First Day, Part 1
Rated: T - contains fight scene with mild violence
Spoiler: It’s the first day of a new school year, and Raven Darkholme and Henry McCoy prepare to welcome the first students to the new Xavier School for Gifted Children. But who are the Disciples of the Mutant Messiah? And what do they want with Jean-Philippe, Kurt, and Martha?
Disclaimer: The X-men, and all related characters, are property of Marvel. I don't own any of them (unfortunately). However, this story is mine. Please don't steal my ideas, or my words. ‘You sure you don’t want me to take you right up to the house?’ The taxi driver asked, as they pulled to a stop. The tall, slender boy in his mid-teens shook his head, sending his floppy black hair dancing in the early morning sun.
‘No, thank you. I’ll walk.’ He said, handing his fare to the man and watching the car drive off.
He turned his attention to the large wrought iron gates in front of him. There was a keypad next to them, with a call button to ring the grand house that could be glimpsed at the end of the long, winding gravel drive. But he didn’t know the code, and he was reluctant to push the buzzer.
The boy looked around. The house was the only building on the road, facing a wide field. Beyond it, he could make out the buildings of the nearby town, perhaps a half-hour walk away. The only living creature in sight was a horse which moved lazily back and forth across the field, cropping the grass without much enthusiasm.
The boy turned back to the gate. The wall was a good ten feet high, topped with a row of iron spikes. The owner of the house evidently valued their privacy. He readjusted the strap of his backpack, took a deep breath, and leapt into the air. He hung above the
He landed on the other side of the wall, kicking up a small cloud of dust from the gravel drive. He smiled to himself, and began to make his way towards the house.
The boy hadn’t taken two steps before a piercing screech filled the air. An innocuous patch of grass parted, and what looked like a large camera rose out of the ground. The boy just had time to dive to one side as a blast of purple energy shot past his head, exploding against the stone wall.
‘What-?’ he didn’t have time to finish the question, as three metallic spheres flew towards him. He leapt into the air and the balls followed him, arching upwards towards the sky. He dropped down, skimming just above the grass, the objects close behind him. He swerved around a tree, dodging out of its way at the last moment. The spheres weren’t as fast, and collided with the tree in an explosion which sent shards of metal and chucks of wood hurtling through the air.
The boy smiled despite himself, letting out a whoop of excitement as he headed back towards solid ground. His initial panic had worn off, and he was starting to enjoy himself. His elation was short lived, however, as the gun fired a second shot, narrowly missing his shoulder. Unbalanced, he fell from the sky.
He rolled forwards as he hit the ground, and launched himself towards the gun, dodging the blasts that it sent towards him. He tackled it with his full strength, seizing hold of the box-shaped head in a bear-hug. There was a sound of tearing metal, and the gun was lifted up into the air and crashed to the ground. It gave a pitiful whine, and the light on its side died.
The boy stood up, brushing grass and dust from his front. The alarm was still sounding in the distance, and was joined by the sound of machinery whiring into place. He turned, to see that four more guns had appeared out of the ground, all pointed towards him. At the same time, six more metallic spheres came into view over the tops of the nearby trees, hurtling towards him. The boy swore; whichever way he moved, he was going to be in the path of danger.
There was a loud beep, and the alarm abruptly stopped. The guns slid back into the ground, vanishing without a trace. The metal spheres veered off, vanishing once again behind the trees. In the distance, a bird started singing.
‘What,’ said a female voice behind him ‘do you think you’re doing?’
The boy turned, to see a tall, dark haired woman in a crisp business suit walking towards him across the grass. The woman was beautiful, in a cold, remote way. Her features had a symmetry that he found slightly disturbing in its exact perfection. She held what appeared to be a remote control in one hand.
‘I-I’m a student here, miss. Jean-Philippe. You came and interviewed me in Ontario, remember?’ he asked, taking a step backwards.
‘Of course I remember. I also remember that you were instructed to use the intercom when you arrived, so that you could be let in. I do not remember telling you to break into the school and damage our property.’ The woman raised a single immaculate eyebrow, while the rest of her face remained motionless.
‘Oh, sorry.’ Jean-Philippe said, glancing guiltily at the destroyed gun. ‘I didn’t realise that there would be guns, Miss Dalkholme.’
‘No, why would you? What kind of school has energy guns and explosive droids as a first line of defence?’ The woman asked, striding back across the lawn.
‘Ah-’ He began, unable to finish.
‘That was a joke, Jean-Philippe. And call me Raven, please.’ She said, as he fell into step just behind her.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Jean-Philippe said.
‘You’re other bags have already arrived.’ The woman said, leading the way into the building. It was even more impressive inside than out; all thick red carpets and wooden panelling. The furniture that decorated the hall was sparse, but matched the grand surroundings. A sense of age and grandeur pervaded the space. They stood for a moment in the large entrance hall; Raven waiting patiently as Jean-Philippe drank in his surroundings. He had never been anywhere so grand, so large, so-
‘Kurt! Martha!’ Raven called, breaking into his reverie as she moved out into the large, empty hall. She turned and smiled apologetically at Jean-Philippe. ‘I did tell them that you would be arriving today. I’m sure that Dr McCoy is tucked away in his lab, but the others should be around somewhere.’
‘It’s fine, really.’ Jean-Philippe began. The building itself was so overwhelming that he didn’t mind the fact that it seemed to be deserted. Indeed, at the thought of meeting the other students he felt a knot of anxiety tighten in the pit of his stomach.
‘Ah, Kurt, there you are.’ Raven said. A figure had appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans. He was slightly shorter than Jean-Philippe, although it was hard to tell as he was strangely hunched over, as though there were a problem with his posture. It was impossible to make anything else of his physical features, as he entire face was hidden in the pool of shadows of his large, hooded sweatshirt.
‘Kurt, I’d like you to meet Jean-Philippe, our newest student.’ Raven said, smiling from one boy to the other.
‘Hi,’ Jean-Philippe said, smiling nervously at the other boy. Kurt remained as he was, without moving or speaking, or giving any sign that he’d heard anything.
‘Now, Kurt, don’t be rude.’ Raven chided. The figure let out an exasperated sigh, and pulled back the hood. Jean-Philippe tried to control his emotions, and could only pray that the shock which flickered briefly across his face had gone unnoticed by the others. Kurt’s face was entirely blue. His eyes were a sulphurous yellow. He smiled nervously at Jean-Philippe, exposing a row of white fangs.
‘Hello.’ He said, in a thick German accent.
‘That’s better.’ Raven said, smiling encouragingly at the two boys.
‘Kurt, would you mind showing Jean-Philippe up to the dorm? You two will be sharing, at least for now.’ Raven asked, walking away without waiting for a reply. She disappeared behind one of the doors leading out of the hall, leaving the two boys alone in silence.
‘Right, come on then. Try and keep up.’ Kurt stooped to pick up one of the bags that had been left by the door. Jean-Philippe had travelled light; his whole life fitted in to one rucksack and two medium sized suitcases.
‘Not a problem.’ Jean-Philippe said. A gust of wind hit Kurt in the face, and he blinked rapidly to clear the water from his eyes. As he cleared his eyes, he saw that Jean-Philippe and the remaining suitcase had moved to the foot of the stairs.
‘Huh. Race you.’ Kurt said, his face splitting into a mischievous grin. He vanished, enveloped in a cloud of purple smoke. Jean-Philippe coughed, waving at the air to try and clear the smog.
To Be Continued...
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