Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)
Posted: Thu May 27, 2004 5:36 pm
I started this story last fall semester after reading Universe X for the first time (sitting on the floor of the bookstore and shamelessly blocking traffic). I wrote out an outline and five chapters before I realized I didn't really like where this story was going. I still don't, and I'm not at all sure whether I should rework it or not. So, I decided to post the first chapter and find out what you think of it. If you don't like it, I'll just put it aside or cannibalize it for parts to use in other stories. If you do like it, I'll work on fixing it up. It's up to you, so please let me know what you think!
NOTE: In Italian, Beatrice is pronounced Bee-a-TREECH-eh. Since the great Dante wrote his Inferno in Italian, I would guess Belasco would say the name with the Italian pronounciation.
NOTE II: The opening speech (from "There..." to "What about Kurt Wagner?" ) is quoted directly from Universe X Volume 2. The descriptions in between those quotes and everything that follows is mine (except the characters themselves, of course. Those are Marvel's).
Confession: I don't really know anything about Universe X besides what I read in the bookstore all those months ago. Therefore, I take full responsibility for all the mess-ups I'm bound to make with this universe and apologize in advance.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the X-Men or any of their multiple incarnations. Please don't sue me or steal my story!
Belasco's Beatrice
By Rowena
Chapter One
The sun was shining, the grass was lush and green, and the sound of happy shouts and carefree laughter wafted through the fragrant springtime air. The destruction of the earth had been averted, the lives of every man, woman, and child had been saved. For the first time in too long a time it finally seemed as though God was in His heaven and all was right with the world.*
Unnoticed by the happy people practicing their powers in the grassy clearing, a cloaked, shadowy figure grabbed hold of a thick, rough treebranch with one powerful hand and leaned forward, looking down at the scene below him with glowing, yellow eyes. Strangely, his long, red fingers were tied together in twos although there was no evidence of a wound that would necessitate such crippling bandages.
As he observed the small group of mutants from his perch in the tree, his glowing eyes sought out and fixed themselves on one figure in particular; a tall, slender man with short, snow-white hair and an imposing air of charismatic power that seemed to swirl around him like a majestic cloak.
"There..." the shadow whispered, his low voice barely audible above the rustle of the tender, new leaves that shielded his malevolent form from view. "There. Magneto is an ally now. A hero. A friend." He blinked, turning his gaze from the imposing old man to focus on the group as a whole. "You've succeeded in redeeming him, X-Men, as you have almost all your enemies. Magneto...the Brotherhood...Unus...Juggernaut...Sauron. You saved them all."
With a sudden jerk that ran the risk of spraining his neck, the shadowy figure tore his gaze from the bright scene below him, focusing instead on the bandaged red hand that gripped the branch, its long, claw-like nails digging into the rough bark. His long, angular face was twisted in an expression of bitter pain, his hard eyes narrowed in anger.
"But what of a friend's redemption?" he near spat, gripping his perch harder with his spade-tipped tail. "Why haven't you redeemed me? What about Kurt Wagner?"
A powerful shudder ran down his spine as he spoke the all-too-familiar name, nearly causing his tail to untwine itself from around the thick treebranch. He knew the answer to that question. He'd known it even before he'd voiced it.
It was because he had been a friend that the X-Men were avoiding him now. It was because what he had done to them had been far, far worse than anything their other enemies had ever done that they had not reached out to him, offering him their forgiveness and a place among them once more.
"You betrayed them," he hissed, his harsh, accusing voice burning in his sharply pointed ears as he lowered his head in angry shame. "I betrayed them. I tortured them, tormented them, killed them for no reason."
He snorted sharply, his golden eyes flashing with a fiery rage. "No reason," he snarled, baring his fangs though he didn't realize it. "I had a reason. I did it out of hatred. I did it for spite. The others--Magneto and the Brotherhood, even Juggernaut to some degree--they were acting on their own beliefs, twisted and misguided though they may have been. Magneto truly believed his view was right. He believed in his ideals as strongly as that fool Xavier and his pretentious X-Men believed in theirs. When he fought, it was in defense of those ideals. When Juggernaut attacked, it was out of a personal hatred grown out of a painful past history with his brother Charles. But, when I--"
He broke off, leaning back on his branch and clutching his horned head with his one hand.
"Why am I here? What am I doing here?" he growled, running his claws fiercely through his wavy, crimson hair. "I neither need nor want their forgiveness. I don't need them at all!"
Bringing his hand to his mouth, he savagely tore the bandages from his fingers with his sharp fangs, flexing them together, then one at a time.
"I am not the pathetic circus freak they knew, the grotesquely deformed mutant who would eagerly forgive any tresspass just in the hopes of being liked by a group of arrogant fools who were never worth the effort!" He spat, his narrow, russet features hardened by hatred.
"Kurt Wagner is dead," he stated, his breath quickening slightly as the blunt words passed his narrow lips. "I am Belasco. And a demon has no need for redemption."
Where a certain blue, fuzzy, elf-like mutant may once have simply teleported from the treebranch with a soft BAMF of imploding air and a brief, theatrical flash of sulfur-scented smoke, the dark, cloaked figure who claimed the name Belasco climbed down to the soft, new grass with surprisingly nimble movements, given his lack of an arm. Keeping to the shadows, the proud, malevolent figure left the grassy clearing and the X-Men who played there far behind. But he knew he'd be back before long. He also knew why. For, even as he stalked away, his five unbandaged fingers split themselves of their own accord into a familiar, tridactal form...
*I know I remember the end of this line from P.G. Wodehouse, but I can't for the life of me remember which book it was in. After all, he's written so many...
Like it? Hate it? Want more? It's up to you! Please let me know what you think!
NOTE: In Italian, Beatrice is pronounced Bee-a-TREECH-eh. Since the great Dante wrote his Inferno in Italian, I would guess Belasco would say the name with the Italian pronounciation.
NOTE II: The opening speech (from "There..." to "What about Kurt Wagner?" ) is quoted directly from Universe X Volume 2. The descriptions in between those quotes and everything that follows is mine (except the characters themselves, of course. Those are Marvel's).
Confession: I don't really know anything about Universe X besides what I read in the bookstore all those months ago. Therefore, I take full responsibility for all the mess-ups I'm bound to make with this universe and apologize in advance.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the X-Men or any of their multiple incarnations. Please don't sue me or steal my story!
Belasco's Beatrice
By Rowena
Chapter One
The sun was shining, the grass was lush and green, and the sound of happy shouts and carefree laughter wafted through the fragrant springtime air. The destruction of the earth had been averted, the lives of every man, woman, and child had been saved. For the first time in too long a time it finally seemed as though God was in His heaven and all was right with the world.*
Unnoticed by the happy people practicing their powers in the grassy clearing, a cloaked, shadowy figure grabbed hold of a thick, rough treebranch with one powerful hand and leaned forward, looking down at the scene below him with glowing, yellow eyes. Strangely, his long, red fingers were tied together in twos although there was no evidence of a wound that would necessitate such crippling bandages.
As he observed the small group of mutants from his perch in the tree, his glowing eyes sought out and fixed themselves on one figure in particular; a tall, slender man with short, snow-white hair and an imposing air of charismatic power that seemed to swirl around him like a majestic cloak.
"There..." the shadow whispered, his low voice barely audible above the rustle of the tender, new leaves that shielded his malevolent form from view. "There. Magneto is an ally now. A hero. A friend." He blinked, turning his gaze from the imposing old man to focus on the group as a whole. "You've succeeded in redeeming him, X-Men, as you have almost all your enemies. Magneto...the Brotherhood...Unus...Juggernaut...Sauron. You saved them all."
With a sudden jerk that ran the risk of spraining his neck, the shadowy figure tore his gaze from the bright scene below him, focusing instead on the bandaged red hand that gripped the branch, its long, claw-like nails digging into the rough bark. His long, angular face was twisted in an expression of bitter pain, his hard eyes narrowed in anger.
"But what of a friend's redemption?" he near spat, gripping his perch harder with his spade-tipped tail. "Why haven't you redeemed me? What about Kurt Wagner?"
A powerful shudder ran down his spine as he spoke the all-too-familiar name, nearly causing his tail to untwine itself from around the thick treebranch. He knew the answer to that question. He'd known it even before he'd voiced it.
It was because he had been a friend that the X-Men were avoiding him now. It was because what he had done to them had been far, far worse than anything their other enemies had ever done that they had not reached out to him, offering him their forgiveness and a place among them once more.
"You betrayed them," he hissed, his harsh, accusing voice burning in his sharply pointed ears as he lowered his head in angry shame. "I betrayed them. I tortured them, tormented them, killed them for no reason."
He snorted sharply, his golden eyes flashing with a fiery rage. "No reason," he snarled, baring his fangs though he didn't realize it. "I had a reason. I did it out of hatred. I did it for spite. The others--Magneto and the Brotherhood, even Juggernaut to some degree--they were acting on their own beliefs, twisted and misguided though they may have been. Magneto truly believed his view was right. He believed in his ideals as strongly as that fool Xavier and his pretentious X-Men believed in theirs. When he fought, it was in defense of those ideals. When Juggernaut attacked, it was out of a personal hatred grown out of a painful past history with his brother Charles. But, when I--"
He broke off, leaning back on his branch and clutching his horned head with his one hand.
"Why am I here? What am I doing here?" he growled, running his claws fiercely through his wavy, crimson hair. "I neither need nor want their forgiveness. I don't need them at all!"
Bringing his hand to his mouth, he savagely tore the bandages from his fingers with his sharp fangs, flexing them together, then one at a time.
"I am not the pathetic circus freak they knew, the grotesquely deformed mutant who would eagerly forgive any tresspass just in the hopes of being liked by a group of arrogant fools who were never worth the effort!" He spat, his narrow, russet features hardened by hatred.
"Kurt Wagner is dead," he stated, his breath quickening slightly as the blunt words passed his narrow lips. "I am Belasco. And a demon has no need for redemption."
Where a certain blue, fuzzy, elf-like mutant may once have simply teleported from the treebranch with a soft BAMF of imploding air and a brief, theatrical flash of sulfur-scented smoke, the dark, cloaked figure who claimed the name Belasco climbed down to the soft, new grass with surprisingly nimble movements, given his lack of an arm. Keeping to the shadows, the proud, malevolent figure left the grassy clearing and the X-Men who played there far behind. But he knew he'd be back before long. He also knew why. For, even as he stalked away, his five unbandaged fingers split themselves of their own accord into a familiar, tridactal form...
*I know I remember the end of this line from P.G. Wodehouse, but I can't for the life of me remember which book it was in. After all, he's written so many...
Like it? Hate it? Want more? It's up to you! Please let me know what you think!