Title: Angel with the Scabbed Wings
Author: LaydeRogue
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the X-men. Until I can save up enough money to buy out the character Storm Marvel has that esteemed privilege. I use the characters for the sole purpose of entertainment.
Rating: I don’t think its anything too Bad. But just too be on the safe side. Possibly R
Summary: An Assassin Struggles with Haunting Memories of the Past. RoLo is definitely on the way!
Content warning: Violence
A/N: This is my first Fic. Reviews will be much appreciated! This fic will have the characters of the traditional X-men. However the group the X-men do not exist in this fic. Not really AU, all of the characters do still possess their mutant abilities but some of the powers may appear to be tamed or not as controlled *Italics indicate flashback sequence*




One to the head and two to the heart. The smell of fresh gun powder was still thick in the night air, until a small breeze wafted the scent away. Storm inhaled the remnant moments of the scene from above the rooftop adjacent to her latest hit, the newest victim laid on the cold damp alley asphalt in his own blood. She took apart the sniper and carefully placed it back into its leather casing. She carried her equipment in one of her black leather gloved hands toward the edge of the rooftop where she summoned a gentle wind to guide her to the ground.

As Storm descended from the evening sky she caught a brief glimpse of her reflection from a water puddle on the ground. She fleetingly thought her figure resembled a dark angel the way her long French braided hair whipped in the wind and the ankle length coat she wore billowed in the breeze. She immediately scoffed at such a thought. “Angel? Not even a possibility.” ‘ More like the Grimm reaper’ she thought to herself with a sigh.

She stood over the mans body in the alley staring at the fatal wounds she had inflicted on him. In her mind he had no face. They never have a face. Her icy eyed stare concentrates only on the hole in the middle of his head. The blood, thick, dribbles out of the skull to the likeness of a poetic ballet. Two crimson droplets intertwining with each other as they slowly make their way down the side of the corpses temple.

The previous unhurried motions of the two droplets transforms into a frenzy as the speed increases, in a semblance of two separated lovers racing to reunite. The two crimson drops combine into one tear dropped shape and falls unto the cold ground, ending their ballet in a simple splatter.

“Beautiful” was the word that slipped from Storm’s lips and turned into a whispered echo throughout the dark alley street. For some cryptic reason the sight of the ‘crimson ballet’ as she had come to refer the escape of her victims life’s blood was some what of a refreshing moment. Her momentary reverie was halted by the vibration of her cell phone. Unzipping her coat, reaching into her inside pocket, she had no doubts who was calling her at this particular moment. She brought the small phone to her ear to answer.

“It has been done” she stated in a matter of fact tone.

“Ah...Liebchen, that is vhat I always respected about you so quick and yet so precise.”
Storm frowned at the attempt of small talk from the thickly accented German. Her steady silent reply was an indication that his compliments were not going to erode her solid rock like demeanor.

She could almost hear him smiling on the other end. Was that even possible?

“…and even more the strong and silent type.” He said with a brief chuckle which soon turned into a more business like tone.“ Of course, your payment has been transferred to the requested accounts. You vill be contacted vithin the month for your next assignments.”

Storm let a heavy sigh escape her. Just as quickly once again the tone on the other end of the line changed to a warm and inviting embrace.

“Take care of yourself Mein Dunkler Sturm”

Storm’s face slightly softened when she heard the attempted affection in his voice.

“Until next month, Wagner.” She replied ending the conversation.

She took one last look at the blood splatter on the ground that was her ballet and prepared to leave the alley. The sound her boots made as she walked resonated through the late evening street. Her eyes glowed an electric white as a thick fog began to seep through the streets, blanketing the area where the corpse laid; as she continued to quickly proceed to the end of the alley to take to the sky.

~ ~ ~



Storm sat on the edge of the hotel bathtub wrapped in a white towel, as she watched the hot water slowly fill the tub. The initial high from the late evening ‘Job’ was gradually fading away. The feeling of emptiness and loneliness was once again returning to consume her. Her right hand waded through the rising water inside of the tub, and the steam grazed her face as she breathed in the vapors and quickly exhaled. She could feel her chest and throat slightly constrict, as if an indication that she was on the verge of weeping. But she never cried, not anymore. It seemed as if she had forgotten how to just let go and shed her own tears.

Storm knew that her emotions hindered her performance in completing her assigned tasks. So she chose to keep any weakness she had dormant or tried to extinguish them altogether . She cringed at the memory of when the release of her tears interfered with her initial vengeance. When the tears freely streamed from her eyes, blinding her vision from the primary target. She hit the water in the tub with disgust before she rose to go toward the sink to view herself in the mirror above it.

She wiped her hand across the mirror to clean off the build of fog the steam from the warm bath water had created. Storm stared at her image in the mirror she could no longer recognize her former self. Gone was the innocence and forgiveness that could once be seen in her blue eyed gaze. The hazelnut complexion of her skin no longer shined with the exuberance of life, it grew paler as the days, weeks, months, years passed on.

‘Years…by the goddess has it really been years?’ Storm thought to herself. One look at her obsidian colored hair had confirmed her inquiry.

Three years. Three years of dying her hair black. Her natural snow fallen colored locks had contrasted with what she had become. Taking the tips of the hair in her hands she continued to stare at her image, speculating what it was indeed that she had become. Quick sudden flashes of her past began to assault her memory. Different places and people ran through her mind, dilapidated buildings, bloodied bodies scattered in gutters, rivers flowing with blood, and the pungent smell of death.

And then there was his face. Charles…how she had missed him. His warm and gentle smile, the fatherly concern in his voice that always soothed her. His figure quickly transformed into an image she had thought to be repressed far enough in the recesses of her mind. But of course she could never think about Charles without thinking about the person responsible for his demise.

Storm’s jaw tightened, griping the bathroom sink in an almost deadly force with both of her hands as her eyes glazed over in an illuminated rage.

She could remember the brain matter that flew out and landed on her tear stained face as his head exploded. Ruby red quartz glasses flying with such a force toward the ground.

One bullet to the head and two to the heart.

It was her first time with any type of weapon and the realization that he was dead did not appear to her until she heard the repeated click of the empty gun chamber. The thirst of her vengeance was not quenched. Still pulling on the trigger, she wanted to kill him one thousand times over.

He deserved to suffer. For what he had taken away could never be replaced.


It was the warm water overflowing from the bathtub unto her feet that had ripped her out of the tragic trance. Her eyes returned to their normal state, as she stood panting and surprised by her blood covered hand. Storm looked up from the sink to see that she had broken the mirror above while she had temporarily surrendered to her rage. The broken pieces on the wall only served to reflect multiple images of herself . Black hair in disarray, covering her sweat glossed face she stared at her hard reflection of what she truly had become.

Vengeful killer? That aspect only possessed a quarter of what she had turned out to be. It was the emptiness that constantly gnawed at her soul that was never satisfied. The hurt of the past never to be healed. That is what wholly devoured her being. Raising her bloodied hand to a piece of her shattered reflection on the wall, it was then that she realized what she was. With a look of defeat on her face Storm whispered to her broken reflection. “I am…alone”.

Storm’s defeated look quickly disappeared from her face. Running her uninjured hand through her raven locks, the color which had been bathed in sin, she had decided at that moment she did not want this life she had created for herself. Nothing she did would be able to bring Charles back, and that pain of loss would always be there. She grew frustrated with the scattered memories that kept haunting her. She knew it was time to create new memories, happy memories, one’s she would be able to remember without the fear of them taking over.

It felt to her at times as if vengeance was all that she knew. Was it possible to just start over again? She thought if she could really do that. Where would she begin? She didn’t even know what she would do. What she even liked, or disliked. It was hard to remember what she was like just three years ago. Did she even want to try to be the same person she was back then? There were just too many questions bombarding Storm’s mind.

Irritation started to set in. She ripped a large piece of the shattered mirrored glass off the wall with her injured hand. Grasping a hand-full of hair, she held the sharp glass close to her scalp. Sizable amounts of blood stained hair soon started to rapidly litter the flooded bathroom floor. Storm may not have had any answers to her questions, but there was one thing she did know what she disliked and it was that fucking ugly dyed hair.


~Mein Dunkler Sturm = My Dark Storm~
A/N: Some RoLo Action is well on the way in the Next Chapter.





You must login () to review.