********************************************************************** DISCLAIMER 1) This material is not used for monetary profit in any manner. It is done solely for enjoyment purposes, and as homage to the great stories and characters of Marvel Comics Group 2) All the characters, events, and locations portrayed within are recognized as property of Marvel Comics Group should they so wish. 3) This story has been written by Samy Merchi . Any commentary in the form of compliments or critique is welcomed, and eagerly hoped for. So go ahead and drop me a line telling me what you thought, okay? It'll make my day. ;) ********************************************************************** ************************** *** HELLIONS: REBIRTH! *** ************************** CHAPTER ONE: Homecoming Massachusetts Academy. Located oddly enough in Massachusetts, close to the small town of Snow Valley, it has for a long time served as a place of education for a plethora of most interesting people. Criminals and lawmen, activists and even one current senator, humans and mutants alike, have once in their youth walked the halls of this proud estabilishment. But arguably, some of the most interesting students of this institution are now dead. And nothing saddens Emma Frost, the once sole headmaster and dictator of the school, more. After the death of her prize students, the mutant Hellions, at the hands of Trevor Fitzroy, there has been an aching in her heart that nothing can quell. More often than not, she wishes she had been the one who had died that day when Fitzroy attacked the Hellfire Club with his Sentinels, and not her beloved Hellions. In a way, she did. Both physically and spiritually. The battle resulted in sending her into a deep coma, almost as if she had died. But upon waking up and discovering what had happened to her students, the physical pain she had suffered paled in significance to the breaking of her heart. Jetstream. Roulette. Tarot. Catseye. Yes, even Beef and Bevatron, whom she had let join the alpha Hellions from the ranks of the trainees just weeks before the tragedy. She missed them all. And more than that, she hated herself for not having trained them harder, pushed them over the edge more, so that they might have survived that day. She was their teacher, whom they counted upon to teach them what they needed to know to survive in this world. And she had let them down. Now, she had a new chance. Together with Sean Cassidy, the X-Man Banshee, they had collected a new group of students, a second chance for her. And though she loved these new children as well, and relished the chance to start all over... She sighed and shook her head, downing her shot of vodka... ...they were not the Hellions. A lone, and lonely form stood upon the forested hills overlooking the Massachusetts Academy. He was nestled deep in shadow, with a long, dark trenchcoat covering his form fully, whipping about slightly in the cold spring winds, even as the slight drizzle kept him shivering. But he didn't really care. He was home. Well, not home exactly, but the one place in the world which almost felt like one to him. His eyes widened as he crested the hill, and laid his eyes upon the proud buildings of the Academy for the first time in years. Unconsciously, his pace quickened, and every step suddenly seemed easier, lighter, even as the effects of the cold weather were pushed away, to the back of his head, and soon forgotten. He was... "...home, hayseed! Why don't you just pack it in and go back plant some corn trees!" Paige rolled her eyes at Jubilee's outburst, rising up from her comfortable recliner. The living room was empty except for the two teenage girls, and ringing with Jubilee's shrill voice, which easily drowned out the episode of 'Voyager' on the background. "First", Paige said calmly, raising her fist in the air and extending the thumb to mark item number one. "I have just as much right to be here as you do", she steadily explained, little bothered by Jubilee's attitude, having gotten used to her dramatics somewhat. "Second, I -did- ask you if I could borrow that shirt", she went on sincerely. Sharing was something Paige was very used to, having grown into it all her life. Living on a farm with half a dozen siblings does that to you. She had at least learned during her time at the Academy to ask people before borrowing their things, but still, she couldn't see what the big problem was. "Third, corn doesn't grow on trees." Jubilee wrinkled her nose as small multi-colored plasmoids began dancing over her body, as usual when she was irritated. She pointed one finger directly at Paige. "You did -not- ask!!" she screamed, fireworks crackling at the tip of her finger. There was little other response from Paige than a quiet "Did too", as she tried to look past Jubilee and watch 'Voyager'. "Did -NOT-!!!" "Did too." "DID -NOT-!!!!" "Did too." Neither of the girls were aware of the quiet footfalls outside the window, as a silent form slowly walked past the building, down the lane, making its way towards one very specific building. Suddenly, Jubilee's eyes froze, as if looking to distance for a while, then she calmed down slightly and a small smile came to her lips. "Hmp. Maybe you did", she said in a calm voice, plopping down onto the couch beside Paige's recliner. "You know, I didn't mean what I said about you leaving", Jubilee said after a while of silence. "I mean, this place is like, home to pretty much all of us..." she said quietly, curling up a bit, feeling safe, as if someone was watching over her, protecting her. Paige smiled, turning her eyes to Jubilee. "I know... I feel it too...sorta." She scratched her head and her expression turned a bit pensive, as if she were trying to figure something out, place something together... After a while she shrugged, feeling just as safe as Jubilee, she decided to ignore it, soon forgetting completely about the strange feeling that had overcome her. His shoes scratched onto the gravel of the lane, making slight noises as he walked onwards, following the winding path towards the building in the distance, away from the main campus. He paid no notice to the campus around him as he passed thru it, his mind focusing solely on what was ahead... and what was in the past. In a way, it was the same thing to him. Nonetheless, his mind goes back, not forward, to that fateful day at the Hellfire Club. The day when all his hopes and dreams came crashing down. He remembers seeing the White Queen going down, and after that, all hell broke loose. He remembers looking into Tarot's eyes as a Sentinel blasted her and, to his surprise, seeing undeniable determination, dedication, and... "...love?" "Whudyou say, gel?" Jonothon stared at Monet absolutely flabbergasted, his other eyebrow rising in surprise. He never thought he'd hear a question like that from her. Unlike some other team members, Jono always respected Monet's privacy. He didn't like people to pry around in other peoples' personal affairs, and he could see she didn't either. Nonetheless, Monet was the last person in the team he would have expected to get into this discussion with. Not only did she seem to do fine without anyone, she never had indicated any interest in such things. In fact, as far as Jono could remember, whenever someone brought the subject of love up, she had quietly left the room. It had been a weird contradiction, since Jono considered Monet perhaps the most mature person on the team. In any case, the question had caught him completely off-guard. "I asked if you have ever been in love, Jonothon." Monet's conduct was perfectly calm and controlled as ever as she looked into Jono's eyes. The soft, slightly mysterious lighting of her room reflected off her eyes, and almost a slight smile graced her full lips as she inspected him. Evaluated him. Jono was still stunned, but started to regain his composure slowly, finding Monet's gaze having an oddly calming effect on him. "Twice. Or twice I thought so", he replied, then looked down for a while before shrugging. "I dunno, Monet. Guess I'm th' wrong guy t' ask this stuff about. It ain't likely I'm ever going t' know anythin' 'bout love", he said with slight wistfulness. The footsteps slowly passed by Monet's room, but neither of the two psions noticed the passing person. It could be the masking effect created by the closeness of the other, two strong psionic sources in close contact, and a weak one near them - the man could easily pass by them and remain unnoticed by all but the most careful telepaths. Or... the two young people could just be distracted by each others' eyes... Monet momentarily felt something...out of place...but she succumbed to the odd emotions, slowly lifting her hand up, towards Jono's ravaged face. He flinched slightly at the approach, but didn't pull away as she laid her hand softly upon his cheek. "What...?" Jono said quietly as Monet began to take off the bandages around his face. He put his hand over hers, but she didn't stop what she was doing, continuing to remove the cloth over his destroyed lower face. Quickly, Monet finished what she was doing, revealing the psionic energy that burned like blue fire where Jono should have a lower half of a face, and an upper chest. Her hands moved to his upper chest, touching the energy tentatively and finding it semi-tangible. She smiled and began to lean her lips closer...towards where his would be... Normally, Jono would have called the game off now. But it was no game. The two teens were caught up in their emotions. Or actually, to be honest, someone else's emotions... But it made no difference to them, nor did they even understand. Both of them leaned closer to each other, and slowly, Monet pressed her lips onto the psionic energy, shivering slightly as she made contact. Would Monet have been fully in control of herself, her kiss would have been more tentative. There may be 'precious little she doesn't know', she may know how a kiss is supposed to be done, but she has never kissed before, she has never had a practical experience. Let alone having kissed psionic energy. But as it were, she pressed close, and wrapped her arms around his back, leaning into the kiss. Jono was more surprised by the fact that Monet -would- kiss her, than that she -could- do it. He mimicked her motions, putting his arms around her as thoughts ran thru his head. He had always known his psionic energy was somewhat tangible. Otherwise, it couldn't hold up the bandages around his face. Nor could he make actual physical blasts out of it. It was just the self-pity inside this young man that had told him so many times that equally many things were lost to him...like kissing. But they weren't lost. He just convinced himself they were, so he could blame his power for ruining his life, instead of carrying the weight himself. But he would never admit that to himself. The gravel ended as he reached the biosphere. He glanced across the open fields, seeing the house across it, and the lights still on. Good. She was awake. He took off the lane, and started to walk over the fields towards the house, the soft scratching sounds from walking across the gravel now turning into the soft shuffle of the grass beneath his feet. Along the way, he unknowingly passed a small cottage. He never noticed it. True, he never was a very observant person, but it wasn't that. It was the singleminded focus he had on the front door of the house across the field. Whatever happened tonight, his life would be changed. This was a big step for him, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for it, nor did he even know if he wanted to take it. As he passed the cottage, his head began to be filled with thoughts of... Uncertainty. Doubt. Those were things Sean Cassidy - the Banshee - rarely had to deal with. He was a strong person. He believed in himself and others. And in dreams. And he was rarely disappointed. Because no one ever wanted to disappoint him. Strong, and inspirational are two words that describe Sean Cassidy well. But he wouldn't need either of those qualities tonight. But someone else would. He walked across his little living room, over to the fireplace, and stirred the fire in it slightly with a poker, before picking up a small figurine from a shelf as he walked back to his comfortable rocking chair. A banshee, the figurine was. Just like him. An irish spirit of death. But it was carved of wood, and had a distinct japanese style in it, he could definitely tell. It had been years since Wolverine gave it to him on christmas, in his younger days when he had been an X-Man. He had just lost his sonic powers in a battle with Moses Magnum, and had been devastated by not being able to use his mutant power anymore. But somehow, when Wolverine had given him this figurine, it had managed to cheer him up. Sean had glanced at the figurine and felt a strange surge of strength and conviction - a surety that he would one day regain his powers - when he had looked at the little carving. "How...?" he had simply asked, looking at Wolverine. The little man had just shrugged in his casual style and smirked. "It's magic, bub. Take it as it is", he had said, like he had known how Sean had felt. After a while of inspecting the figurine from different angles, Sean had glanced back to Logan and raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think a laddie like ye believed much in magic?" he had asked with a teasing smile. Logan had chuckled slightly and put a hand onto his shoulder while taking a sip out of a can of beer. "Lemme tell ya 'bout this guy..." he had begun. "Calls himself the Shaman..." And just a week after that, the X-Men had run into that very same Shaman, and his teammates, calling themselves Alpha Flight, as they tried to take Wolverine into custody... A sudden sound snapped Sean out of his reminiscing. His superhumanly keen ears were sure they had caught a soft shuffle of the grass. Could it be one of the kids? Not at this hour. And not this close to the cabin. Had he heard correctly? He listened a while longer, but whoever had made the sound seemed to have passed, or stopped. Maybe he should check it out? Why bother, probably just his old ears playing tricks on him. His chair creaked as he got up, and looked out the window casually, just a quick glance as he started towards the door. But then, he shrugged, and turned back towards the chair, as if not being able to make up his mind. He stood there for a while, before finally shrugging and sitting back to his chair, a slight feeling of uncertainly lingering on his mind, then slowly vanishing after some minutes. He raised the figurine back in front of his eyes, and inspected it for a while. "P'rhaps I should give Logan a call tomorrow", he murmured. His heart beat faster and his pace slowed down every step, as hesitation started to make its way into his mind. The closer he came to the house, the more fear gripped him. After all this time... How would things stand? What would happen? Perhaps he would be better off just turning around and leaving without a trace... No. He misses this place. He misses his time here. And he misses the people he knew here. Maybe he can reclaim...at least some of it. He put his foot onto the first step of the stairs taking him up to the veranda. The silent sounds of his shoes hitting the stony steps bolstered his determination. He was really doing this! Every single step seemed like climbing a mountain, but he was really doing it. He was making his way up. Towards that proud, oaken door thru which he had walked so many times on various occasions. Finally, after what seemed to him like an eternity, he was there. At the top of the steps. Facing the door. Like so many times before, he inspected the beautiful, intricate carvings in the oaken surface. The small gargoylish figures depicted on the surface had always spooked him... Now more than ever. His hand slowly rised, moving towards the heavy brass doorknocker. His fingers stopped, just an inch from the knocker. "Last chance to turn back", he mused quietly to himself, and his hand shook slightly as he tried to touch the knocker. Suddenly, the door opened, swinging inwards silently, without a sound, before he could even touch the knocker. He just stood there, surprised, stunned, staring into the open doorway. There stood a gorgeous woman, approximately in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties. Her skin carried a slight pale tinge, as if it were ice, and her eyes accentuated the cold impression further, with the freezing blue glint of her inspecting gaze, as she looked directly into his eyes. Her blonde hair was perfectly straight, as it ran down onto her shoulders, not one strand looked out of place. The rest of her body was just as flawless, completely devoid of any excess fat. Her firm, slim body was toned into sleekness, and her attractive form was further complimented by the select clothing that clinged to her skin tightly, revealing no small amount of skin, as well as showing off the best features of her body uninhibitedly. "Manuel", the woman intoned softly, carefully. Her eyes flashed slightly at him, a glint of...something? playing deep in the icy blue. "Welcome back home", she smiled. "You look filthy." "I know, Ms Frost."