Cells
Written By: EccentricDucky
Rating: PG-13 (Violence, Language)
Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever own anything X-Men related. I do however own this plot line, and the character Anna Pierson.
Distribution: If you want to post this story somewhere, just leave a note, and make sure to credit me. If you want to use Anna, just leave a note, and make sure to credit me for her creation.
Timeline: This is set exactly one year after the events in X2.
Pairings: The only set pairing for now is Rogue/Bobby, more will come.
Summery: Seeing the dead isn't all it's cracked up to be. Not every mutant wants to be saved. Lucky has seen the horrors life has to offer, and now she has a new chance – a new start. Will she take it?
Authors Note: Okay, obviously this is a Original Character centered story. The first in a series actually. The style of this is a bit different then you might be used to. It's a mix between third person and first person. To make matters clear, first person will only be of Lucky. I don't want to be flamed, so please don't waste your time. I do however want feedback. Do you like? What would you like to see?
Thankies,
EccentricDucky
I took a deep breath, nearly choking on the fresh air as I did so. If I had waited a moment longer to push myself through the burning front door I would have probably of died. Oddly enough, nearly dying really doesn't cause much thought in my mind anymore. While most people would be freaking out right now, I'm walking away as calm as possible while I listened to the sirens in the distance.
Was it a normal occurrence for me to walk out of a burning building? Not really. This time was a fluke, I hadn't planned things well. Harvey, one of my ghosts needed this building burned in order to move on from this plane of existence. I don't understand it either, but I'm assuming that burning the building will either hide something, or uncover something. I don't ask too many questions when it comes to my ghosts. I had been pouring gasoline all over the old building, planning on lighting it up once I got out of the building, but someone -- namely Harvey was impatient, and it nearly got me killed.
Sometimes I really hate my life. Seeing the dead is really a bitch on most occasions, because when I see a new ghost that wants something from me, I know that I'll probably end up either bleeding by the end of the night, or breaking several laws. I just committed a big crime, and I could only pray that no one saw me fleeing the scene. But then again, this was South Boston that I was currently in...no one would say anything about me fleeing if they did see me. That's just how this neighborhood worked. It was a few blocks away when I finally started to walk as if I didn't have fire on my tail.
My breath however, was still coming in and out with painful gulps of air. Yeah, I probably scorched a lung. That's okay though, with all the smoking I do, my lungs are probably damaged enough. And yet I'm only seventeen. Funny huh? Well, we do what we do, and what I do just so happens to be the dead. Did anyone else think that sounded kind of dirty?
My given name is Anna Pierson, but I go by Lucky. That nickname came from one of my ghosts, one of the ones that stick around and don't ask for anything (the ones like that are the ones I like) he called me Lucky for the simple fact that I haven't died yet. And trust me, I have been in many situations that could have lead to my death.
Why do I do it then? Why do I sneak around at night, helping ghosties pass over into their next level of being? Simple answer really, most of the time if I don't do what they want they get angry. An angry ghost is never something you want to be following you around. I paused for a moment mid-step to look around, the hairs on the back of my neck picking up for a moment. Damn ghosts are everywhere… I started walking again, if the ghostie wants to follow me and ask for help, then so be it--but I wasn't going to try and find a ghost of my own free will.
For some reason, I can see the dead. With all that's been on the news lately, I've been led to believe that this is a mutant power. Figures I'd get a sucky power, why couldn't it have been flight or something cool? For another reason, the dead can see me. Well, I mean they see other people too obviously, but they know that I can see them...or something like that.
Its complicated and personally I'm not the smartest person when it comes to figuring stuff like that out. At seventeen I'm sure that I should be doing all sorts of other things right now at near two in the morning. I should be sleeping for one, or maybe cramming for an exam, doing normal teen things. Instead I'm not a normal teen, therefore I'm walking home from committing arson.
Home for me is different then what most would expect. I live alone, although I only live alone if you don't count the ghosts as room-mates. My apartment is tiny, small, like a damn broom closet, but that's all my paycheck from McDonalds can afford. There is a lesson to be learned here kiddies -- stay in school, don't go off with every Ghost that rings your bell, because if you do you'll end up flipping burgers, and wasting away.
If I had been smart I would have stayed in Chicago with my parents, but with the way they seemed to be so disgusted whenever mutant rights would come up on the news...well, I thought it was best to leave before they found anything out about what it is I do. I took off when I was fifteen, and came here...to Boston. I don't know why I came to Boston honestly. It's a dirty city, ridden with crime, and the mob. Okay, that's not all true. This is just in South Boston, where I live because I can't afford anything else.
For a moment I pause again in my walking, not because a ghost was around this time, but because of a certain throbbing in my temples. Headaches. Always headaches. It's what I get for having such a stressful life. I'm so stressed out, I'm surprised my hair hasn't come out in clumps yet. After a moment I shake my head and continue down the sidewalk, padding down the pockets of my coat for my cigarettes. Yeah, bad habit.
My coat is my prized possession. It has hundreds of pockets that can hold things like candles, salt, holy water, you know the usual...and it's ankle length, black, and leather. I look like such a badass in it. Not to mention the cool billowing effect I get if I run, or if the wind is blowing. Although the leather also helps protect me against cuts and scrapes that I would get without the coat. I blew one paycheck on it last year, and because of it I was stuck without food for a week.
It was worth it though.
My apartment comes in view and I give a sigh of relief. My feet are aching from the roaming around I have been doing lately, and my eyes were still watering from the smoke of the burning house. Speaking of smoke, a cigarette is found, lit with a lighter that was found in a garbage bin that I had fallen in earlier this year, and inhaled. Oh yeah, that's the lung destroying stuff, not so much helping with the fact that my lungs were previously scorched, but I needed something to calm my nerves, and well…bad habit galore. Now I'm rummaging around my pockets for my apartment key, that's the problem with so many pockets. I can never remember the damn location of what has been shoved into them.
The apartment building I live in, isn't the greatest structure in South Boston. The sides of the building are decaying, the roof leaks, and the neighbors are annoying. One of them wants to get into my pants, while another keeps trying to make me one of his whores. Definitely not a safe part of town, but I do have tricks up my sleeve. Enough to keep me safe while I sleep anyway. It helps that I'm protected by the ghosts that live with me. Frank and Kelly were both thirty-something when they died, Irish folk that moved to the states to make a better life during the roaring twenties. They were both gun downed in my apartment, and have stayed there ever since. While their deaths might have been horrible, they weren't to bad of ghosts. Neither really has any anger left after all this time, and both have yet to speak to me about moving on...so I let them stay.
I'm pretty sure they've adopted me as their own kid in some freakish way. Kelly hides my cigarettes, and constantly reminds me to eat calling me things like 'a stick' or 'a beanpole' and I do have to agree sometimes, I can see my ribs and my face does have that taught look to it. It's not my fault I can't afford something other then Chicken Ramen. Frank on the other hand makes sure I'm safe and sound. He's learned his ghostly powers in the past few decades, he knows what he can do. Sometimes he'll follow me out into the night if he thinks I'm getting myself into a dangerous situation (wish I could have had him around tonight) so...I guess it is like they are kind of like parents.
They're okay though – better then my own parents were anyway. By the time I reach my apartment door, after climbing a staircase that looks like it my fall apart at any moment I toss the burning cancer stick out a window that remains stuck open year round at the end of the hall. With my luck it will end up landing on dry paper and set this place ablaze too. I give a small chuckle at that thought, my voice uncomfortably raspy thanks to the smoke I had been forced to inhale earlier, and then the smoke I just inhaled of my own free will – sometimes I wonder if I have any brain cells at all. I shove my keys into the lock, twist, and walk into my apartment without a second thought.
My hand gropes for the light near the door, my apartment dark and most likely deadly without a light on because there is so much crap on the floor that I'd end up tripping and breaking my neck if I couldn't see where I was going. Before I could find the light switch, it flips on and for a moment light assaults my eyes before I get a chance to see both Kelly and Frank standing side by side with horrible expressions on their faces upon seeing me.
"Don't ask." Was my only response as I slipped my coat off my body and dropped it to the floor next to the door. Under it I still had my McDonalds uniform on, and couldn't wait to get it off. I smelled like smoke, French fries, and grease. Mmm Mmm good. Boots were slipped off next, Kelly grabbing my arm (Yes, the dead can touch me...for me they are like normal people...no phasing through me at all. Thank-God.) to steady me as I nearly toppled over. What can I say, I'm tired, I want a shower, and I want sleep.
My ghosts exchanged looks, but didn't say anything. They knew enough not to talk to me when I'm in a mood like this. One of those 'it's been a really long day, I almost died, and now I'm really tired' moods. You'd actually be surprised to know that these moods happen a lot.
I led myself through my apartment -- which to make matters clear, let me explain it to you. It's pretty much a loft, the kitchen, living room, and sleeping quarters are all meshed into one. Thus meaning that my bed is tucked away in the corner of the room, and there is a stove, fridge, and countertop off to the side. No, I do not have living room furniture. First of all I have no need for living room furniture, and secondly even if I did I couldn't afford it. Then, there was a door that led to a small bathroom, which was where I was currently heading.
I stepped over clothes, newspaper clippings that laid in a mess next to my bed, most of them clippings on people dying in horrible ways, or simple obituaries…we all have to have a hobby, besides its always a good idea to get a lead on any unstable ghosties that are heading my way (For some reason I'm like a beacon for them. They just find me…and it is annoying). I grabbed my (most likely dirty) night clothes out of a pile at the end of my bed, and found myself in my bathroom.
It's small, dirty, and the water comes out of the shower a slight shade of brown. Yeah, it sucks. This whole life thing sucks, but we take what we can get right? The only reason I haven't slit my wrists yet other then the fact one of my ghosts would stop me, is the simple fact that I didn't want to mope around on the ghostly plane for several years before finally passing on to Hell or something.
So I put up with life. Even if that meant dealing with dirty water as I washed my hair. I dealt. I lived, I did things for the dead, I saved the occasional life, and I live.
The shower water had been so cold that it left a slight blue tint to my skin when I got out. At least I was clean now, or as clean as I would be with water like that. Instead of smelling like smoke or McDonalds, I smelled like Dial soap, and Coconut shampoo. I dried off my short white (yes, it's white) hair which ended up flopping in all sorts of directions around my head. Not that I did anything with it mind you – no styling for me, I just let it do it's thing.
For a moment I study my face in the cracked mirror above the sink, before looking away in disgust. Yeah, I look like shit. I've learned to ignore it. Mostly. Dark circles under pale green eyes, skin pasty white from my lack of moving around during the daylight, not to mention how stretched out that it looks because my body seems to be lacking any fat. I'm just skin and bones. I look like a fucking anorexic.
I sigh, cough, cough some more, feel like I'm hacking up a lung, and then spit out what came up from my lungs into the sink that I had been leaning on. Blood. Yep. That's probably not good. I should go to a doctor, but well I don't exactly have medical coverage now do I? It's probably just from getting a breath of fiery air. Nothing to worry about. Yeah right. I go about drying the rest of my body off before tossing the towel over the side of the tub. I frown looking into the sink for a minute to see my bloody spit slowly sinking down into the drain. I turn on the water to help it along a bit before going about pulling on worn, blue pajamas.
My life just keeps getting better and better.
Soon after my shower I collapse in bed, all to happy to be going to sleep. Not even letting coughing up blood keep me from much needed rest as blankets move around me thanks to Kelly. Thoughtful woman that she is, covered me up. I'll have to remember to thank her when…if, I wake up.
"It's all click when the mortgage clears
All our fears will disappear
Now you go to bed
I'm staying here
I've got another level that I want to clear
My skin feels like orange peel
My eyes have been vacuum-sealed
My organs move like a squirm of eels
We should be more adventurous with our meals
They annoy me those who employ me
The could destroy me
The should enjoy me
We eat Chinese off our knees
And look for each other in the TV screen
The sun goes up and the sun goes down
I drag myself into the town
All I do I want to do with you
Everyday I'm at my desk
At my desk I'm like the rest
All I do I want to do with you
On the city's skin they move on mass
Like a rash on the back of a manky cat
Now in I go like a fool
I can't resist dipping in the pool
I watch them watch me I watch them too
Across the street, across the room
I dress myself like a charcoal sketch
My eyes are brown my hair's a mess
They annoy me those who employ me
They could destroy me
They should enjoy me
We eat Chinese off our knees
And look for each other in the TV screen
The sun goes up the sun goes down
I drag myself into the town
All I do I an to do with you
Everyday I'm at my desk
At my desk I'm like the rest
All I do I want to do with you
The sun goes up …
The cells I am at the moment will soon die
But I will be here
Oh I'll still be here
The cells I am at the moment will soon die
But I will be here
Oh I'll still be here
The sun goes up …
Everyday, everyday, everyday…"
The Servant – "Cells"
Next Up: X-Men Unite! Looks like Magneto has taken an interest in a girl that can see the dead.
Until next time.
EccentricDucky