Disclaimer: The X-men and their world belong to Mavel/Fox. No profit or copyright infringement is intended. This is an X-men Shared Universe, orignally imagined by Tarchannon, Dark Legends is a dark future where the next generation of the Legacy virus has triggered disturbing changes in the X-men. For further stories by a variety of authors and poets, go here.
I wanted to be a hero. Even before my mutation matured, I wanted to be a fireman and save people. When I first came to Xavier's school it was my kid's dream come true. Being a mutant didn't mean I was a freak, it meant I could be a hero, for real. Like Scott and Jean, like Angel - a man that could fly - like Pitor. They were all larger than life, all heroes. I was a kid then but, man, I swear they all practically had halos.
Even when I got older and I knew what a hero really was. That Warren was a real jerk. That Logan had screaming nightmares. That Scott and Jean had problems. That heroes die.
I still wanted to be a hero.
That first mission. Logan looked me up and down, when it was over, and gave me a nod. I was part of the team. I was a hero. Shit, I didn't need wings to fly.
Now I wished I could fly away from here. Everyone's dying. The professor had locked down the mansion and we're all trapped in here like rats on a sinking ship. Hank had yelled at me, he never yells and he yelled at me. I come out of ICU and my friends are dead. Rogue. Kitty. Brad. Warren - he wasn't my friend but he's still dead.
And it's getting worse. I can hear them out in the hall - Jean and Logan. Scott's in bed, dying maybe and Jean's - fucking - Logan. I mean fucking. There isn't any other word for it. I was coming up the stairs, bringing something for Jube to eat because she can't get out of bed yet and there they were.
Logan had pinned Jean up against the wall. At first, I thought he had gone crazy and was killing her - he was snarling and panting hard. Jean's long bare legs were wrapped around his waist and I guess she wasn't wearing underwear. Logan was holding her up, pinned against the wall, his jeans sliding down his thighs and was really going at her. I mean really hard, grunting each time he thrust. It had to hurt.
Jean's head fell back against the wall and when I saw her face, my voice died. She wasn't hurting. Red hair clinging to her sweating face, eyes closed, mouth open. Jean wasn't hurting at all. She was clutching the back of Logan's shirt and arching to meet him. Started making these panting cries - louder and louder. Logan's face tipped back, eyes closed, groaning. I ran past them - they didn't even notice me.
Ran to my room and slammed the door, putting the food down on my dresser. I wasn't going out again. Not with them there. Jean was wailing now. She never sounded like that for Scott.
I didn't want to hear this. Didn't want to be here. Didn't want to feel what I'd felt - watching them. I hadn't wanted to run away - no. I'd wanted to feel Jean's skin. Be insider her the way Logan was. Fuck her. She fifteen years older than me, the fiancée of my leader, and I was so hard it hurt.
What kind of hero am I?