A Nameless Story
Chapter 1
I sighed, and squinted at the yellow sign that pierced the darkness on the side of the road. I put my blinker on, and steered into their parking lot. I really needed to get drunk. I haphazardly pulled into a parking spot and turned off my car. I felt a familiar buzzing sensation around my mind, and I forcibly shoved it away. Sighing, I got out of the car and walked into the bar.
My name is Nameless, and yes, it is my name. I don't have a last name, or a middle name like most people. But then again, I'm not like most people.
I was never like most people.
In fact, even among mutants, I was considered unique.
Don't be fooled, I'm not proud of that. One of the few memories I have of my childhood, is one where I was standing in a beautiful old house. Looking out at the same, constant dark sky; wishing more than anything that I could be normal. I think I was about three or four. But I'm not sure. I'm never sure.
I walked into the bar, and kept my eyes downcast to avoid any unnecessary attention. I drew a few stares, but at least it was nothing like the stares I drew in the '20's and 30's in America. I was about 5'4, a few pounds over curvy, and Japanese.
I used to have the most wonderful brown eyes, my skin used to be dotted with freckles, and always had a light tan. I loved the way I looked back then. I don't know how many years ago that was…but I know I didn't always look the way I do now.
My hair, which was once a nice brown-black, like most people with black hair, was now a dark inky black that swallowed the light. It literally looked like darkness, or shadow. My skin was now a horrible pale color, well lack of color I should say, and my lovely freckles have been long lost from my cheeks. And my eyes…
My eyes were the most notable feature in my face now. Where they once were a wonderfully average brown, now they were pale like the moon. Almost silvery, white with grey highlights. I hated them. I hated that I was now forced to look like a walking yin sign. I hated that I could only remember fragments of things, before I was sixteen.
I didn't know how old I was now.
I sat down, in a shaded corner in the back. Thank god for cheap and dirty biker bars. They had low lighting, and nobody asked too many questions. I could keep my eyes down, and no one would know I was a mutant.
I smiled softly at that thought, as a waiter walked over to my table. I quickly scanned my
"Know what you want, miss?" He said, taking an extra nice tone. The man, or I should say boy, was probably only 21, and most likely was only being nice because he thought I was pretty.
I was.
Key word is was.
But not anymore. Not this, black and white thing I was changed into. I don't consider myself pretty now. Pretty people are people with color, brown hair, golden brown skin, blue eyes, anyone with color. People with birthmarks, or freckles. They were beautiful… I was not.
"I'd like a mushroom burger, and a rum and coke." I said lightly, keeping my voice polite and my eyes down. He nodded like an over eager puppy, and left to go get my food. I wondered if he was a mutant. They were so much more common these days…
I sighed. Man, nothing like trying to drink away my worries to make me feel old. This was what, 2012? I remember when people were still burning mutants at the stake, calling them witches. Demon spawn.
In the French Revolution, no one really cared. Things were too, hectic. In the Civil War, Lincoln utilized them in select regiments, just like he did with African Americans. FDR ignored them, during the depression and WWII, and most other presidents and world leaders did too, up until recently.
I grimaced, before quickly hiding it as the waiter brought my soda/alcoholic drink. I could thank that fuckhead Magneto for that one. The world was just fine ignoring us, until that asshole decided he was going to wage war. I had seen war waged over lesser things, like the war of 1812, Vietnam or Korea. Hell, even the cold war was a dumbass move on both the Soviets, and the U.S's part.
I scowled, as I felt the insistent buzzing around my mind again. Lately, someone kept trying to get in there, and peak at my thoughts. I don't fucking think so. I may not remember my childhood, and have broken memories half the other time, but I was not letting some fucking random asshole into my brain.
I shoved them away violently. Then sipped on my drink, letting the unpleasant taste of alcohol linger before drinking more. Nothing like soda mixed with alcohol.
I didn't need company. Actually, maybe I did need company, but I was too dangerous to be around other people constantly.
Let's just say…old habits die hard. And I don't want to hurt anyone ever again, not like I used to. I was an assassin, on and off throughout my life. Until around the seventies, when I split. I don't know if you could even call me an assassin though, I was more like a mindless…monster.
I was a monster, and I'm trying to change that. I never want to be that….that thing again. Never.
A man walked in, he was very well built, and looked around, scenting the air. I froze, and let my inky black hair cover my face inconspicuously. I'd have to split before I got my hands on that damn burger, I don't know who that man is, but I don't trust anyone who sniffs the air like that.
I don't trust any mutant that could track me by scent. What if I had done something to their family? If they came looking for revenge, I might snap. If I snapped, I'd kill them. I didn't want to kill anyone else, I didn't want to hurt anyone else like I did. He moved away from the door, and sat in a dark corner. I waited for my food patiently. It'd be stupid if I left now, it would be more than just a little bit suspicious.
The waiter brought me my food, and I paid him for it. That way I could leave when I wanted to. I ate my burger silently, intentionally keeping my muscles slack to appear relaxed. I never once raised my eyes to look at the suspicious man at the bar. I monitored him out of my peripheral vision.
I ate half of my burger, and got up to leave. The man at the bar flinched when I got up, but didn't move.
I walked out of the dimly lit bar, to my crappy looking burgundy Honda. It was at least twenty years old. It still looked okay though, but that didn't really matter. It was a reliable car, and it had my twin katana's in the passenger seat.
I got in my car, and started it when the man walked out looking right at me. He was smoking a cigar. He was attractive, with a rugged looks. He had dark eyes, a long straight nose and tan skin. He had dark eyes, and brown hair. Color, above all else he had color.
I put the car in reverse, and looked behind me to pull out of the parking space. Suddenly my door was opened, and reflexively I grabbed my katana and stabbed it into the perpetrator.
For a moment, I lost myself. My identity. I was the monster, in that split second.
Then I realized what I had done, I pulled my katana back and dropped it, putting the car in park and getting out to see if the person was okay.
It was the man from earlier, the mutant, the one who was just looking at me from the door. Damn, must've had some kind of animal mutation that made move fast.
"Holy shit, are you okay? I'm so sorry-" I said frantically, pressing my hands against the wound in his stomach. I had run him through. I looked at him in his eyes, and he frowned, taking a drag off his cigar.
"Who the fuck has samurai swords in their car?" He asked rhetorically. The man was obviously pissed. I couldn't really blame him, I'd be pissed if someone randomly stabbed me too.
Abruptly, the blood flow from the wound stopped. I turned my gaze back to him, and stood up, snarling.
"You little bastard, you let me think you were going to die!" Truth be told, I wasn't really angry. I was more relieved, he was fine. It was the kind of anger parents get when their kid crosses the street in heavy traffic, then the kid survives without a single scratch.
He got up, looking at me apprehensively. He threw his cigar on the ground and stomped it out. I turned to get back in my car, when he spoke.
"You're a mutant." He stated, and I turned to him smiling politely.
"I think you're mistaken. If you'd like, I know the number for the states mental hospital. I can call them for you?" I said politely, turning the blame back on him. He glared, and I turned back towards my car to open my door.
"There's a man like us, he wants to help you." He said right as I was reaching for the door handle. I turned, and my expression was cold.
"I don't deserve help. Tell him that. Tell him he'd only harm himself by taking me in." I said and every iota of anger I was feeling leaked out into my voice, twisting it into a dark and dangerous sound.
"Listen kid-," He started again, sounding annoyed.
"I'm older than your great-great grandmother." I said matter of factly. He looked pissed.
"I've got orders to take you back so you can get help. You think you're the only one with a dangerous power? Please kid, I've seen shit that'd put you into shock." He growled, and I looked at him, all emotion leaving my face.
"I very much doubt that. I'm beyond dangerous, I'm a ticking time bomb, and it's got nothing to do with any mutation that I might have. So you, and this mysterious man, can fuck off. I'm not putting innocent people at risk just because he has a hero complex."
The man looked furious. I shook my head, and closed my eyes.
"You don't get it. No one ever does. I'm leaving." I said, my speech broken. I was trying to apologize, and justify myself at the same time. The man looked like he was trying to calm himself down.
"You don't get it bub. You've got people tracking you, and we're trying to help. I need to get you to come with me." He snapped, taking a very serious tone. I thought for a moment. If I went with him, I could convince his superior that I was dangerous, and escape. If I went willing, I'd have more options than if I forced the man to knock me out. I could also learn who was tracking me.
A pained, unguarded look crossed my features. I looked back up at the handsome man, regret causing my eyebrows to furrow some.
"Fine, I'll go with you. I hope you'll keep in mind I gave you fair warning." I answered, reluctantly. His expression softened from furious to mildly annoyed as he walked around to the passenger side of the car.
I got in the car, and put my katana's in the back, angling them so that the hilts were between my seat and the console. He climbed in the car.
"What's your mutant power anyway?" He asked reluctantly as I pulled out of the parking lot after he directed me north.
My lips tightened into a hard line.
"I know I was born with two. Immortality, and empathy. At some point, I've gotten others." I answered quietly. I narrowed my eyes gently when he snorted.
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" He said rudely. I shrugged, and said nothing. We sat in silence for the next hour, and I wondered who the strange man who wanted to help me was. Once, I had gotten an invitation from Magneto, but I left it in the dust. I wasn't going to be associated with people like him.
"So, kid, what's your name?" He asked gruffly. I kept my eyes on the road and shifted a little. I hated it when people asked for my name. It set me apart from everything.
"Don't call me kid, boy, I'm older than you." I stated, no venom in my voice. "What's yours?" I countered.
"Wolverine." Wolverine said, and I didn't say anything. Another hour passed, and the deep tree line thinned out some.
"If you don't want me to call you kid, you're gonna have to give me your name." Wolverine said, his voice sounding annoyed. My jaw clenched, and I took a deep breath. This guy was an asshole, and there is no way he was going to leave me alone about it.
"Nameless." I said, as quietly as possible. There was a small gas station ahead, so I turned my signal on and turned into it.
"What kind of name is that?" He argued. It sounded like he thought my name was made up.
"The only name I have. What kind of name is Wolverine?" I said, my words biting. I parked and glared at him, before getting out of the car and walking into the gas station, pulling the hood of my jacket up, and keeping my eyes down.
Wolverine followed me, watching me carefully like he was sure I was going to try and run off. How thick was this guy? I wasn't some stupid girl, I was old, and I had learned from my mistakes. Only run when there's no one left to chase you.
I got some coffee, put cream and sugar in it to change the color. I watched the light tan bubble up in it like clouds, before stirring it. Wolverine grabbed his own, and I grabbed random snacks and paid for my things, keeping my eyes downcast. I made my way back to my car, and sat down in it, waiting for Wolverine.
He walked back out, and got in the car. Silence flooded around us as I pulled out of the parking lot again.
"My name is Logan." He stated, and I said nothing in response. He looked frustrated, but I didn't really care. Logan growled.
"That's when you're supposed to tell me your real name sweetheart." Logan snapped impatiently. I glanced at him.
"That is my real name. I wasn't kidding when I said it was the only name I had." I corrected.
He looked somewhat guilty at that. I didn't care. I had learned a long time ago not to make friends, not to care. It was easier. I sipped on my coffee, and turned on the radio.
"These battle scars don't look like their fading. Don't look like they're going away, they ain't ever going to change," A man sang. It was beautiful, but it stirred something. Painful memories of when I was the monster…
I quickly shut off the radio, and drove in silence. Logan threw me a questioning glance, but I didn't respond. When I ran out of coffee, I noticed the sky was starting to get lighter. There were a lot of things I never wanted to feel again, or remember.
I didn't like remembering some parts of my life.
I wanted to remember my parents, and my childhood. I think I loved my parents, very much. Sometimes I think I remember their voices. The perfume my mother wore. The type of cuff links my father favored. I remember they were Japanese, and I was born in America. I think… It seems legit enough.
"Where are we going?" I asked. He glanced at me sharply and grimaced.
"So she speaks. We're going to Professor Xavier's institute for gifted students. Safe house for mutants." He rattled off. It sounded like he had said it many times already, he probably
"You should try and contact him, and tell him that I'm not safe." I repeated. He had me take an exit to the right before answering.
"What exactly makes you so dangerous?" He drawled, uninterested. I took a deep breath.
"You're not taking me seriously. Do you not care that at any second; I could kill everyone there, unarmed? I wouldn't even be using any powers. Or do you somehow think you can break me of that habit?" I snarled, letting my worry seep out as anger.
I clenched the steering wheel hard, and shut up. I ground my teeth together, and wished briefly that this Xavier had sent someone with a little bit of sense after me. Maybe they would've listened. This guy, obviously wasn't going to leave even if I told him I was about to explode.
"The professor helps people like us-," he started, glaring out at the road in front of us.
"Do you know how many times I've heard that line?" I interrupted, my voice holding biting sarcasm and anger. I was getting pissed, this guy just had no fucking idea. And he was getting on my last god damned nerve.
"He does help, people like us." He repeated firmly, he looked furious. I didn't care.
"Didn't we just have this conversation?! I don't fucking want your help, I don't need it." I snapped, narrowing my eyes in anger. He was getting on my last fucking nerve.
"Yeah you do kid-," Logan argued, snarling at me.
"I AM NOT A KID! I was in the French revolution, the Civil War, WWI and WWII. I am older than you, so stop calling me a fucking child!" I snarled back, the volume of my voice rising. He shut up, and glared at me nastily.
I didn't care, and kept driving. I pulled over at another gas station and went to the bathroom. I grabbed a six pack of Cokes, paid for them and left. Logan was still in the car, and smoking a cigarette.
I got in the car, and pulled a coke away from the others and popped it open. I drank some, then pulled out of the parking lot, and back onto the road. I took a deep breath, and tried to calm down. It wasn't hard, I've had a long time to learn how to control my emotions.
He didn't say anything the rest of the car ride, and hours passed. I felt the all too familiar and annoying buzzing around my head. Frowning, I shoved it away yet again. I didn't have time for that nuisance.
Logan then had me make a series of turns, and suddenly we were at the gates of the institute. My lips thinned as I frowned when I saw all the kids. I couldn't be around them, I was dangerous. I parked the car, and got out, following Logan into the large building taking my twin katana's with me.
I had to say, everything around me was beautiful. The setting sun gave everything a golden huge, with tints of red and orange. Even my horribly pale skin had some color to it. Just not my hair. My hair was darkness, and it swallowed the light unnaturally.
The inside of the institute was very nice. It was definitely an older building, but it was obviously very well made and had many rooms. Logan led us up to the elevator, then pointed me in the direction of his office before walking off.
I walked in without knocking, and saw a bald old man in a wheelchair. He was sitting at a desk, and when I entered the room, he smiled softly.
"Hello, my name is Professor Charles Xavier. It's good to finally see you in the flesh, I've been trying to find you for some time." He said, and his voice was kind. It had a resonance to it that made him seem wise. I doubted that, he couldn't be wise if he wanted me here.
"Hi. I'm sorry, but why exactly was I forced to come here?" I asked bluntly. I hated beating around the bush, it only complicated things.
"I'm sorry my dear, I didn't realize you were forced…Logan must've misunderstood me. When I told him you wouldn't let me into your mind, he became concerned. I apologize." He answered, frowning slightly.
"I've brought you here, because I've found that many people are after you. William Stryker for one, and Magneto." He continued smoothly. I frowned, and crossed my arms, holding both swords loosely in my right hand.
"Thank you for your concern professor, but I assure you it's misplaced. I'd rather be on the run from these people on my own, than be here, where I could accidentally hurt someone." I replied, keeping my voice low and steady.
The buzzing around me head happened again, and I shoved it off. The professor winced. I looked at him cautiously. So he was the annoying telepath trying to get in my head the past couple of months.
"Yes. You're dangerous, but we can help you. Give you a fighting chance against what you've endured. We can help you find the memories you lost, help you lock away your monsters forever. This is a safe haven for our kind, we help each other." He said calmly. I froze, and stared at him shocked.
I wanted so bad to put away the monster that always loomed close to the surface. I wanted to learn about my past…just my childhood. I wanted so badly to remember the faces of my parents. I-I just wanted to remember my family, everything before I was sixteen, everything before the white room.
I closed my eyes briefly, then looked back at the professor.
"Deal. I'll stay here for awhile and help you, but I want you to know, I'm dangerous. At any moment I could go off, and I don't want to hurt anyone." I said, my voice harsh and low.
He smiled. "Don't worry, I have faith. You'll be fine here, Logan will show you to your room. You can train with him, Scott and Storm. You'll have to be a professor here, I'm sure we'll find something for you to teach."
I nodded, and left. I felt so doubtful. When was the last time someone told me they had faith in me? Logan was waiting for me in the hallway. He smirked, and I glared.
"Your room is up the stairs, last room on the left." He said smugly, and walked off. I followed his directions, and found my room. The door was unlocked and I walked in.
The walls were white, and there were red blankets on the bed. I shivered. The only color I didn't like was red, blood red.
This seemed, too perfect for me. I couldn't sleep in this room without some reminder of what I was. I sighed, and went back to the Professor's office. I walked in again, and he smiled.
"Do you have any black paint?" I asked, he nodded, and said there was a broom closet across from my room that had paint and brushes in it. I left, and got it out of said broom closet.
I walked back into the room, and plopped the can's down. I pulled the lid off, and started painting. When I was done with the wall that my bed was positioned against, I walked up the wall, and onto the ceiling, painting another sign in black.