CHAPTER 8: Windrider
Xavier Institute for Gifted Children - Sunday, February 12th, 2012 – 6:54 AM
Jason had no idea when he fell asleep last night, but when he woke up, all he could remember was being at peace for the first time in a long time. For a moment, he wondered if he had dreamed all of last night, but if the heavy arm draped around his middle was any indication, last night was very real. Smiling, he lay there as he felt Piotr's even breath on his neck. Looking down at himself, he realized they must have passed out with their formal wear still on. He didn't think they would be that tired; not even the soda they had could stop this sleep.
He hated to risk waking Piotr, but he figured that the Professor would be inevitably sending out a telepathic call to call the X-Men to a meeting. Considering the events from last night, it was inevitable. Jason gingerly raised Piotr's strong arm from around his core, already missing the warmth. He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes. The bed was far too small for both of them, and it was a wonder why he didn't fall over the side. That must have been all Piotr.
Piotr stirred behind as his breathing quickened. Blinking, he looked up at Jason. "Jason?"
Jason looked over his shoulder at Piotr. "Good morning, Peter. Sleep well?"
Piotr breathed deeply. "Da. What time is it?"
"Not yet 7 AM," Jason said. "I wish I could sleep longer, but I have a feeling the Professor will be waking us up pretty soon to go over last night since we were all too tired to discuss it last night, case in point." Jason tugged at his formal shirt.
Piotr looked down and saw that he too was still wearing much of his tuxedo from last night. "Oh."
"I guess we were more tired than we thought."
Piotr smiled and then looked up at Jason. "Jason?"
"Yeah?"
"I am…happy you told me your feelings last night. I was worried for long time that you did not have any for me."
Jason nodded. "I'm just sorry it took me so long." Looking away, he continued. "Just so you know, I'm still a little anxious. Not about us, but just navigating everything. This is the first time I've been with a guy, although I never have dated a girl either. You know the story already."
Piotr nodded himself.
Jason glanced at Piotr. "How many guys have you been with, if it's ok to ask."
Piotr propped himself up with his elbows. "Only one. I was sixteen. It was not a relationship. It was…well…"
"A quickie, huh?"
Piotr nodded.
Jason blinked. "That's kind of young."
"I knew I liked boys when I was twelve years old…," Piotr said. "…but perhaps it was mistake to not wait longer for my first time."
"Well…," Jason said. "…it was probably uncharted territory for you too."
"I am thinking so. Not long after that, I was working for Magneto."
"I get it," Jason said. "…and you never felt that way about girls?"
Piotr shook his head. "No. Women are beautiful…," Piotr said and smiled. "…but boys are handsome. I like handsome."
Jason smiled. "Well, no doubt about it. You're gay."
Prior smiled. "Yes, I am."
"Since we're putting it out there," Jason turned to Piotr. "I guess what I am is…" Jason pushed to analyze his feelings. He just discovered that he did like guys after all, but did that mean exclusively or not? "…well…the jury might still be out, but I guess I'm…bisexual."
Piotr nodded.
"I'm only basing that because I did want to date a girl back in Oklahoma, but it just didn't happen." Jason shrugged.
"You are you," Piotr said, reaching up to squeeze Jason's bicep.
Jason smiled but then looked away. "We should probably get ourselves decent in case the Professor does come calling."
"I am thinking of different idea."
Before Jason could ask what, two strong arms wrapped around his core and pulled him back down on the bed. "Wha—Peter!" A firm kiss on his lips silenced further protest. Piotr felt Jason needed more convincing for this idea and continued to kiss him.
After a few more kisses. Jason had to come up for air. "Ok…you make a compelling sell."
Piotr smiled. "Good, because you are not getting up until I'm saying you are getting up."
Jason chuckled. "You're so bossy. I'm kind of into it."
As they exchanged more kisses, they felt a ping in their brains.
"X-Men, I apologize for the early hour," said the Professor's mental voice. "…but we have much to discuss regarding recent events at the school dance and all surrounding events. Please meet with the rest of the team in the common room."
Piotr and Jason looked at each other. "Told you," Jason said with a smile.
"You are right," Piotr said.
Jason looked at Piotr with a cocked eyebrow. "So, do I have permission to get up?"
Piotr laughed, letting his grip slacken. "I suppose I must."
"No complaints here, officially." Jason rose from the bed. "We should get changed. I'm sure our teammates already have a lot of questions. If we show up like this, they'll have a lot of wrong ones."
"I am guessing you are right."
XXXXXXXXXX
The Professor knew that it would take some time for all the students to get themselves together. Last night was quite trying and they faced a force for which none were prepared. It should have been a night of well-mannered frivolity and the blooming of new relationships, not a fight for survival. Despite what happened, it seemed love was well and alive in the air after all.
Over several minutes, all ten members of the X-Men in addition to Forge had made their way into the common room. "Thank you all again for coming. Once again, I apologize for the early hour, but I trust this quick breakfast will help." The Professor motioned towards a nearby table that bore donuts, fruit juices, and coffee.
Jason's eyes lit up. "Maker, yes!"
An appreciative laugh ran among the other X-Men members as they rummaged through the collection of sweets and drinks. In due time, everyone got a sufficient supply of breakfast, and the Professor decided to call the meeting to order.
"Thank you, again, X-Men," he began. "…for stepping up to handle an unprecedented situation. When we had chosen you all to be X-Men, we may have to face situations beyond the limits of our imagination. Last night, you handled yourselves at a level beyond your training in the face of a foe none of us considered and managed to maintain our anonymity. For that, I commend you."
"Thank you, Professor," Jean said.
"We tried our hardest," Scott said.
The Professor nodded but noticed that Kurt looked worried. "Kurt?"
Kurt looked at the Professor. "I'm sorry, Professor, but someone does know about us now."
The rest of the X-Men turned to Kurt as the Professor steepled his hands. "What happened?"
"A few months ago, Rogue and I were talking about the investigation into finding my mother, and I got angry and teleported away. I thought we were alone, but someone saw me. I'm sorry, Professor."
Jason looked at the Professor. "I think I know which time he's talking about. I ran into Rogue almost immediately afterward because I heard the noise of Kurt's teleportation."
"Did you see anyone?" the Professor said.
"Only one, but it doesn't look like he was paying attention. His head was deep inside his locker."
"It wasn't him," Kurt said. "It was Amanda."
"Amanda?" Scott repeated. "The girl that asked you to the dance?"
Kurt nodded. "But she said she didn't tell anyone! She told me everything last night how she found out about me and everything."
Jean looked at the Professor. "Professor, I think Amanda told Kurt the truth. If she had told someone, I think we might have seen more direct results by now."
"I believe you are right," the Professor said. "Nevertheless, this is disquieting."
"Professor, if I may…," Jason started.
"You may."
"We all fully understand we must maintain the secrecy of our mutant powers, and despite outstanding pressure, we do our absolute hardest. In this case, we may have fallen short as a team, but through it, we potentially gained a sympathetic voice. I understand that she might be a super-minority in how the world may see us, but that voice can grow. We need people like Amanda to help pave the way for our eventual revelation."
"Professor," Kurt added. "She is the first person that wasn't a mutant that is not afraid of me. Last night, she said she wanted to see me for who I am. I didn't want to at first, but she already knew that I was different…so…I showed her. I turned off my holowatch. She didn't run, she didn't scream. All she said was…," Kurt paused, smiling as he recalled what Amanda said. "'Blue is my favorite color.'"
Many of the girls thought that sounded adorable, while Jason and Piotr looked at Kurt compassionately. "She's a keeper," Jason quipped.
"I'm happy that there is someone out there who can look at you, Kurt, for who you are and what not you look like." The Professor turned to Jason. "I also understand that we need to build allies among the rest of the world, but I strongly advise that should such a situation arise again, please let me know as soon as an incident occurs so we may coordinate a response, positive or negative." He turned back to Kurt. "Please exercise more caution using your powers anywhere outside the Institute. Not everyone you will meet will be as welcoming as Ms. Sefton."
Kurt nodded. "Yes, Professor."
Jason happened to notice Rogue cross her arms but also choosing not to say anything. Jason recalled that Rogue had a friend at school and that a situation similar to Kurt's could arise.
"In the meantime, Kurt," the Professor said with a smile. "…please treasure what you have with Ms. Sefton. A person like her does not come often in our lives."
Kurt smiled. "Thank you, Professor."
"That brings me to our next portion of this meeting today. I understand that this event, despite unforeseen complications, has caused some of us to be closer to each other as we…reevaluate our relationships…l
Jason and Piotr snuck a glance at each other but tried to keep their minds blank.
"…and while I believe this is a wonderful prospect and a beautiful thing, I must remind all our students to maintain the discipline and stature I expect from our students."
Logan, who had been content to remain silent for much of this follow-up, decided to reiterate. "That's Prof talk for 'no hanky-panky.' Trust me, I'll know if a couple of you decide to play Twister."
There was a small giggle in appreciation among some of those gathered, but Jason and Piotr chose to remain quiet. Jason had to fight any blush that threatened to give him away, and he imagined Piotr was doing the same.
"I don't think there will be any problem with that, Professor," Scott said.
"I trust so, Scott," the Professor said. "…yet I would be remiss if I didn't remind you all."
"Professor," Jean said. "Going back to last night's events, what has been the response from the school? We might have been able to hide our mutant abilities, but how can the incident itself be explained? The entire school was there most likely."
"Indeed," the Professor said. "Thankfully, Jason's foresight to repair the gymnasium and what was inside it has hidden any evidence of an incursion. There is currently an inquiry as to what those things were and where they came from. I suspect the board will be meeting soon regarding it. I will be 'observing' them in a sense and 'encouraging' a palatable explanation. When the student body meets again on Monday, I will be using Cerebro to alter the events in the students' minds to parallel that explanation."
"Hopefully everyone actually shows up to school for once," Jason quipped.
"If it helps," the Professor said. "…there's a general sense of denial of the events that occurred. Despite their fear, there does not seem to be many who believe what they saw."
"I can't blame them," Scott said.
"Professor," Kurt said hesitantly. "…what about Amanda? Will her mind be altered?"
The Professor folded his hands. "She is a...unique situation. I will have to determine how she is handling things. Rest assured, her memories of you will not be touched."
Kurt nodded.
"What do you want us to do at school?" Kitty asked.
"You won't need to do anything that deviates from your normal activities," the Professor said. "I trust that you can carry this secret as well as the ones you've already been carrying."
"Will the other students be advised?" Jean asked.
"Yes," the Professor said. "While only a few of the younger students were at the dance last night, they did not participate in containing the situation. I will be having a separate conversation with all of them." The Professor leaned back. "Starting Monday, some of you will start having more one-on-one sessions with either Logan, Ororo, or Hank. They will be coordinating with Forge to create sessions to better measure the potential of each student in a controlled environment."
Jason had to smile to himself. "Ideally with fewer demonic invasions," he thought.
"We will be putting together a schedule soon but be prepared for the occasional impromptu session. Team exercises will be intermixed with this schedule, so please be patient as we navigate our new schedules. Any questions?"
None answered. It seemed straightforward enough.
"Thank you, X-Men. Enjoy the rest of your day, and I believe you all earned a day off from Danger Room exercises today."
A collective sigh of relief went through the room. Logan seemed to be the only one not happy about it, but perhaps that was just his natural stoicism.
As the rest of the group dispersed, Jason pulled Piotr aside and out of hearing range. "Hey, got a second?"
Piotr smiled. "Always for you."
"Peter, stop, you'll make me blush." Jason cleared his throat before continuing. "I guess we will have to behave ourselves. I have a feeling Logan will sniff us out and make us do ten Danger Room sessions a day if we get carried away."
Piotr sighed. "I know…" Piotr reached to cup Jason's cheek. "…but it will not be easy."
Jason had to bite his lower lip. "…damn it, Peter. Don't turn me into a bad boy."
"Perhaps I am wanting you to be bad boy."
"Peter!" Jason said, trying to squash the warmth building inside him. "Seriously though, I really don't want you to get into trouble for me. Besides, I think this is something we should take our time in discovering together. I'm ok with taking it slow and letting what we have with each other mature at its own pace, you know what I mean?"
Piotr nodded. "I know. I am just being…what I hear girls say at school…a tease."
Jason had to laugh at that. "Well, we can still do more things together."
"What are you thinking?"
"A date," Jason said. "…a real date this time, just the two of us. I know that the dance was supposed to be a celebration of Valentine's Day, but technically, it's not Valentine's Day yet. Wanna go out that night?"
Piotr smiled. "I would love to."
Jason smiled more radiantly. "Great!"
"Hey! Has anyone seen Jason?"
Jason blanched. "Uh oh, it's Kitty…"
Piotr blinked in confusion. "Is that bad thing?"
"No," Jason said. "…but I'm damn sure she wants to know everything about what's going on between us, and once she finds us, she'll take over both our days." Jason turned back to Piotr. "It's probably too late for me. Save yourself!"
Piotr smiled at Jason's theatrics. "It will not be that bad."
"He's got to be around here somewhere!" came Kitty's voice.
"I have questions for him too!"
"That sounded like Amara," Jason thought as he put his head in his hands. "Oh god, Kitty's got a gaggle."
"On second thought," Piotr said. "Good luck, comrade."
"I'm only glad I found you before I died," Jason said dramatically. "Seriously though, I'll find you later. I'll cover for you."
"You are too good to me, Jason."
"Oh, I know you'll pay me back later." Jason smiled as he stepped away winking.
Piotr smiled. "I am sure I can manage."
XXXXXXXXXX
Near Lake Turkana, Kenya
It was well into the night in the savanna, the most dangerous time of the day for any creature in Africa as the night was ruled by the hunters. However, the tribesmen of Kenya were well accustomed to the dangers and the guards maintained vigil around the perimeters. They, their fathers, and their fathers' fathers for countless generations as pastorals lived off the land and revered their goddess.
In the middle of the village, a great fire burned as the warriors danced around it, chanting in prayer for the blessing of their goddess. While she left their presence some time ago, they still revered her and waited for the word from their laibon—what outsiders may call a shaman—to see if their goddess would finally return from her journeys.
Watching them alongside the women, children and older men was one named Nerombo. He had murmurs regarding a small tribe south of his home nation of Wakanda, one called the Batantu. Unlike the more dominant Maasai tribes that worshipped the dual-natured Engai, this one had a reverence for a nameless goddess that was said to banish the droughts or set fire to the crops of their foes. On behalf of his king, Nerombo watched the Batantu closely to see if the worries of the His Excellence were merited. So far, nothing seemed more nefarious than the hyenas that often dogged this tribe's herds.
Suddenly, a figure stepped out of one of the huts, one marked by two pillars of mambas. His face was painted white and in the shape of a skull. He wore substantially more tribal jewelry than any other in the village, and in his hand was an ornate staff that looked much like the snakes that guarded his hut, but within its maw was a large orb. Nerombo wasn't sure if it was just the light of the fire, but he thought he saw an orange glow within the orb's heart.
When the laibon stepped out, the prayers and dancing immediately ceased. He strode forward towards the fire, everyone moving aside and bowing to allow their spiritual leader a clear path to the fire. He did not grace them with his gaze; his mind was single-focused. Nerombo dared to look as he passed by, and the feeling he felt as the laibon passed by chilled his heart.
The laibon bent down and picked up a blazing stick from the fire, looked at the flames stoically, and then turned to the rest of the village and addressed them in the old language of Maa. Nerombo was well-versed in the local languages and understood everything.
"My people! Your prayers have been answered! After thirty cycles of the great rains, I, the Hungan, have discovered the whereabouts of our beloved goddess!"
A murmur of wonder and excitement spread around the village people; Nerombo's concern only grew.
"Our priestess and mouthpiece of our goddess was taken from us at the hands of outsiders," the Hungan orated. "…and twice again she was taken from the world by outsiders as her blood soaked the soil far from her home!"
Nerombo heard the loud gasp of fear and sorrow from the villagers. He was familiar with N'Dare's death in the Middle East many years ago as it shook much of East Africa.
"Fear not!" the Hungan commanded with a loud clunk of his staff. "…for the goddess lives on! She has chosen another to bear her blessing, for our priestess bore a daughter, and the goddess' blessing has passed onto her! Despite the blasphemous actions of outsiders, our goddess lives!"
Nerombo maintained a very stoic face as the rest of the village grew elated at the idea that their goddess could return. If only the villagers knew what the Hungan was really planning.
"I ask for the brave warriors of the Batantu to follow me on my quest to reclaim our goddess and beseech her to return. She will return to the proper place with her people and our tribe will be prosperous forever! Are you with me, my warriors?!"
As a great many warriors volunteered to follow their laibon on his quest, Nerombo had suspicions about what the Hungan truly meant by prosperity and knew he must act upon them. Stealthily he retreated behind the huts. He grew aware that one of the women was following him, but he was not concerned. He knew her true allegiance. "Nyala," Nerombo said.
The woman appeared beside him. "Nerombo," the woman simply greeted it. "Is this as bad as we feared?"
"Worse," Nerombo replied. "The Hungan will bring ruin to Africa if he succeeds, and Wakanda would be hard-pressed to defend itself against the Windrider." He turned to Nyala. "I beseech you to return to Wakanda and report this to General Okoye. The Dora Milaje must be warned of the peril."
"And our King?" Nyala asked. "He has taken a personal interest in N'Dare's daughter's whereabouts."
"Leave that to the general. As for me, I must find a way to warn her before it is too late. I suspect the Hungan may have allies that will swiften his steps, and I have only my own."
"May Bast guide you, Nerombo," Nyala said and disappeared into the night.
"May Bast guide you, Nyala…," Nerombo said and he too slinked away. It would normally be suicide to leave the village at night with the hyenas and other predators of the night on the hunt, but he was Nerombo of the Hatut Zeraze. He was as capable and cunning as a leopard and could remain just as unseen as a leopard chooses to be. Even if that were not the case, he would risk it all for this mission and his king.
He must reach the city of New York in North America and warn Ororo, or Africa and the world could crumble.
XXXXXXXXXX
Bayville High School
Monday, February 13th, 2012 – 12:07 PM
Jean had selected her portion of cafeteria edibles for this day and was looking around for a place to sit. Interestingly enough, most of the Institute students had elected to sit at different tables. She saw Kurt and Amanda sitting together at one table, Kitty and Lance sitting at another, and noticed that Jason and Piotr were sitting together at a table of their own, trying to have lunch but it seemed many of the girls of the school were quite enamored by them being the newest couple of the school.
Jean could sense the aggravation Jason was feeling; he just wanted to eat in peace and now everyone wanted to ask him about the dance. He was happy for Jason and Piotr for finally finding each other, but such a public declaration of it was bound to attract a lot of clamor. She only hoped that it wouldn't last long for them.
Looking around some more, she frowned as she saw Scott and Taryn sitting nearby. She tried to squash renewed feelings of jealousy and quickly turned away to see if she could find Duncan. She did not really want to sit next to him after what he said about Jason at the dance, but she badly needed an excuse.
"Hey, Jean! Come sit with us!"
Taryn's voice stopped her in her tracks. She could already see the awkward trajectory this was about to take, but it would be just as awkward if she ignored them. Sighing, he put on her best smile and then turned to Taryn. "Oh, hi, Taryn! You sure?"
"Come on!" Taryn said. "We haven't hung out in so long and we're still girlfriends, right?"
"Were they?"Jean thought to herself. It seemed like it had been a long time since they hung out, but somehow, Jean didn't feel that pang of missing her friend. Were they still friends? "Well, ok…," Jean said, sitting down across from Scott and Taryn. "I was looking for Duncan, but I guess he'll just have to be ok by himself."
Scott shrugged. "Haven't seen him."
Jean looked at Scott, sensing waves of enmity from him. She found that quite strange. Scott was still hostile to Duncan?
"I'm surprised you'd still sit with him, Jean," Taryn said. "He didn't dance with you at all this weekend, didn't he?"
Jean felt new jealousy surge as she remembered that Scott and Taryn had danced much of the night away that night, and she didn't dance at all. Keeping her happy face on, she answered. "No, he didn't."
"I'm sorry, Jean!" Taryn said sympathetically, but Jean couldn't help but feel like it was patronizing. "I would have dumped him right there and then if he did that to me. Thankfully, Scott would never do that."
"Count to ten, Jean, count to ten," Jean told herself mentally before replying. "Duncan can be a little…aloof, but…" Jean's mind raced to try to paint Duncan in a better light but found herself reaching. Were things going south with Duncan and her? How long has this been happening?
"You're too nice, Jean," Taryn said, sensing Jean's difficulty in finding the right things to say,
"Now that was patronizing," Jean thought to herself.
"Anyway, did you get your school progress report? How did you do?"
"Me?" Jean replied, thrown by the change of subject. "Oh, you know, well enough. Easy classes."
A tense silence sat between them all, none seemed to think of anything to talk about or broach any subject that could unintentionally set off an argument. Jean felt that if she did say anything, the door to the latter would swing wide open and ruin everyone's day. Perhaps it was better to take the loss and move elsewhere. "You know, I think I'm going to check up on Jason. He's looking a little swarmed over there."
That seemed to break the tension. "Oh, I've been dying to ask them about…well…you know. If you find out anything, can you let a girl know?"
"Sure," Jean said, but she had no intention of doing so. God knows Jason and Piotr would prefer to not be the new gossip of the school, but that's where they were. The only thing she could do was not feed the monster.
After she picked up her tray and left the table, she felt sad that Scott chose to only say all of three words and nothing else. Could this be a sign of things to come for them? Could they still avert it?
She reached Jason's and Piotr's table before she could finish thinking about it, and could see an aggravated Jason talking to Piotr. "I should make an FAQ sheet for the next person who asks. How many times am I going to answer the same question?"
"It is a little…tiring," Piotr said.
Jason looked up to see Jean. "Oh, hi, Jean! Sorry if I didn't see you there…,"
Jean smiled at the warm reception, especially compared to whence she came. "It's ok, Jason. I imagine that you two have been quite popular today."
Jason sighed. "Don't even get me started, but the worst part is that I have no right to complain!" Jason sighed. "This is all my fault, Peter. I should have waited for our conversation that night instead of making it so public beforehand."
Piotr reached for Jason's hand. "Nyet, I am glad you asked me to dance. I would not be changing anything."
Jason smiled. "I don't deserve you, Peter…"
"I do not deserve you…," Piotr said.
"You two are so sweet," Jean said. "It doesn't look like you have received flack so far."
"I fully expect that to change once the novelty wears off," Jason said. "I am surprised at how much gushing we got. The ladies love us now for some reason. I mean, we can't be the only same-sex couple at the school…right?"
One of Jean's eyebrows shot up. "Do you know of another?"
Jason's eyes danced back and forth as his mind ran through a very rough and partial mental spreadsheet of the student body. He looked up. "Well, I'll be damned…"
"Well, I'm happy for the both of you, and I'm sure that many of us at the Institute are relieved you two finally got together."
Jason looked at Jean. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Like I said before: you're not as subtle as you think, Jason."
Jason raised his hands in the air. "So everyone keeps saying!"
Piotr stifled a laugh.
"On another note," Jason said, trying to change the subject. "I haven't seen anyone talk about the dance in the redacted light, if you know what I mean."
"Seems like the Professor's plan is working so far."
"I'm grateful," Jason said. "I was a little terrified that there would be at least one hysterical student, not that I would blame them…"
"Here's hoping," Jean said. "That reminds me; have either of you been scheduled for those new sessions the Professor told us about."
Jason raised his hand. "I did. I have a session with Storm later this afternoon after school."
"I am training with Logan this evening."
"Hmm," Jean said. "Looks like my schedule is free this evening for now."
"We can't all be so lucky," Jason said.
Piotr looked at Jason. "Jason, what time is it?"
Jason looked at Piotr and then at his watch. "Shit, we don't have much time left before the fourth period. Guess we need to take our lunches to go."
"I can bus your trays," Jean said. "Just take what you can eat quickly."
Jason stood up and grabbed a part of his lunch. "Thank you, Jean, I appreciate you."
"At least someone does," she thought to herself, thinking back to the previous table she was at. As she watched Jason and Piotr go, she felt a new pang of jealousy, but one not as hostile as she felt before. This kind was from the desire to have a young, fresh relationship like Jason and Piotr had. Things were so much simpler when Duncan and she were first starting out, and now she felt that it was the beginning of the end. Should she end things, or should she persevere?
Jean sighed to herself. She didn't think boys would be this complicated.
XXXXXXXXXX
Xavier Institute for Gifted Children – 4:56 PM
Storm waited patiently in the center of the Danger Room. No one else was here as she booked the Danger Room for Alchemist and herself only. Despite her resolution to help Alchemist temper his fear of storms last year, she deemed it better to allow Alchemist's power to mature before they worked on phobia temperance. She could relate to him having a phobia, having a phobia of her own. What made things complicated was that his phobia was related strongly to her power over the meteorological forces of the world. She didn't have phobia temperance on her mind for this exercise, so hopefully, Alchemist didn't come to this exercise with preexisting trepidation.
She tried not to pace, but it was almost time. Alchemist was one of the more punctual students. While he wasn't late yet, it was getting quite close to the start time. Did something happen? She walked back and forth around the room, trying to stay rational, but she did not sleep well. Her dreams were haunted by imageless whispers that stirred up strange feelings of dread inside her. Even now, she felt like she was hearing those whispers and it was getting to her.
Suddenly, she heard the doors to the Danger Room open, and Alchemist jogged in. Breathing hard, Alchemist greeted Storm. "I'm sorry, Storm. I didn't mean to be late."
Storm looked at the time. "Truthfully, you're on time, but I did expect to see you before now. What happened?"
Alchemist straightened up some. "I had Scott drive me home so I could get here on time, and…" Jason made a strange look on his face. "It's the strange thing…I'm guessing the weather changed some because a dense fog bank rolled in. Never seen it do that in the afternoon."
"It's more common than you might think," Storm said. "…but I'll look into it after the exercise. Thank you for coming."
Alchemist nodded.
"You possess a great handle on your powers at your level, so for our first one-on-one exercise, we will be testing your versatility, your instinct, and your swiftness."
"We need to see how I handle myself in a pinch, got it."
"Correct." Storm looked upwards. "Computer, initiate program designate Stormchaser."
"Acknowledged. Two users detected in Danger Room. All users please verify your participation. Do you accept?"
"Yes," said Storm and Alchemist in unison.
"Acknowledged. Stormchaser to execute in 3…"
"What's my objective, Storm?" Alchemist asked.
"Escort and protect," Storm said as the program started, summoning a long featureless wireframe hallway. It reminded Alchemist much of the movie Tron. "Guide me from this point to the next…" Storm pointed down to the opposite end of the hall. "…and protect me from any rogue element that could assail us."
Alchemist looked down the hallway, wondering what the "Grid"—as he mentally named it—had in wait for them. "We should really workshop that name…" Alchemist quipped.
"Focus, Alchemist," Storm said sternly. "I am in your hands. Are you ready?"
Alchemist was a little taken aback at Storm's seriousness, but he did not protest. "I am. I'm right behind you."
Storm nodded and made her way down the hallway with Alchemist close behind. Both eyed each side of the hallway, waiting to see what could attack them. Alchemist clenched his fists, summoning his alchemic powers to be used at a moment's notice. Storm could hear the energy crackling behind her, and she couldn't help but be thankful that he was taking this very seriously.
Suddenly, a turret popped out and fired quickly. Storm raised her arm to block the shot, but a steel panel had beaten her to it. Storm looked at the panel as it crackled briefly with Alchemist's green alchemic energy. As the turret withdrew, Alchemist retransmuted the wall back to its original shape. "That was too close."
"Yes, it was," Storm said. "Your reflexes saved me."
"I'm just glad I happened to be looking in that direction at the time."
"Let's move. We've barely begun."
"All right," Alchemist said.
Storm and Alchemist continued slowly down the hallway, even more alert than before. Alchemist bit his lips as he tried to ignore sweat beading on his brow. He never liked these exercises; the anticipation was the worst part.
Out of the opposite wall popped out two clawed tentacles that shot towards Storm's limbs, but Alchemist quickly transmuted a magnetic field to stop them. With a flick of a wrist, he sent the tentacle smashing into its brother, snapping it off. Looking to his left, he saw two more tentacles come out and target Storm. "Get back, Storm!" he warned as he sent the detached tentacle with the magnetic field to the remaining tentacles, twisting his hands into the air as if tying a knot. The detached tentacle wrapped around the other two, preventing them from reaching Storm.
Alchemist shook his hands out. "Learned that one from Magneto, sort of."
"Good work," Storm said. "You paid attention to your surroundings."
"Thank you. Point of observation: perhaps I should lead and you follow me."
"This is your exercise, Alchemist," Storm said. "I'm not here to command how you do it."
"Noted," Alchemist said. "Were approaching the halfwa-AAAAAAAA!" Alchemist cried out as he plummeted into a hole that opened right underneath him. It was a short stop, but the balls of his feet still protested the impact.
"All you all right?" Storm called down the hole.
Alchemist looked up at Storm. "Nothing serious. Hold tight, I'll be up in a jiffy!"
Storm looked to see vents open up and spray fog into the hallway. "Hurry! A smokescreen has been deployed!"
Alchemist channeled his powers into his feet, transmitting the steel underneath him to push upwards, just high enough so he could pull himself up quickly. Hoisting himself up and out of the pit, he looked around and saw that the smokescreen had done a great job hiding anything more than two feet away. "Storm? Are you close?"
"Yes, focus, Alchemist."
Alchemist concentrated on where the voice was coming from, but there was an echo that proved distracting. "Storm, there's an echo that's throwing me off. Stay low and give me another ping."
"Keep listening, Alchemist, and trust in your ears."
Alchemist turned to where the voice was loudest. "Got it! I'm right there." Alchemist strode forward confidently and quickly found Storm, keeping low in the middle of the hall. "I see you!"
Before Alchemist took two steps, four panels shot up around Storm, encasing her entirely. His eyes bulging, Alchemist quickly ran to Storm. "Hang on, Storm!" He slapped his hands against the panel. "I'm getting you—"
Alchemist felt thousands of volts of electricity punch him in the chest and throw him backward, out cold. Barely seconds later, the trap exploded in a flare of lightning, exposing an exhausted but frenzied Storm. She did her absolute hardest to slow her breathing, but her temper had already flared. "Alchemist! Do you call that protecting—" Storm looked to see Alchemist lying still nearby. "Jason?"
Alchemist did not move.
Horrified, Storm looked up. "Abort simulation! Voiceprint: Storm!"
"Verified. Terminating program."
As the hallway faded away and the familiar structure of the Danger Room reappeared, Storm clambered back onto her feet and raced to Alchemist's side. "Jason! Can you hear me?"
Alchemist remained unconscious. Storm took off one of her gloves as well as Alchemist's. She placed her two center fingers onto Alchemist's wrist underneath his thumb, and quickly breathed a sigh of relief when she found a pulse. Still, he wasn't out of the woods yet. She pressed down on the decorative clip that held her cape together across her front and spoke into it. "I need immediate assistance in the Danger Room. A student is gravely injured."
The response was immediate. "Hold tight, Storm! I'll be there in a jiffy!"
Leave it to Wolverine to be the fastest to respond. Doubtless more would come, but for now, all she could do was try to awaken Alchemist. "Help is on the way, Jason. Just hold on."
XXXXXXXXXX
Jason felt like he had been trampled by a herd of wild buffalo. The first thing he could tell was that he was a little cold from his neck down to his waist, and there was something taped to various points of his chest and he heard a dull low beeping sound. What happened?
He heard a voice, but it was muddy and difficult to understand.
"Prof… …e's waking…"
"Was that Peter?" he thought to himself. He tried to open his eyes, but they were slow and felt glued together.
His senses started growing clearer and clearer, and his eyes finally started to open. "Was light always this bright?"
"Easy, Jason," came a gentle voice. "Take it slow."
Jason finally was able to open his eyes. He saw the Professor looking at him with his brow furrowed. "Professor?"
"How are you feeling?"
Jason felt like he didn't want to move for a month, but laying still was just as uncomfortable. "Like I got body pressed by the Juggernaut."
The Professor smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thankfully, that wasn't the case."
"Jason?"
Jason laboriously turned his head to the second voice and saw a worried Piotr. "Peter?"
"I am here."
Jason felt firm sweaty hands holding one of his own. He saw Piotr was holding Jason's hand in both of his own. "Hey…"
"Piotr has been by your side as soon as he learned you were injured."
Jason smiled weakly. "This is just like when we first met, remember?"
Piotr tried to smile, but his eyes were red from restrained tears. "Jason, I was so scared…"
"It's all right, Piotr," the Professor said. "He will be all right. We will make sure of it."
Jason slowly blinked. He realized that he was lying in a bed with the top part of his uniform removed and various sensors taped to his chest, side, and upper stomach. "What happened?"
"You were injured during an exercise in the Danger Room with Storm. What do you remember?"
Jason's brain was still a little sluggish, but pieces of the exercise were starting to emerge from the mud in his mind. "We were doing a one-on-one exercise, and it was going well at first…but then…Storm got trapped inside a small box. I tried to get her out, but during the transmutation, I felt this punch in my gut…and…nothing. I woke up here…" Jason looked around. "Am I in the infirmary?"
"Indeed you are, young Jason," came a third kind voice. Jason glanced over to see Hank examining readouts from the medical equipment. "Once again, you have found yourself here despite your best efforts."
Jason tried to laugh, but the best he could do was a sharp exhale. "Some things never change."
"You should be resting, Jason," said Piotr.
"Wise advice," Hank said. "You've sustained moderate electrical injury. Bed rest under observation is your best path forward."
Jason blinked. "I was electrocuted?"
"Indeed. Thankfully, it spared your heart. The electric current was not strong enough to overcome much of the resistance it encountered."
Jason let his head sink into the pillow. "Small favors."
"We're investigating into the cause. Storm is looking over the footage in the observation nest with Logan. In the meantime, please rest."
"May I be staying with him, Professor?" Piotr asked.
"I don't see why not," the Professor replied. "…but make sure he rests. He may need to stay in the infirmary overnight and he will need plenty of sleep."
"I understand."
"I'm in good hands, Professor," Jason replied.
"Yes, I know you are," the Professor said with a smile before turning to leave.
Piotr and Jason looked at each other, and Piotr asked. "Is he knowing of us?"
"How could he not? I'm told I'm not that subtle, after all."
Piotr smiled, but his eyes welled up. "When I heard you were hurt, I did not know it was being this bad."
It tore Jason up to see Piotr worried this much. "I'm sorry, Piotr. I'm all right, you'll see…"
"I know," Piotr said. "…but…I am having hard time finding right words…I want to protect you. You are more than best friend, but I am not knowing right word. It would be killing me to see you hurt more."
Jason squeezed Piotr's hand. "Peter, I know you want to protect both me and what we have together, but remember what I said back on Asteroid M? We do this together. We don't leave each other behind, but we also trust each other to see things through. You don't have to shoulder everything on yourself, and neither do I. We have to depend on each other when things get tough."
Piotr nodded. "I know…I just do not like seeing you hurt."
"It's no fun being hurt either," Jason quipped.
Piotr had to laugh a little at that.
"But I get what you mean, Peter. I'm sure what happened to me today was an accident." He realized he had never seen Storm since the exercise. "Storm wasn't with you all here, was she?"
Piotr shook his head. "She was here when you first arrived, but then she was leaving to go to Danger Room viewing nest."
"Hmm," Jason said thoughtfully. "I guess she really wants to see what happened. I hope she isn't beating herself up too hard. I was a little slow in getting her out of that trap."
"I…do not understand," Piotr said.
"She's badly claustrophobic, which means she's terrified of small, enclosed spaces. She's probably as bad as me with my own fear of storms. When that trap triggered, it probably triggered a panic attack and when I tried to get her out, she probably used her lightning to do the same thing. Metal is fantastic for transferring electricity, and I can't exactly say I was grounded either. That's probably what happened, and Storm might be blaming herself for it. I'll have to talk to her once I'm better, if she doesn't come before, that is."
Piotr smiled. "Are you hungry?"
Jason was slightly thrown by the change of subject, but he caught up well enough. "Yeah. I could eat."
"I will find something for you to eat and be right back, ok?"
"Before you go…?" Jason trailed off.
"Yes?"
Jason pointed at his mouth. "A kiss is a tried-and-true cure for all sorts of owies, or so my little sister thinks."
Piotr smiled. "I cannot be denying you cure." Piotr lowered his head to meet Jason's lips in a tender kiss. It was only for a couple of seconds, but Jason already felt like walking on air.
"Ahem."
Piotr and Jason sprang apart reflexively when they heard someone clear his throat.
"I apologize for the intrusion, gentlemen," said Hank. "…but I believe Jason could use a meal to assist further in his recovery. Piotr, could you?"
Piotr, very red in the face, nodded. "Yes, sir…"
Hank watched him go briefly and turned to Jason. "I trust you are starting to recover well…"
"I did get the magic cure," Jason said, looking smug. "So…how long were you standing there?"
"I never left, Jason…"
Jason blinked. How could he have not noticed?
"Should you continue on your trajectory, you should be able to sleep in your own bed tonight. I trust that would be preferable?"
"Oh, really?" Jason quipped. "I was starting to get used to how thin these mattresses are. Pretty sure I felt a pea."
Hank chuckled. "Well, if I may speak for all of us, we are glad that you are well…and well taken care of."
The innuendo was not lost on Jason's part. Perhaps this was a good way to gauge the general reaction of the Institute to the presence of a same-sex relationship. "Hank…are you all ok with this?"
Hank looked at Jason. "You mean your blooming relationship with Mr. Rasputin?"
Jason was getting a feeling of acceptance, but he needed to be sure. "Well…yeah…"
"Do our feelings, known or unknown, concern you?"
Jason shrugged. "This is a whole new experience for me, and I'm honestly winging it as I go. All I know is that my feelings for Peter are very real. I value my friendships with my teammates as well, and it would kill me if things got tense between us for something like this."
"Love recognizes no barriers," started Hank. "It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope."
Jason blinked, wondering what Hank was trying to say.
"Maya Angelou had a way with words," Hank reiterated. "…but just remember, Jason. Love is a matter of the heart, not the mind. Do not let your anxieties dictate your actions. Anxiety is there only to warn, not govern."
"Well, yeah," Jason said. "…but I can't say my anxieties aren't out of thin air. Peter had to hide his feelings for a long time because they were prone to judgment by his country, and I can't say it's that much better here."
"I understand," Hank said. "…but we are the X-Men, a postmodern representation of what society can become. For us to be exemplars of what humanity can be, we must welcome all forms of expression, including yours."
Jason nodded. "Thanks, Mr. McCoy."
"The Professor has advised you to make sure you still maintain some decorum, so can I trust you to behave yourself when Mr. Rasputin returns?"
Jason smiled. "I'll do my best, Mr. McCoy."
"That's all I can ask. Rest well, Jason."
Jason relaxed into his pillow, smiling as he thought about Hank's advice. He wasn't sure if he loved Piotr…but he was certainly open to that prospect. The thought of it thrilled him.
XXXXXXXXXX
Ororo was looking over the footage of the exercise she had with Jason not long ago. Reviewing the footage with her was Logan and Forge, but she already knew what would be found. While she did not see what happened to Jason, she had a bad feeling and needed to see for herself.
"Not bad for Scarface," Logan said. "I'm not dancing, but he's got solid reflexes."
"How you ever fixed this place up after each session before Jason came along is a mystery to me," Forge said.
"Gotta hand it to the kid," Logan said. "He's got his uses."
Ororo stood silently as the monumental moment in the video was about to come. She saw the smokescreen hide both of them, but Jason did a masterful job navigating himself through it to find her. As Jason approached her, she saw the trap cover her up. Even now, she felt the urge to panic just watching herself get enclosed in there.
She watched Alchemist quickly act, slamming his hands against one of the sides. She saw the green discharge of energy as his powers activated, but at the same time, she saw her lightning course throughout the metal cage and surge through Jason's body, throwing him backward and out cold on the floor.
She looked away, not seeing herself get out and angrily chastise Jason before she realized that Jason was hurt. She heard every word though.
Logan turned off the feed. "Well, guess we figured that's what happened," he said stoically. "For future reference, Brain." Logan turned to Forge. "No small spaces for Storm here?"
"Sorry, Logan," Forge said. "…but it wasn't intentional. I uploaded the code that controls the traps to the program and made sure it would select each one at random, or as random as a computer can be."
"It doesn't matter, Logan," Storm said. As Logan and Forge turned to her as she spoke for the first time since they got up here, she continued. "Whether it was because of the trap or not is irrelevant, but I allowed a student to come to great harm. For that, I must atone…"
Storm turned to leave, leaving Forge and Logan to their own devices. This was a fear as prevalent as her claustrophobia: the fear of hurting a student if she wasn't careful, and today, it happened. She could have made excuses, but she would not allow herself the out. All she could do was own up to her faults and hope Jason would forgive him. Jason did not need another excuse to fear her. Jason had handled himself well around her, but she knew that he always fought his astraphobia around her.
As she walked down the halls to the infirmary, she realized that the halls were quite dark. Looking around, she saw that only the emergency lights were on. "Did a breaker blow?" she thought to herself as she pressed forward. Hopefully, it didn't affect the infirmary, but she figured that if there was a power outage there, she would have heard about it by now.
She turned down a hallway and espied a light switch. Experimentally, she flipped it a few times but no light would come. Suddenly, she heard footfalls behind her. Spinning around, she called out. "Is someone there?" No answer came, and the footfalls receded. She didn't look away from the direction she heard them. She could have sworn she heard someone just down the hall.
More footfalls down a different hall off to her right. Her brow sinking in annoyance, she walked down the hall to confront the pranksters. It must be Kurt; he did have a flair for the practical joke. She turned the corner and saw no one there, and the footsteps were gone again. "Kurt? Are you down here?" she called out. No response. She tried to ignore her quickening heart as she kept going, a paranoid thought entering her mind that this was not a joke.
A door suddenly slid open next to her, startling her. "Who's there?!" she demanded, her voice raised. No one was there; the room was dark and empty but close…and it felt like it was getting closer. The light shifted behind her as if a shadow ran past, but as she turned, it was already gone. Leaving the empty room, she quickly looked down the halls frantically. Something was down here, and it knew where she was. "Show yourself!" she called out. Again, no response.
She saw a shadow in the corner of her eye slide past down the hall and disappear again, startling her enough to cry out. Hardening herself, she ran after it, fully intent on catching this invisible tormenter. As she turned the hall, she saw that there was no exit but a single elevator. She looked up at the floor indicator and saw that it was on the bottom floor, two floors down. "That's impossible!" she thought to herself. "There is no way the elevator cab could have gotten here, picked up a person, and then descended at that speed…unless…there was no one here…but how could that be?"
The footfalls returned behind her. She spun to face her stalker, but no one was there. They weren't going away this time though; to Ororo's terror, they were coming closer.
She spun around and smashed her palm against the up button to summon the elevator. She hated elevators because of how small and tight they were, but there was no other way out. She waited impatiently as the elevator didn't move right away. She kept looking behind her as the noise grew closer and closer. "Come on…," she whispered to herself and continued to push the button repeatedly, but the elevator still didn't seem to move. Her rational mind knew that the elevator could not move any faster, yet she kept pressing the button. "Come on!" she said more loudly than she meant.
The footsteps seemed to shift in response to her voice. They suddenly quickened and grew closer. Ororo spun around to face her assailant. Her heart was pounding, her breathing quickened, and her muscles received the power to run faster than she ever thought possible. As the light shifted around the corner, she tensed. It was coming closer…
The elevator door suddenly opened behind her, causing her to spin around and see someone was inside. "Ah!" she couldn't help but scream.
"Sorry," said a strangely amused Hank inside the elevator cab. "It's a normal reaction, I assure you."
"No, Hank, you just—" Storm began, but she found herself looking behind her again. The noise was gone, the shadow was gone, and it seemed peaceful.
Hank held the door open as it tried to shut. "Are you all right, Ororo?"
Storm turned back to Hank, her mind spinning both from the adrenaline and confusion. "Yes…I think so…" Storm walked into the elevator cab and was thankful when the doors shut. When they did, she finally allowed herself to lean against the cab wall and sigh.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Hank asked, his brow furrowing in concern.
Ororo looked at the gentle face of Hank. "I wish I knew, Hank," Ororo said. "I feel like I'm losing my grip a little. I did not sleep well the past couple of nights, and then the exercise with Jason—" she stopped herself as she remembered she was going to go see him before whatever happened in the halls sent her running the other way. "How is he?"
"He's doing well," Hank said. "Piotr is with him now. I can assure you he is in good hands."
Storm relaxed. "I'm glad to hear it."
"I'm sure Jason would love a visit from you, Ororo," Hank said. "He didn't seem to hold any resentment against you."
Storm sighed. That was her original intention, but now she felt like she needed to clear her head. "Thank you, Hank, but I believe I should retire for the night. I think I need to catch up on some sleep."
"Of course."
Storm looked back at Hank. "So, Jason will be fine?"
"Indeed," Hank said. "Of course, I have a feeling he will be receiving a second opinion."
Storm stood back up. "What do you mean?"
"When Jason first came to us, a condition set by his parents was that he have regular visits with the Neurological Institute of New York. He was prognosed with Charcot's Syndrome almost a year ago, but there was not enough evidence to support that specific diagnosis. He has regular checkups to make sure it is not progressing." Hank breathed in before continuing. "Now, Ororo, this is in no way an indictment of earlier events…"
"Tell me, Hank."
Hank sighed. "Very well. An electric injury such as what Jason has sustained…requires a new assessment of his neurological condition. The Professor informed me that once I received a full workup on Jason's status, I was to report it to him, and then he has to inform the NINY. I expect Jason will need to see them again very soon."
Ororo looked down. Jason had come to them injured and nearly broken last April and didn't join the Institute until August to focus on healing. There was a possibility that Jason could never fully heal. "I see…"
"Ororo…"
"I know, Hank," Ororo replied, perhaps a little too forcefully. Realizing that she was still too wound up, she relaxed. The door finally opened for the upper floors. "I'll get in touch with Logan regarding future one-on-one sessions with the other students. If I am to teach them, I need to be at my best, and right now, I am not."
Hank watched Ororo leave. He wasn't sure if Ororo's frustrations were a result of her lack of sleep, her guilt with harming Jason, or some other outstanding factor; one thing he was sure of was that unless Ororo shifted her trajectory, she was in for a crash.
XXXXXXXXXX
Later that night…
Rogue was late coming back to the Institute last night. After today's meeting with the rest of the X-Men, she felt like staying away from the Institute a little longer than normal. She didn't have any training on the agenda today, so she figured she would spend more of the day with Risty instead. Rogue understood why the Professor held his stance today regarding trusting in friends outside the Institute. Amanda Sefton had found out about Kurt's mutation through an undetected leak, and she was prudent enough to not incite a panic.
She glanced over at her best friend, Risty Wilde, who graciously drove her back to the Institute. Risty had suggested having a study period at a nearby burger joint. Rogue wondered if Risty could be much like Amanda was to Kurt; not in a romantic aspect, but simply being that friend and confidant. She didn't have any idea how much Risty knew about her or her teammates, but it was safe to assume that she didn't know about their special abilities. Then again, they thought the same about Amanda. How could one be sure? How does one broach the subject?
"You all right, girl?" Risty spoke up.
Rogue suppressed a jump. "I'm fine. Just…thinking."
"About?"
"It's not important."
Risty sighed. "Well, you know I'm a good listener whenever you need to talk."
"Thanks," Rogue said.
Risty drove on. "Can't say I enjoy driving in this weather. It's thicker than my mum's pea soup."
Rogue had to agree. The fog was very thick, and it seemed to be getting thicker. "This is probably the thickest I've ever seen."
"Me too," Risty said. "Hopefully it passes soon. It's no fun to drive in."
"Well, we should be almost there, anyway…"
It still took longer than either of them cared for to reach the front gates of the Institute.
"You can just drop me off here, Risty," Rogue said. "I need to put the code in for the gate."
"You sure you don't want me to drop you off at the front steps?" Risty said, looking around the foggy area with a little bit of trepidation. "There's a lot of road between here and the steps, Rogue…"
"I'll be ok, but thanks," Rogue said. "See you tomorrow!"
"Ok, girl!"
Rogue stepped out of the car so Risty could drive off. As she did, her thoughts returned to wondering how much Risty might know about her and the rest of them. Perhaps she could ask the Professor to see what he thinks. As soon as she considered that, she dismissed it. There was no way the Professor would consider opening the knowledge of mutants to more people so soon, especially since the most recent exposure was an accident.
Rogue typed her keycode into the gate—thankful that it finally got fixed—and waited for the gate to open. She wasn't sure if it was the winter fog, but she felt like the gate was opening much slower than usual. When it opened, she briskly made her way to the front doors of the mansion. She was a Southern gal through and through, and she hated the winters in New York.
When she reached the doors, she thought she heard something run by. Turning to see, all she could see was the shroud of the mist. Frowning, she said. "Kurt, is that you? This is not funny!"
There was no response. Rogue looked around for any movement, but the fog's veil proved very effective in hiding whatever it contained. Suddenly, she heard it again, but nothing disturbed the mist. She wasn't sure what made her shake: the cold or the unseen. Once she got inside, she turned and quickly armed the Institute. Whatever was out there probably wasn't welcome, and she certainly wasn't going to invite it in.
Maybe she was more tired than she thought.
XXXXXXXXXX
Ororo had chosen to retire early for the night and try to catch up on sleep, but as she turned in, her mind was completely occupied with the events of the past day. She understood that bad days happen, but this had been an exceptionally bad day. She was not one to regret the past, but this was one day among a select few she would welcome the chance for a do-over.
When she did finally fall asleep, it was hours after she first lay down, into the next morning. Despite finally achieving sleep, rest remained elusive as her sleeping mind was just as bad as her waking one. Very quickly, she began to dream; dream of shadows and whispers in a language that felt familiar to her. What they were saying though was alien and unsettling.
As the shadows gathered in around here, she tried to force them back, but in the realm of dreams, she was as powerful as the dream realm willed, and the lord of the dreams frowned upon her tonight.
"No…stay back…," Ororo whimpered as she sank further into the dream. "Leave me alone!"
The shadows would not heed her pleas as they danced around her, chanting and surrounding her.
"Go away!" Ororo cried out.
Again, she would not be heeded. The shadows raced around her, bringing in tendrils of mist-like rope to bind her. She tried to run, but it felt like her feet were fixed to the floor. When she looked down, she saw that shadowy hands had secured her feet with misty ropes.
"No! Stop!"
The shadows parted, and she looked in terror as an even bigger shadow strode towards her. She could see no face, but where one would be was a bright white skull. She gasped as it closed in on her and reached out to her.
"STAY BACK!"
A final scream banished the dream and snatched her from sleep. Sitting up, she looked wildly around for the shadows that haunted her, but she found the familiar surroundings of her quarters instead. "It was a dream?" she thought to herself.
Before she had time to consider it, Logan came bursting through her door, his nostrils flared. He didn't stop to ask Ororo what was wrong. He quickly dashed for a pair of slightly ajar French doors—Ororo enjoyed the night air and was quite resistant to the cold—and swung them open. Ororo sat still as Logan checked the perimeter, her mind trying to sort out what was real and what was dreamt.
Kitty phased into the room, having heard her scream. "Storm! Are you ok?"
"Kitty?" Ororo turned to her.
"Yeah, it's me," Kitty verified. "I heard you down the hall. What's wrong?"
Ororo looked around, expecting to see the shadows return. "I think…I think someone was in here."
At this point, the Professor had arrived in his wheelchair and had heard the last part of the conversation. "Ororo, are you sure?"
Ororo found that she was still breathing quite hard. "I…I think so…"
The Professor turned to Logan, who was just coming back inside. "Logan?"
Logan shook his head. "Nothin'. Doesn't mean there wasn't someone though. Just means I can't smell 'em."
The Professor knew that if there was no smell, the odds of there physically being an intruder in Ororo's room was quite low but not zero. "Check the security feeds, just in case."
"Can do," Logan said before turning to Kitty. "Back to bed, Half-Pint. Chuck's got this covered."
Kitty nodded.
"Thank you, Kitty," Ororo made sure to say before Kitty left.
"Anytime, Storm! Hope you sleep better!" she said as she left.
"I hope so as well," Ororo thought to herself. She turned back to the Professor. "I could swear that someone was in here…but…" Ororo paused as she put a hand to her head. "…I don't know anymore."
"You've been struggling lately, Ororo," the Professor said plainly. "Perhaps we can figure out the root cause if we talk about it."
"I've been trying to think what started this, Charles," Ororo said. "…but I can't think of anything singular. Lately, I feel like I've been in a constant state of alert, but I don't know why…"
"You've been very tense these past couple of days," Professor Xavier said. "You also haven't been sleeping well?"
"Not since the night after the dance," Ororo said. "…but I don't think they are related."
"You are probably right," the Professor conceded. "…but we cannot fully dismiss it either. We were all dealing with forces beyond our understanding."
Ororo had not been involved much in the events of the past weekend, so aside from seeing one of the fiends on the screen, she had not encountered them herself. "Perhaps, Professor, but I have my doubts. There's something…familiar about all this, but also not." Ororo sighed. "I'm not even sure I want to know. It got worse almost immediately after the session with Jason."
"Ororo," the Professor began. "Jason has recovered well from the session and is even sleeping in his room. I didn't sense any animosity from him towards you, but I'm sure he would love to hear from you."
"I know I should speak with him, Professor," Ororo answered. "…but I'm losing faith in my ability to retain control right now. I don't think I can speak to him until I figure out why I feel like I'm slipping."
The Professor looked sadly at Ororo. "I was hoping you would talk to him soon, because I have a request for you."
Ororo looked at the Professor. "What is it?"
"Jason is due for an appointment at the Neurological Institute later this day, partly as a result of what happened yesterday afternoon," the Professor explained. "I'm sure Hank has already explained to you why he must go, and I need one of the teachers to accompany him as I cannot make the appointment myself. Logan has no fondness for hospitals, so my options are limited."
"Are you sure, Professor?" Ororo asked. "I'm…not sure I can be trusted right now with my powers."
"I trust you, Ororo," the Professor replied plainly but resolutely. "Jason could use a helping hand. While hospital and clinic visits are normal for him, all the visits are centered around the night his powers came to be, and he needs a compassionate ear and presence to help him through each visit."
Ororo remembered seeing the Downs' car twisted and deformed both by the ferocious strength of a tornado and Jason's raw powers. Jason's recovery was spattered with episodes of trauma and the trials of coming of age. He was approaching eighteen years old and had one more year in high school to go through, and Jason had been through more than most adults would ever go through. "Professor, are you sure about this? I had my powers under control on the hospital rooftop last year, but I still triggered a massive nervous breakdown within his psyche. Right now, I don't even trust myself. Why should he trust me?"
"He trusts you, Ororo," the Professor said plainly. "If you cannot trust yourself, can you trust him?"
Ororo looked at the Professor, feeling very much like the scared girl who was trapped under the debris again. She knew that despite her feelings, Jason needed her now, and that she would have to be what she needed to be for him, even for just a moment. "I will do my best, Professor."
"That's all I can ask of you, Ororo…"
XXXXXXXXXX
While the Professor was consoling Ororo, Jason waited just outside Ororo's room, listening to their conversation. He knew eavesdropping was unethical, but he had not seen Ororo since the exercise, and he had hoped to have spoken with her about it before now. He didn't realize that the failed exercise and his injury affected her this much. He felt a pang of guilt for not trying to check up on her earlier, but what could you do when you were largely kept on bedrest most of the night?
Jason couldn't remember seeing Ororo this upset about anything, and he couldn't help but feel like he let her down in the Danger Room. He didn't know how he could restitute, but he had to try. He was going to spend some time with her while he had to go through a mandatory check-up—he was already on pins and needles about that—but he had a feeling that Storm might need him more than he needed her.
As he returned to his room to try to get some more sleep, he could only hope that he would rise to the occasion.
XXXXXXXXXX
Birnin Zana, Wakanda
"You are sure of this, Okoye?"
"Yes, my king...," said Okoye, the high general of the Dora Miraje. "Our operative among the Batantu tribe has reported that the Hungan is leading a group of loyal warriors to intercept Ororo Munroe, the only daughter of their lost priestess."
The young kind of Wakanda, T'Challa, didn't move. "They are aware of the power she possesses?"
"Yes. Nyala reports that the Hungan intends to enslave her and return her to Africa."
"How?"
"Nyala was not able to find out, but she has determined that the Hungan has not shared this knowledge with anyone else in the tribe."
T'Challa still did not move, but his mind was swiftly digesting this information. "So, the Hungan is not so ambitious as to not be reckless, but yet, this is quite a bold move on his part." Aloud, he asked. "And Nerombo?"
"On his way to the United States, to try to warn Miss Munroe."
"He may not be fast enough," T'Challa said. "I suspect the Hungan has allies that have escaped our notice." He turned to Okoye. "General, choose three of your finest and join me at the hangar bay."
"My king? You are coming with us?"
"I trust the Dora Miraje are more than capable of handling this mission," T'Challa began. "…but this is a matter of personal importance to me. The Panther cannot stand aside. I must meet with Shuri and then I will meet you there." T'Challa pounded a balled fist into his chest. "Uloyiso."
Okoye repeated the gesture. "Uloyiso."
The general quickly departed, leaving T'Challa to leave for the royal laboratories, high in the mountains of Wakanda, where his sister Shuri was the lead scientist. As king, he couldn't allow trepidation to still his feet, but he could not dismiss the real danger that threatened his country. Moreover, when he learned that the target was Ororo Munroe. The last time they met was when he was still a young prince. He was in Cairo with his father, then King T-Chaka. For a moment, he had left the entourage to see the city for himself, sneaking away under the eyes of the Dora Miraje. A foolish decision in retrospect, but he remembered the need to get away from the royal duties for just a moment.
That moment almost proved his undoing as he was ambushed by robbers. He thought he had met this end until the robbers found themselves assailed by hailstones. During the assault, a snow-haired girl whose eyes were glowing so brightly that they were white, ran up to him and pulled him away.
The girl's name was Ororo, an orphan on the streets who survived by pickpocketing. When she was a young girl, she lost her parents in a military conflict but gained the power of gods, and complete control over all weather. T'Challa had heard of the lineage of Kenyan priestesses that were strong with nature and witchcraft, but to see it firsthand, the stories felt understated. She helped him return to the Wakandan embassy where King T'Chaka had a lot of choice words for the young prince. Ororo disappeared before he had a chance to thank her properly, and he had always wondered what happened to her.
It was quite a surprise to learn that she had some time later left Cairo for America and as a teacher at an Institute for gifted youth. Given Ororo's gifts, he had to wonder how gifted these youth were. Since becoming King of Wakanda after his father's tragic and sudden death, he had thrown himself into learning the world's nation's machinations, and in passing learned of the existence of beings of exceptional abilities throughout the world. He had not received word of any such gifted in Wakanda, but the Dora Miraje were always looking out for potential threats to the country. A mutant could be perceived as that, and he might have to figure out a solution to that scenario before it arises.
When his vessel arrived at the top of the mountain, he swiftly made his way to the elevator that took him deeper within. The mountain contained the secret to Wakanda's power and prosperity, where a meteor with an outstanding metal they called vibranium struck eons ago. Vibranium is a metal that acts as both a power metal and as an element with antimatter-like properties against other metals. Lightweight, completely shock absorbent, and when used properly, it could unleash its stored kinetic energy in bursts. It was in all ways the ideal metal, revolutionary and dangerous. Over 98% of the world's vibranium was inside Wakanadan borders, but shards of the meteor rained all over the country of Africa and the surrounding seas. Other nations had likely discovered the benefits of the metal, and it was the chief priority of the leaders of Wakanda to protect the vibranium reserves at all costs. Therefore, the nation of Wakanda was under the guise of a poor country nut atypical to the neighboring countries of Africa. T'Challa hoped one day they could open their borders so all the world could share in the blessings, but the world needed to be trusted first.
The door opened to the royal laboratory, his Dora Miraje guards flanking him as he entered. They stopped at the entrance, turning sharply and saluting their king. T'Challa returned the salute—crossing his arms across his chest with balled fists—and ventured deeper into the laboratory. He didn't wait long as his sister Shuri, chief scientist of Wakanda and heir-apparent to the throne, bowed a little exaggeratingly to T'Challa. "My king…," she said, although her voice was laced with a jocular tone.
T'Challa knew that his sister was both as serious and playful as Bast himself. "Stop it, Shuri. You are my sister first, my subject last."
"Well, in that case," Shuri began as she looked down. "…why are you showing your toes again in my lab?!"
T'Challa looked down at his feet, bound only in his traditional royal sandals. His Wakandan royal garb
Largely covered them, but Shuri knew that T'Challa wore them simply to aggravate her at this point. "If it gets you this worked up, perhaps I will wear them more often."
"More often than you already do?!" Shuri exclaimed. "Bast forgive me if I do not make you some proper shoes befitting this lab!"
T'Challa smiled again. "I am sorry, my sister, but I am afraid that time is not on our side this day. Is it ready?"
Shuri looked overly offended. "My own brother and king doubts me! How can I ever recover from this loss of faith?"
"Shuri…"
"Sorry, my brother," Shuri said. "Do not worry; I have nothing but great things to show you, my brother." She motioned to large black beads with silver discs around them, but T'Challa knew better than to assume they were simply beautiful. "Remote access Kimoyo beads, updated to interface with my sand table here in the lab." She then picked up a case of even smaller black beads with silver lining. "Here are your communication devices for America and anywhere else. Completely untraceable, infinite range, quantumly entangled with whichever receiver deemed."
"Untraceable?" T'Challa said. "Even for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Shuri smiled. "I dare them to try…but you are not here for these trinkets!" Shuri led T'Challa to a mannequin that bore nothing but a silver-toothed necklace. It looked rather unremarkable, but T'Challa knew that it would be extraordinary. "I suppose this will be my new suit…," T'Challa said simply. "I also suppose there is more to it unless you wish me to test the limits of diplomatic immunity and bring shame to our ancestors."
"It would make for hilarious footage," Shuri said. "…but yes. We simply need to wake it up. Your wrist beads, please…"
T'Challa looked quizzingly at Shuri but held up his right wrist, circled by a line of elaborate beads. Shuri held up her own wrist with similar-looking beads near T'Challa's. He watched as lights flashed between them as they communicated electronically. When the lights faded, Shuri continued. "Now turn it on."
T'Challa looked at the necklace on the mannequin. "How?"
"Talk dirty to it," Shuri said plainly but quickly followed more sternly. "You use the commands I just gave you, genius!"
"Bast preserve me," T'Challa thought to himself. He waved a hand over his beads to bring up a HGUI. Sure enough, there was a connection with the necklace with most options greyed out. The only one that was available was "ACTIVATE." Touching it, he looked up to see that a suit was forming all over the mannequin, forming into the familiar armored suit of the Black Panther.
"The suit is fully stored inside the teeth of the necklace and be activated at any moment," Shuri explained. "…complete with retractable claws in both the hands and feet, sound suppressant soles, and obviously completely bulletproof and blade proof except by anything made of vibranium obviously…but that is not the fun part."
"And what is?"
"Strike it."
"What?"
"Strike it!" Shuri repeated more insistently.
T'Challa looked at Shuri suspiciously. Shuri was quite protective of her lab space, so the offer to abuse her work was quite uncharacteristic unless she had something up her sleeve. Still, it would be rude to refuse her. Without further ado, he kicked firmly at the suit, sending it across the room.
"Not so hard!" Shuri exclaimed, running after it.
"You told me to strike it!" T'Challa exclaimed back.
"I asked you to strike it, not kick it across the room!" Shuri chided as she dragged it back towards T-Challa.
"You should probably have made it a bit strong—" T'Challa cut himself off as he saw parts of the armor were now glowing a light purple color where he had kicked it. "What is this?"
Shuri's frustrations seemed to be replaced with pride in her work. "This is the special part. The suit is made of vibranium nanites, and they have stored the kinetic energy of your kick as potential energy, ready to reverse the process on command. Now, strike it again."
T'Challa looked at Shuri. "After you just yelled at me for it?"
"Just do it. The same spot, in you please…"
Sighing, T'Challa struck at the same spot half-heartedly…only to find himself blown head over heels across the room.
Laughing, Shuri, having tactfully stepped back, looked at his older brother, enjoying every moment that the King of Wakanda lay sprayed onto the floor. "I believe that is what is called karma."
T'Challa shook himself as he stood up. "Very funny…"
"As demonstrated, when the nanites are struck a second time, the potential energy is quickly converted to kinetic energy and released. However, it can also be released on command through the suit's commands, which you might have seen in the menu had you stopped to look."
T'Challa brushed himself off. "Perhaps I am too lenient of a king after all…"
"You love me," Shuri said with a smile. "Now, the suit has a program installed that will measure all processes of the suit, which I will use to run diagnostics after the mission."
T'Challa smiled. "I am sure it will work fine."
"Fine?!" Shuri replied. "How many times do I have to tell you that fine is not a good word for us scientists?!"
"I am sure you will manage," T'Challa said. "I must meet up with Okoye and her chosen women. I will need someone to monitor operations from the Talon. I assume you would rather see your work more up close than here."
Shuri smiled. "Now that is why you are my favorite brother."
"I am your only brother."
"See?" Shuri said. "That grasp of details is why you are king."
XXXXXXXXXX
Xavier Institute for Gifted Children – 6:47 AM
Ororo did not sleep well for the remainder of the night, and she felt horrible. Nothing seemed to work to calm her caginess, and despite assurances from the Professor, she spent more time fretting than sleeping. She had gotten up before much of the rest of the student body of the Institute, hoping to get some time to have a relaxing bath to hopefully settle her nerves. She had never felt this afraid and on edge in years, and it terrified her that she couldn't account for it.
As she turned up the heat to the water, she basked in the steam that started to cloud up the room. Her mutant powers enabled her to have a higher tolerance to heat and cold since her powers often dealt with weather extremes, so a hot bath was no danger to her, and hopefully would offer the calm she badly needed.
Turning away from the filling bathtub, she realized that she had forgotten the bubble bath. She opened the cabinet above the sink where a complete assortment of chosen body washes, shampoos, and conditioners could be found. With mild amusement, she looked at them, not unlike the section at a grocery store. It did take a grocery store's stock to support the Institute, to be sure.
Ororo selected a bottle of a flowery-smelling bubble solution, briefly admiring the flower arrangement. She closed the cabinet door and was immediately greeted by a vision of a man with a skull painted on his face. Ororo was so startled that she threw the bubble bath against the cabinet door, smashing it and the bottle in one blow. The impact and crash forced her to back against the wall, but the apparition was gone, leaving only a shattered glass cabinet door and a broken bottle spilling its contents on the sink and floor.
Clasping a hand against her mouth, she stifled a sob as she slid down the wall and onto the floor. She never saw that face before, but she remembered stories her mother told her a long time ago, about her old life as a priestess, and there was a man who had a skull painted on his face, and there was something of a power struggle until she finally left with her would-be husband at the time. Now she saw that face in the mirror…what could it mean? What was going on with her?
Storm was so wrapped up in herself that she didn't register panicked pounding on the door, and someone calling for her.
"Storm?! Storm, are you ok?!"
Ororo did not answer; she was so disconnected that she didn't even notice that the bathtub was in danger of overflowing.
Suddenly, Kitty phased through the door and immediately saw Ororo. "Storm! Are you ok? We heard a crash..."
Ororo still didn't answer.
Kitty was about to try again, but she espied the bathtub just moments away from overflowing. Quickly, she turned off the faucet. The situation currently handled, she returned to Ororo. "Ororo?"
Kitty's voice and the sudden quiet from the bathtub seemed to finally do the trick. Ororo looked up, her eyes glassy but awake. "Kitty?"
"Hey…," Kitty said. "Sorry that I canceled your pool party. Are you ok?"
"I…I don't know…"
Kitty bit her lip fearfully. She had never seen Ororo so frazzled. "Can you stand up?"
Ororo slowly nodded.
"Let me help you," Kitty said as she stood up, offering a hand.
Ororo took it, and Kitty helped pull Ororo to her feet. Ororo was a little unsteady, but she was standing. "Come on, maybe we should get you back to bed…"
"It's ok, Kitty," Ororo said. "I can manage…thank you."
Kitty didn't look convinced, but she knew better than to argue with Ororo. Ororo opened the door and found the Professor and Jean waiting outside, likely having heard the commotion as well.
"Ororo, are you all right?" the Professor asked.
"Do you need anything?" Jean asked, her auburn eyebrows etched with concern.
Ororo did want their help, but how could they help with what was plaguing her when she herself didn't even know? "I…I'm fine. I'll be in my chambers…"
"All right, Ororo," the Professor said. "…but please, let me know as soon as you need anything."
"I will…," Ororo said heavily, slowly walking down the hall toward her room.
Jean watched her go, her worries multiplying. "What's going on, Professor?" she telepathically sent to the Professor.
"I wish I knew, Jean," the Professor responded the same way. "I wish I knew…"
"Professor?" Kitty said aloud but timidly.
The Professor looked at Kitty, who was still in the bathroom. "What is it?"
"Look…," Kitty said simply, closing the door gingerly to the cabinet, revealing a broken pane of glass.
The Professor gasped, his eyes quickly locating the broken bottle as well. "Ororo…," he sighed to himself.
Jean saw the glass as well. "Professor, what do we do?"
The Professor folded his hands. "For once in my life, Jean, I'm at a loss here."
That caused Jean's heart to quake. She had never seen the Professor this disturbed before. Ororo was usually the most level-headed among them, so this was very uncharacteristic of her. What should they do? What could they do?
XXXXXXXXXX
Ororo's mind was racing, trying to figure out everything that was going wrong and what it could all mean. Who was the face painted with the skull? At a glance, it looked like someone from Africa that she should know, but aside from her departed mother's description, she had no real recollection of whom that was. She recently spent time in Wakanda; could she have seen someone like that there? Nothing came up in her memories, but perhaps she should reach out to someone there to see if they knew anything. It reeked of desperation, but Ororo was definitely getting desperate.
"Storm?"
Ororo jumped when addressed, spinning to see Jason coming down the hallway opposite her. She must have startled him as well. Trying to still her racing heart, she leaned against the wall. "Jason…"
Jason's scarred face practically read trepidation, and Ororo felt a pang of guilt on possibly why. "Storm, have you slept at all?"
Ororo held her robes close to her, feeling like a lost child, but she could not convey that image to someone who depended on her today. "Not well…but I should be well for your appointment today. Did the Professor tell you?"
Jason pursed his lips. "Yeah, but I'm not nearly as worried about my health right now…"
Ororo looked at Jason. "You should always be looking after yourself, Jason."
Jason looked aggravated briefly, but he forced it back. "Storm, what I mean is that I have more pressing concerns right now. I haven't seen you since the exercise, and—"
"Jason," Ororo replied firmly, taking Jason aback. "Please…I should get some rest."
Jason looked hurt slightly, but he relented. "Ok…sorry…I shouldn't have come off like that."
"It's not your fault, Jason…," Ororo said quietly, leaving Jason in the hallway as she went towards her room.
Jason looked at Ororo go with a mixture of aggravation, sadness, and worry. He had no idea what Ororo was going through, and even if he did, he had no idea how to help. With a strange wistfulness, he recalled how he acted when he did not want to talk about something and withdrew from the others. Was this how he appeared when he did the same thing?
"Jason?"
He turned to see Piotr walking towards him. "Oh, hi, Peter…,"
He didn't mean to sound as despondent as he did, and he kicked himself for sending that signal because Piotr picked right up on it. "What is wrong?"
"It's not me," Jason quickly said, but he knew that Piotr still wanted more of an explanation. "It's Storm. I haven't seen her since the exercise yesterday, and when I saw her for the first time today, she looked like she was caught up in one of her own storms, both figuratively and literally."
Piotr looked down the hall but didn't see Ororo as she had already disappeared down a bend. "Storm is strong woman. She will be ok…"
"Normally, I would agree," Jason said. "…but I've never seen her so haunted. Is it because I messed up the exercise? Up until now, I thought so, but it just seems so…disproportionate. I think there's something else going on."
"What?" Piotr asked.
"I wish I knew, Peter…"
Piotr looked back down the hallway, wondering what Jason had seen that disturbed him like this. He did not think there was anything he could do about Storm for now. His concern now rested on Jason. "You eat breakfast?"
Jason smiled slightly. Leave it to Piotr to try to change the subject to help him feel better. "I was on the way to get some, honestly."
Piotr offered a hand. "You should eat."
Jason looked at Piotr's steel blue eyes. Many might mistake that color for being cold, but Piotr's eyes were so full of warmth that he could only see gentle seas in them. It calmed Jason to look into them. "Any recommendations?"
"I am sure we will be finding something…"
"Anything better than the school cafeteria, right?"
Now Piotr smiled. "Da, it will be better."
Jason took Piotr's hand, relishing its warmth. "Speaking of school, the Professor told me that he's putting in a full-day excuse from school for me today."
Piotr looked at Jason. "Why?"
"Well…because of what happened yesterday," Jason explained while he stroked Piotr's knuckles with his thumb. "Apparently, if I suffer any injury that induces trauma to my nervous system, I'm required to have a follow-up with the doctors at NINY, the neurological institute here in New York. I guess electrocution counts as that."
Piotr looked concerned. "Are you all right?"
Jason knew that he was asking about his health this time. "Well, aside from still feeling like I've either been training for the Olympics or been poked by God's cattle pod, I'm dandy. I did get the magic cure, after all, but you know, doctors don't believe in magic cures so I still got to get checked out, no offense."
Piotr smiled at the thought of the magic cure, then an idea came to him. "Perhaps you are needing another part of magic cure?"
Jason's eyes narrowed as he smiled slyly. "Is that a doctor's recommendation?"
"It is mine," Piotr replied, smiling.
"Can't argue with that logic," Jason replied as he tilted his head back.
Piotr did not linger; he leaned down and pressed his lips on Jason's lips. Jason didn't know how long it would last, but he was going to enjoy every second of it.
"Ugh, get a room, you two…"
Jason and Piotr sprung apart when they heard that voice. Jason spun to see Rogue practically glowering at them with her arms crossed. "Rogue! How long were you there."
Rogue sighed. "Jason, we get it. You finally figured it out between you two…but get a grip, ok?"
Jason rubbed the back of his neck, blushing almost as much as Piotr was right now. "Sorry, Rogue…"
Rogue scoffed as she walked by between them. "Whatever. I think I'll skip breakfast…"
Piotr and Jason watched her go, their mutual embarrassment ebbing slowly away. "She is not lilting us being together?" Piotr asked a little sadly.
"I don't think it's that, Peter," Jason said. "Rogue is probably just being thorny. She can't touch anyone without potentially killing them, so we kind of gave her a fresh reminder of what she can't have."
As Jason was explaining Rogue's behavior, the look of realization grew on his face. "I did not—"
"I know you didn't, Peter," Jason said. "I didn't think of it either. We just need to be a little more mindful of Rogue's feelings, and perhaps cut down on the PDA."
Piotr blinked. "P…DA?"
Jasmon smiled. "Public displays of affection. Basically, we need to be slier when it comes to us expressing our affections with each other."
"How?" Piotr asked.
Jason smiled slyly as he offered his hand. "Come, young padawan, and I will show you the ways of the flirt."
Piotr smiled and took Jason's hand. He has been with the X-Men for almost a year, and somehow still didn't fully understand them sometimes.
XXXXXXXXXX
Undisclosed location
The Hungan shivered in the freezing air of this country. How could any mortal withstand a world where the sun offered no warmth was beyond him, but he would walk the frozen depths of it meant breaking and gaining the power he required to rule over Africa and the world. When he had learned about the daughter of their lost priestess being blessed by the power of gods, he knew that he must do whatever he must to obtain that power and use it to strike down Wakanda, claim its technology, and then, the world would bow to its rightful ruler.
For too long has he rested at the gates of prominence while his tribe lived in squalor, and he festered as he waited patiently and prayed for the gods to grant him justice. He was rewarded when a visitor bequeathed to him the heirloom of his people, but with it came the power to conquer wills, and he needed that power to reclaim the power of the gods. He wasn't sure who his benefactor was, but he knew better than to accept the gift blindly. However, the one who gave him the scepter was coy, simply stating that his king had his reasons. The Hungan knew that he would have to pay the debt soon enough, or else be ready to thwart the debtor.
"I trust everything is in order…"
The Hungan spun to face the new presence but saw no one there. At first glance, he was alone with the shadows, but he had not spent his entire life in the wild lands of Africa only to ignore the notion that danger is always close at hand. He knew that voice, and he knew what that presence could do. Relaxing only slightly, he answered. "It is going as you have promised. I trust your return means you require something of me."
A being seemed to simply form from the shadows around him. He was taller than the Hungan, wrapped in black clothing that seemed to be darker than night itself. "I'm not here to discuss currency, Hungan. Such things are beneath me. I am here to discuss your methods."
The Hungan scowled. "I did not realize that my methods would be so scrutinized."
"You have never left the wildlands of Africa before today, shaman," the cloaked figure said. "These are not your hunting grounds. This is also not some feeble wildebeest to be hunted; this is a powerful sorceress, one that is surrounded by powerful beings of exceptional skill. If you wish to succeed in obtaining the weather witch, you will need to separate her from the rest but also expect retaliation swiftly. Each of her colleagues, however young they are, is worth ten of yours."
The Hungan scowled. "Your ignorance of the skills of our tribe is aggravating, shade."
The cloaked man did not seem insulted. "…and your blind ambition is just as."
The Hungan sighed. Such is the ignorance of an outsider. "Have some confidence in my tribe, my benefactor. The skills of the Batantu have surpassed time itself, allowing us to survive in the cradle of civilization. We are more than capable of reclaiming the witch from her coven."
"Perhaps if it was only her associates…but what of the Dora Milaje?"
The Hungan froze. Their tribe was not permitted into neighboring Wakanda, but the forces that Wakanda commanded were not mere legends to the people of Africa. If the Dora Milaje have picked up his scent… "How do you know this?"
"We are not without means to observe the movements of our enemies, active or potential. When you made your move, so did they. I estimate that will be here imminently, if not already here. I expect that the Black Panther will be with them."
If the Dora Miraje did not unsettle the Hungan's resolve, the mention of the Black Panther certainly did. The forces of Wakanda were considerable, which is part of the reason why he required the powers of the weather witch at his command to potentially subvert them, but if the Black Panther was already on the hunt…
"…what are you recommending then?" the Hungan asked, resigning to the fact that he was outclassed.
"We only need to rebalance the odds, and for that, we need someone who can hold the Black Panther at bay, leaving your warriors to handle the Dora Miraje. As far as the witch's colleagues-these X-Men-they are a threat, but they have not been trained to handle warriors such as yours, and currently, we have an advantage. They recently had a major incursion and have not yet regathered their full strength, but they still cannot be taken for granted. You must be ready for whatever they bring."
The Hungan nodded solemnly, calculating his force's strength in his head. "…what do you have in mind for the Black Panther?"
"We will need someone who has made a career of battling the Black Panther. Fortunately, I know just the person."
"Who?"
The black-cloaked figure stepped aside theatrically. The Hungan saw that someone was waiting within the shadows, but seeing his queue, he stepped into the light. The Hungan's eyes widened when he saw a tall man, armored from head to toe with red-and-gold armor, the grieves and gauntlets lined with short spikes, draped with leopard skin. What unsettled the Hungan the most was his mask: an ornate tribal mask with narrow but flaring eye slits with twisted impala horns flaring out above each eye. The mask was flanked by a lion's mane of fur, completely coating his shoulders. He bore a spear in his left hand, and a sword in his right. Wrapped around his chest was the unmistakable strap of an assault rifle.
"Killmonger…," the Hungan said with a mix of wonder and dread.
"I see that my reputation proceeds me," Killmonger said scornfully. "Alas, I have no knowledge of you."
The Hungan scowled at the insult. "I am the Hungan, laibon to the Batantu tribe and the soon-to-be ruler of Africa! I demand your respect."
"Demand?" Killmonger repeated. "Your tribe was devastated because you lost your precious priestess, a mere shadow of your former self, and you demand respect from me? I hope your skills are as half as strong as your arrogance."
"Stronger," the Hungan said, his teeth gritted at Killmonger's insolence.
"We shall see…," Killmonger said. "You wish to reign over all of Africa. Amusing. I admit that I am curious enough to see if you can pull it off, but you clearly require my assistance. That comes at a price."
"You would make demands of me?!" the Hungan shouted angrily as he rose his serpentine staff, preparing to strike at Killmonger. Before he could, he found his staff ensnared by a black tendril of pure black shadow wrapped around the staff's neck, just south of the orb. The Hungan shot a wild glare towards the source of the shadow…coming from the shadow of the black-garbed man.
"That would be ill-advised, Hungan," he said, not moving an inch.
The shadowy tendril unwrapped itself from the staff and snaked away back into the figure's shadow like the blackest mamba the Hungan had ever laid eyes on. It seemed that his shadowy ally had his secrets. He could barely see his eyes beneath the hood, but he imagined them not being unlike a mamba's blinkless eyes.
He lowered his staff. "Name your price…"
"You desire Africa, and you can have it," Killmonger said. "…I desire Africa's crown jewel: Wakanda."
The Hungan scowled. He knew that whoever controlled Wakanda had the power to control Africa, and his goal was to raze Wakanda to the ground and plunge Africa into the days when mortals feared the gods and worshipped them. Wakanda was his only real obstacle to that world. If Killmonger controlled Wakanda, he could pose a threat to his reign. The implications were quite clear. Killmonger was poised to be a direct counter to him, which meant that razing Wakanda to the ground was to be his first official act as ruler of Africa.
"Fine…," the Hungan replied.
The tone was not lost on Killmonger's part, but he fully expected this. He too knew that controlling Wakanda meant controlling Africa essentially, but he would control Africa with Wakanda's military power with technology. Doubtless, the Hungan would see him as a threat, and he would have to deal with that imminently. If he dealt with the Hungan severely and swiftly, it would only cement his rule as king.
"Then I shall deal with the Black Panther," Killmonger said. "…for the path to Wakanda's throne lies through him."
"All that is left to do now is to retrieve the witch," said the figure. "…and that opportunity will present itself very soon. The witch will be escorting one of her colleagues deeper into the city, just one of them. I shall intercept them and separate them. This fog is a product of the witch's doubts and fears, ones I've been fueling these past hours, and it will provide your warriors, Hungan, with the cover needed to properly seize your prey. It will also impede any attempt to interfere from the Dora Miraje, but if they try…"
"Leave them to me," Killmonger said.
"Hungan, rendezvous with Killmonger at the docks and be ready for any retaliation by the X-Men or the Dora Miraje."
The Hungan smiled. "By then, the witch's powers will be mine to command."
"Good," the figure said. "Once the whelp is separated from the witch, move swiftly to take her. Be ready for my move."
Before the Hungan and Killmonger could inquire further, the figure melted into the shadows and disappeared.
"Strange company you keep, Hungan," Killmonger said dryly.
The Hungan scowled at his insubordinate companion. "The feeling is mutual, Killmonger."
XXXXXXXXXX
Logan was sitting in a chair in the security station of the Institute, going over the security feeds from last night. Something didn't sit right with him. Ever since Ororo thought that someone was trying to get to her, the air smelled of fear and ill intent. He didn't smell anyone in her room that night, but his instincts were telling him that someone was messing with Ororo, and in some measure, all of them, and that made Logan want to find the one responsible and make him a lot shorter with a good clean slice.
He looked over the feeds on the grounds where Ororo's room faced, and he stared at the video intently, rewinding it and fast forwarding it, looking at the time stamp he guessed where Ororo alerted them to an intruder. Sure enough, he saw himself on the terrace where her room was, sniffing around and then disappearing back inside. He rewound a bit and then fast-forwarded a bit. Suddenly, he saw something. It would not have been out of the ordinary to anyone else, but it was enough for Logan.
The doors slid open, permitting Jason to enter. "Logan?"
"Scarface," Logan said with a growl. "Your pop ever tell you to knock before entering a room?"
"Sorry, Logan," Jason said. "…the Professor asked me to join you down here while he was away from the Institute. Storm hasn't left her room since this morning."
"Hmm," Logan simply replied.
Jason sat down next to Logan. "Find anything yet?"
"Maybe," Logan replied, rewinding the footage again. "Look at this…" He pressed PLAY.
Jason's brow sank as he scrutinized the footage. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"
"Figure it out, Scarface," Logan said. "Can't hold your hand all the time like your new boyfriend."
Jason pursed his lips at the shot, but he chose to ignore it. He looked at the feeds more closely, half expecting Logan to point it out and reprimand him for not seeing it, but Logan remained silent.
Suddenly, he saw something, but he thought he was imagining it. "Can you rewind that?"
Logan rewound it a bit. Jason had an inkling that Logan had already seen what was wrong but now wanted Jason to see it for himself. Logan was testing him; Jason guessed he should be flattered.
He saw it again, but it sounded ridiculous. "Rewind it again."
"You either see it or you don't, kid," Logan said.
"So, you're going to make me guess then," Jason thought to himself. Hoping he was right, he pointed at the shadows near Storm's windows. "These look a little darker than they should be."
"You guessin', Scarface?"
Jason sighed. "Yes."
Logan sighed. "Too bad, you're right."
Jason looked at Logan. "I am?"
"If you want to get good at reviewing footage, kid," Logan said. "…you need to trust your eyes more." Logan stood up and pointed to the shadows in the vid. "Those shadows are darker, and it's been too foggy for the moonlight to get through. The shadows get darker, but then later go back to normal.
"What does that mean?" Jason asked.
"It means that someone is messing with Ororo, all right," Logan said, standing up. "…and I'm gonna find out who…" Without another word, he marched out of the security station.
"Hey!" Jason protested, getting up himself. "Wait for me!"
Minutes later, Logan was outside, sniffing the grounds outside of Storm's window. Jason was behind him, but keeping a reasonable distance to not contaminate the area with his smell. Logan could not smell anything out of the ordinary though, so whoever was here last night did not stop on the grounds itself. Looking up to the trees peeking over the fence of the Institute, he had an inkling where he could have hidden last night.
"Smell anything?"
"Just you, kid," Logan said. "Now pipe down."
"Sorry," Jason said as he crossed his arms, attempting to insulate himself from the cold foggy air.
Logan sniffed around the air some more, but he was getting too many familiar smells on the grounds. Sure enough, the intruder did not physically enter the grounds. Turning to Jason, he said. "Wait right here, Scarface. I'll be right back."
Logan clambered up the fence line and threw himself into the tree. Swinging himself up onto a solid branch, he sniffed around some more, but he grew frustrated as he picked up more of the same smells he smelled back on the grounds, which confused him. He looked further into the tree grove that divided much of the Institute from other grounds. Whoever was here hid their tracks well.
He jumped from the trees back onto the grounds, where a chilled Jason awaited. "Anything?"
"Nada," Logan said. "…but someone was here, but I can't tell who…"
"While you were up there, I was trying to logically deduce what could intensify a shadow without changing the light intensity."
"And?"
"…and I got nothing scientific. Obviously, the stronger the light, the more intense the cast shadow, so unless something else is in play, the shadows should not have changed intensity."
Logan crossed his arms. "What are you getting at?"
"I mean whatever is going on, it is not natural, or at least conventionally natural. We may be dealing with someone or something different than we normally are used to."
"Hmm," Logan sighed thoughtfully. "…you might be right, kid."
"Logan, if someone really is targeting Storm," Jason said. "…then they might try again. Storm is supposed to take me to NYNI this afternoon. I can't think of a better opportunity to strike."
Logan gritted his teeth. "Sounds like I'm going to be your plus-two."
"Storm is already on edge, Logan," Jason said. "If you tag along in the van, it might make her more unsettled."
"I'm not talking about the van," Logan said. "I'll trail you on my motorcycle. You and Storm just pay attention to what's in front of you. I'll handle the rear."
Jason nodded. It seemed sound enough. "Should well tell the Professor?"
"If he gets back before you go, sure," Logan said. "For now, it's our plan. Get ready for your appointment, kid. I'll handle the rest."
"Logan…," Jason said. "…if whatever is out there jumps us, we're going to be largely cut off from backup."
"I don't need backup," Logan said. "He will."
Jason nodded, not feeling fully assured. However, they didn't have much of a choice. As he turned away to head back to his room, he felt that he needed a little assurance of his own. There was his adamantium alloy staff he obtained from Weapon X a few months back, but somehow he felt that wouldn't be enough. It would need to be though.
XXXXXXXXXX
Bayville High School — 8:57 AM
"You caught them, eh?"
Rogue rolled her eyes as Risty reacted to Rogue's retelling of Jason's and Piotr's little moment in the hallway earlier this morning. They were on the way to their first class of the day when the topic came up. "Yeah, what of it?"
"That confirms it; they really are the real deal! I'm happy for them. I mean, it's about time, really…"
"Yeah, whatever," Rogue said.
"You don't approve of them?"
"It's not that!" Rogue said, probably a little too defensively. "It's just…," she started but cut herself off. She wanted to explain the situation to Risty, but she remembered the conversation the Professor had with all of them earlier this week, and she knew that she couldn't be as lucky as Kurt was. Sighing, she aborted her explanation. "…never mind. Can we talk about something else?"
"Sorry, girl, I didn't mean to intrude."
"You didn't. It's just…complicated." Rogue sniffed. "Actually, that seems to be the deal for all of us right now."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, one of our teachers, Ororo, at the Institute is kind of having a moment," Rogue began. "For some reason, she thinks someone is out to get her, and today, she completely wigged out in the bathroom today. Maybe she needs a break from us—can't blame her really—but she could definitely chill. It's all just weird right now…"
"That does sound weird," Risty said. "…but strangely, even though I don't know much about her, I still feel bad for her."
"Why?"
"Well, considering everything you've told me about your friends and acquaintances, it seems like it can be a little…much to handle everyone. Perhaps she really does need a break from you all, no offense."
"None taken."
"I mean, pile all that on top of her already dealing with her claustrophobia—"
"What?" Rogue turned to Risty, shocked to hear that. "How did you know about that?"
Risty looked alarmed briefly but quickly recovered. "Oh! Sorry! I thought it was common knowledge among you all. I thought I heard one of you talking about it some time ago. Did I overstep things again?"
"Well—"
Before Rogue could respond, Risty glanced at a hallway clock. "Bollocks! We're going to be late! Come on, Rogue! I do not want detention right now!"
Rogue felt herself dragged along by Risty towards class, her mind spinning. Did they have another leak? Who told? What else did Risty know?
XXXXXXXXXX
Jean had finished her lunch early, lately finding the period a little more lonesome than usual. She didn't want to switch Duncan since the dance, and she didn't want to sit with Scott because Taryn was likely there. The Institute group largely broke up from hanging out together at lunch. Kurt was sitting with Amanda, Kitty was sitting with Lance, Rogue mainly chose to hand with her friend Misty, and both Piotr and Jason largely enjoyed their own company. Jason wasn't here today due to a doctor's appointment, so Piotr sat with his friend Jean-Paul. Beyond that, much of the Institute circle was dissolved. Funny how one weekend changed all of that. She should be happy for everyone finding their relationships, but she felt a pang seeing how much lonelier it became.
Looking up, she found Piotr switching out books from his locker. She couldn't say that they were great friends, but she sensed that Piotr was feeling a little lonesome without Jason. He could probably use a friend right now. "Hey, Piotr,"
Piotr looked at Jean, surprised. "Uh, hello, Jean…is something wrong?"
She sensed Piotr's trepidation, and she understood why. Before Jason came along, Piotr didn't open up to a lot of people and mainly kept to himself, so this probably felt forward to him. "No, but I thought I'd check in on you. You seem a little lonesome."
Piotr's brow sunk. "You are not reading my mind, are you?"
Jean was fully aware that Piotr didn't like it when people read his mind, so she knew she needed to handle this delicately. "No, Piotr, I know you don't like that, so I did not. However, you do look like you're distracted."
Piotr relaxed some, and Jean did the same. Despite Piotr's height and muscle, he was a sensitive soul. Jean was happy that he found a great guy in Jason to relax around.
"It is…strange to be here at school without Jason…," Piotr said slowly. "He is saying he has doctor appointment today…because of what happened yesterday."
It was well-known what happened to Jason during his exercise with Storm, but Jason recovered quite quickly considering. The appointment was just procedure. "I'm sure Jason will be just fine, Piotr. You saw him; he bounced right back. Jason is a tough man. I'm sure the doctors will give him a clean bill of health."
Piotr sighed. "I am hoping so."
"I know so," Jean said. "…and I have it on good authority that I know quite a bit."
Piotr smiled. "Thank you, Jean…"
"Is there something else on your mind?" Jean ventured, still sensing a little hesitation.
Piotr looked at Jean, and Jean felt a flash of suspicion fire across Piotr's mind, but it was gone as fast as it was there. "Before school, Jason was telling me he was worried about Storm."
Jean could empathize with that. She too was worried about Storm, especially after this morning. "I am too."
"Do you know what is wrong?" Piotr asked.
"I wish I knew, Piotr," Jean said. "Even the Professor has no idea what is going on, and he's just as worried as I am. I never seen Storm look so…disturbed."
Piotr nodded. Jean felt him relax more. It seemed empathy and honesty helped Piotr open up more, something Jason stumbled upon during their budding relationship.
"Jason does not know what is wrong either," Piotr said. "I know Storm is strong woman, but…I do not know."
"I understand, Piotr," Jean said. "This has us all shaken. Ororo will pull through, but if she needs our help, we just need to make sure we step up."
Piotr nodded again. "I understand."
"And I'm sure Jason understands that more than most," Jean said. "It might be too soon to ask, but how have things been between you two since the dance?"
Piotr smiled, and it was a very different smile that Piotr normally had. It wasn't shy or embarrassed; it was soft, warm, and glowing. Jean couldn't remember a time when Piotr smiled like that. "Wow, Piotr, you have it bad," Jean thought to herself. "I wonder if Jason smiles the same way…"
Piotr finally responded. "It is good. I am happy he is having feelings for me, because I am having feelings for him for long time."
"I'm happy for you, Piotr," Jean said, smiling herself. "You deserve it."
"Thank you, Jean…"
As they walked along in silence, Jean found herself somewhat jealous of Piotr and Jason. They found each other and Jean couldn't imagine a more perfect match. Meanwhile, she felt like she was floundering in her own relationship, and the one person she wanted to be with was in a relationship of her own. She could hope that Scott could soon see the light, but what if he didn't? Could she be content with being just a supportive friend? She wished she could read the mind of fate because she wanted to know.
XXXXXXXXXX
A few hours later…
Jason sat in the passenger seat of the X-Van, fretting in silence as Ororo drove him toward the heart of Manhattan where his doctor's appointment was. Ororo met him at the X-Van back at the Institute, but they exchanged few pleasantries. Still, Jason had the foresight to fix Ororo some coffee. He felt like she might need it after being so sleep-deprived. Despite graciously accepting the cup, Jason noted that Ororo drank very little as it sat in the cupholder between them.
Jason glanced over at Ororo, who was quite focused on driving and the road. A thick fog has persisted over the city and adjacent sound for the last full day. For all his relatively short life, he had never seen fog banks like this, especially one that did not clear out during the warmest parts of the day. Granted, it was still February, but he reasoned it should have dissipated by now. Ororo did not seem keen on clearing it either. Granted, Ororo had a personal rule to not majorly interfere with the grander weather patterns of the world, but was this really natural? Surely Ororo knew this, but she seemed resolute to focus on the road instead of clearing the fog.
Jason was suspicious that Ororo had lost faith in herself and her powers after the failed exercise yesterday, and he wondered if he should apologize. What good would that do though? He didn't think Ororo held the failure against him, especially at this point. It wasn't her nature. However, recent events dictated a reevaluation of what he once considered established. His mind drifted to Logan, tailing them some ways back on his motorcycle, keeping an eye on things. Maybe he should broach the subject deftly by apologizing. While he tried his best to get Ororo out of that box trap, it was not fast enough clearly. He never properly apologized for that, or even spoke to Ororo about anything about exercise. Maybe it was up to him after all…
He waited until they pulled up to a stop before he sighed and began. "I'm sorry, Ororo…"
Ororo looked at Jason. "For what?"
"I messed up on the exercise yesterday. I didn't get you fast enough—"
"Jason," Ororo said. "You didn't fail. I did."
Jason looked at Ororo. "But it was my exercise! How could you have—"
"Because I didn't trust you to get me out of that horrible place," Ororo said, suppressing a shiver as she remembered that cramped dark place. She had been trapped in there for only a couple of seconds, but it was enough for her to lose her cool. "We are all at the Institute to control our powers no matter the circumstances, and yesterday proved that even I still am a student, not just a teacher."
Jason listened to Ororo intently as she spoke, his confusion growing. They had already started moving on towards NINY when Jason processed what she was saying. "…is that a bad thing?"
Ororo sighed. "I am one of Charles' first students, one chosen to pass on what I've learned from him to all of you. You see how Scott and Jean bear the responsibility of the team even though they are still students? It's no different than me, only my mantle of responsibility is greater than most can understand."
"Help me understand, Storm…," Jason pleaded. "I've never seen you be this afraid before. You've always been so put together."
"Jason," Ororo said. "…listen to me closely."
Jason blinked. He was no empath, but he suddenly felt something looming like an evening storm. Perhaps it would be wise to take it seriously. "Ok…"
"My powers are intricately tied to my emotional state and my will. I must constantly maintain a delicate balance between my emotions and my willpower to use my powers safely. A single slip can inflict serious harm. You saw firsthand what happened when I let my fears get the better of me, and I hurt you. It was the second time I hurt you, and seeing that I did again…it made real the threat I can pose."
"Second time?" Jason couldn't help but ask. "When was the first?"
Despite herself, she looked at Jason. "You do not remember?"
Jason shook his head. "Should I?"
Ororo looked out the front van window as she drove on. The fog was impeding any real progress and she did not want to drive any faster. She briefly considered banishing the fog, but with so many people out in it, it could draw attention, even if she had complete faith in herself right now. Sighing, she addressed Jason. "It was the night we first met, on the roof of the hospital in Oklahoma…"
Jason's eyes widened. "I don't remember that, or at least I don't remember much."
Ororo couldn't help but temporarily put aside her own struggles, because she realized she never spoke to Jason at all about that night. She remembered her original resolution to help Jason with his own power development but largely took a step back when he became an X-Man. She did elect to train Jason more closely as part of revamped training exercises, but this first session unnerved her. Perhaps she needed to revisit her original intentions after all this time. "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand…but how much do you remember?"
Jason blinked hard as he fought the images that always haunted him when the week of his traumatic injuries and surrounding events were brought up. Ever so slowly, they had less of an effect, but his progress could only be measured in inches. He was grateful that Ororo was giving him an out to not talk about it, but he knew that the path to absolution from his phobia was to face it. "To be honest…a lot of it is a blur. I remember the part with Magneto, Peter protecting me from Mystique and Deathstrike, and then you blasting the latter off the roof. It's after that when things get a little foggy, pun not intended." Jason motioned out the window. "I know what the others told me what happened, but I don't remember much of it. I might not ever remember." Jason sighed. "Admittedly, I'm not sure I want to know…but perhaps I should."
Ororo sighed. She was afraid of this; Jason was still severely mentally scarred from the events of that week.
"Why do you ask?" Jason asked.
There it was. The question that Ororo knew she would inevitably have to answer. "Did Piotr tell you about the storm that triggered your attack?"
Jason's mind raced, trying to ignore the building power of his heartbeats. He remembered the conversation Piotr and he had regarding how he ended up back in the hospital bed without memory of it. Much of everything that night in his mind was either a product of broken images or second-hand accounts as he shared with Ororo. "To be honest, I believe he might have but I'm not a hundred percent sure…"
"I trust that he might have," Ororo said. "…but there's more. Jason…I was the one who summoned the storm that sent you into a spiral of terror. You were so lost in your panic that it took all of us to calm you down, inevitably Rogue had to use her powers against you to stop the maelstrom. I was responsible for you then, and I put you in harm's way needlessly. My powers are a gift, but like any gift, I bear the responsibility for everything they bring, everything from the gentle nourishing rains to the wanton destruction of a hurricane. When I hurt you yesterday, I realized that I have not progressed any further in my restraint than last year, and I can't bear hurting you a third time or harming any of you."
Jason listened intently as Storm bared her soul to him, his mind taking in the information regarding the night he first met most of the X-Men for the first time. It was when his memory had no events regarding him losing control of his powers during a traumatic episode, so he had no memory of the storm nor of Rogue draining him to the point of unconsciousness. "So…you've been blaming yourself for that this whole time?"
"I've been taking responsibility for it, Jason…," Ororo reiterated.
"What's the difference?!" Jason exclaimed. "Storm, I don't blame you for what happened on the rooftop. I was already in a fragile state thanks to Magneto. Moreover, you had no idea what would've happened. How could you have? How could anyone have? I appreciate you taking responsibility for an accident, but that's all it was, an accident. A horrific one, but an accident nonetheless."
"Jason," Ororo said. "You are very gracious, but that does not change the matter that I've seriously hurt you."
"Am I blaming you?" Jason said, trying to keep his frustration in check. He knew the last thing Ororo needed was anger, but he was having a hard time not feeling frustrated. "Storm, no one here is blaming you. In fact, isn't that what you told me when I was running my ass into the ground in the Danger Room after the deal with Deathstrike? You were the one to tell me to confide in other people to help bear my guilt. Can't you allow us to do the same?"
Ororo's mind flashed to the moment only a couple of weeks ago when Jason was wrestling with his own situation where he felt like he himself couldn't be fully trusted. Unlike her though, Jason responded by upping his training regimen, and Ororo was glad she was able to stop Jason before he pushed himself beyond exhaustion. She never considered that the situation was now reversed, and Jason was reaching out to help her with her own shaken faith. It seemed that the Professor was right after all. "Jason, I—"
Before she could get further, they heard something crash behind them. It must have been close because they heard it. Ororo pulled over to a stop as Jason turned to her. "What was that?" Jason asked, surprised.
"I don't know," Ororo said, putting the van into park. "Come on, someone might be hurt."
Jason nodded as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the van. Jason strode for the back of the van, surprised that they seemed largely alone. They hadn't crossed over into Manhattan yet, still, Jason guessed they were still in Queens, some drive west of the Institute. He imagined there would have been more traffic, but there wasn't. What did greet him was the sound of crashing and carnage. Ororo practically materialized at his side. The fog was now so thick that he felt like he could swim in it. "Jason, do you hear that?"
"I do…," Jason said, feeling a different kind of chill in his blood. He listened to it for a few seconds as the implications sank in. Logan was right; someone was coming for Ororo. "Storm, we need to get back in the van and get out of here."
"What are you talking about?" Ororo asked.
"It's Logan," Jason said. "He's been trailing us because he thinks someone is—"
Ororo gasped as Jason fell with a grunt of surprise, something taking his legs out from underneath him. Before she could act, she saw him being dragged away briskly.
"RUN!" was the last thing Jason said before he disappeared into the fog, screaming.
"JASON!" Ororo cried out, but Jason was already gone. Ignoring the sounds of fighting nearby, Ororo took off running deeper into the fog, intent on finding Jason. "Jason! Jason! Can you hear me?"
Jason did not answer. He was gone. Ororo wasn't sure where to run next. She couldn't see far through this fog, and as every second passed, so did her alarm. What happened to Jason?
A twig snapped all too close to her. Spinning around, she saw someone looking at her within arm's reach. Gasping, she recoiled.
"Peace, Windrider…" the figure said calmly.
Ororo blinked despite her racing heart. She knew that voice. "Nerombo! Why are you here?"
Despite Nerombo's calm composure, his voice was laced with fear. "There is no time. You must go back to your home. It is not safe!"
"Why?" Ororo demanded. "Where is Jason? What happened to him?"
"The Dora Miraje will find him, but you cannot stay here!"
Ororo knew who the Dora Miraje were and how capable they were, but she was not about to leave Jason in harm's way a third time. "I know I can't, and neither can Jason! I'm going after him!" Ororo said resolutely as she charged past Nerombo.
"No, Ororo!" Nerombo cried out, his composure evaporating. "The Hungan has come for you!"
Ororo was already charging deeper into the fog. She had long since left the side of the road she left the van parked at. She looked around to get her bearings, but it was still difficult with the fog. She saw shapes like trees and bushes, and she realized she ran into a nearby park, not a soul to be seen…
…a perfect spot for an ambush.
She heard something move by behind her, rustling the foliage. She spun around, but it was already gone. More noise to her right, but it was gone before she could look. The rustling grew closer, and she saw swift shadows out of the corner of her eye. Her terror grew to levels she never felt since her childhood, and all she could do now was shout. "Leave me alone!"
As she said that, her powers cocooned her in a field of lightning, the winds whipped around her. With each flash of lightning, she saw more and more shadows circling her like hungry hyenas. She tried to get a fix on them so she could fire her powers at them, but they kept moving swiftly around. It was impossible to get a lock. All she could see were dark figures with skull-painted faces…just like the man she saw in the mirror.
Before she realized it, she felt a sharp prick in her neck, and before she could raise her hand to remove the offending dart, her head began to swim as the soporific drug worked its magic. The world melted away into darkness as she fell unconscious, unaware of her captors advancing on her.
The last words she heard as they grew cloudier. "Take her to the docks for the ritual…" and then the darkness claimed her.
XXXXXXXXXX
Once again, I'm forced to split this chapter into two parts as it has been growing to a size comparable to the previous one-which in total was around 45k words. Hopefully Part 2 will be done soon! Things are picking up quite a bit workwise, so I'll try my best to get it out timely!
