what we'll be, oh glory.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ { snowspire x-men au.

w y a t t .


"You say the ocean's rising like I give a shit
You say the whole world's ending, honey, it already did"

“This blows.” Wyatt said to himself.

Having the powers that he had meant that he could take multiple classes every period. And also fail twice as many, but hey, it wasn’t like his powers made him smarter or anything. But of course, sometimes it also meant that his clones got themselves into trouble. Which meant they were getting him in trouble.

One terrible week last semester, 2 separate clones had been sent to the headmaster’s office for unrelated pranks, one had decided to skip class, and another had started an affair with one of his friend’s girlfriends. He’d started limiting the number of active clones he had after that.

The more he made, the more independent they seemed to get. That predisposition towards trouble was why all of him currently found themselves doing yardwork past nightfall.

“Can I lend you a hand, Wyatt?” Wyatt-1 asked, leaning on his rake.

“Thank you Wyatt!” Wyatt-3 replied happily.

“This punishment sucks.” Wyatt-7 grumbled.

Wyatt nodded in agreement. But on the plus side, they were almost done mowing the entire school grounds.

“Hey, we didn’t set anything on fire, did we?” Wyatt-2 asked nervously. “I swear it wasn’t me, my fireworks got confiscated.”

Wyatt spun around in confusion, looking in the direction of the barn, which was definitely on fire.

“For fuck’s sake, guys! Alright, fess up. You’re all supposed to be me, and I wouldn’t commit arson even if—“ the words died in his throat as the firelight created shadows, and revealed half a dozen people moving quickly in a shadowy formation.

Math wasn’t his strongest subject, but in the world they lived in, it didn’t take a genius to know that Guns + tactical gear + sneaking around on campus = bad, bad guys. A bunch of red dots appeared, hovering over the Wyatts. 

They all froze for a second, and then Wyatt-2 collapsed to the turf, grasping at his bloody throat.

“Oh my god, they’re shooting at us!” Wyatt-5 yelped.

Wyatt saw a gun point in his direction and reflexively created a clone in front of himself that took the shot instead. Wyatt-8 died instantly as a bullet blew it’s brains out and spattered his face with blood. Wyatt felt his nose start to bleed as he ran for cover behind the toolshed next to himselves.

A clone dying was—unpleasant.

The clones were separate entities, but he could merge them back into himself, and when he pulled the clones back, he immediately gained whatever experiences and memories they’d formed while off on their own.

And, as he’d learned after a clone had broken its neck when trying to jump into the pool from the roof of the gymnasium, when one died, it caused some kind of psychic feedback that overloaded his nervous system.

Nurse Kim had said it was because he shared a neural link with them, so his brain thought he was dying, like when you fall in a dream and jolt awake only way more intense. He also vividly remembered what it was like to die as them the next time he woke from sleep. And it was a real therapy inducing situation to have to stare at his own dead body.

When the jumping clone had died last summer, he’d learned he couldn’t reabsorb it, and the body stayed intact for roughly thirty minutes before melting away into a pile of dust and keratin.

“Okay, Wyatts. This is a nightmare.” He nodded in unison.

“We should make a run for it,” Wyatt-3 said. “If we split up, they won't be able shoot all of us.”

“Great idea, Wyatt. You should poke your head out and test that theory.” Wyatt-4 responded. 

“Yeah, you first!” Wyatt-1 chimed in.

“But why are they setting the barn on fire?” Wyatt asked himself.

“I don’t know, but we don’t have time t—“

A silenced gunshot hit Wyatt-6 in the solar plexus and he hit the ground, glassy-eyed and unseeing. The pain in Wyatt’s head intensified. But all of him ran, crying and panicked, and he cleared the distance from the barn to the dorm rooms in record time. Wyatt-4 disappeared into the cafeteria building and Wyatt-1 had run for the track field. The remaining two hadn’t been as lucky, and were writhing on the ground in pain from their wounds.

Wyatt took a deep breath and pulled Wyatt-3 and Wyatt-5 back into himself. From their memories, he could see that the enemy squad was in hot pursuit of Wyatt-1. Ten seconds later, the adrenaline that had been surging in them hit his nervous system, sending him spiraling into a greater panic but also giving him the boost he needed to hurtle through doors of the main building.

He took a few seconds to catch his breath and then pounded up the stairs, feeling weak. He needed to warn people. He caught a glimpse of the back of a nightgown at the end of the hall; whoever it was had just gone through a door.

But they were so far away.

Wyatt stumbled down the hallway towards the raised voices, feeling lightheaded and dimly aware that the nosebleed had turned into more of a gushing fountain, staining his shirt and the carpet below. The migraine was like nothing he’d experienced before and it felt like deep bruises were forming on his body where the clones had been shot.

That was new. Perhaps he’d just found the upper limit of the damage his duplicates could take. His knees buckled and he decided that laying down on the hallway carpet would be fantastic as he passed out.