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Devil's Son part 3
He had been confined to this room for days now, which ordinarly would have caused him to go stark raving mad by now, but right now he overcome with a great tiredness. A tiredness which he could not do away with by sleeping, which he had discovered was impossible at this point. This was a tiredness for life, he wanted to be able to close his eyes and never open them again and forget. Forget the news the past few days had brought, "big shoulders carry big burdens" he remembered hearing somewhere. Sounded like greatly fatherly type advice, if only he had ever had one.
He had spent the hours trying to figure out what demons were real and which were not. he remembered beatings and torture, starvings and fights which probably never happened. His whole life was a lie, his attitude and personality which were based upon his tortured past were now wholely unjustified. He had gone through life always thinking "my shits worse then everybody elses." Now his insanity was eating away at him, his garbled and half remembered childhood had fostered his insanity and cruelness and now there was no reason for him to have ever been that low. Present situation excluded.
He had been able to pin down pretty closely were his life, if one could call this existence a life, began. Around 15 years old he was at the time, or it seemed like that at the time. Who knew now. A couple months before his mutation surfaced, he spent the time as your average thug on the streets. Sleeping in condemned buildings, making money in pit fights, selling drugs, robbing and killing people. The happy happy people, he had called them at the time, they being the ones with normal existences. That much had at least not changed.
He next remembered when his mutation had reared its ugly head, standing on a street corner doing business. Yelling at some fucking crackhead about some petty debt. Never saw them coming, Oh he knew one day the rats would come, he never knew they would scream "Bowdy Bowdy" and hit with shotguns. He remembered his stomach being blasted open and falling to the ground. At that moment the world had never seemed more alive, he could hear everything, smell his putrid stench of his innards and the gunpowder in the air. Then came the fireworks, the excuriating pain of his body knitting itself back together as white hot energy that shot out from his hands and ripped the fleeing car to pieces all while he layed there blowing blood bubbles. He should have died then, he had thought he was dying. No, just a rebirth.
He never found out who they were, no remains, they had been obilterated. He had tryed to kill himself shortly after that, that's when he found about the skeleton. He had spent the night drinking and not finding oblivion in the bottom of a bottle. He pressed the gun to his temple and squeezed only to have to bullet tear through flesh and be stopped by a wall of metal. In his rage he discovered the claws, daggers protruding from each finger.
After that he become power drunk, fitting since alcohol didn't seem to work anymore. Murder became more of a hobby than anything, he swam in a red haze. He was the best, something should have clued him in, he knew how to fight so well without ever being taught a thing.
He was staring at himself in the mirror, he often thought he was blessed to have power. He used to brag after particularly brutal or heinous acts that he was the Devil's son. Even had a big 666 in these cool interlocking numbers tattooed on his arm, sure with his healing factor he had to get it touched up often but all his tattoos were one of few the real memories now. He laughed at some of the things he got tattooed on him, childish bragadocio. "gulslanga the commandment breaka" across his abdomen, and "Lost Soul" on his back in gothic script. Although he really did feel the second one. He wished he could back to when he got them, when he was ignorant of the situation. Remotely normal.
Suddenly anger filled him, vegenance. That was the way his mind told him. Kill the devil who cursed him to this half life. For the first time since he left the little impromptu meetings and introductions and stole into this room he wanted to act, and live for something.
He thought about his present situation now, would these people help him? LeBeau obviously had nothing but hate for him, Cyclops tried to hide his reaction but still he could see the hatred. Yeah, they could provide a means to the end. They could find this Sinister, they knew his capabilities. Whatever he was now, he was no fool. He would live to see Sinister last breaths.
He reached for the bottle of whiskey LeBeau had provided with the following words "drink up mon ami, Remy tink' you need it." The guy was alright, he felt kinda bad about the attempted kidnapping thing.
He poured himself a drink and called the Professor, and let himself some have hope for once.
Professor's Study later...
"We have been able to come up with several possible locations as to where Mister Sinister's base of operations might be located thanks to the imformation you provided" stated the Professor, after I had told him all the imformation about how I recieved the job and meeting place, etc.
"Several possibilities doesn't instill much confidence" Cain said rather annoyed. "Show some respect" barked Scott, "Why are we even helping this guy?" asked Warren.
"Because everyone deserves a chance Warren" Betsy quickly reminds him in a harsh tone. What a fucking pretty boy asshole thought Cain. "Well, we do have time to check them all, it will only take a few days with the Blackbird" responded Xavier.
"Now that's what I like to hear" Cain said, the juices were flowing now. He was foaming at the mouth to get this guy. "We will decide on a team tommorrow, if that is all you are dismissed" said the Professor turning back to the papers on his desk.
Cain stood and left room rather quickly, but not without pushing past Warren a little more forcefully then necessary. He turned back and flashed him a very toothy smile and continued on.
To be Continued....
What will happen when they find Sinister? Who will win? What about the Aftermath?
Sen feedback to phorgan1@home.com
Own Cain:Yes
Clear?
Devil's Son part 3
He had been confined to this room for days now, which ordinarly would have caused him to go stark raving mad by now, but right now he overcome with a great tiredness. A tiredness which he could not do away with by sleeping, which he had discovered was impossible at this point. This was a tiredness for life, he wanted to be able to close his eyes and never open them again and forget. Forget the news the past few days had brought, "big shoulders carry big burdens" he remembered hearing somewhere. Sounded like greatly fatherly type advice, if only he had ever had one.
He had spent the hours trying to figure out what demons were real and which were not. he remembered beatings and torture, starvings and fights which probably never happened. His whole life was a lie, his attitude and personality which were based upon his tortured past were now wholely unjustified. He had gone through life always thinking "my shits worse then everybody elses." Now his insanity was eating away at him, his garbled and half remembered childhood had fostered his insanity and cruelness and now there was no reason for him to have ever been that low. Present situation excluded.
He had been able to pin down pretty closely were his life, if one could call this existence a life, began. Around 15 years old he was at the time, or it seemed like that at the time. Who knew now. A couple months before his mutation surfaced, he spent the time as your average thug on the streets. Sleeping in condemned buildings, making money in pit fights, selling drugs, robbing and killing people. The happy happy people, he had called them at the time, they being the ones with normal existences. That much had at least not changed.
He next remembered when his mutation had reared its ugly head, standing on a street corner doing business. Yelling at some fucking crackhead about some petty debt. Never saw them coming, Oh he knew one day the rats would come, he never knew they would scream "Bowdy Bowdy" and hit with shotguns. He remembered his stomach being blasted open and falling to the ground. At that moment the world had never seemed more alive, he could hear everything, smell his putrid stench of his innards and the gunpowder in the air. Then came the fireworks, the excuriating pain of his body knitting itself back together as white hot energy that shot out from his hands and ripped the fleeing car to pieces all while he layed there blowing blood bubbles. He should have died then, he had thought he was dying. No, just a rebirth.
He never found out who they were, no remains, they had been obilterated. He had tryed to kill himself shortly after that, that's when he found about the skeleton. He had spent the night drinking and not finding oblivion in the bottom of a bottle. He pressed the gun to his temple and squeezed only to have to bullet tear through flesh and be stopped by a wall of metal. In his rage he discovered the claws, daggers protruding from each finger.
After that he become power drunk, fitting since alcohol didn't seem to work anymore. Murder became more of a hobby than anything, he swam in a red haze. He was the best, something should have clued him in, he knew how to fight so well without ever being taught a thing.
He was staring at himself in the mirror, he often thought he was blessed to have power. He used to brag after particularly brutal or heinous acts that he was the Devil's son. Even had a big 666 in these cool interlocking numbers tattooed on his arm, sure with his healing factor he had to get it touched up often but all his tattoos were one of few the real memories now. He laughed at some of the things he got tattooed on him, childish bragadocio. "gulslanga the commandment breaka" across his abdomen, and "Lost Soul" on his back in gothic script. Although he really did feel the second one. He wished he could back to when he got them, when he was ignorant of the situation. Remotely normal.
Suddenly anger filled him, vegenance. That was the way his mind told him. Kill the devil who cursed him to this half life. For the first time since he left the little impromptu meetings and introductions and stole into this room he wanted to act, and live for something.
He thought about his present situation now, would these people help him? LeBeau obviously had nothing but hate for him, Cyclops tried to hide his reaction but still he could see the hatred. Yeah, they could provide a means to the end. They could find this Sinister, they knew his capabilities. Whatever he was now, he was no fool. He would live to see Sinister last breaths.
He reached for the bottle of whiskey LeBeau had provided with the following words "drink up mon ami, Remy tink' you need it." The guy was alright, he felt kinda bad about the attempted kidnapping thing.
He poured himself a drink and called the Professor, and let himself some have hope for once.
Professor's Study later...
"We have been able to come up with several possible locations as to where Mister Sinister's base of operations might be located thanks to the imformation you provided" stated the Professor, after I had told him all the imformation about how I recieved the job and meeting place, etc.
"Several possibilities doesn't instill much confidence" Cain said rather annoyed. "Show some respect" barked Scott, "Why are we even helping this guy?" asked Warren.
"Because everyone deserves a chance Warren" Betsy quickly reminds him in a harsh tone. What a fucking pretty boy asshole thought Cain. "Well, we do have time to check them all, it will only take a few days with the Blackbird" responded Xavier.
"Now that's what I like to hear" Cain said, the juices were flowing now. He was foaming at the mouth to get this guy. "We will decide on a team tommorrow, if that is all you are dismissed" said the Professor turning back to the papers on his desk.
Cain stood and left room rather quickly, but not without pushing past Warren a little more forcefully then necessary. He turned back and flashed him a very toothy smile and continued on.
To be Continued....
What will happen when they find Sinister? Who will win? What about the Aftermath?
Sen feedback to phorgan1@home.com