This entire story is in the process of being revised, as it is very dated and several details need work. Hopefully, it will flow a bit better with these revisions.

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men, I'm just borrowing it.

Jade of the Night: Prologue

With heavy clouds covering the otherwise full moon, darkness had shrouded New York City. The rain was pounding down hard on the cracked concrete, creating tiny streams in the gutters that ran down the streets and into garbage filled storm drains. An eerie silence hung over the usually bustling area.

A sleek, black car came down the unoccupied street, and parked before a very old, yellow town house. Two dark figures emerged. A nearby street lamp flickered on and off with a slight buzzing sound as they hurried up the steps towards the rough, brown door. The building's paint was peeling and roof shingles were coming off. Many of the broken windows had either been patched up with duct tape or left open to the cool night air. It seemed hardly a place to live, or to raise a child.

One of the two figures looked around, scanning the area, making sure that they were alone before he knocked. He was tall and lean, with an air of mystery surrounding him. Fat raindrops rolled down his forehead and over his dark red shades. His companion, a light-skinned, auburn haired woman, checked on the thick bundle she held in her arms; the small, pale child was deep asleep.

"Knock again, someone has to be awake." the woman said, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

The man rapped on the old wooden door once more. Nothing.

The woman looked at the child in her arms. She ran her finger over the baby's smooth, petite cheek. The child wasn't more than a few weeks old with reddish-brown 'peach fuzz' covering her small head. The man looked to his companion and then the child.

"I can't do this."

"You have to. We have to." the man said, looking her in the eye, "Imagine the kind of life she'd live if we kept her, the kind of things she'd have to go through growing up, the pain she'd have to experience."

"We can protect her."

"For a little while, maybe, but after that? After he finds out? We are saving her life this way. We are doing this for her."

The woman held back tears as she gazed lovingly at the child; "Try again."

He knocked yet again and waited.

A silent tear broke from the woman's eye and streamed down her cheek, "Scott -"

From inside, the sound of footsteps on an old, hardwood floor drew closer. The aging, rusty locks were being undone from the inside. Slowly, a small, plump woman in a blue bathrobe with matching curlers poked her head out of the door, a nightstick clearly visible in her hand, "Who's there? You keep this up and I'll call the police!" - but no one was there. All she could hear was the distant sound of a car speeding away across the wet pavement.

"Who's there?" she asked into the darkness.

The street light flickered once more and went out. Something caught her eye and she looked down. On the top step sat a small, thick bundle of heavy blankets. Inside lie a small, sleeping child making a coo-like sound. Next to her was a yellow shoebox taped shut with packaging tape.

The woman quickly leaned down, the bones in her back cracking loudly, and picked the baby up. She could tell that the infant was no more than four, possibly five, months old. "Why, hello there little one," she said, rocking the child in her arms, "Where'd you come from?"

The woman looked around once again, but to no avail.

"Well, then. Come, let's warm you up, it's chilly outside."

The woman slid the box inside with a slippered foot, then closed the door, careful not to wake the infant as she reset the rusty locks and tip-toed back across the creaky floors. She held the baby close to her, smiling softly, "You're going to be just fine."