hanging from the family tree
"today is the day that the akkaba nation seeks to reveal itself," en sabah nur's voice booms on every speaker, his face shown on every television. humanity stops to hear the leader of the new mutant nation declare their sovereignty.
almost no one can tear their eyes away from their screens, from the sight of en sabah nur flanked by his four horsemen. and no telepath is spared either, en sabah nur's voice booming. "we are the home of homo superior, and we are an empire that will last a millenia. we do not bow before human laws or homo inferior. all mutants, who can prove their mettle, are welcome within the arms of clan akkaba—and all those who would plot upon our downfall, i beckon you come. come and be humbled by my horsemen."
almost no one can tear their eyes away from their screens, from the sight of en sabah nur flanked by his four horsemen. and no telepath is spared either, en sabah nur's voice booming. "we are the home of homo superior, and we are an empire that will last a millenia. we do not bow before human laws or homo inferior. all mutants, who can prove their mettle, are welcome within the arms of clan akkaba—and all those who would plot upon our downfall, i beckon you come. come and be humbled by my horsemen."
those are his friends, aren't they? those are the x-men, and they're standing there, challenge en sabah nur, challenging the horsemen. michael can read joseph's face as clear as any book, can see the anger and pain there. that he holds against them, right or wrong, and he makes the connections, names to faces.
he crafts his plan more, as they clash large and small, as he finds out their weaknesses, as they see mutant father grow stronger, greedy.
not once though, do they comment about him not killing anyone, not once do they seem upset that even though he's destroyed the x-men's defenses, he hasn't killed anyone yet.
someone will, one day. so he has to act faster.
he crafts his plan more, as they clash large and small, as he finds out their weaknesses, as they see mutant father grow stronger, greedy.
not once though, do they comment about him not killing anyone, not once do they seem upset that even though he's destroyed the x-men's defenses, he hasn't killed anyone yet.
someone will, one day. so he has to act faster.
one mistake he knows not to make is to let his body, the other more human skills go to waste. he feels more like bruce as he trains himself again, remembering old routines, remembering how to pick locks, how to find the right space to slip into to be unnoticed.
joseph comes with him sometimes as the wings come in more, and they spar together, beneath the eternal pharoah's eyes. michael can't read his mind; he can read his body language though, how he leans in closer when they're exchanging more blows than they are dancing together. he can tell that whenever joseph wins he seems more assured than ever and when michael wins, it feels as if he's amending a calculation in his mind.
sometimes he concentrates on the way joseph takes a swing, sometimes he pays more attention to how he's compensating without the wings, sometimes he just likes the cocky look on his face.
sometimes he's thinking about sensei's he's had in the past, sometimes he's thinking about when project x had forced him to use a gun even though he hated it, sometimes he's just lost in the movements between them.
he never turns his eyes onto joe or En Sabah Nur—he does, however, turn them on war when he steps into the ring one day. he can see that there's a thirst, a need for him to prove himself in front of En Sabah Nur, in front of joseph, in front of the servants and the other horsemen.
for michael, he can cut loose in a real way. kieros might be chosen to be war, might have been good at clapping his hands together to create explosions, but he is not good at being fast, at being able to think on his feet, and he is not able to hold his temper back when michael kicks him to the ground.
when En Sabah Nur claps, that's when keiros' eyes turn wild, that's when he tries to play dirty.
it's not the right move to make. it has all of him angry, at him ignoring the rules of engagement, at the jealousy on his face, and when he pins keiros down, he grasps his neck, and allows his eyes to make contact with his.
his eyes don't feel as if they're burning or as if they're going to bulge out of his face—michael simply feels them connect with the soldier's mind, can feel his powers latch onto his psyche.
and then fear seeps out of every pore the man possesses. he screams, writhes, and even when he breaks contact, the fears, the nightmare doesn't subside.
that is when En Sabah Nur says, "no war of mine can be so weakminded."
michael's hands grip onto kieros's neck.
snap.
the matter is settled, of who is and who isn't war.
joseph comes with him sometimes as the wings come in more, and they spar together, beneath the eternal pharoah's eyes. michael can't read his mind; he can read his body language though, how he leans in closer when they're exchanging more blows than they are dancing together. he can tell that whenever joseph wins he seems more assured than ever and when michael wins, it feels as if he's amending a calculation in his mind.
sometimes he concentrates on the way joseph takes a swing, sometimes he pays more attention to how he's compensating without the wings, sometimes he just likes the cocky look on his face.
sometimes he's thinking about sensei's he's had in the past, sometimes he's thinking about when project x had forced him to use a gun even though he hated it, sometimes he's just lost in the movements between them.
he never turns his eyes onto joe or En Sabah Nur—he does, however, turn them on war when he steps into the ring one day. he can see that there's a thirst, a need for him to prove himself in front of En Sabah Nur, in front of joseph, in front of the servants and the other horsemen.
for michael, he can cut loose in a real way. kieros might be chosen to be war, might have been good at clapping his hands together to create explosions, but he is not good at being fast, at being able to think on his feet, and he is not able to hold his temper back when michael kicks him to the ground.
when En Sabah Nur claps, that's when keiros' eyes turn wild, that's when he tries to play dirty.
it's not the right move to make. it has all of him angry, at him ignoring the rules of engagement, at the jealousy on his face, and when he pins keiros down, he grasps his neck, and allows his eyes to make contact with his.
his eyes don't feel as if they're burning or as if they're going to bulge out of his face—michael simply feels them connect with the soldier's mind, can feel his powers latch onto his psyche.
and then fear seeps out of every pore the man possesses. he screams, writhes, and even when he breaks contact, the fears, the nightmare doesn't subside.
that is when En Sabah Nur says, "no war of mine can be so weakminded."
michael's hands grip onto kieros's neck.
snap.
the matter is settled, of who is and who isn't war.
time is something that runs funny now. sometimes he's eight years old again and his parents are dead, and he doesn't know what to do. he's then the bat, forced to hold a gun, forced to put a bullet between the eye of a man he doesn't know and when he's the bat he throws up in a corner of the room when it's done, fights the guards. then he's bruce again at a party, explaining to someone a new article he's read and saying that he's wearing sunglasses because he fell down drunk, not because the last target was able to get him in the eye before he strangled them. then he's michael, putting together clues and telling joe that he won't let himself kill himself, won't let him die no matter what. then he's war, snapping the neck of the soldier knowing that it's wrong and knowing that in order to survive he has to kill him, that this is survival of the fittest and even then a part of him doesn't want to do that again. then he blinks again and a human is trembling in front of him, begging for his life and the bat knows what he has to do, war knows what he has to do but bruce and michael both hesitate, both don't want to take the man's life but en sabah nur is right behind him, saying my war must have a sure hand and then he wakes up and joe's wings are around him and —
they're mutating at an accelerated rate. michael understands that better day by day, session after session.
before, the machine had been strange to him. now, he can see what it's doing for joe, what it's meant to do, what it's limitations are. when he looks at pestilence, he understands how her mutation can web out in different areas, and he starts to think about how he could do it himself. when he and joseph to fishing together in the river, he can predict how much bluer joe's skin is going to look by dawn.
and for himself, he begins to understand why project x would've failed eventually. can tell that parts of his psyche are mending differently, can tell that the fear that he can project now can be deployed in more specific ways, can understand that the victims of it feel every sensation he wants to give them.
languages unfold themselves for him. weapons become more readily understood. he can tell when one of the mutant girls they save is on the verge of having a panic attack and he soothes her before she can try. he looks at the mangled body of a man they were supposed to kil and knows that he'll never walk again.
when they're stuck one night, unable to get back to the clan, joseph tries to put on a good face about having to hide from humans, try not to mask the bitterness he feels.
it's michael who says, "you'll probably be able to control it one day. when he's done."
joseph seems to pause at that, looking outside of the window where snow falls. "you think so?"
michael reaches over, running his thumb on the patch of blue, mingling with pink. "i think so. i'll still love you then."
before, the machine had been strange to him. now, he can see what it's doing for joe, what it's meant to do, what it's limitations are. when he looks at pestilence, he understands how her mutation can web out in different areas, and he starts to think about how he could do it himself. when he and joseph to fishing together in the river, he can predict how much bluer joe's skin is going to look by dawn.
and for himself, he begins to understand why project x would've failed eventually. can tell that parts of his psyche are mending differently, can tell that the fear that he can project now can be deployed in more specific ways, can understand that the victims of it feel every sensation he wants to give them.
languages unfold themselves for him. weapons become more readily understood. he can tell when one of the mutant girls they save is on the verge of having a panic attack and he soothes her before she can try. he looks at the mangled body of a man they were supposed to kil and knows that he'll never walk again.
when they're stuck one night, unable to get back to the clan, joseph tries to put on a good face about having to hide from humans, try not to mask the bitterness he feels.
it's michael who says, "you'll probably be able to control it one day. when he's done."
joseph seems to pause at that, looking outside of the window where snow falls. "you think so?"
michael reaches over, running his thumb on the patch of blue, mingling with pink. "i think so. i'll still love you then."
i know what he wants us to do. i know what he wants us to be. i know it. i just think maybe — it doesn't have to be this way. we don't have to have mass casualties to prove that we're the dominant species. killing people isn't a sign of real strength or a show of the fittest.
he starts keeping a list of names in his head, of the names from the project x assignments. names, the method of death, the time of death. starts going over the memories, starts to think about what he could've done, would've done if he had control.
begins to m make sure whenever they go to retrieve another mutant, that there are as little to no casualities as he can make it. infuses the visions he gives to the people there as bad as he can make them, bad enough that they will have nightmares for the rest of their lives.
but they won't die. and the ones who are hurting mutants, he sends out cluesknowing that the x-men might show up in time, or might never.
slowly, he starts to think at the machines with more disinterest, if only so that no one can know that he's thinking of what he has to do, to take him and joseph out of here, together.
begins to m make sure whenever they go to retrieve another mutant, that there are as little to no casualities as he can make it. infuses the visions he gives to the people there as bad as he can make them, bad enough that they will have nightmares for the rest of their lives.
but they won't die. and the ones who are hurting mutants, he sends out cluesknowing that the x-men might show up in time, or might never.
slowly, he starts to think at the machines with more disinterest, if only so that no one can know that he's thinking of what he has to do, to take him and joseph out of here, together.
tomorrow, they're going to meet the x-men again. they'll make themselves, this nation, their mission known. in the light that drifts into their room, joseph's skin is in shades of blue beneath michael's darkened fingers. his golden skull helmet sits next to the michael's own, both glimmering.
michael wonders if this will go right, wonders if there's a way out and through of this that leaves them intact.
"do you think you're ready to see them?"
joseph leans closer to him, both of them able to hear the hum of the technology around them, able to hear the distant sounds of celebration of a new dawn.
a kiss is his answer, sure and slow.
michael wonders if this will go right, wonders if there's a way out and through of this that leaves them intact.
"do you think you're ready to see them?"
joseph leans closer to him, both of them able to hear the hum of the technology around them, able to hear the distant sounds of celebration of a new dawn.
a kiss is his answer, sure and slow.