[21:06 EST]
[BEGIN JOURNAL ENTRY]
[WARREN WORTHINGTON III]
The sign on the iron-barred gate outside the spectacular Georgian Mansion on Graymalkin Lane in Westchester, New York read plainly "Xavier Institute for Higher Education." It was always kind of funny to me how simple it sounded; normal people just passed right on by and gave it no other thought besides, "Gee, I wonder what's it's like to have that kind of house." If only they knew, huh?
We are called the "shit of the gene pool." Well, actually not by everyone. Really, only the average, bigoted human called us that. The scientists (and the occasional megalomaniac) like to call us "Home Sapiens Superior" or even simpler, "Mutants." Me? I prefer my given name, Warren Worthington III, or just (as Bobby and Ororo are so fond of calling me) "War." And, to put it simply, I am a mutant.
I wasn't always one of them. I was normal once. Well, as normal as a teenager whose parents own one of the largest banking companies in America can get. Then, one day, I sprouted this sixteen-foot, ivory colored wingspan and I suddenly became the Worthington's little "problem." I was brought to a variety of surgeons to see about removing my wings, and then my mother, fearing permanent mutilation, called Professor Charles Xavier.
He seemed pleasant at first sight, a warm smile and cheerful face. He charmed my parents with the idea of training me to use my powers effectively and eventually working towards re-integrating myself into "normal sociological parameters." I had never seen my parents more relieved, and in a week's time I was patted nicely on the head and shipped off to live with the Professor in his nice little school and hopefully come back as the boy my parents knew before puberty hit.
I was, of course, bitter about the entire thing. Why should I have to hide away in some stupid mansion in Westchester when I could do that at home with all my stuff? Why was I being forced to go to some bald cripple's school? I was sure that my parents could afford my own private tutor.
Imagine my surprise when I learned I wasn't just getting a stuffy New England education, I was getting a chance to become an X-Man, a super-hero. Sure, I have to go by the name "Angel" and I have to wear this god awfully binding leather bodysuit when we're training in Xavier's "Danger Room," but I finally get to do some cool flight maneuvers and learn how to use my powers effectively in combat. Plus I got to meet some other kids with powers freakier than mine.
To put it simply, I'm here to stay.
[WARREN WORTHINGTON III]
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[21:21 EST]