Another Time, A Different Dimension UPDATED
folder
X-men Comics › Crossovers
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,253
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-men Comics › Crossovers
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,253
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Contains M/M!!!! I do not own the Anita Blake / X-Men franchise (books, comics, characters, etc) and I make no money on the fiction.
The Man Who Ceased to Exist
Just some background info so it doesn't seem too confusing. This fanfic takes place in St Louis when Asher and the council first arrive and they try to make Jean Claude take the empty Council seat. Warren is currently at the point where he has his original skin color and wings back, but he still doesn't have the ability to become the Archangel at will. He does know of his healing abilities, but I've changed it a bit in this story to where it doesn't matter what blood type you are, he can heal anyone.
It has been a while since I've read the Xmen comics and the Anita Blake series, so if I mistake the things are, please let me know and I'll fix it.
================================================
Warren K. Worthington III was not what one would call a man easily forgotten. Standing at an even 6 feet and weighing in at around 160 lbs of pure bulging muscle, his size alone would make him instantly memorable. Throw in his strongly handsome and angelic facial features, his charismatic personality and the fact that he's one of the richest people in the world, one would be hard pressed to find someone who didn't know the name Warren K. Worthington III. Though, the problem he was having at the moment wasn't necessarily the realization that nobody seemed to know him.
The problem was that Warren K. Worthington III didn't exist.
The name Worthington didn't exist.
No Corporation. No bank accounts. No records of any kind.
Warren, the man who apparently no longer existed, sat down heavily on the curb of an empty street, his breath coming out in a grunt of frustration. Dropping his head into both hands he stared down at the street beneath his dark leathered shoes. He was almost too tired to think. Too tired to continue figuring out what was happening to him. The world around him seemed the same, but there were vital parts missing.
Like his life. His friends and teammates.
He couldn't find anyone he knew. He tried to call Xavier’s personal phone, but to no avail. The school house was gone. Even Worthington Industries was unknown to those he had asked. How this all happened, he did not know. He had spent the past 13 hours trying to figure that out. Now with the sun finally setting behind the buildings of St. Louis, Warren K. Worthington was giving up. At least for today. He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do for the rest of the day.
He had not a cent to his name. The only thing he carried in his pocket was a small stack of his business cards, used during a business convention. During the convention he had stepped out onto the veranda to get some fresh air, but instead found himself facing oncoming traffic with the morning sun just rising to the east. There was no warning when it happened. One moment there was the background buzz of mingled conversation and then the loud honk of several horns from angry drivers.
Warren lifted his face from his hands and looked around him. Despite the darkness, the air was still annoyingly hot. Warren stripped his light grey jacket and undid the top few buttons of his baby blue dress shirt, too hot and frustrated to care that he now looked slightly more hunchbacked without the extra cover his jacket had provided.
Breathing in the hot air, his thin silk shirt stretching across broad shoulders and chest, Warren stood up abruptly. He had sensed them a few minutes ago, skulking about in the darkness.
'My own damn fault,' Warren scowled as several figures detached themselves from the darkness. 'Sitting by yourself on a dark street you’ve never been on and wearing expensive clothing; that’s just asking for trouble!'
There were three of them. A rag tag trio that looked a little too thin and a little to pale under the harsh light of the street lamps. Their clothes were worn, ragged, and dirty beyond belief. The foul smell that wafted through the air made Warren gag a bit.
“Back off, I don’t have any money on me, and I’m not looking to fight,” Warren said cautiously, his hands loosely by his sides. They couldn’t have been older than twenty and they looked too weak and malnutrition to be too much trouble.
“Not looking to fight, you say?” came the surprisingly soothing voice from the teen on the right. Was that a boy or a girl under all that dirt? Warren couldn’t tell, but the voice sounded rather feminine. “And who’s to say we were looking for a fight?”
“What do you want then?” Warren asked warily. The three teens stopped a few paces in front of him, knowing smirks on their faces.
“Oh, you know…we’re just wanting a…bite…to eat,” the teen giggled in a decidedly girly fashion. The two others chuckled as well, their eyes never seemed to leave Warrens face.
Warren tensed, not sure exactly what the danger was, but knowing that the situation was bad. How three teens, each the size of a toothpick, could be any danger to him, he had no idea. His instincts, though, were in high alert.
“And just what,” came a sudden voice from behind, “have my children found for me?”
Warren whirled around, trying to face the voice that seemed to whisper in his ear. The three teens leapt at that moment and, with surprising strength, pushed Warren to his knees. Struggling as hard as he could, Warren was no match as one teen held him down by his shoulders while the other two held his arms.
“Are you mutants?” Warren gasped while he continued to struggle.
“Master, look! We found this lovely man just sitting here!” The girly teen squealed in excitement, ignoring Warrens question. She stood to Warrens left, holding his hand immobile in a grip too strong for him to break. “Isn’t he just wonderful? There aren’t too many humans around that look this good!”
“Indeed, you are correct, little Claire,” the man who spoke stood directly infront of Warren, too close for him to look at unless he strained his neck back, which he wasn’t about to do.
“ I’m not too sure about this one, Master,” the teen that held his shoulders down said rather doubtfully. “He has this lump on his back, like a hunchback. It’s pretty gross.”
“Imperfections such as that never take away from such beauty, don’t you agree? Lynard?” The voice became suddenly dangerous, and the hands on his shoulders clamped down even harder, causing Warren to wince.
The man suddenly knelt so that he was face to face with Warren, and his appearance caused Warren to stare.
'Are men supposed to be that attractive?' Warren thought absently to himself. Not once has his heart ever paced so quickly at the sight of another man. A pale, smooth skinned face that looked both strangely feminine and masculine was startlingly attractive. Hair that fell elegantly over one side of that attractive face looked golden under the street lamp. One pale husky blue eye stared directly into his.
“I find imperfections on a man such as yourself to be quite…arousing,” the man smiled gently. “I must admit, though, I have not seen a human as beautiful as yourself in a long time. The Master of the City is quite lucky to have you here.” The man tilted his head slightly, studying Warren, who seemed to be entranced at the sight. “Or, does he not know that such a catch is so close to him?”
Asher easily rolled the human under, fogging his mind to the point that the human fell against his chest in a deep sleep.
"Master?" Claire looked at Asher questioningly as he picked up the limp form and began to walk away.
"I will enjoy this one at my leisure. Good job, my pets. You may go hunt and have fun for the rest of the night. It will be quite busy," Asher looked back at the three siblings his Mistress had given to him for the duration of the trip as his servants. His Mistress obviously scrapped the bottom of the bucket when she found these three and assigned them to Asher. "The city is under the control of the council, but the Master of the City is still unaware of our presence. Watch yourselves."
The three showed a hint of fang as they grinned widely. "Yes Master," Claire bowed slightly before the three of them turned and ran back down the street, nearly vanishing from Asher's vision. For being lowly servants, they were surprisingly agile.
Asher stared down at the limp human in his arms, taking in the strong handsome features. The thoughts that flashed through his mind about what he was going to do with this human caused a smile nearly as wide as his pets' excited grin to spread across his face, though there was no hint of fang. "This must be my lucky day," he said to the sleeping man, "first I'm allowed permission to extract revenge against Jean-Claude and his human servant. Then my pets find such a tasty looking treat. Let's go have our bit of fun, shall we?"
It has been a while since I've read the Xmen comics and the Anita Blake series, so if I mistake the things are, please let me know and I'll fix it.
================================================
Warren K. Worthington III was not what one would call a man easily forgotten. Standing at an even 6 feet and weighing in at around 160 lbs of pure bulging muscle, his size alone would make him instantly memorable. Throw in his strongly handsome and angelic facial features, his charismatic personality and the fact that he's one of the richest people in the world, one would be hard pressed to find someone who didn't know the name Warren K. Worthington III. Though, the problem he was having at the moment wasn't necessarily the realization that nobody seemed to know him.
The problem was that Warren K. Worthington III didn't exist.
The name Worthington didn't exist.
No Corporation. No bank accounts. No records of any kind.
Warren, the man who apparently no longer existed, sat down heavily on the curb of an empty street, his breath coming out in a grunt of frustration. Dropping his head into both hands he stared down at the street beneath his dark leathered shoes. He was almost too tired to think. Too tired to continue figuring out what was happening to him. The world around him seemed the same, but there were vital parts missing.
Like his life. His friends and teammates.
He couldn't find anyone he knew. He tried to call Xavier’s personal phone, but to no avail. The school house was gone. Even Worthington Industries was unknown to those he had asked. How this all happened, he did not know. He had spent the past 13 hours trying to figure that out. Now with the sun finally setting behind the buildings of St. Louis, Warren K. Worthington was giving up. At least for today. He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do for the rest of the day.
He had not a cent to his name. The only thing he carried in his pocket was a small stack of his business cards, used during a business convention. During the convention he had stepped out onto the veranda to get some fresh air, but instead found himself facing oncoming traffic with the morning sun just rising to the east. There was no warning when it happened. One moment there was the background buzz of mingled conversation and then the loud honk of several horns from angry drivers.
Warren lifted his face from his hands and looked around him. Despite the darkness, the air was still annoyingly hot. Warren stripped his light grey jacket and undid the top few buttons of his baby blue dress shirt, too hot and frustrated to care that he now looked slightly more hunchbacked without the extra cover his jacket had provided.
Breathing in the hot air, his thin silk shirt stretching across broad shoulders and chest, Warren stood up abruptly. He had sensed them a few minutes ago, skulking about in the darkness.
'My own damn fault,' Warren scowled as several figures detached themselves from the darkness. 'Sitting by yourself on a dark street you’ve never been on and wearing expensive clothing; that’s just asking for trouble!'
There were three of them. A rag tag trio that looked a little too thin and a little to pale under the harsh light of the street lamps. Their clothes were worn, ragged, and dirty beyond belief. The foul smell that wafted through the air made Warren gag a bit.
“Back off, I don’t have any money on me, and I’m not looking to fight,” Warren said cautiously, his hands loosely by his sides. They couldn’t have been older than twenty and they looked too weak and malnutrition to be too much trouble.
“Not looking to fight, you say?” came the surprisingly soothing voice from the teen on the right. Was that a boy or a girl under all that dirt? Warren couldn’t tell, but the voice sounded rather feminine. “And who’s to say we were looking for a fight?”
“What do you want then?” Warren asked warily. The three teens stopped a few paces in front of him, knowing smirks on their faces.
“Oh, you know…we’re just wanting a…bite…to eat,” the teen giggled in a decidedly girly fashion. The two others chuckled as well, their eyes never seemed to leave Warrens face.
Warren tensed, not sure exactly what the danger was, but knowing that the situation was bad. How three teens, each the size of a toothpick, could be any danger to him, he had no idea. His instincts, though, were in high alert.
“And just what,” came a sudden voice from behind, “have my children found for me?”
Warren whirled around, trying to face the voice that seemed to whisper in his ear. The three teens leapt at that moment and, with surprising strength, pushed Warren to his knees. Struggling as hard as he could, Warren was no match as one teen held him down by his shoulders while the other two held his arms.
“Are you mutants?” Warren gasped while he continued to struggle.
“Master, look! We found this lovely man just sitting here!” The girly teen squealed in excitement, ignoring Warrens question. She stood to Warrens left, holding his hand immobile in a grip too strong for him to break. “Isn’t he just wonderful? There aren’t too many humans around that look this good!”
“Indeed, you are correct, little Claire,” the man who spoke stood directly infront of Warren, too close for him to look at unless he strained his neck back, which he wasn’t about to do.
“ I’m not too sure about this one, Master,” the teen that held his shoulders down said rather doubtfully. “He has this lump on his back, like a hunchback. It’s pretty gross.”
“Imperfections such as that never take away from such beauty, don’t you agree? Lynard?” The voice became suddenly dangerous, and the hands on his shoulders clamped down even harder, causing Warren to wince.
The man suddenly knelt so that he was face to face with Warren, and his appearance caused Warren to stare.
'Are men supposed to be that attractive?' Warren thought absently to himself. Not once has his heart ever paced so quickly at the sight of another man. A pale, smooth skinned face that looked both strangely feminine and masculine was startlingly attractive. Hair that fell elegantly over one side of that attractive face looked golden under the street lamp. One pale husky blue eye stared directly into his.
“I find imperfections on a man such as yourself to be quite…arousing,” the man smiled gently. “I must admit, though, I have not seen a human as beautiful as yourself in a long time. The Master of the City is quite lucky to have you here.” The man tilted his head slightly, studying Warren, who seemed to be entranced at the sight. “Or, does he not know that such a catch is so close to him?”
Asher easily rolled the human under, fogging his mind to the point that the human fell against his chest in a deep sleep.
"Master?" Claire looked at Asher questioningly as he picked up the limp form and began to walk away.
"I will enjoy this one at my leisure. Good job, my pets. You may go hunt and have fun for the rest of the night. It will be quite busy," Asher looked back at the three siblings his Mistress had given to him for the duration of the trip as his servants. His Mistress obviously scrapped the bottom of the bucket when she found these three and assigned them to Asher. "The city is under the control of the council, but the Master of the City is still unaware of our presence. Watch yourselves."
The three showed a hint of fang as they grinned widely. "Yes Master," Claire bowed slightly before the three of them turned and ran back down the street, nearly vanishing from Asher's vision. For being lowly servants, they were surprisingly agile.
Asher stared down at the limp human in his arms, taking in the strong handsome features. The thoughts that flashed through his mind about what he was going to do with this human caused a smile nearly as wide as his pets' excited grin to spread across his face, though there was no hint of fang. "This must be my lucky day," he said to the sleeping man, "first I'm allowed permission to extract revenge against Jean-Claude and his human servant. Then my pets find such a tasty looking treat. Let's go have our bit of fun, shall we?"