☭ POST WORLD WAR II, the world was a confusing place. Between the United States and Russia, the threat of nuclear war plagued the minds of everyone. The former allies fought with shady, backhanded trade agreements, showing off which nation had...
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THE FUTURE, A DARK, DESOLATE WORLD. A world of war, suffering, loss on both sides. Mutants, and the humans who dared to help them, fighting an enemy they cannot defeat. Are they destined down this path? Destined to destroy themselves like so many species before them? Or can they evolve fast enough to change themselves, change their fate? Is the future truly set?
The Sentinel program was originally conceived by Doctor Bolivar Trask. In the early '70's, he was one of the world's leading weapons designers. But, covertly, he had begun experimenting on mutants, using their gifts to fuel his own research. After Trask's murder, they captured Raven, known then as Mystique, and experimented on her. They gained knowledge of her mutations and used it against all Mutants, building Sentinels for mass executions.
Or at least that's how Logan Howlett understood it. He sat back, leaning up against a pillar in the monastery. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed deeply.
"Are you going to do this?" she asked quietly.
Logan looked over, his stoic eyes locking with her soft ones. "I don't have any other choice."
She sighed, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. "There's always a choice."
Charles Xavier rounded the corner. He watched as Logan spoke softly to the person next to him. It was very rare for him to be so kind and apologetic to someone. 'Poor Logan' could not remember his life before the '70s. There was decades, perhaps centuries, of blank memories. If he had a family, he wouldn't know it. Like anyone else would be, he was clearly upset over this. But she made it bearable.
"Logan," Charles said softly, cutting the man off. "It's time."
Logan clenched his jaw. Once more, he locked eyes with her. Her lips curled into a soft smile, and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Can he...?" Logan asked.
Pulling away from him, she grasped his hand with one of hers while the other ran through his graying hair. "He knows I'm here," she murmured. "Props for being a telepath, Baldy. But he can't hear me. It's just me and you, James."
Logan squeezed her hand back. "She called you Baldy, Professor," he said jokingly, a faint smile forming on his face.
Charles chuckled softly. The days for him grew dark and dreary, so any jokes or comments that slipped under his skin made him smile. It was rare, but very much appreciated. "I wouldn't expect anything else from her."
Logan watched as the woman next to him left go of his hand and stood up. She strolled over to Charles kissed his cheek as well. The telepath could feel her, her lips gently graze over his cheek before she faded away.
