Chapter 12: The World Spins

Lance Alvers was having a strange and particularly nasty dream.

He trudged through foul, reddish mud, cursing as it became harder to move. He could hear the heavy breathing of his pursuer echo through the trees that surrounded him, and he knew he had precious little time. He quickened his pace, the thick mud sticking to his X-Man uniform, and the more determined he was to get away the more determined the quagmire was to drag him down. Avalanche felt himself slowly sink and let out a strained cry as he frantically grabbed for a branch on one of the bare, skeletal trees that surrounded the bog. The pursuer was mocking him in the darkness; the boy couldn't see who was after him, but he heard the cruel laughter in his ear.

Snatching one of the stronger branches, Avalanche wrapped his arms around it and struggled to pull himself out before it could swallow him whole. But as he did the branch's shape began to twist and change, becoming a withered hand whose talons latched onto his arm. Avalanche screamed as his blood was drawn, and, gazing up at what held him in its grasp, felt true, paralyzing terror. It was Cyclops who had ensnared him, except the manifestation of the boy in the dream was a ghastly wraith whose pale, gaunt lips were turned in a hateful sneer. Cyclops suddenly dropped Lance's arm, and the boy fell again into the terrible quagmire. As he was sucked in, he searched desperately for something—someone—to help him, but instead the trees of the swamp all went through that frightening metamorphosis. The twisted form of Jean Grey began to howl a laugh of the utterly damned, pushing him farther into the murky abyss; and there was no mercy to be found in the now truly demonic Nightcrawler either. His teammates had turned on him, and their clawed hands took hold of his head and shoved him deeper into the mud, their grins fading into the darkness. Avalanche screamed, but it was not out of pain or fear, but of pure, unrestrained fury. The last thing he saw was a pair of white, gleaming eyes in the sky, and he knew his pursuer had finally won.

Lance awoke to a pair of brilliant blue eyes that happened to be inches from his face. He let out a startled gasp, and Kitty pulled away, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Omigod, I'm sorry!" she apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Lance sat up and held his head in his hands; the evil laughter of the demon in his dream was still fresh in his mind. He looked at the girl curiously. "It's…okay. Um," he blinked, "Why are you in my bedroom?"

"I just thought, like, I'd wake you up, since apparently your alarm clock didn't." She pointed accusingly at the clock on his nightstand, whose numbers read 6:41.

"Crap," muttered the mutant boy. "Gimme a sec to get dressed, then we can sneak out before the Scout Leader sees us."

Nodding gravely, Kitty darted out of the room. Lance jumped out of bed and pulled on some threads he had left in a pile on the floor, and looking semi-decent, poked his head out the door and glanced from side-to-side.

"I think the coast is clear," Kitty whispered beside him.

"All right, let's make a run for it."

Holding hands, they snuck down the front staircase, extra careful not to make a sound. The couple had just reached the front door when a voice happily called, "There you two are! Time to suit up!"

Wincing, Lance and Kitty slowly turned to face the grinning field leader of the X-Men, Cyclops.

"Oh, come on, Summers! It's late!"

"Yeah! And, like, it's Friday, for crying out loud! Can't you give us a break just this once?" pleaded Kitty, hoping the "puppy dog eyes" trick would work its wonders.

Cyclops shook his head. "No way. Just because the Professor's out of town doesn't mean we can slack off. Now hurry up. It's only a level 4 session, and Jean, Spyke, and Nightcrawler have been waiting for fifteen minutes."

Lance shook his fist at the overgrown Boy Scout as soon as his back was turned. As the teens filed up the stairs, he muttered into Kitty's ear, "You'd think he'd be freaking out, given what happened last Danger Room sim."

"Huh?"

"You know, Rogue. He's got a crush on her, or something."

Kitty's eyes widened. "Oh yeah."

Unbeknownst to them, Cyclops could hear their hushed voices. He thought to turn around and scold them, but thought better of it, since he didn't want them to see that he was blushing.

As Spyke put it, level 4 sessions in the Danger Room was "kid's stuff." Professor X had programmed relatively simple activities during his absence so his young charges would be able to keep themselves sharp without requiring supervision. While it was easy, it could sometimes be a pain in the neck, especially when it came to the robotic tentacles.

"Woooaaaaahhh!" Avalanche groaned as the gigantic metal claw snatched him out of the air like a stuffed toy in a claw machine. In a bright flash of sulfur, Kurt latched onto his teammate, and then bamfed them both to safety. Back on the ground, Avalanche covered his mouth to fight back his motion sickness as the X-Men regrouped. The tentacle whipped towards the teens, intent on taking another victim, but was blocked by one of Jean's telekinetic shields.

Cyclops looked ahead at the end of the obstacle course and grinned. Victory was almost within their grasp. "Come on, everyone!" he roused, taking the lead. Avalanche followed, hot on the others' heels, carefully dodging the blasts of a flame-thrower that emerged from the wall. Cyclops, Jean, and Nightcrawler had already made it to safety when the rock-tumbler's attentions were grabbed by the sound of Shadowcat's voice. She had yelped when the Danger Room threw a hurdle in her path, knocking her down. Forgetting everything else, her boyfriend ran to her side.

"You okay?" he asked, helping her up.

Shadowcat's expression looked like something between annoyance and embarrassment. "Yeah, thanks. I guess I just spaced out and forgot to phase."

Nightcrawler pressed a button on a nearby control panel, shutting down the simulation, and 'ported to her side. He put his hands on his hips and teasingly remarked, "Someone's getting a little rusty!"

"Oh hush, Kurt," she pouted, sticking her tongue out at him. "I guess Cyclops was right," she said to Avalanche, rubbing her sore backside, "It hurts to slack off."

He grinned. "Just don't tell him that. Otherwise, he'll never let us out of here."

Later that morning, Kurt squinted his eyes to hide from the bright gaze of the sun as he ran across the soccer field, striking the ball with his foot and sending it into the net. His team erupted into cheers, one going so far as to playfully slap him on the back.

He jumped into the air, grinning. "Goal!"

The gym class regrouped, and one boy kicked the battered soccer ball with all his might. Airborne, the ball sailed across the field and landed in the bushes several yards away.

"I'll get it!" Kurt said, scampering off. Crouching down, the German glanced around and poked his head into the green foliage. He spotted the ball and reached for it, but someone else beat him to the punch. Kurt fixed his yellow gaze on none other than Tabitha Smith.

"Looking for this?" she asked.

Scowling, Kurt stood and held out his hand. "Ja. Now give it to me."

"Ah, ah, ah!" she pointed a finger at him, taking a step back. "Say please."

The elf rolled his eyes, not the least bit amused. "I don't have time for zis. And don't you have somevhere to be zat isn't here?"

The blonde pointed to her own gym class, the members of which were playing on the softball field not far away. "Not really. I just said I had some feminine issues and they let me sit out. I saw you come over here…so I thought I'd say hello."

"Vhy?"

"Don't worry, there's no evil, secret agenda," she teased, trying to hide her nervousness. "I wanted to talk to you. That's all."

"Vell, ve talked. Now can I have ze ball?" he threw out his hand again, looking impatient.

"Only if you promise not to bamf away if I do."

"Fine."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Tabitha tossed him the ball, and once it was secure in his hands he sharply turned on his heel and stormed off.

"Hey!" Tabitha yelled. "You said--!"

"I said I vouldn't 'port. So I'm valking avay," the elf cut her off. "Goodbye."

Tabitha could feel herself start to tremble. He really was walking away that time, and if she didn't reach him then she never would. And if he was going to hate her, it might as well be on her own terms.

"Blue!"

"Don't call me zat!" he cringed, spinning around.

"I'll call you whatever the hell I want!" She then took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. It didn't work. "I know why you hate me—and I don't blame you—but listen to what I have to say for just five seconds, okay?"

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest; annoyed, but somehow curious. "Go ahead."

"Okay, look—the Brotherhood screwed us both. I was never in on some plan to betray your trust. Hell, I didn't even tell them I met you! But that fink Pietro ratted me out and what he told you about me was a lie. I did care about you, Blue, and I still do."

As she finished, Kurt closed his eyes, thinking it over. When he opened them again, oddly enough, he didn't hold quite so much animosity towards her. Something in her voice had ringed true. But there was still one thing he wanted to know.

"But if you vere sincere, vhy didn't you come to ze Institute? Ve could have helped you."

Tabitha laughed bitterly. "Oh yeah, like your great and wonderful Professor would have welcomed me."

"He vould have!"

"Maybe—but not when he found out who I am—what I've done! Mystique was my only option…I didn't have a choice."

The elf's eyes narrowed. "Zhere's alvays a choice, Tabitha."

"Pardon me for interrupting this little rendezvous, but don't you two have classes you should be attending?" Principal Darkholme asked. Hands on her hips, she gave them a cold once-over.

"Yes, ma'am," Tabitha mumbled, hoping to be let off easy if she sounded remorseful enough.

"Ve vere just…talking," Kurt piped up, surprised. He hadn't heard the stern-faced principal approach; indeed, it seemed as if she had just appeared out of thin air.

"I don't care. You, Mr. Wagner, can go back to where you're supposed to be. But you, Ms. Smith, are coming with me."

Kurt heard the faint gasp escape Tabby's lips, and threw a questioning glance at Raven. She dismissed him with her eyes. "Did you not understand something I said? Go back to class!"

Kurt hesitated, but obeyed, kicking the soccer ball back to his waiting teammates. Moments later he looked behind him at the two figures disappearing over the hill in the direction of the school, and felt a pang of something akin to regret.

Dorothy Grayson hated her job. The hours of a secretary were terrible, the kids were little monsters, and worst of all, she had an absolute bitch of a boss. Fortunately, Ms. Darkholme's car was absent from the teacher parking lot that morning, and she hadn't made an appearance at the office yet. Dorothy was relieved. Any day without Darkholme breathing down her neck and barking out orders was a day she could relax.

"Dorothy, hold my calls!"

The woman dropped the magazine she had been holding as the irate principal thundered in, dragging a student by the arm.

"M-Ms. Darkholme! You're here?" Dorothy murmured, rising from her desk.

"Of course I'm here!" she snapped, throwing open the door to her office. "Now excuse me while I take care of something." Collecting herself, she and the girl entered the office, the door slamming in their wake. Dorothy sighed, and collapsed into her seat.

Ms. Darkholme waltzed over to the front of her office and closed the curtains, blocking the view from any prying eyes. Tabitha stood with her head hanging low and fists by her sides, and she bit her lip to squelch any sound she might make. Raven strode back across the room, facing her young student. Then, with an even breath, she drew back her hand and struck her across the face.

Tabitha stumbled, gasping in shock. The shape-shifter was very adept in the art of pain.

"I warned you," hissed Principal Darkholme. "I warned you to stay away from that boy."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Tabitha spat. "It was totally harmless."

"Liar!"--Tabitha cringed as she was slapped again--"I will not tolerate disobedience from those under my wing. If you try to leave us, or talk to Kurt Wagner again, I will make an example of you."

"All right, fine, sure, whatever," Tabitha said between strained breaths. "I learned my lesson."

"See that you have, Boom-Boom. I do hate to repeat myself. Now get out of here."

She didn't need to be told twice. Straightening up, the girl left the principal's office in a cloud of anger that threatened to erupt into a storm when she saw Pietro waiting for her.

"Guess she really gave it to you, huh? I saw her drag you in there."

She replied, "Yeah, but I bet she didn't hit me hard enough to leave any marks. She must think her fists will keep me in line—but it didn't work for my dad, and it sure as hell ain't going to work for her."

"A fighter's spirit, eh?" Pietro grinned from ear to ear, getting some sort of amusement out of the whole thing. "Cute."

"But if I didn't know better, I'd say there was more to this than me hanging out with an X-Man. Just the sight of me and Blue Boy together drove her off the edge."

Her companion laughed and leaned against a locker, holding his chin in his hand. "You know, you're not far off the mark. There's a reason why Mystique has such an interest in your relationship with the X-Geek." He leaned close to her ear, and began to whisper. "She's…"

"What are you up to, Speedy?" It was Rogue who suddenly called out, and she marched down the hall toward the pair. "Leave her alone."

"Back off, I was just telling her a little secret," said the boy sourly. "But it can wait. See you chicks later." Pietro gave them a wink, and a second later buzzed down the halls in a flurry of wind.

"Are you all right?" Rogue asked Tabitha. The Goth took a step towards her but she turned away, upset that she had kept Pietro from divulging his information.

"I don't get it. You swoon over One-Eye and draw little hearts around his name in your notebooks, but I so much as breath the same oxygen as Kurt and I'm eating fist. It's not fucking fair." When Rogue made a move to touch her shoulder, the blonde slapped it away. "I knew it was bad when Pietro was sympathetic, but when the girl who can't ever get laid in her life starts pitying me, I'm doomed."

Any traces of sympathy in Rogue's face drained away as Tabitha's last sentence hung in the air like a foul odor. With a venomous stare Rogue declared, "Fine, you're on your own."

Tabitha shifted her weight from one foot to the other as her teammate stormed off. The sound of her boots on the linoleum floor echoed in her mind as a twinge of guilt stung her heart. Finally Tabby spun around. "Wait!" she cried.

Rogue stopped, and, craning her neck, fixed Tabitha with a cold, questioning gaze.

"God. Hey—I'm sorry, all right?" She exhaled, forcing the words out. "You're the only one here who's ever given a shit about me."

Rogue nodded her head, accepting the apology. "It's…okay. We girls gotta stick together, right?"

Lance sat by himself in a corner of the cafeteria, strumming his fingers on the tabletop as his food went cold. Kitty was late. Normally she'd meet him by his locker as soon as the lunch bell rang and they'd walk down together, but that day she hadn't, for some reason or another. The time passed slowly as he wondered where she was.

Drifting off into a daze, he closed his eyes. Immediately the pale specters of the X-Men appeared in his mind's eye, stirring back the images from his recent nightmare. He let out a small, startled sound as someone suddenly sat down at his table. His eyes flew open, but it was Scott, not Kitty, who had joined him.

"Did I scare you there, Alvers?" he inquired, teasing him good-naturedly.

"You wish," was the reply. "I just didn't get enough sleep, that's all."

Scott's eyes widened. For some reason he was reminded of a strange night not long ago, and a voice that had spoken to him. "Bad dream?"

"What's it to you?" questioned Lance.

"It's nothing," Scott dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I was just wondering why Kitty hasn't come down to lunch yet."

"That makes two of us."

Just then, as if by magic, Kitty Pryde appeared in the lunchroom entrance, searching the crowd for a particular face. When she saw Lance, she beamed and went over to join him.

"Hey, Lance!" she greeted, then quickly added, "Oh hi, Scott." She pulled up a seat at the table, looking flustered. "Were you waiting for me? I'm sorry, like, Ms. Conway sprung a pop quiz on us and it took me forever to finish."

"It's all right. You're here now."

She smiled dreamily. "Yeah."

At that point Scott figured it was time to leave. "I'll be on my way then. Later, you guys."

"What's with him?" the girl asked as Scott retreated back to his usual table with Jean, Evan, and Kurt. "He looked kinda odd."

"You mean more odd than normal? Yeah, I think something's eatin' at him."

"Rogue?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. Or maybe all that 'fearless leader' crap finally turned his brains to mush," he said with a snicker.

"He really likes her, doesn't he?" Kitty quietly mused.

"I guess so. Surprising, since he's been mooning over Queen Jean for so long…hey, what's up?"

She looked at him. "Hmm?"

Lance blinked. "For a second there, it looked like you spaced out."

Kitty giggled. "Oh, sorry. I was just thinking...you want to do something tonight?"

The boy reached across the table and held her hand. "Sure. You got any ideas?"

Kitty dazzled him with an alluring smile. "I have a few."

Logan had been inside the castle once before. Nothing had changed in those long weeks—it was devoid of any life, human or mutant, and dust collected on the machines that lay destroyed on the floor of the interconnecting laboratories. The air still lingered with the heavy scent of chemicals and something that reminded the burly Canadian of burnt flesh. While the odor bothered his sharp nose, it didn't seem to upset the Professor at all.

Xavier looked around the laboratories, carefully maneuvering his cumbersome wheelchair around the shorted out devices. He was searching for something, though he hadn't told Logan what it was. Still, he had his suspicions.

"You saw Magneto, didn't you?"

Xavier did not deny it. "He knows about the Mindcoil, Logan, and he plans to retrieve it. So, with time running out, we've come here to find exactly what Magneto plans to do with it."

"Come on, Charles, we both know what he's up to. That thing's a weapon. A mighty powerful one, at that."

"Indeed. Given my own history with the Mindcoil, I thought I could easily control it. But it's becoming increasingly difficult."

Logan put his hands on his hips. "How so?"

"It…made contact with Scott."

Logan's eyes went wide in disbelief. He looked at the Professor in anger, but kept his more hostile thoughts to himself. "What did it do to the kid?"

"Nothing, really. It touched his mind over the Christmas holiday, nothing more. He probably thinks it was just a bad dream. But the Mindcoil told me of this itself. It's becoming curious about the outside world, and is hungry for more knowledge and experience. And its powers are growing."

Logan rubbed his temple. "That settles it. We should have never allowed that thing to get a mind of its own. I've seen enough science fiction flicks in my time to know how this turns out…I say we destroy it, before it can hurt any of the students or fall into Magneto's hands."

"No, Logan!" said Xavier firmly. "I can control it, and it will harm no one."

His companion threw out his arms. "Control it? From here? That's pushin' it, even for you, Charles. And with you gone, Magneto could attack the Institute." He gazed at the abandoned laboratory. "I've got a bad feeling. There's nothing to find in this dump; we're wasting our time."

Xavier sighed. "The bindings I placed on the Mindcoil before we left will prevent it from using its powers. And Magneto will not make a move with me absent, that I am sure of."

"Oh really?" scoffed Logan.

"Yes. I knew this man for years. I know how he thinks. What he wants is a confrontation. When he makes his move, he'll want me to be there, to see it." He slowly closed one hand into a fist.

"If you say so, Charles."

Xavier said nothing more. He continued his exploration of the castle, still searching for something that might give him the information he needed. He left his companion behind to scour one laboratory that appeared to have once been the secret base's center of operations. On one wall there was a massive computer system that seemed mostly intact; Xavier wheeled over to it. It was possible that it could still be operated. He turned on various switches on the control panel, until finally the large screen flickered to life.

Logan followed the Professor, and he was amazed to see that he found something that actually worked. The amazement was short-lived, however, as he thought about his previous journeys to that place. Everything had been demolished so that Magneto could cover his tracks, and it was in his haste that he was careless enough to leave behind what eventually grew to become the Mindcoil. He had been so positive that nothing was left, so why did this computer system work and look so well maintained? His bad feeling did not go away.

Xavier continued to work at the control panel, calling up various logs and records that still remained on the hard drive. After several minutes he found a very promising file codenamed "Project Vortex." He perused it, his stellar mind absorbing the information in seconds.

So this is it, thought Xavier. I knew he was strong in his convictions, but I had no idea he was willing to go so far. He looked over the file again, committing it to memory. This is madness. The Mindcoil does have the potential for great power, but nothing at this scale…or does it? What powers does it have that lay untapped?

The night was cool, dark, and very still. The heavens above were an inky black, save for the white splendor of the full moon that shone down upon Bayville. A ghostly wind whispered through the trees at Lookout Point, and the earthly silence was broken by a car that slowly drove up to a secluded spot.

"Here we are," said Lance as he put his jeep in neutral.

"Oh wow." Kitty's cerulean eyes were glimmering as she drank in the view. Smiling mischievously, she slid out of the car and stepped into the night. "It's unbelievable," she murmured, gazing at the small, sleeping town below the precipice. The moment was almost magical; it was if she could reach out and hold Bayville in the palm of her hand.

"I told you the view was something else," said the boy proudly. He emerged from the jeep and sat atop the hood, fixing his eyes on the moon.

"I'm so glad we came out here," said Kitty, who sat beside him, moving her warm body next to his. "I've missed just…being alone with you."

"Mmmhmm," he murmured, closing his eyes and putting an arm around her.

Kitty snuggled a little closer, nuzzling him. The mood was set by the music playing from inside Lance's jeep; the soft notes seemed to envelop the two and draw them closer together.

"I've missed…being with you." Her words were whispers as she moved towards him, inviting a kiss. He obliged, and pressed their lips together. It was long and deep, the kiss; and at his touch Kitty blossomed for him like a flower. He felt like he was smoldering, and it took all his strength to pull away before he succumbed to the passion completely.

"Kitty," he whispered.

She pressed her small form against him, burying her face in the folds of his black t-shirt. "Lance, I…I'm so scared."

"Scared? Why?"

"Yesterday, in the caves…when the Brotherhood attacked me…it was almost like looking death in the face, Lance. I've fought the Brotherhood before, but that was with you and the X-Men by my side. I was never alone, never helpless until then. As totally overdramatic as it sounds, I was really afraid of the Brotherhood for the first time. I don't know…after we escaped I had, like, a realization. Our time together, our love…it could all be over in a second. Doesn't that scare you?"

Lance was silent for a moment. "I suppose so. But don't think like that, Kitty. There's nothing the Brotherhood can do to pull us apart."

Tears were welling up in the corners of her eyes. "But even so…I don't want to have any regrets. I don't want to have held anything back from you, Lance."

"What do you mean?"

He had his answer in an instant, as Kitty kissed him fiercely upon the mouth. What happened next went by in a blur. He was dimly aware of taking her hand and guiding her into the back of his jeep, but as he continued to kiss her another part of the boy seemed to exist outside of time, observing the embrace from a distance and listening to the song the radio began to play.

With a moan, Lance threw off his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head before struggling with the buttons on Kitty's blouse. He felt like he was burning up. Lance lay the girl down on the leather backseat and covered her in more fiery kisses that trailed from her lips down her neck to her bare navel. Their bodies pressed together in the cramped space, and Kitty's hands traveled down his chest to the button of his jeans.

Kitty ran her hands through his disheveled hair, exclaiming his name over and over again as he filled her. Their senses were enflamed with pleasure, and Lance had never felt more alive, more whole, than when he was with her. Upon reaching the pinnacle of physical delight he collapsed atop her, his breath hard and heavy. Her heart still pounding, she wrapped her arms around his sweaty form.

"I love you so much," Lance whispered between breaths.

Kitty could only smile.

Lance didn't remember falling asleep, but he remembered waking up. He felt a chill and stirred, groggily brushing the sand from his eyes. It took several moments for the boy to realize where he was—in the back of his jeep, naked, and alone. He sat up suddenly. No, that couldn't be right. But there was no body curled up beside him, no girl sitting up front waiting for him. He looked down at the car floor and saw only his own wrinkled, discarded clothing. Kitty was gone.

"Kitty?" he called, hearing nothing in return except for the crackling static on the radio. Without further preamble Lance pulled on his jeans and sneakers and left the car, yelling her name once more. Maybe she was just stargazing again, or wandering around in the dark. Maybe she decided to play a little bit of a joke on him. Any minute now she would burst out of the shadows and cry, "Gotcha!"

But she didn't come. Lance was alone.

Time passed very slowly as the boy scoured the area, squinting for any sign of his girlfriend. With no success he returned to the jeep and grabbed his cell phone, dialing a number he knew by heart. The phone rang and rang, but he never heard Kitty's bright, beautiful voice on the other end.

Something was very, very wrong.

Not knowing what else to do, Lance got back in the car and left Lookout Point, praying he would find some answers at the mansion.

Kurt Wagner was sprawled across his bed, blue nose buried in a history textbook. Studying proved worthless, however, since it was impossible to concentrate. He just couldn't stop thinking about Tabitha. He thought about her words, her smile, and the look of fear that had passed across her face when Ms. Darkholme sent her to her office.

Stop it, just stop it, he ordered himself. She's not to be trusted, remember? Do you vant to be made a fool out of again?

It was by chance that he happened to gaze outside his window at that moment, and see a person wandering down the front drive of the Institute. He couldn't identify them, and thought nothing of it at first. It was probably Scott coming home from his study group, or perhaps Ororo or her nephew returning from their visit to the mall. It might have been Lance or Kitty, though Kurt suspected that they wouldn't be back from their date until much later. It was when the figure collapsed that his mental alarm went off.

The elf teleported outside, and took the injured form into his arms. In an instant they were in the mansion's front hall, and to his horror Kurt saw that it was Kitty in his grasp.

Her clothes were torn and her hair an unruly mess. One of her pretty blue eyes had been blackened, and there was another discolored bruise along her jaw. Her bottom lip was split open, and a thin trail of blood dripped down her face. There was more blood on her hands from when she had tried to scratch and fight off whoever had done this to her. The girl lay limp in his arms, as if it taken all of her strength to make it that far home. Her eyelids fluttered open and a groan escaped her lips.

"Kitty! Mein Gott, vhat happened to you!"

There were sounds of footsteps racing down the main staircase, and Jean Grey appeared, her long crimson mane flowing behind her. "Kurt, is something--" Her sentence ended in a gasp.

"Just hang in zhere, Kitty, okay? Vhere's Lance?"

Shuddering, the injured girl clutched Kurt's three-fingered hand. "Luh-Lance…was the one who d-did this to me."

The rock-tumbler noted the three illuminated windows in the mansion as he drove up the driveway, fear and worry gnawing at his insides. He entered his home and immediately felt a strange kind of chill in the air; it kept him from announcing his return. The mansion was normally bubbling over in activity, and while he knew many of the mutant residents were away, the silence was positively creepy.

He cautiously crept up the stairs toward the bedrooms that had given off the light, and swallowed a lump in his throat. As he slowly continued his march he saw that Kitty's bedroom door was ajar, and voices could be heard whispering inside it. One definitely belonged to his missing girlfriend, but her hushed, haggard tone accented with the occasional sob stopped him in his tracks.

Kitty was sitting at the edge of her frilly pink bed, clutching Lockheed to her breast and sandwiched between Kurt and Jean, who were trying to comfort her.

"Please, honey, I know this is difficult, but you have to tell us what happened," said Jean in her most motherly voice.

"We went to the movies, but it ended early. I…I didn't want to come back yet so I asked him to take me for a drive…he took me to this place at Lookout Point, and we started kissing…" At that point the girl started to cry in long, dry heaves, her entire body trembling. "He went too far and I said, 'Stop it, Lance!' but he didn't. Huh-He told me n-not to be so uptight. He t-t-told me that he was suh-sick of waiting, and that if I loved him I would do it. I said no and he-he--" Her voice broke.

"Oh, Kitty," Kurt murmured, hugging the crying girl. "Ve're here, and ve von't let anyzing happen to you."

"Why didn't you phase away?" Jean asked.

"I don't know!" she choked. "I-I couldn't think after he first h-hit me, I was too scared! He had never done anything like that before, I swear!"

"Kitty, did he…finish inside you?"

The girl nodded. "You were right all along, Jean…I loved him and he…he raped me!"

A small, horrified sound escaped Lance Alvers' lips, and the keys he had been holding fell to the floor. The sudden noise grabbed Jean's attention, and the door flew open, revealing Lance's petrified self.

You!

It was a single word, a single thought, but it hit the boy like a hammer to the skull. It propelled him forward, and he impacted the floor with a sickeningly loud crash. He stood despite the pain shooting through him, just as his attacker entered the hall. Her eyes were ablaze with fury, and he knew that if he planned on living he had to move now.

So he did. He bolted down the stairs and out the front door with remarkable speed, his blood pounding in his ears. As he ran he thanked God he had forgotten to close the gates behind him when he drove in earlier, but his prayers were silenced as a giant tree limb that had been telekinetically propelled slammed into his shoulder, knocking him down.

You're not running away, you bastard!

She raised the limb again as if to beat him down once more, but it was Kitty of all people who saved him by pouncing on Jean.

"No! Don't hurt him!" she wailed helplessly.

"But Kitty--!" Again, Jean's thoughts were left incomplete as she turned her attentions back on Lance, or at least, where he had been a moment ago. Apparently the boy had taken advantage of the distraction to flee the Institute gates, and he was nowhere in sight.

"Why did you…!" demanded Jean in confusion. Her only answer was the continued sobbing of a very sad, abused girl.

Meanwhile, trudging through the dark forest, Lance was in excruciating pain. Once he was sure he wasn't being pursued by an enraged telekinetic he leaned against a tree and touched his injured shoulder. His nausea increased when he felt the sticky, wet substance that was now all over his hand. Too much had happened far too fast, and he succumbed to his dizziness. But before he lost all consciousness he felt a powerful gust of wind and heard a short, high laugh in his ear.

"Oh my God."

"Yo, is that blood? What the hell happened?"

"I-Is he gonna be okay?"

"Just shut up and get off the couch, fatso."

Lance's temple throbbed as the words resounded in his head. He was dropped like a lead weight on something soft—a couch, someone had said? He was brought back to the world of the living when his wounded shoulder screamed in agony.

"Watch it! He's hurt! Someone get Destiny!"

There was a flurry of activity all around, but the boy could identify none of the blurry figures that surrounded him. He tried to sit up but fell back, his strength all but gone. He then felt a cool hand on his forehead that wiped away the beads of sweat that dotted his brow.

"Shh. Sleep," the woman said in a quiet, measured voice, and Lance relinquished his grip on the world once again.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Irene snapped to attention, her sightless eyes staring at the young faces all around her. She reached for the medical kit Todd had fetched for her, and, after pulling off the injured mutant's shirt, began to clean and dress the wound with startling efficiency.

The Brotherhood of Mutants all watched this take place with stunned expressions, and only Pietro Maximoff seemed to have any clue about what was going on. Rogue turned to him, full of questions.

"What happened to him? Where did you find him?"

Pietro was a person who loved to be the focus of attention, so he was secretly eating it up as the eyes of his teammates turned to him for answers. He didn't reply immediately, but paused for dramatic effect and folded his arms over his chest. "Destiny warned me that she had a vision of an injured mutant who needed help. She told me where to look, and who should I find but Lancey Boy, bleeding and knocked out under a tree."

"So who beat him up?" Tabitha interjected. "I thought he was supposed to be pretty tough."

"It would appear to me that Rocky's own teammates, the X-Geeks, were the ones who did it. I picked him up not far from their swanky Institute and saw Miss Perfect swagger inside and shut the gates behind her."

Rogue's blood went cold. The X-Men? It couldn't be…

A shadow passed over Tabitha Smith's face, and she walked over to the battered brown sofa that had become a hospital bed. "So what do we do now?" she asked, staring at Lance's sleeping countenance.

It was Irene who answered. "We wait."

Wait? Wait for what? For whom? These questions went unasked as the night grew long. None of the young mutants at the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House could sleep, for they were far too troubled. What would they do about their new visitor? Were the X-Freaks planning an attack to get him back? Only two, a blind older woman and an impetuous speed demon, knew the truth about the unexpected turn of events, and who was behind it all.

Fred had been elected to keep watch in case any more guests came calling while Todd curled up and snoozed in a recliner that faced the X-Man. The husky mutant was struggling to keep his eyes open when he heard a rustling in the bushes outside. He peeked out the window, squinting his cow-like eyes, and saw that it was a person approaching. They stepped out of the shadows into the porch lights and revealed themselves to be none other than a battered and disheveled Kitty Pryde.

Fred growled, "Hey, you! Get lost—no X-Geeks allowed!"

Kitty kept walking, and waltzed up the porch steps until she was facing him. The girl then batted her big blue eyes and placed a dainty hand on his chest.

"Freddy…" It was Kitty who purred his name, but it was Mystique who pushed him out of her way, sneering, "Don't be an idiot."

"Mystique? It's you?"

The shape-shifter ignored him, save for rolling her eyes. She then approached Todd and gave a firm kick to the recliner he was sleeping on. The boy was jolted awake and let out a small, frightened shriek when he saw his leader's cross expression.

"Get Pietro," she ordered. "Time to initiate Phase Three."

A small vial of smelling salts was waved under Lance's nose, and the boy spluttered and gasped at the powerful scent. He opened his eyes and saw that it was Pietro hovering over him; he recoiled at the unwelcome sight.

"Get away from me," he hissed. Pulling away from the silver-haired boy, he stole a glance at his unfamiliar surroundings. He was lying on a couch in what appeared to be a normal, if slightly derelict, living room that certainly wasn't in the mansion. Where was he? What in God's name was going on?

"Is that any way to talk to your savior?" asked Pietro in a disgusted voice. At Lance's questioning, half-crazed look he began to explain. "Don't tell me you don't remember. Your friends left you for dead. I saw that bitch attack you, and it was all because of that backstabbing pussycat, wasn't it?"

The rock tumbler clutched his head as the other boy's words sank in. The terrible memories were coming back to him—making love to Kitty, only to have her vanish; returning home to hear allegations of rape, and the savage attack of a girl who thought her worst fears had come true. It had to be a nightmare; there was no other explanation. This could not be happening…yet the pain in his bandaged shoulder told him it was all too real.

"No," he murmured, squeezing his hands into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. "That wasn't Kitty…She would never…"

"Oh, wake up, Alvers," Pietro snapped. "Those Xavier freaks have finally shown their true colors. You can't possibly want anything to do with them after that."

"And what would you know about what I want?" challenged Lance, who forced himself to stand. Grabbing his blood-soaked t-shirt off the floor, he staggered towards the front door, only to have his exit blocked by the lightning-quick speedster.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked with a laugh.

"Get out of my way, Pietro," snarled Lance behind clenched teeth. The room began to shake under the influence of his powers, and he was more than willing to knock the whole house down if it meant escaping. He had to go back. Even if Jean tried to kill him, he had to find Kitty.

But there was no escaping. Fred Dukes burst in from another room and rushed Lance with his gigantic mass. He took the struggling boy in a firm grasp and dragged him across the house to a bolted door. Fred's fat hand pushed it open, almost knocking it off the hinges, and forced Lance down the stairs into the basement.

"Let—me—go!" Lance screamed, clawing frantically at the giant hands wrapped around his body. The world around them continued to quake, but Fred was unaffected. As a last resort Lance sunk his teeth into his arm, but a sharp hit to the back of his head forced him to let go.

The Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House's basement was like a cruel imitation of the Danger Room; the reinforced metal walls looked like they could withstand a nuclear blast, and it was crowded with strange and terrible machines whose purpose he could barely fathom. Lance took this all in and expected it to be a sort of torture chamber. He felt no fear, just an overwhelming urgency to escape.

He was shoved into a chair outfitted with leather straps that Fred tightly wound around his arms and legs, keeping him still. The gang was all there—Pietro, looking smug and triumphant; Todd and Fred, curious if uncertain; Irene, whose thoughts were her own; Rogue and Tabitha, who huddled together and exchanged wary glances; and a fearsome woman who Lance had met only once before. Mystique reached down and cupped his chin in her scaly hand.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Mr. Alvers," she droned in a voice that he had heard somewhere else before. "It's so nice to see you again."

Lance returned the greeting by spitting in her face.

Mystique's eyes bulged, and for a moment it looked as if she'd rip the heart from his living chest. But instead her lips curled into a wicked grin, and she snapped her fingers. "I know how to fix that attitude problem of yours."

The door to the basement suddenly opened, surprising many of the youngsters. A small, hunched figure had responded to Mystique's call and waddled down the stairs. He had dark, bushy hair and a scraggly beard, clothed in an old, brown trenchcoat. Mastermind parted the small gaggle of mutants and stared at Lance for a moment. He then looked at the shape-shifter.

"This is the boy?" he asked in a rough voice.

She nodded. "You know what to do."

Irene put her hands on Rogue and Tabitha's shoulders, motioning them upstairs. Both thought to protest or ask questions, but something about the precognitive's expression told them that leaving was not debatable. Pietro, Todd, and Fred soon followed, with Mystique bringing up the rear.

"Let's leave the Master to do his work," said she as the door closed, leaving the rock-tumbler at the mercy of the new mutant.

"Who was that guy? Where did he come from?" demanded Tabitha as the Brotherhood filed into the living room that doubled as their base of operations.

Irene answered, "His name is Jason Wyngarde, but he prefers to be called Mastermind. He's actually been here for several days, but none of you were able to see him because he did not wish you to. That is his power; to cloud minds and alter thoughts and perceptions."

"He's another of our benefactor's trusted associates," finished Mystique, her tone clear that it was the only information she would give.

"Our benefactor…you mean Magneto?" asked Rogue. She had heard the name before, but could not put a face to it.

Mystique nodded.

Fred Dukes turned his eyes to the basement door and chewed his lip. "Is he gonna hurt Lance? Not that I care, or nuthin'," he hastened to add.

Mystique couldn't help herself; she began to chuckle. "Yes, I imagine he will hurt him. Quite a bit."

"It's his own fault!" Pietro exclaimed. "I tried to talk reason with him, but his skull's as hard as the rocks he moves."

"But why is he here? You disappear for a day an' suddenly all hell breaks loose. What's goin' on?" Rogue faced Mystique, her eyes flashing. There was something in her harsh gaze that affected the shape-shifter in a way she didn't like. It was hard to resist her.

"All right, Rogue. You might recall yesterday's field trip to the Taipos Caves. Avalanche and Shadowcat went along, as did our own Toad, Blob, and Quicksilver. I attended as well, taking the form of a boy who was…misinformed about the departure time. As school principal I altered the partner list in order to split up the little couple, and while the twit was all alone we attacked, and I took on her form. I then had a tearful reunion with Mr. Alvers and told him of my valiant escape from the terrible Brotherhood. Mastermind, who had also snuck aboard the trip and clouded the students' minds so as not to be seen, then made himself appear as the other boy. Thus, no one was wiser to the switch.

"As Kitty Pryde, I lured Avalanche away from the mansion and…fulfilled his physical need. Then while he slept I returned 'home' having made myself appear savagely beaten. I told Jean Grey and Nightcrawler that it was Avalanche who had violated me, and when the poor boy came back they had turned on him. He fled, getting that wound in the ensuing struggle. Fortunately I was able to divert that stupid girl's attention long enough for him to escape. Then Pietro, who I had alerted earlier, found him and brought him here. So…does that answer your question?"

Rogue was silent, horrorstruck as her leader's words echoed in her mind. It was all so terrible, so--so unbelievable…

Tabitha ribbed Pietro, glaring. "So much for helping a poor, injured mutant, eh?" she whispered angrily. He narrowed his eyes at her, but gave no reply.

Surprisingly, it was Todd who spoke up, scratching his head. "I don't get it. Why go through all that for him? What's so special 'bout that geek?"

"There's nothing special about him. Not really. But out of all the X-Men he was the outsider, the one straying from the pack. To fulfill Magneto's plan we needed one of Xavier's charges, and he was simply the easiest target. All it took was some spying around Bayville High to see that his teammates didn't like him, didn't trust him. Their ties to him were tenuous at best, and easy to break. The one complication was that valley girl smitten with him." Mystique paused a moment, remembering a time when she had spied on the mutant lovers, listening to Lance vow revenge on a jock who had tried to sexually assault Kitty. "She was his weakness. Get rid of her, and he'd be ripe for the taking."

"So you made everyone think that he had raped her?" Rogue asked, barely hiding her disgust.

"Yes. Jean Grey was afraid Alvers would take advantage of his girlfriend for some time. And if Kitty appeared battered and bleeding and named Lance as her attacker, whom were they going to believe?"

"You switched places with Kitty…so what happened to the real her?"

"She's been taken care of."

More silence filled the room as the Brotherhood felt the weight of her implication.

"So what's the plan?" Pietro Maximoff eventually asked, stepping forward. "Why do we need Avalanche on our side?"

Mystique folded her arms over her chest, her white eyes gleaming. "We need him to infiltrate the Xavier Institute in order to reclaim something that rightfully belongs to us."

"Which is…?"

"The Mindcoil." She said the words slowly, as if tasting the name. "A bio-organic weapon of limitless power. Magneto was developing it when, in a moment of carelessness, Xavier stole it from one of his secret locations. It's hidden in the depths of the Institute somewhere beyond even my reach. Even if I were to take on the shape of one of the X-Men, the security devices he has implemented would be able to identify me as an intruder and expose me before I could get anywhere near it. To get the Mindcoil, I need someone with access, someone the bald fool would never see coming."

Pietro smirked. "Avalanche."

Pleased with her young follower, Mystique stroked his cheek. "Yes…and now, with Xavier and Wolverine away and the little X-Children divided against each other, we will strike. Tonight."

Before anything else was said, a sharp scream cut through the air, startling everyone. All eyes flew to the basement, where it had originated.

"Well, well," grinned Mystique. "Let's see how our boy is doing."

The Brotherhood had vacated the basement in order to let "the master do his work," and Lance felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he was left alone with the newcomer. Swallowing, he struggled against the bindings on his arms and legs to no avail. He was trapped.

"Don't put up a fight, boy," said Mastermind coolly. "The more you cooperate, the easier it will be."

"The easier what will be!"

There was no answer. Mastermind reached towards him, placing his fingers on the rock-tumbler's temple, and the world began to spin once more.

He came to his senses slowly, floating alone in a black space in which nothing could be seen. But then, suddenly, he felt another's presence somewhere in the never-ending darkness. There was a voice in the void, calling out to him.

Who are you?

"Lance Alvers. Avalanche."

What are you?

"A mutant. An X-Man."

Oh, really?

Darkness.

In the midst of his consciousness, stray bits of fragmented memories rose to the surface of the abyss, and another voice, that of a child, could be heard crying.

…At eight years old, Lance was a very self-sufficient boy. He had to be. It was late that night, and both his parents were asleep. That was why he had to be quiet as he pulled up the stool to reach the bathroom sink, and why he had to bite his lip to keep from crying. He had to be a good boy. He couldn't wake up Mommy and Daddy. Lance cleaned his shirt in the sink, scrubbing it with soap until at last the bloodstains faded. And if anyone asked about the bruise, he'd just say he was in another fight. His father certainly hadn't hit him…after all, Lance was a good boy…

Who are you?

…His face slammed against the pavement, the laughter of the bullies ringing in his ears. He was ugly, stupid, and pathetic, they said. Why else would his parents abandon him? They ran off, leaving him alone on the cold ground, blood pouring from his nose, the plastic action figure he had treasured so much in pieces. The bullies had spared nothing. Then, he felt a hand touch his head.

"Hey, are you all right?" a boy his age asked. Lance looked up at the two smiling kids, wincing at the unfamiliar touch.

"I'm Pete, and this is Griff," the boy said, motioning to his friend. "Don't worry about those guys, they always pick on newcomers. Hey…do you want to hang out with us?"

What do you want?

"This institution is the last place your kind has!"

Lance snorted as his counselor lectured him and his two cronies. At fourteen, Lance was tall and lanky, having not quite grown into his frame yet. He was full of the impatience and frustration that came with being a troubled youth, and at that moment he had no desire to listen to another tirade from a bitter old man.

"Do you think this is funny?" he demanded, prompting more snickers from Griff.

Standing next to the geezer was the center's phys. ed. teacher, a hulking brute of a man in a yellow sweat suit, and he cracked his knuckles gleefully. "Maybe this will get through to you," he said, before punching Lance squarely in the jaw.

"You boys are nothing but hoods. Scum. You'll always be scum," the old man sneered contemptuously.

The trio was then pushed out of the office, clutching their swollen faces. As the door slammed shut, Pete kicked the wall with all his might, releasing his rage on the world.

"Those prigs," he cursed. "Those damn prigs! They won't get away with this!"

Lance clenched his fists so hard his nails began to dig into his palms. "They won't kick us down in the dirt forever, man. Someday, I'll make them pay. I'll prove them wrong."

The floor began to tremble, ever so slightly…

What do you feel?

…Lance was a mutant, though he didn't know the word. He didn't know how or why, but he could make the earth quake with a flick of his wrist or a stomp on the ground. He should have been thrilled. After all, this was what he had wanted. This was his chance. He wasn't scum like Jerry the Bully, or the other delinquents fouling up the home for boys. He was different. He had power.

But he wasn't happy.

Pete and Griff, the only two people who had made life at the center bearable, now looked at him in fear. He could see it their eyes.

Freak.

So he had gained something he always craved at the cost of something he held dear. The pain festered over time, eventually boiling into anger. But still, despite his belief that he didn't need anyone anymore, he deeply wished for someone to understand what he was going through. Someone who was like him. Different…

Who do you love?

…And there she was, tumbling out of her locker and into his life. With her coming a whole new life was opened for Lance. He could live with others of his kind, and be loved. He was a part of something big and truly good, something that would benefit the world in ways he didn't think possible. He was an X-Man.

There were more voices in the void, more memories.

"There's a lot of good in you, Lance, and you shouldn't deny that."

"Good work."

"I love you."

But also…

"God, what's your problem? You're never going to fit in with that attitude!"

"You deserve to be punished!"

"He…he raped me!"

Lance gasped as the words penetrated, cutting into him like knives. He thought to cover his ears, block out the painful reminders of his shattered life, but the voices wouldn't stop. He was alone in the void, abandoned, helpless, at the mercy of an unseen foe that could pick apart his brain and rearrange the pieces as he saw fit. What was worst of all was that it was his own teammates, and the girl he loved, who had brought him to that hellish place.

He heard his voice cry out, "Kitty…! Please…help me…!"

Why do you call out for her?

"Because I need her."

She betrayed you.

"No. I don't believe it. It's a lie!"

Is it?

He could see her in his mind's eye. He remembered Kitty throwing her arms around his middle, thanking him for saving her from Riley and her gang…pulling her shivering body next to his by the poolside and tasting her lips for the first time…taking her virginity in a steamy hotel room…but the tender images soon disappeared, replaced with Kitty's scornful face, her hate-filled words ringing in his ears.

"He…he raped me!"

"No!"

Again, the voice spoke.

Do you want to be good?

Yes—yes, he always did. He wanted to be a good child, so that he parents would love him. But he had failed them, and they had left him behind, never once looking back. He wanted to be a good student so he could leave the children's home, forget the screaming and the abuse, and try to have a normal life. But he was a "worthless, useless child; a waste of a human being that will amount to nothing" as the counselor would say behind closed doors when he thought no one could hear him. The words had angered Lance, but also filled him with purpose. Fine. If that were all that was expected of him, he would live up to their expectations. He was tired of bending himself and holding back just to meet others' approval when nothing he ever did was good enough. Never good enough.

But…he had his friends. Griff and Pete. He saw their small, smiling faces as they helped him stand after his harsh introduction to life at the orphanage.

"Do you want to hang out with us?"

The image changed. Pete and Griff were older now, their smiles replaced by grimaces. Pete raised the bat in his hands, face contorted in rage, ready to strike Lance and kill him.

"You're gonna get it now, freak!"

Never good enough.

What did they want from him?

Avalanche thought he had a family; a dysfunctional one, to be sure, but one nonetheless. For a while, it was the closest he had to the real thing. He had played the part of an X-Man—wore the silly costume, completed the backbreaking training sessions, and battled other mutants in even sillier costumes—all in all, he was a good little mutant. In return Lance thought he had finally found the place where he belonged and the love he had secretly, shamefully hoped for, but had given up on. But nothing he did was ever good enough for them.

So they abandoned him, like his parents…left him lying broken on the cold ground like the bullies of his youth…laughed at the colossal joke they had played on him, like the counselors…They were liars, all of them. And she was the worst. Kitty Pryde…she would pay for what she had taken from him.

Mastermind shivered, suddenly feeling very cold. The job was done. Though it had proved to be more difficult than originally expected, the final piercing scream from his patient was proof that he had completed what he set out to do. The basement door opened, and the Brotherhood silently filed in, grim-faced as if part of a funeral procession. They were led by Mystique, who went to his side.

She asked, "How is he?"

"Awake."

The voice startled Rogue and Tabitha. They had been staring at Lance's unmoving form; hunched forward against the straps, head bent down, he looked like he was dead. But he had answered their leader's question in a cold, passionless voice, very much alive.

"Untie me," he said.

Todd stammered something incomprehensible, no doubt trying to say that it probably wouldn't be wise to untie the guy who they had practically kidnapped and tortured, especially when he sounded as scary as that. But he had lost his voice, and neither Fred nor Pietro dared to say anything.

Irene studied Lance Alvers, her face neutral despite her troubling thoughts. The child of rage has awakened and been set free. Will what I've seen come to pass?

Mystique fulfilled the boy's request, releasing his restraints. Lance stood and rubbed his sore wrists; his long, dark hair fell down his face, obscuring his eyes.

"You know what you must do," said Mystique evenly.

Lance looked into her white, sinister eyes, his thoughts amazingly clear. "Yes, I know exactly what I must do."

Smiling, Mystique wrapped her arms around him. "Avalanche, welcome to the Brotherhood."

To Be Continued…

Author's Notes: Behold the CLIFFHANGER! It's a beautiful, evil thing. Yup, this is the kind of chapter you get when Sandoz watches too much Neon Genesis Evangelion over spring break. So, will Lance snap out of it, or will he really fight the X-Men? Why does everyone want to get his hands on the Mindcoil, and what is its true nature? Will Rogue and Tabitha side with their hearts, or the Brotherhood? What did Mystique do with Kitty? I suppose you'll have to keep reading to find out. :grin:

me Sorry, no bedroom…did the back of his jeep suffice:p

Ambrosia: Thanks for all the reviews! I'll have to fix the "miens" and a wife-beater is just a name for a sleeveless white shirt. Just picture Lance's nightclothes in "Joyride" and that's pretty much it. Don't worry about Pietro; things may look a little bad now, but he's not totally on the dark side.

One Last Note: the lyrics to "The World Spins" are by David Lynch, with vocals by Julee Cruise.

Thanks for reading, everyone! -Sandoz