I'm super sorry for the long wait for an update!! I've been so busy with school starting again and such things. I have another chapter written, waiting to be edited, that should be up in the next couple of days and another started. I hope you enjoy it as the plot actually moves along!

Chapter Four : Excuses

"Comrade-"

"Commies used ta call each other that, mate." The pyromaniac observed idly, leaning against one of the dozens of wooden boxes. His flaming red hair blended into the ridiculous uniform he chose to wear. It was a bright orange affair, almost painful to look at. Behind the orange-tinted glasses, blue eyes twinkled in amusement. "And ya happen to be Russian."

"That's a bit racist."

"It was a joke, mate." The Aussie rolled his eyes, messing with the nozzle of his flamethrower.

"Da." The Russian didn't look very amused. St. John wasn't surprised; he was never amused. The hulking man seemed bitter about something (though he would never say a thing about it), and always seemed eager to finish whatever job they were doing so he could go home and sulk. At times, it could be downright annoying.

"What did ya want?"

"I was going to tell you that our target is approaching." The Russian smirked slightly.

Now he chose to have a sense of humor?

"Great." St. John grit his teeth and gave the trigger to his flamethrower an experimental squeeze. He grinned to himself at the little flame that burst free of its nozzle. Beside him, Colossus armored up. The man, made of solid metal now, cracked his knuckles menacingly.

He needed to remember to stay on this guy's good side.

Around the corner, a well-dressed man paused to brush something from his rather expensive suit. It had been one of those days. Too many damned senators still worried about violating the rights of those abominations; the man snorted to himself. As if that mattered at all. The American people had spoken, and they clearly wanted- no, needed!- something to be done about the menace roaming the streets. He glanced around, irritated. Any of these people could be mutants, lurking behind a normal façade, just waiting to jump out and destroy everything good about this nation.

God, that Registration Act needed to pass.

As he rounded the corner, he was confronted by the very abnormal sight of a huge, hulking man of metal and a fiery haired man manipulating fire. Like any man in his position with any common sense, he turned on his heel and fled. Before he could get more than a few feet, a wall of fire roared to life in front of him.

"Goin' somewhere, Senator Kelly?" The redhead smirked at the panicked man.

"This is why scum like you should be eliminated." The senator murmured, as if to himself. Colossus restrained the other mutant before he could do the senator any harm.

"You mutants think we're defenseless, just because we don't have your powers?" Kelly snarled, his fear of the two men in front of him fueling his actions. He pulled out a gun. "I'd be a fool to travel without this."

"You're a fool either way." Pyro rolled his eyes, and laughed. It sent chills down the senator's back; it sounded like the cackle of a madman. "How's a li'l gun gonna stop me or my mate?"

Perhaps it would have been prudent for the two mutants to look about them. Had they, they might have seen the news camera preparing to record the remainder of the exchange. While it is doubtful this could have stopped the events that followed, perhaps then they could have looked back and, with a certainty that would later be denied to them, claim that that was the moment everything went to hell.

"Now, we don't hafta hurt ya." Pyro said as reasonably as one could while threatening another man. "If ya come with us quietly, we won't touch one head on your yuppy little head."

"I'm not cooperating with the likes of you." Kelly sneered.

"If you do not come with us," Colossus said softly, cracking his knuckles once more. Kelly gulped. "We will use force."

"I'm right, then!" He snarled. "You'll use your powers to force normal, hard-working people to bow to your will!"

"Who says we aren't normal, hard-working people?" Pyro cackled again.

"It's your decision, Senator." Colossus said solemnly.

Rather than answering, the senator chose (rather unwisely) to open fire on the two mutants.

"Fuck!" Pyro cursed as a bullet lodged itself in his arm. He released the firewall, clenching the bloody spot angrily.

The bullets bounced off Colossus, ricocheting in all directions.

Had the cameras recorded the entire exchange, the following events would have perhaps been more peaceful, perhaps lead to more understanding. Instead, all Senator Kelly's normal, hard-working people watched in horror as the fire wall vanished and a bullet seemingly shot from the tin man into the senator's chest, effectively ending his life.

… … … … … … …

"A war is brewing." A faint dripping echoed in the watery tunnels. The woman crossed her arms, looking angrily out at the disgusting water. Her short, black hair was uneven. The eyepatch she wore had an almost ratty look to it. Disfiguring scars sculpted her face.

"That much is obvious." A tall, wallow man spoke softly. His skin was nearly translucent in the reflecting light, and his yellow eyes flashed when he looked up. "Caliban does not like this."

"Neither do I." The woman nodded.

"What can we do about it?" A black girl frowned, clenching her fists in frustration. "Nothing. We're stuck down here, while top-siders ruin everything!"

"Cybelle, this is hardly a time for bitterness." The first woman scolded her softly. "We need a plan."

"A plan?" Cybelle scoffed. "The Tunnelers already move to fight us if we try to defend ourselves. We have enough problems without a war breaking out topside."

"We can't control those things." Callisto's voice was harsh and loud. "We cannot control little spin-off groups, we cannot control the senators and presidents topside. We just have to be prepared."

"Callisto is right." Caliban agreed. "A plan would be best."

"So we sit and plan while mutants die." Cybelle crossed her arms, eyes downcast.

"Yes. We sit and plan and we will save lives." Callisto left no room for argument as she stood up. Cybelle glanced at Caliban, whom followed the leader's suit.

"Fine." She stood as well. "But I still think we should do something."

"We will."

… … … … … …

Kitty Pryde hurried through the halls of the school. Had people always stared at her this way? Watched her every move, with eyes like those of a hawk? She drew in one careful breath after another, trying desperately to calm her silly nerves. It wasn't as if anyone could possibly know what had happened. There was absolutely no way that a soul outside of her immediate family knew why she had been absent the previous day.

Paranoia. That's all it was, a little paranoia for the secret she was desperate to keep that way.

She looked up and her eyes locked with those of a tall, lanky boy. He was staring at her around the corner, brown eyes alight with something. His hair was brown, shaggy almost. He wore a pair of ratty jeans and a dirty white T-shirt. Eyes wide, mouth agape in horror, she ducked her head so quickly her ponytail nearly whipped her across the face.

He didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't know…

She tried to focus on putting her books away, not on the strange boy watching her.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her back and slammed into the back of her locker.

"Ouch!" She groaned.

"World closing in on you, Kitty?" Amy's voice taunted her from outside.

"Let me out!" She pounded on the door. "Hey!" She heard two girls' laughter as their footsteps faded. Had it been someone else- anyone else, really, it didn't matter who- she would have panicked, assumed that he or she had somehow found out her secret. But Amy and Riley were constantly tormenting her. "Let me out! Please, can anyone hear me?"

As she pounded against the locker, she let out a shriek of frustration- and fell through the locker.

"No…" She whimpered, trying to hold back tears.

"Are you okay?" It was the boy from before, bending next to her.

"Who are you?" She snapped, trying to regain her composure.

"Lance Alvers." He paused. "That was kinda cool."

"I don't, like, know what you're talking about!"

"You fell through the locker." He stared at her. A moment later, realization dawned on his face. "Wait! You're a mutant?"

"No!" She shook her head vehemently. "No, no, I'm not!"

"It's okay." Lance looked at the nearly hysterical girl. "I'm one, too, you know."

"W-What?" She looked up at him.

"Yeah." He laughed casually, as if he hadn't just confessed some big secret. As if he hadn't confessed to what, up until this point, she had considered the worst possible fate in the world. "I create earthquakes."

She stared at him in disbelief.

"You're, like, so casual about it."

"It's who I am."

"I'm Kitty." She offered him a watery smile.

He took her hands in his own and gently pulled her to her feet.

"I like that name."

It probably wasn't a good time, but Kitty found herself blushing. All from a few pretty words out of some boy's mouth. She peeked at him from the corner of her eyes; he was actually pretty attractive. His shaggy hair was more unkempt than shaggy, practically begging to be brushed out of his eyes. his eyes- so sensitive, so understanding...

"See something you like?" Lance teased, raising an eyebrow and giving her a crooked grin. Rather than replying, she lightly punched his arm and kept walking.

… … … … … … …

It was a normal day in the Guthrie household. Well, as normal as it could get. Sam held back an irritated sigh as he turned up the TV so he could hear the news over the noise around him.

"-dead. We have the footage, but viewer discretion is advised. The material is very disturbing." Sam watched first in curiosity and then in horror as bullets burst from the tin man's stomach and killed the senator. "Senator Robert Kelly will be missed. He is remembered for advocating many mutant control policies."

Sam turned up the volume, unable to believe what he had seen and heard. Senator Kelly, gunned down by mutants? It was understandable, sure, but didn't they realize what they would be doing if they killed him? This could start a full-out war.

"Thanks, Tom." The falsely cheery woman on the screen smiled. "And, now, the president's speech on the matter."

It cut to a crowded news conference, where the president stood. He seemed upset.

"Senator Kelly's death is a loss felt throughout the government and the country. I understand that many of you are frightened. If anything, this incident has proven that Senator Kelly had some very good ideas for this country and we will do our best to continue them." The president paused for the loud applause. "The Sentinels developed by Bolivar Trask will be employed to locate and capture criminal and terrorist mutants. As some of you may know, a Mutant Registration Act sits on my desk, awaiting my signature or veto. In the current light, it will be effective immediately. Such a law will legally require all mutants to register with the government. "

"Shit!" He cursed loudly. Register, so that they could be tracked down and killed or experimented on later. This couldn't be happening!

"Language, Sam." His mother said sharply.

He ignored her, intent on the television.

"Facilities will be created to hold and study those mutants that refuse to comply with the new laws.. The nation's top scientists will be working on a way to suppress powers, perhaps permanently." Loud applause followed these statements. "This is a trying time in our history, my fellow Americans. We will overcome these trials, and we will come through this together. Senator Kelly's death will not have been in vain, and I will not allow mutants to destroy our country!"

"Sammy?" Paige looked at him. He didn't look at her. How did his family not understand that this was the beginning of everything he had ever dreaded? It was a thousand times more likely that he would end up in some lab than that he would graduate.

"Well, there you have it." The falsely cheery woman was on the screen once more. "This is Aimee, with News 9."

It cut to a commercial.

"Fuck." Sam groaned, leaning back. He rubbed his temple as his mother again admonished him for his language.

"What's wrong?" Paige demanded. It fell silent, each of his siblings regarding him with a strange curiosity. Their soft-spoken brother never cursed, never raised his voice.

"Senator Kelly's dead." He said softly.

"Good riddance." His father snorted.

"He was killed by mutants." Sam murmured. "Ya don't have to guess what's coming now."

That strange silence fell over the room. Sam stared resolutely at the ceiling. What did they see, now, when they looked at him? A man destined for execution? Perhaps they, like he, saw him alone in a lab, frightened, tortured. What could the future hold for him now? He would have to register with the government, or end up in a lab. Either way, it was no life he wanted.

"It's gonna be okay." His mother's voice broke the silence. He nearly laughed; her shaky, near tearful voice had calmed no one.

"Ma, Ah have two choices." He said carefully, deliberately. "Ah can register with the government. Chances are, it'll make me a leper in the community. And in the end, when the government gets even stricter, Ah'll end up exactly where they want me." He didn't have to remind them that he would end up alone in a lab.

"What's the other choice?" His father looked fierce as he spoke.

"Ah don' register. They hunt me down with a Sentinel. Ah end up in a lab." Sam replied bleakly, running a panicked hand through his hair. This couldn't be happening.

The room stayed silent.

"Sorry to worry y'all." He stood up. "Ah'm headin' to school."

"Are ya sure that's a good idea?" His mother asked fretfully. "Maybe it'd be best if ya stayed home today."

"Ma, it'll be fine." He rolled his eyes. "They ain't gonna hunt me down today."

With that, he left to grab his bag.

"See y'all later!" He called over his shoulder, hurrying out of the suddenly cramped house. As he walked toward the school, he tried not to think about what his family was talking about. Him, no doubt. What to do.

He cursed under his breath once more. A strange feeling clouded his senses; a panicked fear, maybe. He didn't want to think about it. Funny, wasn't it? How a few words said by one man could strike panic into his heart? Never before had the world seemed such a lonely, such a desolate place. His family couldn't understand. They were all normal, delightfully normal. He could confide in no one.

He wondered if others like him were feeling this same way. Some of the loneliness ebbed away; for the first time in three years, he felt truly connected to another human being. Funny, that he should feel this connection to people he had never met, never known.

All that connected them was a gene, one little mutation.

Maybe it was enough.

… … … … … …

Pietro Maximoff was actually amused. This was a little redundant; he almost wished for a bigger threat.

He thought of the actual members of Friends of Humanity, and decided he didn't need any bigger challenge. He could just enjoy this.

"C'mon, mutie, scared?"

"Is this the part where I panic and you lynch me?" He leaned against the wall. The three football players exchanged confused glances; he was so calm. "Please. You can hardly catch a football."

"I'll show you, you little freak!" One of them lunged at him. He behind him a millisecond later.

"Good lunge, but terrible follow through." He commented casually, and zipped just out of reach.

"Hold still, you hyperactive freak!" A different jock leapt at him, and he easily dodged it.

"Can you please a bit more original in your insults? This is getting redundant." He sneered, and sped around them quickly. All three were lifted just off the ground before he stopped, a taunting grin on his face. "What? C'mon, you wanna be FoH fanatics, try to hit me!"

"Scum!" The third tried to grab him, and he once more moved out of the way.

"Not very original, but at least you're past freak and mutie." Pietro snickered, perched on top of a box in the alleyway. How had this all started again? They had tried to jump him as he passed the alley. At first, he was admittedly nervous. He hadn't known who it was; a true Friend of Humanity? When he had discovered their identities, it had become a fun game.

"Perhaps you'd be better off trying to catch a puppy to practice on." He observed conversationally. "Maybe you could catch him."

This time, the three leapt at him at once. In a flash, he was in front of them once more, pulling money from three very familiar wallets.

"Then again, maybe not. Thanks!" He tossed their wallets to the ground, pocketing the cash and credit cards. They exchanged a dumbfounded look.

"Did you just steal from us?" The shortest demanded angrily.

"No." He laughed, high and loud. "I like to think that's just the money I would win in a lawsuit I would file for discrimination."

"You wouldn't win. You're a mutant, no one cares!" The second jock growled.

"You're right." Pietro nodded sagely. "That's why I just took it myself. Seems the only way to turn things to my advantage these days, you know?"

"Shouldn't you be in a lab somewhere?" The first, and the obvious ringleader, taunted.

"Wow, I've never heard that one before." He drawled casually. "Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend?"

"I'm not gay!"

"Really?" Pietro zoomed to his side, examining him closely. "Wow, you could've fooled me. I usually have such a good gaydar."

"Mutie scum!" The second managed to lock an arm around him while he examined the first.

"Really creative, this bunch." Pietro sighed as if to himself, and spun so the teenager holding him received the punches meant for him. The sudden pain made the jock release him, and he ran out of reach, laughing. He could wait to tell Freddy and Toad about this; they'd definitely get a kick out of it.

"They may not be, but I am." The feminine voice was familiar, frighteningly so. A strange blue light overtook his body, holding him in place. The jocks began to advance on him, grinning. "No! He's mine."

"Why should we listen to you, mutie?" One of them snapped. A hex of blue light sent him flying down the road.

"Any other problems?" The voice was guttural and angry. The other two exchanged a frightened glance, and took off at a run. Pietro swallowed as he felt his body being spun around to face her.

"And, now, for you. Pietro." Her blue eyes were hard and angry. Her hair was long, ratty, uncut. She wore a pair of jeans that had obviously been purchased in a thrift store, with a black hoodie. And, all he could say as he stared into the eyes of the one person he'd tried hardest to forget about was one word.

"Wanda."

… … … … … …

"That was-"

"Uncomfortable? Ja, I agree." The blue mutant rubbed a kink in his shoulder. "Next time I vote ve fly coach."

"I was going to say weird. But uncomfortable describes it, too." Rhane giggled at the fuzzy mutant's antics.

The two European mutants were wandering around New York, hopelessly lost. After sneaking onto a plane headed to London, and switching to one headed to New York, they had found themselves without a plan. Despite having heard of this school for mutants, Kurt had no idea where it was. Rhane was still happy enough to follow him, having nothing better to do herself.

Already, he seemed like a protective older brother.

"Ve need somewhere to stay for ze night." Kurt murmured, as if to himself. "Not a hotel. But ve can't stay on ze streets, you are a young girl…"

"I don't mind." Rhane offered.

"Have you heard what zey do to little girls in zis place?" He made a face. "Nein, ve vill find some place."

She couldn't help but laugh. The duo continued to wander around the streets, searching for some place to stay. She glanced at her blue, fuzzy friend. He wore a dark, long trenchcoat, and tucked his hands into his pockets. A hat, and a downcast look, and he almost passed for human.

"How will find the school?" Rhane asked softly after some time had passed. "It could be anywhere."

"Vell, liebchen, I vas zinking ve look for it." Kurt snickered at her annoyed expression.

"But where do we start?"

He shrugged.

"Ve'll figure somezing out, ja?"

"Are you always so optimistic?" She held in a sigh.

"It's much more pleasant zan pessimism, you know." He nodded sagely. "Come now, you cannot tell me you don't hope."

"Hope and optimism are two different things." The younger girl pointed out with a helpless smile. "I can hope and still be realistic."

"Optimism and realism go hand in hand." Kurt countered. "I am simply looking at the most pleasant possibilities."

"I'm stuck with you, crazy optimist or not."

"And I vith you, negative pessimist or not." He laughed heartily. "Now, let's find us a place to sleep, ja?"

… … … … … …

This was it.

A sharp intake of breath, tears brimming over her eyes, and the long, steady beep of a machine.

Well.

It was over now.

She watched her mother- no, the body now- with a strange feeling of detachment. The pale, gaunt blonde woman looked almost like a stranger. She wiped away tears, foolish tears, as she gathered her stuff to go. Her mother would have wanted her to get away, to keep away from her father and his tramp at the very least.

She left the hospital. Blinking away tears that seemed desperate to come no matter what she did, she glanced at her watch. She could make it to chemistry. Blow something up. The idea didn't appeal to her.

Still, she thought of her mother. Her mother, sacrificing her health by giving what little money she made to get Tabitha school supplies and lunches for school. Her mother, giving away all her wages because her father was too busy gambling.

She would go to school, then.

She walked to the school, melancholy. She briefly wondered if the tears still streaking down her face would have dried by then.

The classroom immediately grew quiet as she entered the room. She glanced around, as if daring any of them to say one word, working her way to her seat.

"You're late, Ms. Smith." She glanced up at Mr. McCoy, who grinned pleasantly at her.

"It's been a long day." She croaked.

"As I can see. Why don't we go talk in the hall for a minute?"

Seeing no way to avoid this discussion, she turned around and left the room. She leaned against the wall, trying to breathe, trying to hold back recently contained tears.

"Are you alright, Tabitha?" Mr. McCoy shut the door behind him, hiding them from the curious eyes of students.

"No." She shook her head. "Not really."

"Would I be overstepping my boundaries to ask what is troubling you?" He offered her a friendly smile once more. She tried to return it, but it came out as some form of a grimace.

"My mom just died. I came here from the hospital." Saying the words brought a new wave of grief, a new wave of pain. Tears spilled free of her eyes, slipping effortlessly down her salty cheeks. Did saying the words make them any more true? What a silly thought; dead was dead. There were no degrees of death.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. Perhaps you would do well to stay home for the rest of the day." Mr. McCoy frowned, now, as if he were actually concerned for her.

"She'd want me here." Tabitha insisted, trying to wipe away the tears. "Besides, what is there at home? Some pretty little tramp? Maybe some gambling winnings that'll just be lost by tonight? No, I'll stay here, thanks."

"Perhaps, then, you could stay with me today. I can give you a pass to excuse you from your other classes. You can help me in the gym class."

"Why are you being nice to me?" She snapped, glaring at him through the endless tears. "I'm a terrible student."

"You are going through a rough patch, and I'm willing to help." He laughed now, a deep, rich sound. "Not every teacher is a soulless monster, you know."

"You're really not funny." She observed dryly.

"Well, the best we can do is try." He smiled at her. "Don't tell me you don't want the chance to make fun of freshman running around the gym?"

"When you put it that way, how can I refuse?" She gave him a watery grin that didn't reach her eyes.