For an onlooker the sight of an elderly man and a teenager playing chess out in the grassy area of the elderly home would have looked fairly normal. The boy was hunched over the chess board, his light eyebrows creased in concentration as he tried to make his next move. He ran a hand through his blond hair, making it more disheveled than it already was and sighed in exasperation.
"I give up," he said, throwing his hand out to scatter the white chess pieces away. The tumbled over the edge of the board, while some of them rolled off the table completely and landed in the freshly cut grass.
"There was no need for that, John," the man opposite him chuckled. The boy spared a glance around, as the fallen bishop floated to an upright position and dropped to the center of the chessboard with a soft clang.
John rubbed his hands against his jeans and rolled his eyes, already expecting that kind of response from the man opposite him. John was slightly worried about him, but not in a grandson kind of way. He was worried that his leader might be turning weak. He could still see the steely gaze of Magneto underneath the shadows of his tweed flat cap. The hard lines that formed the aging face of his leader were still there, but appearance didn't matter when all your powers were gone.
John once again felt a raw spark of fury at the memory of that blue fur ball stabbing Magneto with a handful of "cure" shots. He promised himself that if he ever got the chance to avenge Magneto, he would fry Hank McCoy until there was nothing left of him but a pile of ashes.
"You need to understand that in order to get my powers back, I need to be left in peace," Magneto said.
"This isn't exactly a perfect place for practice. If anyone finds out that you're here, they're going to…"
"Kill me?" Magneto asked and gave John a sardonic look. "They will be running away from me, not drawing guns."
"I can find you a place to stay. There are plenty of abandoned warehouses in the city," John tried once again.
"I understand your concerns and I assure you that I will be fine here for a while. But in the meantime, I have a few things you need to do for me," Magneto said and leaned forward, his elbows resting against the table.
The boy leaned forward too, the longer bits of his hair falling over his forehead in disarray, as he listened to what his leader was saying. Like always, Magneto liked to make an opening speech, an annoying habit of his, but John listened patiently, because what was coming next was worth the past six months of restless waiting.
"Find the new Brotherhood."
A week before
Roshelle Finington was a woman of extreme beauty; it was her main asset in the media industry. As her heels clapped against the tile floor, she couldn't help but notice the wondering gazes. Her hair was pulled back in a crown on the top of her head, some loose curls escaping to fan around her swan-like neck. Her dress wasn't at all flattering and she dreamed for a second about firing the dressing director. Was she a nun? The dress certainly hinted on this if it wasn't for the canary color of it. She snapped her neck away from the gleaming walls that normally were perfect for her looking at herself and carried on towards the studio.
Roshelle was a spoiled kid since she was a kid and she grew up to be a pretty nasty woman later on; but not many people knew that. Only the people that got on her bad side were aware of her nasty temper. She was an evil lady, no doubt about that. But her facade was perfect for the media; a pearly white smile of an angel and a sweet voice that dripped with invisible venom. Oh yes, she was a cobra that was too fast for the crowds to see; the black venom had already started to make its way towards the on looking crowds; both homo spaniens and the x gene carriers alike.
And there he was; another victim about to be collected.
Roshelle outstretched her hand, the flick of her wrist lady like as the man in front of her bent to peck her wrist. She would've been fine without the contact with the vermin. But she twisted her ruby lips into a sugar coated smile and stayed put, as the slimy thing made contact with her.
"How nice to meet you, Brandon," Roshelle greeted the man and brightened her smile.
"No, the pleasure is all mine," Brandon rasped. Roshelle had made acquaintance with many mutants, but he was the most strangest looking of them all. Roshelle wasn't what exactly he was. She could see half transparent scales on the side of his face and as he turned around, two slices in his skin at the base of his collar appeared. The gills moved as he started rambling on about how happy he was to be here. Roshelle took the chance and retrieved her hand from the grip of the mutant and shuddered slightly as her fingers made contact with the slimy foil that stuck Brandon's fingers together.
They made their way to the platform that offered seating area for the visitors and herself. She chose her usual seat, a plush red sofa that gave her perfect view of both the audience and the visitor she had the pleasure to collect.
The machinery moved with a soft whirling, as the camera crew readied themselves for the airing. She glanced at the crowd seated and nodded to herself with satisfaction that the place was packed. The more the merrier.
"I'm not sure if this is a good idea," Brandon muttered to himself, as his knee jutted nervously.
"Don't worry. You'll do great." Roshelle leaned forward and patted him on the knee, trying not to vomit as the slimy substance oozing of him latched onto her hand. It stretched, as it dripped onto the floor and Brandon quickly wiped her hand with the sleeve of his tattered jacket.
Stupid freak, she wanted to mutter but she clenched her teeth in a grimace. Her cheeks flared in anger as she thought of the time when the judgment would come. Such abnormalities weren't acceptable in society and she would make sure that they would be wiped out from the face of the earth completely. There was only a few more people that she needed for the process to be complete. And Brandon's visit to the show put her one step ahead. She imagined the face of the man that had caused her hatred towards the mutants. Oh, how she wished he was there with the others, getting the life force drained out of him. But he wasn't, and Brandon had to do for now.
She thanked her dead father for the fame he had achieved. The fame had brought his own daughter to a success. Without it, she would not have been able to meet the man that planted the idea of avenging her dead father. She was a smart lady, but the idea never occurred to her. After all her knowledge was only media based; she never knew what exactly caused the mutations in some humans until she met Doctor Zeinghberg.
She watched the camera director count on his fingers the seconds until airing.
Three.
Straighten your hair.
Two.
Turn towards the camera.
One.
Smile!
It was her usual routine that had become sort of a mantra. Just smile, no one will see the malice behind it. Who would expect pretty Miss Finington to be hurting innocent human beings.
No! They weren't innocent and certainly weren't human. The genes inside them were enough of a proof.
If it wasn't for the cameras, Roshelle would've ripped Brandon's throat out long ago. But he had to be alive for the purpose, Doctor Zeinghberg had told her multiple times, when she confessed her urge to him. He was the one she handed the mutants over to. She didn't care what he did with them as long as she could kill the person that took the most beloved one from her life. He was the king of the mutants, a rebel, the one that caused all the havoc.
"Welcome to the TRS show. As you know, on Tuesday shows we focus on one main topic; the people most of the society fears. But do not worry; we're here to show you that mutants are the same as we are...
They all want to live a peaceful life. Please, let me introduce you to Brandon Kelly."
There was an uproar of the crowd and the vast room was filled with rumbling clapping, as the camera was switched to Brandon. The young man got up and Roshelle suppressed a gag, as the saliva like goo stretched between him and the seat. He waved awkwardly at the crowd and sat back down with a heavy thump.
"Brandon, tell me a little bit about yourself. When did you find out that you were a carrier of the x gene?"
It was her usual question, even though the answer was well known already. But it got the mutant talking that way.
Ten minutes left. And then she would rid the earth of another vermin.
Hey, this is my first ever X men story :) I will try my best to make the characters as similar to the ones in the movie as possible. The chapters will probably be uploaded once very one/two weeks.
Let me know what you thought of the prologue and if there are any mistakes (writing or fact) please feel free to correct me! :)