A storm is coming…(part 2)

by Comicus Maximus

of DB & Friends

Unbeknownst to everyone, the weatherwitch’s abilities had manifested in spactaculary catastrophic fashion. The single bolt of lightening responsible for the initial wave of destruction had been seen from two entire states away. Concrete and metal rubble lie twisted and scortched on the once vibrant playground now turned to ash.

If only they had just left her alone.

For a moment, the young Ororo was overcome with gleeful rage, drunk on a newly formed lust for blood and redemption. Her eyes had been replaced entirely with sharp bolts of powerful and erratic electricity. Both hands clenched into fists, she floated towards what remained of the southern wall of her elementary school, glaring angrily at the two bloodied and bewildered teachers. The satisfaction of vengeance had nearly taken her over completely as a few living survivors sprinted past the advancing force, lucky to have escaped with their lives.

She reached the building and floated effortlessly across crumbled brick and mortar, through the giant hole her blast had created. The two teachers each stood silent, trying desperately to process the unfolding events. The wonder’s long and silver hair, which had been one of the main targets of her daily ridiculers, pulsed hypnotically away from her head and she stared down at her instructors.

“Or…Ororo!” her teacher Ms. Mullins stammered fearfully. “Please…please stop this. Please Ororo!”

Initially, the pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. She had never been one of the girl’s favorite teachers. In fact, quite the opposite. Unfortunately, some of the new mutant’s tormetors were teachers as well. On many occassions, her peers were allowed to continue their incessant ridicule at the direction and beheast of their instructors. Mrs. Mullins was one of those instructors.

The girl slowly began to charge electrical current through her fists as the sky darkened once more. Preparing to yet again take sweet revenge, Ororo was stopped by a collapsing Mr. Frank.

“O..O remember what we talked about,” he choked. “You’re better than this. You have to be better than them.”

The strength of the initial blast had completely shattered both of his eardrums, leaving the once vibrant and caring teacher completely deaf. The young girl’s face softened as her eyes began to lose their electric glow and gradually produce tears. The entire time spent at the school had proved an unexpected pilgrimage into the darkest recesses of humanity’s base instincts. Most days were filled with constant ridicule and bleakness. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel was nonexistent. Then one day, a young man named Christopher Frank walked into her fourth grade class as the new teaching assistant. Filled with careful optimism and a desire improve the lives of difficult and complex children, Frank took special interest in those such as himself with unusual talents.

As a child, Frank had suffered one too many locker room beatings at the hands of similar tormentors, causing his ability to spring forth.   Born with the genetic ability to psychologically manifest the deepest fears of his adversaries, he had bounced from home to home before settling with an understanding and supportive family.  Educators themselves, the couple steered him in the diection of youth instruction, allowing Frank to meet and assist those like him.

Six months ago, Christopher had come to Padstone Elementary School after learning of a young troubled mind with great potential and very sepcial abilities.  He met and befriended a young Ororo once a small portion of her power was inadvertantly revealed during lunch.  She had confided in him of the torment she experienced, petitioning for advice as to peace.  Unfortunately, his only advice was to try and remain good in spite of the surrounding evils.  Using her powers for vengeance would only mark her for death, he warned; while using them to help others would eventually engender fear and paranoia.  They had experimented on, poked and proded Frank on many occassions after he hospitalized two classmates in a fit of rage.  He did not wish the same fate for her.

Now, realizing that her loss of control, while satisfying, had cost her much more, the mutant lowered to the ground and diminished her powers.  She stood sorrowful and ashamed as the wounded counselor stummbled toward her.  Collapsing to his knees in front of Ororo, he managed to muffle twelve final words through his deafening silence…

“…I’m sorry this happened to you O, now you have to run…”

Ms. Mullins stood frozen in terror as the girl knelt sobbing over Frank’s lifeless body.  She clenched his shirt in her tiny hands as tears fell upon his face.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Frank.  I didn’t mean it,” she pleaded.  “Please come back.  You were the only one who was nice to me,” Ororo sobbed.  “The only one…please.”

Three of her daily tormentors were still alive.  They writhed in pain, attempting to crawl to safety as their friends lay dead.  Sirens blarred in the distance, signaling the arrival of authorities with automatic weapons.  Men with guns were closing in; no doubt the result of some panicked witnesses’s frantic 911 call.

“What…what have you done you little monster?” Ms. Mullins questioned.  “You killed him! I knew you wee too dangerous to be around normal people.  You little murderer!”

Ororo’s grip on her friend’s shirt slowly loosed as she lifted her eyes to face the scolding imbecile.  Her lip curled in anger as the siren wails grew louder.  Tiny bolts of energy leaped from her fingertips as her eyes began to glow the familiar and ominous white.  Her hair pulsed once again in rhythmic harmony, growing higher and higher.  The mustant stood slowly and balled her fist tightly.  Ms. Mullins could only watch in horror as the price of her insults was manifested through the child’s rage.

O raised her arms towards her teacher as she pleaded for last-minute mercy.  “Don’t do it kid!” a strong voice shouted in the distance.  The pleas fell on deaf ears as the doomed instructor shut her eyes and an enormously fatal electric bolt was discharged from the mutant’s hands.

Mr. Frank was right.  The price of using your abilities in a world not suited for them is high.  The young marvel was about to learn just how high that price was…

part 3 coming soon…

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