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sareyen · 4 years

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The Price of Hope (Cherik): Part 1/4

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Legion (2010) AU: The apocalypse is coming, and the key to humankind’s survival lies in a pregnant waitress and a rag-tag group of strangers, all broken in their own ways. Charles, the oldest of the archangels, sacrifices everything - his wings, his Gift, Erik - to help the humans that Heaven has given up on. Because, he believes, that even if they stumble and lose their way, it doesn’t mean that they are lost forever.

Chapter 1

“For behold, the Lord will come in fire And His chariots like the whirlwind, To render His anger with fury, And His rebuke with flames of fire. For the Lord will execute judgment by fire And by His sword on all flesh, And those slain by the Lord will be many.”

Isaiah 66:16

“Charles, don’t be foolish!” Erik hissed, wrenching Charles’s arm back, forcing the shorter angel to look at him. Bottomless blue eyes stared up at Erik, determined. Unwavering. That gaze that always made Erik weak now only angered him.

‘Let me go, Erik,’ Charles pushed into Erik’s mind, the internal echo making Erik quake. But, still, Erik did not let go of Charles’s arm and only squeezed tighter.

“I will not,” Erik churned out, pulling Charles closer, the man’s wings tensing. “Charles, this is madness. You’d give everything for those… those humans. How could you…”

‘You, who is so beautiful and pure, so full of everything that is good. You, who has always been the best of all of us. Why would you want to lower yourself to the level of those humans who are beyond salvation?’

Charles’s eyes softened for a moment, likely overhearing his closest friend’s honest thoughts. Red lips curved gently, before flattening back out into a resolute line.

‘I have hope, my friend,’ Charles supplied softly, slipping his left arm from Erik’s grip to reach up and cup the taller angel’s angular cheek.

“Hope,” Erik said bitterly, lips pulling back in something resembling a snarl. Erik’s steely-grey eyes narrowed as he gathered a sharply cut collection of thoughts and images in his mind, the familiar thrum of Charles’s own mind buzzing around the fringes of his consciousness. Erik felt hesitation, never wanting to hurt Charles, but disregarded the feeling because he had to make Charles see.

Erik threw all of the images he had gathered from the past few millennia at Charles, who winced and stumbled a little, held in place by Erik’s hands which again gripped his biceps, shaking the stubborn man.

Erik sent Charles images of humans at their worst – hurting children, ravaging the land, of countless wars leaving blood to soak the Earth red. Erik throttled Charles’s mind with everything that was terrible, of everything soiled and tainted and so unlike the man wearing pristine robes of white, fringed with sunlit gold.

That very fabric was crumpling under Erik’s hands now, and Erik pushed down the sense of unease budding within him – Charles had always looked so clean and pure, always opting for white robes in contrast to Erik’s harsh warrior’s garb. Erik knew better than to be deceived by Charles’s appearance, knowing that underneath the fluttering white silks was a hardened body, strong and powerful, encasing a mind that was even more astounding.

“Erik, stop,” Charles gritted out, glaring up at Erik now with those blue eyes of his that He had modelled after skies and oceans. Or was it that the skies and oceans of Earth were modelled after Charles’s eyes?

Charles rarely used his Gift so forcefully, but now he snapped at Erik’s mind, shielding his own from the unrelenting torrent of earthly atrocities, silencing Erik. Erik, in turn, almost winced as his mind grew cold, Charles pulling back. It felt like there was an empty space in the base of Erik’s mind, so used to having Charles’s warmth curled up there. Charles’s constant tether to Erik was not invasive – never invasive – but just a silent hum of ‘I’m here, you’re not alone’.

Now, though, Charles refused to touch Erik’s head.

“Don’t you see, Charles?” Erik urged, the gold bands around Charles’s biceps and legs humming under Erik’s gift. “The humans, they’re beyond all hope. They kill and hurt each other for greed and wrath, they’ve razed the very Earth He created with smoke and death. It has taken Him so long to see it, but the humans are inferior and need to be exterminated. Even He has lost hope, and He is right.”

Charles eyes grew glossy and wet, and Erik watched him minutely shake his head, a mere tremble. Chestnut hair which shone almost amber in the light of the Heavens shook over Charles’s eyes, obscuring them as he looked down.

“I don’t believe it,” Charles whispered, Erik’s heart hammering at Charles’s admission.

“No, Charles, don’t say that,” Erik said, almost pleading as he shook Charles again, the metal surrounding them in the Hall of Angels in Heaven screaming as Erik’s Gift unfurled, unbidden in his internal panic. ‘Charles, don’t say it. Please, stay by my side. We want the same thing.’

Charles looked up again then, tears slipping down his reddened cheeks.

“I’m sorry, my friend, but we do not,” Charles murmured, and before Erik could open his mouth to respond, to use his Gift to rivet Charles to the spot, he froze. If Erik could control his body, his eyes would have widened, but Charles held him eerily still with his power. Charles’s tears continued to flow, collecting at his chin and dripping onto the white fabric covering his torso, as he forced Erik’s fingers to loosen and drop uselessly to his side.

Erik’s heart felt something wholly unfamiliar to him, something that angels so rarely felt. But Charles, Charles who was given the gift of seeing and hearing and feeling like a human, felt all of those human emotions and more. Erik couldn’t understand it, how Charles of all people could still believe in them when he could feel all of their worst emotions and was forced to shoulder them all.

‘Charles! Charles! Don’t do this!’ Erik screamed in his mind, his body non-compliant as Charles cupped Erik’s unmoving cheeks again, giving his friend a sad, grieving smile.

“Erik,” Charles whispered, hopping onto his toes to press his lips against Erik’s forehead once. Erik felt the warmth on his skin for a moment in his frozen state, his chest doing something once again, something that ached. The warmth was soon gone, Charles taking a step back after brushing his thumb over Erik’s cheek, where a single tear had inadvertently escaped.

“Erik, just because the humans stumble and lose their way, doesn’t mean they’re lost forever,” Charles said, giving Erik one last, lingering look before turning his back.

Erik screamed in his mind, but could only watch as Charles threw himself off the clouds and out of Heaven, descending from the skies and giving up everything for those humans that did not deserve him.

Erik knew the moment Charles’s angelic powers were ripped away from him when he found himself crumpling to his knees, Charles’s hold on his mind and body burning away to nothing.

***

When Moira clocked in for the early shift at the diner at four in the morning, it had been the same as any other day. McCone had slacked off during his uneventful nightshift and left Moira plenty of dirty tables to clean up, sauce beginning to dry into concrete on the plates and flies buzzing around. It was still pitch-black outside, the only cars in the parking lot being Moira’s beat-up Chevy and Darwin’s own rust-bucket of a car.

“What time did McCone leave today?” Moira asked Darwin, who just chuckled as he pulled his apron over his head after stamping his time card.

“The moment he saw me clock in, he bolted,” Darwin replied, Moira rolling her eyes while tying up her long brown hair into a tight ponytail.

“Figures,” Moira tutted, sharing a look with Darwin, who began preparing the kitchen. Moira, on the other hand, sighed and grabbed a large grey plastic tub, shoving dirty plates and cutlery into it and hating her miserable small-town life.

Sure, Moira knew that her life was better than most, but there was always the feeling that she could be doing more than working at a diner in her tiny town that was often forgotten on maps. Moira had always been ambitious and hard-working, and while her parents had always told her that ‘there is plenty to do in our lovely town’, Moira dreamed bigger – Moira wanted to study at a big university in the city, to become someone that could help shape the world into something better.

Unfortunately, to leave town she needed money, and there weren’t many jobs available in such a backwater place – hence the unstimulating job as a waitress in the town’s only restaurant.

It was as Moira was dumping the dirty dishes into the large commercial sink that the bell at the front door clattered, followed by hasty footsteps and a shrill “Sorry I’m late!”. Moira and Darwin just shared an amused look as Sean, a wild-haired teenager, barrelled in.

“You’re eight minutes late,” Moira said, raising a brow. “That’s actually pretty good by your standards.” Darwin chuckled and slid Sean a cup of coffee, the kid taking it gratefully and downing the watery concoction in record speed.

At that, Sean shot Moira and Darwin a newly-energised grin, quickly ducking to the back to dump his bagsand coat, before sidling up to Moira in the kitchen to clean the dishes.

Even though Moira hated her job, she didn’t mind her co-workers; Darwin, the cook, was easy to get along with and made some mean pancakes, while Sean was always energetic despite the sun not having risen yet and always managed to lighten up the dreary diner.

For the next hour, the three just cranked up the radio and danced around the otherwise empty diner. No one ever really came to the diner before six, so when the bell at the door chimed when the clock hanging above the counter just hit 5:23, the three workers nearly jumped out of their skins. Darwin quickly turned down the blasting radio, Sean hopped down from the counter and Moira cleared her throat.

A young dark-skinned woman walked into the diner wearing a short black halter-neck dress and teetering heels, hugging her dark, furry maroon coat around her slender frame. Her dark hair was slightly windswept and in disarray, eyes flittering left and right with agitation, before turning to Moira warily when she approached with her usual ‘service’ smile.

“Good morning. Table for one?” Moira asked, the woman licking her plush lips before nodding stiffly. “Okay. Would you prefer the counter or a table? We’re pretty empty, so you can take your pick. I’ll bring a menu and some water to you.” Moira vaguely waved her hand around, ducking behind the counter to pour a tall glass of water, tucking a menu under her arm.

The woman glanced around at the empty diner, before moving to the booth seat in the corner. Moira slid her water across the table and handed her the menu to peruse as the door opened again. Moira was surprised at the second arrival before six – maybe this day was panning out to be vastly different from every other day.

The person that walked in was a very gruff-looking man wearing a worn-and-torn military jacket and dark-wash jeans. His face was covered with dark hair and his brows looked like they were permanently furrowed and unable to be smoothened out. He was unfamiliar to the diner’s employees, who basically new everyone who lived in their small town.

Before Moira could greet him, the man planted himself at the bar and asked for coffee, as dark as they could make it, and a breakfast with everything in a voice that was biting and brusque. Moira let out a little snort at the man’s rudeness, but jerked her head at Sean, who went and poured the man a coffee while Darwin started cooking the man’s meal.

Turning back to the girl in the booth, Moira asked if she was ready to order, relaying the order of ‘scrambled eggs and a chocolate milkshake’ to Darwin, who gave Moira a thumbs up in response.

Before Moira could put the menu back in its place, the door opened again, revealing a young blonde man wearing a white T-shirt, jeans and leather jacket, face bleak and cool. Moira glanced at the clock – 5:52am. Christ, there were too many patrons at their backwater diner far too early in the morning.

“Morning. Take a seat anywhere, be with you in a second!” Moira called out as she poured the chocolate syrup into a tall milkshake glass, the young man nodding, before sliding into the booth by the door. After serving the chocolate milkshake, Moira walked over to the newcomer with a menu while he was on his phone, seeming to scroll through photos – one of them was of him and a slightly younger boy, the two of them smiling into the camera. Moira internally sighed at how different the man’s expression was as he sat there, desolate and weary, in the diner booth.

“Order when you’re ready,” Moira said, the man shutting off his phone and giving Moira a small smile.

Even though the morning was more lively than usual, Moira, Sean and Darwin got into the swing of things like always. It was at 6:15, when the three early patrons were all munching on their eggs and bacon, that the door opened, revealing someone that was familiar to the diner’s employees.

“Raven!” Moira said, hugging the blonde girl with a wide smile on her face. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be coming in to work!”

Raven gave Moira a sheepish smile, instinctively rubbing at her swollen and pregnant belly. Raven was 9 months pregnant now, and due to pop at any given moment, which was why she had recently taken time off work.

“I know, I know,” Raven said, bumping Sean’s fist as he leaned over the counter before Moira ushered Raven to sit down in one of the empty booths, the young woman letting out a relieved ‘phew’ when she sunk into the peeling red faux-leather. “I’m not here to work, I promise. The kid just really craved Darwin’s pancakes.”

Raven fondly tapped her belly, Moira laughing.

“Right, one serve of Darwin’s pancakes coming right up. And let me guess… a strawberry shake?”

“With extra ice-cream,” Raven said, Moira smiling.

“Sure thing.”

A few more minutes ticked by, and the door opened again, revealing another familiar face.

“Heya, Hank,” Sean said, waving at the tall and lanky man, who nodded his head with a shy smile, pushing his bulky glasses higher up onto his nose. Hank scanned the diner, and when he saw the back of Raven’s fluffy blonde head, turned a shade of scarlet that made Sean snicker and Moira stifle a chuckle. Sean, Hank and Raven had all gone to high-school together, and it had been obvious even then that Hank was nursing a hefty crush on Raven.

Unfortunately, Hank never acted on his crush, since he was of the notion that Raven – popular, beautiful and charismatic Raven – was out of his league. Hank was, quite simply, a geek, and had always been most comfortable in a lab or the library, while Raven was a cheerleader who also dabbled in the school’s volleyball team. Hank would never confess his affections to someone like Raven, and especially not now that she was, as the whole town knew, ‘knocked up’.

Raven’s pregnancy at a freshly ripened age of 19 had been gossip-fodder for the majority of her time being pregnant; after embarking on a road trip after graduating highschool, Raven had returned pregnant. People had tried to find out who the father was, but Raven had kept silent about it. Of course, with silence came rumours, and unfortunately lots of Raven’s so-called ‘friends’ had abandoned her in her time of crisis.

Raven, though, was stronger than anyone Hank knew, and this only made him love her more. Hank, even though he wasn’t the baby’s father and not even the object of Raven’s affections, wanted nothing more than to help her.

When Hank approached Raven’s table, the blonde smiling at him and kicking at the seat opposite her, Hank’s heart was alight.

“Hey Hank,” Raven chirped, the boy blushing and murmuring a small ‘hi’ in response. “It’s a nice morning, isn’t it?” At that, Raven looked outside at the sky that was strangely clear and devoid of any clouds, the sun beginning to rise over the distant mountains.

“Yeah, it’s a nice day,” Hank said, not looking outside but at Raven instead, soft smile on his face as the sunlight made her hair gleam more golden than usual, a halo around her beautiful face.

But oh, how wrong they were. This was not a nice day.

In fact, it was the dawn of the Apocalypse.

***

When Charles landed, he landed hard. Charles coughed out a pained breath when he collided with the dirt, dust pluming out from the crater his descent had etched into the earth. Spluttering a little, Charles waited for the dust to settle before pushing himself up to a kneeling position, groaning as pain lanced throughout his entire body.

Charles’s mind felt like it was splitting, like a hand – His hand – had reached in and rearranged everything, pulling out something integral. His Gift.

It had been a long time since the world had been so silent for Charles, and it unnerved him. Charles knew that this would happen, of course – he had blatantly disobeyed His will, so of course He would take away the gifts He had bestowed upon Charles when the angel was created.

The stabbing pain in Charles’s head soon ebbed away as his mind found its bearings, but that only gave way to another searing pain that splayed out from Charles’s back. Charles let out a sobbing breath as the pain in his back made him lurch forward, head hanging down as his arms propped him up, shaking.

Carefully, Charles bit on his lip, reaching back over his shoulder to probe at his back. Charles whimpered when his fingers met a jagged lump by his shoulder blades, and without seeing his back Charles knew what it would look like.

“Oh,” Charles croaked, pulling his fingers back from the stump of his wing, blood already crusted over. Charles shuddered, breathing erratic as his mind whirled. The angel – fallen angel, now – hunched over and hugged himself, struggling to catch his breath.

‘You knew what would happen. You knew, Charles, and you made your decision. This is necessary, this is needed. You have to stand up now,’ Charles told himself, wiping away the dirt and tears from his face, picking himself up from the ground. It was only then that he realised he was completed nude, his white and gold attire having been ripped to shreds in his descent.

Charles, of all the angels, was the most fond of the humans and Earth. Erik had always thought his infatuation with them ridiculous, even if a millennium ago he had only said those words with a small, fond smile on his face. Now, though, Charles could just see the hurt, disapproval and betrayal etched across Erik’s stoic face when Charles, in the end, chose the humans. The smarting sores on Charles’s back was a physical reminder of that. His wingless form was a reminder that he had forsaken God and the other angels – forsaken Erik – for the humans.

Even though his decision pained Charles, he did not regret it, because Charles believed. Charles, who had been given the Gift of peering into the souls of the beings that God had so cherished, until his faith had supposedly wavered. Yes, Charles knew of their pain, of their suffering, of their most vile potential. The images Erik had pushed at him in a final effort to change his mind were not new to the fallen angel. Charles knew of all of the evil in the world – felt it – but he knew the other side of the coin as well.

Charles knew about all the good in the world.

Charles, who could connect with all the minds on Earth, knew of the good there as well, just lying dormant and waiting. Unlike all of the other angels, who could only watch the humans with detached eyes, Charles could feel them. Charles knew what happiness felt like, what trust and hope and love felt inside a beating heart. Charles knew how it felt to be hugged by a mother, how it felt to see your child for the first time. Charles knew how it felt to laugh with friends until you all cried, Charles knew how it felt to hold the person you loved for the first time.

Charles also knew what loved felt like. What falling in love felt like.

That feeling was not discovered second hand like all of the others. No, that was a feeling born solely from Charles’s very being.

Charles grit his teeth and clutched at his chest that was full of Erik, but also full of hope.

Charles had a mission to complete, a mission that made him an enemy of all of Heaven, so he had to move quick.

That was why Charles trudged across the desert he landed in, naked like a newborn babe, to the town that was destined to be the beginning of the end – unless Charles found a way to stop it.

***

The pretty dark-haired girl in the corner booth had long-since finished her meal and milkshake, but was now sipping on a lukewarm coffee while glancing out of the window sketchily, like she was keeping an eye out for something or someone chasing her. The gruff man at the counter has since ordered a third plate of scrambled eggs, sausages and bacon while scoffing down his second helping of Darwin’s pancakes – Moira had noticed that he had added a hefty dose of what looked like whiskey into his coffee as well, the drink tucked away in a silver flash by his breast.

The young blonde man had locked himself in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes, and Moira could hear a heated conversation between him and child services, the boy hissing something muffled about a younger brother. The other boy in the picture, Moira supposed.

Hank and Raven had been chatting away in the middle booth, or at least, Raven had. Raven had regaled the entire diner about how her unborn child was going to be the most badass child the world has ever seen, and had been scrolling through her phone with a litany of potential baby names. Hank had just listened, soft smile on his face, only occasionally piping in with a ‘that’s a nice name’ or ‘what does that name mean?’. Hank spoke more when Raven asked him about the medical side of things, since Hank was studying pre-med (though he was already working his way through the medicine course on his own time, his intelligence leagues ahead of his age).

It was during a quiet lull in their conversation that the diner was plunged into silence again, the radio playing 80s hits suddenly cutting off with static. Darwin sighed, wiping his hands on his apron to knock his fist on the radio a few times, brute force usually fixing the issue. Strangely, the radio remained plunged in static, and Darwin frowned, trying to change the station to no avail.

Raven turned her head outside, a sense of unease washing over her as she noticed thick grey clouds rolling in, blanketing the sun in a shroud of darkness.

“Huh, looks like the nice weather from this morning is gone,” Raven mused, rubbing absentmindedly at her belly, the child kicking erratically. “Katie doesn’t like bad weather.”

“Katie?” Hank asked, Raven laughing a little.

“If she’s a girl,” Raven said, Hank smiling. “Well, Katherine – but I’d call her Katie. Ooh, or Kitty. Kitty is a cute name for a girl.”

“It is,” Hank said, head lolling to the side as he swooned at Raven’s round-cheeked elation. Raven opened her mouth to say something – likely about to begin spewing out boys’ names – when the girl in the corner booth swore loudly.

“Fuck! He found me,” the woman hissed, ducking down from the window with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” Moira asked, the girl dropping to the floor, like she was about to climb under the table.

“No! He found me!” the woman hissed again, voice panicked. “Fuck! How the hell did he find me so quickly?!”

Moira frowned, looking outside; a sleek black sedan with heavily tinted windows had pulled up, and a well-built man in a striped 3-piece suit stepped out of it, imposing and severely out of place in the parking lot of their ramshackle diner. Taking in the girl who was trembling in her dress, scrabbling at her fraying coat, Moira frowned further. Clearly, that guy was bad news if he could make this girl so terrified.

“Hey, follow me,” Moira said, ushering the girl behind the counter and to the back of the diner. The girl did not hesitate to follow Moira, who let her into the small staff room that had sometime turned into a store room, packed floor to ceiling with boxes. “Stay here and wait until that guy’s gone. Don’t come out until I get you.”

“Thank you, God, thank you so much,” the girl said, rubbing at her eyes and smudging her heavy eyeliner. “He’s… He’s bad news.”

“What did he do?” Moira asked, the girl blanching a little, making Moira give her a reassuring look. “I don’t mean to pry, I just think it’ll help if I know what I’m trying to kick out of the diner.”

The girl snorted out a laugh, though it wasn’t amused in the slightest.

“He’s my step-father,” the girl said, disgust and fear written all over her face. “He… He’s involved in prostitution, and…”

The girl gestured to herself, eyes growing dark. Moira’s heart bled.

“I was one of the girls he used to pimp out, but as one of the older ones he was harsher with me. I didn’t mind it, since that usually meant he didn’t hurt the younger girls as much, but he went too far. So I… I retaliated. I burned down his office and stole all of the cash he had been hoarding, giving it to the girls so they could get away from there. I ran too, obviously – but he found me,” the girl said, biting her lower lip.

“Well, shit,” Moira breathed out, cursing. “If that’s the case, then you’re definitely staying in here. Seriously, don’t come out until I let you know it’s all clear.”

“Thank you so much,” the girl said, giving Moira a watery smile. “My name’s Angel, by the way.”

“Moira,” the brown-haired woman said, flicking at the name badge pinned to the front of her ghastly yellow and blue diner uniform, smiling. “Alrighty, time to deal with a scumbag.”

Moira closed the door behind her after putting her finger to her lips in a final ‘be quiet’ motion to Angel, heading back to the front of the house. Angel’s step-father was currently leaning against the counter, hand slapping down as he snapped at Darwin and Sean.

“I know she’s here!” the man seethed, Sean’s eyes wide while Darwin remained calm as always, stepping out of the kitchen and placing a comforting hand on Sean’s shoulder.

“Sir, who are you looking for?” Darwin asked, the man’s face pulling back with a sneer. Moira smiled a little at Darwin’s perceptiveness – he had clearly gotten the general gist of the situation, and though he didn’t know the details, he had recognised that this guy was bad news and on the hunt for the terrified woman Moira had ushered to the back just moments before.

“Black, tall, skinny, pretty with long dark hair. She should be dressed like a whore,” the man said, Moira bristling. Ugh, pig.

“Sorry, Sir,” Moira said, sidling up with a deceiving sweet smile, the one she used to serve entitled customers that sometimes stumbled into their humble diner. “No one fitting that description has come to our diner, we’d know. As you can see, we don’t usually get many patrons, especially not so early in the morning.”

“Don’t lie to me, woman,” the man spat, jerking a fat finger at Moira’s face, saliva spraying. The man then slammed his hand down on the counter again, the plates clattering.

“Excuse me, Sir, but we don’t tolerate violence in our establishment. If you continue this behaviour, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Darwin said carefully, the pimp’s face going bright red, hand rising to slam back down on the counter.

Before he could, though, there was suddenly a loud ‘whack’, the pimp crumpling to the ground, knocked out cold.

“What the hell?!” Sean exclaimed, watching everything unfold with wide eyes. The other diners – the blonde boy, Hank and Raven – all watched in shock as well, eyes flittering from the pimp on the ground to the person looming over him.

Standing over him was the gruff bearded man wearing the army jacket sitting that had been at the counter. He rubbed at his knuckles, which had just a second ago made contact with the pimp’s jaw, sending him dropping like a sack of flour.

“Tsk, one punch and he’s already out? Pathetic,” the man grumbled, trudging back to his seat and shovelling some eggs into his mouth, chewing.

“What the hell just happened?” Moira exclaimed, rushing over to the unconscious pimp, checking for a pulse. He was still alive (barely), but it was obvious that his nose was broken and oozing a crimson puddle on Moira’s freshly scrubbed floors. Getting up, Moira glared at the man sitting at the counter who was eating his breakfast like he hadn’t just knocked a man out. “You just assaulted him!”

“He deserved it,” the man shrugged callously. “He was obviously an asshole.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can just go assaulting him! He’s unconscious!”

“Yeah, but now he’s not a problem,” the man said, cracking a grin that was a little feral. “You can thank me with another cup of coffee.”

“Oh, Christ,” Moira groaned, looking at Darwin. “Darwin, call an ambulance or something. And Sean, can you get this guy over to the corner, or one of the booths?”

Sean looked like he would honestly rather do anything else, which Moira thought was understandable - the kid hadn’t taken the dishwashing job to lug around fully-grown unconscious pieces of shit, but this was a strange day.

When the man – still unconscious – was tucked away in the corner, Moira went back to Angel, who jumped when Moira opened the door.

“Is he gone?” Angel asked quickly, Moira biting her lip.

“Uh, well, that’s one way to put it?” Moira offered, Angel giving her a confused look. “You can see for yourself.”

The two women walked out, and Angel gasped when she saw her step-father slumped on the floor, blood oozing from his broken nose.

“Who did that!?” Angel asked, eyes wide. The offender snorted, waving a hand briefly. Angel, still a little shell-shocked, pushed out an incredulous laugh. “Well, thanks. I only expected him to get kicked out, not… knocked out.”

“He seemed like he deserved it,” the bearded man said, Angel laughing.

“Yeah, he did,” she said softly, walking over to the man at the counter. “I’m Angel. I don’t really know how to repay you, but I could buy you another coffee?”

“Logan,” the man grunted, pushing his empty mug of coffee across the counter. “And you can thank me by buying me two.”

“Deal,” Angel said, beaming as she waved Moira over, who was exasperated by their disregard for the fact that there was a man bleeding all over her floor.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Moira grumbled, just as Darwin hung up the corded phone mounted on the wall.

“Hey, the landline seems to be down,” Darwin said, Moira throwing her hands up in frustration.

“Just another thing to worry about! It’s clearly not enough that we have an unconscious pimp on the floor!”

“Hey, my cellphone isn’t working either. Like, there’s no signal,” Sean said, tapping at his phone with a frown on his face.

“Huh, weird – I’m not getting any cell service either,” Raven said, leaning over to see if Hank had any. His phone had zero bars as well.

“Is it because of the storm that’s starting outside?” Moira asked after checking her own phone, which wasn’t any better. Everyone looked outside at Moira’s comment, the sky now completely dark – it was only 6:45 in the morning, but it felt more like the dead of the night. In the gaps in the clouds was an odd silvery sheen, like constant, noiseless lightning, which cast disconcerting shadows across the barren desert outside of the diner.

“It’s just clouds, there’s no rain or thunder that would disrupt all the cell towers, let alone the land line,” Hank said, fiddling with his phone.

“Hey, Sean, do you want to make a quick run to the sheriff? Ask what’s going on?” Moira said, Sean nodding and pulling off his apron. As the boy headed to the door, he had to pass by the unconscious pimp, who suddenly jerked, making Sean scream shrilly.

“The hell, dude?!” Sean screeched, jumping back. The pimp’s eyes flickered open, Angel’s mouth opening in a silent, terrified scream, scuttling back behind the counter. Logan narrowed his eyes at the pimp, who was picking himself up from the floor sluggishly, head hanging low.

The pimp’s head then snapped up abruptly, eyes glassy. His gaze flittered across the diner, looking at Logan, then Darwin, then Moira, Sean and Angel – Angel tensed, about to run, but strangely, her step-father looked right past her. His eyes flitted to the blonde boy by the door, then Hank, and then…

When the man’s eyes fixed onto Raven, the girl bristling and cradling her baby bump instinctively, the man smiled, showing teeth reddened with blood.

The pimp suddenly lunged forward at Raven, who screamed. Hank also yelled, tripping out of the booth to block the man’s path, but the pimp was suddenly on the ground again when Logan kicked out his leg, landing a blow to the pimp’s side.

The man flailed to the ground, limbs flying and an odd screeching sound erupting from his throat.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Angel asked, trembling. “He… He didn’t even see me. Recognise me.”

“And why did he run after me?!” Raven yelled, gripping onto Hank’s arm, the lanky boy’s mouth pressed in a tight line, hands balled into fists.

“Guess my first punch knocked his brain loose,” Logan said, smirking. Everyone just gave Logan an odd look, but couldn’t say anything when the pimp on the ground suddenly jerked again, spasming. Logan looked a little surprised, staring at the man writhing on the ground. “Jesus, he’s pretty sturdy. That should’ve knocked him out cold.”

The pimp suddenly twisted onto his back, arms bending and bending and bending… until his tendons snaps and joints dislodged. Everyone watched, horrified, as the man’s legs did the same, contorting into something that was definitely not normal.

“Oh my God, what the fuck?!” Sean said, grabbing a frying pan hanging on the wall and holding it up like a bat. “Is the dude possessed?! Arms aren’t supposed to bend like that!”

As Sean spoke, the man whirled around, eyes staring at Raven with fixed focus. The man scuttled forward on all fours, making everyone except Darwin and Logan scream – the latter darted forward, kicking the pimp again, sending him crashing against the wall.

But, just as everyone thought that things would quieten, they only got worse – the moment the pimp hit the wall, he began climbing up it on all fours, nails digging in and leaving bloody indentations into the wall as he climbed like a spider up the off-white plaster.

“The Exorcist! This is the fucking Exorcist! The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!” Sean shrieked, waving his frying pan in the air frantically.

“Oh my God!” Moira cried out as Raven screamed, hauled to her feet by Hank and tugging her behind him.

“What the fuck is in your coffee?!” the blonde man hollered, grabbing his empty plate and smashing it over the pimp’s head as he – it – leapt off the wall and landed on his table. The young man let out a yell as he punched the pimp in the face, grunting in pain as his hand collided, the pimp’s head snapping to the side with the motion, but otherwise unphased. The blonde boy’s eyes widened then the pimp’s mouth pulled into a smile.

“Oh, shit!” the boy yelled as the demonically possessed pimp shot forward, knocking him onto the ground before aiming for Raven again.

“Someone get him!” Raven yelled, hugging her pregnant belly as Hank pushed her back behind the counter, grabbing the frying pan from Sean and slamming it against the pimp’s face, the collision of metal and bone echoing around the diner.

“Help me hold him down!” Logan yelled, slamming his burly body down onto the screeching demon-man, struggling to keep him down alone. “Hey! You guys, get the hell over here!”

The blonde man reacted first, sliding on his knees and grabbing onto the pimp’s arm, almost throwing up when he could feel the pimp’s joints bending backwards. Hank dropped down as well, grabbing a leg while Darwin seized the other one.

“Someone knock him out!” Logan barked out, Angel suddenly running into the kitchen and grabbing a heavy cast-iron griddle, raising it above her head with something that resembled a war cry and slamming it down on her step-father’s head.

Thunk.

The demonic man stopped writhing, the three men holding him down not releasing him immediately, but only after he had stopped thrashing for a whole minute. Getting up from the ground, Hank was shaking, while Darwin had a deep frown etched on his face and Logan took a hefty swig from his beat-up flask.

When he swallowed, Logan pat the mysterious blonde boy on the back.

“Nice punch earlier, kid,” Logan said, the blonde man huffing.

“My name’s Alex, not kid.”

“Sure, whatever you say, kid,” Logan said, taking another drink as Moira leaned on the counter to steady herself.

“What the hell was that thing?” Moira asked as Raven sobbed, burying herself into Hank’s chest, the man freezing in surprise before tentatively wrapping his arms around the blonde girl.

“It would be more accurate to ask ‘what the Heaven was that thing’, my dear.”

Everyone turned, startled, to the voice that came from across the room. Standing in front of the door was an unfamiliar man that was, truly, beauty incarnate. Milky skin awash with a light smattering of freckles like constellations, sinful red lips, azure eyes and silken brown hair. He wore a slightly tight lilac V-neck sweater covered with a grey tweed coat and matching grey trousers. Strangely, his feet were bare.

From where they stood, they could see that the man was on the shorter side, but something about him filled up the entire room.

“Another weirdo?” Alex muttered, the newcomer’s lips quirking up slightly, seemingly amused. The man stepped across the floor, skirting around the small pool of blood where Logan had broken the pimp’s nose the first time, hopping lightly over the shards of the plate Alex had smashed earlier.

“I’d step away from him, if I were you,” the man said, voice lilting with a thick English accent, and despite being so soft and gentle, its weight made everyone – even Logan – jump away from the man on the ground. Just as they did so, the demon twitched, Raven screaming again.

“The hell, he’s still not down?!” Sean yelled, the man wearing the lilac sweater letting out a short sigh, reaching behind him to pull out a hand gun, pointing it down at the demon at his feet.

“What are you doing, Charles?” the demon man spoke, voice trilling, inhuman. “These weren’t your orders.”

“I’m sorry, Brother,” the man said solemnly, before pulling the trigger. Red sprayed everywhere – across the floor, up against the walls, on Logan’s shoes. Raven seemed to stop breathing, swaying on her feet and Hank letting out a strangled noise as he caught her in his arms. Moira’s mouth was wide opened, mind static like the radio, and Sean had fallen onto his ass in shock. Darwin stared silently at the scene unfolding before him, Alex cursing loudly and staggering back, while Logan just looked at the seemingly demure man with narrowed eyes.

Logan had killed men before, many of them, in fact. He had killed men in warzones from a distance with his rifles, and had felt the life bleed out of some of them when he strangled their necks. Logan was used to killing, and he knew what a killer looked like.

How strange was it, then, that when he looked at the man before him, he didn’t have the stink of a murderer?

In fact, the man looked all too pure in the way he held himself. Untainted, even if his hand was on a smoking gun and a little blood has splashed onto his bare feet. The man’s blue eyes shone with tears, but not of fear, regret or anger.

No, he was a man that looked like he was grieving.

“You just killed a man!” Moira suddenly said, rushing to the phone that didn’t even work, punching in 911 over and over.

“I assure you, Moira, that he was not a man. At least, not now,” the man holding the gun said calmly, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his pants.

“You know my name,” Moira said, eyes wide. The barefooted man just smiled, tilting his head in what looked like a greeting nod.

“Yes, I know all of your names, actually,” the man said, turning to Logan. “You’re James Howlett, or I suppose you prefer Logan. And you’re Alexander Summers, Sean Cassidy, Henry – or Hank – McCoy, Angel Salvadore, Armando Muñoz and… Raven Darkholme.” The man’s voice softened as he spoke the last girl’s name, looking a little wistful.

“Are you a spy or something?” Sean asked, spluttering. “Or psychic?!” The mystery man chuckled a little, shaking his head.

“No,” Charles said, clasping his hands in front of him, eyes closing for a moment, before opening them again. “And I’ll explain everything, but we have to deal with them first.”

“Them?” Darwin asked, Charles turning to the window.

“Oh, please tell me he doesn’t have friends,” Angel said, grimacing at the body of her dead step-father.

“No, not friends,” Charles said, giving her a sad look. “Brothers and Sisters.”

Next chapter (2/4) →

#cherik #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #logan howlett #X-men #x-men fic #xmen #first class #legion #ao3 #james mcavoy #Michael Fassbender

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