Something soft and slightly musky brushed over her face. Consciousness flooded her body and she took a deep breath, slowly coming to. Opening her eyes, Jean focused on the man dressed in the tie, dress shirt, and pants standing over her.
“Good morning, Doctor. Or should I say, ‘afternoon?’ It is about 2pm, if I’m not mistaken.” He smiled wide, long canine teeth brushing against his lower lip. “Feeling any better?”
“Hi, Hank. Yes, thank you.” She returned the smile, feeling a large furry hand slip into hers to give it a squeeze. He lifted her arm slightly and pressed two fingers against the pulse point at her wrist.
“You might have a bit of a headache for a day or two, but after that, you’ll be back to your old self.”
“How’s Scott?” Turning her head, she glanced around the med lab. All the beds were empty, including the one Kitty had occupied. “Where’s Kitty?”
“One question at a time, dear.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “Scott was treated for some bruises and also lacerations to his face and arms. He is healing well. I sent him back to his room to take a shower. As for Miss Pryde, I felt it was probably best to release her last night before you brought Scott here for treatment. He likes his privacy and I doubted he wanted this emotional upset to be fodder for the local gossip mills.”
Jean nodded. “You’re right. Thank you, Hank. I’m sure he appreciates it.”
“So much so, he sent me a box of Twinkies.” Hank’s dark eyes twinkled, and the blue eyebrows above them wagged happily. Jean laughed. Hank McCoy’s sweet tooth was nearly as legendary as Logan’s. Jean figured it must have something to do with the high metabolism associated with physical endurance. But that was where the resemblance ended. Hank enjoyed fine clothes, food, and wine. Logan didn’t care just as long as it was black, barely cooked, and had ‘single malt’ somewhere on the label. Hank loved science and research. Logan loved a good dirty fist fight. Logan was hairy, but Hank had him beat, covered from head to toe in a thick coat of deep blue fur.
“If you promise not to use your gifts for about another twenty-four hours, I can let you go home. I don’t want you to burn out your neural transmitters.” He helped her to sit up and gently rested his clawed hand on her shoulder.
“Yes, mom.” Jean teased, patting his hand. He barked his laughter.
“Go on, go wash the stink off of you.” Hank did his best ‘motherly’ voice.
Jean gave his hand a squeeze and stood up. “Thanks Blue. For everything.”
“You are most welcome, my dear.”
Slowly Jean walked for the door, feeling slightly unsteady on her feet. After a good meal and maybe some more rest, she’d be stronger again.
“Hey, Hank. I like the tie. Goes well with the fur.” She was rewarded with another thunderous roar of his laughter.
***
Charles lifted the mantle of Cerebro and set it carefully on his bald head. It captured his brainwaves and amplified them making his remarkable gift even more potent. The specially designed chamber allowed him to reach greater distances in his search for other mutants and it connected directly with the Danger Room so he could design specific challenges for his students.
Scott Summers had been the first of such tests. The Danger Room in its early stages tested the young man’s mind and gave him the opportunity to put battle strategies to practice in a virtual reality setting. As Charles made more and more friends in the technology industry, the Danger Room evolved until it possessed the ability to tie the human mind into the experience through articulate matter. Punches would be felt and in the extreme cases, bones could be broken.
With a certain degree of respect, Charles accessed the latest recording of Scott during his ‘endgame’ program. It displayed in three-dimensional detail along the concave wall of the chamber.
“Computer, begin file at time index zero.”
The images briefly flickered as the file reset itself, starting from when Scott walked through the doors of the Danger Room. Charles watched the progression of increasingly brutal fights, Scott taking a few severe blows from his attackers. He wasn’t playing it close and in check as he always had, but loose and wild, leaving himself open for the barrages that got past his defenses. It was as if he was playing without really caring. Charles could see the feral pleasure written across the young man’s features as he eventually brought each of his enemies down. Except for the man with the baseball bat, not once did Scott use his gift, instead resorting to his fists and feet and anything else he could get his hands on.
A cold chill ran down Charles’ spine as he watched Scott lift his last assailant off the floor into a kneeling position at his feet. His right hand cupped the man’s chin as the left curled around his forehead. The recording of Scott stared straight ahead, straight at Charles, without a glimmer of emotion on his features as the right hand pushed then jerked back hard with a twist. Neck broken, the assailant fell dead to the ground.
It was behavior he would have expected from Logan, not Scott.
The recording stepped away from the dead body as it faded and he primed for the next target. The wait was brief, but the reaction wasn’t something Charles was expecting. Scott, suddenly spooked, cowered.
“Computer pause recording.” Charles leaned forward, staring at the unadulterated terror in Scott’s expression. “Computer, how many assailants are encoded in the ‘endgame’ program?”
“Fourteen.”
“What number is this?”
It paused for a handful of seconds before replaying. “Fifteen.”
He fell back in the wheelchair and raised a hand to his mouth. “Computer, explain presence of fifteenth assailant if program was developed with fourteen.”
“When safety protocols are overridden, ‘endgame’ is allowed to provide the unexpected. Subject Scott Summers imprinted his wish to be challenged when the program was designed. The fifteenth assailant is this challenge.”
Charles closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, somehow already knowing the answer to his next question. “Computer, define basis for fifteenth assailant.”
“Brainwave and pattern recognition of subject Scott Summers showed heightened fear over similar incident during finalization of program.”
Sighing, he shook his head. Interpreting what the computer said only meant one thing – the mental scan, however superficial, Charles had performed on Scott to imprint into all Danger Room programs had picked up on the abuse suffered. The Professor had inadvertently given the computer the psychological ammo to challenge Scott, this time in the worst way possible.
“What have I done?” Rubbing a hard hand over his features, Charles bowed his head. Somehow he had to make this up to Scott.
YOU ARE READING
Shades of Red and Grey (X-Men Fic)
Fanfiction"It may be cold comfort, but you did rescue these children before they ever had the chance to be subjected to what you suffered. That is quite the accomplishment, Scott. You have persevered despite it all, and for that, I am truly proud of you."
