NOTE: I own nothing but my own creations. Yup. And I don't have a title
really yet! Heeeelp meh ;_; lol.
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"Oh shit."
The loud blare of police sirens called eerily through the night sky as the group of teenagers scattered, quickly capping their cans of spray paint and tossing their cigarettes to the street. Loud thuds were heard as a few scrambled to climb the fire escapes on the sides of the tall buildings, clearing the large dumpsters as if they were nothing. Some took off down the back alleyways, knocking over trash cans behind them with a crash. The sounds of car doors being slammed shut and the police officers demanding their halt could be heard as a few of the teenagers slid over the pavement, taking refuge underneath parked cars. It was a typical New York City night.
One teenager in particular had taken off right for the other police car. He was a fairly built kid of sixteen years, but was extremely underweight - only tipping the scale at a mere one hundred twenty-eight. He stood at five-feet ten-inches, but that was with two-inch heels on his knee high, steel-toed boots. He wore a simple t-shirt over a turtleneck, decorated with safety pins along the edges - part of his own little 'style', holes cut into the sleeves so that his gloved thumbs would fit. His pants were very large and baggy, straps hanging off of the big pockets located just about everywhere. His entire ensemble was of the darkest of blacks, his ebony hair hanging just above his shoulders and falling into his dark, expressionless eyes, all of this clashing with his pale skin.
Running towards the vehicle with seemingly no fear, Thomas Stryfe - or as most just called him 'Shade' - figured that the pigs would either swerve or freak.
"Don't hit that kid!" The cop seated in the passenger side exclaimed, blue hues shifting towards his partner. "The last thing we need is cops running over children," he muttered.
"I won't, Mark. He'll stop; no one's dumb enough to run right into a car." Or maybe he was, it didn't look as though the teen was going to stop.
When the cop realized that, he slammed on his brakes and turned the wheel sharply to swerve, but didn't make it. The last of the teen they saw was a smirk cross those pale lips, and then his entire form seemed to be engulfed in the darkness.
The car screeched to a halt. The officers stepped out, looking around inquisitively. There was no thud, no evidence that there had even been a kid. By now the other teens were gone; save for one that the other cops had dragged over towards the stopped car.
"He's the only one we caught." Both the officers each grasped an arm, the teen kicking at their legs and yelling profanity, demanding them to let him go. Mark sighed, removing his hat and brushing a hand through his shaggy brown hair.
"That's better than none, I guess." He figured it was best not to mention the disappearance of the other kid. They slapped handcuffs on the teen's wrists and shoved him into the back seat of the car, driving back to the police station as the other cops climbed into their own vehicle and followed.
"Dude, he'll probably get charged for trespassing," Jaeson snickered, elbowing Damon from underneath a mini-van.
"And possession of drugs, graffiti." He held out his hand, counting each on his fingertips until Jaeson smacked him in the shoulder, the both of them laughing. Loud banging echoed through the alleyway as two more jumped from the rooftops, using the dumpster as a landing dock before hopping to the street. Jaeson reached forward to pull himself out from underneath the vehicle, until a black shadow appeared before him, the holes for the eyes squinting momentarily before it took shape. It was Shade, back to his original form. Tom grinned.
"God Shade, you scared the shit outta me!" Jaeson exclaimed, falling back against the metal. Damon snickered and pulled himself up.
"Apparently I did the same to the cops too." Thomas added, standing to his feet. The others crowded around.
"Poor Tag. Think we can bust 'em out?" Damon asked.
"Eh, he'll get'm self out." Jae answered.
"Dude, I've got a serious case of the munchies." Trip, a blonde tipped teen commented. "I think I'm gunna go swing by McDonalds. Anyone want anything?" Most everyone nodded and gave him an order, Trip withdrawing his keys.
"Trip, we'll meet'cha down in the den." Referring to the underground drains that they had called their home, they took refuge underneath the busy city streets. Trip nodded and headed for his car, while the rest climbed through the bars down the street and shuffled through the tunnels.
The inside of the drains could be considered graffiti, or it could be considered art. Bright colors overlapping, bringing solid colors to the attention of all who entered, extracting the words of gangs and perhaps sending a message through the people. One had to bring some form of light, or else it would be pitch-blank down there, save for the sparingly placed holes in the ground. It made up for pictures not hanging. Several gangs made up of mostly runaways called this their home.
Jumping into a wide clearing with a slight splash, Shade led the group inside. He looked about and grinned. Finally he had been accepted, finally there was a group of people that didn't shut him out of their lives just because of what he was.
Thomas Stryfe was a mutant.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Woot! Okay, it doesn't sound like fan fiction at the moment, but it will eventually lead up to when Xavier recruited him to the mansion. SO, what did ya think of it so far? Review, please! ^-^ V!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Oh shit."
The loud blare of police sirens called eerily through the night sky as the group of teenagers scattered, quickly capping their cans of spray paint and tossing their cigarettes to the street. Loud thuds were heard as a few scrambled to climb the fire escapes on the sides of the tall buildings, clearing the large dumpsters as if they were nothing. Some took off down the back alleyways, knocking over trash cans behind them with a crash. The sounds of car doors being slammed shut and the police officers demanding their halt could be heard as a few of the teenagers slid over the pavement, taking refuge underneath parked cars. It was a typical New York City night.
One teenager in particular had taken off right for the other police car. He was a fairly built kid of sixteen years, but was extremely underweight - only tipping the scale at a mere one hundred twenty-eight. He stood at five-feet ten-inches, but that was with two-inch heels on his knee high, steel-toed boots. He wore a simple t-shirt over a turtleneck, decorated with safety pins along the edges - part of his own little 'style', holes cut into the sleeves so that his gloved thumbs would fit. His pants were very large and baggy, straps hanging off of the big pockets located just about everywhere. His entire ensemble was of the darkest of blacks, his ebony hair hanging just above his shoulders and falling into his dark, expressionless eyes, all of this clashing with his pale skin.
Running towards the vehicle with seemingly no fear, Thomas Stryfe - or as most just called him 'Shade' - figured that the pigs would either swerve or freak.
"Don't hit that kid!" The cop seated in the passenger side exclaimed, blue hues shifting towards his partner. "The last thing we need is cops running over children," he muttered.
"I won't, Mark. He'll stop; no one's dumb enough to run right into a car." Or maybe he was, it didn't look as though the teen was going to stop.
When the cop realized that, he slammed on his brakes and turned the wheel sharply to swerve, but didn't make it. The last of the teen they saw was a smirk cross those pale lips, and then his entire form seemed to be engulfed in the darkness.
The car screeched to a halt. The officers stepped out, looking around inquisitively. There was no thud, no evidence that there had even been a kid. By now the other teens were gone; save for one that the other cops had dragged over towards the stopped car.
"He's the only one we caught." Both the officers each grasped an arm, the teen kicking at their legs and yelling profanity, demanding them to let him go. Mark sighed, removing his hat and brushing a hand through his shaggy brown hair.
"That's better than none, I guess." He figured it was best not to mention the disappearance of the other kid. They slapped handcuffs on the teen's wrists and shoved him into the back seat of the car, driving back to the police station as the other cops climbed into their own vehicle and followed.
"Dude, he'll probably get charged for trespassing," Jaeson snickered, elbowing Damon from underneath a mini-van.
"And possession of drugs, graffiti." He held out his hand, counting each on his fingertips until Jaeson smacked him in the shoulder, the both of them laughing. Loud banging echoed through the alleyway as two more jumped from the rooftops, using the dumpster as a landing dock before hopping to the street. Jaeson reached forward to pull himself out from underneath the vehicle, until a black shadow appeared before him, the holes for the eyes squinting momentarily before it took shape. It was Shade, back to his original form. Tom grinned.
"God Shade, you scared the shit outta me!" Jaeson exclaimed, falling back against the metal. Damon snickered and pulled himself up.
"Apparently I did the same to the cops too." Thomas added, standing to his feet. The others crowded around.
"Poor Tag. Think we can bust 'em out?" Damon asked.
"Eh, he'll get'm self out." Jae answered.
"Dude, I've got a serious case of the munchies." Trip, a blonde tipped teen commented. "I think I'm gunna go swing by McDonalds. Anyone want anything?" Most everyone nodded and gave him an order, Trip withdrawing his keys.
"Trip, we'll meet'cha down in the den." Referring to the underground drains that they had called their home, they took refuge underneath the busy city streets. Trip nodded and headed for his car, while the rest climbed through the bars down the street and shuffled through the tunnels.
The inside of the drains could be considered graffiti, or it could be considered art. Bright colors overlapping, bringing solid colors to the attention of all who entered, extracting the words of gangs and perhaps sending a message through the people. One had to bring some form of light, or else it would be pitch-blank down there, save for the sparingly placed holes in the ground. It made up for pictures not hanging. Several gangs made up of mostly runaways called this their home.
Jumping into a wide clearing with a slight splash, Shade led the group inside. He looked about and grinned. Finally he had been accepted, finally there was a group of people that didn't shut him out of their lives just because of what he was.
Thomas Stryfe was a mutant.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Woot! Okay, it doesn't sound like fan fiction at the moment, but it will eventually lead up to when Xavier recruited him to the mansion. SO, what did ya think of it so far? Review, please! ^-^ V!