Status: Updated on random occasions
Invictus
Questions
Half an hour later, I was walking into the ship’s cafeteria, which had been emptied of people. I had replaced my wet clothes with dry civilian ones. My dark jeans, which were slightly too tight, were tucked into my short cloth boots. My tank top made a few of my tattoos visible. Across my back, from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, the last two lines of a William Henley poem were inked in gothic text. Then there was the six digit number tattooed across my left forearm. The serial number 481516 was inked into my skin in an austere script.
Sitting at one of the long tables was the same group of people who had greeted me on deck. Charles and the other man had also changed into dry clothes. They were in the middle of a conversation when I made me presence known. “You wanted to talk to me, Coulson?” I said with a faint smile. I had decided to reconsider my previous unfriendly behavior. I never meant to me a callous person but things happen.
“Oh, there you are Richter.” Coulson said, ending the previous conversation. I took a seat next to my boss, but I left an empty chair between us. With the amount of skin I had exposed, I took extra precautions. Coulson no longer noticed or found aspersion towards the empty space. It was a rare occasion when I felt comfortable enough to shred my usual black turtleneck and he refused to spoil it for me. Coulson had never been on the receiving end of my mutation but he knew it wasn’t a walk in the park for me to control it.
In order to heal the damaged of my first impression, I decided to reintroduce myself, first to Charles Xavier. I extended a gloved hand. “I would like to apologize for my previous behavior. I didn’t mean to come off so insolent. My name is Gabriele Richter.”
Charles seemed completely taken aback by my change in tone, but he shook my hand none the less. “Phil explained that you weren’t exactly a people-person.” He said in his prefect British accent.
“Yes, well, I don’t get paid to be a people-person.” I said with a return smile.
“What exactly do you get paid for?” The still unnamed man asked. The man, who was sitting to the right of Charles, was wearing a dark blue turtleneck under a brown leather jacket. What really caught my attention was his faint German accent. In the second I took to response, I noticed his eyes flash to the serial number on my arm.
“Ich töte menschen. Ironisch, nicht wahr?” I kill people. Ironic, isn’t it? The German was lost on the everyone else, but the man gave me a small smile. But Charles wasn’t far behind. His eyes, too, flickered to my arm.
“What a minute. How old are you?” I’m sure I would get this response more if I told everyone my life story.
“I was born in 1928. So, I’m 34. I’m older than I look.” I said with another smile. If I kept this up, my face would start hurting. “I believe my lack of aging has something to do with my mutation.” I said off-handily.
That was when Moira and the little blonde girl spoke at the same time. “You’re a mutant?” Apparently Charles hadn’t spilled his guts on whatever he learned while he was in my head. “What can you do?” Raven said with a new found fascination in her voice.
Her request made me uncomfortable. I looked to Coulson for help but his face held nothing of the kind. So, without hesitation I removed one of the knives which were hidden in my boots while simultaneously removing my left glove. I pressed the blade to the palm of my hand and pulled it downwards. The blade made a small cut and a trickle of blood made its way down my palm.
Erik Lehnsherr watched in mild awe as the woman slit her palm. Just when he thought the wound threatened to cover her hand in blood, it disappeared. The cut simply healed itself; the separated skin molded back together and not even a scar was left behind.
Erik was not sure how to perceive the woman sitting before him. Her brown hair was cut short and held a slight curl. Her hair was the same color as her big, oval eyes. Not since Auschwitz’s liberation had Erik met another Holocaust survivor. And never another mutant. The day had been full of surprises.
“Cool!” The juvenile blonde, who sat on the side of Charles, said with glee. “What else can you do?”
Immediately, the woman became uncomfortable again. A tension that had been unnoticeable showed itself in her squared shoulders and clenched jaw. Erik watched with curiosity as she fidgeted with the small knife. For a brief moment, the woman seemed determine not to provide an answer but then she seemed to change her mind.
I wasn’t sure how to answer her, or if I even wanted to give her an answer. An awkward silence filled the air. Coulson simply looked at me and, once again, offered no help. I thought about lying, saying that I had no other abilities. But that seemed counter-productive. In the end, I would just appear as a liar. I was many things, but I was not a liar. So, in the end, I settled on being vague. “My other ability, which manifested a year or two after my advanced healing, isn’t the prettiest or the safest thing.” Even as I said it, I knew it wouldn’t satisfy their interest.
“Can you, like, cause things to explode or something?” Raven’s nosiness was starting to annoy me.
Charles noticed that I was on the verge of relapsing to my former, rude behavior. Being overly nice and accommodating was a chore for me. So, he changed the subject. “We’ll come back to that later, Raven. But right now, I believe Phil has something to discuss with us.”
Sitting at one of the long tables was the same group of people who had greeted me on deck. Charles and the other man had also changed into dry clothes. They were in the middle of a conversation when I made me presence known. “You wanted to talk to me, Coulson?” I said with a faint smile. I had decided to reconsider my previous unfriendly behavior. I never meant to me a callous person but things happen.
“Oh, there you are Richter.” Coulson said, ending the previous conversation. I took a seat next to my boss, but I left an empty chair between us. With the amount of skin I had exposed, I took extra precautions. Coulson no longer noticed or found aspersion towards the empty space. It was a rare occasion when I felt comfortable enough to shred my usual black turtleneck and he refused to spoil it for me. Coulson had never been on the receiving end of my mutation but he knew it wasn’t a walk in the park for me to control it.
In order to heal the damaged of my first impression, I decided to reintroduce myself, first to Charles Xavier. I extended a gloved hand. “I would like to apologize for my previous behavior. I didn’t mean to come off so insolent. My name is Gabriele Richter.”
Charles seemed completely taken aback by my change in tone, but he shook my hand none the less. “Phil explained that you weren’t exactly a people-person.” He said in his prefect British accent.
“Yes, well, I don’t get paid to be a people-person.” I said with a return smile.
“What exactly do you get paid for?” The still unnamed man asked. The man, who was sitting to the right of Charles, was wearing a dark blue turtleneck under a brown leather jacket. What really caught my attention was his faint German accent. In the second I took to response, I noticed his eyes flash to the serial number on my arm.
“Ich töte menschen. Ironisch, nicht wahr?” I kill people. Ironic, isn’t it? The German was lost on the everyone else, but the man gave me a small smile. But Charles wasn’t far behind. His eyes, too, flickered to my arm.
“What a minute. How old are you?” I’m sure I would get this response more if I told everyone my life story.
“I was born in 1928. So, I’m 34. I’m older than I look.” I said with another smile. If I kept this up, my face would start hurting. “I believe my lack of aging has something to do with my mutation.” I said off-handily.
That was when Moira and the little blonde girl spoke at the same time. “You’re a mutant?” Apparently Charles hadn’t spilled his guts on whatever he learned while he was in my head. “What can you do?” Raven said with a new found fascination in her voice.
Her request made me uncomfortable. I looked to Coulson for help but his face held nothing of the kind. So, without hesitation I removed one of the knives which were hidden in my boots while simultaneously removing my left glove. I pressed the blade to the palm of my hand and pulled it downwards. The blade made a small cut and a trickle of blood made its way down my palm.
Erik Lehnsherr watched in mild awe as the woman slit her palm. Just when he thought the wound threatened to cover her hand in blood, it disappeared. The cut simply healed itself; the separated skin molded back together and not even a scar was left behind.
Erik was not sure how to perceive the woman sitting before him. Her brown hair was cut short and held a slight curl. Her hair was the same color as her big, oval eyes. Not since Auschwitz’s liberation had Erik met another Holocaust survivor. And never another mutant. The day had been full of surprises.
“Cool!” The juvenile blonde, who sat on the side of Charles, said with glee. “What else can you do?”
Immediately, the woman became uncomfortable again. A tension that had been unnoticeable showed itself in her squared shoulders and clenched jaw. Erik watched with curiosity as she fidgeted with the small knife. For a brief moment, the woman seemed determine not to provide an answer but then she seemed to change her mind.
I wasn’t sure how to answer her, or if I even wanted to give her an answer. An awkward silence filled the air. Coulson simply looked at me and, once again, offered no help. I thought about lying, saying that I had no other abilities. But that seemed counter-productive. In the end, I would just appear as a liar. I was many things, but I was not a liar. So, in the end, I settled on being vague. “My other ability, which manifested a year or two after my advanced healing, isn’t the prettiest or the safest thing.” Even as I said it, I knew it wouldn’t satisfy their interest.
“Can you, like, cause things to explode or something?” Raven’s nosiness was starting to annoy me.
Charles noticed that I was on the verge of relapsing to my former, rude behavior. Being overly nice and accommodating was a chore for me. So, he changed the subject. “We’ll come back to that later, Raven. But right now, I believe Phil has something to discuss with us.”