Blessed with abilities since birth . . . but they aren't mutants. The Midwest . . . ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The room was quiet and dark, the shades pulled over the windows. But the walls and the ceiling . . . even the door . . . had a strange quality to them. Somewhat spiky, misshaped . . . even shimmering in the red light being cast by the small alarm clock that sat on a dresser. It patiently waited, ticking away, timing itself for the right moment. When it would display the magic numbers and then wake it's owner. Slowly, as the numbers flashed on the walls, it counted down and then, as the 0 rolled into its' place, began blasting the opening to Genie in a Bottle. To say her fingers hurt would be an understatement. They burned, most of her skin long ago torn away. Blood ran freely down the debris and rocks and there was a glint of white that looked suspiciously like a bone. Yet, Melody continued to press on, pulling away at the remains of the building feverishly. The pain was the least of her worries. There was someone trapped underneath the wreckage, his pained whimpers echoing in her ears. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ He just stared forward, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The recreation center, the place where he was supposed to be working in ten minutes, lay in ruins. "This isn't happening . . . I've got to be sleeping." Bryan slid down to the sidewalk, struggling against the shock that was threatening to overcome his body. Shakingly, he raised a hand to his face and took a small piece of skin between his hands. He pinched, counted to five and then looked back, then repeated the process four more times. "What the hell is going on here . . .?" ~ ~ ~ The websites barely had time to load before he was finished reading them, his fingers moving across the keyboard faster then most conventional secretaries. The mouse was useless, a waste of time, and time was always an essence. Because knowledge was always out there, waiting to be discovered, and forever changing in the blink of an eye. It was his goal to collect all this knowledge, to store it in his mind, to keep his overworking brain permanently quenched in it's endless thirst for information. ~ ~ ~ "KELSEY!" Melody winced slightly as she heard Bryan's shouts upstairs. Since they'd arrived at this house, maybe ten minutes ago, he'd been searching for his family. She didn't have the heart to tell him that they'd probably disappeared with the rest of the town. Then again . . . she realized that he probably already knew that. ~ ~ ~ As the door to the motel room opened, Tina only took a few seconds to peer over the top of the page before she went back to her reading. Josh dropped his coat on a chair and sat down on the room's one available chair. He shifted uncomfortable as a spring jutted into his behind, then finally managed to situate himself. ~ ~ ~ Julie's eyes had closed the moment her head had been laid against the pillow. ~ ~ ~ He was getting bored and that was dangerous. Cause with boredom, he'd have nothing to occupy his brain. He had never been left unoccupied for too long, it was a situation that he'd feared his entire life. What would happen when you had a brain that loved to think . . . survived on thinking . . . and left it with nothing to analyze? To dissect and manipulate? ~ ~ ~ ***
They are something more.
Something created . . . something that makes them wanted.
They are the Gene-X.
Gene-X # 1
by Brian Provow
Flight 143 lay in pieces around her, bodies trapped underneath the burning wreckage. There wouldn't be any survivors. Julie Parapody knew that sickening truth far better then any of the stone-faced paramedics rushing around her. There wouldn't be any survivors because she couldn't feel any brainwaves from anyone . . . just a disgusting silence that threatened to engulf her. Louis . . . he would be in there. Maybe pinned under a seat . . . if she was lucky he would still be in one piece. Either way he would still be dead, lost to her, stolen away once again. Except this time it would be far more permanent.
She felt tears starting to build up again and took care to cover her face. Focus, she thought with slight hint of annoyance, you can't afford to let your emotions get the better of you. Julie was using one of the few telepathic skills she could still muster with slight ease. All it involved was the slightest amount of concentration and things were being made easier by the panicked minds of the men around her. Their brains were more open to her persuasion, more willing to accept the broadcast signal that she was sending out denouncing her presence.
Though Julie had no more business being here then the next family member, nobody had yet questioned her appearance. In fact, to the many paramedics currently rushing around her, she didn't exist.
Julie took a hesitant step forward, slightly afraid that her legs wouldn't be able to support her body. She wanted to just collapse, but she couldn't do that. She had to be strong, if not for herself, then for Louis. Wherever he was at the moment. He's Dead, just admit it already. But she couldn't. Because if she admitted it, if she gave up hope. Then she might as well give up living right there.
And then Julie was no longer alone. He was there, Nick, her best friend since their early childhood. She expected to feel his arms wrap around her, to pull her into a hug and tell her everything would be all right. To act like a friend, to comfort her when she was ready to give up living on the spot. But Nick knew Julie better then that. She was looking for him to act like a normal friend . . . because it would give her an outlet to take out her aggression. To snap when he said that things would be all right, to scream when he tried to take away her pain. They'd been the routine more then once over their friendship and both had become experts in knowing when the best time was to leave the other be.
Finally, she turned to him, the signal that it would be all right for him to approach. Nick stepped forward and drew her into a hug. She rested her head against his chest and let it out, allowed herself to cry. As Nick stood there, holding unto his best friend, he cursed himself. He didn't want her fiance to be dead, didn't want Julie to be going through this pain, but the only thing going through his mind was kissing her. Being with her . . . not seeing the woman he had loved for so long cry anymore. Cause it hurt him and he hated how selfish that sounded.
"Valerie, have you ever seen anything like this?" Nick looked up to see two federal agents standing before him. Julie was effectively keeping up their cover. He could hear them, but they would have no clue they were being watched. The man who'd spoken was tall and foreboding, perhaps having spent sometime as a marine before joining up with the FBI. He was balding slightly on the top of his head and Nick disgustedly stared at his ratty toupee.
"I've seen plenty of things in my time, Roger." The woman he recognized from television reports he'd seen as a child. She was always involved with one of those superhero groups, always trying to auction them off as the government's answer to all their problems. For the moment, it seemed she was working on her own.
"Don't you think that you should contact X-Factor? Isn't this in their jurisdiction?"
"X-Factor is . . . currently unavailable, Roger.* Besides, what are they going to do? Comb through the wreckage for bodies that aren't there? We have to face the facts here, an entire plane of people have disappeared."
[[[* This story takes place in between X-Factor # 131 and 132, when the group was going through some roster changes. ]]]
Manalapan, New Jersey
Since she was a child, Melody had always hated silence. Sound . . . music . . . it was not only beautiful to her, it was her lifeblood. Her abilities, those gifts that she had been granted due to that mysterious gene in her body, were dependent upon noise, upon the beauty of sound waves. Silence was death to her mind . . . terrible emptiness that resulted from the loss of something.
That is why, as she stood on the abandoned main street of her hometown, she was feeling a rush of fear striking her body. The stillness of the air . . . the utter calmness that would normally bring brevity to the soul . . . only served to make her sicker. With one hand wrapped around the neck of her saxophone, the other holding a duffle bag with her few remaining possessions, Melody slowly began moving down the street. Dead was the only word she could use to describe the atmosphere. Shops and stores she knew should be open, weren't. Cars that should be carrying people home from work didn't exist. She opened her lips and called out, unable to bear the calm any longer. "HELLO?!?!" She was answered by a chorus of breaking windows, the glass shattering at the power of her amplified voice. In her desperation she had forgotten to control her gift.
As a wail of alarms began to replace the windows' death cry, Melody fought back the tears ready to come to her eyes. Though she'd never admitted to herself, the idea that home was always there for her . . . had made living in New York that much more bearable. When things had started to go wrong, when she had begun losing money, perhaps she hadn't acted so quickly because of that certainty. That rock hard knowledge. That knowledge which was now unbearably wrong in the face of the barren row of stores that stared at her with big gaping holes.
"
And then maybe . . . he could help her.
Startled, Bryan fell from his bed and landed face first on the carpeted floor. He stifled a groan and attempted to rise to his feet, only to find he was tangled in a mess of sheets and blankets. He stumbled and fell backwards, this time landing on his well-padded bed instead. The voice of Christina Aguilera continued to echo around the room, the young pop singer begging to be released from her bottle. Bryan growled and managed to free himself from the garments wrapped around his legs, then rolled over to shut off his alarm.
"At least Dan won't bite my head off for being late for work." He got up and scratched at the top of his head, immediately wincing. He'd forgotten about the fresh burns that he'd suffered while dying his hair . . . intoxicated. Groaning, Bryan rose and walked towards the bathroom, now finding himself in need of Tylenol . . . perhaps the whole bottle. He stumbled forward, sleep till refusing to let go it's control of his sensory functions. Sleep . . . he hadn't been able to catch that much lately. It was his fault, all those damn parties he'd been going to, his body was beginning to suffer from it. He had made a promise to himself that he was going to rest that weekend and now it seemed he had more then enough reason to keep it.
Blinking his eyes, Bryan entered the bathroom and stepped up to the medicine cabinet, not even bothering to turn on a light. As he began to rifle through the various medical and hygienic products, Bryan rested a hand against the wall. He leapt backwards as his skin was pieced and released a string of obscenities. He pulled his shirt over his head and wrapped it around his throbbing hand, then stretched out to turn on the light. It was covered, encased in something cold and hard, though no where near as sharp as whatever he'd laid his hand upon. Bryan leaned forward and then released a soft curse at himself, realizing who'd been the cause of his injuries.
Last night flooded back, specifically the irrational fear he had felt after stepping into his apartment. He'd encased the entire place in a protective barrier, a diamond-like substance that he produced from the air. The special gift that he'd received as a result of the active Gene-X in his body. Whatever he'd been afraid of had gotten off easy, it seemed. "Good job Bryan . . . you not only freak yourself out, but now you got to spend the morning cleaning out a fresh hand wound. Bet Dan's going to ask a whole bunch of questions when you get in to work."
He reached forward and his hands began to glow, a pale, blue light slowly engulfing his palm and fingers. As the room became illuminated, the crystalline structures that engulfed the ceilings and walls of his apartment began to break away, cracking and dissolving into the air. It was only a matter of seconds before he'd returned everything to normal and, deciding that he'd better get ready for work, Bryan stepped into the shower.
~ ~ ~
She wrapped her bleeding fingers around a large slab and began pulling, fighting to move it despite the weight. Her muscles screamed at her to stop, but she didn't. She really couldn't. From all indications, she was the only one in Manalapan who'd be able to do anything about this situation. She wasn't about to give up just because she was feeling tired.
As it began to slide free, Melody moved her hands to get a better grip. She instantly recoiled, a fresh pain now assaulting her mind. The flesh on her hands, what remained of it, was now as red as a lobster. She'd been scalded by the rock. As if things weren't difficult enough. She slowly climbed the pile of bricks and concrete, taking care not to touch anything with her stinging hands. She positioned herself over the hot slab and then began kicking, attempting to get the piece to slide on it's own. Right as her ankles appeared ready to pop, it finally did budge.
She heard the hiss and leapt away from the "mountain", her body crashing into a relatively soft patch of soil. Groaning to herself softly, she turned to look back as her newly created hole morphed into a miniature volcano. Flames shot upward into the air and she immediately thanked herself for the few chemistry classes she'd taken in high school. Recognizing the sound of oxygen igniting had saved her life. For a minute the flames continued, the heat beginning to melt the surrounding materials, before it abruptly stopped.
Wincing, she pushed herself to her feet, cautiously stepping forward. She feared the sight that would greet her. A corpse, charred and blackened, an individual that she had struggled and bled to save.
Instead, a body slowly rose from the still steaming crater, singed clothing barely hanging on his body. Despite wounds from his earlier imprisonment, there wasn't any other marks on his body. Not a single burn. He looked up at her, opened his mouth to say something, and then collapsed atop the debris.
Detective Josh Bronson stared down at his watch for perhaps the fiftieth time that hour. Once again he let out a sigh of frustration and returned his gaze to the passing landscape. The young woman sitting beside him rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to a current issue of Cosmopolitan. Filth that Josh normally would have scolded her on, if his mind wasn't focused on other thing. Her name was Tina Carbia, a Brooklyn native who'd grown up in a family of cops. She'd joined the force a few years back and then, abruptly been transferred along with her brother to his precinct. Though the change had been done out of the blue, Josh hadn't bothered to question it. Tina was a dedicated officer and she followed orders without question, which was fantastic as far as he was concerned.
They were the reasons why he'd asked her along on this case. All he'd needed to tell her was they were going to the Jersey shore and to meet him at the station in an hour. It was routine that those under him were accustomed to. Meet the detective when you were told and on the way he'd fill you in on the case. That was why Tina Carbia had already been waiting for the Josh when he arrived, tickets in hand.
Tickets. No other precinct needed to *buy tickets* when they were on a case. Budget cuts were felt throughout the city, but it always seemed that Josh's branch was hit hardest when it came to reduced funds. He had five officers working underneath him and only one squad car to go around. He couldn't justify taking it for what could be an extended visit in another state, while leaving his other officers with no means of transportation.
Thus, here he was with Tina, slowly chugging along down the Atlantic Coast. Tina had attempted to lighten his mood by pointing out that they were probably beating traffic, but it hadn't worked. He couldn't fight the feeling that he was already to late. He'd seen the files, someone had managed to get them delivered to his desk. Someone had been gathering information on the children, the Gene-X . . . people from his own hometown.
Not even people, they were barely adults. The oldest of the bunch were barely fresh out of college, the youngest most likely seven. It was a generation that had grown up with special powers, not necessarily mutant, though they could easily be mistaken as such. They had somehow developed a special gene, dubbed Gene-X in the scientific community, that allowed each a certain gift.
It wasn't till later in his life that Josh had began piecing together why these kids had been granted such abilities. He was enroute to Manalapan to prevent his worst nightmare from occurring.
Now fully satisfied that he was in fact insane, and not asleep, Bryan struggled to stand. With legs that felt like melted rubber, he slowly started towards the crumbled ruins. Any moment Dan would run towards him and he would snap out of this vision. Things would be normal again and he would work with the kids . . . then go home and start an online club denouncing the evils of drugs. This had to have been the worst hangover . . . or maybe he was tripping on something? Bryan struggled to remember if he'd done or taken anything in the last twenty-four hours. Could Tylenol give you hallucinations? It tasted horrible going on . . . was there even an expiration date on that stuff? He'd have to check the bottle when he got back.
He blinked and stopped, amazed at how detailed his hallucinations were beginning to become. Now the building came complete with tattered looking survivors, specifically a young woman and a redheaded, nearly naked man. He slightly quickened his pace to meet the two, waiting for the moment when they would disappear. Reality hit him when he recognized the man and for a moment Bryan felt sickness rising to his throat once more.
"Look, before you say anything, just grab his other arm." Bryan followed instructions without a word, easily handling the bulk of Dan's weight. The woman, or was it a girl he wondered, pointed to his car. In his shock, the door had not only been left open, the key was still in the ignition. "Is that yours?" He could only nod, still trying to get a grasp of sanity as his normal world seemed to be crashing down around him. "All right, the three of us are going to get inside and you are going to take him to the nearest house. I don't think he needs medical attention and from the looks of things, it'd be better if we got out of the open." Bryan nodded once more, cursing himself mentally for appearing to be a mute, and then started carrying Dan to the car.
That was his curse, or his Gene-X ability, it really depended on who you were talking to when describing his affliction. David Kurn had been born with an intelligence that far surpassed anyone who'd ever existed on the planet Earth. He could do Trigonometry at the age of seven, Complex physics a year before that. His brain was constantly working, always trying to solve something or create something, never resting. That was when the curse came in. He needed to keep his mind occupied, for the sake of his sanity, at all times. Needed to find new information . . . new technology or scientific experiments that would momentarily fascinate him before all their complexity had been ravaged. It was the equivalent of his brain taking a work of Shakespeare and analyzing it to the point where it read like a child's book.
The web search, was thus, less a quest to quench his curiosity as much as it was to save his sanity.
She glanced around the living room, noting how incredibly quaint it was. The couches, the television, the cabinets with the little mementos of family and friends. Exactly how it was always pictured in the fantasy world, with the perfect existence that she'd managed to be born out of. Her fingers gently traced a picture on the wall, taking in the figures smiling at the camera. Two parents and four children. She recognized Bryan and by process of elimination, guessed the young girl, the only girl, was the elusive Kelsey. Her eyes rested on the other two however, the blonde with the piercing blue eyes and the . . .
A soft moan reminded her that she wasn't the only one left downstairs. Her eyes fell on the redheaded man she'd recently freed from a prison of concrete as he slowly rose from the couch.
"Wher . . . Where am I?" Green eyes flashed around the room, taking in the unfamiliar scene. He began to rise, only to have his legs collapse underneath him. Melody rushed forward and caught him in her arms, wincing slightly as he brushed against her raw hands.
"Sit down . . . your still to weak to be walking around." She helped him back unto the couch, ignoring her own pains. She began to pull back, but he grabbed her arm, his grip strangely powerful for a man who'd only been recently facing death. A memory flashed to the front of her mind, reminding her . . . she pushed it back. She didn't have the time to deal with that.
"How did I get here?"
"We brought you here." She saw the look in his eyes, questioning the we. "Myself and someone named Bryan, he said that he knew you. I think this is his house." Dan's grip loosened and Melody pulled her arm to freedom. His face had softened and something that looked like tears were forming in his eyes.
"Did you find Stephanie? Is she here as well?" His eyes were pleading, desperate, and Melody immediately felt sympathy.
"I don't understand, who's Stephanie?"
"That would be his wife." Looking up, she saw Bryan in the doorway, his fist held tightly around some hidden object. She didn't bother to ask if he'd seen anything, the look on his face told an entire story.
"Do you've any idea what happened today? How you got trapped in that building." Dan opened his mouth, beginning to form the words no, and then stopped. His eyebrows furrowed and he appeared momentarily lost in thought. Then his face darkened and, as he looked back up at Melody, his green eyes had been replaced by bright red orbs.
"They took them." The sudden rage in his voice was enough to make Melody back away, nearly tripping over an end table in the process. Bryan stepped forward, seemingly less affected by the possible anger about to overtake the other man.
"Who took them, Dan?"
The name seemed to be caught in his throat and when he finally spit it out, she was once again taken aback by the raw hatred in his voice. "The Prime."
He sat in silence, listening to the pages as they turned, waiting for Tina to finish before he spoke. He already knew he was going to have to explain, lead her to believe what those files said was true. He himself wouldn't have believed it . . . if he hadn't seen the ordeal first hand. Hadn't witnessed these kids abilities and hadn't been privy to the dark secret behind them.
Josh also knew that the full story wasn't written in those pages. They were just medical reports, a few photos, and a couple of government papers that charted the ordeal. At best it was a foreword, a little opening into the dark secrets that he carried within his mind and memory.
He looked up as Tina lay the folder down on the mattress. She looked at him quizzically, obviously waiting for him to fill in the blanks for the folder. He was going too, at least as much as he could. There was stuff that Tina couldn't know, memories and scenes that really no one should have ever been forced to witnessed. No, Josh Bronson was already a damned man. There wasn't anyway he was going to bring this young woman down with him as well.
Instead he started his story on a bright day, a school day actually, with a young girl by the name of Julie Parapody.
Nick had been watching over her the entire time, unmoving from the chair that sat opposite the bed. In his hands was an old issue of Men's Health, but really the articles weren't that captivating. Least not in comparison to the woman he loved for most of his adolescent life.
Fate had a funny way of bringing two people together, he realized that now. They shared a friendship, a strong bond that he doubted many could claim to have developed in their lifetime. Yet, that's all it was, a friendship. He could stand beside her and comfort her, but never in the ways that he wanted.
There had always been someone else in her life, one guy or another. Nick had seen Julie through many a relationship, though he'd only ever really thought two of her boyfriends had been suitable for her. One of them had been Louis Becker. The guy was smart, funny, and seemed to always have Julie's best interests in mind. Well, except for the part when he accepted a transfer to a school across the country. But they'd stayed in touch . . . and had made a promise to each other through the engagement ring Julie unconsciously clutched in her hand.
But now Louis was dead . . . or if not dead, at least missing without a trace. How long Julie would play the part of a mourner was questionable, but he figured that her stubbornness would have a hand in making the process terribly long. He could wait though. Nick was good at waiting. He'd spent the good part of his life waiting for her, watching as she even dated his . . .
The phone leapt to life, drawing Nick's attention away from her. With a speed that would have easily won him a spot on any varsity track team, he had the receiver by his ear before the second ring. He risked once glance to make sure he hadn't awoken before answering in a low whisper. "Hello?"
"Nick, it's Bryan."
"Bryan? What's wrong?" He stopped for a moment, reflecting on how many times his younger brother had actually picked up the phone in the months he'd been away at school. "Why are you calling me?" Money was the first thing that crossed his mind, followed soon after by the words police and jail. It would explain the shakiness of his brother's voice and the intensity of his breathing.
"You have to come home Nick." He stopped, never expecting to hear those words escape from the lips of his brother.
"Why, Bryan? What's going on? Is Mom and dad there?"
"They're gone Nick . . . everyone is gone. I . . . Kelsey . . . Look, just get here as soon as possible. It's so fucking important." Then there was a click and dead silence, as Nick remained the only party still holding a phone to his ear.
He smiled for a moment, realizing that he could pass the time momentarily by actually coming up with various scenarios. Only four minutes later he was done and a cold sweat was beginning to form on his face. None of those scenarios had been very promising . . . and he still had another hour before this bus ride was over. Then it would be just a short walk to his home.
Manalapan. Where this whole Gene-X situation seemed to finally be coming to a head. Maybe he could finally get some answers that he'd long been plagued with. Who was he? Why was he?
And better yet . . . what exactly were the Prime?
That's it Folks, Issue 1 ;) Yeah, it took me long enough, but I promise they'll be enough action coming up to hold you over! The entire group is going to converge in Manalapan . . . but who is going to survive to make it to Issue 3? Plus the Prime and the mystery of what happened to the passengers on Flight 143 begins to unravel!
Write me and tell me what you thought?
Oh and let's make it fun! Tell me who is your favorite and least favorite character and why :)