Elliot Murdock

Chapter One

A small Apartment in Bushwick, New York

     " You Have a lovely home, Mrs. Murdock," the apartment in fact was anything but lovely, it was small, cramped, and lived in. Fist size holes in some places, wallpaper that was sagging off the walls begging to be sent back to the 70's and a noticeable dark brown rusted stain over the main carpeting of the apartment. Attempting to be hidden by a threadbare Rug. However, clean. Clean in the way that showed someone was trying there best with what they had. A Radiator clanged like it was trying to escape while it smelled faintly of strong coffee and winter air that breathed through cracks and gaps of the window panes.

     Scott had made the comment politely as he settled into the tough and torn sofa. He sat beside professor Xavier, who remained quiet, polite and silent, his wheelchair angled toward there hostess. Lisa Murdock, mid forties, didn't quite look so her only tell was her tired eyes and her few stray gray hairs in her cherry blond hair hidden through her messy bun. A small chuckle left her lips shifting to a more knowing smile as she headed the men cups of coffee.

     "It's, Ms.," she gently corrected the Man, " and please, We know this place is a dump," she took a seat in an armchair that was in about the same condition as the couch. "Yes, Apologies, I'm sorry for your loss" She brought her cup to her lips, and waved her hand dismissively with her free one. " Nathan...Nate, wasn't the greatest man, He had his demons." he cleared her throat, sadness was laced within her statement. " But my son, Elliot, He's my World."
She turned her gaze to the floor. Her fingers curling under her chin as she spoke up once more. "He's too smart for his own good, Always three, no ten steps ahead" her smiled turned warm speaking of her son however it was worn thin by fear. " I don't have any problems with mutants" she started her back straightening, at the two Mutant men in front of her. "He never shown any signs of anything-"

     " We understand, Lisa," Charles finally spoke up, calmly and with warmth that soothed the whole room. " You love your son very much, that is clear to us. We want you to know that he isn't alone in this, there are many more young People like Elliot, that's why I started my school-"

     " A school?" she asked, leaning forward in her seat closer to him. Charles nodded " Yes, Charles Xavier's school for Gifted Youngsters, those gifted being Mutants, We offer safety, education, Guidance even Rehabilitation and Acclamation for those who can go on to lead normal lives. Many of them, Like Elliot , are frightened, Isolated and in danger". Lisa looked lost in thought taking all of this in. she leaned back into her seat and looked over to the side table, where pill bottles upon pill bottles lay. " He, He ran off without any of his medication, He's going to get very sick without them. Two years ago, he was so weak, he couldn't walk and was in a wheelchair. There were days I thought he wouldn't make it past fourteen..." Charles nodded in understanding to the worried mother in front of him. " That is why we want to find him, before anyone else does, and before his condition worsens." She wiped a stray tear away with the back of her hand. "I just want him to be okay."
"Ms. Murdock," Scott said gently, leaning forward, "we're going to find him. We'll bring him somewhere safe,Xavier's School. He'll have others like him. People who understand what he's going through. He'll get the care he needs." He reached out to the worn armchair, placing a hand on hers. "His life is going to be more complicated now."

     Lisa let out a shaky breath, a few more tears slipping down her cheeks. "He's been through so much," she whispered. "Please... just find my son."

                                                        ______________________________________

Somewhere between Buffalo, NewYork and Ontario Canada

     Elliots body was Trembling, all joints Aching hot as coals. He pulled his blanket tighter around his body as he possibly could, but the winter here was much harsher than anything he had dealt with back home in New york. The shack he was held up in lacked Insulation, only rotting floors, wood with cracks and gaps that the Icey air could get through. It was nearly impossible to focus on anything else.
He had Ran, Fast, too fast. Left everything behind. His Mom, Peter, and his medication. Not just the Stuff for his Chronic pain, scars healed from countless surgeries but the ones that kept the cancerous cells that invaded his knee, at bay. The though made his knee instinctively curl his leg inward.

     "Fuck!" he gasped as white hot pain shot through his leg. However the shaking and nausea weren't just from the cold, the cancer or the pain, but the withdrawal that came from the pain medication. His body had already been slipping into the fragility of his past bouts of Cancer.and was screaming for the pain relief he was used too. Groaning, he shifted, pulling himself up out of the corner he had settled himself in. The blanket slipped form around his shoulders too the cold cracked floor. He limped over to a splintered table against the wall leaning on it, hold himself stable.

     He knew he couldn't be here for much longer. He'd already been in here for too long, but the Pain in his leg Kept him from moving on to the next place.

     The wind Crashed against the side of the shack, slipping thought the cracks in the walls and Howling through the Rotten wood, but theres something else. An under tone, beneath the sound, something Heavier, something wrong. Elliots brow furrowed, his mind splitting into parts. Pain, panic but awareness to the forefront. Focus being pushed to his ears, his hearing.

Snow. Its falling in consistently showering. Snow, crunching But not the Crunching sound of branches bending, breaking and snapping under the weight of the fallen snow. Footsteps, Multiple sets and there close. His eyes widened. Someone or someones was out there. His body moved on instinct, weight shifting to his good leg, the other dragging behind him. He fought to keep groans slipping from his teeth, clenched so hard his jaw caved and popped. Heat shooting through his knee like Molten fire. HE reached over the table. His shaking hands gripping onto a pistol. Racked It, the sound cracking through the creaking wood of the shack. Too loud, Damn it. He limped back toward the dark corner he had been occupying previously. With Each movement that fire pumps through the tissue of his joints, Adrenaline numbs the worst of the pain. His back against the wall, his breath sharp, burning his throat. The gun pressed against his chest the barrel down, fingers white knuckled around the guard of the trigger. In this moment, He found himself strangely grateful for his father's hyper masculine upbringing, the many hours of drilled discipline around firearms and Fighting, forms and Procedures. Elliot hated guns and fighting, Didn't mean he didn't know how to protect himself.

     Everything, silence. Listen. His eyes fluttered shut, focusing on the sound outside in the snow. Voice, low, distinct. A voice, clearer than the other whispers. Heavy and graveled. "The scent coming from here". A breath caught in Elliots chest. Stop panicking and Fucking listen. Two distinct feminine whispers, two women, one man and the sound of...clinking Metal? Gears started turning, spinning in his head. Escape routes, Ammo count, Load capacity. Wind direction. The Probability of being flanked. One part of his mind and his body wanted to run, another was planning how to. Then another reminded him, his leg couldn't get him out of here with the speed he needed to get away. A wave of something washed over his mind " Gah!" filled his head it was hazy and felt. Intrusive.

     There wasn't any time. This was it. It was him, or them. Whoever they We're.