Timothy Jeromeo's Story

[editing] ^__^

The smell of food. The commotion around him. The streets that seemed just like home with a new light called the sun and the blue ocean, known as the clear sky above his head. The young man couldn't help but smile uncontrollably at his new surroundings. It was practically as if he was just at home, if not a bit warmer. "So this is California," he said pronouncing as much of the word California as he could. "Tight. I can't wait to make some noise. Though first, food." His stomach growled in agreeance and he patted it, as if it were a pet, to settle it down. He walked around the streets for hours wasting a lot of morning time. His swagger gave the look of a city kid, which he was, and also one of someone who had known the ins and outs of the streets he walked. Though, in reality, he had only been on the grounds since the early mornings of this fine day and walked the path of his instincts. Sure there were restaurants and other stores that he passed by, but he had other plans in mind for what type of food he was going to eat, and how he was going to obtain it.

Crazy thing; he had no money on his person what so ever. Sure he didn't just board the plane with his looks alone, or stowed away for a six hour flight. The lad started his trip with a good some of money, but got lost in the eyes of some homeless kids after stepping out of his cab, thus making him spend his last dime giving away to charity. Something he did often. Now broke, he decided to do another thing he did often. Steal. He laughed at the irony of it all before questioning if it was actually ironic or not. One thing was for certain, if that wasn't irony, then the cop cars passing him, heading in the direction of what seemed like a shopping area, was. Of course, he didn't feel like being put on the news, so instead, he did what anyone who thought like him would do. He made a right turn. Why a right turn and not left? Well, because the right way was always the right way. That's at least how he thought about it. A couple more hours of walking and he seemed to his the edge of town, a beach of all things. His eyes widened and he almost jumped for joy. He had never laid sight on an actual ocean. From what he read in the in flight manual, beaches had the ocean, which was a wonder to him, people who did things for fun, like swimming, water riding, and surfing, but, most of all, the main thing that beaches had, were food stands. "Sweet."

It was simple really. Unlike restaurants and other food places, food stands had kept their food out in the open. Though not known to have a lot, Philadelphia, his home town, had a few. From what he experienced in the past, most food stands set the premade food out in front of a person, before asking to be paid. Maybe because they did transactions without a special machine. It didn't matter. That just made them easy prey.Easy prey, was just what the "Lion" fed on the most. If you looked at it from his point of view, you'd probably do the same. He wasn't looking to be on a wanted list or surveillance camera either. It would be bad for future business, if there had been any to speak of. Hopefully he'd find something to do with his time after the grub.

Tim continued his walk on the sand, which was a new experience for him, and walked some more, enjoying each step he took. It was like snow, but different. Not as crunchy or hard, but hard enough not to sink into either. It was definitely fun for him. This is where he dropped his natural demeanor and started looking like a tourist.

Soon he spotted a small trailer with people standing in front of it, and, if his nose was not lying to him, which it never had, there had been a scent of food coming from said trailer. He waited in line like normal person would have and took in the smell of the ocean air as he did so. Once he was the next in line to order he looked at the small menu to the side of him while listening to the greasy heavy set man in front of him ask him, "What do you want kid?" Of course he couldn't decide. All of the menu items were different from the ones he had seen in Philadelphia. Instead of the usual cheese steak or rack of ribs, he had seen things like, burritos and nacho's. Also something called a California burrito. "Come on kid. I don't have all day. Would you order already? Time is money."

Tim glanced at the man then back to the menu, eying it and placing his hand on his chin like some type of scientist. "I guess I'll have a California burrito," he said in a questionable tone. In truth he didn't know what he was actually asking for, but then again, it wasn't like he cared much. "Yeah. Give me one of those."

"Good choice kid. Here. That'll be four bucks flat."

"What? That seems like a bit much for one item."

"Kid you either pay or not eat. Pick one."

Seeing as the man did exactly as the kid anticipated and laid his food out for him, Tim smiled. "Okay. I'll eat," he said taking the food off the placing area. "I'm not paying though." He then ran like a kid who had stolen candy from a candy store and laughed, quite insanely at his achievement.

"Hey," the man said running out of his trailer. "Come back here. THEIF!!!! Someone get him." He ranted on and huffed looking at the people who were still in line, some even laughing. Seeing as there were no cops around and no one trying to ruin there time at the beach by running after a stranger who skipped out on paying, the man had no choice but to growl and let the kid go. He was in no shape to chase after the boy himself and knew it. "Alright then you bunch of asses. Since you all think it's funny, everything is going up in price by a dollar. Laugh at that." The crowd and the man probably weren't happy, but you could bet that someone was.

Happily eating his food, Tim continued his directionless walk around the city. He was starting to actually regret leaving his home. At least there he had a place to stay, but in this new city, he'd have to rent a place or stay in a hotel. All things which cost money. Money that he sadly didn't have. After saving have of his burrito, he began to think that maybe finding a job would help him out a little. Maybe he could even ask some people if they had room in their homes. Though, as one would expect, each time he walked towards a stranger asking if they had anything he could do for a buck or two, or if they would mind having a stranger sleep on their couch, he was either cursed at or ran away from. "So much for karma," he said, giving up and deciding sleeping on the streets a couple of nights wouldn't be so bad. Call it what you will. Coincidence, luck, or misfortune. Whatever it was actually wasn't set in stone yet, but for the first time in his life, his animal like following on his instincts were starting to scream at him. It could be compared to a bad feeling, or, as he liked to say, spider-mans senses. Usually, it meant that he was in trouble, and that was by just feeling a small hint of what he was currently feeling. He looked around in paranoid manner. Whatever it was, was sure to be a bomb or maybe someone else with devastating power. Though, after a couple turns, he kind of felt dumb. He was slowly getting use to the feeling, even though he still felt it, which was good, but the fact that he was feeling that way at all without anything happening was weird. The sky wasn't turning black and no one around was screaming. Totally out of the ordinary.

Where a normal person would try to avoid situations like these, or leave the area completely, Tim kept searching for what was causing him to feel uncomfortable, even going so far as to walk in different directions to see if he could heighten the feeling. Once he found a little pressure, he moved closer and closer, becoming uncomfortably more hostile as he approached the unknown. Like a curious cat he continued, thinking nothing of the danger of whatever it was that he was about to face. In fact he invited it. The closer he became, the more excited he began to feel. That was, until he had a scent pierce his nostrils and deliver him a kick which made him slap his face so hard it stung. "What the heck? It smells like something died and got burned with a lot of other somethings and died." Of course, since his nose was sensitive the smell could have been coming from across the street or miles away. He looked around and saw that the people around him weren't reacting like he was. Which made him feel great to know that he wasn't all that close. Yup. Just meant that he'd get a stronger scent of the nasty thing once he got there. Sure, he thought about stopping. He even turned around once. However, once he did he began thinking about how he was going to let a smell beat him away from his direction. That was right. He had to prove a point. Timothy wasn't going to be beaten by a smell.

The further he went, the more people seemed to be disappearing, as if they weren't invited in that part of town, and of course the smell was starting to bury itself more and more into his nostrils. Soon it seemed as if the road was completely abandoned, like something out of an apocalyptic movie. He knew he was getting close, especially once he saw a couple of animals sprawled out on the street. A mouse, two kittens and a couple of birds. All dead and not because of roadkill. Looking around he spotted a building that looked as if it was abandoned and he guessed it was his target location. Upon walking up to it he felt as if the smell was finally too much to handle and decided to breathe with his mouth. Bad idea. With one breath he automatically threw up on the sidewalk. "Awe man," he sighed, whipping his mouth. "There goes my lunch and dinner. Now I'm hungry again. Not like I have an appetite.

Walking inside the building was even worse than being outside. Once in, he felt as if the hairs inside his nose were burning and became light headed. Almost to the point of passing out. Though, it wasn't as if he was thinking straight. He was still following his earlier M.O and looked for the cause of his uncomfortable feeling, as well as the cause of the smell. He walked for only a couple minutes, but they had to be the harshest minutes of his life. The more he walked, the worse he had felt. Finally, he heard the sound of something not too far away from his own location. Tim followed the sound and saw a figure that looked like a person, though he didn't know if he would find another dead body or a living being. The smell was hard to explain. He had smelled a rotting corpse before, but never had he sniffed air that was rotten with all sorts of dead specimens. Rats, insects, some more rodents, and a couple small cats. This was no place for a person to be. With each step closer to the person, he had felt his own body fading away. It was as if he was slowly walking through death valley. Cold sweats began to trickle across his skin and his vision was blurred. No. Not so much blurred as do to him having trouble keeping his eyes open. "Hey," he tried to yell as loud as he could. "Hey!!! D-Don't just sit there. We... We should..." His legs gave in and he finally dropped. The sensation was hard to explain. While feeling worse than the time he had caught the flu as a kid, he also was starting to feel comfortable. So comfortable in fact, he just wanted to fall asleep. "Listen. We should. . . Get out . . . Of. . . here." Apart from the loud thump of his body hitting the floor, his words had become nothing more than whispers. He was out like a light and there was nothing he could do about while inside that area. He had started to regret following his instincts and not his brain. Timothy even began wondering why his instincts would take him to this location. Maybe it wasn't his instincts, but himself that decided to do it. After all, he did have a feeling earlier that he needed to turn back. However, it didn't matter now. Nothing did.

Monica frowned staring down at her hands. She wanted to cry but the young woman was already used to all this death. It followed her everywhere she went. Rubbing at dry eyes she shifted positions so that she could be a bit more comfortable. Monica was glad she was able to find someplace to stay even if it was old and abandoned. It simply meant she wouldn't have to deal with people.

Reaching for a nearby rusty pole she tapped the ground absentmindedly, even going so far as to prod a dead mouse just out of arms reach of herself. It was then that a loud shuffling could be heard entering the warehouse. Surprised by it Monica quickly stood wondering how anybody could possibly have managed to enter considering the deathly miasma that hung around her. It was a young man her own age she guessed and he was pretty dumb to try and approach her.

Adding distance between the two of them, Monica was wary of the arrival of another human being but then she shook her head to rid herself of such a thought. You're not human not even close. You're a monster of death. A bit frightened as the guy continued to try and speak to her, she knew it was pointless seeing as he'd probably die soon enough. Most of the people who were in the surrounding area left when they smelled the miasma but none of them stayed long enough for it to really affect them. However this time she knew he wasn't going to die which lightened her depressed mood but just barely.

Watching, with a now apathetic face, as the kid fell to the floor unconscious Monica moved away to another part of the building. She wasn't about to touch the kid least she do kill him. That and she just wanted to be alone.



The young woman woke up later than she expected she would. It was the sound of a rusty door being moved that woke her. Sitting up quickly Monica scurried to the shadows only briefly glancing at the kids body from a few nights ago. Once again she wondered how anyone was able to get this far. There was no way the door just opened by themselves. It could also have been a ghost although Monica was a manipulator of nether energy, the energy of death, she wasn't a strong believer of ghosts. Of course she wouldn't be surprised if some ghost tried to kill her for accidentally killing them.

Suddenly a voice rang out, echoing throughout the more or less empty warehouse. For a moment Monica's heart fluttered. The young woman wanted to come out but she really didn't want to deal with people lest they feel repulsed by her presence. It seemed that this person, a woman she assumed from their voice, was genuinely interested in knowing that someone was there.

Biting her lip Monica shuffled out of the shadows, peeking around a column of old concrete. It was enough to be seen by the woman but Monica made sure there was distance between them so she wouldn't necessarily have to deal with her. The woman before her seemed perfectly fine being around her despite the deathly miasma. Curious Monica spoke for what seemed like a very long time. "How are you still alive?" Frowning Monica looked downwards a look of guilt apparent on her face. She was just waiting for the woman to fall down unconscious or be repulsed by her presence.

A Summary of Events

It had only been yesterday since the Wickeds had accepted more into their ranks. However whether they really planned to stay was up to them, the Wickeds leader, Morgan, was the kind to force others into his group. He let them stay for however long they wanted to and if they were satisfied by how life was as a Wicked then they were more than welcome to become an official member. What was supposed to be a simple investigation turned into a nasty fight with a different Other than the one they were told to look into.

The arrival of new members wasn’t the only thing that had occurred the other day, one of their veterans, Morgan’s right hand man, had returned but in the worst way possible. He had lost nearly all of his familiars but with when he was suddenly engulfed in purple fire he was alright. Esme healed him until there was nothing left to be healed. Not only was Cain healed but Gemma’s charge as well. The kid had yet to wake up but that was to be expected with his wounds. Cain was still resting after his ordeal on Morgan’s orders.

~ ~ ~ ~

A Few Weeks Later
Elsewhere

The light was so, so very bright; too bright to open your eyes all the way and most certainly too white to be considered natural. He wanted to see where he was but he felt in unsurmountable pain behind his eyes. Grinding his teeth, he decided to try squinting while looking down instead of upwards. Even this was painful but by continuously blinking he was able to get his eyes to somewhat adjust to the light. He quickly found out the reason as to why it was so bright. The walls were painted white from what little he saw of them for the majority of the room was covered by large mirrors. Just from seeing so little, his head began to throb. With all the mirrors facing each other, they created an endless illusion to the point where he couldn’t tell how big the room was.

Suddenly a figure appeared in his peripheral vision. Dark eyes darted to the figures location but in doing so he opened his eyes too wide. The most rhythmic of throbbing came about and he soon regretted ever trying to see who had entered the room. At first he had thought there was only one other person in the room but he soon realized that there was one other person. It was strange, the sound the second person made. It was as if they were sliding across the floor and he couldn’t feel their movements like he did with the other fellow. Then he realized from the occasional squeak and the final click that this person wasn’t walking, they were being pulled in what he assumed was a wheelchair.

“This is the young man I was telling you about. He was so brave as to volunteer to help us out.” The young man on the table felt a chill caress his body and he shivered at the word choice the man used. He didn’t come close to volunteering for whatever the hell this was. They just came out of nowhere as soon as he locked the door to his apartment. Hands grabbed him, pulling something heavy over his head and then tying something over his mouth to muffle his screaming. Those karate lessons proved worthless by the end of the struggle and he blacked out from being shocked heavily. The young man truly wished he could speak his mind and tell this person that he didn’t want to be there, to protest against his claim but oddly enough his mouth felt heavy and he couldn’t move it. They must have drugged him with something otherwise he would’ve ditched this whole damn place from the moment he woke up.

In response to the man’s proclamation, there was a grunt of some sort and then what sounded like whispers. Despite being so close to the pair, the young man couldn’t hear a single thing. From what he could glean from it the whispers sounded feminine but he wasn’t too sure. Suddenly cold fingers prodded his side and he jumped. Someone giggled and this time for sure they sounded like a girl. The very same hand pulled at his shirt and began to cut away at it. Clenching his teeth, the young man could feel his body tensing in utter fear. He couldn’t see a single thing of what they were doing to him other than taking his clothes off. He could hear the snip of the scissors and feel it brush against his skin. Eventually they finished and the throbbing died down to a dull ache but a bearable one. In realizing this, the young man thought of opening his eyes. Whatever drug they had given him had finally begun to wear off. He could tell since he fluttered his eyes and the light wasn’t as hurtful as it had been at the beginning.

Come on Anthony you can do this. Just look at him and burn him to hell, but he knew he’d have to wait until he was sure the guy was directly over him and the drug had worn off a little more. So Anthony waited, he waited until right after he felt the needles go into his arms and finally opened them when those hands pressed against his head to turn it a certain way. Those dark eyes snapped open, staring up at pale pink eyes with such an intensity they could burn and burn they almost did. The drug was still in his system so instead of burning his kidnapper’s eyes out Anthony began to burn the table. The pink eyed man jumped back, rubbing at his own eyes but was quick to get back up. Fishing around in his lab coats pocket, he produced a syringe and thrust it into Anthony’s arm.

Anthony yelled out and struggled until he could struggle no more against the drug. After his body had finally ceased moving and was perfectly still, save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the pink eyed man pulled a hand through his unruly hair. He let out a sigh and chuckled, turning his attention to the small woman who sat in the wheelchair. “I sincerely apologize for that Odette. We were sure that the drug would keep him under for another hour.” He gently laid his hand on the woman’s shoulder and began to push her chair to a location on the wall. Opening the door, he pushed her chair out into the hallway where another pair of hands took her.

The man walked back to where Anthony slept and loomed over his body. He leaned down close to his ear, his grip on the boy’s shoulders tight. “I know you probably can’t hear me but next time you embarrass me in front of my beloved Odette and I’ll skin you alive.” His words dripped with pure venom. As if Anthony heard and felt this strange man’s words, his body jerked and the man chuckled darkly before finally leaving the room himself.

In the midst of it all, at least for one, there was nothing but darkness. Darkness and the sound of drums paddling and voices whispering. Along with the sounds, the heaviness of the body would leave one to believe he was about to die awake, but asleep at the same time. Able to hear the outside, but not able to call for them. There was no matter of time in this new found hell of his. As far as he was concerned, he should have died from hunger ages ago. No, hunger was the least of his problems. With a mouth as dry as sand in the Sahara, he was sure he must've been fully dry. Though, as always, once he felt he was truly about to pass on to whatever he deserved, he was able to open his eyes. It was still dark, but he could tell-no, feel the movements. Not only that, but the cold air drafting in, the moist coolness of the floor, and the pain from not having moved his bones.
He made it to his feet with just a little more effort than normal, and checked to see if he was in one piece. "Hmm. . . I'm not really hurt huh? I really have to stop exaggerating. Must just be this California air. Yeah. Can't say it's as bad as home, but it must've been the burrito. Hehe. Karma."
The boy tried to play it off. He didn't want to have to deal with it. Though, through the blanket of the moonlight he had no choice but to remember the power that person had. There were several small life forms from animals to insects scattered about and the smell of death had remained. Not only that, but she was able to take him out without having to move.
"Well whatever," he said walking around to one of the exits. "She didn't kill me, so I should be thankful I guess. However," his eyes wandered around to the holes in the side and top of the building. "Judging by the new look of this place I'd say there was a fight. Yeah. More people were here and they're not anymore. They were here..... and they left me? What the hell!!?!?"
He crossed his arms thinking about how people just left him for dead. "So, California's not as innocent as I took it for huh? No problem. I'll just..."
The sound of sirens suddenly popped in his ears. It was sudden and they weren't far away. Almost as if the cops were actually smart about going to a destination where they might find a suspect. Unluckily, the suspect was only going to be one person, the one left in the room. Tim.
The boy tried to find someplace to run or hide, but he couldn't see any good paths of escape. In truth, there was only one thing to do. He outstretched his hand and attempted to gather enough substance to activate his power, but that was all it was. Seemed he hadn't fully recovered yet from whatever had knocked him out. It didn't look good. Without his power he was just a normal person. He could probably take a couple good shots, but he wouldn't be able to protect his organs. It was something really. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was definitely something. Smiling at the thought of having all these first in one day. His first loss, his first time getting caught, and for the first time in his life it wasn't really his fault. He raised his hands and dropped to his knees. The smile disappeared from his face as soon as the cops arrived to avoid unneeded suspicion, but he was feeling butterflies unlike any he'd ever felt before. It was a sort of maniacal excitement, but it was okay. He liked the feeling of adding fuel to the fire burning in his chest and the anger boiled within, but he didn't show it presently. The time would come. This he promised himself. He'd show the whole city that he wasn't going to be ignored. If there were people who were strong out there fighting each other for whatever reason, then the money must have been good too. However, he would worry about that later. As soon as he could figure out how to get out of jail.


During the three days of processing, Timothy was interrogated about poisoning animals and playing with explosives. He was a kid with a pretty clean record thanks to his powers making his hair flare and his features change. The change is minor, but no one ever gets a good look at him so it's kept him safe thus far. He wasn't even accused of being a mutant, though someone asked him if he had seen any freaks. Tim mentioned he passed out probably from something in the air and the detectives were forced to get him a blood test along with one of the dead animals. He said he wouldn't talk until then. Big mistake.

Within four days, Tim was sent to Twin Towers Correction Facility. A jail that use to only hold crimes of the short time and mental patients ranging from war vets to the homeless. Now it's a place for hardened criminals and the like, but at least there wouldn't be any powers being thrown left and right to worry about. Bad mutants that get caught get sent to places where they usually don't return. Mostly because they do major crimes when that happens. Tim knew he would have to be smart about how he carried himself.

Bang... Bang... Bang... Bang... Bang...
The steady sound of his fist diving into the face of a slightly bigger inmate could be heard as if he was purposefully making a rhythm out of it. It didn't take long for the man to slow his breathing and Timothy let him go, sprawling to the floor so that he wouldn't get tackled by over motivated officers, even though they still managed to jump on him and hit him a few times. Once they were done having their fun, he was taken to the upper level, to meet the warden of that department. He found it strange that it was still labeled with the signs and warnings of a mental ward. He was sure the detective told him he'd just be with normal prisoners.
"What's up with this? I was told this wasn't a mental ward anymore."
One of the officers looked back at him and shook his head. "It's not."
"Then why do they still have the suicide watch and mental patient lookout signs?"
"You'd have to ask one of the men who work up here. We each stay on our respective floors."

Tim hadn't heard of a jail like that before, but his only thing was juvie and that didn't count. He wished this didn't count either, even though he knew that was never going to be granted unless he wanted both his persona's to be on the run. At least he could rely on the blood tests. Hopefully it wouldn't take long.

Finally the men dropped him off at the security door and he was picked up by two other men wearing the same uniform. Though they didn't look inviting to him, Tim didn't see any difference between the cops on this floor and the ones on the others. He wondered how the prisoners were. Though he didn't mind getting into another fight.
"Follow me," one of the officers said, leaving the other to trail behind Tim. The three of them went into another security opening and the front officer grabbed a box and threw it on the ground while the other walked past him to go to another room.
"Take that box. Grab one blanket, one toothbrush, and one roll of toilet paper. If I were you I'd make good use of that because we don't give out a lot of toilet paper and we also don't give out pillows."

Tim tried to keep his eyes away from the man. His voice was deep and dominant. Almost like he was ex military himself. Though he couldn't help but to make eye contact once he was handed his items. Just as he thought. The officer was almost looking down on him, judging him with his eyes. As if he had the right to judge. Not only was he a mere human, but Tim could end his life faster than his mother spent beginning it. 'No dude. Calm down. We don't need to do this. We don't lose it, we use it.'
He sighed to let go of the feeling and shrugged looking down at his box to see that there was a pill on top of his blanket.
"What's this," he asked.
"All patients of floor seven are required to take their meds." Once again the officers tone was deep and commanding, but it wasn't loud. Though, it wasn't like it mattered how he said it, there wasn't a need to take his meds because he had no meds prescribed to him.

"Come on. I think this is a mistake, let me talk to the d--uughgh!!!"
In an instant, once again he was on the floor, now feeling his muscles having spasms. This time, he wasn't forced to pass out, but instead forced to take a pill. A pill which would send him into a stupor as fast as he swallowed. His last clear thought, was wondering what type of pill would affect him so quickly and why would he be forced to take it in jail.

Bang. Thumb. Crack.

"Uff."

"Shit. That's what you are Tim. You're worthless. Your mother couldn't even stand you which is why she left."

Tim was sprawled out on the floor. He was sure his jaw had broken this time from the man's fist and was feeling something inside of his chest that felt like fear. He was sure he was afraid; afraid and unable to move. It had to be the worse feeling he had ever felt in his whole ten years of life. Much worse than the constant beating he took on a weekly to a near daily basis. This helpless feeling, it came with extra feelings that would tear apart anyone from the inside out. The lump in that grew hollow in between his ribs, growing out to make his whole body feel empty. The fire that burned within his eyes, mouth, and the tips of his fingers. He wished everyday for nothing but the courage to kill that man. However, he wasn't sure what stopped him from doing it. If anything, Timothy believed it was his own personal weakness that prevented him from saving himself.

So it would continue on. Though the longer it continued, Tim grew more adjusted, placing the fire he was feeling in his joints and spread it through his walking corpse. He could never win, but he grew to the part where he could at least laugh at the man for not being able to down a nine year old. However, the beatings grew more severe with every second Tim remained standing, but he knew it was going to end sometime. It usually did. His father would get tired realizing that Tim didn't really do anything to piss him off enough to hurt his hand on the boys face and body anymore, commenting at times how it seemed the boys bones grew stronger every day, passing it up to puberty.

His father had a girlfriend, Sarah Cunnings. Like them, she also had Italian background. Like Tim, sometimes she would have to take the blunt of his father's drunken stupor. Especially the times when she tried to get the man off of his son and even some of the times he caught her patching the lad up. It had seemed, she was luckier than Tim. After all, she was an adult and had free roam of movement, so when she decided she had enough bags were packed and she was outside waiting for a cab. It seemed his father was going to let her go at first, but once he began drinking he was outside faster than the cab could pull up to the neighborhood. Though when he had her outside the house, Tim was able to push him off of her, throwing the man down the steps and allowing her to run somewhere and call the authorities. Most likely they wouldn't have done anything, for they had past experiences with the law, but Tim was sure that at least she'd get away.

The boy quickly ran inside the house, locking himself in his room. Being only ten at the time, he was unaware of any other options for him and he knew his father wasn't going to be in the best of moods by the time he returned up the stairs. Crawled into the bathroom not hearing or feeling any types of movements around him. Even after the sun fell and nothing but the street lights could be seen from the window on the bathroom wall, there was no word or creak. Eventually he began to feel the need for food and water, forcing him to crawl out of his hiding spot. Once he opened the door he could feel his throat clogging up and his breath being ceased by fear. His father had been sitting against the wall adjacent to the bathroom door. He had a full bottle of booze left next to a dozen empty bottles and began taken a swig from the half finished one in his hand.

His eyes were tired as they gazed at his son, but that may have been because his body was running on fumes. The man had drank himself past his normal limit. He had literally drank himself sober, though Tim was sure his new sober personality wasn't a nice one.

"T-... Ahem," His father's voice was raspy from hours of drinking without talking. "Timmy. Come here son."

Timothy was feeling that feeling again. A feeling he had thought he had gotten rid of. He knew this was it. Out of all the times his dad had beaten him, he'd never approach him so calmly.

"What's the matter? You feeling scared?" His father had gotten to his feet, picking up the full bottle. "Don't feel scared. You're all I got left. Your mother left, my girlfriend left...." Without finishing his sentence he took the half bottle of beer and handed it out to his ten year old son. "Here," he said giving a genuine smile. "You deserve this. Knocked your old man on his ass you did."

Tim didn't move from the bathroom opening. He didn't want to drink the same stuff that was making his father mad.

"Come on.....COME ON!!!! TAKE IT!!!"

With his dad falling back over the edge, Tim saw no choice, but to take his drink. He had never tasted beer before and when he placed his nose over the opening to smell it's aroma, he quickly moved his face away. "I can't... drink this..."

His stutters were heard by his father who sighed. "You know Tim. All I want is a strong son. A son who knows his place in the world like a real man should. You know what I got instead?"

CRASH!!!!

The sound of glass raining down on the floor along with drops of fluids red and piss colored sounded throughout the house as Tim was staggered back. The only thing he could hear was ringing in his ears and he felt as if he had just awoken from a feverish sleep. The lights were flashing around him as he tried to get a grip on reality. It was at this point that the boy had figured death wasn't far behind him.

Just as he thought, his father wasn't done. The man shoved him into the wall, giving him body shots and chocking the life out of him.

"I got a whiny little bitch who can't do anything for me. You see this Tim. You see the man your scared of. You mad him. This is all your," bang, "fucking," thump, "fault."

When all was said and done, Tim was on the floor, apparently beaten to death, with his dad cursing while walking into the other room presumably to get another drink. However, the man was stopped by a sound he wasn't expecting. Turning around to see what the boy was up to this time, he saw him beginning to stand on his feet. At first he was sure the boy was having a hard time, but after he was on his feet, Tim's body rose easily moving around as if trying to stretch out the pain. On top of that, he began cracking various parts of his body, seemingly mocking the man.

"Why you little shi...." His father stopped talking once Timothy turned around. The kid was actually smiling. Blood was running down his face, there was also the shine of glass which could have been lodged in his wound and he was only ten. Only a little baby still. Yet, he was smiling. His dad gritted his teeth, unaware of what he should do about it, let alone what he wanted to do. Though Tim began chuckling and then started laughing. He laughed until he had to cough and when he covered his mouth just to see that blood was coming with the cough he laughed some more.

"You.... You think I'm still scared after all this time. All I know is this," Tim said while licking the blood from his hand. "This taste, this feeling. It's not fear old man. It's excitement."

The walls started cracking around the house and this time it was Tim's father who was becoming afraid. He didn't know what in the world was going on, but he was sure his son was causing it.

"This IS EXCITING!!!!"

Tim had let his instincts completely take over the boy inside him and only thought of what he knew and his journey of learning. It all made sense, everything his father had done. He could understand now what the man had wanted and he was planning on giving it to him, tenfold.

The wall went from being cracked to bursting, sending debris everywhere. His father began to run for the door, but by the time he had approached the knob, the whole door shattered, staggering the man backwards on to his butt. He quickly got back up and picked up his bottle which still had beer left inside. "Fine. You want to challenge your old man. Then come on. What's stopping you?

Tim was too busy looking at his hand which had just been resting inside some kind of strange glove. He wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed like he had no way to back down now. Truth be told he probably didn't want to. Yeah, he was going to relish in the moment. He charged at his father, bursting through the dust and corrosion that use to be his hallway. He screamed as the roof started to cave and threw a punch at his father's jaw. His father reacted as if he had some type of boxing background, slipping out of the way just to pummel his son with a shot of blows to the face.

Tim only squinted at the round of punches, with each one landed, even though they had been harder than any he'd ever received before, he could feel the pain disappearing. With every hardy shot that came, the boy saw that he was becoming someone who couldn't be hurt by his father anymore. His grin formed and became more bestial and he began to want to show his father he had no power over him anymore. With the last punch he let his father throw, he allowed the man to reach his face and tightened his neck, giving the effect of hitting an unmovable object. He was sure the cracking sounds he heard this time weren't the ones of his own bones, but the bones of his father's hand. The man even gave a long agonizing grunt to go with it, which made Tim even hungrier to put the man in his place. His pawed hand grabbed his fathers forearm and he squeezed with all of his might, easily crushing the man's arm. This time the man's scream was more like a woman's. Tim would have thought it was if not for the raspy voice that echoed. The louder his father screamed, the more Tim realized he hated the man's voice.

He did the man a favor by letting go of his arm, but retracted the favor by kneeling and giving his leg a hard hook, bathing the floor in blood and leaving the man with his leg just hanging on for dear life.

With the man now screaming on the floor, Tim was able to get on top of him, keeping him in place by his throat.

"All this time. All this time I didn't know what it was like," he said in his power trance. "You gave me nothing but pain and heartache. You made me like this. . . No. You were trying to break my body. Break my spirit. The only thing you broke was my brain. That's okay. I want to thank you for it."

For minutes that flowed afterwards, Tim began beating his dad with his powerless hand wanting to feel the skin on skin contact. Though, since his body was evolving as well as whatever power he had he still had enough force to break his father's nose in his first hit and break his jaw in the third. He continued to cause irreparable damage to the man. It wasn't until his pleads for the boy to stop was muffled by gargles of blood and sirens from outside that he stopped. It's funny how people part ways. He felt as if he wouldn't have done it any other type of way.


Seven years later and he finds himself finally in jail for reasons that seemed to be zero. He was caged and once again forced to be reformed. However, he wasn't a human, but a beast in a human shell. Instincts had made the drugs ware off. His powers brought him back to reality, and even though he was caged, it was only a matter of time before he escaped.

"Sir. Sir look at this. After two weeks patient RN is finally awake."

"Huh... How's that possible these meds are supposed to work for a year without fail?"

"I'm not sure sir."

"What about his powers? Has he shown any sign of anything?"

"The patient still has shown zero signs of any powers."

"Well that makes zero sense. His blood test say he's one of those freaks."

"No, he seems to just be sitting in place at the time, but his posture changed and his breathing and heart rate are back to normal rating. . . There's one more thing sir."

"What's that?"

"Patient seems to be smiling."

"What?"

"It could be my imagination, but he seems to be hyping himself up. His heart rate keeps rising and dropping."

"Shut up," The bigger of the two men stood up and fixed his belt. "I'll go down there myself and see what's up with this two week kid. There must be something wrong with his dosage."
..........................................................................

"Huh?"

Joe found himself waking up, seemingly during the afternoon again. He was intending to sleep the day away, but it seemed like something was in the air. It was familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on what made it so. Though he imagined that the faint life of the corpse he had felt two weeks ago was finally trying to shine. He remembered going back a week before to check to see if any other bodies were around, but the warehouse was empty upon his arrival. The feds and emergency departments had already cleaned up what was there. "Figured that human body was still alive. Probably should have grabbed him before I left the scene."

The man got dressed writing a letter that said, "Hiya's. Lol... Do you even write LOL in an actual letter. Whatev's. Seriously though, that thing we were talking about before with the nature of our powers. Well I kinda did an experiment to see what would happen if I sent a normal person to jail, knowing that he would be sent to the seventh floor. You remember that one right, the one with the big guy who thinks he's one of those warden's off of the movies. Anyway, I'm a go get him now since his energy is feeling off. You might want to prepare a good sedative though. It's only been two weeks, but he's back to full condition and you know those meds are critical. So I'm a need yours to be more critical. Oh. Don't tell Morgan I let the kid get sent there and I'll let you do one test on me. ONE. . . Maybe."

After writing the letter he left his room and placed it underneath Gemma's door. He decided it probably wouldn't be a good idea to go down the steps since he could feel someone's energy down there, so he just hopped out of his window flying on his energy made platform. He still wanted to see the results of his own experiment, but wasn't sure exactly how he was going to go about doing both that and saving the kid from becoming an Other. Still, he knew he could just blow everything up if push came to shove.

Timothy opened his eyes to the lone darkness of his cell. With the cold air and aggravation from the smooth cemented floor, only the smell of the walls, with their moist forest scent, gave him any type of closure. It wasn't enough. At least not enough to bring in the vibe of complacency that one would need to want to call it home. With the lack of a hearing, there was only one true way towards freedom. Today was as good as day as any, if any would ever come without his resolve. The young man wanted to rest and wait his sentence out, but by the current time he was aware that there wasn't a sentence to begin with. He was held there. Against his will, he was forced drugs that would make him powerless, the first dose leaving his legs numb. If anything he was lucky. For him, drugs given on a regular bases held no long lasting effects. Mixed with the current of adrenaline that was rushing through his veins almost forcing them to explode, his bodies durability was kicking in and his immune system was following suit, allowing him to stand on his legs for the first time in days. He leaned against the wall, feeling the dizziness swell from his head all the way down to his toes, his body slowly trying to feel normal again.
Glaring at the closed door in front of him, Tim moved his hand, pointing it in its direction to absorb the doors matter. Just as he was about to focus, the door opened and a burly man stepped through the opening. As his eyes focused, the mans clothing came into view, revealing he was not just an officer in the prison, but, judging by his different apparel, he was most likely a high ranking member of the guard force. The man walked in with a water bottle in his hand, guzzling it down as if he hadn't drank anything for weeks.

Throwing the bottle on the ground, the husky mammoth of a man, burped and spat on the floor in Tims direction. The grin that formed on his face was just as ominous as the situation and Tim reacted with wide smile of his own. "You the welcoming comity? Really like the suite, but I'd rather have the penthouse. There's no view here."

The mans grin diminished for a second as he spat on the floor, which was beginning to leave the smell of rubbing alcohol in the small box of a room. "Patient seems to be expressing signs of clarity even though the doses have been given. Extreme measures will now be taken."

Tim looked around to see if there was another person with the man, but it seemed he was talking to himself. Feeling the man to be insane, Tim began walking towards the door, but by the time he crossed the mans path, he was forced a few feet back. The punch was almost good enough knock him out within his dazed state of mind. On impulse, the young man crawled back to his feet and lunged at the man, who was laughing that a small guy like him would try to tackle him. However, Tim's goal wasn't to attack, but to swoop around the man. He succeed in switching position from the mans front to his back and could have made his way to the door. Then again he also could have kept the fight going, which is what he decided to do since the giant had the odasity to hit him. Since the guy was so sure of his size over Tim's he wasn't postured to stay balance on the floor, giving the boy the opportunity to pull him off the ground. Suplexing him to the ground, Tim got up and spit on the ground, just missing the man saying, "You didn't even know who you were messin with," while shaking his head in disappointment.

He stepped outside his cell able to fully stretch out and breath some fresh air, even though it was inside of a closed room. Still, it was better than the small box they had him sleeping in. His eyes adjusted to the light around the facility only to see a few dozen men pointing guns at him from a far distance and when he looked around, Tim realized that these men were covering all points of exit. He sighed, realizing that his escape wouldn't come easy, but suddenly began laughing. "So, this is what jail is like. What a challenge," he said to himself.
There was a railing in front of him that led to the lower floors and though there were also guards watching the bottom entrances too, Tim had an idea. One which he had no choice but to test. He climbed the two bars on the railing and spread out his arms in a sacrificial style, leaning over to fall face first into the ground. He fell two flights down, breaking off pieces of the cemented lined walls. Everyone below had made way for his inevitable decent which wasn't going to be pretty, though they hadn't taken their muzzles off of him. Unluckily for them, they hadn't witnessed the bods power before and were pushed back by the shock wave his fall created.

Tim, who had already summoned his lions paw, pounded off of the ground shooting into the sky ready to demolish the ceiling. Letting go of one of the charges on his back, he began to soar upwards at breakneck speed. It was too easy to tell the truth and he was a little disappointed. Though when he saw something other than the wall in his way, he was shocked. For the man who had fallen to his suplex was falling down towards him and before Tim could even react he was hit once more, this time, so hard that he couldn't register it before he was already on the ground, planted in a crater.

The room was now spinning in a variety of directions and he blinked multiple times to regain focus, all to no avail.

The giant of a man landed on his feet leaving a few cracks under his feet. His grin was just as predatorial as ever and he cracked his knuckles in achievement. "I guess, you didn't know who you were messin' with. Ey kid?" He looked over at the boy who was struggling to pick himself off of the ground, surprised that he didn't just break every bone in his body. "New statement," he said in a low tone. "Subject seems to be dangerously durable. If he doesn't die during detainment, his dosage should go up triple what he was previously given."

Tim was barely on his feet when he looked back at the man who was slowly changing in skin color from peach to grey. Even his hairy arms were turning grey. No, it was actually a silver color which reflect his surroundings. Tim glanced up at the ceiling then back to the man, figuring that he'd have to get past him first before escaping. "I don't know who you are, but if you think your metal powers are going to scare me out of escaping, I'm going to have to sorrowfully show you the error of your thought pattern."

"Oh..." The man grinned. "You sure talk a big game kid. Almost as much as your fellow criminals. Men always come here talking of how they're going to escape my jail. They come with way bigger mouths than you and powers that'll put yours to shame. Yet you think you're different. Hehe. I'm the damn warden. Do you know what that title means? What it means in a hell whole city like this?"

"Yeah. It means you choked a lot before getting here."

"What?" The warden was paused in thought on the meaning of the young mans words, which gave Tim the perfect opportunity to charge him. Letting loose the second of the three cartridges on his back, he launched towards the man ready to give him the punch of a lifetime. However, the impact wasn't the type that had wanted. Instead of pushing him forwards, or being paused by the strength of his metal body, Tims hand when straight through. The impact felt as if he was punching through a thick gelatin that slowly hardened the more he struggled and soon he found that he was able to remove his arm from the mans chest.

"So. You're trying to call me out of my sex? Heh. You have nice wordplay for a hoodlum. Though, you took the plunge and ended up in the depths. You shall never escape the flames of eternity once there. So I suggest you pray." From the wardens back, three long flowing objects began forming themselves in a grotesque alien manner. Though once they solidified, forming three large blades Tim could feel his stomach drop. With a final smirk sketching it's way across his face, he quietly said, "Seems like I'm pretty fucked then."
...............................................................................................................................................

A few moments earlier

Joe sped towards the Jail wondering if it was actually a good idea to infiltrate it to find some kid from off the street. He was sure he'd have a warrant on his back after this one. That is if he left any traces. It was common for him to cover up his tracks, but he didn't usually need to cover up federal affairs. Even Joe stayed away from the police and military, more worried that he'd have to leave the Wicked Ones than anything. He didn't want to have to go on the run.

He thought about it for the whole trip to the building and once he was close enough to be spotted he suddenly shrugged his shoulders. "I guess the question isn't if I should infiltrate them or not, but if I should crush them or blow em up." He came to a conclusion. All he had to do was blow up the top floor. That's where all of the other's were. It would be an easy cover up. However, a few casualties were bound to happen if he did that, "But that's life I guess. They don't care about you, so why should you care about them. Yep. You're right. I'm right. Of course I'm right. Cuz I'm one of the good guys."

Pointing a finger at the building, a small orb of energy formed before shooting off in the buildings direction, whistling through the air as it traveled. Once it was obvious that it had reached its destination, Joe snapped his fingers looking at the show of destruction in front of him with wide eyes and an innocent smile.
...............................................................................................................................................

Tim closed his eyes as the blades went for his person, awaiting all the pain that was sure to come with getting skewered. However, what he wasn't expecting was a loud whistle followed by a bang which created a quick cloud of dust and debris around the room. His body went into shock from the loud thunderous sound and he was swept off of his feet for their wasn't anything under them anymore. With his mind trying to take everything in, his thoughts seemed to halt until his back finally hit something.

Joe had used the gust of destruction to mask his entrance. He looked around with a quick scan and to his surprise, he didn't even have to check the cells for the boy. It was a successful in and out mission as far as he could tell. "I really hope you don't have any broken bones," he said as he swooped over to Tim and picked him up. "Damn, your heavy. Maybe it's that arm of yours." Joe felt the gauntlet armor that was around the boys arm, pouting at the life like texture it had. He did one more look around the building to make sure there were no eyes on him and blasted another part of the wall to create more dust for his exit. "Mission success. Just wait until Morgan sees you man. We're going to have so much fun."

Morgan

It would seem Aleksej only wished to say hello to the Wickeds. Morgan watched her leave the vicinity of their home. He had offered, as he did often times, for her to stay with them but her answer was the same as usual, just a simple yet sarcastic no. Briefly he thought of the new recruits they managed to scrounge up. In thinking this he laughed at himself for making it seem like they were trying to reach a quota. Which in a sense they were but not for the reasons a normal business had. The more kids, and adults, they brought in the less they were exposed to the harsh reality of being someone with such inhuman abilities. The Wickeds didn’t have to worry about two or three kids turning into an Other because they allowed for their power to consume them or they simply went to the dark side.

Now that Aleksej was nowhere in sight Morgan went back inside. He took note of the busted down door and the makeshift wall they had made when Cain’s familiar unceremoniously entered the Wickeds compound. With a heavy sigh Morgan began to wonder at the damage the griffin had caused. It wasn’t like they had a secure flow of money coming in. If they did the warehouse would definitely look a lot better than it did now. “Ah well what can you do?” he mused to himself.

~ ~ ~

It hadn’t really been very long since Aleksej’s visit but for the most part everyone was a lot more enthusiastic than normal. Maybe it was because Cain, from his bed, suggested, well more like ordered them to head back out to bring in some more recruits. While the idea appealed to Morgan, he just couldn’t find a decent location that would be good enough for them. The more isolated it was from prying eyes the better however that also meant potential recruits were less inclined to come so far.

The sound of running feet made Morgan pause. Just in time to watch a small group of kids speed down the halls. The kids reminded him of the few families that had truly made their home here amongst the Wicked. Some of the people within this building were parents but without a doubt they were all someone’s kid at one point in their lives, no matter how brief. Now that he thought about the place was getting a little bit rundown and not to mention a tad crowded. Hmm maybe we should move? For all they knew a better, more suitable home awaited them outside the city of Angels, as he liked to call it. Maybe it was time for a new start.

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To be continued . . . maybe . . .