A/N This story is an A/U, set in a contemporary version of Earth, where the X-Men and Brotherhood do not (yet) exist, they're not part of a larger Marvel Universe (so, no Avengers, Dr. Strange, FF etc.) and the rest you'll discover as the story moves on. I'm setting up my own canon (as it is AU) and this might be rated M eventually. Violence. Language. Multiple POV's.
Italic is thought.
New York. 03/07/2013
Anna Marie shook her head in disappointment, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Oh come on, sugah. It aint that bad, I aint gonna hurt anyone," she pleaded.
"No way Anna. I'm sorry, but your kind can cause problems that I just aint equipped to deal with. Damn it woman, I'm a landlord, not a bodyguard," Ross told her, holding out an envelope. "I'm sorry. This is a refund for the rest of the month's rent. I need you to leave by tomorrow night."
The twenty-one year old swiped it from his hand and stormed past, blinking back her tears. Three whole years since leavin' home and I still can't hold down one place. Not one, cause of everybody's prejudices. Fuck 'em. Fuck them all.
Her gloves lay discarded on her bed when she entered her room, and she pulled them on with a sigh. Locking the door and grabbing her rucksack, she began to pack for another month on the road, putting her music on as loud as it would go in an attempt to block out the anger.
Once her clothes filled the majority of the rucksack, she showered and brushed her teeth, staring at her reflection and not hiding the disgust. I'm a freak. I can't even touch people, I can't . . . I can't even be close to someone. I'm a disappointment.
She shook her head again, put away the last of her things and shut off her music, before pulling on a zip-up, dark green and yellow hoodie and swinging her bag over her shoulder. She looked around her small room, the grimy window looking out over Brooklyn. A man sat outside, propping her hands over a small fire for warmth. The dancing flames cast a light that flickered across his harsh, lined features and a thick mane of blonde hair.
Anna turned away from the stained glass and made one last sweep with her eyes, but not finding anything discarded or forgotten. She opened the door and it slammed shut as she made her way back down the creaking stairs, but she gasped when she entered the living room.
Ross lay on the floor, surrounded by his own blood, the crimson slashed out across the furniture and TV, a terrifying red plastering the walls, floor and ceiling. She ran past his dismembered and gashed body, fear and panic started to blind her thoughts as she barged out the building.
The streetlights flashed past she continued on, only stopping when she was so breathless her head was pounding. Her bright green eyes glanced around the empty street, realising she had no idea where she was or where to go; and she began to cry. Her entire body shook as she stumbled into a nearby alley and slumped against the wall, falling down to her knees and curling up against the cold, her tears pooling against her arm.
When her eyelids opened again, the sun was casting it's light upon her, the heat pressing against her like she were in a furnace. Two men sat nearby, one on each side of a disused coffee table, playing a game of cards. Once her mind kicked back into gear, it didn't take her long to realise that they too, were mutants.
One had blue skin and wore a stylish black coat, and a beanie pulled down over his ears. His eyes were yellow, and his hands only had three fingers each. Opposite, was a man that would blend into society much easier, with dark brown hair, light stubble and a torn trenchcoat. The only giveaway of being a mutant were that the pupils of his eyes glowed red, while the irises were a deep black.
They both looked over as she raised to her feet and they both smiled, to different effects. The blue man almost scared her, and would have if she'd met him the night before. The other man almost made her blush.
"Guten Morgen," the first greeted in a thick German accent.
The spoke with an equally thick accent, but he hailed from Louisiana. "Mornin' chere."
"Mornin'," she mumbled cautiously. "What're ya doin'?"
"Texas hold 'em. Wanna go?" he offered, shrugging. "Oh, where are our manners? I'm Remy, dis is Kurt."
"Anna Marie," she replied, walking over slowly and sitting beside them. "And ah'll pass, thank ya though."
"You are not scared of my appearance?" Kurt asked, raising his brow. "So what can you do? Any human would have fled by now."
"Ah, um . . . ah don't really wanna talk 'bout that," she said apologetically.
They both shared a look. "Well," Remy started, "just be sure to tell us soon, ya hear? 'Specially if you bein' taggin' along."
The blue man nodded his agreement. "Zweifellos. I for instance, can teleport in the blink of an eye. I even got into the Munich Circus, as the amazing Nightcrawler!" he said gleefully, disappearing in a BAMF of smoke.
Remy laughed as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Don' worry, tha' becomes less impressive the more he does it," he said, collecting his cards. "Now, ma turn."
He held up a card for her to see clearly and his entire eyes glowed red, as did the card, thin red lines moving through it like a web of hellish veins. They began to pulsate and he swept his arm, throwing the card to the opposite end of the alley; where it exploded against some bins and caused paper and half-eaten food to propel across the area.
Nightcrawler reappeared beside her as she paled. They . . . they can go anywhere, they can . . . kill anythin'. They killed Ross. Now they're tryin' to finish me. Not gonna happen, sugah.
She pulled off a glove as Remy turned back to her and whipped round to Kurt, placing hand on his face. She gasped as her abilities took effect; his veins becoming prominent as she absorbed everything that made him, him. His memories flooded into hers, his abilities becoming hers, his life draining away and adding to hers.
She let him go and turned round to a furious Remy, pulling out his deck of cards. She fought with Kurt's personality which now acted like an echo in her head, second-guessing her, stopping her from her launching an attack. It did not stop her opponent, however, who flung an explosive ace at her.
She disappeared, reappearing next to him and swinging in with a right hook. He realised too late what she had done and stumbled back as the strike connected with a thud. A memory slid into place however, from the night before and she paused, halting her next kick.
They, they heard Ross' screams and followed me as I fled and they . . . protected me while I slept. Shit.
She and Kurt both held out their hands, causing Gambit to stop also. The blue man spoke quickly, "Remy, the woman is confused, can you blame her after last night? She found Sabretooth's work, she thinks we did it."
The cajun sighed, putting away the cards. "Calm down, chere. And . . . undo whateve' ya did. Ya don't suit blue," he said with a smirk.
She frowned and looked down at her hands and screamed as she did. They were a light shade of blue. "What in the name o' Jesus Christ?!" she gasped. "This has never . . . Ah can't undo it."
"Whaddya mean?"
"It aint somethin' ah flick on or off, it's somethin' that happens whenever ah touch someone. The longer we touch, the longer ah take . . . things," she moaned, looking at Kurt, who was the same light shade as her, contrary to the darker shade he had been previously. "Sorry, darlin'."
"Do not worry, Anna," he said softly, his gentleness surprising her due to his devilish appearance; which was now fully apparent now he'd removed his beanie; two pointed ears and gelled black hair on show.
She smiled and put her glove back on, while she continued to browse his memories. Her smile disappeared. "Don't pretend to be fully innocent, ya little liar. You're thieves!"
"Well, c'mon now chere, tha's harsh," Remy scolded. "We're merely takin' what others don't need and . . . redistributing it."
"Redistributing?" she asked before more memories became apparent. "Oh. You give it away to mutants who need it."
"Yeah, we do. No need to be jumpin' the horse now is there?" he said, as his eyes glanced up.
She and Kurt followed his gaze and they both gasped. A robot stood in the only entrance to the alley, a hulking abomination of machinery and weaponry, it's head levelling with the fourth story of the buildings on either side. It's plating was thick, painted purple and black, emblazoned with the logo of a company: Trask Industries.
It's blue headlights flashed to full brightness, casting a spotlight around them. "Mutants detected!" it announced to no one in particular. "Halt and surrender or face immediate execution."
"It's not illegal to be one of us!" she shouted back, curling her fists, but backing away.
"Don' bother, chere," Remy advised. "We've met these things before, dey won' listen."
She sighed, staring at it in fear. "What do we do?"
"Fight then run," he growled, dashing forward and pulling out a small baton he'd had hidden under his coat. It extended into a staff and he used it to push off the ground and at the formidable machine, Kurt disappearing to start his own assault.
The lights in the club flashed and spun, creating a whirl of bright colours and vibrant flashes as the people danced, got drunk and stared slack-jawed at the woman on stage. She danced and sung, swirling in a tight, white outfit, using her abilities to create a light show that dazzled those around her.
The only mutant in the area that wasn't persecuted; her name, Dazzler, was the talk of Brooklyn. They let off her mutation, because frankly, it made a good show and the outfit she wore left little to the imagination.
Logan, however, did not enter the club for her light shows, he entered to save her life. His wild hair and rough clothing garnered him a few odd looks but they turned away again at his ferocious stare and muscled physique.
He rapped on the bar for a beer as he pulled up a cigar, lighting it and inhaling deeply. When he blew the smoke back out, the bartender shook his head.
"Excuse me, sir, you can't be doing that in here. Take it outside," he ordered.
Logan didn't even look at him. "Who's gonna stop me, bub? You?"
The man sighed as he set down the drink, took the mutant's money and stalked off. Logan watched the woman on stage, no grin plaguing him like the other drunk men that swarmed around her stage, pledging money, marriage and love to her.
He bristled at the sound of a Sentinel attacking mutants down the street. Well shit, I better hurry. He rushed through the crowd, discarding his beer but keeping the cigar between his lips. He snarled as pushed past the enamoured men and leapt onto the stage.
Dazzler scowled, her ice blue eyes narrowing. "Hey, asshole! This is my night, so get outta here before I light you up."
'Shut up, sweetheart," he growled, taking her wrist in an iron grip and pulling her off the stage's exit into the back area, and towards the fire exit.
She yelled out, but the grip he had on her wrist hurt so badly, that she couldn't focus to use her abilities. Didn't he realise how hard it was to run in a tight white outfit and high heels?
They burst through the door as a young blue woman sprinted towards them, her eyes wide. She had thick, long brown hair, the middle and fringe of which were white. Close behind her were a man with red eyes and . . ..
A demon? Heh, don't see that every day. Guess these're the mutants being attacked by the . . . yup, there it is, he thought as a Sentinel descended from the air, crashing to a stop between the two groups, its thrusters dying down.
"Okay, now I think I know why we left," Dazzler muttered, as Logan let go of her and flashes of light swarmed her. She extended both arms, palms flat and energy beams rippled through the air, striking the Sentinel and burning through it's armour.
Logan ran forward, his adamantium claws ripping through his hand and he leapt; using the claws to stab into and cling to the machine. He began to climb, ripping out wiring and machinery as he went. He paused as the demon appeared next to him, grabbed him and teleported them. When they reappeared they were above the machine with another man, falling toward its head.
Nightcrawler teleported, leaving Gambit and Logan to land on it, as Dazzler distracted it from below. His claws ripped through the head panels easily as he thudded down. It became easier with Remy charging up and destroying it from the other side, charred and torn metal becoming a more common sight with every second.
Logan swung down to hang in front of it's face and he stabbed its glowing eyes, tearing them out with a roar. He dropped as the entire head began to glow red, rippling with kinetic energy.
Gambit leapt after him and they were both caught by Nightcrawler, who teleported them mid-air, skidding to a halt at a safe distance away, where he'd already took Anna and Dazzler. He glanced back as the Sentinel's head erupted in a fiery explosion. "Heh. Nice work, bub."
The red hair of Jean Grey rippled behind her like flames as she ran, closely followed by Scott Summers and Hank McCoy, her two closest friends. She followed the thoughts that blared within her mind, the other mutants that were under attack.
Soon, however, the thoughts calmed and simmered, bubbling with relief. They'd defeated whatever threatened them. They skidded to a stop before a beheaded machine, the top of its neck alight with embers and the rest of its armour burnt and damaged.
She focused, following the trail of their minds, but it was jagged; moving between locations far too quickly.
"They've got a teleporter," she told her friends as she turned. Scott sighed, his muscular chest heaving between breaths, his wavy brown hair rippling in the wind and his eyes hidden behind ruby sunglasses. Hank grinned, baring his fangs, his blue fur not moving, his breathing still steady.
"This'll be quite the experiment for our abilities then," he noted.
"You may look like a beast, but you've still got the professor's mind, Hank," she complimented, only he would see this as an experiment. "How're we going to catch up to them?"
"They'll have to rest eventually," Scott said. "Let's get back to the car and follow."
The other two nodded their agreement and they began back to their vehicle, ignoring the stares of the clubbers who'd watched the events unfold in fear and awe.