Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own the X-Men, nor do I own any of the other Marvel references I may use in this work. I DO, however, own all of the names that you don't recognize. Another thing I should probably state before you read any further is the fact that this story centers around a group of original characters and their adventures. There are two basic reasons for doing this: one, I wanted to explore and create my own characters to use as I please; and two, I do not know enough about the canon characters to do much involving them. Where I live, comics are not readily available and I do not have the type of money required to get them from subscription or whatnot. In other words, what I know about the mutant universe is a mash-up of concepts gleaned from the movies, the cartoons, and what ever else I can find on the web. If you have any suggestions or if you would like to help me out with that, I would be greatly appreciative. Also, my geography skills aren't really what I'd call competent, so sometimes I may have to just make up towns in order to be confident in what I'm writing. I hope you all understand and will enjoy this story. Thank you!
Prologue:
It's been approximately a decade after the defeat of Apocalypse and six years since the successful establishment of a new satellite school in Snow Valley, Massachusetts. Charles Xavier (founder of the X-Men and former Headmaster of Xavier's Institute of Higher Learning in Westchester, New York) has seen to two more schools being established in the United States: the Charles Xavier Conservatory for Gifted Scholars established in Napa Valley, California and the Xavier - Lehnsherr Institute of Excellence somewhere in Florida. President Kelly's term in office has finally reached its end and now he has been replaced by the first female president in U.S. history… Elizabeth Lawrence-Prentiss.
The mutants and the government have reached a stalemate, the tensions of the relations between them being once tautened to the breaking point preceding Apocalypse's rise to power and following the aftermath wrought subsequent to his seeming demise. Although apparently apposed to the idea in the beginning, President Prentiss has eased up on regulations concerning mutant registration and the limits placed on their rights. Magneato and Xavier's joint defeat of Apocalypse and his henchmen seems to have brought together most the former opposing groups of mutants, bonding them together into a singular entity striving for equality in their fast-paced world. Or at least, this is what some wanted everyone to believe. Inter-mutant relations and mutant/human relations were all going rather well, actually…that is, until the emergence of the Metahumans.
The New World Conglomerate, created just after the death of one of the most influential and powerful mutants in history, was a secret organization that was originally formed without government knowledge or consent dedicated to controlling evolution, itself. The Conglomerate used technology 'borrowed' from the secret remains of a Shi'Ar mother-ship to construct the Optimal Metamorphic Inherent Terminal generator. O.M.I.T. is a mechanized system which takes humans and mutants alike and accelerates their genetic components and morphs their very molecular structures at their core, causing initial, secondary, and even third-level mutations. The Conglomerate has been posing as an innocent genetics research and development company for the past ten years, only recently becoming more of an interest to the government to which they had been pandering since their creation. Hiding behind their façade of benignity, they where able to mask their true intentions of world domination from the public eye.
Everyone but one woman was fooled by their lies…their promises for a better tomorrow, cures for all present and future diseases, and fantastical fountain of youth formulas. That woman was Prof. Sylvia Smart, the new Headmistress of Xavier's Conservatory for Gifted Scholars in upstate California and possibly one of the most powerful telepaths since Xavier himself.
CHAPTER 1: Welcome, Students
Well past midnight at The New World Conglomerate Headquarters, Central New York City…
The footsteps of a lone figure rebated eerily throughout the dimly lit corridor leading to the lair of the Chief Executive of The New World Conglomerate who decided ten years prior to be known only as The Benefactress outside of the four walls of her posh, upscale penthouse located a level above the office in which she presided over her company. As the large, highly polished mahogany hewn doors opened into the room, a chink of light from the hall beyond cast luminescence over half of The Benefactress's face. She was at least sixty years old, but she looked not a day over thirty. Her flesh was pallid as fresh milk, as immaculate and as precious porcelain, and as smooth and supple as a newborn's. Her flaxen, platinum blonde hair was pulled tightly into a French bun, and with a glint of sinister glee in her crystalline azure gaze, she studied the figure of a stooped old man as he approached her ebony and glossy black marble desk, where she waited in her winged high-back black leather chair.
The room, other than the sliver of light cast upon the mysterious woman sitting in serene expectancy at her desk, was seized in the clutches of darkness. As the man finally reached the woman's desk and took a seat at one of the two smaller leather chairs available in front of the hulking piece of wood and marble, tiny lights would spring to life about the room in several brackets and the three candelabras suspended above. An instant later, the doorway leading into the passage beyond slammed shut, leaving the two in the gloom of the office. Encircling this room were several bookcases, reaching from floor to the ceiling sixteen feet above. Interspaced between the bookcases were paintings of high quality and four busts; one of Osiris (the Egyptian god of death), one of Isis (the Egyptian goddess of fertility), one of Sakhmet (the Egyptian goddess of war), and one of Ra (the Egyptian sun god). The floor was covered in lush blood red carpeting, and all of the walls were hewn from black marble stone. The Benefactress's sanguine red lips curved in the most wicked of fashions as she looked upon the bespectacled male.
"Ah…There you are, Doctor. You bring good news?" questioned the fair-haired woman.
"Yes, Benefactress. Indeed I do." retorted the dumpy little man, pushing his spectacles up on the bridge of his nose.
The woman leaned forward over a desk strewn with important looking papers, propped up upon the pedestal created by her interlocked hands just under her delicately pointed chin. After a brief moment's silence, she spoke but one word, "Continue," her voice barley concealing her growing anticipation.
"We have obtained the grant we required to begin research and are now poised to begin work on the project immediately."
That smile of hers broadened, exposing the excessively sharp canines of the startlingly beautiful CEO. "Good…Good…" she spoke, breathlessly, her bright eyes luminous with malevolent jubilation. "Off to work with you, then, Dr. Deville. It is time we introduce the people of this fair city…of this world…to the New World, our World…A world ruled by us!" And from her throat came a guttural sort of chuckle which quickly escalated into terrifying cackling. The doctor sat and stared at her fearfully for a moment until her cackling receded. "Ah, yes… The beginning of the end is neigh," began the Benefactress, talking more to herself than to the man in front of her…whom she'd only just seemed to have realized was still there. " What are you waiting for, Deville! GET TO WORK!" The stumpy Dr. Deville leapt to his feet and scampered speedily from the office, leaving The Benefactress to revel in her victory.
The Next Day …
Xavier's Conservatory for Gifted Scholars, Napa Valley, CA.
"It's official," spoke the Headmistress of Xavier's second satellite school, Professor Sylvia Smart, " The Conglomerate has received it's grant from President Prentiss. There goes 54 billion dollars that could have been used on actual pressing issues, like starving children in Ethiopia or the AIDS pandemic in Tanzania. Instead, it's going to fund a genetics company which refuses to share any of its 'research' with anyone, not even the government that pays them."
The staff of Xavier's Conservatory for Gifted Scholars were gathered for a meeting in the Dean's Offices designed by the very namesake of the establishment, the legendary Professor Charles Xavier. All about Professor Smart's large cherry wood desk, her fellow educators looked down upon the front page of the Daily Bugle that had been mailed directly from New York from the flagship school, all sporting looks of worry and frustration.
"I can't believe this!" exclaimed Professor Smart's closest confidant (and former boyfriend), Professor Roscoe Lyndon, head of the history and economics department. "I could have sworn we had gotten through to her. We've been talking to Endicott for months about New World. She knows they can't possibly be up to any good!"
"I knew it. Told you she wouldn't listen, no one ever does," came the drawling, dreary voice of Daniel Greer, the extremely cynical head of the sciences and the mathematics departments who happened to be a phasing mutant.
"For goodness's sakes, Daniel, this is no time for 'I-told-you-so's." This voice belonged to a female. Janice Spears, resident nurse and electrokinetic, was nervously fondling her naturally shockingly-blue hair .
"Well, what the hell are we gonna do about this?" Anthony Shapiro, physical education instructor, molecular acceleration teacher, and speedster, queried to the group.
Quickly, there came an answer. "I tell you what we ain't finna do. We ain't finna wait aroun' for this school t'get ambushed like the last time somebody started t'get a li'l antsy about us 'genetic anomalies' and wanted some late night action." This ferocious voice belonged to Shalimar Frye, southern belle, Martial Arts teacher, mechanic, and a feral of the highest degree.
The other staff members (Calvin Edwards, head of the electronics and computer programming department/technokinetic; Dallas Myers, head of the shop, agriculture, and animal care department/pyrokinetic; Deirdre Hawthorn, head of the art department/ invisibility and telekinesis; Henry Fenton, head of the literature and linguistics department, fluent in every language known to man…and some that aren't/superhuman decipherer; Kaye Lundy, head of the music department/ sonic amplifier) all were debating over the troublesome news when, suddenly, there came a knock at the door.
Professor Smart closed her eyes in evident agitation, lifted her right hand up beside her face to dually signal silence from the group and to focus upon the person at the door. Not a millisecond later, she had recognized the stranger. She sighed, then spoke. "Yes, Gabbie?"
The door swung open, seemingly of its own accord (but truly by means of Prof. Smart), to reveal a young female student of Latin decent, her light, beautiful eyes studying the scene within the office with a look of shock and embarrassment painted inexorably upon her cherubic visage.
"Oh…Oh-Um…Th-the new arrivals are here, Professor." Gabriella Santos was barely fifteen years old and stood a meager five-foot-five-inches in height. Her complexion was bronzed and beauteous, almost without flaw. Her eyes, like two hypnotic catlike hazel pools looked on in charming bewilderment. Her long, copious chocolate, chestnut, and honey brown hair hung in bountiful tightly coiled curls, framing her face like an exotic doll. It was obvious that she was entering into the stage between youth and womanhood, and although her face was still that of a child's, her toned and fit body (hidden beneath a yellow-and-white baseball t-shirt and denim low-rise hip-hugging jeans) gave the impression of great inner and outer strength.
"Oh…Oh! That's right! I forgot the busses were coming today." Professor Fairchild slapped her forehead with a loud POP! in observation of her own forgetfulness. She had been so absorbed in the happenings in the inner city that she had completely moved the coming of the new children out of her mind. After a second, she then spoke to the staff at large. "I guess we'll have to reconvene this meeting at a later time. Now, whadda'ya say? Let's go greet our new students, shall we?"
She rose from her seat and led the way through the door of her office and down the corridors toward the front foyer, followed by her staff members with the young Gabriella taking up the rear.
Behind, in the empty office, someone had been watching, and now, with nothing left to watch, words were whispered into the empty space.
"Damn it! They've left, I'm coming back…"
Meanwhile, within the alcove of The Hellfire Club in Las Angeles, CA…
In the elegant recesses of the newly revamped Hellfire Club, which had been abandoned for years after the annihilation of Apocalypse until five years later when the center of operations was re-established, a group of eager spectators were focused upon a woman sitting upon a crimson leather upholstered couch. The woman, whose hair was cropped to chin length and was deep red in coloration, removed her index fingers from the temples upon her forehead, and opened her misty green eyes to study those about her. Sarah Vellums, the Red Rook and a very gifted telepath with the ability of remote viewing, looked about at the eager faces of the various other people seated about in the large, lushly furnished room. She cleared her throat softly before speaking in irritated, yet silky tones.
"It seems that 'they' know just as much as we do about this New World Conglomerate. That is, absolutely nothing." Her speech was tinged with a subtle British accent, and as her plush lips were drawn into a smug smirk, she spoke to another woman who had just appeared out of thin air with a soft BAMPF! in a cloud of lilac-colored, sweet-scented smoke, sitting opposite her upon a steel gray silk upholstered settee. "How about you, Nightshade? Have you any news?"
Sabrina Murray, codename Nightshade, the Gray Rook, and obviously a teleporter, reclined into the loveseat with her feet elevated upon an ashen-hued ottoman. She gave a gentle sigh before speaking, her voice much like the other woman's, sans the Queen's English inflection.
"These New World people certainly must be keeping something huge under lock-and-key. I was just at their base of operations, and I have to say, Cerebellum… they've got enough firepower guarding that place to bring down North Korea."
The other members of the new Hellfire roster began to chatter amongst themselves until suddenly, from out of nowhere, a booming female voice rang throughout the cavernous sanctum.
"SILENCE!"
From the back of the room, bathed in shadow, came the curvaceous form of a woman dressed in a body-hugging, immaculate white leather catsuit studded with precious diamonds which sparkled magnificently in the light as it etched up her body. Her hands were slipped within the caress of matching white leather opera gloves. Around her slender neck, there was a choker of obviously incredibly expensive pearls. A platinum chain incrusted with even more diamonds dangled down to her waist, a three pronged pitchfork medallion swinging from the end, resting directly betwixt her breasts. Long, silken hair the color of spun gold draped over her shoulders and came to her waist. Eyes like ice observed all of the faces of the crowd as she passed, the clear heals of her diamond embellished shoes clicking menacingly in her wake. She finally came to a halt in the middle of the floor, staring stonily at all of the awed faces dispersed amongst the many red, black, white, and gray themed seating arrangements, side tables toped with lamps obscuring some of them from her view.
The new White Queen, a formidable telepathic psychokinetic by the name of Portia Andreas, seemed to be in a towering temper, her hands clenching and tightening threateningly, causing the leather encasing them to squeak in protest. In the light, the contrast between the dark chocolate tone of her skin and the aureate gleam of her mane was even more startling, and as her pearl-white teeth were bared in anguish, her beautiful face became increasingly colder.
"Useless. The lot of you…USELESS!" she bellowed, the echoes of her incensed soprano ringing throughout the room. "None of you can even give me one thing--one measly tidbit of information-- that I don't already know about New World. What if…," she began, pacing through the many seated Hellions, speaking in a disturbingly calm and sweet voice that did not suit her expression whatsoever, "what if these people were planning to eradicate us? Hmm? What if they were building some sort of…I don't know… mutant-neutralizing ray and were just waiting for an opportune moment to blow us to Kingdom Come!" Suddenly, her voice became nothing but a whisper and the room accommodatingly remained silent as to not miss a word. "If our attempts do not improve, and I mean damn quick…well…," she paused for a second and an eruption of gasps and cries of pain rang out through the room as a psionic blast ravaged through their collective minds. "I shudder to think what will become of our beloved Club," she finished within their heads.
She turned on her heal and stormed from the ball room. The moment her long blonde mane whipped around the corner, a huge, hulking figure (at least ten feet tall) appeared from her point of origin. He began to walk with grace not at all compatible with his massive size, coming to stand at the same point at which the White Queen had addressed the crowd. "My sister is right, ladies and gentlemen. The sooner we know about New World and what they have to do with these so-called 'genetic experimentations' the government is planning the better…for all of us." He put special emphasis on the word 'all' before turning to leave. Right before he left, however, a hand had grasped him by the cuff of his expensive dinner jacket. He jerked his head in the direction of the hand, and saw that it belonged to Nightshade. "Othello, you are the Black King…not to mention her brother… Can't you convince Portia that we are doing all we can to find out whatever we can about New World?" Sabrina let loose his arm, and he began to straighten himself up by swatting out the slight wrinkles in his jacket that he had created by moving. "Sabrina, I have no more leverage with Portia than anyone else. In fact, I think she listens to me less than any one because I am her brother. Besides, I don't really believe we are exhausting all of our resources yet. Tell you what. Contact Charade for me…I think I've just had an idea." And with that, he left the room. Immediately, Nightshade vanished into thin air with a loud BAMPF! and a discussion, now more urgent than ever, chased the silence from the room like a cat on the heals of a rather tasty-looking mouse.
Elsewhere at The Rivera Estate in Hollywood, CA…
Ernesto Fernando Rivera, a wealthy Cuban 'businessman', was seated in his study surrounded by his band of hired hooligans, The Dirty Dozen, all of whom were wearing looks of agitation, curiosity, and boredom. Ernesto had summoned his gang to him for a reason, but he had not shared that reason with them upon calling them. Once upon a time, Ernesto had been involved in a group very much like the Dirty Dozen…a group of rogue mutants who called themselves The Brotherhood. Now, however, since Magneto had 'gone soft', the position of formidable mutant mischief maker had been left vacant. Until Ernesto had returned to the country. Formerly known as Brainiac, Mr. Rivera had assembled the Dozen in the exact same way his mentor had done. From experience, he felt that mutants with certain higher levels of 'brain power' deserved to be in seats of power, and after exploiting his powers of psychokenisis in ever conceivable way he had decided that he would use his expertise to aid other mutants such as himself. Now, as he looked out over the group he was wondering whether or not that was a mistake.
"I called you all here in order to inform you about something I have just learned," he spoke in a very heavy accent. "It concerns the purposes and intents of the New World Conglomerate. Perhaps, you've heard of them?" Many in the group nodded or murmured to show signs of corroboration. Ernesto focused his dark eyes on each one of them in turn before speaking again. "My eldest son, Rodrigo, had apparently secured himself a spot in their new 'genetic experimentations' program on pretences of wanting to earn the affluent salary proposed by their offer to the mutant community… In all honesty, he was working as a mole for us, feeding us any information we might need to know. However, a week ago all communication from him ceased without explanation and I fear he may have gotten himself into a bit of trouble that he may not be able to evade…without assistance." At this moment, all of the eyes of his miscreants were now focused upon him, some eager to help and others weary…even frightened. "I ask for any help that you are willing to give. I assure you, volunteers will be rewarded handsomely for their compliance."
A young man with flame red hair and smoldering brown eyes seemed to be contemplating the idea and suddenly spoke after a moment of silence. "I'll help." A young Middle Eastern woman with knee-length silky black hair looked from the pyrokinetic known as Rocket, to the others surrounding her, and then at Rivera. "I'm in, too." "Thank you Rocket…Arabesque. Anymore takers?" Another man, this one devastatingly handsome, raised his hand halfheartedly. "Incubus…" nodded Ernesto, recognizing his volunteering. A younger man, no older than seventeen, raised his hand. "Entourage…" A built young black man nodded his head and spoke, saying, "Yeah, me too then." "Thank you, Mammoth," said Ernesto, showing his gratitude. Two more people, a man and a woman, raised their hands. The male's hand was bound by black cloth that was sinched in place with what appeared to be Japanese prayer beads. "Vortex…" The woman, whose hair was done up in a ponytail of alarmingly pink dreadlocks that had been shaved into a mohawk, a chain dangling from her nose connecting a piercing there to one of several in her left ear. "Riot…" Over half the group was now in on the mission…the remaining five members of the Dirty Dozen looked quite apposed to changing that number.
After a moment, Ernesto nodded, sealing the discussion. "All right. The rest of you can leave. I have to give those going on this expedition their mission objectives." The remaining five all began to exit the room, leaving Mr. Rivera to advise his team of super powered punks.
As they all got into their various vehicles to leave the Rivera estate, a black woman with incredibly curly hair had no sooner than sat in her car's driver's seat than her vision was obscured by a copious amount of lavender, sweet-scented smoke which had appeared out of nowhere accompanied by the sound of a loud BAMPF! The woman coughed slightly, wafting the smoke away until she could see again. There, sitting next to her, was a woman wearing a steal-gray silk jumpsuit, a deep V down to her waistline. "Hello, Mercedes. Sorry to encroach on you so rudely…" Mercedes coughed even more until she could look at the pretty brunette sitting next to her clearly. "God, Sabrina! What if I had'a been driving when you just decided to pop in, huh? Whaddaya want, anyway?" Mercedes' was the only car left, now that the other four had left, so they were completely alone. "The Club needs your help." Mercedes scoffed, putting the key in the ignition and starting up her hot-red sports car. " 'The Club needs me'! As I recall, I was jettisoned from The Club by the White Bitch and told to 'never darken the doorway' of my beloved sister's organization ever again." Sabrina sighed, looking over at the woman understandingly. "Sadie, you know how Portia gets. She didn't mean it. She made a hasty decision. We really do need you. Othello's got a plan and he requires your…skills." Mercedes studied the woman as they turned into traffic. "Oh, I see. Hellfire running a bit short on metamorphs nowadays, eh? Well…For O, I'll do anything…but it would be only for him. Portia and, I'm sorry to say, Hellfire means nothing to me anymore… What do I have to do?" And the two women continued discussing particulars as the hot-red speedster sped down the freeway.
Later at Xavier's Conservatory…
The student body was now all converging in the Assembly Hall, being seated by the leaders of Professor Smart's staff. Sitting on the side of the stage, several queues of the new students were lined up, side by side, staring at all of the older students as they entered. Professor Smart was standing behind the podium, reviewing her notes one last time before the presentation. Among the new group of students, there were a few who looked rather anxious, some rather contented, and a few who looked quite indifferent.
At the very center of the group, a beautiful teenage girl with long dark brown dreadlocks draped down her back was staring determinedly down with her lavender gaze at the heavy black boots upon her feet. Cameron Halliwell was feeling very self-conscious at the moment, wondering if she would be able to fit in here as she had in Massachusetts. Cameron, a Chicagoan and former Haitian refugee, was fighting the urge she had to scan the minds of those around her to see who she was most compatible to be friends with. She wouldn't dare risk doing such a thing though. After all, it had been her powers that had gotten her transferred to the Conservatory, by her reckoning. After three years of training under the formidable prowess of Ms. Emma Frost, Cameron was beginning to surpass even her abilities and was also coming into a whole other set of latent powers like empathy (an ability encompassing the powers of divination and manipulation of other's emotion), pyschometry (the ability or art of divining information about people or events associated with an object solely by touching or being near to it), and psychokenisis ( an advanced form of telekinesis which requires less focus but at least thrice as much mental power). As she fiddled with one of her stray locks, she looked down the line out of the corner of her eye at a handsome young man at the end of the row.
Sebastian Banks had no idea what he was doing at a school for 'freaks', even after attending the flagship establishment, The Charles Xavier Institute in New York, for nearly a year. Sebastian simply refused to cooperate in any of the 'madness' going on at the so-called school, and was adamant about never even attempting to develop his powers…although it's almost reasonable considering the traumatic way in which is powers manifested. He sometimes doubted whether the mental sweep that had been performed by one of the administrators of Xavier's had been completely successful. He'd probably never find out, seeing as his father was planning on disowning him and his mother had seemed to have forgotten he even existed. Although his family lived in a relatively small town, they were still one of the wealthiest in the country. The Banks name was well known and highly respected in every facet of business; the family tree branched as far as to include an oil tycoon, a luxury hotel chain owner, and even a few Oscar winning actors. Now, thought Sebastian bitterly, it had a marred branch that needed to be sheered. A branch belonging to a super strong freak of nature. Clapping his hands over his vibrant green eyes so that only his crown of aureate curls could be seen, he sank back in his seat. "Well," he thought again with a hint of humor, " at least I'm not all green and furry like this guy sitting to the left of me."
And to the left of the kid covered in green fur, there was another young man-- this one with a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Actually, had it not been for his occasional grunts of acknowledgement to the yammering on of the hairy kid next to him, one could have easily had mistaken him as being asleep. After a few more moments, Milo Sauvagess lifted the cap off of his head to reveal a shaggy mop of chocolate colored hair. Shaking the hair out of his light brown eyes, he craned his neck to look around at the other new students. Milo had never been to any 'mutant schools' previously. In fact, his powers had only made themselves known about a month before. Now, he was sitting next to a furry green kid and a young girl who was pulling all sorts of strange things out of her pocket…like a baseball bat, a bowling ball, and a hockey stick. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking, with an upside down view, at the rows behind him. His eyes lighted on a pretty red-headed girl two rows back who apparently was listening to music on her MP3 player, her eyes closed and her arms folded over her chest. He reached back and stretched, his arm extending several times the normal length until he could tap her on the shoulder. He smiled at her…until she opened up her eyes to reveal a set of brilliant blue-on-black twins. He jumped, let his arm whip back into place and turned around to face the audience.
Sydney Carlson was used to that sort of reaction, although she had hoped that in her new surroundings her black and blue eyes would be the least attention-getting physical feature. A reforming thief and street thug, Sydney was also new to the experience of being in a 'mutant school' although her relations with other mutants had been long withstanding. Not a year before, Sydney had been under the employ of a mutant mobstress known as Sister Sledge and had been a part of her gang known as The X-Iles. Sister Sledge and her three right-hand men, Sidewinder, Bulk, and Short-Circuit, became like family to the orphaned Sydney. Syd had been shipped from foster home to foster home in her life, and after her powers kicked in during her last stay in a home… well, she just refused to ever go to another one. That's how she ended up running the streets of Baton Rogue with the X-Iles, stealing and cheating just to make a living. That's how life was until a representative from The Conservatory made her an offer she couldn't refuse. Now, as she closed her eyes once more, she wondered if accepting that offer had been a mistake.
After just witnessing a guy stretch his arm directly over his head, Colin Murray was feeling very apprehensive about his new school. Like most of the other new students, Colin had never been surrounded by other mutants before. The experience was rather frightening, and being placed on stage for the appraisal of the students already attending wasn't much of a picnic either. Poor Colin felt sure that if he just did that thing-- where he'd think of being somewhere else and would then suddenly end up there-- he could escape largely unnoticed, but the knowing stare that he knew Professor Smart must have been giving him at that moment prevented him from trying it. Anyway, where would he go? His father wouldn't exactly welcome him home after Colin had 'come out' to him-- in more ways than one. With one swooping, greasy black bang hiding one of his kohl-dusted eyes, the little gothic teleporter felt lonelier than he ever had before.
In the very front row, slumped low in his chair garbed in his torn-to-shreds jeans, a punk rock band t-shirt, heavy black leather jacket (covered in sharp silver pyramid studs), heavy buckled biker boots, and jet black shades obscuring his gaze sat the probability altering mutant, Lucien 'Lucky' Starr. Lucky wasn't really that concerned with anything at the moment, other than the rather generous curves of Professor Smart. Professor Smart, who had been looking at someone a couple of rows behind him with a worried expression for several moments, now snapped her deep blue eyes in his direction, a reproachful look upon her face. Smiling slyly and lowering those shades so that his dark brown eyes could look directly into her own. She cocked her head to the side for a second and then shook her head slowly. Lucky crossed his arms moodily across his chest and pushed the shades back up the bridge of his nose, muttering, "Damn telepaths."
As the last of the students filed in and took their seats, Professor Smart gave a pert little nod which sent her auburn bob into a bouncy twitter. As she nodded, the other staff members moved to their posts. Professor Smart straightened her tie before moving up to the podium and lifting the microphone up to her lips. She cleared her throat lightly and then began to speak.
" Mutation. It is the key to our evolution. It has enabled us to evolve from a single-celled organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward…"
"Great, another 'Evolution' speech," thought Sebastian. He wasn't alone in his aspirations, because after a moment Professor Smart spoke again.
"Okay, okay. You guys do know I'm a telepath, right?" Her sudden dropping of the professional persona seemed to be a welcomed change, her little joke appreciated with several jovial laughs. " Well, I guess there's really no reason going on in that direction, then. I mean, you've heard this all before, I'm sure, countless times in countless different wordings." As she spoke, she left the podium, taking her notes and ripping them up as she walked out to the edge of the stage, microphone floating along in front of her (via her telekinesis). " I don't wish to bore you with anymore talk about how mutation is natural and is essential to evolution, even though it most certainly is… But that's not how the world at large feels at the moment. Sure, it's better now than it was a couple of years ago, but we are still viewed as freaks and monsters and beasts by the 'normal' population. What is 'normal', anyway? By definition, normal is average. Average, by definition, is expressed by what is the majority. I don't suppose I have to remind you that cases of mutation have been on the constant rise since the 1960's. WE are becoming the majority, we are becoming what would be considered 'normal'. We, despite what others might say, are human at our core. We feel, we dream, we love. We live. We aren't animals and we aren't 'nature's mistakes'…"
She threw the scraps of her notes up in the air like confetti, most of the crowd was now awed by her change in mood… the new students all seemed to be fixated on her, even Sebastian was listening to (although, not truly believing in) what she was saying. "Last year was the first year we opened our doors to students. I, at the time, was a geneticist working to research the basis for mutation…trying to find out all I could about the common link between our DNA--that rogue agent present in everyone of us in this room…Of course, I'm speaking of the infamous 'X-Gene'. Now, one would think that such an anomaly as the X-Gene would be quite simple to discover and possibly even…," she paused for a moment, sighing sadly, "cure cases of mutation."
At this moment, Sebastian perked. He wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the filth of his blood, the curse placed upon him to be ousted from his family, his community, and what he had left of his life… "At the time, I myself was thinking of mutation in terms of curing a disease…righting one of nature's illusive wrongs. Since then, however, I've come to accept my powers and I agreed to man this school in hopes of helping others do the same, and more. I want to help you hone your powers… I want to help you learn how to use them for good. And, yes, I know that sounds so cliché, but in today's world you have to admit there is such a thing as doing good for goodness' sakes."
The microphone followed as she strode the length of the stage, looking out over the audience. "You who have journeyed with us through our first year… I thank you. From the bottom of my heart. You guys are the reason we are all here," she said, sounding close to tears, gesturing to the members of her staff stationed around the room. "And this year, we are going to be exploring even more aspects of our abilities and our psyches. Now…" She turned, walking over to the rows of new students sitting off to the side. "To our new students," she said, standing off to the front of them, looking over all of their faces, " I want you to feel at home here. We want you to feel like family. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, we will be here for you." She looked from them out over the audience. "Please, kids, won't you join me in saying 'Welcome, New Students!'?"
And with that, there was a wave of movement as what appeared to be the entire audience of students rose in standing ovation, applauding loudly and cheering. Professor Smart beamed at the new students and strode back to the podium, microphone in tow, wiping her eyes as a tear ran down her rosy cheek.
Cameron was floored (she, too, was crying now), Colin was smiling slightly, Sydney was still listening to music on her MP3 player, Milo was too busy staring at a beautiful young woman with long dreadlocks to notice anything, Lucky was flirting with a pretty girl in the front row of the audience, and Sebastian sat where he was and scoffed moodily.