Arc 1 - Ch 5: Classes

Chapter 5

Arc 1 - Ch 5: Classes

Date: Friday, June 4, 2010.

Location: Xavier Institute, Scarsdale, New York

Tyson awoke with first light, eager to start his day. He slipped out of bed and went down the dormitory hallway, the plush carpet soft under his bare feet. The institute was blanketed in early morning silence, most of its residents still fast asleep. Tyson appreciated the quiet calm as he entered the communal bathroom. The lights flickered on automatically, revealing the empty shower room. Tyson stripped off his sweats and stepped into one of the shower stalls, turning the faucet to release a steaming cascade. The hot water was a welcome relief, relaxing his muscular frame.

Living in a school full of mutants, Tyson bet at least one of them was a peeper. The Professor said he'd had trouble reading Tyson, but Jean's telepathic abilities seemed to pick up on his thoughts and knew what he was doing yesterday in his dorm room. As far as he knew, there could be someone invisible in the bathroom, or someone astral projecting, or looking through the walls. He chuckled ruefully at the situation as he rinsed the soap from his body. The curveballs kept coming, but he would adapt. This was his life now, for better or worse.

He shut off the faucet, stepped out, and toweled off, ready to seize the new day.

His first day as a student at Xavier's Institute.

With a resigned sigh, Tyson slumped into the hard plastic chair of his desk in Professor Xavier's first-period Physics class. Despite his newly acquired superpowers, enhanced learning was not among them. And trying to keep up with the physics class, in the middle of June nearing finals, was proving to be an exercise in futility.

Complicating matters further was the distracting presence of Illyana Rasputin, who sat at the desk beside him. Her proximity made it hard to focus on the lecture, especially when she seemed intent on needling him.

Several desks away sat another distraction; a young woman whom Tyson couldn't quite place. Though he was certain they hadn't met the day before, something about her seemed familiar. More than once, he caught himself stealing glances in her direction trying to place her face, instead of paying attention to Professor Xavier's lecture.

"Physics isn't your strong suit, is it Tyson?" Illyana said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Or is it simply my presence that has you so... unfocused?"

Tyson felt the nearly overwhelming urge to snap back, to put Illyana in her place. But he held himself in check.

"Maybe if you didn't radiate such a distracting aura, I'd find this lecture easier to pay attention to," he replied evenly.

"You should feel grateful. At least one of us here is worth noting." she gloated in her thick Russian accent.

Throughout the entire class, she took pleasure in testing his self-control. Illyana's every move seemed designed to capture his attention and draw his focus from Professor Xavier's lecture. At one point, she deliberately let her eraser slip to the floor. Her attempt to capture Tyson's attention was as transparent. With slow, deliberate movements, she leaned forward in her seat, arching her back to provide him a view down the front of her black top. The low neckline revealed just a hint of cleavage as she angled towards the floor. Tyson's gaze followed helplessly along the line of her collarbone, down to the enticing swell of her breasts. For a moment she became his entire world, the classroom fading away as he found himself ensnared by her deliberate display. Illyana knew the effect she had. Something as simple as dropping an eraser became a subtle power play, a reminder that she need not rely on words to draw his focus.

Raising back up, her eyes locked with Tyson's. "Now how's that for a distraction?"

Tyson felt the feral instincts of Sabertooth stirring within him, threatening to override his self-control. Illyana was trying to provoke a reaction, and the primal part of him was taking the bait. He imagined grabbing her, feeling her smooth skin under his hands as he asserted his dominance. How long could she withstand his touch? Long enough for them to indulge in some mutual pleasure?

He shook his head sharply, reining in those dangerous thoughts.

Tyson fought to restrain the ferocious alter-ego that was now a part of his psyche. Sabertooth's personality and powers may be fused with his, but he refused to surrender his control. Focusing his will, Tyson kept the ravenous beast caged, though Illyana's antics tested the limits of his restraint.

This was his new reality, for better or for worse. The influence of Sabertooth's animal magnetism and hair-trigger temper threatened to overwhelm him. But Tyson was determined not to lose himself to the savage killer's unsated appetites. He would need to adapt to these changes while retaining as much of his true self as possible.

The door creaked open unexpectedly. Logan stalked in still wearing worn jeans and a simple white t-shirt. He scanned the room warily and his posture radiated tension.

The students froze at the stranger's sudden entrance. All except Tyson, who welcomed the interruption to the lecture.

Professor Xavier remained unfazed, merely turning his attention to the rugged man. "Good morning, Logan," he greeted warmly. The clock's relentless ticking marked the awkward pause before the shrill bell signaling the end of class.

"I'd like your definitions of the weak and strong anthropic principles on my desk by Wednesday," Xavier said to the students as though nothing was amiss.

Tyson's gaze shifted between Logan and the professor, sensing the palpable tension in Logan's coiled muscles. Raising his hands in a pacifying gesture, he spoke, "Take it easy, Logan. No need for claws here. It's just a school," he said, hoping to defuse the volatile man.

Logan relaxed and the class let out a collective sigh of relief.

Illyana stood, shooting Tyson one last defiant glare before striding out of the classroom. Meanwhile, the petite brunette who had seemed so familiar to Tyson rose gracefully, packing her books into her bag. "Bye Professor," she said sweetly.

"Goodbye Kitty," Xavier replied warmly. Tyson snapped his fingers as the name clicked into place. Kitty Pryde, Shadowcat. Of course.

Logan stayed silent as he watched the students leave. His eyes spoke of mistrust and suspicion, at odds with the scholarly setting. His brows furrowing in confusion as he regarded Tyson. "Kid, is that you? What the hell happened?" he asked bewildered.

Tyson chuckled. "Yeah, you missed a bit while you were napping," he responded lightly. And so he began recounting the rest of the harrowing encounter with Sabertooth, his voice painting a vivid picture of the battle. As Tyson spun his tale, the door opened and three new figures entered the classroom.

The first was Ororo Munroe, following her was Scott Summers, and close on Scott's heels was the redhead student Tyson had met yesterday, Jean Grey.

As Tyson continued recounting his story, their faces displayed varying degrees of concern as they listened.

Upon the completion, Professor Xavier steepled his fingers thoughtfully beneath his chin before replying, "You'll be safe here from Magneto."

Logan's brows furrowed once more, creasing his rugged features. "What's a Magneto?"

"A very powerful mutant who believes that a war is brewing between mutants and the rest of humanity," Xavier explained calmly. "I've been following his activities for some time. The man who attacked you was an associate of his called Sabertooth."

"Sabertooth?" Logan repeated, his tone incredulous. Then, with a glance at Ororo, he grumbled, "Storm." His gaze swiveled back to the Professor, a challenge flickering in his eyes. "And what do they call you? Wheels?" he scoffed derisively, his words dripping with disbelief and annoyance. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he said as he turned to leave.

Scott Summers stood in the doorway, arms crossed, blocking Logan's exit.

"Cyclops, right?" Logan's asked, grabbing the visor-wearing man's shirt in his hands. "Get out of my way."

Before tensions could escalate further, Professor Xavier's calm voice cut through the charged air. "Logan, it's been almost 15 years now, hasn't it?" Xavier's piercing blue eyes were steady, probing. "Drifting from place to place, never settling, never remembering who you are."

Logan bristled, a snarl curling his lip. "I said shut up."

Unfazed by the hostility, Xavier pressed on, his voice smooth and imploring. "Just give me a chance. I believe I can uncover the answers you seek."

Tyson's sudden interruption broke the standoff. "Your name is James Howlett. Logan is just a nickname."

A heavy silence descended on the room. Xavier and Logan both turned to Tyson, surprise flickering across their faces.

Logan's eyes narrowed, his voice underlaid with vulnerability. "How the hell would you know that?"

Tyson tapped his temple. "Sabertooth knew you. His memories became mine when I absorbed him."

Logan tensed, wary yet hungry for answers. "Explain. Now," he bit out.

Tyson's eyes took on a distant glaze as he delved into Sabertooth's memories. "It started before the wars," he began, "Sabertooth had a cruel tradition with his brother, Saul. Every year on his birthday he would track him down, no matter where he was, and beat him mercilessly to assert his dominance."

Tyson's voice took on a harsh edge as he channeled Sabertooth's simmering rage. "But one year, his brother was nowhere to be found. Turns out, Saul had been killed." Tyson locked eyes with Logan, voice heavy with meaning. "It was you. You were the one who killed him."

"I don't remember any of that," Logan responded.

Tyson pressed on, lost in the dark tide of memories. "Sabertooth was furious. More because you had disrupted his tradition than out of brotherly love. He needed a new target for his violent obsession, someone to take his brother's place. And who better than the one who stole his prey?"

Logan's face drained of color. But his eyes remained fixed on Tyson, desperate to understand, to reclaim the fragmented pieces of a forgotten life. "Keep going," he urged.

"He tracked you across the wilderness," Tyson continued, his voice detached and mournful, "finding you at last amongst the Blackfoot people. There you had found a brief solace, a sense of belonging. And love, in the form of a woman named Silver Fox."

Logan forced himself to ask, "What happened to her?"

Tyson swallowed hard, a crack forming in his narration as his emotion seeped through the recollection. "Sabertooth took her from you, just as you had taken his brother. And then, to seal his vengeance, he forged a new tradition. Every year, on the anniversary of his brother's death, he would hunt you down and beat you within an inch of your life, just as he had done to his brother."

Logan sank into a chair, head bowed under the staggering weight of memories he did not possess. He radiated impotent rage and the raw need for closure. Professor X wheeled closer, placing a gentle, steadying hand on Logan's slumped shoulder, offering silent support.

For Logan, the revelation was a glimpse into a past he yearned to reclaim. For Tyson, it was a burden, bearing the memories and emotions of another man. Professor X's eyes were solemn, knowing the story would only deepen Logan's need to fill in the blank spaces, to find the closure that still eluded him. Jean watched with quiet empathy, sensing both men's anguish as if it were a living thing.

Tyson's eyes took on a faraway look as he continued his tale. "You might not believe it, but there was a time when you fought on the same side."

Logan let out a derisive snort, arms folded across his broad chest. "Yeah, that's hard to picture."

"The world was at war," Tyson said, "World War II, to be precise. Nations crumbling, innocent lives lost by the thousands." He paused, holding Logan's skeptical gaze. "You and Victor fought alongside Captain America himself."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Even Logan seemed momentarily taken aback, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Professor Xavier leaned forward in his wheelchair, steepling his fingers with interest. "That's a part of history few are privy to. Please, go on."

Tyson nodded, his eyes glazing over as he delved into memories not his own. "The three of you were an unstoppable force. Victor was raw power and animal fury. Logan, you were tactical and skilled. Both of you were able to heal from any wound. And Captain America, the embodiment of freedom, led the charge. For a time, you cast aside your differences and united."

Logan shifted in his seat, jaw tightening. "So what, we played at being heroes?" he asked gruffly.

"War makes for unlikely alliances," Tyson said, "Enemies became comrades. The world needed saviors, and for a time, despite everything... you were."

"What else? There's more, isn't there?"

"The war changed much," Tyson began solemnly. "But some habits die hard. No matter where you went, Victor always found you. You spent time in Madripoor, then Japan. For a while, there was peace. Happiness." Tyson hesitated, then pushed.

"You'd started a family."

"Victor discovered your wife was pregnant." Tyson held Logan's pained gaze. "He intended to end it. To kill her as he'd killed your lovers before. But fate intervened. Itsu was taken from you... before he could."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. Logan's grief and rage were almost palpable, hanging heavy in the air. Lost in distant memories, haunted by ghosts, he could only sit in tortured silence.

Tyson's voice softened with empathy. "But the past didn't end there. There was... the Weapon X program."

Logan flinched as if struck, his body tensing. Pain flickered across his features anew at the mention of that name.

Professor X leaned forward. "Logan, it's important that we discuss…"

"They took you in," Tyson interjected, continuing over the Professor, forcing him to fall silent. "Played with your mind, your memories. Grafted the unbreakable adamantium onto your skeleton, transforming you into... what you are now."

"Sabertooth watched it all from the shadows. Your torture. The procedure of grafting adamantium to your bones. Twisted envy brewed within him as he witnessed the living weapon they forged you into. The memories get hazy here. Weapon X messed with his memories as much as they did yours, but Creed was always able to hold on to his better than you were. But in time, he lost track of you, prowling the wilderness and descending into feral savagery. His recollections become just flashes of fury and bloodlust, with scarcely a scrap of humanity left. His memories blurred, consumed by animal rage and instinct for years on end, until Magneto finally found him."

"Fate brought you two together again while Sabertooth carried out his new master's bidding." Tyson paused. Turning to face the professor, his expression grew solemn. "I can't glean much about Sabertooth's thoughts after his feral years roaming wild. But I do know Magneto sent him after me, not Logan. It was my scent he followed. I was his intended target."

Xavier leaned forward, his eyes radiating compassion and resolve. "You have nothing to fear here, Tyson. Within these walls, you are safe. And should you leave the institute for any reason, we will ensure one of the professors accompanies you for protection."

Logan sighed, the fight draining from his body. In its place remained only weariness. "What's done is done. Anything else?"

"That's the heart of what I could easily access," Tyson replied, his voice returning to its normal timbre. "Memories tainted by hatred, jealousy, a thirst for power. Sabertooth's perspective of your past is distorted, tinged with his own dark twist. But it's a glimpse."

Thick silence followed, saturated with pain, revelation, and reluctant acceptance. Professor X finally spoke, "These memories, however agonizing, are part of who you are, Logan. It's vital to confront them, learn from them."

Logan lifted his head, meeting Tyson's gaze. He saw how the memories affected Tyson, and how the young man lived through them as he spoke.

"You may have his memories, kid, but you're not him."

Vulnerability etched itself across Tyson's face. His voice trembled slightly. "I know, intellectually, that I'm not Sabertooth. But when I tap into his memories, feel the raw emotions, the experiences... it's hard not to believe that was me, that those were my choices."

Professor Xavier leaned back in his wheelchair, fingers steepled in contemplation as he regarded Tyson. "It can be challenging to navigate even normal minds, you'll have to contend with sorting which recollections truly belong to you, and which you have absorbed from others."

Tyson shifted uneasily. "I feel like I'm being torn in two directions, Professor. Part of me wants to embrace these memories and follow where they lead. But there's another part that recoils at what I see." He clenched his fists, the veins in his muscular arms standing out. "Even now, I have this urge to fight Logan, to give in to the animal rage I absorbed from Sabertooth."

Xavier nodded sagely, his eyes gentle with understanding. "You have come to the right place. This school exists to aid mutants in controlling their abilities, and the class we offer our psychic students can help give you the mental framework you need."

Surprise flitted across Tyson's face. "But I'm not a psychic."

"No, you are not," Xavier agreed. "Yet the techniques we teach can help organize and compartmentalize your memories. They will give you an inner structure, a means of separating your true self from the psyches you've absorbed."

From across the classroom, Jean Grey added, "I'd be happy to work with you, Tyson. My telepathy, combined with my training, can help guide you through this."

Tyson glanced between them. "Thank you, both of you. I just want to look in the mirror and recognize the person staring back at me."

Jean stepped forward, placing a supportive hand on his broad shoulder. "You will," she said firmly, resolve glinting in her eyes. "With time and perseverance, you'll find yourself again."

Logan's eyes darted around the classroom, lingering on the dark wood paneling and rows of leather-bound books that lined the walls. He asked, "What is this place?"

"Anonymity is a mutant's first defense against the world's hostility," Xavier began. "To the outside world, this is merely a school for gifted youngsters." He paused, his piercing blue eyes meeting those of Scott and Ororo, two of his first students. "Cyclops and Storm were among my inaugural class here. I sheltered them and helped them understand and control their extraordinary abilities. In time, they learned to impart this knowledge to others." His wheelchair glided forward slightly as he surveyed those before him. "Most of our students are runaways. Frightened and alone, many possess gifts so extreme as to make them a danger to themselves and those around them."

"Take your friend Tyson here," Xavier continued. "Burdened with formidable power, he is incapable of physical human contact, likely for the remainder of his life. Yet this morning he stood among peers, learning and growing. Not shunned or feared, but accepted fully for who he is."

As the weight of Xavier's pronouncement sank in, Tyson swallowed hard, his mouth dry. 'The rest of my life,' the words echoed bleakly in his mind as he mumbled them aloud.

Tyson refused to accept that.

Steeling his resolve, he whispered under his breath, "Not if I can help it."

Tyson's defiant thoughts echoed in Jean's mind. As she listened to his vow, a pang of sympathy welled up within her. She knew that struggle all too well; the burden of a gift that could feel like a curse.

"Come on," she said gently, "The professor wants to talk to Logan, and we've got physical education next."

Tyson glanced down at his physique, flexed his bicep, then back up at Jean, eyebrows raised skeptically. "Really?" he questioned. "What's gym class going to do for me?"

A rosy blush bloomed on Jean's cheeks. "PE is as much about learning to control your powers as it is using them," she explained.

Her words removed all traces of skepticism. "Alright then, let's get to it!" he agreed eagerly.

Tyson turned back to face Professor Xavier, pointing a dramatic finger at the wheelchair-bound man. Channeling an anime protagonist, he yelled with gusto, "I'm going to prove you wrong, old man!" Then, in a calmer tone, he addressed Logan. "If you decide to leave… make sure you don't go without saying goodbye." With those parting words, Tyson spun on his heel and strode out of the room following Jean.