X-Men #1
"Bullet Beginnings"
Perched atop the highest edge of the mansion rooftop was Warren Worthington III. His richly blond hair matted to his head from the falling drops. He did not attempt to shield his face from the downpour. He had chosen to embrace it-it fit his mood. His blue eyes stared at the Heaven's above him with varying looks of anger, sorrow, disbelief…just about every human emotion there is, that look was on his face. The drops of rain mixed with salty tears and rolled-poured rather, down his face.
Warren had been in this same state for several hours since returning from a pro-mutant gathering downtown. He was always present at them, his mutant identity known to anyone who knew him. The assembly was going great, barring a few anti-mutant demonstrations-but those were expected. It was just when he got up to speak….Warren could do nothing when he got home but be hit with his emotion. It was to the point where he could think of nothing to do but go to the rooftop. It was closest to the Heaven's where he felt most at home. And where he sought answers to the events that had transpired only recently.
Flashing lights caught Warren's eye. He actually let his head move from its staring position up in the sky and toward the front gate. The tall iron bars parted slowly and a paramedic's vehicle drove in seemingly slower then the gates opening. The vehicle traveled up the paved driveway and stopped in front of the mansion's large double doors. The back opened and a stretcher was eased out. The man and woman in the cab of the vehicle assisted then man in the back in wheeling the stretcher into the house.
A few moments later the front gates parted again. Before they were even stopped a rather new looking Jeep sped between them, scraping the sides heavily. This apparently did not bother the driver as he kept on moving up the property. The Jeep screeched to a halt along side the ambulance. A male and female got out of it and bolted inside.
On the roof, Warren watched the other two go inside. He surmised that since everyone was home is was time he faced them and the truth behind what had happened. Warren slowly rose to his feet, confident in the hold his of his shoes on the rooftop. He arched his back and flexed the muscles in his back. Flexing a few…extra muscles he reached a pair of feathery wings on his back, specifically located between his shoulder blades. They stretched out to their full sixteen foot wingspan and flapped a few times. Warren stepped off the rooftop flapping his wings lightly. Warren rode a small draft downward. When his feet touched the ground, Warren brought his wings close to his body and began walking toward the open doors into the mansion.
*
"That should do it." A chubby detective mumbled to Scott "Rock" Summers as he closed his notebook. He returned it and pen to his back pocket and turned on his heels toward where other officers were standing.
"I am sorry about your loss." He said over his shoulder.
Sentiments Rock was familiar hearing but he didn't think anyone could trully empathize with him. Oh sure people had lost family and friends before. Hell, Rock did too. But this was different. Rock lost the man who gave him a reason to live, a dream to long for when he slept at night and to make a reality from day to day. Not just to Rock, but to everyone that occupied the mansion.
Rock stood leaning against the window sill watching the rain. He usually didn't make a habit of looking out at the world for very long as his view of things was jaded. Forced to wear a set of ruby red sunglasses to keep things in check, Rock's view of things was that constant ruby red color. He had to imagine what things looked like. The colors. It had been ten years since Rock saw color. But when he went to sleep at night he could remember and pretend he could still see it in his dreams.
"Get outta my way!" Someone screamed. Rock's eyes rolled as he recognized the sound of the voice. Behind him, several officers flew into-and through-the door into the quarters Rock was standing in. Coming in the door after them was a young girl of about 14. She had long black hair, green eyes, and was quite shapely for her age. Behind her was a boy of 17. He stood six feet tall and was definitely well built and in shape. His eyes brown, and his hair in braids hanging down around his head, and shaved on the sides and back.
"A time like this, and you choose to make a scene." Rock said without even turning around.
"What the hell is the joke here Summers? I am at practice and I get some word from someone that I needed to come back here and fast. That something happened to the Professor."
"Because Zeke, I sent it to you. Because something did happen to him." Rock replied slowly and quietly.
The young girl walked toward the bed in the corner of the room. It looked as though there was a body there but it wasn't moving. It didn't even look like it was breathing. She took ginger baby steps up to it and put a shaking hand on the blanket. Pulling is back slowly she stared down at the body of her teacher and mentor. Commanding, elegant and regal looking-even in death-was Professor Charles Xavier.
"No!" She screamed and fell back. Zeke was instantly at her side. He looked at the bed and fell to his knees. He did not say anything, instead all his sounds came out as silent tears down his cheeks. The girl on the other hand sobbed loudly. Rock didn't regard them, he continued looking out the window. A light on a nearby dresser clicked on. The Professor had it on a timer. This light is cast was blocked out somewhat by the form of Warren who had silently entered the room.
"What happened to him?" Zeke asked, trying hard to keep his voice steady.
"He was at a pro-mutant assembly. He was giving a speech."
"And he was shot." Warren finished. "I was there."
Zeke turned suddenly and charged Warren. He grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall, he wings instictively spreading outward knocking pictures off the wall.
"You were there? How the hell did you let this happen? All our training and you let him die?!" Zeke screamed. His skin shimmered briefly as his inbred mutant power kicked in. He skin got bumpy and brown and hard as a rock.
"Don't you think I know that?" Warren screamed as best he could.
"And you were his damn golden boy. His favorite, and you let him die!"
Zeke threw Warren across the room. When he turned to follow he met a rather large blast of red energy. Zeke had no way of blocking this and was sent back through the wall behind him into the hall way. Rock wasn't worried. In present form, Zeke wouldn't be hurt. He returned his glasses to his face covering his smoking eyes.
"I won't have this kind of display here." Rock said. "The Professor always said if the unthinkable were to happen he would want to be in his mansion to rest until the proper burial was arranged on the grounds. Jean is working on that as we speak."
Rock went to the young girl and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"It's okay Stacey. I have done my share." The young girl-Stacey-continued to cry on his shoulder.
Warren looks at the display. The hole in the wall, the Professor on the bed, Stacey sobbing her heart out, and Rock's ever calm façade. He knows his is torn up inside. Warren turns to the window. He picks up a chair and throws it through the window, not wanting to bother opening it. A leap and his is skyward back toward the site of the assassination.
Next ish...what is Warren after going back to the assembly center, and where will it lead to?
"Bullet Beginnings"
Perched atop the highest edge of the mansion rooftop was Warren Worthington III. His richly blond hair matted to his head from the falling drops. He did not attempt to shield his face from the downpour. He had chosen to embrace it-it fit his mood. His blue eyes stared at the Heaven's above him with varying looks of anger, sorrow, disbelief…just about every human emotion there is, that look was on his face. The drops of rain mixed with salty tears and rolled-poured rather, down his face.
Warren had been in this same state for several hours since returning from a pro-mutant gathering downtown. He was always present at them, his mutant identity known to anyone who knew him. The assembly was going great, barring a few anti-mutant demonstrations-but those were expected. It was just when he got up to speak….Warren could do nothing when he got home but be hit with his emotion. It was to the point where he could think of nothing to do but go to the rooftop. It was closest to the Heaven's where he felt most at home. And where he sought answers to the events that had transpired only recently.
Flashing lights caught Warren's eye. He actually let his head move from its staring position up in the sky and toward the front gate. The tall iron bars parted slowly and a paramedic's vehicle drove in seemingly slower then the gates opening. The vehicle traveled up the paved driveway and stopped in front of the mansion's large double doors. The back opened and a stretcher was eased out. The man and woman in the cab of the vehicle assisted then man in the back in wheeling the stretcher into the house.
A few moments later the front gates parted again. Before they were even stopped a rather new looking Jeep sped between them, scraping the sides heavily. This apparently did not bother the driver as he kept on moving up the property. The Jeep screeched to a halt along side the ambulance. A male and female got out of it and bolted inside.
On the roof, Warren watched the other two go inside. He surmised that since everyone was home is was time he faced them and the truth behind what had happened. Warren slowly rose to his feet, confident in the hold his of his shoes on the rooftop. He arched his back and flexed the muscles in his back. Flexing a few…extra muscles he reached a pair of feathery wings on his back, specifically located between his shoulder blades. They stretched out to their full sixteen foot wingspan and flapped a few times. Warren stepped off the rooftop flapping his wings lightly. Warren rode a small draft downward. When his feet touched the ground, Warren brought his wings close to his body and began walking toward the open doors into the mansion.
*
"That should do it." A chubby detective mumbled to Scott "Rock" Summers as he closed his notebook. He returned it and pen to his back pocket and turned on his heels toward where other officers were standing.
"I am sorry about your loss." He said over his shoulder.
Sentiments Rock was familiar hearing but he didn't think anyone could trully empathize with him. Oh sure people had lost family and friends before. Hell, Rock did too. But this was different. Rock lost the man who gave him a reason to live, a dream to long for when he slept at night and to make a reality from day to day. Not just to Rock, but to everyone that occupied the mansion.
Rock stood leaning against the window sill watching the rain. He usually didn't make a habit of looking out at the world for very long as his view of things was jaded. Forced to wear a set of ruby red sunglasses to keep things in check, Rock's view of things was that constant ruby red color. He had to imagine what things looked like. The colors. It had been ten years since Rock saw color. But when he went to sleep at night he could remember and pretend he could still see it in his dreams.
"Get outta my way!" Someone screamed. Rock's eyes rolled as he recognized the sound of the voice. Behind him, several officers flew into-and through-the door into the quarters Rock was standing in. Coming in the door after them was a young girl of about 14. She had long black hair, green eyes, and was quite shapely for her age. Behind her was a boy of 17. He stood six feet tall and was definitely well built and in shape. His eyes brown, and his hair in braids hanging down around his head, and shaved on the sides and back.
"A time like this, and you choose to make a scene." Rock said without even turning around.
"What the hell is the joke here Summers? I am at practice and I get some word from someone that I needed to come back here and fast. That something happened to the Professor."
"Because Zeke, I sent it to you. Because something did happen to him." Rock replied slowly and quietly.
The young girl walked toward the bed in the corner of the room. It looked as though there was a body there but it wasn't moving. It didn't even look like it was breathing. She took ginger baby steps up to it and put a shaking hand on the blanket. Pulling is back slowly she stared down at the body of her teacher and mentor. Commanding, elegant and regal looking-even in death-was Professor Charles Xavier.
"No!" She screamed and fell back. Zeke was instantly at her side. He looked at the bed and fell to his knees. He did not say anything, instead all his sounds came out as silent tears down his cheeks. The girl on the other hand sobbed loudly. Rock didn't regard them, he continued looking out the window. A light on a nearby dresser clicked on. The Professor had it on a timer. This light is cast was blocked out somewhat by the form of Warren who had silently entered the room.
"What happened to him?" Zeke asked, trying hard to keep his voice steady.
"He was at a pro-mutant assembly. He was giving a speech."
"And he was shot." Warren finished. "I was there."
Zeke turned suddenly and charged Warren. He grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall, he wings instictively spreading outward knocking pictures off the wall.
"You were there? How the hell did you let this happen? All our training and you let him die?!" Zeke screamed. His skin shimmered briefly as his inbred mutant power kicked in. He skin got bumpy and brown and hard as a rock.
"Don't you think I know that?" Warren screamed as best he could.
"And you were his damn golden boy. His favorite, and you let him die!"
Zeke threw Warren across the room. When he turned to follow he met a rather large blast of red energy. Zeke had no way of blocking this and was sent back through the wall behind him into the hall way. Rock wasn't worried. In present form, Zeke wouldn't be hurt. He returned his glasses to his face covering his smoking eyes.
"I won't have this kind of display here." Rock said. "The Professor always said if the unthinkable were to happen he would want to be in his mansion to rest until the proper burial was arranged on the grounds. Jean is working on that as we speak."
Rock went to the young girl and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"It's okay Stacey. I have done my share." The young girl-Stacey-continued to cry on his shoulder.
Warren looks at the display. The hole in the wall, the Professor on the bed, Stacey sobbing her heart out, and Rock's ever calm façade. He knows his is torn up inside. Warren turns to the window. He picks up a chair and throws it through the window, not wanting to bother opening it. A leap and his is skyward back toward the site of the assassination.
Next ish...what is Warren after going back to the assembly center, and where will it lead to?
