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Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
Salem's Center, New York
January 1st, 1968
Blood dripped onto the hospital bed. The wound was like a leaky faucet: not enough to signal serious damage, but enough to make a mess. Logan had wiped it up with a towel three times now. Every time he thought it had stopped another droplet raced down the side of his finger like an errant tear. "Gimme a minute," he grumbled, running the clean corner of the towel over his knuckles.
"Its been three," Ororo Munroe sighed.
"I swear it usually doesn't take this long. This's very embarrassin'-"
"Could you hold off on being a clown for one moment of your life?" She snapped. Not that long ago she and the other X-Men had been celebrating the New Year with the rest of the school when Wolverine came trudging out of the forest with a half-dead man slung over his shoulder. That vexing grin on his face hadn't left since, even now.
Storm swiped a tangle of stark white hair out of her face and back behind her ear, her brow set in a deep, worrisome furrow. She turned away from Logan and to the bulky monitor she'd hooked into his arm. It was state-of-the-art medical tech, not even on the market- Hank McCoy had seen to it that the team had the best of the best before he left. Ororo triple checked the machine to make sure it was working correctly, but the information it was feeding her still didn't make any sense. It was perplexing. "I'm worried about him, Scott."
Scott Summers paced across the room behind her, arms crossed over his chest. "And you're sure this has never happened before?"
"My engine's missin' a couple'a bolts, Slim, but this is new," Logan shook his still-bleeding knuckles in Scott's direction.
"This happens just after those men attacked him?" Ororo shook her head. "It is no coincidence."
"Let's not jump to conclusions." Scott warned. "We'll know more when Kitty and Kurt get back."
"The elf's comin.'" Logan declared after sniffing the air.
Not but a moment later a puff of blue and black smoke filled the room, followed quickly by the scent of sulfur. A blue-furred, three toed figure rose up out of the smoke, a bright grin on his face as he held something into the air. "Triumph!"
"And there's the other one." Logan pointed toward the opposite wall just as a ghostly hand passed through it, a girl following close behind. Kitty Pryde stepped into the medical ward with an armful of katanas and a sour look on her face.
"What the hell, Furball?! We said no powers!"
"You said no powers, fräulein. I agreed to no such sing."
Scott approached the two of them with a click of his tongue. "That's enough, you two. Is that the gun?"
"I've got it!" Kurt nodded. "Ze feuerwaffe in question. Vas kind of hard to find, zhou. Quite dark out zere."
Scott took the weapon from Kurt and began going over it, popping the last cartridge out of the chamber. "That's a...strange round." He set the rifle aside, spinning the bullet between his fingers. The metal was an odd bone white, and there were green tinges of energy running throughout it, almost like veins. Its tip was shaped more like a syringe than any round he'd ever seen. "The rifle is late World War Two era, but it looks heavily modified. Modern scope, expanded barrel and chamber fitted to whatever this round is supposed to be."
"There's some of that slime on the edges of these swords, too." Kitty shoved one toward Summers, as if he wouldn't believe her otherwise.
Ororo took a turn looking it over as well. "I would wager this is the substance that's suppressing your abilities, Logan."
It was hard to read Scott with that visor blocking half his face, but his jaw locked and his nose crinkled. He was nervous, angry. Someone had invaded this school- this safe haven for their kind- and attempted to kill one of them. They were just lucky it'd been one of the X-Men, and not one of the kids. "So there's someone out there that can suppress mutant abilities and they're gunning for us."
"Somebody else lose an eye that I'on't know about?" Logan scoffed. "Call it a hunch, but I get the feelin' they were after me. This was personal. Nobody else on the grounds got hit, n' those were the only four schmucks we found on our sweep. That gun's important. Part of'a message they were tryin' 'ta send. Only thing I'on't know is what'n the hell I did to earn it."
He hopped off the table and started forward. "Think I oughta find out. 'N maybe I oughta send a message back while I'm at it."
Storm took Logan by the arm, stopping him. She pulled him to the side and forced him to look at her. "If that poison had acted even a little faster you'd be dead, Logan. What you 'oughta' do is rest."
A gloved hand took each of their shoulders, bringing both their heads swiveling back to look at Scott. "Let's go have a conversation with our guest, first. I have a feeling the professor's made progress that he'll want to share with all of us."
The rising dawn splashed pink across the sky. It reflected on the still water of the lake just north of the school, where the kids would go swimming during the summer. Charles and his guest had an incredible view from where they sat on the patio. They were alone, eerily so- not even a morning bluejay dared to interrupt them.
Charles turned to look at the man, a twinkle of curiosity intermingled with the worry in his eye. "...I can't read your mind."
His 'guest' was the intruder Logan had spared. He was unassuming in his appearance: middle aged, relatively short in stature but built like a gymnast. Strangely, though, his face was covered by a mask Charles could not remove. It was black and featureless, but its construction was nonsensical- shaped less like cloth and more like shadow, twisting in the light.
"You should not tread where you are not welcome, professor."
"Sound advice. Perhaps your friends would be alive if you had followed it." Xavier pursed his lips. "Was the bloodshed really necessary? This place, it is meant to be..."
The man raised a hand to stop him. "We were aware. We respect what you're trying to do here, professor, our intention was never to harm any of your students. I apologize most sincerely for any stress we may have caused."
Xavier shook his head and turned away from the shadowed man. "You never answered my question."
"I'm afraid it was." He walked the length of the patio to stand just in front of Charles, turning away from him to look to the sunrise. "The so-called Wolverine must pay for his sins. A pound of flesh, as you Englishmen say."
"He isn't the same man he used to be. He doesn't remember anything before he came here."
"It does not change what he did, or what he is. You can put the monster in a suit and trim its hair, but its soul remains wicked all the same."
"People can change, my friend. You just have to give them a chance." Charles smiled. "Tell me what he's done and he'll do all he can to fix it: that's who Logan is. He may stumble, at times, he may even lose his way, but he will always seek to make it right."
The man turned around, and the shadows were gone, replaced with a most horrible face woven from nightmare. "We are what God made us, professor." He approached Charles slowly, seeming to float forward more than walk, and he leaned down to whisper in the professor's ear. "Tell the Wolverine to go to Agarashima. There he may face the man he dishonored. There, he may find redemption at the edge of a blade."
"Its been three," Ororo Munroe sighed.
"I swear it usually doesn't take this long. This's very embarrassin'-"
"Could you hold off on being a clown for one moment of your life?" She snapped. Not that long ago she and the other X-Men had been celebrating the New Year with the rest of the school when Wolverine came trudging out of the forest with a half-dead man slung over his shoulder. That vexing grin on his face hadn't left since, even now.
Storm swiped a tangle of stark white hair out of her face and back behind her ear, her brow set in a deep, worrisome furrow. She turned away from Logan and to the bulky monitor she'd hooked into his arm. It was state-of-the-art medical tech, not even on the market- Hank McCoy had seen to it that the team had the best of the best before he left. Ororo triple checked the machine to make sure it was working correctly, but the information it was feeding her still didn't make any sense. It was perplexing. "I'm worried about him, Scott."
Scott Summers paced across the room behind her, arms crossed over his chest. "And you're sure this has never happened before?"
"My engine's missin' a couple'a bolts, Slim, but this is new," Logan shook his still-bleeding knuckles in Scott's direction.
"This happens just after those men attacked him?" Ororo shook her head. "It is no coincidence."
"Let's not jump to conclusions." Scott warned. "We'll know more when Kitty and Kurt get back."
"The elf's comin.'" Logan declared after sniffing the air.
Not but a moment later a puff of blue and black smoke filled the room, followed quickly by the scent of sulfur. A blue-furred, three toed figure rose up out of the smoke, a bright grin on his face as he held something into the air. "Triumph!"
"And there's the other one." Logan pointed toward the opposite wall just as a ghostly hand passed through it, a girl following close behind. Kitty Pryde stepped into the medical ward with an armful of katanas and a sour look on her face.
"What the hell, Furball?! We said no powers!"
"You said no powers, fräulein. I agreed to no such sing."
Scott approached the two of them with a click of his tongue. "That's enough, you two. Is that the gun?"
"I've got it!" Kurt nodded. "Ze feuerwaffe in question. Vas kind of hard to find, zhou. Quite dark out zere."
Scott took the weapon from Kurt and began going over it, popping the last cartridge out of the chamber. "That's a...strange round." He set the rifle aside, spinning the bullet between his fingers. The metal was an odd bone white, and there were green tinges of energy running throughout it, almost like veins. Its tip was shaped more like a syringe than any round he'd ever seen. "The rifle is late World War Two era, but it looks heavily modified. Modern scope, expanded barrel and chamber fitted to whatever this round is supposed to be."
"There's some of that slime on the edges of these swords, too." Kitty shoved one toward Summers, as if he wouldn't believe her otherwise.
Ororo took a turn looking it over as well. "I would wager this is the substance that's suppressing your abilities, Logan."
It was hard to read Scott with that visor blocking half his face, but his jaw locked and his nose crinkled. He was nervous, angry. Someone had invaded this school- this safe haven for their kind- and attempted to kill one of them. They were just lucky it'd been one of the X-Men, and not one of the kids. "So there's someone out there that can suppress mutant abilities and they're gunning for us."
"Somebody else lose an eye that I'on't know about?" Logan scoffed. "Call it a hunch, but I get the feelin' they were after me. This was personal. Nobody else on the grounds got hit, n' those were the only four schmucks we found on our sweep. That gun's important. Part of'a message they were tryin' 'ta send. Only thing I'on't know is what'n the hell I did to earn it."
He hopped off the table and started forward. "Think I oughta find out. 'N maybe I oughta send a message back while I'm at it."
Storm took Logan by the arm, stopping him. She pulled him to the side and forced him to look at her. "If that poison had acted even a little faster you'd be dead, Logan. What you 'oughta' do is rest."
A gloved hand took each of their shoulders, bringing both their heads swiveling back to look at Scott. "Let's go have a conversation with our guest, first. I have a feeling the professor's made progress that he'll want to share with all of us."
The rising dawn splashed pink across the sky. It reflected on the still water of the lake just north of the school, where the kids would go swimming during the summer. Charles and his guest had an incredible view from where they sat on the patio. They were alone, eerily so- not even a morning bluejay dared to interrupt them.
Charles turned to look at the man, a twinkle of curiosity intermingled with the worry in his eye. "...I can't read your mind."
His 'guest' was the intruder Logan had spared. He was unassuming in his appearance: middle aged, relatively short in stature but built like a gymnast. Strangely, though, his face was covered by a mask Charles could not remove. It was black and featureless, but its construction was nonsensical- shaped less like cloth and more like shadow, twisting in the light.
"You should not tread where you are not welcome, professor."
"Sound advice. Perhaps your friends would be alive if you had followed it." Xavier pursed his lips. "Was the bloodshed really necessary? This place, it is meant to be..."
The man raised a hand to stop him. "We were aware. We respect what you're trying to do here, professor, our intention was never to harm any of your students. I apologize most sincerely for any stress we may have caused."
Xavier shook his head and turned away from the shadowed man. "You never answered my question."
"I'm afraid it was." He walked the length of the patio to stand just in front of Charles, turning away from him to look to the sunrise. "The so-called Wolverine must pay for his sins. A pound of flesh, as you Englishmen say."
"He isn't the same man he used to be. He doesn't remember anything before he came here."
"It does not change what he did, or what he is. You can put the monster in a suit and trim its hair, but its soul remains wicked all the same."
"People can change, my friend. You just have to give them a chance." Charles smiled. "Tell me what he's done and he'll do all he can to fix it: that's who Logan is. He may stumble, at times, he may even lose his way, but he will always seek to make it right."
The man turned around, and the shadows were gone, replaced with a most horrible face woven from nightmare. "We are what God made us, professor." He approached Charles slowly, seeming to float forward more than walk, and he leaned down to whisper in the professor's ear. "Tell the Wolverine to go to Agarashima. There he may face the man he dishonored. There, he may find redemption at the edge of a blade."
