Disclaimer: I don't own the O.C. or any of the characters associated with Marvel and DC comics.
All rights go to FOX, Josh Schwartz, Marvel & DC.
Rated: T for language mostly, who knows what else the rating will bring.
The Newport Avengers
Prologue:
Of all the places to end up it had to be Newport. A town filled with the rich and well, rich. Never understood it myself, why people are so obsessed with money and it's most famous. I'm Alex by the way, Alex Kelly. I just arrived here from Los Angeles after my parents kicked me out for being too rebellious. Well I was, though I did have my reasons. Ya see I'm a mutant and we're not very acceptable, unless you're Superman who saves the world on a daily basis. He doesn't get called a mutant; nope he's the man of steel, the meta-human wonder, along with pretty much the rest of earth's justice league. It's all crap in my opinion, I may have my abilities but I'm still a person. Plus meta-human sounds so robotic. Mutant is so much better.
I found out I was a mutant when I was 12, I was in my backyard playing with my father's construction tools and ended up slicing my hand open with a hack saw. It hurt like a motherfucker but I didn't cry. It felt strange, there was this real deep wound on my hand and although it hurt there was this tingle, about a minute after it the tingle started the wound healed itself. I was shocked at first, kinda wanted to freak out but it was a natural reaction I suppose. Then I though about it, processed as much as my little 12 year old brain could manage and I realized it was an awesome thing. I would never be hurt for any long periods of time. You know, since then I haven't been sick once, no sir, healthy as a horse or whatever the saying is.
Anyway, after I was about 15 I got set with the wrong crowd. Ended up getting hurt a lot. When the folks I was hanging with saw how fast I healed they used that to their advantage and sent me into fights. Not that I was complaining mind you, I picked up a lot of moves and fighting techniques.
So, cut forward till about a month before now. I came home from school to find my parents waiting for me and they gave me the lectures I've heard before. You know the "you're out of control blah blah blah, we want you out before tomorrow" speech. I just packed a bag with some clothes, money and some shit I figured I would need. Then I left without so much as a goodbye or even a look at them. At some point I figured I would go back and apologize, explain why I was so out of hand with everything. The next day I realised I'd left without my bank card or my cell phone. So I went back, when I got there the door was open so I went to my room and grabbed what I needed to.
It wasn't till I got near the front door that I realized something was wrong. I went back upstairs and into my parent's bedroom and there they were, lying bleeding from their necks on the floor. I rushed over to them and they were still alive, barely though. I got this idea, it was a long shot but I needed to try it. I went over to them and took a pocked knife I'd put in my bag out. I cut my arm and let the droplet of blood go over the wound. It worked.
The bad side is when they healed and became conscious they started screaming at me that it was my entire fault they nearly died. I pointed out that it was most likely my dear father's gambling associates but no, it was my entire fault. The next thing I know my mom's spouting of all the crap about me being an impure freak. So, I told them both to go fuck themselves and I left.
I spent the next month getting myself emancipated, which my parents agreed to without any hesitation. After that I got myself the cheapest ticket I could find, hopped on a bus and here I am. Newport, land of the snob as my old friend Mike used to say. Huh, he'd probably be major pissed off if he found out. Too bad he's stuck with 25 to life in the big house. Ah well. It's time to put the past behind me and find a new start.
In Newport.