(A/N: Ok, well. I was reading another fanfict and remembered my love of Pyro. So here's a little narrative on him and some chick I made up O.o. I dunno where I'm going with this, or if I'll ever update or anything. I just hope you enjoy reading it. Please Read and Review.)
A red haired boy walked down the street, flicking his lighter open and closed expertly. He had a rather full backpack slung over one shoulder, and a gas tank trailing behind him. He needed the gas tank to refill his suit, but it didn't fit in the small pack. Flicking the lighter open and closed, he saw a gas station and felt relief wash over him, he needed food. He carefully put the gas tank and his backpack outside the station before going in; nobody would dare steal these precious items from a known mutant.
When he walked in, the gas station fell into a hushed silence. Ever sense Apocalypse had vanished, everybody had been very wary of mutants. They knew who some of the mutant fighters were, but the fact that they didn't know about the others frightened the people of Bayville more than the fact that a dangerous mutant was in the station now. Most of the people probably wished Congress would pass the Mutant Registration Act; imagining all of the mutants with barcodes tattooed into their foreheads.
The boy tucked the lighter in his pocket; it would be best if they didn't see it, so he could get some food without having to blow the damn place up first. Grabbing a Twinkie, a large bag of chips, and a soda, the mutant went to the front of the line. Everybody else had moved out of the way. He put the stuff on the counter and asked in an Australian accent, "How much is it?"
He looked at the terrified cashier and wasn't shocked to hear the cashier stutter, "Just t-take it and leave, p-please. It's f-free."
The mutant couldn't help but grin as he asked, "Can I have a bag for this stuff?" The cashier seemed shocked, then he scurried to get a plastic back from under the counter and shoved the mutant's food into it.
"I-is that all?" The cashier asked after a deep breath. The redhead shook his head and grabbed the bag and left. As he walked out, he decided he should call an old friend for some help; it was getting dark. When the door closed, he could hear the station break into scared chatter. The cashier had grabbed the phone receiver, probably calling the police, thinking it would do some good. The police couldn't do anything to the fire-loving mutant until the Mutant Restraint Act was approved. So far, the act was unconstitutional, just like the Mutant Registration Act. If either of them passed, the boy was sure it would be Registration.
The thought of being tagged like that sent chills down his spine; but it wouldn't be much different from how it was now. Almost everybody knew him as the horrible mutant that followed the merciless master of metal: Magneto. Some people knew his name, from when he had burned it into the sky as a sign of his power, Pyro. That was what he had called himself. It was all Magneto's fault. He didn't know why he had joined the Acolytes, but this pyromaniac boy was now tagged for life as a mutant terrorist. Although sending Apocalypse away had convinced the police to drop their charges, Pyro was still in deep water. And he hated water.
Raven lay in her bed, covers on the floor, the moon shining on her through a hole in the roof. A deep cut on her wrist was slowly closing up and healing. It became just a scar, and then vanished completely. She ran a hand down her now bloody wrist and took a towel with dried blood on it and wiped her wrist clean. She looked at it again and wondered why she was so fucked up.
She rose from her bed, her wolf ears perking up through her black wavy hair and swiveling around. She hadn't heard anything, but that didn't mean she was going to be caught off guard. Taking a deep breath, the feral took in her surroundings; nothing new. Her green wolf-like eyes scanned around her then landed on the bloody knife that lay on the ground. She picked it up gingerly, her black, bushy tail twitching as she smelt the strong sent of her own fresh blood on it.
She rinsed off the blade and dried her hands, long, pointy, black nails glinting in the small moonlight. Leaning against a counter top, Raven reached up, playing with one of her earrings unconsciously; she had five of them. She had two matching earrings in each ear and one at the top on her left ear. Her two closest earrings were connected with two small silver chains and the top earring, the one she was playing with, was a loop with a single feather dangling from it.
She was wearing a black tube top that had a blue full moon on it. Her pants were black, long, and baggy with too many pockets; the thread was a shade of blue that matched her shirt. She also wore a barbed wire necklace that could almost be a choker and a raven with outstretched wings was attached by its wings to a long silver chain that was also around her neck. On her wrist was a charm bracelet with the eight stages of the moon on it.
Raven jumped out of her trance when the phone rang. She hadn't expected this, especially because the phone never rang. Walking swiftly across the three room apartment, Raven picked up the receiver and answered with a sharp, "Hello?" She hadn't been in contact with people for at least a year, why the hell was somebody calling her now?
"Raven?" A desperate, Australian accent asked.
Raven sighed, "John, that you?"
"Yeah," he answered, his voice starting to calm. "Where are you? I need some help, here."
"Sorry, Hun, I'm not much of a helper anymore." Raven said with another sigh. He hadn't talked to her sense they had lived together. Whatever help he needed, he could surely find it from one of his new friends he had no doubt made some time in the past two years.
"Please," John pressured, "I just need a place to stay. I know we haven't talked in a while, but, please. Just for a while, I'll work and everything." He waited a while and said in a whisper, "I just need a place to stay."
Raven closed her eyes tight; it hurt her to hear him so desperate. Something had to be wrong; she had to help him. "Fine, where are you? I'll come and pick you up." In her head, Raven screamed at herself for doing this. Although she had denied it when she first recognized his voice over the phone, she had to admit it… she still had feelings for him… even if he was able to manipulate fire.
"Oh, thank God." John said before he gave Raven the intersection he was at. He wasn't too far away. Raven should be able to rig a car and get it back to the parking lot before the owner noticed it was missing.
She closed her eyes and felt darkness suddenly cover her. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the darkness disappeared to reveal Raven, only with normal human ears, normal human eyes, normal human hands, and no tail.
Once properly disguised, she went down to the parking lot and smiled at her luck, the red convertible was there. The owner was probably in his room, sleeping off the hang over he had gotten the night before. She jumped into the driver's seat and shifted her hand to its feral form. The black nail grew on her pointer finger until it was long and narrow. She stuck her nail into the ignition and felt a slight shock as the car began to hum. Now it was time to go get John before he got himself into more trouble.
