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Yesterday, I bitched about having too many ideas.
Today, I'm going to try and exorcise one of them by sharing it here.
Code X is set in an Alternate Marvel Universe, where the children of the X-Men have taken their parents' place. The history's different and things have changed a lot. In the ficlet below, Scott Summers reflects on those changes.
The siren rings and they leap into action: Chance, Diamond, Overload, Sink, Tigress, Trip. Kids. Heroes.
Once upon a time they would have been called X-Men. No more. Times change and we have to change with them.
I hate change.
Once upon a time, I would have led the charge into the field. Now, I can barely hobble from my chair to the toilet. My spine is held together with metal clips, courtesy of the last battle with Juggernaut. So I'm relegated to sitting here, in the Ops Center, and watching and waiting.
I hate it. Sometimes, I wonder if Professor Xavier felt this helpless, watching us fight for our lives.
On the monitors, the team has shown up at the site. CEREBRO flashed SHIELD the minute it picked up the signal.
A new mutant. Primary manifestation.
SHIELD sent the word to the locals, letting them know what was happening and that specialists were on the way.
Specialists. Hmph.
The media calls them Code X. Bunch of first-responders to mutant crises, sanctioned by the U.S. government and licensed by the CSA.
X-Men working for the government. This would never have happened back in the day.
Maybe change isn't so bad.
The media's already on the scene, showcasing the event to the world. The primary is in some squalid little town on the Mexican-American border. A camera pans, taking in a column of fire streaming into the air, then moves down to show the source.
A child. Late teens. His body is wreathed in flames. A torch, sprawled on the ground, keening in mindless terror. At least this time, there are no bodies.
The kids arrive in a burst of light and get right to work. The reporter shoves her mike into Diamond's face, but Carmen ignores the woman and heads right for the police line.
She makes nice with the locals, while most of the others bolster the line, keeping the crowd back.
Everybody but Sink.
Lee ducks under the barricades and walks, slowly, toward the torch.
I hope to God his mother isn't watching this.
The newshounds are panning, following Lee as he approaches the kid. The talking head is saying he's already closer than anyone else could get.
Lee...no, Sink, goes right up to the kid and kneels in the dirt. His head moves closer to the torch, speaking softly, the way he does when the primary goes bad. The kid's head turns. His eyes are pinpoints of light. Sink reaches out and the kid starts to scurry back. But Lee is too quick. His hand clasps the torch's arm and just like that, all the fire's gone and the crowd, the crowd bursts into applause. The camera pans back to the talking head and I switch off the television.
Applause. Forty years ago, the crowd wouldn't have applauded, they would have rioted. Mutant was a dirty word. Now? It's just another word, like African-American or Hispanic or Atlantean. Just another special interest group, trying to get along.
Maybe change isn't so bad after all.
Today, I'm going to try and exorcise one of them by sharing it here.
Code X is set in an Alternate Marvel Universe, where the children of the X-Men have taken their parents' place. The history's different and things have changed a lot. In the ficlet below, Scott Summers reflects on those changes.
The siren rings and they leap into action: Chance, Diamond, Overload, Sink, Tigress, Trip. Kids. Heroes.
Once upon a time they would have been called X-Men. No more. Times change and we have to change with them.
I hate change.
Once upon a time, I would have led the charge into the field. Now, I can barely hobble from my chair to the toilet. My spine is held together with metal clips, courtesy of the last battle with Juggernaut. So I'm relegated to sitting here, in the Ops Center, and watching and waiting.
I hate it. Sometimes, I wonder if Professor Xavier felt this helpless, watching us fight for our lives.
On the monitors, the team has shown up at the site. CEREBRO flashed SHIELD the minute it picked up the signal.
A new mutant. Primary manifestation.
SHIELD sent the word to the locals, letting them know what was happening and that specialists were on the way.
Specialists. Hmph.
The media calls them Code X. Bunch of first-responders to mutant crises, sanctioned by the U.S. government and licensed by the CSA.
X-Men working for the government. This would never have happened back in the day.
Maybe change isn't so bad.
The media's already on the scene, showcasing the event to the world. The primary is in some squalid little town on the Mexican-American border. A camera pans, taking in a column of fire streaming into the air, then moves down to show the source.
A child. Late teens. His body is wreathed in flames. A torch, sprawled on the ground, keening in mindless terror. At least this time, there are no bodies.
The kids arrive in a burst of light and get right to work. The reporter shoves her mike into Diamond's face, but Carmen ignores the woman and heads right for the police line.
She makes nice with the locals, while most of the others bolster the line, keeping the crowd back.
Everybody but Sink.
Lee ducks under the barricades and walks, slowly, toward the torch.
I hope to God his mother isn't watching this.
The newshounds are panning, following Lee as he approaches the kid. The talking head is saying he's already closer than anyone else could get.
Lee...no, Sink, goes right up to the kid and kneels in the dirt. His head moves closer to the torch, speaking softly, the way he does when the primary goes bad. The kid's head turns. His eyes are pinpoints of light. Sink reaches out and the kid starts to scurry back. But Lee is too quick. His hand clasps the torch's arm and just like that, all the fire's gone and the crowd, the crowd bursts into applause. The camera pans back to the talking head and I switch off the television.
Applause. Forty years ago, the crowd wouldn't have applauded, they would have rioted. Mutant was a dirty word. Now? It's just another word, like African-American or Hispanic or Atlantean. Just another special interest group, trying to get along.
Maybe change isn't so bad after all.
