Legion - prologue
by Valadar

Behold the world, fair readers. See how the glistening sphere shines in the heavens, a blue beacon in the spaceways? Now, behold the escaping ship of Mentor, as it rockets its way to the salvation of the world. Watch, as it is destroyed, and he barely escapes with his life. Now, do you see the shimmering capsules of Energy X as it cascades down onto the planet below? Do you see how they do not settle in Patriot City, alone, but across the planet?

We now move our focus to a city, nestled on the Side Range of the Rocky Mountains, in the central United States. It is named Mountainrock, and it is a bustling city, with every modern convenience. Crime is rare here, but not unheard of, and it is quiet. Let us watch what now unfolds, as the mysterious Energy X changes a city's destiny.

John Mendolsson rested for a bit. He had been exercising to keep up what little strength he had, but it was difficult. He was born albino, and as such had little strength to even stand, yet exercise. However, long years of pushing his meager limits had enabled him to not only stand upright unassisted, but even run and jump with the strength of a normal man. He would never be an athlete, but he was at least more than the doctors had ever said he would be.

Brushing his ivory hair behind his ears with a practiced hand gesture, he quickly showered, and changed into a business suit. Today was a day he had dreaded for five years, ever since his father had contracted the bane of his family... cancer. He had dreaded it almost as much as he had dreaded the day his beloved patriarch actually entered eternity, for it was the passing of a burden he was unsure he was strong enough to accept. Today, was the reading of his father's Last Will and Testament.

Adjusting his tie, he looked in on his older brother, Michael. Like John, Michael had been born different than others. But where John was intelligent and witty, with the frail constitution that was his curse as an albino, Michael was as normal as could be to the naked eye. What the casual observer would not know is that Michael's eyes hid a child's mind, forever trapped in the ways of a five year old boy.

"Mike, are you dressed?"

The older Mendolsson's eyes lit up at the sight of his brother. "Uh-huh, John! But I needa help wit' the tie."

John sighed, but grinned a little, and took the man's tie, and began to tie it for him into a proper gentleman's knot.

"I still don' unnerstand what's gonna happen today," complained Michael.

"Mike, the man we're going to see today has a letter from Papa, one he wrote before he died. It's going to tell us how much he loved us, and how proud he is going to be of us as he watches from Heaven." John gave the tie one last adjustment, then looked at his brother. "It's also going to tell us that I am going to be running the family business, and taking care of you by myself from now on."

"Oh." A brief silence filled the room as the brothers looked at each other. "I'm glad you're my brother, John."

The younger brother grinned. "Come on, big bro, let's get going. The lawyer is expecting us in about half an hour, and it's a bit of a walk." Leading Matthew by one hand on his shoulder, John walked out of the family mansion, and into the streets of Mountainrock. High in the air above them, fate descended in silvery canisters.

College gymnast Brian Murphy did one last tumbling pass on the mats before finally calling it a day. He was short, but built like a fireplug, with sandy red hair that curled on his head, and green eyes that looked out calmly onto the world. After cleaning up and getting dressed, he hurried to the College Park to meet his new bride, Stacy. She had recently given birth to their firstborn son, Brian Junior, and he was as proud as he could be of both of them.

Standing in the park, Stacy stood actually an inch or two taller than Brian. "You're running late," she grinned at him as she walked up to him, carrying their child.

"Ah, Coach had me do some more stuff. Said I wasn't ready yet." Brian shrugged. "Well, are we ready for the afternoon's activities?"

"The picnic basket is in the car," said Stacy, "and I've got the route all planned out. We spend the afternoon in the mountains, and the night in nearby Rock Springs."

Brian took his two month old son gently into his arms, still amazed at the wonder of his baby boy. "Then come on, ‘Mom', let's go."

Little did they know that more than one force would cross their paths, changing everything forever.

Calvin Hobbes couldn't dodge the fist as it splintered into him, his skull cracking with agony. If he did, his stepfather would only beat him harder. "You stupid kid, I said hand me a three-sixteenths wrench, not a five-sixteenths!"

Keeping silent, the teenager nodded, and carefully made sure he had the right wrench before handing it to the man who made his life a torment. His real father had died in the Pennsylvania coal mines when he was only two, and his mother had moved here, to Mountainrock, to start a new life. There, she met Andrew Hobbes, an automobile repairman, and fallen in love.

She did not know that beneath his handsome face beat a hate he could not escape, a hate that festered in him for anything that frustrated him. She did not know until the first time he came home drunk, and beat her until she was within an inch of her life. The authorities would do nothing. After all, what goes on in a man's home stays in a man's home. When Calvin was eight, Andrew struck him for the first time. It would not be the last.

"Calvin, can you come here, please? I need your help in the kitchen." His mother's voice was like an angel's song to the teenager, but he was unsure if his stepfather would beat him harder for going to her, or for not going to her.

He was lost in indecision, when he was sent sprawling by a forceful cuff to the back of his head. "Hey, stupid, didn't ya hear your ma calling? You better get in there now before I take this wrench to ya." Calvin stayed wordless, and rushed inside from the garage, grateful to his mother and salvation.

But the dinner that would await them in less than an hour would be filled with more pain and anguish than Calvin would have ever expected.

John Mendolsson sighed. It had all happened the way he thought it would have. The business, which was growing strong, was his. As was the responsibility of his brother. The latter was a joyful responsibility, a burden he would gladly bear, but the former threatened to force him to the ground, to drag his soul into torment. He did not have his father's business acumen, for his talents lay elsewhere.

The brothers walked down the street in silence, both still remembering the private messages their father had left to them in his will. Night was beginning to fall, and the streetlights turned on one by one to illuminate their ruminations. Finally, Michael turned to his younger brother. "Does this mean you aren't gonna be there alla time anymore? Like when you were in College?"

John sighed. "I'm sorry, Mike. I gotta run the business. If I'm not there, something could happen to Mendolsson Pharmaceuticals."

More silence. After a while, Mike asked, "Then who's gonna be with me durin' the day?"

"Do you remember Miss Aliana?" asked John. Seeing his brother nod, he continued. "I've asked her to come back. She remembers you fondly, and would be there to help me when I can't be with you."

"I liked her. She was soft, an' smelled like bread."

The screech of tires as a car lost control interrupted the conversation of the brothers. Careening nearly straight at them, the vehicle crossed several lanes of traffic, sending them diving out of the way. Without the speed or agility of his brother, John seemed doomed... until fate changed everything. A crimson glow settled around him as he watched the car rush towards him in what seemed like slow motion. On instinct, he raised his hand, and a silvery, shimmering beam lanced out, and struck the car, stopping it cold. As everything blurred back to normal, all he could feel was a sense of strength, of health like he had never known before.

Bystanders began to gather around the brothers, helping up Michael, and asking questions of John. "Did you see that? Weren't you scared? Good thing his brakes kicked back in." As he listened, John realized that none of the bystanders had actually seen what had happened.

Looking at the car, he rushed to it, and opened the door to check on the driver. He was an older man, his one hand clutched around the steering wheel, and the other clutched against his chest. His eyes were closed, and his face was frozen in a rictus of extreme pain. John reached up, and felt the man's neck for a pulse. The skin was slightly cool, and he felt no pulse. Apparently, the man had suffered a heart attack, and died at the wheel.

The police arrived, and took testimony from the various witnesses. Discounting poor Mike's story of a silver lance that saved his brother, they decided that the driver's foot had slipped off the gas enough for the weight of his other foot on the brake to take hold. john accepted what they said at face value, knowing the truth was far different, and turned to take his brother home.

Brian didn't know the streets of Rock Springs, but his wife had been born here. She pointed out what streets to take, and soon they were walking towards the exclusive restaurant at which they had made reservations three weeks before. It was their first anniversary, and he felt the same nervous jitter that he felt on the day he asked her to marry him.

As they passed a dark alley, Brian was stopped cold by the sound of gunfire. He rushed his wife down to the side of the building, and turned to see two cars driving down the street, men leaning out of the windows firing Tommy guns at each other... missing each other, mostly, but tearing up the local scenery with their inaccurate sprays. He also saw what he thought was a falling satellite, right before a wave of nausea washed over him, followed by the most intense sense of vertigo he had ever felt. Tiny pinpricks danced on his skin as he closed his eyes, and steadied himself, but his wife's screams of pain shook him out of his reverie.

To his horror, his wife was bleeding from three wounds in her chest... and his son lay still wrapped in his blanket, but a growing, sickening red stain spread across those swaddling clothes. He lowered his hand to his wife's cheek, but saw the hand of a giant, whose fingers were larger than her head. "Stacy... no, Stacy!" Even his voice sounded wrong, far deeper than it should have been.

"Brian... I... love..."

Silence.

Moments passed, and Brian realized what had happened. The two gangsters had murdered his wife and child in their orgy of violence as they sought to kill each other, but he had survived. Moreover, he had changed, grown, into something he wasn't sure could truly be considered human anymore. With a surge from his now powerful legs, he angrily leapt straight towards the speeding cars.

To his surprise, he leapt completely over the lead car, which slammed into him at nearly sixty miles an hour. He rocked back half a step, then picked up the wreckage, uncaring of the fate of the men within, and hurled it with all of his newfound might at the second car, which had slammed on its brakes when it saw the fate of the car ahead of it. The two vehicles impacted with a force so great the shockwave could be felt for blocks away, and the resulting explosion seemed to be merely an afterthought.

Only then did the grief-stricken titan drop to his knees, and, breaking one of the greatest rules all men of the times must follow, he wept.

The table was set, and the food was ready, and Calvin and his mother sat down, to wait on his step-father to come in and eat dinner. They waited for nearly half an hour, not daring to touch the food, as it slowly grew cold. Finally, wiping the grease off his hands on his shirt, Andrew Hobbes walked into the kitchen. "This better be good, woman, or you're gonna pay."

No words were said as the man took the first bite of his food. A grimace spread across his face, and he tossed the plate away from the table in a rage, as the other two present flinched. "It's cold! How many times do I gotta tell you, I don't eat no cold food!" Standing up, and ignoring the chair as it fell with a clatter behind him, he snatched his wife's arm in one hamfist, and yanked her away from the table. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain, knowing that it would do no good.

Calvin couldn't bear to see what was going to happen next, but was too scared to look away. He watched his step-father land blow upon blow on his mother's stomach and chest, hearing the sickening thuds, and once a sharp crack, as a rib broke. "Now, you gonna serve me cold food again?" demanded the brute.

Lela Hobbes could not find the breath to give an answer aloud, so she shook her head in the negative. This wasn't good enough however. "Speak when you're spoken to, woman!" demanded Andrew, as he hurled Calvin's mother against the countertop. A warm heat washed over the teen as he saw his mother's head crack against the hardwood counter, then watched her slump to the floor. A pool began to form around her head, a red pool, then stopped. She took one ragged, final breath... then breathed no more.

"You killed her."

"Shut up, kid, she's jus' faking it." Andrew didn't even turn to look at the boy, which was the worst mistake he had ever made in his life, he bent down, reaching for the red-stained hair of his wife.

"YOU KILLED HER!" Calvin screamed again, this time coming out as a roar of all the pent up rage and despair he had suffered for fourteen years of his sixteen years of age. He stood up, and rushed his step-father, grabbed him, and tossed him aside like a rag doll.

Looking down on the man, he realized he had somehow changed. Fur covered him, and claws slipped in and out of his fingertips as he curled and opened his hands. He stepped closer to his step-father, who looked up at him, and began to gibber in fear. "Y-you ain't human! You're a monster! Help, a monster!" He scrambled for the door, and began to open it to scream for help.

Calvin was faster, however. He grabbed the man by the back of the neck, and dangled him above the ground. "I should kill you for killing my mother!" he snarled. Then, the sight of his claws beginning to pierce the skin of the terrified man stopped him. He watched, fascinated, as a single drop of blood trickled down to the man's dirty shirt, then turned, and dropped him on the couch. "But I won't. You will sit on that couch, and wait."

"W...wait for what?"

"The Police." And with that, the changed Calvin picked up the telephone. "Operator? Yes, I'd like the East Precinct, please."

To be continued...