Sympathy for the Devil Chapter 1

By: Cadet Deming

An origin story for how Azazel gained his mutations and came to join the Hellfire Club. Movie-verse version only (ie he's a Russian teleporter, as opposed to the comic-book backstory of being a leader of a demonic race of mutants that go back to biblical times with a mission to impregnate as many earth women as possible). I'm going to incorporate some actual events from Russian history, and some other Marvel characters will appear. Azazel, later Emma Frost and Sebastian Shaw, Rated T for adult language and violence. His teleportation will be his secondary mutation which won't develop until later in the story. I don't own the rights to X-Men, so please don't sue. I hope I didn't make any historical mistakes. Please read and review-)

November 1957, Moscow, Russia

The Soviet Union didn't acknowledge the existence of Heaven or Hell. Officially its citizens were expected to be atheists. The USSR didn't admit the city of Ozyorsk was real. You couldn't see it on a map. If you tried to send mail, it would have to be addressed to the nearest town. Travel to Ozyorsk was restricted, and for a good reason.

Ozyorsk was a one-industry town. Its business wasn't entertainment, or banking, or a local steel mill. The business of Ozyorsk was power, of the nuclear kind. It housed a nuclear fuel reprocessing plant.

Andrei Zadornovich Zelfirov was a soldier for the USSR, guarding the plant from foes real and imagined. Considering it was the height of the Cold War and nuclear arms race, there were plenty of both.

Andrei had learned from a young age not to question what he was told. If the government said Stalin was the savior of the country, all hail Stalin. If the government said Stalin was a monster, all hail his replacement. Don't believe your own eyes, believe what we tell you. Follow the party line, or disappear in the middle of the night.

Andrei stared at his reflection in the mirror, not believing his eyes. The government said there were no such things as Satan, or demons, or monsters hiding under the bed. So what was the red-skinned, straggly-haired, long-tailed creature staring back at him?

September 29, 1957, Mayak Nuclear Power Plant, Ozyorsk

It was the last day Andrei was ever going to look normal. He and his co-worker Mikhail circled the plant's cooling tanks for the fifth time that day. Something felt off but he couldn't put his finger on what.

Andrei asked: "Comrade, does it seem like the men in the lab coats are running around more than usual today?"

He called almost everyone "comrade" whether he felt any camaraderie or not with them.

Mikhail shrugged. "I haven't noticed. I don't care."

"It is our job to care."

"It must not be important, or they would have called us by now."

"Perhaps you are right."

Andrei didn't feel anymore settled, as he suspected if there was something dangerous going on, the higher-ups would pretend it wasn't happening, as so many things were covered up. He knew better than to voice his suspicions.

Steam rose from one of the cooling tanks. Its whiteness reflected against the grey sky. People associated Russia with the color red, but his surroundings were almost universally grey and white.

More of the men in the lab coats scurried around the tower that was steaming. A few were running. Andre had never seen any of the scientists or engineers run so quickly.

"I don't like this," Andrei said.

"We don't get a choice of what to like," Mikhail said.

"I'm checking it out. If anything bad happens here, my wife and daughter are only a few kilometers away. What is the point of being a guard if we don't do our jobs?"

Mikhail took out a cigarette and lit it. He leaned against a wall, leaving Andrei to walk towards the cooling towers.

The ground shifted. It was so subtle he could have missed it if he wasn't so on edge. He heard a rumble, like the purr of a lion he had seen in the Travelling Koskov Circus years before.

Steam poured out from the concrete lid of the suspicious tower. It rattled and the lid blew off into the air. The noise of an explosion pummeled his ears, while a blast of furnace-hot heat surrounded him. The lid crashed into the building Mikhail had been leaning against and shattered into dozens of pieces.

One of the fragments hurled towards Andrei. Before he could move he saw blackness, felt a sharp concussive pain in his face, and everything turned red.

24 Hours Later

Andrei woke up, staring at a white ceiling. Everything was white except for the nuclear hazard warning symbols.

His head felt like it had been run over by a bulldozer. The left side of his face itched, like someone had laced barbed wire through his skin.

He tried to sit up, but was restrained. His arms and legs were bolted down.

"Somebody help me!" he bellowed.

He saw the shadow of something too large to be human appear in the doorway. Regret filled him for calling out, but there was nothing he could do.

The thing walked into the room. Andrei realized it was a man in a hazmat suit. Raspy metallic breathing choked through the air. Andrei thought of the babushka dolls he used to play with as a child, with its stacks of larger to smaller dolls that fit within each other.

"Ah comrade Zelfirov, you are awake. You don't know how lucky you are. My name is Dr. Ivan Vankovich."

Andrei stared at the masked man, wanting to ask a million questions. "How come you have a radiation proof mask on and I don't? Am I poisoned? AM I POISONED?"

Ivan made a clucking sound and made his mask move back and forth. "Poisoned yes, and more."

"What do you mean, and more?"

"You ask a lot of questions for a soldier."

"I'm still a man who wants to know what the hell happened to me."

"I'm afraid that may not be true anymore. About you being…still a man. Have a look comrade, but please be prepared."

Dr. Vankovich held up a mirror to Andrei's face.

To be continued

Author's note: The September 29, 1957 Kyshtym disaster at Mayak/Ozyorsk Russia was the third worst nuclear disaster in human history. I hope I got the details realistic enough.