Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Hannah stared at the fine blonde hairs on her mother’s upper lip, trying to say anything to stop what was happening. It helped, not focusing on her father and his heavy stare, eyes bloodshot from his long night of drinking. He just wasn’t built for it, never had been, and Hannah was sure that he was still suffering from the negative effects. The vindictive part of her wasn’t entirely unhappy about that. That was most of her.
He was talking. God, he was always talking. Like he thought anyone wanted to hear it. Even her mother looked ready to interrupt, to say anything to stop the constant lecturing. But there were no cracks in their foundation. They were a goddamned united front against...against her. That was a new one.
Everything was new. It might sound depressing but her old life was over now. Completely over. She might as well be dead.
So that’s how she stopped him “Why don’t we all just say I died and I’ll get out of your hair, huh?”
Her father stopped abruptly, mustache fluttering with his sigh. “No- Now, Hannah, don’t be overdramatic. We’re not being unreasonable here.”
“I certainly don’t think we’re being unreasonable, Ted,” her mother agreed, smiling like someone had just sat down across from her and told her that- well, why not stick with realism- told her that her daughter was a mutant. One of those dirty, dangerous mutants. Always on the news. Always starting trouble.
“It’s just… Hannah, you must understand. You’ve know that mutants are dangerous. Always on the news. Always starting trouble,” her father tried to reason. And wasn’t he always reasonable. Like last night.
“I’m dangerous, then?” she asked after a moment, after her mother had stopped staring and her father had started glancing away, just ever so slightly. “Does that make me dangerous?”
“Of course not, sweetheart. But...there are things we need to think about. If you really are a mutant, you could possibly-” her mother began, but her words quickly dried up in her throat.
Hannah’s father took over quickly, voice shaking. “You might become dangerous. In the future. We know how those Mutant Rights Activists try to warp things. And you’ve always been a... passionate person. Remember those long debates we had about the gays?”
“I remember your hate speech,” Hannah choked. God, it was just like this. Like this. Like he had a million things to say whenever she had one. No way to get a word in edgewise.
“Hannah,” her mother exclaimed. “This is different.”
“How?”
“That was...a difference of opinion. And now that they’re allowed to get married we don’t need to worry about them much. But mutants... “
“Mutants could hurt any of us. None of us our safe. What if… What if you got angry one day Hannah? You could seriously hurt me or you mother. Even if you didn’t want to.”
“Even if I did?”
“Not funny, young lady,” her father snapped. But he wasn’t angry. He leaned away, face tensing. He was scared. Scared of her, of what she could do. Hannah’s skin tingled.
“What are you suggesting? What do you think you’re going to do?”
“Hannah- please, show your father some respect!”
“What are you suggesting?” Hannah repeated.
“We’ve been doing some research, for the past couple of days,”
“What kind of research?” She was on guard. Hannah could only imagine, could only guess at what sort of government funded vitriol her parents had stumbled cluelessly upon. Fucking sheep. Goddamned empty-headed conformists. Her anger was making her sound too pretentious to handle. Another charge to bring against dear old mom and pop.
“We read the literature that the FoH provides.”
Hannah couldn’t keep from rolling her eyes.
“Hannah, they’re a helpful, legitimate organization. Not like some of those mutant gangs.”
“So Friends of Humanity can set off pipe bombs in free clinics and they’re an “organization” but as soon as a couple of mutants hold a peaceful protest they're a gang?”
“Hannah,” her father snapped, cheeks growing redder by the second. “Who the hell is putting these ridiculous thoughts in your head? Are they talking about mutants at school?”
“You think you were the first people I told I was a mutant?” she spat. ”You only know because I-”
“Lost control?” her mother cried, standing abruptly and stepping several paces away from the dining room table. Wary of her. Wary of her only child. A monster. An uncontrollable time bomb of a mutant “You killed Ms. Ginger!”
The orange tabby they’d had forever, the little asshole that attacked your ankles if you got too close. It was hardly a tragedy. Ms. Ginger was about sixteen years old.
And when Ms. Ginger had attacked Hannah this time… There was no yelling no yanking at claws dug deep into the skin of her ankles. There were...sparks. Little lightning strikes dancing at the corners of her vision, arcs of electricity dancing over her skin. And Ms. Ginger flailed onto the ground and started smoking.
That had been three days ago, and after their initial panic and her mother’s grief-stricken sobs - jeez the cat was ancient, was it that big a deal?- her father had ordered them all to the dining room table for a “family meeting.”
If Hannah wasn’t trying to hardest to piss off her parents, she’d admit that she actually hadn’t had any indication of a mutation. She always been sympathetic towards the dangerous mutants her parents were so afraid of. Always on the news. Always getting into trouble. Hannah got it. She got being so angry at the way you were treated that you needed to cause a little property damage. She’d been repressing the urge to scream and smash for seventeen long years. But she’d never really thought she was a mutant. Her parents were religious, conservative. It wasn’t exactly a fantasy of hers.
“Hannah, your mother and I had hoped that-”
“What are you going to do? Are you going to send me to one of those research facilities? Or maybe one of the FoH’s control camps? You know what happens there right?”
“They’re looking for a cure, trying to keep you from hurting yourself,” her father argued gruffly.
“They’re death camps. They torture innocent people for the sake of your bullshit cure.”
“Well you can’t stay here!” her mother shrieked. “You killed my cat! You could kill us! And I won’t let word get out that my daughter is a filthy-”
“Stephanie!” her father stopped her abruptly, glaring up at his wife almost as fiercely at Hannah. “I'll handle this.”
“She can’t stay Harold. Make her see reason!” her mother said as she stomped out of the room, voice teetering off even as she walked down the hall.
Her father turned back slowly, and something about his face changed. Maybe she was imagining it, maybe Hannah was wishing so hard that he’d just understand- his face looked softer somehow. His eyes weren’t hard, and he didn’t seem so angry right now. “She’s right, Hannah. It’s not safe.”
“You don’t know that. I’m not a monster. Mutants aren’t monsters.”
“You’re a...a livewire, Hannah. We don’t have to send you to a FoH camp. But the government-”
“Alright.”
“What?”
“I said alright,” she snapped, jerking away from the table roughly enough to send the chair clattering to the ground.
He shut his mouth abruptly, as if he hadn’t expected her to even consider it, let alone agree with him. But Hannah didn’t stick around to hear what he might manage to say next. She stomped up the stairs to pack.
Hannah was leaving alright, but there was no fucking way she was going anywhere they’d send her.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Hannah had never really thought about running away. Moving away, going off to college as far away as she could get, sure, but never running away. She was a middle class white girl from a small town. Hannah had no illusions about making it very far.
But that had been before. Before a sudden case of mutation, before an episode of General Hospital level drama at the dinner table, before the dead cat.
Now she knew she couldn’t stick around unless she wanted to live a life of captivity, being poked and prodded by the federal government. They weren’t going to change their minds. Stephanie and Harold King couldn’t let the neighborhood know their daughter was a mutie.
Hannah didn't know what she might need, but she packed the bag anyway, sticking to warm clothing and necessities. She grabbed all the toiletries from the hall bathroom, trying to amuse herself by thinking about her parents finding all of their toilet paper missing.
Then she lugged her parents bed away from its frame long enough to grab her father’s emergency fund.
“Fuck you,” she whispered to the family photo on her mother’s night table.
It only took Hannah a few hours to ready herself, and only that long because she needed to work up the nerve to leave. Her father had gone to bed twenty minutes prior, and the moment was just right.
Hannah slipped down the stairs, passing through the front door without looking back more than a few times. She didn’t think about her friends at school, or her teachers. She didn’t think about how they’d explain away her absence. Really, she didn’t. Except that she did, and she thought about how expensive bus tickets were too, and about how she wasn’t even sure where her final destination might be, because Hannah wasn’t built for any sort of transient lifestyle.
She was crying when she finally got to the bus station. The clerk didn’t bat an eye at the display of emotion. Real weird stuff went down at the bus station, apparently. He must see ten things twice as bad every day.
“One ticket, north, to New York City,” he announced, rolling his bloodshot eyes when Hannah fumbled with the thin slip of paper. “Leaves in...five minutes. Better book it.”
She gasped, pulling the ticket close to her chest so she could run down to the terminal. She heard the clerk cluck his tongue at her, though soon she was too far away to hear him anymore.
Barely making it, Hannah practically shoved her ticket at the driver, who had the same, slightly annoyed, disinterested on her face.
Hannah took the grunt the woman made to mean she could take a seat. So she took the first seat she could, beside an elderly woman who seemed to be completely engrossed in the thin paperback she was reading.
She now had two hours and forty-four minutes to herself. She wouldn’t ever admit this, but Hannah was content to use this time to cry surrounded by a bus-load of strangers.
_____________________________________________________________________________
New York smelled almost as bad as Hannah had expected. She’d never really been to a large city before, so she had no frame of reference, but it had always looked sort of dirty on television. Episodes of Law & Order were all she really had as a frame of reference as she left the Greyhound terminal.
The city stretched out before her grotesquely, the people swarming the streets like so many insects. It set her nerves afire, the idea that she might accidentally repeat the Ms. Ginger incident with some poor tourist or commuter who didn’t deserve it nearly as much as the cat.
It was in the city that she noticed the buzzing and humming that surrounded her, like a chorus of voices singing to her. Any time she walked under an led screen, or passed close to a store front, it was like she could feel the light bulbs against her skin. It was a…new sensation, to say the least. She tried to ignore it as she dealt with the problem at hand.
She hurried away from the bus terminal, in search of somewhere to stay. She had about $200 dollars after the bus ride, and she needed a room for the night, as well as some food, if her stomach had anything to say about it. She wanted to ask for directions, but everyone looked really busy, and terrifying, or way too friendly.
Hannah was wandering for quite a while when she came across the bright lights of Hotel Flore. It looked…well it looked really shitty, actually, but she hoped that also meant cheap. Hannah crossed the cramped street with a crowd of other pedestrians.
She pushed through the pair of large, glossy doors into a…disappointing lobby. Really, it was terrible. It felt like she’d been shot back about thirty years, the way this place was decorated. Hannah felt like she’d been transported back to the seventies. The fucking ceiling was mirrored.
“Maybe this isn’t-“ she began, but her words dropped off suddenly when she saw the man seizing in one of the lobby chairs. She looked around, but none of the other poor souls in here seemed to be concerned. Shaking her head, Hannah turned away from the man and approached the front desk.
“I’d like a room,” she began, offering her polite small town girl smile.
“It’s $169 a night. Do you have a reservation?” the middle aged woman behind the desk asked in a monotone voice.
“You- you need a reservation for this place?”
“Yeah, little lady, you need a reservation here. Or a credit card, and some i.d.” the woman snapped, peering up at her through coke bottle glasses. “And you’re gonna need that everywhere. Junkies gotta go a couple blocks away from Times Square for a room.”
“I’m not a junkie,” Hannah tried to argue, but the woman had already turned away from her, eyes flicking right back down to her gossip rag. “I have cash. Can’t I just pay you in cash?”
The woman looked back up. “For you? $300.”
Hannah’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t have that much cash. “But you said it was $169!”
“That’s for people who aren’t trying to get me to risk trouble with the day manager.”
There was no hope with this lady.
Or apparently with any of the other closest hotels, she found, about an hour later. The woman had been right that the hotels closest to the tourist district were way to legitimate to take cash from an obviously underage girl.
It didn’t help that it was getting late. The lights made “dark” kind of impossible, but it didn’t change the fact that the people crowding the streets started to trickle away, and the majority left were much less…savory. She had not hope of finding a place to stay, and Hannah was coming to the terrifying realization that she didn’t have a place to stay in New York City.
Hannah walked a total of ten blocks, she was pretty sure, ending up at the wrought iron fencing that surrounded what could only by Central Park. Her heart was stuttering and she was on the verge of crying when she made what might just be the worst decision of her life, and everyone else’s.
Slipping into the tree line, Hannah moved through the small copse of trees nearest her eyes peeled for anywhere to sleep. A comfortable patch of grass, a secluded bench- anything.
After twenty minutes of endless walking, Hannah was exhausted. Without another though the shoved through a pair of tall, thick bushed and hunkered into the hidden space between the two of them. She pulled her backpack close to her chest and got ready for a long night of sleeplessness. There was absolutely no fucking way she was lowering her guard in a public park at night.
---
But no matter what her intentions, Hannah slipped into sleep eventually, body exhausted from more walking than she’d really ever done in one day, and her mind exhausted from the shock of running away. She couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours when hands on her body woke her suddenly. A dark shape hunched over her, patting at her waist, searching for something.
Hannah shrieked, scrambling away from the gropes.
The figure let out a low, angry growl. “Sorry, did I wake you?” the voice sneered.
“I-...what?” confusion and sleep fogged her brain, making her thoughts slower than usual.
“This is my spot, pretty-girl. Me and my boy’s spot,” he hissed, because she saw now, her eyes adjusting to the low light cast by the moon, that the figure was a full-bearded man, smiling cruelly at her. And he wasn't alone. There were three other men behind him.
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, clutching her hands in front of her and pulling her knees against her chest. It was meager protections against men who looked like they wanted to eat her.
“Maybe she can make it up to us, huh Tommy?” one of the faces asked, smiling eagerly.
Hannah’s heart clenched. She felt the flutter of instinctual fear at those words. She didn't know what he was asking, but she knew she didn't have any money she was willing to give them, and it wasn’t likely they’d want any of her other things either.
“You wanna party, pretty-girl?” the leader asked. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head violently.
“Get the fuck out of here! You can’t-!”
“Playing hard to get, pretty-girl?” he asked. He inched towards her, holding his arms out like she was a particularly skittish cat.
“Who the fuck are you! Stay the fuck away from me!”
“You’re the one trespassing, pretty-girl,” he assured her, eyes dipping away from her face.
There was no way for her to get out of this unscathed, not without a fight. But there were three of these strange filthy men, all watching her like a hawk. It was a hopeless thought. Better to try to appease them.
Unless...But she didn't know what she’d done before, what had happened to her stupid fucking Ms. Ginger. There was no telling whether she could replicate it. And the thought of hurting a person, it terrified her. A cat was one thing… She didn't want to do that. But the bearded man was inching closer. And the others, they started...making noises, taunting her, she supposed. It was her only choice, right? It wouldn’t be her fault if he got hurt. Drawing in a deep breath, Hannah let herself relax, dropping her knees, unclenching her arms.
“Oh, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he asked. The purr in his voice made her skin crawl. She took a second to focus, trying to recall the way she’d felt right before the last time. The way the air had felt, the way it had tasted.
He made one final lunge at her, nothing gentle in his bearing. Hannah gasped for breath, eyes wide. Her heart sputtered in panic as he crashed into her. All thoughts of defending herself fled when his hands clamped onto her upper arms like vices.
“I bet you taste sweet,” he growled, rubbing himself against her.
She understood now, vaguely, what he was after. She would be a murderer and a fornicator, now. God, she hated that she even cared, but what would her parents thing? A sob fell from her lips. The man looked up at the noise, eyes sparkling.
“What’s wrong, pretty-girl?” he asked. She shook her head, unable to reply. “Never been kissed?” he wondered.
He levelled his lips with her, hesitating for only a second. The moment his skin met her’s, Hannah’s thoughts narrowed to one thing. She wanted to stop him, to hurt him. And she knew just how.
It sounded different this time, higher, angrier. It was mild irritation that had spurred it on the first time. This time she was searching for a way to protect herself, to punish this filthy man for daring to touch her. He made a noise, like a yowling cat, before he crumpled to the ground. That was new. Ms. Ginger hadn’t made any noise.
He fell away from her, and she put distance between them immediately, piling her things into her arms and standing. She sidled towards the bushes.
The other men started shouting, crowding towards her. They looked confused, even frightened.
“She tased him!” another exclaimed.
“She ain’t holding nothing!”
“What she do, Frankie?”
“What the fuck did you just do?” This one came closer than the other, and she knew that he expected an answer.
“If you don't let me go, I’ll do it again!” she snapped, looking for a way around them in their bulky, tattered coats.
“What’ll you do again?” he pressed. “You got a weapon? Why didn’t the boss find it?”
Hannah didn't understand why the man was so interested in knowing all of these things. She doubted that the usual response to threats was to ask about how the person would carry them out. There was a knowing look in his eyes, one that scared her more than the others’ anger.
“Let me go, or else!” she cried.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” he asked. The fear on his face was quickly fading, being replaced with suspicion and hostility.
“One of what, Hug? What are you talking about?”
“She’s a mutie,” he hissed.
Hannah stared at him, mouth falling open. She didn't know how he’d come to such a quick conclusion, but she knew that this revelation would not be to her benefit. She doubted that she would be leaving this park alive.
The other man erupted in a shout of surprise and anger, closing in on her quickly. Hannah backed up against the hard unyielding bark of a tree clutching her backpack for all the protection it could provide, hoping her strange new weaponized skin could protect her from the worst of this. The men started shouting insults, slurs, she didn't understand. They were working themselves up into a fervor.
The new leader, the one who had recognized what she was, had pulled out a small knife when the shadows fell across their odd congregation.
Hannah’s eyes snapped to the clearing she’d been trying to return to, to give herself space to fight back, where three figures had appeared. Two men and a woman. One man was taller than the other, and the woman looked like she might have light hair. Her attackers noticed just as she did, backing up just a tad.
“You okay, miss?” the taller of the men asked. She wanted to sob in relief. There was no telling how these strangers had happened upon them, but they had saved her life.
“Please!” she exclaimed. It was all she could manage.
The shorter man strode forward, baring his teeth like an animal. Hannah shrank back, confused for a moment. But when most of her attackers took off running at the sight of him, it dawned on her. He wasn’t looking for a fight. He wanted to scare them away. It certainly worked.
But it didn't work on all of them. The ringleader was staring, wide-eyed, but he hadn't run with his friends. “More of you freaks?” he asked, voice hard. “You must travel in packs.”
“And you don't?” the taller man asked. He wore some odd contraption over his eyes, but his gaze turned pointedly to where the criminal’s fellows had run off to.
“Damn muties!” he responded simply.
The shorter man growled, throwing out his arms at his sides. Hannah stared as the long, metal claws seemingly burst from his knuckles, letting out an involuntary whimper. Her attacker shared her fear, turning on his heel and running as fast as his feet could carry him after the others.
“Are you okay?” the redheaded woman asked, after the man had run away and her rescuers had approached her. She sounded like she might be repeating herself. Hannah glanced up at her.
She only blinked.
The three strangers- the three other mutants- herded her out of the bushed after a few moments of tense silence, seeing they would get nowhere. They led her to a large vehicle- a plane- which they referred to as the X-Jet. Once on board, they introduced themselves. The taller man with the weird visor over his eyes was called Scott. He seemed nice, if a bit arrogant. The shorter man, called Logan, watched her but didn't speak much. She didn't think she liked him very much. The woman, Jean, was the kindest, speaking softly and answering questions Hannah hadn't even asked.
Jean tried asking her if she was alright again once they boarded the plane.
“I...Yes, I’m alright,” she answered after a moment of thought. In fact, other than a little bit of residual fear, she was doing surprisingly well. There was the dull ache of grief, sure, but it wasn't as all-consuming as before. She supposed that might be a source of worry in and of itself. Her list of victims had just reached two, when just a few days ago she never would have expected to have one at all. And her parents… But then. Good riddance, right? Maybe…maybe.
“What’s your name?” Jean asked. The older woman sat down in the seat beside her, helping her with the straps.
“Hannah,” she answered, glancing down as Jean’s hands worked at the large X of fabric. It crossed completely over her chest, clipping in on either side of her hips. When it was in place, Jean sat back herself, clipping herself in. Needing to be helped with something so simple made her feel childish and stupid.
“Hannah. Do you know where we’re taking you?” she asked, turning her head. Jean’s eyes never left Hannah’s face, assuring her that her attention was undivided. “Do you know who we are?”
“Should I? You’re mutants and… I’m a mutant. But I don’t know who you are.”
“You know you’re a mutant? That’s good. Some of us, when our powers first manifest...we have no idea what’s going on.”
“They talk about mutants all the time on tv. My mother was always angry when I watched it, said mutants were monsters, that they were a danger to society. The devil’s work…”
“You live in a cult, kid?” Logan asked, glancing back at her, one brow raised slightly.
“My parents are assholes,” Hannah explained. The confusion mirrored in Logan and Scott’s faces told her nothing.
“What made you go to New York City?” Jean asked. “Did your parents threaten you?
“I-” Hannah waited for the rush of sorrow thoughts of her parents brought to subside before she continued. “My father… He told me he didn’t want me in the house anymore. Said I was dangerous. I think they wanted to send me to one of those bullshit fucking mutant camps. I know what they do to people there.” Her hands shook as she spoke. She needed a moment, or Hannah feared she may start crying again.
The plane was silent, no one urging her on. They all looked like this was a situation they found themselves in frequently. She wondered how many young mutants they had rescued, and what safe haven they were taking her to.
“I killed our cat. It was an accident, I think. But they were so angry.”
“Hannah,” Jean began her, looking a bit weary. “We all make mistakes when we first come into our powers. And back in the park. You were defending yourself.”
The words were like instant relief, and she let herself ignore the words in the back of her head, the accusing words that pointed out that the man in the bushes had been worse than just defending herself.
“We’ll take you somewhere safe, Hannah,” Scott said. He leaned forward in his seat then, fingers tapping along station at the front of the plane. Was that what would make it fly? A few buttons?
“Where are you taking me?” she asked cautiously. “What’ll happen when the police find that…body?”
“Charles Xavier’s School,” Jean answered, smiling reassuringly. “A school for mutants.”
“And we’ll send someone for the body, once you’re safe.”
“I-I know that place.” Hannah told them. At least there was no wondering about what she might have found there. She’d know soon enough. “The commercials, on the tv. My mom always got pissed when she saw them but-“
“Scott, I told you going public had benefits,” Jean said, smiling up at the man. “If young mutants know where to find us, they don't have to wait for us to find them first.” He nodded back, meeting her eyes for a moment before turning back to the front. A few seconds of silence were ended when the plane began lurching. She gasped, clutching at the chair for dear life.
“We’re taking off, Hannah. Are you alright?” Jean asked.
But Hannah was only half-listening. Because she didn’t want to leave. God, why hadn’t this occurred to her before? She’d spent her entire life never going more than a mile or two from her home town, let alone leaving the entire state behind. Her breath was catching in her throat, and she panted to compensate. And she’d never been in a plane before. They were seconds from leaving the ground. Maybe they would never come down.
“Okay, okay, Hannah, listen,” Jean said, voice filtering through her panic. “You’re having a panic attack, do you understand? Can you hear me?”
She tried to nod, but her chest burned and her vision was filling with black spots. People weren’t meant to fly. Obviously she was dying, there wasn’t enough air in the plane to go around and because it was her first time, she was the one who was struggling. The mindless fear triggered something, and a familiar bell-like toll rung through the air. Hannah knew what that meant.
When Jean reached out to comfort her, Hannah shrunk back. “Don’t. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re...sparking,” Jean told her, eyebrows drawing together in thought. “electrical impulses…”
But she didn’t hear the rest of Jean’s explanation. Her eyes filled with more black and she slipped swiftly into darkness.
---
Hannah felt herself waking a few moments before she could actually open her eyes. The air still shifted with warm, ringing energy, but it was muted, less intense than the first and second time. Jesus, she was passing out way more than she was comfortable with. When had she become such a little bitch about stuff?
Her body was sore, and she wondered if it was from the fainting or the panic attack. Both, probably. Cracking open dry, itchy eyes, Hannah took in what she could of the room while lying down. The ceiling was pale metal, shiny and curving over her head, and the lights were perhaps a bit too bright for comfort. As soon as the thought came the lights dimmed. Shocked, Hannah pulled herself up into a seated position. She wasn’t alone in the room.
“Hello, Hannah.”
It was a man, older than her, perhaps in his late fifties or early sixties, bald, with a pair of kind, dark eyes. He sat in a wheeled chair which he rolled closer to her as soon as she caught sight of him.
“Hello?”
“I’m Professor Charles Xavier,” he told her. Hannah nodded. So they had gotten to the school. “I was wondering if you might come up to my office?”
She nodded tentatively, but she wasn’t quite sure that she could manage much walking. Her head ached. With a fortifying breath, she edged off the metal table she’d been sleeping on. It took a few seconds for her legs to take her weight, but when they did, she was sure could manage a short walk.
But her shoes were gone. She wanted to ask, but he was already talking again.
“I’ll ask, just to be certain, but I think I know the answer,” the Professor began, turning his chair towards the door. Hannah hurried to follow him out of the room and into a hallway. The walls were still made of metal. “You’d like to be enrolled here, at the school, yes?”
She nodded quickly.
“Good, good.” He was silent for a moment, and Hannah wondered if he expected her to say anything. She needn’t worry, though. He started up again shortly after. “You seem to know very well that you’re a mutant, Hannah. Most of the new students go through a short period of denial. Why do you think you’re different?”
“I don’t- I have no idea. There was no denying what I’d done…” Hannah paused. “It was the only thing that made sense. I mean, you guys are all over the news. We learn about you in school. There’s no pretending.”
“That’s very astute, Hannah. Now, I regret asking, but could you think back to the first manifestation of your powers?”
She glanced down at him. She wanted to say no. Hannah hardly knew this man. The other mutants had seemed to trust that this was a safe place, but she couldn’t share that with him. But he was helping her.
And what if it angered him? If he made her leave, there would be nowhere else for her to go.
“I remember it just fine,” she finally said, hoping he would understand.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss. Losing your parents, it’s never anything but a tragedy. But Jean told me that she saw you sparking on the X-jet.”
“I didn’t lose them…they just- I mean, they tried to hand me over to the government, which sucks, but they’re not dead.”
“Mutants sometimes have to learn to build their own families,” Charles said. “I know they’re not dead, but they are not accepting of you either.”
She shrugged.
Sensing her discomfort, he changed the subject abruptly. “Hannah, it seems that the nature of your power is electrical. I suspect that you have control over electrical impulses.”
“That’s…that’s what Jean said, I think,” Hannah recalled, although her time on the jet was rather fuzzy when she tried to picture it.
“Jean told me about her suspicions. And I happen to agree. It’s the most appropriate explanation.”
“Does this mean I can stay? That I won’t hurt anyone else?” she asked. They reached a large panel, which slid open with a gesture from the Professor. Hannah stepped back, momentarily forgetting her questions, shoulders tensing at the sight of the tiny space.
“It’s alright, Hannah. We’re just going up a floor. And I’m not kicking you out. We don’t turn students away.”
She let out her breath and followed him stiffly into the small space. He made another gesture and the doors slid shut.
The elevator rose quickly and Hannah was all too glad to exit into a thoroughly different looking hall-way. It was in complete contrast to the sleek metal of the one below. The walls were rich, dark wooden paneling, and small tables with lush looking potted plants on them dotted the length of the corridor at regular intervals.
“Are there any other aspects to your gift, Hannah?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Have you noticed any other abilities?”
“I’ve only had my…powers…for three days. I’m still getting used to it.”
“Think for just a moment, besides the outward manifestations, the sparks, is there anything else?”
She thought back to the humming, and realized that it hadn’t actually gone away. Each time they passed a light fixture, it increased. She wanted to reach out and touch the bulbs, feel the energy against her skin. Instead, she turned to look into his face.
“I think the light bulbs are singing to me,” she answered tentatively.
“Ah. That’s very interesting Hannah. Perhaps you are seeking out the electricity that powers them, trying to absorb it.”
Suddenly, the happy noises of children rushed at them as they moved away from the elevator. Hannah could tell without asking that this place was not empty. She wondered how many of the students were her age, though.
“There are several students around sixteen,” the Professor said. She wanted to brush it off as a coincidence, but the glance he sent her way told her he was answering her question.
“Perhaps I should explain myself,” he continued on when Hannah stopped, bewildered. “I am a telepath. I can read minds.”
“Oh!” she said, eyes wide. Could he hear everything she thought? Could he dig into her brain and pull out secrets? Did she have any secrets she wanted to hide from him?
“Don’t worry, Hannah. Unless I try, I only pick up surface thoughts, and I try very hard not to violate anyone’s right to privacy,” he said.
It was a small comfort, but it allowed Hannah to keep walking. She was inclined to believe him. For whatever reason, she was getting comfortable trusting this complete stranger. The thought rankled her, but she was also glad she wasn’t in a state of agitation, either.
Professor Xavier’s office was several doors down from the elevator. He turned towards its large double doors, gesturing for her to enter alongside him. The office wasn’t empty. Inside were her three rescuers, along with a woman with bright white hair and dark brown skin. Their eyes followed her entrance.
“You’ve met Jean and the boys, correct?” the Professor asked. Hannah nodded at the familiar faces. “This is Ororo,” he indicated the white-haired young woman.
“Hello,” she greeted the woman, who gave a warm, kind smile in return.
“These are you teachers, along with myself. Here at the Institute we try our hardest to make sure you’re educated to the best of our abilities. Class sizes are small, and we try to foster positive relationships between teacher and student,” the Professor said.
“Calm down, Chuck. She’s already here. No need to sell her on it,” Logan snarked.
Sending him a quelling look, although not an unamused one, Charles continued, “You’re allowed to refer to faculty members by their first names, if you wish.”
“Most don’t, though,” Ororo said, smiling wryly.
“Ororo is referring to the...nicknames we’ve all gathered,” Charles said.
“Nicknames?”
“Mutants, we like to christen each other. Sort of a rite of passage, when you get one. And sometimes it helps to keep normal people from learning your real name,” Scott explained. “I’m called Cyclops. Because of the visor. And, I’ve got...laser eyes.”
“What?” she asked. What the fuck, was what she actually wanted to ask, but these were supposed to be her teachers, and it felt odd cursing in front of them.
“His eyes shoot...beams of light that can destroy things.”
“Hence the glasses.” Scott shrugged.
She nodded. Even though she already knew what it meant, she was just fucking baffled that it was real. It was one thing seeing people with abilities on the news. It was completely bizarre to actually meet them.
“I am called Storm,” Ororo said. “I can control the weather.”
Well, that made sense. Of course she did. Because why not.
“Wolverine,” Logan growled out simply. For the claws, she added in her mind. And probably his manners.
“I’m just Jean,” she laughed. “No codename.”
“Will I be getting a new name?” Hannah asked. She didn't think Hannah struck her as especially unique. It definitely didn't sound like the name of a mutant. She wouldn't hate a new name. She could just imagine how angry her mother would be if she found out Hannah had changed her name. She was named after her stingy old Aunt Hannah, the one who always used to pinch her cheeks at family gatherings.
“You could give yourself a new name,” Jane suggested.
She thought for a moment, casting her mind out. Professor Xavier had said her powers involved electricity.
Maybe she’d wait to rename herself. She didn’t want to call herself something stupid.
“Well, you have all the time in the world to think about it,” Jean said.
“In the meantime, I’m sure you’d like to meet some of your classmates,” Professor Xavier said.
By the middle of the day, Hannah was sure she’d met everyone in the mansion. Thankfully, none of them expected her to remember them perfectly. Still, the last group she was introduced to, the other students around her age, were easy to remember. The adults had left her to pass time with them in the recreation room until dinner was served.
There was Jubilee, a fine-boned girl dressed in vibrant colors who explained that she could create fireworks. Then there was Kitty, a pretty brunette nicknamed Shadowcat, who could walk through walls. And Piotr, who Kitty introduced as her boyfriend, large and well-muscled, whose skin could turn to solid, shiny metal in an instant. He was called Colossus. Lorna, or Polaris, with green hair and the ability to control metal and fly. Bobby Drake, called Iceman, gave her a brief demonstration. Hannah understood that that was a fairly straightforward nickname. The girl sitting beside him on the couch was pretty and curvaceous, with brown hair and white streaks that framed her face. Rogue didn't offer up her real name, or her powers, so Hannah didn't ask.
She was introduced to John last. Bobby jokingly called him St. John, but Kitty explained that he was actually affectionately called Pyro, for his ability to control fire. He smiled at her from the corner of the rec room, tossing a small square of metal from one hand to the other.
The barrage of strange, fantastic abilities was still surreal, but meeting new people her age was not. She hadn’t been popular at her old school, per se, but she hoped at least some of her friends would be wondering where she was come Monday morning.
“So, like, what’s with the get-up?” Kitty asked, as soon as the room had settled. All 14 eyes fell to take in what she was wearing. She had the sudden desire to sink into the floor. What she wouldn’t give to have Kitty’s power.
“Do you mean my clothing?”
“Yeah, it’s…a lot of black. Are you a goth?” Jubilee asked, eyes sparkling.
“That’s cool, by the way. Rogue’s goth,” Kitty assured her.
“We have a kid here who was almost sacrificed by a cult. They thought he was a God,” Bobby said. “We’re not judgey here.”
“These are just my clothes.”
“Are the really warm? They look, like, way too warm,” Kitty professed. The girl seemed inclined to dramatics. Hannah liked the way she talked with her hands.
“They can be. My parents are pretty strict about clothes.” Hannah responded eagerly. She was always happy to complain about the layers she was required to wear to meet her parent’s ridiculous standards of propriety. “I just grabbed everything that would fit into my bag. I have like three pairs of socks right now.”
“Oh! Jubes, do you think we could, like, convince the Professor to let us take her shopping?” Kitty exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly.
“Is that all you think about?” Bobby cried. “We met her five minutes ago!”
“Shut up, Bobby,” Rogue scolded, but she was smiling.
“We’ve never done a good old-fashioned makeover before,” Kitty complained.
“Kitty, don't be mean!” Lorna cried.
“I’m not! I’m not saying she looks bad, but she could use more clothes!”
And Hannah was inclined to believe her. Bluntness just seemed to be in her nature. “I would love to get new stuff,” she admitted. Anything to bridge the chasm of difference between her and these girls with their shiny hair and fresh faced beauty.
“I’ll go ask the Professor,” Jubilee announced, bouncing up from her seat.
“Hey, like, wait for me!” Kitty called as her friend dashed out into the hall. Without another word, Kitty jumped up after her, phasing right through the wall.
“Sorry about them,” Rogue said in her twangy voice. “But shopping will be fun. I’d love to get out of the mansion for a while.”
“I’ve been on house arrest for the last couple of days, I couldn’t agree more. My parents…freaked a little bit. I uh…I killed the cat,” she explained, feeling uncomfortable saying it. Maybe Ms. Ginger hadn’t deserved it so much.
“That’s shitty,” John said, speaking for the first time since she’d entered the room. The others shot him reproachful glares, but Hannah couldn't hold in a chuckle. It was true, firstly, and such an irreverent way to talk it.
“So, now we got the origin story out of the way, what can you do?” he asked.
Hannah shrugged. “I- well, Professor Xavier says I can control electrical impulses. It’s an active power. He said it could be used offensively.”
He’d told her that in the hallway on the way to the rec room.
“Really? Can you show us?” Piotr asked, looking intrigued. He didn’t talk much, that Hannah had gathered, but he hadn’t hesitated to ask.
“I can’t control it yet. And I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Eh, you’ll be fine,” John dismissed her worry easily. Hannah frowned, but Bobby and Lorna nodded in agreement with him.
Rogue looked concerned, though. “I don’t think y’all should be doin’ this,” she warned them.
“Yeah, I’m not…” she began, ready to agree heartily with Rogue
“Brave enough?” John interrupted. “Go on, show us what you got!”
“We really should be doing this in the Danger Room,” Rogue complained one last time. But even she looked curious to see just what Hannah was capable of.
Hannah released a sigh, standing from her seat and inching away from their circle of bodies just waiting for a shock. Closing her eyes, she called out the soft buzzing of the air, leant to her by the small white sockets in the halls. She knew this was electricity. It grew louder in her ears until soon it was all she heard. She opened her eyes. They were all staring at her in surprise. Hannah looked down at herself.
Slivers of blue light skittered over her body, lashed over her arms and legs and arced up to her head. It brought a smile to her face. It felt, when it touched bare skin, like the lick of a friendly dog. She could control this.
Reaching out with a single finger, Hannah concentrated on the television set. She screen flickered for a few moments and then held, turning black in a burst of static.
The surge of joy that she felt at that seemed to be the end of any control.
An arc escaped her attention, and it was all Piotr could do to jump in front of Lorna and shift into a metal statue of himself.
His body jerked.
Hannah snatched her arm to herself, pushing the siren song of electricity away. The sparks fizzled out immediately.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked
“Uh,” he shook his head like a dog, breathing heavily and climbing back onto the couch, “Yes, but I’m fine. That was- that was high voltage, wasn’t it?” he finally managed. “Probably would have fried Polaris.”
Maybe she’d kept from killing him because she’d only been playing? Did it respond to her intentions?
“That was amazing,” John exclaimed. She turned to stare at him, grinning despite herself.
“When can I do more of that?”
---
It turned out later that she wouldn’t be able to exercise her powers for another week. After some begging from Jubilee and Kitty, the Professor acquiesced to one short trip into the city proper for a, as Kitty put it “retail therapy/ group bonding sesh.”
Jean and Ororo were tasked with escorting the girls on their trip, and asked not to spend too much money this time, something that signaled to Hannah that this was not the first of these trips. It probably wouldn’t be the last, either.
She was grateful for the company of girls her own age, for the almost normal way they spoke and acted, even if she knew the entire time that they were powerful mutants with abilities she hadn’t even gotten to witness yet.
Rogue was the closest in size to Hannah, so the girl borrowed a long sleeved t-shirt and rewore her only pair of jeans. It felt insanely normal to have Jean and Ororo drive the gaggle of girls the short hike to the nearest outlet mall, even though she was among total strangers. Hannah was baffled at how comfortable she felt.
The girls rushed her around the stores, making her buy at least something from at almost every store, some things she knew she was never going to wear. By the end of it they had a veritable wardrobe to take back to the mansion.
“Can we grab something from the food court?” Lorna asked as Ororo informed the girls that they’d sacrificed enough of the afternoon to the gods of retail.
“Can we go to the arcade?” Jubilee interjected, eyes brimming with excitement. Ororo and Jean shared a glance between the two of them.
“If we let you into the arcade, we’re never getting you out,” Jean finally said, smiling slightly at the girl. Jubilee’s shoulder’s slumped instantly. “But I think we can eat before we leave.”
The girls all brightened at that, moving instantly towards the smell of fried food. Jean and Ororo followed after, grinning.
Hannah sat between Jubilee and Rogue as she ate mediocre mall pizza. But this felt like the best meal she’d had in years. True, she’d just met these girls, and fuck if Hannah wasn’t naturally awkward, but something about them felt…kindred. The fact was, teenage girls were teenage girls wherever they lived, and Hannah could almost ignore her worries about the powers she’d only recently discovered.
Damned be it, but she was hopeful.
When they returned to the school, Hannah got her first look at the classes she’d been assigned. Professor X had promised her there’d be little to no shift in curriculum, the School was a certified place of education, and she’d be well-prepared for college, but as she skimmed over literature and statistics and Mutant Biology, her eyes landed on the last class on the list.
Danger Room Training.
Needless to say, it was a pretty compelling thing to call it. The Danger Room. The girls had explained it was like gym class for their powers, and she couldn’t help but anticipate what that might mean for her.
Her first full day of classes came about three days after her shopping excursion, five days after she’d arrived, and it landed on a Friday, the only day she wasn’t scheduled in the Danger Room. It was disappointing, for sure, but then, maybe it was for the better.
“Looks like you have M & E with Kitty,” Rogue commented, tucking the white strands of hair on either side of her face behind her ears as she peered down at Hannah’s schedule over the breakfast table.
The small cafeteria they all ate in was crowded with children all preparing for the day, and the older kids claimed a table right in the center of the chaos. Chaos that Hannah still marveled at. The vast range of children in the mansion always blew her mind. There was the little girl with a short coat of fur over her body and cat like eyes, and the boy with the long, purple hair. Hannah was from a small town with a majority white population. Last week, if you’d told her friends an Asian girl had moved to town, it would have been a shock. This was on a whole other level.
“Oh, fun!” Kitty exclaimed. “It’s fun, Han, the Professor teaches it.”
“Fun’s a bit of a stretch,” Rogue quipped. “Chuck can be long-winded.”
As soon as the words left her mouth she blushed, glancing around at the rest of the table.
“Look who let a little bit of Logan slip out,” John joked.
Hannah stared at Rogue for a moment, puzzled, before the table picked up on her confusion.
“Oh- uh…want me to tell her or-“
“Maybe we should-“
“It’s alright,” Rogue finally said. “She’ll find out sooner or later anyway.”
“What’s wrong?” Hannah asked. She felt like she’d stepped in something without even saying a word. Great feeling.
“I never told you my power,” Rogue reminded her. Hannah nodded. She’d just assumed Rogue didn’t like to talk about. It hadn’t felt like it was her business anyway. “That’s because its-“
“A doozy,” Kitty butted in. She shot Rogue an apologetic glance as soon as she said it, though, wincing.
“I take other people’s powers when I touch ‘em,” Rogue explained, color rising even higher on her pale cheeks. “It hurts ‘em too. It’s why I wear the gloves.”
“Oh.”
“She’s gonna learn to control it, though,” Bobby explained, resting his fully clothed arm gently over Rogue’s fully clothed shoulder. As if it might make that clear. As if it was a risk.
“She sure is!” Kitty enthused. “Till then though, she’s still a big help. Knocks people out faster than Piotr!”
Piotr grumbled at that, showing off his metal fist to the table mock-threateningly.
“So the Logan thing?” Hannah prompted.
“I accidentally touched Logan. Sometimes I- sometimes I hear his voice in my head. I remember things that he remembered. I can’t read his mind or nuthin’ but, I could heal really fast for a while.”
Hannah stared at her new friend for a moment. She’d felt so terrified, that first night, when she realized that her touch could be dangerous. She couldn’t imagine what that might feel like to fear that forever, or at least for the foreseeable future.
She didn’t know what to say for a long time, but finally, she shrugged. “I already knew the Professor was a talker. He’s not exactly subtle about it.”
Sometimes it was best to ignore stuff.
“Moral and Ethics isn’t bad, though,” Kitty finally said, taking Hannah’s cue. “Xavier makes it really engaging.”
“I never liked it,” John countered, leaning back in his chair.
“Of course you didn’t. If you had your way, we’d be using our powers 24/7 for everything we could think of,” Bobby pointed out, voice sour.
John only shrugged.
Hannah didn’t really understand the issue with that. Sure, they shouldn’t have the license to kill anyone who pissed them off, but they’d gained these powers for some reason, hadn’t they? Who had the right to tell them they couldn’t use them?
She didn’t say any of this, though, because if she’d recognized anything about the school, it was that Professor Xavier’s word was gospel, except to a few choice students, John being the loudest among them.
“You have Brit-Lit with me,” Rogue pointed out, after a few seconds more of tense silence. “And biology.”
“Oh, I hated biology,” Bobby exclaimed, shooting both of them sympathetic looks.
“It’s alright,” Rogue responded easily, leaning against his shoulder and showing off the rest of the schedule.
“Looks like Xavier put you into our training sessions,” Lorna noticed, looking a bit surprised at this piece of information. “Odd choice.”
“Really?”
“Not today, ‘cause its Friday, but yeah, these are our days.”
“Maybe that’s just a place holder?” Kitty suggested.
“Or you’re getting some one on one with good old Logan,” Jubilee joked. “God, if that’s the case, I feel for you.”
Hannah frowned at that. For sure, she understood the stress that private lessons with Logan could bring. He was a particularly grumpy man, and she couldn’t really picture him being a good teacher. She hoped that wasn’t the case. She also didn’t understand how he’d be able to help her with her powers. His mutation seemed to be of a much more…physical nature.
Before she could point any of that out, though, the call for classes to start rippled through the cafeteria. She had a few notebooks stuffed into a backpack she’d been given by Jubilee, and a whole mess of pens, so she wasn’t unprepared, but Hannah was still nervous. This was…a new animal.
“You ready for some Chaucer, sugar?” Rogue asked, sidling up to her as they filed out of the cafeteria. Hannah offered a smile in reply.