Disclaimer: I don't own the x-men. I wish. Covering my ass here. I own Liandra Smith, Aymee Marsh, Samara Brache, Cassiopeia Michaels and Markus Grant. I really, really want to own Remy LeBeau, so if someone feels like giving him to me for my birthday I would be really happy.

I know, I suck. I said within a month and now, two months later, I give you half a chapter. I'm wondering though, would it be better if I stick to a bit shorter chapters, but maybe actually manage to get chapters up a bit quicker? I don't know, I'm usually at updating once every two months but I'm not really happy with that, and as far as I can understand it's not the best thing for readers either. I get angst over trying to figure out what to fill the chapters with ;

So, some feedback would be nice. Shorter chapters, like this one, but with the possibility of quicker updates, or stick to the long chapters?

Also, Bastion is a sort of guest-artist from a different story created by my best friend, although I actually own him. Said story is not written yet though. :C Have a look out on my deviant art page, there will be some art for this chapter soonish...

READ!

"Yesterday at noon, the police apprehended the lead singer and bass player Bastion, of the band with the same name. He's under arrest for several rapes and the murder of Allison Trent, the twenty year old woman found in the rock star's apartment a week ago. Bastion's manager said that he has no comments at this moment, and that Bastion himself will talk when there are things to talk about. Graydon Creed, founder of the anti-mutant group Friends of Humanity, issued this statement at a press conference a few hours ago.

"Something needs to be done. The police have in custody one of several mutants who have used their powers to exploit us, our kind. This mutant is not just anyone, but a person in a position where people, youths, will listen to him. Is this what we're going to tell our children? That someone with powers has the right to use them to their own advantage?"

Sam shivered and turned off the TV. This was all just complete bullshit, the Friends of Humanity. There were people who were good and there were people who were bad, and some just had advantages. That was true, but just as there are humans who will get into a car, lose it and run someone over, there would be mutants who abuse their powers.

But Bastion? Sam didn't listen to him, but she knew Aymee did. She was probably up weeping that her idol was a huge jackass. Ok, so she wouldn't. It wasn't Aymee's style to get upset.

Sam dragged herself off of the couch. What was next step? She didn't want to think about it. There had been mention on the internet about some sort of a registration, that mutants should get special ID's and the like. Sam definitely didn't like that idea. It was difficult enough only hiding your powers, but with something saying you were a mutant everyone in this school would be in so much danger.

Why not just tattoo 'freak' in their foreheads, while they were at it? Much easier to identify, and quickly too, but maybe that was too World War II like. Maybe Kitty would understand it better, she was smart and all.

Sam got up and left, and through the other door came Aymee. Scratching her head sleepily, she dumped herself onto the couch. Afternoon naps were the best, although she had slept into her Physics class. But she was in mourning, she supposed. Her e-mail inbox had been flooded with mails this morning from her internet friends about Bastion, their biggest idol. Ok, so Bastion wasn't her biggest idol, after all he was influenced a lot by Marilyn Manson, who was her biggest idol.

"Codswallop," she muttered and turned on the TV. Some shitty soap was running, and she settled nicely in the couch and very soon she was snoring lightly.

Passing by to see what the noise was coming from, Mark snickered to himself about all the opportunities he saw in the goth sleeping on the couch. He got out a marker and carefully leaned over her, giving her a moustache.

Job well done, he told himself with a grin as he walked out of the living room and into the newly decorated music room. Mark was quite decent at playing the guitar, but the guitar was one of those instruments everyone played. He remembered once when he'd gone in on Cas playing the piano. That had been so beautiful and he hadn't dared to disturb, so after a while he'd left her alone again. She wouldn't have played like that if she knew someone was in there, he knew that.

So maybe she wasn't the new Mozart, but she was cute and she had an incredibly gorgeous look in her eyes when playing. And she didn't play all that bad, but she needed a lot of practice.

Mark began tuning the guitar and stared out the window. There, on the other side, was Cassy, Rogue, Kitty and Bobby shooting some hoops. Liandra was leaning against a tree, sketching in a pad. The sun was shining but it was still a little chilly, of course the four players on the field didn't notice at all.

Liandra noticed Miss Munroe standing in the door, and when their eyes met, Munroe smiled. She came out, waving. "Liandra, there you are. I've been looking for you." Liandra stood up and she saw Cassy stopped playing and watched.

"You needed to get some stuff, yeah? Well come on, I've got a ride for you." Liandra followed Munroe inside and to the front door. There he was, that cute, nervous teacher she had met the other day. The same pale complexion and dark hair. He smiled at her, but still had a slightly nervous look in his eyes, hidden behind a lot of smiles.

Liandra forced herself to smile too. "Mr. Wagner, right?"

He nodded. "And your name vas Liandra Smith, ja?" She gave him a short nod, and then a silence ensued. Because she noticed he was becoming uncomfortable, Liandra smiled and nodded toward the door. "Want to get going?"

Wagner nodded and smiled. "Let's. My car is in ze garage."

On the sky outside, clouds were gathering. Ororo noted this with a displeased look, and then she glanced at Charles. He was correcting homework by his desk, but when Ororo looked at him he looked up and smiled. "You have something on your mind, Ororo?"

"Charles, you picked Kurt on purpose didn't you?" Charles smiled innocently. "Whatever do you mean, Ororo?"

"That you chose him for a reason. You asked Kurt to cancel his class so that he could give Liandra a ride. He's the kindest and most caring person in this house. He could be up for the running of nicest guy in America." She broke for a moment, and then smiled slightly. "I get it. You're trying to make her friends with him, so that when his image inducer goes off one day, she'll be able to look past his appearance, and because of it get over her prejudice for mutants over all?"

Charles smiled. "Ororo, you said it, not me."

Ororo glanced back out the window and watched as Liandra and Kurt walked to the garage, and smiled a little. Maybe it could actually work. Then again, if Professor Xavier believed in it, of course it would.

"Just turn in here and find a parking space."

The car ride had been very quiet at first, but after Kurt's insecurity had managed to infect her as well, she had begun asking a few casual questions. She'd found out that Kurt was a teacher and that he taught German and had been talking to a few children about maybe starting a theology class as well. He was 24 years old and had been at the mansion for six months.

Liandra hadn't said much about herself, except that she had quit school when she was fifteen. But her memory was incredibly detailed, and because of this she'd had a very easy time self-educating herself.

The car, or rather Kurt, pulled over and parked outside her building. It was a bit run down, but it was livable and more importantly affordable. Not that she would be here for a while, she supposed.

Kurt cleared his throat, bringing her attention. "I'll just vait in ze car, zen? Vill you be all right?"

"Of course I will." Why wouldn't she? She unbuckled and stepped out of the car. "Be back in twenty minutes." Without waiting for an answer, she opened the gate and headed up the stairs.

Her apartment was as it always had been. She checked her phone, there were no new messages, and the only mail she'd gotten was bills. Liandra headed to the bedroom and got a bag, filling it carefully with folded clothes. Her room was neat but empty, just a bed, a table and a wardrobe. There were a few books on the table, none worth mentioning, and a lamp. That was it. The blinds were pulled still and the window open a little.

She closed the bag and put it by the door, and then headed to the kitchen to remove anything that could possibly restart evolution if she was gone for too long. Just as she was wondering if she had actually bought the cheese moldy or not, the door bell rang.

Closing the fridge, she headed back to the door. Through the peephole she saw a young, rather handsome man. Frowning, she unlocked and carefully opened. "Yeah?"

The young man smiled. He had brown hair that reached down to his cheeks, and was wearing sunglasses. He had a broad jaw and a lean but very toned body; Liandra could tell because the tank top he was wearing underneath a long coat was kind of tight. He was tanned and had muscular arms, and was maybe a head taller than her.

"Allo, cherie," his voice was dark and heavily accentuated, southern. New Orleans, part Cajun, and… Shut up, brain. "You be Liandra Smith, eh?"

Liandra raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. What's it to ya?"

The Cajun smiled. "My name be Remy LeBeau, and I have somthin' for ya, cherie." He reached inside his coat and handed her a letter. It was a simple envelope, and he smiled charmingly as she took it. "Just remember ta keep an open heart, mon ami," he said and stroked her cheek.

Then he left without another word, leaving Liandra stunned. She wasn't sure what to make of this, and there was something about that man that made her mind spin. She went back to the bag and shoved the letter down in one of the pockets, deciding this man was either some random weirdo or one of the Brotherhood. Neither were interesting to her.

Glancing out the window for a moment, and then around the apartment, she sighed and gently gnawed at her lower lip. This was going to change everything for her, and she was really surprised at how easily she was agreeing to all this. The whole situation felt very bizarre, after all these people had kidnapped her, and the other group of people had very near killed her!

Why was she staying? Oh yeah. A few individuals gave her a very nice and comforting feeling. She couldn't help but smile a little as she remembered she was supposed to go back down to one of them.

As she locked the door, wondering when she would return next time, she thought about how easily humans sometimes would just go along with things. Most people are just looking for someone to lead them, someone to make their decisions for them, often so that when things go straight to hell or even worse, they had someone to blame.

Liandra, well, her curiosity had the upper hand in this game. She wanted to know where this road would take her.

And maybe being around people, even freaks, wasn't all that bad.