
On his way back to his cell to clean up and get ready for the day, he was stopped by the Professor and Pietro. IX eyed the speed mutant, studying his scowling features and dejected stance. With his Wielder there, he doubted Pietro would attack again, so he waited to see what they wanted.
"Go on," Xavier said when Pietro continued to glower at IX. He couldn't hide the surprise he must have felt seeing IX healed instead of black and blue.
With a huff he straightened up and said, "I'm sorry I beat you up."
IX's features didn't change from their normal blankness, but he looked from Pietro to the Professor and back again. The silence began to stretch like a piece of old bubble gum before Pietro growled. "Well?"
Not knowing what to do, IX forced his lips to curve into a smile. Instead of appeasing the grey-haired teen, that seemed to make his frown deepen. "Damn it, this is where you say 'I accept your apology."
Xavier sat perfectly still. It took all his considerable self-control to keep from bursting out laughing as he followed IX's confused thoughts. The poor assassin had no clue what was going on. In his short life, he'd never been on the receiving end of an apology, nor had he seen the ritual performed. He had to bite the inside of his cheek when IX dutifully replied.
"I accept your apology," he said in the same tone a tourist might use while being forced to engage in a quant custom that made no since to him.
Pietro huffed, irritated beyond belief by IX. "Are you kidding? Can't you at least pretend to mean it?" He demanded, furious all over again.
IX tilted his head, studying Pietro as if he was an interesting yet possibly venomous snake. "How?" He'd said what he'd been told to say, so what was the problem?
Raking his fingers through his wild gray hair, Pietro fought down the urge to punch IX again. Abruptly, he turned towards Xavier. "See? I told you. There's no way to fix this, he'll never be human."
Observing Pietro, IX forced his lips down into a poor approximation of a frown. It wasn't an expression he'd had a chance to practice yet, but he thought it might be closer to what Pietro wanted. He reviewed his memories of the language to better understand what was happening. "You apologized to me, which is an expression of regret for something one has done wrong. In turn, I accepted your apology so that we may return to a state of non-aggression." The fake frown slipped a little back into his normal expressionless features while he thought through the problem and made a new connection.
Pietro turned back to him, already shaking his head. "That's not the point. The point is-"
"I understand," IX interrupted, finally realizing what the problem was. "I apologize for terminating your sister's life."
Xavier winced at the emotionless words, unable to react in time to stop the inevitable. It was a train wreck, and he couldn't look away or put the brakes on in time.
A roar of fury tore from Pietro's throat as he slammed his fist into IX's face with enough force to slam him into the wall next to the door. "How dare you!" He screamed, his other fist bunched in IX's shirt, and he shoved him against the wall again. "Don't you dare apologize for what you did, you don't feel regret for murdering her, so don't lie."
IX let the mutant shake him, and waited for his fury to dissipate. Clearly, there was more to the business of apologizing than he suspected. The knowledge that he was already failing at his primary objective ate at him, but he knew it would take time to learn the intricacies of human interaction. Like all of his previous lessons, these would be corrected with pain.
"You are correct. I do not feel regret. I feel nothing."
Pietro shoved him one last time before letting him go. Turning, he glared at Xavier. "He feels nothing. Remember that when he shoves a knife in your back," he hissed before stalking down the hall.
The Professor didn't call him back. One experiment in apologizing was enough for the day. "Are you okay?" After the disaster of the last few minutes, it was all he could think to say.
"Yes, sir."
Xavier could already see the eye beginning to darken into a shiner, and he couldn't help but wonder how many black eyes IX would have to suffer through while he tried to find his place among them.
When he entered the dining hall sporting a fresh black eye, the students fell silent. IX ignored their stares as he got himself a tray with a bowl of oatmeal, a cup of orange juice, and a small apple. He found an empty spot near the end of the table, and instantly the people closest to him got up and moved, leaving him in an island of empty seats.
Someone passed behind him when he lifted his spoon and intense cold bit into his palm, making him drop it. The small blob of oatmeal shattered on his now frozen tray. Cruel laughter rang out around the room as he poked at the inedible food. Even the apple was unsalvageable, since it was stuck to the tray.
Nudging the tray away, IX stood and headed back towards the food. Colossus stepped into his path and stared down at the tiny assassin with cold eyes. "You already had your serving, better head to class. You don't want to be late your first day." His lips curled into a vicious smile, daring IX to protest.
Not interested in a second beating in so many days, IX turned his back on the much larger mutant and left the room.
Note: The following scenes will be random snapshots over the next four months of IX's life as a student in Xavier's school.
Walking towards his next class, IX fought the impulse to attack when John and Bobby fell in step on either side of him. With a mocking grin, John said, "So how's our happy little psycho today? You look a little down, let's get your blood flowing." He shoved IX hard at Bobby, laughing, Bobby shoved him back. The two larger teens shoved him back and forth between them before John suddenly stopped, making Bobby shove IX hard into the wall.
Pain flared in his shoulder, but he ignored it and waited for the pair to lose interest. He'd become used to this sort of game, and they weren't the only ones who liked to take advantage of his small size.
"Did you get it?" Jubilee whispered, a wide grin curled her lips when Kitty handed over a book.
"Easy peezy," Kitty chirped, watching as Jubilee opened the book to the chapter they'd be using for the next class to rig the prank. Once she was finished, she added a tiny timed drop of power before carefully shutting the book again.
"Kay, go put it back before class, hurry!"
IX took the seat nearest the door before bending down to take out the book. He could feel Jean's eyes boring holes into the side of his head, but ignored it. Whenever he was in her class, she stared at him like he might launch himself at her at any second. Of all the teachers, she'd been the least forgiving of his past actions. Not that the others were much better, but he could feel the animosity emanating from her when she glared at him.
"All right class, open your books to chapter four. We'll be using the ch-"
BANG
A cloud of pink and purple glitter exploded out of IX's book, coating the tiny assassin from head to toe in bellowing cloud of sparkles.
Jean scowled at him. "IX, you will stay after class to clean up this mess."
"Yes, Ma'am."
IX burrito went up in flames, and he had to douse the fire with his glass of milk, ruining the rest of the meal. His eyebrow twitched in mild irritation as his stomach rumbled.
A giggle he'd become quite familiar with sounded behind him, but IX didn't bother turning around. Kitty was a nimble little thief, and he wondered what she'd taken now, or what she might have left behind.
Darting into an empty classroom, Kitty grinned and held out the seven page report with a triumphant grin. "Got it!"
John grinned back as he flicked his lighter open.
ixixixixi
"Please turn in your assignments," Scott said, watching as the students shuffled past his desk.
IX dug through his backpack, but couldn't find his report. So that's what the little cat took.
"Don't you have your work, IX?" Scott inquired when he failed to produce the paper.
"No, sir."
"Very well. You will clean the bathrooms for the next week."
"Yes, sir."
Kitty's jaw dropped in surprise. Usually bathroom duty was reserved as punishment for really getting into trouble, like fighting or trying to sneak into town without permission. She gave John a wide eyed look, and he grinned smugly back. Biting her lip, Kitty glanced shamefully at IX, but he looked as bored and indifferent as always, so she shrugged it off.
Her heart beat like a wild bird trapped within the cage of her ribs, and she thought she might pass out before she could do it.
Holding her breath so she wouldn't start hyperventilating, Siryn reached out and unzipped the top of IX's backpack while they were stopped in the hallway waiting for the group of giggling girls to break up so the traffic could start flowing again.
Before she could lose her nerve, she upended the full can of cherry coke into his bag. Giddy terror flowed through her as she turned and ran the other way.
IX slid his backpack off when he felt the sudden cold seep into the back of his shirt. At first, he thought Bobby had frozen it again, but then he found the spilled can of soda. The corner of his lip twitched down at the mess and the knowledge that yet another day's homework was ruined.
A small hand wrapped around his wrist and jerked him through the wall feet from the door to his next class. IX's body reacted on instinct, but he managed to abort the movement before his fist crashed into Kitty's startled face.
"Meep!" She squeaked, staring wide eyed at his fist an inch from her nose.
"Do not startle me. If you plan on grabbing me again, hold on to my wrist for a second so I know what you are doing and will not harm you by mistake."
Kitty's head jerked up and down in shaky agreement before she darted forward through the wall she'd just pulled him through.
IX walked back down the hall, having to take the long way back to class.
"You're late IX, detention this Sunday fertilizing the garden."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Sharp nails bit into his shoulders as Adelaide leaned against his back. IX had only managed to get two small bites of his lasagna before she spit, spraying acrid smelling droplets of venom lased saliva all over his tray.
"You sshould eat more, become big and sstrong like your pet. Oh, that'ss right, he'ss not your pet anymore, is he? Maybe I sshould bite you, like I did him?"
Her tongue flicked teasingly over his cheek as IX stilled. Heat throbbed behind his eyes at her words. "Ahhh, you don't like that, do you murderer? You don't like the thought of X being harmed."
IX didn't respond, couldn't. Anything he said would make things worse. His Wielder had declawed him, and he was not a man who gave idle threats. He could not force the girl to leave X in peace. It does not matter, she cannot harm him even if she wished to. Her venom is not strong enough to overcome his healing factor.
Adelaide pouted. She could taste his agitation, but he refused to rise to the bait. "Pitiful little IX, can't even protect yourself from a bunch of children. How the proud killer hass fallen." With a final sharp squeeze, she sauntered away.
IX gathered the tray up and threw the entire thing in the trash, not willing to risk the students coming into contact with her venom.
A sharp jolt of pain streaked up his leg from his right ankle. IX didn't move. Instead, keeping his face empty of reaction, he glanced down and spotted the two inch tall mutant standing on his shoe. One tiny hand was wrapped around the blood red sewing pin head as he thrust the makeshift sword into IX's flesh a second time. His foot twitched.
Sticking the needle sword into his belt, Flea scrambled up IX's pant leg before straddling his knee. In a flash he was up, tiny blade free once more, he drove it down into the meat of IX's thigh.
Before the tiny pest could react, IX's hand darted out and caught him. Pain, sharp as a spider bite, sank into his palm again and again. He'd been stabbed half a dozen times before he managed to pluck the needle out of Flea's grip. Once more, his hand closed around the squirming figure before he turned and held out his hand to Peter, seated behind him.
"I believe this belongs to you," IX whispered.
Peter stared hard at IX, his massive frame wire taut in fear for his brainless little friend. It wouldn't take much for IX to squish him like his namesake. Taking a breath, he held his large hand out. IX released the tiny mutant so that he fell into the offered bowl of Peter's hand. To their combined shock. IX then handed the needle back to Flea, hilt first, and got the tip of his index finger stabbed for his efforts.
"IX no talking in class. Detention tonight cleaning the dining room," Scott's voice snapped IX around to face the front again even as he slid his bleeding finger out of sight.
"Yes, sir."
"Are you insane?" Peter hissed when Flea returned to his normal size. "He could have killed you."
Flea grinned his normal careless smile. "No way. Did you see me? I totally got him!" He chortled loud enough to make the teacher glance his direction, but instead of sharing detention with IX, Scott ignored the loud whispering coming from the odd duo.
IX sat down in his accustomed place at the table, and gave the thick slice of meatloaf on his plate a longing look. Hunger clawed relentlessly in his gut, but every meal seemed to end with his food being rendered inedible by one student or another.
He couldn't even sneak into the kitchens for something to eat during their breaks because the students stalked him relentlessly and made it clear that the kitchens were off-limits to him. Stealing himself, IX reached for his fork.
"FOOD FIGHT!" Pietro screamed before he vanished from his spot only to reappear next to IX. He snatched the tray up and dumped it over the dismayed assassin's head. The air was instantly filled with food, and about 90% of it was aimed at the small green-eyed teenager.
IX sat in grim silence as he was pelted from all sides by everything from spoonfuls of mashed potatoes, to meat loaf, and creamed corn, and even a few bowls of pudding.
It took the teachers fifteen long minutes to reestablish order, and by then, the entire room from floor to ceiling, was splattered with food.
Jean stood at the head of the room and gave them all a stern glare. Usually, the entire lot of them would have to clean up the mess, but something cold slid through her eyes as she looked at IX, entirely covered head to toe in food. "IX is scheduled to clean tonight, so that will be his task. The rest of you, get cleaned up and then go to your rooms. No one is permitted to roam around tonight." Vindictiveness flashed in her green eyes. She'd overheard some of the students whispering in the halls about their planned food fight in honor of IX's punishment during Scott's class, and she was willing to go along with it.
While the rest of the students shuffled out, she gave IX a bitter smile. "Since it is going to take several hours for you to clean this mess, you may stay out past your curfew to finish. Do not go to bed until it's done."
After she left, IX scraped a bit of meatloaf off his cheek and popped it into his mouth.
He didn't make it to bed until after three in the morning, but at least he didn't go to sleep hungry.
IX's predictability made it easier to torment him, John thought idly as he and Bobby took the pair of seats behind the desk closest to the door. Even though IX hadn't made it to class yet, they already knew which seat he'd take. It was the same in every class, even though he wasn't permitted to leave class early, he always took the one nearest the exit.
Seconds before the bell rang, IX made it through the door. His dark grey t-shirt was almost black, damp and wrinkled. It looked like he'd soaked it in the bathroom sink before trying to wring it dry. When he sat down, the unmistakable odor of rotten eggs wafted back at them, making Bobby gag. Suddenly, they both wished that the tiny assassin would have had time between classes to go down to his room to shower and change.
The lecture began as students close to IX tried to scoot as far away from him as they could. Jean scowled at them, but didn't send IX out of the room. The students were the ones who'd made the wretched boy smell so bad, so they can share in the stink for a while, she thought, irritated. Maybe that would make them plan out their pranks a little better.
As she turned to write on the board, John flicked his lighter open and snagged a tiny lick of fire. He shot Bobby a dark grin before the tiny bead of fire shot from his finger tip and landed on IX's back. A tendril of smoke wafted up from the burning cloth. The two teens held their breath, waiting for IX to react, but he didn't. Instead, he sat perfectly still, as if he wasn't burning.
Scowling, Bobby sent a tiny stream of ice to put out the fire. John scowled at him, annoyed that his fun had been ruined so soon, but then he noticed the little black dot of burned cloth and skin and he grinned again. Every time Jean turned to write on the board, John would start another fire, and Bobby would put it out.
They played connect the burning dots throughout the period. IX never turned or gave any indication he felt the agony of fire and ice that played over his back.
Hunger coiled in his gut like a living thing, and IX's ribs were beginning to show from the lack of food. It had taken over a week for him to find the right materials to make the sling, and it would take longer to master the new weapon. Mastery usually took years to accomplish, but hunger was almost as good a teacher as pain, and he was closer to his goal every day.
The pockets of his coat were heavy with small egg shaped stones that he'd found along the shore of the small lake on the eastern side of the property. A fluffy red tail flicked impertinently at him as the squirrel snatched up an acorn and studied him with glinting black button eyes.
Slipping a fresh stone into the pouch of the sling, IX began the careful rotation, waiting for the precise moment to release. The stone hissed through the air with the same deadly precision as a bullet, pulverizing the furry rodent's skull.
Cold satisfaction washed through IX's chest while he watched the body crumple. Sliding the loop off his finger, he wrapped the twin strings around the pouch before tucking the weapon into his pocket.
Memories of their time in the forest helped guide the paring knife he'd managed to swipe one of the few times he'd made it into the kitchen unnoticed. In minutes, he had the small corpse skinned, gutted and staked over a small camp fire.
It took all his self-control to wait until the flesh was cooked before he pulled it off the fire and tore into it like a starving wolf. Once the squirrel was reduced to a pile of well gnawed bones, he put out the fire and buried the remains of his kill.
Rogue stared at the back of IX's head, a frown on her lips. In the past three months, she'd watched all the students and even the professors bully IX, but nothing they did to him seemed to phase the tiny serial killer.
He never fought back, or retaliated in any way, never cried, never begged them to stop, and never told on them. Then again, Rogue understood his reluctance. The adults obviously knew what was going on, but did nothing to stop it on their own, so why would they do anything if he told them? Hell, he'd probably end up in detention for it. A vindictive smirk brushed her lips. In IX's time as a student, she didn't think he'd had a single night without at least one detention.
But still, he wasn't bothered by any of it. Even when he got hurt for one of the more savage pranks, the damage was always gone the next day. He acted like they were nothing but flies buzzing around his ear, not even worth the effort of swatting away. It was maddening.
Then there was the matter of his power. He was a mutant after all, and he had to have a power. A lot of the students though it was healing, but Rogue wasn't so sure. Yes, he healed faster than normal, but nothing like Logan did. She'd heard all about Adelaide's bite, and how the damage hadn't lasted more than a minute.
No, the healing had to be a secondary trait. If it wasn't, Beast wouldn't have drilled that metal plate to the back of IX's head. He had to have some sort of active power, and all the students could do was speculate on what it might be because no one was willing to go up and ask.
Class ended, and IX was up and out of the room the second the bell rang. It was the final class on a Friday, and most of the students were headed out onto the grounds to enjoy the beautiful day. Rogue wrinkled her nose. Because she had to wear a layer of clothes all over her body, she wasn't a huge fan of hot weather. Many of them would be swimming in the lake, and she hated sitting on the shore and watching them play. The risk of accidentally draining someone was far too great for her to ever go swimming.
Instead, she headed up to her room to drop off her backpack. Then maybe she'd head to the library to get a head start on her homework. Once she'd put her bag away, keeping only a notebook for research and a pen, she headed to the library. As she expected, the halls were empty, no one had even invited her to come out and play with them. They'd learned a long time ago that she shunned nice weather. In the winter, when the ground was covered in snow and everyone wore thick layers of clothing, she'd go out and build snowmen, have snowball fights, and skate on the lake. Until then, she'd stay inside and pretend to like it.
Turning a corner, she found out that she wasn't as alone as she'd thought. IX was walking ahead of her, also headed towards the library. The pent up anger at always being left out of things, coupled with her previous thoughts on how nothing the other students did had any effect on IX boiled to the surface.
Without thinking about the consequences of her actions, Rogue slipped off her gloves and shoved them into her pocket as she ran to catch up. "IX wait," she called after him. He stopped, but didn't turn, simply waited for her to catch up. Taking a deep breath as excitement, fear, and guilt mingled in her chest, Rogue reached out to grab his hand. It was the first time she'd ever willingly used her power against someone else, and part of her relished the thought.
His hand was warm, and when their skin came into contact with each other, he turned his head to her. Brilliant green eyes, so much richer than any other she'd ever seen, studied her. She could almost see him waiting for the attack, having long learned that any time a student wanted his attention, it was to harm him in one form or another.
And this time won't be any different, she thought, waiting for the rush – the influx of power, emotions, and thoughts. She waited for him to pour himself into her, and waited. Her eyes widened when nothing happened. Rouge could actually feel her power tugging at him. Every time before, it was like the other person's skin would fold away in her mind, and they would flow into her like a river. But IX was more like an oak tree. He was solid, and unmoved beneath her power.
Anger clouded her features. The first time she chose to use the cursed power, and it didn't freaking work. Of course it didn't. That's just the way the world worked. IX was the only person who really deserved to suffer her curse, and he was the only one immune to it.
Then her anger was washed away in a flood of awe. For the first time since her mutation became active, she was touching another person. She was touching IX, and he wasn't convulsing on the floor. Later, Rogue wouldn't be able to explain to herself why she acted, she'd chalk it up to temporary insanity.
"IX," she breathed, and pulled him against her. He was about two inches shorter than her, so she had to bend slightly to capture his lips. His startling eyes widened, but he didn't move. Rogue could almost read the confusion in those normally empty orbs. Her arms wrapped around him as she kissed him like he was the last man on the planet, willing him to kiss her back. But he didn't. He stood passively in her grip, letting her do as she wished, but not responding.
"Rogue?" Bobby's voice cut through her confused and desperate thoughts. Leaping away from IX as if he were on fire, she turned. He was standing in the doorway to one of the boy's bathrooms, heartbreak shining in his wide blue eyes.
"Bobby," she gasped, spun and ran. Bobby shot IX a venomous look that promised future pain before running after her.
Reaching up, IX wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He had no more understanding of why she'd kissed him than why X kissed him, but found he much preferred the feral's lips to hers. He dismissed the whole matter as incomprehensible, and headed for the library to spend the weekend doing make-up work to replace the homework other students had destroyed over the course of the week.
That night, when he sat down to eat, Kitty took the seat across from him. Mischief glinted in her wide eyes as she reached out and put a fingertip on his tray. Suppressing a sigh, IX reached out and tried to pick up his fork. His fingers passed through the metal.
Green eyes locked with dancing hazel. "May I eat?" IX asked. Unlike the rest of the students who'd simply destroyed his food, she was holding it hostage.
A small giggle escaped her. "Nope," she said as she shook her head, making her brown curls bounce around her heart shaped face.
Taking advantage of the fact that she had to say there to keep him from eating, IX asked, "Why are you doing this?"
The laughter melted out of Kitty's face, leaving her eyes hard. "Because you tried to kill one of my best friends."
IX could see the anger snapping in her eyes while she stared him down. His blank features shifted into a practiced frown. The expression looked a little off, but Kitty couldn't figure out why. Looking at IX when he was trying to be expressive was like looking at one of those 'what's wrong with this picture' photos where you know something isn't right, but it takes a while to pinpoint the issue.
The only student he'd harmed was the screaming girl. IX doubted Kitty was talking about one of the professors he'd injured. "She survived," he offered. If she knew his kill ratio, she would understand how lucky the female was to have escaped with nothing more than a scar.
Kitty jerked as if he'd slapped her. "Survived?" she hissed, "What the heck is wrong with you? The fact that she survived doesn't make it all right."
"She could be dead. Don't you prefer her alive?" IX asked, his bland tone grated on the girl so much she wanted to hurt him. Kitty was not a violent person by nature, but IX made her crazy.
"Yes!" Kitty cried. "I 'prefer' her alive." She took her hand off the tray long enough to make air quotes around the word prefer. In the second she let go, IX's hand darted out to snatch a dinner roll of the plate. Hissing like her namesake, she stood up, snatched the glass of lemonade off his tray and threw it in his face.
Cheers rank out around the room.
"You're an insensitive prick," Kitty growled before she stormed out of the room, leaving him dripping and mourning the now soggy roll.
After taking yet another shower, IX changed into clean clothes and headed out onto the grounds. Checking the area around the large oak tree next to the lake for traps, IX relaxed slightly when he found it clear. He'd claimed the spot for himself not long after becoming a student, and the others couldn't help but try and prank him here.
Disarming the traps, while tedious, at least helped hone his skills since he had no one to spar with. IX sat with his back against the rough bark and pulled out the assigned reading. He could have saved himself a lot of grief by doing most of his work in his cell, where the students couldn't follow, but pride forced him to remain out in the open. Even though he couldn't fight back, he refused to let them think him weak by hiding from their torment.
He made it through half a chapter before the sound of footsteps alerted him. IX watched Bobby approach, and couldn't classify the look on the teen's face. Even though he spent an inordinate amount of time trying to understand the emotions the children displayed, he was finding it impossible to understand them. While he could see the expressions on their faces, he couldn't ask them what feelings inspired such expressions. Right now, for example, he could read anger on Bobby's face, but that was only a small part of what the other male was feeling. IX could tell that much, but couldn't begin to guess what else might be going on.
Bobby stopped a few feet away and stared at him for a long time. Emotions flickered over his face too fast to decipher. IX forced his body to relax, so that he'd be able to move easily when the youth attacked. Even though he couldn't fight back, he'd learned how to move with a punch, letting the blow impact, but dulling it so it didn't cause as much damage. That way, the attacker felt like they got what they wanted, and IX didn't suffer as much for it.
Visibly gathering himself, Bobby said, "Can I sit down?"
Surprise flitted over IX's features for a second only to melt back into bland indifference. "Yes."
The ice mutant sat stiffly across from him, looking incredibly uncomfortable. "You…" Closing his eyes, Bobby rubbed his temples. "You can touch Rouge without dying." He finally managed to say.
IX remembered the odd pulling sensation when the girl touched him, but it hadn't harmed him like rumor said it did others. "Yes."
Silence filled the space between them while Bobby fought with what he wanted to say. "Look, you, I." A sigh exploded out of him. He ran his shaking fingers through his brown hair, tugging at the locks as if the pain might help center him.
"Would you date Rouge?" The words were forced from his throat around the blockage trying to strangle him.
For the second time, IX found himself shocked at the turn this encounter had taken. Dating was the absolute last thing on IX's mind. Whisky colored eyes flashed in his thoughts before he forced them away. Even if he wanted to date someone, the odds of anyone at this school wanting him was laughable. They'd rather see him beheaded than kiss him. The memory of Rogue's damp lips pressed hungrily against his gave lie to the thought. Perhaps there was one who would overlook his prior crimes in order to have someone who could touch her. But that's all it would be. He had no feelings for her, and she had even less for him. All she wanted was someone to sooth her skin hunger.
"No."
"Why not?" Bobby demanded, anger twisting his hansom features into a mask of hate.
"Because I have no feelings for her," IX answered indifferently.
"What does that matter? It's not like anyone else will take you. Just give her a chance." Fury mingled with desperation in his tone. All Bobby wanted was for Rogue to be happy, and if IX could make her happy, then he damned well better.
"No."
That single implacable word resounded between them. Its dead tone was unchangeable, impossible to alter, and Bobby knew it. The rage won. His hand balled into a fist and iced over. He threw himself forward, slamming his fist into IX's side.
IX tried to move with the blow, but the trunk of the tree thwarted the motion. His breath woofed out of his chest as two ribs broke under the force of Bobby's untamed fury. After delivering the devastating blow, he stood and kicked dirt in IX's face.
"You don't deserve her. She'd never want a monster like you anyway."
"I am not a monster," IX said, but the way he said it wasn't so much a denial as it was clarification. He wasn't bothered by being called a monster, he simply found the term inaccurate. "I am a weapon."
Bobby stood over him and gave a jagged laugh. "What does that even mean? You aren't a gun, dumb ass. You're a person. People aren't weapons. They can be soldiers, or assassins, or fucking monsters, but they aren't inanimate objects."
"I was created to be a weapon, to be wielded by another. It is my duty to obey, not to be an individual."
A nasty smile curled Bobby's lips. "And what about now? You belong to the Professor, don't you? He's never going to use you. You're worthless to him. What happens to a weapon in the hands of a man who refuses to use it?"
IX's eyes narrowed, the words were sharper than the pain in his chest because nothing burned hotter than the truth. "I will become whatever he needs me to be."
"You're pathetic, you know that? Fucking worthless," Bobby turned his back on IX and walked away from the obsolete weapon.
Forcing the hurt Bobby's words inspired in him away, IX straightened up. Physical pain shortened his breath when the bones in his chest shifted, and he embraced the familiar feeling. He checked the time, and saw he had an hour and a half before curfew. Reaching out, he hissed as he grabbed his book to finish the chapter.
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