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X-Men: Darkest Nights (XMDD Fanfiction)

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Now for ten years, we've been on our own.


The radio in the corner was blasting out Don McLean. Part of a block party weekend or something. He rubbed his eyes, squinting at the light coming in through the window, licking dry lips.


And moss grows fat on a rolling stone.


He had a headache.


But that's not how it used to be...


The radio exploded, his headache receding after the intial spike from the sound of the detonating speakers. His toothbrush was somewhere around... He stumbled into the bathroom, nearly tripping over a drumset, splashing water on his face, reaching for his toothbrush. His mouth felt grimy. The toothbrush helped. He spat, watching the running water swirl down the drain, turning it off. His phone was buzzing. He ignored it, pouring some cold coffee from the pot he made the previous night and drinking it in one gulp, grimacing at the flavor.


Some of his hair was falling in his eyes. He ran his hand through it, sending it into disordered spikes, pulling a black, rubber plated riding suit on, grabbing his helmet from where he'd dropped it when he came into his apartment the previous night.


Plus side of a one-room apartment. Not many places to lose things. He paused at the door, looking back toward the phone on the counter and sighing, picking it up and sticking it into a pocket on his suit. He didn't turn the screen on, no reason to check the messages right now. The elevator creaked downward to the garage, pausing for a full twenty seconds at the bottom before the doors finally decided to screech open. He winced, the sound of the elevator bringing on a new throb of pain in his head as he stepped out, a plain black motorcycle sitting in a near parking spot.


Well, it looked black. Bits of the original green paintjob still showed through, but repeated scorchings, scrapes, and general abuse had fractured it off. "This'll be the day that I die," he sang softly, the spark plugs deep inside the machinery of the cycle reattaching, the engine roaring to life. He got on slowly, pulling his helmet on, latching the airtight seal onto his suit. It was surprising how useful that seal was, especially because he could cut out a lot of sound if he wanted to. As the shout of the engine faded into blissful silence, he sighed-then grimaced at the smell of bad coffee on his breath.


Oh well. Beast couldn't be picky.




"Soundbyte and Remus will attempt to distract any enemy combatants while Errant tries to sneak in and free the hostages from behind. Errant, I'm downloading the blueprints for the building to your phone, along with my suggested route. Soundbyte, Remus: Be loud, be obnoxious, fight hard but not too aggressively. We don't want them getting worried and executing anyone before Errant can get to them."


He nodded. True, a drunk didn't paint such a pretty picture... But Beast looked old, grey patches showing up in his blue fur, his catlike eyes weary from years of worry. Remus was immortal, so of course she looked the same. Alistair was still in his twenties, still looked good, their personal Knight Errant a tall, brown haired man with polite speech and smile. Might as well be the face of their little triumvirate.


The X-Men. Down to a drunk, a knight, and a wolf.




The X-Men. Down to a few seconds.


He was running, his powers stretched to their absolute maximum, the entire universe creaking past him in slow motion, light starting to burst through the walls of the medical clinic-


Reaching for the black-haired boy with him, gold brooch on his chest- Grabbing him, continuing on, dashing through the open door, glow melting through the room behind him.


He had to go faster. His body started to tear under the strain of being yanked almost entirely out of the timestream.


The light was burning closer.




It was at his heels as he ran.




Time was disintegrating as the light caught up, burning him away, agonizing pain tearing through him so unmercifully slowly, tearing through his burden-


The X-Men. Down to a few seconds.


He was running.

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