Summary: The three acolytes (Remy, Piotr, St. John), have moved into the Xavier Institute. Despite being a great addition to the team, their shady pasts are what keeps them out at arms distance. (AU: DoR never took place and the acolytes reason for staying with Magneto are different than the show.)

Disclaimer: I am sad to say but I do not own X-men, marvel, or any of its associates

Author's Note: In regards to Pyro's powers, I'm going to base them off of the Ultimate X-men's Pyro and will explain his sudden decrease of power. As for the manifestation of his powers, I know that most mutants get their powers during puberty, but I think I'll have some mutants gain their power earlier. If I remember correctly, Multiple Man was one of those mutants whose powers manifested as a infant/child rather than adolescence.

Chapter 2: A Tale from New South Wales

Remy casually walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He noticed the morning was strangely quiet that day and that something was off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He also noticed that none of the X-kids, including John and Piotr, came down. It was already eleven in the morning and no one was in foyer but him. That's when he heard a silent squeak and quickly took a defensive stance until he saw that it was the professor.

"Désole professor." Remy raised his brow as he saw an annoyed look on the professor's face.

"Ya can' possibly be mad, righ' professor?"

"Remy, I honestly expected this from John but not you." What could the professor be talking about?

"Wha'd Ah do?"

"Remy, I told you last week that you would be attending school. You're already three and half hours late for class."

"Was dat t'day," Remy grinned sheepishly, "Mus' ave slipped mon mind. T'anks fo' remin'n me. I guess I'll be headed out."

"Sure thing Remy, we'll just talk about your punishment when you get back from school." Xavier smiled as he heard a string of French curses slip out of the young Cajun as he left on his bike.

"Wait, bike? Remy doesn't have a bike and the only one who owns a bike is…" Xavier's thoughts were cut short.

"Gumbo!"

"Well, at least today won't be dull.'

~&~

John was having a great day. School was completely and utterly drab compared to his usually high octane life, but at least his teachers recognized him. Well they didn't recognize him, but they did recognize his name as one of this century's leading authors. Every student thought it was impossible that the new kid, who they already established as an overly enthusiastic pyromaniac, could ever produce anything that took patience and effort like a novel.

Sure he was walking towards detention, but to see the shocked faces of his peers as he put on a grand performance of his favorite activity was definitely worth it. When he finally arrived at the classroom, he spotted Remy reclining back into his chair. He also spotted one of the X-girls, to which he failed to remember any of their names, talking to another girl, whose preference in gothic make-up composited with that of her companion.

"Remy! 'Ey mate, first day and your already in detention?" The Aussie beamed as he sat next to him.

"Ah b'lieve dat yah're in detention also Johnny."

"Well, y'know me. Oi've always been an overachiever. Why wait til week two, when I can do it on week one," grinned John, "So, what you in for mate?"

"Dieu, ya make it soun' lahke we in prison," snickered Remy, "But if ya have't know, Ah f'got dat we had school and Ah got here several hours late."

"Boring, c'mon mate, if your gonna get in trouble, do it with style."

"Remy's afraid to know what got you in here John."

"Nothin' much. Oi was jus' playin' me some dominoes (1)." The Cajun cocked his head back in disappointment. He knew that meant more than it implied. Dominoes was a game that John invented when Remy told him that he needed something to distract him. When writing failed to appeal to him, John would play dominoes. The point of the game was to create some elaborate maze of flammables and attempt to start a chain reaction using a spark, not a flame. Remy drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk as he felt the sudden need for a smoke.

"Ya know mate, those things ain't good fo' ya."

"Tha's wha' people say 'bout livin' wit' you, but Ah still do it." Remy then snaked his hand into the inner pockets of his trench coat and fished out a flask.

"Remy!" Alarmed, Remy almost dropped the flask on the ground.

"What John?" asked Remy through clenched teeth.

"Ya know the rules… ya have ta share with me," John grinned as he twisted off the cap and took a swig.

"Are you two crazy? What if the teacher comes back, what will you do then sugah?"

"'Ey shiela, calm down. Oi don' think…"

"That much is obvious."

"As Oi was sayin', Oi don't think that the teacher will be back for a while. Something about an ongoing fire in the teacher's lounge or something," grinned John.

"You didn't… Gawd! What's wrong with you."

"Now now ma cherie, in John's defense, no one will ever be able to link any of his 'activities' to him without solid proof."

"Will you two stop that. Ah have a name. Rogue, remember it."

"But cherie suits you much bettah."

"When we get home, Ah'm gonna strangle you with mah bare hands."

"Ah have a whole list of t'ings dat Ah'd lahke ya t' do t' Remy wit' yo hands and killin' him ain't one of 'em," said Remy as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Rems, Me thinks ya have a death wish. You'd have to be crazy to provoke her."

"Oh don't get me started Crocodile Dundee. If you evah get caught don't blame me if they shove ya back inta that insane asylum again." Remy noticed that while Rogue returned to her friend, John had put down the flask and stared at the desk intently.

"C'mon Johnny, she doesn't know wha' she be talkin' bout. She meant it as a joke, remember that."

"Remy…" John solemnly looked at Remy, "…Oi was just playin' roight? Oi don' deserve to be in there."

"John, as a friend, Ah'm tellin' ya that ya need to get over dis. Ya can' be dis sensitive jus' 'cause a p'tite say ya should be in the nut house. Dieu, ya mus' be the mos' emotionally unstable man Ah know."

"Still hurts mate…" grumbled John as he lay his head down to slumber.

"Sticks and stones mon ami, sticks and stones…"

~&~

John laid still on the floor of the padded room, his arms confined by the strait jacket and his powers nullified by the collar wrapped around his neck. He was accustomed to the room, the orderlies, and the nurses. He learned that the crazier he seemed, the more they tried to sedate him or 'cure' him. 'Curing' him usually consisted of shock therapy and other various physical agonies. If he acted normal, they would leave him alone.

But it's pretty hard not to act crazy in a padded room with a strait jacket. The only fun he ever had was when the orderlies in the night shift fell asleep. That's when he would bounce against the walls, pretending that he was a normal fifteen year old boy and that his parents had rented him a bounce house.

Morning would be hell for him, because that was when the cold, hard reality of his existence came to fruition. That's why he spent the day completely still. It wasn't because he wanted to act normal, he didn't need to act, it was because the day light seemed to illuminate his prison and his fantasy world would shatter. Nothing in his fantasy world was real, he wasn't normal, he had no known parents, and his so called bounce house was actually his prison.

John had entered his first mental institution at the age of six, right after he accidentally set his school on fire. He was young and afraid of his newly budding powers, but the government had forced him to go to school.

He was careful to isolate himself from the other children but he had unknowingly become part of a harmless game of tag. When he felt a hand on his shoulders, he unleashed a wave of fire that consumed the school into a sea of flame. Only he had survived the fiery excursion.

John's first thoughts on a mental institution was bliss. At age six, the thought of living in a clean and stable environment that provided food was so much more appealing than living on the streets, but then they transferred him to an adult institution at age twelve after they deemed him a threat.

That's when he began to write. He stole the notepads and pencils from doctors that left to relieve themselves. Of course, though, he had to hide his dozens of notepads and pencils behind a broken crevice within the padding.

John wrote about his life and the daily routines of the mental institutions. He also wrote about characters that portrayed him. His favorite character became part of a larger series. The story reflected his fictional life if he were to ever escape the confines of his prison and how he deals with life outside it.

Then it happened. One day, while writing into his many notepads, the collar suppressing his powers bent and twisted until it broke completely. The sudden release of his powers caused him tremendous pain as it unleashed itself in large torrents of flame.

John yelled in anguish as he saw all his stories and the entire room erupt in flames. One of the walls tore off completely and a lone figure remained outside. Out of fear, John shot out a tendril of flame at the figure but it was blocked by an orb of metal.

"St. John Allerdyce," said the voice in monotone, "I believe that you and I have something in common. You see, both of us possess special abilities. I can manipulate and generate magnetic fields and you… well, I don't have to guess if I just look at this room."

"They see you as a pariah, foolish humans. Why don't you join me and we'll show them whose the superior race."

"O-Oi don't know bout this. Oi mean, why should oi trust you?"

"It is true that you have no reason to trust me, but do you have any reason to trust them," said the figure as he pointed towards the asylum, "They'll most likely transfer you to prison for murder. I don't think you have a choice anymore Mr. Allerdyce."

"Foine…"

"Look on the bright side, at least you won't rot away in there anymore and those stories of yours will no longer be hidden." John looked up at the figure in joy. It finally dawned on him. Even though he would be wanted in his own country for murder, he would be free.

"Thank you Mr…"

"Call me Magneto…"

~&~

Dominoes (1): This is a game that my stupid brother's invented. Though, I admit it is fairly fun to play and the point of the game is to out do the other persons fiery maze.

AN: I'm sorry that I haven't updated any of my stories but I've been extremely busy. I just joined the swim team but the conditioning is yearlong, so updates will take much, much longer than I would hope. Please remember that I'm only in the eighth grade and that my vocabulary is limited. Please review and give me constructive criticism and not destructive cynicism, thank you.