Chapter Three: The Final Night


"The world we know is gone... we are in a new age, one where mankind is evolving. Amongst us are those with extraordinary abilities, ones that some could only imagine in our wildest dreams. We have no reason to fear these people with these superhuman abilities. Most of these people are scared to reveal themselves for who they truly are because of the attacks on them. That has been made clear in the past couple years with the mutant population. Mutants have been discriminated against, and cast out when discovered. Hate does not make things better, hate creates more hate. This is such the case with someone like the mutant the public knows as Magneto, but I know him by a different name... Eric Lehnsherr, or as the name he originally had...Max Eisenhardt.

"Magneto is the man who everyone fears for the fact he wishes to give the mutants a better life because he knows what it is like to experience that hate... Many do not know this, but when Magneto was a child, he was held in a Nazi concentration camp. Yes, he is a Holocaust survivor, having survived the Auschwitz-Birkenau camp. During one of our many encounters, Magneto went into a very detailed account of his time in the camp. He was forced to watch his mother die because his powers manifested, and the man who ran the camp wanted him to harness his abilities. When Magneto could not move a coin, his mother was shot point blank in the head. Magneto's powers manifested immediately after in a large burst of power... now what caused his powers to manifest in such a manner? He was furious, and would use his anger to access his powers. Magneto was not born because he's evil... not at all. Eric Lehnsherr was a man who had witnessed too much harm against people who were like him, and wished to protect mutants from suffering a fate like his.

"You call Magneto a monster, but in truth he is doing what he feels is right. Magneto believes that the mutants need to be protected, and I agree, but not in the way he is going about it. He fights to put mutants above those who do not have the mutant gene in them... my methods are different.

"I believe that mutants should be taught to control their powers so that they can live a normal life and not be put into the harsh conditions that many find themselves in. If we can help them learn to control their powers, rather than force them to hide them, then we can make things a better place. Of course, there are those few that would rather put themselves first and make everyone else suffer, but that's something we deal with every day... the world is changed, and when it comes to evolution, we must change with it...

"Mankind has evolved."


Those were the words that stuck with every person that heard that speech. Mankind has evolved. They say mankind has evolved, but yet they stick to centuries old thoughts like it's the word of God. How could someone think that one particular group was superior to the others? That's the very thought that set forth countless wars in one indirect manner or another.

You see, that speech was from a man named Charles Xavier, who not many people at the time knew, was a mutant, a rather powerful one at that. He's a telepathic mutant that's the namesake of Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. There he gives a home for young mutants and teaches them to use their powers. He's one of the few people the FBI won't touch because he houses mutants. Mutants have been hunted down by the FBI before for being a threat to national security. A lot of the people who were captured tend to be innocent teenagers whose powers have manifested due to puberty. You'd be surprised as to how many people are actually mutants.

I understand Xavier's former friend, Eric Lehnsherr, or rather what everybody knows him as... Magneto. I understand the pain he had been through, watching his mother die in front of him, unable to save her. I understand his need to protect his own kind, the only people he feels actually connected to from being harmed the same way he was, but the fact is, by doing that he's become the very thing he's hated for so long. He believes mutants to be superior, and therefore by committing the crimes he has puts more spotlight on the mutants.

Of course, mutants weren't the only things that people are worried about. There are others, ones that are labeled as Mutates, people who gained their powers through either experimentation, an accident, or any other way that would not be considered with the X-gene that makes mutants, well, mutants.

The world's dangerous, there's no lie about it, and everyone who doesn't have powers or the technology to fight against the new threats facing them find that fighting these battles are more costly.

Then of course you have these heroes like the Avengers, a group of superheroes, whether they were super soldiers, a Norse God, sharp shooter, spy, or a man in armor, they protect us from the big threats. There's a couple other teams of superheroes, like the X-Men, the Guardians of the Galaxy... etc... but needless to say there's a lot of people with powers who use them to protect those without powers.

Okay, I can tell you're wondering something about me... and I bet I know what it is. How do I fit into this? Well, to start off, I was brought into the world of superheroes and supervillains without a choice... well, I suppose it was a choice, but it quickly spiralled out of my control, let's just say that. So, what's the question on your mind right now?

Ah, if I had to guess, it would probably be the one questilon that has stood the test of time. Who am I? That's probably what you're thinking right about now, aren't you? Well, if that is what you're thinking, before I answer that, I have to ask you, do you really want to know who I am? If it's that you don't want to know but rather you need to know, then let me just rephrase that, are you sure about that? You see, the story of my life is not for the faint of heart. I could lie to you and say this was a happy little tale where the hero actually gets his fabled happily ever after, but of course that would be a lie. I don't know if anybody told you anything about me, like perhaps that this was a happy tale, or that I was just your average, ordinary guy without a single care in the world, but if they did... you've been deceived.

I am not a guy without a care in the world, in fact it's quite the opposite; I find that I care too much in fact. Everything in my life has been nothing but pain, torment, and loss. So, if somebody did tell you that I was just your average, ordinary guy without a single care in the world, I got something to tell you...

They lied.


Claudia Stilinski's Hospital Room (Eight Years from Present Day)


It was nearly three in the afternoon when he got sat down in the small room where the woman laid in bed, peacefully asleep. The eight year old boy held the baseball cap that was so dear to him in his hands ever so carefully, the faded NY lettering on the front being avoided at all costs. The smell in the room assaulted his nostrils, the kid wincing at the scent. He hated the smell of hospitals, it just felt like he was being suffocated. He looked up to take a glance at the woman, her body was still, still enough that if not for the EKG meter connected to her, the boy might have thought there was no life left in her.

He watched from the disgustingly uncomfortable chair as the woman in the bed slept peacefully. He did his best not to fidget – she hadn't slept this peacefully in weeks – but unfortunately his incessant ADHD had his knee bouncing and his fingers dancing against the chair's arm as a way to release energy and pass the time. This whole arrangement of his mother being in the hospital wasn't the best, and if that wasn't bad enough, he felt worse that his favorite pastime recently was watching her sleep. He hadn't seen her sleep so peacefully in weeks... that was one of the worst things about how her situation was now.

He could remember how before she had been admitted to the hospital she would tuck him into bed and say that she would always be there if he needed her... but now the words in his head were saying that she could no longer be there for him. He would go to his parents's room when he had a nightmare and they would hold him in their arms, his mother singing a lullaby to get rid of his nightmares. Now, when if he had a nightmare he had nowhere to go. His father was around of course, but not at nights. No, his father was a police officer and that meant he would have to work late certain days of the week, and even when he didn't his father would come home and pass out like a rock. Today was the third day in a row that he had stayed at the hospital because he protested against going home, because he didn't want to leave his mother.

His father had spoken about how she needed her rest and that they would come back when she was awake, but he refused... he knew the truth, about how when his mother would wake up, it wouldn't be the same woman who would hold him after a nightmare, the one who cheered him on, the person he was proud to call Mom. That was why he enjoyed seeing her sleep, because he liked to think that while she was asleep his mother was actually her... and not the other one. Sleep was her sanctuary, and when she was awake, in her mind it was a living nightmare, and he was the monster under her bed.

His mother's disease twisted her mind into seeing things that weren't really there or happening, and because of that, he couldn't be around when she was awake because she would scream about his supposed plots to kill her; and when she screamed that at the top of her lungs, that was the worst thing he could have ever experienced in his life.

Her face was calm for once and her breathing even. He liked being reminded that a part of his mother still lived in her. The memories they had made in his short eight years of life slowly being washed from her brain was killing him. He remembered the way she used to smile at him across the dinner table, how she cheered him on even as he struck out again at Little League, how they laughed together watching Saturday Night Live when his dad had to work the late shift, and how she would hold him when he had a nightmare to protect him from the monsters under his bed.

He would always remember those times they shared, but she wouldn't. No, now it was a miracle if Claudia remembered she had a son at all. It had been months now, of visiting her in the bleached out, sterile hospital and watching her waste away piece by piece. It wouldn't be long now, the doctors had said, that her suffering would be over soon.

His suffering, he knew, would last forever though. He would never again get to see the smile she saved just for him, or watch from the stairs as she and his father slow-danced around the living room after his bedtime. It wasn't fair. Kids were supposed to have their parents until they became parents themselves and learned all they could. He hadn't even learned a fraction of what she could have taught him.

A tear slipped from his moistened eyes as he thought of everything he would miss because this disease had chosen her. He wiped it away before it could travel past his cheekbone. He had cried so much in the past six months he wasn't sure how he could possibly have any more tears stored up, but somehow he always managed to let a few more slip out every visit.

The nurse who had been taking care of his mom popped her head into the room to inform him that his father was on his way now, that the traffic was holding him back but would be there as soon as he could. He thanked her quietly for letting him know and turned his attention back to the slumbering form in the bed.

He felt a strange urge to let her know exactly what he was thinking and how he felt. So, as quietly as possible and without physically disturbing the bed, he scooted his chair forward as far as it would go and cleared his throat.

"I don't know if you can hear me Mom. I don't even know if you remember me, but I wanted you to know that I love you a lot. I miss you already, and I know I'll miss you more when you're really gone. But, Mom, I don't want you to go. Please stay with me. Remember... I want you to stay with Dad and me. He loves you even more than I do and I know he's going to hurt for a long, long time. You don't want that, right? So you need to get better. For Dad. For me. Please."

His voice broke on the last word and he began to cry. There was no stopping it now. The only sounds in the room were his sobs and the constant and reassuring beep of her heart monitor...

Now, maybe he had been so worked up, hoping for any sign that she remembered him... anything at all, that he imagined through the sobbing and the machines beeps, he could have sworn he had heard her voice call out saying her nickname for him... "Mischief."


The young boy had just finished going to the bathroom after bawling his eyes dry after pleading with his mother to get better and was looking through glass towards the woman who laid in bed, appearing to be nearly dead by how lifeless the body gave. She opened her eyes slowly to see him standing there, giving a tiny smile as she used her hand to motion him to walk in. He slowly walked in, his eyes watery and red from tears seeing her like that.

"Hey, how's my little Mischief maker doing?" his heart nearly skipped a beat as he realized she had actually remembered him today, and all he could think was that he was so happy to see her, to see the woman he remembered so well. However, seeing her in this state ruined that twinge of joy he had gained from her greeting, and what little bit of a smile he had disappeared. "Sweetie, are you okay?" It was only then that his mother seemed to take in her surroundings and where she was, as even her smile died for a moment. "How long has it been..."

"Two months."

"Was I at work when it happened?" she asked quietly, and all the child could do was nod his head, wiping the fresh tears from his face. "Where's your father at Mischief?"

"Work, he said he'd be here soon, he'll be so happy to see you Mom..." the boy chuckled, trying to cheer himself up, imagining their reunion. "Please, don't go again..."

"You know I can't help it when it happens sweetheart. I wish I could... If I could, I'd never leave." She did her best to sit up, but the pain was far too much for her to do anything. "Come here..." He stepped closer to where he was right beside her, and he could feel her hand run through his hair.

"Mom... you can't die... Dad will be a mess without you." he pleaded, his voice filled with that unmistakable sound of fear and grief combined.

"Stiles, that's why you're around... when I'm gone, you've always have been and always will be the one who keeps him going, and he'll keep you going. It's how family is. I'm not going far, I'll always be with you." She was dying from frontotemporal dementia, which is a disease brought from a shrinkage of the brain that leads to dementia, and eventually death. Claudia was finally unable to battle the disease anymore and was close to succumbing. Stilinski was currently at work and had no idea how close to death his wife was. "Honey, look at me." Stiles had his head down trying not to cry, but as he looked up at her, he had seen something strange about her eyes, appearing to have an animal characteristic to it. "No one ever truly dies... I'll still be here. I can't tell you how sad I am that I won't get to see you grow up to be the great man I know you will. I love you Mischief... and, tell your father I love him..."

It was then that as she took her son's hands into her own, squeezing it lightly and bringing it to her lips kissing them, Stiles watched as she steadily lost all pressure while laying back, her eyes closing; the EKG meter let out a long shrill beep that deafened everything out as doctors ran in, with a still uniformed John Stilinski behind them grabbing Stiles, lifting him away from his mother, taking him out into the hall and Stiles could see his own reflection in the glass... the sound of that EKG meter seemingly echoing across the entire building from the sound of it...

His screams were drowned out as he screamed for his mother to come back, and his father turning him away from the room, covering his face. His mother was gone... and just like that his life would be forever changed.


The house was dark that night as Officer Stilinski carried his sleeping child into the house, holding him close. Stilinski had no clue as to what he was going to do now as he laid the sleeping boy onto the couch, and he went to his room to change out of his uniform. When he came out of his room, he grabbed the pillow Claudia used and brought it downstairs with a blanket. He laid the pillow underneath his son's head, noticing how the eight year old's hand clung to the pillow as Stilinski laid the blanket down over him.

Stilinski sat across from him in the chair, leaning back and tried his best to fall asleep, but he was conflicted. He had no idea how he was going to raise his son by himself; however what he did know was that he would do anything to protect his son, as that was the only person he had left. Stilinski closed his eyes and took deep breaths trying to find a way to fall asleep.

Shortly after, he felt something touch his leg, and when he opened his eyes he found Stiles standing there with the blanket and pillow in hand. "What's the matter kiddo?"

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" was all he asked, and Stilinski nodded. Stiles climbed into the chair with him, laying his head on the pillow, blanket covering him, and his father's arm around him. "I don't want you to leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere; I'm not going to leave you. I'm right here." Stilinski reassured him, and the two fell asleep, Stilinski guarding his son from harm's way...


So, yeah... if somebody told you that... they lied to you. You see, my story... my life is one of pain and sorrow, longing and heartache, anger and betrayal... and that was just the high school years.

So, who am I? I'm the son of Claudia Stilinski...


Claudia Stilinski had only one child with her husband, Officer John Stilinski of the New York Police Department. Her child was a boy named Mieczyslaw Stilinski, named after her father, but because of his name being difficult to pronounce when he was learning how to speak, he was only able to say "mischief" instead of Mieczsylaw. She would always call him by the way he was able to say his name, Mischief Stilinski... but, most people called him by a different name, a nickname that only ran in his father's side of the family: Stiles.

It was tradition for the Stilinski men to go by that nickname, but Stiles' father was a break in the tradition. Officer Stilinski was one of the few people in New York City that genuinely believed in the good within all people, even in the psychotic. There was only one case that Officer Stilinski believed that one man deserved the death penalty, but the man was able to escape his fate due to his mental illness.

Stilinski knew better, he wasn't insane, he was evil incarnate. He had seen the worst situations on the Police force, and tried to keep his son from ever finding about any of it, because Stiles deserved better. He deserved to be spared the lost innocence.

Of everything that had occurred over the years of Claudia's work at Oscorp Industries, the research to save Norman Osborn's life had been the one that she had poured most of her blood, sweat and tears into. She had also been working to save her own once she found out that she had incurable frontotemporal dementia. Everything however had went from bad to worse when one of the early test subjects for the arachnid branch of research bit her. Her symptoms actually progressed faster and made life that much more difficult for her family, especially for her young boy who had to watch her slowly lose herself.

Once Claudia had passed away Stiles had grown up faster than most would have following the death of one of their parents, but Stiles wasn't the average child. A kid with ADHD who had enough energy to outdo a marathon runner in a couple of hours could be tiring, yet the surprising thing was that Stiles instead found different ways to use his energy, following in his mother's footsteps and studying in all different studies. There was neurology, chemistry, physics, the list continued on, but the point was that Stiles knew a lot more about how things worked than some of the world's greatest geniuses did.

This was one thing that no matter what his father did, Stiles was not hidden from the horrors of the world like Stilinski wished; Stiles knew about the criminals that would skin their victims alive, torture them... anything that Stiles could know, he did. He would constantly keep learning more about the criminal world due to his dream of becoming a police officer like his father.

Yet, Stiles hid his gifts for the most part, unless he was in class and had the second highest grade in all of his classes, except for the most popular girl in school, Lydia Martin, the strawberry blonde beauty that had lived next to him ever since they were little kids, but had never spoken to one another.

In his free time, Stiles learning skills to possibly one day become a cop. However, Stiles slowly found out that it was quite easy when you kept your head in a book all day to be targeted by certain cliques, most notably: Bullies/Jocks.

That was something that plagued him more than he liked, but Stiles knew that was merely a part of his life, and he would need to be used to it; Stiles was the best friend of Harry Osborn, while also the rival of Jackson Whittemore who was the captain of the Lacrosse team and the most popular jock in the city., meaning that he was always brought into the middle of their feuds when he was around them. To be honest, those two could fight over anything if they wanted to. There were days when it became too tedious for Stiles to be around the arguing, but Harry was one of his best friends so...

Yet there was always these times where Stiles would have to get in the middle of problems that he wasn't even involved with, as can be expected.


BOOK ONE: BIRTH OF A HERO


Hey guys, so there is the chapter, and I know I should have gotten this done a lot faster than what I did, but I figured I needed a little more to add to the backstory. This was something I wanted to do, to emphasize on the one thing the last version failed to do, focus on one theme... Family. I plan on having a big focus on family, particularly Stiles and his father.

Also, I wanted a way to explain something that in Teen Wolf I don't really know if it was explained, but why Stiles can't sleep without that one pillow. If it did then by all means let me know, but for this story I wanted it to be because it was his mother's and he became attached to it.

Yeah, this story is a little different for me, there's no doubt because I don't really focus that much on the family side to characters, and I plan on doing better with that, because as I have stated on multiple occasions, this book deserves better.

If anyone noticed I did not put Stilinski's real name, Noah down. I originally had him as John Stilinski, and I would prefer to keep him that way. I mean, for my other stories I'll have it be more true to the Teen Wolf characters, but for this story, changing things are going to help a bit. Names, not so much, but hopefully you get the point. I'm making things different.

So, basically I would like to answer a couple reviews as they had some information to talk about and I want to answer them as I like to respond to my reviewers.

Guest: I am aware that Stiles's real name is Mieczyslaw, and for the book, Claudia was making that video for Stiles, believing he would be near adulthood when he found it, hence why she called him Stiles. It's just a personal choice I made, and I have no quarrel with it.

ALL READERS: As to why I changed the prologue's article to where it was Liz wtih Lydia the day Spider-Man showed up instead of it being Allison is because I decided to hold her off until the beginning of the Season One arc like a lot of people wanted. This way I could do with the characters as I pleased and things could be fresh when Allison showed up.

Anywho, that's what I've got for this chapter, and when I update again the story will actually begin. So, please review and I will see you guys soon with another update.

Let me know what kind of ideas or questions you have for the story, and I will be sure to get back to you.