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fan_flashworks2016-01-10 06:53 pm
clarasteam) wrote in fan_flashworks2016-01-10 06:53 pm
Entry tags:
X-Men First Class: Fanfic: Fortune
Title: Fortune
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: X-Men First Class
Rating: PG
Length: 333 words
Content notes: no warnings apply
Characters: Charles Xavier, Sebastian Shaw
Summary: Charles gets his fortune told.
A/N: Part of the Patterns of Light series. Thanks to Owl-by-night for encouraging me to write this idea out, and to everyone who has borne with my epic whining about this noir AU.
The fortune-telling automaton in the glass case waves its arms and nods its turbaned head. Its deep mechanical voice is saying something, and the arcade attendant's radio is still blaring, but Charles can't hear either of them over the ringing in his ears.
Shaw. Escaped from custody, with Emma Frost by his side. MacTaggert must have been crazy to think she'd ever get them to trial; what prison could hold them? How many officers had the CIA and the FBI lost already, trying to bring Shaw down?
“... do not on any account approach these dangerous mutants, but call 703-482-0623,” the radio announcer says.
And a lot of good that is, Charles thinks bitterly. By the time Shaw and Emma got close enough for anyone to recognize them, that person would be as good as dead. He knows what happened to the telepath before Emma.
I like to keep things moving, Shaw had said, watching the smoke-rings from his post-coital cigar drift in the breeze from the ceiling fan. I find if people stay in one job too long, they get stale. The mental image that went with the words, a long narrow hole in the ground with a sheet-wrapped bundle at the bottom of it, had been as clear to Charles as if the grave lay in the middle of the bedroom floor. He'd wondered then if Shaw meant it as a boast or a warning; now he thinks it was probably both.
The fortune-telling machine buzzes and spits out a black and yellow card with a fancy border. Charles puts his hand out automatically to take it, and stares down at the printed message:
A dear one will return from a long trip and your whole life will be different.
“And with that, we return you to our scheduled programming,” the announcer says perkily, and the radio bursts into song:
Ain't no mountain high enough,
Ain't no valley low enough,
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you...
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: X-Men First Class
Rating: PG
Length: 333 words
Content notes: no warnings apply
Characters: Charles Xavier, Sebastian Shaw
Summary: Charles gets his fortune told.
A/N: Part of the Patterns of Light series. Thanks to Owl-by-night for encouraging me to write this idea out, and to everyone who has borne with my epic whining about this noir AU.
The fortune-telling automaton in the glass case waves its arms and nods its turbaned head. Its deep mechanical voice is saying something, and the arcade attendant's radio is still blaring, but Charles can't hear either of them over the ringing in his ears.
Shaw. Escaped from custody, with Emma Frost by his side. MacTaggert must have been crazy to think she'd ever get them to trial; what prison could hold them? How many officers had the CIA and the FBI lost already, trying to bring Shaw down?
“... do not on any account approach these dangerous mutants, but call 703-482-0623,” the radio announcer says.
And a lot of good that is, Charles thinks bitterly. By the time Shaw and Emma got close enough for anyone to recognize them, that person would be as good as dead. He knows what happened to the telepath before Emma.
I like to keep things moving, Shaw had said, watching the smoke-rings from his post-coital cigar drift in the breeze from the ceiling fan. I find if people stay in one job too long, they get stale. The mental image that went with the words, a long narrow hole in the ground with a sheet-wrapped bundle at the bottom of it, had been as clear to Charles as if the grave lay in the middle of the bedroom floor. He'd wondered then if Shaw meant it as a boast or a warning; now he thinks it was probably both.
The fortune-telling machine buzzes and spits out a black and yellow card with a fancy border. Charles puts his hand out automatically to take it, and stares down at the printed message:
A dear one will return from a long trip and your whole life will be different.
“And with that, we return you to our scheduled programming,” the announcer says perkily, and the radio bursts into song:
Ain't no mountain high enough,
Ain't no valley low enough,
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you...
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