Chapter Fourteen: Chris' Mission
[Chris Martin POV]:
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Chris knocked on the door of the geodesic dome, making his presence even more evident than it had been before to a guy with enhanced senses. It wasn't like Lewis' head of security was even remotely attempting to hide his presence to begin with, not that he couldn't if he wanted to, of course. He just doubted the effort would be appreciated by the one known as the "Hunter" very much.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Christ knocked 3 more times before his own enhanced senses picked up on the energy of presence attempting to hide silently in the darkness of the small glass dome of the house before him. He smirked.
"You know I can sense you hiding in there," Chris said, amusement clear in his voice. "Your ability to hide your presence is impressive, especially in open environments and during your hunts, but it means little to someone who can hear your heartbeat, sense your energy and feel your presence."
A pause.
Then a reveal of a older individual, in their late twenties/early thirties, looking like an exact replica of Aaron Taylor-Johnson, came into view. He was buff, too, likely a result of his hunter's life and enhanced physique. He dressed in a grey shirt and black sweats, a white band across the ankles of each legsleeve.
He observed Chris through the glass of the door, the Hunter's golden eyes glowing gold in suspicion. "Who are you and what do you want?"
"Name's Christopher, but you can just call me Chris," Chris said, his own eyes glowing crimson in response to Sergei's golden glow, surprising the hunter. "Can I come inside? I've come a long way. We should talk."
Narrowing his eyes in contemplation, Sergei eventually decided to open his door, letting Chris inside.
"So you want to work with the 'Hunter' as a protégé?" questioned an amused Sergei. "What makes you think I am this 'Hunter,' as you call him, kid?" chuckled Sergei.
"I know for a fact that you are Kraven the Hunter," Chris said, his certainty startling Sergei.
"I have an energy presence sensory ability that lets me see, sense and track anyone or anything via their specific energy output," Chris explained, seeing the golden-black energy surrounding the man before him. "And your energy signature is vibrant, primal and wild —- The exact kind of energy signature one would associate with a powerful predator — And I've done my research. I know who you are, Hunter."
This gave the man pause, as he tilted his head in consideration. Then he asked, "If I were this 'Kraven the Hunter,' from what I've heard so far, I would be an isolationist. Why should I take on a protégé?"
This made Chris pause, looking down, contemplating. Mistaking his silence for an answer, Sergei frowned. "Go home, kid. I work al—"
"My family were murdered," Chris released a bombshell, instantly silencing the hunter. "I was 6, but I remember it clearly. Earlier that day my parents were patrolling their animal sanctuary when they saw the poachers. They managed to fight back, but my mother was shot down, as was my father. I remember hiding in the tall grass, watching it all."
Listening to Chris' story, Sergei's eyes darkened. The hunter began feeling a sense of relatability — this boy was a kindred spirit; he could feel it. A lost soul forced through grief to become something else— a tool of vengeance or a machete of violence.
'Both, it would seem with that gaze,' Sergei took note of Chris' rageful eyes, the hatred, the bloodlust. 'He's got the eyes… the eyes of a predator on a mission. Can he handle it, though… taking a life?'
"I was found by the authorities eventually and put up for adoption by a loving family — the Blakes' — but the scene of my parents' deaths stayed with me," Chris explained, his fury still red hot. "After years of investigating, I only recently learned of the mysterious organization behind my parents' murder, and I dare not speak their name lightly."
"What was their name?" Sergei asked curiously.
"They called themselves…" Chris began with a shudder of rage. "A.I.M."
'The hatred with which he said that name…,' Sergei narrowed his eyes. 'He has the fire. Maybe taking him under myself will be better for him…? He did actively seek me out when he could've sought out any other individuals, even the scummy ones… And yet there lies the problem: he actively sought me out. Who knows his true intentions? What if this story is…? No, you can't fake that kind of hatred. But what to do? Could I really afford a protégé without drawing more attention to myself?'
Chris nodded internally at Sergei's thoughts, his plan working exactly as predicted. 'You can't take this nobody, that is true. The irony is, I am genuinely not. Faking it, that is.'
One of the powers granted to Chris by the cosmic cloud sample the Boss injected him with was his signature red lightning ability — However, what the others didn't know was that that lightning wasn't just raw power; it was raw, negative temporal energy that, when focused on himself alongside high enough willpower, gives Chris the ability to introduce a tragedy into his life and dictate the effect of said tragedy, but only as a past event. It essentially rewrites the reality of his past to create pre-decided effects on his present and future, but only through tragedy.
'So AIM truly did do all I said they did, and my hatred for them — and, by extension, HYDRA — is genuine,' Chris thought. "The only downside is that once a tragedy is created in my past it cannot be undone. However, because I never really existed up to more than a few months ago, I have ample time to add tragedies to my life. I still have to be careful because once a tragedy is added, its effects and the event itself is permanent, so I do not have infinite uses, but I have more uses of this ability on myself than others would have on themselves if they were born and created naturally, so I'm not too worried about this.'
"If I were to train you, take you on as my protégé, what will you do with your training afterward?" Sergei raised a brow.
"I would hunt the bastards that killed my parents, and kill them in cold blood," Chris said, clenching his fist as his eyes blazed crimson.
'He's old enough to be an adult, maybe a few years younger than me,' Sergei thought. 'That said, maybe I shouldn't rush it yet… This life, the blood, the vengeance… it's unpredictable… He'll make enemies…He'll always be at risk. Its not a life I would impart on anyone else.'
"I'll think about it," Sergei answered at last. "If I do take you on as a protégé, however, you will have to—"Sergei began, when Chris abruptly turned in a certain direction, surprising Sergei who remembered what the young man's ability was. "What is it?" the Hunter asked. "What do you sense?"
"You have intruders on your land," Chris said, donning his black overcoat, as Sergei suited up without question.
"Where are they?" Sergei asked.
"Southwest of this place, near the entrance," Chris answered. "Poachers. They're already attacking the animals."
"Let's go, then," Sergei said, leading the way, already having picked up the scents of the intruders.
[Entrance to the Sanctuary, Moments Later]
[General POV]:
Appearing at the entrance of the sanctuary, two young men watched the two approaching vehicles up the dirt road. One was a man dressed in a dark aviator jacket, cargo pants and a pair of well-worn boots, his hands stuffed in his aviator coat. The second was dressed in a red shirt, black sweatpants, a black overcoat and crimson fingerless leather gloves. Neither said a thing as the trucks approached — that was before Chris did…
"Do you want my help?" Chris asked bluntly, already knowing the answer.
"I'll live without it," Sergei said without losing track of the approaching trucks. "Watch carefully, though."
"Understood," Chris acknowledged, stepping to the side as the trucks slowed down before them. He watched Sergei's interaction with poachers silently.
Chris' natural mastery over the human language (all human languages) giving him near native-tongue-level understanding over the words exchanged
"This is private property," Sergei said to the observing truckers in Russian. "So I was wondering… if you were gonna lock up before you leave?"
Move!" was the driver's response, as the second smaller vehicle wheeled around beside the first, the passenger standing up. "Move!"
"Why is it that you kill the animal and only take the horns?" Sergei asked, clearly unphased.
"Because we can," the passenger said boldly, causing Sergei to turn to him in astonishment.
" 'Because you can' ?" he asked, in English.
"Out of the way," the passenger scoffed. "There's only six of us and only one of you."
'There's six of you now,' Chris thought.
"There's six of you now," Sergei murmured just loud enough for the passenger to hear.
"Ain't got time for this," the passenger said to the driver. "Let's go."
And so they drove forward, as Sergei took off his coat, throwing it to the side. Chris used his telekinesis to catch it, noticing how the hunter slid under the truck, climbed up the back and took out the two men quite brutally with his curved hunting daggers, before jumping from the passenger window, daggering the driver's throat and biting out the eye of the passenger and spitting it to the car beside them.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The passenger fired at Sergei, who ducked to dodge. And as the driver drove away, Chris took note of the presence pulse his telepathy telling him that Sergei had done the same.
'So ruthless and vicious,' Chris thought, impressed. 'No wonder Boss suggested him. He'll make an excellent figurehead… for my Organization.'
"I assume you already have their scent," Chris said, a statement, not a question.
"Mmm," Sergei narrowed his eyes at the retreating figure of the smaller truck. "Can you keep up?"
"Can I keep up?" Chris merely chuckled, then challenged. "Can you?"
And the two dashed into motion, both moving faster than any normal human would've even been able to…
[Luke Blake POV]:
Meanwhile, a few miles east of the X-Mansion, Luke had just finished his fight with Exodus, the enemy psychic falling to the ground unconscious, with Luke standing over the orange-skinned mutant's body, unphased and cold-gazed, his own blue button down and jeans littered with cuts that weren't strong enough to draw blood.
"He— he beat him?" one of the enemy mutants murmured, the battlefield calm and silent.
"He beat Exodus," another murmured.
But Luke wasn't paying them any attention. Why? Because, in the distance, he could see the arrival of a group of Sentinels, their eyes locked on the battlefield of mutants before them…