Categories > Movies > X-Men: The Movie > Days of the Phoenix

Jedi Mind Tricks

by Plutospawn 0 reviews

Creed knocked over his glass of water as he stumbled backwards. His face had drained of color, but his expression was disgust, not fear. "You..." Graydon snarled.

Category: X-Men: The Movie - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Action/Adventure - Characters: Cyclops, Nightcrawler, Professor Xavier, Wolverine - Published: 2005-09-04 - Updated: 2005-09-04 - 1715 words

"Hank?" Trish knocked on the door to the med lab.
Through the door she could hear music blaring. The shrill, unsettling voice of Angela Lansbury's soprano rang through the room as she operatically delivered Sweeney Todd's The Worst Pies in London. Remembering Hank's glee at explaining who the Demon Barber of Fleet Street was and how Lansbury's Mrs. Lovett benefited from him, Trish shuddered. She had scoffed at Hank, but secretly hadn't been able to eat chicken pot pie for a month.
Inwardly, she scolded herself for being apprehensive and smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear before she opened the door.
"Hank? Are you in there?" she asked. "Professor Xavier called me here to help look after the children while he went out."
Her words were overrun by a startled gasp. The med lab was in total disarray. Cots were turned over, a file cabinet was dented on its side, a window broken, a lamp smashed, the neck of the sink's faucet looked as though someone had tried to tie it into a knot. Amid scattered papers, tattered gauze and a puddle of iodine was the only untouched item in the room: the stereo from which Lansbury's voice mocked Trish.
"Hank? Oh my God, Hank, where are you?" Trish's eyes darted over the room.
She wandered over to the stereo and numbly flicked it off. Trish couldn't decide whether she preferred Angela Lansbury to the sound of nothing.
"Go away!" The voice was harsh, guttural.
"What have you done to Hank?" Trish demanded as she continued to scan the room. Sure, she had pepper spray in her purse, but she highly doubted it would be effective given the resonance of the voice.
"Go away!" the voice repeated, fiercer than before.
It was coming from her left, Trish could discern that much. She wagered it was probably hiding behind the cot that had been twisted around a cabinet. Trish knelt down and clutched what she assumed to a beam from one of the numerous broken bed frames in her manicured hands. She gave it a test swing in the air and gave a satisfied nod. It was no baseball bat, but the jagged metal end was sharp, so she was confident it could get the job done.
"I'm not leaving this room without Hank McCoy," Trish declared. "Where is he?"
After a pause, the voice spoke again. "Hank McCoy is dead."
"Dead?" Trish's throat suddenly felt very dry. "Oh my God. It's not true."
"It's not true."
"Leave!" The intruder threw a phone at Trish.
She batted at the phone awkwardly with her metal beam.
"Where's Hank McCoy?" she demanded.
"McCoy is dead!" the voice screamed. A filing cabinet was thrown at her feet. "Leave now!"
"I'm not going anywhere," Trish growled.
A gasp escaped her lips as the creature revealed himself to Trish. His apelike structure was covered with thick blue-gray fur. The beast flashed her his fangs as he tossed a cot in her direction.
Trish quickly gathered her wits and stormed over to the creature.
"What have you done to Hank?" she demanded as she cracked her metal beam across the animal's ribs.
He clutched at his injured side with a clawed hand. Trish took that opportunity to aim for the back of his skull.
"What have you done to Hank?" she repeated viciously.
The creature had fallen to his knees and cupped his hands over his head for protection. Trish continued to beat it.
"Answer me," she screamed. "What have you done to Hank McCoy?"
"My stars, Trish!" the creature finally exclaimed.
"I'll give you stars," Trish growled. "And garters too."
She stopped mid-swing. "Garters?"
Trish limply released her weapon. The metal beam clattered noisily against the tiled floor and she dropped down besides the creature.
The beast looked up at her with his intelligent steel-blue eyes and Trish gingerly grazed her fingers across his furry cheek.
Rachel fidgeted incessantly as Cyclops and the professor joined her, Wolverine and Nightcrawler. Wolverine propped himself up against one of the Blackbird's wheels and pulled a cigar out from his shirt pocket.
"How soon are these events going to occur?" Xavier asked.
"An hour, tops," Rachel said.
"Then we best prepare ourselves," Xavier replied.
"Mystique and Creed will be on stage like sitting ducks, Sabretooth could be anywhere in the crowd," Rachel offered. "But he's always liked a hand's on approach, it won't be a snipe job."
"We should form a psi-link," Xavier suggested. "That way, no matter how spread out we become we can keep track of one another."
The muscles in Rachel's neck stiffened. "I'd rather not," she murmured.
"Is this really a situation where we can afford the luxury of choice, child?" Xavier asked.
Rachel bit her lip. "I can't do that," she insisted. "Please, don't make me."
"You don't have to do anything, Rachel," Xavier replied. "I'll do it for you."
With a slight nod of the bald man's head, all of their minds were joined. Rachel flinched as her brain was flooded with the thoughts of the others. Despite her shields, Scott's constant anxiety and profound sadness was apparent, as was Kurt's unwavering strength and conviction and Logan's noble, untamed spirit. She wanted to cry.
Scott reached out and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Fine," Rachel managed. "I just haven't been in a psi-link with anyone for a very long time."
"Maybe you should keep Kitty company in the Blackbird," Logan suggested. "You've told us everything we need to know."
"No." Rachel shook her head.
"I wasn't asking," Logan replied.
"No, I need to be there," Rachel insisted.
"Chuck, I didn't need no psi-link to know this kid was afraid," Logan said. "She stinks of fear."
"I'm going," Rachel growled. "I need to be there."
"Suit yourself." Logan shrugged.
"Scott, you and Rachel will monitor the events directly by the stage," Xavier ordered. "Kurt will accompany me in the back. Logan, I'm sure, will do fine on his own."
"I trust if anyone runs into trouble, they'll use their comms," Scott added.
"We'll be fine," Logan grunted.
"Please heed Scott's words, Logan," Xavier said. "Your unique skeleton puts you at quite the disadvantage if you should run up against Magneto."
"I got you," Logan snorted.
"In case of an emergency, Kitty is on call to operate the Blackbird," Xavier continued. "Otherwise we'll meet outside the theater once we're done."
"Alright, let's move out," Cyclops commanded.
The Wolverine immediately vanished into a nearby crowd, but through their psi-link the rest of the group understood that he intended to find his way back stage. At the front, the others waited for the doors to open.
"We belong in the front row," Rachel crisply told the man at the door.
"Press pass?" he sounded bored.
Rachel felt a spike of panic raise from Scott so she glanced over at him and winked.
"Absolutely, sir." Rachel grinned. "It's right here."
Her hand held only air as she raised it in front of the man's line of vision. Too quick for anyone other than a fellow telepath to see, a flash of pink orange light emitted from her eyes as she psionically altered the perceptions of those around her. The man nodded and smiled.
"Go right on in," he said. "It's so nice to finally meet you, Ms..."
"Leia," Rachel provided. "Princess Leia."
"Right." The man nodded. "It's been a pleasure."
"Likewise." Rachel strutted into the theater with Scott on her heels.
"What was that?" Scott hissed.
Rachel shrugged. "Would you believe a Jedi mind trick?"
"No," Scott replied. "I wouldn't."
"He needed to see a press pass in order for us to get where we wanted," Rachel explained. "So I projected one into his mind. The professor will probably do the same thing for him and Nightcrawler."
Scott gave a curt nod before he ventured to add, "Lead on, /Princess/."
The two forced their way through the crowd, Rachel making the occasional psionic suggestion if a body refused to move. Once they made it the front of the stage, the agonizing wait began.
Moments later, Professor Xavier signaled through the psi-link that he and Nightcrawler had made it to their designated spot. Wolverine chose to remain silent.
The lights dimmed and a spotlight focused on a bulky man in a smart suit with slicked back strawberry blond hair. The spotlight followed him as he stepped to the center of the stage. He cleared his throat and made sure not to flash his teeth as he addressed the crowd.
"Good evening from the Bushnell Theater in Hartford, Connecticut," the man greeted. "I'm Steven Hunter of RVN World News. Welcome to the second of the 2004 Presidential debates between Senator Robert Kelly, and Senator Graydon Creed. This event is sponsored by the Commission on Presidential Debates. It will last 90 minutes following a format and rules worked out by the two campaigns."
A soft light spread over the stage to reveal Kelly and Creed standing behind opposite lecterns. Steven Hunter kept his back staunchly to both politicians and continued.
"There will be two-minute opening and closing statements. In between, a series of questions, each having three parts. A 90-second answer, a 60-second rebuttal, and a 30-second response. I will assist the candidates in adhering to those time limits with the help of a series of lights visible to both. "Under their rules, the candidates are not allowed to question each other directly. I will ask the questions. There are no limitations on the subjects. "The order for everything tonight was determined by coin toss. Now, the first question goes to you, Senator Creed. You have two minutes."
Creed flashed his painfully white smile to the crowd.
"Steven Hunter" turned from the audience and faced Graydon Creed directly. Hunter began to remove his jacket casually, revealing thick taught muscles. He ran a clawed hand through his hair before pulling a cigarette from the discarded jacket.
"So, tell me, boy," Sabretooth growled. "Despite having two mutant parents, you want to destroy our species? Where's your loyalty?"
Creed knocked over his glass of water as he stumbled backwards. His face had drained of color, but his expression was disgust, not fear. "You..." Graydon snarled.
"That's right, kiddo." Victor Creed grinned.
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