Chapter 8: Beginning

He watched them hustle and plan, don their uniforms and disappear to the lower levels of the Mansion. He ran to the window when he heard engines sound. A jet, like something the army would keep secret and people would confuse for a UFO, lifted from underneath the basketball court and was gone in a flash of hot exhaust and wavy rushes of fierce air. He watched it go.

"I will not be left behind."

Warren opened the window and as he did, someone crawled over it. He jumped back in surprise. She caught his eyes and for a moment she seemed afraid. He only watched her. It appeared she was waiting for him to scream or call for help. Clearly she had not expected to be seen.

Tentatively, she entered his room. "Were you going…were going to follow that jet?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yes."

She bit her lower lip. "You can fly."

"Yes."

"How fast can you fly?"

"About half as fast as that jet," he answered. This girl, or woman, was looking at him so intently, so desperately. Her eyes were like green pools and her pupils were long and shaped like…black feathers. Her pupils were like feathers and they bored into him and reached the core of his being. She was looking inside of him. "Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Eden and I need to go with you. Can you carry me?"

"Yes." He gave it no thought. It barely entered his mind, the fact that he did not know who she was, or where she had come from, or why she had been crawling along the wall outside his window. "Yes, I can carry you."

"And…will you?"

"Yes."

She smiled. "Thank you, thank you. You're my angel."

He smiled. "I'll have to hold you in my arms. You'll have to put your arms around my neck."

She did so without hesitation and he lifted her. Again, he was surprised. She saw it. "Am I too heavy?"

Warren laughed. "No. You weigh nothing!"

He leapt out of the window. She looked down, but did not tense. She felt no fear. Instead, her light body in his arms was still and she held on so gently. "You're not afraid."

Eden looked up at him. "How could I be? I've always envied mutants who can fly! I've always wanted to do it." She gazed downward, smiling all the while, desperation replaced by curiosity and awe. She gazed at him, into his eyes. He had that peculiar feeling that she was looking inside of him again. "You're beautiful," she said.

Warren blushed. "Thank you."

They flew on for some time. An hour or more. She rested her head in the space between his shoulder and his neck. "Where are we?"

"Half way there," he said. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Alright."

"What were doing outside my window?"

Eden sighed. "I was…trying to get away. I need to be there, at Alcatraz."

He frowned. "You don't want the Cure, do you?"

"No," she said bitterly. "I can't really explain it. I just," she searched for the words, "I just have to see what is happening there. What about you?"

"My father," Warren answered. "I have to get him out of there."

"You're father? Is he a mutant?"

Warren shook his head. "No, he's…my father created the Cure."

A dead, vacant silence replaced all other sound. She tensed in his arms. "Oh," was all she said.

"He did it for me," Warren explained, he wanted to her to understand. "He wanted me to lead a normal life. I don't think he knew—"

"That it would start a war?"

"He couldn't have known that." His wings beat up and down and he was suddenly tired. "He didn't know."

They stopped speaking for nearly half an hour. The wind blew cold as they passed over mountain ranges and the clouds were wet and heavy. She shivered in his arms and he tried to warm her, holding her tighter. At last they broke from the clouds and the setting California sun shone down on them, and dried them.

"You're father," Eden said suddenly, "is probably a good man."

"He is a good man."

She looked into his eyes again. "You are a good man, Angel."

He would have told her his real name, and that he was not an angel, nor would he ever be. But he never got the chance.

The sounds of screams and explosions flooded his senses and hers. Flashes of fire and lightning, the whistle of weapons and the cries of the dying reached their ears and he pulled back. What he saw was incredible. The pictures on TV did it no justice.

Seeing the Golden Gate Bridge moved and mounted someplace else…a new bridge between the mainland and Alcatraz Island…to think that one man had done all that—Warren could not imagine such power. He was frightened. She was not.

Black smoke and ash lifted and filled the air. Eden coughed as they drew closer. He could not take her down there. It was too dangerous. He flew away from the island to the other side of the bridge. "What are you doing!"

"I have to get my father. You can see from here!"

"No! I have to be there! With him!"

Warren set her down on the bridge. "With who?"

She took his arm. She kissed his hand. She looked into his soul. "With Magneto."

"Magneto?" Warren yanked his arm back. "Then you're with them."

"Yes…I am."

Warren beat his wings in fury and the pressure threw her down onto the ground. He flew away from her, but not before her heard her call, "Thank you, my Angel!"

Blood spilled into his eyes. He ran aimlessly along the bridge, tripping over the asphalt and slamming blindly into car doors left open. His wrists burned…they burned! For the first time in his life he knew what burnt meant.

Pyro swiped at the blood but it flowed so freely. It was as if someone was pouring a bucket of blood over his head. The pain came and went, but the blood never stopped. He held his hand against his forehead but the blood streamed through his fingers. Dizziness…I'm going to faint.

The bridge…how long was this goddamn bridge! Cars, doors, people screaming, running past him, trying to get away. Blood, sweat, blood. He fell to his knees. Someone called his name. Someone ran towards him. They were nothing but a green blur.

"Just kill me and get it over with."

His speech was slurred. His head ached. The person was pulling him to his feet. They walked, they stumbled, he scraped against the ground. He was dragged, he was pulled. The blood…it was in his mouth now.

Was his mouth bleeding or was it coming from his head? Was his head still bleeding or was his whole body just falling apart? And where was he being dragged to? Maybe this was death. Why was he even bothering to walk if this was death? Was he talking?

Finally, finally, finally. Lying down. Eyes closing. No…wait. Someone wiped the blood from his eyes. His mouth dropped open and the blood dripped in.

"Oh God. You're alive." Mercifully, thankfully, maybe there was a God after all—unconsciousness.

I am losing myself in this Hell

Will you come for me?

You who know me so well

or are you done with me?

Death tells me to come

and I tell him to wait.

All that keeps me alive

is your love, and my hate...

A warm cloth. A soothing wetness.

A burn like hell!

"AH!"

"Shh…it's just alcohol. I have to disinfect it."

They were in a tent. He was lying on a mattress on the ground. Eden tended the wound on his forehead. His wrists were bound with gauze. "Where are we?"

"You told me to come here. You said it was safe."

"I don't remember."

"It's alright."

She had a needle and thread in her hand, also doused with alcohol. "I have to sew this up. Just…don't move."

"You've gotta be kidding me." The needle went in. He hissed in pain. He could feel his skin being pulled together! "Jesus Chrrr—" He breathed through his teeth and held onto the sheets until his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his hands. "Ah…God…"

She never looked at him. She did not tell him to be quiet or to stop. Her hands moved deftly and it was over in five minutes. She washed his head again. The alcohol stung like a bitch.

When she was done, she sat cross legged on the ground beside him. She took his hand and held it. "You're burned," she said sadly. "Did they hit you with the Cure weapons?"

"No…it's an ice burn. Son of a bitch. Kid from Xavier's, we were fighting and he turn his whole fucking body to ice and grabbed my wrists, tore my fucking skin off. I didn't know he could do that." Pyro felt stupid, remembering that. How confident he had been, how sure. "And then he fucking hit me in the head. It felt like I was hit with a car." He swallowed. "I don't remember passing out, I only remember being on the bridge and running. What happened?"

Eden moved the hair out of her eyes. "I don't know. I saw you and I grabbed you. Do you know where Magneto is?"

He almost said "No." But then, he remembered, remembered suddenly and violently and hatefully. "Magneto?" he sneered bitterly. "Yeah, Magneto left me there. I remember, he was hit with the Cure by that Beast guy and then he took off. He knew I was alive. And he left me there."

Eden took this in and thought about it. "But…" she said slowly, "if he was running before you, how did I miss him?"

Pyro glared at her. "Did you hear what I said? He fucking left me there to die! Who cares where he is?"

"I care," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He sat up in a fluster. "You are so fucked up."

"You said that to me once before," Eden said, looking deep into eyes.

"Eden," he said, running his fingers through his hair. Why didn't she understand? "It's over, Eden! The war, Magneto, everything. Everything is over. We lost! And he's gone, his powers, everything. There's nothing left. Nobody is fighting anymore. Don't you get it?"

Eden stood and walked towards the tent's opening. She unzipped it and he watched in disbelief. "Where are you going?"

"To find him."

He got up and grabbed her arm. He remembered doing the same thing before he lost her in that fire in Montreal. She knew his thoughts and gave him a comforting smile. "You don't have protect me. Or come with me. I'm going. Now."

"No!" he said, holding tightly. "You can't."

"Pyro, I do love you."

He let go. "You….what?"

Her eyes, green and deep, focused on him. Her shoulders curved forward and she let out a sigh. She was so tired. "I love you. But, I'm going. I know what I have to do now and Magneto is the only one who can help me."

"He can't help you!" Pyro argued, desperate to keep her there. "He has no powers!"

She kissed him on the mouth and left through the tent flap.

A choice lay before him now, walked away from him now…disappeared into the forest.

He let it go.

He let her go.

…Now…

"The Guard? Are you sure?" Eric said, staring at her. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I know it's them. I know it."

He shook his head, perplexed, truly baffled. The Guard. The place, the people that had taken away most of what Eden herself was, her greatest strengths destroyed and her weaknesses exploited. He remembered her stories, though she had told them only once, and only to him. Not even Toad knew what had happened to her. Not even Mystique.

"How do you know?"

"When I was at the Mansion, I was watching the news. That's how I knew where you were and why I came here. During the Broadcast they had a member of the government's Mutant Affairs Department discuss the situation, a Doctor Rhys Weir."

The name was familiar. "Weir? Who is he? I know that name."

Eden nodded. "His name was in the files from Doctor Lucas Marco's office. His associate in the United States. They were partners for a time, do you remember?"

"How did a man like that get in with the Department of Mutant Affairs?"

She shrugged. "How does anyone get into the government?"

Eric smiled grudgingly. "Indeed. What does he have to do with Toad and The Guard?"

"Do you remember Senator Duro, from Marco's files?"

"Yes. Had the Cure not come into play, he would have been our next hit."

Eden nodded. "Yes. Well, Weir works with him in the Senate, he is the leader of the science branch of The Guard. He's their chief medic. He's in charge of the experiments. And there's another thing."

She paused. He waited. "What?"

"Weir is the doctor who experimented on me," she answered simply.

"How do you know that? You said you never saw his face."

"I never did," she confirmed. "But I know his voice. He calls himself The Voice. His was the only voice I heard for months, in my head, outside of my head. Everywhere. All the time. I could pick him out in a crowd of thousands all screaming with my eyes closed."

"Where did you learn about his position in The Guard?"

Eden leaned back in her chair and looked pointedly at Eric. Her eyes told a tale and he knew before she said anything.

"They knew," Eric said. "Charles knew."

"They knew," Eden said coolly. "It was in a file in Xavier's desk. I couldn't take it with me, but I couldn't resist a look inside his desk. When I saw the file, I scanned it, and," she spread her hands, "there it was."

This news sat bitterly with Eric. Such knowledge—and to allow it to continue. "Charles was probably dealing with it diplomatically," Eric said derisively. "The Guard is very powerful. And they aren't a secret either. The public sees them as the path to curing cancer and AIDS. No one knows their true nature—or at least, they don't know that anyone knows."

It was true. The Guard's public face was one of scientific advancement and medical miracles. They were well on their way to curing many terminal illnesses. They studied cancers and AIDS with the kind of aggression lacking in most medical establishments. They were miracle workers, indeed.

"There was an accident, when I was there. A mutant with great powers escaped and I was able to get away in the commotion. After that, they had to change locations. I never knew where they went, but sir," she said, her voice higher, "they're here! In California, on the border between this state and Oregon! It was all in the file!"

"Eden, how do you know Toad is with them?" Eric pressed.

She looked down and pulled a piece of folded paper from her pocket. "The last the X-Men had on the Guard was a transcript of an experiment involving Weir and another mutant in his facilities. He called the mutant 'Mortimer.'" Eden's eyes were glassy with fresh tears. She did not allow them to fall.

"Then he is alive."

She took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. "The transcript is dated a year and half ago yesterday." She unfolded it and smoothed it on top of the table. "It's the only thing I took with me."

Eric lifted it and read it.

Our volunteer Mortimer…very successful…learning much more…about the mutant genome.

He could read no more.

"A volunteer?" he growled. "Our volunteer?" He pushed it back down on the table. "All these blank spaces. It makes it seem like a willful act on the part of Toad. As if he asked to experimented on."

"I think that's how Weir gets away with it, sir. I don't know that anyone is aware that the mutants he's experimenting on are prisoners. And if they know, they're not saying anything." She took the paper back and held it to her chest. "We have to do something. Destroy that place. Kill The Voice. I want to sink my teeth into his neck." Her fangs glistened.

Shame overtook him and clouded his rage. "Eden, I have no power."

"It will come back," she said so confidently that he almost believe it himself. "Your power will come back."

He gave her a grim smile. "Can we wait that long, my dear? He may be dead even now."

Her eyes widened and she breathed more quickly. "I will not just sit here with this knowledge. If he's dead, then I'll kill Weir and avenge him. If he's alive, and he is alive, he has to be alive!" She licked her lips and leaned forward. "How can I not go!"

How could he not go? But without his powers, he was nothing but an old man. Nothing but a shell of who he used to be. How could he go and die and lose any hope of recovery? How would his death help anyone, Eden, Toad, any mutant? Was it proud to think that the cause for mutant freedom would die with him? He could not be the only one willing to fight. There were others. Other leaders, like him. There must be. Mustn't there?

"Eden…I…" he started to say, heart swelling with shame, head reeling with powerlessness. Then he stopped. It rolled into his mind like a wave, and pushed aside every other doubt he had. "I…think I have an idea."

Eden eyes sparkled with hope.

"You and I are weak. We can accomplish nothing by ourselves, even with your powers in tact. We must assume that the Cure is still being used as a weapon. With that in mind, neither of us, even if my powers come back, would be safe. Unless, of course, we enlisted the help of someone who has no weakness and who cannot be stopped with such a small thing as a needle."

"Everyone has a weakness," Eden said.

"Mentally, perhaps, even emotionally," Eric agreed, "but the mutant I'm thinking of has no physical weakness to speak of and I think I know where he might be."

"Who is he?"

Eric was filled with a feeling like life itself, as if everything were coming into play again. He could smell the metal in the room more strongly than he had since Alcatraz. He could feel it shudder and quiver as if in acknowledgement of his fledging powers. He grinned.

"He's the Juggernaut, Eden."