Disclaimer: The mutant concept is owned by Marvel comics. The common
people concept was created by Kielle and Phil Foster. All characters
belong to me. Enjoy.
Lucky Shot
"This is Mary Jane Wylde reporting from Pearl S. Buck High School with Channel Six news, where, at noon today, a teen-aged gunman opened fire in the library, killing two students. Before he could get off more than three shots, the shooter was stopped by another student at the high school.
"Maria Sprotte, a senior here at PSB High School, allegedly gunned down the shooter, a minor who is also a student, within ten seconds of the first shot. Some wonder if the shot that killed the shooter was meant to kill, or if Miss Sprotte "got lucky."
"The young gunman was allegedly a follower of the organization known as the Friends of Humanity. The class studying in the library was a science class, studying the DNA strand commonly referred to as X-Factor. Most of its students were known mutants. Maria Sprotte was not among them.
"Maria Sprotte was in the library to return a copy of * Catcher in the Rye *. She was across the room when the first shot went off.
The screen cuts to a young man of maybe fifteen, his acne covered face is sweaty, his hair slick. "One second I saw his gun go off, then she had a pistol in her hand, and it was over. I don't even know where it came from."
Now an older woman appeared, a teacher from the screen titles. "She saved us, there is no question."
Then a man came on the screen. He stood six feet tall with ebony hair, barely touched by gray, and dark green eyes. "My daughter knew what she was doing. No, I don't know where the gun came from, but her aim hasn't been off since I taught her to shoot when she was ten."
Next came a shorter, skinnier man. His blond hair was thinning across the top, though he tried to comb it over to hide it. "If that girl was such a crack shot, it was murder. Plain and simple murder."
The reporter came back. "Now Maria Sprotte is in police custody. Whether for her own protection or to be charged with man slaughter, no one really knows. We have a live feed of what Maria Sprotte said as she was taken away by the police."
She was eighteen. She had long brown hair and troubled green eyes, dark like her father's. She stared directly into the camera. "Miss Wylde, I don't care how old he was. People that shoot to kill when their life is not in danger are not sick, they don't need help. They need to be stopped."
~*~
At the police station, Maria held a cup of highly doctored coffee. She stared into the creamy brown liquid. The weight of the cup was the only thing that kept her hands from shaking.
"Where did you get the pistol, Miss Sprotte?" Officer Joseph Graham asked in his rich, dark voice.
Maria lifted a hand to cover her eyes briefly before it returned to its death grip on the coffee cup. "John Tyler was carrying a small arsenal on his person. I figured he wouldn't miss a little nine millimeter."
Officer Graham was good at his job, he didn't ask any leading questions. "But * how * did you get it?"
His voice was hypnotic. Maria wanted to tell him everything. The paper cup bent dangerously in her hands. "I pinched it." She lifted her head to look at Officer Graham. "Would you like to hear the story from beginning to end?"
Graham looked into Maria's intense green eyes. He pulled the chair out and sat down across from her. He took the cup out of her hands and held them between his own callused paws. "Tell me."
Maria's entire body tensed. "Six years ago, I was in a lot of trouble. Me and a friend ran wild, shop-lifting, picking pockets. She cheated, she was a mutant and could create some pretty stunning illusions. We had kind of a competition between us.
"Then she got caught. We always figured we'd be put in jail or some juvy home if we got caught. She just happened to pick the pocket of a FoH member, in a dark street, far from any other person. He killed her. He was shouting about mutie scum and smashing her head in with that short bit of pipe. When he started towards me, I ran. I kept running until I was in my dad's arms, and he made the bastard leave with his 30/30."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I changed. Who wouldn't? Stopped stealing, smoking, and running wild. Started working on my grades, joined the soccer team. I've got a full ride scholarship to the State University.
"Everything was going well, until junior factions of the FoH started popping up. Most of them just made my skin crawl, but I let them have their own. John Tyler seemed to * need * them, a refuge, a place he could belong." Maria snorted. " A place to fit in through virtue of your genes, no effort required."
Her head hit the table with a dull thud. Only her death grip on his hands told graham that she was still all there. When she spoke, her voice was husky, raw, muffled by the table and her arms.
"When John Tyler walked into the library, in the brand new, way-too-big bomber jacket, I felt like somethin' was up. When I pinched the gun, I couldn't think. I wanted to panic. Hadn't a single * clue * what to do.
"Then the first shot went off, and instinct took over. The gun came out of my pocket and I stopped him before he could hurt again."
Officer Graham broke the rules. He asked a question that held no bearing on the case. "Do you regret it?"
Maria lifted her head. Red rimmed her eyes, tear tracks spidered down her cheeks. "Not for a second."
Lucky Shot
"This is Mary Jane Wylde reporting from Pearl S. Buck High School with Channel Six news, where, at noon today, a teen-aged gunman opened fire in the library, killing two students. Before he could get off more than three shots, the shooter was stopped by another student at the high school.
"Maria Sprotte, a senior here at PSB High School, allegedly gunned down the shooter, a minor who is also a student, within ten seconds of the first shot. Some wonder if the shot that killed the shooter was meant to kill, or if Miss Sprotte "got lucky."
"The young gunman was allegedly a follower of the organization known as the Friends of Humanity. The class studying in the library was a science class, studying the DNA strand commonly referred to as X-Factor. Most of its students were known mutants. Maria Sprotte was not among them.
"Maria Sprotte was in the library to return a copy of * Catcher in the Rye *. She was across the room when the first shot went off.
The screen cuts to a young man of maybe fifteen, his acne covered face is sweaty, his hair slick. "One second I saw his gun go off, then she had a pistol in her hand, and it was over. I don't even know where it came from."
Now an older woman appeared, a teacher from the screen titles. "She saved us, there is no question."
Then a man came on the screen. He stood six feet tall with ebony hair, barely touched by gray, and dark green eyes. "My daughter knew what she was doing. No, I don't know where the gun came from, but her aim hasn't been off since I taught her to shoot when she was ten."
Next came a shorter, skinnier man. His blond hair was thinning across the top, though he tried to comb it over to hide it. "If that girl was such a crack shot, it was murder. Plain and simple murder."
The reporter came back. "Now Maria Sprotte is in police custody. Whether for her own protection or to be charged with man slaughter, no one really knows. We have a live feed of what Maria Sprotte said as she was taken away by the police."
She was eighteen. She had long brown hair and troubled green eyes, dark like her father's. She stared directly into the camera. "Miss Wylde, I don't care how old he was. People that shoot to kill when their life is not in danger are not sick, they don't need help. They need to be stopped."
~*~
At the police station, Maria held a cup of highly doctored coffee. She stared into the creamy brown liquid. The weight of the cup was the only thing that kept her hands from shaking.
"Where did you get the pistol, Miss Sprotte?" Officer Joseph Graham asked in his rich, dark voice.
Maria lifted a hand to cover her eyes briefly before it returned to its death grip on the coffee cup. "John Tyler was carrying a small arsenal on his person. I figured he wouldn't miss a little nine millimeter."
Officer Graham was good at his job, he didn't ask any leading questions. "But * how * did you get it?"
His voice was hypnotic. Maria wanted to tell him everything. The paper cup bent dangerously in her hands. "I pinched it." She lifted her head to look at Officer Graham. "Would you like to hear the story from beginning to end?"
Graham looked into Maria's intense green eyes. He pulled the chair out and sat down across from her. He took the cup out of her hands and held them between his own callused paws. "Tell me."
Maria's entire body tensed. "Six years ago, I was in a lot of trouble. Me and a friend ran wild, shop-lifting, picking pockets. She cheated, she was a mutant and could create some pretty stunning illusions. We had kind of a competition between us.
"Then she got caught. We always figured we'd be put in jail or some juvy home if we got caught. She just happened to pick the pocket of a FoH member, in a dark street, far from any other person. He killed her. He was shouting about mutie scum and smashing her head in with that short bit of pipe. When he started towards me, I ran. I kept running until I was in my dad's arms, and he made the bastard leave with his 30/30."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I changed. Who wouldn't? Stopped stealing, smoking, and running wild. Started working on my grades, joined the soccer team. I've got a full ride scholarship to the State University.
"Everything was going well, until junior factions of the FoH started popping up. Most of them just made my skin crawl, but I let them have their own. John Tyler seemed to * need * them, a refuge, a place he could belong." Maria snorted. " A place to fit in through virtue of your genes, no effort required."
Her head hit the table with a dull thud. Only her death grip on his hands told graham that she was still all there. When she spoke, her voice was husky, raw, muffled by the table and her arms.
"When John Tyler walked into the library, in the brand new, way-too-big bomber jacket, I felt like somethin' was up. When I pinched the gun, I couldn't think. I wanted to panic. Hadn't a single * clue * what to do.
"Then the first shot went off, and instinct took over. The gun came out of my pocket and I stopped him before he could hurt again."
Officer Graham broke the rules. He asked a question that held no bearing on the case. "Do you regret it?"
Maria lifted her head. Red rimmed her eyes, tear tracks spidered down her cheeks. "Not for a second."