Disclaimer: Do I really need to keep doing this? You all know that I don't own X-Men, don't you?

Previously:

"Zachary Bolte?"

Chapter Ten

Zack turned slowly toward the tenor voice, one which would have a nice sound to it if the speaker put an effort into it. He didn't though; I think even that guy saying 'have a nice day' would come out threatening. He and all the other men with him were wearing black. Black shirts, black pants, black coats with silver buttons that gleamed out at you like eyes in the dark cave where a monster was waiting for you. It was beyond creepy. It was – I don't know what it was. All I know is that on anyone else, the outfit would've looked colorless, but good. On these guys it was threatening.

"Yes?" He asked cautiously, pulling me closer to him. I frowned in concentration – like I said, that guy gave me the creeps – and tried to read his mind. Nothing; not even the interference I got from Zack whenever I tried to read his mind. I tried the other guys, but it was still more nothing. It's like they weren't there or something. I mean, even though I couldn't read Zack's mind, I could still feel his mind. With these guys, I couldn't even do that.

"We've received a tip that you might be a mutant, and we've come to confirm that." The guy who seemed to be the spokesperson spoke as if he was a police officer and Zack was accused of committing.

"I'm not sure what you mean." Zack stated, but I got the feeling he knew exactly what they were talking about because he took a step back, and I felt something from his body seep into the ground. I'm guessing it was his power looking for some kind of plant to do – something. Apparently the spokesperson thought so as well.

"I think you know exactly what we mean." He pulled a black rectangle from his pocket – it looked like some sort of game system – and flipped it open.

"Girl," he was obviously addressing me, but, seriously, why did everyone have to use that tone of voice with me? It's like I don't mean anything, and it drives me nuts. "You'd better leave," he continued, oblivious to my anger. Zack wasn't though; his hand around my shoulders squeezed in warning. I didn't need to be told to be careful; these guys gave me the heebie-jeebies. "You won't want to be here – no." He corrected himself, and I felt the sinking feeling that accompanies fear in my stomach. Bullies, those I could fight without fear, but put some random guys that seem to be ten years older than me and could be part of that stupid cult that's killing mutants, and, even though Zack was here – something that usually calmed me – I was scared out of my wits.

"No," the guy said again, "you should stay here, mutant. We'll get rid of both of you at the same time and save ourselves some trouble."

With that, the rest of the guys standing there surrounded us and tried to separate us. They hadn't moved very far when the grass and a few other plants grew to be about ten feet tall and grabbed the stinking murderers. The stupid box-game-thingy fell to the ground, but before I could grab it, Zack was towing me away from the scene. Acting on instinct, I held out my hand and willed. The box flew through the air to my hand. I stared in shock.

"Come on!" Zack continued to pull me along, understandably impatient. "That won't hold them for long." It was true. I could hear cursing and the unmistakable sound of plants being ripped. "We need to get to the park before that."

Understandable. There were some huge trees in the park that were probably better weapons for Zack than grass.

After a few minutes of intense sprinting, hearing the unmistakable sounds of pursuit behind us, we made it to the park, quickly moving off the beaten path to the darker, safer, and quieter woods.

"I assume that's not how you wanted to show me your power?" I panted, trying to lighten the tension.

"That's right." He was slightly less out of breath than I was, but still managed a smile. We were quiet for a while, listening for the men. They weren't long in coming. Surprisingly, they stopped short of entering the park. There was a brief debate as to whether they wanted to enter the home field of one of the targets. I had to suppress a laugh when I heard that. They were scared of a couple of teenagers.

"Enough!" It was Spokesperson. "They have the M.I.D. We know they went in here. We have to get it back, so we're going in." I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to suppress the giggles when I heard that. Were they seriously using those lines? It was so cheesy.

The stupid brainwashed-cult-people entered the park a short time later. Zack watched them go with a slightly anticipating look. I felt sorry for those idiots until I remembered that they wanted to kill us for something we can't control. How stupid is that?

I didn't have to wait long for Zack to get started. A few minutes after they entered the woods I heard a particularly girlish shriek, and they all came running out. And I mean all of them. The branches and roots of the trees were literally reaching out to grab those men, tangling in their black coats and ripping out the seams. It was enough to make me laugh. I guess they hadn't had someone fight back for a long time. It good for them to be scared – a little respect was good for them, and if they were even more frightened of Zack and I now, well, so much the better. As the last one stumbled out of the woods, I heard him curse in a very familiar voice. Cold washed over me as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water on me. He stepped into a patch of moonlight, and I recognized him instantly.

"Zack," I breathed. He looked at me questioningly. I pointed wordlessly. His gaze went towards where I was pointing. I heard a sharp intake of breath and a hastily cut-off curse.

The man was Jim.

A/N: Sorry for the shortness. I was going to write more, but this was just too good of a spot to stop to keep on writing. XD