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Disclaimer: Some of the characters aren’t mine, they belong to Marvel

Title: Ororo prt1

Rating: PG13

Authors notes: This is a new perspective…..An alternate reality. I tentatively call this ‘Ororo’ but if anyone has a better suggestion, please let me know.







Jacmel, Haiti



Pride and eagerness glowed from their small, dark faces as they patiently sat waiting. Their small hands folded neatly in their laps. Tattered and worn, their clothing scarcely hid the evidence of famine and malnourished forms. Yet the slenderness of small shoulders bespoke of defiance and an unwillingness to meekly accept the cruel hand dealt them by fate. A sparkle of newfound knowledge beamed from their eyes. No matter what other challenges would come their way, the seeds of success had already been planted. Given time, they would be the ones to change things.

Ororo Munroe looked proudly across at the room full of third and fourth grade students. It hadn’t been easy but they’ve made it through another year. And all of them had successfully passed on to the next grade. She had their final report cards to prove it. It was a considerable accomplishment considering all they’d gone through to get to this point. From bouts of childhood illnesses easily curable in other countries, to incidences of political unrest that had kept the schools doors closed for weeks at a time, they’d continued to struggle on.

And Ororo had been there with them every step of the way. Learning as well as teaching them all she could. They’d absorbed everything she taught like sponges and then they wanted to learn more. At times she was left in awe at their strength and determination. Despite the obstacles.

Eager to know what the precious cards held before the final bell, they fidgeted in their seats. Maybe I should pass out their report cards now, she thought. After all, they deserved to know more then anyone how far they’ve come.

Besides she wanted to see the looks on their faces. As she was about to pass them out, a painfully thin little girl with bright colored beads in her braids, walked timidly towards her desk.

“What is it Pascal?” she asked, talking in native Creole. Ororo bent down to eye level to help put her at ease. The shy seven year old only raised skinny arms and wrapped them around her neck in a quick embrace. Just as quickly she was running back to her seat.

Choked back by sudden tears, Ororo turned away from them until she could regained some of her composure. She had known this day would be hard, but the simple gesture meant more to her then she could ever say. It had taken her months to gain their trust and now that she had it she would do anything she could not to let them down.

A second later the clanging of the small outdoor bell signified the end of another year. Rapidly blinking back tears, Ororo moved to the open doorway.

“Okay class, one at a time come up and get your report cards and I want each one of you to head straight home. Have a safe and fun summer. I’ll see you all next year.” Quickly they grabbed their scarce belongings and single file, moved to receive their grades. To each child she had a special word of praise. Each would always hold a special place in her heart.

When the last one left, Ororo sadly glanced around the empty room. She would miss this old rundown structure. Since the two years they’ve used the narrow, four-bedroom house as a school, she had a lot of sad, but mostly happy memories. The two back rooms were used as classes. While the wider front area, held a small office and indoor play area. Constructed of rusted galvanized roofing and plank walls, the small structure was in desperate need of immediate repairs.

Beams of light, through gaping holes the size of quarters, filtered in. two small windows allowed enough air to keep the stale air and stifling heat at bay. The dust covered concrete floor still held imprints of small, bare feet’s.

Long benches set up in rows served as both chair and desk for her students. She used a wooden for legged table and chair at the front of the room as her desk. An easel, next to the table was used for a blackboard. In a far corner, a stack of neatly piled used books leaned against the wall. Despite its shabbiness it had more then served it ‘s purpose.

But truth be told she couldn’t wait for the new school to be finished. As soon as next week construction was scheduled to began on a new, modernized building, with all the amenities of a teaching facility. Several classrooms, a cafeteria, library, playground and recess area were scheduled to be completed in time for the second term of the next school year, individualized desks, blackboards, were already waiting in a warehouse. And there would be new books! Instead of the torn outdated ones they’d been forced to use.

Eight more teachers were also hired to start in the spring. Hopefully with the added staff there wouldn’t be a need to double up on grades. But Ororo was skeptical about that happening. Already they’d received an outpouring of enrollments. As word spread about the school being opened to anyone and at no extra cost to the families more people were rushing to enroll their children. They’d heard from people in providences as far north as Cayes two hundred miles away! They were all in hopes that their kids would gain the education denied them by poverty and the countries political unrest. But now it seemed even the new school wouldn’t be big enough. The best they could do now was accept as many as they could without depriving the students of a proper education.

A year after her arrival, Ororo had been appalled to learn that all the schools charged astronomical fees and required the additional purchase of uniforms. Since the majority of Haitians could barely afford the cost of living it became apparent why a country with a strict educational criteria couldn’t make the grade. Deciding to take a gamble, she used part of her life’s saving to buy the surrounding land and rundown house and started a school of her own. Most of the parents had been skeptical at first, but within months she’d had a room full of kids eager to learn, within six months she’d hired another teacher. Her gamble had paid off.

Now thanks to some very generous donations from several local businesses and wealthy families, they now had the means to build the first public school in the city. It would accept students solely on a first come bases, not just the wealthy. Provided they where able to keep the funds rolling in.

A quick look at the slim watch on her wrist showed it was nearing four o’clock. She had to get a move on, there was only two hours left before she had to pick-up her parents at the airport! Grabbing her bag, she gave the room a final look before rushing down the hallway to the small office in the front of the house.

In actuality, the cramped space couldn’t really pass as an office. More like a closet. It was barely wide enough for the desk and filing cabinet cramped there.

“Hello Sabine. Everyone left already?” Ororo asked the heavyset woman, squeezed behind the desk.

“We’re the only ones left. I’m finishing up myself.” Sabine answered in Creole. The mother of six, Sabine volunteered at the school in return for her kids’ attendance. Her no-nonsense approach helped things run smoothly. Ororo had been ecstatic when she’d decided to stay on at the new school as their permanent secretary.

“Okay. I’m on my way too. Actually I’m running a little behind schedule. I have to pick-up my parents later.”

“Where’d they go?”

“Dad had to go to Florida on business for a few days, so he and mom decided to extend that trip to include three weeks in Bahamas.”

“Those two needed time away together.” Ororo nodded. Sabine was the only other person who knew what her parents had gone thorough the past year. Surprised to find out she was pregnant, at her age N’dare Munroe had started to get used to having another child when she’d had a miscarriage. Devastated by their loss, her parents buried themselves in their own pursuits. Both afraid to acknowledge the others pain, they began to drift apart. They didn’t know how to cope with the grief of a child that would never be. When the trip had come up, her father had planned it as an escape but she and her brother, Remy had convinced them to go together. Spending time alone would begin to heal the pain and growing rift between them.

Shaking herself out of the tragic memory, Ororo forced a smile to her face.

“I meant to ask you, how about meeting me for lunch next week? We could start going over those enrollment applications.”

“You’re on for lunch, but we’re leaving those applications alone. We have all summer to get to them. You’re worked hard all year, it’s time you let that pretty white hair down. Let lose and have some fun for once!” she said. Ororo laughed.

“Okay you’re on but only if you do the same.” Glancing outside she said. “Looks like we’ve both better get a move on. Your boys are getting impatient.” Looking outside through the open door, they saw three of Sabine’s sons throwing rocks at a sickly dog. With an angry scrawl on her face, Sabine yelled at them to leave the poor animal alone. Startled they quickly dropped the rocks.

“You have your hands full. I’ll call you Monday to set a time for lunch. See you later.” She retrieved her bike leaning against the wall and left.

Outside the hot, sun glared down at her. It toke a moment for her eyes to adjust but with a sign of regret for not driving, she waved at Sabine’s kids and started down the recently widen rocky road. Up into a few weeks before the only way to get to the school was by foot or horse back. But now the narrow trail was a two-lane road. Rocky and dusty but a road!

Located on the outer fringes of Jacmel on a high slopping mount, the school was close to the hospital and church. Those were both deciding factors for her choice, that and the surrounding terrain. Wild overhanging trees brushed at her hair and clothes. The smell of fragrant flowers intoxicated the senses. Everywhere you turned, there was a different view. From the far sighted mountains of Morne de Selle, to the valleys lush and thick with plantain trees.

Passing workmen finishing work on the road, Ororo continued down the path, while keeping away from the edge of the valley below. Gazing around she spotted, distant roof tops with clouds of smoke ascending from outdoor cooking fires. She could hear the sounds of dogs barking and children happily playing. She left the slope behind and quickly got on her bike. A slight breeze blew at her hair and face, giving small reprieve from the heat. But soon all thoughts of the weather were forgotten as she enjoyed the physical challenge of maneuvering down a steep and rugged incline.

She fairly bursted with exhilaration. Lifting her feet of the pedals, she raced down a paved section of the main road. This was why she’d decided to ride her bike. As adolescent as it was, there was nothing like this feeling of peerless danger and complete freedom. Coming to a walled bend, Ororo placed her feet back on the pedals and slowed down.

She rode by deep valleyed slum areas embedded with makeshift homes. The foul odor of filth and human waste permeated the entire area, causing her to try and hold her breathe from the stench. Sadness clawed at her, as she passed run down shacks with wattle, covered in layers of plaster. Others weren’t as fortunate. They made their homes from whatever scraps they could find. From cardboard boxes to rusted tin sheets. People outside, socialized with anyone willing to stop and listened. The majority of her students would come from theses places. Where survival was a day-to-day feat. Where they would leave home with an empty stomach and the knowledge there might be nothing to eat when they returned.

She passed farmers carrying fierce looking machetes, warily working small acreages on sides of nearby mountains. Ororo slowed at the sight of a man trying to lure a stubborn donkey down a steep trail. The frustrated man yanked on a rope around the animals neck, then tried pushing its backside, but the obstinate animal refused to budge. Swatting flies with its tail, it wearily eyed the man. Now angry, the man raised fisted hands at the sky. Asking god for deliverance. Ororo couldn’t hold back the burst of laughter. There was never a dull moment.

Mindful of the passing time, she hurried until she came in sight of the crowded, city streets. She got of her bike and skirted around the bustling activity. Some people paused to stare at her wild mane of unusual hair and she ignored the attention. At least she was getting less and less attention as most of the locals were used to the loa. It was the tourists that continued to openly stare at the stunning white haired ‘witch’. Some even asked to touch the silken tresses for luck. Ororo did not mind. Most Haitians were a superstitious group and anything she might say would not be believed. She appeared different therefore she was a spirit or ‘protector’ from god. And as amusing as that idea was it became tiresome when parents refused to meet with her to discuss their child because of fear of angering her or they did come only looking for help and words of wisdom to take them out of their misery. Helplessly she had to turned them away with the unheard of message that she was just a
woman wanting only to educate.

Jacmel was the second major city in Haiti. Its picturestique oceanfront scarcely accommodated its growing population. Or it’s waning tourists. Similar to the cities, its main attraction was the large outdoor marche. Statistically located to face all the main roads in and out of the city, it took up several blocks and attracted the attention of the busloads of travelers and tourists headed to other providences.

Ororo passed the different stalls of fresh fruits and vegetables, canopied hand carved wooden statues and breathtaking oils depicting the Haitian culture. Vendors packed the streets. Some sold their goods on carts and plastic tablecloths held down by rocks on the ground, while others used large straw baskets. Women dressed in colorful patterns, carried precociously perched woven baskets of grains and beans on their heads. Several had their arms draped with beautiful fabrics of varies textures and colors, while a stack of folded materials was balanced on their maneuvered around the small spaces left by the throngs of sightseers and merchants.

Men dressed in cutoffs, cotton pants and dusty sandals pushed two wheeled carts with rapidly melting blocks of ice and bottles of colors syrups. A small bell tied on the side of the carts rang incessantly. Ororo watched as three youths distracted a vendor while a fourth tried sneaking a frozen treat. Becoming aware of what was occurring, the vendor chased after them. One boy circled back in time to shave a treat and dot away before the vendor returned.

Ororo moved around the market to where two story homes of antique ironwork and overhanging balconies lined the perimeter. Large signs over opened doors indicated boutiques, home made candy stories, and aromatic coffee houses for Jacmel’s extensive coffee exports.

Thinking to get some bread for the morning, she stopped at a door where delicious smells of freshly baked bread permeated her nose alluringly. She quickly leaned the bike against the side of the house and hurried inside.

“Bonsoir Monsieur. Saul. Kou mon ou ye?” she asked the white haired, old man standing behind the counter.

“Gras a dieu merci pa pi mal. What can I get for you today mademoiselle?” he asked with a toothless grin.

“I’ll just have two loaves, please.”

She waited as he turned to an old coal oven and pulled out to trays of golden brown, rolls. She immediately added several to her order. They would be perfect with dinner. Unmindful of the hot bread, monsieur Saul put her order in white paper bags and handed them to her.

“Merci monsieur Saul. Bon apresmidi.” She said handing him several gourdes. Purchase in hand, Ororo promptly retrieved her bike and left the shop. Dust swirling around her, she quickly made her way away from the overcrowded area.

Sweat poring down her face and neck; she wiped her arm across her forehead. Streaks of grim and dust came of on the sleeve of her white shirt. She looked down at her beige shorts and mud-splattered sneakers and groaned. What she wouldn’t do for a cold shower! But as she arrived home she’ll have less then an hour to get to the airport. Maybe if she hurried she might have enough time to at least change into a clean shirt.

With that thought on mind, she rode her bike towards a brick paved road leading towards the more prosperous side of the city. As she pedaled rapidly, her thoughts raced back to a couple of years ago when her life was completely different then it was now. She shuddered in retrospective chagrin. Three years ago, she’d been so naïve and gullible. If only she’d known then what she did now, maybe things would have been different.



While working at a local high school in Florida, she’d met Bishop Trenton. He and several other players from the Miami heat came to the school to talk with the kids about staying in school and setting goals for themselves.

The moment he’d stepped to the podium, Ororo had felt the attraction. It seemed so had he. As soon as he spotted her standing at the sidelines in the school’s auditorium, his eyes kept straying to her. Sending unspoken messages. After the speeches there was an autographed session, Bishop was immediately swallowed up by students. But their eyes met as she quickly slipped away to her next class.

At the end of the day, she was headed to her car when a black Mercedes with a dark tint blocked her path. Bishop sat behind the wheel, smiling up at her. Ororo’s pulse had raced. He was the most attractive African-American she’d ever seen. From his dark mocha complexion, to his hard, masculine build and smoldering dark eyes. He’d asked her out and at first she’d turned him down, but Bishop was as persuasive as he was persistent.

The weeks that followed were the best she’d ever had. He was everything she wanted in a man. Attentive, romantic and had a great sense of humor. The only drawback to their budding relationship was Bishop’s constant traveling with his team. But the long nightly calls he made kept her going until they were together again.

The first time, Ororo discovered Bishop’s lies was during the end of the basketball season and the Heat were in the semi-finals against the Chicago bulls. She’d decided to surprise him in his hotel room. Using the key she’d charmed from the desk clerk, she let herself into his suite. The thought of the passionate night ahead, drew a smile across her lips.

She’d just dropped her small overnight case on a chair, when she spotted the clothes on the floor. Dread knotted her stomach in tight knots. Of their own accord, her legs propelled her to an open door, where she could hear loud moans and groans coming from the room. Ororo peered inside and stared in shock disbelief at the three naked occupants on the large bed. A brunette bounced enthusiastically on the lower part of a prone and willing male body. She faced a black girl sitting on the mans face; the brunette moaned emphatically as the other girl groped her large breasts.

Embarrassed for having intruded in the wrong room, Ororo was about to quietly leave the way she’d come when the black girl spotted her and gasp. The other girl turned to look at her too. Ororo started to apologized and back out, when she heard Bishop’s voice. She froze. Pushing the girl from his face, Bishop raised up to see what had caused the interruption. The surprise look on his face would have been comical if it weren’t so painful. All the blood drained from Ororo’s face. Bishop pushed the other girl of and tried reaching for her but Ororo was quicker. She rushed out of that room as fast as her legs would take her. She didn’t stop until she was back on a plane headed home.

Safely back in her apartment the enormity of what happened hit her with its full impact. The surprised image of Bishop’s glistening face kept playing over in her mind. How could he have done that to her? Why hadn’t she opened her eyes to the truth? In retrospect she realized everyone from her father to her friends had tried to warn her, but she had not been willing to listen. Maybe the loneliness she’d felt had blinded her to the truth. God only knew how many times she’d seen his picture in the paper with other women.

She remembered confronting him once about a particularly provocative picture he’d taken at some party with a clinging redhead. He’d dismissed it by insisting she had nothing to be jealous about they were just fans and it was good publicity. Fool that she’d been, she believed him.

But that wasn’t the end of Bishop’s lies. The days that followed were painful for her, but more so with the expensive gifts of flowers and jewelry he kept sending. Even showing up at her door trying to persuade her to take him back. But she refused to give in. the pain of his betrayal went to deep.

It was a month after their break-up and Ororo was getting her mail downstairs when a petit, Chinese woman approached her. Made awkward by a protruding stomach, she seemed slightly winded when she stopped short a few feet from her.

“Ms. Munroe?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes. Can I help you? Mrs…?” Ororo asked with a smile on her face. She was certain this woman was the mother of one of her students.

“I’m Mrs. Bishop Trenton. If you have a moment I’d like to talk to you.” Ororo could only stare at the other woman. She couldn’t have heard correctly. Bishop never told her he was married!

“You’re surprised. I guess while slipping in and out of your bed my husband failed to mention that he has a wife and three kids at home.” She said sarcastically. Oh god! This couldn’t be true! The realization she’d been having an affair with a married man caused her knees to weaken. She felt sick to her stomach.

“I’m not here to pass judgment or to confront you, ms. Munroe.” Said the attractive brunette.

“Then why are you here?” Ororo asked weakly. A stab of pain hit her as she glanced down to see the other woman absently rub her rounded belly. That bastard! He’d been using her all this time! God almighty just this morning she’d almost weakened and answered one of his calls.

“I’m here to ask you to just leave my husband alone. As you can see we’re about to have our fourth child. I need Bishop with me.” Shocked outraged crossed Ororo’s face.

“Mrs. Trenton, I broke-up with Bishop a month ago! You should also know, I had no idea he was married.” Bishop’s wife looked skeptically at her.

“Even if that were true, would it have made a difference?

“Yes!” exploded Ororo. The single word ripped from her lips, leaving a moment of silence between them.

Miako Trenton stared into the eyes of the woman, who for months she’d been competing against for her husband’s time and attention. She wasn’t certain why she’d decided to track her down, but the second she’d spoken to Ororo Munroe she realized she was different from the others. This was no greedy whore looking for a rich husband. Perhaps sensing this, she’d needed to confront her. To face the woman who had stolen her husband’s heart. If this woman had told her the truth then Bishop’s odd behavior of the past couple of weeks had nothing to go with her. Then who? She should have left Bishop a long time ago, but how could she when she couldn’t live without him?

Emotionally weary of the whole situation she looked at her husband’s mistress. “I’m sorry if I bothered you, Ms. Munroe. I see now this was a mistake.” She whispered sadly. Ororo saw the pain on her face and realized Bishop’s wife knew of his other infidelities! Yet she seemed to accept it. Pity filled her heart for this seemingly fragile woman. This could have easily been her.

“Mrs. Trenton I don’t make it a habit of sleeping with married men. If I’d known I would never have gotten involved with Bishop.” It was strangely important to Ororo to make the other woman understand her remorse in her part of the affair. Miako smiled sadly. “I thing I believe you. But it doesn’t change anything, Ms Munroe. Sorry to have bothered you. Good-byes.” She turned and as quickly as she could got into a waiting limo.

Long minutes after she’d left Ororo stood there haunted by the despair on Bishop wife’s face. Knowing she held some responsibility for that pain tore at her. She should have seen what everyone else had. Being from a culture where fidelity was as extinct as the dinosaurs, she knew first hand the pain a wondering spouse could cause. Especially to the children. She and her brother were proof of that.

Hadn’t her own father strayed from his vows to have a child with another woman? The devastation that had caused her mother when she learned of the truth would forever stay with her. She’d sworn never to let that happen to her. But not only had she let it happen, she was the other woman!

She needed to get away. Away from the temptation Bishop still represented. Away from the pain of his wife and all the reminders of something that could never be. A week later, Ororo packed her bags and headed to her parents in Haiti.





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