Amanda Wheeler was an independent woman. She left home after high school graduation to the complete consternation of her parents to move to New York and pursue a career in dance. As most parents do, they tried to convince her to take her 1500 SAT and 4.0 GPA on to college so she would at least have something to fall back on. Amanda would have none of it.
For the next five years she waited tables, struggled to pay the rent on her one room, roach infested studio, and worked hard to become a dancer. She went to classes during the day, auditioned for secondary dance parts in the early evening, and then put in 8 and 12 hour shifts. Life was hard.
Her parents had disowned her and, having no brothers and sisters, she was alone. It was not surprising that the young dashing Italian, Tony, was able to quite easily charm her into his bed. All it took were flowers and drinking coffee at 2 am for a week straight in the cafe she worked the night shift at. However, once he bedded her, only the third person she had ever slept with, he was gone and never seen or heard from again. Well, like in any story of hard luck it certainly doesn't get any easier. Amanda was pregnant.
She dropped out of her dance classes and continued to work nights. Many times she would sit at her window and stare at the pay phone on the corner across the street (she could not afford the service for her own) wondering if she had the courage to make that walk and call her parents and ask to come home. Amanda had trouble asking for help. She would give it without a thought, whether it be a homeless person or a regular at the cafe who needed a shoulder to cry on, but she never wanted to be a burden to others. Perhaps if she had known how many times her mother had dialed 411, crying, to ask for the phone number of any Amanda Wheelers living in the Brooklyn area only to be told there were no persons listed with that name it would have been easier. In the end she would always decide it was best not to burden her family with her hardships and would wipe her face dry and struggle on.
As she neared term and her body began to change drastically she became depressed. She had saved up enough money to not work for two months so she could have her child and the friends she had made at the cafe, including the owner Joe and his wife Tina, would drop by often to bring her groceries and necessaries. It was on one such trip that there was no answer at the door when they knocked. Amanda was a month out from her due date and the door was locked. Knowing how depressed Amanda had been Joe immediately paniced and forced the door while his wife rushed inside.
"Here," they heard a weak cry from the bathroom.
Amanda was there in her underwear lying in a a half-full tub of cool water. Joe's first worry was put to rest immediately as she had not tried to take her own life. Her depression and inadequate exercise, along with the late date in her term, had caused her to become ill. She was burning with fever and needed a hospital. Having no phone or a way to call anyone, and being delirious from fever, she was trying to cool her body by soaking her stomach in the cool water. Her only concern was for her unborn babe.
Tina grabbed a sheet off the bed and, as Joe lifted her from the tub, they wrapped her in it and half-carried, half-led her slowly down the steps to their car. They arrived at the hospital and she was admitted. She had no insurance but Joe lied and said that she was covered by the Cafe's policy. He would pay out of his own pocket if he had to.
Amanda remembered very little of what happened during those days in the hospital. However, later she could never be sure if her only semi-clear memory was real or a dream. The fact that she never saw the lady again made it seem a dream, but the miracle of her recovery was certainly real.
She remembered coming to with a cool pressure resting on her forehead and an elderly woman standing at her bedside. She wore a nurses uniform and caressed her brow. Every place her hand touched the fever receded.
"There, there dear," she cooed. "You have a great heart and it is not fitting that one such as you should suffer. You carry in your womb a baby boy and you must be strong for him. He is destined for great things and will be needed by all of mankind in the dark times ahead."
Tears began to stream down Amanda's face. She did not have the strength to carry the child to term and she knew it. Her heart was strong but her body lacked the strength. Even should she deliver the child, she would not live through the ordeal.
"I don't think I can," she whispered hoarsely.
The elderly woman leaned close and looked deep into her eyes. The look of compassion and love Amanda saw there was the same look in the eyes of mothers all around the world when they look with worry into the faces of their own sick children.
"No, I don't think you do, " the woman said sadly. "I will do what I can though to ease the pain and perhaps we can save the child at least."
She pulled back the covers to Amanda's waist and then lifted up the hospital gown to expose her sweating stomach. She placed her hand there and a cooling sensation began to spread outward. She leaned in and placed her ear to Amanda's swollen belly.
Whap!
Her head jerked upward as the babe inside landed a thunderous kick to her ear.
"What is this?" She asked loudly, a smile beginning to spread over her face. "You do not have the strength my dear, but your son seems to think he does!"
Gathering herself she cupped both her hands and placed them again gently on the stomach of the mother. From the small openings between her fingers a blinding light flashed once as she brought the child to full awareness. The unborn son went to work immediately.
The illness and fever he pulled from his mother's wracked body, taking it into himself. Amanda fell immediately into a deep and restful slumber as her body began to mend. She would live on to hold her child.
When she awoke, her parents were both by her bedside. Joe had tracked them down and brought them to New York. Her mother was holding her grand son, a strapping lad who weighed almost 13 pounds. Seeing her daughter awake she set the babe in Amanda's arms and smiled.
"Oh, Manda. We have missed you so. Please come home," she whispered kissing her daughter gently on the forehead.
-------------------
I was born Thomas Anthony Wheeler in New York City but became aware while still in my mother's womb. The fever I took into myself to save my mother not only mutated my still-forming body but still rages in my soul today. My blood burns with a fire that has made my life not only difficult, but lonely, unable to get close to those I love for fear of hurting them. Just as blood will rush to the surface of a normal person, at times of great anger, embarassment, arousal or passion my skin will burst into flame. I have studied for many years in the far east in the temples of monks and had many masters who have tried to help teach me to control my emotions so I can enjoy something as simple as the embrace of a friend. This mutation, in my early years, I saw as a curse. How many children are unable to sit on the lap of their grandmother and be read to and rocked? Or able to play and frolick with other kids?
As I have matured, I have found that my mutation is not so different from the trials and tribulations experienced by others. I have come to love myself and realize that it is what is in the heart and mind, rather than the blood that matters. We all have mutations or deformities, but how we choose to use them is what determines what type of man we will become.
Disease, virus, illness can not survive in my internal system. Once I reached my full physical maturity I have not changed in almost 200 years. In a sense, I am immortal and have joined myself to the heroes in Paragon City. I will look out for the struggling Amanda's out there and the Joe's and Tina's of the world. My incredible size and strength, along with the fires of passion I have learned to control will only be used for the betterment of our world.
I will fight for the helpless, shelter the homeless and give to those who have nothing. This is the legacy of the B'HEMOTH.
Amanda Wheeler was an independent woman. She left home after high school graduation to the complete consternation of her parents to move to New York and pursue a career in dance. As most parents do, they tried to convince her to take her 1500 SAT and 4.0 GPA on to college so she would at least have something to fall back on. Amanda would have none of it.
For the next five years she waited tables, struggled to pay the rent on her one room, roach infested studio, and worked hard to become a dancer. She went to classes during the day, auditioned for secondary dance parts in the early evening, and then put in 8 and 12 hour shifts. Life was hard.
Her parents had disowned her and, having no brothers and sisters, she was alone. It was not surprising that the young dashing Italian, Tony, was able to quite easily charm her into his bed. All it took were flowers and drinking coffee at 2 am for a week straight in the cafe she worked the night shift at. However, once he bedded her, only the third person she had ever slept with, he was gone and never seen or heard from again. Well, like in any story of hard luck it certainly doesn't get any easier. Amanda was pregnant.
She dropped out of her dance classes and continued to work nights. Many times she would sit at her window and stare at the pay phone on the corner across the street (she could not afford the service for her own) wondering if she had the courage to make that walk and call her parents and ask to come home. Amanda had trouble asking for help. She would give it without a thought, whether it be a homeless person or a regular at the cafe who needed a shoulder to cry on, but she never wanted to be a burden to others. Perhaps if she had known how many times her mother had dialed 411, crying, to ask for the phone number of any Amanda Wheelers living in the Brooklyn area only to be told there were no persons listed with that name it would have been easier. In the end she would always decide it was best not to burden her family with her hardships and would wipe her face dry and struggle on.
As she neared term and her body began to change drastically she became depressed. She had saved up enough money to not work for two months so she could have her child and the friends she had made at the cafe, including the owner Joe and his wife Tina, would drop by often to bring her groceries and necessaries. It was on one such trip that there was no answer at the door when they knocked. Amanda was a month out from her due date and the door was locked. Knowing how depressed Amanda had been Joe immediately paniced and forced the door while his wife rushed inside.
"Here," they heard a weak cry from the bathroom.
Amanda was there in her underwear lying in a a half-full tub of cool water. Joe's first worry was put to rest immediately as she had not tried to take her own life. Her depression and inadequate exercise, along with the late date in her term, had caused her to become ill. She was burning with fever and needed a hospital. Having no phone or a way to call anyone, and being delirious from fever, she was trying to cool her body by soaking her stomach in the cool water. Her only concern was for her unborn babe.
Tina grabbed a sheet off the bed and, as Joe lifted her from the tub, they wrapped her in it and half-carried, half-led her slowly down the steps to their car. They arrived at the hospital and she was admitted. She had no insurance but Joe lied and said that she was covered by the Cafe's policy. He would pay out of his own pocket if he had to.
Amanda remembered very little of what happened during those days in the hospital. However, later she could never be sure if her only semi-clear memory was real or a dream. The fact that she never saw the lady again made it seem a dream, but the miracle of her recovery was certainly real.
She remembered coming to with a cool pressure resting on her forehead and an elderly woman standing at her bedside. She wore a nurses uniform and caressed her brow. Every place her hand touched the fever receded.
"There, there dear," she cooed. "You have a great heart and it is not fitting that one such as you should suffer. You carry in your womb a baby boy and you must be strong for him. He is destined for great things and will be needed by all of mankind in the dark times ahead."
Tears began to stream down Amanda's face. She did not have the strength to carry the child to term and she knew it. Her heart was strong but her body lacked the strength. Even should she deliver the child, she would not live through the ordeal.
"I don't think I can," she whispered hoarsely.
The elderly woman leaned close and looked deep into her eyes. The look of compassion and love Amanda saw there was the same look in the eyes of mothers all around the world when they look with worry into the faces of their own sick children.
"No, I don't think you do, " the woman said sadly. "I will do what I can though to ease the pain and perhaps we can save the child at least."
She pulled back the covers to Amanda's waist and then lifted up the hospital gown to expose her sweating stomach. She placed her hand there and a cooling sensation began to spread outward. She leaned in and placed her ear to Amanda's swollen belly.
Whap!
Her head jerked upward as the babe inside landed a thunderous kick to her ear.
"What is this?" She asked loudly, a smile beginning to spread over her face. "You do not have the strength my dear, but your son seems to think he does!"
Gathering herself she cupped both her hands and placed them again gently on the stomach of the mother. From the small openings between her fingers a blinding light flashed once as she brought the child to full awareness. The unborn son went to work immediately.
The illness and fever he pulled from his mother's wracked body, taking it into himself. Amanda fell immediately into a deep and restful slumber as her body began to mend. She would live on to hold her child.
When she awoke, her parents were both by her bedside. Joe had tracked them down and brought them to New York. Her mother was holding her grand son, a strapping lad who weighed almost 13 pounds. Seeing her daughter awake she set the babe in Amanda's arms and smiled.
"Oh, Manda. We have missed you so. Please come home," she whispered kissing her daughter gently on the forehead.
-------------------
I was born Thomas Anthony Wheeler in New York City but became aware while still in my mother's womb. The fever I took into myself to save my mother not only mutated my still-forming body but still rages in my soul today. My blood burns with a fire that has made my life not only difficult, but lonely, unable to get close to those I love for fear of hurting them. Just as blood will rush to the surface of a normal person, at times of great anger, embarassment, arousal or passion my skin will burst into flame. I have studied for many years in the far east in the temples of monks and had many masters who have tried to help teach me to control my emotions so I can enjoy something as simple as the embrace of a friend. This mutation, in my early years, I saw as a curse. How many children are unable to sit on the lap of their grandmother and be read to and rocked? Or able to play and frolick with other kids?
As I have matured, I have found that my mutation is not so different from the trials and tribulations experienced by others. I have come to love myself and realize that it is what is in the heart and mind, rather than the blood that matters. We all have mutations or deformities, but how we choose to use them is what determines what type of man we will become.
Disease, virus, illness can not survive in my internal system. Once I reached my full physical maturity I have not changed in almost 200 years. In a sense, I am immortal and have joined myself to the heroes in Paragon City. I will look out for the struggling Amanda's out there and the Joe's and Tina's of the world. My incredible size and strength, along with the fires of passion I have learned to control will only be used for the betterment of our world.
I will fight for the helpless, shelter the homeless and give to those who have nothing. This is the legacy of the B'HEMOTH.