Greetings one and all! Yes I know, I hate as well, but hey what are ya gonna do? A few warnings before we get along with the story. This story is rated M for a REASON, it will contain graphic violence and other... scenes. Not for the faint of heart. We would also like to take this time to tell you that we are fans of the original X-Men, so we did some...tweaking is a nice word for it. So the characters will not be the exact same as you have watched them to be. Oh, and yes this is a Romance, and pairs have already been picked in advance. Don't like, don't read. Now the other warnings. We don't own Marvel...yet...the first country has been converted. But we do own our character Cheryl Davis. We can make her do whatever we want!... But we digress. This is a collaboration between two college students, so our lives, and therefore the updates, revolve around school. We both hope that you like the story, we had fun writing and that's all that really matters, right? --The Demented Twins
Chapter 1
Since the day she was born, Cheryl Davis knew she loved the ocean. The beach was her blanket and soul, the ocean her path and heart. She surfed from the age of 5, but traveled the world since the day she could walk with her Big Uncle Danny. Her life was fantastic as it was. But some things couldn't stay the same. She was thirteen when she got thrown into the coral in Australia. Her thigh was cut badly, the blood pouring out, beginning to mix into the water. It was about shark season out there and she knew she was too far away to swim back without causing damage. The wound really began to burn from the salt. She needed to stop bleeding... stop bleeding... stop bleeding…
The burn stopped as the gash clotted within seconds. The water had turned a pinkish color so she swam back to shore. She was slightly lightheaded, thankful, but freaking out. It was from that day that her brown hair held a strawberry hint and her eyes turned burgundy…
Five Years Later…
"Dude! Cheryl! Come catch some waves!" His shout could hardly carry over the waves. Her eye twitched from frustration. She hated that word, "Dude". The last time she checked, she was certain she was a girl. Cheryl couldn't quite remember his name, just recognized his scent and decided that his blood was pretty good. It just tasted like water. For five years now she's had to feed off of the blood of everyone else around her. She tried animal blood, but found it was disgusting. So, she just drank the blood surfers spilled when they got thrashed. It was a good deal. She stopped their bleeding and took what was left in the water. The Camelbak strapped onto her back was filled with different types, all from her favorite people, well those that were tasty. From behind her, the ocean roared to life as it drew back and gained height. She caught it and flew. The sea flowing around her, nothing could have destroyed this moment. Except for the very strong and present scent of blood, causing her to lose her footing and wipeout. When she finally emerged, she swam back to shore, following the scent. It was one of the buddy surfers, Johnny. He crashed into the rocks, and banged himself up pretty bad. He was close to the shore when she came about.
"CALL AN AMBULENCE!" She swam to where he was, her special board, her baby, following by the line attached to her ankle. He was bleeding profusely already and if he moved anymore, he could permanently damage himself. But he can't stay in the water, she thought. Which would aggravate the wounds more. Some of the other buddy surfers went over to see the commotion.
"We need to get him out of the water!" They looked a bit shaken from all that red stuff coming out of him.
"But-"
"No buts!" They didn't move, but stared at the mangled guy in front of them.
"CALL THE FUCKING AMBULENCE ALREADY!" She tried as carefully as she could to drag him onto her board. He wasn't totally unconscious, he grunted from the pain. Was that a good thing? She started toward the shore and noticed that only a small piece of his board was left dragging behind on his ankle. He's not going to be too happy about that, she thought. The others were waiting on the shore.
"Help me get him out of the water! NOW!" They jumped to attention and rushed to help. They tried their best to be gentle, but no one's perfect. Johnny was laid out on a towel, cut up and banged beyond belief. She grabbed one of the towels near her and pressed it to the main wound over his thigh.
"Hey, do crowd control or something." She stripped off the Camelbak and opened it. She put the tip of the towel at the opening and began filtering blood out, working up the red bone marrow to make more blood, and keep it circulating. Needless to say, she was working as hard as she could. She kept this up until the ambulance finally arrived. The EMTs came and removed her hand from him.
"We've got him now miss." She kept hold of the towel, soaked with blood. As they wheeled Johnny into the ambulance, one of the EMT's, young but ragged, turned to her and smiled.
"You probably saved his life, miss. You should probably get checked out yourself. You're eyes are red." She smiled and shrugged.
"Oh I guess I forgot to take the contacts out. They're all the rage these days." He smiled again and nodded his acknowledgement. Cheryl stayed planted in the sand until the siren disappeared into the distance. The crowd of people diffused as she picked up her camelbak, her surf board, and the towel and headed for the showers. Inside the bathroom, she looked at her now fire-engine-red iris's.
"Oh Damn. I'm gonna be feeling this for awhile." She looked down at the bloody towel, her eyes glittering. She couldn't gorge here but a snack wouldn't hurt. Her hand hovered over the blood. Slowly, it began to separate from the fibers into a nice good sized blob. She pursed her lips to it and slurped it up. After it was gone, she checked her eyes again. They were brick-red now, but still red. She headed to the lockers and got her backpack. She retrieved her keys and sunglasses, for good measure. I don't think they need to see these, she thought. She headed out from the surf, clean, worn out, and hungry. After walking past paid parking lots and cars trying to find the closest spot, she turned to the beach houses. A buddy of her late uncle's, who has never owned a car a day in his life, let her park her beautiful Mellony. Mellony was her baby, her pride and joy, and Cheryl would never dream of parking her near the beach. She smiled as she looked over the beautiful jeep. The paint job was her eighteenth birthday present from her boss. It was a perfect beach scene. The waves rolling up on the hood while the shore line came along the sides to the sandy beach with a small landscape of the city in the background on the trunk. Oh yes, she was a work of art.
Cheryl left the customary ten at his backdoor and left. Taking the quickest way she could back home, she was wiped and drained. As usual, she parked on the side of the house, not in front. Didn't want to upset the parental units. About to enter her senior year of high school, almost top of her class, and her parents don't even look her way. She unlocked the door, and stepped in before slamming it behind her and sliding in the deadbolt. Father was a workaholic and her mother worked on every committee she could get her claws on. So of course they weren't home. The silence of the house disturbed her, like it always did. Like waiting for the other shoe to drop, it just racked her nerves. She walked down the hallway to the end, where her room was. There was an iron framed twin-bed in the corner, a small desk under the window with a swivel chair neatly placed underneath it. School textbooks lined her bookshelves along with the Classics of Literature. Old clothes hung in the closet, never seen again and the walls were covered with surfing memorabilia. She didn't mind any of it at the moment, as she dropped her pack and crashed face first onto her bed, asleep before she even felt the pillow.
At the Institute for the Gifted Youth, Cheryl Davis's save did not go unnoticed. Professor Xavier sat at Cerebro looking at the new mutant detected on the screen when Storm came up behind him.
"Found a new one?" He nodded.
"Yes, she's already gained some control, as far as Cerebro can tell." She met his eyes with a very common as of late question.
"But who will be going?" That night at dinner, Charles called the attention of the table.
"Cerebro has just discovered a new mutant today. Her name is Cheryl Davis, just around your age. Storm and I will be gone tomorrow to see her, so I'll put Hank in charge." The table erupted with small cheer at the thought of another student coming. The dinner went on with the routine of every night, with the event of some dish being flung or broken, Bobby trying to show off with the rest of the boys as well as irritating the girls. At the end of the evening, Scott approached the Professor.
"Say, Professor, where exactly does she live?" Charles smiled as he exited to bed.
"Oh I forgot. Long Beach, California. Good night everyone." He heard the very audible outrage of the students and smiled even broader. The next morning, Storm and the Professor entered the hanger. The Blackbird was prepped and ready for take off. Storm sighed before boarding.
"Is anything wrong, Storm?"
"No, but something tells me that this isn't going to be a normal trip." He smiled and wheeled on. He took his place next to Storm at the controls and left without a hitch. They were about a half an hour into the air when Charles turned to the back of the Blackbird.
"Alright Kurt, you can come out now, we're about to land." In a puff of smoke, Kurt teleported next to him with a guilty expression.
"Sorry Professor. But I had to tag along. It's Long Beach! I've heard so much about it and all..." Charles chuckled.
"Alright. Besides, we could use you as a demonstration. To show her that the Institute is a place of acceptance." Storm started flipping switches and descending.
"We're here." The house was in the middle of cul-de-sac, a small house in suburbia. They landed the Blackbird in a small park about a block away. Charles turned to Kurt before leaving.
"Stay in here for now, Kurt. We'll be back shortly." He nodded reluctantly as they walked down to the small house.
Cheryl was aware it was day, but didn't care. She was still wiped out from the day before. Maybe I should drink something, she thought. She was about to grab hold of the camelbak when the doorbell rang. Who could be visiting at this hour. She heard her mother's footsteps moving fast for the door. What if it was someone asking about yesterday? She really didn't need her parents finding out about her abilities or any of the activities she involved herself in. She disregarded the camelbak and opened the bedroom door. Down the hallway, she saw her mother standing in front of an elder looking man in a wheelchair and a beautiful black woman.
"Hello, I am Professor Charles Xavier and this is my associate, Ororo Munroe. We've come to speak with Cheryl Davis." Cheryl's eyes widened.
"Crap."