Date: Mon, 27 Jul 2009 15:09:04 -0600 From: MJ Rizzo <mjinny22@hotmail.com> Subject: Mutant Outsiders All standard disclaimers apply. X-Men and all other related elements are properties of Marvel. The following story is a work of FanFiction. The storyline holds no bearing on the actual Marvel characters, and any sexuality explored within this story is made up per the author. Speaking of sexuality, the story will contain sexual situations of the homosexual nature that may not be suitable for minors. Any remote resemblance to real life, or any other FanFiction, is entirely coincidental. No pretenses, intimations, encroachment, or any other legal issues intended nor desired. Key: Internal thoughts are in [...] Telepathic messages are in ~...~ .......................................... INTRODUCTION: I'm Michael O'Day or Mikey as I'm used to being called. I'm 6 feet tall, weigh about 170, I'm lean but not really built just toned, I'm half Puerto Rican and half Russian so I have a light complexion but I can get a great tan when I need to, my hair is sandy brown and my eyes are dark as coal. I learned about my powers when I was 16, and--well, let's just say it wasn't the greatest day of my life. You would think that being a mutant would be cool, you know? Getting to do amazing things, things people could only dream about doing, but that's not the case. At least not since certain events took place. As far back as I can remember mutants and humans haven't exactly gotten along, but it's been worse ever since some Professor X guy was killed. The humans tried to make his death seem like some freak accident, but the mutants weren't having it. Someone killed the most peaceful mutant on the planet, and if he could be a target then what kind of chance did the rest of us stand? The world changed so much since Xavier's death. City streets were no longer filled with casual people, but rather with soldiers and check points--the U.S. government's attempt to limit the mobility of mutants. Major cities had it the worst. Where I live, New York, things were much more intense. At first it only affected mutants that had any sort of physical mutation, because if they were seen above ground there was no doubt that they'd soon be seen fleeing from gunfire and violent mobs. After a couple years even normal looking mutants, mutants like myself and my best friend Jizella, had to hide from the rest of the world. The humans had designed DNA scanners, usually handheld devices that looked sort of like the handheld scanners at a grocery store. There was no questioning whether someone was a human or a mutant once a scanner touched their flesh. Small groups of mutants could be found all throughout the city, protecting each other while trying to keep their location a secret. The only way to find them was to stumble upon them, or know someone already that had found one--my way in was the latter. I met Jizella about a month after I found out I was a mutant. After being on the run for a few weeks she found me sleeping under some brush in Central Park, took me in, cared for me, and introduced me to the rebel mutant group the Outsiders. The Outsiders was made up of mutants of all ages that lived in the southern tip of Brooklyn, NY, in an abandoned building district near a garbage-covered beach. It smelled like a dump, but it kept most humans away so we cherished it. It was there, with the Outsiders, that I learned more about mutants and about my powers--I can drain life-force energy with nothing more than a touch, and as the result of not realizing I even had powers I can also teleport because of what had happened when my power manifested. The Radicals also taught me about the various mutant-hating groups, especially the Purifiers...the worst of them all. Some of the older mutants in the Radicals told tales of giant robots called sentinels, but most of us just figured those were tales meant to make us younger mutants act with a little more caution. I was with the Outsiders for about four months before everything just went to hell... .......................................... PART ONE: "Mikey! Mikey wake the fuck up!" I feel a hard slap to the face and my eyes shoot open. "Took you long enough! Are you on something or have the sounds of shit exploding had no effect on you?" It takes me a moment to collect my thoughts, but I realize that the person screaming at me is Jizella--my only friend; my partner in crime. She pulls me up by the arm and drags me to the window, outside of which I can see our haven--only it doesn't look like much of a haven anymore. There are buildings on fire and I can hear explosions nearby. "The Purifiers have found us! It has to be them! Shits going to hell all around us, what the fuck should we do?!" I'd never seen her lose her cool, so...well, shit I start to panic too. "What the fuck?! What the fuck?! We're gonna die! We're gonna--" SLAP! "Shut up! You're worse than me," Jizella interrupts my moment, "we can't both be girls right now! But thanks, your little queen moment brought me to my senses. We need to get out of here! How far can you take us?" I ponder the situation for a split second. "Fuck I don?t know, maybe a couple cities before I get tired? What about everyone else though?" "We can't be responsible for everyone else! Not right now!" "Fine!" I don't take the time to listen to anything else she says. I grab her hand and all that's left in our wake is a plume of black smoke. I take us to the roof first, to get a good look around us. I only look around for a second to figure out which direction we're heading; North, to Westchester. That's the only place we?ve ever heard of any other resistance. Another plume of smoke, and another, and several more before I have to sit down and take a break. "Where are we now?" I ask, too tired to figure it out myself. "I think this is the Northern tip of the Bronx, so we're not far from upstate but we can't stay here long. It's definitely not safe. How much longer 'til you can teleport again?" "I don't know. I'm starving, and exhausted. Give me an hour?" Jizella has a look of horror on her face, and I can't figure out why. An hour isn't asking for too much, is it? "Fuck!" "What?" "We don't have an hour!" I turn around to see what Jizella means, and my jaw drops. My body begins shaking slightly, and I can't even piece together my thoughts. There, standing before me at what had to be about 20 feet tall, is a giant robot; a sentinel. They're real... ....................................... Well, that's the first part =) Sorry if you feel it's kind of short, but it's a work in progress and the introduction was a major portion of this part. Feel free to e-mail me with any comments at MJinNY22@hotmail.com Thanks!