CHAPTER TWO
300 miles later, he had stopped for a call of nature when he heard a sound that didn't belong. There was the quick rattle of a trash bag blowing in the wind, with a low whimper mixed in. He walked up the verge to the barbed wire fence, where he found the black garbage bag that was rattling. The whimpering was inside it. Chaz had seen a lot of sad things in his life but the sight inside the bag made his top ten. There was a dog, dead, and three puppies, dead. A fourth pup was still alive, nudging at his stiff family. A few holes in the bag must have allowed him enough air to breathe. He was crying.
There was only one thing to do. He gently lifted the struggling pup, tucking it inside his jacket against the warmth of his body and the beating of his heart. The puppy stopped crying. Chaz carried the bodies of the mother and three pups onto a high hill. He laid them under the open sky and burned the black bag. Bare to the elements, the sad bodies would become a part of the circle of things, and the last puppy, the little survivor, would be safe with him.
His dirt bike pulled into a Motel 8 on the far side of St Louis just as the sunset was fading from the sky. The drive had taken longer than he planned because he had stopped so often for the puppy. He had to stop to buy a tin of puppy chow, and then stop again to mash it to liquid and mix it with whole milk because the pup was too young for solids. He stopped for a collar it would grow into and a back pack he wore over his chest, where the puppy rode on the bike. They had become a team already. The puppy was a ball of mottled fuzz, white and brown and grey. Mirage encased himself in the image of an older man, taller and broader and sporting designer stubble. Mutant powers could be very useful. He had at times felt left out at the Academy because unlike the others he couldn't use his powers to attack. What was the point of him doing mutant Phys Ed? Illusions can't help anyone run an obstacle course. But in circumstances like this, where a lone kid rolled up on a dirt bike and asked to pay in cash for a hotel room, the ability to make someone see what you want could make all the difference. He snuck the puppy into his room and made him a tiny den in one corner of the bed.
"You're going to need a name, little guy," he said, stroking its tiny floppy ears. The puppy snuffled off into sleep.
In the morning, Chaz learned the hard way why puppies have to be walked first thing. He walked the puppy, rewarded it for going outside, and spent about 10 minutes scrubbing a pillow case with hand soap in the small sink. He left a note saying 'sorry, new puppy' on the sheet drying over the side of the tub, then kicked his bike into life and took off.
On this second day with the puppy, Mirage was better able to anticipate when it would need a walk and a feeding, and so made much better time. When they stopped for lunch, the puppy took off after a bit of paper rolling along in the wind. He laughed at the site, the puppy lunging for paper always outside of its grasp. "Ha! A scruff after a scrap," he thought with humour, and something about that stuck. From then on he thought of the puppy as Scruff. When everyone was fed and watered he tucked Scruff into his jacket and away they went again. This time the highways led them to Cleveland, Ohio, for bed. Mirage had only meant to take another Motel 8 in the suburbs for the night, but somehow he got turned around and ended up in the middle of the city near the wharves. Still, he found a cheap place to stay, parked his dirt bike and settled in for the night with Scruff on the pillow next to him.
In the morning, Mirage woke just the first hint of pink sunrise filtered through his curtains. He pulled on his boots to take Scruff outside for his walk. As he let the little fluff ball sniff around a tree planted in cement, he heard muffled grunting and cursing from the alley where his dirt bike was parked. He dashed to see what was going on.
A gang of a few teenagers- probably between 15 and 20 years old- were trying to steal his bike. They were struggling with it, as Cyclops had added a few high tech security measures.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mirage smiled. Rather than a rather skinny 18 year old, the gang saw a man Beast's size, with a voice like Wolverine's, bearing down on them. He knew bravado worked better than force when it came to most teen gangs.
"Aw Jesus, let's get out of here!" cried a slim lad with white hair.
"Don't be such a pussy," a bulkier boy retorted, turning to Chaz. "We're taking this bike; what are you going to do about it?"
Mirage was a good bluffer, and it seemed to the whole world that he looked at a nearby trash bin, unleashed red lasers from his eyes, and turned the bin into a fiery wreck.
"That, punk. The name is Cyclops. And if you don't get your mitts off my bike you're going to lose a hand." At the sight of the flaming destruction, the boys put their hands in front of them and started to back away.
"Sorry, man, we don't ever take from mutants! We're mutants! No offence, we never woulda tried if we knew who it belonged to!" Mirage appraised the teenagers. The oldest, and largest, was very fat with a head full of shiny brown hair. The boy with white hair was dressed like a Matrix extra, a black leather trench coat over what looked like clubbing clothes. And there was the boy with such bulky shoulders, long dark hair in his eyes, and a nasty sneer twisting his mouth. Mirage could only guess at what their powers might be, but considering they felt cocky enough to steal in broad daylight they must have been more useful than his illusions.
"Yeah. Just watch what you're taking. I'm outta this dump today, but if I have to come back... you wouldn't like that." Mirage probably shouldn't have gone that far but he was lost as to how to actually get on his bike and get out of the situation before they realised they could probably take him.
And then a voice came out of the shadows at the far end of the alley, a silky smooth female voice.
"What would you do about it? You're only a boy, a skinny boy, who draws pictures. We're far more powerful than that."
"Scarlet, what are you doing? You saw-"
"Yes, I saw. And I heard. And I even smelled. But I am not choking on the smoke. Because there is no smoke, and there is no fire. This is all an illusion. And so is the large man you're scared of. He's a boy, with nothing but words." And she emerged from the shadows.
Her hair was dark and long in tiny tight curls, no bigger round than a pencil. She was dressed in a velvet hooded cloak the colour of blood, as sold from the back wall of Hot Topic. She had a massive bejewelled pentagram around her neck and a PVC corset cinching her wait, trying to give the illusion of breasts she hadn't quite grown yet.
"I am the Scarlet Witch, and I know all your secrets, little boy." And though he shouldn't have, Chaz threw back his head and laughed. It was all so dramatic, so over the top, and so badly done. This girl was probably 15 years old, and she was trying to use cheap theatrics to intimidate someone who had fought with the X Men. In his mirth the illusion shimmered and died, leaving the intact trash can in full view, as well as Mirage, holding his sides with laughter, in his motorcycle 'leathers' jacket and with a puppy looking up at him, wagging at his laughter.
"How dare you!" she shrieked. The boys in the gang looked at each other, not knowing quite what to do. Eventually the silver haired one started to chuckle, and the other two followed suit.
"You really should work on your delivery," Mirage managed, wiping a tear from his eye.
"Who are you?" the white haired boy asked.
"Mirage. Who are you?"
"I'm Quicksilver. That's the Blob and Avalanche. The Scarlet Witch is my sister. We're the Brotherhood."
"Just the four of you?" Mirage asked.
"No! We are but one group of many. Our contact Mystique connects us to the great leader. He has hundreds of loyal soldiers." Scarlet Witch tossed her head.
"Are they all runaway kids and thieves?" Mirage asked pointedly.
Scarlet Witch put her nose in the air and ignored that.
"Well this is Scruff and we're on our way to New York. It's been a pleasure meeting you, but I need to get going."
"What's in New York?" asked the Blob.
"Xavier's Academy. It's a school for kids like us."
"You want to go to school? When we're free? What the hell is wrong with you?" Avalanche demanded.
"It's not that kind of school," Mirage said, picking up his puppy. "It's more like boot camp, how to use our powers and how to protect ourselves. Only you still get a diploma at the end so you can live a normal life, if you want to."
"We aren't normal, we're better than that!" the Scarlet Witch snapped. "And… can I hold your puppy? He's really cute!"
"Sure." Mirage handed scruff to Scarlet, who immediately cuddled him to her cheek and began to coo. Girls, Mirage thought.
"Don't feel you have to rush off," Quicksilver protested. "Come back to our place, have some grub. I'm sorry we tried to steal your bike. We really don't ever steal from mutants."
"Breakfast sounds good," Mirage said, and Quicksilver grinned at him. Avalanche was still sneering but Mirage could tell Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch were the team that made all the decisions, despite being youngest.