Chapter 9

Kurt glanced around the halls looking for his friends, to no avail. He fingered his communicator, idly considering using official channels. But he was a respected member of the law enforcement community now, and to use it for personal reasons would certainly be frowned upon. He saw a pair of students walking along the corridor and hailed them.

"Slapdash, Vidscreen, how are you today?" Kurt knew the importance of identity for children their age, and decided not to call them by their given names, Vernon and Jorge. Vernon- Slapdash- was a low-level speedster whose mouth moved faster than his brain, and Vidscreen could generate holograms. Neither seemed to have X-men potential, but Kurt was happy to see the school had become a place where mutants could develop their abilities and not have it be a matter of life or death.

"Mr. Wagner! Hi! Last drama class was amazing! When you 'ported in and scared Fidget into vibrating her chair apart was so co-"

"Ah, I am glad you enjoyed it," Kurt spoke fast to cut the excitable teen off. "We were looking for either Miss Pryde or Miss Grey, have you seen either of them?"

Vernon's eyes flickered to the massive form of Peter Rasputin, and then to his friend, who gave a slight nod. His eyes grew very wide. "I think, that is, we, Jorge and I, um, we were by the carpool earlier today and, uh, we…"

"They went into the carpool, Señor Wagner. They looked like they were going out." His hand made a little dance in the air, and a tiny hologram of Kitty and Rachel walking arm in arm through the door to the garage. "I'm sorry I cannot help any more than that."

Peter's deep voice rumbled softly, "Spaceeba, er, Vidscreen. We will meet up with them some other time. Right now, Mr. Wagner and I must be on our way." He turned on his heels and walked back down the hall. Kurt caught up with him quickly. They walked in silence for several yards down the gleaming hallway.

"So what now? We have time to kill before we go out tonight. Would you like to pop in a DVD to pass the day, waiting for either our frauleins or the lure of the Salem Center nightlife to beckon us thither?"

"I was thinking of a workout, perhaps. It would be good to loosen up," Peter said, staring off into space.

"A capital idea, my friend. As it happens, I believe the Danger Room is free after Scott and Emma's session."


The CD was now playing a bouncy blues song called "The Good Stuff". Heavy on guitar, bass and harmonica, it covered little scenarios of longing and grass being greener bits. Kitty tapped her fingers to the rhythm, and gazed out the window. Despite the tears, it'd been a good trip so far. Good music, good friends, what more could you want out of life?

Hey Ray, do you think I could borrow that leather mini for tonight? Kitty thought at her friend, picturing herself in it, maybe with a camisole top. Her own wardrobe had gotten increasingly conservative since she left Chicago, since leather pants with giant ovals cut out of the sides were suited neither for teaching nor the whole superhero gig. She knew Rachel had always had some drop dead gorgeous clothes- or at least that was the reaction of the smitten men who saw her in them. And Kitty knew that she needed to go over the top to even pull one pair of eyes away from the red headed vixen by her side.

Rachel laughed as she caught the thought, You know I never go looking for that sort of attention.

And yet I never see you wearing a muumuu, do I? Anyway, it's just for fun, and it isn't like anything is going to come from it. I just haven't had the chance to just dance away the night in so long, and I think this will be the perfect- Kitty stopped the thought there as something caught her eye. A group of people was surrounding a lone figure in the distance. It could have been innocent, but she didn't like the odds. Let's just stop and see what the deal is, ok?

Rachel pulled the car over a few dozen yards away from the situation. "How you want to play this, Pryde?" They could go in, guns a blazing, as it were, but Kitty signaled her to keep it close to the vest.

"Mutie lover!" "Gene-joke third species wannabe freak!" A group of seven teen-aged boys and girls were spouting catcalls and insults at a black haired girl who couldn't have been more than thirteen. She was trying to back away, but they'd already surrounded her.

A blonde cheerleader type grabbed at the victim's backpack, which led to a tug of war. Kitty saw the olive green army pack was covered in black marker graffiti, with phrases like "Magneto lives" and "XSE kicks ass" standing out. Noting the dark clothing and makeup, she wondered if "Hot Topic" had made mutants the new in-thing for Goths, along with Rainbow Brite and retro videogames. She hadn't seen much of it at Xavier's, but then, they really were mutants.

"Leave me alone! I didn't do anything!" the girl had an air of defiance that didn't quite cover up the pointed note of desperation in her voice.

"'Fraidy Katie, we saw you in the library… we know you were IM-ing some mutie at the freak school." The cheerleader spat out scornfully.

"Yeah, you're a damn race traitor!" a guy to the cheerleader's left spouted. He had the obligatory varsity jacket on, denoting his membership on the football and wrestling teams. Kitty sized him up, and some of the others. Five boys, two girls. All fairly athletic in build. She nodded to Rachel, and they moved in behind the gang.

"Is something the matter, children?" she asked, adopting a schoolmarm tone. She knew she should try to defuse the situation, and her sense of responsibility was temporarily overriding her desire to knock some sense into these bigots. And since she knew the futility of that wish, she at least longed to at least slap them around a bit. She smiled a bit at her own hostility.

Mr. Varsity glanced at them, pausing long enough to leer at Rachel. "Nothing we can't handle, ma'am. Just a friendly little disagreement among school kids. She's a mutie-lover, and we were just trying to explain to her why she's wrong."

"Yeah!" agreed the cheerleader, "We're just trying to save her from getting hurt. She was actually chatting with a…" her face twisted into a grimace of disgust. "…mutant on the computer." There were rumbles of assent from the remainder of the crew. Kitty glanced them over, categorizing them for ease of identification. Bigotry clearly came in all shapes and colors. Jock. Cheerleader. Young Republican in a J.Crew shirt and creased khakis. Wannabe metrosexual with perfectly coiffed hair, that layered shirt look that had just returned to fashion circles, and a manicure. Art student, a girl of apparent Japanese ancestry in overalls and a baggy, anime sweatshirt. Farmboy in jeans and a t-shirt. Jock II, an African-American wearing his school baseball jersey. It didn't matter how accurate the labels were, even if she felt a twinge of guilt about categorizing people this way. Given the impressions Rachel was sending, the group was much more hostile than they were letting on, and the terms provided simplified communication between the psi-linked X-men..

"Ah," she spoke slowly, "I see. Seven people to educate one girl. And they say that the teacher-student ratio is terrible here." No laughs, okay, bad joke. Fake smile on the cheerleader and farmboy. Noticeable tension in the shoulders of the two jocks and the art student. "So, why don't we all agree to disagree, let the kid go home and believe whatever she wants, and you all go and believe whatever you want, and everyone lives happily ever after."

"You a mutie lover too, lady?" Jock II scowled, "You and your red-head girlfriend get off on gene-freaky lesbo action?" His fists were clenched, and his jaw was set. "Just hop in the car and drive away, and don't worry 'bout this little chickie. We're not going to hurt her too much, just 'til she starts thinking right"

Several of the gang voiced their agreement, though the Young Republican looked a bit nervous, possibly wondering about the legal ramifications of their actions. Kitty noticed Rachel moving into position casually. She should pull her badge, Kitty though, and probably scare these kids into backing down. It could end without violence.

Perhaps, Kate, but it would also tag the poor kid for the rest of the school year as being protected by mutants. Given this crowd, and there's sure to be more at school just like them, it'll just lead to more trouble. I don't plan on going back to high school to be her bodyguard, do you? You have enough trouble with your own kids.

Kitty nodded, conceding the point. She resigned herself, and spoke, "Sorry, but Good Samaritan rules state we can't just leave the damsel in distress. Go home. Maybe ask your parents why they raised to you be a bunch of racist jerks. Leave this girl alone. No one has to get hurt."

This seemed to raise the dander of the Cheerleader and farmboy. The latter spoke angrily, "My momma taught me to love Jesus and cast out abominations like mutants. Don't you dare say nothin' bad about her!"

Again they muttered angry assent. They were just psyching themselves up for a fight. They'd sized up the odds, and figured a greater than two-to-one advantage was doable. Kitty could almost manage a little pity for them. She was surprised at the audacity of them, taking on a pair of adults who they must realize would at least call the cops on them. Unless the local constabulary were of the same ilk as them and the convenience store clerk. Just how far had they come from Salem Center?

The metrosexual wannabe – she decided to call him "preppie", and feeling rather old because of it- took his turn, "We asked you to leave. You really don't want to be here. Katie needs to learn her lesson, and we're going to teach her. You'll find the police are more sympathetic to our side-" Yeah, the cops aren't on the side of the angels. "-so just leave. Please."

Rachel spoke up, "We aren't leaving until you all go. My friend already said so. The ball's in your court, kids. Choose wisely." She was adopting a casual pose, but Kitty knew that her red-headed temper was on full simmer underneath the calm façade.

The jock had apparently gotten his courage, and his dander, up. He balled his fists and walked right towards Rachel.


Peter looked down at the Danger Room from the control room. Cyclops and Emma were finishing up a simulation against some Prime Sentinels, with Scott using his innate mastery of spatial geometry to turn his lover's diamond form into a scatter point, splitting his optic beam into four and slamming into their remaining attackers all at once. He had been nervous about walking in on them, as their public displays of affection were rather well known around campus, and did not quite understand Kurt's assurance that if anything intimate had been going on, there would have been a sock over the handle to the door. The Danger Room doors didn't even have handles, just control panels.

Their simulation ended, Scott glanced up at their audience in the control room. He acknowledged them with a wave and took the towel Emma was offering. "We're all done here, if you two were thinking of taking it for a spin. It's been a little temperamental of late- Hank and I need to run a diagnostic- so I wouldn't take it past level four."

"And Kurt," added Emma, "I do hope you keep better decorum than the last time you played in the Danger Room. And I don't think Katherine would find that very humorous." She laughed quietly to herself, all the while looking appraisingly at the two figures in the dome above her. She gave a nearly imperceptible shrug and went to the exit with her co-headmaster.

Peter and Kurt headed downstairs to the Danger Room floor. Kurt didn't know what his friend had entered for a scenario, but it didn't make sense to waste a 'port right before a workout. He wanted to be sharp, and they hadn't worked much together since Excalibur. It was definitely time to shake off the rust.

"Shall we begin?" boomed Colossus, the overhead lights reflected every which way off his armored skin. He pressed a button on the wall, and the room became a bar. Kurt had been here before- years ago. It had been the day Peter had broken up with Kitty. Logan had brought him here to teach him a lesson. It seemed like the young Russian was planning on seeing how well he had learned it. "I do not expect you to help, even as you did not help that day. Logan was right, I had betrayed a teammate, and had earned my beating. I feel the need to test my mettle, however, and prove something to myself. You will have your own opponent."

With that, he grabbed a glass of beer and poured it over the hulking figure at the bar.


Rachel couldn't keep the trace of a smile from creeping onto her face as the Jock charged forward. She did note that the farmboy was rushing in to dance with her as well, as was the preppie. That left Jock II and the Young Republican (she didn't have the heart to tell Kitty that the kid had registered Democrat) for Kitty, with Art School chick and Cheerleader hanging back and rooting for their compatriots.

Bigotry really irritated her, and she knew she'd have to keep her emotions under tight control here. They needed to take these kids down fast, even embarrassingly, but they were just kids. She waited for the punch to start, focusing on the tightening of the Jock's throat. He swung, a vicious right handed roundhouse that she darted inside, striking her carotid artery while guiding his momentum in an arc that sent him tumbling to the ground. She immediately sent a sidekick into the midsection of the farmboy, sending him sprawling. She turned to face the last of her attackers, and spared a glance over at Kitty.

Her friend had the Young Republican (Democrat) in a hammerlock, and Jock II was circling around looking for an opening. She threw her captive over her hip, and stood to face her remaining opponent. He charged in to tackle her. She vaulted over him, sending him careening off balance. He staggered to his feet, and charged again, staying more upright this time, his arms outstretched to grab her should she try to jump him again. Kitty went low instead, dropping down and sweeping his legs out from underneath him. He crumpled in a heap. The first boy had gotten back up, and had picked up a fallen branch.

"Stay back!" he cried. His khakis were grass stained, and he waved his stick like a sword. "I will bash your brains out, you bitch!"

"Now you've gone and hurt my feelings." Kitty said quietly, right before launching a blur of a spinning crescent kick that splintered the branch right out of his hand. Before he could even respond to this, her hands shot out, hitting pressure points on his arms and legs. He fell to the ground, nerveless. She looked over at the girls, whose cheerleading had turned to shock. "Don't you want to play too, girls?" Catching the sight of Jock II clambering to his feet, she almost negligently stepped in, deflected his punch, then tossed him into the Young Republican with a wrist throw.

Rachel glanced over as her knee connected solidly with the solar plexus of the preppie. His eyes teared up, and he fell to his hands and knees trying to catch his breath. The five boys were now all on the ground, groaning and whimpering. It had been a quick fight, and they didn't permanently damage the kids, much as she may have wanted to. "Just remember, children, you chose this little beat down. You could have walked away."

"Wait 'til my dad hears what you did!" yelled the cheerleader, her voice shrill. "We'll see how you like the lockup! Sluts like you will be real popular in prison!"

Kitty tried not to laugh. What WB drama is she mining her dialogue from? she sent to Rachel, who was covering her mouth. She took a breath and spoke quietly, but with an edge that she knew wouldn't be mistaken, "Listen, kid. You can go run home to daddy if you like, but he won't be able to bust us for defending ourselves. Then you can try to explain to your schoolmates how your boyfriend and his buddies got taken down by a couple of girls." And maybe you could explain why two perfectly able girls are too dependent on their male friends to get their nails dirty. For some reason, that bothered Kitty almost as much as their blind hatred.

The boys had stumbled to their feet, avoided the piercing eyes of Kitty and Rachel. They stumbled off, still moaning, to an SUV parked a hundred feet or so away. The girls followed them, although the cheerleader made one more snipe about telling her dad and how much trouble they were going to be in. The black Ford drove off, tearing down the road at a high rate of speed, kicking up gravel in its wake.

Rachel had gone over to Katie, the victim of the whole incident. "Are you gonna be all right?"

"I- I think so," her voice came out haltingly, barely a whisper. "Thank you."

"Listen- Katie, right?" The girl nodded. Rachel shook her hand, "My names Rachel, and this is Katherine."

"Kitty," her friend said reflexively.

"Sorry- Kitty. Do you think those kids will give you any more grief today? Did you need a ride home? We could take you to your house."

"Okay. Thank you." Katie's voice was still very quiet. They climbed into the Mazda, with the small girl barely fitting into the alleged back seat. They engaged in a little small talk, and soon they arrived at a small Cape Code.

"I'll be fine- and thanks again for your help. I think I would've been OK, but they cut me off and surrounded me." Anger was beginning to replace the fear that had been in her eyes. "I wish I was a mutant, I would so teach them all a lesson! I'd fry their brains or burn their hearts or turn their flesh into sludge and then they'd never ever pick on me again!"

"Easy there, kiddo," interjected Kitty. "Piling hate on hate doesn't make anything any better. It just creates more hatred. And frying a person's brain is not a good way to change his mind. As for being a mutant, I imagine it's neither as bad as your, ahem, friends seemed to think or as good as you make it out to be."

"Shows what you know! Josh tells me that things are so cool at Xavier's- that's the Mutant School in Salem Center. He said he even gets to help out the X-men and the XSE! Being a mutant must be the coolest thing in the world!"

Kitty and Rachel looked at each other, making a silent vow to keep a certain gold-skinned Mr. Foley off the instant messenger and possibly out of the computer labs for the rest of his life. "Oh? Is that the… boy those kids accused you of chatting with?"

Kitty got out of the passenger's side to allow Katie to climb out. The girl reminded her a bit of herself in the Malt Shoppe when she babbled on, "Yeah! He's great! I want to go meet him someday, 'cept I told him I was sixteen, not fourteen. Well, almost fourteen. He says he isn't allowed to say much about the school, but that he loves being a mutant and he can't wait to join the X-men someday."

"And he hasn't mentioned all the bad things about being a mutant? Like a whole lot of people sharing the feelings of your schoolmates back there? Or how the X-men fight- and die sometimes- for people that hate them?" Kitty seemed intent on disabusing the girl of the more romantic notions she possessed.

"What do you know about it?" challenged the teenager, feeling threatened. She'd expected them to agree with her completely about mutants, since they'd gone through all the trouble to defend her from those bad kids. She supposed adults just didn't understand how cool mutants really were. She added, a bit sullenly, "Anyway, thanks again for all your help and for the ride."

As Katie headed towards the door, Rachel noticed her bookbag was still in the car. "Oh, Katie, don't forget this."

The young girl froze as the bag flew slowly through the air and deposited itself at her feet. Her eyes grew even wider when she heard Rachel's voice in her head. As for what we know about it, I would have to say- just about everything.

The color drained from her face, and she grabbed the bag and ran into the house.

Ain't it always what it seems that good stuff only happens in dreams

I don't care what people say, I live my life day to day…


Author's Note: So sorry about the delay... life happens at all. I've tried to reduce the amount of music in the story, as I understand that bothered some of you. Next up, Colossus vs. Juggernaut! Kitty and Rachel on the run! And we're rushing towards a climax and I have no idea what it'll be! So hold on to your hats, put your tray tables in the upright position, and I'll see you all in six months. (just kidding, I hope)

Next: Back Door