Where the sun never shines, Wither is emo.

[Manifest]

Wither awoke to the hard steel of his bed, as usual, his back aching. He was never able to feel anything good, from the soft warmth of another human to the silk comfort of sheets or clothes. He awoke naked, as usual, by himself in a room to avoid wasting his clothes. The wilter sighed heavily as he pulled on his stark white coarse full body suit, the only clothing that he that was inorganic. It itched him, but he was used to that. It was uncomfortable, but he was used to that as well. He had stole it some time ago from a construction sight. Apparently it was for crawling in the dirt, just like he should always be doing.

Wither finally cracked a small smile as he saw the flower that he had tenderly taking care of since he arrived here. It was a beautiful yellow flower, the only organic thing in his room. A steel chair was pulled up to it and Wither sat down in front of it and just stared at it. The urge was too great and he reached out and touched it, but it quickly withered in his advanced aging and crumbled to dust. A great sadness welled up in Wither. He always did this, but nevertheless wiped a single teardrop away and pulled out a plastic bag full of seeds and tipped it carefully so that one dropped into the dirt. Then he picked up his plastic watering can and watered it. It would be grown soon.

The water outside made the room shine in blue. It matched his ever constant mood. No sun would ever shine down here, in this dark place that he was banished too. He deserved nothing less. Magneto had brought him here, out of the goodness of his heart to save him, but he didn't know Wither didn't deserve to be saved. He would serve Magneto because he was like a second father, but he would be useless. He was always useless. He pulled out his last can of spray paint and checked it, then went over to one of the few pieces he had taken from the junkyard with him. It used to be junk, but now it was an interesting piece of art. It still looked like junk to Wither, for what good could come of him.

He opened the metallic door to his room and left it, downcast. He hoped he didn't run into anyone, not that there were many people down here. If they actually liked him they would probably die in some horrible fashion anyway. It was his lot in life. To be alone. To be hated. To be Wither. To be here, in this place, where the sun never shines.

[Havok]

Pyro wandered down the hallway, juggling several balls of flame as he went. He'd been warned about keeping his fire under control here because this environment was extremely oxygen rich and it was not as if an out of control fire could be easily contained here. But the person who had warned him of that had absolutely no idea that Pyro was always in control of the flame. It was his to sculpt and his to play with and anyone who thought otherwise was plainly ignorant.

He juggled the flame, changing the shape of the balls into cubes, then rings, then stars. His eyes, hidden behind his yellow tinted goggles, never left the warmth of his one unwavering companion, and so he hardly notices the other boy who slunk down the hall.

[Manifest]

Pyro. Cocky, cool, smooth, everything that Wither wasn't and with a godlike power fully in his control, much different from poor little Wither. He was one of the only other people down here, apparently Magneto liked to keep a small crew. Luckily he wasn't very interested in talking. And that fire looked dangerous. But he couldn't complain about using powers dangerously, or they'd keep him locked in his room from fear of his power. Maybe that was what he deserved.

"H-hi.. Pyro." Wither said, a small greeting. He didn't want everyone to actually hate him, after all.

[Havok]

Pyro banished the fire, clicking his ignitors off. "Oh, hey...Wither, right? How are things going? Not much to do around here, huh? I'm about to go get some food." He frowned, "Wait, I don't want to sound stupid, but how do your powers work with that? I mean, food's organic, right?"

He shook his head, "I'm sorry. I'm stupid. You don't have to answer. I'm just happy to see someone else my own age around here. Only other guy I see on a regular basis around here is Quicksilver and seriously, I can't stand him."

[Manifest]

Wither visibly relaxed at Pyro's tone, he wasn't being mean to him like so many other people in his life. Maybe he was so used to it he didn't want to pass it along to others, even if they were as pitiful as Wither. Still, it was kinda.. nice.

"N-no, uh, pretty boring." Wither muttered, shuffling his hands together, "No, it's okay, its like, uh, my power has a hunger and every time it feeds I get nourishment from it." He said, embarassed, "Can't say I remember much how things taste anymore... a-anyway, um, I don't really talk to that Quicksilver guy much. Or anyone else, really.." Wither looked nervous. He didn't want to invite himself along with Pyro, he was probably just being nice and trying to get rid of him quickly.

[Havok]

Pyro frowned, "You can't eat or it won't let you?" He flicked his ignitors, absently, letting the sparks climb up his hands. "I'm sorry if I am nosy. It's just I am terribly interested in homo superior. Magneto says we are the next step in evolution, so it's interesting to see what evolution thinks is a trait worth giving us to survive, you know what I mean mate?"

[cotarfomas]

Warlock had been spending a good deal of his free time observing the mutant-designate Wither. Mutant-designate Wither was the first entity Self had encountered on Earth that Self felt Self could relate to.

Wither was like Self: Isolated. Alone. Scorned. Feared.

Self understood

Warlock had been watching when mutant-designate-Pyro had encountered him.

This had been unexpected.

So Warlock, fighting panic as the pair approached his hidden place in the shadows of the hallway, had turned himself into a section of the floor. He had been listening to the conversation the two were having from the beginning. This was not hard, not because Warlock could not have focused his sensors to listen to them from anywhere in the base, but because they were now standing on him.

[Manifest]

"Its okay.. most people don't talk to me at all." Wither admitted, sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck. "I think.. I think it just won't let me. I've always thought.. well.." He stumbled with his words, looking downcast. "I've always thought that when some mutants gain amazing abilities, like you, it creates chaff, the things that won't w-work.. and evolution has to put them somewhere."

[Havok]

Pyro, who was just a bit taller and heavier than the other 17 year old, looked down and said, "Look, that's just horse shit, forgive my language. You want to think your powers are bad, then you let them run you. Me? I could burn this place down, and not even the water outside will quench my flames if I wanted, but I control them because if not then I don't deserve to be homo superior."

He put his hand to his head, "I'm sorry, but I am not going to let you mope around and be scared of this wonderful thing you are. I am a god of fire, you are a god of death. Both things have to be and both things should be feared and worshipped. Magneto is going to make it so that we are the highest rung on the evolutionary ladder. The only thing you have to fear is a lack of control, and we'll show you how to learn that."

[Manifest]

Wither let himself smile for the first time in what seemed like forever. God of death. He wouldn't let it go to his head. "S-sorry, sir, Pyro, i've just felt like that a long time. And no one i've met has really tried to change my mind.. until Magneto and the rest of.. you guys, 'course."

"Do you really think I could learn to control it?" He said, his smile small, but hopeful. "I mean, really control it so I wouldn't kill anything anymore.." He said the next part a little lower, "Unless they deserve it.."

[Havok]

"Well, I don't see why not." Pyro said, with confidence, "You're one of us, Wither, and we are going to rule this world someday. You'll be right up there with us if you want to be."

He smiled at the other boy and said, "Don't call me, sir, though. We're brothers here, mate."

[Manifest]

"Thanks a lot, s- er, Pyro." Wither said, feeling a little bit better, but it wasn't in his character get a huge boost of confidence. "So, do you want to get something to eat now?"

[Havok]

Pyro smirked, "Sure. Come on. Maybe we'll run into someone interesting to talk to, since I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear me babble about flames and mutant superiority, which is pretty much all I've been talking about lately." He sighed, "I used to have other interests, I suppose, but when all this began...they sort of fell by the wayside, you know? What do you do for fun, Wither? What did you want to be before you evolved?"

[Manifest]

"No, its okay, I like hearing about, it's reassuring." Wither said, stepping off the floor Warlock. "Before..? Well.. I always figured one day i'd take over my Dads company. But then things all went downhill.." He trailed off, not wanting to discuss it. "I always wanted to.. um, be an a-artist though." He said, embarressed.

"I couldn't touch things enough to paint afterwards, but people always find a way. I started, uh tagging right after I hit the street." He said, twiddling his fingers.

[Havok]

"An artist?" Pyro asked, interestedly, "I used to write...gothic fiction, if you can believe it. Even got a book published under my 'human' name. I know that Pietro plays the violin and sculpts, and Longshot had delusions of being an actor. I wonder if being a mutant has some of the same quirks as being an artist."

He didn't even notice that the floor was Warlock. He just headed down the hall, clicking his ignitors.