As Renée talked about needing art books for design reference and Mr. McCoy led her to the library, Hector made his way to the Danger Room. He was in too complacent of a mood to be sparring against giant robots, but there was still some exercise equipment to use. Hector took a deep breath and a dense, smoky substance released from his skin, hovering around him like a black cloak. Hector stretched and allowed his shadow miasma to whip around him, forming extra arms. The cool, slithering sensation now surrounding his body eased the aches that came from the lumpy hostel mattress, and the release of the shadows relieved him of a great tension. With a jump, he clung his miasma to the walls, allowing him to scale the place like a spider. Leaping through the empty air, Hector felt the adrenaline rush and relished the freedom of using his mutation after a day and night of having to restrain himself, and once he reached the ceiling he used his arms to swing about.
As Hector was in the middle of a mid-air somersault, he looked down to see Logan staring at him from the observation booth. A jolt went through Hector and he nearly crashed into the wall. Luckily, his miasma cushioned him, but now his fun was soured by Logan's presence. Some things never do change, Hector thought with a grimace, suddenly wanting to fight a robot.
The speakers crackled as Logan's voice sounded. "Dinner's in five minutes, kid," he said. "Don't be late." Hector could have sworn there was a smirk in the last part.
He flexed his right hand as his miasma seeped back into his body and made his way to the dining room with a dark expression on his face. Right before he reached it, Renée called him over. Ace had returned.
"I found her," Ace whispered. "She was at the library."
Hector clenched his fists and willed his miasma to stay beneath his skin. "Well?" he asked.
Ace sighed. "She seems to have retrograde amnesia," he explained. "She didn't want to speak to me because she thought I was a stranger." The last part brought a frown to Ace's face that made Hector snort.
"And you just left her there?" Hector growled.
"No," Ace responded with a roll of his eyes. "Lance Alvers chased me off. Seems she found her way to the Brotherhood."
"Did you tell her anything about us?" Renée asked, eyes shining with concern.
Ace recounted the conversation that had taken place outside of the library.
"Wait a minute," Hector said when he finished, holding up a hand. "She asked you to tell her something. Why didn't you?"
"She seems… happier the way she is right now," Ace said, sighing again. "She's brighter and acts more her age."
"Will it really be a good idea to keep it from her?" Renée asked. "What will she say to us when her memories return?"
The three of them lapsed into contemplative silence for a moment, before Hector said, "We're her friends, right?" Ignoring the withering look Renée shot him, he continued, "You said yourself that she doesn't have any of her psycho baggage now that she's forgotten about her past. I say let her enjoy it while it lasts."
Ace and Renée looked at Hector and both slowly nodded. "That may be the nicest thing I've heard you say in awhile," Renée said with a cautious smile. "Are you trying to make up for-"
Hector turned away and stomped towards the dining room. "I'm not sorry for anything," he angrily insisted. His skin was taking on a dark color as he felt his miasma seep through, and he gritted his teeth to contain it before he broke something. I'm not sorry, he repeated to himself.
On the drive back to the boarding house that evening, Lance and Scout made a detour at Wal-Mart because Lance insisted that Scout needed more than one set of clothes. There was a kind old man greeting people at the front, but the moment he made eye contact with Lance the smile fell off his face. His eyes continued to trail Lance and Scout until an irate couple asked him to move out of the way.
"Do you know him?" asked Scout. Lance only gave an annoyed grunt in response.
The greeter was not the only gawker. Several people sent nervous glances their way, followed by hushed conversations, and soon some of them were beginning to stare at her at well. Scout began to feel the same uneasiness that she felt at the construction site, and she walked closer to Lance. Lance's face remained impassive, but he picked up his pace and dropped a towel and toothbrush into the basket without even looking.
They came into the clothing section, passing by racks of colorful and sparkly items for a shelf of bare white basics. Lance's eyes scanned over Scout. "You're a medium, right?"
Scout held a medium T-shirt over her torso. "It may be a bit baggy, but I'll probably grow into it."
"And Wanda could probably alter it," Lance agreed. He threw a week's worth of T-shirts, underwear, and socks into the basket and proceeded to the checkout. The cashier was alarmed when Lance approached, but quickly became professional, though she checked the items at breakneck speed.
"Hey Lance," said Scout as they walked back to the Jeep. "May I see the receipt? I want to know how much I should pay you back after I get my job."
They both got into the Jeep and Lance threw the plastic bag full of the purchases between them and then laid a hand on Scout's shoulder. "Scout," he said sternly, "you don't need to do that."
"But-"
"Listen," Lance continued, "if your powers can give us basic medical care, that'll be enough payment for now." He turned the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life. Lance spoke again, this time with more steel. "If you plan on running after getting a free meal though, we will find you. There's nothing worse to the Brotherhood than being used." He turned, and his eyes were almost glaring at her.
"No way!" Scout practically shouted. "Why would I leave you guys? You're awesome. Besides, where would I run to?"
Lance let out a snort, followed by a chuckle, and soon Scout was worried that they were going to crash because of how hard Lance was laughing. Thankfully, he kept both hands on the wheel and both eyes on the road, and once he calmed down he ruffled Scout's hair. "You're all right Scout, you're all right."
When they arrived back at the boarding house, Fred had prepared some sandwiches for dinner. The rest of the Brotherhood head scattered across the house to watch TV, read, or sketch as they ate, so Lance grabbed his sandwich and told Scout to follow him. As Scout held the plate underneath her chin to hold the crumbs, Lance set his plate down near the foyer closet and began digging through the chaos.
Scout's eyes danced with glee as she saw various sports equipment spilling out of the closet, though Lance's strained voice troubled her. "Do you need any help?" she asked.
Lance grunted. " No- agh! Hang on, here- here we go!" With a yank, Lance flew backwards with what appeared to be a bicycle. As he steadied, he explained that it had been here forever, and didn't seem to belong to any of the Brotherhood. "That just makes it perfect for our plan, if you'll help me fix it up."
Scout grinned back and nodded. She and Lance went outside with their dinners and got to work fixing the bike, pumping the tires full, unkinking and oiling the chain, readjusting the reflectors, until the bike seemed more gently used and Scout could ride in a few circles around the boarding house without something going wrong. Her hands stained with oil, Scout brought the plates to the kitchen sink and went to the bathroom for a shower. Though her mind was buzzing with anticipation for tomorrow's job interview, when her head hit the pillow half an hour later, she instantly fell asleep.
Dinner more than made up for the news that for Ace's bad news when the three newcomers introduced themselves to the current residents of the mansion, who all gave them their names and given small demonstrations of their powers.
"So what are your mutations?" Bobby asked.
Renée removed her sunglasses, exposing her deep emerald eyes for the others to see. It did not take the others long to see that she had no pupils. "Before you ask," Renée had said, "I can see perfectly fine." She then turned towards Bobby and made eye contact with him. "Make some ice, please."
Bobby tried, he really did, and Hector struggled to not laugh when nothing happened and Bobby flailed a bit at his inability to use his powers. "I temporarily shut down your powers by altering your nervous system," explained Renée with a smile. "Don't worry, it'll come back in a few minutes or so."
Rogue had dropped both her fork and her jaw. "You- you can do that?"
Renée's expression was sympathetic as she nodded.
All eyes turned on Ace next, and without a word held his water glass and made the liquid boil.
Hector decided that he would use his turn for cheap thrills. Turning to the poor sap sitting next to him, he said, "You're Sam, right?" When the blonde boy nodded, Hector continued, "Give me your wallet."
Out of the corner of his eye, Hector could see Scott adjusting his sunglasses and Logan raising his fist. Sam frowned. "Why?"
Hector's grin grew feral. "I said," Hector paused for a moment to release some miasma, "GIVE ME YOUR WALLET!" The miasma burst from him with frightening velocity and whipped about as if in the throngs of a fever, giving Hector the appearance of a eldritch creature.
The distinctive "snikt" sound and the prodding of something sharp at his neck told Hector that the joke had run its course. Retracting his miasma back into his body, he glanced down at Sam, who had fallen out of his chair and was currently handing out his wallet in a trembling hand. Hector relished the fear before remembering Renée's hissed warning.
"As much as I would like to," said Hector with a small chuckle, "I didn't really mean it. You all right?"
Sam blinked for a moment, nervously mimicking Hector's chuckle, and nodded, getting back into his seat and continuing his dinner.
You'd think they'd be made of sterner stuff. Hector turned to face Logan. "Anything else?"
Logan glared at Hector, and in close proximity Hector could smell the tobacco. "I'll be keeping a close eye on you, kid," growled Logan, before retracting his claws and returning to his seat.
"Really Hector," Renée groaned with exasperation, "could you at least try to get along with everyone?"
Hector shoveled some food into his mouth to avoid having to make empty promises.
That night, as he settled into his new room at the mansion, he pulled out the disk.
363:16:51:38.93
He sighed. As long as he was here, he could use his miasma and practically nobody knew him. Guess it wouldn't hurt not to fuck things up. I'd hate to have to leave here. As the thought formed in his mind, Hector had to laugh. To actually want to stay in the mansion…
I will get this job. I will get this job. I will get this job. Scout chanted to herself as she brushed her teeth the next morning. She had changed into one of her new T-shirts and ruthlessly checked her jeans and jacket for dirt. She rinsed out her mouth and took one last glance in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, her face was clean, and her hair was neat.
Scout got on the bike and strapped the slightly large helmet tightly to her head and rode off with the directions Lance had given her. Her eyes drank in the lush summer greenery that lined the roads on the way, after what seemed an eternity she finally arrived at a high white wall with a sturdy metal gate.
Deep breath. Scout pressed the call box next to the gate.
"This is the Xavier Institute. I'm Hank McCoy. How may I help you?"
"Hello Mr. McCoy. My name is Scout, and I'm here to answer that ad for a housecleaner."