Disclaimer (by Magik): I don't know about the main character in this fic but all other characters belong to Marvel Comics and are being used for non-entertainment purposes only. The story belongs to its author as the main character might but seeing as how the author didn't give me a disclaimer…

I never wanted to be a Marauder. It was never my goal in life to work for the creepiest goth on the planet or to run around killing people a la flamage. I'm just a musician. A mutant musician, but still a musician. I never, never wanted to be a psychopath.

I'm not sure exactly how it happened. I remember the FOH, about twenty of the haters, chasing me down an alley. I could've crispy fried them, yeah, but like i said, i don't like running around killing people. So i took off. I would've flown away but i couldn't pull that nifty little trick yet. I WAS only fifteen! Unfortuanately, the alley was a dead end. Surprise, surprise. I've never had good luck. Trash surrounded me, theat includes the anti-mutant nuts, and i was backed up against a wall way to high to climb.

I still didn't want to hurt anyone and the only thing my powers did at that point was melt flesh and cause a whole lot of pain. I'm not a sadist now, i wasn't one then. I held out my hands and let the black flames crawl over them. My eyes burned with the same hellish fire. I tried my best to look intimidating. Grr...go away!!

That's when the brick hit me. BAM! Right upside the skull. Shortest fight on earth and damn if I wasn't the loser. My fire died and I fell, semi-conscious and sprawled on the filthy ground. Someone's boot took care of the semi-thing. All I saw was infinity.

I woke up in more pain than I'de ever experienced in my life. I moved my head and looked down at myself. I had electrodes and wires and all sorts of medical shit covering my bruised, lacerated body. I figured that I'd lie still, the pain in my head said that that was a really good idea.. I laid there, just waiting for those FOH pukes to get this over with.

"Glad to see you are conscious, Mr. Aldridge. How are you feeling?" I couldn't see the speaker, not without lifting my head anyway, but he sounded the way my father had, before he'd died and I couldn't help but answer. Stupid me.

"Fine." It came out weak and hoarse and made me even more tired. My throat felt like sandpaper.

"I saved your life from the Friends of Humanity, Mr. Aldridge. I will be taking care of you until you are better, then we can work out your...repayment, shall we say?"

"Yeah, sure. Thank you," I breathed and with those four, simple words, I signed my soul over to the devil.

That was eight years ago. I'm not a naive child anymore. No. Now I'm a Marauder, in every way. I'm...a monster. My jobs have always been convert. My face is not known, except to my fellow Marauders and my unholy master. My whole exsistence is based on blood and war and betrayal. I though writing this down would help, make me feel better, but it hasn't. It's just reminded me of all the things i want to forget.

Damn Sinister, damn the Marauders, and damn me. Damn me most of all.

Chick Aldridge.

DarkFire Demon.