You sat in the usual seat on the journey to Paris and D.C on the jet with your heart beating aloud as if it would jump out of your chest any sooner. The sight of the sky wasn't clear yet, it was just starting to turn blue, in a subtle mixture of colors yellow, orange, and greyish tinted in blue.
As the adults said, you were trained to make better, decent assistance in the following missions; it didn't occur to you that the next task would start immediately, though. You hadn't had enough practice even after that evening, for Hank and the professor had sent you to bed early, so you could get up at five the next day, which was today. The purpose was to arrive at D.C at the earliest opportunity, to stop Raven at the White House before she attacked Mr. President or Trask in front of the camcorders, and broadcast to the whole world.
-Flashback-
Professor took off the machine on his head, exhaling softly in sorrow. Everyone knew that he couldn't persuade Raven to change her mind, not even the professor, the person so close to him since he was little.
"Where is she?" asked Logan.
"She's in an airport, boarding a plane."
"A plane to where?" you asked.
"Washington, D. C.," said the professor after a second or two.
"Hey guys..." began Hank, grabbing your attention, "there's something I need to show you."
Hank led you to a chamber located near his bedroom. There you saw, countless cables, shelves with components and tools, which you couldn't name, and some screens were in your sight, letting you gasp in awe. A 'wow' accidentally slipped out of your mouth.
"I set the system I designed to record any news about Paris over all three networks," explained Hank hastily, "and PBS."
"All three? Wow," replied Logan nonchalantly, and you couldn't help but giggle at his sarcasm. But you still thought Hank was brilliant.
"Yeah, and PBS." Hank plopped down on the chair, showing something for you to look at. "Look what I found."
A piece of news started to play. "Tomorrow in front of the White House, the president will make his announcement. He'll be joined by the Secretary of Defense, and has even sought the help of renowned scientist Bolivar Trask, his special advisor to combat this mutant issue. The white House has asked..." Hank paused the video, turning to you.
"Raven doesn't realize that...if she kills Trask at an event like that—with the whole world watching..." stated the professor.
"Then I came a long way for nothing..." sighed Logan.
"And there's more bad news—I saw in a report that they found traces of her blood in Paris. For all we know, they already have her DNA, which is all they'd need."
"To create the sentinels of the future."
The brother-like figure exhaled heavily, "Now there's a theory in quantum physics that time is immutable. It's like a river—you can throw a pebble into it, and create a ripple, but the current always corrects itself. No matter what you do, the river just...keeps flowing in the same direction."
"What are you trying to say?"
"What I'm saying is—"
"I think, he meant the result will be the same, with or without our help to stop Raven," you interrupted.
"Quite right, (Y/N)," said Hank, then he continued to explain the theory to Logan. "What I mean is...What if the war is inevitable? What if she's meant to kill Trask? What if this is just simply who she is?"
None of you said anything. The room was silent, mostly frustrated about the news.
"Just because someone stumbles, and loses their way...doesn't mean they're lost forever," declared the professor afterward. He let out a low chuckle, resuming, "No, I don't believe that theory, Hank. And I cannot believe that that is who she is.
"Ready the plane; we're going to Washington."
"Is she coming along this time?" asked Hank, glancing at you with a frown. "I don't think she's proficient enough just for only two days of training."
Professor looked thoughtful, with his brows knitted, no doubt considering this issue very seriously. Then he responded in a confident tone, with a trace of confidence in it, "She needs hands-on practice."
-End of Flashback-
And that's pretty much how the plan for D.C formed. Professor wasn't so sure to take you with them this time, for you're still an inexperienced fighter at current, but you assured him, with the practices and instructions they gave, you were able to assist them longer and better this time.
The mission wasn't likely to be similar to the one in Paris. It would be dangerous. With the Sentinels presented and operated like that to test their abilities, you should be extra careful once you arrived at the ceremony.
Feeling nauseous, you took the advice from Logan and fell into deep slumber within ten minutes or so.
-
When you woke up, the sky was entirely clear. Sun shone through the window, sharply burning your eyelids for you to wake. The dizziness had gone after a sound, deep slumber.
"You all right?" you heard Logan ask, though he was not addressing you, to the professor.
"Getting there."
Logan breathed out heavily, looking graver than ever. "Whatever happens today, I need you to promise me something... You've looked into my mind, and you've seen a lot of bad, but you've seen the good, too. The X-men, promise me you'll find us. Use your power. Bring us together. Guide us. Lead us. Storm, Scott, Jean. Remember those names."
"What about (Y/N)?"
"She'll be there, but not too long...There's too many of us; we will need you, professor."
"I'll...do my best," answered the professor.
"Your best is enough, trust me."
You sat up straighter, rubbing your eyes with a fist. From your left, you saw Logan pass you a small smile, meaning he'd seen you awake, and he meant to let you know the talk, too. Now you got the point: the professor in the future didn't tell Logan to take you along with them. Logan was doing this because he needed you to get trained and become a better member to attend the position as a X-man while you're still young. It took the professor long enough to acquire his courage and teach you how to use your powers well.
"You cunning weasel," you whispered to Logan.
"You should be thankful, kid. Or you'll be left at home," replied Logan with a shrug, chuckling as he blew the cigar smoke. "And why on earth do you call me by that?"
You averted your eyes from his gaze, twirling your hair sheepishly for embarrassment. "I read, you know... I don't have many chores to do in the mansion, so I engulf myself in the library every day. The name on your necklace—I thought I saw it somewhere and went to the library to look it up. Your code name's Wolverine: a mammal which looks like a small bear; it's the largest member of the weasel family."
The man chuckled, breathing in the cigar and exhaling the smoke once more, but he said nothing further.
"Who gave the name? Wolverine, I mean. I don't think you named it yourself," you pressed on the topic cautiously.
"I can't remember. For all I know, the name carried with me till I met the professor."
"It's nice," you said, passing him a smile. "The person who gave you the name must be someone you treasured."
Logan cocked a brow, a perplexed look spread on his face, unsure of where you were getting at.
"You told me. I adore the name that Peter gave me more than anyone else's. Hence, I think your name is given by someone precious to you, too."
"Perhaps..." said he, taking a sip of liquor to imply the conversation should end here.
You smiled at him until the professor spoke to you.
"(Y/N)," called the professor, "come and sit before me."
You obeyed the man and quickly shifted to the seat in the armchair across from the professor. His usual stern face didn't look grim, so the option of him being upset with you could be deleted. Still, your hands trembled dementedly, as you placed them on your knees, trying hard to plaster a toothy grin before the man. "You want to speak to me, sire?"
"How do you like the name, Savior?"
Never had you ever imagined Pr. Charles would ask you this soon, about the code name. Eyes blinking, with two fingers pinching your thigh to feel the pain, you had to confirm this wasn't a dream.
"I like it very much, sire. Though it's too flattering," you replied, face reddened a bit.
The man with the British accent laughed in amusement. As if he liked your answer and thought it funny; this hadn't happened before. "The name suits you perfectly fine. Neither Hank nor I can come up with a better alias than Peter's. It doesn't mean you have to be suitable to everything for the name, but for how others see in you, so you will resonate the best out of it. You see, Healer or Mender, or even Alex's Medic...they don't resonate with you.
"Raven picked my codename as Professor X. She's such a talented name giver, isn't she? She named herself Mystique, and we were all content with the names she came up with. Although my name doesn't sound as interesting as hers or fits so well as Hank's, the meaning of the code name is to bring a sense of pride to yourself. You are not hard to read; you favor Savior more. Because now I fully understand, you can not only heal or cure but also make an attempt to protect or even; well, let me put it in this way, you have more admirable abilities than you think of yourself."
"There's more?!" you exclaimed in disbelief.
"Yes, didn't you notice you have that sort of instinct to know whenever things go wrong?"
"I do, but I thought it's just woman's intuition, as my mother once told."
"And the power to bring life? In all sincerity, I sometimes walked out at night. I saw you grow plenty of plants by the pool and fix some dead patches on the lawn. I quite enjoy the sight. It brought back the memories before I indulge myself. Look, what I'm trying to say is: the name suits you pretty much, and if you agree, we'll call you Savior by the alias."
When you figured out what you had to say in return for the professor's kind offer, you were already resting your head on the man's shoulder, with arms embracing his shoulders and your face buried slightly in his hair. The man patted your back as he muttered, 'I'll take that as a yes, in your ear. You were uncomfortable standing and bending your body at an almost ninety-degree angle to hug the man. So at last, you dropped back in the armchair with a gay smile on your face that lasted till the jet landed in D.C., and the butterflies in your stomach had gone for a moment.
♬˙♬˙♬˙♬˙♬˙♬˙♬˙♬˙♬˙♬˙♬˙♬˙♬˙♬
Dear readers,
Sorry, this is a short chapter. Because I hope to do at least fifteen chapters in this book, and find it hard to split the scenarios by four. But I really appreciate you've read it this far, hope you'll like it. And if possible, do comment below to let me know how my story is. Again, thank you for reading my work!!!
Sincerely, author.
(My-Name-Is-Not-Audrey)