Disclaimer: I'm the creator of X-Men! I'm really famous and I have almost limitless money…but I take time to write fan fiction for this site…by the way I was being sarcastic!

A.p.R - This is another of the chapters I've re-edited…read it.

Please Review

-----------------------------Let the fan fictioning commence!------------------------------

"Damn, it's cold in here." Marc grumbled, his body shivering, upon entering the cramped hotel room.

The features of the room included: an abnormally shaped bed, an unpleasant looking bathroom, a grimy looking phone, and an evil looking heater. He moved towards the heater and stuck the back of his palm out, he felt no air. Warm or cold. He struggled to with it for awhile before realizing it was broken and the hotel was closed for the night. He had two options: deal with it or to 'repair' it… with his foot. He chose the first one…after failing at the second, besides he was pretty tired from the long flight. So he decided to lie down on the horribly misshapen bed. As he rested his head on the pillow, he thought, "I really should call Bobby." "Tomorrrooooww." He yawned.

::::

Marc was standing on a corner of an intersection of an all too familiar city.

His mind ravaged by Pain. Sorrow. Guilt. Anger. Shame. Hate.

He saw his…mother? His father? And himself? In a car? He couldn't remember what was happening, it all seemed so distant.

He knew where he was…and who they were…

But what was going on?

Why was he here?

Suddenly, he realized what was happening. He tried to make then stop, but he could not move. He struggled with all his heart but to know avail he was being held by something. He watched, horrified.

He saw himself, with shards of glass in his face, half way out of the backseat window.

He was forced to watch as his mother's neck snap on impact.

His Father, the blood dripping from his mouth from internal injuries, on the glass filled hood.

::::

"NO!" he screamed as he sat up in bed clammy with tears streaming down his cheeks. This dream wasn't unfamiliar, far from it; he had this very dream before. Every night, every nap, every time he closed his eyes to rest...it was there, forever reminding him.

He rolled to his left, positioning himself on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his hands as he tried to regain his composer. He stood and made his way towards the sink in the bathroom, he ran his hand through his hair then splashed his face with some dirty water from the sink.

"This is your life now, and you deserve every second of it!" He shouted looking fiercely at his replica in the mirror. "YOU!" He roared forcing his fist through the glass. He looked at his fist, scrapped and bloody, and all he could do was watch as it mended before his eyes, "What are you?" He asked his shattered reflection, who offered nothing but silence.

As Marc reached for the phone, and dialed Bobby's school's number. He worried about how Bobby would react if he found out that he was a mutant, Bobby was his only friend now and he needed a good friend at this time.

Through his doubt he managed to make the call, a directory answered and listed quite a few names, each with his or her respective numbers following after. As Bobby's was announced, he quickly pressed the two digits.

::Ring Ring Ring Ring::

"Hmp…hello?" Bobby said breathing into the phone, barely coherently.

"Hey it's me Marc."

"Wow, man it's two in the morning."

"I know I'm sorry it's just that….."

Bobby realized that Marc was sobbing and spoke more attentively. "Is every thing all right? Where are ya?"

"Yeah…Yeah, sorry I'm fine." He said calming himself. "I'm in a Motel 6, about a mile from some school…Bayville High? I think."

"Do you need the Professor to bring me by?"

"Who? Oh, like the Dean, no, but could you stop by tomorrow, I need to talk to someone?"

"Okay I'll talk to the Profe…the Dean. What room?"

"11."

"Take care Marco…dude, get some sleep."

::Click::

With that, Marc just moved to the window, sat down, and watched the night sky. Suddenly his senses went wild, he heard, sirens, snores, gunshots not only that but he could…almost smell the gun powder. He tried to concentrate, but his efforts in vain.

Then, as suddenly as they came, it all stopped but he then could only hear the sound of a little girl's whimpers and a woman crying. He looked out the window to see its source. It was, what looked to be, a man wielding a knife stalking towards some people in the alleyway behind his room.

He grabbed a jacket out from his luggage and ran to see what was happening wondering, "Just what, exactly, am I going to do?" He dismissed the thought as he arrived in the alley. He scoped out the scene, a mother, a daughter huddled over an unconscious man, probably the husband.

"What's going on here?!" shouted Marc, no response.

He repeated. "I said, what's going on here?!"

This time mugger answered. "Dis don't concern you dawg, get the Hell outta here!"

"HELP!" The woman screamed.

"Shut up." The mugger said as he struck her across the face.

"That's enough!" Marc Exclaimed

The mugger pointed knife at Marc. "I warn' ya boy, naw you in trouble."

The man lunged at Marc, thrusting the blade wildly. He managed to evade a few stabs, though one tore his jacket. Although Marc managed to get in a few blows but they were hardly enough to faze the thug. Marc threw a quick jab but missed; the mugger saw his opening and slashed Marc across the chest. Marc fell to a knee the mugger then drove the blade deep into his thigh.

Marc let out an agonizing cry. "Agrrrrrrr!"

"I've tried to go easy on you," Marc said trying to catch his breath and regain his footing. "You think you're so big with your weapon, don't you? DON'T YOU! Well I've got some news for you. I AM A WEAPON!!!" Marc as a ring of fire surrounds him and random objects catch ablaze. The mugger fell back on his rear end as the ground before him turned to flames.

The mugger pulled another knife from his belt and held it as if to throw.

"Come on tough guy what are you gonna do now? Throw the knife, I dare you. Throw the damn knife!" Marc taunted.

"Y…ya…you're one of them freaks. I'm out of here."

Marc fell to the ground seconds later, and instantaneously the fires extinguish. He pulled the dagger from his leg and tossed it aside as he crawled over to the terrified mother and child; he was hemorrhaging from the leg.

"Are you guys okay?" He asks grimacing in pain.

A scream of terror came from the little girl, "Mommy, keep the monster away."

"Please leave us alone don't hurt us?" The woman cried shielding her daughter.

The man began to regain consciousness. "Get away from my wife you filthy bastard!" He sputtered from his bloody lips.

"No, you don't understand, I just…."

"Go Before I call the cops!"

So he limped off, still bleeding profusely from the thigh. He made his way back to the sidewalk and to his the hotel room. He could barely stumble into the room, his failure to stand, because of the intense pain and the loss of blood, panicked him.

He pulled himself onto the bed, with what little strength he had. He stared up at the sealing, it started to spin and become blurry. He started to slip slowly in and out of consciousness. His sight went white and his heart beat started to slow.

He started to become almost comatose. "Is this how it feels to die?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------