I wouldn’t have know anything was different about me if it wasn’t for Jason. Much as I loved the guy, he can be a pain in the butt when he follows me around like a lost puppy. Of course seeing that look on a guy who could easily take a shotgun to a roomful of young abominations took a little getting used to but he could get those brown eyes of his to go all round and I swear his ears drooped. It had been a long day and training was a bitch and I still had to go and train a bunch of the preteeners in the compound the finer points of camouflage, my specialty, when I heard him asking for me down the hall.

I was in my office for a few minutes finishing a report on last nights exercise and once I heard his voice I could feel a headache start in the back of my head. I thought to my self that if I wished real hard he might not see me. Well, there I was hiding in my little cubical when he walked in, looked right at me, turned around with a disappointed look on his face and then walk out. In my state of confusion I could hear Jason holler out to Mike, saying that I obviously must have left already since I obviously wasn’t in my office. As those words penetrated my jumbled brain, I felt my whole body grow cold and horrible thoughts ran through my head. The most hated word in my entire vocabulary kept bouncing around and after a few moments, it was the only thing that still had any clarity in my head. Mutant.

I some how made it back to my room in the women’s barracks and sat on my bed in confusion. Trying not to think the thing that refused to leave my head. I was a mutant. Which wasn’t possible; the genetic screening in the Humanity’s Chance compound was top of the art. All known genetic aberrations where screened for. Most strongly looked for was the gene that controlled human mutation, the X factor, some people called it. I was screened just last month after some undercover work for the brass, to make sure I hadn’t been substituted for a shape-shifter. But I was clean. I was pure. But what else could it be?

Humanity’s Chance is a branch of the FOH that broke off when my father decided that passivity wasn’t getting us any where. A few riots and demonstrations simply didn’t cut it in his book. He liked the idea of lynch mobs, but decided that destroying Mutants had to be a full time job if it was ever to occur in his life time. He started a camp that trained those who had passed the screening process and wanted to take a more active role in the purification of humanity. He used his military training to prepare his chosen few and his drug running contacts to finance his operation. He started out with a few like minded men who followed him from the FOH, but realized that his goal needed to be passed on to the next generation. And so he brought my mother and me into the scene. I was ten. He bought a parcel of land from a plant that was going out of business, remodeled it to suit his needs and sent out recruiters to FOH meetings, looking for people not satisfied with the current level of aggressiveness.

The first person to join my Fathers crusade this way was a woman, a house wife, whose husband had been killed in the crossfire of two mutant factions fighting. We weren’t getting the disgruntled hick who was out of work and blaming it on the Mutant menace; we got the normal, average man who’d had his life destroyed by the mutants who taking over the planet. Most, like the woman Betsy, had lost loved ones killed by mutants, some simply had been sickened by the perversity they saw if this abnormality continued unchecked, to pollute the genetic health of the human race. Jason, was Betsy son. He was out with his father, going for cigarettes, when his father had been cut down in a beam of crimson light. He watched his father blown apart by what some people called the good guys.

Me, I was in it ‘cause of my father. I was raised in this, from when I was ten. I believed in this. I thought my Father a little fanatical, but that was because Humanity’s Chance was the only group actually doing anything about all the death and destruction that was happening in the name of Mutant Rights. But I still believed that what we were doing was right even when my mother left, disclaiming all my father stood for. I believe it still, even though I’m awaiting my death. Because my death will keep humanity pure.

After I’d thought it through, I made my way down to my Father’s rooms. My Father would know what to do. When I got to there, he wasn’t in so I just sat and waited for him, the tears streaming down my face. After about a half hour he finally came in. I ran to him forcing the words, “I’m a mutant” out of my mouth over and over again. By the time I calmed down I could see the fear in my father’s eyes as he looked at me.

“That’s nonsense,” he told me. “I would know if my daughter is a mutant. And you are not a mutant!” but his eyes still held fear. When I managed to get out the story of what happened with Jason, he still didn’t want to believe me. Finally, I just thought about disappearing and did so in front of my father’s eyes.

When I reappeared he looked at me with his cold eyes and I knew what it meant. Every one in the camp realized that mutation wasn’t just some rare occurrence. It could happen to anyone. The only other time it had actually happened, the guy had blown his brains out, leaving a note explaining why. Slowly, I bowed my head and let myself be lead away to the brig. My father never said a word.

The hardest part was running into Jason on the way. I tried to explain, but I don’t think he really understood. He’s just as old as me and was also practically raised in the camp, but I was his first friend, I was his first kiss, and his first love, as he was mine. I don’t think he wanted to accept the fact that I had to die.

So now, I’m waiting for the morning to come. Father would make sure things were done right.

***

“So what am I doing here,” he asked himself. “I’m consorting with the enemy that’s what. But she won’t help herself, so some one has to.” On that thought Jason took the hate that had built up and fed over the last eight years and put it aside, as he went to face his greatest fear. He turned up the long drive and headed to the gate where the morning sun filtered through the trees onto a large plaque that read, ‘Xaviar Institute of Higher Learning.’ When he reached the gate and pressed the buzzer, a large brown face with some weird mark over his eye popped up on the screen and in an almost growl, asked the nature of his business and did he have an appointment. Automatically the face triggered the information about the mutant Bishop, age unknown, history unknown, just that he started showing up with the abominations known as the X-men, one day about 5 years ago. And again the hate flared up, only to be ruthlessly suppressed. “I need to talk to Xaviar.”

“Mr. Xaviar doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.” The guy on the screen looked smug.

“Well he’ll see me, or I’ll go tell FOH that the head of the outlaw mutant group the X-men is none other than Xaviar himself. Not to mention that the guy is one of the strongest telepaths known to exist. I’m sure they’ll have a field day with that one. Or I could go to the papers, no I’ll go to the networks, with the secret headquarters of you guys. You should be more careful answering the door, Bishop, your face was plastered on CNN the other day. They had some wonderful footage of the latest clash involving the X-men. I can go on if you want?” The face on the screen had gotten colder with every word Jason said. There was a faint buzz and a small gate hidden in the wrought ironwork of the main gate gently swung open.

A short man with an untamed look about him, was waiting for him on the other side. The man had hair that practically stood straight out from his head in all directions but up. It would look stupid, but nobody would look at this guy and say he looked stupid. Not with those had hard eyes and cigar smoking in his hand. The man looked him up and down, stuck the cigar back in his mouth, humphed and started walking off. Jason had to run to catch up.

They entered the side of the mansion and after a confusing set of lefts and rights, most likely confusing on purpose, they stopped in front of a door that probably entered into Xaviar’s office.

“Your hand gun, the knife in your boot and the brass knuckles. The wire you can leave, it won’t work anymore.” Jason had been hoping that they’d miss the wire, but in all honesty didn’t think they would. Still it was worth a try to sneak it past them. He needed all the help he could get and a little insurance never hurt.

When the gun, knife and knuckles where on the table, the man Jason had IDed as Logan, AKA Wolverine, looked them over, picked up the brass knuckles and muttered something about playing dirty. Jason replied by murmuring about thick skulls and hard heads. That managed to surprise a brief grin out of the short man, which was quickly suppressed, who then led Jason into what he was starting to think of as the inner sanctum.

Well, the door didn’t enter into an office so much as it entered into a conference room that happened to have desk at one end and a few other people standing around that were trying to look like they belonged there and only emphasized the fact they were there to protect Xaviar from what they perceived as a threat. Their lack of discretion, Jason figured was forgiven because they where right. He was a threat, just not at that particular moment.

One was a woman with flaming red hair, down past her waist, trying to look like a personal assistant, another was the man from the gate, who wasn’t even trying to blend in, the last was a man wearing a pair of shades that, if Jason knew his X-men hid a pair of very dangerous eyes. Cyclops, Scott Summers, of the well known Summers clan. Well, he was half expecting the bastard to be there. Jason stopped the urge to tear out those red eyes and concentrated on the business on hand. There were things more important than revenge.

“Well, young man, you certainly made an impression here. I assume that you have something important to discuss.” The well known spokesman for mutant rights glided forward on a chair that quite literally hovered. Apparently they decided to put aside appearances. The bald man was of an age somewhere between young and old, and the expression on his face was one that’s been know to shrivel up young politicians in their custom made shoes. Jason has seen worse, but not much.

After clearing his voice and hopefully quelling the mix of hate, fear and anxiety, he started rattling off his explanation.

“Charity needs your help, cause I can’t help her, and she’s gonna die if you …”

“Slow down son, and start at the beginning. First off who is Charity and why do you think we can help, we are simply an educational institution.”

Yea right, and I have stupid written all over my forehead. “Cut the crap, if this is an educational institution, then you guys are a bunch of law-abiding…” Maybe he shouldn’t continue that thought since it was their home ground. “Fine, if you want to bluff me you shouldn’t have stayed in that chair. Listen, what do you know about Humanity’s Chance?”

Considering the blank look on their faces, they either didn’t have a clue or where really good at hiding their emotions. Probably the later. “Well, Charity is the daughter of George Arlington and they just found out she’s a mutant. They’re gonna kill her tomorrow morning. She can tell you anything you want to know about the whole operation. Where they’re based, their methods of operations, who’s who; the whole nine yards. She’d be very useful to you. Besides, she’s one of you. She belongs with you.”

The blank look hadn’t changed much but there was a bit of softening in the eyes of the red head, Jean Grey-Summers.

“And why do you want us to help her?” Charles Xaviar leaned forward in his chair, those intense eye’s still focusing on him.

“I told you she’s one of you guys and she could tell you everything about us and you could help her.”

“I didn’t ask you why you think we should help her, I want to know why you are willing to let us help her. You obviously don’t like mutants and yet you are willing to place her in the hands of your enemies?” All pretenses where dropped and Xaviar was out for the truth. “You belong to Humanity’s Chance. Why are you betraying them to us?”

The silence in the room was weighing heavily over everyone, especially on Jason. These guys weren’t quite what he’d come to expect. He thought they’d jump at the opportunity to get there hands on someone so high up in Humanity’s Chance. But they seemed more concerned with the his reasons.

“I don’t want her to die. No matter what she is, she doesn’t deserve to die.”

Xaviar glanced over at Mrs. Summers, received a soft nod and then replied “Go with Scott, and he’ll get all the…”

“Not him, any one but him!” Well, this got Jason a wary look from everyone, but he held his ground. “I’ll talk with Bishop, or Logan” Another brief nod, this time from Xaviar himself and Jason left the room, following Bishop.

***

“What do you think Jean?” The Professor looked at his student, a slightly concerned look on his face. Whether for her, or the young man who just stepped out, Jean wasn’t sure.

“Well, his concern for the girl, Charity, is very strong. He seems to be sincere, even though he has a strong dose of enmity directed at us.”

“Anything else?”

“The man, you know he never even told us his name. Anyway, he seems to have a lot of anger directed at Scott. It’s amazing that he came here. He must be desperate to come to us.”

“He does strike a person that way. I wish he didn’t have so much hate in his heart. The fact that he can over come it says a lot about him. You picked this up on a surface scan?”

“Yes. He was broadcasting so strong, I think Gambit would have picked up on him. However, just because he’s sincere, doesn’t mean it isn’t a trap.”

“I’ve considered it but his confusion and self doubt was such that I believe he doesn’t know himself why he came here. But foremost in his mind was concern. I don’t think it’s a trap. At least not an obvious one.”

“Charles” Jean looked at Xaviar with mischief in her eyes, “When was the last time a trap was obvious?”

“Point taken, Jean, but I think this young woman might be in need of help if this man is correct in his thinking. By the way, his name is Jason Haringer. He is indeed a member of Humanity’s Chance.”

“Professor you didn’t!” Jean looked at her mentor in shock. He honestly didn’t perform a deep scan without consent?

After hearing the shock in her voice the professor looked up at her in innocence with an expression that screamed ‘who me?’. After a soft chuckle, Charles replied “Actually, I’ve been following the growth of that particular group for many years now. Jason’s mother was one of the first people to join that group.” A quick shadow crossed his face as he thought of the circumstances surrounding Betsy’s defection. “Two can play at the game of who knows more. I just haven’t tipped my hand yet. I wonder what Jason will do, now that he’s betrayed the HC?”

***

Jason was wondering the same thing as he sat explaining the detail around the compound. Having already fessed up his name, the location of the HC head quarters and a basic outline of the compound itself, he was left revealing all the security secrets he could remember. It was a fair bit considering he designed the computer system that controlled the cameras and some of the other measures. Well, having finished divulging all his secrets he sat down in a chair and contemplated what he’d done, ignoring the hum going on around him as Bishop and Logan started formulating a plan of attack.

Well, he couldn’t exactly go back to his mother and beg forgiveness. She was so different from the woman he remembered as a child. All of his friends would, as of this morning, be on alert for him. He’d snuck out in the middle of the night, to get here as early as possible. After this evening’s work, he’ll be more likely shot than welcomed back. The leaders in Humanity’s Chance weren’t exactly the forgiving kind. The last guy who tried to cross George Arlington, ended up with a bullet in his head. Arlington put it in himself, then typed up a bogus note. Jason was fixing a glitch in the computer systems and happened to catch the footage as it was recorded. At that point, he decided, it would be better for his health if he wasn’t there in the length of time it took George to get from the men’s quarters to the security station. The next morning the tape was missing. As far as he could tell, Arlington never knew he had been observed.

Pulling himself back to the present, he noticed a slim man in a trench coat, shades and dark reddish brown hair tied back, waltz in to the proceeding.

“Eh, mes amies, what’s all de commotion?” the new man’s heavy Cajun accent almost made it hard for Jason to understand him, if he hadn’t already grown used to it from various taped conversations. The man known as Gambit was an interesting character to say the least.

“So you finally decided to show you face, eh Cajun. ‘Bout time you got in. Where’d you end up last night? Alaska? You almost missed all the fun.” Jason listened to the easy banter between the two men, Logan and Gambit with Bishop working in the background. It reminded him of some of the other guys in the compound before they went out on a job; teasing each other, just living in the moment and enjoying the tension that ran in the room. They seemed so normal. He knew in his mind that mutants were at some point human, but the minute their mutation kicked in they stopped being human and became something else. Didn’t they?

***

Well morning has come and gone and my father has decide it would be best if they allowed everyone in the compound to watch me die. I just want to get it over and done with. I know what must be done but that doesn’t mean I want it done where everyone can watch. At least no one came to gawk at the abomination that sprouted up in the middle of camp. I wish I had a gun and then I could just blow my head off in private. I’d settle for a belt from the rafters, but Father anticipated this and took it this morning with the rest of my clothes. He left me a white thing that I can only describe as a shift. I almost expected the bloody Spanish inquisition to come in and demand my confession. But I hadn’t done anything, except be unlucky. I don’t really want to die, but I know it must be done.

Now all I do is wait for them to come for me, alone with my thoughts of death. I began to wonder what it would be like to die. They have a chemical stew all cooked up, waiting for me to drink it. Would it hurt? Will it be dark, or is there anything after? Part of me cries out that I don’t have to die, that I’m still human, I’m still the person I was a day ago, before this happened. And another part of me cries out in revulsion at what I’ve become. I’m an abomination before the eyes of God. My death will keep humanity in Gods image and keep this race pure. Some of the people think that God is punishing us because we weren’t diligent enough, that we let evil overcome us in modern life, that greed and selfishness caused the outbreak of mutations. Father says it’s a test for us to find out if we are diligent. If we fail this test, the punishment will be much, much worse.

And so I rock back and forth on the bunk in the brig, scared of the coming morning and welcoming it at the same time. My arms are wrapped tightly around my knees, wondering if God will accept my soul, even though it has the taint of a mutation, or if I ever had a soul to begin with. Was I ever really human, or am I deceiver and have simply cloaked myself in the belief that I was really human. Around and around my mind turned, hating myself and what I’ve become, impatiently waiting for the mixed relief of the next morning.

***

They came for me at dusk. I don’t know why the schedule was moved up, maybe they finally found that one family of mutants and they need to eliminate them before they disappeared again. Or there was danger of surveillance from the FBI. They’ve been after us for a while. A thousand scenarios ran through my mind as I walked along, preparing to die. I was taken out by my father to the main gym and led out like the fatted calf ready for sacrifice.

The fear was starting to get to me. I couldn’t seem to stop shaking. I didn’t want to die! But I had to. I forced myself to put one foot in front of another, until I was in the middle of the room. I was surrounded by my friends and the people I had fought beside. I finally forced my eyes up to face the people I had let down. Some had hate in there eyes, some fear; some had tears streaming down their face, others grinned at the thought of another mutant death, even though they knew me. The last face I looked at was my father’s. I didn’t know what I expected, but satisfaction wasn’t something I’d even considered. He looked out over the crowd and he was happy! He had them in the palm of his hand; he was controlling them. I finally understood something about my father that for so long escaped me. But it didn’t matter what his reasons were though, I still had to die. Fortunately, he didn’t make any patronizing statements and would let me die in quiet, if not peace.

Alex, the camp doctor, came up behind me with a glass full of some greenish liquid. I picked up the glass and took a few swallows. I almost gagged as the liquid burned down my throat and had to stop for a moment to catch my breath. What ever they stuck in there, it tasted vial. Considering what it was going to do to me, I wondered why I even bothered to care. A few more swallows later and I could feel the stuff knotting my stomach up around itself. I still had half a glass left. They weren’t taking any chances were they? I was about to finish off the glass, when an alarm began to howl and the floor shook. I was so rattled, that it didn’t take much to startle me and with the first noise I dropped the still half full cup to the floor and watched in fascination as the shards of glass seemed to bounce off the floor. Then I wondered how the floor had gotten so close as darkness engulfed me and I crumbled in a heap. The last thing I remember was the sound of feet running around me in chaos and the thought that it actually hurt quite a bit.

***

Well, the best laid plans… Scott winced involuntarily as a bullet whizzed past this head. The girl was supposed to be in the brig but when they slunk in there, the cell was open and no one was around. Gambit was muttering the whole way about not enough people and then some other things in French that Scott wasn’t sure he wanted translated. They were wondering around trying to look inconspicuous and failing miserably, when they where spotted by a guard. At least he looked like a guard. According to Jason, most of the people around here were pretty well armed, so it was hard to tell. Well, the first thing the guy did was open fire. Caught Logan full in the chest. Wolverine wasn’t in a good mood after that. The guy was lucky he’ll only have a few scars when he gets out of the hospital. Scott had seen Logan do worse for less.

Well, that was when the alarms started to blare and after that all hell broke loose. People started streaming out of a set of double doors all of them armed with at least hand guns, although a few knives flashed, and it was all they could do to retreat at least far enough so that the causality list wouldn’t be too great.

“Storm, Rogue, we’re gonna need a hand in here.” Cyke reported in over the com. to the Blackbird. “Wanna give us a hand out here?”

An ever so slightly tinny voice blared back in to his ear “On our way sugar, ya guys never could keep yer tails outa trouble.”

***

Well, since there wasn’t really all that much in the way of unguarded entrances, the southern belle known only as Rogue decided to create her own. Flying over the roof with Storm providing a nice layer of fog for cover, the red haired, white streaked beauty settled down on the roof of the largest building and proceeded to pound a hole into it. A few seconds later, a good sizable hole had appeared that Rogue gracefully popped her head into. A quick look around showed an empty corridor which she descended into and then flew around the halls trying to come upon the wayward men.

Prob’bly got themselves stuck in a corner some where. After flying through most of the corridors and hallways on the top floor, she avoided the elevator and created another entrance through the floor to the level below her. This time she wasn’t quite as lucky. When she cautiously stuck her head into the hole in the floor, she discovered a rather large auditorium beneath her, half full of people scrambling to get out various sets of doors. Not always very successfully considering the floor shook regularly with explosions. Well, at least the guys weren’t trussed up for the next sacrifice already.

That was when she noticed the figure sprawled out on the floor; the short blond hair and the face were the same as what she’d seen on the photo Cyclops had passed out before they set out. It was the girl. What she was doing in the middle of an auditorium floor unconscious and possibly dead, Rogue didn’t even want to know.

“Ah think ah found our wayward girl Scott.” A muffled curse and the sound of gun fire was all that answered her call. “Well, she’s in the middle of the floor in the gym. From the sound of it, ya guys are just outside.” The curses were getting louder and more distinct. “Well since you guys are busy out there Ah’ll just mosey on in an’ try an’ get her out o’ there. Wanna provide some distractions out there?”

The reply was something along the lines of what in the name of various deities real and imagined did she think they were doing. Of course the language was considerably stronger. It must be getting rather nasty if Scott was using language like that. The tales I’ll be telling to his wife…

Rogue decided the best thing to do was just get in and out as fast as she could, then go drag the guys out of the corner they got themselves stuck in. Looking above her at the clean expanse of ceiling, she floated up and neatly punched a hole in it, getting a good passage way clear through to the foggy sky and the now hovering Blackbird hidden by said foggy sky. Then it was fly down into the crowded room and dodge the bullets and other things to get to the girl. Well, no time like the present.

Flying straight down and landing beside the girl, she hadn’t been spotted yet. Apparently all the illustrious members of Humanity’s Chance where too busy tryin’ to get shots in at the invading forces of evil that showed up on their door step. The girl herself wasn’t doing too good. She was alive but not by much and from the look of things had already had a good set of convulsions and was about to go into another. Letting loose a few colorful expressions of her own, she gently picked the girl up, worried about the amount of skin the girl had exposed and then started yelling over her com. for those useless SOB’s to get off there lazy duffs and get out of there because if this girl didn’t get out fast, they weren’t gonna have to worry about what they where gonna do about her.

Now the screaming had attracted the attention of a few of the people on the edges of the crowds near the door and the holler went up as bullets started to whiz past her and in a few cases off her. Carefully shielding the girl with her own body, Rogue decided that a hasty retreat was the better part of valor and zipped up through her custom made exits. After gently depositing her quaking burden in the care of Storm, she then zipped back to pull the big strong, macho men out of the mess they’d gotten into.

***

“How’s she doing?” The professor floated into the outer office of the infirmary and looked over to Henry McCoy.

“Well, physically she will be fine. There is a fair amount of residual pain, caused by the left over chemicals in her nervous system, but most of the neural toxins have been flushed out, or counteracted and the residue left should be gone in about a week. I’ve put her on some mild analgesics for now, until the pain subsides more.” Translation, she’ll live.

“Mentally is different situation entirely. From what Jason has revealed to us, I’m concerned that she might be suicidal. The indoctrination that went on in the compound is such that she might feel it her duty to kill herself. Depending on how deep the mental conditioning goes, simply removing her from her current situation is not enough to put her out of danger. Perhaps having Jason visit her will improve her outlook. Many times, the value we place on our lives is the value someone else places on us.”

The professor nodded grimly at this news. “I agree. Also, I’ll ask Jean to keep a mental tab on her. If she is suicidal, hopefully we’ll be able to at least prevent her from hurting herself. And perhaps others in the process.” Charles paused a second, gathering his thoughts. “I hope that we can help her. And the young man who risked so much to help her.”

***

Jason paced back and forth across the room the mutants had assigned him, his mind working over time. Charity was no longer in the hands of her father, but she was far from safe. She wasn’t doing so well, having drunk half the poisons that they’d made for her. But she was safe, and she would survive. And if he kept telling himself that, he might actually start to believe it.

But what was he to do. He would stand with her if she asked, help her if she wanted him to, even if it meant living with these abominations. I’m gonna have to stop calling them that. They helped Charity. Even the bastard, Summers. He was going to have to deal with that if he was going to help Charity. His thoughts were interrupted as Jean stepped in.

“Good morning Mrs. Summers.” Jason was nothing if not polite. Most of the time. Besides, he liked the red-haired woman; she seemed to be the first person in this place that believed him.

“Don’t call me that,” she replied, smiling. “It makes me feel like I should be wearing a flower print dress and writing those stupid romances you see in the supermarket. Just call me Jean. Everyone else does.” Too bad she was married to that red-eyed devil. Well, so she has bad taste in men. “I thought you might like to know that Charity seems to be doing better now that Hank has managed to find a counter agent to some of the chemicals that they gave her. She should be waking up soon and I think she might like a familiar face when she wakes up.”

“I’ll go right now.” Jason started making a bee line to the door.

“Not so fast cowboy. I know for a fact you haven’t eaten anything since you got here except a sandwich that Logan brought you last night. I’m taking you to the kitchen first. The last thing we need is for you to pass out and join Charity on the sick list.” When Jason looked to make a fuss, Jean grabbed his arm and led him out the door like an errant school boy. “Don’t worry so much, a few minutes won’t make that much difference.”

***

Well, I was right about the dark part. Although I hurt way too much to be dead. Although Hell is supposed to hurt a lot too. Great, there is a God and he decided he didn’t want me. I cracked open my eyes and discovered I was wrong about the dark part. Hell was as bright as a desert at high noon.

A few seconds later, my eyes adjusted to the light shining in my face and I realized it was just the fluorescents hanging above my head. So much for the already dead theory. I guess the chemical cocktail didn’t work like it should have. Wait a second, it took a few minutes for my mind to wrap itself around the concept but I never finished the drink. Something happened. I should be dead and I wasn’t. All I could remember was falling to the floor and people running around me and then just pain. Gut wrenching, death would be very preferable, all over pain.

The pain’s much less now, but it’s still there. No longer as sharp, but a lot like a dull ache through out my entire body. Slowly my mind was starting to filter through all the mix of memories that have been flying through my head and put them into something resembling coherent thought. I remembered Jason coming into my cubicle, my Father leading me out to my death, drinking half of the concoction and then the explosions.

All I felt was relief. Relief that I was alive. I guess I don’t want to die after all. But the fact remained that I was a mutant, and that I should die. It was my duty to keep humanity Pure. My father had been teaching me this since I joined him. And when I found out what I was, I knew what I had to do.

But for the first time since this nightmare started, I didn’t care what I was or what I was supposed to do. I just reveled in the feeling of being able to breath. The pain was starting to ease even more and I felt so heavy. It was like being wrapped up in a warm, heavy quilt, safe and cozy. I emptied my mind of the last few days and just enjoyed the quiet around me and the simple fact of being alive.