The X-Project

It seems yesterday's moving was a little more strenuous than someone was expecting, because Marius goes out looking for a jog and finds himself having another Incident instead -- much to the misfortune of one of his schoolmates.





Sweating. He was sweating far too much. Marius braced himself against the trunk of a tree and stared up through the leaves blearily, blinking against the cloudless blue sky. Why was he in the middle of the woods again? Oh, right. Jogging. That would explain the sweat. Ah, well then. He checked for his water-bottle, then remembered he hadn't brought one. Well, that had been silly of him. He needed water. It was important to stay hydrated. But odd that he'd need to so soon -- he hadn't gone far yet. Strange, that. When he'd set out he hadn't been able to stop moving. That was why he'd gone for a run. To wind down.

Breathing heavily, Marius dropped himself into a graceless crouch by the side of the path, one hand still resting against the trunk. He knew he should go back, but he was exhausted. He would get up. He just needed to rest a minute. Just long enough to get his breath back. That was all. He would get up again in a minute.

The weather was perfect, not altogether too hot, and not yet humid enough that Marie-Ange wanted to hide inside the air-conditioner. Which didn't explain at all why she kept feeling almost like she was going to stumble or run into something or get attacked by an orge.

Perhaps the ogre was a bit much, Marie-Ange thought. And she really needed to cut a few seconds off this run. Seattle had shown her that there was just no such thing as being able to run too fast. So, more running, before the weather got too sticky to run outside. Treadmills were so boring.

Marius heard the rapid staccato of footsteps approaching, but didn't turn to look. His head was hanging in a perfectly comfortable position at the moment. There was no reason to bring himself to move. He was well to the side of the path at any rate. Whoever it was could just go around him.

It wasn't unusual to see someone at the side of the path. It wasn't unusual to see Marius -on- the path. Marius on the side of the path looking like he was about to pass out was the last thing Marie-Ange expected to see. She stopped, a few steps beyond where he was, and pulled out her phone, intent on hitting the emergency pager if he was in really bad shape.

"Marius?"

The question came to him as if his head were below the surface of a lake -- distorted, distant. Visual input almost failed to register; it was the tang of her genetic signature that supplied her identity. Redhead, he remembered vaguely, one of the many . . . for a bare second his eyes flickered to the young woman's face, then slid closed.

"Marius!" Marie-Ange knelt down, and reached forward towards Marius. He was breathing, she could see that - breathing heavily, even. No need to check his pulse. If she could get him to stand up, she thought maybe she could help him back to the mansion, and down to the infirmary. Obviously he'd exhausted himself.

In the end, it was the proximity that undid him. Serious marrow-depletion had put him close to the edge, and physical contact with another mutant was more than enough to push him over. In that instant conscious thought failed, then instinct took over.

As Marie-Ange began to tug him up his hands snapped out with frightening speed to clench around her wrist and forearm. His touch brought a rip of pain as the teeth on his palms stabbed through the cloth of his gloves to engage feeding, the grip doubly secured by fingers and mouths both. Hands tightening at her instinctive jerk back, the boy fixed Marie-Ange with wild, dialated eyes, his mouth twisted in a silent snarl.

"Non! Marius.. " Marie-Ange shouted, and tried to pull away before the teeth in Marius' palms dug in too deeply. But he was too far gone to register her yelling, and she knew struggling wouldn't help. They'd all been warned, that Marius' powers turned their own against them.

She should've stayed back and called for help, Marie-Ange realized. Because that warning had come with information about Marius's symptoms when he needed to feed. She should've remembered.

In the face of Marie-Ange's rigidly enforced self control the curl to Marius' lips smoothed back, and the pressure around her arm diminished slightly. The pain, too, was abating as the analgesic secretion to his hands began to take effect. Marius fed, and calmed.

And then, just as suddenly as the attack had begun, it was over. The mouths disengaged and the boy slid away, crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut.

It was over faster than she thought - and if Marius hadn't been there, passed out on the ground, Marie-Ange would've probably done a little panicing herself, or possibly just going and quietly having a nervous breakdown in her room.

But she couldn't just leave him there. He wasn't really at fault. Marie-Ange hit the emergency pager button on her phone - the one she should've hit straight away in the first place. Not that it would've probably done a lot to prevent the attack, she thought. "Dr. Voght? Marius is on the north jogging trail, a mile in, he has collapsed." A pause, and then she added. "He attacked me. He will probably not be very coherant when he comes to, if he has picked up any of the precognition.."