21st Century Digital Boy

[xp-erverse.livejournal.com]

A new mutant manifests and drags everyone to Hell. Trigger warning for hateful language and suggestions of assault.


Every day was worse than the last. Quintavius Quirinius Quire had spent 17 years navigating life essentially alone. Abandoned first by birth parents who'd left him as soon as he was out of the womb, then by an American couple who only wanted to hold him up as a symbol of how enlightened and progressive they were. Never any friends, never any teachers or mentors who tried to inspire him and cheer him on.

Not until Tom Logan.

A teacher who fucking understood. Who didn't buy into the lies and deceptions that the government, the oligarchies, and the academic elite built into every schoolchild's curriculum. Who rallied against the sins of the United States, past and present, and empowered the young minds in his charge to stand against centuries of colonial tyranny. And who, most of all, recognized for what they were the walls and battlements that Quentin had learned to erect around himself to keep safe and sane. The only person whom Quentin had ever dared let inside.

Figuratively and literally, if he was being vulgar.

And that ended up his downfall. Not three days ago, the young men who seemed to make it their duty to make Quentin's life a living hell had stolen his cell phone and uncovered the full extent of the teacher-student affair. Text messages, photos, even a handful of videos. And to make things worse, Quentin revealed his last-kept secret to take back his phone and its precious contents: a meager but still effective mutation of telekinesis.

Tom immediately resigned his post to avoid bringing scandal to Van Wyck Lawrence Preparatory Academy and hadn't responded to Quentin's numerous attempts to contact him. Father and Mother Quire were away on one of their regular business trips (personal vacations, really, to get away from the son they never really wanted), so Quentin was allowed to continue attending school at least until they returned and could speak with the administration.

He almost wished he'd just been suspended, though, because each day since then brought new torments. The occasional bump in the hallway or chest-puffing in the cafeteria had given way to being shoved against lockers, being tripped, and enduring countless slurs flung upon him. He felt like he was going to shatter, disintegrate into nothing, a sensation made worse by the agonizing pounding in his head that had manifested when Tom left.

It all seemed to be coming to a head now. Quentin had tried to sneak out of class early to avoid the after-school rush and the violence he was sure would accompany it. He had not expected the violence to cut class, too, as he stood in the men's restroom, surrounded by three of his peers. He was prey caught in a trap.

"Fucking unbelievable." Chad Matthews, the alpha of this particular pack of lacrosse jocks (for there was always an alpha, and there was always a Chad), stood before Quentin with his arms crossed. "How dumb are you, Quire?" He stood some distance away from his two cronies, watching from behind his shaggy brown hair as they closed in on Quentin. "The guys' bathroom?"

"Yeah." A smaller, higher-pitched voice rang out from a wiry junior with a crew cut. He sneered. "Like we don't know where you queers like to hang out."

"How would you know, Tyler? Know all the best spots to score some yourself?" Quentin shot back. He crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to look menacing and confrontational, but only managed to look defensive and afraid. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

"No." Tyler moved toward Quentin, shoving him against the wall. "You're not going anywhere." His counterpart, a stocky, short fellow, moved closer to their target, like they were receiving some silent cue that only overly confident alpha jocks could here. "Fag mutie freak." The two jocks exchanged a look, then started to push at Quentin, as if he were a pendulum whose oscillation they were testing.

The pressure in Quentin's head grew stronger with each shove until he felt like he was going to burst like an overripe melon. Before he knew what he was doing, he lashed out telekinetically. Tyler and the other boy were knocked off balance and stumbled back a few steps, but Chad held his ground. Quentin mentally swore when he caught the look on the guy's face.

"Leave me alone or I'll push you through the wall," Quentin threatened emptily. "Y-you don't know what I'm capable of..."

"Actually," Tyler spoke up again. "We do." If he was shaken from being telekinetically manhandled, he didn't show it. "And it's not much." The jock put the full force of his lacrosse muscles into his shoulder and shoved Quentin against the wall, then used one arm to pin him there.

"Nah," Chad finally spoke up. "Leave the kid alone. 'Cause here's the thing." Chad smirked as he stepped toward Quentin, ruffling his hot pink hair in a way that might have seemed like brotherly roughhousing if he'd done it to one of his buddies.

"Life's gonna be miserable enough for Queeny Queer over here." Chad crossed his arms again. "Hard enough being a faggot punk. Or a mutie douchebag. But to be so lonely and desperate that you have to find a teacher to fuck you?" He wrenched his features into an expression of mock pity. "Well, that's just sad. And then to drive your only friend in the world away? Poor little cocksucker." The feigned pout turned into a satisfied grin.

Only some of those words were making it through to Quentin. The telekinetic discharge had done nothing to clear his head. Now his mind was crammed with images of the trio showing Quentin just how desperate he was and how they'd "help" to relieve his loneliness. And worse, he couldn't help but like the thought of it even as it made his insides squirm. He knew he should feel sick and degraded, but the excitement was intrusive. Ecstasy and disgust threatened to overwhelm him and drove him to his knees, clutching his head like he was keeping it from falling off his neck.

"Aw, look at that." Chad's grin widened. "Down where you belong. Helpful." Tyler and the other dude held Quentin's shoulders down. "Not gonna get lucky here, Quire. I don't go in for that freakshow shit. We're just going to kick your ass." He drew his foot back to kick Quentin in the stomach.

The blow never came. Before Chad could land the kick, Quentin looked up at him, blood pouring from his nose and ears, and uttered a single word: "No."

They were not alone anymore. Quentin's refusal was like an invitation for everyone in a hundred yards to yell at them about everything going on in their heads. Even though the four of them were alone in the bathroom, it felt like they were standing right next to the speakers at a sold-out show in Madison Square Garden. And through the noise, Quentin heard the terrified whimpers of the trio of bullies, which brought a ghastly smile to his face.

"I told you not to mess with me," he said to them. He reached out to the wellspring of power he felt growing within him. Not a spring, he realized, but a roaring river. A billion times greater in magnitude that what he felt with his telekinesis. There was no way he could hold onto all of that, but he didn't care. He'd ride the rapids and go wherever it lead him.

The current took him under the surface and the world went black.

When Quentin finally opened his eyes, he saw that they truly were not alone anymore. Dozens of his fellow students and teachers were with them in what seemed to be a large and otherwise empty black room. There was not any apparent source of light, but they could all see each other just fine. Everyone looked around in dazed wonder except for Quentin's bullies, whose attention was focused entirely on him.

"What. The Fuck." Tyler stared at Quentin from the ground, where he'd fallen amid the torrent of thoughts, his mouth agape. Then, something broke, and he started looking around. His face grew more panicked, and when he spoke again, his tone was almost whiny. "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!"

"Shut up, Tyler." His friend tapped him in the side with his foot. "This fucking freak just - I don't fucking know." Lost, he looked to Chad for some kind of assistance or explanation.

Chad didn't pay him any mind, his gaze fixed intently on Quentin. His face was red and hot with rage, and his eyes narrowed. "You faggot mutie queer," Chad spat out. "You stupid, stupid fairy. What the fuck did you do?"

"Stop." Quentin calmly held up a hand and Chad literally stopped mid-step, as if a pause button had been hit. Shocked, Quentin looked down at his hand, and when he looked up again, he bared his teeth in a vicious smile. "Well, I have to hand it to you. Not everyone could make some faggot mutie queer manifest an entirely new power." He'd read accounts of mutants developing new abilities after their initial manifestations, but many of them had been pretty mundane compared to their first time. He hadn't heard about anyone whose primary ability was tame but secondary one let them read minds and transport a hundred people to an otherworldly realm that was theirs to control.

"You're disgusting. All of you," Quentin accused the gathered crowd. "Mean, hateful, violent. Desecrate what little good there is in the world. You are all, through deeds or inaction, responsible for making us suffer. For making me suffer. Think I'm just some faggot mutie queer you can push around and twist until he can't tell what's love from what's hate? Who can't differentiate between his own desires and what others force him into?" A pointed look at Tyler before he turned his attention back to the whole. "Well listen up, you flatscan breeders, that time is over. Now is the time for my revolution. And you all will fucking burn."