August 14, 1973

Summertime was nearing its end, which meant that mother nature was giving the state of Virginia her best display of hot, humid weather.

Allie moved about her room with beads of sweat sinking down her neck. Her and her mother had lived in disarray for far too long, so the young girl was putting her foot down, ending their streak of laziness and neglect. She was starting with her own bedroom, then would tackle every other space in their home in order to mend its pitiful, broken features.

This wasn't just some simple laundry day. She was deep cleaning the walls, the baseboards and every other crevice that she could get a sponge in. And then she planned on covering up all the cracks in the drywall with caulk before adding fresh coats of paint. It never really felt like her bedroom had a personality, so it was her main goal to bring those boring four walls to life.

You may be asking yourself how the hell she was funding these projects? Well, the short answer was Peter Maximoff, duh.

By that point in time, Peter was well acquainted with her mother and had proved his worth to her as an admirable boy whom she didn't have to worry impregnating and abandoning her daughter, as much as she swore that was all boys were good for. So he made his way in and out of the home at his every hyper whim. However that day he had been hanging around the house because he was running errands for Allie, which he didn't mind because he enjoyed being busy… And he also enjoyed stealing things.

While she was scrubbing away at the window sill, she felt the telltale gust of air flutter against her back.

"I have no idea what 'Heather' purple is, so I just grabbed you five different cans to choose from," He said, thumping down the gallons of paint at her feet.

"I told you it's like a desaturated lavender color," She grumbled whilst putting some elbow grease into making the sill spotless, which was stained beyond belief by Peter's sneaker marks. As she paused her current task to assess the paint, she pointed back at the window and said, "That needs to stop. Just use the front door, please."

"It's more exciting going through the window," He told her with a pout.

Allie leant down and looked at the little dots of paint on the tops of the cans. She deliberated between them until, alas, she grabbed the dustiest, most delicate purple and offered Peter a grateful nod.

"You did good. I like this one," She commended his work, which only fed his complacency.

"Yeah, well, are you surprised?" He asked arrogantly, to which she met him with a deadpan face.

"Uh, yeah, I am actually."

He wrinkled his nose, "So I'm being worked like a dog and yet you're always mean to me."

"Worked like a dog?" She asked incredulously, "Worked like a dog? Really Maximoff?" He began to laugh as she continued, "So it's 'Oh I'm the fastest guy on earth, I never get tired, I've got stamina for days' until you actually are told to do something useful with it. Then you wanna bitch and moan because you had to make a literal ten second run to Sears to grab paint."

"Okay, okay- Calm down lady, my bad," He said in such a way someone might think he was taming a wild animal.

They lapsed into silence, Allie going back to the sill to scrub off any lasting dirt stains, while Peter took a seat on her bed like it was his own home. Their friendship had grown substantially ever since their first encounter with each other during the Pentagon mission. What really bound them together was the televised incident at the White House, which was probably one of the most impactful events in recent history. After that point forward, they found reprieve in one another, as both were two lonely mutants in a world that had undergone a major social shift, that of which heavily regarded their kind.

Like most incidents where the status quo was rattled, people jumped to extremes. Many flooded into the camp of being frightened, or in the least perturbed, by mutants and made their opinions known. Some shops had signs warding off mutants. Others didn't make it super explicit on the outside, though the truth would eventually come out because they'd speak unabashedly about their disdain for those who were of the newly discovered race, yet they didn't mind making a buck off them at the same time. 'Use and abuse' had become the policy of many in that time.

Thankfully there were no drastic lifestyle changes when it came to themselves. Her and Peter looked normal, save for his gray hair but hardly anyone gave it a thought. Of course, Peter wasn't one to hide his speed, yet that was what was perfect about him, cause he was too quick for anyone to notice his mutation. And all Allie had to do was keep herself out of everyone else's heads, which was easy. They were the type of mutants who were lucky enough to slip into the crowd. Others, not so much.

Allie had gotten herself entangled in a sticky situation a time or two, all in the name of defending another mutant. Thankfully nothing tragic ever resulted in those tense moments, however it often enraged her that there ever needed to be any incidents at all. There were a lot of ignorant people all around them, who were operated by their fear rather than their compassion.

"You wanna grab a bite? I need to eat," Peter groaned pitifully from the bed. His metabolism was a beast to be reckoned with, Allie had learned. If it were up to him, they'd go out on lunch dates ten times a day.

"Sure, just leave, let me get dressed," Allie told him as she dropped her sponge back into the murky bucket beside the window. He sped out of the room, closing the door on his way. With how hot the day was, she opted for a two piece ensemble that she'd recently thrifted. A cropped tank with a high waisted skirt that matched in their pink floral pattern. Perfect for a long summer day.

Stepping out of the bedroom, she stumbled upon Peter looking different from just a moment ago. Her eyes immediately honed in on his head, which was no longer framed by the usual curtain of gray hair she'd been used to. It was cut short, still long enough that he had a little bit of a fringe, yet the style was noticeably different.

"What happened to your hair?" She questioned with wide eyes which searched the floor for a pile of gray tresses, though no such thing was found.

"It's way too hot today for all that," He said nonchalantly, running a hand through the shortened silver mop. Her shock eased away pretty quickly because moments like those were definitely not unusual with him, as he was the definition of spontaneous. So she gathered herself with a shrug.

"Well, it looks good. You did it yourself?" Following his nod, she too bobbed her head at his impressive shearwork. "Wow, good job."

"Careful," He said, "My ego is about to burst."

She gave him an exasperated look and headed for the door without waiting for him. She swung it open and quickly slammed it shut behind her, hoping that she could manage to be faster than him and lock him in the house, but Peter was already behind her and helping her to pull the door shut too.

"My God," He said dramatically while braced against the door, "What's in there? What are we running from?"

Allie couldn't help but to break down in laughter at her futile attempt to mess with him. "Damnit!" She cried, then gave him a playful shove, "Can't you just learn to let me win sometimes?"

"Nope, not happening," He quipped as they remained at the door, prompting him to say, "Car? Or the fun way?"

"I need to cool off, so fun way. But wait- Can we try something new? Sal's food is so greasy, it's making me feel like shit." They had become regulars at a little diner called Sal's over the course of the summer. Halfway through July the owners changed and the food kinda went downhill. They wanted to remain loyal but Allie had reached her breaking point. Being bloated for far too many nights had made her despise the restaurant.

"Yeah…" He said thoughtfully, looking up into the sky as he pondered the options, until peering down at her and offering, "There's a place that just opened not too long ago, I think it's Red Melvin, or something?"

Having been baking in the sun for too long already, Allie didn't give it a thought, just nodded and gestured for him to take them there.

Once they made it, following a five second run that she had grown to handle pretty well, all Allie had to do before they went inside was fix her hair. It always looked ridiculous after he sped them around, so she kept a brush in her purse. People on the street passed them by, giving her weird looks as she took the time to untangle her blonde tresses. Her and Peter always just gave back the judgmental stares, which normally had the street goers feeling embarrassment over their snootiness and turning away in shame, thus leaving them alone.

When her hair was in order, she turned around to see the cute, little, all American restaurant awaiting them. It was in the first story of a tall brick building, the second story likely being where the owners lived. The big, wooden sign hanging above the expansive glass window indeed read: Red Melvin.

"You just gonna stare at it all day?" Peter asked as he eyed her observing the building, however her calculative gaze landed on him.

"Don't start with me. I'm hungry and tired and not in the mood," She told him before obliging her growling stomach by starting for the front door.

"Sheesh," He said from behind her, "You on the rag too?" Allie just ignored him as her burning skin was relieved by the cool interior of the restaurant, feeling the nip of the checkered tile seep through her flimsy shoes. They stood at the hostess podium patiently, giving her a moment to assess the interior. It wasn't large by any means, typical for an inner city spot to eat. Along its perimeter were rows of red, leather booths, then as you moved inward there were some tables. At the very center was a coffee bar with stools that matched the booth's material.

Cute place. She liked it. Hopefully the food agreed with her.

The bell above the door had announced the arrival of customers. After her and Peter waited at the podium for a couple seconds, a person all too familiar to Allie emerged from the swinging kitchen door.

Eddie Hill. Her school's most notorious shit starter. He was a pasty, lanky kid with hardly any meat on his bones, though he made up for it with wit, snarkiness and passive aggressiveness.

Her and Eddie never had any formal interactions. She'd just sat quietly in the classroom corner while he got escorted out numerous times for causing a scene- That was the extent of her knowing him. Never talked or anything, which was what led her to be immensely surprised when he addressed her by her name while slinking up to the podium.

"Well innit Allie Simmons," He crooned before slapping his boney flingers around the top panel of the podium, giving a measly glance at the seating chart, even though they were the only people in there.

"Hey…" Allie awkwardly replied, nodding her head, "How's it… going?"

"This weather's fuckin' pissin' me off," He spat out. Good Lord. The restaurant couldn't have made a bigger mistake by choosing him to work the floor and converse with people. Not to mention there were many who probably would be perturbed by the eyeliner smudged around his pale blue eyes and the gelled spikes in his hair. This guy was the definition of punk rock, which is miraculous because it wasn't even a defined concept yet at that time. He was no poser, so it seemed.

"Oh, yeah, uh- Me too," Allie stuttered out, having just wanted the damn kid to give them a seat. Instead he met her with silence as his pale eyes slid up to Peter.

"I dig the hair, mate," He said to him, evaluating the silver hairdo lazily. Then he was back to Allie, "We gotta couple classes together this year."

He didn't seem like the type to check the roster. Nevertheless, she said, "Oh cool."

She honestly didn't want to think about school starting up again, they only had a week and some change left until it was back to seven hours in stale air and insufferable people for five dreadful days a week. It also made her a tinge sad because Peter would be doing the same but at his school. They'd gotten so used to spending their long summer days together. She hoped they wouldn't drift apart. He was her only true friend.

"Can we be seated? My stomach's about to beat this shit out of me," Peter told Eddie, sounding irritated though he veiled it by his joke. Eddie blinked exhaustedly like his job was of Herculean proportions. He fetched two menus before strutting off, seating them at a booth near the kitchen door.

"There's specials but I can't remember what they are," Was the last thing Eddie said to them before he slipped out of view, relieving them of his untoward presence.

As soon as he was gone, Peter slapped his hands on his flat menu and leaned forward, locking eyes with her.

"He likes you."

Allie's brows came together instantly, "Uh, no, no he does not."

Peter nodded. "Yes he does. You wanna know why? No guy ever checks to see who they're in a class with unless they've got a motive."

"C'mon," Allie said in exasperation, "You don't even know this kid. He's a total hot head. I don't think he can even get turned on by females. If he could marry obnoxious music and a pair of brass knuckles, he would."

"I'm not convinced. Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Peter continued, all but sending her over the edge.

"Peter! I'm surprised he even knew my name, I highly doubt he was giving me a look. You do realize I was staring at him the whole time and didn't notice anything."

Peter then sat back, leaning against the red leather with a scoff, "Yeah, no. He likes you. I wasn't born yesterday."

"You fucking act like you were."

"I'm just saying, I know what I saw."

Allie's dark eyes narrowed in on him, "So what if he likes me then? Why are your panties in a twist over it?"

His expression alleviated, becoming more neutral as he said, "Well, I don't know. Maybe you'd wanna go out with him. Just trying to have a sister's back." He said the latter half in a girly voice, making her laugh briefly before she got offended over him thinking she'd ever go near Eddie Hill for a dose of romance.

"He's not my type. Thanks for trying, matchmaker," She said, finally raising the menu to see what they offered. But of course, Peter just kept the train going.

"What is your type?" He asked suddenly. She dropped the menu, revealing her perplexed face to him.

"Why…?"

He put his hands up harmlessly. "It's just a question, jeez."

As she swung the menu back up into view, she spoke while peering at him from over the laminated edge, "I never dated anyone, so I guess I have no clue what I really like…" She glanced out the window beside her, trying to actually think about all the crushes she had in her time at school, "Maybe I like the shitty jock guys. Even though they don't like me."

It was the truth. For whatever reason, Allie's poor young heart always swayed toward the guys who were the least accessible to her. Maybe the prospect of a challenge was what intrigued her, or the idea of opposites attracting. Something different to spice up her life. Someone to test her limits and the shallow spots of her personality. And, y'know, she would shamelessly admit she liked some muscles.

Her menu lowered as she glanced back at Peter, finding that he was staring at her with an unreadable expression.

"Do you know what you want?" She asked him.

His face twisted, looking caught off guard. "What?"

"To eat?" She said like it was obvious, then it was her turn to lean in. "Are you okay? You sure you're not the one on the rag today?"

He sighed, "Yeah, you caught me." But he didn't sound very enthused. Even when he said, "What don't they like about you?"

Allie paused, trying to understand what he was referencing until she lifted her eyes to his, "The shitty jock guys?"

"Yeah."

A dry chuckle escaped her. "Isn't it obvious?" When she received no reaction from him, she continued, "Those guys have girls throwing themselves at them all the time. And they're hot girls. Like out of this world girls. I am not… that."

"I- Well- I wouldn't say that," Peter consoled her in a befuddled way, "You've got telepathic powers so you are the most 'out of this world' girl at the school, probably."

She rolled her eyes. "They want a girl that gives good brain, not one that can see into others. And," She added with a finger pointed in the air, "I'm not going to be flexing my abilities to impress a guy. If these were the olden days that would get me burned at the stake. Might still happen today, who knows."

"Sounds like a good time." They both turned, hearing Eddie comment on their conversation as he made his way over with a server book in hand. Perched in front of their table, the Brit glanced between them, "What are we having?"

Allie gestured for Peter to go, as she hardly had a chance to focus on the menial task. Allie knew his egregiously long order would definitely buy her time.

"I'll do the zucchini planks, the fried pickles, the sirloin cheesesteak, with a side of fries. And then I'll also do the smoked sausage. And a chocolate milkshake. Make sure you bring the dessert menu later."

Eddie wrote everything down, but he didn't let Peter evade his sarcasm. "I hope you're not makin' her pay for all this."

"Don't worry," Peter told him, "My wallet is throbbing." Yeah, with his mother's money. But Eddie didn't need to know that.

"Your toilet will be too, after all this," Eddie joked before turning his attention to Allie, "Let's hear it."

Her menu fluttered to the table. "I'll have a grilled chicken sandwich, with a water, please."

"Right, big thanks for not adding to my carpal tunnel," Eddie muttered as he observed the paragraph amassed on the frail sheet of paper. When the order was completed, he took their menus and left, leaving Allie to suffer at the hands of Peter and his suspicions.

"He's giving me shit because he thinks we are together," The boy grumbled, glaring a hole into the kitchen door that was still swaying from Eddie's departure.

"He gives everybody shit," Allie countered.

"Not you," He said quietly, eyes moving to her.

She slumped over the table with the exhaustion of the topic, saying, "I don't know why you're obsessing over this. Let it rest…"

Her words must've convinced him to abandon the subject, as they began discussing her plans on the rest of the house renovation project she was knee deep in. They talked about flooring, painting the walls and even the daunting task of getting new windows. Peter was no handyman, yet he assured her that he would help where he could. A piece of him knew that with her no longer having her dad around, someone had to step in and try to get her through the projects that typically are a man's responsibility. It wasn't that she was incapable and that Peter felt like she couldn't do it on her own, he just was inclined to help because it was the right thing to do. And he was just as clueless. When she had asked him to hang a picture for her, Peter nearly hammered a screw into the wall like a total idiot.

They were learning together, which meant a lot to him, as much as he acted like it didn't.

It took a while, naturally, but the food came, much to Eddie's annoyance. He took multiple trips in and out of the kitchen until the feast Peter ordered was lined up on his side of the table. Eddie left with another wry remark, then the two eagerly dug in.

Halfway through eating their meals, she began to hear commotion coming from the kitchen. Allie glanced up at Peter mid bite, seeing if he too was hearing the sound of voices, which were becoming louder every passing second. He was too busy devouring his smoked sausage, leaving her to do her eavesdropping alone. It seemed like there was an argument taking place. Didn't shock her very much, considering Eddie was likely involved in some way.

Then the smell of something burning drifted by her nose, making her pause eating. Maybe someone burnt food or something and it started a squabble. However she was startled by a clear shout of pain, which had Peter's head snapping up. His dark eyes caught onto her concerned gaze. They both just sat there frozen, trying to hear what was going on when-

The kitchen door burst open, slamming against the wall. A middle aged man in a chef hat and apron tore through the restaurant, ignoring Allie and Peter. When he had almost made it to the exit, he whipped around and ripped the hat and apron off, slapping them onto the checkered tile.

"I wish you fucking mutants would go to hell!" The man all but screamed in the direction of the kitchen, then finally he plunged out the front door like a cannon ball of fury. Before the door could even swing shut, Eddie came barreling out of the kitchen and ran to the exit, shouting obscenities at the chef who must've been heatedly walking down the street.

Allie's wide eyes watched the window, seeing the man start backtracking and heading back for the restaurant, bloodthirsty after the jagged insults Eddie had directed at him.

"I'll fucking kill you motherfucker!" The man hollered once he got his foot in the door, being face to face with Eddie. All the boy did was laugh at the contempful threat.

"No you won't-" The taunt was cut clear off as Eddie tanked a punch to the cheek, which sent him staggering back into the hostess podium. It went clattering to the floor just as he did. The chef pounced on the downed Eddie and began raining more blows onto his face like an absolute madman.

Viewing all of this from their booth was Allie and Peter, each holding a shocked expression. Just when they thought Eddie was going to get an unfathomable beating, something bizarre happened that completely shifted the tide of the moment. Stemming from the hands that Eddie had gripped onto the chef's arms, tendrils of electricity began zipping across the man and sending him into a stiff position. The electricity glowed greatly and emitted a sizzling sound, which was swiftly followed by a burnt smell.

Allie panicked. He was going to kill him.

Peter was gone in a flash. By the time Allie could hardly even process the scene, the chef's body went flying away from Eddie's electrifying grasp. Standing before him was Peter, who winced and stumbled backward when a stray tendril of neon blue zapped his hand. With nothing to direct his current into, Eddie's arms fell to his sides, being all sprawled out on the tiles that were stained red by his blood.

The chef deliriously stood up. His skin and clothes sizzled, little tufts of smoke unfurling off of him. Without uttering a single word, the fear in his eyes spoke enough of what he was feeling. He hurried out of the restaurant like his life depended on it.

Allie made her way over in a flurry of rushed movements, skidding to a halt by Peter's side.

"Are you okay?" She asked him, staring at his hand which had turned pinkish from where it withstood the shock. He nodded unbothered, gazed trained on Eddie who was still plastered to the ground. Her eyes dragged downward, looking at him too. It was at that moment, it finally dawned on her.

He was one of them.