'I wonder what she's thinking' thought Jean as she walked Pummeller the jet. They walked slowly and silently, ploughing through the snow, 'Isn't she cold?' Pummeller was only wearing a closely fitted top and she had nothing around her mid-drift. She hadn't bothered to put on a coat when she had come outside. It wasn't like she needed one, she never did.
"This is the jet." Jean announced. They climbed inside. Pummeller took a seat at the very back, as far away as possible from the strange woman called Jean-Gray. If she had been paying closer attention she would have been awed at the magnificent ship. She was a wonderful craft. But, as it was, she was dwelling on other things. Things that went way back, deeper than anyone could ever imagine.
It was sunny. She could remember how the light fell through the patio windows making little patterns on the linoleum floor. The face, bright and happy. A skipping child, laughing. She was up in her room; there was paper on the desk. The walls were yellow, like the sun's rays. But the image was blurred, just a memory. Then the scream. Short, piercing, suddenly cut off. Rushing down, unseeing eyes imagining. A body. Limp, lifeless. A splash, a small, wet body on the ground. The phone in a shaky hand. Fingers pressing numbers, nine, one, one. Flashing lights, noisy sirens. A chair, someone is waiting for an answer. A pale white coat, a shake of the head. Tears fall slowly to the ground. A hand on the windowpane. Then shards of glass standing in mid air. They drop to the ground. A figure running, running away from everything. More tears fall, more screams, but now they are angry. The last car journey, then a children's home. Someone sitting at a window watching a car drive away. Watching a person drive out of her life. A pendant, spinning round and round, a picture of a small girl inside, smiling.
Pummeller closed her hand around a pendant that hung around her neck. She looked out of the window as the world whisked by. That was the day she found out what she was, that was the day she forgot who she was. All that was left was a memory.
Jean brought the jet down to land on a basketball court, but the court opened up and the jet landed safely inside the confines of an underground level. Jean told Pummeller to come along. They walked along many white sparkling corridors and into a strangely carpeted lift. When the doors opened Pummeller saw that she was now in what Jean had said was the 'Institute'. At first, due to the white walls, she thought she landed in some weird mental institute but now she saw that Jean was telling the truth.
"So, where's this X guy ya'll keep talkin' 'bout?" Pummeller asked, looking around. "If you mean Professor Xavier," said Jean through gritted teeth, "that's his office over there." She pointed to a thick oak door at the end of the corridor in front of them. Then, as if by magic the door opened. A man at a desk sat facing them. He beckoned them forwards with a finger. When they got in the room the doors shut by themselves again. As Pummeller sat down opposite him she noticed there were other people in the room. A woman with white hair, though with quite young looks, a man wearing sunglasses even though it was not sunny and a shadowy figure standing in a corner of the room. "Professor, I brought the...girl," said Jean.
"Well done Jean." He said. Though he was old and balding he had a strong voice. Not at all like the usual rambling old fogies. "Child, I believe they call you Pummeller." He said to Pummeller.
"Yap 's'right." He surveyed her for a moment then said, "What is your real name, dear?" she had to think for a moment before answering, "I dunno, guess I forgot." There was a chain reaction around the room. White hair blinked, sunglasses coughed, Jean raised an eyebrow and shadow guy shifted slightly. Professor, however, did not make any reaction, he merely said, "Do you mind if I look into your mind to see if I can find it?" now it was Pummeller's turn to blink. "I 'spose yaw c'n try." She said. It would be interesting to see if these weirdoes actually were telling the truth. He leaned over the desk and put his fingertips against her temples. She flinched but stayed where she was. She could feel him inside her head, searching. He was skimming the surface then he slowed as he found what he was looking for. He whispered softly "Is your name Annabelle?"
There was an explosion inside her head as if someone had just whacked her around the head expecting nothing to be there. Professor Xavier was thrown from his chair and flung onto the ground. The others rushed around him and Pummeller took one look at what she had done and ran.