Disclaimer: The X-Men and Brotherhood aren't mine, they're Marvels. First OC was submitted by HMaster, and the second by AvengedVeralin. Thanks guys.

Author's note: Sick 'n' tired.

I've entered the toughest year of my academic career, which is why I am updating so slowly. Sorry, working the best I can. I could literally vent for 3,000 words on school, but what you really want to see is the story! And I'm glad you do!

I also find it funny how there's a jump in views on the story every Friday. It's like clockwork. So without further ado:

Enjoy. Read. REVIEW. (seriously how am I doing with the storyline? Do you want me to get more to the point?)

Well this is just startin' to get fun!

It was the dead of night, the darkness mixing with the shadows to hide the figure that was inching alongside the brick wall of an alleyway. The figure was tall and lanky, and obviously mal-nourished. Even with him blending in with the shadows his chest seemed abnormally small. A dog barked somewhere off in the distance, and a sound reached his ears he was hoping would not come. The scream of a siren pierced the still air.

Swearing softly, the figure ran to the end of the alley and poked his head out. He was still too far from sanctuary for him to relax, and his movements were a bit jittery. Now he was regretting not getting someone to do the work for him.

The last thing I need is to get snatched.

He took a deep breath and sprinted across the street to the safety of the darkness of another alley. He knew the area like the back of his hand, and in a few more dashes he would be safely out of reach. And it was too much of a risk to use his powers to give him a boost. The last thing he needed was him in an uncontrolled rage.

The figure continued on, now striding confidently in a way that was typical for him. Hopefully it would also make him seem less suspicious, though the screaming of the far off siren pricked at his heart.

You can only be a cocky smart-ass for so long.

Subconsciously his hand snuck into his pocket and he fingered the small object he had… liberated. It was a rather plush looking ring that he was hoping he could get a high price for. Anything to have him be set for a while; he was sick and tired of the empty pangs of his stomach.

He came to the end of another alleyway and he cringed as a streetlight shined down on him, illuminating his features. Even in the pale wash of the light his skin was a rich caramel color, immensely short brown hair that spiked forward in the front, his face was handsomely angular, with high cheekbones reminiscent of aristocrats, and flat intense dark eyebrows set over green eyes that glinted in the light. His build was even more obvious now, although he possessed muscles in his upper arms and thinly across his chest the rest of him was swallowed by the clothing on his back. His clothes also did not fit with the surroundings he was in, a collared light blue shirt and pants that roughly fit him (being held tightly to his waist by a simple belt). His face was scrubbed clean of dirt or grim, but his hands showed exactly the work he had to do to survive.

He'd been doing this for too long.

A sudden ache in his stomach caused him to buckle over in the street. His head swam for a few seconds before his vision straightened itself out. He knelt shaking for several long seconds before he stood up. Throwing his shoulders back he continued in his stride forward, keeping his ears on the wailing sirens. He swore aloud as he realized they were much closer than they had been. His head was swimming too much from a lack of food to properly place where they were though.

Quickening his pace he turned a corner and froze. A police car was stopped, blocking most of the street, its lights flashing, nearly blinding him with the quick flashes of red and blue. A cop stepped out of the vehicle and drew his gun. The streetlight overhead flickered, illuminating the man's features for a moment, and then leaving them in a darkness pierced by the monochromatic lights. The cop was young underneath his cap, but his eyes were steady as he pointed the barrel of the gun at the teen in front of him.

"Freeze." The cop shouted, his voice hard. "Hands up." When the caramel skinned figure didn't respond he tightened the grip on his gun. "Hey, I'm talking to you. Show 'em!"

The teen nodded slowly and raised his hands.

"Turn out your pockets."

He complied, the flashy ring catching the light and glinting in the night air. He resisted grimacing and instead grinned cockily.

"Aw come on now, I'm just out for a nightly stroll."

The cop did not lower his gun, and frowned. "There was a robbery reported just a few minutes ago, know anything about that?"

The teen keep his smile on. "I wish I did, officer."

The man narrowed his eyes. "I'll need you to come with me."

If he went, there was no way he was getting out of it this time. His eyes darted back and forth, calculating his chances of getting away smoothly. With a quick use of his powers…

The teen took a deep breath and felt his anger swell in his chest. As he allowed it to grow a red glow surrounded his limbs and his grin grew into a snarl.

The cop's eyes widened and his hands shook, and his finger squeezed against the trigger. The bullet soared straight toward the teen's chest.

The teen realized he made a mistake. Time seemed to slow around him as he watched the bullet approach.

But it never hit.

He opened his eyes after several long seconds to see the bullet hovering in midair inches from his torso. Both he and the cop were equally confused.

"How the hell—"

The cop car suddenly lurched backward at the cop. It flipped once before screeching across the pavement, pinning the man against the brick wall of the building beside the street. The cop yelled out but his head also hit the wall hard, and he slumped forward.

The glow around the teen faded and he glanced around in wonder. It definitely had not been him that caused the car to basically attack its owner. He looked behind him and saw an armored figure approaching.

"Alejandro Solas? I believe we have much to discuss." Magneto's deep voice hung in the air.

Fog clutched the ground and snaked its way through the cemetery. Some small headstones were completely swallowed by the gray, while others were just blocks or points above the thick cloud.

The cemetery sloped gently up into a small green hill, at the top of which sat twin headstones, and a third smaller headstone topped with the stone figure of a St. Bernard.

A small girl sat leaning against one of the twin headstones, her chin dipping down onto her chest. She appeared to be young, her body appearing to be in the early stages of adolescence, short silver layered hair drooped down into her face, hiding her pale complexion and frail bone structure, her eyelids were dark against her skin, and her shoulders were hunched forward. She wore a worn, long brown trench coat that nearly swallowed her small stature. Her arms were wrapped over a dog whose head rested in her lap. But there was something different about this dog; he looked to be a St. Bernard, but the dog had a supernatural look to him. At times he appeared fully solid and fluffy, but then the light would shift and he became translucent, becoming only a skeletal version of the canine.

A twig snapped and the dog's head shot straight up, his ears perking above his head, and his lip curling into a growl. With a start, the girl stirred as well, gazing sleepily around her.

"What is it Norman?" The girl muttered quietly, her voice young and soft.

The dog, Norman, stood and took a defensive position over the girl, his hackles bristling along his spine and tail straight up in the air.

The girl turned her blue eyes to peer into the fog on her right, but the low cloud obscured nearly everything she could see. Then a figure started to take form through the fog, and the girl sat up a little straighter against the tombstone. If she needed to, she would be ready to fight or take flight.

The figure became more defined, it was a man with silver-gray hair in a dark gray suit. His footsteps were soft in the grass, the dew present helped to muffle the sound.

She frowned. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The man tilted his head and smiled. "My name is Erik, but most call me Magneto. I am a friend; I am here to help."

The girl laid a hand on Norman and the dog relaxed, backing off a little and allowing her to stand. At her full height she must have been only four foot ten inches tall, and the fact her bone structure was thin only made her look smaller.

"Help me what?" She asked suspiciously.

Magneto replied. "You ran from a place you felt you did not belong, correct? You know that you're different somehow from everyone else you've ever met. You can do things others cannot."

She narrowed her eyes, all of it was true, but she had no clue how he knew these things.

"Yes. I ran from child care, I know I'm different, and I can do… things."

He nodded. "Your dog is just one example, is he not?"

The girl glanced at the huge St. Bernard beside her, his appearance having shifted again to its translucent skeletal form. He looked at her with empty eye sockets and his jaw opened slightly. She knew if he was more visible he would be almost smiling, having his tongue loll out the side of his mouth.

"Norman is dead. But he stays with me." She stated simply, turning back to the man. "How can you help me?"

"By offering you, the fallen girl, a place in my Brotherhood."

Jean and Scott sat at a small table in a coffee shop. Scott kept looking around nervously, twitching basically every time the door opened and the bell above the door dinged.

Jean placed her hand over his and his head snapped around to look at her. "Stop." She said sweetly. "You're acting so weird."

Scott sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well it's obvious right now we have more enemies than friends." He glanced around again (earning an eye roll from Jean), and lowered his voice. "And did you see the anti-mutant propaganda outside?!"

She nodded solemnly. The two were on their way back from the Thanksgiving holiday, having spent the weekend and a few extra days out with the family, and the professor had sent them to the city of Rapid City, South Dakota. They had truly just arrived, and they were casually checking out the town before trying to locate a girl named Samantha Quincy, who was in an old Cerebro file from a time during the mutant exposure event.

"It's hard to believe we're so hated here." She said. "Even after all we've done."

Scott nodded. He took a sip of his coffee and looked around. Jean hit his arm with the back of her hand.

"Hey!" He shouted, but when people turned their eyes to him he quieted down. "What was that for?"

"For looking around. Seriously Scott, you're making me nervous just sitting next to you, and you're not exactly being 'low key' either."

"Sorry." He muttered. "I just don't like the feeling that someone's standing behind my back with a knife."

"Oh don't be so dramatic."

He shrugged and drank some more of his coffee. "So how about we start asking some questions? The high school is probably a good place to start."

"I've got an even better idea." Jean said, practically smirking. "I did some research before we got her on Samantha Quincy…" She paused as she pulled a laptop out of her bag, bringing up a webpage. "…apparently she has top honors at school, and she runs a community center not far from here."

Scott raised his eyebrows. "When did you do this?"

Jean winked at him as she put her things away and stood up. "Now that's just something I need to know."

The pair made the brisk walk down to the community center and entered through the double doors at the front. The inside was much warmer than the chilly outside (it was the first days of December and South Dakota is not a "warm" place that time of year), so they spent the first few seconds inside trying to get feeling back into their hands.

"Wow…" Jean whispered as she looked around. "It's amazing a high school kid did this."

"Yeah, can you believe a high school student did this?"

Jean frowned and looked at Scott. He seemed too absorbed in examining the place to have properly heard her. "Uh Scott? I just said that."

"Oh, uh, you did?" Scott snapped out of his zoning. "Sorry Jean, just wow."

She nodded. "…So where should we start?"

Scott glanced around again, his eyes falling on the basketball court where several high school aged kids were playing basketball. He pointed. "How about there?"

The two approached the bleachers and waited for a lull in the game before interrupting. Scott and Jean went up to a girl with straight brown hair tied back who was getting a drink from a water bottle by the bleachers.

"Excuse me, do you know a girl named Samantha Quincy?" Scott asked.

The girl looked at him questioningly, almost like she was trying to figure out if he was serious or not. "Of course. Why?"

"Is she here?"

A teenage boy walked up to the small group, his dark skin damp with sweat from playing. "What's going on?"

The girl looked up at him. "These two want to know about Sam."

He frowned. "What do you want to know?"

Before Scott or Jean could reply the other girl answered for them. "Wanted to know if she was here."

The teen shook his head. "Nah, Sam hasn't been around for the last few days… but now that you mention it, that's rather odd. She's here basically every day."

"How many days hasn't she been here?" Jean asked, trying to not sound worried. Magneto may have already gotten to her.

"Oh, like four I guess…" The boy answered.

The two X-Men exchanged glances.

"Do you know where she lives?"

A man with short brown hair and glasses sat inside his house, searching through the newspaper. With one hand he clutched the paper, and with the other he clutched his hair.

Gone. She can't be gone.

He bounced his leg nervously and tried to block out his thoughts. Suddenly there was a knock at the front door. He got up grimly and forced himself to walk over and open it.

He peered out and saw two young adults, one with brown hair, one with red, standing just outside his door.

"H-hello? Can I help you?"

The two exchanged glances.

"Actually," The one with brown hair said, "we may be able to help each other. Can we come in Mr. Quincy?"

The man paled at the mention of his name and nodded dumbly, opening the door wider for them to enter. He stepped aside as they came in and gestured to the family room, which contained an armchair, a couch, and a television set.

"C-c-can I get you anything to drink? I have a feeling this might take a while."

"No thanks, we're fine." Jean answered, sitting down on the couch. "Is your daughter here?"

The man shook his head, worry spreading across it. "She disappeared." As soon as he said this he groaned. "They always disappear in this city. She shouldn't have lived with me here, she should have gone back to California with her mother. Oh why did I let her stay?!" He cried.

"Woah, sir, calm down. We think she's probably alright." Scott said quickly. "I'm Scott Summers, and this is Jean Grey. We're from the Xavier Institute for Gifted and Talented Youngsters. Is there anything you can tell us about the day she left?"

The man sat down shakily in the armchair and pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "She left a note, but… she couldn't have… the city just isn't safe for people like her at night."

He handed the paper to Scott and continued. "As a mutant we knew it was dangerous for her to keep living here, but she was insistant. She wanted to make a difference, make people see things her way. She's so stubborn! She started up that community center all on her own and…"

Scott nudged Jean and put the note in between them as the father continued to ramble. The two read it quickly.

Dear Father,

I'm sorry I'm doing this to you. But I'm leaving. I have the opportunity to make a difference for mutant kind in a way I couldn't even dream to here. Don't look for me, don't try to stop me. I was offered a place in the Brotherhood of Mutants, a society in Bayville, New York, by a man named Magneto. Joining their ranks will strengthen their cause and our overall cause for mutant freedom.

I love you Dad. There's nothing that can change that. Nothing changed when you and Mom divorced, and me moving in with the Brotherhood won't change that either. Please, share this with Mom. I'll send you updates when I can.

Love You,

Sam

Scott and Jean finished reading at the same time, and looked at each other. It was just as Benj and Clay warned.

Magneto was recruiting.

And they were horribly unprepared.

Professor Xavier sat in his study watching the flames in the fireplace flicker back and forth. His hands were folded under his chin and his thoughts were elsewhere.

He had sent out the adult X-Men to investigate several mutants that were in the Cerebro files that they had ruled as high Brotherhood possibilities. So far he had heard nothing back except bad news.

Beast had traveled to New York City to try and locate a fourteen year-old girl named Maria Reverend who was supposed to be in social services. She had run away nearly two months ago, and nothing had been heard of since. Beast did great detective work in regards to her, but when he tracked what he guessed were here last movements he came up short.

Storm went to the last location Cerebro picked up a mutant named Alejandro Solas used his powers and her news was nearly worse. There was an attack on a police officer there in the middle of the night, the officer's car had essentially flung itself against him. The cop was in serious condition. All evidence pointed to either Alejandro himself harming the cop, or that someone like Magneto interfered.

He still had not heard anything back from Logan in regards to the mutant named Quinn (which Cerebro was able to pick up on after the use of his powers up north), and he was beginning to worry.

The phone rang suddenly and he was pulled out of his thoughts. He pulled his phone out and answered.

"Scott?"

"Bad news professor."

The professor sighed. "Samantha Quincy?"

"Looks like she's joined the Brotherhood."

Xavier nodded solemnly. "Thank you Scott. You two can return when you want."

"What about the others that Storm, Beast, and Logan were looking at?"

"Maria is missing, Alejandro as well, but I fear he has joined the Brotherhood, and I have not heard back from Logan yet."

"…Anything more on—"

"Beast investigated the Cerebro reading of Tyler in New York City. From what we can tell he was there, but is not any longer. We have surveillance of him with his image inducer making deposits and withdrawals in several banks. We don't know why though." Xavier sighed. "And I'm sure Logan is looking for Leo still."

"Alright. Thanks for the update prof. We'll be back soon. Bye."

"Good-bye."

Xavier set the phone down slowly and placed a hand to his temple. Things were getting crazy around the X-Men, they would soon have to increase Danger Room sessions, and prepare for trouble from the Brotherhood.

His phone rang again and he frowned. Looking at the caller ID he saw it was Logan.

"Ah, Logan. Is a pick up needed for you and—"

"Sorry Chuck." The man's gruff voice came over the phone. He truly sounded regretful. "Mystique made a surprise appearance and Quinn went with her. I'd bet he's already in Bayville by now."

Xavier let out a slow breath. "Things are just getting worse with every phone call I get. Will you return soon then?"

There was a hesitation over the phone. "…No. I'm gunna see if I can track Leo again. I'm back in the States, but I'm starting fresh this time. I'm seein' what leads I can find on him, and investigating closer into Clay Dune while I'm at it. I figure if we can find her, we can find everyone else."

"Logan, our primary concern right now isn't—"

"Sorry, Chuck, but this one you can't stop me on. I'm tryin' to keep track of things, I'll keep you updated."

"Logan wait!"

Click.

Hopefully he would find something.

Only one more chapter of new inclusions before we get back on track. And as a little teaser, that means Logan, Sabretooth, and... Leo? WAH?! :D

Also guess what? OCTOBER 22 IS THE ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THIS STORY. So on that date I'll update, or send out a message, or maybe figure out this "forum" thing and put out a Q&A or something. I don't know, I'll figure out a way to make it AWESOME.