X-Men: The (fan fic) Series

One week until the first episode of my X-Men Television series goes live and I’ve got another sneak for you! This is the ‘teaser’ for the pilot episode. It’s a little longer than most teasers but this is the pilot and has limited commercial interruption. Enjoy!

1X00 – The X-Men – Teaser

A night watchman sat in the gate house watching TV instead of keeping an eye on the security feeds. Not that it would have done him much good had he been vigilant. Within seconds of his door opening someone was behind him and he didn’t have time to react before pressure against the back of his head sent him into the darkness. His body was then dragged off to the side, hands zip-tied around a beam.

Hitting the controls, a white haired figure sped through the opening gate and made a beeline for a guard who was making his rounds, checking the parameter. The man suffered the same fate as his fellow guard, a blow to the head knocking him out, hands and feet bound should he wake up too soon.

With superhuman speed, Pietro Maximoff, known to the mutant world as Quicksilver, ran up to the side of the building away from the entrance and waited in the shadows.

And waited…

He checked his watch again. Eight-thirty and twenty-six seconds changed to eight-thirty and twenty seven.

The Ford Mustang came screaming through the entrance only forty-five seconds later than it was supposed to, it might have well been an hour for all Quicksilver could care.

With the radio blaring AWOLNATION, the car skidded to a stop, turning sidewise as it did so, the acrid smell of burnt rubber in the air. Quicksilver didn’t even blink as the vehicle came within inches of hitting him.

“Well, if the inside guards didn’t know we were here,” Quiksilver frowned and adjusted his silver colored racing jacket as the car’s engine was cut and a woman got out of the driver’s seat, “I’m sure they do now.”

“Running late,” she was a Southern belle with an accent to match. Dark auburn hair was set off by a natural white streak down the middle and her body was covered toe to neck due to the unfortunate nature of her mutation, “blame St John.”

“Wait, wait, what am I being blamed for?” St John Allderdyce slipped out of the passenger’s seat. He was usually referred to as Pyro given his tendency to light anything and everything on fire given half a chance, or a quarter of chance, or any chance really, “and was it epic?”

Rogue rolled her eyes at the man but she was suppressing a smile and a laugh, her eyes twinkling as she said, “You tried to burn down the section chief’s house because, and I quote, ‘the building is a rich flashover just waiting to happen’.”

“And I stand by that statement,” he defended himself in his Australian lilt.

“Right,” she held out the vowel as she came around the car, the last member of their team exiting from the back seat. “Whatever ya say, arson boy.”

“Not arson, art,” Pyro was always very adamant about that point, “I shouldn’t have to keep telling you all this.”

Their fourth teammate, a large Cretan by the name of Dominikos Petrakis, shook his head as he joined them, “Only you would find art in fire consuming everything in its path.”

“That’s it, though, isn’t it,” Pyro wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulder, or at least tried to, and started to speak conspiratorially, “fire consuming everything that will burn… it’s like a statement on modern capitalism.”

“No, I do not think it is,” the Greek mutant frowned at him.

“Yes, well,” Quicksilver ignored them and looked to his second in command, his Romani accent getting thicker in his annoyance, which could be troublesome as he tended to speak faster than most normal people, “did you at least get everything?”

“All up here,” Rogue smiled as she tapped her temple, “let’s get this two-step started.”

The group walked over to the front entrance of the research facility for Bastion Industries which was their latest mission. It was a typical office building, an open lobby with glass doors accenting the front. A guard shouted at them as he drew his gun but Quicksilver zipped over to him before he had much of a chance to move. With another quick blow to the back of the head, the guard was down and cuffed to the table leg with his own cuffs.

“Just how does blue flame represent post-industry Britain?” Dominikos asked his spiky haired friend, the color of which was just a shade off of orange, the pyromaniac’s latest fashion choice.

“Don’t encourage him, Avalanche,” Quicksilver sighed, “we have a mission to complete.”

Pyro gave the group leader a frown but shrugged and leaned against the security desk as Rogue went around to the main console. With a few taps of her gloved fingers, she grinned, “And with that, the system has returned to standby. The guard didn’t alert anyone beyond this building and…” she tapped a few more keys, “no one will. Cameras and door alarms are now disabled.”

“Bring up all the guard positions,” Quicksilver gestured to the camera feeds.

Rogue blinked a few times as if she was thinking really hard, then her fingers went to town on the keyboard. The woman’s mutation was somewhat unique, while the ability to drain a person’s life force was not unheard of, Rogue was able to retain a copy of the victim’s psyche which included their memories. Although she could not recall all memories at will, she could find details upon absorption and hold on those close until she needed them.

A map came up on the screen and red dots indicated the location of the guards who had transponders in their ID badges.

“Alright,” Quicksilver decided that his plan wouldn’t need any adjustments, “I’ve got the guards. Pyro,” he snatched the guard’s badge and handed it to him, “you hit the main servers. Rogue, the vault, you swiped the section chief’s badge, right?” she nodded and he continued. “Avalanche, watch our backs.”

…

“Servers are on the top floor,” Rogue told Pyro as they headed towards the elevators, Quicksilver already disappearing into the stairwell. “You still got the passwords I gave you?”

Pyro held up his right hand, a bunch of random numbers and letters scribbled on the palm. The man was actually right handed but seeing as his left palm was covered by the control mechanism for the compact flamethrower which ran across his back, the feed nozzle poking out of his right sleeve, he worked with what he had.

“Good,” Rogue hit both up and down buttons as the vault was on a sub-level, “let us know when you’re done,” she tapped her ear piece communicator.

“Will do,” the up elevator popped open and he slipped inside.

“And no fire!” she shouted as an afterthought, the doors closing on his grinning face.

…

High above the five-story building, a dark clad figure soared on the winds and landed on the rooftop, looking for an entrance.

…

Two more figures came through the back dock, not terribly surprised that the alarm didn’t go off, knowing that those inside would have disabled it already.

…

Pyro found the server rooms easy enough, passing at least one knocked out guard on his way.

“All the guards are down,” Quicksilver’s voice came over the communicator, “I’m checking out the chief’s office.”

“Roger that,” Rogue confirmed.

Following the signs, the pyromaniac walked into the main server room and sat down at the computer desk. Computer codes in hand, literally, he began to hack into the system to retrieve the files that were requested by their boss.

Slipping a pocket passport drive from his coat, he plugged it in and started downloading the files. It only took a minute or two for Pyro to get bored. “DuPont FM200 Waterless Fire Suppression system, fancy” he mused as he glanced between the various nodes on the ceiling, “but the backup water sprinklers, so last decade.”

The computer beeped and the transfer was complete. Removing the passport drive, he placed it in his jacket and tapped his earpiece, “I’m done, heading back to the lobby.”

“Almost finished,” Rogue came over the line, she was pulling hardcopy information from the vault, “meet you there.”

Whistling to himself, Pyro exited the main room and started down the hallway towards the elevators. As he came around a corner, he stopped abruptly. Instinctively, Pyro’s right hand raised as his left thumb and fingers worked the controls of his flamethrower.

Built into his undershirt, several flexible hoses ran from compact compartments of different mixes of fuel, from standard butane to Grade A rocket. Each container was made of hard, durable, polymer plastics and held the fluids under compression. It looked much like what you’d see on an astronaut’s EVO suit, only, well, a lot more flammable and slightly insane.

Just as he clicked the button which would strike the igniter wrapped around the wrist of his right hand, a lightning bolt snaked across the hallway, striking the sprinkler head. Within seconds, water began pouring down on the pyromaniac. This would make creating and controlling fire very difficult… which was exactly why she did it.

“You’re no fun,” he frowned at the tall, dark skinned woman with long white hair.

She raised one pert eyebrow in an amused response.

Deciding that taking on the mutant known as Storm by himself was not a very sane thing to do, even by his standards, Pryo turned on his heels and ran back down the hall towards the secondary stairwell.

…

The fire alarm went off and Avalanche immediately began to scan the lobby and the outside, looking for any sign of what was going on.

“Mayday,” Pyro shouted across the line, “we got a Weather Witch, the Boy Scout can’t be too far behind.”

“On my way,” Quicksilver immediately responded. “Avalanche, you copy.”

Before Dom had a chance to answer, a blast of red light shot out from one of the many side hallways and struck the mutant, sending him backwards into the wall.

…

“Rogue,” Quicksilver called her name over the line when Avalanche didn’t answer.

“On it,” she said instantly, slipping the files she had taken into her brown leather jacket.

Running for the stairwell, she pulled off her gloves and tucked them into her pockets. The Boy Scout, though he liked to call himself Cyclops, had probably gotten to Avalanche. While the geokinetic could take a direct hit or two from Cyclops’ optic blast, there was no reason to assume he was okay if he wasn’t answering.

Taking the steps two at a time, she made her way up to the ground floor but she was at the East end of building from the lobby, she’d have to take the long connecting hallway to get to her teammate.

Snikt.

Upon exiting the stairs and hearing the distinctive sound, Rogue managed to duck just in time as a pair of Adamantium claws swiped over her head.

Rolling, she was back on her feet within seconds, facing down the man known as Wolverine. He was about her height and made up for his lack of stature with a very gruff and intimidating presence. The mutant’s gift was three bone claws that shot out from the top of his hands. They had been covered in the strongest metal on Earth, Adamantium. This made them unbreakable and deadly sharp.

Wolverine’s other mutations also included heightened senses and a healing factor that left most others in the dust, practically coming back from the dead on more than one occasion.

Rouge would know, she had relived the memories.

“Well, at least you’re learning,” Rogue frowned as she took in the high collar leather biker jacket he wore, with matching full gloves, leaving only the skin of his head vulnerable to her touch. “What we at now, 12-8?”

“I don’t keep track,” he said with a growl, releasing the Adamantium claws in his other fist.

“Sure ya do,” she grinned, then made her move.

Diving low, she kept under his first swing, then bought up both arms in a boxer’s defense to block his second attack. His entire skeleton had been replaced with the metal meaning he had a lot more weight behind his punches than his build would suggest.

She tried to reach up and grab his face but he was quicker than someone as heavy as he was ought to be. Another swipe came at her head and she ducked, managing to slip around him while trying to reach back behind her to grab his neck on her way. Sensing what she was doing, he lunged forward out of her grasp.

Frustrated, Rogue bounced on her toes as she turned to face him, the man laughing.

“Same ol’ moves there, skunk,” he brought his claws up.

Growling as the voice of Wolverine taunted her both in person and in her head, she got ready to attack again, “Bring it, short stack.”

…

Dom mentally shook the cobwebs from his head, reeling from the impact of hitting the wall. The mutant known as Cyclops was able to compress any light in his field of vision so densely that it became something akin to a laser beam, though it was less like a cutting torch and more a concussion blast. It was so powerful it could break though typical masonry and do serious damage to a normal person’s internal organs.

Thankfully, as a secondary mutation, Avalanche was a lot sturdier than most humans. He wasn’t classified as invulnerable, but pressure waves did little more than knock him on his butt when he wasn’t prepared. So he stayed completely still as he felt the vibrations of his attacker slowly approach. A moment later and the man turned and went towards the sounds of fighting, probably thinking Avalanche was out for the count.

The Boy Scout should really have known better…

…

Pyro managed to cut his way through howling winds past several cubicles towards the stairwell. The entire floor’s sprinkler system had gone off, leaving puddles of water everywhere which were being whipped up by the Witch’s ability to affect the elements of weather. Ororo Munroe, aka Storm, aka The Weather Witch, aka The Goddess, aka don’t mess with this woman, was limited by being indoors, but she still managed to create a typhoon in the office space.

A silver slip of light zipped past him and the fire mutant turned in time to see Storm go flying across the cubicles, landing out of sight.

“I got this,” Pietro appeared next to him, “get downstairs and help the others.”

“Right,” he nodded, making his way to the exit.

…

Rogue and Wolverine continued their fight, the woman managing to keep just out and under the deadly claws but unable to get a strike against Wolverine’s bare skin.

Unfortunately, Rogue saw her mistake too late and left herself open. Wolverine punched at her gut, his claws retracting just in time to keep from skewering her. The force of the blow knocked the air from her lungs and sent her flying backwards down the hallway, skidding to a stop on her back.

On a positive note, she was at least that much closer to the exit.

“You know,” he drawled, almost sounding like a fellow Southerner, even though he was Canadian, “one of these days, I’m not gonna pull my punch,” he accented his words by popping out the claws he had retracted.

“Oh, come on,” she groaned a bit as she turned on her side to push herself up, rib cage hurting, “we both know you won’t kill me.”

“You bet your life on that?” he smirked at her.

“Yeah,” she breathlessly stood to face him, “cause if you did, you’d have to fight, who, Quicksilver? Nah, he’s no fun.”

“Back away, Rogue,” the Boy Scout joined them in the hall, behind her, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Come on, one-eye,” she turned sideways so she could see both men in her peripheral, “you’re a bigger softy than Claws over here.”

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t share your opinions,” he responded with an air of self-righteousness, hand on his visor’s control, “we should have mutual respect for humans, not bully them.”

“It ain’t about being the bully,” she stared him down coldly, “it’s about surviving.”

The floor began to buckle and Rogue instinctively rushed backwards against the wall. Part of the floor gave way under Cyclops who dropped with it to the level below. A massive crack continued down the middle of the hallway and made the Wolverine waver though he managed to keep his balance.

“We’ll call this one a draw,” she hollered at the feral mutant and ran down the edge of the damage towards Avalanche who was kneeling, his palm resting on the cool concrete.

“Get the car,” the geokinetic told her quickly, “I will hold them off.”

“Right,” she nodded, heading to the lobby, clicking her ear piece, “Pyro, report.”

“Almost downstairs,” his voice replied.

“Avoid the East wing,” she told him, reaching the lobby, “Claws is cornered there. Quicksilver, how are ya with the Witch?”

There was a delay before he answered, “I hate lightening. Did we get everything?”

“I got the hard copies,” Rogue exited out the glass doors and went around to the side of the building.

“Digital files secure,” Pyro added.

“Mission complete then,” Quicksilver sounded was running and talking at the same time, a strange echoing to his voice. “You three get out, I’ll keep the Witch busy so she can’t follow and I’ll meet up with you at the rendezvous point.”

“Acknowledged,” she frowned at the slashed tires on the Mustang she had stolen. “Damn, Claws trashed our ride,” a noise caught her attention and she turned to see a cop car driving through the gate. “Never mind, I found another.”

…

Avalanche braced for the attack, fending off Wolverine as the feral mutant launched himself over a second gap Dom had made in the floor to try to stop him. Backing off, the seismic mutant managed to avoid the initial strike. As the shorter man rounded on him, Dom backed into the lobby, taking out another piece of the floor to slow his foe down. Again, Wolverine leapt over the hole and kept his balance, baring his claws as he did so.

“Don’t make me put you down, Avalanche,” the gruff man said.

“Hey, Badger!” Pyro’s voice called out and they stopped at the sound of flames igniting.

Taking a chance, Avalanche glanced to the side to see Pyro standing at the lobby doors, a literal ball of fire in his hand which grew exponentially into a large, four foot wide hand. He thrust out with his hand and the flaming image flew across the room to float above the still unconscious guard.

“Now,” the fire mutant was downright cheerful, “I wonder, did the company pay for the nice fire retardant stuff or you think his uniform is one of those cheap ones which go up like that,” he snapped his fingers and his eyes practically glowed, “Wanna find out?”

“Pyro,” Wolverine warned.

“We’ve played this game of chicken before, old man,” the Aussie chuckled lightly, “you turned over a new leaf,” then he grinned, “and I don’t blink.”

After a tense few seconds, the gruff mutant retracted his claws and took a step back.

“Well,” Pyro frowned as Avalanche headed towards the Aussie, “that was a tad anti-climatic.”

Honking from outside indicated that Rogue was waiting and he could see the lights of a cop car flashing out front. Grabbing Pyro by the back of his coat he lead his teammate out as Pyro had to keep line of sight on his flames lest he lose control.

Reaching the cop car, Rogue popped the passenger door. Avalanche half-threw Pyro against the opening and made for the back. They both piled in quickly as Pyro continued to hold the flames over the guard.

Pyro once told Avalanche that the thing about heroes, even anti-heroes, is that if they know you’re just going to kill the hostage anyway, they will react accordingly. So keep your word, let them ‘win’ this small victory. Once you do that, you can manipulate them into almost anything.

Sometimes the pyromaniac made entirely too much sense.

“Quicksilver,” Rogue said as she put the car into gear and they shut the doors, “we’re out.”

“Right behind you,” he replied and the Southern gal hit the gas on the police cruiser, spinning the tires as they raced away from the building.

Pyro grinned, running his hands through his mop of wet, lanky, hair, “So, wanna stop for Chinese?”

…

Logan ran out the front door once the fire dissipated and watched as the stolen cop car exited the parking lot, disappearing down the road. A silver streak shot from the side of the building and blended into the night.

They’d never be able to catch up with them now.

“You okay, Summers?” he asked as the other mutant joined him outside, his jacket covered in a layer of dust from his trip down to the basement thanks to Avalanche.

“What is it they say,” Cyclops was wiping at his sleeves, “nothing hurt but my pride.”

“Third theft in two weeks,” Logan grumbled, “they’re planning something big and not a damn thing we’ve been able to do about it.”

“I know,” Summers frowned and they both looked to the approaching sirens, “I know…”

Based off Marvel Comics’ X-Men© created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, with Chris Claremont.

Adapted for Television by JayCee

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