Welcome to the next story in my X-Men saga! The Lethal Love is Story 4! (Broke out of the similar titles, which I accidentally got into!)
I'm glad most of my old reviewers are still here for the ride since The War of the World. Great to see such loyalty. (: I hope you're still loving it all!
And if this is your first peek, you've got some catching up to do or you may not understand the story's concept. In order as follows:
The War of the World
The Hatred of Hearts
The Passion from the Past
The Lethal Love
Enjoy!
Reviews from chapter 47 of story 3:
Omala: That wasn't constructive for me! Lol, but I get the drift that your either surprised or angry, but which?
Blix: Gaping open? Careful now, don't drool, hehe. I'm glad you approve of my style of finishing. It just felt time to close that period of the X-Men's life and begin it afresh under a new title.
Calandra: I'm good at ending chapters evilly, in this case it's a story, hehe. But don't worry, here is the next instalment. I haven't seen you review much recently, please do, I'd love to hear your comments! I'm glad you liked the story so much, it's great to hear my story has gone down well with my readers!
Paragraphs were temporarily given back, but they've took them away again! Bah!
Chapter 1The early hours of the morning coated New York City in a murky shadow of indigo as the night sky twinkled down upon the scene below. The air spun bitter trails of wind with it, curled up autumn leaves of mixed shades twisted elegantly with the breeze, skipping across the puddles of the road in an innocent dance. The road ahead was darkened to an invisible end. Disappearing into the heart of New York City, the busiest state in the America.
At the side of the road was a rather damaged vehicle. Windows were smashed, bodywork dented and scratched unmercifully whilst the windscreen was a mass of deep and long cracks spreading out in a viciously angled spider web. But another oddity was that further ahead, at the end of the dark road, a figure was sat in the middle of the road.
The man was on his knees, bowed head staring down at a photo in his shaking grip. For down that road had disappeared his daughter. Found after over 15 years of a void memory, plagued by snippets of terrifying dreams that were suited to a horror film. Not the mind of a family man. He had found her, she was still searching. She left him to seek what she had in fact already found – disappearing into the cold dark streets of New York to endlessly search for what she would never find.
The Wolverine.
The supposedly vicious member of the team of mutants – the X-Men. He was the man who once cared for no one, not even himself. He subjected his life to the brutality of cage fighting and endless but ineffective binge drinking before been awakened by a younger mutant who led him into a brighter world, which was only hampered by his endless resurrection of horrifying nightmares.
This man, Logan, had found his old love, and then lost her to an unnecessary death. He would never have her back. But then, Madeline Jones, daughter of Roxanne and James arrived in the most unusual style, beating her fighting opponent who was unknowingly her father before disappearing into the night.
Logan could still feel the ice-cold shock inside him, the disbelief causing him to stare ahead in silence. The cruelty so immoral. He had been so close, and then she had disappeared. Slowly he rose to his feet out of the puddles, either oblivious or ignorant to his saturated trouser legs from their position on the wet road. With one more look at the crumpled photo he felt an unusual sensation burn inside his chest before his eyes stung with obvious tears that crept out of the man's eyelids before travelling at a slow and cautious pace down his defined cheekbones. They weren't normal tears, they were tears of utter desperation, tears crying to try and fill up an empty hole that had just been ripped from his living body.
His eyes closed upon the tears, head hanging gently. What would he do? She was gone, her scent had disappeared. No matter how much he inhaled at the air, her scent had faded away into the barrage of different smells of New York. But just to try and confirm it one last time, he raised his head and called as loud as possible down the empty street, "Madeline!!"
His echo greeted him mockingly before dying away into the distant sounds of traffic and city life.
Defeatedly he turned away, walking slowly over to the traumatic vehicle. The photo he still held was slipped gently into the inside of his coat, securing it in a pocket beside his box of cigars. His head rose to watch the sorry excuse for a car before he yanked open the dented car door and climbed in to sit down upon the seat with a downhearted sigh. The engine started. He stared down at the steering wheel in thought before his eyes widened in realisation.
Charles!
Cerebro!
He would find her, surely! With a new lease of life Logan forced his foot down upon the gas pedal and the car screeched out of the lane and back into the large double road for entry into New York. He headed in the opposite direction, travelling back to Westchester at last.
The air was quiet and undisturbed. The inhabitants of the mansion were in their rooms, most of them asleep, but the recent disturbances at Mount Rundle meant quite a few were still restless in the dark hours. One mutant had been laid awake for a good hour or so, and still she had yet to rest her body in sleep. Storm sighed quietly, turning her head to look out of the window and the beautifully clear sky. The stars twinkled down upon her in a comforting manner, the blush of the sky's moon spreading its dusty gleam of light over her bed duvet, bathing her in the glow.
The woman eventually rose to a sitting position; a hand brushing the long locks of pure ivory from her face as her bright blue eyes settled to look at the view out of her bedroom window. Slowly she slipped her legs out of the bed covers, stretching them out to rise to her feet out of the bed, her indigo nightdress slipping down around her knees, as she stood upright. Storm walked slowly over to the window, pausing in front of it to stare down at the beautiful grounds of the mansion. Her bare palms rested on the dark wood of the window ledge, supporting her tired yet restless form. Her eyes lowered to view the luminous hands of her alarm clock, the hand positions proving it was only 2.14 in the morning.
Slowly her eyes rested back on the scenery below, her room being on the top floor meant she was generously given a spectacular view. But something had caught her eyes, which swiftly focused upon the driveway. Somebody was driving into the grounds! Her eyes widened, at this time in the morning it had to be bad news. She quickly spun from the window heading out of her room and running on down the corridor, bare feet making little noise on the carpeted corridor. The room beside hers belonged to Scott Summers – leader of the X-Men. She hastily rapped a knuckle on his bedroom door, quickly becoming impatient at the lack of response and so she subjected her calm self to throwing her fists violently at the wooden door in loud reverberating pounds to try and awaken the man within, "Scott!"
Within a few seconds the door was thrown open and a dishevelled looking Scott stared at the woman who still had her fists held up, "What?" he asked grumpily, his lips moving lazily, hair on the right side of his head stuck up distractingly from his recent bed position. But Storm grabbed him by the neck of his pyjamas, dragging the poor man out of his room as she hauled his down the corridor.
"There's someone on the driveway!" she cried hurriedly as she ran, eventually letting go of Scott.
Scott immediately began to run faster, "Who is it?" asked the leader mutant.
"I don't know!" she answered exasperatedly, "But it seems peculiar at this hour!"
Storm's natural gracefulness meant her run was swifter, and she lightly skipped down the grand staircases down to the ground floor. She used a small summoning of wind to make her movement quicker, whilst poor Scott was left struggling to get down in a straight line, the man stumbled sleepily, pyjama bottoms flapping idly around his bare ankles. The poor man was still half asleep and was incoherently muttering to himself at Storm's useful ability.
The white haired mutant was the first to reach the bottom of the stairs, directly ahead was the main double doors. She had froze on the spot however as her feet met the wooden flooring. For the door had suddenly began to emit heavy banging as someone pummelled their fists on the door from the other side. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she darted forward, dark hand slipping around the doorknob as she unlocked the hatch and opened it to stare out into the darkness at..
..Logan?!
Storm screamed and threw the door shut as she turned and ran away from the door and to Scott who had only just joined the last few stairs. He hurried over to the frightened woman instantly, "What? Who is it?" he gasped. But Storm wasn't listening and was just staring at the closed front door, which now opened slowly
Logan had raised an eyebrow as Storm screamed and slammed the door in his face. So much for a warm welcome. He pushed it open slowly, eyes peering in cautiously.
"Oh my God!" came Scott's voice loudly. Logan blinked as he saw both Storm and Scott step away from the door. They were already a short distance away, but for some reason they moved ever further.
Logan walked in slowly, raising a brow at them, "Nice to see you too," he muttered in a slightly irritated voice. He shut the door behind him, looking around the dark hallway, only pools of moonlight spilling in through the windows. He turned slowly and turned on the light for the main entrance. In a warm glow the entrance came alive with soft lighting. Storm and Scott gasped again as Logan came clear.
"What are you doing here?" cried Scott in a horrified voice. He was face to face with.. with a dead person?!
Logan snorted at Scott, "I live here you stupid git," he answered angrily, pulling his coat off and draping it over an arm.
Storm moved forward cautiously, "Oh my God.." she whispered, her head then turning to stare at Scott in disbelief.
"What the hell is the matter with you guys?" asked Logan with another snort, "Look, I need to hurry, where's Charles?"
"You're alive," muttered Scott as he stepped forward to join Storm's side, still staring open mouthed at the Wolverine.
Logan rolled his eyes gently, "Well spotted, one-eye." He walked towards the pair with quick footsteps, "Look, please, get Charles. It's very important. I need to find someone."
"Who do you need to find? Roxanne?" asked Storm as she eventually stood in front of Logan.
Logan exhaled a heavy sigh, "No," he answered as he threw his coat at Scott like he was some door boy, "Roxanne is dead," his words were pained. Head hung as he spoke.
"I can't believe you're survived.." whispered Storm.
"Oh yeah," growled Logan, "Thanks a lot for the help by the way. Look, can we just get Charles down here, for God's sake."
But Storm followed after him, "No, you need to get down to the infirmary instantly, we need to treat your burns."
But Logan swatted her away impatiently, "Gerroff me! I need to find Madeline!"
"Madeline?"
But just then, another voice shrilled through the air, "Oh, mon Dieu!!"
"Oh for crying out loud," moaned Logan as he stalked through the hallway, noticing Siren staring down at him from the staircase, "Can somebody get Charles over here, now?"
"He is alive!" cried Siren to the others as though they hadn't yet noticed.
Logan growled loudly, "GET CHARLES NOW!"
"I'm here Logan," came a warm voice as Charles came out of the lift between the two main staircases. His face was alight with a warm expression, relief and happiness at his friend's survival, but concern edging his bright azure eyes, "How can I help you?"
That was the first chapter, please review for me!