Darkcloud by Strike

Summary: This is a mildly violent (hence the PG rating) action adventure that's more in line with the mid-ninties television cartoon. It features an entity I invented called Darkcloud as well as all the main X-Men from the cartoon, with a couple of others doing cameos!

Chapter 1

It was a particularly dark night in New York. The moon and the stars were hidden behind thick clouds that were threatening more rain. The few people who were out were huddling into their coats to guard against the wind and walked at quickened paces, thinking only of getting home. One man walked the streets unconcerned by either the chill wind or eerie darkness. In fact, he usually preferred the darkness, though it did little to improve his mood that night. Not even the shabby conditions of the buildings he walked amongst, the tensions, the despair or the malice of this shadowed corner could instil in him a sense of achievement or inspire him to spread all that and worse.

He was not really a man of course, though it was a very effective disguise. He was so much more than a normal human being, more, even, than the mutants with their superhuman abilities. To him there was little difference between the two. He equally despised both. The only pleasure he took from them was through their destruction.

Anger boiled up within him, yet he neither quickened nor slowed his pace. His shoes continued to make a steady slap, slap on the muddy ground. He did not clench his fists and no part of his body showed his inner feelings, except his face. His teeth were clenched, muscles drawn tight, fury seemed to rise from him as steam, but it was his eyes that were the most frightening - their soulless gaze sparkled with cold malevolence, and with the promise of oblivion.

The sudden, high-pitched cry of an angered cat did not break him from his destinationless march, nor did he care when a second cat tore across his path, the loser of some territorial struggle. Such low creatures were beneath his concern. But then, he reminded himself, so were homo sapiens and homo superior, or at least they should be. So why weren’t they? Why did so many still walk the planet, and how was it that they did not spend their every moment afraid for their very existence?

That was what he wanted. Death and destruction. Fear of death and destruction. Over the thousands of years he had existed he had tried many things, many different ways of reaching his goal, and yet he had thus far failed. He could never be destroyed, for he was eternal, but people still lived, so he had failed.

Disease. Famine. Fire, flood and war. Whatever he did people still survived, sometimes weakening or even imprisoning him for a time. Always delaying the inevitable, never acknowledging that the ultimate goal in life was death - something that reached all beings, despite intelligence, position and wealth, in time.

Turning a corner he stopped, lurking in the shadows. He had known four humans were there, as he had sensed their intentions, and something about them had drawn him to watch.

They had all been running and were drawing breath more rapidly than they would usually need. One of them drew air desperately, in fits and starts, his panic and fear apparent to all. The other three faced and surrounded this one, who had backed himself against a wall. He had nowhere to run, even if he could. One of the three stepped forwards, though the man knew that this boy - for all were barely adults - was not the leader.

The man did not listen to their words. He already knew their intentions and what the outcome would be. The aggressor who had stepped forwards was buried in rage. His foe owed something to him, something he could not pay, so the aggressor decided to take his payment in blood.

Perhaps had the man not been there the weak one would not have been killed. He knew that his presence would twist fate in that direction; otherwise the boy might just have suffered a beating. But causing this eventuality was not the reason the man had been drawn there. It was because of one of the three, the one who stood slightly apart and wore a smug expression that normal humans would miss without the light. This one was satisfied. He had not been happy with his leader. His leader was keeping him from taking the control he thought he deserved. So he had set things up, influenced events, and now his leader was dead on the floor. He now had the power. He had used others to reach his goals. The man stepped away from the scene, intrigued by his thoughts. Perhaps his problem was that, although he was powerful, he was still just one. He could gain power over some, and use them to destroy others, cause dissention and chaos, shatter trust and force people to separate, making them ripe for the picking.

Yes, he smiled inwardly. In mere seconds he had already worked out many of the details of his plan. He knew exactly where to start. He knew how to bring about his goal, his purpose, his name.

Apocalypse.

On to Chapter 2...