The Cards We Are Dealt
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The day that they hunted her down started off normally. She got up and took a shower, did her hair and applied a little make up. She got dressed for work and locked her apartment, checking the locks twice. She walked five and a half blocks to her work, taking in the warm summer air of San Fransisco before entering Duke's Diner. She put on her apron and grabbed a tray, checking in with her boss about her nearing vacation to Louisiana before getting to work. At the tender age of nineteen, she was favorite among the loyal customers of Duke's. She served, talked, and occasionally flirted with the customers, sneaking her favorite customer, old Hoyt, an extra piece of apple pie. She recieved a good amount of tips and managed to put in three shifts, working from six in the morning till ten at night. She collected her pay and started to make her way home. She took a liesurely walk, taking in the view of the bay and the stars. By the time she made it back to her house it was nearing eleven. Seven hours of sleep sounded heavenly to her.
But that wasn't what she was going to get.
Her apartment seemed eerily quiet once she stepped inside. She flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. She swore lightly and grabbed the lighter she kept by the sink just in case. She flicked it on and looked around. Everything seemed in order. Simple couch and arm chair with a nice TV in the living room, normal kitchen, empty bathroom, chilly bedroom. She sighed, telling herself that she was being stupid.
Too bad she wasn't.
Out of nowhere, men appeared from all sides of her living room, one of them literally popping out of thin air. One had two guns, another had two swords drawn. One of them had saber-like teeth and the nails of a bag lady, while the man standing next to him had sharp looking bones growing out of his knuckles. The lights came on suddenly, revealing another man standing by her door. He also held a gun.
"Who are you?" she demanded. She was shaking, adrenaline rushing through her. The man with two swords smirked.
"We're what I like to call-"
"Don't even start," the one with bag lady nails said. "We're here to take you with us, Lorraine. Either come quietly like the good little girl that you are or we'll make you come with us. And that option won't be pretty."
A gun clicked. A sword swung. Why did these men want her? How did they know her first name? What were they going to do to her if she even agreed to go? She was smart enough to know that they were mutants, and she could tell that they weren't doing this for fun. No, she could tell they were under some sort of order, but who's? And why did whoever controlled them want her? She lived quietly. She never used her powers. Never. Not in anyway that would harmful, anyway.
She looked for a way out, and saw that the door was only guarded by one man. One man she could easily take down. She made up her mind. In a blur of ash-colored hair and ivory skin, she made a break for the door. She practically ran it down as she sprinted as fast as she could. She jumped down the balcony and landed with shaking limbs. But she knew she no time to waste. She ran past bullets as the street blurred past her, people so slow in their evening walks that they barely thought of her as person, but more like a sudden Bay wind. The bullets died off, and she was starting to loose her breath. She slowed, just slightly, thankful for her gift and for the fact that she was alive and unharmed. She looked wildly around her for any sign of the strange men who'd been in her apartment, but found none. She smiled, still running. She looked ahead two seconds too late. The blunt end of a sword came down on the base of her skull, and the street scene blurred and faded into black...