I.
Graylon Walsh thought he was accustomed to morning rays shining in his eyes at the crack of dawn, but the sun in Emerald Springs seemed different. Blindingly bright, he could still see the brilliantly light through his clenched eyes. Moaning, he pulled the crisp sheets and thick comforter over his head in an attempt to hide the warming light, but it got much too hot, much too quickly underneath the covers. He let out a sigh of frustration before tossing the covers to the side, and he reluctantly accepted that the day wouldn't let him sleep any longer.
He swung his bare legs over the side of the bed, his feet resting on the plush carpet. He stretched noisily, but the sharp ring of his phone interrupted his morning ritual. Still groggy and annoyed at the disturbances, he reached for it, and with a button push, he was connected with his caller.
"Hello?" he said into the phone, his throat scratchy.
"Walsh? This is Garrett."
Internally, Graylon groaned, dreading the next few minutes that would probably result in a useless, agitating conversation. Garrett Wilkerson was his boss, who currently acted as management oversight for the high school reporting team, despite only being a few years older than the members themselves.
It wasn't that he truly disliked his boss. However, two ambitious people were bound to naturally clash—Graylon thought highly of his own skills as a reporter and had the accolades to back it up. But so did Garrett, having the rare opportunity to work with Trish Tilby on popular stories that had regional and national impact. He had earned just as many awards and had gained fairly high approval rating amongst readers and viewers.
"Yeah, what's up?" Graylon tried to sound energetic and attempted to force the wakening disorientation from his voice. But it just wasn't happening and a noisy yawn quickly escaped.
Garrett's already booming voice seemed much louder over the phone. "I'm checking in on you, of course. You're not out there to sleep in and be lazy. You have some info to report on. And time is ticking."
"You called just to tell me that? I know what my job is, considering I had a long talk with J.J. about it. Besides, I got here late last night, thanks to the flight you booked. I crashed and still have to unpack."
"Well, Mr. Jameson," Garrett corrected, emphasizing a more formal addressing of the head of the Daily Bugle, "told me to keep tabs on your progress."
"I doubt that, but whatever. If it makes you feel better to call me every five minutes, so be it. Just know that the reception isn't all that good up here..."
"Don't play that card too often."
"J.J. is confident in my reporting skills. My story on Ambassador St. Croix and the heroics of the junior X-Men in Snow Valley did receive the highest ratings of any student or intern, in case you forgot. And both stories were front page news in the Daily Bugle. Considering all that, I'm hardly in need of a babysitter, constantly harassing me for information. To be honest, I think you're just trying to get info to try to undercut my story."
"Don't get too full of yourself. I am your boss, you know."
"If you're done, I have more important things to do, like staring into the sun while holding my breath."
"I expect you'll keep in touch."
"Your expectations are way too high," replied Graylon. He didn't wait for a response—he ended the call and tossed his phone toward the end of the bed. Agitated, he felt wide awake, the grogginess long forgotten, replaced by pangs of hunger. He slid into his favorite flip-flops after throwing on a t-shirt and jeans, and then left his room, grabbing his room key on the way out.
He navigated through the surprisingly labyrinthine hallways, passing small groups of students chattering excitedly. Until he had something substantial for breakfast, his sociability amongst the students was non-existent. Not to mention he was still agitated over his conversation with Garrett. Needless to say, Graylon knew that he had to tread carefully, ensuring not to mouth off too much. He didn't intend to be Garrett's best friend, but there was no need to make a permanent enemy of him.
He strode through the doorway of the expansive cafeteria. The walls were covered with large windows, letting the streaming rays of the rising sun illuminate the room. The view revealed a rolling forest, verdant hues of green against a perfectly blue sky. Here, even more students congregated, talking over fresh fruit, hot food, and cold drinks. Graylon maneuvered through the buffet line quickly, scooping a hearty portion of eggs, potatoes, and bacon. He vowed to come back for seconds, and some fruit, as he scanned for an empty table.
As his eyes darted around the crowded cafeteria, a group standing idly caught his eye. They were all too familiar to him—the students from the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Pupils at a secluded school on the outskirts of Snow Valley. Secret superheroes. Responsible for saving the town's inhabitants from danger. Involved with the finding his uncle, Dr. Niles Cain.
Since learning from Paige Guthrie that his uncle decided to stay with the Arminthorpe Corporation, the mysterious conglomerate responsible for his initial disappearance, Graylon had immersed himself in his work. It was then that he realized that on some level, he had been avoiding them, despite parting ways on good terms.
If they're here, my sources probably aren't too far off, he surmised.
Initially, when Graylon first received the assignment to cover the National Diversity Conference from J. Jonah Jameson himself, he considered refusing it. Though a high-profile event, he just wasn't excited about it—until he received an anonymous tip that a group called the Brotherhood sent a threatening e-mail to the headmaster, Nolan Hargrove. His curiosity piqued, he decided to stay with the story.
He scanned the group, quickly reviewing what he knew about each of them.
Michael Lawson. A powerful telekinetic and telepath. Also harboring some secret power. Nice guy overall. A bit on the rigid side. But he really wanted to find my uncle. We confronted Arminthorpe together, and that's where I first saw exactly what he could do.
Ethan Callaghan. Super-strength, speed, reflexes, and can somehow turn off mutant powers. He was involved with the Arminthorpe Corporation as well and wanted to help find my uncle. He was one of the first students I met, then I followed him to the Xavier School.
Monet St. Croix. I think she has every power on the face of the earth. And amazingly beautiful. But quite difficult to get along with. Maybe it's because she's smarter than everyone on the planet. Or maybe she puts up a standoffish front to keep people from getting too close.
Jubilation Lee. Or who I like to call, Ms. Mouth. If I didn't know better, I would think her power was talking. A lot. She has these fireworks that she blasts from her hands. She really gets on my nerves, and I'm sure the feeling is mutual.
Rico Vidal. Wind manipulator. Funny guy. Completely easy to get along with. Plus, he seems to be their computer genius, alongside Paige Guthrie.
And then there's me. Reporter. Morphing adamantium arms. Bioelectric blasts. Truth be told, I like these students, but they are way too secretive. Regardless, I need them, especially if we're going to save my uncle and figure out who is impersonating Mason Arminthorpe.
If he didn't already know them personally, Graylon would have thought nothing more of the group than a standoffish gaggle of attractive teens. There was no outward indicator that each of them possessed an unnatural assortment of abilities that transcended logic and reason. And there was no sign that they were arguably some of the most powerful next generation of mutants.
Graylon flashed a non-threatening smile as he neared the lingering group. "Well, well, well. Looks like the Scooby Gang is all here."
Jubilee was the first to speak, frowning disapprovingly. "Like what are you doin' here, Blondie?!"
He narrowed his dark blue eyes in annoyance. "That's no way to greet a friend. Besides, shouldn't I be asking you the same question, Ms. Mouth? I'm a reporter...it's my job to cover events like this. You guys always claim that you're not superheroes, yet you always seem to be right in the middle of something. So, what is it this time? Some hostile takeover by aliens? Or maybe Magneto's back to his bad guy ways? Don't tell me Emplate—"
Michael replied, "There's no trouble here." He felt no qualms about lying for the sake of protecting the investigation, though it surprised him how quick and easy it was. He explained further, hoping that his obvious untruth hadn't caught the others by surprise. "Ms. Frost's company and the school are partial sponsors, so we have an invitation, just like everyone else. We're here for the forums and exposure—I think she called this a learning lab of sorts."
"Right. Of course," Graylon said, his expression portraying that he wasn't convinced in the slightest. "You know, I have access to the invitation list. And it's funny, The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters wasn't at all on the list until a few days ago, which happens to coincide with the rumor that a group called The Brotherhood made an implicit threat against this school. In my line of work, there's no such thing as coincidence."
Dammit, Michael internally cursed. There was no way he wanted to tumble down the slippery slope of lying. At the same time, they didn't need any unnecessary attention, especially from a reporter. At that moment, he wished that he had low enough ethics to execute the mind wipe trick from Emma or Monet.
As if she had read his mind, Monet telepathically asked, "Do you want me to mind wipe him?"
"I thought about it. But no…not yet at least…"
Keeping his expression neutral, Michael coolly asked, "You looking for confirmation?"
"Trust me, I don't need it from any of you. I'm keeping my eyes and ears open. You should too. When you need my help, I'll be around." Just as dramatically as he appeared, he spun on his heel and carried his breakfast tray to another empty table, sitting away from the group.
Jubilee audibly sighed. "That guy is like mega-annoyin'. How did he like find out all that stuff?"
Ethan shook his head. "No idea. I'll give it to him though, his sources aren't ever too far off. But that only complicates what we're here to do."
Michael replied, "Really, it doesn't. We just need to keep him out of our business."
"Well," Ethan cautioned, "I reviewed the guest list last night, and Arminthorpe is here as well."
"Did Ms. Frost know?"
"Of course, I'm aware," Emma Frost approached from behind with Sean Cassidy by her side. She strode through the cafeteria with her usual air of importance, which attracted several stares ranging from admiration to jealousy from students and other facility alike. Once she closed the gap between her and the students, Emma said, "I hope you all realize that you're standing around discussing confidential information and strategy in the middle of an open area. Anyone within two feet can probably hear you."
Ethan immediately chastised himself for not thinking of that first, especially as the leader. "Oh, sorry, we—" he attempted to apologize.
Emma waved away his words. "You're lucky. I psychically muted your voices—actually to be more precise, I've prevented anyone in this room from processing your voices. I've done the same to ours since we decided to have a team meeting in the middle of the cafeteria."
"Wait, is that a real thing?!" Rico asked, his jaw slack with amazement.
"Th' lass is nae ever short on amazin' tricks," Sean answered, rubbing the back of his head. "She has a key point—ye have t' be aware of yuir surroundin'. Right now, we presume everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise."
Rico even more perplexed. "They're students like us. Why would they—"
"We have no practical knowledge of the circumstances at hand. Anyone here could be influenced voluntarily or forced somehow into contributing to the scheme we are here to thwart," Monet explained, which elicited an upturn of a corner of Emma's lips and an agreeing nod from Sean.
"Exactly, lass," the headmaster stated.
"Yeah, Monet. That was like, a good point," Jubilee added with a smile.
Monet raised an eyebrow, waiting for the follow-up slight that was far beneath her. But it never came. Jubilee's attention was back on Michael, who spoke next.
"Then you both know that Graylon Walsh is here," Michael revealed. "He knows something, and more than likely, he's going to be a thorn in our side the entire time."
Emma's icy eyes narrowed as she spoke. "Lesson one. You don't always get to choose your teammates. Despite how you feel about him, he may prove useful. Always keep your frenemies closer than you're comfortable with."
"What if he is nothing more than a liability?" Monet inquired.
Ethan followed with his own question. "Or a vulnerability?"
Emma crossed her arms, settling into a neutral expression. "I trust you'll be able to discern that. I didn't bring the lot of you because you're incapable."
"You're totes trusting in us on this one?" Jubilee interjected. "Like, what happened ta tha whole you-don't-want-us-ta-be-superheroes bit?"
"You'll see Charles later. You can thank him for it. In the meantime, keep a low profile. We're not just saving Tony's ass on this one—there are a multitude of innocent bystanders at this conference. We will keep them safe. Sean and I will investigate the staff as best we can."
"Do you think this is an insider threat?" Ethan asked.
Rico scratched his head. "What, what the heck is an insider threat?"
"Just what it says—someone close to the school may be the bad guy in this case," Ethan explained.
Emma gave a nod of agreement. "That's usually how these things play out. Forge pushed a two-hundred and fifty-six bit encryption to our phones. Anything that you find, text it to Sean and me. Call only in an emergency."
"Aye, aye, Frosty!" Jubilee replied with a mock salute.
"Seriously, we have no idea how far these actors are willin' t' go. Be careful," Sean warned, sounding more like a concerned father than an authoritative figure.
"We will," Ethan assured.
As Emma sauntered with Sean, over her shoulder, she said, "The world can hear you once again. Don't make me regret unmuting you."
Rico let out a sigh of relief. "Man, talk about tough love…geez. Still, I learned quite a bit just now. This is getting way serious. So, what's next?"
"Let's just get something to eat," Michael offered. "We can figure out what to do next after that."
"That is the best plan I have heard all day!" Rico grinned.
II.
The man known to the Brotherhood as the Founder reared back in his high-backed leather chair. He contemplatively gazed out of his office window, which sat on the top floor of one of four towers of the school. His sixth-floor workplace overlooked a mountain range with groves of evergreens scattered about. Though it was summer, the setting sun brought with it a cool breeze that swayed branches, rustled leaves, and brought the curtains to life. He only enjoyed a few more moments of tranquility before a knock sounded at his door.
Processing the probabilities of the identity of his visitor, he smiled. "Come in, Grey King," he commanded while turning his chair to face him. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, resting his chin on his intertwined hands, waiting for the anticipated update.
The door opened, and the broad-shouldered man politely smiled. As usual, he glanced about the office, taking note of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with various texts and literature. The office itself was pristine like the rest of the school, courtesy of the efficient and thorough cleaning staff. There was only a single stack of papers on the otherwise bare desk. He finally rested his eyes on the Founder.
The Founder's umber eyes were intimidating, as was his probing gaze. His chestnut hair was closely cropped on the sides, which accented a longer style on top that was neatly combed to the side. As usual, his suit outlined his muscular build and was perfectly pressed, accented by a tie patterned with silver, cobalt, and white. The white shirt underneath completed the ensemble—the Founder could easily be mistaken for a high-level cooperate executive or even a politician.
"Founder," the man known as the Grey King politely began, "all is in place for the beginnings of the conference. The rest of the Brotherhood is aware of the plan and prepared to execute."
The Founder's voice was deep and certain. "That is good to hear. The time is near that the Brotherhood will make its mark on the world." He paused with a wicked smile—it quickly faded, and his face darkened. "What of the X-Men and their students?"
"They have arrived, just as you predicted."
"Nick Fury. Tony Stark. Charles Xavier. They are smart men, but they are no match for a mind such as mine. Their presence here changes nothing. Keep a close watch on them, and those children—do not underestimate them for a moment. They have trained under the tutelage of Professor Xavier and his followers. Though young, they are powerful and could present a challenge if they get too close. Maintain your surveillance on the Avengers and X-Men—let none of them from your sight, but keep your distance from the Professor and Katherine Pryde. They are an immediate threat to our plan."
"Founder, worry not. They will not detect us."
"Your power is great, but there are those out there that far surpass you. One misstep can be your undoing."
"A fair warning that I will heed to the best of my ability. You are aware of the young upstarts…"
The Founder's amused smile surfaced. "They are not a threat. Their true intent bears no consequence to our plan. If anything, they will serve us well as a distraction. Also, keep control of your comrades—if they are not careful, they could jeopardize everything."
"They, as am I, are obedient without hesitation."
"Has Rapture discovered the origin of the e-mails? They are what attracted this unintended attention."
"Not as of yet. Mason Arminthorpe has offered his services. Apparently, he has a computer expert who should be able to trace the disappearing messages. He has assured me that his team is working tirelessly to find the culprit."
"Mason Arminthorpe," the Founder repeated as if pondering an idea that he wasn't quite ready to reveal. Instead, he refocused on his original response. "Quite interesting. There is a complicated situation at hand. This will be entertaining at the very least. Continue with the plan."
The Grey King dipped his head slightly, as an obedient acknowledgement before leaving just as quietly as he had entered, and the door gently closed behind him, though it was untouched.
III.
"Mike, that girl!"
The urgency in Rico's voice startled him, and Michael reactively whipped his head around, trying to catch a glimpse of the notable female. It seemed that attention-worthy girls surrounded them—tall, short, slender, green, blue, brown, tan, and fair—there were too many to pinpoint.
Michael asked, "Which one?"
"Her!" Rico replied, as if the ambiguous pronoun made some clear distinction between the girl he spotted and every other one within eyesight. "I'm sure of it now!"
Cheating, Michael performed a light telepathic scan, enabling him to glean his teammate's focused thoughts. Finally understanding who had Rico's attention, he stared at the girl.
She was a feline-human mutant. Though not tall, she carried herself with regal authority, her long, fluffy tail gently swaying behind her. Her nearly white fur barely a millimeter long covered every place that skin should be, and a long mane of golden hair flowed down her back. She wore a simple dark green t-shirt, jeans tucked into knee-high, black boots. Her crimson cat eyes scanned the crowd, and when she spotted her friends, she waved excitedly before taking off in the opposite direction.
"What are you talking about?" he asked, still not able to grasp why she had Rico's attention.
"She's a ThunderCat!"
Michael's mouth opened in surprise, and he almost burst out laughing right there. "And you're an idiot." He couldn't argue with Rico—the young woman looked exactly like she belonged alongside the cartoon humanoid felines, which made the observation that much funnier.
"I'm just saying!" Rico exclaimed with his usual lopsided grin. "Isn't it cool to be around all of these mutants? Like I didn't know there were so many our age. Sometimes, it feels like we're the last teenage mutants on earth."
"Not really. Don't forget about those kids at the Arminthorpe Corporation."
"Ugh! I actually blocked them out of my memory. They were a pain in the ass. Craig was a royal jerk during the whole Emplate thing. Besides, I've been looking through the database. A lot of these kids have files in Cerebro."
"Really? I guess when you're a mutant, someone's got to keep tabs on you," Michael replied. But he did find it disconcerting that there was a massive collection of dossiers on seemingly every known mutant right at their fingertips.
Noticing his friend's furrowed brows, Rico explained, "Cerebro accesses several databases across the world for information. From what I learned from Forge, Professor Xavier also gathers information during his travel conferences, while some of the information is gathered during disturbances and personal accounts. There's also a self-registering process that people can use, which keeps them connected into the Worldwide Mutant Network."
Ethan frowned, "Okay, this is the first time I'm hearing all of this. Did I miss something in class?"
"No. Paige and I have been talking to Forge and Dr. McCoy about it almost every day. It's mind-blowing just how much they do to take care of mutants."
Ethan thoughtfully asked, "Yeah, well, what happens to the ones they miss? Do they turn into the kids at the Arminthorpes? Or maybe something far worse—"
"Holy Twinsanity, Marvel!" Rico frantically whispered, leaning in close to his teammate excitedly.
"What now? And why did you use my codename? It's kind of for official business only."
"You missed one. They're triplets," Graylon said.
"I thought you were like bein' a jerk and sulkin' by yourself on like the other side of tha room," Jubilee quipped.
"I saw Emma Frost and Sean Cassidy talking to you all, but strangely enough, I couldn't hear a word you said no matter how I tried. It seemed like quite the secret conversation. Like it or not, I'm tagging along."
"Dude, like whateves," Jubilee replied nonchalantly. But she made sure to pull an extra chair over from an adjacent table. Keep your frenemies closer, she said to herself, repeating Emma's last suggestion.
Rico looked at them again, squinting his eyes suspiciously. "Does anyone else find it kinda creepy that they're all walking in step? Or that they look like Ms. Frost?"
"At least they're like not in blingin' white from head ta toe," Jubilee observed.
Aside from their almost knee-high, black boots, the identical triplets were dressed quite differently from each other. The one on the left wore a floral white turtleneck sweater. It complemented the dark saffron skirt and matching trench coat. A golden chain belt hung loosely around her waist. The one in the middle wore a royal blue blazer over a white button-down blouse—a black skirt completed a resemblance to a formal school uniform. The triplet on the right had an outfit that also resembled a school uniform. She wore a button-down, black-and-white striped blouse with a black low V sweater vest. Her black dress jacket matched perfectly to her skirt. Despite the varied apparel, the triplets had their shiny, amber locks impeccably parted on the left, and it framed their slender faces flawlessly. Their pouty strawberry lips curled into a smile simultaneously as they walked through the cafeteria.
Disapprovingly, Michael shook his head. "I'm not even going to ask any questions. Every time I do, there's some new, crazy story about cloning, resurrections, aliens, cosmic entities, time travel, or alternate dimensions."
"You forgot that it always involves the Summers and Greys," Rico humorously added.
"Yeah, that too," Michael flatly replied. "Honestly, I'd rather not know. Besides, any time there's more than two people that look alike, it's usually trouble."
Rico stood and motioned to the triplets, beckoning them to draw close. "I'm going to take a picture!" he said to his teammates. Ignoring their groans and whispers of protest, he gave the three girls a smile once they were near. "Hey, Three's Company! Can I get a picture of you? This is the first time I've seen triplets in real life!"
"I swear I just said I didn't want to be involved with them," Michael grumbled.
The triplets paused their stride, all three turning synchronously toward Rico. Their icy eyes narrowed suspiciously, punctuated with a judgmental frown.
"We don't—"
"—pose for photos—"
"—for weird-looking guys."
"And they finish each other's sentences…" Ethan observed.
Shocked, Rico's jaw slacked. "Wait! I look—weird?! Come on! I'm like on the opposite end of the spectrum from weird."
"Ya know, I gotta agree with them...yer totes weird," Jubilee playfully jabbed.
"C'mon! You're going to side with the trifecta Frosts here?"
Jubilee studied the triplets for a moment. "You know, now that you mention it, and I see 'em up close, they do kinda look like ol' Frosty."
"We don't know anyone by that name," the triplet closest to them replied.
"Well, we'll have to introduce you, but first, let me introduce myself. Rico Vidal. Student of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Air manipulator extraordinaire. Aspiring X-Man."
Michael interrupted. "I've been told it's not polite to read people's minds without their permission. I can have my cousin here pluck the information you stole right from your triplet hive head."
"You're a feisty one," the first one said.
Michael crossed his arms. "I'm not in the mood for crap."
"Your secret is safe with us," the one in the middle responded.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"You don't," the last one answered. In synch, they spun on their heel and strode away without a second glance.
"And they had the nerve to call me weird," Rico muttered as he plopped back down in his seat.
"What's tha sitch with tha Emma look-alikes?" Jubilee asked.
Michael responded, "Triplets. Powerful psychics. They've got some kind of combined psychic mind thing going on. And they're onto us."
"Wow," Jubilee commented. "You guys are so like not good at this. We're like only on day one, and our cover is already blown. Frosty is totally gonna hit tha roof."
"We need to figure out what they actually know before anything else," Ethan said.
Michael sighed. "We're got to be careful. There are a lot of mutants around here, psychics included. If you guys haven't been paying attention in Jean's class, I'll have Monet give you a crash course in psionic barriers. That goes for you too, Graylon. You'll get us in a whole lot of trouble with the information you have floating around in your head."
"Oh, now you're concerned about me. I swear, you guys were just shooing me away two seconds ago," Graylon rolled his eyes.
"Monet, should we be worried about those three?" Michael asked.
"I cannot discern any reason to trust them. Yet, I cannot say that they are untrustworthy. Considering their mysterious connection to Ms. Frost, we should have nothing to worry about. They possess formidable psychic prowess, though it is far beneath my capabilities. At our earliest convenience, we should inform Emma of their presence. I presume she would take interest in the suspicious triplets."
To Michael, Ethan asked, "What did they find out?"
"I'm not sure. I couldn't intercept anything. I just felt that they were reaching into our heads."
"Can you just jump into their heads too?" Rico asked.
Michael shook his head. "It's not that easy, especially against other telepaths. Most have a natural psionic protection that makes it harder to get into their heads. Those three have a steel wall around their minds."
"Monet?" Ethan asked, inferring that he wanted her opinion as well.
"He is correct. Though I possess the ability to circumvent most of their psionic barriers, it is not an expedient process. Such a blatant trespass would only incite a confrontation."
"And that's something we don't need right now," Michael added, almost hearing again Emma's direction for them to keep a low profile.
Jubilee summarized, "Okay, so like we have tha totally nosy reporter taggin' along and tha tri-Frosties runnin' 'round with some idea of like why we're here. My take is that we jus' like play it cool. We'll totally deal with those later…tha openin' ceremony starts in like thirty. We should head there."
Graylon pushed back his chair and stood. "Yeah, I have to head over there now to get set up." He pulled out a sleek cell phone, tapped and swiped a few times, then glanced back at the group. "My camera man finally got here. I'm meeting him in the auditorium. I'll let you guys know if I hear or see anything weird."
"Cool. Jus' like meet us in the lobby of the auditorium when yer like done," Jubilee instructed.
Graylon scowled. "Oh, did Ethan appoint you as my babysitter?"
"Yeah, but you can totally change yer own diapers, dude."
Ethan sighed. "She's giving you a hard time."
"I'm getting crap from my wannabe boss at the Bugle. I don't need it from you guys too."
Ethan raised his hands as if surrendering. He stole a glance at Jubilee, but she only shrugged and blew a bubble with her gum. "Okay, okay. Just calm down," he said. "If you're going to be on the team, you have got to relax just a bit."
"Yeah. Whatever. I'll catch up with you guys after the opening ceremony then," Graylon departed from the group, disappearing in the rest of the crowd who were also heading towards the exit.
Michael's attention was drawn back to the feline female who was now seated with her table of friends. Unlike everyone else, they remained seated at their table, talking in hushed whispers. A chance glance to the person next to her made him catch eye contact instantly with a male at the table, distinguished by his faddish haircut—bald sides with a Mohawk-like top. The most unique thing was that his hair was a deep lavender color, almost as if he wanted everyone to know that he was rebellious and outside of the norm. But the eye contact was much more than a coincidental glance, the pink-haired rebel challenged him with a smirk and glare, as if he already knew why they were there.
Breaking eye contact, he immediately reinforced his telepathic barriers, just in case. He turned away, nudging Rico before asking, "Hey, who's that kid next to your girl ThunderCat?"
"Hmmm," Rico thought for a second, the recollection of the young man's face momentarily eluding him. Then it hit him. "Wait, I've seen him in Cerebra's files. Quentin Quire. High-level telepath. Possibly an omega-level mutant. I can't remember—I brought the X-tablet, so I can look it up when we get back to the room."
"Do ya like sit down there an' study tha database? Yer always like rattlin' off somethin' like you've got it memorized," Jubilee said.
"I've just got a good memory with stuff I read. I promise not to pull a Monet and say it's another mutant power."
"Quentin Quire," Michael repeated. "For some reason, I just don't have a good feeling about that guy. He looks like trouble."
"Dude, when did you start profiling bad mutants?" Rico asked.
"It's not that. It's like Mr. Cassidy said, everyone is a suspect. There are just some people that are a bit more suspicious than others. Find out what you can about the triplets. We need to at least know their names. Jubilee is right, we should head to the opening ceremony."
With that the group tailed the last of the students exiting the cafeteria and followed the masses to the auditorium with no idea of what the Brotherhood had in store.
Notes:
X-Men, Generation X, and all characters related to Marvel belong to them. Any other characters are fictional.
AOTRS Commander – Holy smokes! I'm completely flattered and glad that you're still keeping up with the story! I had a severe case of writer's block, and the perfectionist in me wouldn't let me publish anything until I figured out this next storyline in its entirety! As you see, I'm updating the story roster, bringing the teens of various storylines together. You'll definitely see a few more cameos by some familiar teens from the latest X-Men titles. But some may be just a little different…
