"What's for breakfast? I'm starving." Gwen plopped down in a chair.

"Pancakes," Storm replied. "Blueberry or chocolate chip?"

"Did I hear someone say Storm was cooking?" Christian exclaimed, coming into the kitchen, still wearing his pajamas.

Soon the kitchen was filled, and pancakes were going all around. The table was filled with chatter and laughter.

"Wait." Gwen stopped, sniffing the air. She stood. "Somethings not right."

Logan was up too. He looked at Gwen. "Gwen, come with me." The two left the room.

"Someone's here," Logan said.

"Ya don't say?" The two spun around.

Standing in front of them was a girl, about eighteen by looks. Her hair was straight and a bright red-orange, and she had stunning blue eyes. She smiled, reveling perfect teeth, and put one hand on her hip. She wore a black cat suit, with red cuffs and boots, along with a red belt, pulled down to the side by a gun in its holster. Two swords hung on her back, and she had a black face mask in her hand.

"The hell are you?" Gwen and Logan said at the same time.

She smiled widely again. "Arianna, but I go by 22."

"What do you want?" Gwen growled. By this time the rest of the X-Men had gathered behind them.

"Isn't it obvious?" 22 asked. "I want to be an X-Man."

"Alright, so, tell me about yourself," Alex said, sitting across from 22.

She sat back in the chair, her legs crossed, looking perfectly at ease.

"First off," she said with a smirk. "Don't try and read my mind – it won't work. Second, I'm wondering why you're evaluating me instead of the older X-Men."

"Class five telepath," Alex responded. "But apparently, that won't work."

"Nah," she said. "Trust me, there have been attempts."

"So what do you do?"

She sighed, leaning back. "The always ask that, eh? I'm a Mercenary."

"What, like, you get hired to kill people?"

"I prefer not to kill unless my client has a very good reason."

"How'd you get started in that?"

She shrugged. "I've got enhanced aim and reflexes from my mutation. The swords felt natural to me, and I never miss with a gun. But I want to renounce my ways. I want to be an X-Man."

"Why?"

She snorted. "What, I need a reason? You people are fast and quick. And protected. I wouldn't mind any of that."

Alex frowned. "Where did you come from?"

"Grew up in Colorado, and moved around since I was twelve."

"Do you have any family?"

"My mom took off after I was born, and my Dad is dead. I grew up with an aunt."

"And then you left?"

"She thought I was in a private school in Idaho. Really I was training. When I was fourteen I got hired for the first time, and my hit took me back to my home town in Colorado." Her eyes got slightly distant. "It was my first kill, but still the most vivid in my memory."

"So, you just want to stop killing people for a living and start new with the X-Men?" Alex asked.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Something doesn't seem right."

"It's my hair, right? God, why does no one believe me when I say it's naturally that color?"

Alex smiled. "Get all that, Logan?"

"Yeah," said the older X-Man, coming from the shadows. 22 smirked as though she knew he was there the whole time.

"You really want to join the team, kid?"

"Yes."

He paused. "You don't smell like yer lying. Alright, listen. You can stay here a few days. You do ok, we'll think about making your stay permanent."

"Thanks." She got up to leave the room.

"One last thing, kid," Logan said. "Your first hit, back in Colorado. Who was he?"

22 looked coldly over her shoulder. "He was a mutant. He was evil and manipulative, too. So I took him out." She turned to leave again.

"And what was his name?"

She sighed, crossing her arms. "Ever hear of a mutant called Deadpool?"