Exclaimer: I do not, nor do I want to, own anything to do with X-Men or X-Men related characters, settings or technology. I do not claim to nor do I wish to gain profit from this story.
Authors Note: This first chapter begins with an introduction to my character, Zachariah. He is one of12 who will appear in this story.
I have set this so that X2 doesn't happen – or not yet, it just gives me an easier job and I HATE the way everyone feels post X2. (Apart from the loss of a key character) It also makes everything revolved around that said character and I really don't like that said character enough to write about how everyone feels about her.Feel free to flame me - ONLY WHEN I HAVE GOTTEN INTO THE STORY – or to critique my writing skills ("You suck" doesn't count) or you could tell me how fantastic you think this is and I wouldn't dissuade you from doing that. I work on a "You review me, and I review you" basis so go ahead – read it!
I will post a new chapter as soon as it is ready!
ALL WE KNOW
CHAPTER ONE
He knelt in the shadowed arbour of the church, coloured lights dancing before his eyes and hands clasped in silent plea, his brown hair falling about his face in tangle of curls.
He mouthed the last words of the Lords Prayer before standing up stiffly and turning for the door. With one last glance at the crucifix hanging behind the altar, illuminated by the stained glass windows, he stumbled out into the darkness, hands buried in his pockets, grasping at whatever heat he could find.
It was a cold December evening and the reddish black sky was lashing the streets with driving rains and bitter winds. The boy wandered aimlessly down through the orange glow of the street lamps, eyes scanning the street for movement.
His skin prickled as he felt hot neon light flash at him from above. His feet had brought him here, his last refuge. When even the hand of God couldn't lead him through his trails, he turned here, with its perverted silences, dirty glasses and tainted drinks. He stared at the blinking sign, letting the red lights wash over him like a friendly melody he had heard many times before, the image burning into his memory.
The Stein and the Chalice
He leant on the cold bar and glanced around, the usuals had perched themselves in their favourite places, cigarette smoke was hanging heavily in the air and the sound of drunken slurs and mutterings shot at him from all directions. It was all so familiar, so oddly comforting, he settled into a quiet repose and looked toward the bar tender and waved a hand. The old man smiled, his icy façade thrown to the floor, he abandoned the glass he was cleaning and made a beeline straight for him.
Without questioning his age, beer was poured into a questionable looking mug and thrust into his hand.
"Zach, wha's a boy like yourself doin' out this late?" The bar tender chuckled as the boy took a grateful sip of the beer and wiped his mouth with the sleave of his jumper.
Zachariah Gregory knew perfectly well why he was out that late but if he told Harry why, it would destroy the intricate web of lies that had become his reality, maybe that was a chance he would have to take.
Zachariah laughed too, but it sounded more forced than he'd intended, Harry let it pass and filled up the glass again.
"Whatcha bin up to lately?" The old man choked, coughing into the rag he had been cleaning the bar top with. Somehow, Zachariah was sure it wasn't the first time.
"You know, the usual." he lowered his voice as another man sat down at the bar.
"I'm in trouble. I did something... Something that could get me arrested. I can't stay with my family anymore. I need somewhere to go..." Zachariah's voice broke and he looked sideways at the man in a leather jacket who had been sitting beside him patiently waiting for the bartender to disengage with the boy and start serving drinks again.
He eyed his dubious taste in clothing and wondered how much hair gel it must have taken to create those strange dog ear points in his hair.
Harry was staring too. He found the mans appearance a lot more shocking than Zachariah's story could ever be, it wasn't the first time he had heard that sort of a tale in this bar.
The strange-looking man glared back. "Can I have a drink?" He growled, baring his pointed yellow teeth.
Now clutching a bottle of beer, he slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved a cell phone, punched a number into the key pad and held it to his ear.
"Hey, yeah, he's here." The man grunted. The muffled sound of another man's voice came as a response.
"Well how the hell am I supposed to do that?" There was a long pause and the wolf-like man seemed to come to a resolve.
"Give me five minutes." He snapped the phone shut and emptied the bottle, motioning for another. He glanced at the boy, his brown eyes glinting in the hazy light.
"You're a bit young, aren't you?" He muttered.
The boy looked startled at being addressed by him, but replied with a steady voice. "Appearances can be deceiving, Sir."
Once the bar tender what out of ear shot, the man leant in closer. "What If I was to tell you that I know what you are and what you've done."
Zachariah's eyes darted to the door, his bottom lip trembled and his fingers tightened around the crucifix in his hand.
Within seconds the boy was on his feet and heading for the door with the man not far behind him.
The sound of Harry's shouts were lost under the sound of 20 or so chairs scraping on the floor as every single person in the bar stood up to get a better look.
I'm drunk... I'm far too drunk...
Tables were throwing themselves out of Zachariah's path, some not fast enough.
He tripped, flying forwards and running straightinto the closed door that shuddered open, letting the boy runout into the night.
Every sound in the bar was magnified. The horrified murmurs of the customers, a woman's scream, the sickening crack of fist meeting flesh, the thud of something heavy hitting the groundand the click of a revolver being loaded.
Logan cocked his head sideways. The bar tender held the gun with steady hands and it was directed at him.
"Leave." Harry demanded, his eyes becoming cold and emotionless.
Logan's knuckles tingled. The urge was so overwhelming, to drive a blow into the man's gut and watch him fall to the floor, to kill.
"I said LEAVE!" he closed his finger around the trigger.
Logan nodded, his urge left unfulfilled, he threw open the door and left without another word.
"Not exactly an orthodox approach to things, Scott" Xavier said as metallic blue Mazda roared into life.
"But I don't think our friend would have come any other way."
Scott smiled and glanced back at the now unconscious form of Zachariah Gregory who was sprawled across the back seat, mouth slightly open, a bruise slowly forming around his left eye,beside him was a very disgruntled looking Logan who refused to talk about the incident, arms crossed and face set as the Mazda pulled away and tore off toward the Mansion.
NB: for those of you who don't understand how Scott is connected to Zach appearing in the car, which is obviously a faux pas on my behalf, I shall point out a few sentences that you may have overlooked:
-the sickening crack of fist meeting flesh
-the thud of something heavy hitting the ground
and
-a bruise slowly forming around his left eye
hopefully this will help you understand, I thought it had been more obvious when I wrote it...
Up next: Zachariah explaned.