Chapter 3
"Well," said Archetype, "where to begin?"
He and Rogue had just finished packing up and clearing out what few possessions Peter had left in the room when he had transferred his belongings to England upon joining Kitty in Excalibur. Except for a bed, desk, and dresser, the room was now bare.
"How about a few pictures on the walls?" Rogue suggested. "I don't want to make any comparisons," she amended hurriedly, "but Peter was an artist, and he lived in this room long before I joined the team. The room just doesn't seem the same without something on the walls."
Archetype tilted his head for a moment, lost in thought. "It's as good a place to start as any. I've got some objets d'art in some of my other haunts. I'll go and pick a few to move here." Another hole in space formed in front of him.
"Want some help?"
"It couldn't hurt. Sure you trust me enough to risk it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, after all, you've just met me. I may be a super-villain in disguise, ready to take you to my secret base, so that I can do all sorts of unspeakable things to your lovely person." He twirled an imaginary mustache.
Rogue laughed. "Mister, I could break you in two with my bare hands."
"Yes, I know. Ms. Cooper told me that you have superhuman strength, with invulnerability as an added bonus."
"That's right. And if that didn't work, all I have to do is touch you. You'd be knocked out, and I'd absorb your memories and powers."
Archetype's face suddenly became very serious. "Miss Rogue..."
"Just Rogue."
"...I feel that I owe you a warning. This isn't meant as a threat or intimidation. It's simply a statement of fact. You do not want to do that."
"Why?" she asked, curious.
"I don't think you want to see the world through my eyes." His face brightened up again. "But enough gabbing, let's get to work." He gestured towards the 'Door', bowing deeply. "After you, madam."
"Where are we going?"
"To where I was last. Ireland."
She moved towards it, then hesitated for a moment. "What exactly will happen when we go through?"
He seemed to think about it for a moment. "It will be totally dark, but you'll be able to see."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Neither does life. Just trust me. The temperature will be whatever seems comfortable to you."
Rogue shrugged and walked in.
He was right. It was dark. In fact, it was nothing but a flat darkness. She looked around. Archetype was standing right behind her, and she could see a hole behind him. This hole, however, showed the room they had just left, a small patch of light piercing the blackness. "How long will that last?" she asked.
"Until I close it. I'm going to keep both ends open to make it easier for us. Once I open a Door to our destination, the two Doors will come together. It'll be like walking into another room."
"Where are we right now?"
"We're... in between."
Rogue nodded, then noticed that he was surrounded by a thin aura of light. Looking at her own outstretched hand, she found that she was glowing in the same way. "What's with the light show?" she asked.
"Life glow. You might know it as an aura. Don't worry, it's harmless. Wait one moment." He closed his eyes in concentration, and another door formed in front of them. This one led to a darkly paneled room, simply furnished. When they walked through the door, Rogue noticed the sounds of pounding surf and howling wind.
"We're on the coast?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied. "I suggest staying inside. That storm sounds bad. Now," he said to himself, "what do I want to bring with me?"
Over the course of the next forty-five minutes, they moved a night stand, two lamps, a few framed paintings, an armoire filled with some rather stylish clothes, and five bookshelves, books and all.
"I'm glad for your help," he said to her, as he carried in a floor-length mirror. "It would have taken me a few hours to pack all these books."
"No problem," she replied, looking at the books. "Have you actually read all of these?"
"Yes, most of them more than once. You're all more than welcome to borrow any of them. I'll grab some of the books from my other places later."
"You mean there's more?"
"Quite a bit more, actually. Just let me get my computer, and that should do it. Be right back." He walked back into the door, out of her sight.
She took a moment to look at the collection of books on the shelves. Rogue was rather well-read herself, but she had found little time for reading recently, being preoccupied with other matters. Archetype, she decided, had the most eclectic tastes in reading that she had ever seen. She found books on psychology, archeology, history, art, philosophy, sociology, and architecture, with a good amount of science fiction and fantasy novels thrown in, and an occasional bestseller among all the clutter. She was leafing through a dog-eared copy of Heinlein's Time Enough for Love when he returned, pushing a wheeled computer cart.
"You can keep that one if you like," he told her. "I've got another copy lying around somewhere."
"Thanks," she replied. She took another look at the bookshelves. "Aren't you a little old to be reading fairy tales?"
"You're never too old for a good fairy tale. Most of the old stories were never intended for children. What you remember from your childhood are sanitized versions of the originals. Remember what I said earlier about having walked through darkness?"
"I thought you might have been talking about those Doors of yours."
"No. I was talking about the dark parts of my soul. We all have a dark side." He gestured to his psychology books. "Jung was right on the money. He called the dark half of our being the shadow. We all have one. It's a part of our psyche that represents our base emotions, the selfishness and anger that a well-adjusted person keeps in check. We're raised to repress and ignore the shadow, not to control and recognize its power. Once you confront and accept the dark half of your soul, you can channel the tremendous creative energy that it contains. I personally think that's why most writers are so despondent. Confronting the shadow is a lot of work, but I think it's worth it. The old stories, if you look at them, deal a lot with confrontations with the shadow. By looking at them in the right way, I can gain some insight into the collective consciousness, and hopefully understand my power a bit better."
Rogue nodded. "So these stories are the originals?"
"Most of them. Either that or modern retellings."
"What else will you be bringing over?"
He frowned. "My stereo and CDs should be it. I can get them later today. By the way, when's dinner around here, generally?"
"We usually eat around seven, just after the news."
"Is there a small TV in the kitchen? I'll probably be cooking, and I don't like to miss the news."
"We have one in the wall. It also ties into the communication center down below, in case there's an emergency."
He nodded. "Good planning."
Rogue smiled. "You won't think so after you've missed a few meals. Half the time, we get called down to the War Room just as we're about to dig in. Well," she finished, "I'll let you get to work. Just come downstairs if you need any more help."
"I'll do that. I do have a question."
"What's that?"
He looked at her pointedly. "Did Xavier assign you to shadow me?"
Rogue grimaced, deciding that it wouldn't pay to alienate him on his first day among them. "He asked me to try to learn what I could about your personality."
He tilted his head slightly, seeming to think about it. Then he smiled. "Good. I'm glad to see some reasonable behavior. See you at dinner."
"Let me make sure I understand," Xavier said a few minutes later, when Rogue had reported to him and the other senior members of the X-Men. "He was expecting us to spy on him?"
Rogue shrugged. "It seems that way. I wouldn't call him paranoid, but he's not exactly very trusting either."
"He did admit as much to us, Charles," Jean reminded him.
"True. Well, we'll see just what he's capable of soon enough. Hank, I want you to set up a Danger Room session for tomorrow morning for him. Use the settings that we used for Kitty's first run."
"Right."
"What else did you learn about him?" Xavier asked Rogue.
"Not much. He has books on almost anything you could think of, and paintings in a half-dozen styles of art, from fantasy prints to somebody he said was named Rossetti."
"Dante Gabriel Rossetti," Hank offered. "A nineteenth-century English artist."
"We went to what must have been one of his safehouses. I never left the place - the weather outside sounded nasty - but he said it was the on west coast of Ireland."
"You went through one of his 'Doors'?" Hank asked. At her nod, he asked, "What was it like?"
"It wasn't really like anything, Hank. He told me that when we were in that place, we were nowhere and everywhere at the same time."
"That doesn't make sense."
"According to him, neither does life."
"Anything else we should know about?" Jean asked.
"He seems to have read a lot about Jungian psychology. He has at least twenty books on the subject. He said that they've helped him understand his own power better. That's all I was able to get from him, Professor."
"That's actually not bad for our first day, Rogue. By the way," he addressed the room, "I called Val about an hour ago. 'William Riley' is not his original name."
"A false identity?" Scott asked.
Xavier looked at a sheet of paper in front of him. "No, the name change was totally legal. He changed it after he came down from his mountain. He also signed some checks under the name Liam
Raghallaigh," he continued, mangling the last name.
"Can I see that, Chuck?" Logan asked. Xavier handed him the paper. Logan read it for a moment, then handed it back to Xavier. "No dice, Scott. That name's totally legal. A few years ago, I saw Sean Cassidy sign some checks to his bank in Ireland pretty weirdly, so I asked him about it. In Ireland, a person can legally have two different names: their birth name, and the Gaelic equivalent of the same name. 'Liam' is the Irish form of William. And Gaelic is a bitch to pronounce. If you give Sean a call, I'll bet you five bucks that the last name is pronounced 'Riley'."
"If there was no legal basis for the name change, then why did he do it?" Scott asked.
"Maybe the fact that he came so close to death had something to do with it," Ororo mused.
"What do you mean, Ororo?"
"I don't think that anyone who went through what he's claimed to would come out of it the same person. Maybe the name change represents a new beginning in his eyes. Or he might be trying to protect his loved ones, the way the X-Men did after we faced the Adversary."
"You could be right," Scott conceded. "We'll have to ask him later. Was there anything else he said that might be important, Rogue?"
"Well, he did give me a warning."
"Of what kind?" asked Ororo.
"He said that I don't want to try and absorb his powers. He wasn't threatening or anything like that," she assured them. "I think he really was concerned for my safety. I get the feeling that there are some very nasty aspects to his power that he hasn't told us about."
"Well, we may find out more during his Danger Room session tomorrow," Xavier said, looking at his watch. "Let's all get to dinner."
Because there was a new resident at the school, all of the X-Men ate dinner at the mansion that night, a departure from the usual lassiz-faire policy for the evening meal. Betsy and Warren had teamed up for the meal that night, cooking up a large pot roast with boiled vegetables and gravy. Archetype had milled around the table aimlessly for a moment. "Is there a set seating policy here?" he asked Bobby quietly.
"No, we just sit next to the person we want to talk to for the length of the meal. Here, you can sit between me and Rogue," he said, gesturing to a chair. Archetype tipped his head in acknowledgment and sat down, nodding again to Rogue as he did so.
Xavier, who was sitting at one end of the table, tapped his fork on his glass to call for silence. "I want to be the first to welcome Mr. Riley to the mansion. While his arrival was a bit unusual, we hope that he will be able to contribute in his own way towards our dream. Mr. Riley, welcome to the school - and, perhaps, the X-Men." He raised his glass, with the rest of the table following his lead. No one noticed the frown on Scott's face as he joined the toast.
Archetype contributed little to the dinner conversation. Rogue, noticing this, decided to try and draw him out and turned towards him. "We don't take kindly to wallflowers here, mister," she said jokingly.
"What?" he said, somewhat startled. "I'm sorry, I was somewhere else. You were saying?"
"I was saying that we expect you to say something during the meal. This is a house, not a cafeteria."
"All right," he said, "Let's start with a few questions. What part of Mississippi are you from?" As he asked this last question, his voice acquired a perfect Mississippi drawl, causing both Rogue and Bobby to raise their eyebrows in surprise.
"How did you do that?" Bobby asked him.
"I can't really learn foreign languages very well," he replied, "but I'm very good at recognizing and mimicking accents. You," he said, his voice again changing, "are from Long Island, while Xavier himself is a native of the Westchester area." As he spoke, his voice changed to reflect the accent of the area he was talking about. "I can't place the origins of Storm or Wolverine yet," his voice returning to its quasi-Irish lilt, "but given time, I'll be able to mimic their accents as well."
"Is that Irish accent of yours real?" Bobby asked.
"Yes, but only because I spent the last three years in Ireland. In a few weeks, my speech will change again, probably becoming a mix of all of your accents combined. I think it's another byproduct of my power."
"Weird," Bobby said.
"Very," he agreed.
Henry, who was sitting across from him, spoke up. "Is there anything that we should know before your Danger Room session tomorrow?"
"Not that I can think of. I can assume that it's a safe bet that you won't try to kill me on my first dry run. Besides, if I think about it ahead of time, I'll screw up when the time comes to actually do the deed."
"Why do you say that?" Bobby asked.
"I'm at my best when I think on my feet. If I plan ahead, I wind up second guessing myself when the crunch comes, and the end result is usually that I wind up being paralyzed. I've found that I do better if I trust my intuition."
Henry nodded. "So you're an intuitive thinker?"
"I.N.F.P.," Archetype replied.
"Excuse me," Rogue said, "but I didn't quite catch that."
"I did," Henry told her. "I'll explain later." They all changed the subject to various small talk.
As dinner ended, Archetype offered to help Ororo and Bishop with cleaning up. As the other members broke up, Rogue tapped Henry on the shoulder. "Why was he spouting letters at you before?" she asked him.
He smiled. "He was telling me, in his own way, that he's going to be a difficult man to get to know well. Those letters are his score on a popular psychological test called the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. The test measures the type of personality that an individual has."
"So what does that score mean?"
"Well," he said, as they sat down in the living room, "I'll take it one part at a time. 'I' means that he's an introvert. As you've already noticed, that means he'll tend to be quiet and unassuming, and won't ever become a social butterfly. 'N' means, as he mentioned earlier, that he's an intuitive thinker. 'F' stands for feelings, and means that he's more likely to be interested in how things will affect people emotionally than with the bottom line. And 'P' stands for Perceiver, meaning that he sees things in relative terms, rather than in absolute categories of black and white."
"He mentioned as much earlier," she recalled. "So, how does that affect how we should treat him?"
"For now, I think it would be best if we let him set his own boundaries with us. If he wants to be involved with us on a non-professional basis, he'll say as much."
"Non-professional basis? You make it sound like this is a nine to five job."
"I have a feeling that he may hold that very view about all this for now. He just got here today, Rogue. Allow him a few days to get used to all of us. Besides, we'll all need time to get used to him."
"Well, I noticed that Scott doesn't seem to like him. Any ideas why?"
"I think that Scott's angry because he circumvented our security so easily. Sometimes he takes his job too seriously. And Scott's a very down to earth, practical individual. Archetype seems to take a more philosophical view of his power."
"Given what his power is, does he have a choice?"
"You may have a point. Did he mention anything to you about his background?"
"No, but I didn't ask, either. I don't think that I'm the person to try to look into a mysterious past."
"Because of your own background?"
She nodded affirmatively, then lay back a bit on the couch. "The X-Men have all been really good about my wanting to keep my past private. I owe him the same respect." As she spoke, she noticed Archetype starting up the main flight of stairs. "Hitting the sack early?" she asked him.
"Getting killed in the afternoon tends to tire me out by evening," he replied. "Besides, if my first training session is tomorrow, I want to be well-rested. When's reveille around here?"
"Around seven," Henry told him. "Wolverine is usually up with the sun."
"Well, I'll be up just after five, so I can get a run in. I'll see about breakfast when I'm done. Good night, all." He continued up the stairs.
"Good night," they both echoed after him.
"Well, he had a busy first day," Henry observed.
"No argument there," Rogue replied. "You think he'll fit in here?"
"I don't know, but it'll be interesting finding out."
As Archetype undressed for bed, he noticed that the moon was just rising in the sky. He gazed at it for a moment, turned out the light, then bowed his head slightly, whispering to himself for a moment. His words were inaudible, but the last few words sounded like "At the end of desire." He climbed under the bedsheets, then looked at the moon again.
"Not a bad start," he said to himself. "We'll see how it goes from here. Good night, Mother." He then fell asleep.
Chapter 4
Rogue was not usually an early riser, but the previous night had been warm, and she had opened her window and curtains before going to bed. The temperature had dropped considerably during the night, and she woke up shivering to find that the sun was rising. She was still half-asleep, and held an argument with herself for a moment about whether the effort of getting up to shut the window was really worth it. The desire for warmth held out against the desire for sleep, and so she got up and staggered to the window.
Rogue's window faced the southwest, giving her a good view of Spuyten Dyvil Cove in the distance. The cove was shrouded in mist; the sun had not yet burned away the night's precipitation. She was about to close the drapes and head back to bed for another hour or so of sleep when she noticed a shape moving rapidly along the small peninsula which jutted out into Breakstone Lake. The shape was moving towards the mansion at a good clip.
Rogue quickly shook off her sleepiness; she didn't want to alarm anyone else in the mansion just yet. A few months back, Jubilee had caused a major security panic when she had, while still half-asleep, mistaken a flock of migrating geese for a formation of incoming aircraft. Rogue had a low level of toleration for embarrassment, so she decided to get a closer look before sounding an alert. Rummaging through her closet, she found the binoculars that she sometimes carried with her when she went flying. She then turned back to the window, finding that the shape had moved considerably past the cove, and was nearing the docks. She held up the binoculars and focused on the shape in the distance.
It was Archetype, running at an incredibly rapid speed. Rogue had seen some fast sprinters before, but the only person she had met who moved faster than what she was seeing now was Pietro Maximoff, who was currently working under the name Quicksilver with X-Factor. As she watched, Archetype reached the docks, and moved back towards the mansion.
Rogue, for some reason, felt guilty about watching him. She quickly closed the curtains, and peeked through the space between them. As she observed, Archetype reached the patio at the back of the mansion, and stopped just before it, jogging in place for a few minutes, presumably to cool down. He stood there for a moment, bent over slightly, panting.
As he stood still for a moment, Rogue debated whether or not to reveal her presence to him in some way, finally deciding that some covert observation would be in line with Xavier's instructions to try to gain insight into the personality of the new arrival.
After he had caught his breath, Archetype stood up straight and removed the T-shirt that he had been wearing. Rogue had to suppress a gasp. His back was covered with scars. White tissue crossed his pink skin in a half-dozen different directions.
As she watched, he hopped up the steps of the patio, and went to an oblong box which lay on one of the benches. He threw the shirt onto the bench, and opened the box, removing a sheathed broadsword. He removed the sword from its scabbard, creating a resonant sound.
Through her long association with Logan, Rogue was familiar with most types of Oriental weaponry. The sword which Archetype carried was European in style, double edged, and about a meter long. The stance which he took however, was a classic pose in kendo. She watched him perform several katas, moving soundlessly, seemingly in perfect balance. The sword whistled through the air, making a somewhat chilling sound. The expression on his face was one of complete concentration, shutting out all distraction.
As he finished the maneuvers, he removed a cloth from the case, wiping the blade clean. He then sheathed the sword, placing it back in its box. He picked up the shirt and box, and went into the mansion.
Rogue decided that since she was already up, she might as well face the day. She took her morning shower, then put on a light blouse, jeans, sneakers, and her ubiquitous gloves. Looking at the clock, she saw that she had taken about half an hour. The others would start heading down for breakfast soon, so she decided to get a head start on them. She left her room, heading down to the kitchen.
Where she found Archetype reading the morning paper.
"Morning," he greeted her. "What would you like for breakfast?"
"Um, good morning," she replied. "Did you already eat?"
"No, I'm waiting for the water to boil. I was going to poach some eggs, but there's pancake batter in the refrigerator, and the sausage and bacon is being kept warm in the oven. The coffee is brewing, and should be ready in about two minutes."
"I think I'll just have eggs, too. Can I have two poached?"
"No problem." He took off his glasses, got up, walked over to the range, and put on a chef's apron. Three minutes later, Rogue was busily eating eggs and sausage, while Archetype cooked his own breakfast.
"Are you always up this early?" she asked.
"I tend to get my sleep in bits and pieces throughout the day. I actually sleep a bit longer than most people, but it's all divided up into two hours here, a half-hour there. I'm usually up before sunrise. How did you like my performance this morning?"
Rogue choked slightly on her orange juice at that, quickly regaining her composure. "How did you know I was watching you?" she asked him.
"My vision extends into the infrared, remember? I saw your heat signature through the window."
"Oh." She resumed eating. "Are you done with the paper?"
"Yes." He took his eggs out of the water, then sat down to eat. "What's the usual schedule around here, barring an emergency?"
"Well, training sessions are scheduled throughout the morning, and most of us take the early afternoon off. That's when we get any business in town or in our private lives done. We review our information files for the day from three to five, eat around seven, and hit bed around ten or eleven. As long as we don't bother anyone else or miss our training and duty time, we pretty much can come and go as we please. If you want a leave of absence, you ask the Professor."
He nodded. "All right. I'll keep that in mind. Good morning, Miss Munroe," he said, as Ororo appeared in the doorway leading to the front hall, clad in one of her dashikis.
"Good morning. Have you two been up long?"
"I just came down," Rogue replied.
"And I've been up for a while," Archetype added. "Would you like some pancakes?"
"Yes, please."
Archetype pulled a large bowl of pancake batter from the refrigerator, and started pouring some into the greased pan. While the pancakes were cooking, he took a small pitcher from the cabinet, filled it with maple syrup, and placed it in the pot of boiling water where he had poached the eggs earlier.
"Will breakfast be like this every morning, or are you trying to bribe us into accepting you?" Ororo teased him.
"To be honest, a little bit of both," he admitted with a wry smile. "The truth of the matter is that I love to cook, and it's been a long time since I've done it for anyone but myself. I'd forgotten how enjoyable it was." He flipped the pancakes, glancing over at Rogue. "Will the others be coming down soon?"
"Yep," she replied. "The main wave should be down any minute."
"Would you be kind enough to take the bacon and sausage out of the oven, then?"
"No problem." As she did so, Bobby and Logan came down. "What's with the spread?" Logan asked.
"I'm lulling you into a false sense of security," Archetype replied.
"Will we eat like this every day while you're doing the cooking?" Bobby asked.
"I suppose I could arrange it."
"Consider me lulled. Somebody pass the pancakes."
"How about you?" Archetype asked Logan.
"Can you manage a Texas one-eye stack?"
"Coming right up." As he placed another pan on the range, Warren came in. "What is this, The Frugal Gourmet?"
"I have a bit more hair than he does," Archetype replied. "Sit on down and dig in."
"What's a Texas one-eye stack?" Ororo asked Logan.
"A stack of flapjacks with a sunny-side-up egg on top."
"Sounds good," Bobby observed.
"Haven't had one in a long time. Last time was during the road trip I took with Alex."
"Alex?" Archetype asked, with a puzzled look. "Have I met him?"
"He's not based at the mansion anymore," Betsy supplied as she walked in, dressed in a dark blue
robe.
"Ah. Onward and upward?"
"He works for the government," Ororo supplied.
"A government operative? Val never mentioned him."
"There are several things about us that Val did not mention," Xavier said from the doorway.
"Hail, hail, the gang's all here," Warren yawned as he came in..
"I'm not quite here yet," Henry said sleepily from behind Xavier. "Let me get some coffee into me first."
"Any final requests for breakfast before I close up shop?"
"No sir," said Henry, "I shall be more than happy with the banquet which has been laid before me."
"Thank you, Doctor McCoy," Archetype said, bowing slightly.
"Are you ready for your Danger Room session today?" Xavier asked him.
"As ready as I suppose I can be. What time will it be?"
"You're scheduled for ten. We're setting your session at a low level of difficulty. You'll be perfectly safe."
"I wouldn't worry too much about that, Charles." Everyone turned to see Scott and Jean enter the kitchen. "The man isimmortal, after all. What could happen?"
"Quite a bit could happen, Mister Summers," Archetype replied. "It's true that I have not yet been in a situation where I have been permanently injured. However, I would say that it's a safe bet that you will be able to find many more imaginative ways of snuffing out my brief candle than I can even think of. Part of my reason for being here is to determine just what my limits are, because I could wind up being very dangerous if my other abilities go haywire while I'm injured. If anything happens to me that is beyond the scope of my ability to repair within a reasonable period of time, you have facilities here that can sustain me while I continue to heal, and, more importantly, three telepaths who can suppress my abilities during that time." He took off the apron, hanging it on a hook on the wall. "Well, I'm going back to my room for a while. I want to meditate for a bit. Hopefully, I can get a bit more focused before my session." He started towards the stairs, then stopped, returning to the table. "Forgot my glasses," he said, picking them up. He went back through the doorway, then stopped in mid stride, turning back towards them again. "I just realized that I have absolutely no idea where this 'Danger Room' is," he said sheepishly.
Xavier smiled at that. "We'll have somebody take you there."
"Thank you." He turned around again and walked out of sight.
"We're going to have to get used to that, I'm afraid," Henry said ruefully.
"Get used to what?" Logan asked him.
"Because of his condition, he has to deal with a lot more information at any given time than an ordinary person would. He acts on his intuition, because he almost never has a full picture of the situation.
He'll tend to forget things easily, too. We might want to consider factoring in extra training time with that it mind. Redundancy would be a big help."
"Well, we have enough time to get Scott's session in beforehand," said Xavier. "Let's get moving, everyone."
Warren knocked on the door to Archetype's room at a quarter to ten. When he received no answer, he went in, and stopped quickly, doing a double take.
The room had been totally redecorated. Filled bookshelves lined all free wall space, and a huge roll top desk was in one corner, joined with an overstuffed swivel chair. A full-length mirror was standing near the desk. An art-deco lamp stood beside the computer desk which had been placed in the opposite corner. As he walked in, Warren almost stumbled into the coat rack which had been placed beside the door.
Archetype lay on the bed, which had been moved to the only open wall space left in the room. He was flat on his back, dressed in a dark blue sweat suit, with his eyes closed. He's probably resting up, Warren thought. He walked to the side of the bed, placing his hand on Archetype's shoulder to shake him awake.
The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, the air had been pushed out from his lungs, and Archetype was looming over him, his right hand clawed like a hook just inches from Warren's throat.
A look of chagrin crossed Archetype's face, and he released his hold on Warren. "Sorry. I guess I'm a little tense about this test." He helped Warren up, and dusted him off. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. How do you move so fast?"
"Some of my abilities are subconscious. When I felt your hand on me, I went into overdrive. Instead of compressing distance, I was compressing time. Come on. I suppose that the others are waiting." He put on a pair of gloves that were lying on the night stand.
As they walked to the elevator, Warren asked "Can you move backwards in time?"
Archetype shook his head. "No. And compressing time is a bit of a strain. I can't do it for very long, only enough to make some sort of defensive move. It's not something that I'd want to be dependent on in a pinch." He paused for a moment. "Can you give me any suggestions that might prove useful for this?"
"Not really. I wasn't involved with designing the session. That was between Hank and the Professor. All I can tell you is to be careful."
"Thanks for the advice," Archetype said dryly, as the elevator stopped and the doors opened to the second sub-basement level of the mansion complex. As they exited, Archetype gaped at the Shiar-based technology which filled the room, ranging from holographic displays to weapons systems. "I'm not even going to ask where this all came from," he said. "I don't think I'd be able to handle the answer."
"Follow me," Warren said as they entered the control room area of the Danger Room. Jean, Ororo, Logan, and Henry were busily monitoring Scott, who was down in the Danger Room proper, firing his optic blasts at a series of moving targets. Archetype looked down through the control room window at Scott. "Very impressive," he noted.
"The technology or the man?" Jean asked him.
"Both," he answered. "I will, however, admit to being biased towards the human element." As he spoke, Scott fired a blast through a set of three rings, arrayed in a straight line, which were each rotating at a different rate. The blast went through the openings in the rings cleanly, without hitting the rings themselves.
"Amazing," Archetype marveled. "His ability to predict spatial location is phenomenal."
"That's it, Scott," Xavier spoke into a microphone. Scott nodded and entered a doorway directly beneath them. A few seconds later, he walked through a set of elevator doors adjacent to the control room.
"How'd I do?" he asked Logan.
"Totally clean."
"Good. Are you ready?" he asked Archetype.
"As ready as I suppose I can be."
"All right," Xavier said. "The object of this exercise is to reach and press the red control button which will be directly in front of you. Doing so will open the door which will let you out."
"And the room will do whatever it can to stop me, I suppose."
"Correct."
"Will a weapon be required for this exercise?"
Xavier looked doubtful for a moment. "Nothing at this setting can truly hurt you, but if you feel more comfortable being armed, I have no objection."
"To be honest, I feel undressed when I'm unarmed."
"Will you be using that pig-sticker you were using this morning?" Logan asked him.
"That would be my preferred weapon, yes."
"We can wait a few minutes while you get it," Xavier told him.
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary." Archetype's brow furrowed in concentration for a moment, and the box that Rogue had seen him with earlier appeared on the floor in front of him. He opened it, removing the sheathed sword that he had used earlier, . He made some adjustments to the strap of the scabbard, and slung the sword over his back so that the hilt of the sword was behind his right shoulder. He looked at Xavier again. "All I need to do is press the button, right?"
"Right. As soon as the elevator door opens, the exercise will begin. You will be timed."
"All right." He stepped into the elevator. Xavier pressed a button, and the elevator began its descent.
"Think he'll try the same stunt that Kitty pulled?" Logan asked the room.
"We've seen no evidence that he can become intangible," Xavier replied. "I doubt that he can."
"All set," said Archetype's voice from the intercom. He could be seen in the monitor which displayed the security view of the elevator.
"The test will begin in five seconds... three... two... one." The door to the Danger Room opened.
Archetype saw the button in front of him. One.
He moved his arm forward. Two.
The button registered as being triggered. Three.
Jean looked up from her monitor, stunned. "He's done."
The others all looked at her. "What?" they said in unison.
"He triggered the button." They looked at her monitor. She was right - the computer registered the scenario as over. They heard Archetype's voice over the intercom:
"Next!"
"I don't get it," Scott said. "How did you get through that so quickly?"
"Do we have a recording of the session?" Archetype asked. They had all moved to the de-briefing room, after a few arguments from Scott that there had to be something wrong with the program.
Xavier typed a command into the interface which linked the room with the Danger Room computer. "Coming up now."
They all saw, on the opposite wall, an image of the Danger Room as seen from the top. "Can you modify the image so that our point of view is parallel to the wall which I was facing?" Archetype asked.
Xavier nodded. "Wait one moment." The perspective of the wall shifted suddenly, showing the entrance at the top of the screen, on its side, and the trigger button on the bottom.
"Now play the recording," Archetype instructed. "Look at the bottom of the screen."
There was nothing for two seconds. Then there was a flash of black, and the button was depressed. "What was that shadow?" asked Warren.
"Get a close up on that image," Archetype continued, "and, if you can, show me in the elevator at the same time." Xavier typed at the keyboard for a few moments, and the wall became a split screen, showing the view of the Danger Room on the left, and of Archetype in the elevator on the right.
"Now rewind both images back and replay at slow motion."
"What speed?" asked Xavier.
"One-tenth should do it."
"All right. Playing at one-tenth speed." The image of the Danger Room remained static. After about seven seconds, however, Archetype's figure accelerated to a normal rate of speed. After fifteen seconds, one of his Doors appeared about fifteen inches in front of him. Another one appeared about three inches in front of the trigger button. It took around three seconds for Archetype to start moving his arm into the doorway in front of him. His hand disappeared into the door, reappearing at the same instant, and at the same rate of movement, as it came out of the doorway in front of the button. By twenty-four seconds, his hand had depressed the button, and he had removed his hand from the doorways by twenty-eight seconds. By thirty seconds, both doorways were closed.
"Any questions?" asked Archetype.
"How'd you move so quickly?" Logan queried.
"I folded space-time."
"Your reactions were accelerated as well." Henry said.
"Yes. When I place myself in a faster time rate, all my metabolic and mental functions are increased. That allows me time to plan my actions."
"How does that affect you physically?" Jean asked him.
"Well, I put on the gloves for a reason. If I hadn't been wearing them, my hand would have windburn."
"You'd heal from that, though," Scott pointed out.
"True, but why hurt myself when I don't have to? If we were in a combat situation, I'd wear the gloves, if for no other reason than to avoid being distracted by pain."
"What about your face?"
"Doesn't seem to be as susceptible to damage for some reason. I have no idea why."
"Can you do that while holding another person?" Xavier asked him.
"I can't give you an answer, because I've never tried it. If I were to test that, I think it would have to be with someone who couldn't get hurt anyway. If I were to try to move Mr. Drake in that manner, for example, I might melt him. And it would have to be someone that I could lift physically, which would place most of the male members of the team out of contention. I can't lift something and move it at accelerated speed at the same time."
"Maybe a weightlifting program would help in that department," Logan told him. "I can get you started on one today."
"Sounds reasonable," Archetype replied. "It might be best if we fit it into the afternoon, though. I do my daily run in the morning, and I'll need time to recover my strength."
"That raises a question," Xavier pointed out. "Rogue told me about your run this morning. Was what she was seeing your maximum speed?"
"Not even close," he replied. "That was what could best be termed my cruising speed. I haven't really been able to clock myself with any accuracy. When I compress distance, time becomes a little skewed for me. Everything moves in slow motion, and by the time I approach normal time again, enough time has passed that I can't get a proper reading. Maybe you guys have something that can overcome the problem."
"We'll set up an electric eye, and have you do a full circuit of the mansion grounds," Henry assured him. "Just be careful when you're near the gate."
Archetype nodded. "I'm aware that by most rights, I cheated. I'd like to go through that session again, using only my physical abilities this time, so you can see just what my combat abilities will be like. I'm aware of my weaknesses in combat, and I'd like to work on them."
Xavier nodded. "Fair enough. If you'll head down again, we'll restart the sequence." Archetype got up, and headed through the door back to the elevator. A few minutes later, Xavier was counting down to one again.
When the door opened this time, Archetype came out very slowly, looking warily at everything around him. He took one step forward, and slowly came out of the elevator, standing where the edge of the elevator met the floor.
"This run is a modification of the one Kitty did, right, Chuck?" Logan asked.
"Yes. I saw no reason to intensify the danger level for a trial run. I've switched a few things around, but it's basically the same program."
They continued to watch as Archetype continued walking farther into the Danger Room. "He'll hit the coils first," Xavier told the others. As if on cue, two steel coils, tipped with prehensile 'fingers', emerged from the walls on either side of Archetype and moved towards him. Before they reached him, however, he drew his sword with a quick motion and sliced off the top three feet of each coil. He then continued to move forward, safely out of the reach of the severed coils, which continued to flail uselessly in the air.
"That went well," Logan said with a grimace.
"We'll see how he does with the muffins," Henry replied.
"The muffins" was a nickname that Kitty had given to the barrage of dense foam cushions which flew out from the wall. Before he reached the trigger panel for the sequence, however, Archetype stopped and cocked his head, as if listening for something. He then sheathed his sword, unbuckled the scabbard, and then lay on his stomach, placing the scabbard on top of his arms. He splayed his arms out on either side of him, and pushed himself along the floor. When he did set off the trigger to the muffins, they passed harmlessly above him, with a margin of about six inches to spare. He continued to stay on the floor.
"He's using a standard low crawl," Logan remarked.
"I noticed," Xavier replied. "If he keeps moving like that, he'll avoid the sandwich." The sandwich, another term coined by Kitty, referred to the twin pile drivers, coated with padding, which emerged from their holographic hiding places in the walls and barreled towards Archetype, missing him just as the muffins had. He did, however, have a bit of difficulty moving beneath the padding, since he had only a few centimeters in which to maneuver. He wriggled out from underneath the padding, stretching somewhat when he stood up. He strode towards the door confidently.
"He's not noticing the trapdoor," Scott said, with a smile in his voice. "He won't make it."
About two feet from the trapdoor, however, Archetype stopped suddenly, as if reacting to a loud sound. As he did so, both Jean and Xavier made a similar reaction. They looked at one another. "Did you hear that too?" she asked him.
"Yes," he replied. "Do you have any idea what it was?"
"No," she replied, "but it was big." They returned their attention to the scene before them. Archetype looked at the door for a few seconds, then drew his sword again. He held the hilt in both hands so that the blade was pointed downward, raised it above his head, then jammed it about eighteen inches into the floor. He then stepped back about one meter, took one bouncy step, then leaped onto the hilt of the sword, keeping one foot balanced on the crosspiece as he continued forward, falling towards the wall. He slammed both hands against the wall, stopping his momentum. He then struck his hand against the trigger button. He rolled into a ball as the door opened, tumbling into the elevator.
Henry raised an eyebrow. "What was his time?"
"Just under four minutes," Logan replied.
"Still a very respectable time for a neophyte," Henry concluded. "For someone who hasn't received any formal training, he did very well." As he finished, Archetype came out of the elevator.
"Just what the devil was that noise?" Xavier asked him before he was out of the elevator.
Archetype looked shocked. "You mean you heard it, too?"
"Psionically, you made as much noise as a thunderclap," Jean informed him. "What was all that about?"
He shrugged. "It pretty much added up to one word. No. Like I told you last night, I tend to be an intuitive thinker. I sometimes get flashes of insight, telling me whether something is a good idea or not. I was about to step onto that plate when I realized that what I was about to do was incredibly stupid. What was on that thing, anyway?"
"A trapdoor," Henry answered. "You would have fallen into a holding cell below."
Archetype looked thoughtful for a moment. "That does make a bit of sense."
"You just lost me," Scott told him. "What makes a bit of sense?"
"I've developed a few theories regarding my abilities. I'm still working my way through them. I'd rather not discuss them until I've had some more time to think about it." He looked at Xavier. "Maybe some practice in learning how to make my abilities quieter is in order. If I made as much noise as you say I did, that could be a liability during an operation."
"We'll fit it in," Xavier assured him. "Why don't you go wash up?"
"I'd be glad to," he replied, "just as soon as someone directs me to the showers."
"I'll do it," Warren offered. He and Archetype left the room.
"Well?" Xavier asked when Warren had rejoined them in the de-briefing room, next door to the Danger Room control area.
"Well what?" Warren replied.
"It was meant as a question for everyone, Warren," Xavier told him. "What did you all think of his performance?"
"He's never received any military training?" Scott asked.
"Not as far as Val could tell, and she has some of the best sources on the planet."
"Of all the weapons he could use, why a sword?" Jean asked.
"Probably because swords have been used for thousands of years. Guns have only been in use for about five hundred. If he draws on the collective consciousness for his abilities, he has a greater pool of knowledge and experience to draw from if he uses an older weapon."
"Makes sense," Logan grumbled. "We'll have to train him on a firearm ourselves, then. I'll take care of that, along with the weightlifting program."
"While Jean and I take care of helping him find some way to reduce the amount of psychic noise he creates," Xavier said. "I wonder what kind of defenses he has."
"The fact that he's so difficult to scan could be considered a defense in itself," Jean mused. "That's only a passive defense, though. We'll have to work on active ones. What's he doing now, Warren?"
"He's back down there," he replied. "He wanted to get some of his own training time in, so I set up a pile of breaking blocks for him. I left him alone. He doesn't seem to be used to working with an audience."
"Well, we don't have to disturb him," Xavier said. He typed on the keyboard, and the wall showed an image of the Danger Room again. Archetype was setting up a stack of seven concrete blocks in front of him. He stood still for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing slowly. When he opened his eyes again, he took a step forward, inhaled deeply, and struck swiftly, breaking all seven blocks. There was a slight flickering of the screen as he did so, like a burst of static.
"Nice form," Logan remarked. "What's with the scars?"
"Rogue had noticed them earlier," Xavier said. "They look like burn scars."
"Remnants of his injury, maybe?" Warren suggested.
"Could be," Henry said. "There's something I wanted to mention to you, Charles. He indicated to me earlier that he's very shy. I doubt we're going to get much from him in a formal briefing."
"Maybe," Xavier admitted. "It may be a good idea for some of us to talk with him outside the mansion." He tapped the intercom button on the panel. "Rogue?"
"Yes, Professor?" her voice answered.
"Would you and Robert be opposed to taking Archetype out for dinner tonight?"
"No problem," she replied. "Any agenda in mind?"
"Just see if you can get him to open up a bit. The more we know about his personality, the more we'll be able to help him learn about his abilities, since they seem to be mental in nature."
"All right. We'll take him out to the usual place for the traditional X-Men welcoming feast. See you later."
Xavier looked confused for a moment. "The usual place?"
The others looked at one another with a twinkle in their eyes, then back at Xavier.
"Harry's," they said in unison.