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(Friday Fiction) X-Men: A Tale of Two Kitties

Writing 150(Continuing my little snippets of fiction imagining Beast settling in at the Jean Grey School, because the news from Marvel coming out of Comic-Con sounded really really bad for our merry band of mutants. While the X-Men line has…maybe seven titles out right now, many of them will be taking a hiatus once Civil War II is over. Then we’ll get the ominously-titled Death of X, which then spins right into Inhumans vs. X-Men. The promotional material tips the scales pretty heavily against the X-Men, though this could all be a swerve seeded by Marvel to get X-fans riled up. It’s working.

The worst part, of course, is that Beast doesn’t actually feature in ANY of the promos. He’s working with the Inhumans right now to find a cure for the Terrigen Mists, but it looks like that won’t lead anywhere. He doesn’t show up in any of the Death of X variants, Inhumans vs. X-Men, or any of the X-Men OR Inhuman titles for the rest of the year. 

Someone has to write about Dr. McCoy. Might as well be me, right?)

Henry mumbled to himself as he squeezed beneath one of the computer panels of his shiny new basement laboratory. Something about the electronics just wasn’t flowing right, and while he had narrowed it down to the tremendous and chaotic bundle of wires beneath the main monitor, that still left literally hundreds of tiny insulated cables that had to be checked by hand. It would have been a chore for anyone, but with thick and brutish paws like his the work went twice as slowly as it should have. Not for the first time, Dr. McCoy regretted relying on Shi’ar tech so heavily. It allowed him to do so much, but it was an absolute nightmare to troubleshoot.

He held a dozen or so of these impossibly thin wires, feeling them roll through the leathery pads of his fingertips. He used his other paw to adjust his glasses, squinting in the dim light to see the colors of each one. He felt the wrench he was holding brush against the fur above his brow, and was certain that there was now a thin sheen of synthetic oil sinking into it. Another mutter under his breath, this one just quiet enough for him to hear. He was going to take a long, hot bath after this, drying time be damned.

It was hard work, of course, building the tools that would go on to build the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning — but then, he knew it would be. That was part of what drew him to seek out the position in the first place. It had been far too long since he had been able to put his considerable talents to use for a cause he believed in unreservedly, and now he had his chance. He had a hand — paw — in rebuilding Xavier’s dream from the ground up, in shepherding a new generation of young mutants towards the ideal that one day human and mutantkind could live in peace. That thought was what propelled him through countless long nights, several hours of poring over manuals of alien technology and navigating his own physical difficulties with performing fine detail work. Most of the time, it was enough. Today, though…

The fur on the back of his neck stood up. There was someone in the lab.

He bumped his head and broad back under the console as he tried to slip out, rubbing the back of his head with a grumble. He tilted his nose up, sniffing the air — nothing but metal, coolant, the lubricant he was rubbing into his fur again…

He tossed the wrench down with a frustrated “Bah!” and looked around the lab, his goggles glinting as they caught the much brighter fluorescents beaming from the high ceiling. There was no movement, just the chaos of his dream lab being put together. Still, something didn’t feel right…

He felt a breeze ruffle the whiskers on his right side, and his ear flicked as he heard the barest whisper of fabric rubbing against fabric. Someone was behind him. He turned his head slightly in that direction and caught the scent he was looking for.

He leaped before the arm had even lifted, flipping a twisted somersault in the air to land on his feet (and one hand) while facing the spot he had been just a few seconds ago. Henry snarled instinctively, ears flattened, mane lifted; it embarrassed him to show his teeth that way, so he followed up quickly with witty banter.

“I don’t know who you are…” He looked up then, and saw Katherine Pryde phasing into sight, eyes wide and clearly startled.

“Well,” he said, “Kitty Pryde, as I live and breathe…” Henry straightened, grateful for his fur for once. As uncomfortable as it was, it did a wonderful job of hiding it when he blushed. He threw out his arms and rushed into a hug before she had a chance to recover.

Beast felt her stiffen for a split-second before she relaxed, letting her arms drop around his neck. His heart skipped a beat when she laughed; he spun her around and gave her the briefest squeeze before setting her down. For a moment, it was just like old times. All was right with the world.

“Hey, Hank!” She bounced on her feet as she landed, pushing a lock of her hair behind an ear. “Logan told me you were down here, so I thought I’d surprise you…probably wasn’t the best idea.”

Henry smiled, but not too wide. He knew how off-putting his fangs could be. “Ahhh, my dearest Kitty, a thousand apologies! It’s…been an eventful few months. I’m afraid my fight reflexes have gotten a bit too good.”

“You don’t have to explain that to me!” She smiled back. “When you live the life we do, you learn to hate surprises.” She turned around, looking at the enormous space that was only now just taking shape. “Look at all this, though! I’m impressed! You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Beast took her hand in his when she turned around, unable to keep himself from smiling wider. “Ahh, you’re too kind! It’s easy to do something impressive when you have access to alien technology and unlimited resources. Would you like for me to give you a tour?”

“I’d like nothing better.” Kitty squeezed one of his fingers and stepped to the side, letting him lead her. “I thought I recognized Shi’ar tech in this place. It has this really distinct feeling when you phase through it.”

Hank’s eyebrows lifted. “So that’s why I haven’t been able to get the main monitor working. I knew the design would be quite touchy, but I figured it wouldn’t be so bad once I had safely ensconced them behind the safety paneling.”

“Oh, no! I didn’t think you had turned anything on. I’m so sorry Henry…here, I’m not doing anything this afternoon, why don’t we order in a pizza and I’ll help you fix it?”

Henry paused as he walked along with Shadowcat, clapping his other massive paw over her hand. He looked into her eyes, his whiskers practically bristling with contentment. He had his doubts about the Jean Grey School — it was quite a risk, after all — but this was the first moment he was certain he had made the right decision.

“Nothing would make me happier. Let me show you the Warbird Fusion Reactor, and then I’ll tell you about this marvelous place I’ve found. They’ll even take custom toppings! I had an extra-large steak tartare pizza that was just delightful.”

Kitty laughed, “Oh Hank, that sounds awful!”

“My dear, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Beast smiled, then lead Pryde through a narrow passage and behind a panel that hadn’t been affixed to the wall yet. This place would be really something, once it all came together.

 
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Posted by on July 29, 2016 in Comic Books, Thursday Prompt, Writing

 

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(Friday Fiction) The Job Interview of Dr. Henry McCoy

Writing 150I’ve had superheroes on the brain for a while now, and there are a number of reasons for this. However, Beast of the X-Men is someone I just can’t get out of my head — also for a number of reasons. Ever since All-New Marvel Now!, when Brian Michael Bendis took over as the guiding hand of the X-Books, Hank has been in worse shape than usual. He pretty much broke the multiverse going back in time to get the original X-Men; he underwent another mutation that turned him into a cross between an ape and an elf; his future self was brainwashed by the son(?) of Charles Xavier into becoming one of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants and subsequently died; he succumbed to the power of the Black Vortex, becoming an all-powerful nemesis; and finally he threw a hissy fit when the other X-Men confronted him about his hypocritical, out-of-character actions, leaving the Jean Grey School before Secret Wars hit.

I firmly believe that in better hands Hank can be a really fascinating and fun superhero. But to be honest, he hasn’t been written well in a long time and the current X-Universe being what it is, it’s unlikely he’ll be better served any time soon.

I keep thinking that it would be neat to allow the status quo of the X-Men to settle for one god-damned minute in order for characters to evolve and grow in ways other superheroes get to do in the Marvel universe. The period after the Schism — where Cyclops and Wolverine split mutantkind in two with their differing ideologies — is a great one to go back to for that. Here, we see the older generation stepping into roles of mentorship and command. New mutants dealing with their own evolution in the unending battle for acceptance are coming up, learning the lessons of the previous set and adapting them to their own time. It’s a rich setting, and one that suits Beast perfectly.

So here’s a conversation between Wolverine and Beast, who is signing up for a position at the Jean Grey School of Higher Learning.
Hank McCoy slipped between the trees with a feline grace that somehow enhanced the bulk that looked to be at odds with it. His boots — modified to fit his new digitigrade stance — whispered along the undergrowth of the forest, leaving only the lightest of tracks on a path he scented more than he saw.

It figured that Logan would want to meet him out here. A quick scan of the area told him there was a cabin somewhere in this wilderness, though most people would have a devil of a time finding it. He had to leave his car behind a couple miles ago, slinging a backpack over one broad and furry shoulder to walk the rest of the way.

It wasn’t a bad day for it. The sun shone through a thick canopy of leaves, small pockets of light reaching the ground ahead of him. A gentle breeze carried the scents of the forest to him; trees struggling to procreate in the springtime, birds and animals that remained out of sight but which were present just the same, the slight but noticeable trace of Wolverine leading him forward. It was even cool enough that he didn’t feel overheated as he moved. Since his latest mutation, his fur had gotten thicker, enough to shift the range of temperatures he was comfortable with. It had been a long adjustment, and he was only now becoming comfortable in his own body again.

Which is why he had no hesitation dropping to all fours (though he looked around, as if to check for anyone watching him) to speed up his pace; it was nice to take a stroll in nature, but he wanted to be prompt for his meeting. Logan might not care about punctuality, but he certainly did.

Hank had only recently taken to exploring the new, bestial attitudes that flitted across his ever-thinking brain. Since becoming a bouncing blue cast member of the musical Cats, he had difficulty accepting his new-found fondness for raw meat, or the powerful instinct to chase or pounce others. It disturbed him, not just because they were present, but because sometimes they were so strong. The Cassandra Nova business hit him where he lived there, and it was a long way back to being unafraid of himself. He had hoped getting back to what he did best — being the chief scientist for the X-Men — would complete the healing of that trauma and allow him a chance to feel like himself again at long last.

But first, he would have to convince Logan to take him on.

He loped between the trees quickly now, his paw-like hands churning up leaves and dirt as he galloped along. Wolverine’s scent became stronger now, along with the smell of coffee, alcohol, cigars and burning wood. He paused for a moment, then pivoted towards the northeast. Another few minutes, and dense wood gave way to a small clearing with a modest cabin squatting right in the center of it. He scanned the area with sharp and slitted eyes. The birds were at ease here, and he spotted a squirrel or two darting between the safety of two tree trunks. A lazy plume of smoke rose from the cabin’s stone chimney, and another one rose from the porch. Logan was there, wearing simple jeans, a flannel shirt and boots. He was chewing his cigar like it was his breakfast. The mutant stared right at him as he stood and stepped out of the trees.

“Hank,” he said, as if he had been waiting this whole time.

“Logan,” Beast said, clapping the dust off of his hands as he cleared the small distance between himself and the new headmaster of the Jean Grey School. “It’s so nice of you to invite me to your summer home.”

Wolverine shook Beast’s hand without smiling. Hank wasn’t offended; it was a weak joke. “I just figured you’d want to meet somewhere private. Those SWORD guys still after you?”

Beast waved him off. “Heavens, no. That was sorted a little while ago, thank the stars. Dr. Henry McCoy has a spotless record once more.”

Wolverine simply grunted, turning to sit on one of the chairs next to the cabin’s door. “Have a seat. Can I get you something? A beer?”

Hank glanced at the chair; it was solid wood, but a bit too narrow for his hips. He chose to lean against one of the porch posts instead. “No, thank you. It’s a bit early for me to indulge. I did bring you something, though.”

He slung his backpack off his shoulder and opened the zipper with a claw. “I know it’s customary to bring a token of esteem in these situations; most would have gone with a fruit basket of some sort, but I figured you’d appreciate this more.”

Wolverine eyed the bottle of whiskey, staring at the label once it was handed to him. “Single malt, huh? Not bad.” He wasted no time twisting the top off and taking a long swig.

Beast glanced at him, then looked out over the clearing. “Yes, a small batch distillery from Cork that I thought you’d like. I thought the apple notes were quite a nice distinction.”

His ear flicked as he heard the bottle upend once more, a full tumbler of the stuff disappearing down Wolverine’s throat in the span of a few seconds.

“Mmm, it’s all right.” Logan sat the bottle down on the porch, then exhaled. “Now that you’ve broken the ice, want to get this over with?”

Hank grinned. “Certainly. Though I have to admit I was surprised you wanted to interview me for the position. We’ve worked well together before, and we seem to be of the same mind on what we want for these children.”

“We are. But I need to know where your head’s at. You left the X-Men, Hank. You went out to space with your girlfriend and only reached out to me when you found out I was rebuilding the school.”

Hank furrowed a brow. Was Logan upset about his defection? Or something else? It was hard to get a read on him; his scent was mostly covered by burning tobacco and the stinging alcohol he had drained a half-bottle of in under a minute. “If you’re worried about my commitment, then you certainly don’t need to be. I believe I’ve proven myself to be quite dedicated to causes I believe in.”

“True. But you’ve also had a hell of a time of it in the past six months. This school is going to be a target for a lot of people…maybe some of our own’ll be gunning for us or our kids. You sure you’re ready for that?” Wolverine kept his voice even, calm, but there was something about that question…

“I’ve been fighting to protect the innocent for over a decade now, Logan. It’s my life’s work.” He turned towards the mutant, arms folded. “And you’ve provided me with the opportunity to continue it.”

“So why didn’t you open the school yourself? Why wait for someone else?”

Beast blinked. “I…didn’t think I could do it on my own.”

“Who said you would have been?” Wolverine stretched out, leaning back in his chair.

“Call it an educated guess. I am many things, Logan, but a leader of man and mutant I am not. I’ve never been comfortable convincing others that my choices are the ones that need to be followed. I don’t have the knack for it that you or Scott or Ororo do…”

“You think I want to be a leader, Hank?” This time, Wolverine smiled. “I’m stepping up to this because somebody’s got to. You’d think that one of Charles’ students would want to be the ones to take on his legacy…”

“But Scott is becoming increasingly militant, and Jean is no longer with us. Warren….good heavens, who knows what’s happened to Warren. And Bobby is…well, Bobby has his own issues.” Beast shook his head. “As much as it pains me to say it, none of us are capable of doing that at the moment. But you are. Let me help you.”

Wolverine stared at him for a long time. “Of course you’re going to help me.” He stood and stepped forward, offering Hank a hand. “Welcome to the Jean Grey School, Dr. McCoy. She’s going to need you.”

Beast beamed, showing the full measure of his fangs before he could help himself. “Thank you. Now, shall we talk about compensation?”

Wolverine grunted; it’s what passed for a laugh most of the time. “Free room and board, provided you design the school and lead the building of it.”

Beast blinked. “You mean the mansion isn’t rebuilt? How…far have you gotten in this process?”

Wolverine slumped back into his chair and picked up the bottle of whiskey. “So far, I’ve hired on a Vice-Principal to help rebuild Charles’ dream from the ground up. Not a bad start.”

Beast took a deep breath and grabbed the whiskey when it was handed to him. He took a swig himself, straight from the bottle. “Not a bad start at all, my friend.”

 
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Posted by on July 1, 2016 in Comic Books, Writing

 

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Thursday Fiction: Midnight Thoughts of Troubled Minds

Writing 150I was a little late with getting to the end of Veniamin’s story, so I thought I would offer two vignettes this week instead! This one is a bit longer than I expected it would be; once I got into it I really wanted to give it the time it needed. That’s why it’s up today instead of yesterday!

Anyway, this is the first of four Beast vignettes this month. I wanted to test out how a story featuring the X-Men would sound, and whether I could get a good handle on Hank McCoy, how he thinks and speaks, what the world is like for him. Consider this a bit of practice for Beast: Wild Genius. I’m hoping that the more I write this, the more I can refine the voices and make them sound “truer”. This one is 2093 words.

It was 1 AM at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning, and it was mostly quiet. The nocturnal students were catching up on their courses in the hologram room, and the bamfs could be heard apparating in the hallways and snickering in their mischief, but almost everyone was asleep. It was one of the only times Dr. Henry McCoy, Principal and Head Scientist, felt completely at ease roaming the grounds.

He stalked the empty hallways, his sensitive nose wrinkling at the faint trace of brimstone the bamfs always left behind. He tapped a console near the front door to check on Krakoa and any possible threats from outside; there were none. He glanced around to make absolutely sure there was no one stirring, and then went into the staff kitchen.

Beast tapped another console, which slid open to reveal a hidden compartment inside the wall. He grabbed the precious cargo inside, fetched himself a cup of tea and spread it out in front of his chair. A treat for oneself should be a feast for the eyes as well as for the taste buds, after all. He took a moment to drink in the sight of the chamomile tea and two Twinkies, then let the combined smell of over-processed herbal drink and hyper-preserved sugar, fat and bread fill his nostrils. It was all too rare to enjoy a moment like this.

The first Twinkie disappeared as quickly as he inhaled. The chamomile he sipped more slowly; the steaming hot liquid scalded his tongue pleasantly, mingled briefly with the delightful chemical taste of the confection before washing it away. Hank sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair, ignoring the warning creak that came from the stressed wood. After all that had happened — with all that’s going on around him — it was moments like this that he came to treasure. Moments where the world stopped and he could just be a man enjoying a cup of tea and a creme cake.

The respite was short-lived, however. His nose picked up the scent of someone in the hallway, and his ears heard the slinking footsteps of the Jean Grey School’s headmaster.

It was always easy for him to tell when Wolverine was nearby. His smell came first — wild, hot-blooded, with undertones of the adamantium that served as his skeleton. He had a distinctive gait as well; it reminded Hank of a predator stalking through its territory, hackles raised for a threat that could appear at any moment. Beast felt a certain kinship with him. Logan was one of the few people who saw the world the same way that he did, who struggled with the tension between the animal in his blood and the better angels in his head.

“Logan,” Beast rumbled as soon as he heard Wolverine outside the entrance to the staff’s kitchen.

“Hank.” Wolverine walked through the door and headed straight for the refrigerator. He wasn’t surprised by Hank’s presence, but why would he be? He had similar heightened senses. “I’m surprised to see you outside of your lab.”

Beast grinned easily, leaning further back in his chair. “Everyone has to come up for air some time. All work and no play makes one…a bit stir-crazy.”

Wolverine simply grunted as he grabbed a beer. “Want one?”

“No, but thank you. I thought I’d enjoy a cup of tea before I retired. Twinkie?”

Wolverine wrinkled his nose as he took a seat at the table. “I honestly don’t know how you can eat that stuff, Hank. Can’t you smell it?”

“Of course, my dear Logan. That’s part of the appeal!” He looks down at the tiny yellow cake, about the size of a finger. “It takes me back to my childhood. Before all this. I’d get home from football practice, down a box of these, jump right into homework.” He sighed a great breath, staring beyond the kitchen door, back to his boyhood room in Dunfee, Illinois. “I still had problems, but I was content. Life was so…uncomplicated.”

He blinked himself back to the present. “I’m sure you have something that takes you back to happier times, Logan. Some food that reminds you of home?”

A shadow passed over Wolverine’s features, and Beast almost instantly regretted the remark. “I have a lot of things that remind me of where I’ve come from. Mostly I try to focus on what’s in front of me.”

“Of course,” he said. “My apologies.”

Wolverine shrugged and took a long sip from his beer. Beast drank his tea. They let the discomfort of the moment sink in, then fade. The clock ticked on the wall.

“So how’s the school coming? Is there anything I should know about?” Logan kept staring at the table, in that way he did.

Beast shook his head. “Full speed ahead, o captain my captain. The facility practically runs itself, for better or for worse — once that business with Krakoa was sorted out, there haven’t been any significant issues. Of course, it would be nice to make sure the bamfs don’t get into the power source downstairs–”

“I’m sure you’re on top of it, Hank.” Wolverine cut him off with a hand on the shoulder. “Just…remember to be here for the kids.”

Hank stared at him. What was going through his head? “Of course, Logan. I wouldn’t forget why we’re running this school.”

Wolverine simply nodded, then finished the last of his beer. “Didn’t think you would, bub. I just…I need people who are going to do right by these kids. It’s a messed up world out there. They should be protected from that until they’re ready to deal with it.”

Beast nodded. Of course Logan was right. It was why he came back to the site of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters in the first place. His dream hadn’t changed, but the world did — and just when it looked like there wasn’t a place to continue Xavier’s work, Wolverine jumped in to fill the void. The least likely candidate to do it, but he did.

“I know. It’s just…” His broad shoulders slumped. There was a reason he stalked the halls at night, stuck to his lab wherever he could, threw himself at his projects. He’d been trying to avoid it all this time, but he couldn’t. It was staring him in the face now, and he couldn’t look away. “Why am I here?”

Wolverine looked at him as if he had grown a second head. “What?”

“I mean, why me Logan? You have Ororo, you have Kitty…you have Bobby. A lot of other people could step up if you asked them to. Why am I here, as vice-principal? What am I doing here?”

“Your best, Hank. What are any of us doing here?”

Beast shook his head. “It’s not that. I…this used to be so different. Back in the old days. When it was just me and Jean and Scott, Warren and Bobby. Everything seemed so simple back then, and it feels like it all happened to another person. I’ve changed, Logan. Everyone has changed.”

“Cyclops is some revolutionary. He killed Xavier right in front of me. Jean is dead. Warren is…who knows what’s happened to Angel. The only person who seems blessedly unaffected by any of this is Bobby. And even then, I’m not so sure. Do I really know him? Have I ever known him?

“I thought Scott was my brother in arms. He was the consummate leader. Never left a man behind. But he left me. In a black cell with no one but my arch-nemesis to experiment on me. I never would have imagined he was capable of what he’s become, but…” Hank spread his oversized hands and sighed again. “…here we are.”

He looked at Wolverine, who was studying him with the expression of a man who had no idea what to make of what was in front of him. “We’ve never had the closest relationship, you and I. Ororo, I understand. You came up with her, and she has your backbone. Kitty, I get. You’ve helped guide her to where she is today. But why bring me along? You don’t owe me anything.”

Wolverine shifted in his seat, looking away from Hank. “Listen…bub…I’m not sure I’m drunk enough for this conversation. But here goes.”

“I know what it feels like to be betrayed, especially by somebody close to you. It shakes you up. Makes you suspicious of everybody you know for a good long while. But after a bit you move past it. You learn to trust someone again. Then a few people. And that scar just becomes a part of you. If you’re lucky, it makes you smarter. If you’re not, it poisons you. You’re smart enough to know which way this stuff with Cyke is headed.

“But I pulled you here because I want you here. Storm’s got the backbone to lead this school, and I know she’ll protect them from anything that tries to hurt them. Kitty’s great with kids, and I know she’ll teach ’em well. But you…Hank, out of the first class that’s left, you’re the one guy I know who’s still carrying the dream inside you.

“Look at this place. It wouldn’t exist without you. We could’ve maybe gotten someone else to build it, sure, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as good. This is your life’s work, Henry. I know no matter how many times Xavier’s dream nearly goes extinct, you’re gonna be the one to kick-start it again. Everybody’s got a fire under them trying to make this work. And you lit it. You were the only one who could.

“Now. I need you to be the new Xavier. Me and him didn’t always see eye to eye, but we understood each other. He gave me a shot when nobody else would. And there’s a whole new set of kids out there who need somebody to show them what they can be. That’s you. Got it?”

Henry sat, stunned. He swallowed once, hard, and nodded. “Got it.”

“Good.” Wolverine stood abruptly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna see if I can get a decent couple of hours before Krakoa wakes us all up. Night, Beast.”

“Good night, Logan.” Beast watched Wolverine walk out of the kitchen, his shoulders slumped as if what he said had taken something out of him. He sighed and settled into his chair, staring at his empty tea cup.

It had been so very long since someone had believed in him. Wasn’t that at the core of this? He had done so much, but he had made so many mistakes…and all of his closest friends were dead, or had left him. So many nights, he only had the thrill of discovery to keep him going.

He looked around at the kitchen. This room, like almost every other within the Jean Grey School, was his design. Bright, airy, homey — a refuge from the chaos of a school filled with mutant children, from the humanity outside that hated and feared them, from their own kind who wanted them to fail. He only just noticed how much it looked like a high-tech version of his mother’s kitchen. There was the same cool beige tile on the wall, the same polished wood under his feet. It took him all this time to see just what he had been trying to do — build a home.

Beast gathered his plates and put them in the automated bin that would take them to a dishwasher that ran inside the walls, then place them back into the cabinets through hidden panels all on its own. Shi’ar technology, he mused, was a wonderful thing.

But things in this place wouldn’t make it a home; the people who lived in it would. He thought about the people here — Storm, Kitty, Logan, Bobby — and how much he had in common with them. They had all been through so much. They had all suffered. All of them, wounded but still standing.

Hank turned out the light and walked out of the kitchen, down the hall, towards the elevator that would take him down to his lab and quarters. Tomorrow, he would see how Warren was doing. He’d have a snowball fight with Bobby. Heck, he might even flirt with Ororo. He could never have his old family back at this point. But he could make a new one.

And with that, maybe the Jean Grey School would start to feel more like home.

 
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Posted by on October 8, 2015 in Writing

 

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