X-Men: New Class

by Ambaryerno

Set in the Earth-10005 Universe, a new class of students arrives at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Inspired by Agents of SHIELD, X-Men: New Class loosely adapts Kyle and Yost's New X-Men as a hypothetical live-action television series. (Note: This story only accounts for up to X-Men: Days of Future Past, and will not be updated for Apocalypse)

8. 1x07 - Angels and Demons: The Purifiers

Previously on X-Men: New Class...

While leaving a gig he was playing in New York City, Jay Guthrie was assaulted by a gang not far from the club. Jay's rescue came from a most unexpected source: the Reverend William Stryker, who ran off the thugs and escorted him safely back to school.

Unknown to Jay, however, the assault was arranged by Stryker himself. Confused and conflicted over the encounter, Jay chose to take up Stryker's invitation to meet again in hopes of finding answers...

1x07

Angels and Demons Part II

The Purifiers

###

Act I

###

"So tell me, my son," Stryker asked as he took a seat behind his desk. Jay watched him uncertainly from the chair he was directed to, on guard for any sign the Reverend might suddenly turn on him. He suddenly felt even more vulnerable here than he had in the car on the ride back from New York the night before. "What has led you to accept my invitation? When last we spoke I got the distinct impression you had no interest in ever seeing me again."

Jay had to stop and think for a moment, and wrung his hands as he tried to sort out his response. Why did he come to Stryker's office? The question had been haunting him all the way into New York: What am I doing? "I don't know," he admitted. "You said that maybe it was God's will that we meet, an' you're right that nothin' happens that's not part of God's plan." Jay sighed and slumped back in the chair. "I guess... I guess I just needed help makin' sense of what happened last night, an' I didn't know who else I could really to talk to."

Stryker steepled his hands as he leaned back in his chair and considered Jay's words. It was a posture he had seen from Professor Xavier many times when deep in thought on some matter, and Jay had to admit to being surprised at himself for even making such a connection. "You mean to say, you didn't feel you could discuss...well...me with your peers or teachers without being dismissed out of hand."

"No, that's not..." he started, then trailed off. Sooraya had seemed willing to accept that Stryker might indeed be a part of God's plan, but even she seemed to view him more as a challenge or threat than being willing to hear him out. Jay sighed. "Maybe, I don't know. There's a lot of hard feelin's over Alkali Lake, an' the things on TV about you at school."

Stryker smiled warmly. "Then perhaps you have taken the first step towards understanding the truth of God's plan, and that it begins by setting aside your own prejudices."

Jay frowned. "My... I'm not a prejudiced person, sir," he protested.

Stryker leaned forward on his desk and studied Jay intently in a manner that made him feel a little self-conscious. "Are you not? You yourself confessed when last we spoke that your views of me were informed not by your own experiences, but by listening to the words of others. Tell me, what do you think of..." Stryker hesitated a moment and considered his words carefully before continuing. "Well, I do not want to use the term 'normal,' but of people who do not share your unique gifts?"

Jay sat back in his chair and curled his hands around the armrests, and wracked his brain for a clear answer. Strangely enough, this wasn't something he had ever truly thought about until now. "I guess, for the most part, I'm kind of indifferent," he ventured after a few moments. "I mean, there's my mom and most of the hands back home who are all good folk. And dad, before he died."

And Julia. Her face appeared again in the front of his mind. Julia, who had been smitten by him the first time they met, and courted her daddy's ire in pursuing Jay despite his animosity towards the Guthrie clan, and not least because so many of the kids turned out to be mutants.

Stryker raised an eyebrow. "Your parents were not mutants?" he asked with genuine curiosity, lulling Jay from his private thoughts.

Jay shook his head. "No, sir," he said. "Most of us kids are, but not our parents."

"Quite an unusual blessing," Stryker said. "Quite interesting as well. But, my son, these are people you know already. What do you think of 'flatscans' — I believe that is the word mutants have for us — as a whole?"

Jay shifted uncomfortably, the track of Stryker's questioning making him feel very unsure of himself. "I don't know. I guess I'm a little uneasy. I don't know if they're goin' to leave me alone, or if they'll be like those men last night."

"You are afraid, then?"

"Sometimes," Jay admitted. "I mean, the folks in Salem are good an' all, but..."

"But elsewhere you are met with scorn and suspicion."

Jay nodded. "At best."

They said nothing for a few moments. Stryker clasped his hands and tapped his index fingers against his lip thoughtfully, while Jay took a moment to let his eyes wander the Reverend's office. There was little in the way of decoration, but one picture in particular caught his eye; a black and white photograph hung on one wall. It was a group of soldiers in stained fatigues and battered helmets, some with M16s, others with carbines. One sort of looked like a fuzzier and meaner Liev Schreiber, but otherwise only two faces stood out to him; one was clearly Stryker himself, only much younger. The other would have been impossible for him not to recognize.

The Wolverine.

"That was a long time ago," Stryker said, apparently taking notice of his interest in the photo. "A different world, a different time. Do you know who those men with me are?"

"Only one," Jay said. Despite hearing the stories and having met the Wolverine several times, he still couldn't wrap his head around the man's longevity. Seeing him in a photograph almost forty years old and having not aged a day since just seemed unreal.

Stryker smiled. "They were all special men, but the Wolverine was the best at what he did. Now, this was some years after the United States withdrew from Vietnam, and I cannot, of course, tell you more about it, as much of it is still classified, but they were all gifted as you are."

Jay frowned. "All of them? They were all mutants?"

Stryker nodded. "This was the second squad I assembled. The first I worked with during the war, until they completed their tour and were rotated home. There was...originally some confusion regarding their orders, and they would have remained in-country had I not taken care to get it corrected." A strange look passed across Stryker's features at that, but Jay immediately brushed it off as an old soldier's reminiscences of another time.

"But you see, my son, much of my military career has been spent working with mutants and integrating them into the armed forces at a time when people still struggled to accept others over the color of their skin."

"But if you understand us so well, why do you say the things you do on television?" Jay asked, the contradictions between Stryker's words and actions since the night before, and the vitriol of his sermons refusing to compute. "Most of us just want to be left alone."

Stryker sighed heavily in disgust. "Much of that is clever editing by the media to twist and distort my message, and to paint me as a radical."

The Reverend leaned over his desk again and folded his hands in front of him. "I truly believe that mutants do indeed have a purpose in God's plan, and when I saw you last night, God told me that I must intervene and save this young life."

"But why me?" Jay said, finally giving voice to the question he had been asking himself over and over again. "Out of all of us, of all my kind who've just asked to be left to live our lives in peace, or who have needed someone to stand up and say what's bein' done to us is wrong, why me?"

"Because, my son, I believe that you may hold the answer to bridging the divide between mankind and mutantkind. God has said to me, 'Look for an angel to guide you, and you will know him in his hour of need.'"

Jay started to laugh, tried to stop himself as it certainly wasn't the polite thing to do, but the Reverend's pronouncement was so absurd and, frankly, overwhelming, he couldn't entirely hold it back. "An... Reverend, I appreciate what you did for me last night, but, me? An angel? I know I've got the wings an' the heavenly voice an' all, leastwise that's what I was told when I used to sing back home, but I'm by no means an angel." He sobered abruptly as memories of Julia surged once more to the surface. "I...in fact I've sinned, and I've sinned badly, Reverend."

Stryker frowned at him, but it was an expression of sympathy and deep concern, not one of judgment. "What do you mean?"

"I..." Jay trailed off as Julia's face clung to his mind, memories of that day forced down to fester even while he let them drive him flooding to the surface. "A mortal sin, Reverend." He sniffed, and felt tears welling up in his eyes. He didn't know why he was bringing this up in front of Stryker of all people, when he couldn't even talk about it with his own friends and family.

"Go on," Stryker said gently. There was something strangely soothing about the Reverend's voice, something that just felt comforting to hear.

Jay didn't understand it; he'd heard Stryker's words for himself on the news; the hate, the brimstone, and it was like he was now seeing two different people. "A couple times I tried to end my life, I... I lost someone an' afterwards..." His voice died in his throat, and for a moment he couldn't speak again.

Jay heard Stryker's chair squeak and, through vision wavering from tears, saw the Reverend make his way across his office. He heard the door open, and the Reverend called out into the office.

"Elizabeth, please bring some tea in for myself and our guest, if you will," Stryker said.

"Of course, Reverend," the woman said, with her very prim English accent.

Stryker closed the door again and returned to his desk, but instead of taking his original seat, he sat in one of the chairs next to Jay, and laid a hand on the ball of his shoulder. Jay flinched at the unexpected contact, as if the Reverend's hand might have burned him, but the touch was no more than a gentle and reassuring squeeze. "Go on, my son, what happened?"

Jay sniffed and wiped the tears from his eyes. "It was... I lost my dad a while ago to a mining accident, so it was just momma an' the rest of us kids, an' the hands that helped run the farm. Our land bordered another farm owned by Chester Cabot. The Cabots an' the Guthries have been feuding a long time now, at least a couple generations. The fact that me and most of my brothers an' sisters turned out to be mutants didn't help matters much. My brothers got into a lot of scraps with the Cabot kids, but I mostly stayed out of it."

"Why is that?" Stryker asked.

"I was a singer," he said. "I had my music, an' folks back home loved to listen to me, so for the most part the Cabots left me alone rather than stir up trouble with me. Even after I got my wings, and especially 'cause I worked it into my act. I called the band Icarus, but folks also used that name for me, too, y'know, like Icarus from the myth?"

The Reverend smiled at the unnecessary explanation. "Oh, I'm quite familiar with the story."

"Right, I suppose so, kind of stupid for me to stop an' explain it."

There was a knock on the door, and Stryker looked away. "One moment, my son. Enter!" he said. The door opened, and Stryker's secretary entered with two teacups and a pitcher, along with some little cakes, sugar, a pot of honey, and two teaspoons neatly arrayed on a platter. She was a tall and leggy woman wearing a knee-length skirt and heels, with her long black hair swept into a neat updo, and whose Japanese features were almost comically paradoxical to her Received Pronunciation. "Ah, thank you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth set the platter down on the desk, and took a moment to fill each of the cups, before turning to face the Reverend with her hands clasped casually in front of her stomach. "Reverend, Matthew has arrived and is waiting outside."

"Thank you, Elizabeth, please see to it that he is comfortable, and I will be with him soon."

"Yes, Reverend," she said.

"That will be all, I'll call you again if we need anything more."

She inclined her head politely, and turned and strutted from her office with just the right sort of shake of her hips. "Now then," Stryker said once she closed the door — and with it the view of her backside — behind her. He handed Jay a cup of tea, before adding a bit of honey and sugar to his own. "Do go on, my son."

Jay took a drink. The tea was hot and soothing, and though he wasn't much of a tea-drinker himself had to admit it seemed like just the sort of thing he needed right now. He sighed. "Well," he said, "one night after a gig, a girl, she said her name was Julia, came up to talk to me about my show. She'd heard some people whisperin' my wings weren't real an' it was just a bunch of fancy tricks. Well, I showed her an' she got a real kick out of it. We got to talkin' an' we really hit it off well. I started seein' her in town an' over the next couple months we got really close, so one night I brought her home to meet my family.

"The moment we stepped through the door all hell broke loose. My older brother Sam realized that she was Chester Cabot's daughter. I didn't know what to make of it! All I knew was that I was fallin' for her hard, an' she felt the same way. The rest of the family came 'round after not too long, an' I guess we all hoped that maybe we could be kind of a peacemaker between the families..."

Jay trailed off, and took another drink. Remembrances of playing his guitar for Julia on picnics in the fields, or flying her over the Cumberland at night, her hand stroking the copper feathers of his wings, her arms around him, her lips against his, all passed through his mind. But all of them soon faded away into the darkness of what came next.

"Something happened?" Stryker asked gently, as if sensing his distress.

He nodded stiffly. "One day we ran into her brothers, an' there was real trouble. Julia kept it from turnin' into a brawl, but they went an' told their daddy. Chester Cabot wouldn't have any part of his little girl datin' a Guthrie, much less a mutant one. He whipped up a bunch of his people an' came to our farm demandin' my head, claimin' I'd bewitched his daughter or some such nonsense. A fight broke out, I can't even remember who started it, but the Sherriff was called in an' broke it up, an' Chester dragged Julia home.

"I couldn't just leave it at that, Reverend," he said, as tears began to fall again. "I loved her, I knew with all my heart I loved Julia Cabot, so I flew out to the Cabot home lookin' for her. Chester Cabot was watchin' for me, an' right in front of his little girl he shot me!" Jay's tone turned bitter at the vague recollection of the bullet tearing through him, the pain spreading through his chest, and the distant sensation of tumbling out of the air. "He shot me dead, an' for what? For a Guthrie darin' to love a Cabot?"

"You were dead?" Stryker asked, his expression was thoughtful.

Jay nodded and wiped his eyes. "Do you know about secondary mutations, Reverend?"

Stryker considered a moment. "I've heard of them, yes. Some mutants develop an additional, unrelated mutation on top of their original manifestation. As I understand it there's still no full understanding of either the genetics or mechanism at work."

"Well, I can heal," Jay said. "Maybe it was bein' shot that kickstarted it, or maybe it turned up some time before an' I just never noticed, but...I healed. For a moment all was black, an' then I started waking up to the sound of Julia cryin'. All I wanted to do was hold her an' tell her I was all right, because it broke my heart to hear her carryin' on like she was. But her daddy tried to drag her away from me." Jay's tears were falling in rivers now, and his whole body was shaking as he cried at the memories being dredged up. "I don't know for sure what happened next, as I was still half dead, but somehow, Julia got hold of her daddy's gun, an'..."

He trailed off into a sobbing fit, and it was all he could do to hold on to his teacup and keep from dropping it on the Reverend's floor.

"And what, my son? You can tell me," Stryker said, and again his hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing in gentle encouragement.

"An' she ate it," he said, all the anguish flooding from him with those words. "She shot herself thinkin' I was dead, because she didn't want to go on without me, knowin' it was her own daddy who took me away from her. An' by the time I woke up and could hold her again she was already gone!"

Jay's hands shook, and it was only because Stryker took the cup from him and set it on the table that he didn't drop it. Not knowing why, he collapsed into the Reverend's arms, and he couldn't even think of being surprised when Stryker enfolded him into an embrace. "I tried to join her," he sobbed. "I tried, but nothin' I did would take. Julia went on home alone, an' I couldn't go with her."

Stryker shushed him, and patted him on the back. "It's all right, it's all right," he said softly. "My heart aches for your loss, my son. I, too, know what it is to lose your one great love, but do not despair, for I can say with certainty that Julia did not leave this world on her own; for the Lord sent an angel to her to see her to heaven."

"What angel?" Jay said bitterly.

The Reverend held him out at arm's length, and clasped him firmly on the shoulders. "It was you. He sent her you."

###

Act II

###

"...the critical an' decisive point o' the battle was Ewell's failure to occupy Culp's Hill on the first day," Ms. Marie said in her Mississippi drawl, and with a gesture towards the map projected on the front wall with a laser pointer. Julian slumped at his desk and leaned his head on a fist in boredom. His posture was mirrored by Santo, who was trying his best not to fall asleep during the lecture. He still couldn't quite decide whether she or Ms. Pryde were hotter, a debate he found much more engaging than the stupidity of people who died a century and a half or so ago.

"This hill represented the key to the entire Union line, an' would have made their position on Cemetery Ridge untenable. A more aggressive commander such as Jackson..." Marie trailed off, and her official tone changed to one of excessively tried patience. "Yes, Laura."

Julian glanced towards the back-right corner of the classroom. She was sitting alone, having chosen a seat as far as she could place herself from anyone else in the class (not that she would have needed to make an effort, pretty much everyone would have given her a wide berth, anyway). The rest of the students snickered quietly, having grown quite used to enjoying such interruptions over the past few weeks.

"Your argument of Ewell's culpability in the overall failure of the Confederate actions at Gettysburg is unsupported by the realities of the conditions on the battlefield, and have been rejected by most military historians. All other things being equal, Jackson would have been in no better position to assault the hill; the Federal troops had already established an adequate defensive position on strong ground by the time Ewell reached the field, his troops arrived exhausted from the march and earlier engagements, and there was insufficient time or light to organize the sort of coordinated assault necessary to dislodge the Union from such a position. The focus on Ewell is a part of attempts to shift blame away from Lee's gross mishandling of the execution of the battle, similar to previous criticism of Longstreet by 'Lost Cause' proponents prior to the reexamination and vindication of Longstreet's actions."

Marie pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation at the challenge to her authority. "Thank you for your participation, Laura, but what did Ah say the last time we talked about this?

"'If you have a question that will contribute productively to the discussion, by all means ask, but you don't need to be questionin' what Ah'm teachin' in front o' the class. If you have a problem with the material please see me privately after the lecture,'" Laura said, perfectly parroting Marie's rebuke from the last time she had interrupted a lesson, right down to her accent, expression, and mannerisms.

The rest of the class completely lost it at that, and exploded into raucous laughter. Julian found himself laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, and Santo's rocky fist hammering his desk boomed loudly across the classroom. Marie's face turned bright red, more out of embarrassment than anger at the mimicry, and she smacked a ruler on her desk in an effort to restore order.

"All right! All right, y'all, that's enough!" she called, but it still took a few moments for the rest of the class to regain control. "That's enough!" she shouted, and the laughter slowly died off. Julian wiped the tears from his eyes. "Laura, please see me after class."

The rest of the class snickered again, and Julian smirked in Laura's direction as she vainly tried to disappear into her voluminous jacket to escape the amusement at her expense. Marie waited for the class to finish settling down, then returned to her attention to the board.

"Now then, regardless o' where someone were to lay the blame for the Confederate failure to seize Culp's Hill," Marie continued, "the Army o' the Potomac was allowed the opportunity to entrench on Cemetery Ridge. Assaults against the hill in an attempt to outflank the Federal army on both the second an' third days o' battle were unsuccessful. The failure to capture the hill, in addition to — as Ms. Kinney helpfully pointed out — Lee's failures to listen to the advice o' General Longstreet by moving around the Federal left flank to threaten Harrisburg and Washington, would prove major contributing factors in the ultimate defeat o' the Army o' Northern Virginia in the battle. However despite this opportunity, Meade was either unwilling or unable to capitalize on this victory an' deal a decisive blow to Lee, which allowed Lee to escape Pennsylvania an' safely retreat back into Virginia."

Julian rolled his eyes as the lecture began again, and quickly lost track of what Ms. Marie was saying somewhere around the words "Now then."

"The end result is that, though the Battle o' Gettysburg was the largest conventional battle o' the war, neither side was able to obtain a decisive advantage from the results, an' this was a factor in the war being able to continue for another two years," she droned on. "However at the same time Gettysburg was being fought, Union armies in the Western theater were preparin' to strike a decisive strategic blow against the Confederacy during their siege of Vicksburg, Mississippi, which we will be discussin' in greater detail next session."

Marie shut off her pointer and the projector, and leaned her hip against the desk as she continued addressing the class. "Which brings us to your assignment for the next two weeks."

Julian turned his attention back to her in dismay at that, and Santo groaned audibly.

"Y'all'll be broken up into pairs, an' Ah want each group to report on the impacts o' the Battles o' Gettysburg an' Vicksburg, both within their respective theaters of operation, an' on the overall course o' the war, includin' citin' all references and sources."

The rest of their class sounded no more enthusiastic about the assignment than Santo, and an audible moan could be heard from just about everyone. Julian just sighed, rolled his eyes, and turned to the big rocky mutant. "Whatever, we go this, right bro?" He offered him a fist-bump.

"Rock on," Santo said, and bumped his fist back. Julian yelped at what effectively amounted to punching a rock wall, and shook his hand out as it throbbed in protest.

"Not so fast, Bromo superior," Marie said, eliciting a chuckle from the other kids. "Because some of y'all in the class seem to prefer using these group assignments as an excuse for wastin' my time an' yours, Ah'll be setting the groups. Alphabetically."

"D'aww," Santo groaned, and slumped in his chair in disappointment.

Julian did a quick rundown of the other students, and felt his stomach churn in alarm. "Oh come on!" he groused. "You're putting me with Maleficent?" Julian jerked his thumb vaguely in Laura's direction, whose only response was to try shrinking even further into her jacket.

Marie folded her arms beneath her breast and glared daggers at him. "Ah'm puttin' you with Ms. Kinney," she corrected. "You should actually be thankin' me, Mr. Keller, she understands the material so you might actually get a passin' grade for once."

Several of the other students chuckled at that, and ignored Julian's vain glare of protest. "Please don't make me do this! Anyone but her! I'll give you anything! Do you need a new Mercedes? All I've got to do is call my dad and..."

"One more word out o' you Mr. Keller, an' you can join her with me in our talk after class, do Ah make myself clear?"

Julian slumped in his chair in annoyance while the class made their own approval of the rebuke known, and propped his chin on a balled fist. "Fine, whatever. I'll just need to find some garlic and holy water."

###

Kevin stepped out of his room and, with his hands sheathed safely inside a pair of gloves, closed his door. He heard a soft giggle from off to his right, and instantly regretted following the sound of it. Laurie and Josh were tucked away as deeply into the doorway of her room as they could fit while the door was closed, Josh murmuring something in her ear. Or maybe he was nibbling on it, he couldn't quite tell from this distance. He balled his hands into fists with half a mind to go over there, but instead turned away and started down the hall for the stairs leading to the main level.

He's doing it on purpose. I know he is. Laurie wouldn't rub it in, but Foley, he can almost be as bad at flashing what he's got and others don't as Julian...

Kevin forced himself to stop grinding his teeth, and stuffed his hands into his pockets to try and look as non-threatening as possible. Not that it helped. Most of the other students in the hall scattered at his approach, all except for Cessily, who stood with Sooraya and Mark outside the room the latter shared with Jay Guthrie. Cessily immediately took notice of him and urgently waved him over. With no way of pretending he hadn't seen her or avoiding the group without it being too obvious, he reluctantly joined them.

"Hey," he said, "what's up?"

"Oh, Kevin!" Sooraya said, and much to his surprise what he could see of her beneath her niqab was uncharacteristically agitated. "Have you seen Jay at all?"

"I don't see anyone," Kevin said bitterly. "At least not without them turning around and going back the way they came."

"Kevin, this is serious," Cessily said, though he could see the sympathy in her silver features. "Jay's missing."

He frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Mark said. As always, his iPad was clipped to his belt, and his headphones were hung around his neck. Kevin wasn't familiar with whichever band was on his t-shirt that morning, but it was likely something obscure. Fortunately, Sheppard wasn't a pretentious hipster about his more eclectic tastes in music. "He never came back to the room last night, and certainly not this morning. I heard Melody was looking for him all over the place."

Kevin folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall, taking great care to make sure his bare skin didn't touch the rich wood-paneled décor. "That doesn't sound like Guthrie at all," he acknowledged. "That, and the way he got into it with Ms. Guthrie yesterday afternoon."

"I know," Cessily said, "We were there for most of it in the lounge, though I heard she was barking at him after he shut his bedroom door in her face."

Sooraya rubbed her arms. Her eyes were downcast and her shoulders were slumped. She was typically so serene that Keven actually found it alarming to see her so troubled. "I spoke with him yesterday after Ms. Guthrie left," she said. "He seemed out of sorts. I can't put my finger, as it were, on how, but something was bothering him terribly."

Kevin grunted. "To be honest, I don't think Guthrie's been right from day one," he said. "And that's saying a lot coming from me."

"This was different," Sooraya said, almost defensively, and the sharpness of the rebuke surprised him. "I think it had something to do with him being attacked in town the other night, but he would not say much about it."

Kevin frowned. "Wait, he was attacked?"

Cessily nodded. "That's what he told Sooraya, where have you been?" she said, catching herself a bit too late. "I...I'm sorry, I know you prefer..."

"So I miss out on a few things," he said dismissively.

Mark folded his arms. "Look, all I know is Mel is really worried. I don't know if Ms. Guthrie knows he's missing yet, but I'm sure the whole school will hear of it once she does."

"We were hoping he would turn up before class," Sooraya said. "I would hate to see him get in any more trouble after missing curfew the other night."

"Was he playing another show?" Cessily asked.

Mark shook his head. "Not that I know of, and if he did, he must have borrowed someone else's guitar. His is still in the room."

Kevin shrugged. "Look, I'll cover for him with Ms. Guthrie as best I can, but even if she doesn't, the Professor or Dr. Grey will catch him." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Josh and Laurie making their way over to the group, hand-in-hand, and it was all he could do to choke down the desire to melt Foley's face off. "Anyway, right now I've got some work I need to get done out in the shop before class. I'll have to talk to you all later."

And without waiting for them to say anything else, he started on his way again.

###

Julian fumed as he stormed from the classroom with Santo snickering at his back. He had half a mind to TK the big pile of rocks through the roof, but just kept walking. Sofia met him at the end of the hall, having just gotten out of the other classroom herself, and greeted him with a hug and a kiss. It didn't really help lift his spirits.

"Hey, how was class?" she asked, and frowned at his irritated expression. "You didn't get detention again, did you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled.

Santo lumbered up behind them and grinned as he leaned against the wall. "It's project time, and he's sulking because Ms. Marie assigned the partners."

Sofia just sighed patiently, and ruffled his carefully-styled hair. "Oh sweetie, just because you can't play with Santo doesn't mean the day is ruined."

"Ms. Marie paired him up with Creepy Girl," Santo said, and Julian could hear in his voice just how much he was enjoying it.

"Who?"

Santo smiled broadly in amusement. "Kinney."

Julian scowled. "I said I don't want to talk about it."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Julian, it won't be that bad. Besides, maybe if you actually took some time to get to know her you might find she's really kind of sweet."

Santo chuckled. "You sure you wouldn't get jealous? She's a freak, but kind of a hot one."

"And you are disgusting."

Julian balled his fists. "Look, I don't want to get to know her. I don't want anything to do with her! It's bad enough she's always following Cess, Sooraya and Sheppard around, I don't need her stalking me, too!"

Sofia folded her arms across her chest and scowled at him. "Would it honestly hurt you to at least try being nice? I'm not saying you have to be her friend if afterwards you decide you don't want to, but just like Nori you're not even giving her a chance."

"I already know all I need to know; she's creepy, and weird, and..." Julian trailed off when he saw the embarrassed look on Sofia's face, her hand raised as if trying to get his attention. He sighed and pinched his nose. "And she's standing right behind me, isn't she...?"

Sofia smiled in amusement. "It's a good thing I don't love you for your mind, baby. Even 'slow' would be a step forward."

Julian turned around, and sure enough, Laura was standing behind him, her books clutched protectively in front of her, and, as usual, trying to shrink away from him into her jacket as he spit her with his most annoyed glare. "What?" he snapped, and Laura flinched back even further. "What do you want? And what have I told you about sneaking up on me?" Laura started to respond, but Julian sharply cut her off before she could even say a word. "And don't even think of doing that mimicry thing, I'm really not in the mood for it!"

"Julian!" Sofia admonished him sharply.

"Ms. Marie said we are to work together on this project," Laura said quietly, averting her eyes away from him to avoid his irritated glare. "I wished to set a time to meet and discuss it."

"Well, Julian?" Sofia asked with a lift of her eyebrow.

Julian dug his nails into his palm. "Look, I don't want to deal with this or you right now. So shoo!" He waved her away, and restrained himself from drawing on his powers. "Go away!" he said more firmly when Laura didn't respond at first. This time she shrugged even deeper into her jacket, spun around on her heels, and took off at a brisk pace up the hall towards the rear doors.

"Dude, harsh," Santo said with a grin, having enjoyed the entire exchange.

"You are amazing, Julian," Sofia said reproachfully.

"I was nice!" Julian said innocently. "I didn't even TK her."

Sofia's only response was a disgusted sound in the back of her throat as she turned and stormed away from him, leaving Julian to chase after her calling her name, while Santo followed behind them in hopes of watching their fight.

###

Jay yawned, and suddenly realized he could barely keep his eyes open.

"What time is it?" he murmured tiredly.

Stryker checked his watch. "It is near to nine o'clock in the morning," he said.

That hit him like a splash of cold water across the face, and he jumped to his feet. "Nine...nine in the mornin'? Oh God, I had a class at seven thirty, an' Paige is probably goin' to kill me for bein' out all night again." He colored abruptly. "I-I'm sorry, Reverend, for keepin' you up all this time—"

The Reverend smiled warmly and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, my son, you needed a shoulder to lean on, and I am happy if I have been of some help for you in your need. A night's sleep is a small price to pay."

Jay thought for a moment. He still didn't know why he had confided in Stryker, but he had to admit that, well, it had felt good, almost like a weight was starting to lift from his heart. The pain was still there, but for the moment at least it had dulled considerably. "It did, sir," he admitted. "Thank you, for listenin' and understandin'." Jay sighed. "I guess I never really talked about what happened back then. I...uh...I'm sorry, but I really do need to get back, I'm already in for it an' bein' any later won't make it any better."

"Of course, I understand, and I will have Elizabeth see that you make it back to your school safely."

"Thank you, Reverend. I'd really like to meet with you again sometime, there's still some things I'd like to talk about."

"Of course, my son! It pleases me to know that perhaps you and I have taken a great stride in understanding one another. If we two can bridge that gap between us as individual men, then there truly is hope there might yet be a reconciliation between us all."

Stryker guided Jay to the door of his office, and turned the handle to usher him out. Stryker's secretary was still at her desk (or had she left and come back since he'd first arrived?) but now there was another man waiting; a tall, powerfully-built man with a thick brown beard and keen blue eyes, and dressed in a plain gray suit with a silver crucifix around his neck. Jay felt a bit uncomfortable when the main fixed his eyes on him.

"Ah, Matthew, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting all night," Stryker said, "but my young guest here was in great need of my ear. Jay, this is Brother Matthew Risman, he is what you could call my right hand. Perhaps when there is time I might be able to properly introduce you. Elizabeth, please arrange transportation for our friend, I would like to speak with Matthew in private."

Elizabeth stood and nodded. "Of course, Reverend," she said, and motioned to Jay. "This way if you please."

Before he could depart, Stryker laid a hand on each of his shoulder. "Go with God, my son, and remember all we have talked about tonight. I look forward to speaking with you again."

"Thank you again, Reverend," Jay said.

Stryker gave his shoulders a squeeze, then turned him loose. Jay then fell into step behind his secretary as she departed the office, and made her way down the hall.

###

Stryker watched as Elizabeth led the Guthrie boy out of his office, maintaining his smile until the door shut behind them, at which point it faded into a scowl of disgust.

Matthew watched the door for a moment, his own expression unreadable, before turning back to the Reverend. "With respects, Reverend, are you sure about this? What if Xavier or one of the other telepaths are able to read him?"

"There's no need for concern, Matthew," Stryker said dismissively, and led the man back into his office and closed the door behind him. "A little something courtesy of our esteemed benefactors that I slipped onto his person when he wasn't looking, which should serve to prevent prying minds from noticing anything."

Matthew grunted and followed at a respectful distance. Stryker motioned for him to take a seat, before sitting in his own desk chair. "Do you really think this one will be of use?"

"Oh, indeed, Matthew, indeed. He's a damaged soul in search of answers; the girl he loved killed herself because her father refused to let her associate with such an abomination." His tone grew mocking. "Such a horrible tragedy that the poor girl could be so corrupted, but I find him very interesting. The boy's mother and father were human, and yet almost all of their children have turned out to be one of these perversions of nature. Oh, I have heard of perhaps one child of baseline humans manifesting, but never so many when the parents were not mutants themselves."

Matthew twisted his lip in disgust. "How many of them?"

"I don't know yet, the boy spent most of his time questioning how God could allow such horrible things to happen to him, never even considering that he was being punished for his own existence. There are four for certain that I know of, including himself: the eldest is one of Xavier's militants, and there are two sisters at the school. One is a teacher, and the other is a student."

"Do you want them eliminated?"

Stryker shook his head. "No, not yet. The last time I approached that school I did so much too rashly, and there was an unpleasant surprise waiting there that jeopardized the entire operation. I will not be so hasty again, especially as I'm not yet prepared to act openly. Besides, I think the boy may have another use."

Matthew frowned. "Reverend?"

He leaned back in his chair, steepled his hands, and tapped his lower lip thoughtfully. "It's his secondary mutation; a form of healing factor not too dissimilar from Howlett's. Our benefactor has been desiring additional specimens for his research, and I believe young Mr. Guthrie may be exactly the sort he is looking for."

"What do you desire of me?"

"In the meantime, I need something to placate our benefactor. There are enough of the abominations living in the City we need not worry about acting openly against Xavier's school to find someone vulnerable. Perhaps from one of the shelters, or another undesirable who wouldn't likely be missed. That should give him something to play with and keep him happy until we can send him a real prize."

Matthew nodded, and smiled. "I've had some of our people keeping track, so I may have a few ideas of where to look."

"Very good. Please make the arrangements."

The bearded man stood and inclined his head. "Reverend."

"Go with God, Matthew. Remember, my son, patience and discretion. The time for our crusade is drawing near. Let's not tip our hand too early."

###

Act III

###

"Oh thank god, Ah'm starvin'," Marie said as Jubilee pushed the door to the teacher's lounge open with her backside and stepped inside, a takeout bag in one hand and a drink carrier balanced in the other. Jubilee shuffled awkwardly around the door, made her way to the table, and set her bounty down in the middle.

"Yeah, well, I should have snuck some hot sauce into your burger," Jubilee said as she pushed her Oakley Radars up to their customary place atop her artfully spiked black hair, and doffed her gloves. "Instead, here I am making a food run for you after you stuck me with Julian Keller and Quentin Quire in detention the other day. Together."

Marie laughed out loud at that, and dug into the bag for her order (checking, Jubilee noted, for any vengeance-driven shenanigans with her food as she did so). "Oh come on, it couldn't have been that bad."

Jubilee took her own lunch out of the bag and dropped heavily into a chair, pounding the end of a straw on the table until it popped out of its wrapper. "One of these days I am going to paf that Keller kid right in his big mouth. Him and Quire together is like putting the immovable ego against the unstoppable torment."

"An' here the Professor thought you could handle the job," Marie said, and Jubilee could hear the amused smirk in her voice.

"Ugh! Keller is bad enough the way he thinks he rules the school. Quire thinks he rules the whole damn universe and lives for baiting people, while Keller's got just enough of a temper to provoke." Jubilee took a long sip from her soda as thoughts of Quentin's steadily increasing smirk and Julian's exponentially growing anger while each were seated in opposite corners of the classroom and neither saying a word passed through her mind. "I mean seriously, do you know how hard it is to discipline a telepath? How am I supposed to punish someone for thinking insults at someone?"

"Well, for what it's worth Ah near got into it with Keller this mornin'," Marie said around a mouthful of her burger. "Ah'd say he took being assigned to work with Laura Kinney on a project poorly, but that would be an understatement."

Jubilee frowned at that. She had tried on several occasions to get Laura to come and talk to her since that first day of detention, but so far she had managed to evade her with rather impressive skill. "How is she doing in class, anyway?" Jubilee asked, and took a bite of her salad.

Marie sighed. "She's a bright girl," she said. "An' Ah mean bright. She's always punctual, her homework is always done and immaculate, she's always payin' attention an' completely engaged in the class. But then Ah had to talk to her again over correctin' me durin' one o' my lectures — sad to say she actually knows the material better than Ah do — an' she did that thing where she mimics exactly what Ah said an' how Ah said it."

"Yeah, I've heard some of the others mention they've had her do it to them, too." Jubilee smirked at her. "Bobby thinks it's hilarious."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course he would. As if Ah don't get enough teasin' from him as it is." Marie leaned her cheek on one fist and studied her half-eaten burger and fries for a moment. "Ah know she's not doin' it to act out, but she doesn't seem to grasp that it's not proper behavior, either."

Jubilee frowned at her salad while Marie resumed eating, and turned the question she'd been wanting to ask somebody over and over in her mind. She knew it wasn't something that, in her position, was appropriate, but the need to voice her concerns overwhelmed propriety, and she lowered her voice, as if the walls could hear every word she said. "Listen, do you think something's strange about her?"

Marie, a French fry weighed down by an enormous glob of ketchup raised half to her mouth, at first looked like she might break out in laughter, but the seriousness of Jubilee's expression quickly strangled any amusement she might have otherwise felt about such an obvious question. "What do you mean?"

Jubilee sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I mean that I keep getting the feeling that something's very wrong with her. Look, I worked with a lot of kids back home who had suffered abuse, and there's a lot of common symptoms; they would avoid physical contact, they're withdrawn, they struggle with social interaction. Any of this sound familiar?"

She considered that for a moment. "Now that Ah think of it, it does. But she does seem to always be hanging around with Cessily, Sooraya an' Mark, so it's not like she doesn't have any friends."

"I'm not so sure. Yeah, I see her with them a lot, too, but...I don't know, she doesn't seem to really be engaged with them like I'd expect. And there's more," Jubilee said, and lowered her voice even further. "When I looked at her file it was empty. And I mean there was nothing in it at all."

Marie frowned. "That is weird."

"I know, right? It almost makes me think that the Professor is hiding something. Maybe it's even her."

She was about to say something more, when Paige threw open the door to the lounge and stormed in, prompting them both to clam up without even needing a spoken warning between them. Paige stomped over to the refrigerator, grabbed her dinner from the night before, and slammed the microwave door closed as she tossed it in and hammered on the buttons. She then wordlessly leaned over the countertop for some moments and waited for her lunch to cook.

Jubilee and Marie exchanged frowns, before Jubilee finally ventured to speak. "Hey, dude, you ok?"

Paige didn't answer at first, so Jubilee slid her chair out from the table, got up, and made her way over. As she drew nearer, she could see Paige's shoulders shaking, and her hands were balled into fists so tight her knuckles were turning white. "Paige?" she asked.

"You've got to talk to Jay," Paige said, her voice was trembling, and her Kentucky drawl was breaking through.

Jubilee sighed. "Look, Paige, I'll do what I can, but he's got to come to me."

Paige rounded on her suddenly, and Jubilee flinched back reflexively at what she saw. The skin of her face had been peeled away in places, and here and there different materials were showing through as she lost control over her powers in her agitated state. "He snuck out last night, and he didn't come home. He skipped all of his classes this morning!"

Jubilee heard the sound of Marie's chair skidding on the floor as she, too, got to her feet and started towards them. "That doesn't sound like Jay at all," Marie said.

"I don't know what's happenin' with him right now, guys! Momma sent him here for help an' I'm supposed to be lookin' after him, but he won't talk to me. An' now he's cuttin' class?" Paige met Jubilee's eyes. "This ain't a courtesy thing anymore, Jubes," she said. "This is a school matter now. When he gets back you have to talk to him, do you understand me? You gotta!"

###

Stryker grimaced and shifted his leg as the car bumped along the road. His driver took great care to keep the ride as smooth as possible, but here and there were still places where the road was in need of resurfacing, and unfortunately they couldn't be avoided. He rode in silence — it was just himself and his driver in the car — with only an occasional check of his phone to break up the monotony. The old soldier's maxim, "hurry up and wait," echoed through his mind on the drive out, and he was nothing if not accustomed to such long transits from his days of service.

After a few minutes the car turned off the main road for an even rougher unfinished one leading to his ultimate destination; a secluded storage facility outside the New York City limits not far from the New Croton Reservoir. There were a few other vehicles clustered in the motorpool around the large slate-gray warehouse enclosed within a barbed wire fence, largely hidden amongst the dense wooded area surrounding the reservoir. The turning off the main road was unmarked, and if one didn't know exactly where it was, it would be incredibly easy to miss.

The driver pulled into the lot with the rest of the vehicles; most of them old military surplus equipment and a few unmarked SUVs, and parked not far from the main doors to the warehouse. He quickly stepped out of the car and hurried around to the passenger's side, and helped Stryker disembark. Stryker leaned heavily on his cane and grimaced as he settled his weight on his bad leg, and pulled his long woolen coat tighter around himself against the late-autumn chill. The days were growing shorter and colder as Thanksgiving approached, and it wouldn't be long before New York was wrapped in the grip of the Northeastern winter. Distant memories of Alkali Lake and the cold day his career came to an end passed through his mind, and he gripped his cane resolutely.

That was the past. He had a future for all mankind to work towards now.

Stryker made his way from the motorpool to a side door set into one wall of the warehouse, well away from the large main doors. He punched his code into the alarm panel next to the door, and there was a beep and a click accompanied by a flashing green light as it unlocked. Stryker's driver held the door for him as he stepped inside alone, while he remained outside, enduring the chill by hugging his own short bomber jacket tighter around himself and rubbing his hands together.

The inside of the warehouse wasn't much warmer than the outside, though it offered the advantage of a refuge from the wind. It was only dimly illuminated by security lights, and to avoid attracting unwanted attention the large floodlights suspended from the ceiling were left off to reduce its draw on the city's power grid, and to conserve power from its generator. The warehouse was largely empty and abandoned, but in one corner were several palettes laden with crates and boxes, around which several men were gathered. Stryker immediately started in that direction.

As he drew nearer the men clustered around the crates snapped to attention, and Stryker smiled at the professional response. Most of them were younger men, though here and there were a few lined and graying faces; some he knew, but most were either unknown to him or only passingly familiar at best, but what they were was unmistakable. Soldiers. Mercenaries. A few former police officers. All well-trained and obedient, and all of whom shared one particular trait in common:

They despised mutants.

"Reverend!" one of the men said, and detached himself from the group.

"Ah, Doctor!" Stryker replied in greeting as Dr. Jack Abrams met him half way to the palettes and clasped his hand.

"I'm glad you could make it," Abrams said. He was middle-aged, one of the more lined and gray faces in the group, with receding (and graying) brown hair and a neatly-groomed mustache, and a large pair of aviator-style eyeglasses. From the looks of it he had just come from his practice, and was still dressed in a shirt and tie beneath his coat.

"You must forgive my tardiness," Stryker said, as the two men crossed the rest of the warehouse in step together. "I had a rather urgent matter to attend to."

Abrams glanced sidelong at him, and studied him gravely. "I know, sir, Matthew advised me of the details and his assignment. I'm due to meet up with him tonight for his operation in town. Have you slept at all since last night?"

"Not a wink, but that can wait for now. I may be an old man, Jack, but I'm still a soldier. I assume from the look of these crates our benefactor has made a delivery?"

"Yes, sir," Abrams said. "It arrived early this morning. We've just finished the inventory and I think you'll be pleased."

Stryker gritted out a smile through the pain running up and down his leg as he limped along the warehouse floor. The cold certainly wasn't doing the old injury any good, and the sooner he could finish here for now the better. "He has yet to let me down. Now, let's see what we have, shall we?"

Abrams and the crew of men with him had, with military precision, completed a full inventory and itemization of everything in their benefactor's shipment. Stryker listened intently as he went through the entire checklist, a growing smile of satisfaction of his lips as he took in the details. Much of it was mundane materiel; specially-modified M4A1 carbines and other small-arms along with several crates of ammunition and spare magazines, flashbangs, grenades, Claymore mines, C4 and other demolitions equipment, computers, tablets, secured phones, four each of the older M72 and new AT4 anti-tank launchers with a mix of both HE and HEAT rounds for both, crates of MREs, body armor, medical supplies and surgical equipment, ECM and heavy communications monitoring equipment, and other odds and sundries. All of it was brand new and in perfect operating condition, all of it equipment trivial to slip through the bureaucratic cracks as it was redirected piecemeal.

However what interested Stryker most was a large collection of crates and boxes set aside from the rest. Some were labeled "Specimen Containment," but otherwise they were nondescript and missing the military specifications painted on many of the other containers.

"These were prepared specifically for our needs, if I understand the manifest correctly," Abrams said, as he looked up from the manifest and peered over the top of his glasses in the direction of indicated crates and cartons.

"Excellent! Excellent," Stryker said with a gleeful smile. "You know, some of this I had a hand in developing myself, a long time ago." He pulled the cover off one of the crates, revealing dozens of small devices roughly the size of an iPod packed inside. Stryker removed one and turned it over in his hand. The device was relatively simple, with a switch along one side, and a red and green light on the end. He switched the device on, and the green light blinked to life. "The concept for this was originally devised by Bolivar Trask," he said, holding it up for Abrams to inspect, "though the ones we had in 1973 were a good bit larger and much more obtrusive. It's able to detect some of the telltale signatures of mutation within a certain range of its sensors, at which point it sounds an alarm."

Abrams picked up one of the detectors and turned it in his hand. "What sort of range?"

"The original hand-held models like these had a fairly short range, perhaps the size of a small room. The larger examples were a central component of the old Sentinel program, and had a considerably longer active range. I've been eager to see what sort of improvements our benefactor has made to Trask's old work."

Stryker shut the detector off and slipped one inside his breast pocket. "What else do we have?"

Abrams checked the manifest. "We have some two-dozen nullifier collars and shackles for managing any specimens we manage to collect, as well as a full suite of equipment for field dissections if needed. There's also one box of carbonadium rounds."

Stryker felt his smile broaden. "Carbonadium? That, my son, is wonderful news."

"Sir?" Abrams asked, and wrinkled his nose in confusion.

"Rock, paper and scissors, my son. Conventional rounds are useless against mutants with certain mutations, particularly those with the ability to heal themselves. Carbonadium can shut this particular mutation down." He rubbed his bad leg as pain stabbed along it as the memory of past events flashed before his mine. "There is one man in particular I would rather like to put at the end of one of these rounds."

"It's a shame there's so few of them, if I may say so."

Stryker nodded. "Truly, unfortunately the substance is incredibly difficult to come by, and incredibly expensive to work with. We'll need to be careful about how these are distributed, no more than a few per squad."

Abrams made a note on the manifest. "Yes, sir."

"I would like you to begin setting up the equipment here. With any luck, Matthew will have some specimens collected that we'll need to prepare for transfer tonight. Please see to the preliminaries personally, Jack, you know best what to look for. Don't call in any of the others, just use the garrison here. I would like to avoid calling attention to ourselves yet, and most of those here have yet to be introduced into the congregation, which will help provide a degree of security."

"Yes, sir. Once the lab is ready do you want me to return to the church?"

"No. Just sit tight and be ready to receive the subjects. Depending on the targets Matthew selects we may expect some casualties, as well, and I need them treated as best as can be done. Given the nature of the coming war, we may not be able to count on assistance from regular authorities, and certainly not without questions I do not wish to be asked."

"Yes, sir."

He leaned on his cane again and shifted his weight off his bad leg. "Now then, Doctor, I'll leave you to see to your work. I have arrangements of my own to make for our young angel when next he returns, and with God's grace I'll soon know much more about what awaits us when we are ready to begin."

Abrams nodded his head, then turned away and motioned to several of the men standing around the supplies. "All right, I want triage set up near the door," be barked. "If we do receive casualties I want to be able to get them under care quickly. You there!" he said to another group unloading some of the weaponry from another set of palettes, "Don't worry about that right now, I want a containment area in the back corner along with the rest of the lab equipment..."

Stryker left the Doctor to his task, and started along the warehouse floor back towards the side exit, passing men rushing to carry out their orders. He allowed the nostalgia of all his decades of preparing for combat wash over him. This was a feeling he deeply missed; the feeling of being in command, of men willing to follow him into the breach. He had only narrowly escaped Trask's disaster forty years ago, but escape he had, until finally the abominations had caught up with him again. He had lost everything to them; his wife, his son, his career, and his reputation.

He tried his best to ignore the lance of pain shooting through his leg, the vision of Howlett — the man he had created — turning his back on him and leaving him to die. A bitter and determined scowl twisted his lip. There would be no surrender. There would be no inquiries. There would be no more humiliation. This time it would be different, and by God's will the enemy would be punished.

This time, he would win.

###

Act IV

###

Jay made his way along the path up from the gates and towards the school. It was well past noon by the time he finally returned, largely thanks to New York City traffic on the ride back to Salem, and he wasn't in any particular hurry to rush into the yelling that was almost certain to follow. He was tired and just wanted to sleep; the nap he took in the cab hadn't been particularly refreshing owing to the bumps of the road, and the frequent starting and stopping at what seemed like every intersection and traffic light along the way, and he decided it was only his healing factor that prevented him from dropping dead of exhaustion.

It was cold enough now that there was no one out in the grounds, so aside from the rustle of the wind in the trees and the distant sound of Kevin at work in his shop over some project for his sister's class, it was utterly silent. Good, that meant he could likely slip into the school again without running into anyone.

He left the path well before he would be in view of the main doors, and circled around to the dormitory wing on the east side of the building. As he neared a secluded spot towards the back of the mansion he slipped off his jacket, slung it over his arm, and spread his wings. His flight adaptations largely helped to shield him from the cold, but his skin nonetheless pimpled a bit at the autumn chill, and the sooner he got inside again the better he would feel. So Jay leapt lightly into the air, and with a few powerful strokes flew up to a window at the very end of the dormitory hallway as it led away from the stairs leading down to the main level.

Jay alighted on the narrow stonework forming the outside of the windowsill, and kept out of sight as he peeked through to make sure everything was clear. Sure enough, there was no one in the dormitory hallway, so Jay tested the window and found to his satisfaction that no one had noticed he'd left it unlocked when he slipped out the night before. He smiled tightly. Well, at least I'll get a bit of shuteye before anyone can start yellin' at me.

And with that, he opened the window the rest of the way, slipped inside, and closed the cold out behind him.

Jay hurried as quietly as he could up the hallway, straining his ears for anyone who might be coming, but all he could hear was the muffled drone of voices from the classrooms below the dorms, or from the lounge at the other end of the mansion. He made it to the door to his room, and was just reaching for the handle when, before he could even think of reacting, it turned, the door swung open, and Mark started to step out.

Mark froze in surprise at the unexpected sight of him, and Jay just stared back at him in dismay.

"Dude, where have you been?" he finally asked after a moment to get over the shock of running into him like this.

Jay grimaced and looked both ways along the hall as he signed for Mark to be quiet. "Keep your voice down."

Mark followed Jay's self-conscious glance, then folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe, barring his way into the room. "Come on, what's going on? Your sisters threw a fit last night when they found out you were gone, and everyone's been worried!"

"I don't want to talk about it, I just want to get some sleep, ok?"

"That's not good enough, man."

"Look, I'll give you that Lightnin' Hopkins record, just let me in an' don't tell Paige I'm back."

Mark rolled his eyes impatiently. "Think about who you're talking to, I downloaded his whole discography after the first time you played it. Besides, your sister is pissed, so you're crazy if you think I'm going to cover for you."

Jay slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Alright, fine, tell her if you want, just let me through so I can at least get a little sleep before she kills me."

Mark eyed him closely for a few moments, but Jay was too tired to care about the scrutiny so long as his roommate cleared the doorway for him. The other sighed and ran a hand through his unruly mop of hair, then lifted his headphones on over his ears. "Fine, fine, but if she kills me for telling her you tried to sneak back in before she comes after you, I'm totally going to come back and haunt you."

And with that he cleared the door and started off down the hall accompanied by the muted sound of music audible from his headphones. Jay just sighed and retreated to the solitude of his room, closed the door behind him, kicked off his boots, and threw his jacket across the back of a chair. Something fell out of one of the outer pockets, and landed with a solid "thump" on the floor as it came to rest under his desk. Jay frowned. He hadn't put anything there last night, and all through the ride home he couldn't remember having felt it (though he did admit the pockets were deep enough he once lost his phone for a whole day when he forgot it was in there).

Jay crouched down next to his desk, and saw a small box wrapped in brown paper. He picked it up and turned it in his hands as he studied it on his way back to his bed. It was much heavier than he would have expected for its size, though he could tell little else from staring at the wrappings. So, as he sat on the edge of his bed, he ran a thumb through one of the corners of the paper and cautiously opened it, feeling a little silly treating the strange box as if it were something that might bite him.

He casually balled up the paper wrapper and tossed it into a trashcan next to his desk, lifted the top off the box, and blinked in surprise. There was a folded piece of paper on top, and beneath that, a silver crucifix nearly the length of his middle finger attached to a fine chain nestled within. Again, he was surprised by its unusual weight for its size, but otherwise it seemed a perfectly ordinary cross. Jay shifted his gaze between the crucifix and the note, not quite sure what to make of this, as he hadn't taken anything from Stryker's office (nor would he have even dared to steal from anyone, much less William Stryker).

He set the cross down in his lap and unfolded the note. It was hand-written in a firm but elegant script:

Mr. Guthrie,

I would once again like to extend my thanks for accepting my offer to visit, and reaffirm my belief that our meeting was a momentous one, fated by God Almighty. Please accept this as a reminder that He walks with you, and that the pain you have endured is truly for a greater purpose, and that you are destined to do great works in His name.

I hope once again that, together, we might bridge the divide between our peoples, and walk the path that God has chosen.

The Reverend had signed his name with a flourish, and Jay frowned, wondering when and how the man had slipped such a thing in his pocket, and why he didn't give it to him directly. Did he think that Jay would have rejected the gift?

His deliberations were interrupted by a soft knock at his door, and Jay hastily hung the crucifix around his neck and tucked it out of sight beneath his shirt. For whatever reason the Reverend would give him such a thing in the manner he did, Jay nonetheless felt self-conscious about anyone at the school seeing him with it; aside from his talk with Sooraya, his faith was a very private thing, and as confused as he was about Stryker's behavior, his classmates and teachers would doubtlessly be even less understanding.

"Just a minute," he said as he left the edge of his bed and hid the note and box under the mattress.

With the evidence of the gift safely hidden away, Jay crossed the room and swung the door open. Much to his surprise it wasn't Paige, or even Mel or Sooraya or any of his friends.

"Hey, dude," Ms. Lee said as the door opened. Her Oakley Radars were in their customary place atop her head, and she was dressed in her characteristically unprofessional rocker-chick style; eschewing band shirts for a tank top, skinny jeans, hoop earrings, and ankle boots to complement her artfully and messily spiked hair. "Got a second?"

"I see Mark didn't waste any time lookin' for Paige," Jay said.

Ms. Lee — that is, Jubilee, as Jay recalled she didn't much care for being called that — dismissed the remark with a laugh, and much to Jay's consternation pushed past him and walked into his room without waiting for so much as a hint of an invitation. "Paige and I were coming back from lunch when we bumped into him on his way to the lounge, and he spilled that you were back. Your sister wanted to come up and yell and you, but seeing as she asked me to talk to you, anyway, I stepped in and told her to go teach her class and I'd take care of it."

Jay rubbed the back of his head self-consciously as Jubilee took in Mark's collection of band posters, and some of Jay's own belongings. "The Professor still hasn't gotten my office set up," she continued, "so I'm sorry to barge in on you like this. Ordinarily I'd be waiting for you guys to come to me if you needed someone to talk to, but seeing as you totally skipped half your classes for the day it's kind of become a school matter as much as a personal one, so here I am!"

He wasn't quite sure whether to find the upbeat and casual cheeriness in her voice a welcome relief from the big-sisterly-acting-like-his-mother anger from Paige, or just plain annoying considering he just wanted to lay down and sleep the rest of the day, but Jay said nothing as Jubilee dropped casually into his desk chair and indicated for him to have a seat on his bed. "Look, Ms. Lee," he said, deliberately using formal address in hopes it would put her off enough to leave him alone, "I'm sorry if I worried Paige, an' I would have let her know I was back, but I was up all night an' I really need to get some sleep."

"Jubilee," she corrected, and deflected his attempt to get his privacy back, "and I'm sure you do, but it also sounds like we've got a bit to talk about. So sit."

Jay hesitated a moment, but Jubilee's eyes bored straight into his, and, in spite of himself, he gave in to the unspoken demand, and dropped heavily on the edge of his bed with his hands folded in his lap.

"Your sister and I heard that you got into a fight in town over the weekend," Jubilee said. There wasn't any admonishment or reproach, or even disappointment, in her tone, just an undercurrent of genuine concern.

"Sooraya told you?"

"No, she didn't. By the time you told her it was all over the school. I think Laura mentioned it first and, well, once it got out from there it didn't take long for Mr. Quire to pick it up, and there was no keeping it secret from anyone after that." The mention of the Laura's name brought Jay's thoughts back to his return to the grounds that night, and the odd encounter at the school's doors. Somehow, the girl had just known what had happened, and that was certainly one of the more unsettling things about the whole experience. "You're not in any trouble over the fight," Jubilee added hastily, misinterpreting his thoughtful silence at that. "I mean, sure, if you were attacked you should have said something, but we're here to help you, you know? We kind of can't do that if you don't talk to us."

"Look, I appreciate that, but I just didn't want to talk about it," he said. "It was no big deal."

"No big deal? Dude, you had a mob dancing on your head."

"I've had worse."

Jubilee raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Jay eyed her carefully. She was fishing for him to say something, that much was certain, but despite catching on to it he still found himself answering in spite of himself. "Before I came to school, I was seein' a girl. Our families have been feudin' for a while, but we didn't want nothin' to do with it, an' we still got dragged into the middle of it anyway. Her daddy shot me, an' when she thought I was dead she shot herself before I healed an' woke up." He felt hot tears welling up in his eyes. "So when I tell you I've had worse than a couple assholes usin' my skull as a soccer ball it ain't an exaggeration."

Jubilee sighed, one of sympathy rather than frustration or irritation at his sharp response. "Look, Jay, I know it's going to sound totally and stupidly cliché when I say this, but it's still true; I know how you feel. I know what it is to lose someone you care about like that."

"I died that day!" he snapped bitterly. "An' I don't mean that figuratively, either! I was dead, but I didn't stay dead. She did. So forgive me when I doubt you really know what I'm feelin'. Ever since then I've been askin' what's the meanin' of it all? Why would God make me like this an' bring someone like her into my life only to snatch her away like she did, an' make me keep goin' on?"

Jubilee weathered the outburst without a word, which may have just frustrated Jay even more. He wanted her to do something. Flinch, raise her voice, anything other than sit there pretending to understand what he was feeling. Instead, when she spoke again her voice was soft. "When I was a couple years younger than you I lost my parents in what may be the totally worst case of mistaken identity you can imagine. I don't really know the whole story, I think it was, like, some Triad thing or whatever, but while I was at school one day some dude broke into my house and killed both my parents. It wasn't a random break-in or anything, either, it was a professional hit." Jay stared at her in shock. Her voice never wavered, and there were no tears, but he could still hear the lingering pain and loss in her words. Even more surprising was the bitter laugh as Jubilee continued her story. "And you know what? The idiot had the wrong family and the wrong address! Do you know just how many Chinese families named 'Lee' there are in San Francisco? It wasn't even my mom and dad he was supposed to kill, all his boss told him was, 'Go here and kill the Lees,' and it wasn't even the right Lees!"

Jubilee paused for a moment as she considered her words. "For a while, I did wonder, 'why?' Why was it my house he came to? Out of all the Lees of San Francisco, why was it my mom and dad that had to pay for his mistake? I was angry at him, I was angry at myself for not being there, as if not-even-mutant me could have made a difference." She sighed. "I was so angry I ran away from my foster home and spent some time on the streets before my power manifested, and I ended up here. Oh, and I was a real pain in the ass here, too, and I'm sure the Professor and the older staff could tell you plenty of stories about the trouble I caused. And I enjoyed every minute of it." The last she added with a smile. "I also learned something important."

Jay regarded her for a moment as he digested what she was saying. "What was that?"

"That I wasn't alone. A lot of us here have lost people we care about. And a lot of the time it doesn't make any sense. You can ask 'why' all you like, but in the end there really isn't an answer. Sometimes bad things happen and there's not much you can really do but move on. But that doesn't mean you're alone."

Jubilee reached out and laid a hand on his. "Talk to Paige, Jay. You have family here who cares about you. Talk to me. I mean, it's my job! And you have friends who've all been a bit worried about you. All of us just want to help, but you've gotta let us in."

Somewhere deep down Jay knew she really did understand the confusion he was feeling, but something prevented it from registering, and her words offered him no answers and only cold comfort. He was, however, conscious of the crucifix lying against his sternum, and again and again Stryker's words about God's plan roared through his mind.

"Look," he said, "I appreciate you've got a job to do, Ms. Lee, but right now I don't care if you an' Paige want to give me detention, or ground me, or whatever you want to do. I've had a really long couple days an' right now I don't want to talk. All I want to do is get some sleep."

Jubilee sighed in resignation as she studied him, and, as if seeing she wouldn't get anything more out of him, levered herself out of his chair. "All right," she said. "But like I said, this isn't just a personal chat. So long as you're skipping out on classes it's a school one, too. So you get some sleep, and we'll be talking again afterwards."

Jay rubbed his eyes as if to emphasize his exhaustion. "Fine, fine," he said dismissively.

"I'll see myself out," she added unnecessarily, as Jay made no move to get up and walk her to the door. "And Jay, you really should talk to Paige. She can see that things aren't cool, and she and Melody are your family. I can't tell you the pain will go away, but it helps to look at what you've got. There's a lot of your friends and classmates who don't have that option."

With that, Jubilee stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her. Jay just stared absently after her, and clutched the crucifix beneath his shirt absently for a moment. Then he sighed and kicked his legs up onto the bed, and with his wings folded around himself drifted off to sleep.

And as darkness fell about him, he found Julia sitting there waiting for him, but her face was sad.

###

Julian made his way out of the lounge, with his notebook and a pen in one hand, and a can of Coca-Cola in the other. Dinner hadn't exactly put him in the best of moods; what time Santo wasn't spending ribbing him over Ms. Marie's assignment, Sofia used to scold him over trying to find some way, any way, to weasel out of it.

Why does she care, anyway? It's not like she and the freak hang out or anything.

Santo's insistence on calling it a "study date" didn't exactly help matters, and he nearly put the overgrown lawn ornament through the wall before leaving just to avoid any further commentary. So now he was sidestepping Melody Guthrie and her group of friends as he crossed the hallway, wove past a few other knots of students, and entered the library.

Alleyne and Foley were off at one of the other tables arguing quietly over what was probably another extra credit assignment for Dr. McCoy, and he saw Quentin Quire and a small group gathered around one of the computer terminals, probably watching stupid YouTube videos or something. The moment Julian stepped into the room Quire turned and flashed a grin he did his best to ignore. Whatever you're thinking, don't even try it or I'll TK you out the nearest window. And I know you're listening to every word of this, so here's a picture for you. And with that, Julian thought up the rudest and most obscene gesture he could imagine, and Quire's wicked grin twitched into an indignant scowl, before he turned his attention back to his own group.

You're no fun at all, Keller, Quire's annoyed voice echoed in his mind, but for a moment at least Julian was alone again in his own skull.

Tucked away in a corner, mostly out of sight and well away from everyone else in the library, was Laura, and Julian twisted his lip in annoyance. She just had to pick the spot where pretty much all the students knew they could sneak off for a makeout session without risk of being caught (except for another couple with the same idea. So far no one had quite figured out a system for warning the place was occupied that wouldn't alert the teachers, as well, most of whom had used it themselves when they were that age). She was probably the one person in the whole damn school who would actually use it for its intended purpose, but that would not stop Santo at all if he got wind of this.

That's it. I'm probably going to have to murder him tonight.

Julian chose a path through the library that allowed him to approach the table out of view of the other students — he had no intention whatsoever of giving any of them the wrong idea of what he was doing here — and brought him around somewhat behind her. Laura already had a stack of library books on the table around her, and was writing quickly in a notebook. Her backpack sat in a chair next to her, and it appeared she was so absorbed in her work she hadn't even noticed his approach.

"Julian," she said, without so much as looking away from her notebook, and Julian froze mid-stride. How the hell does she do that?

Julian just scowled at her back as he circled around to the other side of the table, dropped into a chair somewhat across from her, and set his notebook down in front of him. Laura never stopped writing, and Julian just watched her work in silence for a few moments while taking the occasional sip from his soda. Then he sighed in annoyance, set his can down, flipped open his own notebook, and grabbed one of the books from the pile she had gathered.

"That one will not be of use," Laura said, her attention still focused on her work. "Its analysis is amateurish and outdated." She paused for a moment, and slid her notebook across the table to him. "I have already identified several key points of discussion and would advise starting with these sources."

Julian reluctantly took her notebook, looked it over himself, and blinked in surprise. Her handwriting was neat, clean, and carefully organized, and Laura had already outlined almost the entirety of the report right down to the arguments and the sources to use for each one. Great. As if Alleyne wasn't bad enough, now he had Creepy New Girl making him feel stupid. "Well, good, you're almost done," he said, and returned her notebook. "So you keep doing what you're doing, and I'll go..." he trailed off for a moment at a loss for an excuse to leave. "Anywhere but here."

Laura blinked at him in confusion. "Ms. Marie has instructed we are to collaborate."

Julian scowled at her. "Yeah, well, I didn't want to work with you at all, but Ms. Marie didn't give me a choice. And you've already done almost all of the work, anyway, so it's not like there's anything for me to actually work on."

She shrunk self-consciously into the Wolverine's jacket and ducked her head away at the rebuke. "I am sorry. I am accustomed to working alone."

"Of course you are." Julian took another drink from his soda and glared down at his notebook. He really didn't want to be here right now.

"I have not yet looked at Timothy Smith's work on Champion Hill, if you wished to start there," she offered, and pulled a few things from her pack, including a large hardcover book titled Champion Hill: Decisive Battle For Vicksburg in red and blue text, with a painting of soldiers in blue and gray locked in combat as shells exploded around them on its cover. Another was the battered old copy of Pinocchio she always seemed to have with her.

"Fine, whatever," he grumbled, and idly picked up her book as he leaned his chair onto its back legs. "Why the hell do you even carry this thing around with you all the time, anyway?" he asked, and started to open it to the first page. There was a reddish-brown stain on its green cover, which continued onto the paper inside.

Laura's response came so quickly and unexpectedly Julian nearly toppled over backwards. "Do not touch that!" she shouted, and angrily snatched the book out of his hands.

As he looked up at her from his seat (having just caught the edge of the table with his foot to keep from falling over backwards) and found her face twisted with anger, Julian wasn't sure what surprised him more: that she was actually capable of emoting at all, or that it had taken a stupid children's book of all things to arouse such a response from her.

"What the hell is your problem!" he snapped back. "I was just looking at it!"

Ordinarily such a rebuke would have sent her cowering into her jacket, but this time she stood her ground, her eyes fierce and her voice all but trembling. "This is mine! You do not touch it, do you hear me? You. Do. Not. Touch. It!"

And with that she rushed from the library (right out in the open where everyone could see her), clutching her book protectively against her chest but leaving the rest of her things behind. Julian felt his face heat in embarrassment, both at whatever had set her off, and the realization that everyone in the library likely now knew who she was with, and what it sounded like he was doing.

As if to confirm his worst fears, a smirking face appeared around a corner. "You really do have a way with the ladies, don't you, Keller?" Quire said.

"Don't start with me, Quire. Don't even start with me, or I swear to god I'll TK those Buddy Holly glasses somewhere Dr. McCoy will need to cut you open to get them out again," Julian said, and crushed his now-empty soda can with his power for emphasis.

Quire stepped up to the table with his arms folded across his chest, and his smirk broadening into a full amused grin. He was skinny and a bit younger than Julian, with his head shaved bald except for a shock of dyed pink hair down the center he combed over to one side, and dressed in a khaki-green blazer over some smart-ass commentary tee that Julian couldn't read, tartan shorts, and Vans shoes. The aforementioned glasses sat low on his nose. "Checking out what the new girl keeps inside the corset, huh? And why wouldn't you?" he said, with a glance at Laura's back as she disappeared through the library door. "She's totally hot. But what would poor Sofia think?"

Julian pushed away from the table, stood, and glared daggers at him. "Listen up, My Little Brony, I'm just here for a class assignment, so get your perv mind out of the gutter and leave me alone!"

Quire raised his hands mock-defensively. "Hey, dude, hands up don't shoot! No need to get violent on me. I don't think it would sit well with your girlfriend to go tying me in knots."

"And stay out of my head! If you want to read someone, go bug the new girl."

He waved Julian off dismissively. "Eh, already tried, but she's locked down just as hard as the Wolverine and I can't get in. And I'm the strongest telepath in school who's not the Professor or Jean Grey." Quire grinned. "Your mind is easy, though, about on the level of Dr. Seuss."

Julian gathered his power to him, and his hands began to glow green. "I'm warning you, Quire, get your punk wannabee ass out of here or else."

"Ok, ok, since you asked so nicely your cheating heart will be a secret just between you and me. Sofia won't hear a thing about it from me." Quire pantomimed locking his lips. "Oh, if you do ever get in there," he added, and jerked his thumb vaguely in the direction in which Laura disappeared, "be sure to think it for me nice and loud. I'd make a move for myself, but she kind of freaks me out."

And with that, he strolled off leaving Julian fuming at his back.

###

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her legs burned, and she ran as fast as she could down Avenue F. The rail yard and the Bronx River were on her right and the Hunts Point Market on her left, and everywhere were parked trucks and tractor trailers. The sound of heavy footsteps pounding the pavement behind her filled the night air, and set her heart to hammering against her rib cage as panic took hold of her and fueled her flight as she desperately sought somewhere, anywhere, she might find refuge from her pursuers. She couldn't even think to ask herself who they were and what they wanted.

All she could do was run.

Somewhere up ahead she saw a break between two trailers on her right, and she put her head down and ran with all she had left for the gap. She turned down it, then made another right to double back along the back side of the row of trailers, before wedging herself in between two of them in the desperate hope that as her pursuers rounded the corner after her they would be thrown off when they found no sign at her.

The angry voices of men shouting drowned out the background hum of the City at night; the floodlights illuminating the market lot filled the air with an electric whine, traffic rumbled along Food Center Drive, and she heard the sounds of police sirens in the distance, all much too faint to offer her a hope of reprieve from the men she knew had come to kill her. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her whole body shook in the autumn chill. Somewhere nearby she heard his voice again; the big bearded man who approached her on the street corner, and it sent a chill down her spine.

"It couldn't have gotten far!" he barked. "Spread out. You three go north, you two maintain a guard here in case it comes back this way, the rest with me!" The orders were given quickly and professionally, and she heard the squeal of a two-way radio before he started speaking again. "This is Risman: Keep a close watch on the entrances and exits, we've lost visual on the target, it may try to slip out of the lot." There was a crackling burst of static as whoever was on the other end of the radio acknowledged the orders, and then nothing but dreadful, horrible silence.

Her hands were shaking fiercely as she fumbled inside her coat pocket for a cigarette. She had a chance, now that she could think clearly. She didn't know what the men wanted, but she did know she couldn't let them take her. So she stuck the end of her cigarette in her mouth, lit it, and took a few quick puffs, letting a thin trail of smoke out between her lips.

"Sir, do you smell something?" a young man said, and she pressed her back even tighter against the trailer behind her.

"I smell it, keep your eyes open and be ready," the bearded man's voice said. They were very close, and she realized now that they must have been hard on her heels when she made the turn and hid herself; had she waited longer before ducking into her hiding place they would have spotted her immediately. She only had one chance.

Their shadows stretched out across the pavement, distorted by the lights striking them from all directions, and she could hear the rattle of their weapons and equipment as they cautiously moved along the rows of trailers. She held her breath, her cigarette gripped gently between her index and middle fingers, her heart slamming against her sternum. She saw the first of the men appear in her view, preceded by the muzzle of a rifle.

She took another long draw on her cigarette, then, as she saw his face — he wasn't a man at all, but a boy barely out of his teens — she sprung into motion, leaping from her hiding place, seizing him by the front of his jacket, and blowing smoke in his face.

"You are my friend!" she said, as her power mingled with the cloud of cigarette smoke. "Please, you must help me!"

The boy suddenly snapped around on his heel and turned his weapon on his comrades.

Two shots rang out, and the boy went down with smoking holes in his chest. He had been quick, but the bearded man was quicker. Even as he choked on his own blood, the boy, under the influence of her power, tried to get back to his feet, but was stilled by a third shot through his forehead.

She tried to run as soon as she he went down, but she didn't even make it a step. A sharp pop filled the air, her body jerked painfully as all her muscles contracted at once, and she fell to the ground with a strangled scream as electricity coursed through her body.

###

Act V

###

Xavier read over the disciplinary action report in front of him. It had largely been a quiet few days, aside from the usual tension between students, and for the most part everything seemed to be running as normally as things ever did. That of course didn't mean that there weren't still a few problem cases that needed to be brought to his attention by the staff. He sighed at the familiar sight of Julian Keller and Quentin Quire's names at the top of the list, as usual, but one name in particular caught him by surprise: Jay Guthrie. He frowned and looked closer at the note next to his name, entered by his own sister and co-signed by Jubilee.

Insubordinate and unexcused absences. From Jay?

He had, of course, heard about the assault in town a couple days earlier. That it came second-hand from Paige rather than being reported by Jay directly concerned him, though he allowed Paige to handle it and she, it seemed, had chosen to involve Jubilee. Xavier nodded approvingly at that course of action, but perhaps it might be time for him to step in personally.

Xavier called up his calendar on his iPad and started to schedule a visit with young Mr. Guthrie. He was about to acknowledge theentry when he heard a knock at the door.

"Yes, come in, Scott," he said, reaching out subtly with his power to identify the visitor.

The door opened and Scott entered. Xavier glanced away from his work for a moment and frowned again — Scott wore his visor, rather than his glasses, and that could only mean he was preparing for trouble.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Professor," Scott said, declining an offered seat as he approached Xavier's desk. "But we may have a problem."

Xavier's frown deepened. "What sort of problem?"

"I just got a call from the family of a mutant woman who lives and works in Hunts Point. She hasn't been seen in a couple days and they're beginning to worry." Scott folded his arms across his chest and scowled. "They already called the police, but they aren't being very responsive, whether due to the sort of work she was into or because she's a mutant they're not sure."

Xavier steepled his hands thoughtfully. "When was the last time they saw her?"

"They haven't," Scott said, and Xavier needed to neither pull the information from his mind nor even wait for Scott to continue to know what was coming next. "Since her power manifested she took off on her own because of problems at home. Her roommate who contacted them, prompting them to call the police."

"And when the police were less than helpful they instead contacted us."

Scott nodded. "Jean's already tried finding her with Cerebro, but there's nothing, it's like she just dropped off the face of the planet."

Xavier considered carefully for a moment. Though tensions between mutants and baseline humans was far from being a thing of the past, and there were still some quite loud voices of opposition from men such as Stryker, it had been some time since there had been a concerted attack on mutants (the recent fight involving his students in Salem Center and the attack on Jay Guthrie not withstanding). The dimly flickering hope of a page having been turned in the affairs of their race started to sputter. He glanced at Scott, and though his face was difficult to read behind his visor, the determination in his thoughts and feelings was bright and clear.

"Assemble a small group and go to Hunts Point. Talk to the girl's roommate and see what you can find, but do exercise a bit of discretion. We want to work with the authorities if possible, and I doubt they would appreciate us stepping too much on their toes."

Scott quirked a small grin and inclined his head. "I'll let Hank know he has to stay home for this one." He then sobered abruptly. "It's been a while since there's been real trouble," he added, giving voice to Xavier's own thoughts. "Maybe a few hotheaded voices like Stryker's, but that's been it. You don't think someone could be starting to take him seriously, do you?"

Xavier considered that thought for a moment. "The truth is, Scott, I don't know what this could mean." He picked up his iPad and stared at Jay Guthrie's name. "It could, after all, have nothing to do with her being a mutant, which makes it no less unfortunate." Xavier looked back at Scott over the top of the device. "Let me know what you find as soon as you can. And Scott, do be careful."

Scott nodded. "We will," he said, then turned and left. Xavier watched him go and shut his office door behind him, before turning his attention back to the iPad. Somehow, the troubles of one student suddenly seemed rather insignificant.

###

Stryker stood at the podium erected at the rear of the warehouse. Matthew's group was gone, hunting additional specimens while Dr. Abrams worked on securing those already collected for shipment to their benefactor. Most of those were still alive. If they knew what was awaiting them, however, they very likely would have considered the dead to be the lucky ones.

Gathered on the warehouse floor were some hundred or so men, not members of his congregation, but hand-picked through friends and contacts he had made over decades of military service. Veterans, police officers, mercenaries of all races and different backgrounds, but united for a common purpose. They stood at attention, dressed in humble vestments for this auspicious ceremony, and soon they would be armed as God's new army and sent forth to battle the evil taint he was watching destroy humanity from within.

Hallowed father, thy will be done.

He gripped the edge of the podium and ignored the throbbing pain in his bad leg as he swept his eyes across the crowd, and then he began to speak.

"Look around you," he said into the microphone resting on the podium, and his amplified voice boomed across the cavernous interior of the facility. It echoed in the scaffolding supporting its roof, and shook the metal walls. "For this is but a handful of God's children.

"The Lord watched as the seeds of Satan gained strength and claimed our world." Stryker waved his hand in the direction of the containment area where Abrams was at work. It was divided off from the rest of the facility and under guard, so no one would be able to see inside, but everyone gathered knew what lay behind its privacy screens. "He patiently waited for His children to rise up and fight the forces of evil, but we did nothing!" He slammed a fist down on the podium in emphasis of that point, and again the warehouse shook with his righteous fury. "And Eden fell!"

The men remained quiet, listening with the focus of trained soldiers. He swept his eyes across them, taking in the mixture of faces, young and old. "Now God has given us this chance to make right was has gone wrong on this earth. Now you must decide what you will do. Do you align with God to end Satan's reign, or turn your back on the Lord in His hour of need? Make no mistake, Judgment Day is at hand."

He raised his hands to the sky. "Assemble, my Purifiers! And together, we shall cleanse this world of the spawn of Satan!"

To be continued...

---

A Note From The Author

Merry Christmas, everybody! Because you've all been such good and patient boys and girls, it's a Christmas edition of X-Men: New Class!

Anyway, in handling Jay Guthrie's arc of New X-Men, there were a number of things that I'm not sure would really translate well, or frankly even make much sense, so I'll be playing slightly with a few things. One thing I really wanted to establish was the difference in what he's being told by Stryker and the Xavier School, particularly in how Jubilee is being honest and truthful with him because she genuinely cares and is trying to help, whereas Stryker is telling him the sorts of things he would want to hear, because he wants to use him for his own ends. The end result is that it's really easy to see just how Stryker could confuse and manipulate him; Jay is looking for answers, and Stryker is offering them. We also see the establishment of Matthew Risman and Jack Abrams, who of course play a supporting role in the Purifiers going forward.

For the B plot I wanted to finally give Laura and Julian some camera time interacting with one another, which so far has been limited to Julian leveling insults at her, and Laura hanging more around at the peripheral of his circle of friends. Obviously there's not a lot in this episode, but a couple things that will be significant going forward that those of you familiar with the books have likely already picked up on. We also get to welcome the divisive Quentin Quire to the cast, whom I think actually makes a decent foil for Julian. Somehow I like the idea that these two are constantly butting heads, because they're a fair bit alike, and that's two personalities that are destined to clash.

Finally, I'm going to be giving Cyclop a bit to do beyond popping in as a cameo to close this arc out. One of the biggest faults of the films has been just how poorly he was utilized, and that's one thing I'd like to address going forward; I really want to make his screen time count. And those of you who have read the books may have noticed that Stryker's speech at the end of this episode is a more or less verbatim adaptation of the same speech he gave in Kyle and Yost's New X-Men. While New Class may deviate from the book in a number of ways, I do still want to offer nods to the original work, and Stryker's speech seemed a perfect way to end our first look at the Purifiers. I really want to work in as many details from the books as I can, maybe not quite in the context they came from originally, but it makes for some nice little shout-outs and references.

Anyway, once again I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, or whatever it is you celebrate. Tune in next time!