Disclaimer: All the characters here belong to Marvel, except Kelsey and her brother, so don't sue me, because I am officially broke.
Chapter 1:
A groan fell from my lips as I realized that I had skidded into a dead-end. Another one. My fourteenth. So sue me for counting. With an almost despairing sigh, blinking rain out of my eyes and reshouldering the small backpack I carried, I turned and resumed my half jog, seeing as I was rather out of breath. I could hear Him somewhere behind me, and the prospect of being caught wasn't altogether appealing. To make things worse, twilight was turning to night FAST, and guess what? I HATE the dark. Nyctophobia, I think. That's what a friend of mine said.
Whatever. It's not like that piece of knowledge was going to do me any good in the first place. Now, knowing how to throw Mr. Stranger-who's-out-to-get-me off my trail would be useful. And for goodness sake, He was WALKING while I was RUNNING, and He was GAINING on me.
That wasn't fair.
"I can smell your fear, kid. You can't run forever." His voice snarled out from some unknown point behind me, and I eeped. Me? Frightened? Did it sound like I was FRIGHTENED? No way. I wasn't frightened. Terrified wouldn't even cover it, actually. I was ready to piss my pants. Twice.
Oh yeah, I wasn't frightened. No sir-ree.
And the B-A- taking the place of the M-U- in mustard could SMELL me? My fear? Oh boy. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what kind of a being was chasing me. A mutant. I'd bet everything I owned (which actually isn't much now...) that he-who-was-chasing-me is a mutant.
Darn.
Don't get me wrong. I have absolutely nothing against mutants, unlike some - MOST - other people I am acquaintanced with. I can honestly say that I know a lot about them, having "done my homework." Read about them, found them interesting...heck, seen several of them in action on my way back home from school once. Prior to today, naive little ol' me thought that all mutants were actually good and were persecuted wrongly - like the X-Men. I'd love to meet one of them.
I never imagined that I, Kelsey Carol Selena Rias, would wake up this morning, on my sixteenth birthday, as a mutant.
I also never imagined that by evening, I'd be running FROM a mutant - or more precisely, one particular mutant who JUST so happened to be one of the X-Men's enemies. Mr. Slice-'em-dice-'em-Sabretooth. Which brings me to my next question.
WHY THE HECK WAS HE CHASING ME?
As a child, I've always daydreamed about being chased after by some hot, gorgeous, drool-worthy guy set bent on wooing me. Or being rescued by some bold and dashing (and drop-dead-gorgeous) knight in shining armour from an evil dude (both of whom would also have intentions to seduce me. Don't ask. Just don't.)
The world loves me soooooo much, that it decided to grant my little fantasy. In a twisted sort of sense, in case you haven't noticed. I was being pursued by an UGLY (BIG difference from my daydream, #1) weirdo who most PROBABLY wants to gut me open and read his fortune with my guts (BIG difference from my daydream, #2).
Life most certainly stinks.
I was now reduced to speed-walking, and was nearly bent double in exhaustion. My throat HURT. My legs HURT. My chest HURT. In case it wasn't too noticeable, I HURT. I wanted to collaspe on the ground. Rain pelted down upon me, and it felt more like hail than water as the wind (which, if I may add, was NOT present a few minutes ago...) picked up distinctly. The brutal weather slashed at my exposed face and arms. If I was in this much pain, I hoped vehemently that Toothy (yes, TOOTHY) was in worse condition. Though I highly doubt so.
Dying now would be good. Very good. But there was a plus side, wasn't there? My life sure as heck couldn't get any worst than it already was, could it?
Classic last words. Of COURSE it could, dumb Kelsey. Why, you should know better than to say such a thing...
The sky had faded to a dark grayish-black colour, and panic was soon settling in as I realized that darkness was descending rapidly. With the rain and half-night obscuring my vision and clouding my sense of direction, I rounded a corner where a dim lamp-post stood, and -
WHAM!
The next thing I knew, I was lying rather dazed atop someone's legs, having crashed hard into someone. I tried scrambling to my feet. Notice I said, "tried." This therefore means that I failed. Quite miserably. Not only did my legs choose that precise moment to rebel and become a dead-weight and thus unmovable, but the person I had collided painfully with had grabbed my arm. Tightly. OW.
"Whoa, where's the fire, kiddo?" He said, and I merely scowled at him, my heart doing double-time distressingly as I tried to break free. He was pretty cute, I guess, with tousled, sopping wet brown hair and wide, surprised, intelligent brown orbs for eyes. Probably no older than 23. Also a bloody idiot who was unwittingly going to be the cause of my death. Unless he was working with Toothy. I shuddered inwardly at that thought. If that were true, then I did all that running for NO REASON?
"Well now, isn't this cosy."
My heart skipped a beat when He loomed out of the darkness, claws extended VERY menacingly. Fear swamped me, threatening to choke off my air supply. On the verge of hyperventilation. Didn't my doctor hint something at me about having a mild case of asthma? Oh yes, life was JUST great (NOT).
Toothy advanced on the both of us, and the guy holding on to me let go quickly, muttering under his breath, and got to his feet. I began backing up upon my hands and knees, expecting the guy to bolt and leave me to His Ugliness's murderous intentions.
To my profound surprise, he faced Toothy (brave guy...or extremely dumb...and I think the latter), and grinned. Hope fluttered rather pathetically within me. Perhaps I wouldn't die...
"Nice to see you again," He piped rather cheerfully, and I felt the little flying thingy called Hope inside me crash into a window and slide down into the deepest recesses of my stomach. I moaned. Of all the bloody...they KNEW each other?
I was REALLY going to die now.
"Outta my way, Ice-block. My quarrel's not with you. Today." Toothy grated out, and I thought he sounded almost wistful. Like he WANTED to have a go at the guy who stood in front of me. Well, at least it was a teensy bit comforting to know that the guy Toothy referred to as Ice-block wasn't in league with 'im.
Ice-block merely smiled. "No, you're probably lying, but I'll forgive you for that one. So what's up with you and her? A relationship gone wrong?"
Eww, eww, EWWWWWW!!!! GROSS!!! This guy was SICK!!! If I got out of this alive, HE WAS GOING DOWN!
Nevertheless, Toothy roared in anger (obviously), and threw himself at Ice-block, claws poised to kill. Ice-block flung himself to the side calmly, and Toothy's momentum carried him forwards...into me.
Before I could react, move, dive out of the way, do SOMETHING, his claws had scored deep into my left shoulder. I FELT them going in, and the sensation I gathered was as if I was undergoing surgery WITHOUT anesthetic (not that I've actually ever had that done to me). And he had FIVE of those bloody things. Pain exploded in my mind, white-hot and searing, and tore through my entire being. Something warm flowed in rivers down my arm and side of body rapidly, and light-headedness was soon settling in. Something also cracked within my chest. Loudly. It HURT. So, naturally, I did what anyone in my predicament would have done.
The shriek that burst from my lips was laced with pure pain (if ever there was such a thing) and agony, hopefully loud enough to wake the dead. I would have welcomed their help GLADLY. However, the in-your-face-scream was enough to make him draw back briefly.
Bad, bad thing. For me, that is. If he leans back, his embedded claws would follow him back as well, wouldn't they?
Dingdingding. We have a winner.
A split second after those nasties had sliced into me, they came out as he recoiled. Another cry burst from my lips, though this was barely a squeak. While straining to keep above the looming darkness tinging my vision, I was also attempting to draw in air. Sheez, you'd think that being a mutant I would have been able to do SOMETHING, my powers having to do with moving objects without touching them or something. Problem was, I had totally forgotten all about it up until now. And now was waaaay too late.
Wasn't I smart. Yet what I wanted to know was who exactly wanted me deader than a doorknob before I met up with God (I fervently hoped). I must have voiced that barely coherent thought aloud, because Toothy merely smirked at me.
"Think reeeeal hard, little bird," What, I was now a pet? "Who would want you dead?"
I blinked sluggishly, still fighting off the blackness. Then it hit me, even as Toothy suddenly howled in pain, and as shards of something rained down upon my numbed, beyond-pain being. There was only one person I knew who wouldn't give a crap whether or not I was dead. And that one person was my brother.
Ah yes. Hayden Trey Rias. If I were asked to sum him up in less than 5 words, I don't think I would have been able to do it. He was simply a sadist. A cruel, unfeeling being. Also a mutant hater. What great combos.
But it shouldn't have happened, him finding out that his only sister turned out to be a mutant. He had angered me while talking to a few friends of his about how mutants were insults to the human race, and that they were all better off dead (personally, I thought HE was better off dead). Before I realized it, the lamp behind me had lifted off the table it was on, and flew with unerring accuracy to slam into his face. I should have recognized drunkenness when I saw it, but I didn't, and when he finally understood what I had done, he had also drawn the same conclusion that I had. And that's when the running started. How much did he bribe Toothy to go after me? And where would he have gotten the money? We weren't rich. In fact, we were as rich as a real bum in -
I moaned as the world abruptly tilted and rocked, and my vision plummeted, as did my other senses. My thoughts became one large mess, blending into each other as it rambled on and on as I fought back the urge to puke. Something fiery-gold streaked across the darkening twilight, uncannily low across my vision. A moving blur of ice-blue colour, streaming rapidly across the ground. A reddish-pink slash that blasted out in a horizontal arc above me. More flashes of light. Then the sensation of being picked up. I panicked, instinctively twisting to escape whoever's grasp. Of course, moving around caused the bleeding wounds to flare sharply and swiftly, and I gasped. The person's grip on me tightened, and I felt myself grow colder with each passing breath.
Then darkness came swept me under.
And I welcomed it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
What do you think? Is it worth continuing?
Chapter 1:
A groan fell from my lips as I realized that I had skidded into a dead-end. Another one. My fourteenth. So sue me for counting. With an almost despairing sigh, blinking rain out of my eyes and reshouldering the small backpack I carried, I turned and resumed my half jog, seeing as I was rather out of breath. I could hear Him somewhere behind me, and the prospect of being caught wasn't altogether appealing. To make things worse, twilight was turning to night FAST, and guess what? I HATE the dark. Nyctophobia, I think. That's what a friend of mine said.
Whatever. It's not like that piece of knowledge was going to do me any good in the first place. Now, knowing how to throw Mr. Stranger-who's-out-to-get-me off my trail would be useful. And for goodness sake, He was WALKING while I was RUNNING, and He was GAINING on me.
That wasn't fair.
"I can smell your fear, kid. You can't run forever." His voice snarled out from some unknown point behind me, and I eeped. Me? Frightened? Did it sound like I was FRIGHTENED? No way. I wasn't frightened. Terrified wouldn't even cover it, actually. I was ready to piss my pants. Twice.
Oh yeah, I wasn't frightened. No sir-ree.
And the B-A- taking the place of the M-U- in mustard could SMELL me? My fear? Oh boy. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what kind of a being was chasing me. A mutant. I'd bet everything I owned (which actually isn't much now...) that he-who-was-chasing-me is a mutant.
Darn.
Don't get me wrong. I have absolutely nothing against mutants, unlike some - MOST - other people I am acquaintanced with. I can honestly say that I know a lot about them, having "done my homework." Read about them, found them interesting...heck, seen several of them in action on my way back home from school once. Prior to today, naive little ol' me thought that all mutants were actually good and were persecuted wrongly - like the X-Men. I'd love to meet one of them.
I never imagined that I, Kelsey Carol Selena Rias, would wake up this morning, on my sixteenth birthday, as a mutant.
I also never imagined that by evening, I'd be running FROM a mutant - or more precisely, one particular mutant who JUST so happened to be one of the X-Men's enemies. Mr. Slice-'em-dice-'em-Sabretooth. Which brings me to my next question.
WHY THE HECK WAS HE CHASING ME?
As a child, I've always daydreamed about being chased after by some hot, gorgeous, drool-worthy guy set bent on wooing me. Or being rescued by some bold and dashing (and drop-dead-gorgeous) knight in shining armour from an evil dude (both of whom would also have intentions to seduce me. Don't ask. Just don't.)
The world loves me soooooo much, that it decided to grant my little fantasy. In a twisted sort of sense, in case you haven't noticed. I was being pursued by an UGLY (BIG difference from my daydream, #1) weirdo who most PROBABLY wants to gut me open and read his fortune with my guts (BIG difference from my daydream, #2).
Life most certainly stinks.
I was now reduced to speed-walking, and was nearly bent double in exhaustion. My throat HURT. My legs HURT. My chest HURT. In case it wasn't too noticeable, I HURT. I wanted to collaspe on the ground. Rain pelted down upon me, and it felt more like hail than water as the wind (which, if I may add, was NOT present a few minutes ago...) picked up distinctly. The brutal weather slashed at my exposed face and arms. If I was in this much pain, I hoped vehemently that Toothy (yes, TOOTHY) was in worse condition. Though I highly doubt so.
Dying now would be good. Very good. But there was a plus side, wasn't there? My life sure as heck couldn't get any worst than it already was, could it?
Classic last words. Of COURSE it could, dumb Kelsey. Why, you should know better than to say such a thing...
The sky had faded to a dark grayish-black colour, and panic was soon settling in as I realized that darkness was descending rapidly. With the rain and half-night obscuring my vision and clouding my sense of direction, I rounded a corner where a dim lamp-post stood, and -
WHAM!
The next thing I knew, I was lying rather dazed atop someone's legs, having crashed hard into someone. I tried scrambling to my feet. Notice I said, "tried." This therefore means that I failed. Quite miserably. Not only did my legs choose that precise moment to rebel and become a dead-weight and thus unmovable, but the person I had collided painfully with had grabbed my arm. Tightly. OW.
"Whoa, where's the fire, kiddo?" He said, and I merely scowled at him, my heart doing double-time distressingly as I tried to break free. He was pretty cute, I guess, with tousled, sopping wet brown hair and wide, surprised, intelligent brown orbs for eyes. Probably no older than 23. Also a bloody idiot who was unwittingly going to be the cause of my death. Unless he was working with Toothy. I shuddered inwardly at that thought. If that were true, then I did all that running for NO REASON?
"Well now, isn't this cosy."
My heart skipped a beat when He loomed out of the darkness, claws extended VERY menacingly. Fear swamped me, threatening to choke off my air supply. On the verge of hyperventilation. Didn't my doctor hint something at me about having a mild case of asthma? Oh yes, life was JUST great (NOT).
Toothy advanced on the both of us, and the guy holding on to me let go quickly, muttering under his breath, and got to his feet. I began backing up upon my hands and knees, expecting the guy to bolt and leave me to His Ugliness's murderous intentions.
To my profound surprise, he faced Toothy (brave guy...or extremely dumb...and I think the latter), and grinned. Hope fluttered rather pathetically within me. Perhaps I wouldn't die...
"Nice to see you again," He piped rather cheerfully, and I felt the little flying thingy called Hope inside me crash into a window and slide down into the deepest recesses of my stomach. I moaned. Of all the bloody...they KNEW each other?
I was REALLY going to die now.
"Outta my way, Ice-block. My quarrel's not with you. Today." Toothy grated out, and I thought he sounded almost wistful. Like he WANTED to have a go at the guy who stood in front of me. Well, at least it was a teensy bit comforting to know that the guy Toothy referred to as Ice-block wasn't in league with 'im.
Ice-block merely smiled. "No, you're probably lying, but I'll forgive you for that one. So what's up with you and her? A relationship gone wrong?"
Eww, eww, EWWWWWW!!!! GROSS!!! This guy was SICK!!! If I got out of this alive, HE WAS GOING DOWN!
Nevertheless, Toothy roared in anger (obviously), and threw himself at Ice-block, claws poised to kill. Ice-block flung himself to the side calmly, and Toothy's momentum carried him forwards...into me.
Before I could react, move, dive out of the way, do SOMETHING, his claws had scored deep into my left shoulder. I FELT them going in, and the sensation I gathered was as if I was undergoing surgery WITHOUT anesthetic (not that I've actually ever had that done to me). And he had FIVE of those bloody things. Pain exploded in my mind, white-hot and searing, and tore through my entire being. Something warm flowed in rivers down my arm and side of body rapidly, and light-headedness was soon settling in. Something also cracked within my chest. Loudly. It HURT. So, naturally, I did what anyone in my predicament would have done.
The shriek that burst from my lips was laced with pure pain (if ever there was such a thing) and agony, hopefully loud enough to wake the dead. I would have welcomed their help GLADLY. However, the in-your-face-scream was enough to make him draw back briefly.
Bad, bad thing. For me, that is. If he leans back, his embedded claws would follow him back as well, wouldn't they?
Dingdingding. We have a winner.
A split second after those nasties had sliced into me, they came out as he recoiled. Another cry burst from my lips, though this was barely a squeak. While straining to keep above the looming darkness tinging my vision, I was also attempting to draw in air. Sheez, you'd think that being a mutant I would have been able to do SOMETHING, my powers having to do with moving objects without touching them or something. Problem was, I had totally forgotten all about it up until now. And now was waaaay too late.
Wasn't I smart. Yet what I wanted to know was who exactly wanted me deader than a doorknob before I met up with God (I fervently hoped). I must have voiced that barely coherent thought aloud, because Toothy merely smirked at me.
"Think reeeeal hard, little bird," What, I was now a pet? "Who would want you dead?"
I blinked sluggishly, still fighting off the blackness. Then it hit me, even as Toothy suddenly howled in pain, and as shards of something rained down upon my numbed, beyond-pain being. There was only one person I knew who wouldn't give a crap whether or not I was dead. And that one person was my brother.
Ah yes. Hayden Trey Rias. If I were asked to sum him up in less than 5 words, I don't think I would have been able to do it. He was simply a sadist. A cruel, unfeeling being. Also a mutant hater. What great combos.
But it shouldn't have happened, him finding out that his only sister turned out to be a mutant. He had angered me while talking to a few friends of his about how mutants were insults to the human race, and that they were all better off dead (personally, I thought HE was better off dead). Before I realized it, the lamp behind me had lifted off the table it was on, and flew with unerring accuracy to slam into his face. I should have recognized drunkenness when I saw it, but I didn't, and when he finally understood what I had done, he had also drawn the same conclusion that I had. And that's when the running started. How much did he bribe Toothy to go after me? And where would he have gotten the money? We weren't rich. In fact, we were as rich as a real bum in -
I moaned as the world abruptly tilted and rocked, and my vision plummeted, as did my other senses. My thoughts became one large mess, blending into each other as it rambled on and on as I fought back the urge to puke. Something fiery-gold streaked across the darkening twilight, uncannily low across my vision. A moving blur of ice-blue colour, streaming rapidly across the ground. A reddish-pink slash that blasted out in a horizontal arc above me. More flashes of light. Then the sensation of being picked up. I panicked, instinctively twisting to escape whoever's grasp. Of course, moving around caused the bleeding wounds to flare sharply and swiftly, and I gasped. The person's grip on me tightened, and I felt myself grow colder with each passing breath.
Then darkness came swept me under.
And I welcomed it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
What do you think? Is it worth continuing?