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I'm an angel, and angels are scary as all hell. People think soft and light when they hear the word - clearly they haven't read the bible. Clearly they've forgotten that demons are also angels.
I didn't like hanging out with losers. I don't like hanging out with losers. Spineless wimps cowering in corners while ugly, boring people sneer at them out of the corner of their mouths. ‘Freak. Weirdo. Monster.’ - non stop. We were stuck with the CIA goons cause they needed us to help them fight some other freaks, weirdos, monsters, but that didn't stop them talking shit. And talking shit didn't stop the men in black from giving us lady monsters the once over, several times over. I’d seen that look a million times before. The second one of us went to the toilet alone, they'd be there, armed with pretexts, armed with guns. Man, I wish I had had the opportunity to spit in one of their faces.
Spineless wimps trying their best to be normal, that is who I was stuck with. Praying for mediocrity as hard as they could, weeping when they thought no one was watching. I was tired of that too. The constant apologies for existing. Listen, if you apologise for yourself, that means you're apologising for me too, and no one apologises for me. You like what I've got, or you get the hell out. I could see it in their eyes, disbelief when I said I wasn't ashamed, that I was special and people had better know it. And they wondered why I defected from their lame little group and didn't look back once? I'm not an animal to be kept in a pen and studied, or let loose to fight for some mediocre nobodies.
When the drama began, our oh so noble guardians disappeared in clouds of smoke, only to rain down from the sky. Splat. Obviously I knew it had to be another mutant doing it, one of the bad guys we were warned about. And you know, I fell in love with Azazel the instant he stopped moving for long enough to dish out a cool pose. Not with Azazel himself, no, hell no. He's a rock, a razor sharp flint made for cutting, a girl can't fall in love with that, not unless she has a thing for getting hurt. No, I fell for the boldness, the pizzazz, and the ‘screw you’ attitude. Screw all of you normies looking down on us for being different to you, for being better than you. Screw you, freaking die. Who has the power now? Seriously, Shaw couldn't have sent a better advertisement for his side. For me, anyway. Of course the wimps around me cowered even harder as soon as they caught sight of the devil. A mutant being glorious made them want to climb into a cage and lock the door behind them. Go down on bended knee to Master and beg to be protected. From what? Freedom.
The idea that Shaw was offering death in his other hand if I didn't choose to join him, didn't even occur to me, cause I had no dilemma to work through, no quandary. Part of a stripper's talent is being able to size up marks, and Shaw and his people had tonnes of cash in their wallets, if you get what I'm saying. They had just displayed the steel balls they had, and everything he had to say was everything I believed. Meritocracy, yeah, just like at the club the best dancer, the most pleasing one, makes the most moolah. Mutants are simply superior, and if ordinary humans can't see that, well, that just shows how stupid they are.
Of course the fools I was with had to try and mess my chance up as well as their own, but Shaw was not effing around. Another good ad. Ruthless, that's what the world needed, still needs. Someone to take the reins and get rid of problems instantly and finally. Darwin, stupid kid, what did you think you were doing? Grown adults looking like fiends slaughtering government agents in front of you? Come on. Come on. Why should I feel sorry? You can't be sentimental where I come from.
The Hellfire Club, it's not just a name.