Kiss of the Phoenix

Just Another Normal Day

Thomas Ferebee. Colonel Thomas Ferebee.

Colonel Thomas Ferebee was the name of the man on the plane who pushed the button that dropped the atomic bomb on human beings for the first time. A hundred fifty thousand people died -maybe more- died in a white-hot flash of fire or in the silence that came after.

But no one ever says "Colonel Thomas Ferebee killed a hundred fifty thousand people." They blame the bomb. Not the bombardier who dropped it. And yet without one... you don't get the other.

So... so am I the bomb? Or am I the bombardier?

And if you ask any of the dead... would it matter to them anymore? My name is Sang Summers... and this is all my fault.

PART ONE
THE NEW ELITES

There is nothing I love more than Wolverine's training classes bright and early on a Saturday morning where I could be in bed nursing my wounds from his last class. Which is obviously sarcasm because Wolverine's classes are a living hell.

He lines us up at the back of the Danger Room, his beady little eyes looking us up and down, muttering under his breath as he would suddenly grab people out of line and putting them in a group. Today was my lucky day. "Summers!" he barked, and I suddenly snapped to attention, my back going as straight as a beam. "You're on Gumbo's team today," he said, pointing a claw over to Remy, who looked rather pleased with himself.

A smile spread across my face and I happily skipped over to Gambit, overjoyed to not be stuck with Kid Omega and Boom Boom. Gambit gave me a high-five, and I parked myself next to him, smiling at Magma and Husk. The team consisted of a mix of students (like me) and staff or members of the X-Men (like Gambit). Wolverine explained it as a combination of a "training exercise for the students", and "a time for the veterans to keep their skills sharp"- yeah, I find that highly unlikely.

Wolverine really hates everyone in this room.

But at least he's kind to me, unlike my Dad. At least he shows me love and affection in his own gruff way once training is over. At least he doesn't flinch away when I go and give him a hug. At least he doesn't stand there as stiff as a board, at least he wraps his arms around me even though I know he hates physical contact and I know he hates every moment of it but he does it for me. At least I know he's proud of me. At least I know he loves me.

Logan Howlett is more of a father than Scott Summers is.

I wish I was his daughter. I wish I could stay here.

After he divides the group of us into teams, he takes Storm's team over to the other side of the Danger Room, and motions for us to stay where we are. Kid Omega takes the opportunity to bump me roughly in the shoulder, a stupid grin on an even stupider face. Gambit places a gentle hand on my back, but I can feel the warning in it- don't blow up, kid. I can hear it too, in his thoughts. I don't though. I ball my hands up into fists and pry my mouth into a smile as he walks past me.

I take the opportunity to steal his powers.

Wolverine stalks back to the center of the Danger Room, his small stature almost laughable. But, it's not, of course, as we all know what hides underneath. "The rules are simple," he booms, crossing his arms. "One, you don't try to maim anyone- severely. Two, you play fair- no cheap shots. Got it?" he asked, looking for nods of understanding around the room. "Good. The object of today's training exercise is to get this flag-" a flag mounted on a pole appears from a compartment in the floor, a giant X emblazoned on it. "-and get it back to where you started, with every member of your team with you. If you do that, you win. If you don't, you lose. You have five minutes to plan. Your time starts now."