XXY: First Genesis 1/3
Aleph Press
Al, based on characters who are owned wholly by Marvel Comics. No
copyright infringement is intended. The list of contributors to XXY is way
too long to list here, but you all know who you are-- thank you! The
creators of the XXY universe (meaning the people who actually dibsed the
characters, not the people who created the concept) own the specific
incarnations of their characters in XXY format, and if you wish to use
those characters you must ask permission.
XXY: First Genesis was written by Alara Rogers. It is okay to MST, POP-UP,
review or do anything else your little heart desires with this specific
story as long as you ask my permission. This permission applies to this
story only and does not blanket all XXY stories or all XXY stories by Alara
Rogers. If you archive you must include a link to the XXY home page at
http://alara.dreamhost.com/xxy.html (and if Indigo decides she still wants
to be the official fanfic archivist for XXY you need to link to her page
too.) Plot is specifically based on UXM #1 by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.
All characters in this story are adapted from characters who are
copyright Marvel Comics, except for Rafael Wilcox and a few soldiers, who
were created by Alara Rogers.
On with the show!
XXY: First Genesis
MARCH 22, 1976
"We could drive you there," Mom said for the fifth time. "It wouldn't
be any trouble. Salem Center's not that far away."
John Grey, Jr. sighed and plastered a placating smile on his face.
"It's all right, Mom. I *want* to take the train." Quite aside from
feeling like the world's biggest mama's boy if he had his parents drive him
to Dr. Xavier's rather than proving his independence by taking the train,
he'd been warned that some of his fellow students... were of unusual
appearance. Indeed, he'd caught glimpses of them when he'd gone to Dr.
Xavier's home for "therapy"-- actually, training in the use of his powers--
before. The one with the wings was hot, but John would rather prefer his
parents didn't see her and start asking awkward questions about why one of
his classmates had wings. And if you wanted to impress a good-looking
girl, you didn't start by making her hide in her dorm room because your
parents were on the grounds.
"He'll be fine, Elaine," Dad said. "He's 15 years old. He's not a
kid anymore."
"Yes, but... Johnny, honey, are you *sure* this is what you want to
do? I know you have a lot of respect for Dr. Xavier-- after all she's done
for you, so do we!-- but you're so young to be going away to school. We'll
hardly ever *see* you."
*That's kind of the point, Mom.* Not that John didn't love his
parents, but 15 was a bit old to have your mom hovering over you like...
well, like a mother hen. Since It had happened, Mom had gotten it into her
head that John was fragile, that he needed a lot of heavy-duty extra-
strength coddling. Nothing could be further from the truth.
*"Your powers are greater than any of my other students, and I'm very
much afraid they'll need that extra power... I can't make you join my team,
John, but I can tell you that I've every reason to believe that they will
need you. That the world needs you-- the dream needs you.*
*"Will you come?"*
He hadn't even needed the sales pitch. He'd have crawled through
broken glass for Dr. Xavier if she needed him to. If she thought her team
needed him, he was there, no questions asked.
That wasn't the reason he'd given his mom, though.
"You know I haven't been doing as well as I could be in school, Mom.
Too many distractions." Too many times when the Wall got to be a bit thin
and the voices crowded in from outside, drowning everything he could hear.
"Dr. Xavier's school is specifically for gifted students. I'll be able to
stay better focused. I really think it'll help me." Getting training in
improving his powers and his control over them was the only help he
*really* needed-- that was the distraction; it was hard to concentrate on
geometry when you were thinking about flying. Or, for that matter, when
the cute girl across the row kept thinking about you. Very very loudly.
And there was only one place in the world he could get that kind of help.
Even if the idea of going there was... well, kind of terrifying.
*"No, you're quite right-- it _was_ a girls' school. So many other
schools nowadays are going co-ed, I didn't think there would be a problem
with opening it to boys, and none of the other students' parents have
raised any objection. But you _would_ be the first male student there.
Would you have a problem with that?"*
Be the only guy in a boarding school full of girls? Sure, no problem.
It wasn't like he was afraid of girls, or anything.
It wasn't like he was going to make a godawful fool of himself in
front of Dr. Xavier and a whole horde of hot chicks, and never be able to
get away from them and go out with guys, because there wouldn't be any
guys... oh, no, he wasn't going to do that. Because if he did do that,
then he'd have to shoot himself in the head, and he was too young to die.
So, despite the near-absolute certainty that he would, in fact, end up
looking like an idiot in front of all those girls, and they'd laugh, and
he'd just have to kill himself or maybe them, here he was on the platform,
and the train was coming.
"Just don't get 'distracted' by your classmates, Johnny," Dad said
gruffly, grinning. Dad, of course, could probably guess better than Mom
how pointless it was to go to an otherwise-all-girls-school to avoid
"distraction."
"There's the train. Gotta go." He hugged his mother briefly. "Love
ya, Mom."
"Call me! Do you hear me? Call me as soon as you get there, all
right?"
"I will. Thanks for everything, Dad."
His father took his hand and pumped it firmly. "I expect to see those
grades improve, all right?"
"You bet. See you guys--" And he was on the train, carrying luggage
that his mother was probably unaware was far too heavy for any normal human
male to lift. Had it really been necessary to pack *every* suit he owned?
How often was he going to have to wear suits at Dr. Xavier's? But he
hadn't tossed out the useless stuff the way he would have if he'd actually
had to carry it with nothing but his muscles alone. He was a telekinetic,
and Dr. Xavier said he was a damn powerful one, and he could humor his
mother by taking the ridiculously overstuffed luggage without straining his
back.
Fifteen minutes later, it was starting to sink in. *Really* sink in.
He was leaving home. Not just Mom and her well-meaning hovering, not just
arguments with Dad about his grades, but everything else. Chris and Joe
and Steve and all his other friends. He was leaving them and going to live
with total strangers. Mutant total strangers. *Female* total strangers.
He got along fine with girls-- his tall, athletic body and good-looking
face ensured that, and he liked to think it had a little to do with him
being a nice person too-- but neither that nor regular lessons from a lady
telepath had been able to change the fact that they were, essentially, a
weird alien species, and if you ever managed to understand them, the Guy
Police came along and took your guy membership card way. Dating them was
fun, but living with them? Having them as his *only* classmates? Living
in a house where there was not one single other guy at all?
He snorted. *Dr. Xavier wants you to come to her school to learn how
to control your powers and fight evil mutants. Instead you're worrying
about living with a bunch of girls. Hello? Earth to John, are you
receiving?*
It was hard to get too worked up over the notion of fighting anyone,
though-- even "evil mutants." John wasn't a brawler-- it wasn't like he
came from the wrong side of the tracks, or something-- but he'd always been
ready and willing to defend himself and his friends with his fists, if he
had to, and he was good at it. Fighting just wasn't something he was
afraid of. Looking like an idiot in front of a ton of girls, however,
*that* was frightening.
Still. The die was cast, now. Mistake or not, he was stuck with
this.
He'd been to the mansion before. It was large enough to be creepy if
you weren't used to it; footsteps would echo on the wooden floors. No rugs
inside; they interfered with wheelchairs and walkers. For a moment he
hesitated, before going in, looking up at the bright afternoon sky... and
then down, where three girls were peering at him through a window. The hot
blonde wasn't one of them, but from what he could see they weren't bad-
looking. He smiled and waved at them, and walked up to the door.
Minda met him there before he could ring the doorbell. She looked
very much like what she was, secretary to an important woman-- not the
bimbo type of secretary, but the kind who wore coke-bottle glasses and had
brown hair skinned back in a tight bun. John didn't much like her; she
always looked as if she were sneering at him, or anyone. He'd mentioned
that to Dr. Xavier, who'd told him that Minda had emotional problems, the
result of her powers, and found it hard to see other people as real. He
could sympathize-- he couldn't imagine what her life was like, what he
would have been like without the Wall-- but he couldn't find it in him to
like someone who saw him as nothing but an annoying droplet of rain against
her head.
"Velcome," she said in a thick mock-vampire accent, bowing. "Ze
doctor vill see you in un few minutes. Please to vait in ze library." She
pronounced "minutes" like it was plural small things, me-NOOTS rather than
MIH-nuts.
That was the other thing about her, which John wasn't sure if he liked
or not. Instead of being the buttoned-up, totally professional secretary
she looked like, she was... well, weird. She took nothing very seriously.
That should be a good thing, shouldn't it? But it could be annoying.
"Thanks, Minda," he said, and headed up the stairs, to the library.
*//I'm in the middle of something, John. I'll meet you shortly.//*
He was never going to get over the ease with which Dr. Xavier did
that-- used her telepathy, like it was second nature. His own had to be
held off behind the Wall, and when the Wall got thin the chorus of voices
started to drown his thoughts. Someday, he too would be able to converse
with people who weren't there, just as if he was talking to them on the
telephone, nothing scarier than that. Then, maybe, it wouldn't seem so odd
when Dr. X did it.
The library was full of thick hardbound books, many on highly esoteric
topics. He read the titles. _Social Change and Prejudice_ by Bettelheim.
_Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious_ by Jung. _Notes of a Feminist
Therapist_ by Williams. _Unliberated Liberals_ by Tavris. Lovely light
reading. Well, you probably didn't get to be a famous psychologist and
civil rights activist by sitting around reading Jacqueline Susann.
He heard a thumping noise from the other side of the library, a
clatter as if something had fallen over, and then a girl's voice, frantic.
"Oh, shoot!"
John circled around the table to see a brunette kneeling on the floor,
hand over her eyes. The other hand was feeling around on the floor. A
chair had been tipped over; it looked as if she'd tripped and fallen. "Can
I help you?" John asked.
"Oh, no! You're the new guy! Stay back-- if I can't find my glasses
I might accidentally hurt you, I can't control my optic blasts! You have
to *leave*, now!"
"How about if I just give you your glasses?" He teeked them into his
hand, leaned down and put them into hers.
"Um... yeah. That would work." She put them on. "Thank you, thank
you *so* much. You have no idea how important... these... are."
Her words trailed off as, now with glasses securely on, she looked up
at him. An emotionflash broke through the calm of the Wall. *Oh my god
he's gorgeous and I've made such a complete idiot of myself oh he must
think I'm an absolute moron way to go Stephanie so handsome and he probably
thinks I'm the world's biggest dork just peachy...*
Embarrassed for her, John tried hastily to strengthen the Wall, but
before he could do so, a wall of her own slammed into place and cut off the
frantic thoughts. She stood up. "I'm really sorry about that," she said
calmly, without giggling or falling silent or turning red or any of the
other things he was used to girls doing when they were attracted to him and
embarrassed. "My glasses are pretty vital. I don't normally lose them
like that."
"Hey, it's no problem. I'm glad I could help." She was skinny, a
little bit underdeveloped, with a touch of acne, and the square red glasses
weren't particularly attractive on her, but her face was kind of cute and
she had nice legs. Not bad. He smiled at her, wondering what she'd look
like without the glasses. "I'm John. I guess you girls know all about me
already?"
She shook her head. "Just that you're joining the school. Which I
think is great. I don't believe in segregated education for guys and
girls. We're never going to have equality of the sexes if men and women
don't share classes."
"So, you're a feminist too?"
"Yeah, I really kind of have to be. Everything I've seen in my life
indicates there's no reason women can't do anything a man can. Then you
add in the mutant thing, and, well, it's kind of stupid for a person with
superpowers to be acting like she's some sort of weak helpless thing."
"Unless you lose your glasses. Then you're pretty weak and helpless."
She laughed. "I wish. The glasses are so I don't blast everything in
this room to smithereens."
*Oh.* That was definitely interesting. He decided he was less
interested in seeing what her face looked like without the glasses than
he'd thought. "Is everyone in the school that powerful?"
"Not everyone, no." Her head lifted slightly. "I, uh, I've gotta go.
Dr. X is calling me."
"See you around, then. Oh, I didn't catch your name--"
"Oh, I, uh, I'm Steph, I mean Stephanie. Stephanie Summers, but
everyone calls me Steph. I, uh, see you around." She left. John wondered
if she found the telepathy even more disconcerting than he did, to get so
flustered by it.
He waited another few minutes in the library, wandering about and
looking at the books, before he heard Dr. Xavier's mindvoice. *//Come on
downstairs, John.//*
There was a burbling of excitement filling the space beyond the Wall.
He tried to shut it out, but it was harder to push emotions away than
thoughts-- rather like the difference between trying to not read words in
front of you and not hear conversations around you. A lot easier not to
read than to not hear. And, well, it *was* flattering.
He met them all in the large living room of the mansion. Dr. Xavier
was sitting in her wheelchair, smiling at him. "Hello, John. I'd like you
to meet your new teammates. Students, this is John Grey, our newest
recruit."
Teammates. Not classmates. He was used to the concept of female
classmates -- his high school was co-ed -- but female teammates were new.
As Dr. Xavier introduced them, he looked at each one, trying not to stare.
"This is Henrietta McCoy, also known as Amazon."
A very large girl, broad-shouldered and bulky, wearing blue jeans and
a sweater, with arms and legs too long. Her face was okay, but her body was
sufficiently freaky-looking that he couldn't quite meet her eyes as he
smiled and nodded. She dropped into a curtsy with an imaginary gown. "I'm
delighted to make your acquaintance, dear Mr. Grey."
Despite himself he laughed. "Um, John is fine. Mr. Grey's my
granddad. And you're Henrietta?"
"Dear me, no. A Henrietta would be a fragile, flowery young woman,
replete in the feminine virtues of delicacy and grace." She grinned
broadly. "I prefer Ettie, or my cognomen, Amazon, under more formal
circumstances."
"Bobbi Drake, a.k.a. Snowflake."
She smiled nervously at him, briefly nodding her head. She was kind of
pretty -- short and athletic, with close-trimmed blond hair and bright blue
eyes. Not all that hot in the breast department, but her skin was
unusually clear, and she was wearing a light cotton short-sleeve shirt that
displayed what advantages she did have rather well. He smiled charmingly at
her and tabled her as a "maybe".
"Wendy Worthington, Angel."
Now she was definitely an "oh yes". Tall, long-legged, with the face
and body of a supermodel. Long blond hair, ice blue eyes, perfect breasts.
Oh, and huge, gorgeous white wings, currently folded at her back. He
wondered if they felt as soft as they looked. She didn't smile at him,
merely nodded coolly.
"And you have already met Stephanie, a.k.a. Focus." The girl with the
glasses nodded at him.
Dr. Xavier continued. "John, your code name will be Dynamo. I expect
all students to use each other's code names when in class or in training --
you may use personal names when you're off duty, however."
"If it would not be terribly forward me to ask, might I inquire as to
the nature of your powers, John?" Ettie asked. John was beginning to get
the notion that she really talked like that.
John shrugged elaborately. "Nothing special," he said, lifting the
sofa with his mind. He brought it up to clear over the girls' heads -- the
ceiling of the living room was very high, allowing for plenty of clearance
-- and spun it about in a circle, then flipped it upside down. A number of
coins and pens rained out of it, and he caught those. "I'm just a
telekinetic."
*//John, enough,//* Dr. Xavier sent.
John put the sofa back where he found it, smiling at the girls.
Bobbi, Ettie and Stephanie were looking at him with something akin to awe;
while he couldn't see Stephanie's eyes, her open mouth said all that was
needed. The gorgeous blonde, Wendy, was trying hard to conceal her own
amazement, but the slight widening of her eyes and, more importantly, the
emotions radiating through the Wall, tipped him off that he'd impressed her
too.
"An astonishing display of mind over matter," Ettie said. "What do you
do for an encore?"
"And more importantly, how fast do you think?" Bobbi asked.
"Fast do I think?"
"Yeah, think fast!"
She lobbed a snowball at him out of nowhere. It smacked soundly into
John's chest before he could react. Suddenly she was covered in a thick
layer of frost, like some sort of sparkly ice princess. She was juggling a
second snowball. "Guess you don't think too fast, do you?" she said,
giggling.
Wendy rolled her eyes. "Really, Snowflake. You are so childish." It
was the first thing she'd said. She had a New Englander moneyed accent, and
a voice like sweet music. The name Angel certainly fit her. If a choir of
God's messengers were to come down from heaven singing, John imagined their
voices would sound like that.
"Maybe we can get a round of Girls Against The Boys going in the
Danger Room later," Bobbi said.
John looked around. "I'd be a little outnumbered, I think." *Danger
Room?*
"Let us not terrorize the poor lad, Bobbi," Ettie said cheerfully.
"After all, should we cause him to run for the hills screaming, Dr. X may
not *let* us have another classmate of the male sex."
"Ignore them, they're just teasing you," Stephanie said. "I, uh, Dr.
Xavier, don't you think someone should help John get settled in, or
something?"
"An excellent idea," Dr. Xavier said. "Show him to his room,
Stephanie."
"Maybe you can show me around the place as well," John said. "I've
been here before, but I've never really looked around."
"Sure," Bobbi said. "Let's all give him the three-hour tour, and end
up stranded on a desert island someplace!"
"A desert island?" Stephanie asked, sounding bewildered.
John grinned. "So I'm Gilligan?"
"No, no. Bobbi will be Gilligan; her talent for foolishness is
unmistakable," Ettie said. "I, of course shall be the Professor, and our
fearless leader can be Skipper." She nodded at Stephanie, who, judging from
the confusion radiating from her, had never seen _Gilligan's Island._
"Only question is," Bobbi said, "what's that make Wendy? Mrs. Howell,
or Ginger?"
"And who am I?" John asked.
"You have red hair. You can be Ginger, which leaves *you*--" Bobbi
spun and pointed at Wendy -- "to be Mrs. Howell."
"I can't believe you're wasting your time with this," Angel said.
"It's a TV show," John told Stephanie. "About a bunch of people who
get stranded on an island."
"Oh." Stephanie didn't sound enlightened. "Do you want to drop off
your bags now?"
"Sure," John said. He turned to Bobbi. "No offense, but I'd really
rather not be Ginger. I just don't have what it takes, y'know?"
"Oh, well in that case..."
"I'll see you guys later, okay?" He hoisted his bags telekinetically.
"Lead on."
As they left the living room, he heard Bobbi's giggly voice floating
behind them. "Think we should send chaperones along?"
The tour was thorough. By the time Stephanie was done showing him the
entire mansion, it was dinnertime, and after dinner, he was bushed. He
spent the rest of the night unpacking and reading; Dr. Xavier had given him
a reading list to do in his spare time so he could catch up with the rest
of the class.
The next day he woke at 7:30. At home in Annandale-on-Hudson, it had
been necessary to get up at 7:30 am to catch the bus to school. John, not a
morning person, consistently did this in a dull haze. So today, when he
woke as usual, he realized that his alarm had not gone off, and would not
go off because he didn't have to get up until much later. Happily he
turned off the alarm clock and went back to sleep.
*//John, wake up!//*
He blinked rapidly. Now the clock said 9:30 am. Why hadn't the alarm
gone off? He inspected it, and then recalled turning it off this morning
in his sleepy daze.
*Sorry! I'll be right there!* He couldn't Send per se-- not like Dr.
Xavier could, not with the Wall in place-- but he could make his thoughts
loud enough that she'd hear them.
A great way to impress his new teammates, he though sourly as he
dressed as quickly as he could. Show up late to the first day of class.
When he arrived at the room Dr. Xavier had directed him to, he was
startled to see that it was not a classroom, but a dimly lit control booth.
Dr. Xavier was seated at a console in front of a large transparent window
that took up the whole wall, rather like an air traffic controller's perch.
And through the wall--
"She's being attacked!" he shouted as Angel, in flight, barely managed
to dodge ray beams firing from some sort of tentacled thing's eyes.
Before John could do more than even think about gathering the power to
help her, Dr. Xavier said, "Sit down, John," in a calm tone that confused
him. If her student was under attack why would she be so calm?
"But--" Angel had dodged the beams, and the head of the tentacled
thing exploded, as a red ray beam-- coming from Stephanie's *eyes?*--
struck it.
"This is the Danger Room, where members of X-Factor train their powers
in combat simulations. Since you're late, you won't be included in the
session today. I want you to sit down and observe."
The girls were all wearing skin-tight blue and gold uniforms (with the
exception of Snowflake; he couldn't tell for sure but it looked like she
might be wearing nothing but a bra and panties under her thick rime of
frost), with pullover masks concealing the top part of their faces.
Stephanie's glasses had been replaced with some sort of visor, through
which she was firing ray beams at another robot, to no apparent effect.
Bobbi-- Snowflake-- it had to be her, who else would look like a
snowwoman?-- was gesturing at a thick wall of snow that a robot was slowly
trudging through. Snow came from her hands, congealing onto the wall and
making it higher and thicker, but the robot kept trudging. Ettie-- Amazon-
- was dodging out of the way of the tentacles of another tentacled robot.
"Isn't this dangerous?"
"It's why it's called the Danger Room, John," Dr. Xavier said
distractedly. "The simulator will shut off if anyone is injured, but this
is a high-level training exercise."
"Where do the robots come from?"
"I have a contractor build them to my specifications, and then I
reprogram them for the Danger Room simulations." She wasn't paying
attention to him. John couldn't "hear" her telepathic projection, as it
wasn't directed at him, but he could feel it, like feeling the wall rumble
because your music was too loud. Wendy, who was doing an elaborate loop-
de-loop, lifted her head, and said something that John couldn't hear
through the thick glass.
"What's going on?"
"Angel could be a bit better at teamwork. I've asked her to assist
Snowflake."
Angel divebombed the robot that Snowflake was unable to stop, removing
a flattish round object from her belt and slamming it against the robot's
head with her palm. The robot jerked, twisted, and fell still, while Wendy
arced upward and away from it.
"What'd she do?"
"She's using an electrical stun weapon. Against human opponents, or
more precisely mutants and superhumans without invulnerability powers,
Angel's flight and hand-to-hand skills are more than sufficient, but one
can't beat up a robot all that effectively." This time she let him "hear"
her telepathy. *//Good work, Angel. Snowflake, now that you're free--//*
"Right, right, right. One sno-coned robot coming right up." John
couldn't actually hear her words, as the glass blocked sound, but Dr.
Xavier was letting him "hear" her telepathic perception of Snowflake's
reply. Again John was impressed-- he would *never* get the level of skill
necessary to "hear" only intended speech instead of the thoughts underneath
it, he was sure.
Snowflake rode a wave of ice, surfing it as if she were on a
California beach, over to Amazon, who was having difficulties with her
robot. "Teamwork, rah!" she caroled, blasting the robot with slushy stuff
that hardened to ice almost immediately and immobilized the robot's
tentacles.
"Your timely assistance is greatly appreciated, Snowflake. Might I
suggest we both render assistance to Focus, as her attack appears less than
efficacious against her assailant?"
Snowflake giggled. "I think I even understood half of that!"
"I *was* wondering if any of you folks would be free to lend a hand,"
Focus said, panting. "This thing just seems to reflect my optic beams."
"No problemo! It's Snowflake and Amazon to the rescue!"
Within short order, Amazon and Snowflake had disabled Focus' robot.
Dr. Xavier projected to the four, *//This exercise was specifically
designed to emphasize teamwork. As you've probably guessed, each person's
robot was designed to be impervious to her specific attacks, but vulnerable
to her teammates' powers. I'm glad to see that you're working together as
a unit, but I'd like for it to become second nature, so that assisting a
teammate in trouble becomes as natural as fighting one's own opponents.//*
"Sorry," Snowflake said, sounding abashed-- or at least Dr. Xavier's
telepathic transmission of her "voice" sounded that way.
*//I'm not disappointed with your progress, Snowflake; you've all only
just started team exercises. I'd just like to see improvement in that
area, from all of you. Now, everyone shower and change, and come up to the
booth.//* She turned to John. "Next is your solo run. I'd like the girls
to observe you in action-- they'll get a good idea of your strengths and
weaknesses, which will be necessary to integrate you into the team."
The blue and gold uniform was skin-tight. Normally this wouldn't have
bothered John in the slightest. Normally being ogled by four girls in the
control booth wouldn't have bothered him either. Somehow, though, the fact
that those four girls were the only people *in* the school, the only
classmates he had, made this embarrassing. He felt as if he might as well
be naked. At least, thankfully, the jock strap within the suit-- designed
apparently to protect him without the discomfort of a cup-- seemed to be
strong enough not to budge if he spent too much time thinking about Wendy
and what those feathers would feel like against his skin. It wouldn't be
comfortable, but it wouldn't be humiliating, either. Of course, having Dr.
Xavier overhearing his fantasies *would* be humiliating, so he tried not to
let his thoughts go in that direction, but there was only so much
temptation a teenage boy could take.
*//Your objective is simply to cross the Danger Room and hit the stop
button. You must hit it with your hand, not telekinesis. Be careful, and
good luck.//*
John took a deep breath, and started across the room.
Two robots charged at him, tentacles swirling out to catch him. John
could "feel" their weight, their mass-- too heavy to lift easily. Instead
he levitated, shooting straight up. The tentacles followed, extending
toward him, and a ray beam fired from one of them, catching him squarely in
the chest. It hurt, but more importantly, it winded him-- like a good hard
kick to the chest, breaking his concentration and sending him flying. He
plunged, stunned, managing only to barely catch himself before he hit the
ground hard.
The robots turned toward him, looming, tentacles reaching for him.
"No more Mr. Nice Guy," John muttered, and pushed. The one on the left,
closest to him, tottered back and fell hard against the other, knocking
both robots to the ground. Their tentacles twitched and waved
directionlessly.
John got to his feet and started across the room again. Projectiles
shot out at him from both walls-- punching mitts, fired with high velocity.
He flung up a TK shield. The first two mitts impacted harmlessly, but then
the projectiles started firing harder, slamming into his shield with force
enough to stagger him. His head pounded. Again John tried to fly up, to
get out of the range of the mitts. This triggered mitts to fire out of
tubes in the ceiling, hitting him and knocking him to the floor again.
No mitts fired as he lay on the floor, winded. This was ridiculous.
He was not going to let this room beat him, especially not with Wendy and
three other girls watching him. If he failed, they'd think he was a loser,
and boy wouldn't that be a great first impression.
John focused, remembering Dr. Xavier's lessons. *"Raw power is a
dangerous tool to use-- it threatens the innocent bystanders and it risks
burning you out. You have to be able to think creatively, to use power in
subtle ways to accomplish the same objective."*
Okay. Brute force wasn't working. Try subtlety. He found the tubes
the mitts were firing from. They could bend in order to aim. So when he
got up and they fired at him again, he grabbed the tubes and
telekinetically forced them up, so they fired mitts at the ceiling,
harmlessly.
Another few steps. The floor gave out under him. Frantically, John
grabbed himself telekinetically, levitating up from his fall. His head was
starting to pound. Was he overdoing it? The headaches were a side effect
of using too much power, according to Dr. Xavier. He levitated past the
hole in the floor and landed on the other side.
The walls suddenly closed on him with the speed of a battering ram.
He shoved, and was driven to his knees by the effort of it, pushing the
plates back. And then, while he was standing between the plates, pushing
frantically to keep them from closing on him, a robot came along and fired
a net at him, tangling him and knocking him to the floor. This disrupted
his concentration. The walls closed in again.
*No!* For a moment John tapped the deep power, the frightening power,
the well inside that couldn't be controlled--
Dr. X clamped down on his mind. *//Not that way, John!//*
Too late. He was out of resources if he didn't use that one. But he
hesitated. The walls slammed in toward him and jerked to a stop less than
an inch from where he lay tangled in the net.
*//The exercise is over.//*
His face burned. He wanted to hide, to flee, to smash something. If
Dr. Xavier hadn't halted the exercise, he'd be dead, and they'd all seen
it. He'd failed.
*//No, John. You succeeded. You resisted the temptation to use
levels of force that would certainly have killed innocent bystanders, even
if it meant your life. That's a hero's choice, not a failure's.//*
*But they all saw me screw up!* he wailed mentally, knowing he
sounded like an idiot but not quite able to stop.
*//None of them got that far the first time. The Danger Room is
_designed_ to make you fail the first time you cross it, John; I can't tell
what your limits are and assess what needs work if you never hit your
limits in training. None of X-Factor holds the fact that you didn't cross
the room against you, John. Let me show you--//*
*--got a lot farther than i did first time a lot farther gorgeous and
powerful stop drooling you've got no chance--*
*--hey not bad kinda impressive can tell ettie likes him better not
make fun of him then too much anyway--*
*--well i have to say that wasn't too shabby can fly too though he
hasn't got much fine control wonder how much his father makes--*
*--be still my beating heart oh shall i compare thee to a summer
storm? thou art more lovely and more wild but let us not wax poetic too
soon, it remains to be seen how he works with the rest of us and i for one
shall be unamused if he plays macho but surely dr. x would have trained him
otherwise?--*
The flashes passed too quickly for him to cleanly identify who was
thinking what; the only impression he got was that his teammates were
impressed with him. Impressed, and attracted, despite his failure to make
it through the Danger Room.
He grinned, and got to his feet. "So, do I get a second shot at it?"
*//Later. Shower and change; the rest of the day we'll be spending on
academic study. But tomorrow is another day.//*
One never got emotions from Dr. X's transmissions unless she chose to
send them. This time, though, her feelings came through loud and clear.
Pride, and pleasure that he'd chosen to come to her school.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
--
Be good, servile little citizen-employee, and pay your taxes so the rich
don't have to.
--Zepp Weasel
Alara Rogers, Aleph Press
al...@netcom.com
All Aleph Press stories are at http://alara.dreamhost.com .