Chapter 3
Breathe, Lane, you have to breathe, a small, strained voice instructed in the back of their skull.
One slow, shuddering gasp brought the world back into focus around them, the sound of their own breath lost in the cacophony of thunder and running footsteps from above announcing the dispersal of students. The mansion had been set into motion in a matter of minutes; Ororo had mentioned tunnels, a practiced plan for an assault on the mansion, and that only made Lane feel more panicked in comparison.
There was another crash of shattering glass, closer this time, and the coil of dread tightened itself around their spine. Paralysis had set in their limbs, blood pumping sluggishly despite their racing heart.
And then the screaming started, soon followed by the sound of flesh hitting flesh.
Move! No, not towards the screams, what are you doing?! The self-preservation part of their brain roared in anguish as Lane’s body autonomously shifted into a different gear, feet flying from the foyer and taking off towards the kitchen. You’re an idiot, living with a bunch of heroes has turned you into an idiot!
A sliver of fluorescent light cut through the open doorway of the kitchen and cast the hallway in shadows, and it was here that Lane slowed their pace and dropped into a crouch. Pressing their back to the wall, they shifted their weight onto the balls of their feet and craned their neck as far into the doorway as they could while still confining their body to the shadows.
The bay window was broken through, a soft breeze from the outside carrying the scent of blood to Lane’s nostrils as they observed a figure clad in all black tactical gear punch and kick at the kneeling body on the ground. The second tactical-clad figure had his back to the doorway with another body restrained in his arms, a young female with bright magenta hair that let out a high keening noise as she struggled to get out of his grasp.
“Stupid mutant bitch - !”
“Leave her alone!” The young woman wailed, her sobs increasing in pitch as the man restraining her drew an object from the holster on his hip and leveled it at her temple.
Lane’s body went rigid as the scene fully registered, the visual information hitting their brain and lighting up their gray matter in a cascade of electric nerve impulses that made their fingers twitch. Every hair on their body stood on end as the edges of their vision began to tunnel, the voice of self preservation that had previously been screaming in their head now turning inward and exposing a new face.
No, not new, but forgotten. Tucked away, but now rearing its head like a long sleeping dragon awakening from its slumber at the sight unfolding before Lane’s eyes. The forgotten face had a voice unlike any Lane had heard before - it was their own, yet somehow alien in its authority as it willed their body to rise from their crouched position and to step into the kitchen.
This voice, the not-Lane voice, issued one simple order in a tone that carried equal parts glee and darkness; obeying, Lane found their hands tightening into fists just as the two dark figures in the kitchen turned and registered their presence. The one beating the figure on the ground barked at the other, who spun around still with the girl in his arms but now had the gun leveled at Lane.
The barest glint of a smile danced across their lips, the echo of the order now singing in their blood as their feet left the ground in a sprint, arms pistoning and each beat of their heart that of one single word.
Fight.
A bullet left the chamber of the gun, but the gunman's shot went wide and whizzed by Lane’s ear; the girl jostling in his arms made it difficult to get a clear shot, a fact Lane used to their advantage as they dropped to the floor in a somersault then landed a solid kick to the back of the man’s knees. They heard a crunch, and smiled inwardly at the sound. He crumpled, taking his captive down with him in a tangle of limbs and now fighting her as well as she began to kick and push her way out from underneath him.
Lane sprung back to their feet just as the second assailant joined the fray, his fist narrowly colliding with Lane’s nose and instead glancing off their cheekbone. Lane’s head rocked to the side with the impact, teeth gritted as pain blossomed through their skull but quickly dulled by the roaring of blood in their ears as they stumbled backwards a step in order to regain their balance.
Fight!
Heeding the order, Lane advanced, light on their feet but sure in their footing as they dodged another punch. Their opponent was larger, and as such had the advantage of reach and power, but lacked in speed and finesse as Lane bobbed between his haymaker punches and landed a quick succession of jabs to his solar plexus and ribs. The man bellowed like a wounded animal and rocketed another punch into the air, missing Lane by a hair but leaving his arm outstretched; Lane latched onto his wrist and heaved, turning and using the man’s own momentum to launch him head over heels and onto the floor.
Not letting go of his arm, Lane picked up their foot and ground it into his shoulder while simultaneously pulling. The man gasped in pain as the limb made a soft pop and limply dangled in Lane’s hands, dislocated; but Lane didn’t stop there, they didn’t want to stop there as the man kept screaming. Their hands were beginning to heat up, the feeling of something in their chest unspooling, and the man screamed louder as white light began to spill from between Lane’s fingertips. His screams had turned to agonized shrieks as his arm burned beneath their touch, the fibers of his shirt smoking and melting and releasing an acrid smell in the air, soon joined by the smell of burning flesh. Lane’s mind filtered all of this out, the smells and the shrieks, the only sound in their head a distant hum as the release of light seemed to pulse in time to the beating of Lane’s heart.
Fight fight fight FIGHT F-!
Just outside of Lane’s periphery, there was movement. A head of magenta hair cradling an unmoving body and crying softly, her cries drowned barely audible over the sound of the screaming man and searing flesh.
-ight?
The man had gone silent, unconscious either from shock or pain or both, but still breathing as Lane released his arm and it dropped to the floor. They blinked, the humming sound beginning to fade, and then cut their eyes to the crying girl and the body propped up in her arms. Now they could see that it was another young woman close to Yukio’s age, with dark hair and a great deal of blood spilling from a deep gash along her forehead.
Recognition dawned on Lane as they looked down at the two girls, registering them from a brief introduction from Wade some weeks past.
“Hi, Wade!”
“Yukio! Hey, I want you to meet somebody.Lane, this is Yukio and Ellie, you tried to kill them when we first found you.”
“...”
“Great introduction, dipshit.”
Lane swallowed and gingerly stepped over the two bodies on the ground, their body still shaking with adrenaline and whatever else had taken their psyche for a spin. Regardless, they said a silent thanks that the younger woman had dispatched the one with the gun while Lane had been preoccupied with the other.
Yukio made no effort to move as Lane carefully kneeled down on the floor beside her. Tears streamed from the teen’s eyes and down her chin, and it was then that Lane noticed the collar strapped around her neck. It was a metal ring roughly an inch or two in width with a thicker rectangular piece around the backside, and even more ominous was the red light that was inlaid into the metal and illuminated the underside of Yukio’s pink locks. Observing the unconscious girl in Yukio’s arms, Lane narrowed their eyes at the sight of a similar device around her neck as well.
“Yukio, it’s Yukio, right?” Lane began, “hey, are you hurt?”
Yukio shook her head, but the bruising along her jawline and under her eye told a different story. The girl in her arms, Ellie, was in worse shape - her lip was split open, both eyes bruised and swollen nearly shut, and the cut on her forehead was a nasty red smear of blood on her otherwise pale skin.
“Ellie?” Yukio whimpered, looking down to the girl in her arms.
“Here, can I see?” Lane asked, a beat of uncomfortable silence filling the space before Yukio nodded and shifted Ellie in her arms so that Lane could have a better look. “Okay, she’s breathing and head wounds always bleed a lot regardless - we need to apply pressure with something.”
“Napkins. They’re up on the counter, yeah there.”
Lane reached up and grabbed the bundle of flimsy paper to serve as makeshift gauze, repressing the urge to recoil as their skin made contact with Ellie’s as they began to dab away the blood from her forehead. Her skin was still warm, that was a good sign, but the feeling of her blood on their fingers sent an unsettling sensation down Lane’s spine.
You wanted to feel them bleed, didn’t you? Warm blood on your fingertips as you burnt off their skin and you wanted to hurt them you still want to HURT them -
“They t-teach us all this stuff, y’know?” Yukio sniffed, breaking Lane from their train of thought. “Training for anything that comes our way and how to be brave, but when they came through the window I just…I froze. Ellie fought back, o-of course she did, but it happened so fast. But I-I stood there and, and…”
The teen sniffled and Lane had the momentary thought of reaching out a hand to comfort her, only to drop her hand once she caught a glimpse of their blood smeared fingertips. Suppressing the urge to hurl, Lane stood up; they had a thought to grab the gun of the unconscious man, but the thought of that sent their stomach into a tailspin that threatened the expulsion of its contents.
“Did you see any more come through here? Maybe one has a key, we can get those collars off and…” Lane murmured, looking over Yukio who was still seated on the floor. She was shaking, scared out of her mind no doubt, and Lane suspected she wouldn’t be much help even with her powers.
You can do this by yourself you just don't want to in case you go out of control wanting to hurt wanting to - FIGHT - everyone what if you hurt a student could you stop yourself? Do you want to stop yourself when it feels so good to finally FIGHT?
Another wave of nausea broke over Lane, forcing them to prop their hands on the counter to stay upright or risk falling to their knees. The humming in their ears had returned, almost painful in its intensity as their fingers twitched and a brief pulse of light illuminated the stars on their palms. The unspooling sensation in their chest had reappeared as well, a deep pull in their body as their vision swam and the kitchen began to shimmer into a different scene with each blink of their eyelids.
Blink
A dark room smelling of burning fires and machinery.
Blink
An open stretch of desert, helicopters flying overhead and gunmetal on the wind.
Blink.
“Lane -?”
“M’fine,” they lied, pushing out a breath through gritted teeth. They blinked once, twice, and were relieved to see that the kitchen was once again just that. A kitchen in a house full of mutant children, who were currently under attack. And then there was Yukio, sitting on the floor with Ellie in her arms and staring up at Lane with red-rimmed eyes. “M’fine, focus Yukio. Did you see any more?”
“Yeah,” Yukio tearfully confirmed Lane’s fears. “There’s more in the house, we heard them scaling the walls and breaking windows upstairs. They’re collaring us, trying to round us up. Anyone who fights back…” Yukio broke off with a soft sob as she cradled Ellie’s bleeding forehead and held the reddening bunch of paper towels to the gash.
“Okay, okay,” Lane breathed, pushing themself off the counter and quickly making up their mind as to their next course of action. “Can you get her somewhere safe? The tunnels, are there medical supplies there?”
Yukio wiped at her eyes and nodded, gently maneuvered Ellie out of her lap so that she could stand, then leaned down and hefted her into a fireman’s carry. The teen was petite and lithe but stronger than she looked, Lane mused as Yukio adjusted Ellie across her shoulders and took a deep breath to steady herself. Her legs were still shaking, not from Ellie’s weight but undoubtedly from the fear and adrenaline that coursed through her veins. The very same substances that Lane now felt rising in their blood as the sound of footfalls from above split the air.
“We should have the healers evacuated first, and we might have some tools stashed away to get these collars off, if we’re lucky. But…”
Yukio had trailed off, her eyes still on Lane’s and asking a silent question that Lane didn’t quite have an answer to other than a gut feeling to act. It was the same impulse that had driven them towards the kitchen in the first place, and now, for better or for worse, they were about to follow it once again.
Cracking their knuckles, Lane fixed Yukio with a flinty look.
“I’m gonna go say hi to our guests.”