Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warren wrapped his wings around himself, cradling his body inside their softness. Soft feathers brushing against the bruise on his cheek. His father had been so angry… and this wasn't the first time he'd hit Warren either. It had all started with the wings. Such a prestigious family as the Worthingtons couldn't afford to have a mutant freak for a son, it appeared. He'd always wanted to make his father proud, and sometimes, on rare occasions, he had done it. But it had never lasted long. And now this.
He hated them! He hated the wings! But… he didn't. He wanted them so badly; he wanted to fly. He flexed his wings carefully. He'd never been able to fly. Never gotten the chance. He wanted that chance, wanted it so much it hurt. But it would never come. Not under his father.
The harness they made him wear cut into his soft wings. He had so many things to attend; parties and such, and he never got to take the wings out. In fact, he was never allowed to stretch out his wings unless he was hidden in the basement far from the entrance, and only that because his mother had convinced his father to let him. But even then he had to have the lights off. Warren hated the dark.
He pulled his wings closer. If his father found him with his wings out… he couldn't even contemplate it. Reluctantly, he pulled his wings into the harness. It would be alright, he was sure. He'd find a way to make his father proud of him. Somehow. Despite being a worthless freak.
Walking downstairs, he met his father.
"Dad? What are you doing here?"
"Warren. We did it. We found a way to fix you."
"Wha… fix me?"
"Yes. There's a doctor. He can put in an operation that will deal with your wings forever."
"You want to cut off my wings?" Warren felt his wings strain at the harness. Something in the harness snapped.
"Warren, no Worthington is going to be seen as a mutant. It's not safe for you." Warren gaped. He knew better. It wasn't about him. It was about reputation. No Worthington would have their name soiled. No Worthington would lose popularity, money, fame, because of him. "The doctor's here now. We'll have the operation in…"
Warren didn't hear the rest of that sentence. But he saw them man entering the mansion. He saw his father's hand moving for his arm. And he saw the ground moving away as he launched himself out the window. Wings flexing to their full length, tearing off his shirt, he clumsily managed to get away from the house, beating his wings in a panic, hearing his father's voice behind him. No. That man was not his father. He never could be.
Warren was alone. Managing to get down into an alley, he grabbed at his aching shoulders. Flying, even in panic, felt wonderful, but he was unused to it, and his wings had never really been used, though he'd tried once in the basement. He turned around, and took a step back.
For in front of him was someone with strangely large hands and feet, and another teen with bright red sunglasses. It was the beginning of a new era in Warren's life. The era of the X - men.