Author's Note**

                        Hey, guys thanks for the reviews. Every time I read 'em I want to slap up a new chapter. Speaking of new chapters. . .

                        How much could possibly go wrong in one day? You'd be surprised.

            "Okay, children. That did not go as well as I had hoped it would," Storm was saying as the group walked along the busy streets of New York. "But at least no one got killed."

            "Hey, speak for yourself," Roberto stated, rubbing at his aching head. Behind him Amara reached up and swatted him again.

            "It's not like you didn't deserve it," she pointed out. He shrugged but didn't respond. She was getting just a little too free with those whaps of hers. For once in his life he wished that they hadn't beaten up Bobby and thrown him in that dumpster. At least if he had been there, then they could have abused him instead. Why is it that you never realize the beauty of what you have until you throw it in a dumpster and seal the lid?

            "So, who's our next victim?" Tabitha asked since no one else bothered to. Storm frowned at the term "victim" but figured it was apt enough. Why did we let these kids into the Institute again?

            "Her name is Theresa Cassidy. There shouldn't be any problems here as her father is an old friend of Professor Xavier's. She will know about the Institute and since she can't read minds, we should be alright there. All that really needs to be done is to extend the invitation." Storm looked over the group that stood in various stances in front of her and tried to decide who would be the best to talk with the girl. Roberto she ruled out immediately, just to be safe. The Professor had warned her that Theresa had a bit of a temper and so she'd probably blow right over Sam or Jamie. Or Amara for that matter. The quiet types weren't likely to be the type to sway her over. They needed to send someone who had a bit of a temper of her own. She hoped to god that she wouldn't blow anything up.

            "Do you think you can handle that Tabitha?"

            The blonde haired girl gave a casual wave of her hand and smiled. "Sure, no problem. I certainly don't give two shits about what she looks like in a two piece."

            "Funny Tabitha," Roberto muttered. She turned her smile on him sweetly.

            "I thought so Spotty."

            "Children." Storm's voice had enough warning in it to get them both to end an argument before it could begin.

            "So where do we find this Theresa?" Tabitha asked, spitting out her gum in a nearby garbage bin and replacing it immediately with another stick. She found that she concentrated better when she was chewing.

            "Her father mentioned that she spent a large amount of her time in Central Park," Storm replied as she led the team in that direction. Rolling her eyes, Tabitha set her hands on her hips as they passed through one of the metal archways.

            "Well that doesn't really help. There's about five hundred miles to Central Park. How are we supposed to find her?"

            "Aye, yer nothin' but a two bit cheat an' a lousy one at that! I ought ta beat some manners inta you boyo!"

            At the sound of the high pitched Irish laced voice, Storm paused and motioned for everyone else to do so as well. Her white eyes scanned the surrounding area and eventually settled on a young woman with fiery red hair who was currently shaking her first at a very nervous young man. A bit of a temper Charles? Thanks for the warning. Turning to the rest of the group, Storm motioned towards the red haired woman.

            "See? All it really takes is a little bit of persistence."

            Tabitha raised an eyebrow. "And a whole lot of luck. You know, she doesn't look very approachable," she said, casting a wary eye in the girl's direction.

            "If you're frightened, I can go myself," Storm replied, knowing exactly what button to push. And it worked like a charm.

            "Scared? Please. If she shakes that fist at me I'm going to blow it off and shove it down her throat," Tabitha declared as she started towards the new mutant recruit. Everyone watched with nervous anticipation as she got close enough to steal Theresa's attention away from the young man. There was a moment of down right terror when they saw Tabitha's lips moving and no one had a clue as to what she was saying. Whatever it was though, it had the Irish lass throwing her head back and laughing. All the tension in everyone's shoulders slipped away as Tabitha sat down across from her and the two started conversing. Storm let out a long sigh of relief and began to consider the best place to put Theresa in the mansion.

            But again, like the time before, something went wrong in the space of an instant. One moment everything was going peachy keen, and the next minute there was an ungodly scream that blew through the park, knocking everyone flat on their asses. Pushing herself up, Storm pushed her long white hair out of her face and looked in the direction of where the two girls had been sitting. Theresa was now gone and Tabitha was making her way back towards them, a thoughtful expression on her face.

            "What happened?" Storm inquired once she had reached them. Tabitha stared at her and frowned.

            "What?" she asked loudly, leaning forward slightly.

            "I said, what happened?" Storm repeated, raising her voice. Tabitha shook her head.

            "I don't know anyone named Patrick," she responded, nearly yelling. Closing her eyes Storm sighed again and started walking, wondering which god she had managed to piss off. The rest of the kids fell in behind her. Amara walked in time beside Tabitha.

            "Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

            "Huh?"

            "I said, are you okay?" she reiterated, louder.

            "I don't wear a toupee. What's with all these weird questions?"

                        *********************************************

            Back at the garbage bin, Bobby was getting mighty tired of sitting on a heap of rotten food and such. Plotting various ways to execute his fellow teammates had kept him from smelling it for about an hour, but four hours later it was getting kind of nauseating. It was simple. He had to get out of there before he vomited, which probably wouldn't do much for the smell. Beating on the lid with his hands and his feet hadn't gotten him anywhere. The metal was packed down and sealed tightly. And he, despite all his many fantasies, wasn't strong enough to bust through solid metal. Unless of course . . .

            "Of course!" he shouted, bringing his head up quickly as inspiration struck him. Unfortunately that wasn't the only thing that struck him. His head bounced off the metal ceiling and nearly knocked him out. Rubbing at the offended spot, he sat up slowly this time and tried to remember what he had been thinking about. Oh, right. Escape and execution. Blowing on his hands, he set them up against the side of the garbage bin and concentrated on freezing the metal all the way through to the other side. He froze what he hoped was a large enough section for him to fit through and when he was finished, he laid down and pressed his shoulders against the opposite side of the bin for balance. Then he pulled his legs back and kicked out at the patch of ice he had created. The frozen metal shattered under the blow and it was with great relief that he crawled out from his prison o' stink.

            "Goddamn bastards. I'm so going to get them bad," he mumbled out loud as he got to his feet and brushed bits of garbage off of his clothes. He didn't notice the Japanese boy standing just a few feet away from him until he lifted his head and started to walk forward. Their eyes met and surprise was mirrored in them.

            "Uh . .hi," Bobby said after a moment.

            "Hi." The boy replied.

            The two stood in complete silence for a moment with the traffic of New York raging in the background. Bobby scratched at the back of his neck and glanced back at the garbage bin from which trash was still spilling out of.

            "I guess you're wondering how I got out of there," he guessed. The boy shook his head.

            "No. I'm wondering what the hell you were doing in there," he corrected with only a hint of an accent. Hmmm. How did he go about answering that question? Bobby considered all his various options. He couldn't very well tell this stranger that his mutant companions had locked him in there. And he didn't think he would believe it if he said he had fallen in on his own. That left only one possible explanation.

            "Would you believe purple turtles?"