Post by TheFlash213 on Jun 13, 2018 0:35:51 GMT
"They've promised that dreams can come true, but forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams too." - Oscar Wilde
Prolouge
Suburbs, Vertigo City, 1986
*CRASH!*
A small boy bolts up in bed, sweat dripping down his forehead from his wet black hair.
*BANG*
A scream followed the sound which he recognized as a gunshot. He climbed out of his bed, reaching for his baseball bat.
He gently opened his dark oak bedroom door and listened. Silence. He made his way down the creaky old staircase towards the only room with light coming from under the door, the living room.
He reached the door, placing a sweaty hand on the doorknob. He opened it just a touch, to peer inside. He opened it wider and entered.
The room was a mess, chairs tipped over, pictures thrown around and the glass table smashed. The boy walked in amongst the carnage, and above the sound of his quickening, panicked breath, he heard small sobs, not of loss but of pain.
He made his way to the other side of the room, baseball bat clutched in his hands ready to protect himself. He made his way around the couch and saw a pair of familiar feet on the floor poking out from behind the couch.
He cautiously peered over the couch as tears started forming in his eyes. His mother, lay on the ground, looking up at her horrified little boy. "X...Xavier?", came her raspy, breathless voice. Her hands lay upon a wound in her stomach. "Mommy? Don't go, I need you...", Xavier whispered to his Mother, but he was too late.
He stood, tears rolling down his young face.
"Man up, b-boy!", came a deep, gruff voice from behind him. He turned around slowly. What he saw terrified him. There was his father, sitting in his armchair.
His Father passed out right there in front of him, after taking the person he loved the most from the world.
Xavier started to wipe away the tears so he could see clearly. He looked down and saw his favorite baseball bat in his small hand. He tightened his grip with both hands.
He looked at the Father he wished he never had. He walked over to him, looking at him for the last time. He began to lift his baseball bat, ready to get revenge for the woman whom he loved most....
Prolouge
Suburbs, Vertigo City, 1986
*CRASH!*
A small boy bolts up in bed, sweat dripping down his forehead from his wet black hair.
*BANG*
A scream followed the sound which he recognized as a gunshot. He climbed out of his bed, reaching for his baseball bat.
He gently opened his dark oak bedroom door and listened. Silence. He made his way down the creaky old staircase towards the only room with light coming from under the door, the living room.
He reached the door, placing a sweaty hand on the doorknob. He opened it just a touch, to peer inside. He opened it wider and entered.
The room was a mess, chairs tipped over, pictures thrown around and the glass table smashed. The boy walked in amongst the carnage, and above the sound of his quickening, panicked breath, he heard small sobs, not of loss but of pain.
He made his way to the other side of the room, baseball bat clutched in his hands ready to protect himself. He made his way around the couch and saw a pair of familiar feet on the floor poking out from behind the couch.
He cautiously peered over the couch as tears started forming in his eyes. His mother, lay on the ground, looking up at her horrified little boy. "X...Xavier?", came her raspy, breathless voice. Her hands lay upon a wound in her stomach. "Mommy? Don't go, I need you...", Xavier whispered to his Mother, but he was too late.
He stood, tears rolling down his young face.
"Man up, b-boy!", came a deep, gruff voice from behind him. He turned around slowly. What he saw terrified him. There was his father, sitting in his armchair.
His Father passed out right there in front of him, after taking the person he loved the most from the world.
Xavier started to wipe away the tears so he could see clearly. He looked down and saw his favorite baseball bat in his small hand. He tightened his grip with both hands.
He looked at the Father he wished he never had. He walked over to him, looking at him for the last time. He began to lift his baseball bat, ready to get revenge for the woman whom he loved most....
