Atomic Angel - Wreaking Havoc

[x-sanfuaiyaa.livejournal.com]

Tokyo Station wakes up to a nasty surprise Wednesday morning. (That would be Tuesday afternoon in America.)


It was an oppressively warm late-summer morning in Tokyo, the kind that sends most people rushing inside for modern conveniences like central air. Even so early in the morning, the Tokyo Metro Station was full of overworked and underpaid salarymen, all clamoring to get to another day of menial white collar labor. The platform buzzed with conversation and activity as the passengers awaited the next trains, until a shout pierced through the morning. A woman pointed at the rails, and several other passengers gasped while a couple ran to call the police.

Lying between the rails was a young man, stripped to the waist and covered in cuts and bruises and several dark discolorations like a tiger's stripes. His long, dirty hair was matted with blood. Those spectators that approached the edge of the platform began to sweat as they got closer to the body; the heat of the early morning only grew more intense the closer they got to this boy. The horn of an incoming train broke through the muttering and the boy stirred. He raised his head and opened his eyes just in time to see the train brake into the station, mere centimeters from where he lay on the ground. Embarking passengers ran to the far side of the train to get a better look at him through the windows, but by the time the other passengers had left so they could climb on, the boy was gone.

"I want to go home," the boy said as he stumbled down the street outside Tokyo Station. His stomach grumbled angrily and threatened to expel contents that weren't even there. He fell back against a building and slid down to the ground, leaving a small smear of dark blood as the wall cut into his back. "Where is my home? I know that I don't live here. This is not a house."

"Police are continuing their investigation of the crime scene, but have not yet announced any leads." The boy looked up to see several large televisions in the window next to where he sat, all tuned to the same station. The nightly news anchor looked grim as he showed footage of a small explosion at a Shinto shrine not far away. The camera zoomed past the remains of the white torii, now burned black, to the smoking crater than had once held the honden. The boy jumped up in shock and fell back into the street, where a passing car narrowly missed him.

"Kanda Myojin," Shiro whispered as he pressed his face to the glass window. "What did I . . .?"

"It is time for your debut at Shanghai, Yoshida-san." The ninja's form was barely visible in the darkness, and Shiro was sure that he was just another ghost until the rough hands grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. The binds which had kept him locked in this dungeon, violated him and stripped him of his powers, grew slack. "I hope you're ready."

Shiro could barely hear him over the sound of his pounding heart. His joints ached and his body threatened to revolt, but underneath the pain he felt a familiar rejuvenating spark and he desperately clung to it. With the binds now gone, he could stoke it and grow it into something much larger. His eyes shined in the dark. "I hope that you are ready to go to Hell." And then there was fire.

"No no more. No more!" The window exploded under the force of Shiro's punch, and the televisions behind it sparked and smoked and went out dead. "I will not be your weapon!" he shouted to the empty summer morning. He swatted at the air, conjuring a great blast that ripped through the street and set the median ablaze and sent pedestrians fleeing. "I need to get home."

~*~

Shiro gets in touch with the mansion to beg for help.


Deep, steady breaths. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Shiro envisioned a mandala, a simple design to contain and control his nuclear fire. He made an absurd sight to any passersby; battered, bruised, half-naked and half on fire. He couldn't care less, though, he had to get himself under control. It was a matter of life or death. It took a few minutes until he could feel the fire flowing through the lines and filling up the pattern of the mandala. The brief meditation diffused the fire, allowing Shiro to pick up the payphone without melting it or disrupting its signal. He almost hollered in joy until he realized that he didn't have any money to actually make a call. Then he almost blew up the phone booth.

"No no no, keep it in," he muttered to himself. "Stay in stay in, don't blow up. Keep it down, keep control, keep collected, keep it keep it keep it. Collected! Collect. Call collect. I will pay them back." He hastily dialed the number for collect but hesitated when prompted to dial an actual number. Whose number? He couldn't remember any. Panicking, he pressed the first numbers that came to mind. Somebody had to pick up and be able to help him. Anybody.

Back at Xavier's Institute, Nicholas Gleason rolled over in his bed letting out a long sigh. He readjusted his glasses to better see the copy of "Julius Caesar" in his hands that he had checked out from the library earlier in the day. Just as he found a comfortable place in the bed, Nick nearly jumped out of the bed as the sound of a cell phone was heard vibrating on his nightstand. It took him a few more seconds to realize the sound was coming from the small phone that Dr. Essex had given him a few months earlier. He slowly straggled over, quickly wondering who could be calling him. His eyebrows furrowed together he flipped open the phone, confusion sounding in his voice. "Hello?"

"Hello," a pleasant voice greeted. "Would you accept a collect call from . . . Hello? Hello? Please." The automated message was replaced by a frantic and staticy Shiro. "Please pick up please pick up."

Nick quickly jumped back to reality from his dreamy state of reading the play as soon as he heard the voice of Shiro. "Yes, I'll accept." The frantic nature of the voice instantly made Nick assume the worst as he threw his glasses off towards his bed. He had to fight the urge to run into the hall to find the first faculty member of the school he could find, but instead nervously began to chew his nails as he waited for the voice of Shiro to begin again.

That voice! Shiro knew who it was. It was so familiar, he just couldn't put a finger on it. He wracked his brain trying to come up with a name when an animated billboard across the street illuminated with a cartoon of a large canine overcoming some small rodent. Of course! "Gleason! Nick. You are Nick, right? Are you?"

"Yeah it's Nick." The boy's eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to read more into the sound of the voice on the other end of the line. It wasn't one of his specialties, but at this point, it was all he could do. "Are you alright Mr. Yoshida?"

"No no no, I-I . . ." Shiro banged his head against the phone console as if to shake the words loose, but the pain didn't register. "Something happened. I thought . . . I thought I could it but I could not and I made things even worse."

Nick paused for a second, trying to let the words rattle around, hoping that it may be enough for him to register everything that was just said. But the mix of concern and broken sentences from Shiro weren't really helping. "What can I do to help you?" It was the only thing he knew to ask.

"I-I-I have to get out of here. Out of this country. This continent. They're trying to kill me and I have to go home! Please take me home." The transmission grew weak at that, as Shiro's tenuous control began to slip again. His vision swam and he bit back a cry of pain. It felt like someone was stabbing hot needles into his head.

"Wait. Shiro, are you in Japan? Shiro!" The boy screamed into the receiver as the white noise on the other end almost became unbearable. But he gritted his teeth hoping to get an answer out of the man on the other end.

"Nick, find Northst . . ." The call was suddenly cut. Literally. Shiro realized that the phone was no longer connected to the console. He dropped the phone and ducked just in time to avoid getting his throat slit by a kodachi.

"Shiro! Shiro!" Nick screamed into the phone for several more seconds before he pulled it away from his ear, and noticed that the "Call has Ended" graphic was looking at him in the face. Nick slammed the phone down onto the dresser as he tried to decode what message his mentor was trying to get to him. "Northst..." As he threw his head back it came to him. "Northstar!" The boy quickly turned and sprinted out of the room, hoping Mr. Beaubier would be in his room.

~*~

Nick brings the news to Jean-Paul and Scott.


Nick quickly rounded the corner down the hall of the staff quarters at Xavier's institute. He had already woken up several faculty members from naps, meditations, and in one unfortunate case a shower, but he did not have time to slow down. He wasn't sure exactly what kind of trouble Shiro was in, but it sounded urgent, and he wasn't about to take any chances. He was pretty sure that he had followed the directions from his last surprised staff member exactly, but he crossed his fingers anyway as he knocked on the door to the room in front of him, hoping to find his professor Mr. Beaubier, although unfortunately under less than ideal circumstances.

The door was opened by a fit man (but who here wasn't?) in casual dress, one pointed ear poking out through a head of sleek, dark hair that was approaching shoulder length. He did not seem entirely surprised to find a boy he barely knew knocking at his door, though his eyes lingered on the young man's unsettled expression.

"Nicholas? What is the matter?"

Nick's rush of relief that he had found the right room didn't last long, he quickly began waving his arms around as he talked, becoming more and more animated as he continued on. "Mr. Yoshida just called from somewhere in Japan I think. He seemed to be in trouble." He took a pause as he tried to suck in enough air to finish the rest of his thought in one breath. "He asked for me to find you, and I had no idea what to do or where to go, so I came here as fast as I could and..." He knew he was rambling as he moved his hands up to his temples and began massaging them, quickly wishing he had taken an antacid before he left his suite.

Jean-Paul only just kept his feet on the ground -- moving through the halls of the school at superhuman speeds was far too dangerous to attempt on such vague information -- but a moment later, he was heading for the stairs, his phone already in hand and Scott's ringing on the other end of the line.

"Mr. Beaubier, can I come with you?" The boy was rushing to keep up as best he could with the flight instructor, but he was quickly lagging behind. As confused as he was, the boy couldn't help but be happy that there was an immediate response starting to at least find out what was going on.

"Yes?" Scott's reply on the other end of the line was brief, if not curt.

Jean-Paul gave the boy at his heels a quick nod, pausing at the bottom landing.

"Shiro just contacted one of the students," he said, his words clipped. "He is in Japan and in trouble and yes, those are all the details I have at present. Where are you?"

The pause was brief, but telling. "Situation Room," Scott said. "Good timing, huh? I'm assuming you've got this student with you - bring him or her down here, I'll make sure you can get in."

"On our way." Jean-Paul closed his phone and glanced back at Nick, standing on the bottom stair and eye-level with the older mutant. "We are heading downstairs to meet Scott," he said, starting to walk toward the elevators as soon as the last word left his mouth. "He will want to know exactly what Shiro told you and anything else you can remember about the conversation."

Nick nodded quickly as he followed as close to the heels of Jean-Paul as possible. "I'll do my absolute best." As he awaited further instructions he bit his bottom lip. He really hoped he didn't screw up in his first non-academic meeting with Jean-Paul and apparently his first Cyclops as well. He especially couldn't take a chance with the well being of Shiro on the line. Nervously, he crossed his arms behind him as he awaited further instruction from the faculty member.

Jean-Paul said nothing until they were in the elevator, heading down to the higher-security levels. His focus had narrowed to the current mission: find Shiro, bring him home, knock down anything that stood between those two goals. It took an actual effort to recall that there was another person in the small space with him. "Do not worry, Nicholas; we will get him home safely." One way or another.

Nick took a deep breath in, closing his eyes in the process. "I'll do my best." This was Nick's first experience really seeing the X-Men in action after hearing the basics during his first day at the mansion. It was refreshing that they would be there for Shiro, but the knot in his stomach had simply loosened instead of untying as he waited for the elevator to reach its destination.

Jean-Paul gave the boy's shoulder a quick squeeze as the lift halted, the doors sliding open to reveal gleaming, metallic corridors unlike anything in the upper levels. "I do not doubt it."

Scott was standing when they reached the Situation Room, rapidly typing something into the console in front of him. "The Blackbird is being prepped for flight right now," he said, his eyes flickering from Jean-Paul to Nick as he made the obvious connection. "Nick, I need to know exactly what he told you. Even any details you might think are unimportant."

Nick swallowed hard as he looked back and forth between Jean-Paul and Scott in front of him. "O-O-O.K." He quickly closed his eyes, trying to picture the entire conversation with Shiro a few minutes earlier, but at the same time trying to calm his nerves standing in the situation room and talking with two of the fabled X-Men for the first time. "It was a collect call, and Mr. Yoshida never said his name, I only accepted because I recognized his voice. He seemed surprised that it was me when I answered, so I'm not entirely sure that I was who he was expecting to call exactly. When I did talk to him it was... hard to make out. The sound kept popping and crackling the whole time. I remember he said something about making 'things' worse." Nick forced his eyes open, scratching the back of his head. "He said that he had to get out of 'this country' and 'this continent'. I asked him if he was in Japan, but he never answered, just said that they were trying to kill him, and that he wanted to 'go home'. Then he told me to find Northstar before he broke up entirely." With a small shrug, his eyes again fell to the floor. "That's all I can really remember." His eyes remained locked on the ground, hoping he hadn't screwed something up.

Jean-Paul looked to Scott, trying to keep a rein on his own sudden anxiety; this was less detail than he'd hoped for and all of it suspect. "Shiro could be in real trouble or his delusions could be worsening. Either way, we need to bring him home." He'd echoed the last words unconsciously, but they stayed lodged in his mind. "I need to go along on this one, Scott."

"Funny," Scott said, "I was about to ask you to come. God knows the sight of me is not liable to be soothing." It was more than that, of course. There were a very limited number of people in the world he could count on being able to reach Shiro on a personal level. Don't I wish Alex was here... But he wasn't, Leyu was too young to be brought into something like this, and more to the point, Shiro had been trying to reach out to Jean-Paul. If there was an opening there, he was going to use it. Anything to avoid potential collateral damage. Scott turned his attention to Nick. "Thank you," he said, briskly but not unkindly. "For bringing this to us so quickly."

Nick shrugged back. It was great to get a compliment from someone with such respect behind him, but he did his best not to show it, only letting a small smirk show on the side of his face. "It was all I could do to help Shiro." He paused for a second, not willing to turn around just yet. "Is there anything else I can do to help?" He knew it was too much to ask to get to go to Japan, but he hoped to at least be of some use.

It took Jean-Paul a moment to respond; he was still a bit flat-footed that Scott hadn't made him argue to be included. At least it gave him a few moments that allowed a rather important detail to pop into his mind.

"If you could keep an eye on Leyu until we return, I would appreciate it. She was concerned for Shiro before he left, and his dropping out of contact has not helped her at all. I am sure she could use someone at her side right now."

The boy quickly nodded. "I'll do that." With a sheepish smile, he took a step back from the group. "Thank you Mr. Beaubier." Moving his eyes towards the other man, he again bowed, a gesture he had unconsciously picked up from Shiro. "Mr. Summers." Without another word, he quickly turned back in the direction he came. "I'll show myself out if you don't mind." Although not an exciting task, he was happy to be helping out as he began making his way down the hall again.

"Good kid," Scott said almost absently, leaning over the console again, the rest of a prospective team taking shape in his mind.

~*~

Shiro confronts his attacker. Unfortunately for downtown Tokyo.


Shiro spun and ducked under the kodachi, and dove out of the phone booth to avoid the large nodachi that sliced the whole structure in half. Unable to think, he instinctively blasted behind him, and turned to see a young woman in nondescript (and now flaming) business attire fly down the sidewalk. She rolled to extinguish herself and then leaped back at Shiro, the weapon in her hands transforming into a long polearm called a naginata. When she landed she spun, bringing down the naginata to split Shiro in two. He had to jump out of the way to avoid the phone booth's fate, but the long blade still managed to slice a shallow cut through his midsection.

"Do not struggle, Yoshida-san," she said, recovering from the miss by thrusting the naginata forward, forcing Shiro back against a building. "The Silver Samurai is unhappy that you did not complete your objective. He wanted to offer you an opportunity to make it up, but now you have summoned those gai-jin to our country and we must alter our plans." The polearm transformed into the familiar form of a samurai's katana and she took a step forward with her right foot, raising the katana to point it at Shiro's eyes.

The embers he had been stoking since his escape had been steadily growing in strength, and now they threatened to rage into an inferno out of his control. "The Hand and the Yakuza both want me? You cannot have me!" On second thought, who needed control?