Chapter 14: Control the Ferocity.

Training commenced after the lengthy Gym intro given by Hank, and Bronte couldn't have dreamed of the things he was seeing or doing within the large metal cage that was the training area.

Bronte didn't have a single memory of running where he didn't feel half dead by the end of it. But with his new Mutant abilities, his cardiovascular health seemed to explode in growth. Part of the group warm-ups led by Daken was cardio. He said it was one of the most essential parts of combat. So, they'd been running for the past hour straight. In fact, a few of the Training Squads had already left the Gym. And their warm-up hadn't yet finished.

It was a simple warm-up. One he used to watch the Midtown High Basketball Team do whenever they lost a game badly the day before. They were called suicides. And by the time he was thirty minutes into them, he understood why. The fact that they were running a football fields length of ground didn't help matters.

He found that watching the Training-Squads sprinkled across the grounds helped him forget about the onset soreness in his calves and hamstrings as he sprinted up and down the gym. Then again, it wasn't like he could look anywhere else.

They were unreal. All of them. Every single one. Sam-- the nice southern accented teen, he'd met at breakfast and been assisted by all throughout the day had powers he didn't even understand. He stood on the metal floors, the rest of his group spread far apart as he generated orange and purple flaming waves of light. They caused his body to vibrate and shake violently to the point that his frame was a blur. A blur that was steadily being blasted by eyebeams from Cyclops and..... whatever Havoc was doing.

They'd been doing it for the past twenty minutes after the two Professors had tired out of their other energy conjuration Mutants. He was durable in ways Bronte couldn't imagine. He didn't heal like Daken or spontaneously grow armor like Illyana. The energy around him seemed to make him impenetrable.

He almost tripped when the student suddenly exploded and flew straight upward like a rocket. His head smashed into the ceiling before he flew back to the ground with a heavy slam.

"God-- damn!" Bronte said as he flinched and skittered to a stop-- contemplating whether he should check on Sam or not.

Then, Sam got up. He itched his head with a knuckle as he laughed with his Squad mates.

"You lasted five minutes longer than last week under continuous pressure. If only you didn't.... lose composure at the end there. Great progress, Cannonball." Cyclops said, his voice seemed about as stiff as his posture.

The others in the area laughed at the on the nose moniker. Bronte smiled--

"Hey-- The hell are you doing? Move your ass!" Daken yelled as he ran to catch up to him.

"Oh-- My fault...." Bronte replied before continuing his running drills.

Another few minutes passed. His muscles both loosened, warm and tired. More people wrapped up their training. Some people even goofed off, playing their own sort of Mutant ability improvised games. There were only a few more Training-Squads left.

At the end of the gym, a massively built man with bronze skin, long shadowy hair and a bowie knife worked in close combat with a group of students. The only one he recognized was Danielle. Another student he'd met at breakfast. She wasn't much of a talker-- even so they conversed briefly. She liked riding horses. He could've forgotten such a fact easily the moment she suddenly spawned a number of clones around the man she was fighting.

That didn't seem to change the odds of her Professor, Warpath, winning. Bronte cringed at the sound of her being body slammed as he passed.

"HEHEHehehe! Your stalker's watching again, brotherrrr!" Raze whispered in his ear as he zipped past him, moving in a blur. Sometimes on all fours and other times running on the walls that he stuck to effortlessly.

As Bronte ran after him, he began to understand what the crazy Mutant meant. The chilling gaze of her eyes was impossible to ignore. He turned his head hesitantly to view her station in the gym. And there she was.

The giant metal man. The other Professors called him Peter or Colossus. He took on Rahne and Illyana in an intense sparring match. Rahne looked unrecognizable. She was considerably more muscular and covered in tawny brown fur. Her eyes even glowed as she slashed and cut at Colossus' impenetrable skin. Illyana seemed to run the offensive though. She was fast and as slippery as she looked. Dancing around the field like a ballerina-- if ballerina's wore ancient armor and wielded flaming blue swords.

She barely stood still in the battle, but whenever she did. He found her glowing eyes focused on him as he ran--

"Stop."

Bronte stopped reflexively, inches from Daken's chest as he reached their starting point for the thousandth time. It seemed their warmups were over.

Daken soundlessly led them back over to their corner where Laura and Hank remained, looking over a paper of sorts. Once they arrived, the two looked them over before they began speaking.

"Alright, Bronte. Do you feel tired?" Hank asked while looking at him from the rim of his glasses that had found a way back on his monstrous face sometime between when he started and finished running.

Bronte didn't know exactly what he felt. Tired usually meant a pulsing headache followed by a coppery taste rising from his lungs. Sure, he was the only one breathing hard after the warmup. But..... it sounded crazy to think. He felt like he could keep going.

"I'm straight." Bronte replied, working to steady his breaths. It felt good.

"Naturally. Like the others you seem to have a carbon copy of Wolverine's Mutant abilities... with some extra steps. Maybe derived from another in your family-- or simply spawned within you by chance. The point is, you have high level regeneration-- according to word of mouth from your siblings here. You have heightened stamina, speed and senses... one thing did stick out in your blood work though." Hank said as he looked from Bronte to the paper.

Raze, Gabbie and Daken lightly shadow-boxed behind him.

"Brandish your..... natural weapons for me, please." Hank said, trying his best to sound professional in his request.

Bronte raised a fist, causing the claws to burst from his skin. He was still partially stunned by the action.

"Yes. Unlike the others, you seem to have the ability to generate a unique organic metal-- similar to Piotr.... interesting." Hank said.

"That doesn't matter." Daken huffed from behind them.

"What-- why not?" Bronte asked in confusion.

"The transformation, Hank." Daken persisted.

Bronte suddenly remembered hearing Hank speak about some metamorphosis when he first woke up in The Xavier Institute. He didn't think too much of it until now. Apparently, metamorphosis didn't end with his body physically progressing as it had so far.

"Right." Hank started, "Well. The main goal of your training here actually has nothing to do with the abilities you share with your siblings. And has everything to do with this...uhhh... Storm-State, they say you entered. I understand you don't remember, and that's because the trigger at this point seems to be tied to a generational feral rage you all share. We need to help you learn how to harness it. The storms that you seemingly have conditional control over.... I mean."

As Hank said storm, his face darkened, and his body went rigid. As if he too was affected by the metaphorical bomb he'd just dropped on Bronte's chest..... or something else entirely.

"Control over storms..... damn-- that is ironic." Bronte whispered. Suddenly his dreams of the Monster in the Storm didn't feel so spontaneous.

Laura stepped forward, "The point is, you have something none of us do. That's going to make Romulus want you more-- but that also makes you our greatest asset. If you gain control, that is."

"How the hell do I control my greatest fear...?"

Before his question could be answered, Laura looked around the room before nodding off to Daken. His footsteps were soundless as he approached Bronte from behind and began pulling him off towards open area. "Doesn't matter how. What matters is that your survival demands it. If the storm is triggered by the urge to survive.... fear.... pain.... killer instinct-- it doesn't matter. I'll find it. You just focus on trying not to get ripped up too bad."

Bronte tried to shake him off only to find that iron grip latched onto him once more. His spine tingled slightly as Daken spoke again.

"And don't stop on account of inj--"

"Man, you need to stop grabbing me like I'm some type of ragdoll or something--" Bronte interrupted before putting some force into his shove and removing Daken's grip.

"Why can't you talk normally? Always grabbing and shit..... or trying to throw me out of windows-- or locking me in classrooms with musty ass WereWolves." Bronte snapped at Daken, feeling his anger bubble from within.

A wicked sneer made it's way to Daken's face, "That's good-- get mad..... makes my job easier."

Following Daken's words, an infectious dulling heat wafted from him. As soon as it hit Bronte, his tingle of agitation rose to a spark of rage.

"Fuck you!"

The two began moving, circling each-other like territorial lions jammed in a cage. The abrupt change in tone drew the attention of the others left training in the Gym.

"Oh, fuck me? Put some actions behind your words before I rip your face off, boy." Daken's tone was as cool as ice, even as he continued to exude the feelings of anger and violence.

Bronte was no more the wiser to what was happening as he lunged at the man, swinging with all zero of his years spent training in combat.

Daken stepped to the side effortlessly and kneed Bronte in the stomach so hard he came off the floor. As soon as his feet hit the ground again, Daken grabbed the collar of his X-Uniform and threw him across the room.

Bronte rolled and banged against the hard metal... like a ragdoll-- before he abruptly came to a stop. Daken was approaching, even in his enraged haze he could tell. Not by his soundless footsteps, but by the agitating heat the wafted from him. It almost had a smell... like a pheromone.

Daken sped up his approach, noticing Bronte's change in demeanor..... and hair color. Once he reached him, he raised his right foot and moved to slam it into his back. He missed as Bronte rolled over, leaning upward to slam his fist into Daken's stomach.

The three metal claws protruding from his knuckles and wrist ripped into his stomach with ease. He did little more than grunt as he looked at Bronte's growling face. Teeth bared and eyes glowing like lightning bolts.

"There it is...."