Disclaimer: Everybody outta Generation X (And anything remotely related to them) are copyrighted and the property of Marvel. Or something like that! All copyrights are property of their respective owners eg Vans, Garbage, Budweiser, Ikea, Playstation and Smackdown 2, and the characters of Angel and Neo are mine! Mine I tells ya! Okay, so this is my first Gen X fanfic, so don't hurt me if it doesn't sound right. I'm only a baby in the fanfic world. There's gonna be a few cultural clashes in this, as I live in Britain, but bear with me. Viva Jono!!! I guess I should warn you know that there's a few swear words in this, and one or two sexual references, but nothing violent...

Yet, anyway....

Prologue...

Manchester, England (Yes I live there!-Vincent V)...

Steve crashed out on the sofa, and began to stuff his face with a probably cholestorol-laiden portion of Rice, Chips and Curry. He swallowed, and swigged from a bottle of something possibly alcoholic. Steve couldn't remember what it was, as he'd peeled off the label a while ago, but it was probably Budweiser.

'If this ain't bliss, then I don't know what is,' the seventeen year old thought to himself. 'Push it', by Garbage, was blaring out of the stereo, and he'd begun to doodle on a pad. Steve was good at doodling, but not too good at proper, 'conceptual' art, as his art teacher called it, or 'drawing things real which I suck at' as Steve knew it by.

The summer sun glared through the window, reminding Steve of how hot he was, and how this was not the type of weather that you eat a curry in. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, and he stood up, tee-shirt (by Vans, who're my favourite brand!) clinging to his skin, and sweat dripping off his waist-long ponytail, which he'd spend the best part of two hours dying (along with the rest of his hair) red a few weeks ago. The reclusive British nutcase, or Steve, as he was known to everybody else, seriously considered sitting in the freezer, but when he checked all the ice had melted, even though the freezer was on, and working perfectly.

"Damn," Steve cursed to nobody in particular. Just as he came up with a few more expletetives to let loose, there was a knock at the door. He answered, and his best friend Jobie greeted him. "Hey man, what's up?"

"I'm bloody hot, that's what," Jobie replied.

"Wanna come in and get in the shade?" Steve stood to the side, and let Jobie in. Even though all the windows were open, Steve left the door wide open as well, in a futile effort to cool down.

"What's happened t'Britain, Steve?" Jobie asked. "It pisses it down constantly, and we complain. It's sunny and hot for just TWO DAYS, and we complain," Jobie held his hand up, two fingers up to emphasize his point.

"I know, I know," Steve jumped and landed flat out on his sofa. "You can sit down, if yer want," he offered Jobie the other sofa.

"Thanks," Jobie sank into it's recesses. Steve's furniture had been known to swallow battleships whole, and they'd once had to launch a three-day rescue mission to find Steve's girlfriend Katrina. Well, not really, but it's nice to imagine. Steve's arm drooped over the arm of the sofa he was lying on.

"Watcha been upto, man?" he managed to gasp.

"Nuthin' much," Jobie replied. "How about you? Still with Kat?"

"Yeah," Steve mumbled. "You?"

"Yeah, me and Lisa are still okay," Jobie explained. "So have you and Kat, umm, yer know?" he muttered.

"Yes," Steve nodded. He knew. "You and Lisa?"

"Hoo, yeah!" Jobie waved his hands in front of his face, to explain to Steve, and also to cool himself down. Something green flashed in front of it, causing Jobie's heart to skip a beat.

"What the fuck was that?" Jobie sat bolt upright.

"What was what?" Steve looked up. Jobie, real name John, but Steve knew too many Johns, so everybody refered to him as Jobie. Anyway, Jobie's imagination had been known to run riot sometimes, and Jobie wasn't exactly the most sane person you'd meet. Neither was Steve, but you get the point.

"This thing. I was just wavin' me hand, and this green thing flashed infront of it," Jobie waved his hand, and there was another green flash. Steve jumped off his sofa, and kneeled down infront of Jobie.

"Do it again," Steve asked, curiosity getting the better of him. Jobie waved his hand for a third time, and there was yet another green flash.

"Holy cow..." he breathed, then his imagination lept into play. "Dude, you might be a mutant!"

"What?"

"That might be a sign of your mutant powers, or something," Steve explained.

"Yer think?"

"Well, how else do you explain it?" Steve said. Jobie stared at his hand, as if it would offer some sort of explaination that Steve couldn't.

"I don't," Jobie sighed, and the room was silent for a minute. "Dude, it's not much of a mutant power, is it?"

"What?" Steve wasn't paying attention.

"It's not much of a mutant power, is it? The ability to make sparks with your hands?" Jobie stressed. (Okay, so you might of guessed that Jubilee ain't exactly my favourite character. I don't hate her, but I can't see what other people see in her!-Vincent)

"Dude, it's better than nothing," Steve sank back into his sofa, and put his feet up.

"Umm, Steve?" Jobie said nervously.

"What?" Steve began to stare at the ceiling.

"Steve, look," Jobie shouted, with more urgency in his voice. Steve turned round, and stared at Jobie. His hair, a mixture of Black and Orange, and dangling over a red Bandanna, was still as it should be. His shirt and upper body in general were as they should be, but his legs had turned totally transparent. Steve's eyes widened.

"WOAH!" He yelled. "What the hell?"

"Steve, what's happening to me?" Jobie screamed. The urgency in his voice had turned to fear.

"I told ya Jobie! You're a mutant!" Steve yelled. "How're y'doin' that?"

"I don't know," Jobie panicked. "I just began to wonder what other powers I'd have if I was a mutant, and blam, this happened!" Slowly, Jobie's legs began to fade back into existence.

"Are you doing that?" Steve asked.

"Yes. I figured it out. If I just think of a body part, then I can make it turn invisible, like this," Jobie concentrated, then looked down his pants. "See?"

"Nice try Jobie!" Steve laughed.

"No, I'm serious this time, look," Jobie thought for a moment, and his head disappeared.

"Woah! Cool! Dude, do you have any idea of the mayhem that you could cause with this?" Steve began to laugh. "You could, like, follow people into their houses, and throw their stuff about and freak them out, or yer could nick stuff, or trip people up, and stuff like that!"

"But there's a problem," Jobie said, and his head faded into view. "If I want to do all that, then I have to be naked, cos my clothes don't turn invisible too!"

"That is a bugger, ain't it?" Steve mused. Jobie sat down. "Well, nobody'd be able t'see yer anyways, so I don't think it'd matter!"

"Steve, being a mutant sucks!" he complained.

"Dude, you've only been one for about two minutes!"

"Yeah, but you're my best mate, and I won't be able to see you again 'cos I'm gonna have to go into hiding so that all those anti-mutant people don't kill me, innit?"

"John, you don't have to never see me again!" Steve sat down, and looked at Jobie. He could tell that Steve was being serious, as he never called him 'John' unless he meant what he said. "You know that I don't care if people are mutants or not! You know that. I don't care if you turn green and develop six arms or something like that. You're still my best friend, and that's all that matters!"

"You mean that?"

"Would I ever lie to you?" Jobie considered this.

"What do you mean 'Would you'? Remember that time you said that it was only chocolate, and I found out the hard way that you'd fed me laxatives? And when you covered the toilet bowl with Cling Film and didn't tell me! And what about the time that you said..."

"Yeah, well, you know what I mean!" Steve held up his hands in defence. "I'm not kidding yer this time John, I really mean it when I saw that I don't care if you're a mutant of not!"

"Thanks man..." Steve handed him a green bottle with a metal cap on it. There was no label, but Jobie could tell that it was Budweiser because it said so on the cap.

"Want me to open it for you?" Steve asked. Jobie nodded, and Steve ran into the kitchen, looking for the bottle opener. After several minutes of fruitless searching, he came back, and took the bottle out of Jobie's hands.

"Hey!" Jobie said.

"Trust me," Steve said. He pressed the neck of the bottle against his lips, felt the metal of the cap on his teeth, and bit it off. Jobie winced.

"Jesus! If you can do that then you must be a mutant too," he said, as Steve gave him the bottle back. (I can do that! And it does fucking hurt, mutant powers or not! - Vincent)

"No, it's just good dentistry," Steve spat the cap out, and rubbed his mouth. "And it hurts like hell! Which is weird, 'cos it doesn't usually," His fingers felt their way around his mouth, trying to isolate the source of the pain. Steve realised that he was growing new teeth, at an alarming rate. Blood dripped from his mouth, as the two incisors on his upper gum dropped out, and were replaced by much larger ones, which seemed to be pointed, and were very sharp. He crammed his hand into his mouth, and tried to supress the screams of agony.

Jobie watched in amazement. Blood was now pouring from Steve's mouth, and he'd just lost two teeth. Jobie knew that, despite his appearance, Steve was a really vain git, and he always brushed his teeth at least FOUR times a day, so it was doubtful that this had happened because Steve's teeth were rotten. "Steve, you okay?"

"Does it look like I'm okay?" Steve yelled, inbetween supressed screams. Jobie found it amazing that even at a time like this, Steve could still be sarcastic. Eventually, the pain subsided, and Steve took his blood-stained hand out of his mouth. His chin was red, blood still dripping off his goatee, and off his hand, where he'd bitten through the skin.

"Steve, we'd better get yeh bandaged up," Jobie said. He ran into the kitchen, where he knew that Steve kept a first-aid kit. He ran back, took out a bandage, and wrapped it around Steve's hand. "That better?" he asked. Steve nodded.

"Thanks man," he said. Jobie fell back, a look of horror on his face.

"Oh Christ! Fucking Hell! Steve, you look like a godforsaken Vampire!" Jobie said.

"I look like a what?"

"A vampire. I swear to God, you've got huge fucking teeth, they look like fangs! I'm not kidding you Steve!" Jobie placed his hand on his heart. Steve ran upstairs to the bathroom, and returned ten minutes later, ashen-faced. He'd washed all the blood off'f his face, but that didn't really matter.

"You're right..." he breathed. "I do look like a...AAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!" Steve bent over backwards, a crippling pain shot through his spine. He screamed.

"What...what's going on?" Jobie stepped away.

"My...My back..." Steve cried out. "It hurts....There's something...Inside..." he screamed again, and managed to pull his shirt over his head. Jobie looked at his back. There were two huge lumps, next to each other, running the length of his back, and stopping above his belt.

"Oh...my...god..." Jobie stepped away. Steve screamed at the top of his voice, and the skin on his back exploded. It was at this point that he blacked out, and collapsed on the floor.

Steve came round groggily, his vision a blur, a massive migraine pounding at his head, and his memory screwed. All he could remember was these two huge teeth in his mouth, then a massive pain in his back, and then he'd passed out. He rubbed his eyes, and managed to stagger to his feet.

"You're concious then?" Jobie said, from somewhere behind Steve. Steve tried desperately to look, but he still couldn't make anything out.

"Where...where am I?" he asked.

"Your house," Jobie replied. "Didn't you recognise it?"

"I can't see anything," Steve told him. "Where in my house?"

"Your bedroom," Jobie said. "I dragged you up here, and left you on your bed after you collapsed. You feelin' better?"

"Sort of," Steve replied. "I can't see anything, and I've got a massive migraine, and a case of short-term amnesia, but apart from that I guess I'm okay,"

"Oh no you're not, mate," Jobie said. Steve's vision cleared a little, and he noticed that Jobie had been telling the truth; IE he was in his bedroom. Jobie was sitting in the silver chair that Steve'd bought from Ikea, at the far left corner of the room, ironically near the PlayStation.

"What do you mean?" Steve walked towards him.

"How well can yeh see?"

"Well enough. Tell me what you meant," Jobie turned his attention back to the PlayStation, where he was playing on Smackdown 2.

"Take a look in your mirror, if you want, 'Cos I ain't telling ya!" Steve turned to face his body-length mirror, and his jaw dropped.

"What...the...fuck...are they?" He pointed at his own reflection. In the mirror, he could see himself, and on his back were two, huge dark-purple wings. Steve staggered back in shock.

"Looks like I'm not the only mutant here then," Jobie said. Steve felt the wings on his back, to make sure that they were real.

"Holy cow... How could this happen to me?" Steve gasped.

"I don't know, but it's a miracle that you're alive," Jobie offered, still not looking away from the TV.

"Huh? Why's that?" Steve turned to face him. Jobie paused Smackdown 2, and looked at Steve.

"'Cos yer lost so much fucking blood, that's why," he turned back to his Royal Rumble. "If yer don't believe me, then take a look at yeh living room, cos it's everywhere!"

To be continued...

NB: Everybody that feels pissed off with me cos I left out Generation X, and any other mutants, then don't worry. Get Part two of the story, 'cos that's where they appear. Remember, this is only the prologue! Thanks go out to Jobie (Told ya I'd do it!), Nescafe (NEED COFFEE!!! NEED CAFFEINE!!!), John and Ian (For getting me into Generation X in the first place, and for getting me drunk when I come round!) and Kat (Who loves ya, baby?). Thanks to everybody who reads this, and thinks it's great! You make me feel better!

18-Feb-2001