The J.W. Marriot Hotel, The Dominican Republic

Connor Roberts took another shot of tequila and felt the burn slide down his mouth as he laid his arms across the bar counter, bowing his head in exhaustion. He had light stubble across the bottom of his chin and his bright blue eyes glistened in the dim, yellow light of the bar. A man cleared his throat loudly behind him and his head snapped back to the large man, who jumped back and gave Connor a strange look. Connor scanned him quickly before shaking his head and returned to his position. His head was nustled inside his dark leather jacket and he pushed back his short brown hair as he tried to collect himself through the buzzed state caused by the two previous shots of the fiery drink. With his head against the table and his eyes closed, he reached in his pocket and slapped a 10 peso bill onto the table and held up two fingers. The bartender shook her head and flipped her black hair from her eyes as she poured tequila into his shot glass and watched as he grabbed it and accidentally tipped the glass over, covering the counter with liquor.

"Dammit!" Connor yelled, slamming his hand on the table with a slurred voice and splashing the alcohol over himself and the bartender.

She jolted backward and screamed briefly as she saw the spilled tequila freeze on the counter and in mid-air. Alcoholic crystals fluttered about and she was shocked when she saw that he was the reason the tequila had frozen. Connor looked up at her with tired eyes and she widened hers once she realized what he was. She pointed at him and caught the attention of two other men at the bar who saw the freezing incident occur.

"Es un mutante ! Él es uno de ellos!" she yelled. He's a mutant! He's one of them!

Connor jolted up, completely hearing the Spanish word for 'mutant'. The two men beside him backed up and he watched as one of them pulled out their phone and dialed the police. Connor shook his head and tears streamed down his eyes as he saw the bartender pull out a shotgun and point it at him. Connor began to shake with anger and ignored her screams and the fear in her voice as he watched three other bar customers stand up and surround him.

"Please don't do this." he said quietly.

He watched as three of the patrons around him put up their fists and another person locked the door to the bar. The people outside the bar, walking through the hotel lobby, spotted Connor and began pointing at him, seeing his frosted hands as his rage increased. The patrons gathered around him and within seconds, Connor could see the faint flash of police lights just outside the hotel. He hung his head and watched as one of the men put a hand on his shoulder, clicking his tongue and nodding to his seat. Connor aggressively shook off the man's hand and when he saw him clench his other fist, Connor grabbed him by his throat and body-slammed him into one of the single tables. The salt-and-pepper shakers flew into the air and the table splintered in half as he turned around, seeing the bartender aiming the shotgun at his head. He ducked as buckshot flew into the air, shattering the back window that led to the lobby. The woman yelled in fear and reloaded the gun, the hot shell flying out and flipping across the air. Connor eyed it and could feel the wind from a man starting a punch from behind. Connor generated a long stream of ice seemingly from thin air and grabbed the shotgun shell, swinging it around and shattering the long stream with his mind, letting the heavy ice-encrusted shell fly into the man's head, knocking him out.

The woman fired another round and Connor flew over an empty table, the napkin dispenser blowing tuffs of paper into the air as the shot destroyed an inexpensive duplicate of Van Gough's Starry Night. The remaining men now tried to grab the shotgun from the bartender and she screamed with a high-pitched howl as she tried to reload and take another shot at Connor. He dodged a charging patron and grabbed him by his flying feet, tossing him into the wall behind them. The wallpaper cracked and the man fell to the ground with a painful yelp and Connor held up his fists as the woman cocked the shotgun again and aimed for him. Suddenly, a screaming elderly lady ran from the right and Connor jumped in front of her, generating a giant shield-like barrier that protected the both of them, the buckshot lodged in the thick pieces of ice. It fell to the ground with a heavy thump and Connor saw as six police officers ran inside the lobby, their guns drawn.

"I'm not doing anything wrong!" he screamed in desperation.

"Ponte en el suelo! Tienes tres segundos antes de que te dispare!" the leading officer yelled as his pistol was aimed at Connor's chest. Get on the ground. You have three seconds before I shoot you!

Connor looked around for an escape route and when he put his hands above his head, he spotted the window to his left. Before the men could even move, Connor leaped to the window, forming an ice shield across his forearms as he burst through the glass. He slid across the sidewalk and picked himself up, running down the street and shoving people out of the way as he slid across the hood of a police squad car and climbed inside. He switched gears and quickly slammed on the pedal, the back tires spinning as he slammed into the back of an abandoned civilian vehicle as he backed up and drove north as bullets hit the passenger window and shattered the window. He took a few deep breaths and broke off the shield on his arms as he pulled a sharp left and found the highway ramp and quickly drove on it, seeing police lights in the rear-view mirror. The setting sun blinded him and he swerved across the road as a stray bullet hit him in the back of his shoulder. His body shot forward and the steering wheel had no other choice but turn to the right and grind up along the median, sparks shooting out as the mirror flew off. Connor screamed in fear and he saw a light pole ahead, part of its base stuck out from the concrete median.

The front bumper of the car hit the spot with full force, shifting the car over to the left as the metal shook and Connor was thrown from the seat and the airbag went off. It busted Connor's face and threw his head back into the seat as the car came to a painful stop. In a dazed state and with blood flowing from his nose, Connor tried to stop the bleeding and kicked the door open, falling to the asphalt and passing out on the road.

"I'm dead. I'm sorry. Mom. Da-. Dad." he fluttered out in a tired voice.

The sirens got louder and louder and he heard at least three police cars stop just ten feet from him. They were all yelling for him to stand up and surrender. Just as he went to hold his hands up and try for one last stand, the men fell silent and the rest of the world followed. He blinked back into existence and looked around, seeing all of the officers, frozen with their guns held high, some with their mouths still open. He grabbed the side of the wrecked squad car and tried to stand up, grunting as he leaned against the trunk and looked up into the air, nearly screaming as he gasped in surprise.

In front of him hovered a beautiful young woman with red hair sensually tied up in a ponytail. She wore a dark blue outfit made of a strong spandex material with yellow, fingerless gloves and belt. Connor could tell she was naturally beautiful, not wearing any makeup. She floated down to the road and held her out to Connor. Behind her, a large hover-jet materialized out of the air and through the yellow-tinted cockpit window, Connor saw a man wearing a full face mask and a golden visor give him a smile and a small salute.

Bobby Drake? Of New York? she asked.

Connor was shocked, not because of her knowledge of his true identity so much, more to do with the fact that when she spoke to him, her mouth wasn't moving.

"Yes?" Connor or Bobby replied outloud.

We know who you are. And what you can do. We want to offer you a place where you will be safe. A school where you can learn about who you are and how to control your amazing gifts. the woman said.

Who are you? Bobby asked, this time talking in his mind.

My name is Jean Grey. And them... she said, pointing to the jet and the various figures inside.

They are the X-Men. And we want to help.

X4

THE NATURE OF EVIL