The Iceman Cometh
Disclaimor: I don't own anything affiliated with Brian Singer and Marvel. Please have pity on my sad soul and don't sue me.
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Enjoy!
Prologue
Manifestations
Rain threatened to fall over the soccer field. Banners blew in the wind, adding to the encouragement being screamed by the fans. It was a breezy November afternoon in Massachusetts, and the outcome of the came decided the boys District Champions. There was about two minutes left in the second half, and the underdogs, the Wilkins's Wildcats were ahead by one goal, but the offence from Brookshire was doing anything to retain their title. The green jersey players from Wilkins's were fighting to keep the ball out of the goal.
"Go Wildcats!"
"Steve, block that shot!"
"Kick some Cougar Ass!"
"Defense, Drake!"
Robert Drake ran down mid center, watching his teammates fight for the ball on offence. The sixteen year old junior shifted the weight between his two cleats and took a quick look around. He saw his dad standing up in the crowd screaming, and his mom standing next to him holding a sign. He turned back around and launched forward to get the ball out of the guy approaching him. With his speed, he kicked the ball out of the guy's grasp and launched it at the other side.
Robert, more commonly know as Bobby, just stared at the ball. It was his job to make sure they didn't score. He ignored the other team's member trying to edge up on him. It was just Bobby and the ball.
The second's ticked by, and soon there was only a minute. Sweat dripped down his face as the other team sneaked by and scored a goal. Bobby gave his teammates a look, and they prepared to take back the game.
Stupid, stupid. Just need to block darn it. The guy shadowing him had long dark hair and was becoming more and more annoying.
The ball sailed over to the Cougars' goal. Bobby pumped his legs as he ran midfield with the brute behind him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and he felt weak with anticipation.
The sky's thundered over head and it started to pour.
The black and white ball was headed straight for him. Bobby was ready to send it over again. But his cleat got stuck in the muddy field, and in slow motion Bobby saw himself trip over the brute's leg, and fall into the mud. The ball was inches away from his face, but the Cougar's offence had gotten the ball.
He tried to move up, but it was too late. John the goalie couldn't get there fast enough. And the game was over.
His teammates came over to his side, but he ignored them. He stood up and whipped the mud of his face. That was it. The Cougars where huddled together, cheering there sudden victory. It was his fault.
His team abandoned him to go over to the coach. He started walking in that direction when he felt a chill. It wasn't from the rain, but it seemed to come from inside.
He wrapped his arms around himself, waiting for it to pass. And it did.
Later he sat through the award ceremony staring at the ground. The silver metal didn't mean much. If he hadn't fallen…
It didn't help when his mother gave him the reassuring hug. Nor did it help when his dad gave him the "be the man speech." His younger brother Ronny's smart ass smile didn't even cut through the pain.
He slammed his door closed in their two-level house in Quincy. Flopping onto the bed, he picked up the soccer ball that was on his wooden nightstand.
Bobby started bounding it off the ceiling, each wack getting harder and harder. His mom yelled from down stairs to stop, but he just wanted to get the aggression out of his body.
Then it happened again.
He curled into a ball. Grunting, he closed his eyes and waited for the wave to pass. Everything inside of him wanted to rip apart, the room got dangerously cold.
With his shoulders shaking, he opened his eyes and stared out at his hands. They were blurry, but one thing was for sure- they were covered in ice.
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