Issue #0: A New Kind of Uncanny - Part I

"...the chief cause of our natural unwillingness to admit that one species has birth to other and distinct species is that we are always slow

in admitting great changes that we do not see the steps."

- Charles Darwin, On the Origin of Species (1859)

Note: The Krakoan dialect is the common tongue among mutants. Culturally and politically, mutants are encouraged to speak only in Krakoan, even outside the islands. Every conversation between mutants will be translated into English for the reader's convenience.

Beyond the borders of any map, near the ends of the earth, lies a faraway land. Two islands shrouded by mysteries, a place no human eye has laid eyes on, and home to all sorts of uncanny beings. This nigh-mythical status it carries led to endless speculations across the globe. Some claim to have stepped foot on its green pasters, telling flying people and food that looks out of this world, even sharing how you can practically taste the magic in the air. Others claim it's home to magnificent treasures, peoples who look more alien than humans and wield bizarre powers to protect their otherworldly technological secrets beyond man's understanding. Many, however, curse its name and deem it as the islands of the damned. These people share tales of nuclear waste rotting the islands to their very cores. Stories of wicked cults comprised entirely of deranged, mutated monsters. Such rumors are shared to propagate the idea that these seemingly mythical lands were nothing more than the land where god hides his mistakes.

Beyond these petty hearsays and fear-mongering, the two biggest questions remain: what is Krakoa, and who are the people living there? Two islands have existed in the vast Pacific and Atlantic waters for nine years. These islands together are called Krakoa, or "Earth's Soul," in its resident's native tongue. The Residents who have called these islands their home were known for several millennia as Mutants. Humans who are born with the X-Gene, reshaping them through a nigh-infinite number of possible mutations, are classified as Homo Superior. Many theories have persisted over their origins, but there was one emotion that persisted across humanity ever since re-discovering their brethren's existence in 1956: fear. After decades of fighting to survive, loved ones lost, oppression growing, and dreams crushed...hope persisted until it finally formed into Krakoa.

Beyond the misty waters, where the air is still and darkness clouds the eyes, the mutant homeland resides and thrives. The Krakoa of the Pacific has a diverse, partially artificial biome. One can travel across highlands and jungles for one day and then traverse deserts and tundra the next. At the center of this vast land of evolved flora and fauna lies the capital of Krakoa: Utopia.

Surrounding the outer parameters of the city grounds was the breadbasket of the city, District Eden, the "Stomach" of Utopia, which is home to agricultural, ecological, and environmental development. The crops and humble abodes paint a picturesque pastoral lifestyle for mutants to feel free and one with mother nature who spawned them. Past this Outer Sector, the magnificent city that rivals great metropolises like Wakanda and Atlantis, lay the three large districts that comprised the Middle Sector.

Seen as the "Heart" of Utopia, these vast regions are built upon a futuristic infrastructure emphasizing harmony between nature and science. Apartments barely appear different from massive trees. Simple homes vary from homey huts surrounded by flora to homes of the future surrounded by science. Traversable vines besides hanging monorails, river boats next to people movers, and flying people next to airplanes. The factories of District New Tian were the raw materials used to build such mutant-made structures. The Industrial and energy heartland of the city, mutants here forge the tools needed to create a brighter future. New Tian stands alongside District Avalon, the home of mutants who use those tools to imagine a brighter tomorrow through the latest scientific methods. If one wishes to explore mutant culture and history, look no further than District Genosha, whose many schools are sparking new stories that theaters share with the masses.

Lastly, the last two districts lie near the Inner Sector of the city. Districts X and M are known as the "Brains" of Utopia. Two districts acting as one, X and M, are the true hotbeds of the mutant political, economic, and social worlds. They are the districts where movements are born, where mutants have a voice that can be heard across the globe, and where the prestigious mutant political houses call home. Above even the Inner Sector, one entity connected every one of these districts. The source of the large, thick roots spread across all of Utopia was a tall and mighty tree that stood at the center of the city. With its rainbow leaves and nigh-indestructible branches said to be able to touch the heavens, the great tree of Krakoa is the grand seat of the mutant government. This marvelous blend of nature and science is called The House of Mutantdom; it's where the Quiet Council, with its supreme executive power, decides not only the fate of Krakoa but all mutant-kind.

Utopia, and all the glory of Krakoa, is all its citizens have ever known. One of the few exceptions was that of the X-Men, the ultimate fighting force and protectors of mutants, who regularly traverse the outside world. Meanwhile, it seems ordinary mutants choose to lie in their homes, content and docile to the whims of those with grand powers even they can barely understand. To most mutants, the future looked brighter than ever.

To some mutants, however, an air of subtle anxiety persists. This anxiety is plagued by small but increasingly apparent pressures put on them by a system built upon so many promises. Any chance these sparse but recurrent groups take to voice their concerns is brushed aside. These seemingly insignificant issues remain invisible to the majority, who see nothing but the dream. These troubles were evident to other mutants, and any complaint shared only led to them being labeled: Uncanny Mutants.

Part 1: The Client

[District Genosha | Summer 2013]

A bright green light twinkles in the evening summer skies over Utopia. The last days of Summer are striking the island with an intense heat wave. Humidity fills the air, concentrated mainly in a dingy, urban street near the border between Districts M and Genosha. Street lights flicker and dim rapidly, like the lights inside surrounding homes and apartments. Sparks and electrical lights blink down the street until coming to a stop near a narrow alley where a teenage girl stands. She tucks a strand of her short, blue hair behind her ear while staring at a big, bright white and gold posters plastered across the side of a building. Each of them boldly proclaimed these messages:

"Protect Utopia! Enlist now to fight all those in our way!"

"X-Corps's new quarterly job openings are coming soon! Join the waitlist to earn a chance to become a true mutant."

"Supporting your senators supports the Council.

Remember his dream, and the Council will guide you toward our future!"

The teen chews on her bubblegum while shaking a peculiar canister in her right metallic hand. A spark of blue electricity discharged from her body as a flurry of movements swirled around the wall for seconds before the girl was back standing where she was. She giggles at the glorious sight of her latest graffiti smearing over the posters. Her delight is cut short when a flight from above shines on her. She covers her face but peeks to see a flying officer approaching her.

"Stop," the officer decked out in armor commanded. "In the name of the law, put your hands up!" Before the winged mutant could land, the girl raised her metal forearms before disappearing, seemingly within the blink of an eye. The officer spots only a brief bright light trail going down the alley, but that too quickly dissipates. "This is Officer M-P230," he reported to his communicator as he shined his flashlight at all the graffiti the suspect had done across the street. "We got a possible Uncanny Mutants in our hands."

Written on every piece of graffiti the teen mutant did was a single bold statement: "We won't be forgotten. Don't stay quiet. Save our Future!"

Several minutes later, this faint trial of electric light stops in the middle of one of District Avalon's 'Neon Towns.' Standing there, the blue-haired teen mutant catches her breath. "Ha! Nice try, officers, but no one can outrun Surge," she proudly proclaims while brushing off the static residue with her thick metal gauntlets. Taking a stroll down the bright neon lights, Surge passes by numerous shops, always on the lookout for suckers to purchase their products. Speaking of suckers, Surge could already see some groups of mutants eagerly looking at said products. She can tell from the way they're dressed that they aren't from around her. 'Another night of snooty tourists mingling with us weirdos,' she thought, glancing at one group taking pictures of the street and vendors. This was practically every night for Neon Towns, for it's all part of the design.

Surge remembers seeing this particular one grow ever since the first days she was brought to Krakoa. While it appears to be a simple tourist trap, it was also one of the most reliant sources of income for struggling mutant communities such as this one. Part of the appeal was the "safety" that mutants from other upper communities felt. They get a sanitized taste of life down here while showing off how cool they look beside the local mutants, often labeled by these tourists as "colorful." Surge sees another sale where the store owner, a mutant with a fish-like head and octopus arms, waves at his customers. "Bask in yor meal, and let Krakoa gift ya a pleasant night."

The group walked past her, and Surge overheard them snickering. "See? Didn't I tell you we see something uncanny?" one said. "And that accent, too! Hehehe."

Surge scoffs at them and approaches the counter with a friendly smile. "So, Piscez...how much did you charge them?"

"Five times the usual," Piscez chuckled. It's good money. Just the usual, then, Surge?" She tossed him some Krakoan bronze credits for a bag of sizzling fish sticks dipped in Piscez's special sauce. "May Krakoa gift ya a pleasant night, Surge."

"We'll see about that, my friend!"

Surge enjoyed her small meal as she turned left into an alley, one with a flickering red sign and an inconspicuous staircase below. She makes sure she's alone before knocking on the metal door. Only she and those inside knew the taps of her knocks followed a certain rhythm. Soon enough, a small peephole slides open, and she's met with two canine-like eyes. "Surge!"

"Not so loud, Wolf," Surge hissed, "and for crying out loud, ask the password first."

"Oh! Uhh, password?"

"Urgh, never mind, the mood's ruined now. Just use your nose."

The teenage mutant Wolf Cub sticks out his nose and carefully discerns if she's the real Surge through her scent. "Yep, it's you," he says before opening the door. "Sorry, still new to this."

"Just keep trying," Surge encouraged, tossing over two fish sticks for Wolf Cub to chomp mid-air.

"Mmm! Will do, ma'am!"

Surge followed the steps down to the colorful lights of the underground floor, which she grew to see as a kind of second home. Plastered on top of the main bar was the name of this little base of theirs: The Uncanny Club!

All around her were booths, standing areas, and tables packed with her fellow teenage mutants. Every one of them has a distinguished physical characteristic caused by the mutation, be it from several eyeballs or a pair of wings to those who look nothing like a homo sapien. Each seemed wildly different, even to everyday Krakoan mutants, and each was proud of their status. Everywhere Surge looked, each of her fellow mutants was enjoying their last days of summer vacation with friends. Some were over in the game rooms, playing the latest arcade games or enjoying a quick sparing session in thier own local 'Danger Room.' Others were at the tables, making fun bets while watching this evening's sporting events, such as Dino Races, where the top riders raise the best native Dinos for a shot at glory.

Most patrons appear to be spending the evening chatting and gossiping. Surge also caught sight of young love sprouting. She walked by two young lesbians sharing a loving kiss and a popular trans boy flirting with another teen boy. After waving hello to these groups, Suge sits at the bar run by one of the few adults they can trust.

"Surge!"

"Blob!"

The two of them threw their arms up before Surge's right hand grappled Blob's right, locking them in an arm wrestling match. "It's The Blob, or did Wolf Cub bring in a mimic?"

"Okay, The Blob, does this feel real to ya?" Surge smirked as she discharged a string of electricity into the man's infamously thick skin. The Blob's eye twitched while he stared down at Surge, who stared back confidently. Suddenly, he burst out laughing.

"Haha! Stop, stop that tickles, kid!" They both let go, and Surge threw her fist up in victory. It may appear strange to some that one of the most infamous supervillains the original X-Men faced is running a humble bar, but to The Blob, this was another day at his weekend job. This chapter in his life highlights how far he has come since his days of villainy and his way of helping the next generation of mutants not to end up where he once was. "Hope the night's treating you well, Surge. Not getting into too much trouble, are ya?"

"What's it to you? You ain't my boss."

"Well, I do serve your favorite drinks—drinks. I just so happen to not have the ingredients for tonight."

Surge sighed, "Just some graffiti, 'kay? Now give me the Static Acid. I need a recharge." Blob shrugged and served Surge her favorite beverage, a bright blue carbonated drink with edible crystals inside to create an electrical soda. "Phew! That's the good stuff! Hey, where's Pix?"

"Pixie's waiting by the jukebox," Blob said, pointing toward his right.

Surge down her drink before strolling down to surprise her long-time friend. The girl with short pink hair and all-black eyes was Surge's junior, a student one year below her whom she had taken under her wing ever since Pixie started secondary school. Surge has looked out for the kind-hearted girl for the past two years. Though she may appear annoying and hyperactive to others, Surge found her mannerisms cute and enduring. The only thing seemingly missing was Pixie's wings, hidden beneath a yellow and black short-sleeve jacket. Surge and every member of this club wore a variation of this look. Marked by a crude red spray-painted X on their backs and a dark bandana wrapped around their necks, these jackets have been the club's signature iconography since its creation six years ago, before Surge herself knew it even existed. If there was one thing Surge learned upon encountering early members donning this symbol, it was that this club wasn't anything but a typical social club.

"Boo!"

"Gaah!" Pixie yelped, her heart racing before realizing it was just Surge. "Yeesh, give me a break. I almost dusted you."

"Well, hello to you too," Surge shrugged, pulling Pixie to a nearby booth for them both to sit. She offers Pixie what's left of her snack but shyly refuses, a peculiar decision to Surge. Not only did Pixie love her snacks, but she was usually quiet. Surge figures she should've noticed something was up when Pixie distracted herself over the jukebox instead of doing karaoke or dancing. "Hey, you alright? Did something happen on your way over here?"

"Nah, I was alright," Pixie reassured, "just thinking about it's a whole new year, hehe. School's about to start, and I barely passed last semester."

"Pix, look where you are. This is the place to stop worrying about all that and have fun," Surge encouraged. Seeing her friend still looking down, she shifts gears. "Look, you're my junior, so if you feel like you're gonna fall behind, it ain't because it's your fault; it would be mine."

"Surge, don't say that. You've-"

"Nonono, it's my responsibility to push you in the right direction." Surge can still remember the first day they met. Despite having wings almost her entire life, Pixie had many issues dealing with her powers, whether accidentally infecting students with pixie dust or constantly hitting her head while flying. Many students were scared away by these accidents and odd behavior, but glancing down at her gauntlets, Surge understood how it felt to lose control. "You doubting your chances this semester is a failing on my part."

Pixie smiles at Surge's gentle side, a side she's one of the few people to see. "Hey, if it weren't for you, I probably have brain damage by now. Besides, it's not just school worrying me," Pixie said. She scoots over to whisper, "One of the girls near my apartment said they saw these random people roaming our halls earlier."

Surge gauntlets clench into fists, asking, "What kind of people?"

"People with badges," Pixie emphasized, "all wore shades with black and green suits. Their badges aren't any I recognize. Some girls even claim they busted into thier rooms while gone."

Surge shot up from her seat, shouting, "The hell is their problem?!" Pixie pulls Surge back, not wanting to draw attention to her. "They didn't go into your room, did they?"

"Thankfully not," Pixie whispered, "but I can't stop thinking about it now. What if the police are after us?"

"Please," Surge scoffed, rolling her eyes. "They barely have photos of us, and no member has been arrested for over six months. Still, I see why you're jittery. These suits had no reason to invade those girls' homes. They contact the administration about it?"

"Yeah, but the only thing the school offered was for them to move into their dorms. Saying it's probably just a random break-in."

"You serious?! Moving girls from their homes is hardly solving the real problem. Freaking suits, you don't see them pulling this crap to mutants with families, but with an orphan mutant, who cares because the council certain hasn't."

"I know, but at least some of these girls feel safer now having Sanctuary status."

"I guess," Surge sighed. "Look, if anything like that happens again, you can contact me or come here. Mutants stick together."

Pixie nods, sitting back in her seat to relax until she glances over. "Psst! Mercury's coming here."

Surge looks back to see a tall teen girl with metallic skin and bright orange hair approaching them. She squints with suspicion, "what does she want now?"

"I don't know, but she left a few minutes before you arrived," Pixie whispered. "It seems like she just came back."

Pixie sits straight upon Mercury, reaching the booth with crossed arms, usually a sign she's a tad irritated. Mercury donned the standard uniform for their club, though Mercury's was different in that it had her trans flag button on it, a symbol of her identity she wore proudly. While the older girl greets Pixie with a nod, she frowns at the sight of Surge, who asks, "What?"

Mercury shakes her head and turns to Pixie, "You're still hanging out with this loser? With that attitude?"

"No," Surge spoke, "I only have this attitude towards people who annoy me. So, what do you want?"

"First off, ouch. Secondly, why did our radio pick up a police report a few miles away?" Mercury verified this by pulling her portable radio off her belt pocket and showing a small screen that faintly tracked police signals roaming the surrounding blocks.

"Last I check, smearing government propaganda was common practice for club members," Surge answered.

"Well, according to the rules, it ain't allowed within five miles of one of our hideouts. If they catch just one of us during curfew-"

"Hey! Maybe you need a reminder, newbie, but this isn't some preppy club you joined. We are the Uncannies, and we show it by shouting, 'screw your rules.' Why? Because this city sure as hell didn't care about its own rules, or else none of us would feel like we were left behind and forgotten. Whatever problems we face is nothing compared to how we had to rough it on our own after barely surviving the human world." Surge sees she is starting to draw some eyes and sits back down, "Trust me, these cops don't wanna be around here any longer than they have to."

Mercury pinched her brow and sighed, "Look, I get that I'm still new and that you don't trust me. Honestly, I don't care because I earned my way in. That doesn't give you the right to act like the boss. FYI, I ain't the only one to feel this way."

"Well, remind them who has the one who defended our turf while others ran," Surge said sternly, static flicking out of her eyes. "Now, can my friend and I enjoy the rest of the night together in peace?"

"Just one more thing." Mercury leans down to whisper, "Someone is waiting outside."

Surge and Pixie share a surprised glance. Surge whispers, "Who?"

"Don't know, never seen her before, but she looks to be your age. I want to say a neutral party, but..."

Surge supposes that if this mysterious girl is already outside, they can wait until she leaves. It seemed like a viable option, but there was a gut feeling Surge had that this could be someone needing their help, though they are more upfront than act this mysterious. Nonetheless, Surge says, "All right, show me the way. Pix, stay here."

"No way, I wanna go on a mission. Pretty please?"

"For once, Surge is right about this," Mercury suggested.

Pixie flexes her arms and summons her glowing, magical dagger. "Can I just be there to look tough and show there's a lot of us?"

Surge and Mercury disagreed on many things, but even they can see that Pixie isn't precisely the definition of intimidating for most mutants. Still, Surge grabs her friend's shoulder and answers, "Fine, guess you gotta spread those wings of yours sooner or later."

"Really?!"

"Yeah! Just don't wear your lucky helmet until we accept the job."

"Yes!" Pixie squealed excitedly.

Surge was sure she'd send Pixie away after the talk, but it felt good to have her friend feel involved with the bigger jobs. The three of them exited the club and turned opposite to a door at the end of the alley. After Mercury unlocks it, the three enter a hidden garage and flick the lights on. The contents in the garage were the same: rows of personally crafted and modified cyber-cycles. Every cycle was built by each member's own hands, using old tech and generators deemed worthless. Luckily for uncannies like them, their club specialized in turning 'worthless' into priceless. Indeed, while their cyber-cycles were hardly as pretty looking as the newer ones out in the market, they were fast enough for a joyride across the streets and tough enough for any mission.

However, something particular shouldn't have been there: the dark-haired teenage girl standing in the middle of the garage, leaning on a strange-looking vehicle. Surge takes a small guess that this is their client.

"Wha-?! Hey, I told you to wait outside, not in our garage," Mercury said.

The client appeared to be, like Surge, of East Asian descent. Surge also noticed how the client dressed: she wore a dark, long-sleeve jacket with a plain white shirt underneath. Slung around her shoulder was a long black sheath; Surge guessed a sword was underneath. That type of fashion isn't exactly unusual in these parts, yet Surge cannot recognize this girl; she likes to think she has a good memory for these things. The girl was a mutant who could pass for a human—the kind of mutants Surge doesn't see around these neighborhoods.

"Garage?" the client asked, glancing around the room. "Are you sure this isn't your garbage?"

"Ha! They're not as garbage as yours," Surge snaps back, "like, what kind of bike is that anyway? Looks ancient."

"Uhh, I'm sure she didn't mean that," Pixie chuckled nervously.

Surge indeed meant it, but she also used said insult to get a better look at the client's bike. Two key details she took away were that the client's bike was human-made and that its design comes explicitly from a defunct Japanese manufacturer. 'Yeah,' she thought, 'he used to partner with them. So, how the heck did she get THAT in Krakoa?'

Pixie leaps forward, unable to help herself from offering her hand in a friendly gesture. "Heya, friend, you asked for us?"

'So much for looking tough,' both Surge and Mercury thought.

"Y-yes," the client said, a bit thrown off by Pixie's eagerness before collecting herself. "Before I get myself into something I regret, may I ask a few questions?"

"Make it quick," Mercury said.

"Excuse the obvious, but your 'club' offers protection services to any mutant in need, correct?"

"Of course," Pixie answered.

"Especially if it's a young mutant," Mercury added. "However, because of our resources and police retaliation, we can only allow teams of three to five mutants to aid at a certain time. Makes dividing up rescuing and protecting others easier for us."

"Is that the only reason why?" the client asked.

"Well, it's also because not all of us can't exactly fight-" Pixie said before Mercury cut her off.

"She means to say that we often look out for ourselves, too."

"I understand. At a glance, I can tell the three of you will be enough for tonight's job."

Surge asked, "And what exactly is the job you're offering?"

"Escort me and another mutant to The Jean Grey School in District Avalon. That way, we can have sanctuary status. I can pay you five hundred now, then a thousand more when we reach the school."

Surge glances at Mercury and notices her fingers making subtle hand signals, a simple but effective way for club members to communicate. 'Fiveteen hundred?! We can upgrade our bikes and utilities, Surge.'

'Yeah, almost sounds too good to be true,' Surge thought. "Is your pal invisible? I only see one mutant in front of me."

"That's the other question I was going to ask," the client said. "Do your services extend as far as District M?" As she said this, she pulled out a small device that projected a blue, holographic map of the city. The yellow dot represents their location in Genosha. Past that, it shows District Avalon. Then, beyond that section of Utopia is a blinking red dot within District M, which the trio assumed is the mutant's location.

Surge, Pixie, and Mercury winced at the distance and the location. 'Please don't be where I think it is,' Mercury hoped before asking, "Hey, do you have a specific route in mind?"

The girl nods and, with a button press, shows a green pathway. "Not my best," she said, "but I believe this path is the fastest means to-"

"Blast it!" Surge exclaimed. Even Mercury suddenly looked apprehensive.

The client looks on in confusion. "What?"

Pixie nervously smiles, "Umm, see these few blocks here just before the border to M? Those are bad people's turf."

"So?"

"It's not just any turf," Surge said, "it belongs to those damn supremacist jerks!"

"Supremacists? You mean the political party?" the client asked.

Surge laughs at the girl's naivete. "What, you've been living under a rock?"

"She's referring to the gang who calls themselves The Supremes," Mercury clarified. "Though yeah, there been rumors of supremacist officials quietly supporting these vigilante groups as a way of encouraging the youth to take 'justice' into their own hands."

"Yeah, except they have a pretty screwed up definition of 'justice,'" Surge said while static sparks from her glare.

"How screwed up?" the client asked, appearing more curious than afraid.

"Well," Mercury sighed, "beating up mutants who don't fit into their impossible standards. Harassing and accusing mutants whom they perceive to be secretly 'human lovers.'"

"And anyone against the council, calling mutants like us ungrateful," Surge spoke, her voice softening as bad memories sprang up. "Groups like them nearly killed several of our members. All simply because we were speaking our minds about the unfair conditions we had to grow up in."

"Yeah, it...the streets around here were bloody for a while," Mercury confirmed.

"I'm sorry to hear that," the client gently said, "but that's all the more reason why I need your help. This mutant is alone, and if one of these members finds her..."

The room suddenly became quiet. Surge turned her back, tapping her chin, thinking hard about this. Mercury leaned back, uncertainty in her eyes. Pixie was the only one to say, "Hey, we aren't saying no to her, are we?"

"The Supremes are bad enough, Pixie," Mercury said, "but I can already guess our client's last question. Right?"

Pixie turns to see the teen's eyes looking down. "My last question is, are you ready to go directly against the police and, worse, to help her?"

"Oh...crud," Pixie whispered.

"Hey," the client urged, "you're not giving up on me already, are you?"

"Sorry," Mercury said, dejected, "but jumping into a job like this, against cops and our rivals, ain't worth it."

The client blinks in surprise. The people she thought could help are ready to turn her back on her. Her desperation creeps out as she urgently says, "Dust!"

Surge flinched at the mention of a mutant's name. Her hand was nearly at the door, but now she could not find the will to grab the handle.

"Her name is Dust," the client insisted, showing earnest worry as she explained, "She was a captive and got hurt very badly. I was supposed to look out for her. Suddenly, the police were about to find us, and we were forced to...look, the authorities were tailing me, and if they could find me, they could find her. If they do, she'll disappear forever." The client's eyes look down somberly, whispering, "Gone...without anyone in this city even noticing or caring about her. She doesn't deserve that. No mutant does. I mean, it's why we came to Krakoa, right?"

Pixie appeared to be in near tears at the client's story. "Surge," she urged, pulling at her friend's arm. "I think she means it."

Surge lowers her head and lets out a long groan. "Fine," she declared.

"Fine?" Mercury asked. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious," Surge insisted, walking up to thier client and extending her hand. "The five-hundred, then lead the way." The teen sighs in relief and puts the bag of credits in Surge's hand. As she does, however, Surge grapples her hand and pulls her in to whisper, "But if I catch even a whiff that your story's made up, or you put one of my people in danger, I'll make you regret it. Are we clear?"

Surprised at the threat, the client remains unfazed and hardens her voice. "Crystal."

Surge turns and throws up a fist into the air, "Alright! To me, my Uncannies!"

"Yes! A real mission!" Pixie cheered.

"I'm gonna sleep in a pit tonight, aren't I?" Mercury mumbled, raising a fist into the air.

"So, gotta name?" Surge asked, patting the client's back.

"Call me Armor," she replied, quickly hopping onto her motorcycle.

"Well, Armor, going to have to make room on that bike. Pixie, ride with her. Remember to keep your helmet on and concentrate on your senses. Both should help you use those powers when we run into trouble."

"R-right, just concentrate," Pixie quietly repeated as she slapped on her lucky helmet.

Surge opens up the rusty garage door and sees the coast is clear. "Mercury, stick close to both of them. Keep your eyes on your Ana-Tech."

"Ana-Tech?" Armor asked.

"It's a system built into each of our bikes. Makes us invisible to any scanners and gives our bikes some special features," Mercury explained as she turned on her cyber-cycle. Given the crude materials that comprised it, the bike appeared quite polished, with a sleek metal body similar to her own and bright red tires. Once firmly on the red cushions seat, Mercury flipped a blue switch on her cycle's console that activated a small screen on her mini-dashboard. Most intriguing to Armor was when Mercury pulled out a basic headset and plugged it into the console. Upon twisting a few knobs and inserting a red spark plug, Mercury smirks. "Alright, we're in the clear."

Armor reeves up her engine before asking Surge, "Hey, where's your bike?"

"She doesn't need one," Pixie answered. She, Surge, and Mercury grabbed the bandana around their necks and wrapped them around thier faces, revealing thier function as makeshift masks. However, these weren't made of simple cloth materials that police or other foes could tear off easily. Armor noticed a red shine as if some invisible veil was further shielding their identities.

Surge stretched her arms before pulling them back, and the air began subtly growing hot. Armor felt her hair rise while witnessing bright blue electricity form within the palms of Surge's gauntlets. With all that power built up, Surge is launched into the air to land on a nearby sky-rail. These hanging metal beams were all over Utopia to transport goods to being routes for monorails, but thanks to Surge's electromagnetic powers, they were like her own personal skating rail. It certainly helped that the soles of her boots were metal, allowing her to emit electricity to connect her to the rail firmly. Mercury's engines roared as she soon followed Surge and Armor's quickly right behind her.

"Lead the way, Armor!" Mercury signaled. Armor takes point, and the band of four rides into the nearest high-speed pathway to save a mutant in need.

I hope you enjoyed this prologue introducing a Krakoa of the near future and the first generation of mutants to be raised within it. I'll post the second, concluding part of this introduction soon enough. Please feel free to share your thoughts on this and your first impression of this opening roster of young, rebellious mutants. Noriko, Hisako, Megann, and Cessily were decently popular enough to highlight first, as well as being a fun mix-up of powers & personalities.