Dec. 26th, 2011

Marvel Verse

Charles is taken hostage by Stryker and worked over by Rialta
Rescuing Charles and the other mutants
Back home to the mansion

Dec. 23rd, 2011

The Game of Chess

under the cut )

Dec. 21st, 2011

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Sep. 20th, 2011

Lab Rat Charles: No one here but us mice

Charles was biding his time. It was almost nighttime, the scientists would be leaving soon. He stayed in the corner of the cage, nibbling on the bit of cheese he had acquired from running the maze again earlier today. His eyes were on the people in the lab, waiting for them to finish up. He was one of many lab rats in this lab, but he had already distinguished himself as one of the smartest. They were still trying to figure out how he had navigated the maze the fastest without even seeing it before. What they didn't know was Charles was no ordinary mouse. Not only was he very intelligent, he had learned to listen to the thoughts of others. It was an ability he had been working on developing, trying to study himself as the scientists were studying him. Growing up in the lab, he had all the equipment he needed to run his own analysis and tests. He just had to wait until everyone left.

Finally, the last scientist was flicking off the lights and closing the door, locking it behind him. Charles counted to ten to make sure no one returned before popping the rest of the cheese in his mouth and swallowing it down as he moved towards the little gated door. He reached through with his little paws, giving the metal bar a nudge in the right direction till it unlocked. The cage door swung open and he scurried along the table. The rest of the mice were snuggling down for the night but Charles had work to do. He couldn't sleep now, he had just learned the human word for these new abilities of his. Mutant. The scientists were discussing it earlier, genetic mutations. From what they had been saying, Charles knew there were a few other mutants here and he was determined to find them. The one, Schmidt, he had spoken the most of one called Erik. Charles wasn't sure why Erik wasn't in the lab with the other mice but he was going to find out.

Charles hadn't been much farther than the lab but it wasn't difficult to leave. A hole in the wall, down a drainpipe, and onto the ground. Now and again, a soldier would pass but Charles knew a trick for not being seen despite being a stark white against the background. He blocked his existence from their minds as he passed, heading towards a slightly less clean area of the compound. There were locks and gates much like in the lab, but these were human sized.

Charles sat back on his haunches as he reached the living quarters of the prisoners. His nose quivered, this didn't seem like a good place for experiments, usually things were so clean and organized. This looked like people had been herded into here in a group and not cared for. Charles didn't like it, not one bit. But he moved carefully between different people, not bothering to hide himself as he searched for Erik.

Sep. 15th, 2011

Solitary: The Doom of Our Time verse

Charles had known this day was coming. He was not as naive as everyone thought him to be about the growing tensions between mutants and humans. Though he tried time and again to find a way for the two to live together in peace, eventually things had gotten so bad, he had officially closed the school. Officially but not entirely. Lessons continued, but in secret.

It wasn't enough though. Eventually they came for the kids. Charles had implemented the backup escape plan, sending everyone through the tunnels to the Blackbird and away, him staying to keep the soldiers distracted to the last minute. But it was one minute too many and they were prepared for a high profile telepath like Charles Xavier. Seems they had made a deal with the Russians for a couple of telepathy blocking headbands, just enough of a dampener so Charles wouldn't notice the sniper sneaking up and shooting him with a dart as he sat in his wheelchair. After that, he couldn't reach any minds at all. His telepathy: gone. The soldiers had moved in and taken him.

He hadn't gone quietly though. By the time they brought him to the psychiatric hospital, he had inflicted a couple of black eyes and gotten one of his own. When he refused to stay still, he'd gotten a gun butt to the back of his head, knocking him out entirely.

When Charles came around, he had been strip searched, redressed in scrubs, and unceremoniously dumped onto a lumpy mattress. The mattress wasn't even on a bed, it was on the floor of a solitary cell, a small window up high letting a small sliver of light in. It smelled of dampness all around him. He was alone, more than he had ever been before.