Back off I'll take you on
Headstrong to take on anyone
I know that you are wrong
16-year old John Allerdyce glanced around him. The boys were more than big enough to beat his ass. If, that is, he had been a normal kid.
The first few months on his own, living on the street, he hadn't used his gift. Morally wrong, is how he'd explained it to himself, using an unfair advantage. But after the first few times of getting his ass whooped, or having his stuff stolen, he'd quickly changed his tune. Now, almost two years later, he relished the chance to 'play'.
A smile came to his face as the boys advanced closer. No reservations. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out his Zippo.
"I'll warn you one last time. I'm not a person you wanna screw with," He said with a small chuckle.
The boys burst into laughter. "Oh no, he gonna burn us to death with a lighter!" One of the boys mimicked. "Save us, save us!"
The small smile became a full fledged demonic grin as John opened the lighter, and lit a small flame. They had no idea how right they were. Well… maybe not to death, he told himself. That was messy. He'd done that the first time, back when he had minimal control. It'd been amazing, but messy. Eh, he'd just torch 'em a little.
The fire from the Zippo flew out, and engulfed the boys. John used careful control to make sure that their burns would be no worse than skin-deep. Just enough to make it painful.
He laughed amid the screams.
It didn't take long before the screams quieted into moans as the boys lay on the ground. John extinguished the flames, and walked over to one.
He was a young blond haired punk, who looked up at John in hatred.
"You're one of them," He spat. "A mutie freak!"
John smiled as he opened his lighter again. "No," He said quietly, still smiling. "I'm a god."
The boy's hair disappeared into a cloud of flames.
As John stalked away from the battle ground, he couldn't get rid of the smile that remained plastered to his face. A god… he was a god. Let his mother chew on that one.
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I've traveled the world
And the seven seas
Everybody's looking for something
16-year old Rogue hopped out of the truck. "Thanks for the ride, mister," She called behind her.
"No problem, honey. Just remember, you want to take 81 to Binghamton, and you'll be all set."
Rogue waved as the man drove off, then hiked her cloak up a little bit higher as she started walking.
This was her second time hitchhiking across country. She was usually lucky; a truck driver would stop to pick her up, and take her most of the way. She'd quickly learned that truck drivers were the safest. Most of them were just lonely guys who wanted someone to talk to about their family back home, something she could definitely relate to.
She blew into her hands to warm them. She was used to the warmth and humidity of southern Mississippi; the snow and cold of the northern states she was still getting used to.
She smiled sadly as she thought of Mississippi. Her and Cody had been planning on hitchhiking across country when they graduated. It was their dream. But everything had changed when they shared their first kiss.
Rogue –she didn't really think of herself as 'Marie' anymore –glared at her hands. They'd ruined her life. All she'd wanted was a family, someone to call her own. This… curse… had ruined any chances of that ever happening.
But hey. At least she had one part of her dream. Everyone always told her the best part of life was hitchhiking across country.
She just wished she had someone to share the experience with.
I see my vision burn
I feel my memories fade with time
But I'm too young to worry
A melody, a memory, or just one picture
Newborn life replacing all of us, changing this fable we live in
No longer needed here so where do we go?
16-year old Bobby watched from his window as his father played catch with Ronny. Three years younger than Bobby, Ronny was everything their father had hoped for in Bobby.
Bobby felt his hands tightening around the window sill. Most of Bobby's pictures had been taken down, replaced by trophy shots of Ronny. His father barely spoke to him anymore, other than to ask if he was still 'wasting his time with that art stuff'. His mother tried making up for her husband's lack of interest, but she was usually busy… running Ronny to all his games.
Bobby sat down on his bed, and hung his head. He was invisible to his own family. Life with out him continued on for the Drakes.
Bobby glanced at the letter lying on the bed. Professor Xavier's School For The Gifted, read the return address.
Six months ago, he would have had no idea what it was about. He smiled sadly as he looked down at his hands. Popsicle man, he called himself, with more than a little satirical humor.
The letter from the school (and one for his parents, if he chose to give it to them), had described that there was a place for people like Bobby. Mutants. Gifted people, as the letter had said.
Gifted…
Bobby felt a single tear drip down his cheek. He knew he would go to the school he had never heard of, almost a hundred miles away from his home. He didn't want too… But why stay in a place where he wasn't wanted?