Fog.
It engulfed her body like venom seeping from the air. She couldn’t breath, couldn’t see. Her body numbed and was dead cold. She struggled against the thick, swirling gray mass, but to no avail. A flash of violet lit up the dim space. A voice called out to her…Ororo, Ororo, Ororo... She was fading. Fading, fading, fading….
Ororo woke with a start. She was covered in sweat and her white locks of hair were matted to her head. Ugh, that same dream, she thought, shuddering. She had had the same dream almost every night for the past week. In a way, she felt that it was a warning. But a warning for what?
~*Westing Industries Business Building, Boston, MA*~
CRASH!
A large red brick shattered a window on the north wall. The receptionist at the front desk quickly got out of her chair and ran over. Security was already looking out the window, but the suspect was gone. The plump receptionist picked up the rough red brick. There was messy writing etched into the side of it.
‘We know what you are, Clark Westing. Your next.’
The receptionist gulped and ran back to her desk. She yanked the phone out of its cradle and punched in the number for office 417.
“Mr. Westing, you best get down here. I think you have just received a threat.” Sputtered the receptionist.
In minutes, the tall, husky form of Clark Westing, president, CEO, and founder of Westing Industries, walked out of the elevator.
“What is this so called threat, Madeline?” he asked in his slight English accent.
Madeline handed him the brick. He read the writing on the side, his frustrated expression slowly changing to fear, anger, hatred.
“Madeline, I am taking a half day. Have Don sort my files. I’m not sure if I’ll be in tomorrow.” He said quickly, turning to the front entrance of the building.
“But, sir, what about your meeting with Mr. Davies?”
“That can wait, this is urgent. Do not tell any one of this, Madeline. It is a secret until I get things straight. Got it?”
“Got it” came the soft reply.
Clark shot out of the revolving doors and crossed the busy street to the parking structure. He unlocked his Audi r8 and hopped in. He revved the powerful engine to life, flying out of the parking structure and speeding down South Hampton Street. He reached his luxurious mansion in just a few minutes. Pulling up the long drive, he saw Roxanne and her beloved black Doberman Pinscher sitting on the porch swing.
“Inside. Now.” He hotly demanded.
She and the dog followed him in without any questions. He moved into the large kitchen and had her sit on the black granite counter top. Their butler Luther glanced their way, but continued to clean the counter while listening in. He was pretty much a part of their family.
“Dad, what is it?” she asked in her smooth voice.
“I received a disturbing threat about 15 minutes ago. Someone knows I’m a mutant, Roxanne.”
She could do nothing but look at him in shock, her vibrant violet eyes wide.
“Well, wh-what do we do?” she stammered.
“I’m not sure. The police would just turn me in. We have no family to run to. I think if we try to cover it up, play it safe, then we’ll be fine.” He whispered.
His daughter looked at him, her mouth gaping open. Why now, after so many years of keeping it covered up, did he have to be exposed? He ran one of the most successful businesses in Massachusetts, if not the whole east coast. He was a multi millionaire, and always gave money to charity and environmental organizations. He had no one to turn to, and a daughter to protect. Who would want to kill him, even if he was a mutant? He never used his special gift. He tucked into the back of his mind, hoping to never let it out unless it was needed.
The two of them spent the rest of the evening sitting at the large mahogany dinning table thinking of ways to get around their problem. Luther had long gone to bed, leaving them and the dog alone. At 1am, Roxanne stood from her chair, her eyes heavy with the need for sleep.
“I’m going to bed dad. See you in the morning.”
Roxanne turned and walked down the hall toward the stairs. Clark noted that her pristine black hair was pulled into a sloppy bun. Her slim, tan figure wore nothing but a black spaghetti strap top and a small pair of blue shorts. It was the dead of winter, and in Boston temperatures dropped drastically. Her own mutation was to thank for her resistance to the cold. Her black and tan Doberman Pinscher Ace was trotting along right beside her, his head held high and his feet delicately brushing the ground. The damned dog had never left his daughters side since she brought it home from the pound.
Clark snapped out of his trance, stood, and walked down the hall into his prized library. Its oak shelves stood towering above him, and the flicker of the fire danced on the bindings of the books. This was his favorite room in the whole mansion. He could always be found reading peacefully in his black leather chair in front of his grand fire place. Luther always lit the logs before he went to bed, for he knew Clark went there every night to read.
Sitting down in front of the fireplace, Clark picked up his copy of World War Z from the side table and flipped to the bookmarked page. It wouldn’t hurt if he read for a bit, he planned on not going to work tomorrow. As the flames in the fireplace slowly died down, he found himself fast asleep.
~* Xavier’s Office*~
Charles sat at his large oak desk. He hummed a soft tune as he looked at the papers in front of him. He looked to his right side, at the bigger stack of papers waiting to be looked over. He was never bothered by all the paperwork. It put his telepathic mind to good use. As he began grading the next paper, he felt something poke at his mind. He closed his eyes and focused. A few moments later, they snapped open, urgency written all over Charles’ face.
Ororo stood in her bathroom, brushing her teeth in front of the mirror. She noticed that her white tresses of hair had grown considerably in the last few months. She also noticed the shadows underneath her eyes. It had been a long day, and she just wanted to lie on the soft white sheets of her bed, the need for sleep overwhelming her. She had not had a good nights sleep in quite a while.
As she rinsed out her mouth, she heard a voice whisper her name. She turned, but saw nothing. This time she heard it inside of her head, and knew that Charles was trying to reach her. She opened up her mind and let him in. Ororo, I need you and Logan for a mission. You need to leave right away. Get Logan and take the Blackbird. Quickly! The voice left her head. She opened her cerulean eyes and ran out of her room and down the hall.
She banged on Logan’s bedroom door. “Logan, lets go, we need to leave right away for a mission.” Logan yanked open his door. Ororo noted that he was still fully dressed and had probably just gotten done with his daily routine as well. They were both busy with classes now that Jean had passed.
“What do you want women?” Logan groaned.
“We need to leave now, we have an urgent mission.”
“I ain’t going nowhere darlin. Now leave me alone so I can get some sleep.”
“Wolverine, I will not ask again.” Ororo was loosing her temper. She didn’t have time to argue with this man yet again. “Blackbird. Now.”
Logan saw she was pissed and smirked to himself. He loved to piss her off.
Ororo swiftly walked into the Blackbird, Logan right at her side. They sat in the pilots chairs and switched all of the necessary switches on. The Blackbirds engines roared to life as the center of the basketball court opened up in front of them. The jet shot out from underneath the mansion and was off into the black of the night.
“So, what’s so urgent about this mission?” Logan asked from beside her.
“I’m not sure, the professor didn’t specify. He just mentioned that it may be a planned attack on a very successful business man, who turned out to be a mutant.”
With that said, they flew the jet at break neck speed to Boston, Massachusetts.
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