Disclaimer: I do not own Legion of Super-Heroes, or X-Men, but I do own Ginger Anderson. Use her without my say so, and I KILL YOU! I KILL YOU DEAD!
The Xavier Institute for the Gifted. The gazebo overlooking the sea. One inside. A girl with long brown hair and brown eyes, about sixteen.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be celebrating with your loved ones?"
…
"Me? I just stepped out for some air." she turned around.
"Hi. My name's Ginger Anderson. I might also go by May Queen. That's my second name here at the Xavier School."
She reached into her coat pocket and took out her gloves, which she put on her hands, showing off her rose crest ring.
"Most of you might, or might not know this, but I've had some relationship trouble. My boyfriend ran away from home three years ago, and I swore off men after that. Why? Because I was mad at him, and because, well, I missed him. I found him again, and I might not have done the smartest thing. I slapped him. His name's Ray Crisp, or Berzerker. I don't think you've heard of him either. But anyway, those three years gave me a course in loneliness, not as big as this other girl, but enough. Especially at the holidays. Which is what Mekt Ranzz is doing right now as he's pondering one of the age old questions. Just exactly…"
11. What Is Christmas?
What is it, exactly? An ancient Earth holiday celebrated by the members of an ancient religion who worshipped a bastard birth inside some barn. Really inspiring.
Mekt Ranzz walked down the snowy winter road, down from his family farmhouse and onto a nearby bridge. He was in a melancholic mood. There was plenty of melancholy to be spread around this time of year.
He looked over, back to the farmhouse where his mother, his father, and his little sister were.
Little. It felt so weird. She should be well into her late teens by now. But no. She was still a little girl. About ten. And that was his fault. Most of the things that happened to his family were his fault.
Most people always had Mekt pegged for the problem child, the misfit, the different one. It would be hard not to. Why? People on his planet are born as twins. Mekt didn't have one, of course. That made him a solo. That made him different, strange, dangerous. And, for a while, Mekt enjoyed the labels. And then his parents had two more kids, a boy and a girl, his younger siblings Garth and Ayla, and then his parents got to be normal. They didn't have to worry about him.
No, that isn't right, Mekt thought. Mom and dad weren't like that.
But he still remembers. The first few Christmases he had, when he was alone, they gave him all the gifts he could've wanted. They probably spoiled him a little bit. And then Garth and Ayla came along. That first Christmas, he ripped open his gifts so fast it was like a whirlwind. He got the action figure he really really really wanted. He wanted to show his parents how much he had playing with it. But they were too preoccupied with the newborn babies, cooing and giggling at the shiny baby toys mom and dad were waving in their faces while they made stupid noises. The first emotion Mekt felt was sadness. Why weren't they paying attention to him? Were they more special then him? And then, he felt jealous. His eyes became green, then red, as he smashed that expensive action figure against the wall. It startled his parents, and made his siblings cry. They punished Mekt, and sent him to his room. And Mekt began to realize what made him so different from everyone else. There was only one of him, and apparently his parents got half what they wanted, so all the extra attention now went to those two intruders. All that attention would be theirs now.
Is that what Christmas is about, attention?
No, that probably wasn't what Christmas was about, he thought as he walked through the snow even farther. He couldn't even see the house anymore. He probably shouldn't have left Ayla alone. This was not a good year. Their parents were sick, and Garth wasn't coming home. It was Ayla's first after her return, and he was sure this wasn't what she wanted.
Wanted. What did he want?
He then remembered the Christmas after that. The twins started to walk and talk so early, their hair began to grow. Red. Auburn. The same shade. People sometimes joked that they looked like elves. And Mekt thought that was stupid. Who would want to be compared to underpaid, ugly little trolls that carried out the whims of some perverted stalker who kept track of everything you did. But there was one thing he wanted from that old man. He wanted to be a twin. He wanted someone identical to him. He wanted to be complete. So, he behaved. He did everything his parents asked him to do. All his chores, his homework, his vegetables. And he was especially nice to his baby siblings. And then Christmas morning came, and Christmas went, and all he did was hold up in his room and cry for not getting what he wanted as all his new toys and video games lay around his bed, unused and covered in tears.
Is that what Christmas is about, disappointment?
No, he didn't think that was what it was either.
The wind started to pick up, the night started to grow darker. Mekt made his way on down the trail. He wondered if Ayla was alright. Their parents were still in the hospital. He just stormed out. When he did get so angry. He never got angry with her. Garth, maybe. But not her. Okay, maybe a little. But he would never want to hurt her. As the years went on, and they got older, Mekt began to feel less and less antagonism towards his lucky brother and sister. But he was getting much more reckless. More of a troublemaker. People around him expected that. They saw people like Mekt, or solos, as dangerous, deformed. Freaks. Normally around Christmas, Mekt saw them playing with their own gifts, and he figured they wouldn't want to share with him because they could share with each other. What did they need to share with him? So he'd take their toys without asking, and that would cause the brawling and crying. And then, as he held their own stuff over his head, he would look in their eyes, and he would sadness that made him feel like the word everyone else thought of him.
Monster.
Is that it? Sadness and guilt? Is that what Christmas is?
But then, he would stop and give it back to them. And would apologize and say he would try to be a better brother. But that didn't stop him from being reckless.
And then, the accident. And Ayla was gone.
That Christmas was one of the most brutal Christmases he ever had. How appropriate to be thinking of it now that he had just reached a graveyard on his walk.
The snow was falling, falling still. It laced the tombstones and markers and crosses and statues, like powder it fell. Masking the markers for people who died years and years before Mekt was even a thought. People who were missed and people who were despised. People with someone and people with no one. Mekt wondered which he was. The night grew cold. Mekt walked down the path as he thought about the Christmas when death was on their minds.
That year, a lot of the family came to the Ranzz farmhouse. All to shower Garth with love and affection for spending the first Christmas since his twin died. That Christmas Mekt also learned there two kinds of solos. There were the natural, handmade solos born out of some Winathian couple's attempt at grope fest in the back side of an Intergalactic Combine Harvester. And the other kind, those were the ones born of misery. The ones created from illness and accidents, murders and suicide. Death. These were artificial solos, not reviled but forever given sadness for becoming half what they were. They were not like the real thing. And they could never hope to understand what the real thing was, because to the others they had a chance to live a normal life.
Of course no one came to give Mekt any condolences. Any kind words to dull the pain. Why would they? It wasn't his twin that died. That silence was laced with one thing. Accusations. And that made him hate Garth even more.
But the really sickening thing was when he tried to talk to him about how he felt. Tried to talk about what happened, like he had done so many other times.
No, Mekt would think. So he could place the blame on me? No, it wasn't me. It wasn't my fault. You. You didn't do anything. You just stood there like a helpless child. And Garth got upset. He tried to reason with him, telling him that there was nothing he could do, but Mekt kept pushing it on him, until Garth, for the first time, got mad. And then HE started yelling for a change. He blamed Mekt. For everything. The joyride. Convincing them to come along. Not making sure there was enough fuel. Egging on those stupid lightning beasts. And then, Mekt let loose. It was the first time he used the lightning to fight someone. It was the first for Garth. But in that moment, it was the first time Garth ever beat Mekt. And that look in his little brother's eyes, it scared Mekt.
Fear? Despair? Death? No, that couldn't be what Christmas was about.
The snow crunched under his boots. Mekt shivered, he pulled his coat tighter. He stopped in front of the small mausoleums. Those little houses of death. Why bother building a house if you only go in once a year? Oh, wait, there was someone who never left, of course. But that didn't make it a house. That made it a prison.
Prison. He just got out of prison. Finally turned around from a life of crime. What started that life of crime? The need to show up Garth.
After their fight, the urges of jealous and contempt kept coming back. But he masked it with a veil of superiority and so-called "worldly experience."
He would always look after his little brother.
Always. Always gotta be a competition. Always gotta show him up. And then, he ran away from home. They didn't need him on that stupid farm. They had their twins, what did they need him? But whenever he would run into Garth, it always became a competition. Whether it was legal or illegal. He just had to be a better athlete. Even if he had to help rig the proceeding. He just had to have a cooler and better trained super team, even if they were cold hearted sociopaths. But he couldn't back down. Just a layer of blasé coated to the veil, that should do it. It would get him more money, more prestige, more women, more power. The ticket to the winning team.
It also slowly bit away a chunk of his soul until he just about died inside.
So was that it then? Superiority? Validation?
He breathed slowly as he stared into the frost-covered stone.
But, that was all behind him now, right? Ayla, she was back. Garth, he forgave him like a good brother. Like the bigger man would Mekt never could have been. And Mekt took the forgiveness and tried to do good. Tried to act like a better brother. But why was it still there? Why was the pain and emptiness still there? Why did he feel like it was eating him inside and it was almost done?
He felt his blood rush. His eyes crackled and sparks danced. He breathed faster.
Was that it then. Anger?
What is it? Why won't someone tell him? Why? Why? WHY? WHY? WHY?!
WHY????!!!
And then, his thought process stopped. He heard footsteps. He turned his head, and in the dark, he could see four figures. A mother and father, and their two children walking in front of them. Two girls. They held each other's hands as they walked to the front, where their hovercar had been parked. The girls were anxious to get home. But, even in a graveyard, the family seemed… happy. No, they were happy. Why were they happy?
And then it hit him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Why the hell was he standing around in a graveyard when he left his sister home alone like the moron parents in that stupid movie? He needed to stop acting like an emo kid and he had to get out of there fast! And so he ran. He ran, and ran.
"Mom. Dad. Garth. Ayla."
Family.
…
"Well, what did you think of that? Not much action, mind you."
Ginger turned around, facing away from the grey sea as the snow fell.
"The important thing is, that Christmas represents now, more than ever, that families should be together. And if you don't have family, you should at least have someone. And if you don't, well, that's just sad. Well, I've gotta get back to the Institute. Sounds like that party's heating up."
She batted an eye and smiled.
"Merry Christmas."
Next Track:
12. Christmas Jazz
