Interlude 1
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The room is dark, empty, and meaningless; not unlike whom he himself was up until recently.
The lone window is opened just enough to let in the sounds of the outside world, cars revving, people laughing, music playing, gunshots firing...typical evening for just about any major city. And even though he would like to think he is the only one, there is most likely a man sitting in a dank squalid hotel room plotting another man's death in every major city at that moment.
Life had no meaning anymore, did it? Living in that run down wreck of a house amongst all the other run down wrecks of houses in that run down wreck of a community...didn't really lend much of an opportunity to expand your mind , did it? No, of course it didn't. That's part of the reason why you're here now. Oh, there were some good times in that house, living with your grandmother and sister hadn't been so bad when you look back on it. It wasn't about them, oh no, everything with them was fine...until that day.
The man stared down at his hands, as if that would give him the answers he sought. He knew they wouldn't, nothing could give him that. Answers they could not provide, but they could certainly do a lot of damage. A fact he discovered during his teenage years, when he discovered he had to be one of those freaks he saw on that news broadcast...they could do strange and awesome things just like he could, they took down a giant robot for Christ's sake! But he wasn't like them, that was where the similarities ended.
Looking up from his spot on the floor, he could just see his face in the reflection in the cracked mirror above the cracked dresser. His eves seemed almost non-existent in the absence of a primary light source, but that wretched birth mark was just as visible as if there were a spotlight shined on it.
His sister had always told him he shouldn't be embarrassed or ashamed of it, after all, how many people had birth marks that actually looked like something? She had had a point there. It large yet thinly drawn, like God had taken a fine tipped paintbrush and drew it on the man Himself. Grandmother used to say it was a blessing to be marked in such a way, only now, with the discovery of 'mutants', having an 'M' on your face was just asking for trouble.
And there had been trouble, hadn't there? He knew he had been different from the other kids; he was a hell of a lot stronger than anyone he knew. There was something else as well, something to do with his hands...they burned sometimes. But that didn't matter now, nothing did...
It had been an accident, really it had. He hadn't meant to zap, blat, blow up, whatever the fuck he had done with his 'mutie powers'. But that didn't stop them, oh no, it hadn't. His mind betrays him as it brings back the memory of that night. Coming home to find his baby sister, raped and beaten within an inch of her life, crying softly, lying in a pool of her own blood, his Grandmother nowhere to be found, the place they called home in ruins...Stop, none of that. There are more important things to worry about now...
Even before that...night...the dreams had come. Perhaps that had also been a factor in the senseless murder of his only family. Lying awake in fear, knowing that he would see it all over again. The violence, the destruction, the utter wasteland the world would become...all because of one man...
He sat back, trying to recall the images that he plagued him for years...
The world had been reduced to a war zone...mutant verses human...All the world's governments banded together to eliminate the mutant 'problem'...Sentinel robots a given free reign of tracking down and capturing the mutants, dangerous or otherwise...Those who could, fought back, but not for long...They had the lovely idea of creating mutant detention camps...The camps were your last stop...But it didn't stop there...Soon the laws of robotics weren't even a factor anymore...The Sentinels began going after the 'normal' humans as well...their developing logic deduced that if humans must be protected from mutants...and mutants are in fact humans...then humans must be protected from themselves...Soon there was nothing worth living for....people were being killed in the streets...blown to pieces right in front of family members and loved ones...all because of one man...one man...
He broke of his reverie as the image of that face came back to him. It wasn't so much the face that haunted him, but the eyes...Oh God in Heaven, those eyes...burning red like the fires of hell that he would soon reap upon the world...If the lone man in the dingy hotel didn't stop him.
He would finally be able to use his own powers for good, to save the world, to fulfill his destiny; it would be a grand battle, yes, for that monster had powers that would compliment his own. But that would not deter him, he knew his mission. Fleetingly he thought that perhaps those gangs who had murdered his family were right; perhaps he was going fucking crazy. But these images were far too vivid to have merely been created by his own mind, he had never been one to make up stories, his sister had been the one with an imagination, not him.
Standing and moving towards the window, he looked out and all the happy little people with their happy little lives, and resolved that no matter what it takes, their lives would stay that way. The traitor of mutant kind would not succeed, not if the man called Bishop had anything to say about it.
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AN: Okay, so sorry that this wasn't the chapter I promised, but I've been plotting ahead and decided that I needed to add this little interlude(as well as others as time goes on) to get this story where it needs to go. So I'm gonna skip the written responses to the reviews and just say thanx to nessie, ishandahalf, StarofChaos and Peace215 for reviewing that last chapter, thanx ever so much! And to Aro for dropping a review for Chapter 5.
Leishy
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The room is dark, empty, and meaningless; not unlike whom he himself was up until recently.
The lone window is opened just enough to let in the sounds of the outside world, cars revving, people laughing, music playing, gunshots firing...typical evening for just about any major city. And even though he would like to think he is the only one, there is most likely a man sitting in a dank squalid hotel room plotting another man's death in every major city at that moment.
Life had no meaning anymore, did it? Living in that run down wreck of a house amongst all the other run down wrecks of houses in that run down wreck of a community...didn't really lend much of an opportunity to expand your mind , did it? No, of course it didn't. That's part of the reason why you're here now. Oh, there were some good times in that house, living with your grandmother and sister hadn't been so bad when you look back on it. It wasn't about them, oh no, everything with them was fine...until that day.
The man stared down at his hands, as if that would give him the answers he sought. He knew they wouldn't, nothing could give him that. Answers they could not provide, but they could certainly do a lot of damage. A fact he discovered during his teenage years, when he discovered he had to be one of those freaks he saw on that news broadcast...they could do strange and awesome things just like he could, they took down a giant robot for Christ's sake! But he wasn't like them, that was where the similarities ended.
Looking up from his spot on the floor, he could just see his face in the reflection in the cracked mirror above the cracked dresser. His eves seemed almost non-existent in the absence of a primary light source, but that wretched birth mark was just as visible as if there were a spotlight shined on it.
His sister had always told him he shouldn't be embarrassed or ashamed of it, after all, how many people had birth marks that actually looked like something? She had had a point there. It large yet thinly drawn, like God had taken a fine tipped paintbrush and drew it on the man Himself. Grandmother used to say it was a blessing to be marked in such a way, only now, with the discovery of 'mutants', having an 'M' on your face was just asking for trouble.
And there had been trouble, hadn't there? He knew he had been different from the other kids; he was a hell of a lot stronger than anyone he knew. There was something else as well, something to do with his hands...they burned sometimes. But that didn't matter now, nothing did...
It had been an accident, really it had. He hadn't meant to zap, blat, blow up, whatever the fuck he had done with his 'mutie powers'. But that didn't stop them, oh no, it hadn't. His mind betrays him as it brings back the memory of that night. Coming home to find his baby sister, raped and beaten within an inch of her life, crying softly, lying in a pool of her own blood, his Grandmother nowhere to be found, the place they called home in ruins...Stop, none of that. There are more important things to worry about now...
Even before that...night...the dreams had come. Perhaps that had also been a factor in the senseless murder of his only family. Lying awake in fear, knowing that he would see it all over again. The violence, the destruction, the utter wasteland the world would become...all because of one man...
He sat back, trying to recall the images that he plagued him for years...
The world had been reduced to a war zone...mutant verses human...All the world's governments banded together to eliminate the mutant 'problem'...Sentinel robots a given free reign of tracking down and capturing the mutants, dangerous or otherwise...Those who could, fought back, but not for long...They had the lovely idea of creating mutant detention camps...The camps were your last stop...But it didn't stop there...Soon the laws of robotics weren't even a factor anymore...The Sentinels began going after the 'normal' humans as well...their developing logic deduced that if humans must be protected from mutants...and mutants are in fact humans...then humans must be protected from themselves...Soon there was nothing worth living for....people were being killed in the streets...blown to pieces right in front of family members and loved ones...all because of one man...one man...
He broke of his reverie as the image of that face came back to him. It wasn't so much the face that haunted him, but the eyes...Oh God in Heaven, those eyes...burning red like the fires of hell that he would soon reap upon the world...If the lone man in the dingy hotel didn't stop him.
He would finally be able to use his own powers for good, to save the world, to fulfill his destiny; it would be a grand battle, yes, for that monster had powers that would compliment his own. But that would not deter him, he knew his mission. Fleetingly he thought that perhaps those gangs who had murdered his family were right; perhaps he was going fucking crazy. But these images were far too vivid to have merely been created by his own mind, he had never been one to make up stories, his sister had been the one with an imagination, not him.
Standing and moving towards the window, he looked out and all the happy little people with their happy little lives, and resolved that no matter what it takes, their lives would stay that way. The traitor of mutant kind would not succeed, not if the man called Bishop had anything to say about it.
%%%%%%%%%%
AN: Okay, so sorry that this wasn't the chapter I promised, but I've been plotting ahead and decided that I needed to add this little interlude(as well as others as time goes on) to get this story where it needs to go. So I'm gonna skip the written responses to the reviews and just say thanx to nessie, ishandahalf, StarofChaos and Peace215 for reviewing that last chapter, thanx ever so much! And to Aro for dropping a review for Chapter 5.
Leishy