Arrt Saunders
Still studenting
Aidan’s footsteps echoed loudly in the Danger Room, a tin-din of ringing metal. Marvelling at the cavernous nature of the basement, he walked towards the centre with up-fixed eyes. The ceiling was a glittering skyscrape of lights and colour: a hypnotic display of ever-changing colour.
How such an advanced structure could exist beneath the abandoned mansion and still remain undiscovered, unheard of by the peanut-crunching crowds clambering for the next sliver of delectable gossip for so longwas a mystery.
Aidan fancied it was magic. Or psionic energy. If this Charles Xavier could create an entire universe, an alternative reality for the survivors of catastrophe, a little cloak and dagger seemed like a walk in the park.
Looking towards the corner of the room he spotted Wolfey, leaning against the wall with his feline scowl in a similar, yet more battle-hardened, suit to Aidan, a yellow ‘X’ plastered across his stocky chest. It was the smell of cigar smoke that altered him to the older mutant’s presence. The grey mist hung in the air like a pungent cloud, whipping towards Aidan in swirling, curling, unfurling coils.
Batting at the air, afraid he would sputter into a coughing fit, it wasn’t long before he heard the doors slide open behind him.
‘And here comes the team,’ Aidan thought, wondering how everyone else was processing the overload of information dumped on their shoulders.
The first mutant to arrive was the green-skinned kid, a plated, armoured boy with an impressionable air. He looked the youngest, very young to Aidan anyway, a semblance of pre-pubescent youth to his face and figure. He was closely followed by Sparky, who had been the one to slam into Wolfey on the mansion grounds, electricity discharging from his hands.
At least he recognised their faces; though he worried how hard they could throw a punch.
“Welcome to the Danger Room!” he called to them.
How such an advanced structure could exist beneath the abandoned mansion and still remain undiscovered, unheard of by the peanut-crunching crowds clambering for the next sliver of delectable gossip for so longwas a mystery.
Aidan fancied it was magic. Or psionic energy. If this Charles Xavier could create an entire universe, an alternative reality for the survivors of catastrophe, a little cloak and dagger seemed like a walk in the park.
Looking towards the corner of the room he spotted Wolfey, leaning against the wall with his feline scowl in a similar, yet more battle-hardened, suit to Aidan, a yellow ‘X’ plastered across his stocky chest. It was the smell of cigar smoke that altered him to the older mutant’s presence. The grey mist hung in the air like a pungent cloud, whipping towards Aidan in swirling, curling, unfurling coils.
Batting at the air, afraid he would sputter into a coughing fit, it wasn’t long before he heard the doors slide open behind him.
‘And here comes the team,’ Aidan thought, wondering how everyone else was processing the overload of information dumped on their shoulders.
The first mutant to arrive was the green-skinned kid, a plated, armoured boy with an impressionable air. He looked the youngest, very young to Aidan anyway, a semblance of pre-pubescent youth to his face and figure. He was closely followed by Sparky, who had been the one to slam into Wolfey on the mansion grounds, electricity discharging from his hands.
At least he recognised their faces; though he worried how hard they could throw a punch.
“Welcome to the Danger Room!” he called to them.
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