FalconX: The Wretched (Book One)

Chapter 1

I sat shotgun in my dad’s purple convertible, it was dead silent, and my bags rattled in the back. My long, golden brown hair was whipped back by the wind, and my bright blue eyes were locked onto the foggy shore of Westchester, New York.

            Our car was silent, well, except for the song “Break” by Three Days Grace playing softly; you couldn’t hear very well over the roar of the wind. I fiddled with the arrows in my quiver as we slowly approached Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

            My dad thinks it would be best for me if I went there to “to help control my abilities and to forget my past” which I think is a bunch of crap to get me away from him, because he doesn’t want a mass murderer as a daughter.

            Yes, I’ve murdered people—five hundred and thirty one to be exact. The only reason I got such a high number is because when I was stuck at S.H.E.I.L.D.’s headquarters for ten years they trained me to be a master assassin for them, but I didn’t want that. Before they trained me I had a bunch of tests run on me to give me super-human abilities. Now, I wasn’t created there, I was left there by my father at the age of four—it was traumatic for me. He said he would be back in a few days to get me, but he never came back. The scientists told me he was dead, so I believed them; until I escaped at age fourteen.

            Then, I went on a super pissed of killing spree that lasted for two years, but the strange thing was that when I was caught it was my supposedly dead father that caught me—and his superhero name is Hawkeye. He’s quite famous in the world that is S.H.E.I.L.D.

            Now, this leads me to where I am now—sixteen years-old and a mutant. My ‘powers’ and more like curses; sure being able to telekinesis that no one but yourself knows about, super accuracy, and super speed can be fun at times but it just gets old when you can’t control it.

            “You know I’m doing this because I only want the best for you,” My dad tried to apologize, but clearly I didn’t want any part of it. “I promise I’ll be back to visit you after this one mission I absolutely have to do!”

            “I heard that eleven years ago, AND YOU NEVER CAME BACK!” I yelled in anger from all the memories I had from the S.H.E.I.L.D. headquarters; all the needles jabbing into my skin, all the tests to see what abilities had had been given, and all the punishments—the whipping, starvation, and running. All of it was a horrible memory that would go away with all the time in the world.

            “Calm down, jeez,” Dad said in a calming voice and he pointed to a massive mansion with kids running around outside, “Look, were here.”

            We pulled up to a massive mansion, people stared at Dad and I as we got out of our purple convertible and we walked up to the gate with all my bags in my hands and my quiver and bow on my back. “Is that Hawkeye from the Avenger program?” One person whispers.

            “I think it is, but who’s that girl with him?” Another asked.

            At the front of the gate sat a bald man in a wheel chair, he looked to be in his late fifties, and he wore a warm grin on his face. “Ah, Clint Barton,” he greeted warmly as the Iron Gate opened for us, the bald man rolled towards us and out onto the pavement; behind him was an African American woman with short and shaggy white hair, she wore a kind smile that matched the bald man’s. “And I’m guessing this is the lovely Mara Barton.”

            “Hello, Professor,” Dad greeted as he shook hands with the bald man who I assumed is the professor. Dad placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “This is my daughter Mara—I thought I was best that she stayed here for a while, so you could observe what they tested on her in S.H.E.I.L.D.’s headquarters.”