Prologue: Lance Alvers

September, 1973

Smoke billowed from the crumbled, flaming remains of Lance's old school, and people streamed out of the ruins, screaming for their lives.

Later, after the adrenaline had worn off, they would start to wonder how an earthquake had happened in the middle of Illinois, where there were no fault lines at all. But for now, they were scared.

And it was all Lance's fault.

Part of him felt sick, thinking about what he had done. People had been crushed underneath the ruins of the building, screaming, crying for their lives…

But another, darker part of him felt excited. He had been powerful enough to topple his whole school. In the past, he had been able to make buildings shake with his temper, but toppling a whole building had been a distant, slightly scary dream.

Now, it was his reality.

He collapsed to his knees in the football field, winded. He hadn't meant to topple the whole school. He had just… lost control after the principal had called him a "good for nothing punk loser" before expelling him.

The principal had been one of the few adults that had been nice to him, in his life. Lance had always felt welcome in his office after school, even if it was for another detention. Principal Deaton didn't look down on him for being poor, and almost homeless.

Until Lance had fucked up, and the principal had had enough.

Principal Deaton had laid into him for being a pushover. Why else would he have stolen the test answers, instead of studying?

And Lance had lost it. What did stupid adults know about having to survive when your foster parents didn't even give you money? When they kicked you out on the street because you were too old and they didn't want you? When you had to fend for yourself, and couldn't even focus at school because you were so hungry ? Getting good enough grades at school was his ticket to being someone, and how was he going to do that if he didn't have time to study between looking for food and stealing people's wallets for a measly amount of cash?

So he had stolen the answers for his next math test, memorized them, and then sold copies of the answer sheet for a buck each. So what?

The floor had shaken with his anger, and the walls had started to crumble around him.

He had tried to walk out, before he toppled the school, but it seemed as if it was too late. The school crumbled behind him as he shook with rage.

Good for nothing punk, huh, he thought, he'd show him! If he couldn't be an all American Apple Pie Good Boy like all the adults wanted him to be, he would be the best damn punk the principal had ever seen.

And then, as soon as he had gotten far enough away from the ruins of the school, the headache started to hit. Just like it always did, after he overextended.

His head pounding, he tried to make it to the parking lot, towards his Jeep, but he only made it a little farther down the football field before collapsing to his knees again, holding his head in his hands. The pain seemed red hot and all consuming as it rolled through his head in waves.

But, even through the pain, he knew that someone would realize it was his fault. So he had to move, no matter what pain he was in.

He wobbled his way over to the parking lot, his head clutched in his hands.

Only to find a stern looking man in a police uniform standing by his keep, arms crossed.

He stepped back, ready to make the earth shake around him again when all of the sudden the policeman shimmered, and turned into a blue woman.

Lance stood there with his mouth open.

He had known that there were other so-called mutants out there, ever since another dropped a stadium on the president, and the president had turned into the exact same blue woman that was standing in front of him. It had been all over the news for months, and still was.

The woman looked at him.

"The Chicago Police Department has a police report on someone causing earthquakes in this area."

"So?" Lance bit out, ready to fight the woman in front of him. He didn't care that she was a mutant who probably wasn't going to arrest him. She wanted something from him. Everyone nice did, he had learned.

"This Jeep has been found near many of the sites of these earthquakes. It's yours, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said, "What, do you have problems with freakazoids that cause earthquakes in the middle of inner city Chicago?"

"You are no freak, Lance Alvers," she said, "You're a mutant. And mutants help each other. Now give me your keys, and get into the car. The police are here, and are looking for your car as we speak."

Lance looked at her questioningly.

"And I should trust you… why?"

"Because they're looking for you, Lance. They know where you live. And if you don't come with me, you'll end up getting butchered in a government lab. Tortured. Experimented on. Do you want that?"

Lance relaxed slightly. Even trusting a strange blue woman would be better than the government experimenting on him and throwing his body into a pit when they were done, and then pissing on the remains.

"I'm coming," he said, "But only if you explain what you want with me. Capiche?"

The woman nodded, and then turned into a stern woman with black hair.

"Deal. Let's get out of here."

Lance hobbled over and handed her the keys, getting into the passenger side of his Jeep.

The blue woman got on the other side, and started the car.

Lance leaned against the headrest, sighing. His head was still pounding, but at least he and the blue woman were a good 20 miles away from Chicago, and he could rest.

She pulled onto an exit, and drove through a suburban neighborhood, arriving at what looked like a slightly worn house, with ivy all over the exterior.

The car stopped, and the woman walked out, beckoning Lance to follow.

Lance got out of the Jeep, and managed to walk to the house without falling face first into the welcome mat. His legs felt like jello, and his head felt like the building he just split apart.

The blue woman opened the door, holding the door open for him.

He entered the building, and then closed the door behind him.

The blue woman shed her disguise, reverting into her natural blue form.

"You look like you're about to vomit," she said, looking at him carefully. "Sit down on the couch. We'll be back in a moment."

We? Lance thought, Who's we? But he took the opportunity to sit down on the couch, and nursed his head in his hands.

It felt like it was killing him, almost.

The blue woman walked back into the room, with a tall, severe looking man behind her.

Lance didn't recognize him, but his face looked a bit familiar.

The man sat down on the armchair in front of him, but the blue woman stayed standing.

"Hello, Mr. Alvers," the man said, with a familiar sounding accent, "I am Magneto, and this is my colleague, Mystique."

Lance looked up at him.

"You're the one guy who dropped a stadium on the president."

Magneto nodded.

"Indeed. I needed to make a statement, to show them that mutants are not going to sit idly by and let their kind be slaughtered by their administration."

"And that's why we rescued you, Lance," Mystique added. "I've been undercover at the Main Precinct of the Chicago Police Department, and your name has popped up as a suspect in multiple earthquake related incidents. And, since it's our job to help out other mutants in need, it was our job to get you out of there before the government could get you."

Lance raised an eyebrow. He knew better than to believe that these people had rescued him due to the goodness of their hearts. They definitely wanted something from him.

"And?" he asked. "What do you want from me now?"

Magneto scoffed.

"Nothing, if that's what you want. But, if you join us, you will be able to use your talents to help other mutants in need the way we have helped you out. We do not expect every mutant we rescue to join our cause. After all, that would be unfair of us. However, the more of us that choose to fight, the stronger we will be."

Lance nodded.

Now that he thought about it, he didn't exactly have anywhere to go, now that he knew the police were after him. And it wasn't like he could do anything legally. He'd have to change his name just to be able to get a job, and it wasn't like he'd be able to control his powers very well if he tried to blend back into normal society. He'd just end up toppling another building, and the next time, he doubted he'd have other mutants there to help him out.

But Magneto and Mystique were offering him something better. Something bigger than just himself. And while he had always looked after himself, he had always wanted to help other people as well. He wanted people to look up to him as someone they could trust. As someone strong.

And now, he had the opportunity to.

Lance looked Magneto straight in the eye.

"I'm in," he said, "What do you want me to do?"