Summary: A different take on Lance… What if Lance decided that he had enough of being pegged as the 'thug'. Frustrated, Lance accidentally destroys his one bedroom apartment. Sifting through the remains of his apartment, he discovers a letter addressed to him. With no place else to go, will Lance finally be able to find solace in Xavier's Institute for the Gifted? AN: The meeting between Kitty and Lance never took place.

Disclaimer: I do not own X-men Evolution or any Marvel related associates.

Chapter 1: Rock Bottom

"Fuck, where did I put that quarter?" asked Lance as he searched every pocket on him.

"Damn't, I just want a god damn coke. Is that too much to ask for?" He banged angrily at the vending machine. A light shone on Lance's face, causing him to squint at the sight.

"What are you doing here son? Don't you know it's late?" Lance looked up to see a cop looking intently at him.

"It's nothing. I just went out here to get me a soda. Is that a crime sir?"

"Why didn't you go to the liquor store around the corner?"

"A coke is nine-two cents at the store; if I buy it here it's only seventy-five. Can I please just buy my soda and leave?" The cop thought about it for a moment before walking away, still wary about Lance.

"Hey, wait!" yelled out Lance, "Do you have a quarter?"

~&~

"Damn cop, I wouldn't be so late for work if he hadn't interrogated my ass," Lance grumbled as he hauled another case of beer onto the shelf.

"Lance," called a voice from behind him. Lance lazily turned around to see the floor manager with an eyebrow cocked.

"Yeah what's up?"

"Can I see you in my office?" Knowing he had no choice in the matter, Lance sighed as he followed his manager into the back room.

"What did you need to see me for… sir?"

"In the past few weeks, there has been an increase in missing inventory…"

"Sir?" Lance looked a little offended, already knowing that he was a prime suspect.

"I'm not saying it's you, specifically. I'm just saying, do you have any friends that would lift items or any thing of that nature?" The smaller man intertwined his fingers together.

"Sir, I don't have time for friends. I got two jobs and I'm barely able to pay for my apartment. With all due respect, but what makes you think that I have any friends?"

"Well if it's not anyone else, what about you? It seems to make sense. You can't pay for anything, so you would rather steal it. I should've known when I first saw your dirty filthy self walk through my doors that you would do something like this. But no, no one listens to me. I have to hire you because of stupid equal opportunity."

"You know what man, fuck you. I don't even care about this job anymore. I quit! I got some shred of dignity you know," Lance stood up and walked away from the store but not before saying, "And man, get your facts fuckin' straight, Cindy was the one stealing."

~&~

"This fuckin' sucks. I only kept that job for six months and I quit…" said Lance as he walked through the halls of Kelly High School.

"I might as well catch up on my math homework while there is still time."

Lance sat down and leaned against his locker as he began to finish his pre-calculus homework. He never was as stupid as everyone thought he was, at least in math and science that is. He would've been in a more advanced course if he did his homework more often, but then that would mean he would have had to been home early to do that.

"Hey, you jerk, I didn't do anything."

Lance barely lifted his head to see two guys, one known as the state boxing champ and the other guy known as the 'bad boy' of the school, arguing in the hall. Lance scoffed at the nickname of 'bad boy'. The worst thing that boy has done is accidentally punch the principal.

"Man, I told you to stay away from my girl," said the bigger of the two.

"I have no idea what you're talking about man," the 'bad boy' said innocently.

"I saw you making out with her last night."

"What she does is her business. I just happened to be her business." Lance shook his head; the guy obviously had a death wish.

"I'm going to kill you." The boxer threw a punch that narrowly missed the other boy and smashed open fire alarm, instantly setting it off.

"Fuck, I'll get you later." The two boys ran away and a teacher opened the door, only to see Lance to his right.

"Lance!" The teacher pointed at him accusingly.

"Fuck…" Lance muttered under his breath, already following the man.

~&~

"Suspended for three days, fuck…" said Lance as he tuned up his guitar.

"I never do anything, but I always get blamed for shit." Lance gritted his teeth as he remembered everything that happened the past few days. That was small compared to all the shit that has been pinned to him in the past few years.

"I fuckin' get blamed, I get suspended, I get arrested, I get fired, fuck it!" His eyes rolled into the back of his head and the building started to shake.

"God damn't! I don't need this now!" said Lance as he noticed that he inadvertently activated his powers again.

He smashed the window open with his guitar and climbed down the fire escape as the building collapsed. Luckily, no one was ever willing enough to live in the run down complex but him.

He was the resident and the landlord. He looked down at the rubble, hoping that something was salvageable. He ran his fingers through his hair as he noticed that everything was ruined or burnt from the small fires that was just now stopped burning.

"Hello, what's this?" said Lance as he saw a small envelope lying at the bottom of the mailbox. The letter was sent about a week ago.

"Xavier's Institute for the Gifted?"

Dear Mr. Alvers

It has come to our attention that you have been 'gifted' with a mutation. Unfortunately, because we are tending to another mutant at the moment we sent you this letter, in hopes that you would give us a call and arrange a meeting for us.

We provide free meals, a clean room, and help you further control your mutation. We require no sort of payment. This institute is meant to be both a safe haven and a school for mutants. I do hope that you consider our offer.

From Prof. Charles Xavier

Telephone: (516) 251-3390

"What else do I have to lose?" Lance pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called the number.

"Hello? Is this Professor Charles Xavier? My name's Lance Alvers. You sent me a letter last week and I was wondering if the offer is still up?"

~&~

AN: This is only a preview to the actual story. If you want me to continue the story, I'll need you to review. Lance is 18, he is at the legal age where he is allowed to decide whether he is responsible enough to live on his own or not.
Next Chapter (maybe): A Clean Slate (Really?)