Hey all! I'm finally getting back into the swing of things and updating on a fairly regular basis.

An announcement:

As I'm sure some of you have noticed, I cut down the story, deleting the chapters that haven't been edited. They'll be put back up again once I fixed them up. At this point I've been making so many major changes to the plot/story that half of it didn't even make sense anymore, and the way I figured it's best to take that stuff down so the story doesn't get too confusing then keep the chapters up and have them make no sense.

Either way, as always if you have any questions, comments, concerns, grand revelations, or anything in between, send an email or review.

Enjoy.

CHAPTER 5

-Inuyasha-

The woman regarded me coolly, like I was some kind of insect unworthy of being in her grand presence. Grand indeed, fucking human bitch; I'll outlive her three times over.

I stared back defiantly, wishing she'd drop dead from oxygen deprivation. Being so high and mighty has its disadvantages too—not much good air at the top. She didn't look as though I fazed her, but I didn't care. I knew who and what I was, and I was better, faster, stronger, and smarter than she would ever be, so fuck that bitch.

We spent a good hour staring each other down before I realized something was wrong. The woman kept looking at the door as though expecting something, and every time she heard something the air would shift slightly. I didn't understand the implications, but I could tell this wasn't her normal behavior. She didn't seem jumpy by any stretch of the word, but she was definitely waiting for something...

This was new. Others have been anxious to finish their shift, and antsy from sitting with me for so long, but she seemed like she was waiting for something in particular—and the way the air kept shifting...I didn't understand.

I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to discern what was going on. She met my gaze levelly until she heard footsteps and quickly turned to the door. That's it. There's something not right here. I decided to find out what.

Dramatically, I cracked my knuckles and neck to get her attention and give warning that she was about to answer my questions if I had to beat it out of her. She didn't look worried. The woman watched regally as I hopped off the bed, and I grinned, excited to be moving again. She uncrossed her long legs and stood from the wooden folding chair she'd brought.

"Sit down," she commanded. There was a hint of an accent I couldn't place—African, maybe?

"What's goin' on here? Shit's different than normal," I always reverted to my old way of speaking before a fight.

"I will not say it again, Inuyasha. Sit down."

"Make me," I said, and then lunged.

The woman calmly reached her hands towards me, rolled her eyes into the back of her head, and without warning I was flying through the air back into the bed I'd been laying in. Now in my defense I wasn't even half trying, nor was I ready for a random indoor hurricane, but the sudden, violent gust of wind blowing me ass-backwards caused me to screech so loud I might have busted a vocal chord.

I struggled in vain to keep my wits about me. The winds continued to swell and swirl around my head as I attempted to disentangle myself from blankets and limbs. In the end, furious, I resorted to slashing at the blankets around me in a blind rage, using my claws to shred the material and free myself. This was fucking humiliating.

By the time I'd finally pulled myself together the woman was levitating mid air, wind whipping her white hair around her face, eyes glowing an eerie white, and waiting for me to surrender.

I struggled to keep my footing against the torrential gale. Loose objects rushed around the room shattering on the walls and me without discrimination. I resisted the urge to swat at them before they hit, choosing instead to focus on the woman while allowing random articles to shatter against my head and torso.

The wooden folding chair had been hurling around the room along with the rest of the non heavy materials, and was headed straight for my opponent. I waited for it to hit and momentarily distract the bitch before initiating my counter-attack, but amazingly when it got near, the chair rushed around her and began careening towards myself, missing my head by inches.

"Fuck..." it slipped out due to sheer amazement. I've seen many things in my life but such grand displays of power from a meek looking human woman...I was left speechless. Her level of control was astounding. I spared a glance at the door, wondering if I could make it there before she summoned the winds to pull me back into the room. It was worth a shot.

I feigned a lunge in her direction to confuse the woman then made a sharp right towards the exit. She was one step ahead of me. The air shifted before I was through with my feint. She must have known what I was planning because just as I approached the door red flags in the back of my brain started waving. I heeded my instincts and sidestepped left, dodging a bolt of lightning—that's right, a bolt of fucking lightning!

There was a scorch mark on the door. This was the real shit. Somehow she'd shifted the particles in the air, messed with the pressure, the barometer, and Kami knows what else and struck me with lightning! ...Or at least tried to.

I would have stopped to look at her in awe had she not continued her lightning barrage; seconds before a bolt hit I'd feel the air shift. I'd dodge left or right and feel blistering heat from the bolt as it struck the spot I'd occupied moments before.

The carpet was ruined. The room began to reek.

When I was far enough away from the door, she stopped her assault and commanded me to surrender again.

This wasn't happening.

"...What...are you...?" I asked her, hesitating. "You...can't be human..."

"I have gone by many names; I've been called G-dess, Sorceress, and Thief, but you can call me Storm, the Weather Witch!" She exclaimed proudly, while magicking another gast of wind that nearly blew me off my feet. Well, that explains it; she's a Witch, and a powerful one at that.

I sniffed the air again, but was unable to catch a good whiff of her with all the wind blowing. All the other humans' scents contaminated the room. Maybe they were all practicing witches of varying skill and specialties. Maybe that's what made me think all the humans in the clearing smelled weird.

"I've never met a Witch of your skill before," I informed her, thinking I was paying a compliment. Her expression only belayed confusion at my response. Well fuck her then, don't take my compliment, and with that I raced for the exit.

"Stop!" the Witch called after me, but I was already out the door and half way down the hall. I remembered from my first (and only) excursion that I was on the second floor and needed elevator access to reach the main entrance.

I knew the general direction of the front doors as well as the fact that I needed clearance to use the elevator, so I figured there should be either a stairwell or set of windows nearby. Sure enough, after following the hallway for a few seconds, there they both were. I didn't even bother with the stairs—just went for a window and jumped, shattering the glass easily.

The fall was a good few feet, but it felt like nothing to me; I was already planning my next move. It was a quick sprint to a massive gate that I'd clear easily, but then what? I had no idea where I was, and that wasn't the biggest problem of mine. The Witches will mobilize and track me down. I don't know what they're capable of. I also don't know what lengths they're willing to go to find and catch me. I don't want the public involved—especially not the media. No matter—I'll figure things out as situations arise.

Seconds from hitting the ground fuzzy arms wrapped themselves around my chest and arms, and before I could react the world jolted. My eyes swam, my innards felt like they'd experienced some sort of reverberating concussion, and the shock to my vestibular system left me feeling vertigo. By the time I realized I was somewhere inside I was forced to brace for a much longer fall, and the fuzzy arms were gone.

I took a look around me. I stood alone in a large, circular, metal room. What the fuck had just happened? I felt myself swaying as my head swam. For a second I thought I was going to be sick. I fought the feeling, forcing myself to focus on what crazy-ass fuck situation I was in now.

A shiver went down my spine. The room gave me the creeps. I didn't move. Instead I tried to determine why I felt so uneasy. Looking up revealed faces plastered against a window in the chamber above. Some of the faces I recognized as guards, the others were too young for such responsibility; they were probably around 11 or 12 years old.

The wench that defeated me stood towards the left. I noted her attire; it was the same thing she wore the day in the clearing: a black, tight (...extremely tight) leotard with green accents, black knee high boots, yellow gloves, and belt with a giant X for a buckle.

The others from the clearing also wore familiar outfits while the new ones, for the most part, wore all black. Each and every one of them was plastered with X's—weirdoes.

I thought back to my witch theory, and in my mind it was confirmed. I was captured by a clan of practicing witches that had gone berserk and formed their own cult to educate children in the art of witchcraft. Using their combined strength they bring evil doers (like me, apparently) to justice. And I thought this era was boring?

My eyes were drawn back to the toxic witch. She looked uncomfortable for some reason. When I glanced to her immediate left I understood why. She was standing next to the loquacious brunette, and the girl was still talking. She must be the type of human who's afraid that if she stops speaking her brain will stop working—and I use the term "working" loosely.

I growled. This was beyond ridiculous. I was in danger, being gawked at like a caged animal, and instead of doing something about it, I was gawking right back. Maybe I am as stupid as I look.

Wrenching my gaze away from my captors, I instead assessed the danger level of the room. Yes, it gave me bad vibes. Yes, I've learned from experience to always trust my gut. And yes, my gut was telling me to get the fuck out of this place. The problem was I couldn't figure out what was so dangerous about the room, nor could I see anything that looked like an exit.

It seemed as though the only way out was to get to where my captors were and bust through the windows. It also seemed as though whatever was making me jumpy was dormant for the moment; great, no problems then.

Now that I had a plan of action, I at least felt more confident—a mistake. Carelessly, I took a step forward to build the momentum needed to break what I assumed to be thick glass, only to nearly be struck by a laser beam.

The blast just nicked the back of my heel as I leapt away. I landed nearby and was forced to jump again as the room sprang to life. Lasers shot blistering blasts one after the other no matter where I moved, while the floors would randomly give way, giving me split seconds to jump, or fall into a deep abyss.

As I leapt around the room, I twisted mid-air to look at my injured foot, expecting to see a trail of blood gushing behind me, marking my progress like bread crumbs.

What I found was worse—the laser blast had been so intensely hot it cauterized the wound. If I got hit in a vital area by even one of those beams, I was fucked. On the plus side, I wouldn't have to worry about slipping on my own blood as I bounced around like a superball.

After zigzagging around my metal cage for what felt like decades, I reached the opposite end of the room, and stopped. I targeted the guns the lasers were coming from and watched as the three nearest me, in unison, turned their nozzles towards my present location. I tensed, already anticipating the blasts. Risking actual injury by continuing this ridiculous cat and mouse game would be stupid.

The guns spit out their individual lasers as I surged forward. Using my demonic speed, I easily avoided the beams—they had barely left their gun barrels. I leapt from weapon to weapon, using my claws to tear through the metal and wire, destroying them as I passed. A few seconds later, I was back in the center of the room. A moment later, the guns fell to pieces on the floor.

My breathing slightly heavier, I took the opportunity to survey the room again. This wasn't the end. I still felt uneasy.

Then giant, metal tentacles erupted from the floor beneath my feet, engulfing my body, pinning my arms to my sides and my legs together.

Immediately, I began struggling. Using all my strength I brought my left claw to a tentacle and sliced through it, freeing my right side. Now, less restricted, I began slashing and tearing at the rest of my bonds. Before I could free myself fully another set consumed me.

Again, I set about freeing myself, cursing angrily at my new predicament. This time, just as I painstakingly managed to reach one of the metal vines, an electric charge was activated.

I cried out in surprise and then pain when the electric pulse became stronger. My arm dropped back to its side, away from the metal it had been ready to rip through. My restraints tightened, my body screamed in protest. My brain turned off, and I blacked out momentarily.

When I came to, my body felt on fire, I couldn't move any part of me though I'd gone ridged, and my lip was bleeding from where I'd accidentally bitten through it. I yelled to focus my body and my mind on moving.

Using every ounce of concentration to keep my brain pinpointed on its current task, I reached with my left hand towards the metallic vines ensnaring the right and tugged hard. They broke easier than expected, but before I could shake off the rest of them, the voltage doubled. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting to stay conscious despite the electric current disrupting voluntary control of my muscles and brain.

I must have blacked out again because when I opened my eyes next, I was screaming and nearly laying on my stomach—the only thing keeping me even remotely upright were the very tentacles restraining me. The amount of them kept me from being able to fall down, as I was obviously unable to do anything but. I remembered screaming in pain several more times, and I'm sure I must have been fading in and out, when suddenly my eyes bled red.

I knew what was coming, and this time when I screamed, I screamed in fear of what was to come, not the pain, which was already a fading to a dull throb as I felt demonic power course through me. The air around me pulsed once, then twice, and with every ounce of strength I had left, I let out a final, primal roar as I used my only free hand to shred the rest of the tentacles, and leap to freedom.

I watched as the floor shifted to a vertical position, becoming walls that sped towards me, intending to crush me to a bloody pulp in the center. The demon blood fueling me allowed me to easily barrel through one of the walls. Though it had enough force to wisp my hair forward over my shoulders, the concussion from the walls booming together didn't faze me enough to cause a forward step or flinch.

I waited for the next attack. There was nothing. I thanked all the G-ds in the heavens, and focused all my attention on cooling my demon blood.

With nothing threatening my life and without completing the full transformation it was still possible so long as I had a few minutes to concentrate. My body knew I didn't want to turn.

I breathed deep, focusing on the changes going on within me, willing the anger and rage away, reminding myself that I was alive and out of harms way, and commanding my body to respond.

Slowly, but surely the demon within me calmed. When I opened my eyes, my vision was clear, and I looked up disdainfully at my captors, knowing they were watching my every move. I wondered if they realized how close they came to knowing death intimately.

I eyed the leader, Xavier, I think he called himself. He gave a curt nod as the older, gruff looking man finished whispering something in his ear. I quirked an ear in their direction but the glass was too thick to catch any of their conversation.

Not that it mattered. I soon figured out what they were talking about. No sooner had they finished speaking Xavier flicked a few switches and the floor gave way, giving me just enough time to catch onto the edge and pull myself back up as it slammed shut.

I smiled; this little game they were playing was over. Not only was the alcove above the only way out, but it contained the bastards pulling the switches—literally in this case. I ran full speed towards the center of the room and hurled myself at the spot where Xavier was sitting, thoroughly demolishing the thick glass.

The younger ones jumped back, shielding themselves from the shards that rained upon them. Several of the older witches ran forward, shielding their faces and eyes with their hands while attempting to rush to their defenseless leaders rescue. I paid them no mind; there was no way they could stop me.

Without even bothering to land, I used a surge of my Youki to change direction mid-air, and went straight for the Professor, only to feel fuzzy arms around my chest and arms.

Now this was familiar. I reached over my head, grabbed the Witches shirt, and pulled hard. I ducked to allow the forwards momentum to send my attacker over my shoulder, and as expected he went tumbling over my head.

Unfortunately, even as the fucker rolled forwards off my back, he managed to grab my wrist, and one nauseating lurch later I found myself back in my original room. I took a look at the witch capable of teleportation.

It was a fuzzy, blue male. Had his scent not been distinctly human I might have thought I was face to face with a demon. He did not look like any of the others and I wondered if his appearance was a product of a spell gone wrong.

The witch let go of my wrist and disappeared in a puff of smoke just as I extended my claws. Disappointed, I looked around the room, noting it was put back in order in my absence. The scorch marks from the weather witches spells remained, but the furniture and other miscellaneous articles were back in their original places. It smelled like a storm—strange.

I headed for the door, wondering if the demonic looking witch would return and force me back. Sure enough just as I touched the knob he returned trailing smoke and holding the hand of the brown haired wench.

Upon seeing where I was and what I was doing, both took threatening steps in my direction. I shrugged and walked away from the door. The blue man left satisfied I wasn't a flight risk; the brunette remained. I didn't even bother picking a fight. She'd magic herself transparent as soon as I drew near, and my efforts would be in vain.

...I suppose deep down I knew that if I really wanted to, I cold maim her before it registered in her pathetic human brain that I'd moved, but I ignored the thought for now, instead choosing to stride over to the bed, and flop down angrily.

What the fuck was that? Did those stupid fuckers set all that up just to fuck with me, or were they actually trying to kill me? If the later was the goal, they've failed in a grandiose manner. If the later was the goal, they must have been barely trying. I wasn't that easy to kill. I leaned my back against the wall and crossed my arms and legs.

Bastards.

They knew what I was—at least I think they did—why else put me through that exercise? They must have been testing me; trying to see how much stress my body could go through before the demon within took over.

That asshole leader of theirs, the Professor Charles Xavier, must be testing my strength, speed…everything. He must be trying to see how far I could be pushed before I'm either dead or turned.

I thought back to how the barrage of attacks stopped almost as soon as my demon blood tried to take over. They gave me a rather long time to gather my wits and calm the monster within before unleashing the next attack, hadn't they.

Fools! I couldn't believe their stupidity. We were all lucky they chose to stop increasing the current and let me escape. They were lucky they decided to wait until I calmed myself before issuing the next attack. One mess up, one too many stressors and we were all fucked; I would lose my soul to my demon half while they would lose their lives to it.

I felt the girls' eyes on me and I lifted mine to meet hers. She wasn't speaking, so that was a plus. Maybe she was afraid now that she'd seen was what I truly was. I dropped her gaze in favor of my injured foot. It was already beginning to heal, and the fact that the wound was cauterized will both help and hurt the process.

On the one hand, I lost barely any blood; the wound was sealed immediately by the same lasers that inflicted the wound in the first place. On the other hand, there may be permanent tissue damage as the cauterization process didn't allow my body to heal the injury naturally; it burnt the tissue instead, causing it to die. All in all my foot will be perfectly healed in a few hours, but there will be scarring—the extent of which I don't know myself.

Additionally, my body ached from the electric shock. It didn't seem as though anything was broken or even fractured, but everything felt…charged. It was weird and painful, but not serious.

The only other actual injuries were obtained when I jumped through the glass window—not the first time, but the second time when escaping from the metal room. Embedded in my skin, clothes, and hair were fragments of glass.

I brushed off my shirt and noticed it was in shreds—my pants were as well. That must have happened when I was being harassed by those fucking high voltage tentacles. At the time I'd been too worried about other things (like losing my soul) to notice.

At first I tried brushing out the shards from the tattered cloth, not wanting to have to lie in glass, but it was hopeless. Attempting to save the clothes would be stupid. It was all destroyed. I yanked the shirt off and tossed it on the floor beside my bed. I missed my fire rat haori.

The pants, though damaged in a similar fashion, I had no choice but to leave on. When standing you would be able to see where the tentacles ensnared me, and my burns would be exposed, but there was nothing I could do about that. In any case, the burns would be gone within hours as well.

I looked up at my guard for the evening (assuming it was evening) to gauge her reaction. She was staring. Unsure of what to do about this, I resumed picking the glass from my chest, arms, and hair.

After a few moments, I heard the girl stand up and move closer. I stopped picking at myself to watch. Though she was pretty much harmless by my standards, I didn't trust her any more than I trusted that bastard, Xavier.

The girl was walking towards me without any indication of stopping. Her arms were up in a placating manner—hands up, palms forward, showing that she had no weapons and meant no harm. I stood, ready to defend myself; like she needs weapons.

When I stood, the girl froze.

She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, then asked shyly, "Do you...do you like, y'know...need any help with that?"

Was she serious? While I was deciding, the girl continued her slow procession to my bed. I stepped back until my back was protected by the wall. I remained on the bed for the height advantage.

"You think I'd actually let you touch me?" I spat back at her.

The witch had the nerve to look offended at my reaction. "I...I dunno. You looked like you were having a hard time with it. I thought you might like, need some help?"

I paused for a moment, debating.

What the Hell, right?

I shrugged, jumped off the bed, and sat down at its edge. I turned so that she had access to my back and shook out my long mane, spraying shards around the room.

The girl gave out a high pitched squeak as several of the shards flew in her direction. She threw her hands up and turned her head to keep them from hitting her face, but instead of being deflected by her palms, they went straight through her.

When she was sure there were no more headed her way, she dropped her hands and looked at me, anger showing on her child like features.

"Hey! I was just trying to-"

"You wanted to help?"

"Y-yes..."

"So help."

-Kitty-

"So help." And with that, he turned his bare back to me, and waited.

Was he serious? I waited a minute and when he didn't move away, I figured he was. I don't know what I was thinking when I offered to help. Inuyasha was hurt and grimacing when poking at his foot—which was totally messed up—and his back and chest and legs were all burnt and his clothes were all ruined and I couldn't help myself. And now he was practically naked and waiting for me to help and...What was I supposed to do?

I shook my head attempting to prepare myself for what I was about to do. He could kill me—I'd literally just seen a display of what he was capable of, and yet that wasn't why I was nervous. It was his nakedness. It was his helplessness. No one else here would help him with anything, and he probably thinks I'm just like the others.

We nearly killed the guy just now and it's our fault he's hurt right now. He's just a teenager. We don't even know if he did anything to deserve this. I know he attacked Rogue, but he didn't try to kill her. He didn't even come close to it. And the Professor said there's something wrong with him on the inside so he's probably just sick. That's what we're here for; to make him better, not treat him like dirt.

So I was partially nervous because he's half naked and I'm supposed to touch him, but the rest was because I was scared he'd take back his offer and not let me show we're good people. Or hurt me accidentally because he doesn't trust me.

As I got near, I saw his shoulders tense. He was ready to strike at me if I made a wrong move. I gulped, anxious about making a mistake.

I stopped directly in front of him, knowing he'd accepted my help to get the shards on his shoulders and back. If I sat on the bed with him, since he'd already turned sideways, I'd easily be able to get them, but sitting with him added to my anxiety. It seemed too...intimate.

I was taking too long to decide what to do. Inuyasha shifted uncomfortably then turned to see what the matter was. He looked horribly confused, so I tentatively stuck my hand out, ready to pick a small shard of glass embedded high up on his left shoulder. As soon as my hand made contact with his skin I turned my head to meet Inuyashas gaze once more.

His eyes were so beautiful...

They pierced me with their unusual color and intensity.

His skin was so warm...

It made me feel like I was on fire.

I felt my face flush. My hand dropped leaving the shard where it was. I stammered out something about taking care of the shards in his back.

His eyes never left me. Even as I climbed up on the bed to get to his back and escape his piercing gaze, Inuyasha maintained eye contact—even turning a little in his seat when I left his rage of vision.

Now seated directly behind him I was still unsure of what to do. The guy just kept staring...

It started freaking me out. I got redder and redder by the second. Soon I would look like a giant tomato; then my head would explode. Why didn't he stop looking at me? Did I have something on my face? I rubbed my nose self consciously.

And it wasn't even just that he was staring at me. He was staring at me with such a strange look on his face. His eyes were all intense and hopeful and...sad.

Then he scoffed, scowled darkly, and turned away from me. After all the staring, I was surprised at the anti-climactic finish. No explanation, no nothing. Now that his back was to me I guessed I should be doing what he'd asked (helping), but I was too freaked out to move. Also, what if he didn't want my help anymore? He did give me a nasty look before turning away...

"Keh!" Inuyasha scoffed again. I twitched at the noise, still unsure of what to do. Inuyasha must have realized I was confused because then, finally, he moved his hair over his shoulders and out of the way, and shrugged. I took that as a "Go ahead, Kitty! And by the way, thanks for your help," and set to work. Maybe I was being too liberal with my interpretations.

There were almost no shards in his back, which makes sense as he practically went head first through the window. I settled for picking them out of his long, silvery-white hair instead. Many of the little shards were stuck in the tangles, but easily removed. Others were lost forever—or at least until he invested in a brush. His hair was in ruins; the whole thing was just one giant birds nest. I couldn't believe he walked around in public like that.

I started from the bottom, but after a few minutes of painful tugging, I gave up and started moving my way up, sticking with only the easily accessible pieces. As I worked on his hair, Inuyasha busied himself with his front half. That was where most of the glass ended up anyway, and he seemed too preoccupied to notice what I was doing.

I shifted my position, sitting up on my knees to reach the top of his head, and got to his ears. Somehow I'd forgotten about those. I carefully worked around them, noticing how they twitched when my hands would accidentally graze them.

When finished, I started on his bangs, picking out the stray glass and then finger combing them smooth. When Inuyasha didn't stop me I started on the rest of his head, starting at the top, before promptly giving up. There was too much for me to do with just fingers—I needed a brush...and a pair of scissors...possibly a blowtorch.

I settled for picking through the easier tangles and massaging his scalp soothingly—at least I hope it was soothingly. The boys' hair was so thick I couldn't tell how my ministrations might feel to him. He was stone still, so taking that as a good sign I continued.

My heart was pounding. I was nervous about being near "the Killer" and how he would react to the things I was doing to him. I didn't want to offend or hurt him. The things I was doing excited me. Parts of my brain were telling me to get away from the guy like, now! Other parts dared me to stay.

The more Inuyashas hair de-tangled—at least the area by his scalp—the more my attentions turned more into a full on gentle head scratch. Even as I was doing it I knew that what I was doing was wrong. I thanked G-d no one could see us. I leaned over to get a better sense of Inuyashas feelings about all this.

His eyes were closed, his features relaxed, and his head was lolling slightly. I took that to mean that whatever I was doing was definitely working. Inwardly I hated myself.

What the heck was I doing? There's a huge difference between helping a wounded guy, and giving a scalp massage to someone who possibly killed children, and who definitely attacked one of your best friends. I kept going anyway, scratching by his temples, then base of his neck, the back of his head, and then back to his temples again.

Then, struck by possibly (definitely) the stupidest impulse in the history of ever, I touched them—his ears. And I don't mean graze them accidentally, I mean it was a full on ear grab.

Almost instantly Inuyasha yelped like a dog in pain. Amused at the image paired with his ears I giggled—a huge mistake.

Even as the noise was leaving my lips he blurred, and suddenly Inuyasha was standing up, facing me, and looking really, really angry. I would have phased through the bed had the look on his face not frozen me with fear.

And then, his face went blank, and he calmly asked in a low voice, "Why did you do that?"

I almost wished he yelled.

My mouth opened and closed a few times. I didn't know what to say. I was scared stiff and sure that one wrong word out of my mouth would be the death of me.

"I asked you a question." He took a threatening step forward but again his voice was even and dangerous.

Again I couldn't answer, only stare wide-eyed. His expression turned into one of disgust as he spat, "You fucking human! You dare touch me?"

I recoiled slightly, petrified of what he might do next. I'd gathered my wits about me enough to phase through the bed if need be, but that would leave him alone in the room and unguarded.

The rest of the team was probably still occupied, and Inuyasha could easily escape. I could try phasing through his attacks instead, but that would only work if I'm quick enough to see them coming, and I doubted that was the case.

The Killer took another step towards me. Now his knees were touching the bed and I was sitting with my knees folded under me mere inches away—not a very good position for me to be in if I wanted to leap out of the way of an attack.

I looked around for possible escape routes while I tried to buy myself time. "I-"

"Shut up!" Inuyasha snarled at me. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He grabbed my wrist, and pulled me towards him. "Do you know who you're dealing with, girl? Do you understand how easy it would be for me to snap your wrist in two?

I might have peed myself a little bit. I wasn't sure what to say or do. The Killer was squeezing my wrist and I felt the bones bow in his iron grip. I whimpered in pain, searching his eyes for the look he was giving me less than an hour before—the look that showed caring and love and hope. All I saw was rage—so much so that his golden eyes almost looked tinted red.

"Please, stop!" I cried out, finally. "I didn't mean anything by it! I'm sorry I didn't mean it, I was just trying to help you!"

And then I realized what was so wrong with this picture.

(a) I'm a mutant too. I could escape just as easily as I could hurt him. I didn't have to take this abuse.

(b) He was the one that let me help him in the first place, and he was the one acting all weird. The jerk didn't look so upset when I was scratching his head like a lap dog!

And (c), what in the heck was he talking about killing me for? So I rubbed his ears, it's not like I tried to hurt him! What's with all the death threats and wrist breaking?! He must be crazy!

So I slapped him. Hard. Across the face.

He looked so shocked his eyes even stopped looking all red.

"Now you listen here," I told him, "you're the one acting all weird. I didn't know your ears were so sensitive so like, how could I know that when I touched them it would hurt you.

"If you like, have a problem with me just tell me; don't threaten me, and don't talk to me like I'm diseased, okay?"

I phased out of his grip then through his torso, and walked over to the fold-up chair Storm had brought for us to sit on. "Now like, if you have something to say, say it nicely or don't say anything to me at all."

And with that I sat down, crossed my arms, and waited for him to apologize.

Inuyasha was totally in the wrong here. An apology should have been the next step. Then I would forgive him and all would be well.

I waited. A series of emotions flickered through his eyes before they returned to their unemotional, cold, regular selves.

I guess Inuyasha didn't agree. I sighed quietly and settled back into the chair. He wasn't going to apologize. He was going to go back to sitting Indian style, ignoring me, and withdraw back into whatever was going inside his head. I was half right.

Inuyasha did go back to ignoring me and sitting Indian style. He also went back to his own thoughts, but not before quietly muttering a soft, simple sorry.

I smiled, forgiving him instantly. There must have been a reason why he flipped out about his ears. We're all sensitive in some shape or form over our mutations. His reaction must have been so extreme because of his insecurities. Inuyasha shouldn't have grabbed at or threatened me, but I shouldn't have touched his ears in the first place.

Lesson learned.

-Rogue-

I stared in shock at the video of the Killers performance. The Professor played it once in real time and then again in slow motion. In real time my eyes couldn't follow parts of what happened.

On the screen the Killer had hit a dead end. He turned and his gaze went to the laser guns. Up until that point his features had been blank; he might have been sitting having a cup of coffee instead of running for his life in DR L10.

Only when he hit a dead end did his expression change from blank to serious. His eyes narrowed and his gaze became calculating and intense. That was when he disappeared—or at least it looked like he did at the time.

When we watched the scene on tape I was able to see that the Killer hadn't disappeared at all—he was just moving too fast for my eyes to follow. I could barely see it played in real time, but I caught his blurred form dart by one of the laser guns before he vanished again.

Now that it was being played in slow-mo, I could see exactly what went down. The Killer tensed in slow-mo, before jumping the exact moment the guns fired their blasts. The Killer went from gun to gun at what looked like a super fast sprint, jumping and slashing at each with razor sharp claws as he passed. Final blasts from decimated guns were still streaking across the room as he finished his final strikes.

Then he simply turned and, defying gravity, changed direction mid-air, landing neatly in the center of the room.

"Jesus…" Logan cursed under his breath, his face grim.

"Who the hell is this guy, Professor!?" Scott asked angrily, "It takes all of us working as a team to get through anything on level 10 and this guy does it in his sleep!"

Scott was right. This is insane. How did we ever manage to catch him in the first place? With that kind of speed and strength he could have escaped from the clearing easily. Heck, he could probably leave the mansion and come back ten times over before anyone even noticed he was missing.

Everyone else watching must have had similar sentiments. They whispered amongst themselves nervously. Bobby asked if I thought Logan would be able to stop Inuyasha if he tried to escape. Before I could answer, he asked if the Professor would be able to stop him if Logan failed.

If the Professors mental prowess was being questioned Bobby really must be worried. The Professor was stronger than any mutant I've ever seen. He could even stop the "unstoppable" Juggernaut so long as he wasn't wearing his infamous helmet.

"Quiet down, everyone," the Professor commanded as he fast forwarded a few seconds to where the Killer got his first currant of electricity from the cables.

"This is double the voltage we give you when we put you in the danger room," the Professor informed us. "Even on level 10," he added as Scott opened his mouth to say something.

Normally on a L10 DR session we were given 50,000 volts of electricity and about .5 amps when shocked by anything; same as a standard issue Taser gun used by police officers. Usually whoever gets hit goes down and stays down for a bit, but then are pretty much fine. If it's double the dose it could be enough to kill!

The Killer was screaming. The volume was muted now, but I could still hear him in my head. The Professor and Logan had left the speakers on while the Killer ran the L10 program so they could hear what was going on inside. It was frightening hearing him scream like that. At the time it was hard not to feel bad for him, but it showed how much he could take, and how much stronger he was than we are.

Even at 100,000 volts he was able to fight the pain and free himself from the tentacles.

On the screen the flashes of electricity became brighter, making the Killer look as though he was glowing slightly. This must have been where they increased the current.

The Professor confirmed by announcing, "This is about 100,000 volts and 3 amps." That's more than enough to knock a normal person out for a good long while. Hell, it was enough to kill someone if subjected to the current for too long, and not only did he stay conscious for the most part, but his body was able to handle the current for several minutes!

I could barely believe it.

Neither could anyone else.

I heard several people around me curse. Storm, who'd missed the live performance, looked as shaken as I've ever seen her.

How did I manage to knock him out so easily if he could do all that? If a current that strong didn't put him out, how did my power manage to do it?

"4 amps; 50,000 volts…5 amps; 50,000 volts…" Logan was saying as the Killer on the screen somehow managed to free an arm from the tentacles that ensnared him.

The Killer convulsed and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His mouth opened in a silent scream and he promptly passed out. At the time the Professor and Logan were ready to stop the current, but then he was awake again. It went on for several minutes. The guy just would not stay down.

Finally, the Killers convulsing, ridged form fell face first. His nervous system was finally short circuiting and he was down for the count. At the time, in the control center, there were many sighs of relief. The guy was human after all.

But then something happened. I'm not sure what, but I felt it, and I think some of the others did too. Something changed in the room, and suddenly the Killer was invincible again. He roared mightily and tore off the rest of his bonds before leaping to freedom.

At the time, inside me something had stirred. It felt kind of like one of the personas inside me was trying to take over. It had happened before, and the fact that it could happen again was a constant factor in my nightmares. I had shuddered, trying to calm whatever was going on within. I didn't recognize the life force. It didn't feel like something I'd absorbed before—it was darker, and angrier, and more violent than anything I've ever experienced.

The Professor flipped a switch and the floor rose vertically to become walls, ready to crush the Killer in their center. Not only did the Killer escape the trap, but he barreled through one of the damn walls to escape without breaking a sweat. Most of us were really freaked at that point. This guy's unstoppable. I was shaking. Something very bad was happening.

We all waited for the Professor to throw something else at him, but that seemed to be the end of it for some reason. When I looked over my shoulder to find out why, the Professor looked deep in thought—weird. Jean was pale and leaning on Scott slightly. Mr. McCoy and Logan looked disturbed as well. I had wondered if they all felt the same thing I was feeling.

That didn't make sense though; the badness was inside of me, how could they feel it too?

I'd ignored the question at the time. The lull in activity gave me a moment to calm myself. I breathed deeply, relying on the techniques the Professor taught me for when I was feeling overwhelmed after using my power. A short while later I was feeling better. When I looked around the room again it seemed like everyone else was back to normal too—at least for the most part.

Now that I had a moment to think it made less sense than before.

Maybe the Professor and Jean had sensed telepathically that one of the personas inside me was trying to get out. Maybe it was a persona that was so big and bad it made them worried, and they had telepathically helped me out. Except if that was the case they wouldn't have been standing around doing nothing. They would have come over and helped me instead of staring at the Killer. That and I would have felt them inside my head.

That leaves only one other option: I wasn't what was worrying everyone. If it wasn't me, it must have been the Killer, and if it was the Killer then maybe everything I felt was triggered by something that happened by the Killer being in trouble.

But that was impossible, wasn't it? My powers have never been triggered by anything outside of me touching someone or a psychic going in my head, and if there was a psychic poking around the Professor would have known about it.

I've absorbed many people before, and once their life force was inside of me, it was inside of me. They didn't seem to have any connection to their original sources after that. The Killer being in danger couldn't have triggered me, it just couldn't have.

I'd have to talk to the Professor about this later, I decided.

The Professor rewound the video and pressed pause as the Killer finished tearing off some electric tentacles.

"Now, who can tell me why I've stopped the tape here," the Professor asked us.

I looked at the screen, trying to figure out what was so important about that moment. I had no idea. I turned to see if anyone had the answer. No one knew.

The Professor continued when the silence persisted. "There is something about this moment that gives us insight into yet another ability of Inuyashas'."

"Wait, he's got another power?" Scott asked, disbelief written on his face.

The Professor answered cryptically, "It seems that way."

"He's so strong…" Jean said.

"What are we gonna do if he tries to escape?" Bobby asked.

"I don't see another power!" Jamie blurted. Others murmured agreements. What other power?

Logan pointed to the Killers arm. It had just been freed from the electrified cables. "There was enough juice to destroy his shirt, but check his arm."

Over a dozen heads craned forward. I still didn't understand.

Then someone cried out, "It's his burns!"

A light bulb went on. Duh! The current was strong enough to destroy parts of his shirt, but not enough to melt the skin off his bones? "He's a healer…" Jean murmured in awe. Frightened whispers were breaking out around the room again.

"This insane, Professor! Just who is this guy?" Scott demanded. He was angry and afraid; we all were.

This guy's a bad person. He kills people, and he's too strong, even for us. I know I'm supposed to believe in the power of team work, and yes, we've been training as a team for a long time, but honestly even all of us together didn't feel like enough right now.

The guy was stronger than pretty much all of us, faster than all of us, and could take more abuse than all of us because of his healing. Honestly, the thing that scared me the most was that I seemed to be the only thing that could take the Killer out quick and easy—assuming I could catch him.

I felt the urge to go up to Scott and touch him somehow. Jean gripped his hand in hers and squeezed gently before releasing him. Now I felt the urge to slap Jean upside the head.

"There is no need to be distressed," said the Professor, quieting the room just by speaking. "If Inuyasha wanted to escape he would have tried it by now. He is strong, but I have faith in my students' abilities."

The Professor told us that if the Killer tried to escape he would sense it, and that he sensed that the Killer wasn't looking to harm anyone now. The Professor repeated his theory about the Killer being confused and unable to control his power.

"Looked like he was plenty in control t'me..." I scoffed, nodding at the monitor. It was still stopped on the Killer struggling with the electric wires.

"Don't worry about it kid," Logan replied. "We took him down once and we'll do it again if we have to. At least now we know what we're up against."

We did take him down fairly easily the first time, but for some reason I didn't think it would be that easy next time. I looked around the room. Most looked fairly reassured by the Professor and Logan's words.

I kept my mouth shut about any further misgivings. For now I was just glad people weren't freaking out anymore.

"Eh...isn't Kitty alone vid de Killer?" The room froze as we all mentally slapped ourselves. How could we have forgotten!?

After the Killers little performance, Kurt ported him back to his room. Storm had straightened it up since she'd blown it into chaos to keep him in check until the DR was ready for him. Kurt had also ported Kitty to keep an eye on him, and after Logan checked on her via video, and the Professor checked on her via telepathy, we went to review what just happened in the War Room.

I'm not really sure why the Professor picked Kitty to watch him, maybe he probed the Killers mind and found he liked her best and was least likely to attack her, maybe he figured she'd be safe because of her phasing abilities, who knows. Either way, we weren't supposed to leave her alone for so long. Something could have happened; what if the Killer realized we weren't watching them?

We all turned to the Professor. "Everything is fine, everyone. They're both fine."

"Uh, Charles, you should see this." The Professor wheeled himself to where Logan was standing, right in front of the video monitor showing the Killers room. Scott and Jean followed suit, followed by everyone else.

I ended up in the back, too short to see over everyone, and too worried about accidentally touching someone to try pushing my way through the crowd. Scott cursed. Whatever they were looking at couldn't be good.

I jumped up and down several times, trying desperately to see before finally asking aloud about what the heck was goin' on.

Kurt was the only one to respond: "Dey're gone…"