Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or The Hunger Games.

Note: And here's the first of our seven collection chapters. Mini bios will be updated on the website as the tributes are introduced in-story.

Also, I realized about halfway through that all my Catholics ended up in the same chapter. XD It wasn't deliberate; they just ended up clumped together in southwest part of the country and therefore ended up getting picked up by the same person. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Thank you to Flintlightning, MornieGalad Baggins, and Wonder Tribute for Marcus, Lea, and Jaime, respectively, and to TheAmazingJAJ for both Fae and Coburn.

Choices

Representative Mack Urban, 37
March 15th, 07:58 MST

He hoped they'd made the right choices.

Mack glanced over their list of contestants one more time before tucking it back into a folder inside the car. Then he shut the door, locked the car, and joined the last few stragglers as they made their way inside the church. The back pews were full, so he made his way about halfway to the front, genuflected, and slipped into a side pew, smiling at the little girl in front of him.

She was about five or six years old, her hair neatly braided but her light green dress a bit too long for her. A hand-me-down, probably, from one of her older sisters. There were two older girls beside her, along with a little boy, as well as their parents. Mack gave the little girl a wink as they rose for the gathering song.

"Take up your cross, the Savior said,
If you would My disciple be.
Take up your cross with willing heart,
And humbly follow after Me."

Mack couldn't help a smile as the music played – one last familiar feeling before he dove back into a world that seemed increasingly chaotic and unpredictable. It was his job to help bring some order to that chaos. The first Games had made that job easier. At least now people were more willing to admit that there was a problem, that mutants needed to be dealt with. Increasingly, the question wasn't whether something should be done, but what should be done, and how.

And that was his job – to provide the answers to those questions. His proposal regarding mutant resettlement had been largely accepted in Congress, but he had to admit that the question posed by Senator Kinsinger still gnawed at him. Then what?

He had some ideas. Oh, he had plenty of ideas. After all, there were so many things that mutant powers could be useful for, if only they could be contained. There were mutants who could generate enough energy to power small cities. There were mutants whose abilities could calm storms or cure illnesses or … or any number of other things.

But first they had to be contained. They had to be controlled, both for their own good and for the good of those around them. For the good of families like the one right in front of him. In order for them to live their lives in safety, to enjoy a peaceful Sunday like this one together, they had to be protected.

That was what the Games were, after all – a reminder that normal, everyday people needed to be protected from the destruction that mutants were capable of causing. Which was why he hadn't objected to collecting their contestants on a Sunday. Yes, Sundays were supposed to be a day of rest, but the public would rest easier knowing that the mutant threat was being dealt with. He could live with that.

"Take up your cross, then in His strength
And calmly every danger brave.
It guides you to a better home
And leads to victory o'er the grave."

Mack nodded as the last few notes of the song died out. Victory over the grave – over death, over chaos, over destruction. That was their real victory, and they were well on their way. And if the path to achieving it came with a little pain, a little hardship for some of them … Well, that was their cross to bear, for the good of all mankind.

For the good of humankind.

Marcus Del Rio, 19
Farmington, NM

09:35 MST

Even getting up in the morning was becoming a harder choice to make

Marcus pulled the covers over his head as his mother's voice slowed down drastically. "Just a few more minutes," he muttered, glancing at the alarm clock on the stand beside him, which had barely moved since the last time she'd called. Marcus closed his eyes. He wasn't sleepy – not really. He just didn't want to get up. It was exhausting.

It hadn't always been. A little over a year ago, everything had been different. He'd been a high school senior and a star athlete. His junior year, he'd led his school's baseball team to a win at the state championship, and there had been no doubt in his mind that he'd be able to do so again. It had never seemed to be a question of if he would be a great professional athlete, but when, and how great.

But then, almost exactly a year ago now, everything had gone to hell. The incident in Alaska had had repercussions beyond what many people realized, and one of the first dominoes to fall was an increased scrutiny of top athletes. After it had been revealed that Cassidy and Ben had competed in surfing and football, respectively, people were quick to jump to the conclusion that any athlete whose abilities seemed out of the ordinary must be a mutant.

In his case, of course, they were right – as well as in the case of his mentor, Eddie Cruz, a baseball player whose enhanced strength was, in fact, due to his mutation. After Eddie had been targeted, a list had been leaked that included not only Eddie's name, but Marcus', as well – a list of mutant patients of a specialist who had helped them learn to control their abilities.

Marcus had immediately been cut from the baseball team, and there had been talk of forfeiting the previous year's championship due to his actions. His cheating, was what they said. But how was it cheating if he was using the talents he had? Wasn't that what every athlete did? How many of the athletes in Halls of Fame across the country were really mutants?

Besides, it wasn't as if he'd made things too easy for himself. He could have slowed down time so drastically that they would barely see him running by. But he hadn't. Sure, he'd slowed down a pitch every now and then to make it easier to hit. Yeah, he'd slowed down the other team's runners just a little so he could outrun them to home plate. But wasn't that what anyone would do in his place, if only they could?

Once the list had been released, of course, he'd had no choice but to register as a mutant. He'd struggled through the last few months of his senior year, doing his best to ignore the sneers, the stares, the fear in his classmates' eyes. They hated him … And why? Because of what a few mutants had done on some island?

No. No, that was just an excuse, really. The hatred had always been there, as much as he'd tried to tell himself otherwise. That was why he'd never told his coaches, his teammates, or even his closest friends about his power. As long as he was just an amazing athlete, he was a star. But as a mutant…

Marcus rolled over a little as his mother called up to him again. She was trying – really trying. He felt bad, sometimes, about what she had gone through for his sake. She had always come to every game, driven him to every practice, scraped together the money to buy the equipment he needed, only for everything to blow up in their faces. It wasn't fair.

Slowly, Marcus sat up in bed, blinking at the laptop screen, which was flashing a reminder that his essay was due by midnight. He hadn't even started on it. It had been his mother's idea to enroll in a few online courses. Online, no one knew who Marcus Del Rio was, or that he was a mutant. And at least it was better than high school. That was what he tried to tell himself.

Suddenly, the sound of a doorbell interrupted his thoughts. Marcus stretched a little, rubbing his eyes. Who would be coming to see him on a Sunday morning? Who would be coming to see him at all? "Marcus!" his mother called, but there was something different in her tone this time. Something urgent.

Marcus threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and opened the bedroom door. As he peered down the hall, he could see a man at the door. He was wearing a suit and tie and looked almost familiar from somewhere. He just couldn't place…

Marcus took a step back as he realized where he knew the man from. Mack Urban, one of the loudest anti-mutant voices in the government. Marcus took a deep breath and stepped out of his room, glaring at the congressman. "What do you want?"

"You," he answered simply. "We want you, Mr. Del Rio."

His mother stepped between them, her face red. "He's not going anywhere with you."

But there was something in the man's voice – something threatening behind his calm demeanor. Behind him, outside the house, Marcus had no doubt there was a Sentinel or two. He could try to run. Maybe he would even be able to get away. But even if he could slow down time enough to escape, his mother would still be there. What would they do to her?

Marcus shook his head, taking a step towards the door. "I come with you, and you leave her alone?"

"Marcus—" his mother began.

But Mack cut her off. "We have no business with your mother. Just you. You come without a fuss, and we have no reason to stay."

Marcus nodded a little, wrapped his mom in a hug, and followed Mack out into the morning light. Sure enough, there were a few Sentinels standing by, as well as a large van. Once they were inside the van, Mack handed Marcus a collar. Marcus turned it over in his hands. An inhibitor collar, much like the ones the mutants on the island had worn the year before, except this one wasn't made of metal. It was some sort of rubbery plastic, instead. Marcus took a deep breath, slipping the collar on.

"So where are we going?"

Lea Cervantes, 18
Tuscon, AZ

12:42 MST

Most of these people didn't have any other choice.

Lea smiled warmly as she poured another ladle full of soup into an older woman's bowl. "Thank you, my dear," the woman muttered as she moved along down the line. Lea wiped a little of the sweat from her forehead. The line was beginning to thin a little bit, giving her a chance to look around the room. Some of the people she knew; others were newcomers. She couldn't help but wonder how many of them were like her.

How many of them were mutants.

Some of them obviously were, of course. A few with oddly colored skin, or fur or scales where their skin should be. Occasionally, she caught sight of a tail or a forked tongue. They were the ones with no choice. They didn't have the option to hide what they were. It was there, plain as day, for all the world to see. A few of them tried to cover their appearance with long coats or large hats. But most didn't bother. Not here.

Lea glanced over at Sister Antonia, who stood by the door to greet anyone who might arrive a bit late for the meal. Beside her on the door were etched the words "All Are Welcome." Every few days, they would arrive to find an obscene message painted over the words, but they always cleaned it off. Once or twice, a brick had come flying through the window. But that was really the worst of it. For the most part, people simply avoided them.

Lea rolled up her sleeves, wiping her hands off on her apron as the last few stragglers made their way through the line. It wasn't as if they catered especially to mutants, after all. They simply didn't turn them away. They didn't turn anyone away. "I was a stranger, and you welcomed me," was what the sisters would say to anyone who tried to argue with them.

They had more patience than Lea did.

"Concepcion Cervantes?"

Lea cringed and turned towards the voice. 'Concepcion' was the name her parents had given her, but she'd never liked it. It was too stiff, too formal, too … traditional. It was a funny thought, maybe, considering she'd enrolled in the Franciscan sisters' boarding school a few years ago. But at least this way, she wasn't sitting around in a stuffy old church reciting prayers in Latin and chanting tuneless songs. She was out in the world doing something. Sure, at the moment, that 'something' was dishing out soup, but at least she was doing something useful.

The man who had spoken was watching her curiously. "Lea, if you don't mind," she corrected, offering him a bowl.

He certainly didn't look like their usual customers. His suit was clean and well-pressed, his tie perfectly straight, his hair neatly trimmed. But sometimes people liked to keep up appearances even when they were going through hard times. She was about to pour him some soup when he put the bowl down. "Lea, then. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"

Lea raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"I don't think you'd want this made public," the man offered. "It's about your … abilities."

Crap. They'd found out. She'd always known it was a possibility, of course, but she'd thought she'd been careful enough. Sure, it probably looked odd to an outside eye for someone who'd had little interest in sports throughout elementary school to suddenly develop an interest. And anyone who looked closely enough would probably think it odd that she spent so little time practicing. But what was she supposed to do? Pretend to practice for hours on end when all she needed was one glimpse at a professional's moves in order to copy them?

But she had been careful – careful not to be too perfect, not to stand out too much. And it wasn't as if she'd tried out for the national gymnastics team or anything. She'd been content to represent her boarding school in local tournaments. It had never been about the fame or the recognition, after all. It was just … well, fun.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." It was an obvious lie, and the sisters would probably be disappointed in her, but what was she supposed to do? Admit that she was a mutant in front of all these people?

The thought hit her like a wave. Why not? It was nothing to be ashamed of, as much as the government wanted them to believe differently. And a lot of these people didn't have the same options she did. They didn't have the choice to hide their powers. She always had, and her life had been easier because of it. But now … now there was nowhere to hide.

The man in front of her sighed. "Okay, so we're doing this. Lea Cervantes, you've been identified as an unregistered mutant, and you need to come with me before anyone gets hurt." More people were listening now. He'd caught their interest. Heck, for some of them, this was probably the most interesting thing to happen in a month.

Lea straightened up, setting down her ladle. "Hurt? Who's going to get hurt? Do you even have any idea what I can do?"

The man nodded. "I do. Probably better than you do. Repetitive muscle memory, I believe. Any action you see – even once – you can repeat perfectly. Quite impressive, really." He lowered his voice. "But I think you misunderstood me, Miss Cervantes. I didn't mean to imply that you were going to hurt anyone. There are Sentinels waiting outside to take you by force if necessary. It would be unfortunate if anything were to happen to this … lovely establishment."

Lea swallowed hard. He was threatening them – all of them. A room full of people, and why? What did he want with her? Whatever it was, it wasn't worth putting all these people in danger. She followed him towards the door.

That was when she saw Sister Antonia standing in the way. "Move aside, sister, if you please," the man sighed. "I don't want any trouble."

"Neither do we," Sister Antonia replied. "But you have no right to take her. Lea hasn't done anything wrong."

The man waved a hand. "Never said she had. Please move aside, or I'll have to ask the Sentinels to place you under arrest."

"Fine."

The man nodded to one of the Sentinels, and a hand reached down and lifted Sister Antonia out of the way. "Wait!" Lea called desperately. "Don't hurt her."

"Never intended to," the man shrugged, turning to the Sentinel. "Wait until we're gone, then let her go. We don't want any trouble."

"Thought I was under arrest," Sister Antonia spat.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" the man chuckled. "The headlines, the publicity, all turned against us, making you look like martyrs." He shook his head. "Sorry, sister. Not today." He turned to Lea, motioning towards the van beside them.

"Let's get out of here."

Jaime Sanchez, 20
Doña Ana, NM

15:03 MST

It was beginning to look like they'd made the right choice, after all.

Jaime slid a puzzle piece into place as the timer on their desk rang. Twenty minutes of break time, then twenty minutes of studying. That was what they'd told themself. They had three mid-term exams coming up this week. Jaime stretched their arms as they stood up, leaving the rest of the jigsaw puzzle on the floor and resetting the timer for twenty more minutes.

Jaime plopped down in their chair and opened their astronomy book to the last page they'd marked. It had sounded like a fun class at the start of the semester. Besides, it fulfilled the science requirement they'd need for their degree, once they transferred colleges. That was the plan, at least. A year or two at the local community college, getting some of their general requirements out of the way. Then on to a larger college to get their degree in computer science.

That hadn't always been the plan. Their senior year of high school, they'd been planning to go off to college right after high school. But then everything had fallen apart. Their grandmother had passed away, and they hadn't wanted to leave their father alone. On top of that, the Mutant Registration Act had been passed shortly after. Once they'd registered, each of the colleges they'd applied to had contacted them to cancel their scholarship offers.

Officially, they couldn't do that simply because they were a mutant. Probably. But if they'd learned anything over the past few years, it was that it was important to choose their battles. Yes, getting those scholarships would have been nice, but things weren't really that bad. After taking a year off from school working at a local restaurant, they'd been able to afford a few courses last semester, and almost a full load now. Maybe it wasn't perfect, but they were making it work.

The two of them had always managed to make it work somehow – their father and them. People were always quick to complain about how bad things were, but the truth was, it could always be worse. It certainly would be worse if they'd stayed in Venezuela, where their mother had been killed. As uncomfortable as things were for mutants in the States, there were rumors about other countries where mutants or even suspected mutants were enslaved or even killed outright.

This wasn't perfect, but it was better. There was always somewhere where things were worse. Maybe there always would be.

Besides, it wasn't as if registering as a mutant had ruined their life. They'd already been on the government's radar because of their father's immigration status. They'd been worried, at first, that revealing they were a mutant might put their father in danger, that he might be deported, but so far, nothing had come of that. The government had bigger fish to fry.

"Jaime!" their father called from the next room. "It's past three! Time to go!"

"Go?" Where were they supposed to be going?

"The pot luck. We're going to be late."

Jaime rolled their eyes. If it was past three, they were already late. No one arrived early for a church potluck. "Just a few more minutes!" Jaime called back. They sighed, closing their book. Their father meant well, but pot lucks at Our Lady of Purification always meant a bunch of fussy old ladies trying to make small talk, and small children running around everywhere, and so much … so much noise. So much chaos.

Oh, the people were nice, for the most part. They smiled. They chattered. But it wasn't as if any of them were really interested in them. Jaime chuckled. Not that there was much to be interested in. Between their job and their classes, they didn't really have much of a social life. But maybe that was for the best, all things considered.

Especially considering their power.

Jaime shook their head as they stood up and threw on a pair of socks and shoes. The government knew about their power, but that was no reason to broadcast it to everyone else. If they did that, they knew, people wouldn't be quite so chatty. It wasn't as if they made a habit of going around using their power. They certainly didn't pick people at random on the streets and start projecting pain, but that wouldn't stop people from worrying that they might, if they told them they could.

Still, they had to admit, it was … convenient … to have the option, if they wanted to. If a headache got too bad, they could project a little of it somewhere else. That was how they'd discovered it in the first place. They'd accidentally transferred a headache to their father. Once might be a coincidence, but two or three times was enough to make both of them suspect something was going on. It took them a while to figure out what, but once they'd put the pieces together, they'd avoided transferring pain to their father – or anyone else they knew, for that matter. They tried to avoid doing it at all, if they could. They didn't want to hurt people. They didn't want to be a monster.

"Jaime!" There was a slight edge to their father's voice this time, as if he was getting impatient.

"Take it easy!" Jaime called back, chuckling as they headed out into the living room. "I'm sure there'll be plenty left for—"

They stopped short when they saw the stranger standing in the doorway. "Jaime Sanchez?" the man asked, peering past their father.

Jaime took a step back. "Yes." No point in trying to deny it. They were in enough files for him to recognize them. "Can I help you?"

The stranger smiled a little. "Actually, you can. We need to do a little update to your paperwork, if you don't mind. Just need to double-check a few things, keep your picture up to date, things like that."

Jaime raised an eyebrow. "On a Sunday?"

The man shrugged. "Look, you can come with me now, make this simple, or things can get … messy."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. They knew that tone. This wasn't about paperwork. But what was it about? They hadn't done anything. Well, certainly nothing that bad. What was he planning to do to them? What would he do to their father? They'd heard rumors of more dangerous mutants simply disappearing. Were they killed? Imprisoned? Deported? What had they done to make anyone think they were that dangerous?

Their thoughts were interrupted by their father, who immediately stepped between them and the man at the door. "Jaime's not going anywhere with you."

That snapped them out of it. "It's okay," they said quietly, stepping in front of their father. "It's probably nothing. Just a bit of paperwork, like he said, right?"

"Jaime—"

"It's all right." They wrapped their arms around their father and held on close for a moment. "I'll be back soon, and we'll hit that potluck together. All right?"

There were tears in their father's eyes, but he stepped aside as the man led Jaime to a van outside. "Right call," the stranger agreed. "That could have been a lot worse." But Jaime was already wiping tears from their eyes, already straining to look out the back window and catch one last glimpse of their father.

What were they supposed to do now?

Fae Tomasini, 13
Corpus Christi, TX

19:23 CST

She was glad Kate had chosen the beach for her party, even after the storm the night before.

Fae grinned as Kate's mother pulled into the Tomasinis' driveway. "Thanks for the ride!" she called, climbing out of the minivan. "See you tomorrow, Kate!"

"See you tomorrow!" her friend called as the door closed behind her. Fae quickly bounded up the front steps, reaching under the doormat for the key. Her parents usually didn't let her stay at home alone for long, but this was a special occasion. It was Kate's thirteenth birthday, and the rest of Fae's family had decided to go see a movie. So until they got back, the house was all hers.

It wouldn't take them long, of course. Maybe another twenty minutes or so. Fae shook the sand from her shoes before stepping through the door. She had already dried off, but there was still sand everywhere. That was her fault, really; it had been her idea for them to bury each other in the sand.

Fae took out her camera, quickly choosing a few of the videos to post to her online diary. The camera had been her mother's idea. That way, she wasn't wasting the data on her iPhone. It wouldn't take long for the videos to upload, and in the meantime, maybe she could get this sand out of her hair. Besides, the acoustics were better in the shower. She could let her videos upload, get rid of the sand, and practice for the upcoming concert all at once. Perfect.

It wasn't a large concert or anything. Just their school's spring concert that featured both the band and the choir. The audience would be full of families and friends, but not many other people. That was all right, though. It wasn't about the recognition. It was about using her gift to bring a little joy into people's lives.

Not everyone saw mutations as a gift, of course, but that was always how she'd thought of hers. After all, it wasn't as if her power was dangerous – as long as she used it properly. She'd always had perfect pitch, and if she sang just right, she could lull people to sleep. She could carry and hold notes beyond any normal human's vocal range, and could scream at supersonic levels.

That one, she'd discovered completely by accident when a girl at school had pulled her hair. She'd been horrified to learn that she'd come close to bursting the girl's eardrums. After that, her mother had taken her to a doctor. Then a therapist. And, finally, their priest. That had been a little scary, but it hadn't taken the young priest long to decide that she wasn't possessed or evil or even very dangerous. She was just a mutant, and her gift, as he called it, was pleasing to the Lord.

Fae grinned, her voice carrying through the house as the warm water splashed over her, rinsing the sand away, making her clean. Clean. That was how she always felt when she sang, as if the music was cleansing her soul somehow, making it new and fresh. She ended on a high note and turned off the water.

It was only then that she heard the doorbell. How long had it been ringing? "Just a moment!" Fae called, throwing on a bright tie-dye shirt and jeans. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail until she could dry it, then hurried to the door. A man stood outside, pressing the doorbell again just before she opened it. "Sorry about that," Fae apologized, studying the man's clothes. A fresh suit and tie, all business. Probably here to see her father. "He's not here right now."

"Who?"

"My father. You're here to see him, right?"

The man smiled a little. "Actually, Fae, I'm here to see you."

"Me?" What could he possibly want with her?

"My name's Mack Urban. I'm with the Mutant Affairs—"

"—Advisory Board," Fae finished. She'd registered as a mutant almost as soon as the government had passed the Mutant Registration Act. Her mother had advised against it, but what was the harm? The government only wanted to keep track of mutants for everyone's safety. The more they knew about mutants, the more they could do to help them, right?

"That's right." Mack held out his hand. "You're a very bright young lady, Fae."

"Thank you."

"My colleagues and I are conducting a series of studies on mutations, and we found yours particularly interesting."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Not just for entertainment, mind you. Your talent for soothing people could have real therapeutic value. Would you mind coming with me for a little while?"

"Right now?"

"Your parents have already been informed, of course. It won't take long – just a few tests, a little paperwork, and you'll be back home before you know it."

Fae reached for a pair of sandals by the door. "Okay." Maybe the man was a bit odd, but it would be fun. An adventure. And besides, if it meant helping people in the long run, didn't that mean it was the right thing to do? She grabbed her camera and iPhone and followed Mack to the van outside.

As they climbed in, Mack's phone rang. He glanced at the number, then smiled at Fae. "Just a second." He pressed a button. "Senator Hughes. Always a pleasure. What can I … Oh, I'm sorry, Katrina, I have this listed as your husband's number. What can I do for you?" There was a pause. "I see." A longer pause. "Of course, Mrs. Hughes. No need to worry. None at all. I'll be there just as soon as I can. I'm actually right in the neighborhood." He leaned back in the driver's seat. "No, no, no, it's no trouble. I'm sure Nicholas won't mind. The more, the merrier. I'll see you soon." Mack hung up, then rolled his eyes. "No trouble, my a— foot. Politicians."

Fae giggled. "You're a politician."

"Fair enough," Mack sighed. "Politicians' wives, then. Still, I owe them a favor or two. Buckle up, Fae. We've got one more stop to make."

Fae quickly buckled her seat belt as the van started to roll down the driveway. Through the window, she could see her parents' car pull into their driveway, and her brother Doug climbing out of the back seat. "Wait!" Fae called. "They're back. Can I just say goodbye real quick?"

Mack shook his head, speeding up a little. "Sorry, Fae. Really on a tight schedule now. But don't you worry. You'll be back soon enough."

Soon enough. She would be back soon enough. Fae gave a little wave as Doug started racing towards the van, screaming something. Fae rolled down the window. "I'll be back soon!" she called, snapping a picture with her camera as her brother faded into the distance.

She'd have to show him how silly he looked once she got back.

Coburn Hughes, 17
North Padre Island, TX

19:51 CST

He wished he could have made a different choice.

Coburn shook his head as he sat beside his sister's hospital bed, drumming his fingers on the side of the chair. If only he hadn't gone to the beach last night. The weather hadn't looked good from the start, but he and Cari only had two weeks before they went back to Canada with their mother. He'd wanted to spend as much time outside in the warmer weather while he could, and he'd never been able to resist the ocean.

The storm had sent him home early, however – but not early enough. Bits of debris whipped up by the wind had nearly hit him as he'd raced back to the house, dodging branches and trying to keep the flying sand out of his eyes. By the time he'd reached the house, the rain had died down, but the wind hadn't. He'd been so desperate to get inside, he hadn't even noticed that his hand had caught fire until…

Until he'd reached for the door handle, and the flames had immediately leapt from his hand to the door, and then the rest of the house. It hadn't taken them long to get dangerously hot. The fires always got hotter when he was frightened, and he'd been terrified. He'd woken his father and stepmother, along with his younger step-brother Jonathan. But Cari had been on the second floor, trapped until she'd fought her way through the smoke to one of the outer rooms, and the only way out had been to jump from the window.

She hadn't even hesitated. She never did. She'd leapt from the window, landing with a crack he would never forget. But even worse than the sound was a brief flash of pain, coming from his twin. For one instant, she'd lost control, as well, and her thoughts had leapt into his.

But only for a moment. Their father had already contacted the authorities, and Cari had been rushed to the nearest hospital, on the mainland in Corpus Christi. The doctors had been quick to assure them that she would be all right. She had some burns, mostly on her arms where she'd pushed through a burning door to get through the flames. She'd broken her left arm and bruised a few ribs when she'd jumped. But all of those would heal. There wouldn't be any lasting damage.

She'd gotten lucky. They all had. Coburn and his father had stayed with Cari all night. Only once their father had finally been convinced to get some sleep had Cari admitted that she knew the truth. That Coburn had started the fire.

She wasn't upset – not really. Not that he had almost gotten her killed. She was more upset that he hadn't told her about his power. Of course, she'd been hiding hers, as well. They'd both been upset. Angry, even. For a moment, Coburn had been worried that maybe they'd been too loud, that someone may have heard them. But they'd worked it out. They always did. The important thing was that they both knew now. That neither of them would have to deal with their powers alone.

Coburn sighed. He had never wanted to deal with his powers. He had never wanted them at all. At least Cari's power was good for something. She could read minds, she'd said, but she hadn't been certain that it worked the other way around until the night before. She'd always been too nervous to try talking to someone, for fear they might figure out who was doing the talking. She hadn't wanted to risk anyone else finding out she was a mutant.

Suddenly, Coburn heard the door open behind him. He turned, expecting his father, or maybe one of the doctors. Instead, a man in a suit and tie stood there, watching him. "Coburn Hughes?"

"Yes?"

"I need you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Just a few questions about the … incident yesterday."

"I already talked to the police." And he had. They all had. The official story was that the house had been struck by lightning. It was a lie, of course, but only Cari knew that.

Right?

"I'm not with the police. My name is Mack Urban. I'm—"

Shit. Coburn leapt to his feet, but there was only one door. There was a window, but that didn't seem like a great idea, all things considered. He took a few steps away from the stranger. Well, not entirely a stranger. Mack Urban was well-known enough in Texas – and probably the rest of the country by now – as one of the biggest proponents of dealing with the mutant problem while they still could.

Coburn's stomach churned. He hadn't meant to cause any problems. He'd never wanted to be a mutant – and certainly hadn't wanted a power as dangerous as the one he had. And it was dangerous; he could hardly deny that now. But that didn't mean that he was dangerous.

Did it?

Maybe it did. Maybe not. Coburn took a deep breath and ran towards the door. Startled, Mack stepped out of the way just in time. Maybe he was afraid.

Maybe he was right to be afraid.

Coburn raced down the hall. Which was the quickest way out of the building? Suddenly, he heard something – something in his head. "Coburn. Stop. There are Sentinels outside."

Shit. Sentinels. That was why the congressman had let him just run past. He knew there was no way out of the hospital. Coburn froze. What was he supposed to do now? "So what do I do?" he thought as hard as he could, hoping Cari would be able to hear him.

For a long, terrible moment, there was silence, and Coburn thought that maybe she hadn't heard him. Or, even worse, maybe she didn't know what to do either. She always seemed to know what to do. But then he could hear her again. "Go with them."

"What?"

"There's no way out of here – not now. Go with them, and we'll figure something out, you and me. Stay in touch, and I'll be able to find you. Maybe dad can help."

No. No, that wasn't an option. Not really. But he didn't want to tell her that. If the government was involved, it was probably because their father had called someone. Or their stepmother, maybe. Not that it really mattered which of them had alerted the authorities. Either way, their family was just afraid of him as the rest of the world would be.

Coburn shook his head and turned back towards his sister's room in time to see Mack heading in his direction. "Fine. I'll go with you."

Mack looked surprised, but he certainly wasn't going to argue. Maybe he figured Coburn had seen the Sentinels outside. Maybe he was just glad Coburn hadn't burst into flames then and there. He held out a thin, plastic collar. "I'm sure you'll understand if I ask you to put this on. We don't want any more … incidents on the way to our destination."

Coburn took the collar and turned it over in his hands. It was plastic and rather flimsy-looking, but something told him it was probably stronger than it looked. He slid the collar around his neck, and it immediately snapped shut. Mack nodded.

"Thanks for making things easier for both of us."

Representative Mack Urban, 37
En Route to Calpet, WY

20:41 CST

He didn't have much of a choice now.

Mack stretched a little before taking a seat next to their pilot. The five mutants were in the back of the small plane, no doubt trying to work out what was going on. Marcus seemed to have some idea of what he was getting into, and most of the others could probably tell it wasn't going to be good, but Fae … well, she was in for a rude awakening.

Mack leaned back in his seat. She hadn't been his idea, but one of their goals when selecting contestants had been to ensure a variety of ages. If it were up to him, they would probably have left off a few of the younger contestants, but it wasn't just up to him. Besides, her power did have potential. If she wanted to, she could leave someone deaf – or maybe even worse. That was the idea, after all – to demonstrate that any power could be dangerous, in the wrong hands. And that anyone's hands could be the wrong hands, given the right circumstances.

Coburn, on the other hand – that hadn't been a hard decision. Now he just had to get Nicholas' approval. Maybe he should have contacted Nicholas first, but … well, sometimes it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. And he couldn't imagine why Nicholas would object to adding one more contestant. They'd had thirty the year before, after all, and had only decided on twenty-eight this year so that they could split the contestants evenly between their four coaches. They could handle one more.

So why hadn't he made the call yet?

Mack finally took his cell phone out of his pocket. He'd confiscated the mutants' phones, of course, along with any other gadgets they had, and disabled the GPS tracking. Not that it would have made much difference; reception was pretty spotty once they got far enough into the mountains, anyway. So he might as well call now…

The phone only rang twice before Nicholas picked up. "What is it, Mack?"

Mack flinched. Nicholas sounded tired. "If this is a bad time—"

"It's as good as any," Nicholas assured him. "Just had a few … complications. You?"

"Things went pretty smoothly. Just a little hiccup after my last stop. You know Senator Hughes?"

"Vaguely."

"His wife called me about his son. Her stepson. Seems the boy set fire to their vacation home out on some island. His sister was hurt, and … well, they wanted me to deal with it."

There was silence for a moment. "Great," Nicholas muttered.

"If it's a problem, we could…"

"No. No, we'll manage. It's just that … well, Judah had a little 'hiccup,' too. So we're up to thirty. But that should be fine, as long as there aren't any more … complications."

Mack couldn't help a smile. He'd expected a bit more resistance, but Nicholas didn't seem in an arguing mood. "I guess thirty's our lucky number, then," he offered.

But Nicholas had already hung up.

"Only living beings possess the ability to change, and make new choices."