St John the Divine: Repercussions
- Chibi Lurrel
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It sucked to be on the losing side, Pyro had decided after the firefight (har har) on Alcatraz. No amount of misguided attention or love was going to bring Magneto back to Homo Superior, so he stowed away in the back of mini van still bearing a driver and popped out in the middle of Suburbia, California hours and hours later, cramped and stiff.
It really fucking sucked to rebuild a life from scratch. Pyro knew that since he'd done it at least twice so far. The best part of being in Magneto's Brotherhood, besides getting fucked by Magneto, was that he'd been able to just take Pyro with him. Sure, Xavier's Academy had taught him a lot, but the Professor had been obsessed with fixing his totally fucked head rather than teaching him how to make his fireballs burn white-hot like steel. The Danger Room was fun, therapy was not. Training with Magneto hadn't been fun, really, but it at least made him stronger, made him better. Talking to Professor X about his shitty teenaged years pretty much just made him mad.
It's not like he hadn't even liked his life back then. The criminals he fell in with were excellent people if, for example, you were a mutant who needed a whole new life. They could get any kind of document you needed and fast, and that's where Pyro came in around when he turned sixteen. Fireballs were pretty intimidating, and when that didn't work, he learned he made pretty good collateral. It wasn't a great gig, sure, but at least it wasn't running to banks to grab what little money wasn't being immediately withdrawn by Mystique and company, just to get enough cash for the down payment on a shithole apartment in a city you didn't even like that much. Luckily, Pyro always kept at least three different names in his wallet. His old training came in handy a lot.
After sneaking back to Secret Hideout Cabin # 5 to retrieve some clothes and other things, he'd cobbled together a new existence. St. John Allerdyce the sixth. To christen the new place, he got drunk, toasting to his new and lonely life and brooding about his poor life decisions. Getting kicked out of his house, losing his virginity, agreeing to sleeping with crime bosses in exchange for cash and political connections, letting Rogue kiss him a handful of times, and letting Bobby fuck him all the time were high on the list of things he might regret. Leaving Xavier's never even came close to the list.
Letting Magneto use him like a puppet was definitely not present on this list, and he wasn't sure why. He liked Magneto because he never pushed him into picking a new persona. Pyro was the one he'd liked best and Magneto let him have it, and he was damned pissed that it was time to assume some other face again. Just drunkenly thinking about him had caused him to think back to the way Magneto made his blood sing with pleasure. But Magneto wasn't coming back.
In his new apartment, he started to miss Bobby. Magneto, man, he'd loved Magneto but he was gone, as dead to Pyro as Mystique should have been, and he wasn't coming back to Homo Superior. The cure being eradicated was great, but his life hadn't gotten any significantly better. He couldn't step foot inside a mutant-friendly store or club without fear of getting recognized, and he was real glad he never go that stupid OMEGA tattoo along his jaw or something.
And shit, Bobby was still around, so he was totally fantasy material. Of course, he was a huge bastard who never appreciate the gift that Pyro was, and refused to command the ship of his own destiny, and who was a Traitor to Mutantkind, but he had been good company, great to get drunk with, and was hot as fuck. He missed Rogue, too, because she'd been a great girl up til the point where she'd sucked all his memories out, and he hated her a lot for that. She'd never looked at him the same way since he blew up some cops, and he didn't blame her.
They didn't get him, though. Professor X wasn't a cruel man, but he sure as hell wasn't nice. He wasn't any saviour to mutant kind, for sure. Pyro needed help getting stronger, gaining control, making sure he wasn't going to kill Bobby while he slept and forgot to put out one of his girly aromatherapy candles. Pyro didn't need to be analysed, to be mindread, to have his inner thoughts looked at and probed and judged.
He'd been a personal case for Xavier, since Cyclops couldn't stand him and he'd ended up just getting drunk with Wolverine, who told the Professor to drop it, but of course he didn't. 'You shouldn't be so troubled,' he'd said.
Yeah, fuck that. He'd done fine, and now he could explode a tree with a single flick of his wrists, and he'd kept a whole generation of mutants from being tattooed and neutered in big health clinics everywhere. Yeah, maybe you saved a kid, Bobby, but at least Pyro knew he was right. He might be alone, poor, and miserable, but at least he'd been right.
So began the new life of St. John Allerdyce.
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Author's Note: Yeah I don't know. There will be some plot soon. Thanks for reading this far!
