As we went home, I thought of what I'd just done. I'd lied to my father. My fate was sealed. If he ever found out… It would not be fun. Not at all. But seeing as she was ill and with Xavier it should be fine. Should.

Even so, I was tempted to say something. I was sure my punishment would be lessened certainly. I looked over to him as he in a fast blur signed several documents with his neat unembellished signature.

It would only take a moment. He'd get angry, have the driver go back to Xavier's to kill Marie, Xavier be damned, and return home. After which, I'd be grounded for life and probably hit with some lighting. Not enough to seriously hurt me, but enough to get me to regret it. Still, my loyalty to my friend prevented me from opening my mouth and instead I simply stared at him.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, finally looking up from the thick stack.

Crap!

"No. I'm- I'm just thinking… Um I'd like to know- how I was doing?"

That has to have been the worst pivot I've done in my life.

Well, can I really blame me?

No, I can't.

Yes, I still thought to myself. I just didn't have the luxury of having my voices.

"How you're doing in what?"

"My training."

"Hmm." My father pressed a button, causing a wall to rise out a chamber separating the driver from us, allowing us to talk without being heard.

He smiled. "Wonderfully. The fact we were even at Xavier's shows this. You're able to prioritize what should be done and think clearly. Often, much more so than myself."

"I- um thank you."

The irony.

"You needn't be shy. It's well earned praise. As I had expected, you are learning quite fast. However, most of what I want to teach you is far more practical than the book learning you've been doing."

"I see. And that's the reason why I've basically been your shadow for the last few months?"

He laughed. "Yes, that is exactly why. You'll need to change- drastically in several areas."

I nodded. "I understand."

I briefly wondered what I'd need to change but figured I'd learn when it came up. I was just relieved my friend would live another day.

If I cared about that sort of thing I might have taken up my father's job just for the material things. While my outfits were never gaudy they were still well made, and a few were tailored just for me. It was one of the perks of my new position. As my father's heir, I couldn't just throw on any old thing in the morning. Not anymore. I must say, I did miss that a lot.

Did I just willingly tie myself to my father's job and the Brotherhood ? Yes. Did I have any regrets? No, not at all.

I got to be with my father all the time, or at least when I wasn't at school. Even better, work took less time when we worked together.

My father preferred using a mix of work experience and teaching by lecture. I'd help him with his tasks and he'd ask me if certain decisions made sense. If I got it wrong, he'd correct me.

After this was done, we'd have tea with lunch where he'd familiarize me with dinner etiquette and table manners. Specifically, what forks to use when. You'd be surprised how many rules there are for cutlery. Why, you ask? Because my chess team had made nationals and I did not want to embarrass myself. I was already a bit of an outcast since I'd revealed that I was from Chicago's South Side. I didn't need to get a reputation for being uncivilized too. Plus, even if I didn't care, I knew my father would not be happy with me embarrassing him.

Afterwards, he'd quiz me on current affairs and teach me how various events related to the Brotherhood.

Then, we'd train. That was what I looked forward to. It was such a needed break from the day. It was far more fun than sitting at a desk or learning what the president of Greenland had to do with mutant rights. Which turned out to be quite a lot. Fucking bigot.

After that, I was dismissed. But I wasn't done yet. I still had my assigned reading too. He'd quiz me on that on Sundays and forgetting to do my homework always had pretty dire consequences. But the thought of running extra laps around the gym didn't scare me nearly as much as the thought of disappointing my Father.

This was the usual routine for a long time, but every now and again he told me to use some trick I'd learned. A few of them were quite underhanded, involving the manipulation of others.

I was surprised when he taught me the first one.

"If you are able to recognize it you can fight against it." He told me.

"So why am I being taught to use them?" I asked, eyebrow raised. He huffed before replying.

"Sometimes they're necessary, Electron."

"Of course, Father, I didn't mean any offense-"

"It's fine," He ruffled my hair a bit, a fond look on his face. "You're a good person, who's honest and has a strong sense of justice. Sometimes, however, that's not always feasible."

"Yes, Father." I nodded thinking about how in the past, when I lived with my mom, on a day to day basis. No, I wasn't hungry- I had a medical condition that made me a thin. Yes, my mom had signed my report card. When she really was out in the streets looking for fairies. And I wore torn up jeans because I was 'inspired' by the grunge fashion of the '90s.

So, one thing I did not clear up was what happened after I destroyed Mystique in the fight we had. Seeing as we'd probably end up trying to kill each other if we fought again, my father enrolled me for private lessons with another martial arts teacher. Best part? I got to wake up at an ungodly hour each day in order to go there before school started.

I don't see the importance of explaining who he was, so we are going to skip that. No, the rest of this chapter will be on her. The girl who had our state tournament win party at her house. Or really mansion.

Directly after my lesson, I decided to throw a Kunai (Japanese throwing knife that's dull at the edges but sharp at the tip of its triangular body) at a target for fun. It was roughly 20 meters away, but I hit the center regardless.

"Chris." I just about jumped out of my skin and turned around seeing the girl I'd described. The brunette then said, "Interesting meeting you here."

"Hey Jennifer." I took in the girl in front of me- her white Gi, the white chalk on her hands but especially the black belt at her waist.

I continue "I didn't know you were a martial artist."

"Hm. Well, now you do. Nice work on the dummies. And that throw was beautiful, almost as good as mine despite your lack of experience." She says in her usual flat almost dead sounding monotone.

"You, you can tell that?"

"Yep, at my level you can see things. Little things that tell you how long others have been training. A misplaced foot here, a slight mistake in your form there. You're good nonetheless, good enough to defend yourself in a fight. But, you haven't been training seriously for long."

She smiled "However… I've been thinking about how you'd fare against moving targets."

"Um well… I kind of haven't ever used them before." I stuttered.

"Shame. Then you'd probably do abysmally then. And here I thought I'd have someone on my level around here. Darn." She frowns or really pouts.

"At this point, you should be training with moving targets. Anything else is a waste of your time."

"Um, thanks?"

"No problem."

Later that day, I walked into room 320 and saw the same girl sitting at a desk in the back of the room reading a chess book.

"As always Jennifer, you're the first one to chess practice."

"Correct. My class is close." She says without looking up. The second-best player on my team was quite odd in her training style. She played games of chess in her head and rarely played against others. So, she usually was seen reading books to take in new strategies.

"So about martial arts..." I said as I took a seat at a desk across from her.

"What would you like to talk about involving martial arts?"

"I wanted to know… if you could show me a few moves to improve my knife throwing skills."

"I could." She looked up at me then went back to reading.

"Well, will you?" I asked.

"Let me see..." She took out her phone and looked at it for a moment. "I'm free after club on Mondays."

"After club… I don't know if I can." Father wouldn't let me stay after club. I have training to do then.

She frowned then said, "That's a shame." In guess what? A monotone.

She paused "Well, in between any breaks I'll show you what I can."

"Thanks!"

"Why must you yell? You hurt my ears." It was odd to hear her complain. Her lack of change in the tone of her voice made it hard to tell how she felt.

"Sorry about that."

She nods before getting back to reading.

The next day during a short break, because my instructor had a call to take, I headed over to the next room where I saw Jennifer attacking a punching bag.

"I prepped the room already." She said without stopping her punches.

"Huh? I-I didn't say-"

"I heard you enter. Your footsteps were quite loud."

Loud? She's the only person who's ever said that! Even Father thinks I'm like a damn cat in that regard.

I shook my head before looking around the room and seeing several person shaped targets attached to a conveyor belt that would presumably move them to her left.

"We don't have much time, so grab those knives in front and throw." She grabbed a remote control and pressed a button causing the targets to move quickly from left to right.

"No prob." I headed over and began to throw. All five missed horribly. I was going too slow.

What?

I frowned but after getting the knives began to throw much faster, causing me to miss every target again because my aim sucked.

Darn it!

I was about to go get them again, but Jennifer said "Wait."

I turned around to face her. "I see the issue. You need to throw more. You lack the muscle memory needed to throw at that speed accurately."

I sighed before glaring at the perfectly whole red targets.

After this, I headed out figuring my instructor would be done talking to that guy by now.

All day I kept thinking about what had happened and how I really need more practice. Or rather that I sucked.

I even had it on my mind as I did my homework at the dining room table.

"Electron." I looked up at my Father

"What are you thinking of. It's certainly not your homework. All your answers are wrong."

I blushed at this. "Martial arts… I kinda would like to spend more time on it."

"Let me guess. You lost to someone?"

"It wasn't a match exactly but..."

He looked at me obviously not believing me. "You want to spend more time doing martial arts."

"Yes."

"Done."

"Really?"

"All you needed to do was ask."

"Well, I-"

"Wasn't sure if I'd say yes? What have I told you Electron?

"If I want something don't be too shy to ask."

"You worry too much about how people would see you. If you're being bothersome. Those that get what they want in this world demand it."

I listened to the lecture knowing he frustrated with this habit of mine. Still, I was excited that I'd get to practice more.

After correcting my homework problems, I called Jennifer.

"My Father said I could spend more time training."

"I'm glad to hear that. You're good. I'll admit. Extremely, good at throwing considering your lack of training. However, the difference between good and great is defined by the number of hours you spend training."

I began to smile. "I completely agree. I don't want to be defenseless without my pow- a gun to help me."

"What were you about to say Chris?"

"It's not really important."

"Really?" She said clearly not believing me.

"Yeah, it's nothing really."

"Fine."

Man, I have to watch myself. Jennifer is sharp.

Any idiot could feel her endless search for truth in her daily interactions. How she didn't take a blasé "I'm fine." for an answer and would relentlessly search her environment for answers. It scared many off to be honest.

Though as for me, I felt no small amount of respect for her ability to do this. Intelligent, observant and a fighter? She was certainly not an average girl. In fact, I was sure with my powers she'd put up a decent fight against me.

Too bad she isn't a mutant or I'd be able test that.

Now, you're all probably wondering what is wrong with that girl. She made claims that made her sound arrogant. Yet, she was willing to help me out. Also, she was rude, but I didn't mind. Here's the thing I didn't mind because I knew that she couldn't help it. I'd had a friend like her when I was a kid, so I could obviously see that Jennifer was autistic. High functioning sure, but at the end of the day she had the emotional intelligence of a paving stone. So, I didn't put it against her. We'd actually had been friends for a year by the time she started helping me throw better.