Book of Revelations Chapter 1
By: Jason Kenney
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"Excuse me, sir," said the man, gesturing with the Bible he grasped tightly in his right hand, "but are you a God fearing man?"
Alex Summers slowly looked up from his plate in front of him and to the guy sitting next to him at the counter. He had come into this diner for some time alone, not to be bothered by a bible-thumper, but, lo-and-behold, here he was.
"Why do you ask?" he replied, looking away from the man and sipping his coffee.
"Have you found God, my son?" asked the guy in a soft tone. Alex looked at the guy from the corner of his eye, noting how this guy was maybe a few years older than him, making the "my son" crap exactly that, crap.
"Is he lost?" Alex smiled at his joke but knew this guy wasn't giving up anytime soon.
The guy sighed heavily, knowing that he had a task ahead of him. So many souls, so little time.
"Have you found salvation in our Lord and Savior?"
"Sir," said Alex, turning again to look at the man, "if I took that book away from you, if it never existed, would you have ever found God?"
The man sat and thought for a moment as Alex again smirked at a temporary victory.
"I cannot say precisely," started the man again, "but it does exist as the Word of God . . ."
"It is a book written by man and one that has been drilled into your head as the word of God. If you had been brought up being told October 78's issue of Playboy was the Word of God you'd be singing the praises of an entirely different God."
Alex stood up and tossed a ten spot on the counter as the man's jaw dropped.
"Good day, sir," said Alex with a smirk, not waiting for a response from the dumbstruck man.
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Handel's "Messiah" belted from the radio and Hank McCoy simultaneously in the kitchen at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in Salem, New York.
"Hank!" yelled Bobby Drake from the table over the music, catching the attention of the blue fur-covered Hank. "Who sings this song?"
"This particular version is beautifully rendered by the Huddersfield Choral Society," replied Hank.
"Exactly," said Bobby, "so shut up."
Hank looked over his shoulder to a smiling Bobby reading the dailies in the paper.
"If you fail to see the intellectual greatness that comes from classical music, Mr. Drake . . ."
"I have no problem with the classics," said Bobby, looking up form the paper, "just your singing."
"Oh dear," said Hank, turning back to the eggs he was making, "it would seem that there are not enough eggs for Bobby Drake! Looks like he'll be doing without."
Bobby smirked a bit.
"That's fine, furball, I'll settle for cereal."
"Only if you run and get some," said Hank as he turned around and sat at the table with his plate full of food. "I believe Sam finished off the last of the cereal last night on a late night kitchen raid."
"So there's no food?"
"Only what's on my plate," said Hank, getting a forkful of eggs to his mouth. "Oh my, clumsy me," he said as fur from his arm ran across his plate and the food. He smiled to Bobby, who fumed.
"Fine," Bobby said, standing up and walking out the kitchen, heading for the store.
He walked through the living room where the television was left on. He stopped as a news special report caught his eye.
"Hey, Hank! Come here!" he called out, Hank making his way out of the kitchen. "Look," said Bobby, pointing to the T.V.
The special report intro faded to a well dressed middle aged man sitting behind his anchor desk, ruffling a few papers.
"Good afternoon. WINN has learned this afternoon that the nation of Latveria has unexpectedly been plunged into civil war. Reports are sketchy at best, but all confirm that the nation's interem government that has been in place since Latverian ruler Victor Von Doom's unexplained disappearance has been overthrown.
"Unfortunately, WINN has been unable to get any first hand reports from Latveria itself due to its isolation from the rest of the world, but the news of internal strife has caught world leaders by surprise. Latverian citizens are well know for their loyalty to Von Doom and his wishes, which the interem government claimed to be derived from. Concerns that teh fighting will spread over Latveria's borders and into other nations have also arisen."
"Should we have Cerebro check it out for mutants?" asked Bobby of Hank, who watched the T.V. as if he was studying it.
"Perhaps we should," said Hank, rubbing his chin in thought. "Just to be safe."
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Cerebro, the Sh'iar super computer that could detect any mutant anywhere on Earth found no unusual mutant activity in Latveria. Mutants weren't the cause of Latveria's internal war. Nor were any Latverians.
A castle burned in Doomstadt, the capital of Latveria. Victor Von Doom's castle. The people of Latveria screamed and ran, not sure where they were heading or what they would find; they were just getting away. Away from the figure silhouetted by the flames reaching high into the night sky over Doomstadt.
The figure rode into the streets of the town on his horse like a bat out of hell. Yet, that comparison was horribly wrong, for this figure hailed not from hell.
The people of Latveria feared for their lives, with a few realizing that their lives were not the only ones at an end.
The white horse carried the man who held a bow and wore a crown as he went out conquering and to conquer.
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"The end is near!" screamed an old man from his milk box on the corner of the street. Although he was oblivious to the events taking place in Latveria, he wasn't far from the truth.
Alex Summers walked by this man without taking notice of him or his sign held aloft with scripture references scrawled across it. No one really noticed him. As with most big cities, every other street corner had its prophet, so most people became desensitized to their ramblings.
An explosion suddenly roared through the air and Alex turned to see a cloud of smoke and debris bellowing into the air a couple blocks down. He hung and shook his head for a moment and then ran torward the chaos.
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"Easy pickings!" shouted the man as he stepped through the hole in the wall with a sack on his back. "Hey, Burst, you comin . . ." The man wasn't allowed to finish his sentence as a low level energy burst cut through the cloud around him. He was knocked back, dropping the sack. "Wha?"
"You picked the wrong bank to hit, pal," said Alex as he appeared through a patch of clearing smoke.
"Well, well," said the man, standing back up, a little taller than he was before, "I thank you for the boost, little man." He leapt at Alex who quickly and easily side-stepped the man. He released another small energy blast, hoping to knock the man down again and get the upper hand, yet was amazed as he watched the guy grow as the energy hit him.
"Crap," thought Alex as a fist came into contact with him, smashing him to the ground. Alex lifted himself with one arm and shook his head, then turning to look at the man as he hoisted a chunk of the building into the air. "More crap."
The rock blew up in the man's hand, both he and Alex then looking to the hole in the wall.
"Come on, Boost," said a man standing in the hole with a sack over his shoulder. "Forget him, we've gotta go!"
The one called Boost looked at Alex again and kicked him. Then he turned and followed his friend.
"Don't think so," said Alex as he lifted his arm and shot an energy burst into the second guy's back. Both men fell down holding their backs. "I'll be damned!" thought Alex as he quickly lifted himself up, running after the second guy.
"Don't touch Burst!" screamed Boost, recovering and stepping in Alex's path. Alex tried to stop, but ran face first into the big man who bear hugged him.
Alex struggled as the air was forced out of him. He wiggled one arm free, and, reaching over Boost's shoulder, fired another energy blast at Burst as everything went black for him.
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Alex slowly woke up. He hadn't realized how long he was out until he saw smoke still rising from the body a couple yards down the street from him. He rose and stumbled around the fallen Boost, making his way toward Burst. Alex reached him and turned him over, seeing wide, dead eyes staring up into nothingness.
"Oh my God!" screamed a person.
Alex looked around and noticed that the dust and smoke had settled.
"Someone call 911!" shouted another person.
"Stay where you are!" Alex heard, turning his head a bit and noticing a security guard with his gun drawn, pointed at him.
"This man needs an ambulance," said Alex, looking back to the dead Burst.
"Like hell," said the guard, edging forward. "You burned him like wood, mutie."
"I'm with the government," said Alex, reaching one hand around to his back pocket.
"DON'T MOVE!" screamed the guard again. Alex noticed his trigger finger twitching.
Alex put his hands in the air and stood up.
"In my back pocket," he said over his shoulder, "my wallet. I have I.D."
The guard edged forward. Alex felt the cold muzzle of the gun on the back of his neck as the guard pulled the wallet from Alex's back pocket. A couple seconds later the gun was pulled down.
"Hell," said the guard, "why didn't you say you was Fed?"
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to be continued . . .