The Cost of Charity (open, Sinister)

[Warren Worthington]

There were few things in life that Warren Worthington enjoyed as much as flight, well, very few indeed. And though he did enjoy what he was doing today, he could not exactly place charity in that same lofty category even if he did find that giving to the less fortunate made him feel good. Most of the things he enjoyed most involved some sort of physical activity or another. And more often than not they involved considerable danger. It was why he loved being an X-Man and why he spent vacations at some of the world's most remote and secluded locations. If he could climb it or conquer it, he was all for it. Everest, the wild waters of the American West, and the deepest jungles all held a certain appeal for the man.

Of course he always traveled in style. That was yet another thing he enjoyed about being who he was, his incredible wealth. Besides, being as wealthy as he was, Warren found it quite easy to give. If anything, he was always looking for new ways to do just that. He was in Brooklyn today to pay for a few paintings at a local gallery. The gallery featured several up and coming young artists and he liked the bragging rights that came along with spotting a promising, yet struggling, artist and being the first among his society friends to collect them. Just last week, at a gala event held for the Red Cross at his home in the Hamptons, he'd been proud to point out that he'd own one such artist's work for five years when a corporate rival had bragged about finding him first.

You see, as much as Warren Worthington the third liked giving, he also loved winning. Winning was as good as flight in his eyes, and that joy also extended itself to seeing others, worthy others that is, win. He watched as his driver loaded the three paintings into the trunk of the limousine. The gallery owner came up to Warren and whispered, "Thanks to you, he's going to be eating well for six months." Warren smiled, recognizing that this was an attempt to stroke his ego, which he accepted, "I'm always glad to help where I can. Besides, the artist is extremely talented." Satisfied that things were under control, the billionaire informed his driver, "I think I'll walk around the block, see what else is new to the area. Why don't we meet in an hour at the book store across from that new clinic." And with that Warren adjusted his coat and the harness holding in his wings and began to walk down the block in the direction of the clinic he'd recently heard about.

[Warren Worthington]

((OOC: I didn't give a decent opening with that last post, so decided to make interactions easier with this one.))

Walking down the block, Warren offered a young woman he passed a smile as he turned the corner. The weather really was pretty great today. It made him feel as if, despite everything going on in the world that there was hope. Hope for a better world. On a day like this it was easy to think or even believe that a dream like Xavier's could survive, and even thrive.

He offered a passing glance at the clinic as he headed into the bookstore. The doors were open, everyone it seemed was enjoying the fine weather. There were only a few patrons inside the bookstore and he liked that it was quiet. While he didn't always mind being known virtually everywhere he went, on days like this he was simply glad to remain as anonymous as possible. As he approached one section of books, the winged mutant turned, almost feeling like someone was speaking his name, or even tapping him on the back.

With no one there, he turned back to what he was doing and took one of the books off the shelf. It was a second edition printing of War and Peace. The book had been one of his father's favorites. Perhaps it was time he read it as well. The book itself was rare in this printing, but this copy wasn't in the greatest condition. Out of curiosity, he opened the front cover. He was surprised by what he saw.

It wasn't uncommon to find pre-owned books in stores like this catering to both collectors and to casual readers. It was not uncommon to find older books, books that had once been a part of someone's library. He couldn't quite make out the faded label, but he read what he could softly, "this...belongs to...Essex." He chuckled softly, unable to see the missing words, including the first owner's name, Nathaniel. Even if he had, he may not have connected the name to one of the X-Men's greatest foes, Mister Sinister.

Warren had been out of the hero game for a few years now. Sure, he still trained when he could and he still performed weekly heroic deeds, saving those he could as a sort of return to his old Avenging Angel identity when he could. His heart wasn't in that life, not in the same it had been once. Not with Xavier gone and Scott AWOL. He'd spoken to Summers just a few days ago, but he hadn't seen his best friend for several weeks. The winged mutant looked up from the book in his hands, his eyes drifting across the street through the open doors once again to fall upon the sleepy looking clinic across the street.

Buying the book and tucking it into his hand, a few minutes later, Worthington crossed the street and stepped through the doors to the clinic. He was never sure what he would find when entering one of these places. Already he was thinking of all of the things such a place might need simply to survive. Already he was thinking of offering whatever help he could. He asked, "I don't have an appointment, but I was wondering if I could speak with one of the doctors, or whomever may be in charge."

[Mr. Sinister]

“There you are son, now did that hurt?” The man smiled down at the young boy as he pulled the needle from the 5 year olds arm and rubbed a small alcohol wipe on the wound left over. “Your lucky your mother brought you too me. It seems that new virus that is affecting mutants has gotten to you as well. But fear not this vaccine will help to stop those little bugs in their tracks.” He chuckled ad ruffled the boys hair and held out four lollipops, one for each of the child’s arms.

“Thank you Doctor Nathaniel, you have been a godsend to this neighborhood since you arrived. Especially to the mutant community. The hospital a few blocks away, they still won’t even look at my boy.” The mother of the boy spouted which made the man grin and nod with a fake sense of pride and an inner dark laughter. “You need not thank me Miss Stevens, It’s my duty as a true physician to care for all those in pain. Many doctors forget this basic principle of our practice, I have not. My goal is the betterment of humanity and that is what I will strive for in all its forms.” He patted the young boy again on the head as he ushered them out and motioned for the next patient to enter the examination room.

The woman was a Morlock, one of the last remaining few. He smirked for a moment as she passed him. His eyes glowed red with her back turned but returned to normal as she took a seat on the examination table. She had come as he expected with the same symptoms as most of the other mutants in the area. He, Mr. Sinister, in the guise of a helpful, friendly, humanitarian doctor, had released into the water supply of this area a pathogen which would affect only those possessing the X-Gene. It would do no more then give them severe symptoms far outmatching any influenza yet known. Yet in the end this virus was harmless. If any were to wait it out and leave the area for a new, fresh supply of water they would surly find themselves healthy again in a month’s time at the latest. No one… or at least very few, would think of that and do they would come to him for help when word would spread of a new sickness affecting mutants and a vaccine available which would help cure them.

How foolish and gullible people could be and that well suited Sinister for it gave him the raw material he needed for his experiments. “Now miss… what seems to be the problem? Please feel free to speak your mind here, for I have opened my doors to everyone, human and mutant alike. I even made sure to send a message to your people below so they would know they are welcome and I am here to treat them if they so wish it.” Doctor Nathaniel smiled at the girl and sat across from her casually so as to appear friendly and interested in whatever she had to say. He knew what was wrong… he would treat her ails and in the end she would be but another guinea pig. Never would this woman ever suspect that he was in fact the same man who had sent his first Marauders to kill her subterranean people so long ago.

“Sir, there is someone to see you.” The nurse/receptionist buzzed using the intercom to the examination room he occupied. Sinister grumbled to himself a little but then sighed and smiled at the young woman. “Please wait here dear. It will only take a moment; you will be fine in here. I promise no one will bother you.” As he closed the door and turned down the hall into the reception area he did not know what to expect but upon entering he had to fight an overwhelming urge to laugh loudly. If it were not for his mastery of self control he would have undoubtedly have slipped his guise and shown his true form. As it was he remained in the form of a normal 30 year old human man with ashen blonde hair, blue eyes and an athletic build covered by standard medical garb as he approached Warren. “Yes, sir may I help you?” He inquired feigning ignorance to the mutant’s identity as he did so. “Are you new to the area for I must admit I thought I had thus far met most who lived and work here.”

[Warren Worthington]

“Yes, sir may I help you?”

Warren had no idea that he was now looking at the man responsible for the massacre of most of the so called Morlocks. They were a people who'd been forced to live apart from society because they were either too ugly or too different to partake in society in a normal way. He felt badly for them, those poor people with unnatural skin colors and powers they had no control over. As a student of Xavier's he had done his best to help them down their in those tunnels. He'd nearly been badly injured himself, only a strange twist of fate and an open tunnel had kept him from being mutilated himself by a group who had called themselves the Marauders. He'd later had a few run ins with their sponsor, a man who called himself Mister Sinister.

Warren offered the young doctor a warm smile and the offer of a handshake, "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Doctor." Worthington continued, accustomed to being the kind of man who got what he wanted and when he wanted it, "I'll only take a moment of your time. That is, if you have the time to speak with me." He normally wouldn't have asked for more of the man's time. But based on the little he'd already seen, all of the mutants gathered in the waiting room for treatment, he was now more sure than ever that this man and this clinic could use his help. He was hoping for a tour of the facility before he opened his wallet, but he'd already decided that he'd be making what he assumed would be a much needed donation to the cause.

“Are you new to the area for I must admit I thought I had thus far met most who lived and work here.”

"I apologize, Doctor. I should have introduced myself. My name is Warren Worthington." The winged mutant offered quickly. Warren hoped he hadn't been too rude by not beginning with a proper introduction. It was difficult sometimes to remember that not everyone knew who he was. The wings flexed impatiently beneath the harness restraining them as he waited for the good doctor to introduce himself. He held the book under his arm as he took a sip of his coffee, incidentally made with filtered water from the tap across the street. Coffee sometimes made him thirsty and this time was no exception, but he ignored the sensation and focused on what he was here to do. "I'm not a resident of this particular neighborhood. I live in Manhattan, but I was in the area and I've heard so many great things about what you are doing to help people that I wanted to stop by."

And take a look around, not that he said as much aloud. Worthington was an X-Man, or at least he had been one for most of his adult life. Like all of the first class heroes, Scott Summers and the others, he too had allowed Xavier to teach him how to shield his mind from telepaths. In some cases, Xavier had even taken it upon himself to erect barriers in his students minds. Warren was no exception. However, it had been several years since those walls had been reinforced or tested. Like all built things, even if constructed within one's mind, walls grew weaker over time. Looking into his mind, implanting commands, fettering out secrets, none of that would prove impossible to a skilled psionic.

Oblivious to the potentially dangerous situation he and these other mutants here in this room might be in, the mutant hero known to some as the Angel found this particular physician friendly, professionally so. It was no wonder that he was a blessing to this neighborhood. He said, "I'm not here to waste your time and I know I'm a stranger to you, but would you mind if we spoke privately for a moment?" He stepped aside as a boy with multiple arms and his mother passed by, "Excuse me." Grinning at the four pieces of candy all getting equal attention in each of the child's hands, Warren exclaimed, "Lollipops? I didn't know anyone still did that sort of thing." He met the Doctor's gaze with his own eagle keen eyes, "I'm glad I stopped by. I think you may be pleased with what I have to offer."

[Mr. Sinister]

Dr. Nathaniel smiled outwardly ad lightly nodded in what would seem to be gracious acceptance while inside he laughed whole heartedly. This was too good an opportunity to pass up but he did still need to put on the show so as not to arouse the young X-Man’s suspicions. He shook Warrens hand and motioned for him to follow. “Please take a seat in this examination room and wait. My patients come first and I must take care of one right now but I would be happy to discuss whatever you like right after. As for the lollipops, call me old fashioned but I think going to the Doctors is scary enough for kids but when the children I treat here are also mutants and I am a mere human, well with the way the world has been over the years its my duty to make them happy and comfortable. Anyways I hated going to the Doctor when I was young, the only good thing was the candy.” He laughed at this for in a sense, back in Victorian England when he was a child and medical practices were by today’s standards barbaric he did only enjoy when his father, his own Doctor, gave him a treat after an examination.

Sinister/Nathaniel opened the door to a normal every day, sterile examination room with the usual sitting table, two chairs, a small desk and pictures of human anatomy all over the walls. “Help yourself to some water if you like and also a candy. I am sure you have been a good boy.” He again smiled and closed the door behind him. In the hall he stood for a moment the red glow of his eyes protruding through his metamorphic disguise for but a moment and he wrung his hands in anticipation. “Ms. Pauline, Please tell whoever is left in the waiting room that it will be at the most an hours wait. I will be in a meeting but I will get to them.” He called to the front reception room over the intercom system then moved into the room with the Morlock woman. In the space of 20 minutes he diagnosed that she had acquired the same virus that he had so carefully planted, took the usual cell samples and given her his special drug which would clear up the virus in a week but would also, if she had the correct genetic markers, make her another candidate for experimentation. She left happy, praising him for his kindness and help then left to return to her underground home.

“All goes as planned… in fact better then planned with my new guinea pig in the other room.” He mused quietly while pressing a button under his desk. The button immediately triggered the movement of a far wall where a secret room, cool and gleamingly sanitary with metallic cubicles full of chemicals and bio matter, computers banks full of processing data and freezer/fridges where hundreds of vials were kept. After labeling his newest biomatter acquisition and placing it in the appropriate spot he again made his way out, closing the secret room behind him. He made his way then into examination room where Warren sat. “Now Mr. Worthington, you have peaked my interest. What is it you would like to discuss?”
Dr. Nathaniel took his usual seat at one of his desks as if this were just another consultation when if fact to Warren it was a mission of mercy and to him it was perhaps the beginning of the future.

[Warren Worthington]

“Please take a seat in this examination room and wait. My patients come first and I must take care of one right now but I would be happy to discuss whatever you like right after."

Warren followed the Doctor out of the waiting room and down the short length of hall to the examination room. He could acknowledge the need to see to the patients first and he was okay with that. He might have been a businessman, keen on the idea of his time being equal to money earned or lost. But in this case the idea of making sure mutants were healthy was more important. After all, if you didn't have your health you had nothing really. He saw the chair closest to the desk, more often than not it would be where the Doctor sat. That left the examination table or the second chair.

"As for the lollipops, call me old fashioned but I think going to the Doctors is scary enough for kids but when the children I treat here are also mutants and I am a mere human, well with the way the world has been over the years its my duty to make them happy and comfortable. Anyways I hated going to the Doctor when I was young, the only good thing was the candy.”

It was a nice story, building on Warren's already good impression of the man. He nodded, listening and when it seemed there was a break in the tale, he said, "I'm sure your patients all appreciate the sentiment, Doctor." He had yet to decide where he was going to sit, or if he was simply going to stand while he waited. He did set the old book down on the desk as he saw the pitcher of water and the stack of plastic cups beside it. He set down the coffee and turned to look back at the Doctor as he prepared to leave him.

“Help yourself to some water if you like and also a candy. I am sure you have been a good boy.”

"I certainly try, Doctor Nathaniel." Warren offered back with a smile. He was already reaching for a cup and the pitcher as he said, "Thank you for your kindness. I'll be fine here. I'm happy to wait." The winged mutant poured himself a glass of the tainted water and drank it down. He was still thirsty, thanks to his high metabolism, so he followed the first glass with a second. Warren crossed to the chair opposite the desk and decided to sit and wait when it didn't appear that the doctor would be returning quickly.

He felt a little warm, with a slight tinge of a headache beginning, as he sat there reading from the book he'd just purchased across the street. He ignored it, it wasn't like him to get sick and he was far from paranoid. He didn't know that it was his body reacting, his own fast metabolism aiding the viral pathogens he'd just introduced into his body. His healing factor kicked in as well, but of course he didn't know any of this. So all he did was open a button or two of his white collared shirt and loosen the dark tie draping downward through the center of his chest. A few minutes later, empty cup sitting next to the pitcher of water, Warren looked up from his book and offered the Doctor a smile as he returned.

“Now Mr. Worthington, you have peaked my interest. What is it you would like to discuss?”

He began slowly, this was always slightly awkward for Worthington for whatever reason, "I've been following your work here for a short while and needless to say, I'm impressed with all that you are doing. I'm aware that times are difficult, for a number of reasons, and I've decided that I'd like to help you in whatever way I can." He paused, setting the book back down on the corner of the desk as he adjusted his position in the chair to get more comfortable, "You probably aren't aware, Doctor, but there is another reason I'd like to offer you my support." He met the gaze of the good doctor directly as he admitted solemnly, "You see, I too am a mutant." As if to punctuate his words, Warren coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. He offered a polite, "Excuse me. I'm not sure where that came from."

A moment later, he felt a wave of heat wash over him, almost as if his body was fighting off some sort of illness. He felt this strange, but brushed it off. He had a purpose for being here. He wasn't going to allow something as simple as the onset of a cold stop him. Besides, he usually fought off this kind of thing before it ever had the chance to take hold, "I'd like to offer you some financial assistance, if I may. A gift, a donation, if you'd prefer that we not enter into some sort of partnership. I am considering setting up a trust for the clinic, however, how we do that is determinate on whether you feel a one time donation is in order or if something more permanent works better for you."

[Mr. Sinister]

If Doctor Nathaniel were a real human doctor, running a real clinic and truly helping mutants in need he would undoubtedly have been choked up at the Angel’s offer. As it truly stood however he merely smiled with a nod and sat back as if thinking it all over. After several minutes he sighed and stood up, taking Warren’s hand in his and shaking it. “Well your offer is very generous. It is a lot to take in all at once. I mean I am just one man trying to help those in need any way I can and to be offered this help in my mission… For now Mr. Worthington I would feel comfortable with a donation, the amount would obviously be up to you but anything would be greatly appreciated.”

Sinister tried to, as best he could, sound as humble and gracious as possible in accepting the gift. Being an expert manipulator it was not hard but at the same time he also looked on with a keen medical/scientific eye developed over his long extended life to see Warren slowly succumbing to his virus. The sweat on the young man’s brow, the reddening of skin and his apparent feeling of fever were all the first stages of the affliction. Eventually he would find that his joints would ache far more then a normal flu would produce. He would come to the point where he would be unable to move without pain let alone fly. Extreme photosensitivity would follow accompanied by digestive urgency and lastly a loss of the basic nutrients in the blood. This would all pass though over time even if one did not seek out his help. It would be long, painful and near fatal but for most not ultimately deadly. Fortunately for him the original Legacy Virus had now made the mutant population paranoid of most if not all unusual sickness’s, especially those that only targeted mutant kind. They would come in drones for his help far before the point the virus burnt up in their systems.

“If I may be so bold Mr. Worthington, you do not look all together at the peak of health. Are you feeling alright?” He took on the immediate tone and appearance of concern. Standing he placed his hand on Warren’s forehead to feel the fever rapidly increasing.

[Warren Worthington]

"A one time donation it is, then. Whatever you want, whatever it takes. I just want to help," the winged one enthused happily. Warren really enjoyed this kind of thing, charity. It did his heart good and made all the extravagance and other aspects of his pampered life seem more balanced. It was fun too, seeing the grateful expressions and the way he was able to change lives and make them better by his own actions. It was why he was an x-man. He didn't do that simply to be heroic, although at times he certainly was. Worthington truly wished to make life better, or so he told himself when smiling into the mirror each morning before exiting his inner sanctum to face his day.

His home here in the city was a glass walled penthouse with panoramic views of the city and its ever impressive skyline. He rarely if ever pulled the drapes or lowered shades to cover the windows. He liked the feeling of being one with the sky. It never even crossed his mind to cover the windows. He'd rise with the sun, enjoying the feeling of the warming sun fill his body as his feathers took in the first rays of light of the day. Fitting then, that quite literally his home might soon become a torture chamber as the substance now introduced into his body took hold.

Speaking of which...Warren was actually beginning to feel slightly feverish. The young mutant looked up at the humble, friendly doctor now standing over him. He felt the cool hand as it came in contact with his forehead. He swallowed, "I felt fine this morning. Now I'm not so sure, Doctor." Warren didn't withdrawal from the Doctor's hand, this kind of thing was normal, wasn't it? Sure, Warren was accustomed to having people give him special attention. If anything, he was taking the special treatment in stride. After all, he'd just offered this man a briefcase full of money, enough to keep this clinic going for years to come. That should be worth a little special attention, right? As a more than slightly spoiled playboy, Billionaire Warren Worthington certainly felt so. He asked the expert, "I don't usually get sick, maybe I am getting dehydrated. Maybe I should drink some more water."

[Mr. Sinister]

“If you like Mr. Worthington I would be willing to examine you. Please feel free to have another drink of water while I prepare.” The Doctor motioned to the young man’s glass on his desk while gathering up his stethoscope and examination light. He secretly mused that another glass would only increase the virus’ effects on his would be guinea pig. He would only feel worse for the drinking which would most likely make the boy far more sympathetic to his ministrations. “Now please lay back… Your arms at your sides look at the ceiling with eyes wide please.” He smiled and brushed the hair from the boys head while shining the small light into his baby blue eyes. “Hmmmm dilatation is slow. Mouth open please…” He said softly with a genuine, trusting smile as she shown the light in. “Red throat, white patches protruding and swollen glands. Not good…”

He sighed and stood back. “Mr. Worthington, please sit up. I would like to ask you a few personal questions if that is ok. First what is the nature of your mutation?” Sinister knew the answer to this but it would obviously make him more believable were he to ask these questions. “Secondly is there a history of mutation in your family?” This was something he did not know but he wanted, if possible, to trace his lineage and see what the powers of past mutants in his lineage. “Next what is the nature of your sexuality and when was the last time you partook in sexual activity?” The reason for this question was simple. If there were any potential for a spawn of Worthington’s out in the world he would also wish to acquire this or at least any possible biological data pertaining to such a child. His plans were coming together, with each answer he would be more aware of what he was dealing with and how to precede. The X-Man was in his hands it was only a matter of time. “Lastly and most importantly, when was the last time you were ill. You say you do not get ill often but you have obviously now and then. I would like to know what with and for how long. I would also like to take a sample of your blood to analyze for any pathogens or contagions as well as antibodies and genetic traits I can cross-reference with family medical histories.”

[Warren Worthington]

“If you like Mr. Worthington I would be willing to examine you. Please feel free to have another drink of water while I prepare.”

"Thank you, Doctor Nathaniel." Warren answered gratefully as he reached for the pitcher and held the glass steady beneath it while he poured himself another cooling drink. As he set the pitcher down, Worthington sat back down and he drank down the third glass in short order. For a few moments it did seem to help. He actually did begin to feel what he thought was relief, but then he felt another rush of warmth. This time within his throat. He cleared his throat, then reached forward and sat the glass down on the desk next to the source. Only time would tell in how sick he was going to get. Or how much assistance he would then need from the good doctor in getting well.

“Now please lay back… Your arms at your sides look at the ceiling with eyes wide please.”

Warren stood and moved to the exam table now. Laying on his back, on top of the already bound wings was never comfortable but he didn't make a fuss. He silently decided to bare the discomfort he felt, knowing that the Doctor had no idea that this was a problem for him in any way. Once on the table, the young X-Man lay back, arms at his side and looked toward the ceiling. He swallowed before opening his mouth and began to grow worried as the doctor described what he was seeing. It sure didn't sound promising.

“Hmmmm dilatation is slow. Mouth open please…” He said softly with a genuine, trusting smile as she shown the light in. “Red throat, white patches protruding and swollen glands. Not good…”

"What do you think this is? I felt perfectly normal, healthy, this morning." Warren asked as the Doctor sighed and took a step back. He tried to be brave, strong. He would and could handle whatever this was. He offered as much, "What is going on with me? Tell me what you think this is, Doctor. Do I have the flu? I haven't gotten ill since I was prepubescent, at least nothing more than the common cold. But...my body, it always seems to fight that kind of thing off. In a day or so, anyway. This shouldn't be any different, should it?"

“Mr. Worthington, please sit up. I would like to ask you a few personal questions if that is ok. First what is the nature of your mutation?”

Warren was a little uncomfortable at the question, even if he had no idea that the questions would be getting much more personal. He was already beginning to feel the dampness of his shirt. Soon enough the harness would be visible. He figured his secret would be safe with a physician who had dedicated his life to treating mutants. Even if he was known in some circles to be a mutant playboy, Warren knew first hand that telling someone you were a mutant was not the same as being exposed as one. He reached for his shirt and undid enough of the buttons to expose a portion of his chest and the leather harness beneath it, "My mutation is physical, Doctor. I fly. I have wings. I don't think there is enough room here to fully reveal them." There was more to it of course, his mutation. His entire anatomy was adapted for flight, but he didn't think he needed to explain all of that, not to treat a cold or the flu. Even so, the playboy allowed the overcoat to slip off his shoulders. Doing so did reveal the slight hump of his flexible wings beneath the thinner fabric of his shirt. It was also possible now to see that his shirt was not tucked in, as well as the trailing feathers stretching downward toward the floor. He indicated the visible portion of the wings and said, "I do have control over them. So if you need to see them, I can take this harness off."

Those questions caught him off guard but he figured that asking about heritage and sexual activity would be things asked on a questionaire one completed when seeing a Doctor for the first time. He supposed this was the same. He thought for a moment before answering, searching his mind for memories of his parents, grandparents, "My parents, uncle, all of them were human. I don't have any brothers or sisters. As far as I know, my grandparents were human too. If they weren't, it was never discussed. My parents took my own...abnormality...with difficulty. To put it lightly." He didn't know that his great grandfather Worthington had been rumored to be a mutant in Victorian England in addition to being a founding member of the Hellfire Club's Inner Circle. He did not consider that Candy Southern could have been pregnant when he'd last seen her. Warren answered truthfully, "Despite my reputation, I generally try to remain monogamous. I'm not seeing any one woman seriously right now. I've honestly been working too much to even think about anything but that." He continued, deciding to be more honest than he'd originally felt he should be, "That isn't to say there haven't been occasions outside of relationships." He smiled, feeling the need to joke, "You understand that, I'm sure, Doctor. They might call me Angel, but I'm no saint."

"The last cold I had was six years ago, I believe." Warren answered, though he wasn't completely sure. He smiled, even though he was feeling less than healthy at the moment, "I can refer you to my family physician, his name is Conrad Belk. His office is in Manhattan. He and his father before him have cared for the Worthingtons for generations. I'm sure he'd have extensive records." As far as the blood sample went, Warren shrugged that off and started to roll up his sleeve, "Whatever you need, Doctor. I'm all yours." He really was beginning to feel ill.

[Mr. Sinister]

Sinister took the blood sample quickly and painlessly then stared for a moment into the blood as if transfixed by its ruby beauty. He knew that with this single vial all the mysteries of Warren Worthington III were his, in point of fact Warren himself was his, the young man just did not know it yet.

“Well your answers are very revealing. You may sit up now.” He motioned and took a seat at his desk with the appropriate somber and worried look which belied his true excitement for what was to come. “It is apparent to me Mr. Worthington that you have some special immunity or healing power to accompany your winged mutation. You do not get sick easily or often because you can’t under normal circumstances.” He paused for a moment while writing in one of his many journals to both ponder this development and to let it sink in to Warren. “However this time the sickness attacking your system is fat to powerful and insidious for your healing ability to handle. I suspect you have, by just being here, caught the sickness effecting mutants in this area.”

Labeling and leaving the blood sample on the table the so called doctor moved to a cooler with a bio-hazard symbol printed on the top. Inside, packed in dry ice which steamed in the open air, were dozens of small unmarked vials of golden liquid closely resembling gasoline.

“You see as of yet a full quarantine of the area has not been called due to the fact that the infection has not spread and no fatalities have been reported…” He sighed falsely and placed the vial into a syringe. The look on his face was concerned and somewhat upset. “Truth to tell it’s because the sickness is only affecting mutants. It still sickens me that after all this time prejudice and read still rules. I have done my best to keep this area in heal and after much experimentation and research I have developed this serum which is quite effective against the virus. With your permission I would like to inject you with it. I have had near miraculous results with it thus far.”

[Warren Worthington]

Warren couldn't know how true the kind Doctor's word were. He had in fact just caught the virus now raging through his system. He was really beginning to feel horrible. He couldn't recall ever having felt this badly and if he had he couldn't remember when. He swallowed, his throat positively feeling as if it was on fire, "Doctor...I really don't feel well. What could be wrong with me?" He was grateful that the needle hadn't hurt as his body was beginning to feel achy. Some nurses, he felt, would really jab you once they found out you were a mutant. It was one of the reasons he was grateful that he didn't get sick all that often.

"Healing ability? I'd never considered that, Doctor." He tried to sit up as asked to but he was already sweating due to the fever and it took a lot more effort than it should have to sit up. Warren blinked, a headache beginning behind his eyes, "Was there just a power surge? It seems excessively bright in here to me." He looked over at the Doctor as he described what he thought the illness was. He was growing more and more worried, "Surely...it couldn't have struck so quickly....although it makes sense. I can't explain the way I am feeling otherwise."

He watched as the tray of vials was procured as he leaned over onto one arm, still struggling to hold himself up, "Its almost as if this virus is sapping my strength. Is there anything that can be done, Doctor Nathaniel?" The Doctor explained the serum and though he was worried and slightly skeptical, he was more worried by how quickly this illness had struck him, "You...say you've tested it already....with positive results?" He watched the serum being loaded into a syringe. Without thinking the hand not supporting his body was rolling the sleeve up higher onto his arm.

"Sure...I guess, if you think it will make me feel better." Warren answered after a moment of thought. He looked at the needle as it broke his skin and the amber liquid flowed into his veins, "I hope the serum will work on me, Doctor." He was still reeling from the idea that he possessed some kind of healing property. As the Doctor treated him he worried for a moment that he should have gone to see his friend Hank McCoy first, but that concern faded almost as quickly as it arose.

[Mr. Sinister]

“It should in fact work better on you then most with the aid of the healing ability I suspect you have.” He made sure to push every drop of the special liquid into Warren’s body. “And yes I have had wondrous results. In fact the boy you saw was much in the same position you were when he came in. Within moments of the injection he started to feel better.” Sinister smirked to himself for in truth the serum he had given the child was a completely different one. He had special plans for that young boy just as he had special plans for every mutant whom he selected for ‘treatment’. All these plans were individual, many involved similar process’ and sometimes similar ‘treatments’ for he could not predict who would come to him, what kind of mutants with what kind of powers but in the end, when he examined them he formulated the plans and took the appropriate action just as he had now with Warren.

In the Angel’s case however this was only step one of the plan. The formula he had injected him with was special. Like all the medications they involved the cure to the sickness he had thus far spread but this one was designed to alter the subjects mind and body. It would begin with increased aggression. The young man would have fits of rage, unexplainable and eventually uncontrollable. It would alter his perceptions; he would soon become paranoid, emotionally unstable. It was Sinister’s hope that this would make trust into mistrust, happiness into despair, and love into hatred. It would mold Warren. Secondly and perhaps most importantly it would prepare his body. Changes were to come; these first few would be due to the serum. Like steroids Warren would eventually find his strength increased drastically, perception sharpened, speed increased. If Warren were an Athlete this would make him a super athlete. In the end this would prepare him, make the clay ready for the masters hand.

“Now please stand up, stretch your body, including your wings and tell me how you are feeling.” He smiled, stepping back to give Warren the room he needed for this. “With any luck you will be feeling a slight tingle, maybe a small burning in your veins and joints, it is nothing to be alarmed about bit with this burning you should also be feeling a great deal better. “

[Warren Worthington]

"That's good to hear, Doctor," Warren said with a smile as he looked away from the needle briefly to look up at the physician so very carefully administering his care. Turning his eyes downward, the winged mutant then watched as the last of the fluid left the syringe never realizing just what was in store for him. A single moment in time could change a man's life forever, often without the benefit of foresight or in most cases hindsight. This was one of those moments if ever there had been one. Ignorance could most definitely be bliss, just as trust in human nature could be tested beyond the limits of man. He would find, shortly, that a man could also be twisted to become something and someone he had never in a million years thought himself possible to be. He - like raw clay could be shaped and turned by a deft hand into something different than he was. When expertly molded it could become that which some may have then found proven to be an object of great beauty. Like that a lump of clay, Warren would become something new, sent through the fire to become harder, stronger and of a more practical use.

The serum began to warm him, from the inside out. He said as much, "It's warm." He wondered in awe as he could almost swear he could feel the golden substance working its magic within him. His eyes traveled up his arm, to his shoulder and then back to the young doctor before him, "I think I can feel it working." Warren smiled, nodding blithely as he was given further instruction. He stood as requested, still feeling weak but hoping that he would feel better soon. Worthington reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing each of them in turn and then removing the shirt and laying it onto the small chair beside the exam table. This left the harness to be dealt with and he could have done so blindfolded. Each buckle was unfastened, the groaning stretch of the leather harness complaining as the pressure of the wings grew against it all until finally the young man was able to slip this too off his bare shoulders and free his wings from their bindings. The young man's movements were quick, practiced, soon leaving the leather contraption lying on the floor at the X-Man's feet.

Careful and because he still didn't feel completely well, Warren exposed his wings. Carefully, because he didn't want to destroy the office, Worthington opened his majestic wings and gave them a proper show. The room was barely large enough to contain them, the tips reaching outward into the far corners. Enjoying the feeling of freedom, the Angel did stretch then, his bare chest expanding as he breathed in. Each heart beat mixed the serum more completely within his blood sending it outward with each push into his arteries, his blood vessels, his muscles and his bones. He felt warm. At Sinister's explanation of what he may experience, he nodded and lifted his arms and arched his muscled back into yet another move likely designed to speed and better assist the indoctrination of this young man into what would surely be a new life. Warren looked over at the doctor, still oblivious in his trust at this particular stage of the process. He smiled as he completed the stretch. Flexing his arms, curling his fingers, Worthington said, "It's starting to really burn, Doctor."

It couldn't really be described as intense pain, or at least Warren wouldn't have described it as such if he'd had the vocabulary for what he was feeling. Leaning forward, head dipped slightly ahead of him, arms outstretched, hands cupping the side of the exam table, the young man moaned, "Ugh....I think it's working."

[Mr. Sinister]

“Good Mr. Worthington Good. Within a few hours the virus should be completely eradicated. You will feel like a new man.” Sinister chuckled. “I would suggest that you rest as little as possible. I know that sounds strange from a Doctor but physical activity in this case will do you a world of good. Adrenaline will aid the serum in combating the virus though I do warn you that you may experience slightly increased aggressive tendencies.” That was an understatement. The serum, as it worked itself not only on the Angel’s body but also his mind, would bit by bit increase his aggression and other darker tendencies tenfold. He would in time match the likes of Wolverine and Sabertooth in berserker blood lust, two individuals he disdained for that simple fact alone.

“You may get dressed now. If you need any more help of a medical nature, perhaps tests of your mutation or healing power please feel free to contact me… day or night.” Sinister as Dr. Nathaniel said with sincerity and patted the young X-Man’s shoulder. “I also thank you for your generous offer of aid. The clinic, being open to all and unique in its treatment of mutants for free is always in need of donations.” Sinister’s eyes then moved to the book Warren had placed on his desk before the examination. He ran his hand along the cover gently then opened it to read the inscription inside: "this...belongs to...Essex."

He smirked with a sigh. “Good book Mr. Worthington. I… I used to have one just like it. I suggest you take a good, long flight home and read it. You may learn a thing or two.”