Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men (yet) I wish I did. Actually, I only really want Bobby and Pyro. Any teenage girl will understand my reasons for this.
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Opal breathed hard. Where was she going? She didn't know. She was lost. Hopelessly lost. Every house looked the same. Every road. Every streetlight. But he was still there. Still behind her. She could hear his footfalls following her. A tear dripped down her cheek. But it wasn't of sadness. Her tear was of anger. How could she have been so stupid? One little mistake, and the whole town would be after her by nightfall. She had to make that one mistake.
She stopped. He was gone. Where did he go? Opal looked around. Breathing hard, she collapsed on the pavement. She wasn't strong enough to take another step tonight. Let them find her. She didn't care. Wait. Yes she did. She did care. She got up again, ran. Ran. Ran. Then stopped. She looked up. A slight tinge of pink crept over the dark night sky. It would be day soon. She just stood there, frozen, watching the sun come up.
Then, all of a sudden, it was day. She checked her watch. Eight A.M. She had been standing for three hours. Without any thought, she collapsed onto the nearest snow bank. She lay there, shivering in a black Tank top, black zip-hoodie, and likewise colored pants. Her eyes, blacker than the night sky, closed in pain. How could she still be panting for breath? The snow beneath her was melting faster than it usually would. In a matter of seconds she was lying in a puddle on the cement.
Then it clicked. She knew she had to stop doing this. Stop radiating heat. Stop speeding up time. Stop making fire, or ice, or anything that she did. But how could she stop what she didn't know she was doing? Then she started to cry again. She lay there in her puddle sobbing her eyes out.
"Hey, you!" The shout startled her, "What are you crying for?" She sat up, and looked into the eyes of a man much older than her. Maybe in his fifties. She knew he meant well, but she couldn't speak to him. Or to anybody. She swallowed.
"Come on," he told her, "I'll take you home. Where do you live?" She stared up at him in fear, then ran again. Ran right into Him. The very person she had ran from the night before.
"Opal, why do you run?" He asked. "That you for finding my daughter, sir." He told the elderly man. His daughter? Opal was infuriated by his lies. She was not related to him. She tried to slip away, but his grip was to tight on her arm.
"This is the last time, Opal. No more running."
He bundled her into his car, and they drove. For nearly an hour they drove. He glared at her the whole time in the rear-view mirror. Occasionally, he would throw in a short comment, or ask a question. She never answered. Never replied. Her look of unemotion stayed on her face. Though thoughts were running through her mind. Hundreds of them. So many emotions. So many plans. So much anger. Hatred. Fear.
The car stopped outside a large brick building.
"Welcome home," the man said. No. This wasn't home. This was hell. In big, bold, steel letters the words 'Home for Mutants' were printed on the side of the building. The man griped Opal's arm and dragged her inside the building. It looked like a jail. Doors lined every corridor. Each door led to a room containing a bed, a small dresser, and a shelf or two on which to put books or toys, if any were to be had. Every door had a little glass window in it, so the children and teens inside could always be watched.
The man marched her down the hall and into an office at the end of it. He sat Opal in a chair, then went through a door. He appeared a moment later.
"Opal," he said, "come with me." She followed the man through the door. An enormous mahogany desk was in the room. Behind the desk was a huge overstuffed armchair. In the chair was a man. Opal gulped. The man had black hair and brown eyes. He looked strong. And mean.
"Sit," The man behind the desk said. She sat. "Harper, Opal," he said, reading a piece of paper he had taken from a folder just moments before. "Age: fourteen. Hair color and style: Black. Waist length." He looked up at her, regarding her layered black hair, reaching just passed her shoulders. "Hmm. That must be changed," he muttered, then continued reading, "Eyes: Black. Favorite color: Black. Oh, aren't we creative," there was no mistaking his sarcasm, "Height: five feet, four inches. Arrived at institute: six months ago, July, 2004. Birthday: February 28. School Grades: Above average. Powers:' he regarded her again, "Imitation and Empathy." He put the paper down. "Tell me, Opal Harper, What does that mean?" She looked down at her hands, hating the stupid mutant registration law that forced her to be here. 'Don't answer,' she commanded herself mentally, 'don't answer. Don't look up.'
"Well, sir," Opal's original captor stepped forward, "It means that she can imitate other powers and skills. From simple, normal things like cooking, all the way up to..."
"Did I ask you?" The black-haired man demanded, "I believe I asked Opal. Did I not? Yes, I am aware that she does not speak, but, since she is not mute, I will sit here until she does. You, sir, are fired for insubordination." The man mouthed silently. He stammered for a while, but then suddenly slammed his mouth shut and stormed from the room. Opal stared. "Now Opal," the man continued, "I will sit here, and you will sit there until you speak to me. I don't care what you say. Just say it." She looked down at her hands. What would he do to her? He had fired the other man just for speaking out of turn. She looked up to meet his eyes and swallowed. Her mouth was dry. Then the man began to laugh. He laughed harder and harder. Opal stared. Then he began to change. He turned blue. His hair turned red. He turned into a girl. He/she stropped laughing and smiled.
"Oh, that was fun," the person said, " I should disguise myself and fire people more often!" Opal kept staring. "My name is Mystique. I work for a man that can help you. You are, really a prize." The woman -Mystique? - reached over and put a thumb at the back of Opal's neck. With a quick jerk, Opal was out cold.
"To easy. I should have started this years ago."
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Authors note: ok, a little weird, but it's my first X-Men fan fiction, so go easy on it! If you don't get it, it will all come together in the next chapter, don't worry.
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Opal breathed hard. Where was she going? She didn't know. She was lost. Hopelessly lost. Every house looked the same. Every road. Every streetlight. But he was still there. Still behind her. She could hear his footfalls following her. A tear dripped down her cheek. But it wasn't of sadness. Her tear was of anger. How could she have been so stupid? One little mistake, and the whole town would be after her by nightfall. She had to make that one mistake.
She stopped. He was gone. Where did he go? Opal looked around. Breathing hard, she collapsed on the pavement. She wasn't strong enough to take another step tonight. Let them find her. She didn't care. Wait. Yes she did. She did care. She got up again, ran. Ran. Ran. Then stopped. She looked up. A slight tinge of pink crept over the dark night sky. It would be day soon. She just stood there, frozen, watching the sun come up.
Then, all of a sudden, it was day. She checked her watch. Eight A.M. She had been standing for three hours. Without any thought, she collapsed onto the nearest snow bank. She lay there, shivering in a black Tank top, black zip-hoodie, and likewise colored pants. Her eyes, blacker than the night sky, closed in pain. How could she still be panting for breath? The snow beneath her was melting faster than it usually would. In a matter of seconds she was lying in a puddle on the cement.
Then it clicked. She knew she had to stop doing this. Stop radiating heat. Stop speeding up time. Stop making fire, or ice, or anything that she did. But how could she stop what she didn't know she was doing? Then she started to cry again. She lay there in her puddle sobbing her eyes out.
"Hey, you!" The shout startled her, "What are you crying for?" She sat up, and looked into the eyes of a man much older than her. Maybe in his fifties. She knew he meant well, but she couldn't speak to him. Or to anybody. She swallowed.
"Come on," he told her, "I'll take you home. Where do you live?" She stared up at him in fear, then ran again. Ran right into Him. The very person she had ran from the night before.
"Opal, why do you run?" He asked. "That you for finding my daughter, sir." He told the elderly man. His daughter? Opal was infuriated by his lies. She was not related to him. She tried to slip away, but his grip was to tight on her arm.
"This is the last time, Opal. No more running."
He bundled her into his car, and they drove. For nearly an hour they drove. He glared at her the whole time in the rear-view mirror. Occasionally, he would throw in a short comment, or ask a question. She never answered. Never replied. Her look of unemotion stayed on her face. Though thoughts were running through her mind. Hundreds of them. So many emotions. So many plans. So much anger. Hatred. Fear.
The car stopped outside a large brick building.
"Welcome home," the man said. No. This wasn't home. This was hell. In big, bold, steel letters the words 'Home for Mutants' were printed on the side of the building. The man griped Opal's arm and dragged her inside the building. It looked like a jail. Doors lined every corridor. Each door led to a room containing a bed, a small dresser, and a shelf or two on which to put books or toys, if any were to be had. Every door had a little glass window in it, so the children and teens inside could always be watched.
The man marched her down the hall and into an office at the end of it. He sat Opal in a chair, then went through a door. He appeared a moment later.
"Opal," he said, "come with me." She followed the man through the door. An enormous mahogany desk was in the room. Behind the desk was a huge overstuffed armchair. In the chair was a man. Opal gulped. The man had black hair and brown eyes. He looked strong. And mean.
"Sit," The man behind the desk said. She sat. "Harper, Opal," he said, reading a piece of paper he had taken from a folder just moments before. "Age: fourteen. Hair color and style: Black. Waist length." He looked up at her, regarding her layered black hair, reaching just passed her shoulders. "Hmm. That must be changed," he muttered, then continued reading, "Eyes: Black. Favorite color: Black. Oh, aren't we creative," there was no mistaking his sarcasm, "Height: five feet, four inches. Arrived at institute: six months ago, July, 2004. Birthday: February 28. School Grades: Above average. Powers:' he regarded her again, "Imitation and Empathy." He put the paper down. "Tell me, Opal Harper, What does that mean?" She looked down at her hands, hating the stupid mutant registration law that forced her to be here. 'Don't answer,' she commanded herself mentally, 'don't answer. Don't look up.'
"Well, sir," Opal's original captor stepped forward, "It means that she can imitate other powers and skills. From simple, normal things like cooking, all the way up to..."
"Did I ask you?" The black-haired man demanded, "I believe I asked Opal. Did I not? Yes, I am aware that she does not speak, but, since she is not mute, I will sit here until she does. You, sir, are fired for insubordination." The man mouthed silently. He stammered for a while, but then suddenly slammed his mouth shut and stormed from the room. Opal stared. "Now Opal," the man continued, "I will sit here, and you will sit there until you speak to me. I don't care what you say. Just say it." She looked down at her hands. What would he do to her? He had fired the other man just for speaking out of turn. She looked up to meet his eyes and swallowed. Her mouth was dry. Then the man began to laugh. He laughed harder and harder. Opal stared. Then he began to change. He turned blue. His hair turned red. He turned into a girl. He/she stropped laughing and smiled.
"Oh, that was fun," the person said, " I should disguise myself and fire people more often!" Opal kept staring. "My name is Mystique. I work for a man that can help you. You are, really a prize." The woman -Mystique? - reached over and put a thumb at the back of Opal's neck. With a quick jerk, Opal was out cold.
"To easy. I should have started this years ago."
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Authors note: ok, a little weird, but it's my first X-Men fan fiction, so go easy on it! If you don't get it, it will all come together in the next chapter, don't worry.