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Mutants are not the ones mankind should fear. - Dr. Jean Gray
 
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Many years ago Xavier's school for gifted mutants was attacked. It was left in ruin. Teachers and students abandoned it with no hope of returning to it for sanctuary...

Years later a professor named Jason Andrews returned life to the school's halls and rebuilt its walls. Students have once again come to learn at the school in safety.

Many other mutants aren't quite so lucky. Some still remain hidden in the shadows and some within factions like the brotherhood are left leaderless.
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 Risen From the Pyres of Hell

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Niko Ericksson

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Alliance of Evil

PostSubject: Risen From the Pyres of Hell   Fri Jan 17, 2014 12:16 pm

How long had it been? At least 2 months. The days began running together, from the sedation cycles the M.R.D. sawbones were administering to me. The inhibitor collar dug into my neck, causing sores and gashes in areas. I tried to be strong and defiant those first few days.

Then came the examinations. The doctors would strap me to the table and cut me open in different areas. They almost never used enough knockout gas, and I'd be left feeling every incision they made. I tried to scream so many times, but no sounds ever really came forth. I was to hoarse to scream. And so I found myself retreating to my own safe corner in my mind. The only place I felt safe.

Until they began chipping away at my skull. I don't remember much about the surgery, because all I could think of was Hannibal Lector coming to eat my brains with a nice Chianti and some fava beans. I do remember the first time they started sawing into my skull. I remember the sound of the hand saw as it whirred to life. And in my mind, I screamed for years in only seconds. I felt that intrusive blade bust into my skull, and then nothing.

I awoke with a bandage wrapped around my head, and knew it was no nightmare. I had been violated in ways I had never thought possible. Raped in such intricate fashion that I knew I would never recover my lost innocence. I was damaged goods. I had been made unfit for anyone now.

I don't know how long it's been but, about three weeks ago, they left me in my cramped cage without sedation. I could think clearly for a moment. I looked over my skinny body. My hair had been shaved off, my skin was pale and sickly and there was a number branded on my arm. I had a plastic jigsaw piece in my head where they cut out the bone (clever, as they knew metal would help me out.). I was cut from stem to sternum and dissected with less grace than one would give a frog in science class, and then stapled/stitched back together. I had tube openings inserted into various parts of my body for easy extraction of fluids.

I was Frankenstein's monster made real. The scars would heal, but my soul never would. I was praying for death, because I knew I had no life in me anymore. Allayne would look at me in pity. Natalie would turn away in disgust. Archard, Eris, Dragon, and the rest of the Allegiance of Evil would see me as the weak link and cast me out. I was alone. Alone and abused and abandoned and broken.

I remember giving up and letting them do anything to me. The cuts and prods didn't register anymore. It was all numb from that point on. The guards would have fun beating and kicking and cutting me to see if they could illicit a response before throwing me back in the cage like a sack of potatoes. This went on for a bit.

Then, I remember a faint alarm. I barely had the strength to open my eyes, but I recall a lot of scuffling around and a bunch of nervous chatter. The M.R.D. personnel was going nuts about something. There was chaos, and my cage door swung open. I couldn't move anyway, and didn't know what to do anymore. I heard words like "finish them all up" and "hurry the job up", but can only assume they were referring to disposing of us.

I remember being held up on my feet and the thick blade going into my chest. I remember the feel of the blade as it slid out of the wound, and me being tossed into a dumpster. I remember closing my eyes and welcoming death's embrace.

But I awaken to find that death is not the passionate lover I awaited. Instead, death stood me up to endure the pain of life. I awoke in the very same hotel outside of the boroughs with some fresh bandages and this tub of waxy goo that help with the cuts.

How is it I've been allowed to live? Like my arrival to New York, there is once again a simple note on the nightstand pointing to the dresser. I have my weapons back, these new finger armor ring talons (which I suspect are made of the same metals as my arm bands were) and my trusty old trenchcoat. I had been given back my material belongings by a yet unknown guardian angel.

But I could never get back the spiritual, emotional and mental parts that were taken from me. That is gone forever, with only this gaping hole left in their place. These flats do not deserve to live. I am tired of tiptoeing on eggshells for them. They wanted to make us out to be monsters, and now they have one.

Frankenstein's monster. Made by man himself. Their ultimate punishment for pretending to be Gods. I am a God, not them. And they should fear my wrath. My fire burns brighter than novas. I am birthed of hellfire, to cleanse impurities from this planet.

The M.R.D., the government, humans in general. Each of you shall fall to me. This I vow!
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Risen From the Pyres of Hell

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