Cain
Cain sat in the woods outside the School for the Gifted, and seethed. Black anger swirled through his mind as he watched the mutants in the school play and laugh. Hate them all. He got to his feet and brushed dead leaves from his jeans then got on his motorbike and roared off. Not staying near the mindtwister, that was for sure. Not after he'd seen him take over those mutant's minds in the railway station. Wasn't getting his hands on Cain that easy, no sir.
He arrived back in New York proper and eyed off a shop. He needed some money. He patted down his pocket and then pulled his bike into an alleyway, locking it down so that no one could steal it. He shook himself and felt his bloodfrenzy come on him like a rush of drugs. He laughed, hissing slightly through his fangs and punched a hole through the backwall of the shop. In and out in five minutes, with a nice lot of cash.
Later he washed his hands free of the clinging blood and eyed himself in the mirror. Stupid shop assistant. Trying to pull a gun on him. Didn't he know one with the Mark? Brother killer. Doomed to wander, but no one had better harm a hair on his head otherwsie the curse comes over to them. Cain laughed, and smashed the mirror with his hand, blowing air over the cuts as he walked out. He couldn't wait to bring the wrath of Cain to the X-men. They wouldn't know what hit 'em.
He returned to his vigil on the hill, warmed by the fire of his hate.