She was the mother I never had. She found me. Brought me to Xavier's academy. She trained me. We are one of the same. Precognition, telepathy, mind control, psychic weapons and illusions. I was her, reincarnate, she'd joke. She taught me how to use them to the best of my abilities. Yet I still couldn't strike and take her down in the way she wanted me to.

"I think you're almost ready to join us, ace," Psyclocke stood over me, as she released her telekinetic rope around my neck. I was on the floor, beaten.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, lying on the floor, not wanting to move. She extended an arm to aid me up.

"You know you need to treat the danger room as legitimate. I may be your teacher, but in here, I'm your enemy. You need to fight like you mean it. I know you can do it. I've seen it."

She was right. I lacked confidence in my own abilities. It would, ultimately, be up to the professor to decide if I was ready to join the X-Men, not Psylocke. I was not convinced I'd grow the necessary confidence by summer for my testing to officially wear the badge of honor.

She put her arm around me, as I hobbled out of the now deactivated danger room.

"I appreciate the training today," I said, through gritted teeth, "but I have another important exam to prepare for."

My comprehensive examination was coming up. I'd soon be a PhD. If I couldn't join the X-Men as a fighter, I could certainly join Dr. Jean Grey and Dr. Hank McCoy in the laboratory. I didn't make much for a scientist either, always scraping by through grad school. Was I gifted as a mutant? According to Psylocke, yes, but I always thought that had more to do with her pride in discovering of me seven years ago in my quiet sanctuary of a university library. How she claims she found me through cerbro. I'm still not sure I buy it.

According to my other mentor, Dr. Grey, Psylocke had been searching for someone of the same abilities for some time. Same abilities we had, but appearances … not so much. I always admired her figure – she was beautiful, tall, slender, ethnic, and likely the only woman I know who could pull off purple hair. I wanted to be her. Every woman wanted to be her. Unfortunately, I was a pale, short, and white girl from the Pacific Northwest who's hair couldn't handle a rainy day. Needless to say, virtually everyday was a bad hair day. I wasn't exactly the reincarnate she might have hoped for, more like a Gilmore Girl than a sexy ninja.

My fighting uniform differed exponentially from hers. She was sexy, and let her hair flow as she fought, let alone made no means to hide her physical features. I trained in more modest attire, covered completely. I even went the extra step of wearing gloves, until it was time to learn the art of the telekinetic katana, that I realized it wasn't worth replacing gloves on the daily. And as a side note, I can assure you; my brown, shoulder length hair did not flow when I fought.

As I made my way into the hall, hobbling along side my mother, my mentor, my teacher, she stopped me before tapping the elevator button.

"Quinn, you're going to be fine. I wouldn't have invested in you if I didn't think you could do it. I won't be with the X-Men forever, and someone with your powers is a huge asset to them," she was sincere.

"I know. I'm over thinking it. I always do. I'm tired too, I apologize. I didn't get enough sleep," I replied.

"Are you still having those dreams?" she asked.

The dreams. I had them every night.

"Yes, and they're becoming increasingly realistic. I'm worried it's precognitive. Jean and the Professor have tried to reach into my mind, to examine the dream, but they both had the same issues you did. My mind is resisting showing them what I see. I feel crazy, but I wish they would stop," I started to tear up as I said this. Pyslocke was worried; she had been transported to different worlds in her time, it happens, either inadvertently, on her own accord, or by another mutant. "Psylocke, I don't know what I would do if it happened to me – what has happened to you – I don't think I'm strong enough to get back home."

She knew I was right. Her face said it all. I had bouts of precognitive visions, but nothing ever manifested. She assumed it wasn't as strong in me as it was she.

"There is a silver lining. It may mean that your resistance to telepathic and telekinetic attacks is growing. Do you still see him, the masked man?" she asked.

"Yes. He has a weapon, almost like my katana, but red. He never moves. He just … I mean … I think he stares at me. It's hard to tell. Nothing ever happens, and I can't bring myself to move. But I can feel so much pain, and I can hear crying– I just can't see anything beyond him," I stared at the floor, recalling my dream last night.

She looked worried. The elevator opened, and she put her hand on my shoulder, squeezing it in the motherly way that she did before sending me off for the day.

"Keep your wits about you, Quinn. In my experience, these things can happen at any time." And she was right. They tended to happen at the most inopportune of times.

I was tired. After showering, I headed to the lab. Jean handed me several samples of skin cells to study. I stared at it for a good fifteen minutes before she said anything.

"Quinn, are you okay? You look exhausted. Did Psylocke make you train this morning?"

"I'm sorry Jean. I'm over training, studying, and I'm not sleeping," I said, feeling terrible.

"If there's anything I've learned from my graduate studies, it's that you need to rest. Take a day or two, go to your room and sleep it off. You'll thank me later," she suggested.

I felt like I'd look like a failure I took her up on her offer. But she was right, "you make a good point. I'm barely functioning here, and useless in the lab. If you don't mind … I'll take you up on this, but on one condition."

She smiled. "And what would that be? To keep this from Psylocke?"

I laughed, "You don't have to read my mind to know that one…"

Jean gave a resolved smile. She promised she wouldn't tell my master, my mother, my mentor, that I was bailing on training and studies for two days. I took my white frock off, and left the lab.

I woke up, suddenly, my kinetic knife ready in my hand. It was just a dream, I kept telling myself.

Then I heard a bang.

Pyslocke kicked the door down, and ran to my closet. She grabbed my training uniform and threw it at me, "Get up, ace! We're being attacked. It's the Marauders. Suit up and let's go."

I took my pajamas off immediately and slipped into my leather fight suit. Pulling on the collar, always too tight around my neck, and slipped on my boots, and wrapped my steel Kanata around my hip. 'Always more deadly with metal and psychic energy, if you ask me," Pyslock would advise, in the reason for keeping a real Kanata on her. I ran as fast as I could with Pyslocke towards the explosions.

Colossus had beaten us to it. He was holding off the Marauders. They had never come this far, into the Professor's school. They had to be out for blood. I created a kinetic rope, and wrapped it around Prism's neck, attacking from behind. I pulled as hard as I could, trying to strangle him, but his body crystallized, resisting my energy attack. He grabbed my rope and pulled me towards him. I pulled my Kanata out, as I was dragged on the floor towards him, and hit his arm as hard as I could. He leaped back in pain, and returned to his normal state. I knew he couldn't handle a physical blow. I created a knife, and speedily attacked him again – he fell, quickly.

The three of us couldn't keep the marauders at bay. Where was everyone?

I shouldn't have taken those three seconds to watch my victim fall to the ground. I felt a claw embrace my neck and lift me up, choking me. I gasped for air; I was frantically looking for Pyslocke. I couldn't call for help. My vision blurred.

I hit the ground hard, the side of my head breaking my fall. I don't know how long I laid there until I felt foreign hands lifting my head into their lap. I was still struggling to breathe. Is this death? Who is holding me? Are they helping me? I couldn't see anything but light. My whole body was shaking … this had to be it.

My body calmed itself, and everything went black. I felt someone close my eyes. Yes, I'm dying, I thought. Make the pain stop.

And then there was nothing but darkness.

I woke suddenly, gasping for air. I shot up, frantically searched for my steel Katana. It was where it should be. I checked my body; I was still in my training uniform, my hair was down, disheveled, but all limbs were intact. Looking around, I realized I was sitting in a moss filled ditch.

"What in the hell?" I asked aloud to myself.

I slowly sat up, mindful of my surroundings. I looked over the ditch to see about twenty men in all white armor. Faces covered in masks. They saw me, pointed in my direction and started to run towards me with their guns. I had a choice: fight or flight. I chose flight. I ran as fast as I could into the forest. My body was rejecting me at the moment I needed it the most. Please, please keep running, I asked of myself. They were gaining on me.

I ran into a clearing, and that's when I saw him, the man in the mask and the dark robes. I stopped. I turned my head, and the men in white had stopped behind me too.

Why are they stopping? Are they afraid of him? Should I be afraid?

He started to make his way toward me. Once he got too close, I drew my sword and pointed it towards him.

"I wouldn't come any closer," I warned.

We stared at one another for three seconds. He drew his red, flamed weapon, slicing my steel Kanata in half, before he could bring it back towards me, extending my kinetic knife from my hand. I held it there, trying not to panic. He didn't move.

I'm not ready for this.

"That," said a muffled, calm voice, "is not a light saber."

I stared, determined not to break my poker face.

"No." I said.

We were at a standstill. I didn't have the strength and energy to fight. His head turned slightly to inspect my kinetic knife radiating from my hand, inches away from his neck.

He said something to the men in white.

I felt a shooting pain in my back. I was in shock at first, but distracted with the pain my knife retracted. I collapsed to my hands and knees, and my vision blurred. No, I told my body, no you have to fight this. Fight it. I tried to crawl, but I was making no headway. I reached out for the black boots in front of me. He disappeared from my line of sight for a moment, but I could hear his steps behind me. He lifted me and began walking. I fell asleep, the image of the mask the last thing I saw.