This fan fic is based on a rp my friend and I did on the X-men rpg site i co-founded.I own Aurora and Striker is owned by his creator.I am only borrowing him for this fic,all marvel stuff is not owned by me...though i wish.I am only borrowing them so please dont sue me ^.^
Please R&R ^.^
*sidenote*So he's not confused with any version of kurt(comic,movie,or x-men evo), Striker looks something like Evo Kurt with soft white, (barely) blue tinted fur, several piercings in one ear, and a single surviving tattoo…his favorite,a rose.He cannot teleport either.To see his bio please go to...... http://xeva.conforums2.com/index.cgi?board=chara&action=display&num=1055897173 *end sidenote*
Remember what i said about fate?
It must have something planned for me......
How else is this exsplained?
I will tell you why i say that.......
The Institute gardens are very beautiful and a nice place to escape from the stress of the world or schoolwork.....sometimes people come there to be alone .......
Striker felt as if he was alone in the world at times. He could remember little or nothing of his past, save current events and whatever flashes decided that it was time to plague him. It hurt. Not physically, but mentally…he was lost and so was his memory, most of his past. He hated this. What had he done to deserve this? His new pains? His eyes closed, he leaned back silently, tail swaying slowly. He seemed to detach from everything for the moment. From the obvious, from the not so obvious, from living and dead, from self, from everything he knew and wish he'd known. Reality suddenly turned itself into dream.
He saw himself as just another perfectly normal person in the world, pale-skinned but normal. Hazel eyed and black haired—as he'd begun his life—human. He had no tail, no claws, no fangs, no fur, no past in a circus…no Institute and no need for it. It was as he'd always longed to be. He was with family, back in Germany, back where he belonged. His father hadn't gone off to war and still lived, and his mother was proud of him, and he was happy…
…He suddenly snapped out of it. That wasn't the truth, it would never happen…he'd never see his mother again; his father was dead and buried. He didn't hold back the tears as he leaned back, stretching out on the branch he'd taken refuge on. He cried. For the first time in years…he cried.
Aurora wandered the garden and felt drawn to one section of it,she was too tired from schoolwork to care why or resist it.She found herself in a shadowed nook and listened......someone was crying,she slowly made her way toward the sound and called out softly "Hello?" She felt loss and pain and regret,she needed to help whoever it was feeling this way.
He shut his eyes once more and leaned back. His tail gave a slow, weak sway and he took a breath before looking down, wiping his tears away. "Who's there?" His accent was emerging again, just barely...but it was now obvious enough again. He didn't know whether to be glad or not.
The voice sounded familiar even with the slight accent "Its Aurora...i dont know how to exsplain this but uh i know somethings wrong...i can feel it....." she figured out who the voice belonged to "Striker." she looked up into the tree and waited.
He gathered himself up steadily then leapt rather easily from the tree, landing on his feet but crouching slightly. His eyes were downcast, slightly darker than usual as if the young man from his dream, his human self, was coming back to haunt him.
She blinked a little but didnt move,she wasnt frightened of him he was her friend and he needed to talk. She smiled slightly at him and took his hand gently in hers "Tell me whats wrong Striker,I dont mind listening." she dropped her additude completely,she was too tired to keep playing the part of the hardass.
He looked into her eyes or a moment. This wasn't exactly the Aurora he knew, but at this point, he wouldn't have cared if he were face to face with the infamous Magneto. His eyes trailed to the ground once more. "Memories," he muttered, "some of them at least...very few but they've begun to bother me."
She nodded and looked around for somewhere to sit "Lets find a place ta sit and ya can tell me about them,and i wont tell no one about what ya tell me unless ya want me ta." she gently pulled him toward a cluster of trees and concentrates....two flat rocks were grown outta nothing for then to sit on.
He simply nodded, following her and sitting down soon enough in his usual dog like crouch. His tail coiled and gave a few slow sways. A soft sigh escaped his lips. He was tired but these dreams...these memories...these wishes, more so, wouldn't let him sleep.
She sat down on the other rock next to his and drew her legs to her chest and set her chin on her knees and said soflty "Tell me,i'll listen and try to help if i can."
"The question is can you help?" He stared at the ground for some time. Tense. He was usually so much more relaxed than that and most who knew him knew that, but at this point, he would've sprung at the slightest noise or touch. He shut his eyes...
...and slipped into dream or more so memory...peaceful yet painful dream—that in a sense that he could indeed sleep though, versus waking up in the middle of it.
*flashback*
What he saw was hazed, all of it, blurred so that he could hardly see at all. It had happened, something he hardly remembered. It was on paper now, in fact.
Striker looked around a darkened room to see a child there, happy, enjoying himself as he played with his little red ball…a familiar tail swayed behind him, deep hazel eyes shown in what little light there was, three fingered hands fiddled with his toy, slightly pointed ears poked out through already slightly long hair, he smiled...there were fangs there, small but noticeable...
...Striker cringed, but his eyes remained shut...
...He knew this child and he knew the woman who watched him from a corner, her eyes darkened at her mutant child. Her blonde hair falling into her face as she gathered up a few of his most needed articles in a bag, her face scrunched into a scowl. She was his mother, the very same who cast him out so long ago. Striker wanted so much to strangle the woman as she took the child's things upstairs to his room where she only gathered up more before rushing back down. The child knew nothing of what was to happen to him this day…only that he'd gotten a new ball to play with, to keep his attention.
The next thing that Striker saw was the inside of a truck, the back of one, cold and dark. There was something around the child's neck now, dog tags with the word 'Striker' written on them. He fiddled with these as he lay uncertainly on his belongings. He closed his eyes; the only thought on his little mind was getting out. To Striker's dismay, the scene changed again, the child had vanished...
*end flashback*
He slipped out of this dream state and glanced at Aurora, tears once more filling his eyes. He began explaining this to her.
She nodded and listened and got off her rock and sat next to him and hugged him giving comfort and support as he talked.She also picking up more "feelings" from him.....if she concetrated enough she could get a vaugue picture of what was bothing him.....
He hugged her back after some hesitation. His tail was almost limp, his eyes were flooded with tears which soon slipped out. Tired, upset, plain bothered, that's what he was at this point. A nervous wreck. He wanted no part of what was bothering him...
...His eyes shut for a moment and a near picture show flashed before him...
*flashback*
He saw the child again, now in a cage, curled up like a frightened animal. This was the only place he could take refuge...the circus had taken him in. Time literally flew from what he saw, the child grew older, began performing and was found to be pretty good at that. A day flashed in his mind...the day he'd met that wily little tiger cub, Apollo, whom he hadn't seen in years. He heard voices, many voices, flooding his mind—conversation, fearful voices, the line's he'd repeated so many times for performances with the tiger he'd trained. Every single move, every time he'd been told to fix something, the few teachings he'd received...
He felt the arms of a child around him...a friend...
*end flashback*
...A tear rolled down his cheek and he shook his head to snap out of it.
She hugged him and murmered reasurances to him,she could feel what he was going through.....felt like it was happening to her..she got a few images one of a tiger and another one of a cage.....she let him cry on her shoulder and asked soflty "Tell me about the tiger."
The tiger…Apollo…his best friend; his first and only friend back then. Striker sighed and shut his eyes once more, even though he knew by now every time he did just that, more images came to mind. These, however, he didn't mind much. A sad little smile formed on Striker's face…
*flashback*
"He won't suckle," they told him, almost regretfully as they handed him both the tiny cub and a bottle to nurse him with, giving an almost sarcastic "happy birthday" as they shut his cage again. That was the beginning. Simple as that.
They wanted the cub in the show when he got older and Striker was responsible for training him, considering he wouldn't respond to anyone else. The others used whips, Striker used more calming methods and usually trained the tiger when there was a crowd around so he wouldn't plain freeze. He swore he could understand the cat. There was something strangely human about him.
*end flashback*
She saw him close his eyes and smile and rubbed his back,at least now his emotions werent so painfull.She was not gonna intrude on this memory,any other that caused him pain she would.
He was glad that she was there now, he truly was more confortable with her there. He relaxed quite a bit then, tail giving a few slow sways. He was a bit confused now though... How was he remembering these things? Why? How did Aurora suddenly find him, anyway?
She felt him relax and smiled,she'd need a bit of time alone after this but it was worth it.She also felt he was confused and looked him in the eyes "Ask me what ya will,i'll answer the best i can Striker."
He simply shook his head and sighed. "I don't really have anything to ask," he almost whispered. His eyes were half shut, just from being heavy, but even then he couldn't sleep if he wanted to...and he did want to.
She nodded and hugged him again "Yer tired,sleep if ya want i'll watch over ya and we'll talk after ya wake up." she knew he was exausted.
He gave her an almost hopeless glance then shaking his head. "I've been trying for days to sleep..." He sighed heavily. "I can't..."
She nodded, she knew how that felt......she still couldnt sleep in the dorm yet.... she smiled a little and touched his arm "Try for me?I'll wake ya up if start having a nightmare but if ya dont sleep yer gonna get sick soon."
"I have sort of an immunity to that," he laughed softly then sighed. "But I could use some sleep...and ever since I came here, it's been near imposible." He straightened up before long, shaking his head.
She smiled a little and got up and sat down on a large patch of thick grass "Well then take a nap,i doubt anyone will bother us here.Ya can use my legs as a pillow fer a bit."
He moved over to her. He wasn't in the mood for any protesting right now as it was. He stretched out in the grass and rested his head in her lap, giving a quiet "Thank you" then shut his eyes…
*flashback*
…things hazed over again…
"If nothing else," a voice cried out one night; "Let me out of this cage…let me be free!" His German accent was thick, yet his voice was soft and caring. It held such pain. Another voice spoke and it was the complete opposite. It was loud and unsettling and held an American accent.
"You expect to get out of there after a performance?" They laughed loudly. "What's gotten into that little blue head of yours, Cliff?"
"My name is Striker," the first muttered sadly. "I just want my freedom!" With that, his tone changed and a light jingle was heard, then a clang.
He was alone again, only a pen, journal, and book in his cell. It was the pen and journal he turned his golden gaze upon, and he lifted each in his three-fingered, clawed hands. He flipped to a blank page, listening with his pointed, pierced ears to the sound of his devil like tail tapping the floor. He began to write in his usual flowing script, and didn't stop until the break of dawn. When the sun rose, he slept peacefully (or so it seemed), curled up in a ball on the ground.
It was the light that had revealed his blue skin and tattered black jeans. His long tail (long as he was tall) swayed as would a hypnotized serpent. Three-fingered hands shaded his eyes and provided a pillow. His midnight blue hair fell into his face a bit. He yawned and shifted his weight a bit, for a moment his ivory fangs could be seen. He went shirtless, various tattoos covered his frame. A ring, small and thin gleamed along with several studs in his right ear. Something around his neck shone faintly, the chain of a necklace, but that was mostly hidden, just with the way he was laying. Noon came and so did the crowds, and the noise, and the havoc of circus life. His eyes flickered opened, pupils shrank to slits, and the fiery red around them pulsated. He stood up and looked through the bars of the cell.
The crowds grew outside and he sighed then reached a hand out, scratching at the cage bars and growling softly. He was beginning his usual act. It wasn't long before he was climbing the bars then leaping onto the side wall of his cell where he couldn't be seen. People gathered around his cage to see the 'Amazing Demon Man'. He leapt into sight suddenly then back onto the bars, growling, hissing. He'd reached a claw out again suddenly, smirked, then drew back again after gasps from many. He slunk away to the center of the floor and grinned slyly.
"If you want more, report to the Big-top at one," with that, he bowed then vanished, leaving a cloud of dark, wispy, black and blue smoke behind. The crowds simply stared at the spot he just stood.
Striker soon appeared atop the tigers' cage, stretching then yawning and glancing about the dimly lit backstage area—alone again, save one more there. He smirked and leapt down, gave the white tiger a pat on the head (the tiger, Apollo, had been there nearly as long as Striker had. They were actually friends), gave him a bit of meat from a near by bucket, then took a trench coat and hat from a crate and put them on. Head bowed, tail hidden, hands pocketed he walked outside as casually as anyone else. This was something he was allowed to do, so long as he didn't leave the circus grounds, so said his 'boss,' Faygon.
None gave him a second glance. He smirked to himself after a while; he'd yet to begin his normal antics. Besides, he had another hour to kill, and what better way to celebrate his May 4th, 21st birthday? He snickered at the thought, until he got near mid-way, ducking into one of the food carts for a bite to eat before he started out again adjusting his hat and coat, his tail half dragged the ground, purposely, a costume effect.
Silent on he walked, smirking at every glance he got. There was the occasional time he'd cringe from a tug on his tail though. He waited to spring his little 'trap'. Human form was taken, hat tossed off then, tail remained. This was amusing but he kept his head bowed and grin hidden. He fiddled with the box in his coat pocket then looked up slowly. A curtain of his dark hair shielded his eyes from view. He slipped the coat off and draped it over one shoulder—well built frame revealed. His tail swayed gently with each step.
Glances and gasps from the crowds.
He muttered something in his native tongue in a soft, but menacing tone. He grinned afterwards, very sharp fangs revealed. People leapt back at this point, all save those who lived and worked there as well as knew him. They cracked up and Striker simply bowed. He let his tail twist into a lasso as an old teddy bear flew his way. He caught it with his tail then gave it to a little girl near by. The crowds clapped and the girl actually ran up and hugged him. He blinked quickly then smiled and hugged her back. He wasn't used to a gentle touch, let alone a friendly hug.
"Would you be afraid…if I showed you what I really am?" He asked softly. Very few heard.
The little girl shook her head. "No, Mister," she said then pointed to his tail. Was that why? Striker had noticed that she paid special attention his hands, or more so his claws.
He nodded lightly then closed his eyes. It all happened in a flash. He was back in his normal form and kneeling then. The girl stood still for a moment then hugged him once more, tightly, smiling. He smiled as well and hugged her back. Hearts melted then, in a crowd usually hostile toward his kind, Mutants. A rare thing happened: A tear fell from Striker's eye and the girl wiped it away.
"Don't cry, mister," she said.
"It's Striker," he whispered then looked up slightly. "I've got to go now." He pulled a slip of paper of some sort from his jeans pocket, two in fact, then gave them to her. "Come to the show if you can. It's free."
She nodded then stepped back. Striker stood then glanced around and vanished. The girl smiled and ran to her mother who was completely stunned.
"Rose," she muttered, "What—?"
"Striker," was all that the girl, Rose, said, holding up the papers. They were tickets to the next show. "Can we?"
Her mother blinked then took the tickets and nodded them smiled. "A Mutant…" She laughed softly then looked to her wrist. 12:30PM, it read, but the tent wasn't the closest thing on earth. "Let's go then!" She picked Rose up and started toward the tent where Striker was already busy preparing for his act.
"Let's get those crates out of here!" A gruff voice called out, "Make sure the bleachers are fixed, will ya?!"
Striker had bleacher duty today and went under with a wrench and screwdriver, vanishing and reappearing here and there, tightening screws and bolts underneath each seat. He muttered to himself then sighed at a time and shook his head. He hated that job even if he did get it done quickly. It was filthy down there! He sighed at a thought: At least he had a home for this work, for now. He had a new plan for after the show. He wanted out and he wanted it soon, very soon.
He teleported here and there, swung, flipped, glided with agility that would've shamed a monkey. He wanted this bleacher job done so people wouldn't really have to see him, for outside of his show (which would possibly be a little different tonight) and outside of his cage—the circus in general, he was simply seen as a monster. Not so tonight.
****
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," a voice boomed through the tent, "we are proud to present…"
Lights flashed in the center ring, there was something there, pacing 'round in circles. A black light followed it. It turned out to be a tiger, Apollo, and there was no handler, no whip to be seen. He roared and sprung suddenly into the center of the ring and seemed to vanish in a swirling cloud of wispy smoke.
"…our own blue-skinned wonder," the voice continued.
Smoke swirled all the more below, there was a figure moving through it. The occasional flash of an eye, sweep of the leg and tail could be seen through it.
"Striker," the voice boomed, the ringmaster whom it was coming from motioned not to the center ring, no….that was empty now. He let his hand sweep toward the audience and there he was, standing on the center, topmost bleacher with folded arms and a swaying tail. A 'cold' smirk etched its way across his face as he vanished once more with a distinctive 'Bamf!'
Claps and cheers met the disappearance then sudden reappearance in the ring of both Striker and Apollo. Partners in crime many would joke the way the two stuck together. A series of several flips, spins, and more of his vanishing 'act' followed that. When he stopped again, his golden gaze wandered to the crowd and there was Rose and her mother. He smiled as he saw them then looked to Apollo who stood up and gave another roar then a long growl...
*end flashback*
...In real life, he couldn't have hated this more. His tail thrashed against the ground, but he was still fast asleep.
She smiled down at him and closed her eyes also and calmed herself,it was easyier to "feel" and "see" what,if anything was happening while he was asleep......she was suddenly drawn into his dream...like she was standing there watching.....this had never happened before.....she witnessed all of his dream...no there memories not dreams......and began to strongly project understanding into the memory...she also projected to the sleeping Striker the feeling of being held...she hoped if he felt it he would realize these memories could not hurt him..... unconcessly she put a hand to his shoulder as his tail lashed......she was vaguely aware of the world outside the trance and even that seemed to be fading......
He recieved the feeling fine, calming down after a little while. He was being held, he was safe, he'd be fine...it was only a dream of the past, it couldn't hurt him now...could it? His tail's thrashings turned into a light sway and he sighed...
*flashback*
It was dark in that next place. He'd gotten away at last, with one memory tattooed into his shoulder...the rose for the little girl who'd taught him an important lesson. Not all humans were bad.
His eyes wandered about the room he'd just manage to pay for on a ship. His wish was freedom, but even in sailing to America, he wouldn't be totally free until he finally stumbled upon the Institute, much, much later.
Time went by in flashes...alleyways in day and night, screams, comments, mockery... at last the Instiute, something he'd heard so much about on the streets where he'd been staying. Thunder, lightning, rain...he ran inside for shelter and got lucky...
*end flashback*
...There were so many gaps there, so many things he'd lost almost completely. The flashes, that was it.
She smiled slightly and felt him relax...it was working......she felt herself being drawn down deeper in the trance......she began unknowingly to project her own past at Striker.....not a very pleasant past either......he was witnessing it from a bystanders point of view...........
*flashback*
A young girl of about 14 with green streaked brown hair,was in a dark deadend alley cornered by a large man with a knife.He sneared at her and stepped closer "Come here girl,i'll make it easy on you." She shook her head and tryed to move away from him.
He suddenly jumped at her knife in hand,she shreaked and the ground shook.The man was thrown of balence and fell,she ran past him though not fast enough as he grabbed at her ankle and held onto it "Damn mutant trash i'm gonna enjoy this."
A dark blur kicked the man away from her and stabbed him with his own blade.He came toward her and into the light,he was a older man that had the starved look of a begger and kind grey eyes.
He beconed to her "Its ok child he wont be hurting anyone now,why was he after you?" She shook her head and shivered as she looked at the mans body "I think my ..parents sent him after me...." she stepped back from him frightened.
He frowned "I guess your on your own child?Well then I think you need a teacher,so you can survive out here without selling "services" if you get my meaning.I'll give you food and a place to sleep,and i wont lay a finger on you either."
She nodded still frightened but she knew he could be trusted "I..I'd like that,by the way my names Aurora."
He smiled "Well my names Jerico and its nice to meet you."
He lead her to a crumbling warehouse that he called home......
*end flashback*
A sudden sadness washed over him at what he saw. A feeling that he wanted to reach out to Aurora, but he couldn't...or could he? He could see this as clearly as he could in reality, after all, he was moving with her. He could see perfectly what was going on and even if he wanted to wake a this point, and he did, he coldn't. Dream and reality somehow seemed to tie in...
Please R&R ^.^
*sidenote*So he's not confused with any version of kurt(comic,movie,or x-men evo), Striker looks something like Evo Kurt with soft white, (barely) blue tinted fur, several piercings in one ear, and a single surviving tattoo…his favorite,a rose.He cannot teleport either.To see his bio please go to...... http://xeva.conforums2.com/index.cgi?board=chara&action=display&num=1055897173 *end sidenote*
Remember what i said about fate?
It must have something planned for me......
How else is this exsplained?
I will tell you why i say that.......
The Institute gardens are very beautiful and a nice place to escape from the stress of the world or schoolwork.....sometimes people come there to be alone .......
Striker felt as if he was alone in the world at times. He could remember little or nothing of his past, save current events and whatever flashes decided that it was time to plague him. It hurt. Not physically, but mentally…he was lost and so was his memory, most of his past. He hated this. What had he done to deserve this? His new pains? His eyes closed, he leaned back silently, tail swaying slowly. He seemed to detach from everything for the moment. From the obvious, from the not so obvious, from living and dead, from self, from everything he knew and wish he'd known. Reality suddenly turned itself into dream.
He saw himself as just another perfectly normal person in the world, pale-skinned but normal. Hazel eyed and black haired—as he'd begun his life—human. He had no tail, no claws, no fangs, no fur, no past in a circus…no Institute and no need for it. It was as he'd always longed to be. He was with family, back in Germany, back where he belonged. His father hadn't gone off to war and still lived, and his mother was proud of him, and he was happy…
…He suddenly snapped out of it. That wasn't the truth, it would never happen…he'd never see his mother again; his father was dead and buried. He didn't hold back the tears as he leaned back, stretching out on the branch he'd taken refuge on. He cried. For the first time in years…he cried.
Aurora wandered the garden and felt drawn to one section of it,she was too tired from schoolwork to care why or resist it.She found herself in a shadowed nook and listened......someone was crying,she slowly made her way toward the sound and called out softly "Hello?" She felt loss and pain and regret,she needed to help whoever it was feeling this way.
He shut his eyes once more and leaned back. His tail gave a slow, weak sway and he took a breath before looking down, wiping his tears away. "Who's there?" His accent was emerging again, just barely...but it was now obvious enough again. He didn't know whether to be glad or not.
The voice sounded familiar even with the slight accent "Its Aurora...i dont know how to exsplain this but uh i know somethings wrong...i can feel it....." she figured out who the voice belonged to "Striker." she looked up into the tree and waited.
He gathered himself up steadily then leapt rather easily from the tree, landing on his feet but crouching slightly. His eyes were downcast, slightly darker than usual as if the young man from his dream, his human self, was coming back to haunt him.
She blinked a little but didnt move,she wasnt frightened of him he was her friend and he needed to talk. She smiled slightly at him and took his hand gently in hers "Tell me whats wrong Striker,I dont mind listening." she dropped her additude completely,she was too tired to keep playing the part of the hardass.
He looked into her eyes or a moment. This wasn't exactly the Aurora he knew, but at this point, he wouldn't have cared if he were face to face with the infamous Magneto. His eyes trailed to the ground once more. "Memories," he muttered, "some of them at least...very few but they've begun to bother me."
She nodded and looked around for somewhere to sit "Lets find a place ta sit and ya can tell me about them,and i wont tell no one about what ya tell me unless ya want me ta." she gently pulled him toward a cluster of trees and concentrates....two flat rocks were grown outta nothing for then to sit on.
He simply nodded, following her and sitting down soon enough in his usual dog like crouch. His tail coiled and gave a few slow sways. A soft sigh escaped his lips. He was tired but these dreams...these memories...these wishes, more so, wouldn't let him sleep.
She sat down on the other rock next to his and drew her legs to her chest and set her chin on her knees and said soflty "Tell me,i'll listen and try to help if i can."
"The question is can you help?" He stared at the ground for some time. Tense. He was usually so much more relaxed than that and most who knew him knew that, but at this point, he would've sprung at the slightest noise or touch. He shut his eyes...
...and slipped into dream or more so memory...peaceful yet painful dream—that in a sense that he could indeed sleep though, versus waking up in the middle of it.
*flashback*
What he saw was hazed, all of it, blurred so that he could hardly see at all. It had happened, something he hardly remembered. It was on paper now, in fact.
Striker looked around a darkened room to see a child there, happy, enjoying himself as he played with his little red ball…a familiar tail swayed behind him, deep hazel eyes shown in what little light there was, three fingered hands fiddled with his toy, slightly pointed ears poked out through already slightly long hair, he smiled...there were fangs there, small but noticeable...
...Striker cringed, but his eyes remained shut...
...He knew this child and he knew the woman who watched him from a corner, her eyes darkened at her mutant child. Her blonde hair falling into her face as she gathered up a few of his most needed articles in a bag, her face scrunched into a scowl. She was his mother, the very same who cast him out so long ago. Striker wanted so much to strangle the woman as she took the child's things upstairs to his room where she only gathered up more before rushing back down. The child knew nothing of what was to happen to him this day…only that he'd gotten a new ball to play with, to keep his attention.
The next thing that Striker saw was the inside of a truck, the back of one, cold and dark. There was something around the child's neck now, dog tags with the word 'Striker' written on them. He fiddled with these as he lay uncertainly on his belongings. He closed his eyes; the only thought on his little mind was getting out. To Striker's dismay, the scene changed again, the child had vanished...
*end flashback*
He slipped out of this dream state and glanced at Aurora, tears once more filling his eyes. He began explaining this to her.
She nodded and listened and got off her rock and sat next to him and hugged him giving comfort and support as he talked.She also picking up more "feelings" from him.....if she concetrated enough she could get a vaugue picture of what was bothing him.....
He hugged her back after some hesitation. His tail was almost limp, his eyes were flooded with tears which soon slipped out. Tired, upset, plain bothered, that's what he was at this point. A nervous wreck. He wanted no part of what was bothering him...
...His eyes shut for a moment and a near picture show flashed before him...
*flashback*
He saw the child again, now in a cage, curled up like a frightened animal. This was the only place he could take refuge...the circus had taken him in. Time literally flew from what he saw, the child grew older, began performing and was found to be pretty good at that. A day flashed in his mind...the day he'd met that wily little tiger cub, Apollo, whom he hadn't seen in years. He heard voices, many voices, flooding his mind—conversation, fearful voices, the line's he'd repeated so many times for performances with the tiger he'd trained. Every single move, every time he'd been told to fix something, the few teachings he'd received...
He felt the arms of a child around him...a friend...
*end flashback*
...A tear rolled down his cheek and he shook his head to snap out of it.
She hugged him and murmered reasurances to him,she could feel what he was going through.....felt like it was happening to her..she got a few images one of a tiger and another one of a cage.....she let him cry on her shoulder and asked soflty "Tell me about the tiger."
The tiger…Apollo…his best friend; his first and only friend back then. Striker sighed and shut his eyes once more, even though he knew by now every time he did just that, more images came to mind. These, however, he didn't mind much. A sad little smile formed on Striker's face…
*flashback*
"He won't suckle," they told him, almost regretfully as they handed him both the tiny cub and a bottle to nurse him with, giving an almost sarcastic "happy birthday" as they shut his cage again. That was the beginning. Simple as that.
They wanted the cub in the show when he got older and Striker was responsible for training him, considering he wouldn't respond to anyone else. The others used whips, Striker used more calming methods and usually trained the tiger when there was a crowd around so he wouldn't plain freeze. He swore he could understand the cat. There was something strangely human about him.
*end flashback*
She saw him close his eyes and smile and rubbed his back,at least now his emotions werent so painfull.She was not gonna intrude on this memory,any other that caused him pain she would.
He was glad that she was there now, he truly was more confortable with her there. He relaxed quite a bit then, tail giving a few slow sways. He was a bit confused now though... How was he remembering these things? Why? How did Aurora suddenly find him, anyway?
She felt him relax and smiled,she'd need a bit of time alone after this but it was worth it.She also felt he was confused and looked him in the eyes "Ask me what ya will,i'll answer the best i can Striker."
He simply shook his head and sighed. "I don't really have anything to ask," he almost whispered. His eyes were half shut, just from being heavy, but even then he couldn't sleep if he wanted to...and he did want to.
She nodded and hugged him again "Yer tired,sleep if ya want i'll watch over ya and we'll talk after ya wake up." she knew he was exausted.
He gave her an almost hopeless glance then shaking his head. "I've been trying for days to sleep..." He sighed heavily. "I can't..."
She nodded, she knew how that felt......she still couldnt sleep in the dorm yet.... she smiled a little and touched his arm "Try for me?I'll wake ya up if start having a nightmare but if ya dont sleep yer gonna get sick soon."
"I have sort of an immunity to that," he laughed softly then sighed. "But I could use some sleep...and ever since I came here, it's been near imposible." He straightened up before long, shaking his head.
She smiled a little and got up and sat down on a large patch of thick grass "Well then take a nap,i doubt anyone will bother us here.Ya can use my legs as a pillow fer a bit."
He moved over to her. He wasn't in the mood for any protesting right now as it was. He stretched out in the grass and rested his head in her lap, giving a quiet "Thank you" then shut his eyes…
*flashback*
…things hazed over again…
"If nothing else," a voice cried out one night; "Let me out of this cage…let me be free!" His German accent was thick, yet his voice was soft and caring. It held such pain. Another voice spoke and it was the complete opposite. It was loud and unsettling and held an American accent.
"You expect to get out of there after a performance?" They laughed loudly. "What's gotten into that little blue head of yours, Cliff?"
"My name is Striker," the first muttered sadly. "I just want my freedom!" With that, his tone changed and a light jingle was heard, then a clang.
He was alone again, only a pen, journal, and book in his cell. It was the pen and journal he turned his golden gaze upon, and he lifted each in his three-fingered, clawed hands. He flipped to a blank page, listening with his pointed, pierced ears to the sound of his devil like tail tapping the floor. He began to write in his usual flowing script, and didn't stop until the break of dawn. When the sun rose, he slept peacefully (or so it seemed), curled up in a ball on the ground.
It was the light that had revealed his blue skin and tattered black jeans. His long tail (long as he was tall) swayed as would a hypnotized serpent. Three-fingered hands shaded his eyes and provided a pillow. His midnight blue hair fell into his face a bit. He yawned and shifted his weight a bit, for a moment his ivory fangs could be seen. He went shirtless, various tattoos covered his frame. A ring, small and thin gleamed along with several studs in his right ear. Something around his neck shone faintly, the chain of a necklace, but that was mostly hidden, just with the way he was laying. Noon came and so did the crowds, and the noise, and the havoc of circus life. His eyes flickered opened, pupils shrank to slits, and the fiery red around them pulsated. He stood up and looked through the bars of the cell.
The crowds grew outside and he sighed then reached a hand out, scratching at the cage bars and growling softly. He was beginning his usual act. It wasn't long before he was climbing the bars then leaping onto the side wall of his cell where he couldn't be seen. People gathered around his cage to see the 'Amazing Demon Man'. He leapt into sight suddenly then back onto the bars, growling, hissing. He'd reached a claw out again suddenly, smirked, then drew back again after gasps from many. He slunk away to the center of the floor and grinned slyly.
"If you want more, report to the Big-top at one," with that, he bowed then vanished, leaving a cloud of dark, wispy, black and blue smoke behind. The crowds simply stared at the spot he just stood.
Striker soon appeared atop the tigers' cage, stretching then yawning and glancing about the dimly lit backstage area—alone again, save one more there. He smirked and leapt down, gave the white tiger a pat on the head (the tiger, Apollo, had been there nearly as long as Striker had. They were actually friends), gave him a bit of meat from a near by bucket, then took a trench coat and hat from a crate and put them on. Head bowed, tail hidden, hands pocketed he walked outside as casually as anyone else. This was something he was allowed to do, so long as he didn't leave the circus grounds, so said his 'boss,' Faygon.
None gave him a second glance. He smirked to himself after a while; he'd yet to begin his normal antics. Besides, he had another hour to kill, and what better way to celebrate his May 4th, 21st birthday? He snickered at the thought, until he got near mid-way, ducking into one of the food carts for a bite to eat before he started out again adjusting his hat and coat, his tail half dragged the ground, purposely, a costume effect.
Silent on he walked, smirking at every glance he got. There was the occasional time he'd cringe from a tug on his tail though. He waited to spring his little 'trap'. Human form was taken, hat tossed off then, tail remained. This was amusing but he kept his head bowed and grin hidden. He fiddled with the box in his coat pocket then looked up slowly. A curtain of his dark hair shielded his eyes from view. He slipped the coat off and draped it over one shoulder—well built frame revealed. His tail swayed gently with each step.
Glances and gasps from the crowds.
He muttered something in his native tongue in a soft, but menacing tone. He grinned afterwards, very sharp fangs revealed. People leapt back at this point, all save those who lived and worked there as well as knew him. They cracked up and Striker simply bowed. He let his tail twist into a lasso as an old teddy bear flew his way. He caught it with his tail then gave it to a little girl near by. The crowds clapped and the girl actually ran up and hugged him. He blinked quickly then smiled and hugged her back. He wasn't used to a gentle touch, let alone a friendly hug.
"Would you be afraid…if I showed you what I really am?" He asked softly. Very few heard.
The little girl shook her head. "No, Mister," she said then pointed to his tail. Was that why? Striker had noticed that she paid special attention his hands, or more so his claws.
He nodded lightly then closed his eyes. It all happened in a flash. He was back in his normal form and kneeling then. The girl stood still for a moment then hugged him once more, tightly, smiling. He smiled as well and hugged her back. Hearts melted then, in a crowd usually hostile toward his kind, Mutants. A rare thing happened: A tear fell from Striker's eye and the girl wiped it away.
"Don't cry, mister," she said.
"It's Striker," he whispered then looked up slightly. "I've got to go now." He pulled a slip of paper of some sort from his jeans pocket, two in fact, then gave them to her. "Come to the show if you can. It's free."
She nodded then stepped back. Striker stood then glanced around and vanished. The girl smiled and ran to her mother who was completely stunned.
"Rose," she muttered, "What—?"
"Striker," was all that the girl, Rose, said, holding up the papers. They were tickets to the next show. "Can we?"
Her mother blinked then took the tickets and nodded them smiled. "A Mutant…" She laughed softly then looked to her wrist. 12:30PM, it read, but the tent wasn't the closest thing on earth. "Let's go then!" She picked Rose up and started toward the tent where Striker was already busy preparing for his act.
"Let's get those crates out of here!" A gruff voice called out, "Make sure the bleachers are fixed, will ya?!"
Striker had bleacher duty today and went under with a wrench and screwdriver, vanishing and reappearing here and there, tightening screws and bolts underneath each seat. He muttered to himself then sighed at a time and shook his head. He hated that job even if he did get it done quickly. It was filthy down there! He sighed at a thought: At least he had a home for this work, for now. He had a new plan for after the show. He wanted out and he wanted it soon, very soon.
He teleported here and there, swung, flipped, glided with agility that would've shamed a monkey. He wanted this bleacher job done so people wouldn't really have to see him, for outside of his show (which would possibly be a little different tonight) and outside of his cage—the circus in general, he was simply seen as a monster. Not so tonight.
****
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," a voice boomed through the tent, "we are proud to present…"
Lights flashed in the center ring, there was something there, pacing 'round in circles. A black light followed it. It turned out to be a tiger, Apollo, and there was no handler, no whip to be seen. He roared and sprung suddenly into the center of the ring and seemed to vanish in a swirling cloud of wispy smoke.
"…our own blue-skinned wonder," the voice continued.
Smoke swirled all the more below, there was a figure moving through it. The occasional flash of an eye, sweep of the leg and tail could be seen through it.
"Striker," the voice boomed, the ringmaster whom it was coming from motioned not to the center ring, no….that was empty now. He let his hand sweep toward the audience and there he was, standing on the center, topmost bleacher with folded arms and a swaying tail. A 'cold' smirk etched its way across his face as he vanished once more with a distinctive 'Bamf!'
Claps and cheers met the disappearance then sudden reappearance in the ring of both Striker and Apollo. Partners in crime many would joke the way the two stuck together. A series of several flips, spins, and more of his vanishing 'act' followed that. When he stopped again, his golden gaze wandered to the crowd and there was Rose and her mother. He smiled as he saw them then looked to Apollo who stood up and gave another roar then a long growl...
*end flashback*
...In real life, he couldn't have hated this more. His tail thrashed against the ground, but he was still fast asleep.
She smiled down at him and closed her eyes also and calmed herself,it was easyier to "feel" and "see" what,if anything was happening while he was asleep......she was suddenly drawn into his dream...like she was standing there watching.....this had never happened before.....she witnessed all of his dream...no there memories not dreams......and began to strongly project understanding into the memory...she also projected to the sleeping Striker the feeling of being held...she hoped if he felt it he would realize these memories could not hurt him..... unconcessly she put a hand to his shoulder as his tail lashed......she was vaguely aware of the world outside the trance and even that seemed to be fading......
He recieved the feeling fine, calming down after a little while. He was being held, he was safe, he'd be fine...it was only a dream of the past, it couldn't hurt him now...could it? His tail's thrashings turned into a light sway and he sighed...
*flashback*
It was dark in that next place. He'd gotten away at last, with one memory tattooed into his shoulder...the rose for the little girl who'd taught him an important lesson. Not all humans were bad.
His eyes wandered about the room he'd just manage to pay for on a ship. His wish was freedom, but even in sailing to America, he wouldn't be totally free until he finally stumbled upon the Institute, much, much later.
Time went by in flashes...alleyways in day and night, screams, comments, mockery... at last the Instiute, something he'd heard so much about on the streets where he'd been staying. Thunder, lightning, rain...he ran inside for shelter and got lucky...
*end flashback*
...There were so many gaps there, so many things he'd lost almost completely. The flashes, that was it.
She smiled slightly and felt him relax...it was working......she felt herself being drawn down deeper in the trance......she began unknowingly to project her own past at Striker.....not a very pleasant past either......he was witnessing it from a bystanders point of view...........
*flashback*
A young girl of about 14 with green streaked brown hair,was in a dark deadend alley cornered by a large man with a knife.He sneared at her and stepped closer "Come here girl,i'll make it easy on you." She shook her head and tryed to move away from him.
He suddenly jumped at her knife in hand,she shreaked and the ground shook.The man was thrown of balence and fell,she ran past him though not fast enough as he grabbed at her ankle and held onto it "Damn mutant trash i'm gonna enjoy this."
A dark blur kicked the man away from her and stabbed him with his own blade.He came toward her and into the light,he was a older man that had the starved look of a begger and kind grey eyes.
He beconed to her "Its ok child he wont be hurting anyone now,why was he after you?" She shook her head and shivered as she looked at the mans body "I think my ..parents sent him after me...." she stepped back from him frightened.
He frowned "I guess your on your own child?Well then I think you need a teacher,so you can survive out here without selling "services" if you get my meaning.I'll give you food and a place to sleep,and i wont lay a finger on you either."
She nodded still frightened but she knew he could be trusted "I..I'd like that,by the way my names Aurora."
He smiled "Well my names Jerico and its nice to meet you."
He lead her to a crumbling warehouse that he called home......
*end flashback*
A sudden sadness washed over him at what he saw. A feeling that he wanted to reach out to Aurora, but he couldn't...or could he? He could see this as clearly as he could in reality, after all, he was moving with her. He could see perfectly what was going on and even if he wanted to wake a this point, and he did, he coldn't. Dream and reality somehow seemed to tie in...