*A/N: I couldn't handle how bad my writing was 18 years ago (when I was a child, go figure), so I've revised this chapter. I might do the rest as well. I feel like this can only benefit everyone involved. 6/5/22

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Mangled bodies littered the terrain. Milky white bones gleamed in the moonlight, jutting from rotting meat. Maggots had already begun their slow infiltration, violating orifices and feeding from sweet intestines. Exposed fingers had been nibbled away in places, the joints and knuckles breaking up the swathe of bloody flesh.

Some of the bodies were fresher. They lay on and around the piles, weeping fresh blood into the dirt and rot.

One survivor stood amidst the putrid feast and scanned the scene, her face unreadable and obscured by heavy shadow. Satisfied she was the lone survivor, she mounted her motorcycle and sped away.

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Morning sunlight poured through the drapes, awakening the students in their rooms. Bright, refreshed pupils stretched their arms above their heads and yawned, clearing the night's rest from their minds to welcome a new day. Muffled "g'mornings" echoed throughout the school, and soft footsteps padded along the hallways to the bathrooms. It seemed the quiet morning would stretch on forever until…

"Get out! You've been in there forever!"

Loud banging banished the quiet, as shouts and screams of impatience assumed dominion. A girl with black hair and a yellow towel pounded on the door to the bathroom again.

"Come on, Rogue, let someone else have a turn! You can't be that disgusting. You took a shower last week!" Laughs followed the girl's remark, and the door finally opened. "Oh my god, finally! I was starting to think you were dead."

The upset girl, Jubilee, patted Rogue on the shoulder as she emerged from the bathroom. Rogue only gave her friend a steely glare before trudging to her room, where she promptly collapsed onto her bed.

She had woken up early to take a leisurely shower, but it hardly mattered. In no time, the raging stampede of wild animals would come pounding on the door and her time of bliss would be over. Rogue sighed. It was always the same routine. Nevertheless, she loved living in the mansion, going to the school. She knew there was nowhere else she could ever belong. The people here were her only family.

And then there was Bobby. Rogue smiled as the thought of Bobby Drake crossed her mind for not the first time that morning.

'Iceman. What I'd do to warm him up…'

But reality shattered her little fantasy. She was talking about sex when her mutation forbade even the simplest touch. Skin-to-skin contact was something Rogue simply could not do… unless she wanted to kill whomever she was touching.

She sighed again, burying her face into her pillow.

'I'd kill to be normal,' she thought.

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The purring of the motorcycle stopped as the woman, clad in black, disabled the engine. Leaning the motorcycle onto the kickstand, she walked toward a regal looking manor on extensive grounds.

Her dark brown hair was tied behind her and plaited tightly. The black combat boots she wore dripped with mud, tiny blades of grass, and maybe the tiniest spray of brain matter. She quickly disposed of them near the door and shrugged herself out of the leather jacket covering her lithe frame.

Casting aside her sunglasses, she glanced around her mansion suspiciously and placed her hands at her sides, finding the familiar cool metal of her 9mm Berettas. Something was out of place here.

She crept warily toward the main hall, listening hard for any movement. As soon as she detected a sound, she whisked her pistols out of the holsters and spun to her right. Aiming them at a man holding a fistful of mylar balloons that read "Welcome home" and "Happy birthday, Lara!"

"Surprise?" the disheveled man squeaked.

Spinning the guns back in their holsters, the woman sighed and let her shoulders fall in agitation. The man that had spoken wasn't the only one in her house. An annoyingly large crowd occupied her main hall.

"Lara, it's good to see you home! Although... we were kind of hoping you wouldn't point your guns at us..."

Lara shot a genuine smile at her friend and technical expert, Bryce, as he made his way toward her. "Bryce, you know you shouldn't do that. You know how I am..."

"I know, I know," the tech cut her off, "but it's your birthday, and well... we're happy you're home." He smiled and gestured toward the people behind him. "There's relatives here to wish you a happy birthday. At least, I think that's why they're here. Hard to tell with this lot. Some of them are mine, and I'm pretty sure they're just here for the brandy." He winked and pushed her toward the guests. "Go on, they won't bite!"

Reluctantly, Lara walked toward the crowd of people. She immediately regretted it.

"Oh, my," an elder lady began, "you are filthy, dearest. Why don't you go change and we'll wait down here?"

Lara looked down at herself and, for the first time, noticed the grass, blood, and dirt caked on her legs and clothes. This wasn't such an unusual sight for her, but the horrified looks on her relatives' faces reminded her just how far removed she was from society and its oppressive norms.

"Yes, well, I always think a little blood here and there completes an ensemble." She smirked as her aunts and uncles blinked at her in confusion. With that, she turned to leave, but something caught her ear.

"Have you heard about that mutant registration law in America? Seems to me their mutie problem might make its way to Britain!"

Lara stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around, now facing some of Bryce's relatives. They regarded her with apprehensive smiles as she approached.

"Happy birthday, Lara!" one of them yelled, making a gesture as to clap her on the shoulder then, realizing she was smeared with gore, thought better of it.

Lara managed a smile. "Someone here mentioned a 'mutant registration law' in America? Might I ask what that is?"

A few surprised glances bounced around the circle of people, causing her to believe she had missed something important. Finally, someone spoke up.

"Lara... you... you haven't heard about the mutants?" The hesitant question came from an older looking woman, possibly Bryce's mother or aunt.

"No, I'm sorry. I haven't." Lara replied shortly, wishing someone would just bloody tell her what was going on.

A younger man, who appeared about thirty, spoke up with confidence. "Mutants are said to be caused by some form of genetic mutation. These specific, ahem, beings possess powers like walking through walls, teleporting, healing, even telekinesis and telepathy. They hide in plain sight from society despite the dangers they pose. This 'mutant registration law' will ensure that each mutant identifies itself so we know exactly what it is and what it's capable of doing. Really, it is an ingenious act, which is why I strongly support it."

Lara stood dumbfounded for a moment as she absorbed the man's words. She parted her full lips to speak.

"Pardon me, but these mutants are people, correct? Despite the fact that this is the first time I'm hearing about it, I must say that some of your comments were rather offensive." Lara watched the man straighten uncomfortably. "Using the terms 'what' and 'it' when referring to a human being is surely inappropriate, and I am positive that if you were one of these 'mutants' you would want to be regarded with the same dignity as that of any other homo sapiens on this earth. Am I correct in assuming this?"

The small group around her stood in silence, eyes staring blankly at her and mouths working like goldfish. The cocky man licked his lips and spoke to her again.

"Lady Croft, with all due respect, mutants are dangerous, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to spend any amount of time with those..." he paused as he noticed Lara's narrowed eyes boring into him, urging him to say something offensive. "Um...beings," he finished shortly.

Lara sneered at him and folded her arms. "Who let you into my house?"

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*A/N: Thanks for reading!