Nervous was an inadequate word for what Marie Mjolnir was on her first day at Death Weapon Meister Academy. She was terrified. She'd never been to a school this big before. She wanted so desperately to go back to being a normal fifth-grader, with all her normal, not-weapon friends. It wasn't her fault she happened to be able to turn into a hammer at will. At first, it hadn't even been at will! She reflected on the events that got her to the steps of the grand school as students around her talked loudly as they entered for their first day of classes.

It was third period, English, her favorite subject. She was listening diligently to her teacher, Ms. Adams, when the boy behind her pulled her hair. A relatively simple thing, nothing to get too angry about, just turning around and glaring at him would have probably been enough. Marie could give quite a glare, too. But, you see, this was the third time that day he'd done so. Marie had tried to ignore him, honestly, but her emotions, as usual, got the best of her and she turned around to slap at him. She wasn't trying to hurt him, just trying to get him to stop.

And then, it happened. Her hand became a hammer as her palm made contact with his cheek. He flew sideways, knocking over several desks and chairs.

Needless to say, she had gotten in big trouble.

Oddly, her parents weren't that surprised. They actually seemed pretty calm about it. Of course, they acted angry and embarrassed with the principal.

"I would suggest anger management," the principal droned on later that day in her stuffy office, "of course, she's just a child. Therapy would probably terrify her." "Of course," was my mother's reply. "We'll deal with her at home," my father continued, "You shouldn't have to worry about it."

Later, in the car, Marie was expecting the biggest lecture of her life. The feeling of guilt, confusion, and regret in her balled up and left a lump in her stomach that made her feel sick. She felt hot tears bubble up in her eyes and willed them to go away.

"Well, I suppose there's nothing we can do about it. She's weapon through-and-through." Her mother spoke softly to her father. "She can't control it either. And what did the principal say? A hammer? My entire family is made up of guns."

"My grandfather was a hammer." Her father confirmed, grimly, "She must've got it from him. She's certainly got your temper."

"Well we have to get her to the DWMA soon. I think classes there start in a month." Her mother turned around, looking at her, and smiled, "Marie darling, what do you think about moving?"

And that was that. They moved to Death City, Nevada just in time for the new school year to begin. And now Marie was here, feeling tears building up again as she thought of what she'd left behind, what she was missing.

She heard a voice behind her, a soft, light monotone, "Hey, are you crying?"

Marie turned, to see a boy a bit taller than her looking at her curiously. He was dressed in white, making his short, messy silver hair stand out. He smiled at her with kind eyes. "Don't cry. This place is awesome. This is my second year here."

Marie sniffled and smiled back at him. He held out his hand. "My name is Franken Stein. What's yours?"

Strange name. Then again, he was a strange boy. Oh well, it didn't matter to her. He was being nice to her, and that made him a friend in her eyes. She took his hand.

"My name's Marie. Just Marie."