Anger coursed through his veins, hatred overwhelming his whole body. The streetlights flickered on and off, a signal that the city didn't give a damn about the citizens who lived in this shitty excuse of a city. He jammed his hands into his pockets, trying to keep the cold shut outside of his mind. Amazing how the weather could change at the drop of a hat. Ever since that night, he'd never been much of a fan of anything cold. How could he have allowed that to happen? How could he have allowed himself to be defeated, by an X-Man nevertheless? It just didn't seem possible, let alone grasping the concept that it had actually happened. The Alcatraz Battle was over, and he didn't remember anything about it, thanks to that good for nothing X-Man scum.
John tried his best to keep his head down, trying to push away the prickling pain of the cold winter night. Three months. Three months since he'd been left for dead on the godforsaken island. From what he found out from the few mutants who he met on his way back to New York, the Brotherhood was gone, only because Magneto had been depowered. He'd also heard that the cure wasn't permanent, but, in his opinion, that was a rumor created by the other mutants that had been depowered and couldn't face the reality that they no longer had the powers that they once worshiped. Pathetic, that's what it was.
He was blocks from his apartment with no cabs in sight. He shook his head; going down the main roads was stupid and wouldn't get him back as quick as he wanted. The best way to go was the alleys. It wasn't like he couldn't defend himself if he needed to; being a mutant who had retained his powers gave him that confidence. John turned down the darkened alleyway, gripping his Zippo lighter that laid inside his pocket. He had to go back to the lighter since that son of a bitch, Iceman, froze his flamethrower during the Battle. How he loathed that man; it was impossible to put a limit on it. Perfect Bobby Drake, with his perfect power, and his perfect life. John would love to give him a reality check.
Going through all the twists and turns known as New York City, John made sure to keep his lighter in his fist at all times. He arrived at his apartment building with little to no trouble. It wasn't much, even from the outside. Crumbling bricks, door knobs falling off, and a door that used a great amount of force to open, it wasn't exactly the most ideal place to live, but at least it was something. He pulled open the door, rushing inside to escape from the snow starting to fall from the ominous clouds. Inside the building, anyone could tell that it was much worse. Here was a rusty staircase, rotting wooden doors, and wallpaper peeling from the walls. He sighed, brushing the snow out of his hair, before walking up the stairs. His apartment was on the ninth floor, and there was no elevator to take him there.
John shuffled through his pocket to find his keys, and unlocked his own rotting wooden door. He closed it quickly, locking all four locks in a matter of seconds. He let out another small sigh, throwing his keys down on the coffee table. Home. Interesting word. This piece of shit was his home. Well, it was better than what he got at the Brotherhood, sleeping in tents in a forest. His apartment consisted of four rooms; a living room, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom; the basics. He didn't bother to undress tonight, instead walking into his bedroom, falling onto his bed and drifting into a dreamless sleep.
Kitty tossed and turned in her bed, kicking the covers off occasionally, only to pull them back up moments later. Alcatraz still fell heavily on the young girl's mind. All of those innocent people being killed, and all the mutants throwing themselves off the island with intentions of drowning after losing their powers…it was all too much for her to bear. Then the Phoenix. That was the worst part of it all. All of the mutants and humans that she had killed alone was enough to make anyone nervous. The only part she regretted was letting Bobby pull her away when there were still others that she could easily save, especially since she couldn't be touched.
"Come on, Kitty! We have to get out of here!" Bobby yelled, taking Kitty by the arm, tugging her and Jimmy along with him back to the jet. The Phoenix was starting up, and he had to get as many people as he could to safety as quickly as he possibly could. Much to his surprise, Kitty jerked her arm away from him, pulling out his grasp, and running back onto the battlefield. "Kitty! Kitty, come back here! You're going to get yourself killed!"
Kitty ignored him, continuing to run. She had to save the most she could from the Phoenix. Bobby caught up with her, grabbing her by the arms once again, trying to drag her back to the jet. This time, without Jimmy there, she phased through him. "Bobby, let me go! I can save more people," she begged, still phasing to not allow him to touch her. She really only wanted to save one, but she would get as many as she possibly could. Bobby rolled his eyes. "No Kitty. We have to go. They'll all be fine," he said in the most comforting voice he could muster in the current situation. She merely nodded, following him to the jet, only to turn back once to see John lifting himself up off the ground.
She couldn't get that image out of her mind; for three months it had remained in the same place. So Bobby hadn't killed him, but the Phoenix surely must have. There was no way that he could have gotten away in time to escape her wraith. Of course, Kitty hadn't told anyone of what she had seen. There hadn't been any unexplained fires on the news, so she was sure that he was dead. He had to be dead. If only she had fought Bobby more, then maybe she could have saved someone else other than Jimmy. 'Maybe it was just his time' she thought, finally allowing herself to be taken over by sleep, one filled with nightmares of the images that had already passed.