This whole thing is pretty much a writing exercise so that I can play with characters, style, plot, and all that good stuff within a universe that I know rather well but have been allowed to tweak.
Secondly, as much as I love Evolution, it's representation of high school was about as realistic as a Disney movie (not dissing Disney, I'm watching the Little Mermaid right now). Yeah, I also realize that the cartoon is aimed at, well, kids, and they don't want to promote things like swearing and making sloppy teenage love and underage drinking, which might end up being part of the story.
Number Three: This is sort of a continuation of my series 'It's a Scary, Scary Thing' which you don't have to read to understand this at all.
Fourth, I pulled in three random comic characters: Emma Frost, Chamber, and Sage, so just be on the outlook for them.
Fourth prime: I have insane pairings for parents. (See my profile if you want to see the complete list)
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are copyrighted to Marvel, WB (CW?), and whoever else might have some right to them. All characters that are not immediately recognized are the property of the writer in question.
Prologue
In the years following the aftermath of Apocalypse, many things were put into motion. One of which was the fatal heart attack that brought down the mutant radical, Magneto. His former alley Mystique had turned her own back on the mutant superiority cause, joining forces with the government agency S.H.I.E.L.D. Without a leader, the mutant supremacy groups fell apart and the X-men, no longer, needed disbanded themselves. Many going their own separate ways to settle down and start families. It would seem that Xavier's dream was nearly accomplished as Congress carefully examines a middle of the road bill of rights for mutants. Except new foes lurk in the wings and who knows what will come of it? Chapter OneSam stared at the mansion for a moment before propelling himself into action. He pulled out his two suitcases and his duffel bag. He slipped the duffel bag's strap onto his shoulder and carefully counted out the fare to the driver who peeled away as fast as he could after that, nearly running Sam down.
Sam almost wished he hadn't missed.
He strode over to gate and pressed the black button on the buzz box. It beeped loudly and several moments later a voice came through on the other end. "Right, come in." The other line went dead and the gate swung open, squealing on unoiled hinges. He sighed and stared at the long walk to the other side of the lawn driveway and to the front steps. The driveway looped in a circle, a green circular stretch of lawn set in the middle. It was immaculately kept, perfectly green, and not a blade was out of place, which just added to the appeal of walking across it.
And Sam did just that.
A man about the same age as Sam's own father waited for him on the steps. He smiled genially and held out his hand. "I'm Scott Summers. You must be Samuel Starsmore."
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I must be." Instead of shaking Scott's hand, Sam handed him the handle of his suitcase. Scott took the suitcase without complaint and lead Sam up the stairs and to his room. A gray coated the walls, and the furniture was obviously well made but impersonal. It reminded Sam of a hotel room, but whatever. He could change that.
Sam began surveying the room, taking in things that had to change. For example, the bed had to be moved away from the window. Sam considered his room as he half listened to Scott while he ticked off a short list of rules, and nodded at all the right parts. "We'll go over more when everyone has arrived."
"Hey . . ." someone started. "Oh you're busy."
"No wait, Rusty, come back here," Scott ordered. There was a sigh and a dark figure stepped into Sam's slightly better lit room.
"Rusty, this is Sam Starsmore. Sam, this is my son Rusty."
Sam blinked and stared at the two. Scott wore khakis. Rusty's black jeans had chains hanging off the belt loops. Scott wore penny loafers. Rusty's boots had a bandanna tied around the ankle. Scott had shoulders like a linebacker. Rusty looked more like a kicker. There were however a few similarities. Rusty's hair was brown with a definite red tinge to the locks and a white streak running through the bangs. Their faces looked vaguely similar, but Sam figured he had better things to puzzle over than whether Rusty looked more like his mom or his dad.
Rusty in turn gave Sam the once over and jerked his head in greeting, "Hey."
"Hey," Sam returned the nod.
"Sam, why don't you unpack, and Rusty can show you around," Scott gave Sam a quick smile before exiting the room.
"I hate it when he does that!" Rusty groaned. "Just volunteers me to do shit."
"You don't have to," Sam told Rusty with a shrug, pulling one of his bags onto the bed and unzipping it to check the cargo.
"I would have done it anyway. You're the only guy here anywhere close to my age."
"Seriously?"
"Yep. " Sam pulled out his C.D. player and a stack of C.D.s, setting them on the bed and glancing around his room.
"How the hell did you get that?" Rusty asked, pointing.
"Get what?"
"That CD," Rusty clarified, pulling it from the pile. "The Above Average IQ: Death of a Debutante? This isn't supposed to come out for another three weeks. How'd you get it?"
"Dad works with them. He gets stuff all the time. Wanna a borrow it?"
"If you were not a dude, I would kiss you!" Rusty exclaimed flipping the CD over to look at the back.
Sam laughed. "So, The Truth has Come or Broken Cloudiness?"
"What album are we talking about?"
"The latest ones."
"Gotta go with The Truth. I love Broken Cloudiness' earlier stuff, but lately it's gotten so watered down. This close to politically correct."
Sam nodded and glanced around the room. "I've been here ten minutes and I already hate this room."
"Don't blame you," Rusty said. "Want me to move stuff?"
"The bed, over there, maybe?" Sam asked looking across the room and looking at the heavy bed.
Rusty shrugged. "No problem. Move out of the way."
Sam looked at Rusty and raised an eyebrow, "All right."
Rusty closed his green eyes briefly and then the bed began to move slowly over to the other side of the room. It bumped against the wall and then settled back to the floor.
"Nice." Sam complimented.
Rusty shrugged again. "Anything else?"
"Nah."
"How about I show you around and teach you the rules."
"Sounds fun." Sam commented sarcastically.
"I mean the useful rules. Screw curfew. These are the ones you need to survive around here." Rusty grinned and without waiting for a reply started for the door.
To Sam "useful rules" sounded like an oxymoron, however Rusty would be the authority on the subject and he felt obliged to follow him.
"IT'S HOT!" screeched a blond as she stood in front of the fan, rotating along with it.
"Chloe, you do you know that you can make it stop moving?" Rusty questioned.
"Doesn't work," she responded, brushing a piece of neon blue bang out of her eyes.
"I'm not surprised," Rusty commented dryly. "Chloe, this is Sam. Sam, Chloe."
Sam nodded at Chloe. She stood at about five and a half feet. Her white blond hair was chopped just slightly below her chin, but her bangs were dyed a bright blue. Her eyes were nearly the same unearthly shade
Chloe turned to study him for a moment. Instead of the quick roving movement that people employed when they were meeting new people, her eyes seem fixated on one spot on his lower face.
Rusty leaned over, "Chloe, staring is weird."
Chloe ignored him and instead took a step toward Sam. "Has anyone told you that you have a really nice bottom lip?"
"I what?" Sam asked, taking a step back.
" Your bottom lip. It's the most perfect thing I have ever seen." Chloe repeated, taking a step closer to Sam.
"Uhm, thank you, I think," Sam's eyes shifted nervously.
Chloe shrugged. "No problem. Normally I don't go for the labret piercing but it works for you. I like the hair too."
Sam touched his naturally black hair with the not so natural patch of blue in the back. Rusty stifled a laugh fully expecting Chloe to say something about Sam's Metallica shirt, his shoes, his blue eyes, and every other conceivable part of his appearance that she found to her liking. But, today turned out to be Sam's lucky day as Chloe stopped.
"You're welcome. Now I am going to take a shower. Later."
Sam stared after her confused. "Uhm what was that about?"
"Chloe is on a search for the most perfect pair of lips," Rusty explained. "She likes your bottom one."
"I gathered that."
Rusty shrugged. "Chloe's insane, but for the most part harmless unless provoked, so in short, don't get in between her and any of her hot guys, don't mention conservatism or math, and you'll probably be okay."
"Rusty!" A voice called. "Rusty, where are you?"
Rusty sucked in his cheeks and pursed his lips. "I'm right here, Mom!" He responded.
A red head came down the hallway and Sam began to wonder Rusty's parentage. "Rusty, where . . ." she left off suddenly spying Sam. "Oh, hello, you must be Sam."
"Yeah."
She held out her hand, which Sam took. "I'm Jean Grey-Summers. Pleasure to meet you."
Sam mumbled something unintelligible that sounded like nice to meet you too.
"I'm showing Sam around, Mom. See you later," Rusty grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him down the hallway.
"Are you sure they're your parents?" Sam asked.
"I ask myself that question every day," Rusty sighed. "Now quick rundown on the grown up's around here.
"Logan's cool as long as you're not training.
"Bobby, just forget him. He's more like a teenager stuck in an adult body. Don't worry. He'll pretend he cares for about forty seconds and then get distracted by something shiny.
"Jubilee--who's married to Bobby, for some strange reason—I'll well, just don't mess with her; she's pregnant. Storm follows the rules, loosely. It depends whether or not they infringe on our rights as human beings."
"And your parents?" Sam asked although he thought he knew the answer.
"They live for rules and their strict enforcement," Rusty sighed.
"Fun."
Rusty showed Sam around the rest of the upper floors to the mansion before the two returned to Sam's room where Rusty was helping Sam unpack and they got to know each other better.
Suddenly, Rusty winced and grabbed his forehead, snapping his eyes shut. "Ouch. Sorry, man, I'm getting a telepathic tirade at the moment."
"So your mom can yell at you at any time, any place, without having to come find you?"
"More or less."
"Wow that sucks."
"You're telling me. Well, I'll be back after a screaming match with my mother."
"Have fun."
"Right." The door swung closed behind Rusty. Sam finished stacking the rest of his CD's and reached down to pull another bag that needed to be unloaded but found that there weren't anymore.
He sat on his bed and stared at his room and then struck with a sudden urge to go outside and get some fresh air. He grabbed his iPod and headphones and decided to explore the mansion's grounds.
Sam found a large expanse of well-cultivated garden. So, he stuck his headphones on and decided to unwind with his music, maybe catch a quick nap. He was still tired from the flight and time change. Rusty would find him again.
He stretched out a smooth, cool, stone bench and allowed his eyes to close as music filled his ear.
Sam must have dozed off because suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jerked awake expecting to find Rusty, but was met with someone quite different.
Wet black hair had been pulled away from her face in ponytail. She had dark brown skin and brown, nearly black eyes. Her gray t-shirt was smudged with something that looked and smelled like oil, another small smear underlined her left eye like a streak of war paint. She was barefoot and was wearing a pair of shorts that would have made Daisy Duke jealous.
Sam sat up. "Who're you?" he asked.
"I'm Harley." She straightened up and quirked a brow at him. "You?"
"I'm Sam."
"Charmed, I'm sure," she stated this as she was anything but. They stared at each other for a moment in silence before Harley said, "I have to water."
"Am I stopping you?"
"In way, yes." She rested a hand against her hip.
Sam raised a brow and didn't budge.
"Fine, stay there. You'll just get wet." Harley grumbled impatiently, stalking away a few paces. She raised her arms and from her hands rolled out what looked like thick fog. It solidified itself around the garden and then Harley snapped her fingers and from every corner a torrential downpour started, including above Sam's own head.
"Ack!" He leapt to his feet as the cold water sprayed over him.
Harley paid him no attention. After several moments, the clouds stopped raining and the clouds vanished.
Wet across his head, neck, and part of his back, Sam watched her in annoyance and something that seemed something like interest.
"I tried to warn you." Harley asserted.
"It wasn't a very good warning."
Harley shrugged and then pivoted and walked away, a defiant swing to her hips. "Bye, Sam."
A sudden blast of hot air nearly made him loose his balance, but the warm air, dried his shirt and the bench off.
He ran a hand through his thick black-blue hair that was still sopping wet.
"Ah, I see you met Harley," Rusty commented.
"Yeah. Lovely girl," sarcasm dripped off the last two words. "Nice butt, though."
Rusty glanced at Sam. "Do you like living?"
"Yeah, rather fond of it."
"Then don't say that ever again. Logan will hear you."