John Allerdyce sensed the fire before he ever saw it. Walking leisurely down the street of a New York City suburb, his muscles suddenly tensed and his fingers twitched in his pockets. He stopped dead in his tracks for the briefest moment before his body, fueled by his mutation, carried him toward the source of the flames.

His feet nearly flew over the cracked pavement; his entire body itched as the mutation took control of his senses. He turned a corner and expected to see a school bonfire or a trash burning. But, as his sight focused, a house materialized in his view. All at once, he smelled the smoke and the fire loomed in the mainframe of his vision.

Flames engulfed the home, setting the night sky ablaze. For a moment, he contemplated leaving it be- walking on and pretending nothing happened. He was out way past curfew, and Storm would be upset enough without him making a scene. But, as he turned to leave the burning building behind him, a single noise rose above the sounds of the fire devouring the building. A small cough, just loud enough to reach his mutant ears, brought him back to reality.

Before he could think better of it, he got a running start and leapt over the white picket fence. Jumping the porch steps and landing squarely on the welcome mat, John used his momentum to slam his shoulder into the front door. Weakened by the flames and smoke, the wood buckled immediately, and he entered the burning home. Spreading his hands, he focused his energy. Bowing to his will, the fire created a path for him.

"Hello?" he called, his eyes searching the scorched house.

Another cough came in reply. He moved toward the direction of the sound, trying at the same time to focus on keeping the fire at bay. Rushing, John found himself in a small living room. Almost immediately, his eyes fell upon the body of a girl leaning against a wall, trying to shield her face as she struggled to exit the house. Barely conscious, she didn't even look fazed when John pulled her into his arms.

Focusing all of his energies on controlling the fire, he fought his way out of the burning building. He nearly collapsed on the concrete outside of the picket fence, still clinging to the girl for dear life. Her labored breathing didn't stop her, though, from lifting her head and looking up at him.

"Who are you?" She asked, her voice raspy from inhaling the smoke.

Gazing into her drooping eyes, he smirked before giving her body a once-over. He chuckled when he saw a small flame flicker on the edge of her skirt, dancing along the hem. Reaching down, he picked the fire up in his hands, letting the flames dance over his fingertips. He looked back down at her, the smirk growing with each passing second.

"I'm a mutant. That's all you have to know."

She let her eyes go wide for a second.

"Oh," she murmured.

And before he could say another word, the girl passed out cold in his arms.

"Hey," he muttered, gently shaking her body.

She did not make even the slightest movement. Her eyes remained closed and John sighed. Digging in his back pocket, he reached for his cell phone. Flipping it open, he groaned when he saw the time. Almost two hours past curfew. Storm was going to kill him. That is, he knew she would kill him if Scott didn't get to it first.

But, as he looked down at the human in his arms, taking in each burn and scorch mark, he knew what he had to do. Raising the phone and hitting two on the speed dial, he braced himself for the worst. A voice erupted from the phone after a single ring.

"Where the hell are you?" Scott snapped.

John glanced down at the girl in his arms and took in a deep breath.

"We may have a situation, Scott."


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