Disclaimer: I, sadly, don't own any of the characters that Marvel has so generously created for our entertainment purposes. I do, however, own Donovan Milady, Jennifer Granger, and any other character that you'd probably not recognize within this and other fictions (unless, of course, it's some really obscure Marvel character, in which you may not recognize him/her but I don't own that character, either). I'm writing this before I write the actual story (bold of me, I'm aware) so I have no idea whether or not I'll be owning any other characters by the story's end. In the mean time, ENJOY!!
And So it Begins
Donovan Milady is a smart, successful, and suave young woman in her late teens. She has light brown hair that trails down to the middle of her back and large brown eyes. She wears thin, frameless glasses and smart looking business suits that make her look professional even with the gray skin and wings that she drapes over her shoulders.
Warren Worthington III has provided Donovan with everything she has ever dreamed of. She is the events manager of the Worthington Enterprises branch in Boston. She had studied basic business and marketing in high school with the hopes of starting and running her own trade corporation. Since her dreams had been dashed when her wings grew in and her skin turned gray, she thought she would have to spend the rest of her life scrounging for food and shelter.
Donovan had lived that life until Warren Worthington had found her. Someone had stolen his wallet and he was chasing him when he stumbles across Donovan, a young girl in need of serious medical attention. She was covered in blood and vomit and screaming incoherently about being used.
Unfortunately, Donovan doesn't remember the events prior to landing in that alley. She remembers being thrown out of her house for being a mutant, though she can't remember how old she was. She doesn't know whether she graduated high school, though she remembers what she was good at and what she liked to do. She doesn't remember exactly when she was thrown out or how long she'd been living on the streets.
None of these questions keep Donovan up at night, however. She is absolutely content with her life. Every once in a while she wonders what caused the scars on her face and neck. Thin, long lines run from her right ear to the corner of her mouth and from underneath her lower lip to her left shoulder. They are very small, though, and she barely thinks about them.
Every morning she gets up to eat her small breakfast and prepare for her day. She lives in a penthouse where she has roof access. She climbs the long staircase to the roof and stares out over the scenic Boston skyline. She spreads her powerful wings and swoops down over the still sleeping city. She's sure that a few people may see her but that doesn't keep her from soaring the sky as a morning exercise. She loves the feel of the wind in her hair and the weightlessness of flight. On land she feels heavy and awkward, her skin being made of a strange stone-like substance but in the air, she feels more natural than she's ever felt in her entire life.
After her morning flight, Donovan showers and dresses for the day. She does most of her work at home on her computer, using the Internet to communicate with her co-workers. It works well for all cases because most of her co-workers, though impressed with her mind and ambition, are very uncomfortable with her appearances. Rather than cause them discomfort, she stays at home unless it's absolutely necessary to go to the office. This ends up being the best way to do business with other companies as well. Most are not as accepting as Worthington Enterprises tends to be. Despite the discomfort, Worthington Enterprises' employees are much more open-minded than most companies.
The phone rings early one morning, after Donovan's early morning flight. Donovan raises and eyebrow and wipes her forehead with a towel before picking the telephone up. "Hello?"
"Donovan Milady," a female voice says slowly. Donovan doesn't recognize the voice at all but her sensitive ears detect that there may be something mechanical about it. "My name is Jennifer Granger, a former associate of yours. I have arranged a meeting for you and another former colleague of yours. I'd recommend that you meet me when I call you with more information. A life depends on it."
The dial tone sounds before Donovan can say anything. She puts down the receiver and drops onto her couch. She buries her face in her hands. What the hell was that about? Who could be in trouble because of me?
Donovan doesn't get any work done for the next few days, waiting by her phone for the call that doesn't come. Finally, she receives a call from Warren Worthington on the fourth day. "Donovan, what are you doing? You're killing your chance of promotion! What the hell is going on?"
Donovan tells him everything. She is sobbing. "What the hell happened to me before you found me? I thought I was just one of the dumb kids you find after they get thrown out for being a mutant. But something else must have happened or else this person wouldn't be calling!"
"Maybe this person's messing with you, Donovan. You don't know anything about what happened and someone's playing off of that. You can't get yourself worked up over that," Warren says gently. "Has he called you again since?"
"No," Donovan says. "But the more I think about it, I think I recognized the voice. She sounded so familiar but I can't place where I might have met her," she shakes her head in frustration. "Maybe you're right. I'll start catching up tonight, okay?"
Warren's voice is warm. "That's a girl. Everything's going to be all right. I'll fly out there on Monday to help you with any other promo work, okay?"
"Thanks, Warren. You're the best," Donovan hangs up the phone and gets up to dress. She has to actually go to the office directly to get someone of the files necessary to finish the next month's events calendar. She sighs. She has a lot of catch up to do.
The phone rings again. Donovan grins and picks it up. "I'm already on my way, Warren. You're so fussy…"
"This isn't Mr. Worthington, Miss Milady," the voice from earlier that week says. "I've arranged a meeting place and a special welcome for you. Check your email and you'll find the coordinates for a small cabin in Canada. Be there at nine o'clock am on Thursday morning. If you don't, her blood will be on your hands."
"Wait! Who is this? Who's going to die because of me?" Donovan asks frantically. "Who are you?"
She is answered by the dial tone. She curses angrily and slams the receiver down. She takes a deep breath and calls Warren. "Slight change of plans, pal."
"That person called?" Warren barely says it as a question. "What are you going to do?"
"The only thing that I can, Warren," Donovan says. "If this person knows who I was before I met you, I have to find out. What if I'm not Donovan Milady after all? What if everything I think I know is wrong?"
Warren sighs. "And what if it isn't?"
"Then I have to find out who's trying to mess with my head, Warren," Donovan says quietly. "I have to figure this all out."
"Then my best wishes go with you," Warren says. "But you have to tell me where you're going. I don't want one of my favorite employees running off into a potentially dangerous situation. If you need back up for anything…"
Donovan smiles. "You'll be first on my list of people to call, Warren. I promise."
THURSDAY:
Donovan gets ready to board the charter plane destined for a small landing strip near Great Slave Lake near the Canadian Rockies. She had done as much research as she could to be as well prepared for her trip as possible but had turned up almost no information on the place or anything even remotely near by. She is packed very lightly, not knowing what to expect.
"Donovan!" a voice shouts. Donovan turns and sees Warren running toward her, his shaggy blond hair a tousled mess. He is out of breath by the time he catches up to her. He is holding a duffel bag. "I can't let you do this alone, Donovan. Not when something might happen to you."
"Warren, you've got a business to run. This could be dangerous," Donovan says. "You can't come with me."
Warren hands the pilot, a short, stocky man who is smoking a hideous smelling cigar, a large wad of cash. "This is for taking on another passenger, my good man. Be a pal and wait inside the plane for us?"
The pilot shrugs and stuffs the money into his pocket. "Sure, what the hell. See ya when ya board," he gets into the plane quickly.
"There's nothing I can do to change your mind?" Donovan asks, but she is smiling. She is grateful that Warren will be joining her. She is very scared and welcomes the chance to have support.
"Not a thing," Warren says. "Ladies first."
Donovan boards the plane and is followed by Warren. Once they're belted in, the pilot begins take-off procedures. Within minutes, the pair of wealthy, flying mutants is on its way to the unknown.