Logan leaned against the kitchen counter, his frown speaking his utter confusion and somewhat worry. For more than a month, it had been a ritual that he and the young mutant called Firefly meet early in the kitchen every morning. She had never skipped, had never been late. Today, she did not enter the kitchen just as he did. She did not come rushing in, complaining that Kitty had screamed at her for waking up so early. She did not confide in him a worrisome nightmare she had had the previous night. She did not ask him how all his classes had gone the previous day, nor did she complain that she had been given to much homework. As a matter of fact, it seemed she wasn't coming at all.
This worried Logan for some reason.
So he left the kitchen and stole up to the girls' corridor, past many rooms filled with slumbering children and teachers, who did not fret as he did that morning.
He reached the girls' corridor and smelled something different about it. Something familiar, but still out of place.
Logan's heart beat wildly and he quickened his pace down the hall. He was only a few yards away from the girls' showers when his left boot nudged something soft and lumpy on the floor. He bent and picked it up, already knowing what the item was. He could smell it.
Firefly's clothing lay in a pile on the floor. He looked down the hallway, nose in the air. Nothing else smelled so strongly of her.
The floor behind him creaked, and Logan whirled around to see the Professor slumped over in his wheelchair, out of breath and in his pajamas.
"She's gone."
Firefly's heart beat frantically in her chest and that's how she knew she was awake. There was pressure on her chest and face, but not her back, and that's how she knew she was lying on her stomach. She heard the crash of waves outside the room and that's how she knew she was on the ocean.
She heard calm breathing outside her door and that's how she knew she wasn't alone.
Firefly's head buzzed painfully with thoughts and memories. The thumping of feet past matched the pulsing of a headache present.
She rolled over and let out a yelp as she fell about two feet to the floor. Sitting up, Firefly realized that she had been lying on an old red couch in a similarly colored room.
It looked oddly homey and comfortable, if a little run-down. A living room table stood in front of her, magazines strewn about its surface. A twin-sized bed was pushed into the far corner, and a dresser was situated next to it. There were clothes on top of the dresser, along with a towel. There were no windows, only a ceiling lamp and a fan fixture. Two doors stood opposite each other.
The reality of the situation suddenly overwhelmed Firefly. She had been kidnapped. She didn't know where she was or who had stolen her away from school. She began to cry.
Worst of all, Firefly felt powerless.
The person guarding her door had obviously heard her wake and fall off the couch, and presently, Firefly did not hear the steady breathing outside the door. Instead, she heard the heavy footfalls of boots on metallic floors.
One of the doors swung open, and a man wearing a billowing red and black cloak stepped into the room. A helmet was carried under his left arm and a welcoming smile adorned his aged face. A second, much younger man entered, and Firefly was bombarded with a memory from earlier that morning, when the eighteen-year-old had ambushed her in the dark.
"Good morning, my dear." The elder man stated.
"Not so." Firefly whimpered. Her bravery had diminished heavily since her abduction.
"I suppose you're wondering who I am?" he replied, ignoring her contradiction.
It was true, Firefly wanted to know her kidnappers name; however, more pressing issues raged in her mind.
Taking the silence as a positive reply, the man introduced himself, "I am Magneto. This strapping young lad goes by the name of Pyro—" Pyro cocks an eyebrow at Magneto at this, "—you and he shall be working closely together, if you so choose."
"I do not so choose!" She cries out and fresh tears pour down her hidden face. "I want to go home! Just let me go home!"
Magneto looks sympathetic for the slightest of moments before his face hardens. "That place isn't a home—it's a hide-away! You're doing nothing but hiding from humans in that place."
"Well this isn't a home either!" she moans from the floor.
"No, it's a base of operations!" Magneto looks triumphant, "Here we plan against the homo-sapiens. We plan to fight back."
Firefly remembered vaguely of stories of mutants who hated the human race. She breathed raggedly in front of them, wishing for all the world that they would burn and she would leave. And suddenly, they did.
Magneto's cloak flamed up at the fringe and the spark began to slither its way up his back. Pyro jumped into action grabbing the flame from his superior and holding it in his palm.
"I can see already you two will work miracles together." Magneto says, in a seemingly bored voice. He turns and leaves the room. Pyro moves to follow him, but the old man stops him. "I think you two should bond for a while." Magneto smirks and pulls the door closed, locking it behind him.
Pyro was left looking very uncomfortable with the still crying Firefly.