A lot has happened since that day. Jason left and was killed, I fell into a deep depression, tried to kill myself and eventually pulled myself out. Not that I’m all that mentally stable right now, but I don’t go around trying to kill myself anymore. I’ve also had a slew of training from the people who took me in. The X-men.

I’m still not all that comfortable with living in the mansion because it holds some powerful memories. But I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I stayed. And while I may not like the mansion, I have come to like and maybe even love the people who live there. Happy memories are replacing the sad.

So now that I’m trying to deal with myself emotionally, I’ve done a lot of thinking about my past and my parents. For a long time I felt abandoned by my mother. She left me and I never wanted to forgive that. My father stood by me (or so I thought) and I gave my loyalty to him. Until he betrayed that, but that’s another story. Anyway, finally I came to the realization that my mother must have been terrified to run away. I think that’s why she ended up going to the police. I guess she hoped they could protect her. And I remembered what Jason and I had found.

Which brings me to today. I’m leaving the place I’ve called home for the last six months, and heading out on my own for the first time in my life. I was scared shitless. But I knew that my Mom was out there and I had to find her. I knew that she might not want to see me and perhaps might revile me for what I am, but I still had to find her.

I had a new identity, complements of Bishop, with a drivers, bank account, credit card (for emergency’s only), a good lecture on the dangers of the world and another lecture to not spend too much money. What did they think I was, 16 and a way from the farm for the first time? I was nervous, yes, but I wasn’t about to fall prey to the first con man or ‘bad guy’ I met on the street. Heck, I knew the type too well.

Which brought me to their one big concern, the HC. If I got caught by them, I’d be lucky if I survived the night. While I may have considered the worth of my life cheap, I had started to grow found of waking in the morning and wanted to keep up the tradition. So I was to avoid anyone and everyone I had known in my previous life, which meant most of the low life’s in New York state and expanding out from there.

With backpack packed, a ticket on the Greyhound in my pocket, the address for one Samantha Kelly (Bishop is a wiz at breaking into encrypted files, he found her cover name) in the pack and tears in my eyes, I walked down the drive and exited the gate to start the hike to the bus terminal, some five miles away.

***

"You had to do this all on your own didn’t you. You should have at least accepted the ride Jean offered to the station but nooooo, you had to be stubborn and do this your own way." Well, no one said I had to like the hike to the bus station. And Logan did say it was a nice walk through the neighborhood even if it did drive me to talking to myself. I just wish I had the forethought to break in these stupid boots before I started this. They should fit real nice by the time I got to Spokane.

Finally reaching the terminal I sat down, waiting for the bus and the long drive it would take to get to the last address I’d found for my mother. I remembered the last time I’d actually talked to my Mom. I was fourteen and fully indoctrinated by my father, the psycho. This was just before she’d left, and I think she was trying to convince me to go with her. But she never actually said it. She never actually asked me to go with her. I think she knew I wouldn’t. I could still recall the conversation word for word.

"Charity, I wish you weren’t in the classes with the other kids" My mother fidgeted with the edge of her shirt.

"But that’s what they are, Daddy said that they aren’t in the image of God and it is our sacred trust to preserve that image from genetic impurities. They aren’t human."

How Sure I was.

"Dear God, forgive me for what I’ve done."

***

Well, after a good hour wait (it took me less time then I thought to walk) the bus started to load up I snagged a window seat close enough to a TV screen to see the tiny things but far enough back that I didn’t have to crane my neck. Settling in, I pulled out the book I’d brought along to read and settled down for the long hours ahead. I never noticed the man who’d been staring at me for the last fifteen minute I was in the bus station.

***

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN SHE'S NOT DEAD!" George Arlington, the head of a cult known as Humanity’s Chance, member of a small, but very profitable drug distribution ring and well known anti-mutant personality was screaming at the top of his lungs at the man standing in front of his desk.

"I saw her myself sir, I knows it was her. I was at the bus depot, waiting for a shipment to come, when saw her waiting for a bus. It was going to Buffalo."

"My daughter is Dead, I saw her fall with my own eyes," Glaring over at one of the younger men assigned to assist him he ordered "Get Max in here right away. She drank enough of the poison to kill a horse."

A few minute later, the diminutive doctor walked into the room only to be pounced on immediately.

"You told me she was dead. You said the little abomination would die no matter what she was, from what you put in that drink."

"She should be," the doctor (actually, he’d lost his license a some years ago) was quaking in his boots. Max was one of the few people who knew exactly what the leader of this cult could do, if he was of a mind to. Death was the simplest and most painless. "If she drank the entire glass. Even half should be enough. But her body was stolen by the mutants. I was never sure she drank it all." The doctor shrank as the full force of George’s stare concentrated on him.

"Well, since Jake saw her at the bus station in Westchester she obviously wasn’t." Glaring over at the same man who fetched Max, "Get Mike in here now and this goes no further than this room. Understood?" Looking around the room, the three men there nodded their acceptance of the proclamation.

***

"Do you think she’s okay?"

"I’m sure she’s fine Scott." Jean look over at her husband, almost amazed at the level of concern he felt over Charity’s leave taking. He’s felt responsible for her since Jason left, even more so after his death and Charity’s attempted suicide. But it was still interesting to watch how much the uncertain mentor that Scott portrayed. It was touching.

"But what if they catch up with her?"

"What if who catch up wid who?" Gambit stuck his head in the kitchen, then headed over to the fringe and started to rummage around.

"Humanity’s Chance catch up to Charity." Jean replied as she pushed Remy aside to get the lettuce out of the fridge. Of course she was across the room when she did so.

"Oh. Well, she be fine. Cause you been trainin’ wid Petite, ‘Zaviar been trainin’ Petite, Logan been sparin' wid Petite and I been showin' Petite a few tricks to get out of de tough spots. She be fine. Even Stormy been teachin' Petite t‘ings. She ever get lost in de wildernes she have no problem findin' edible plants"

"Gambit, what have you been teaching her?" Scott didn’t look impressed at the idea of her young mind being corrupted by Gambit’s influence. She’d already gotten into a few tough spots on her own.

"Just a little ‘puter stuff, an’ brush up on her t’ievin skills."

"Great, next thing you know, you’re gonna take her along as you break into a bank, just so she can get the experience." Scott washed up some various vegetable that Jean was getting ready for supper that evening and set about chopping them up into bit sized pieces. Logan’s better at this.

"Scott don’t worry about her so much, she’s done worse and you know it. If all she does after this is vent a little frustration by going out with Gambit, it’s no big deal." Turning on the Cajun who had been put to work stirring the simmering sauce on the stove she raked him over the coals with a glance. "You didn’t steal anything did you?"

"Not much." Oops, wrong answer Cajun. Next thing he knew, he’d been whacked over the back of the head with a flying bowl. Fortunately for him it was a wooden salad bowl. It did make a really satisfy thunk though.

"Eh, it was just de stand of one o' de exhibits at de museum. Not wort’ anyt’ing. Sides, it got dem to tighten up de security." Gambit continued to rub the back of his head where a small goose egg was forming inspite of the fact that the bowl was only wood. "Anyway, it was ‘er dat suggested it. Said if she coul’ get in, any idiot could. And dere was too much nice stuff in dere to loose."

"Fine, I give up. Scott are you just about done with those veggies?" The man had developed almost precision shots with his laser eyes, but stick a knife in his hands and he’s liable to cut his own hand off. But if Jean was gonna be in the kitchen, Scott was gonna be in the kitchen. Besides, it built character. Even if she could have made the entire dinner in the time it takes him to cut up all the vegetables.

Scott looked up from the pile of mushrooms he was in the process of slicing. "Just don’t get caught okay? It’s one thing to explain to the police that you’re a security expert that was hired to do random security testing for an insurance company, it’s quite another thing if you have a twenty year old kid along for the ride." A brief worried glance crossed his features, just as Gambit looked up from the sauce.

"Take it easy Cyke, dis somet’in she have to do. You can’t stop Petite if you want to. She need to make her own choice in life and dis somet’in she choose for herself. You shoul’n’t stop her, even if you could. You just taken choices ‘way from her, like ever’one else."

Jean looked over from her corner, were she was watching a pot of boiled pasta being dumped into a colander. "You’ve thought a lot about this Remy, haven’t you?"

"Petite an me, we don’ sleep so good at night. So sometime when we bot’ awake, we talk. About all sort o’ stuffs. Like what it was like before her dad take her in de cult, an’ dat. Sometimes, ‘bout not’in at all, just de weat’er. But don’ t'ink she ever made d’cision for herself. Always someone made dem for her, takin’ dat ‘way from her." Remy looked a little uncomfortable, staring at the sauce he was stirring, no longer really noticing the people around him. Scott was looking at him with a bit more understanding on his face. Jean just looked at the lost soul and wondered who was getting more out of the late night talking sessions; amazed at how much the enigma known as Gambit had revealed in those few sentences.

***

Mike Segouin was a relatively young man; about twenty five, in the prime of his life and he had a mission to accomplish. George Arlington himself had given it to him. It would be his hardest mission ever. He was take out the abomination known as Charity Arlington, the Commander’s daughter, Humanity’s Chance member and his friend. She’d helped train him. He mourned her loss with everyone else at her death.

She was supposed to be dead, having sacrificed herself for the good of humanity, her body then stolen and defiled by the abominations known as the X-Men. But she wasn’t dead. She was very much alive, spreading the filth and perversion. And it was his duty to stop her. Permanently.

***

Well, Buffalo became Cleveland, which became Toledo, which became Chicago, which became Cedar Rapids Iowa. I’d finally gotten off the series of buses and found a small motel where I crashed for a night. I’d been on a bus so long, I’d lost track of what day it was. Not to mention the fact that if I didn’t have a shower, I’d end up having a bus to myself. Now there was an idea. However, I don’t think I’d want to be on the bus myself. Let’s face it, I stank.

I was flaked out on the bed, just out of a long soak in the tub, flipping through the channels on the TV. It was only mid afternoon and the bus out of here didn’t leave until tomorrow afternoon. Well, I could have caught the bus today, but I need to get a good night’s sleep, call the mansion, let them know I’m all right, clean off the accumulated travel grime and get some food in me that didn’t come directly out of plastic. I figured I could use the break.

Dragging myself off the bed, I threw some jeans and a long sleeved, white shirt on and headed to the restaurant in the motel. After a not so bad meal, I headed back to my room, closed the curtains, turned the TV to Days of Our Lives and promptly fell asleep to John Black ranting about some guy called Stephano.

***

I ended up wide awake, drenched in sweat and almost but not quite screaming out. It was one of my usual nightmares only this time, Mom was in it and I killed her. I prayed this wasn’t an omen of things to come.

Knowing that if I tried to go back to sleep, I’d do nothing but toss and turn so I got up, brushed off the jeans the last cleanish pair of jeans which I was wearing and decided doing some laundry might be a good idea. It wasn’t that late, only about 11 and there should be an all night Laundromat around here. Throwing the dirty clothes in my pack, I grabbed my keys, got the name of a Laundromat in walking distance and set out. I didn’t leave much at the Motel, not wanting some enterprising maid to come in and decide my wallet was fair game.

About halfway there I notice a car circling the block for a second time. There wasn’t anything remarkable about, it was just a kinda dirty, red sedan, but there weren’t that many cars out. Guess he was having trouble finding a parking spot. There where a fair number of bars a street over and parking was scarce.

I finally made it to the ‘mat, threw some of the filthy rags in with some detergent from a vending machine, then settled down with the next book in my series to wait until the machine was done. It should only take about half an hour, according to the woman who had left a few minutes after I got there. Which left little ol’ me all by my lonesome reading my book in peace and quiet.

About fifteen minutes later, just as our illustrious heroine was about to blow the bad guys to kingdom come, all hell broke loose and it wasn’t in the book. I’d sat with my back against the back wall, with a clear view of the front of the store. Glancing up as the door opened, I saw a guy in a black ski mask step in, raise a pistol with a silencer screwed on the front and start to shoot. The minute I saw the mask I dropped and dove for cover behind the row of machines running the length of the store, but damn the man was fast. The first bullet smacked into the wall just behind where my head was a second before. The second grazed my arm as I was diving. The third, forth and fifth smashed through the washers I was hiding behind and then silence. By that time I was faded out and peaking my head over the top of the machine, watching the man slowly walk over to the row of chairs in the back, and pivot as he went around the washers. He moved with the easy grace of a man trained and from the way he moved and shot, I knew where he’d trained. The HC had found me.

I wasn’t sure how or why they cared enough to come after me. I didn’t even know who was behind the mask, but whoever it was, was pretty good which means he probably knew me and I knew him. With half my clothes still sloshing away in the washer, I crept over to my bag and slung it over my shoulder, hoping whoever it was they sent after me didn’t notice it was gone.

"Ah Charity Girl, I got you didn’t I. I can see your blood on the floor." The man started talking and I knew exactly who it was. Mike. Shit! He was a friend of Jason’s and mine and was a part of our mission team. No wonder they sent him.

"Why don’t you make it easy on yourself and die like you should have. All I have to do is follow the blood and nothing in your bag is gonna help you." The string of curses running through my head would have sent him to the devil himself if they worked. Instead all they did was make me more worried. Mike was always sharp and he was catching on quick. I was best off if I could get out of there as quick as I could.

Inching over as close to the door as I could, I carefully stood up concentrating on Mike, getting him to look the other way, then further away and hopefully in the opposite direction. Noises are the hardest thing to cover and I need his attention anywhere else but on me. He was finally turned around and looking for me back near the seats when I tried the door. I had to be careful, not much noise.

Suddenly he turned around and started to fire randomly, shooting out all the glass in the front and I was back on the floor. Mike had a strong mind and must have realized what I was trying to do. I could hide from him until I fell asleep but I don’t think he was going to give up all that easy. My arm stung as sweat started to seep into the graze on my arm. It didn’t hurt too bad, but it was bleeding enough to leave a few drops behind me.

Mike had stopped firing and was standing there staring at his handy work, trying to figure out where I’d ended up. He was still pretty sure I was in the room and now I had to be wary for the sound of glass crunching under foot. I figure my best bet now, was to not move. With any luck, he’d think I got out. I only hope he doesn’t step on me.

I only had a few seconds to contemplate this thought as sirens started to scream in the distance, getting louder as they got closer. Mike heard them and just ran out the door onto the street. After contemplating all the uncomfortable questions the cops would ask if they found me here, I decided I could live without clean laundry and took off in the other direction.

***

"Hey detective!" An officer surveying the scene waved the now arriving detectives over to the back. "One of them got winged." The two detectives headed to the back of the room, one glancing at the book lying on the floor.

"Get two guys out looking for a trail, maybe we’ll get lucky." Two of the cops standing around stepped out, one heading east on the street, the other west. Light beams flashed around, looking for anything resembling blood on the side walks. "In the mean time what the hell happened?" Detective O’Malley wasn’t in a good mode, having been dragged out here to take a look at was probably a bunch of drunk kids with their parents hand guns going out and shooting someplace up.

"Hey, O’Malley take it easy," O’Malley’s partner was a shorter man; contrasting O’Malley’s tall muscular look, with his generous girth. But Daren Karst was still on the ball and they made a good team.

The first officer on the scene started to describe the way things were when he got there, which was pretty much what it was now. So in other words, no one knew what happened. All of a sudden a chorus of cat calls and hoots broke out as one of the forensics guys held up the laundry that was in the only washer still running when the first officer showed up. It was a bra with Bugs Bunny dancing across the front.

"I guess that means one of the suspects is a woman"

"No shit Sherlock."

***

I managed to make it back to my motel and decided it might be a good idea to lay low for a while. I was pretty sure Mike didn’t follow me here and I didn’t feel like walking the streets this late at night, faded out or not. I headed into the bathroom, striped off my shirt and looked at the graze on my arm. It wasn’t bad, but it did bleed a fair bit and the blood had soaked through my shirt. Pulling out a T-shirt that was hidden in the bottom of my pack, I threw it on and started to clean the wound out. It wasn’t really much more than a scratch for all it bled. It had pretty much stopped bleeding by the time I had it cleaned out and covered. The white towels weren’t so white any more, but I didn’t care, I was only gonna be here until my bus leaves. After that I don’t care what anyone thought.

A good chunk of my clothes were left at the Laundromat and I’d have to buy some new ones. I was a little pissed about that, but I’d live. I just would get to buy some clothes that didn’t have yellow smiley faces or cartoon characters on them. Sitting down on the bed, I flicked on the TV and sat watching the Keenan Ivory Willians show.

About half an hour later, there was a knock at the door. I jumped across the room and stood behind the door, faded before I called out "Who is it?"

"The Police, we’d like to ask you a few questions if we can." A rich voice called back. Well, shit, that’s just what I need. I have no idea how they traced me here, but I didn’t feeling like running from the HC and the police as well.

Looking through the crack between the door and the jam, the chain still on, I saw a short chubby man who identified him self as Detective Karst and asked if he could come in. In his hand was my book, Starpilot’s Grave. I think they knew I was at the ‘mat, so I unchained the door. Opening the door, I got the second largest shock of my life, the first being when I found out I was mutant. This came very close though. As the door opened wide I saw a face I hoped never to see again in my life. Derek.

And then he turned around and I sat and stuttered for a while. He had the nicest eyes. They were a dark chocolate brown, framed by dark lashes that were anything but feminine and set in a weathered, softly tanned face. I could look in those eyes for an eternity. Finally coming to myself, I introduced myself. I think. I’m not too sure, the heat in the place had gone from hot to searing, and I don’t think I was thinking too clearly. I know I wasn’t thinking too clearly. But he was calling me by my name later so I guess I did. And he introduced himself as Derek. His voice was like polished wood. Rich, and smooth, with hidden depths. I was still lost in his eyes when he passed me a pool cue and asked if I wanted to play.

Well, he was also a little shocked. I guess he was Detective Karst’s partner. Well, I stood with my mouth open like a cod fish, while we both tried to assimilate this information.

"Derek?"

"Charity?" We managed to say it at the same time. I think my eyes were about to pop out of my head. All the humiliation, and. . . and the self disgust over my actions came right back to me. I had the self control of a cat in heat that night and he took complete advantage of me. And now he was here poking his nose into my business.

***

Detective Derek O’Malley looked at the shocked face in front of him wondering what in heaven’s name he’d done to all the gods in history to be faced with this. He wasn’t sure what happened that night, but he knew he hadn’t been exactly in complete control at the time. The girl had been giving off some incredible emotional waves. They blurted out the other’s name and then lapsed back into silence still staring at each other.

Next thing he knew, he was on the concrete outside, staring at the stars above his head and it was a cloudy night.

***

"You son of a bitch I was so out of it you bastard how could you take advantage of me when I was completely out of it and then you come to my door and expect me to talk to you, you absolute piece of filth." I was as pissed as hell. I’d been chased, shot at, had the cops come to my door and then it had to be HIM!!!! I was still trying to get at the bastard, but his partner was holding me back. I wasn’t trying all that hard, but I could still gleefully kick him so hard he wasn’t gonna have anything resembling a sex life for the next year.

"I gather you’ve met before." The wry tone of the other detective made it’s way into my head and I calmed down a little. Derek started to pull himself up off of the concrete outside the motel door when I tried to kick him again. I almost got him that time.

"Will you damn well calm down for a moment!" Derek had finally managed to get up and was brushing himself off (Actually he really needed the time to think). The other detective, I think he said his name was Karst now had me pinned and had pushed me into my room. I started to settle down and sat down on the bed. I still wasn’t happy about it, but I figure I just made getting out of this mess a whole lot harder. And I just assaulted an officer. If I wasn’t careful, they’d have me locked up so fast, I’d be spinning.

"What do you want then?" I would talk to them, but I didn’t have to be congenial while I did. Not to that. . . that slime bag.

"We want to take you down to the station for a few questions or we could talk to you here if you want." Karst was playing the kindly father figure. He did it pretty good, but his eye’s gave him away.

"What’s this about?" No sense in making things easy for them either.

"We found your book at the laundry mat and wondered if you might like it back, and maybe in the meantime you could tell us about who was taking pot shots at you." Well, Derek wasn’t beating around the bush any.

"Look, I was sitting there reading, and this guy burst in and started shooting out the windows and shooting around the room. I had bad timing, that’s all. Was there anything else, and yes, since my night is already destroyed I’ll come down and make a statement, but it won’t help you cause the guy was wearing a mask."

"Well, we want to do things by the book anyway and we really appreciate the help."

"You know Derek," I slurred his name out. "Sarcasm ill becomes you." Grabbing my pack I stomped out of the room, leaving the two detectives behind.

***

Down at the station, things weren’t going all that well. She was being stubborn. Very stubborn. In the past hour and a half, all they’d managed to get from her is that the guy who walked in was kinda tall and was wearing all black with a black ski mask. She said she didn’t know who he was or why he was shooting at her or even if it was actually a guy, cause it might have been a really heavily muscled woman. She hadn’t really been paying attention as she was ducking for cover.

"Well wonder boy, is she lying?" Karst looked over at O’Malley, an expectant look on his face.

"Through her teeth. I think she knows who was taking shots at her and why. And she’s scared. Not only about tonight but about something else as well. I think."

"Not bad wonder boy, what’d you do read her mind?" Karst was getting smart again.

"How many times have I told you not to joke about that." O’Malley’s voice dropped to a whisper, "Do you want to have me strung up the nearest tree?"

"Hey calm down bud, just cause you happen to have a few screwy genes that let you read minds doesn’t make you an alien or something."

"But it could get me fired. You know the Captain is a card member of the FOH. Besides, I’m not a telepath, I’m an empath."

"Oh, big diff."

"I can’t read thoughts, only emotions and I’m not that strong either."

"Well, it works for you, so don’t complain."

"I’m not, so what have we got on her?"

"Well, not much actually" stepping through a door, they entered a small room, with a two way mirror that showed the next room, where she sat idly drinking from a glass of water. "The name Charity Thomas has no priors and the driver’s is clean, not even a warning on it in the last ten years. Do you think it’s legal to drive in New York when your 11?"

"Very funny, so the name is an alias although I bet Charity is her real name, or at least one she’s been using for a while."

"So what was it between you any way, she looked ready to rip you eyes out?" Karst was surprised to see his partner turn red. Very red. And O’Malley stammered.

"Oh, um n-not really anything to worry about." Derek O’Malley was not happy about the way the conversation had turned. "Did we lift any prints at the scene?"

"Yea, Shinniofski is running them now, we should hear back from them soon."

***

Well, this was going nowhere fast. I’d been sitting here for the past two hours going over my statement waiting for the guys behind the scene to go over and check the records. I hope they weren’t gonna lift my prints off of the scene. If that happened, I’d be in deep shit, cause the minute any inquiry goes through, the HC will hear about it and then I’d better not be here when they are. Once they find out Mike failed, it was only a matter of time till they get some more people on the chase. I could fade out and walk out right now, but I didn’t want to freak things out to soon. Besides which, they had all sorts of surveillance here. They could figure out I was a mutant. I just wanted to get this over and done with then get out of here.

***

"Hey, Karst, I got the info on those prints back, you will not believe who this chick is." Shinniofski ran up to the desks of the two detectives. "You guys ever heard of the cult slash militant anti mutant group called Humanity’s Chance?"

O’Malley had heard about them all right. They where half the reason most people never admitted they were mutants unless it became bloody obvious. They were scary SOB’s.

Karst spoke up. "Yea, don’t they have a lot of drug connections too?"

"Yea they do. The FBI have been after these guys for years. Almost got them once too. Any way, the Leader’s name is George Arlington. Guess who we have in our hands this minute?" Shinniofski was beaming from ear to ear.

"Okay I’ll bite, who?"

"Charity Arlington, his daughter."

"What!!" Derek reentered the conversation with a vengeance. He’d almost. . . with the daughter of one of the nastiest anti mutant. . . He couldn’t believe it.

"You got it, she was involved in it up to her eyeballs too. She went underground about six months ago." Derek had met her only three weeks earlier.

"And now, she’s resurfaced right in our lap." Karst was starting to get a calculating gleam in his eyes. He’d been wanting to pull one over on the Feds since they came and took over his bust on a Colombian drug ring four years ago. "Oh I’m gonna love smearing this in the FBI’s face."

"So what do we do with her? We don’t have anything on her and unless she has some outstanding warrants, we can’t hold her" O’Malley was still in a bit of shock over this discovery, but his professional instincts started to kick back in.

"Oh yes we can O’Malley my boy. She punched you, remember. We can hold her on assault at least. Then we can try pumping her for info later. Of course the hard part is keeping the Feds from sticking there fat noses in."

***

The two detectives came in the room and the look on there faces had gone from ‘dealing with a nuisance’ to ‘you are in deep kim-che’. I don’t think I liked that.

"You’ve been lying to us Charity?" Derek came out with it right away. "We lifted various prints from the scene as well as off the book you were reading and guess who showed up in our system."

Yup, I was in deep shit.

"So Charity Arlington, what have you been up to that somebody wants you dead? Well, from what I’ve seen of your history, I wouldn’t be surprised if every whacked out mutant from Magneto to those crazy X-Men were after you. So who want’s you dead Charity."

Nice to know these guys weren’t up on current affairs. I contemplated calling the mansion and getting them to help me out, but I got in this mess on my own and I can damn well get out of it.

"Am I under arrest? ‘Cause if not I’m out of here." It probably wouldn’t work but it was worth a try. They wouldn’t be able to pin me for anything from my past and the worst I’d done now was punch the slime bag. However, I was not going to be a goose trussed up like a present for when the HC got here.

Coming over and putting a hand on my shoulder, sweet ol’ Karst started to read me my rights.

"Charity Arlington, You’re under arrest for assault on Detective Derek O’Malley, You have the right to remain silen ..." I never said I let him finish. I faded out as soon as his eyes were turned, grabbed my bag from off the table and headed for the door they’d left open.

***

Detectives O’Malley and Karst immediately ducked when she disappeared. What the hell was going on here. She just disappeared. Guns out and scanning an empty room they eventually stood up and Karst started swearing. O’Malley started thinking.

"Where the hell did she go, she was right here! Oh great, this is not gonna look good to the Captain. Wait a sec." Karst started looking around frantically. "Where’d her stuff go?"

O’Malley didn’t answer, he just went out of the room heading for the stairs.

"Hey, O’Malley, where you going? Did any one see that girl who was just in here leave? Wait up for me Derek!"

By this time, O’Malley was down a floor, heading for the security section. Going over to the officer who was snoozing on duty, Derek slapped him over the back of the head, gave him a look that promised dire consequences and kicked him out of the chair. Karst had caught up to him and was looking over his shoulder.

"What are you doing now, wonder boy, our star witness just disappeared on us and you’ve got your nose in a bunch of surveillance shots."

"I’m following up on a hunch." And that was all he said as he started messing around with the equipment. A few minutes later: "Bingo, I thought so. look at this. . . " O’Malley pointed a finger at the screen that was frozen showing the interrogation room, Charity Arlington seated in a chair on one side, Karst beside her, and O’Malley across the room near the door.

"This is just as you started to read her, her rights. Now watch." hitting a button, the scene began to unfold. Karst and O’Malley dropped in unison and drew their weapons. Charity simply stood up from her chair, walked over to her bag on the table and walked out of the room. The two detectives where still seen scanning the room. O’Malley hit another button and the scene stopped, the screen displaying fuzz.

"So what does this mean? She didn’t actually turn invisible or else the camera’s wouldn’t have seen her. I’ve heard about some really advanced equipment, but never anything like this." Karst was starting to get confused. Nothing about this case was making any sense when you thought it through. First was that there wasn’t really any evidence that the girl tried to defend herself, second, she allowed herself to be caught, third, she refused to say anything about her attacker other that what he was wearing. And last, she just disappears from their view, but the camera still picked her up. What kinda of whacked out cult was she involved with.

"I don’t think it was any sort of equipment or such. I think she did it herself."

"What do you mean she did it herself, How could any one short of a. . . " Karst trailed off as what O’Malley said sunk in. "Are you trying to say she’s a mutant?"

"That’s exactly what I’m saying. When we started talking to her just before you arrested, well tried to arrest her, I couldn’t get a fix on her. It was like there was nothing there. Only a telepath or some other kind of psi-related mutant could do that. Second of all, we just assumed she went under ground six months ago. What if she didn’t. I met her three weeks ago in New York, just outside of Westchester. There’s been so much mutant activity out that way it’s nuts. Last of all, she appears to disappear in front of us, but the camera still picks her up. That indicates she was messing with our minds, not with reality." O’Malley was starting to get the familiar buzz as information started to slide in place.

"And you think that cult, Humanity’s Chance, are the ones after her."

"Exactly."

***