"Professor!"

            "Yes, Storm?" answered Charles, recovering from his headache.  He felt surges of energy surrounding him.

            "The children are acting…odd."

            "How so?"  He began to allow his mind to wander to them, as he had been concentrating on papers which had been a hard thing to do.  Usually he had no trouble concentrating.

            "They're hyper."  Storm was distracted by the sound of giggling children rushing past the office.  She turned back.  "It's not just that.  Some of them are having trouble controlling their powers.  Their energy seems…"

            "Yes," he interrupted.  "I see it now."

            'Anne' watched as some kids began to laugh themselves into a fit.  She saw the teachers trying to calm them down.  Even if it was Friday dinner, when the kids ate pizza and coke, they shouldn't be acting this hyper.  Mystique observed as she saw one kid loose control and the electricity went out.

            Mystique stood up, a little worried since she needed to use some electric transportation.  The generator kicked in however, and the little kid had fainted.

            Scott was walking down the underground halls.  He looked around, making sure no was around before he entered the medical lab.  Now inside Scott's peach skin turned blue and the form of Mystique smugly entered.  She looked around.  Where was Deja?  She considered tampering, but no one was thinking of Deja right now.  She had made the distraction.

            Mystique growled.

            Pro growled, trying to shove Deja off of him.  She rolled aside, grabbing her bo which she had dropped.  He was up.  He snatched her bo from her and bent low, swinging it in a circle so it should've crashed into her legs.  But she jumped, kicking him back and reclaiming the stick as it flew in the air.

            He dodged it as she tried to poke at his head and, still crouching, he tried to punch her stomach.  Deja, with a new idea vaguely formed in her head, took steps back.  She defensively moving away from him and he kept getting closer.  But her foot landed on the gun and the light in her eyes warned Pyro what she was trying to do.

            He swung at her head but she blocked and swung right back, using her martial arts training.  She only grazed him.  He took a powerful swing at her head but she snaked to avoid it and grabbed his outstretched arm with both hands, twisting it.

            Using his temporary pain she flew down, grabbing the gun and shooting it before she had much of a chance to aim.  It hit his arm, which he had been cradling.

            They briefly looked at each other, both a little amazed at Deja.  Then his vision went blurry and he slumped to the ground. Leaving Deja alone in the woods, out of breath and more paranoid then before.  Deja's mouth fell open.  She carefully got up, scared that maybe he would get up again.  But no, he looked pretty knocked out.

            Pyro groaned.  He put a hand over his eyes to block out the offensive light that was straining him.  His head throbbed with a dull ache.  He waited until he could sit up.  'What happened?'  Ah, yes, the memories began to reform.  He sighed in shame.  He had been beaten by a girl.  With nothing left but a slight headache, he got up.  She had escaped with her bo, his gun, and his jacket.  Looking around, Pyro noticed something else.  He glared at nothing, determined to get her back.

            "Excuse me."  Deja jumped.  She turned around.  "Do you have your bus fare?"  Deja stuttered at the driver, she had never ridden on an American bus before.

            "Bus fare?"

            "The money for your ticket."  The driver looked slightly annoyed.  "Do you have $1.10?"

            Deja, who wearing Pyro's jacket to conceal the gun, searched inside the pockets.  She found eight pennies.  "Um."

            "Here, I'll pay for it."  Deja turned to see a young woman with short auburn hair and dark eyebrows.  She paid the driver $2.20.

            "Thanks," Deja said sheepishly, sitting next to the woman in the only spare bench.  The woman nodded.

            Deja, for the first time in a while, reflected on what happened to her.  She remembered the images of her grandmother.  With teary eyes, she realized that her grandmother, Yuriko, must have died.  Her parents died when she was twelve.  Her mother, the American ambassador to Japan, and her father had been assassinated.  She was sent to live with her grandmother.  Her grandmother had never dealt much with the government, afraid they would notice her ageless face.  She took Deja in, back then being known as Akira.

            Deja had been worrying about her for three years, trying to find leads on what happened to her grandmother.  Now she vaguely knew.