p r o l o g u e

You can try blending in all you like. Won't work much when you're a nice shade of green. Oh, there's body make-up and stuff like that, but honestly, who has the patience or the will to apply that every bleeding day?

Not I, that's for sure.

I look pretty normal otherwise. When you look away from the green skin, I reckon I look... Well, not exactly handsome, but certainly passable. Slavic features with a hint of well built Scandinavian. Polish grandfather, Norwegian grandmother. Mutant myself.

The green skin is pretty much a dead give away, yeah.

Don't have much of a power, really.

I see hidden things.

Yup. Secrets, and safes hidden behind pictures, and secret passages. Stuff like that.

No, I haven't a clue why that warrants a green skin.

Someone up there is having a mighty big laugh at my expense, I'm sure of it.

Not that I would've been "normal" even sans green skin, but, you know, it's so damn obvious. Pretty much the first thing I hear from people is; "Oh, but you're... green."

Duh.

I never hear people say; "Oh, but you're... gay." Okay, but that's pretty rare so it doesn't really count. Or; "Oh, but you... write weird stories for equally weird people online."

Of course, if I splashed my picture up on the web, I might get that. Apparently there's a lot more weird people out there than I would've guessed. Not that that's a bad thing, mind.

Like this girl I met on the subway. She was sitting next to some kids, reading a print-out of one of my favorite stories, smiling to herself and completely ignoring those she was with until one of them whacked her over the head and shouted: "Kitty! For chrisake! Pay attention!"

She growled distractedly in reply. She seemed completely caught up in the story. Just my kind of person.

I was about to commit a killing offence, asking a complete stranger on the subway what she thought of the story, when one of the people she was with bumped into me.

*Kind. Steel claws. Feral look. Bare chested male in a cage. Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Scream. Kiss. He's so cute.*

I winced at the assault of images in my head. Oh yes, this one had secrets. I suspect I must have moaned as well, because the next thing I heard was someone yelling: "Rogue! What did you do?"

"Nothing! I just bumped into him, that's all!" She sounded worried.

I opened my eyes and gave her a weak smile, which was, quite frankly the best I could do at the time. Surprise attacks of secrets, especially something this powerful, leaves me with a pounding headache and a deep desire for licorice. Don't ask.

"I'm all right, really," I assured the people who were looking at me with varying degrees of worry in their faces. "Just bumped into... something."

"You sure?" The girl with the white bangs and the red scarf asked, biting her lip.

"Absolutely."

Her face lit up and she looked relieved.

In the mean time, one of the boys had come to a startling conclusion. "You're a mutant!"

I looked at him. Pretty blue eyes. "Oh, gee, you think?"

"And you're here, in public and...And..." He gestured with his hands, looking semi-shocked.

Wonderful.

The next sentence will probably run in the lines of "Freaks like you should be locked up somewhere, away from normal people."

My luck sucks. Actually, I'm starting to think I have none. I leaned against the wall and waited fatalistically for the "I Hate Muties speech." There are times like this I truly regret moving to New York. I'd never would've gotten this speech back in good ol' Norway.

Partly because I lived in Nowheresville, but never mind.

The boy surprised me however. "Man, you've got guts."

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Aren't you afraid?" Yellow raincoat and pink gum.

"Eh..."

"Yeah, after the whole Magneto thing, even I'm kind of worried and I'm normal good looking," blond boy said.

The one with the blue eyes whacked him amicably over the head. "Difference of opinion on that topic."

"Eh..." I repeated, getting the feeling of being backed up in to a corner by eager, inquiring teens.

"Though the Senator Kelly thing probably helped some," the girl who'd been reading the print-out said. She looked at me with serious brown eyes. "Don't you think so?"

"Quite frankly, I have no idea... I don't pay much attention to politics," I admitted and frowned thoughtfully. "Though I suppose I should, if I'm going to be living here for a while."

All five of them looked disappointed.

Looking around, I noticed that the cart we where in where more or less empty except me and the teens. I decided to be social. If I just worked at it, I was sure I could do it. "You're a mutant too?" I nodded towards the girl with the white bangs.

The odd 'mutant-bonding-us-against-them' phenomenon kicked in, and she nodded. "We all are, actually."

I must have looked surprised, because they grinned amusedly at me.

"Not all of us have oddly colored skin or strange - yet attractive - haircolours, you know," the one with the blue eyes pointed out with a grin.

"No, some have pretty blue eyes," I replied.

He first looked surprised, then turned red. "Eh..."

I snickered. "Hi. I'm Alex. You are?"

"Uh... Bobby." He quickly pushed the blond boy in front of him. "And this is John."

John grinned at me. "Hey."

"I'm Jubilee," yellow raincoat and pink bubble gum said, popping her gum a few times. "And this is Rogue..." White bangs. "And Kitty." The one with the print-out. "Nice t'meet cha."

"Likewise."

"Oh this is our stop!" Kitty got on her feet, almost losing her print-outs. "Come on, guys. Mr. Summers won't be happy if we're late."

They all pushed their way past me, barely giving me the time to jump to the side. I wasn't quick enough however, and was hit with a jumble of secrets.

*Leaned against a tree, panting. Smirk. Red-brown hair. Black sunglasses.*

*Big happy smile. Don't be late. Dark eyes. I got the card.*

*Not bad, kid, not bad. Ferocious. Up, spin, kick. Can you teach me that?*

*Laughing. Pool. Where is she? Pretty girl.*

*I definitely shouldn't have seen that. Kisses. Bodies behind the pavilion.*

Do all of these kids have serious, big secrets?

I winced and rubbed the bridge of my nose. I was going to get all the bloody store had of licorice. Then I was going to veg on the couch for at least a day. Maybe two.

She looked down at a piece of paper in her hand, then looked up with a smile. "Are you Alexander Olson? Freelance graphic designer?"

"...Yeah. Well, it's Olsen, actually." Americans never get that right. Wonder why? I gave her a curious look. "Why?"

"My name is Ororo Munroe, I'm from the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, and I might have a job for you."

Oh. Oh cool. I opened the door further to let her in. She wanted me to make a web-page to represent the school. I'll spare you the further shop talk and just say that I took the job (without doing flip-flops out of joy. Though, I think I would've if I knew how).

"Do you know when you can begin?" Munroe asked, pen poised on a piece of paper.

I went through my date-book in my head. Almost finished the Carmelie deal, wasn't going to work for Blyth, Tims and Gerald until next week... "I could start right away, if you like."

She smiled. "That would be wonderful."

I followed her out to the school, (recon, she said) and ended up in the computer room, working with Kitty.

Someone up there is having fun with me life.

I can tell.