Well, I'm already on the third chapter. Must say, I'm pretty proud of
that. Also, if anyone has any extra time out there, I just put up a new
fic called "The Wolves". I think it's good, so go, read, and tell me how
it is. Thanks everyone!
Here you go, guys. This is an AU fic for the X-men movie characters. I don't own any of the Marvel character. Though, I do own John's sister and dad. So, with no further ado, I'll let the story do the talking for me. Enjoy and review!
Chapter 3
I started at McDuff's Pub down the street, scoring three bottles almost immediately. The next stop was a few more blocks away at this restaurant. Fairly fancy. I snuck in the back and pulled on a spare waiter's uniform over my clothes. I stopped at a sink and slicked back my hair. Picking up a try, I made my way over to the beverage pick-up. Too many would be suspicious, but no one comes here alone . . .
"Two John Adams, in the bottle, not opened." I called through the window.
A man appeared, a confused look on his face. "You serious?"
"Yeah." I chuckled and shrugged my shoulders. "A couple. Said somethin' 'bout germs and stuff."
The man nodded, disappeared, then came back and placed the drinks on my tray. I turned to leave when a hand on my shoulder pulled me back. Luckily the bottles didn't fall. I glanced behind me at the window guy.
"You new here or something? Haven't seen you around before."
"Yeah, first day actually."
"Ah. A tip then?"
"Sure, anything!" Be excited and eager. First day on the job.
"Don't wear jeans next time."
I looked down at my torn pants and grinned sheepishly. "Right."
The man leaned forward and flattened part of my damp hair. "Now move it. I'll see you later."
"Thanks!" I called over my shoulder as I moved through the crowd.
Thankfully, the kitchen in a restaurant is incredibly hectic. I was able to slip out with two more beers in my jacket. Okay, at least two more before headin' home. God, this is takin' longer than I thought! I raced down the street, trying to put some distance between each crime. As I was running, I spotted a pick-up truck with a cooler hooked to the back. A quick scan around showed no one close. Sure enough, when I opened it, there were at least three cases worth sitting in the ice.
A genuine smile flitted across my face as I transferred the cold beers to my coat. I had about five or six packed in when a large hand fell on my shoulder. I spun around to find myself face to chest with a very large, very angry looking man. Twisting out from under his hand, I tried to tear down the street. I got about two steps away before being grabbed and yanked back. The guy threw me into the side of his truck, making me drop and break about three beers in the process. I glared up at him, a look he returned easily.
He pulled a cigar out of his mouth and blew the smoke down into my face.
"How many beers ya got in there, kid?"
"None ya business." I answered hotly.
The guy slammed me into the truck again and leaned over so that he was in my face. "I'm makin' it my business." He growled.
My temper flared as I stared into his eyes. It bubbled up inside me like a volcano getting ready to explode. I bit my cheek, wishing so hard it hurt that there was something I could throw at him. Suddenly, the guy's eyes widened and he jumped in pain. He was shaking his hand around which, for some reason, no longer held his cigar. I looked down to see a pile of ashes, still glowing faintly. My eyes darted up to his hand that now sported two severely burned fingers. But, as I watched, the burns grew smaller and then disappeared completely.
Now, needless to say, I was freaked out. I thrashed against his one handed grip, but he was stronger than I thought. Looking around wildly, I saw a woman approaching us at a run. Please be coming to help. Please be coming to help. God, my Dad's gonna kill me! It was already dark outside and, obviously, I wasn't back with his beers. As the woman neared, I could see her white hair and brownish skin.
"Logan, what's going on?" She asked. Her voice was soft, flavored with an accent that I couldn't place.
Oh, wonderful! It's a friend of his.
"This little punk was stealin' beers from the truck, then he had the balls to go and burn my hand. I swear, I'm about to-"
"Logan! That's enough." The woman commanded.
She pulled his raised fist down and gently pushed him away from me. Logan's hand was replaced with her own. Hers didn't hurt, but I definitely wasn't going anywhere. She looked at my face closely, studying it. I shifted uncomfortably, really wanting my lighter and to be as far away from these two as possible.
"What's your name, boy?" She asked, forcing me to lock eyes with her again.
Now it was my turn to glare. I thrust my jaw forward defiantly, but kept my mouth shut. She looked a little surprised, but not offended.
"Storm, give it a rest. He's just some street kid tryin' to snag a few beers for himself."
"They ain't for me!" I protested before I could stop myself, my temper growing again.
"Really? Then who they for?" He demanded.
I opened my mouth, then shut it. Anything I said would sound like a lie anyway. Logan snorted and gave Storm that 'I told ya so' face. She sighed and looked at me again.
"Will you tell me one thing at least?" She asked.
"Maybe."
"How did you burn Logan?"
I tensed and scowled. "I didn't burn 'im. Ain't my fault the guy wasn't watchin' the butt and let it burn all the way up to his hand. Don't try to blame his stupidity on me."
"My, what?!?" He snarled, clenching his fists.
"Stop it! Both of you!" She gave Logan a meaningful look and then turned to me, catching my chin in her hand. "Now, I'm only going to ask you this once more and you had better answer me. Truthfully too, or I'll let Logan have you. What is your name?"
I swallowed hard, my eyes flicking back and forth between the two. "St. John."
Storm's eyes light up. "St. John what?"
"Allerdyce."
Logan groaned while the woman smiled. "St. John Allerdyce. We've been looking for you."
"What? Why me? Whadda ya want?!?" All of my muscles tensed and I struggled against her hold again.
"I believe you received a letter from Professor Charles Xavier." She smiled kindly as I nodded slowly. "I am a teacher at his school. We came to meet you and take you to the campus."
"Well . . . ya met me, but I ain't goin' to your campus. Now let go of me!" Storm let go and I edged away from her.
I was ready to sprint when her hushed voice reached my ears again.
"Don't you want to know what happened to the cigar? How you did that? Yes, you did do that. Aren't you the least bit curious about how Logan healed himself from the burns? Aren't you the least bit curious about what this school has to offer you?"
I stopped moving and slowly turned to face her again. I took out my lighter. Click, clack. Click, clack. "I did that to the cigar?"
"Yes."
My mind was racing by me at about a hundred miles a second. I opened my mouth to answer when someone shouted my name. I spun to see my sister running toward me from some back alley. Her lipstick was smudged and there was a tear in her fishnets. Plus a few additional "beauty marks" on her neck. She stopped next to me, taking a moment to stare my companions. Disregarding them just as quickly, she grabbed my jacket collar and yanked me to the right.
"Do you have any idea what time it is compared to what time you left?!? Dad's flippin' out! He's gonna tear you up so bad this time, John, you won't be able to hold water!"
I swore silently. For a second, I had completely forgotten about the beer. How dare I. Looking once more at Storm and Logan, I tore after my sister. I followed her all the way home, to my Father's fist. I guess those two tracked us. My Dad was almost done punishing me when there was a loud knock on the door. He shoved me forward.
"Well answer it already!"
Here you go, guys. This is an AU fic for the X-men movie characters. I don't own any of the Marvel character. Though, I do own John's sister and dad. So, with no further ado, I'll let the story do the talking for me. Enjoy and review!
Chapter 3
I started at McDuff's Pub down the street, scoring three bottles almost immediately. The next stop was a few more blocks away at this restaurant. Fairly fancy. I snuck in the back and pulled on a spare waiter's uniform over my clothes. I stopped at a sink and slicked back my hair. Picking up a try, I made my way over to the beverage pick-up. Too many would be suspicious, but no one comes here alone . . .
"Two John Adams, in the bottle, not opened." I called through the window.
A man appeared, a confused look on his face. "You serious?"
"Yeah." I chuckled and shrugged my shoulders. "A couple. Said somethin' 'bout germs and stuff."
The man nodded, disappeared, then came back and placed the drinks on my tray. I turned to leave when a hand on my shoulder pulled me back. Luckily the bottles didn't fall. I glanced behind me at the window guy.
"You new here or something? Haven't seen you around before."
"Yeah, first day actually."
"Ah. A tip then?"
"Sure, anything!" Be excited and eager. First day on the job.
"Don't wear jeans next time."
I looked down at my torn pants and grinned sheepishly. "Right."
The man leaned forward and flattened part of my damp hair. "Now move it. I'll see you later."
"Thanks!" I called over my shoulder as I moved through the crowd.
Thankfully, the kitchen in a restaurant is incredibly hectic. I was able to slip out with two more beers in my jacket. Okay, at least two more before headin' home. God, this is takin' longer than I thought! I raced down the street, trying to put some distance between each crime. As I was running, I spotted a pick-up truck with a cooler hooked to the back. A quick scan around showed no one close. Sure enough, when I opened it, there were at least three cases worth sitting in the ice.
A genuine smile flitted across my face as I transferred the cold beers to my coat. I had about five or six packed in when a large hand fell on my shoulder. I spun around to find myself face to chest with a very large, very angry looking man. Twisting out from under his hand, I tried to tear down the street. I got about two steps away before being grabbed and yanked back. The guy threw me into the side of his truck, making me drop and break about three beers in the process. I glared up at him, a look he returned easily.
He pulled a cigar out of his mouth and blew the smoke down into my face.
"How many beers ya got in there, kid?"
"None ya business." I answered hotly.
The guy slammed me into the truck again and leaned over so that he was in my face. "I'm makin' it my business." He growled.
My temper flared as I stared into his eyes. It bubbled up inside me like a volcano getting ready to explode. I bit my cheek, wishing so hard it hurt that there was something I could throw at him. Suddenly, the guy's eyes widened and he jumped in pain. He was shaking his hand around which, for some reason, no longer held his cigar. I looked down to see a pile of ashes, still glowing faintly. My eyes darted up to his hand that now sported two severely burned fingers. But, as I watched, the burns grew smaller and then disappeared completely.
Now, needless to say, I was freaked out. I thrashed against his one handed grip, but he was stronger than I thought. Looking around wildly, I saw a woman approaching us at a run. Please be coming to help. Please be coming to help. God, my Dad's gonna kill me! It was already dark outside and, obviously, I wasn't back with his beers. As the woman neared, I could see her white hair and brownish skin.
"Logan, what's going on?" She asked. Her voice was soft, flavored with an accent that I couldn't place.
Oh, wonderful! It's a friend of his.
"This little punk was stealin' beers from the truck, then he had the balls to go and burn my hand. I swear, I'm about to-"
"Logan! That's enough." The woman commanded.
She pulled his raised fist down and gently pushed him away from me. Logan's hand was replaced with her own. Hers didn't hurt, but I definitely wasn't going anywhere. She looked at my face closely, studying it. I shifted uncomfortably, really wanting my lighter and to be as far away from these two as possible.
"What's your name, boy?" She asked, forcing me to lock eyes with her again.
Now it was my turn to glare. I thrust my jaw forward defiantly, but kept my mouth shut. She looked a little surprised, but not offended.
"Storm, give it a rest. He's just some street kid tryin' to snag a few beers for himself."
"They ain't for me!" I protested before I could stop myself, my temper growing again.
"Really? Then who they for?" He demanded.
I opened my mouth, then shut it. Anything I said would sound like a lie anyway. Logan snorted and gave Storm that 'I told ya so' face. She sighed and looked at me again.
"Will you tell me one thing at least?" She asked.
"Maybe."
"How did you burn Logan?"
I tensed and scowled. "I didn't burn 'im. Ain't my fault the guy wasn't watchin' the butt and let it burn all the way up to his hand. Don't try to blame his stupidity on me."
"My, what?!?" He snarled, clenching his fists.
"Stop it! Both of you!" She gave Logan a meaningful look and then turned to me, catching my chin in her hand. "Now, I'm only going to ask you this once more and you had better answer me. Truthfully too, or I'll let Logan have you. What is your name?"
I swallowed hard, my eyes flicking back and forth between the two. "St. John."
Storm's eyes light up. "St. John what?"
"Allerdyce."
Logan groaned while the woman smiled. "St. John Allerdyce. We've been looking for you."
"What? Why me? Whadda ya want?!?" All of my muscles tensed and I struggled against her hold again.
"I believe you received a letter from Professor Charles Xavier." She smiled kindly as I nodded slowly. "I am a teacher at his school. We came to meet you and take you to the campus."
"Well . . . ya met me, but I ain't goin' to your campus. Now let go of me!" Storm let go and I edged away from her.
I was ready to sprint when her hushed voice reached my ears again.
"Don't you want to know what happened to the cigar? How you did that? Yes, you did do that. Aren't you the least bit curious about how Logan healed himself from the burns? Aren't you the least bit curious about what this school has to offer you?"
I stopped moving and slowly turned to face her again. I took out my lighter. Click, clack. Click, clack. "I did that to the cigar?"
"Yes."
My mind was racing by me at about a hundred miles a second. I opened my mouth to answer when someone shouted my name. I spun to see my sister running toward me from some back alley. Her lipstick was smudged and there was a tear in her fishnets. Plus a few additional "beauty marks" on her neck. She stopped next to me, taking a moment to stare my companions. Disregarding them just as quickly, she grabbed my jacket collar and yanked me to the right.
"Do you have any idea what time it is compared to what time you left?!? Dad's flippin' out! He's gonna tear you up so bad this time, John, you won't be able to hold water!"
I swore silently. For a second, I had completely forgotten about the beer. How dare I. Looking once more at Storm and Logan, I tore after my sister. I followed her all the way home, to my Father's fist. I guess those two tracked us. My Dad was almost done punishing me when there was a loud knock on the door. He shoved me forward.
"Well answer it already!"