Hey every1!! This is
the second of my attempts to write fanfic, so let me know what u think. Please R/R =) I really need the support, critizism, support, flames, and
support. lol =) I'm not gonna put a
"you have to do 38925 reviews before I continue" thing 'cause I think that its
unfair to the people, however few, who want to finish reading the story. Plus, if there are very few people reading
the story, it leads to people making up names and reviewing the story and gives
the author a false sense of confidenc…but I digress =) Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Disclamer: as of
this chapter, I own everything (ha), except Mystique (but I assure you that
will change VERY soon…soon I'll own her too (j/k =) )
"Pass it here! I'm
open!"
Taylor Suirt yelled from his unguarded position in front of
the goalie, but his screaming was in vain.
It was the semi-finals in his soccer league and he hadn't been passed
the ball once this year. He'd only been
put in four times and only when his team was leading by like ten goals, which,
coincidently, was the margin between the teams in the game. He looked at the guy with the ball and waved
his arms like an idiot.
"Here I'm open! No
one's guarding me!"
The other team, noticing that Taylor never was passed
the ball, was concentrating their efforts on the star of Taylor's team, Matt
Kindle. Quite unsuccessfully though,
for Matt had just received the pass, yet again, and was making his way towards
his opponent's goal.
"I'll never get the ball now," Taylor muttered to himself,
but he continued to voice his plea.
"Pass it here!
Here! Pass it HERE!" Taylor screamed at Matt.
Incredibly, his screams were answered. Matt, whom everyone firmly believed had
never even learned how to pass the ball, let alone done the action,
passed the ball to Taylor, by far the worst player on the team. Taylor succeeded in stopping the ball,
despite his amazement at actually being passed to, though he promptly missed
the kick and fell flat on his ass.
Matt looked on in astonishment, not because Taylor had
missed the kick and was now on the ground, because he did that all the time,
but because he actually had the ball.
Matt knew he had the ball just a second ago, and he knew that he sure as
hell wouldn't pass the ball to that freak, so how did Taylor end up with it?
Taylor had no clue what would possess Matt to pass him the
ball. Guilt? Pity? Wanting to make
Taylor look like and ass? It couldn't
have been because of friendship, because that would mean they would have to
have been friends, and that sure as hell wasn't the case, so what could it have
been? It was a fluke, a mistake, a
shift in the space-time continuum, something that was a
once-in-a-life-time-your-luck-will-never-be-that-good-no-matter-how-many-fortune-cookies-you-eat
thing.
But, the same thing happened in the championship game the
next day. Different person passing to
Taylor, but he still got the ball, for the second time in his life, and, again,
fell flat on his ass. The point
however, is that he was passed the ball in the championship game. It was a miracle he was even out on the
field to begin with. He was sitting on
the bench for the first quarter, mentally ordering the coach to put him in, and
the coach put him in. When the game was
over, the coach spent 20 minutes screaming at him for being on the field, but
he had put him in, much to the disbelief and objections of his fellow
benchwarmers.
Over the course of the next few weeks, Taylor noticed that
similar things were happening to him.
He wasn't getting soccer balls kicked to him in the school hallways, but
he was getting attention from teachers, and other students, where and when he
wanted it. If he knew the question, he
would be called on. If he didn't
someone else would. If he wanted to
talk to someone, he, or she =), would come over, as if they had been
called.
This made Taylor uneasy.
Not to say that he wasn't thrilled with his newfound luck, but it wasn't
normal. He was they guy that was
totally ignored by the girls that he was interested in, had the unfailing
ability to project that "I didn't read the chapter, please don't call on me,"
look to teachers who couldn't resist making fools of their students and always
had things, generally, not go his way.
He was walking home from school, dwelling on this issue,
when he literally ran into a woman walking in the opposite direction.
"Sorry," he muttered as he picked up the book he had
dropped.
"You really should pay more attention to where you are
walking…Taylor," replied the woman.
"Yeah, well, I'll keep that in min-…Hey! How'd you know my name?" He took a good look at her for the first
time. She was mid-thirties, maybe,
slim, had dark hair, glasses and not the warmest facial features.
"I know all about you.
I probably know some aspects of you better than you know them yourself,"
was her reply to his question.
By this time, Taylor was majorly creeped out. He tried to walk past her.
"Whatever," he said.
"Freak," he muttered under his breath.
"Not freak…mutant,"
He turned around to face her, but was surprised, and
horrified, to see a thing with blue skin and red hair standing where the creepy
yet normal looking woman had been only moments before. He stared at her in astonishment, paralyzed
by fear. She looked amused at his
expression.
"How rude of me. I
seem to have forgotten that you know nothing of me or what I represent. Let me start off by introducing myself. I am Mystique."
