Disclaimer: I STILL don't own X-Men. I will let you know the second I do, k?

P.S.: Thanks sooo much to all my reviewers! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!

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Nike came to in a cold, dark cell. Pyro was lying beside her, but he was already awake. She could see his eyes glinting in the moonlight, which was the only light in the cell. They seemed to be in a basement. The window was tiny and high up. Also, they were in the country. No buildings got in the way of the stars.

"Pyro?" Nike whispered, "Where are we?" He shook his head. Nike peered out towards the barred door of the cell. A black figure crept by. Whoever it was was holding what appeared to be a ball of light. It wasn't much bigger than a marble, but it shone much brighter than the moon, casting shadows on the person's face.

"What?" Nike asked aloud, "Opal? Is that you?"

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Opal looked once more at the blood-spattered bodies. Shock took over exhilaration. Coffee-man had his eyes wide open. They were blue. He looked perfectly freaked-out. What had he seen? Opal reached into his mind. It was still warm with thoughts, frozen in formation. Opal could read each flying thought like a book.

"Oh, God." "She's gonna kill me." "What the hell?" Most of them read like that. But the most recent one, the one that looked like it was written in blood, said, "Celeste, Amanda, James! I'm sorry!" It had been what he was thinking as he died. Opal furrowed her brow, confused. She looked deeper into the man's memory, and saw what he really was. He wasn't some bloodthirsty guy who had helped to form a conspiracy around her. He had a wife, Celeste, and two kids. Amanda was seven. James was eight. Opal gasped. He only took this job on because it paid well. He loved his wife more than anything. Opal started to cry. She had killed three people in five minutes. She delved deeper into his mind, looking for pictures. Memories. Things he had seen. Again, the most recent, the last thing he saw, was lined in red. It would have been enough to make any child cry. It was she. Olive-skinned, black hair. Her black eyes reflecting the glow of the soccer-ball sized fireball in her hand. And on her lips, spread across her mouth, a crazed, bloodthirsty smile. Her hair was thrown back. Her eyes shone, but he was concentrating on that smile. She had wanted so desperately to kill. Blood lust had showed upon her face. She looked crazy. Hateful. She looked...dead. As if controlled by some other force. Not her self.

She cried, wiping the memory from the man's mind. If she could bring him back to life, she would. She lay for ten minutes, crying. What had she done? What had she done?

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Author's note: Hi! Me again. Ok, kind of short, I know. But review anyways!

P.S.: I'm leaving for holidays soon, so I won't be able to update for the next three weeks or so, k?