Welcome to the new version of Chymir! I originally wrote this story back in 2020, and now that I've found it, I've decided to start working on it again. The universe is based partially on the films, as well as X-Men Evolution. Hope you enjoy! ^-^

Chapter 1: The Stranger

When I walked into the bar, I expected the blood on my clothes to raise some alarms.

It didn't.

I walked in and nothing changed. The people in the bar were too occupied with whatever they were doing that they didn't look at me. I sighed with relief. The bar itself was exactly as you'd picture a bar in rural Washington to be. Full of truck drivers and 'interesting' figures. The women were mostly in tank tops and short shorts, and the men were all staring at them. To be honest, I was glad that they were staring at the girls and not at me. It made me feel invisible, which was exactly what I wanted right then.

I was in a haze, my mind racing at a million miles an hour when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped. The man who had grabbed me looked angry, as if he saw crazies like me every day.

"Stop staring at my girl," he said. I was confused. I snapped myself out of my daze and saw that I had apparently been staring at his 'girl', a woman in her mid-twenties wearing nothing but a lacy bra and jean shorts.

"I.. I didn't… I wasn't," I stuttered.

"Nuff' of your mumbling, kid. If I catch you staring at her again you won't be mumbling no more."

I nodded. The man let go. He walked back to his girl and touched her chest. The thought of a man that age with a young woman like her made me sick. I stumbled away and into a booth near the back of the bar. It was chilly, even though it was only August. I wrapped my jacket tighter around my abdomen, partially because I was cold and partially because I wanted to cover up the blood stains on my t-shirt.

I must've been sitting there for ten or fifteen minutes before a barista came over to me. She was young, auburn hair tied up. She couldn't have been much older than me, and I could see in her eyes the pain and sadness that brought her here.

"You gonna order anything?" She asked impatiently.

"What?"

"You can't just sit there, you have to order or you have to leave."

I stared at her for a moment. "I guess I'll take a Coke?" She nodded and left.

The truth was I didn't have any money with me, and I hadn't come to this bar to get drunk, but I needed somewhere to go so I hoped I could sneak out before they charged me for the drink.

The barista brought me the water and walked back to the counter, a couple of guys touching her back as she passed them. I wanted to say something to them, but they wouldn't listen to a kid like me and the last thing I needed was to cause trouble.

As I drank I looked around the bar, observing the different people and trying to piece together what had brought them there tonight. There were two guys playing pool who looked like college boys. I guessed that they were out partying before the new school year started, one last hurrah for the summer. Another guy was sitting at the bar, fumbling with a business card. His eyes were sunken and old and I surmised that he had been kicked out by his wife that night, maybe because of an affair, or because she was tired of him.

After I had analyzed every person in the bar, I gave some thought to where I was going to go next. Maybe North to Canada? I could make a new life for myself as a fisherman, or maybe a logger or something else low-profile. But would they be suspicious? I couldn't be sure. My best bet was to lie low and jump from place to place before I got too comfortable.

And then I felt it. That surge of energy and adrenaline that had come over me earlier. The music in the bar seemed to get louder and the outlines of people began to blur. I gritted my teeth and put my hands to my eyes to block everything out.

Not here. I told myself. Not now.

The pain was getting unbearable and my vision was getting fuzzy. My brain became clouded with sick thoughts, evil thoughts, and I knew that I had to do something, but I couldn't. So I continued writhing in the booth, trying not to scream as the pain got intense. My bones felt like they were breaking and every single muscle was being shredded into tiny bits.

I screamed.

I couldn't see the people stare at me, but I could feel it, their icy eyes looking at me. No doubt one of them would do something, throw me out, call the police. I could hear someone coming closer, I could smell them.

And then, it stopped.

The pain instantly subsided and everything was exactly the way it had been. I could see and think again, my muscles relaxed and I dropped my head to the table, breathing in deeply, still shaking from the attack. I could feel the silence around me, everyone was staring. So I sat there, not moving, until I could hear the people pick their conversations back up and forget about the boy, sitting alone in the back.

When I opened my eyes, the barista from before was standing over me. She looked concerned, and for good reason. She reached out a hand to touch me, but I jerked away before she could. I was still dangerous, and I couldn't let her get closer.

"Are you alright, sir?"

I hesitated. "Yes.. it's fine," I relaxed a bit and fell into a more natural position.

"Are you sure? You don't seem good. I can call a doctor, there's a clinic not too far if you want directions,"

"I said I'm fine. Everything is fine, it was just my anxiety. But I don't like being stared at so could you get me another drink and forget about it?" I don't think that she believed I was fine, but she didn't inquire further. She went back and poured another as I slouched in the booth, trying to disappear.

"Thank you," I said as she handed me another water. She had taped a note to it. It was an address. Presumably the address for the clinic she mentioned. I peeled the note off and crumpled it. The last thing I needed was for some doctor to poke around.

For another hour the people seemed to forget that I was there. The barista didn't come back, no one looked at me, and for a time I even forgot what had happened and what I had done. At two or three in the morning most people had left the bar, a couple were passed out in their seats, but only a few were still drinking. The workers were cleaning up smashed bottles and wiping spilled whiskey off the tables. The music was still playing, but it was repeating the same Kenny Chesney songs that had been going ten minutes ago. I was just about to get up when I saw a man approach the booth. He made eye contact with me before stopping to talk to a man behind the counter.

The man had to have been at least 300 pounds. He was a brick of a guy, short, maybe 5'4", with arms that were thicker than my head and legs to match. He had these huge sideburns that ran down his face, and some scruff on his chin. His hair was tousled, and jet black. He looked like exactly the kind of person you didn't want to see at a bar at three in the morning. After a brief conversation the barman gave him a glass of whiskey and a light for his cigar. The man turned and started something for my booth.

I pretended like I wasn't paying attention, but inside I was screaming. What was he going to do? He looked like he was going to kill me. Instead he just sat down. Not next to me, on the other end of the booth. Almost like he had forgotten that I was there and was sitting at an empty one.

"What was that, kid?" he asked. His voice sounded like gravel. Like he had lung cancer. It was gruff and intimidating.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.

"Of course you do," He said nonchalantly.

I didn't say anything. He looked at me a couple of times but he didn't try to further the conversation.

"Well, sir, I'm actually leaving right now so I'd prefer if you left my booth, please," He didn't move. After another moment of silence I spoke again. "Look, I don't want to cause trouble, I just want to pay for my drinks - "

"You don't have money," He interjected.

"How do- how would you know that?" I asked genuinely.

"I've been in a lot of bars, kid,"

I sighed. What did this guy want? How could I get out without him asking more questions?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he leaned in and whispered: "I know what you are."

A shiver ran down my spine and my blood ran cold. How did he know? How could he know? And what was he going to do now that he knew?

"How do - ?" I stopped cold. The feeling of anger returned. I couldn't be here when it came back. He couldn't be here when it came back. It would kill him. I stood up as quickly as possible and raced out the door, leaving my drinks and the man, sitting in the booth. My head was searing and I collapsed on the ground around the side of the bar. Everything hurt worse than before. I cried and screamed and fell to the ground, convulsing in the mud. My vision went foggy and my thoughts turned to bad things again. I knew I had to get out of here. The last time I had managed to subdue the feeling, but even now I could feel it tearing at my body, trying to break free.

I ran into the woods and clung to a tree. The pain had gotten worse and the only things I could think about were blood, hunger, and lust. I cried out again and crawled further into the woods before I was overtaken. The last thing I remember was blood.