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Gary had always felt confident walking down the street. Now, with his skin so pale, his veins visible and obscured, he had to keep his head down and his hood up so no one would see him. To any passerby, he looked sick, coughing and wheezing as he followed the girl in the floral dress. She smiled as she walked, enjoying the sunlight and the attention of everyone who passed her.
"Where are we going?" Gary asked.
"Somewhere safe, Gary, don't worry," he said.
He was tempted to ask more, but there was something in the woman's voice that made her seem genuine. That, and he was so desperate for help. They came to a small corridor of alleys and began walking down them. Every corner they turned led to another alley. Gary's memory of the city wasn't perfect, but he was sure the alley on that block wasn't that deep. Still, he kept following the girl in the floral dress because he was so desperate.
"Thanks, Marcus," the girl said, looking up for a moment as they left the alley.
Gary gasped. They weren't in New York anymore. There were signs written in Mandarin in the sky. It was night, it was raining, and the locals were walking around, busy with their daily chores. Everything seemed normal; there had been no display of power, no bright lights. They simply entered a New York alley and came out into Hong Kong.
"How is this possible?" he asked.
"For Marcus," the girl said.
"Who is he?"
"Being responsible for our transportation, 'he' is a label that no longer applies to him," he explained.
She beckoned him to follow her. Coughing into his hand as he walked, Gary stared at the black liquid that had replaced her saliva. It was horrible, had become horrible, but the girl carried on as if everything was going to be okay. They walked through the streets until they came to a building. It didn't have a clear business sign, but it wasn't abandoned. Upon entering, they were greeted by a local man, who exchanged a bow with the girl. They conversed briefly in Mandarin before the man led them to an office; a red-haired woman sat at the desk, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Oh, good, you finally brought it here," he said.
"Mr. Stewarts , meet Debbie. She'll be your doctor for the next few days," said the girl in the floral dress.
"Wait, I can't stay in China, I have a life in New York," Gary said.
"My job brought me here to China for a short time, but I'm coming back to New York just like you. My job is to help people like you, Gary, not just mutants, but talented people," Debbie explained.
"I don't understand."
"There's more than one source of power in this world," the girl in the floral dress pointed toward the case on the desk.
She and Debbie gestured to Gary, silently encouraging him to open the case. He hesitated, and at that instant coughed, vomiting a mass of grayish bile and oil onto the floor. Horror drove him to open the case quickly. Inside was a bottle with a cork. The room was lit by the bright blue liquid inside.
"What is this?" he asked.
"A way to unleash your power, but in any way you want: drink it and it will suppress your abilities for a few hours. During that time, we can properly study what your powers are and what they can turn you into," Debbie explained.
Machine Man watched and shuddered in amazement as Gary reached for the jar. He shook his head as he uncapped the contents and gulped it down. Gary dropped it, shattering the glass on the floor. His heart rate began to accelerate like never before. He closed his eyes as a pain seared through his head; it felt like his brain was on fire. It was the closest description he could come up with.
Something was being seared into his mind. A vision of things never before seen. He saw a great white void, then total and utter darkness. In rapid succession, images of heroes, of Captain America and Iron Man, but in different suits. Images of men and women in suits that looked like they were straight out of 1970s comics, planets with shapeshifting green beings, bird-like men and women, and beings of pure energy. He saw a galaxy and giant armored ships seeding planets. Then he saw those planets devoured, with a silver trail whizzing past them.
When Gary opened his eyes, they shone a deep blue. He smiled, but Aaron lowered his head.
"They're going to kill him, aren't they, Uatu ?" he asked, looking up at the sky before turning back to the moon.
Anonymity is our greatest defense, the same one that many people have. There are those in this world who are distinguished from others not only by their appearance, but also by their voice. However, sometimes their voice can be what distinguishes them: "I'm a Republican, I'm Catholic, I'm a right-wing conservative, my family was Christian, but I converted to Islam, I'm gay, I used to be a man, but now I'm a woman." These things that people proclaim, sometimes proudly, can be what distinguishes them or what truly integrates them into the world. Because if they are not recognized or accepted, they don't truly feel integrated.
Mutants are all the same. Most of us yearn for a place in the world, but that's where our similarities with everyone else end. Because our mutations are dangerous, and they must be mastered, or they can even kill us. Anonymity is our greatest defense. Both from authorities who seek to abuse our power and from those who seek to harm us.
"That's why I suspect you're hiding your power from these men who use you, Emma Carol!" Charles looked at his recruit, someone who had been hiding in plain sight.
It was hard for a girl like Emma to hide; she was stunning, with blonde hair and a curvaceous figure that attracted the attention of men and women alike. The club where she worked was clandestine. Seventh Lust , an offshoot of Britain's Hellfire Club , was a non-legal strip club. Women were allowed to touch each other, but men were not. Emma wasn't a dominatrix, but she was a good dancer. Charles influenced both the staff and the customers. They saw him as a dispossessed man who could walk without crutches. He had requested a private dance with Emma, and they were taken to a seemingly private room.
But Charles knew that the mirror on the ceiling and the wall behind it were two-way mirrors. Two observation rooms had been built next to the private chamber. One was upstairs; the glass floor of that room was where private clients could observe whether the dancers were being paid for extra services. The room next to the chamber was smaller, exclusively for security, hired by private contractors for the Leland Corporation .
"What did you have in mind?" Emma asked, curling her hands behind her neck, puffing out her chest, and pouting.
"I was thinking, I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Charles said.
"That would require more than what lesser dancers would do," Emma's eyebrows curved down in anger and disgust.
"That's not what I had in mind," Charles projected in his mind.
She looked around, confused, as if expecting a microphone. But when Charles's mental disguise disappeared from her sight, she smirked.
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours, really?" she laughed , already knowing that Charles was making the observers watch an "innocent" dance session.
"Hiding without hiding is something new," Charles said.
"Most men here only look at one thing," Emma retorted.
"I respect a person's privacy enough not to intrude, so let me ask you, why does Winston Frost's second daughter work as a stripper?" he asked.
Emma snorted as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Frost is a name I'd rather not have," he said.
—Okay, I know Winston and Hazel were difficult people, but you didn't take their name either, Carol?
"My paternal grandmother's maiden name, she was the kindest member of the family, after my brother," Emma looked down for a moment, indicating that she didn't want to continue the conversation.
Charles picked up his crutches and stood, using his telepathy to change the perception of the room. It was something to make Emma feel more comfortable, as well as a demonstration of the skill and precision he had acquired with his power. A skill he had only acquired through testing and training with his abilities. Altering the perception of four men and creating an entirely new reality for one woman had become an easy task for him. His new surroundings were an outdoor setting, the grounds of the mansion.
Two chairs appeared behind them, and a table between them. Charles's crutches disappeared; in this astral plane, he could walk as freely as before. Emma's lingerie transformed into a modest white dress.
"I'm more of a shirt and jeans kind of girl, but good trick," Emma said, sitting down with Charles.
"The mansion you see behind me is a private school and training center for people like us; to the public, we're simply a private school for children with specific emotional or educational needs," Charles explained.
"I make a pretty significant amount of money here," Emma said.
"There's also the danger that you could be exposed... not to that kind of exposure."
"A place to live, yes. I live in a dorm right now. It's not the luxury I had with my parents, but I don't regret it at all. I've also learned to hide my abilities, or at least disguise them. I don't like using my mutation," Emma explained.
"You have projection skills, don't you?" Charles asked.
I project a field over my body that reorganizes the carbon cells. The first time I used it, it hardened my body like a diamond. But I completely cut myself off from my emotions. The second time I used it, my body became as brittle as coal; I lost a pinky finger. The Hellfire Club paid for a transplant, which was very expensive.
Do you have debts? Because I have a considerable fortune.
"No sir, what's your name again?" Emma asked.
"Charles Xavier, I suppose you're in no hurry to boast, are you?"
"Not until you teach me how to control it," he said.
Charles cut the connection with the plane, returning Emma's perception to normal. Then he offered her his hand.
"Welcome to Xavier Academy, Emma."
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Hello everyone, what did you think of the chapter? Please let me know in the comments. If you want to download the full book, it's available on my KO-FI page. The link is here. 👉
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