[color=FireBrick][center][h1]Oshea Jackson[/h1][/center][/color]
[center][img]https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRjtfO2BcJ4mxrdczwdEbebi4Gzn4cKHY2FO1grfvoVWaMg9LSa63bMfE9A[/img][/center]
[center]"Never asked myself what my purpose was, it done dawned on me that I don't know at all."[/center]
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[center]Location: Hanson Power Plant[/center]
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Oshea sat with his back against the wall, the searing heat of anguish rifled up his knee without cease. His heart still smashed against hi chest, he could almost feel the thick of his blood slogging through the walls of his veins as he lie there, face still bloodied and nose still broken. His breath remained shallow as he couldn't breathe out of it at all. He thought about wiping the blood from his face but all of his energy and all of his desire had been sapped away. Remarkable as his confidence normally is, being brought this low morphed confidence into doubt. To be helpless was weakness where he came from, it made you prey to carrion of all kind.

No matter his determination, no matter his impeachable facade, he was now more vulnerable than he had ever been. And frigid reality lay itself before him with a flash of thought; it would be a long time before he ever ran again, let alone a speed at which he could be a useful member to the team. He stared at the jutting bone, it laughed back. His future, his team, his entire life stymied at once. What would he do now? What life did he have outside of the X-Men? He was sure as the high heavens he was not returning to Baltimore! Oshea had seen many tragedies in his short life, little did he ever think he might be close to becoming one himself.