I’ve been having these blackouts for a few years now. Ever since my mutant powers manifested. I never wanted to be a mutant. In fact, I thought it was the worst possible thing that could happen to someone. I was right. The first day I knew I had powers was at a Friends Of Humanity rally outside a mutant center I passed every day coming home from school. Usually my mom drove me home--she’s a single mom, but she worked the night shift so that she could be home with me during the day. That day, though, she wasn’t able to pick me up because she’d had to spot for a co-worker who’d called in sick, so I walked home from school.

I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going. The first thing I knew, a guy was in my face screaming about the evil of mutants and how they should all be killed. When I went to step around him, he stepped back into my path. I stepped the other way, and he did too. I remember that he was mad that I wouldn’t respond, and he shoved me pretty hard. I stumbled back a step before falling, catching myself with my hands. But I’d landed in glass, and I was bleeding. The man saw it too, because he stepped forward to help me up and make sure I didn’t have imbedded glass in my palms. Didn’t want to get sued, I guess. When he wiped away the blood, I had healed. I’ll never forget the look on his face. Shock, fear, hate, all of them passed across in less time then it takes to tell. He took a few steps back, then started screaming that I was a “mutie.” In another second all those people were around me, beating with guns and bats and anything else that was handy. And I kept healing. As fast as they could hurt me it was better--the pain lasted, but there were no marks. After they’d beaten me so bad that even my healing factor (that’s what they call them, right?) couldn’t keep up, they ran. I was left in the gutter, a rattle in my breath where someone had crushed my throat with a bat. After a minute I felt like I could move, and I didn’t want to die, so I got up and started stumbling home. By the time I got there, I was all better. And scared stiff.

***

Bobby pulled off his sunglasses and looked around, then looked back down at the map. "Are you sure about this, Guthrie?" he asked doubtfully.

Sam shook his head slowly. "Ah thought Ah was, but Ah guess not."

Bobby looked back up at the road that dead-ended in front of them and sighed. "I think you're right. You weren't sure about this." The Iceman turned and looked back the way they had come. Dirt and tar stretching as far as the eye could see. Well, at least they wouldn't die of thirst. He sucked lightly on the ice he'd formed in his mouth. Then again, there wasn't much water out here to turn into ice.

"Ah'm real sorry," Sam said, folding the map back up. "Ah didn't mean ta get us so lost. It's just that this says that the highway is built already!"

Bobby laughed quietly. Yeah, it did say that. "Well, take another look and see if you can find a town out here. I can't imagine anyone wanting to live in the armpit of hell, but there are some psychos in this world."

Sam chuckled, wiping sweat from his forehead, and opened the map back up to have another look. "Here's one," he said after a minute. "Looks like it don't even have electricity yet, but at least it's populated. Hopefully."

Bobby laughed and hopped over the side of the Jeep into the drivers seat. "Then again," he joked, "Maybe it hasn't been built yet."

Sam laughed and tossed the map in the back. "Don't even say that, icicle!"

***

The next time my powers did anything but heal me was about six months later. My best friend, Nicole, and I were goofing around outside her apartment building. It was getting late, the sun was setting, and we were in a back alleyway. She lassoed me--sort of--and tied me to a lamppost, then ran around the corner laughing while I tried to get away. I’m not sure what happened. It was like my senses peaked, and I could smell where she was going. And I could smell cocaine. And I could smell lots of boys. And I knew she was heading that way. I panicked. She’d been my best friend since I was three. We went to preschool together. We slept on the same couch at sleepovers. Hung with the same kids at school. She knew when something was wrong with me, I knew when something was wrong with her. It was like we could read each other’s minds. People called us Half n’ Half--without the other one there we didn’t work right. And I didn’t want her to get hurt.

I’m not sure how I got out of the ties. I probably got some bad rope burn, but it had healed by the time I’d run a few steps after her. I heard her take a deep breath to scream, and I heard someone clamp a hand over her mouth. My feet slipped in the mud, and I went sliding across the cement of the alley. A minute later I could hear them hitting her, and I was up again and running around the corner. I heard them pulling guns out as I rounded the next turn and saw them.

Cole’s face was white where it wasn’t bleeding, and I’d never seen her so afraid. Three men, and one in the shadows. I could smell him. One of them shot at me, and it hit because I stumbled back. A minute later I was fine, though.

The gunman’s eyes widened. The one in the shadows came at me from behind with a club, swinging at my head. I sensed it and ducked, and in the same move turned and lashed out at his knees with my hands. He screamed and fell, his kneecap actually torn from his body. Another one shot at me, four times, and I took the hits, falling back onto the pavement. As I did another one came at me, beating me with a crowbar. But I was healing faster then he could beat, and my hands came up and something--my fingernails??--went through his throat with a sickening sluicing sound and his eyes widened and he fell back. Blood was dripping down my arm. One of the others turned and ran. The one holding Cole shot at me, then followed his companion, leaving my friend behind.

Cole’s eyes were still wide. I was kneeling over a dead body, another man screaming behind me. I could hear sirens, though they were very far away. Shock at what I’d just done went away, replaced by too many emotions. Part of me almost . . . liked that. I hated it. I shoved that part down and as far away as I could push it, and I looked up at Cole. I think I might have been crying. She wasn’t. Her face was white, and she was shaking. Her pulse was odd, irratic. She was still in shock.

“Cole?” I heard my voice say, though it sounded too hoarse to be mine. I stood up and took a step toward her, blood on both hands and arms.

She shook her head slowly and backed away. It was then I realized it wasn’t them she was afraid of. It was me. I could smell her fear.

“Nicole? Please, I--” she turned and ran the same way the others had gone. Away from me. Part of me wanted to go after her, hurt her because she hurt me. But she was my best friend. I pushed that part of me down again, and fell back against the wall. She was my best friend. Right?

***

“Nobody in this godforsaken town has a phone,” Bobby said, walking out of the small mercantile shop. Sam chuckled.

“No, that’s not true. No one has a phone they want ya ta use.”

Bobby laughed. “It’s because I’m such a dastardly looking guy,” he said.

Sam laughed and they headed into the bar, continuing on in their search for a phone. “You know,” Bobby said after a minute, “This town has a population of three hundred. It has one store, which contains clothes, food, books and various other supplies. It has one restaurant. One gas station, which has two pumps, one of which doesn’t work, and yet,” he continued, starting to laugh again, “It has two bars. Explain this to me, Sammy.”

Cannonball just laughed, shaking his head slowly. “Ah don’t get it, either, Bob.”

Bobby walked up to the bartender, leaning over the stool. “Do you have a phone I can use to make a long-distance call? I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay whatever you want. Really.”

Sam chuckled.

The bartender finished drying her mug, then reached over and handed Bobby an old black telephone.

“I am forever in your debt!” Bobby proclaimed, taking the phone and kissing it before dialing.

“’Zaviers School Foh Higher Learnin’, how may Ah help ya?” came a soft southern accent.

“Hello, you have just been selected to win our grand prize!” Bobby said, grinning. He could hear the cheerful laugh on the other end as Rogue recognized his voice.

“And what do Ah win?” she asked after a minute.

“You win the honor of wiring Sam and Robert money because they ran out of that and gas, and some strange people won’t let you buy gas for pocket lint.”

“How rude o’ them,” Rogue laughed, walking to the computer. “Where are ya, Robert?”

“Hicksville, Arizona!”

Sam elbowed Bobby, not liking the look the bartender was giving them.

“Sorry, just kidding,” Bobby apologized quickly. “Devil’s Creek, Arizona,” he said into the phone.

“Seriously, Bobby.”

“Seriously. It’s called Devil’s Creek.”

Rogue considered that a minute, then shrugged. Okay. “Ah’m sending it quick, all right?”

“Great!” Bobby said, grinning.

“They don’t have any ATMs there, though, so it’s gonna hafta come by the mail,” she said after checking the computer.

Bobby groaned. “Okay, fine,” he said at last, “Just get it here!”

Rogue chuckled. “All right, then. It’ll be there in a few days. Do ya got someplace ta stay?”

“Sam and I’ll charm someone into giving us their house until then,” Bobby joked.

“Good luck!” Rogue said, then hung up.

Bobby turned and looked at the bartender. “Do you know of anyplace that would rent us a room for free for a few days, until we get our money?”

***

The first time I used my powers violently wasn’t the first time I had a blackout. That didn’t come until later. It was about a week later. I hadn’t talked to Cole since I’d killed that guy. The cops never found out about that, though it’s all a blur as to how I got home. They blamed Sabretooth. That somehow pleased me, to be compared to Sabretooth. I didn’t like it that it pleased me, though that doesn’t make any sense.

I soon became obsessed with blood. The way it ran, the way it looked, how it felt. It scared me. I’m not insane. I’m not. I kept arguing with myself, the same way someone argues over whether or not they should go to the movies that day. Only I argued over whether or not I should kill something and taste its blood.

I got beat up by FOH again. Almost every day, actually, after they found out where I lived. A small group of them would wait outside the door for me to come out.

One day my grandparents came to visit us. I love my Grams and Papa. They were the greatest. Papa knew that I was a mutant, even though I hadn’t told anyone, and he didn’t care. He used to tell me war stories, and say that that was much worse then any mutant could ever do.

They came down one day because I got an A on my report card, and they wanted to take me out for ice cream. It’s a babyish thing, but I loved them and so I wanted to. The Friends Of Humanity followed us. They waited until we came out of the store and then they attacked us. They shot at me, and Papa pulled me behind him, trying to protect me. He was killed. Grams was screaming, but she’s a smart lady and took my arm and we ran. She’s old, though, and couldn’t run very far. FOH didn’t care that it was a crowded area, they were firing anyway. We rounded a corner and she pushed me into a dumpster, then closed it and told me to stay before heading off again. She and Papa were both in the Vietnam war, and they knew what to do. So I stayed.

I should have helped her.

I heard the men run past, then round a corner. There were gunshots, then they talked to Grams. I guess they wanted to know where I was, and she wouldn’t tell them. There were more gunshots, and they left.

It was fifteen minutes before I came out of the dumpster, and then I only did because a cop had heard that there had been a kid too, and they couldn’t find my body.

I kept coming back to the fact that if I hadn’t gotten an A then they would still be alive. If I had been braver then I might have been able to keep them from shooting her. If only I hadn’t let the FOH know I was a mutant. If I had done any of these, then my grandparents would still be alive.

Shortly after that we moved away. I never talked to anyone about my Grams and Papa. I never saw Cole again, and that was hard. I was used to telling her about my problems. She could have fixed it. But she didn’t even want to be near me any more.

Mom took me to a psychiatrist. I went there for a few weeks, told him what I was thinking. He told my mom I blamed myself and that was unhealthy, and that there might be underlying problems, and wanted to know about my father. I was adopted, and mom didn’t know who my parents were. He also told her that I needed friends, and was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I didn’t feel like it. I just felt sort of numb. And sick with myself. There was still some part of me that liked all this blood and death. I almost wished the rest of me was like that too.

I kept going to the shrink, until I found out we were in debt. I found the documents in my mom’s desk drawer while looking for a pencil sharpener. They said that we couldn’t afford to keep sending me. So now it was my fault my grandparents were dead, and I was making my mom go bankrupt too. I couldn’t do that, so I told the guy what he wanted to hear, and stopped going.

Shortly after that I started having blackouts.

***

“We really appreciate this,” Bobby said to the young woman, smiling pleasantly.

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughed, “I have enough couches for giants like you two, and you’ll pay me with work.” She grinned and eyed them. “I’ve been meaning to get some help since my busboy quit anyway.”

Sam smiled, turning up the southern charm, and said “Well we certainly can do that, ma’am. Ah’m real good at busboyin’. By the way, what does a busboy do?”

She laughed and put their suitcases in the office. “You fellas can sleep in there. Breakfast is whatever you can find, and dinner’s at six.”

“What do you want us to make?” Bobby asked, winking.

Her eyebrows rose in the instant before Sam said “Getting Bobby ta cook something decent is harder then pullin’ hens teeth. Ah’ll cook if ya want, but please don’t punish me with his slop!”

She laughed and shook her head. “No, guys, that’s all right. I’ll make dinner tonight, but don’t get used to it.”

Bobby grinned. “Feels just like home!”

***

The blackouts started getting longer and longer. One day I remember well, the Marauders were attacking nearby my school and we weren’t allowed to go out. As I watched the television my eyes clouded over, and I went blank. When I came to it was late that afternoon, and I was washing blood out of my clothes. I don’t know where it came from. I don’t want to know where it came from. The kids at school called me Minitooth, and I was afraid to ask why. Since then I blackout for seconds, or hours. One time even days.

I heard footsteps and turned quickly, taking in the metal walls and floor as I did so. We’re underground; the air is heavy with the smell of earth.

A man was walking down the passage toward me, clad in silver. His face was white with a red diamond tattoo on his forehead, between his eyes. A cape made up of metal strands floated along behind him. He came and stood beside me, looking down at me. I just stared at my hands, too afraid to look up. I had attacked him once. When I found myself suddenly aware and he was standing above me with a needle, and I was in a lab and--and . . . I don’t know. I remember panicking and attacking him, and he threw me across the room with one swipe. My head cracked against the wall, and I heard some ribs break. They healed, of course. He wanted my DNA. He still does tests, but it’s not as bad as it was those first few days. I’m allowed to walk around by myself, without a collar sometimes.

He reached down and took my chin, tilting my head up and looking into my eyes.

“Max?”

I nodded as much as I could with his fingers digging into my skin.

“Would you like to go outside?”

I licked my lips and nodded. I would. Very much so. It’s so better than staying in here and listening to the screams. I can hear them all the time.

“Very well.” Dr. Essex turned and walked away, motioning for me to follow.

***

Bobby picked up two bottles and a plate, taking them back to the kitchen where Sam stood at the sink, washing dishes. Amanda was up at the bar serving drinks and verbally sparring with some customers while playing psychiatrist to others.

“So this is what the working class is like,” Bobby laughed, picking up a plate and drying it. “I think I prefer to save the world and let everyone else pay for my way.”

Sam laughed and handed him a glass. “That ain’t no fun!”

“I think it’s fun. I think it’s great fun,” Bobby returned quickly.

There was silence for a minute, then Sam looked around Bobby’s back to be sure no one was coming and said “About that li’l mutant kid we were on our way ta see. What are we gonna do about him?”

Bobby shrugged. “He’ll stay put until we can go check it out. No biggie,” he said before walking back out. He smiled down at two people who’d just walked in and motioned for them to follow him back to a table. “What can I getcha?” he asked quickly, smiling.

The man eyed him for a minute, then seemed to be happy about something. “This is my ward, Max,” the obviously rich man said, motioning to the boy. “I plan on leaving him here, but I’m afraid I don’t know you.”

Bobby eyed the boy. He was about fifteen years old from the looks of him, shaggy blonde hair falling in uncertain blue eyes. “I don’t know if--”

“It’s fine, Bobby,” Amanda said from the bar. “Max stays here quite a bit.” She turned and eyed the boy. “You sit there and be good, clear?”

The kid nodded slowly, watching her. “Sure,” he said quietly.

Bobby shrugged and smiled down at him. “Okay, Max. You want something to eat or drink?”

The boy watched the older man walk out the door, his blue eyes tracking every move he made as though waiting for him to turn around and do something.

“Max?”

The blonde head jerked up, startled. “Oh. Sorry. Uh, no, thanks.”

Bobby frowned as the boy looked away again. “Okay,” he said after a minute, “but if you want anything, just call. My name’s Bobby, and my friend Sam is in back, okay?”

The boy nodded silently.

“Okay, then.” Bobby turned and walked slowly around the bar, frowning. “Is that kid okay? He looks . . . I mean, I don’t know anything about this, but to me he looks abused or something.”

Amanda smiled slightly, shaking her head. “He has some sort of mental illness. Sometimes he’s perfectly fine, a little angel, and other times he’s . . .” she shook her head again, handing Bobby two glasses. “Here, take these to Sam. I’ll watch the kid, he should be good.”

Bobby shot another glance toward the boy, then moved into the back.

***

We spent the day playing cards. Bobby showed me some tricks. I showed him a few too. Nicole used to like magic, and would make me sit for hours and watch as she perfected some new stunt.

I like this man. Even when Essex comes to pick me up, I feel okay. I know that something really, really bad could happen when I get back, but maybe I have a friend, at last. Maybe he could help me?

***

“Sam, that was my blanket.”

Sam shook his head, grinning.

“Are you two boys still fighting about the covers?” Amanda laughed, handing Bobby three mugs and a plate.

“Well, Sam wouldn’t let me have any last night!” Bobby cried, trying not to laugh.

Amanda just shook her head. “Did Max come in yesterday? I didn’t see him.”

Bobby nodded, grinning. “Yeah, that’s the second day in a row. I like that little kid. He’s pretty cool.”

Amanda smiled. “Yeah, he is.”

***

“So what j’you do today, boy?” came the ominous growl. It didn’t bother Minitooth. Nothing bothered him when he felt like this. That little wimp, Max, would’ve called it a blackout, and would later “wake up” remembering nothing. Minitooth didn’t care. Why should he? If he had his way then the other Max would never, ever come out. And Essex said that someday that would happen, if he was lucky and let Essex do what the bastard wanted. So okay, fine. Big whoop.

“Go screw yourself, daddy,” Minitooth said easily to the man who stood in the doorway.

Sabretooth started laughing and walked in, reaching the couch where Minitooth sat in a matter of seconds. Still laughing he grabbed the child’s head, yanking it back and up and drawing pinpricks of blood from the skin. “What was that, boy?”

“I said go screw yourself. Everyone knows no one else’ll have you,” Minitooth said quietly, his eyes flashing.

The boy was lifted out of his seat by the back of his neck, a move that would have anyone else trying to escape. Minitooth just grinned ferally at his father, then lashed out with his own claws, far longer then Victor’s. Sabretooth dropped him quickly, then snarled and lunged forward. The smaller version rolled swiftly off the couch, coming to a stand and backing quickly away. He just watched Sabretooth come, then again popped his claws and raked them across the larger Creed’s chest as the man flew by. Sabretooth’s own momentum carried him to the other side of the room, where he slammed against the wall.

Minitooth looked at him for a minute, then walked out of the room silently. “Be smart, Pop. You can’t beat me.”

Essex stepped out of the shadows, eyeing the boy. “You want to go up?”

Minitooth cocked his head, thinking. “Nah.”

Sinister’s eyebrows rose. “Let me rephrase. I have work to do above. I don’t trust you down here with the other Marauders. Come with me.”

Minitooth looked at the doctor again and debated on whether or not he felt like obeying. Finally he shrugged. “Okay. I think I’ll let Max deal with the mundanes, though.”

Essex just nodded.

***

I get to go above again. This is the third day in a row. I’m glad. I like going above, where I can breathe without worrying about what someone might do to me next. My back still hurts from the last encounter with Scalphunter I had. My mother never hit me--well, a few times, she’d spank me when I was little and I did something bad. But never really hard or anything. I miss my mother. I don’t even know what happened to her.

There’s the bar. I walk in without waiting for Essex and go to the back, where I usually sit. It’s out of the way, and I can watch people go by. I like people. I like watching them walk around and do things, talk to each other, stuff like that. Bobby came out of the double swing doors that lead into the back, smiled and headed my way when he saw me. I’m glad to see him. I like Bobby a lot. And I have a new magic trick to show him.

I don’t think Bobby would ever hurt me, not like the others do. Maybe . . . maybe I could get him to take me away after all. Take me home. I want to go home--away from here.

“Hey, kid. Wassup?”

He says that every time I come in, then walks over and ruffles my hair. Like he just did. “What’s your home like, Bobby?” I asked, watching as he pulled up a chair and flopped down into it.

He was silent for a moment, as if considering. “Well, we have fights,” he said after a bit, “just like any family.”

Behind the bar Sam started laughing and walked back through the double doors to the kitchen, though I don’t know why. Bobby grinned as if he’d said a joke that only he got and continued. “And we have boyfriends and girlfriends and arguments among ourselves. But mostly we get along okay, and everyone is pretty supportive of everyone else.”

I nodded. “It used to be like that in my family. It . . . it’s, uh . . . not anymore. Not at all.”

Bobby cocked his head, watching me. “You in trouble, kid? I can help.”

I brushed the hair out of my face and bit my lip. Tell him? I don’t know. What if he doesn’t like mutants? What if he can’t help? “I . . . wanna play cards?”

Bobby watched me for a minute more, then nodded and took the deck out of my hands, shuffling it.

***

I looked at myself in the mirror. Essex’s going up for supplies again today. He’s been waiting for a shipment of something, and it’s been late. Today I’m going to go up top, and get help from Bobby. Maybe he’ll help me. Of course he’ll help me. He has to. He was ready to yesterday, but I didn’t let him. He’ll help me. I could go live with him, maybe.

“Max?” I heard called, and I ran out of my room and up the stairs to where Essex was waiting. In silence we went up top, and he left me in front of the bar doors. I walked in quietly, looking around. There was no one there. I felt my heartbeat speed up. Bobby had to be here today. He had to get me out. I was going to die here. I got beaten every day and Sabretooth wanted to kill me. Oh lord.

“Amanda?” I asked quietly, looking around. She smiled up at me. “Where’s Bobby?”

Amanda tucked a lock of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear and hung the mug up on the rack. “He and Sam had to leave. They got a call last night from their family--they had to go, it was an emergency. And besides, they got their money this morning and didn’t need to stay anymore.”

They’re gone. I sat down hard on the stool, my legs unable to support my weight. Amanda leaned over and put a hand on my forehead, frowning. “Someone get the doctor!” I heard through a daze. “He doesn’t look too good!”

I don’t know how long I sat there. They were gone. They left me. How could they do that? They were supposed to take me home--away from here, where I was hurt, and feared for my life. Where I had blackouts and got sick from the things the doctor injected into me. They left.

“Max.”

The word had been said more then once. I realized that.

“Max.”

My eyes were pulled further open, and a light was shone into them.

“Max.”

I looked up, blinking. They left me.

“Come on, Max.”

It’s the doctor.

“Come on, boy. We’re going home.”

They left.

--End

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