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Chapter 2
Clearly, things are not going my way.
I must have finally gotten the break I was begging for because here I am, tipped over and drooling on my couch…Classy.
The throbbing in my head has decreased some and the voices/presence whatever of the other mutants have finally started to fade in to the background. I just hope it stays that way.
I have to mention one interesting little thing, though. I think someone noticed me. Not in the way Xavier would have; I don't think s/he is a telepath. Maybe something less intense? An empath? I don't really know, or care so long as they leave me alone.
At any rate, the kitchen sounds like the next best plan if my bed has forsaken me. Hmmm, what's a girl to eat? Healthy boring crap or sinful, punishing sweets. The answer seems obvious until I begin to reach for gooey goodness and an image pops into my mind of that cursed Lycra body suit.
Ugh. Really?
If that's not the most pathetically effective diet reinforcement, I don't know what is.
Roasted edamame and blueberries it is…and, maybe a quick jog around the block. After all, you never know when you might have to run from a mob of angry citizens screaming "Kill the mutant!" My dreams are twisted. What's a girl to do?
I suppose the snack can wait until after my workout. Time to double-sports-bra-up and hit the pavement…or partially paved road if we're being honest. There are more pot holes on my street than road. It would be so easy for me to fix…just wait until the middle of the night, fix a couple at a time. No one would notice. But no, it's too risky. Doing mutant things brings mutant attention. The last thing I want to do is put myself in the spotlight of some mutant that could actually sense how powerful I am.
Now, I know what you're thinking.
What's the use of having all this power if I'm not willing to do anything with it?
Well, you're right. I've taken the easy way out. I'd rather hide what I am and live to see another day than come out and be burned at the stake. I'm under no illusions about humanity's capacity to tolerate diversity. We've barely begun to accept different ethnicities and sexual orientations.
And really, I'm with the Wizarding World on this one: Secrecy is the best policy. J.K. Rowling knows her sociology. The general population is simply not ready to understand, much less accept mutants as a daily fixture in their lives. We're good superheroes, body guards and cannon fodder, but at the end of the day, government and citizen alike would simply prefer that we shut it off and crawl back to the hole we came from until the next crisis strikes.
The threat to control and power is too substantial. And they should be afraid of us. With mutants like Magneto who can manipulate a basic mineral found in almost every element of our lives, or those like Xavier who can actually reach into your mind and take away your free will, no one should get comfortable.
The idea that we could rely on each other's sense of ethical and moral compass is laughable. We are animals by nature with a basic tri-tiered structure: Alpha, Beta, Omega. Alphas feel a will to power and no matter how ethical or moral they believe themselves to be, they will always want to be in control and resist trusting anyone else with power. Omega's will obey to please their Alphas and Betas will be forever caught in the middle trying to balance the passionate and volatile nature of the Alpha with the supplicant and vulnerable nature of the Omega. I think I've gotten way off topic.
Refocus goofball. Nothing like avoiding a workout with a spontaneous philosophical debate… by myself.
I need friends. ASAP
The sun is starting to set as I step out of the house for my run/jog/voluntary torture. The dead grass and gofer holes evoke my earlier frustration. I can only being to imagine how much good we mutants could do for our communities if we weren't so afraid of getting nuked for our troubles.
Besides, I may not be Facebook friends with the X-Men but I heard of Colonel William Striker. I have no interest in catching the attention of his inevitable copy cat.
Jogging was never a joy of mine. I'm not built for it. My back is arched, my hips are wide and my nose starts to run no matter what the weather is like. I know its "good for me" but really, why does all the good for you stuff have to be so freaking painful. In less than three minutes, I'm breathing hard and holding my arms close to my torso in a subtle attempt to stop my chest from bouncing so hard.
Maybe Lycra body suits have built in support?
By minute five my motivation has abandoned me, the songs I put on this play list are starting to irritate I'm unable to keep pace with the rhythm. Just when I decide to switch over to "interval training" (i.e., walking until I feel less horrible) I become aware of another presence.
I'm still so disoriented from the psychic backlash of Alcatraz that I can't tell if the presence is physically near me or not. After a quick scan of my environment, (which tells me nothing because really? Mystique exists and eyes lie) I decide that taking a detour is the prudent choice. If it's all mental, maybe the pain of running will help me drive it out, and if I am actually being followed, the last thing I want to do is lead them toward my house.
Two more minutes and I hear a second set of footsteps.
Well, shit.
Suddenly I wish I'd decided to start working out before I upgraded to stalker package. I pick up the pace, despite the burn in my lungs and legs and hear the footsteps match pace.
Double shit.
I don't look behind me because I've seen the movies and I know, I KNOW that stalkers only start chasing you once you've turned around to see if they're really there. It's like Looney Toons; you can float in mid-air as long as you don't look down. The really bummer is, I'm no Road Runner and if my instincts are correct, this person is no Wile E. Coyote. No ACME anvils to save me today.
Save? Really? I'm a Class: 5 mutant. I could probably melt this guy's…girl's...creeper's face off with a Samantha nose wiggle. Suddenly, I feel both better and worse about the situation; better because I really can defend myself if needed and worse because if I need to, it's going to be a miracle if I keep my cover after this. I debate heading further into town or toward the less explored coast. The adrenaline is giving me the boost I need to keep my pace and keep moving forward, though I know I'll probably pay for it tomorrow.
I pass an elementary school and start picking up my pace. Stay away from kids: check.
I'm sure that much later, I'll wonder where this sudden reservoir of endurance came from but right now I can't be bothered with silly details like that. The hill near the school is steep and my legs are starting to scream. I'm mollified by the sound of heavy breathing behind me. At least the creeper is working for it.
Finally, I reach the top of the hill and may a right to follow the main road. One more block and a quick left and I'm in that the entrance to the forest. It's not really a forest, it's just a few acres of miniature oak but it's dense and if I have to bust a move, I'm less likely to be seen by passers-by. Just as my feet hit the leaf-covered ground, I notice something missing.
After a minute of maneuvering, I realize what it is. The breathing; the second set of footsteps; they're gone.
Aw, hell.
Was I just being paranoid? Because really, I think I've just run the fastest two miles of my life and if this was all a self-induced mind-fuck I really need to find out who that dude was and hire him/her to be my personal creeper/trainer.
As soon as I have the thought, I realize my mistake. I have a Jurassic Park flashback, remembering the good doctor's dramatic commentary about how velociraptors hunt. It's not the one in front that kills you; it's the two from the sides that you never saw.
And, as the taser barbs dig into my right shoulder and left hip I think to myself, that's a little excessive. One is clearly…
Fuck.
The electricity arcs through my body and the pain immediately overwhelms my senses. Blackness pours over my vision like a sable cloak and I never even feel the ground as I fall.
