Introduction

The cold wind ripped across the rocky terrain, clawing invisibly at a lone figure, body silhouetted against the setting sun’s glare. He stood atop a rock face, the smooth, wind-worn cliff stretching out in front of him only a few feet, and then plunging steeply into the dried riverbed below. The riverbed wound further down into the small ravine between mountains, snaking down until the mountains parted and it disappeared out into the flat expanse of the Valley. The figured frowned down at the dry, dusty valley, a winter haze hanging over the city below, a testament to years of expansion and pollution. His eyes followed the brown winter haze that stretched up, followed it until it became lost in the rapidly clouding sky. Massive clouds rolled overhead, reaching from one end of the valley to the other, like the massive hand of some other-worldly being, and yet refusing to release its precious contents.

The figure drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly, watching as his condensing breath was snatched away and carried off into the winter winds. He frowned uncomfortably, but not because of the cool air. On the contrary; he was enjoying the cool weather, relishing in the small bit of what he had lost in coming to the valley years earlier. No, for this lone figure, it was not what was that bothered him; it was what was not that caused him his discomfort. He stared longingly at the dark clouds, and every bone in his body, every fiber of his being, was told him that, at that moment, it should be raining… And yet it refused to do so. It did not surprise the figure. He’d lived in the valley long enough to know that clouds did not always mean rain. But the weather itself did surprise him. In fact, the day’s forecast had called for clear skies and a high of seventy-five degrees.

That was why the figure was there, standing on that windswept cliff: to confront the one responsible. He did not have to search for long.

“Ah, so, the infamous James Cooper has finally arrived,” a deep voice boomed from behind the figure. It was as if the thunder that cracked and boomed from above spoke, so deep that the words rumbled in James Cooper’s chest, causing him to shudder.

Slowly he turned into the wind, and in the direction of the voice. His shaggy brown hair whipped at his face and eyes as he shifted and turned. Finally he was facing directly into the wind, and his hair parted down the middle, blowing the brown strands off to the sides. His eyes squinted slightly behind his rectangular sunglasses, his mouth a thin line below his boney nose. His features seemed as if carved out of stone; unmoving and emotionless. A light shone from his eyes, a glow with no logical source, as if his irises were illuminated.

Despite his thin frame, the teen was an intimidating figure. Clothed in all black, trench coat whipping in the wind behind him, revealing the red flame emblazoned on the chest of his shirt, a symbol of who he was; of who he had become in moving to the valley. He was the Flare, founder and leader of the team of mutants known as the Arizona Demons.

“Indeed,” James replied simply, his tone cold and uncaring. His stare bore into the teen standing not more than a few feet away. He was shorter than James, but just as thin, his wiry frame wrapped in baggy clothing, his short blond hair spiked. His baggy white shirt came down to his knees and the waistband of his sweatpants, although not seen, could not have been resting much higher. The teen was practically swimming in his clothing, and James, for a split second, wondered how the teen managed to move without tripping over himself.

James took a cautious step forward, and immediately his pondering was answered. A funnel of wind formed around the teen, picking him up from the rocky surface, and moving him back a few feet. He lowered with surprising grace, and flashed a smug grin at James. The leader of the Arizona Demons resisted the urge to flash fry the little punk, and instead opted for a more diplomatic approach.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the arrogant teen mockingly said, “do you think I would let you capture me that easily?” James gave the kid a sardonic grin.

“’Course not,” James responded, returning to his serious demeanor. “Now look, kid; there’s no need for us to fight each other. I’m not here to ‘capture’ you, as you seem to think. I’m here to help you.” The teens face turned sour, his mood changing almost as fast as the weather. Thunder boomed from directly overhead, shaking the rock beneath James’ feet.

Right, emotion equals weather, James thought, reprimanding himself for overlooking that simple fact; a fact that he, after years of training and discipline, took for granted. From what James’ had seen in the nearly four years of being a mutant and working with them was that a mutant’s power was almost directly connected to his or her emotions. It was a dangerous combination, as the metal plate in James’ arm could attest. He subconsciously rolled his wrist, inwardly cringing at the wrist’s limited flexibility. He silently cursed the mutant who had broken it nearly a year previous.

Thunder barraged James ears as the sky became increasingly darker. The wind began to pick up, and James could feel its deadly pull on his somewhat baggy clothing. He looked to the kid, his eyes glowing white while his body was silhouetted against the lightning storm erupting behind him. For a normal person it would have been a terrifying sight, one that would have caused even the bravest of men to crap himself. But for James it was different. For James, it meant he could do things his way.

With a shout that could have overpowered a jet engine, James Cooper lifted into the air, hair rippling in the wind like brown flames, and clothes pulled tight against his body. A malicious grin spread across his face and he lifted his wrist to his mouth, pulling back his sleeve to reveal what looked like an ordinary black watch. He flicked a switch, hovering there nearly two feet off the ground, and spoke to it.

“Red Team; lets do this!” James yelled over the thunder, wind, and now torrential rainfall. Acknowledgements came rapidly over the built in speakers, and four figures seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

The first had been there all along, camouflaged in with the rocky terrain, posing as a silent boulder in a sea of rock. But, as soon as the call went out, he broke his cover, rising from his crouch like a monster out of legend, his rocklike hide molding and conforming over his body, as malleable as skin, but as hard as the rock that it resembled. Seven feet tall he stood, body looking like it had been chiseled out of the side of a mountain. The weather-mutant backed away in shock, staring in disbelief at the mutant called Meteor.

The teen mutant backed away, and then stopped dead in his tracks, a sixth sense warning him of the pitch black shadow that had suddenly risen behind him. He spun around, eyes widening at the newly arrive mutant whose body absorbed all light that touched it, rendering him no more than a shadow with glowing yellow eyes. Heart pounding in his ears, the frightened mutant backed away from Solarflare.

A sudden movement caught the teen’s eye, a sudden blur of black and yellow. His heart raced as his mind played process of elimination. Uncanny speed was a trademark of only one mutant the teen knew of; Lightspeed. Suddenly the speeding mutant was in front of him, eyes pure white behind the mask that hid his face, a trait common among most mutants. With a start the teen fell back…

… And tumbled over the edge of the cliff. Panicked and disoriented, the teen’s powers became useless to him. He cried out in terror as the rock wall rushed by him, barely aware of the shadow that had suddenly passed over. The teen closed his eyes tightly, certain that his end was near. Suddenly his descent began to slow, the ground, he noticed as he reopened his eyes, coming upon him at a rapidly decreasing speed. A rush of wind in his ears caught his attention and, looking up, started slightly at the sight. Two big, black feathered wings flapped with tremendous force, slowing the effect of gravity.

With a dull thud the teen’s feet hit the ground, and he felt hands removed from under his arms. A rush of wind nearly knocked him off of his feet, and he covered his eyes as dust was suddenly churned. When he finally lifted his eyes again, he couldn’t help but stare in wonder as, nearby, posed upon a massive boulder, stood the Red Team of the Arizona Demons. Flare, Lightspeed, Solarflare, Meteor, and the Dark-Angel.

James Cooper, also known by the codename Flare, glared down at the awestruck mutant. He shook his head and leapt down from the boulder, rising from his crouched landing slowly, menacingly. He stepped forward and continued to do so until he stood in front of the teen. He looked him in the eye after removing his sunglasses, and gave the teen a dark glare, letting his irises flash their familiar red and orange coloration, creating an effect that closely resembled flames.

“If I had wanted you out of the picture, I would have let you splatter against the ground,” James stated darkly. “But, despite your arrogance, I am willing to make you an offer, and give you a reasonable choice.” Fear shone in the teen’s eyes, but he nodded his head, ready to hear what James had to say.

“With training, you can learn to control your powers. The Arizona demons can help you with that. You have two choices: you can join up with the Arizona Demons, or you can come with us to the police station where you will be put away for destruction of public property and possibly be sued for damage to private property.” James paused, backing up, and leaned against the side of the boulder. “It’s your choice.”

With a contemplative look on his face the teen turned his gaze to the ground. He stood there for minutes, eyes and mind absently tracing the cracks and crevices of the rock beneath his feet, rock that had been exposed by his emotion induced storm. He had caused a lot of damage, he knew that. He hadn’t wanted to, of course. He just wanted to have a bit of fun with his newfound power… but he’d let it get to his head. He got cocky and arrogant, and as a consequence lost control. He shuddered at the thought of how much damage his storm had probably caused. His choice was clear. He didn’t want to go to prison, and he knew the Arizona Demons would help. They were mutants like him.

Confidently the teen raised his head and, for the first time that James had ever seen, he smiled a genuine smile.

“I’ll join you guys,” the teen said. James nodded and began to walk away, following the path down out of the mountains.

“Lets go,” James called over his shoulder, his voice emotionless as usual.

The Red Team of the Arizona Demons hiked out of the mountains, taking in the cool night air as the sun set behind the White Tank mountains, casting an orange glow on the Valley of the Sun.

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A/N: Alrighty! I decided to write an introduction to the novel, to give people a little more insight into the Arizona Demons and Flare, mostly for those who are unfamiliar with the team.