A/N - Hmm, despite the fact that I am currently writing, ohhh, two more fics at the moment, it was just too tempting to put this one up. This story has been floating around in my mind for awhile now, since the first movie came out I would have to say, and I am only now putting it down in type. I will be mixing elements from both the comic books and the movies. However, this will mostly have elements from the movies because I am far more familiar with that world. Umm, X-Men does not belong to me, but to Marvel Comics, etc. However, there are certain characters that do belong to me. Basically, if you don't recognize them, than they are mine. Simple enough.

Oh yes, The Hunted (SW Fic) is on the top of my priority list, so I'm not sure how often this one will get updated. Yeah, sorry to put a damper on the story right-off-the-bat, but I had to say it sooner or later. Ahem, now that I am done boring you, enjoy.
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Monster


One


Twenty miles outside of Szczecin, Poland

The dawn was pink that morning, just as it was every morning. Day after day, the dawn was pink. That pink eventually became a golden morning and then the blue sky of day. If it wasn't clouded over, that is. However, that morning was it's normal pink hue and nothing was different. At least it wasn't different to most people. To one being it was, though. To her, it was different. A certain feeling was floating in the air, flying on the breeze and whispering something just too low for her to hear. How it annoyed her.

Standing at a large picture window, staring straight out into the pink sky, a tall, female being looked sightlessly at the view. She was not human, as she had been reminded of her entire life. She was different.

Mutant.

Creature.

Monster.

The words had been pounded into her mind for long enough that it was often all she thought about. All she could think about.

Monster.

Monster.

Monster.

Get out of my mind! She finally screeched. Grabbing her head between two long, highly adorned hands, she doubled over, squeezing her eyes tightly together. Get out! Get out! Get out

Large tears started to drip down once pristine, pale cheeks as she crumpled to the ground. Her screeching had died down to a bare whisper and eventually into nothing at all. The woman simply rocked back and forth, her head still clasped between her hands. Wisps of ebony hair fell into her face, sticking to her moist cheeks.

The rocking soon stopped and she laid there in front of her window in a heap. Her back bent over her knees and her elbows resting against the ground, one word escaped the woman's coral lips.

she whispered, her eyelids still clenched together.

She didn't even notice the loud banging sounding at the door or the cries coming from beyond.

Lady Alexandréa! Lady Alexandréa! Is everything all right! The voice travelled through the air, but the woman did not hear. My Lady Alexandréa!

the woman whispered. Alexandréa. That's right. That's me. I am Alexandréa.

My Lady!

Monster.

My Lady! The other woman finally broke through the doors and ran to her lady's side. She knelt next to Alexandréa and put her arms around her back, making gentle noises to calm the young woman.

Monster, Alexandréa muttered.

No, Lady, no. You are not a monster. No, you are beautiful, gorgeous even. No, Lady Alexandréa, you're not a monster.

Yes, I am not a monster, Alexandréa agreed. Not a monster. I'm beautiful, gorgeous.

Yes, that's right. You are Ladyhawk.

Alexandréa echoed.

And you are a glorious fighter, the best, the highest. You are the gladiator.

Fighter. Gladiator. Alexandréa started to straighten up. Her ice-blue eyes came back into focus and, blinking several times, she looked at the woman at her side.

Kirsten, what are you doing here? Alexandréa asked, her voice stronger, her eyes suddenly dry. What happened? Did I

When Kirsten nodded, Alexandréa took her chin in an adorned hand and sighed. Oh dear. I do hate having those episodes, especially since I can't remember what happened.

Nothing out of the ordinary, my lady, Kirsten nodded. At least not this time.

Oh, well, yes, that is a good thing, very good. Alexandréa folded her long legs beneath her and stood in a fluid motion. Crossing her arms and walking back to the window, Alexandréa looked out into the pink dawn, this time her eyes taking in the surrounding wilderness. What is on the schedule for today?

Well, my lady, you have an early morning fight at oh-eight-hundred. The rest of the day depends on that fight, Kirsten said, pulling out a schedule.

Yes, yes, of course it does. Alexandréa nodded once and clasped her hands behind her back. Than I better get ready if it is at eight. Call in the servants.

Yes, my lady. Right away, Kirsten turned from her lady's chamber and disappeared down a hallway. This left Alexandréa alone with only the sunrise.

Pulling at the loose garment she wore, Alexandréa muttered something to herself about it being a pity to ruin perfectly good clothing. At the completion of her comment, Alexandréa closed her eyes and concentrated. She could no longer feel them growing out of her back, but the ripping of fabric did tingle her senses. Within only a few seconds, Alexandréa reopened her eyes and looked back to the heightening sun. Where a smooth back had been moments ago, two large, leathery, and dark grey wings now towered. In length , they were impressive, even when folded. The claw was far above her head while the tips nearly brushed the floor. Many said they looked like the wings of the mythical dragon; others said they were as hideous as a bat's. Either way, Alexandréa did not care. They should not have been hers. No, for this was not her mutation. Not her true mutation, that is.

The scuttling of feet announced the servants' approach. Turning around, one hand clasping the torn garment over her breasts, Alexandréa smiled.

Good morning, she said softly.

A very good morning to you too, Lady, the three girls said in unison.

May we begin your preparation for the battle? The tallest of the three girls asked. This was Constantine, a young mutant with short, spiked blue hair that travelled the length of her spine. Her long fingers ended in thick claws that were dulled by order of the scientists, just as two elongated canine teeth were. She was strong and quick and Alexandréa knew that one day, this girl would live as a gladiator with servants of her own.

Of course you may, my dear. The whimpering child that she had been only moments before was now replaced by a woman who's very presence demanded respect. Her every finger had been adorned with metal and jewels after years of being on the top. A jewelled collar often graced her long neck, silk was what she often wore. There was nothing that even suggested the episodes she often lived through. Nothing except for the longing in her striking eyes. But even then, one had to be trained to see the emotion lingering there.

Stepping forward, the three girls removed the woman's torn garment, replacing it quickly with a short, tight fitting skirt and a halter top made to fit around the wings. They removed the jewellery adorning her to add arm cuffs, leather throngs, and deep crimson paint. On her feet they put sandals with leather straps that wrapped around her legs from her ankles to her knees.

Constantine pulled Alexandréa's raven hair into a high ponytail while another added black paint to her eyelids. All the while, the third girl went to work painting symbols and words on Alexandréa's wings and skin.

When done, Alexandréa looked every inch the gladiator she had become over the years. Muscles were fluid under pale skin as she moved and suggested power was in her every step.

You're gorgeous, Lady.





Monster.

Alexandréa spun around to look out the window and swallowed. The pink dawn stared back and then was suddenly gone, replaced by the golden morning. Just as it always was.

Wrapping her arms around her body, Alexandréa turned from the window to follow the children out into the hall. It was hard to believe, even after all these years, that her large mahogany doors led to a hall of concrete. It was cold here, far from the warmth of her room. It was also dank; it smelled of blood and sweat. And rightly so. Just a few meters down the hall, barred cells started to appear. At first they were few and far between, each one holding either one or no mutants. These had windows that looked out into the day, at least the ones on the east side of the hall did. However, further down, the cells began to become more frequent, the ones here holding at times four mutants. These were the pens for the lowest of the low. At least as far as the gladiators were concerned.

As she passed these cells, Alexandréa shuttered and brought her arms tighter around herself. How she hated to walk through this hall. The glares she received from those living here hurt and cut deeper than any wound from battle did. She had lived here once, long before she became the best. This is were she had grown up, in the cramped quarters of one of these cells. This was were most of her friends had been left.

This is where those she killed came from.

It was early yet, so Alexandréa didn't expect much attention. However, those who did notice her scowled. They knew one day they would be put up against her. One day their lives would end out in the stadium under the watchful eye of spectators and the scientists.

How they hated her.

Monster. It began as nothing more than a thought she picked up from those who did not shut their minds from her. Soon enough, however, it became a whisper and then a roar.







Look at her



She's too good for us now.





Alexandréa muttered to herself.

She's falling apart.



Stop it! he finally screamed. Spinning around to face the mutants, she was surprised to see every single one of them just waking from their sleep. They gave her odd, hateful glances before rolling over and covering their heads to fall asleep once again.

Stop what, my lady? One of the girls asked. Alexandréa turned to look into her yellow eyes.

The voices.

What voices, Lady?

Their voices, she gestured with her arm to the sleeping mutants. Do you not hear them?

No, Lady, the yellow-eyed girl said, shaking her head. They were all asleep until you woke them up.

Were they? They were not screaming their hate for me? For what I am?

What are you, my lady?

A monster, can you not see it child? These wings? This life? I am a monster in every definition of the word, spoken or written. These wings are not mine, I was not supposed to be born with them, only, only Alexandréa stopped when the children's gazes came as nothing but confusion. Then their emotions hit her. It was a wall of confusion, doubt, fear, irritation. You see it too. You see the monster that I am.

No, my lady.

Your thoughts give you away, child!

My thoughts?

Your mind, it is open for me to read, or do you not know. Telepathy, that's what I was born with, that and TK.



Telekinesis, dummy, one of the other girls whispered.

Yes, that's what I was born with, the ability to read minds and move objects with my own. The woman's eyes had grown unfocused and the children could no longer follow exactly what she was saying. Spectres of the future come to me, visions of what will be and others of what have come to past. I see things before they happen, that is why I am so good. I can sense what my opponent will do, often before even they know. I can even reach out and touch someone miles away, sense them when they are near. I can sense your fear, child, and yours, what's your name?

Lydia, Lady, you know that.

Do not tell me what I know! Putting her hand out, Alexandréa started to roughly stroke Lydia's blonde hair. Tell me, Lydia, do you know what it is like being able to hear everyone's thoughts, feel everyone's emotions?

N-no, Lady, I don't. Lydia's eyes widened in fear. This only made Alexandréa grip the girl's hair harder.

No, of course you don't know what it is like. You are too young to understand, to understand anything. Maybe when you are my age, when you are a wretched nineteen years old, then maybe you will know. Then maybe you will be able to understand.

Yes, Lady, maybe I will be able to understand then.

Of course you will be able to understand. You don't think they are going to keep you as a servant girl, do you? Not with the powers you have brewing inside.

But, Lady, I am no mutant, Lydia stammered, backing away.

Of course you are, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Leaning closer to the girl, Alexandréa lowered her voice to a whisper, her head tilted to one side, her ice-blue eyes unfocused. I have looked into your future, girl. You will become powerful, more powerful than even the scientists projected. You are an experiment, just like I was. You have the power within you to break free. Reach inside, girl, reach inside and let the powers flow free.

She's gone delusional again, the yellow-eyed girl murmured to Constantine.

Have I? Alexandréa looked past Lydia to the other two, her eyes still unfocused. Have I gone completely off my rocker, mad as Hamlet's Ophelia or the March Hare? Or is this just an act, a play in which we are all the players? An antic disposition, if you will.

I don't know, Lady, Yellow swallowed. I don't know.

Of course you don't know! But why should you believe me? These words are coming from a monster. Monster. Alexandréa's eyes rolled back in her head, but she didn't collapse. Instead, they stayed like that for several moments. When they finally did roll forward, her bright eyes were focused once more. Straightening, Alexandréa looked around, utterly confused. Shouldn't we be getting to the arena?

Y-yes, Lady, Lydia nodded. She turned and started walking back down the hall. All of the caged mutants who had witnessed Alexandréa's episode followed her with their eyes until she had disappeared around the corner. As soon as she was gone, they pulled into a tight group and started to whisper among themselves.

Remember when she lived here? One of the men asked.

Yes, she did not have those episodes back then. Not until she rose to the top did they start, a feline-eyed female commented, her short hair flattening against her head. I have heard of others who had the same downfall. But they only lasted a few weeks. How long has it been for her?

Two years, someone unseen answered.

Two years, the feline repeated. Two long years of episodes. It is amazing she has not fallen in battle yet.

She has a will, and is too damned pleased with her position, another mutant put in. I think she also enjoys the killings.

the first man—a short, lean man with brown hair—said. She is favored by the scientists, that is why she is still alive. Why they still let her be alive.

Is that so?

Yes, but they make her think things, things that are not true.

Such as?

the man whispered.





Alexandréa looked around at the stands. They were filled, even this early in the morning. They were filled and every single one of the occupants were dealing her words of hate. Their emotions rolled off of them like tidal waves and it was all Alexandréa could do but block them out. She had too. Otherwise she would lose the fight. Lose her title. Lose her life.

Maybe this is what Hell is like, she mused.

But today would be a good day, she decided. Despite the hate thrown at her, this would be a good day to fight. The hate, though hard to block out, only fuelled her anger. With anger, it was easier to kill and easier to block out the horror of what she was doing.

As concentrated on the crowd as she was, Alexandréa almost missed her introduction. That would not have sat well with the scientists.

She has been the reigning champion of these walls for two years now, ladies and gentlemen. After only nineteen years of being alive, she has risen to the top and has defeated all others to be at the top, to remain the favorite. Will today be her final fight? Her final time to fly? Here she is, our reigning champion, Ladyhawk!

Yet another constant in her life, another thing to experience day in and day out. The words had not changed in years, except for how long she had been the champion and her age. After a moment longer, Alexandréa sprinted from her spot on the high wall of the coliseum and jumped into mid-air. She did not spread her wings nor did she do a single thing to stop her fall. It was all a show, as she had decided years ago. The thrill she used to have from free fall was long gone and the surprise from those watching was nothing new. More constants, more things that never changed.

Spreading her great dragon-like wings when it seemed just too late, Alexandréa landed safely on the ground. Turning in circles and waving at the crowd, she basked in the cheers that had arisen. Yes, there still was that heart stopping moment—even in one so detached as Alexandréa—when the realization hits that they are cheering for you and no one else. The joy, however, was quickly diminished as her morning's competition entered the arena.

Alexandréa did not so much as see her but feel the arrogance roll off of the newcomer. Flapping her great wings in annoyance, she folded them and turned to look upon that morning's competitor.

It was a woman. A woman so liquid in movement it was hard to tell if she was actually touching the ground as she walked or simply floating on the air. Silvery hair flowed about her as if under it's own will and dark eyes stood out from pale skin. Alexandréa could not get any sort of read from this woman. Her mind was too tightly blocked to read, her emotions locked up inside. She was another one of the favorites. Alexandréa knew it right away. And she was just as detached from this as Alexandréa was.

she hissed, her accent distinctly German, but her words coming in Polish. It will be a pleasure fighting you today and seeing you squirm as I reach the top.

Don't you know not to say things like that by now. They never get you anywhere. They hold no truth.

Oh. Do you know something I do not. The liquid woman's eyes widened slightly.

I know your future.

the other's voice came out as nothing more than a whisper. I'm scared.

Alexandréa simply smiled. The line was corny, she knew, but it was able to strike fear in the hearts of some. Not this woman, but those with a weak will and poor minds.

But not nearly scared enough, Alexandréa sneered. Another horrible line, but it was all for show, she kept repeating to herself, it was all for show.

Well then, we shall see, the woman snarled. She was Ariel, as the announcer said, a mutant with control of water and the ability to produce it herself.

Yes we will. Alexandréa called a long,, wooden staff to her hands—her weopon of choice— and ducked into a ready poistion. Ariel brought her hands up and smiled, a ball of water appearing from nowhere. The crowd grew silent and the fight began.