Speed by Black Flame

Disclaimer:

I don’t THINK I own Evo… Lemme check… Nope. ‘Fraid I don’t. Sorry folks.

*crawls out from under rock* GASP! Behold! Black Flame has made her return! So sorry for the long delay/lethargy. For you see, my computer ran away to Washington. Seriously. Well, Actually, I should say my internet has. So, without internet, there was no way I could post. *dramatic sniffle* Now then, everyone has already taken Pietro’s side for Speed and Spyke. Except my friend Casey, who is a Daniels fan. I didn’t know this until it was too late. So, there’s no way to get rid of him. Dang. Anywho, I decided to write a thingy making all Pietro fans HAPPY! ^_^! Enjoy!

Speed and Spyke - The parts the writers decided to cut out of the show in an attempt to get you to like Daniels. And failed.

"Maximoff! Pass the ball!" The coach screamed. I could’ve EASILY made it down the court in time to win the game. Easily I say! But NOOOO. This was the kind of coach that would cut you from the team if you stepped out of line. Basketball was my current legal hobby. So, I was ready to when I saw who happened to be open and awaiting a pass from me… Daniels. A quick glance at the coach told me I’d better or else. Then, that loser won the game for us! It SHOULD have been me carried away! True, we DID win the game, but I have to win for it to count as a victory on my standards. Maybe I’m too competitive… No, I’m DEFINANTLY too competitive. Plus, My death glare didn’t seem to burn a hole in the back of his head. He was too busy checking out his wrist, looking confused.

"Yes Daniels… You have a wrist." I muttered under my breath. That’s when I noticed that the floor had been ripped up. I tried to remember if I did it accidentally. I get so caught up in what I’m doing that I fail to notice if I destroy something in the process. It wasn’t my style. Mine was more a flaming stripe the mysteriously appears if I lose control of myself and use superspeed. Whatever. Back to trying to melt Daniels into a pool of primordial ooze.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

*cut to opening credits* Ooh! A Brotherhood scene! …Hey! Why does TOAD get to be in front? Huh?! Look! Look! See me?! I’m destroying things and growling at Daniels! Blah… Loser X-Men. Boring…

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Boys Locker Room

The importance of perfect hair. Very aerodynamic, so it doesn’t slow me down. There are these two chunks that never want to stay down, no matter how hard I try. I guess they look kind of cool.

"Good game Evan!" One of my so-called team mates calls. Daniels… The compliment sponge. I smile at the image of him as a sponge. I say some stuff that I probably mean. My mouth has a tendency to work faster than my brain.

"Hey… You couldn’t have made it down the court in enough time anyways." He said, trying to make me feel better or something. It failed. Big time. Pietro translation: You’re slow. Words can’t describe how that feels to me. It’s like when you have something you’re good at. Say… Drawing. Someone comes and tells you that a drawing you’re proud of sucks. It should be used as fire fuel. Others may say good stuff about it, but that one persons opinion is the one to come to mind when you think of it. …Okay, so words can describe it.

"I’m SICK of holding back just to make you losers (,loser!) look good!"

I picked up my duffel bag and stormed out. His aunt comes in and says we’ve competing since we were babies. Impossible… I’ve only known him since I was ten. Unless she considered me a baby then. I know I looked about six. I check around to make sure no one’s there and zipped off. It wouldn’t exactly matter if anyone was there anyways. Shame isn’t a trait I seem to own. Approximately a minute thirty and seven eighths of a second later, I show up at my hotel building.

"Hey Hun. How’d your game go?" Myra asked, popping her gum. She owns the place. We’re on friendly terms.

"We won…" I say dejectedly.

"Then why do ya sound disappointed?"

"I didn’t win."

"Ah…" She rolled her eyes. For an old lady, she’s pretty cool. She drummed long, fake pink nails on the counter top.

"Why not?"

‘Five seconds. Clock. Blocked. Other end of court. Forced pass. Daniels." She looked at me with her eyes half closed.

"You couldn’t have made it, even if you TRIED kid."

Wow… Two times in a day. Gotta be a record. I made a frustrated sound.

"By the way… Have your parents worked things out yet?"

Okay. So I may not have been ENTIRELY truthful when I told her why I was here. But she wouldn’t have let me stay if she knew I was a run away from the orphanage. Plus, I pay her for the room. Not with my own money, but still. It’s the thought that counts.

"No… I hope they do soon…" I said with a dramatic sniffle. She sighed. Weird thing is, I feel funny. I’m told this feeling is guilt. She’s a sweet old lady, in her fifties or so, who has a soft spot for people. She has thin but curly brown hair that’s been dyed red, bad makeup, and a beehive hair-do. I told her my parents were fighting, and it was best for me to stay away from there until they work it out, as they have violent tendencies when they’re mad. They send me money to stay here. She bought it… Or at least pretends to.

"Me too."

"Here’s tonight’s stay money!" I said changing the subject, pulling out my wallet. I’m getting kind of low on cash. I’ll need to make another money run tonight. I glance at the clock on the wall. Only 10:12. The school won’t be empty for another few good hours.

I fished my keys out of my pocket and opened room 269, the farthest door down the hall on the top floor. The room I insisted I take. Spotless, and no help from cleaning ladies what-so-ever. I hate messes. In one swift motion, I have the remote in hand and sitting on the bed, in front of the mighty god known as TV. Clicking it on, I found the news.

"And tonight’s game ended in a narrow victory for New York’s own Meteors! Good Game guys!" The newscaster cheered. It cut to some footage of Daniels skidding along the floor. Anger bubbled. I threw a pillow at the TV and flopped down. My eyes bugged. Holy crap…

"I’m jealous of Daniels…" I said in awe.

"I’m JEALOUS of Daniels." The power of that statement getting to me.

"I’m jealous of DANIELS!" Feeling slightly sick. I stared up at the ceiling for a second. I grabbed up the pillow I was laying on, put it over my face, and screamed. After a few minutes of this, I started to feel dizzy. I rolled over, feeling better. I changed the channel from the news, who was doing one of those sap stories about people in bad shape. Bleah. I ended up on Cartoon Network, where they were showing Roadrunner re-runs. I LOVE Roadrunner. And Flash. And Sonic the Hedgehog. And most Animes. I detect a theme. Not that I ever plan on telling anyone I’m a rabid cartoon fan.

Wile E. Coyote trying to catch him, and missing… And zooming off a cliff with the long whistle. CRASH! Into the ground where two other coyote holes are. I cracked up. It wasn’t that funny unless you imagine Daniels as the coyote and me as the roadrunner. Then, it’s hilarious. My stomach growled. Food time. I zoomed over to the sink and took a drink from the faucet. Zoom to the phone, and clear my throat. I dialed room service.

"Hello?" A boy answers, sounding bored.

"Hello. I’d like to place an order." I said, imitating a dead on impression of my father. The bastard. The imitation I always use when I don’t want my voice to be recognized.

"That’s what we’re here for, sir."

"Five cokes, two pizzas, a piece of chocolate cake, and a fudge sundae." There’s a pause.

"Um… Okay. What room are you in?"

"Room 2-" I pick up some paper from my sketchbook and start to crinkle it against the mouth, bringing it closer to the receiver.

"Sir?" I hang up the phone quietly, making sure there’s no clicking noise. My plan only works half of the time. Chances are, he might pretend never to have gotten an order. And even if he is ambitious, someone might be as dishonest as me and pretend that they ordered it. If it works, I get to wait about an hour. Sure enough, an hour later, there’s a tired knock on the door. I answer it, feigning innocence. There, sits a VERY tired bellboy, looking irritated with a tray of food.

"Did YOU order anything?"

"No… I don’t think I did." He cries out in anger.

"See, I’ve been trying to find who ordered this for the past hour, and no one ordered anything. I’ve gone the fifty frikkin’ rooms for this thing. Now, I’ve got to bring it downstairs again!" He said, twitching. I give my best friendly smile.

"Hey… If it bugs you so much, I’ll take it off your hands. Your boss won’t know the difference, and it’ll spare you from having to drag the thing down the stairs." The guy smiles weakly.

"`Kay. I’ll have to charge you though."

"…No. That’s okay. I don’t want it now." His eyes bug. I’m pushed into my room by a cart of heavily pushed food, the door slams, and maniacal laughter is heard down the halls. Success. All of the pizza’s gone in seconds. For someone my size, I have a huge appetite. Now the cake’s gone. I pick up the sundae and bring it to my bed, forced to eat it slowly, unless I want a case of brain freeze big enough to drive someone insane. Happened once too. I grab up my sketchbook and start to doodle. Mainly basketballs for some reason. I grab up a coke and shove the rest into the minifridge, where my emergency supply is held.

I start to draw Daniels chibi style, lying face first on the ground with spinning eyes. I stare at a second. It needs something. In a second, There’s me, doing a wrestling style victory pose, one foot in the small of his back, wearing my basketall uniform with the thirty-two on it. I frown again. It’s still missing something. I replace the basketball uniform some weird-but-cool looking suit thing. Shoulderpads over a body suit with the fingers cut out, and weird armored boots that come up to the knees. Hmmm… With a final grin of satisfaction, I doodle a lighting bolt coming from the chest pad thing. Perfect! I look at the clock in the alarm clock on the bedside table. Midnight. I chugged down the Coke for added energy and zip off to school to make my rounds. I know someones locker that’s getting extra SPECIAL attention tonight.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* School

"Aww man! Not again!" Daniels! Full speed ahead.

"What happened?" He does a double take.

"Where’d YOU come from?"

"That’s a question you should be asking on the basketball court." I smirk. He’s holding an empty wallet, which I know nothing about. For the time being anyways.

"Hey… You played a great game last night!" He says, once again trying to make me better about losing. One good thing about the guy is that he knows how much winning means to me. Not that it matters right now.

"Ha! So you admit I’m better than you!" Mental slap to the forehead. That sounded lame. Real lame.

"Faster… Not better." He replies. Well, ain’t YOU Mr. Smartypants all of the sudden!

"Whatever… What’s the matter?"

"I got ripped off again last night!" He cried. Bozo should just carry his wallet with him instead of leaving it in his locker anyways. He starts to rant. I happen to be the sypathetic ear for the moment.

"Sounds like a bona fide mystery dude." I say, mimicking his speech patterns. He fails to see this, of course. How my humor is wasted on the morons. I hand him some of the left over money I have with a fake friendly smile.

"Hey, Thanks man!" he said, putting it in his wallet. "Catch you later!"

"Not even on your best days Daniels… You’ll NEVER catch me." I say as he runs off, feeling my villain persona come forth. I’m convinced I have multiple personality disorder. Or maybe just my ADHD causing my imagination to run away with me again. I check a list made on hotel stationary.

"Letse… Shoulder pads, Shin guards, cleats, knee pads…" Reading it off. Those should be in the equipment room. I ran down to the gym and peered around. Empty. I made my way down to the room and pull out some sports equipment. I stuck it in a pile and run off to the art room, grabbing some beigeish-grey spray paint. What’s a little stolen property and skipped school between friends?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Back in the hotel room

Finished! I’m covered in spray paint due to a freak accident, but happy. My battle outfit is complete! Took me about a quarter of a second too. It’s the same one I drew the other night. Teal and lighter teal for a lighting stripe on both sides. Time for another money run tonight. I try to run my hand through my hair. It sticks with no sign of letting go. I tugged at it again.

"OW!" …First, I need a shower.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*School

Strangely, the doors were already unlocked when I got there.

"They need to get a better security system on this place."

It feels kind of weird wearing the uniform to rob things in. It’s not exactly inconspicuous. But then again, since when am I inconspicuous? I LIKE being noticed. Time to go into hyperspeed! Using it’s kinda like taking a deep breath or something. Normal, dark hallways, unguarded lockers, scattered pieces of paper along the hall, Daniels in the corner looking like he saw a ghost in some crude cage/shield, darker hallways… Daniels? I skidded to a stop in front of the loser. He did a TRIPLE take!

"Well Well Well! Looks my old buddy Daniels has got a few tricks of his own! But as usual, not as good as mine."

"Pietro?!"

"Call me Quicksilver! Like the costume? Made it myself! Took about a quarter of a second. Mine if I take that back?" I said in hyper chipmunk mode. I grabbed his wallet and took my money back from it.

"But why would you rip me off man?"

"For the kicks man, for the challenge!" I mimicked his boarder lingo again. Plus, I kinda needed the money to stay somewhere besides the orphanage. But he didn’t need to know that. Anyways… No time to goof around and talk to the terminally naïve! I’ve got lockers to rob!

"…I don’t get it!"

"I’m bored. You are stupid. You thought you were better than me. I’ve got news for you! I’m faster, better, smarter than you’ll ever be. So NYEH!" I slapped him for added emphasis. …Oh man! That felt GREAT! I wonder how long THAT’S been waiting to get out? Almost done with my tri weekly night job… I heard the cops coming just as I finished.

"Can you say scapegoat?" I asked a stunned Daniels, trapped in his own spikey cage. I think I might have been talking to him other than that, but caffeine won’t let me remember. I zipped off as I heard the front doors click open. I heard a few incoherent babbling sounds as they took him away… I can’t resist… Instead of zipping home, I decided to take a look to see what Daniels was doing. They were dragging him off, and he was yelling bloody murder.

"IT WASN’T ME! I WAS FRAMED!" He spotted me and glared. I waved and cackled. Tonight was probably the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Back to the hotel

I found the time to change into my normal clothes on the run home. Before I opened the door, I had this impending sense of doom.

I shook it off and walked inside, only to be met by a very solemn looking Myra. Uh oh…

"Hey kid…"

"Umm… Hi."

"…Why didn’t you tell me you were a runaway from the orphanage?"

Oh *beep*.

"…You wouldn’t have let me stay if you knew."

"Yer right. I wouldn’t have."

"How’d you find out?"

"Some guys representing the J.B Warren orphanage showed up looking for you."

"…Did you tell them where I was?"

"No." An internal sigh of relief was in order.

"Why’d you run kid?" I sat down in one of the old plastic lobby chairs.

"Tell me this. Have you ever visited a pound?" Wonderful. I was getting metaphorical again. She nodded.

"You know that the unique ones that stand out always go first, even if the person is in no way, shape or form ready for any responsibility. The dog misbehaves, so they try and train it themselves. That doesn’t work. So then they bring to correctional behavior place. It only works for a little while, because it’s stubborn. Then, they get tired of it and ignore it, or just bring it back to the pound. Some people are bad… they get a dog for the sole purpose of having one. Others get one to have someone to vent on. Others… Others are sick. Real sick." She stared at me. I continued, good mood diminishing as some memories weaseled their way into my head.

"Would you want to go back there if you escaped? Even if it was better for you?" She shook her head.

"I’ll let you stay for a week without having to pay. It’ll give you enough time to find a new place, okay?" I nodded, feeling depressed. Not even the slapping Daniels memory was cheering me up. I trudged up the stairs saying a barely audible thanks. She said a barely audible You’re welcome.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Hotel Room blues

Linkin Park’s "In the End" was blaring from my headphones. I love Linkin Park.

Words I can relate to right now. I glance around the room out of habit, and dig out a stuffed panther doll from my duffel bag. It lives in there. On one or more occasions, it was almost discovered too. I always feel dumb with it, but it reminds me of when I lived with Marya and Django… And Wanda. They gave it to me on our fourth birthday. Wanda got a stuffed unicorn. It’s really the only thing I have left of my family. Wanda’s in an asylum, and my mom and dad… Well… They’re dead.

"Hey Inky." I say to the toy, feeling increasingly stupid.

"You can tell I’m not having a great day when I start talking to YOU." It stared at me with glassy eyes. I can’t help it. I give it hug and decide to get to sleep.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Three Days later in Bayville

Yawn. School buses are boring. And slow. I read the sign coming into the city we were scheduled to play against tonight. Weird, because it was made earlier today, insisting that they wanted to play us. Bayville. I looked around the scenery. Snoozeville all the way. Oh well. At least Daniels wasn’t on the bus, making dumb jokes that made the equally stupid members of the team laugh. Like…

"What do you get when you cross *looks around bus* Pietro with bird?"

"Dunno. What?"

"A hummingbird on speed!"

Most people roll their eyes, but a few laugh. It wasn’t even funny. I’m NOT a hummingbird on speed. I was tempted to retaliate with what do you get when Daniels’ head intercepts a basketball and glare at him. …On second thought, I’m REALLY glad he’s not here.

"Maximoff! Want a Surge?"

"Sure! Toss it over!" A huge player threw a can in my direction. I caught it and looked at it. The holy grail of hyperness… Banned in some states.

"Maximoff." The guy lumbered over to me. I think his name’s Chris. "Wanna have a drinking contest?" …Must resist.

"Sure thing! What are the terms?" … Another mental slap to the forehead. Damn competitive reflex. They ALWAYS do this before a game they really want to win. Unfortunately, they figured out that caffeine makes me really hyper. Add that to my metabolism and… Well, the end of the world as we know it.

"Ten cans each. First one to finish `em all wins."

"You’re on."

Interesting how the whole team gathered around the contest. They must be as bored as I am.

"Drink Drink Drink Drink!" Of course, I finish first, and he’s still on his third. He should be happy I went really easy on him.

"A’ight!" He says happily, caffeine latching onto his nerves. Too late for me. Everything started to vibrate. An evil laugh escapes.

"…Umm, Pietro?"

"YEAH?!"

"…How many fingers am I holding up?" I squint and grab onto one of his three hands he’s holding up.

"How can I tell if you keep waving around?!" … "SIX!" I cheer happily. He exchanges a concerned look with one of Daniels friends. Pffft. Who needs him. I feel great and alive and happy and free!

"The other team is gonna die." Chris grins.

The bus screeches to a halt in front of a school. That’s it. Just a plain, non descript school. I grabbed up my playing gear and ran to the front of the bus, leaving a very bewildered person behind me. I need to run around. Big time. It’s really warm outside, is the first thing I notice. Next thing is Daniels surrounded by a bunch of guys in shades and redheads. …Then I start having trouble remembering much. Letse…

"Whoops! Too slow! Props for the attitude. Maybe there’s hope for you after all Daniels!" Then flipping Shade Guy into the ground and Daniels off a skateboard. Somehow, I end up in my battle costume and am making a twister down town. For some reason I’m floating. Now I start to remember stuff, as the amount of energy spent running around cancels out some Surge. I’m pinned to a wall by spikes. I can’t figure out why, but that’s not important right now. I think. Daniels is in this dorky black uniform wearing a helmet. There are no longer many Shade dudes and Redheads, but two. They’re wearing ugly outfits too. They look pretty pissed. Here comes that sinking feeling.

"So what. You can’t prove I did anything." I say more to myself to them. At this point, Daniels gets a smug look and whips out a tape recorder. He hits the play button.

"Yeah, Maybe I did rob all those lockers. Whatcha gonna do about it?" Comes back at me. Uh oh. He pops out the tape and puts it in my mouth.

"Have fun in jail!" He cackles before walking up. Police sirens ring again. I take a look around the scenery. Tossed up cars and papers are everywhere. A huge wreck. Looks like my handiwork. It also occurs to me that all of my back and neck , and to a certain extent my head, HURTS. Cops pull up and take a look at me with a grin. I spit out the tape and give my best innocent look… And they’re not buying it. Today has not been my day.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Jailhouse blues

"Okay kid… Once again. Who’s your legal guardian?"

"And I’ll tell YOU once again. I’m a cyborg created on Mars who has come to study your planet. Do not resist or your planet shall be destroyed." The cop rolls his eyes. Like I’m gonna tell him I’m an orphan and get put back there.

"You told me that you were a spy for the ghost network last time." I pretended to look thoughtful.

"…I’m both." He got up and calmly walked over to the wall and started banging his head on it. Shortly afterwards, he took a seat.

"At least let me print ya…" He groaned. The room was covered in black smudges. He was among the things covered in smudges. Specially smudged too, so they can’t take a fingerprint from it.

"Photo?" He asked hopefully, looking at some pictures where I appeared to be perfectly still, but when the camera flashed, nothing was there. Ah the advantages of superspeed. I shook my head. He put his head into his arms and started to cry.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Monkey Bars and OTHER fun things to climb on.

"LEMME OUT!" I screamed, zipping to and from the bars, yelling getting louder. I can’t help it. I’m claustrophobic. A very special kind of claustrophobia. One where I’m afraid of not being able to run anywhere if danger comes. Lame, but it’s a psychological thing. I managed to talk the lead officer into just keeping me over night in the holding cell instead of the six weeks in Juvie. Until I saw how small it was. At least there was no record of me being here. I was hanging five feet from the ground on the bars. Adrenaline, caffeine, and psychological disorders all mixed onto one. There was a painfully familiar silhouette near by. PLEASE let me be wrong. I dropped to the ground and stood up straight as a reflex.

"Hello Pietro. It’s been a while. It’s nice to see you again, even under such distressing circumstances." …Dang. I leaned into the bars.

"You could make them a lot less distressing you know." My mouth outran my brain again. NOOO. Bad Man, brain says. Get out of here and run around like a crack monkey mouth says.

"In time Pietro. I am in need of your services."

"Sure, whatever. Just get me out of here!" I think I’m gonna amputate my mouth once I get out.

"Very well." The bars bent outward to make a hole. I stepped out into freedom. Then it hit me. Not freedom, but to do whatever my *shudder* FATHER told me to do. Great. He extended a hand. I regarded it for moment and walked through the room of unconscious officers and to the car. He was wearing his special "I’m in charge of your life again" uniform. For some reason, all I could think of was the scene from Star Wars with Darth Vader telling Luke he was his father.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* To the Boarding House: AKA - Bayville Asylum

The car ride here had been …interesting. He explained to me that he was making a team of mutants to protect others from the threat of humanity’s prejudice and hatred of all things that are different. I’m not stupid. I know what he really meant. He’s making an army of mutants to wipe out humans and help him take over the world. I considered running for dear life, but that might not have been the brightest idea on the planet. He would have found me again anyways. I have a feeling that there’s a tracking device in my brain or something. He gave me cell phone to report on the status of my "team mates." One gets the impression that I don’t LIKE working with people. One would be 100% right. I don’t need anyone. Then remind me why I’m here at a kitchen table in rundown house. Magneto as he calls himself now, is lecturing some blue chick. The reaction he got when he came into the house was almost funny if I wasn’t in such a bad mood. Blue Lady dropped some dishes, and the other people living here just kinda stared, except this Goth chick. She took the remote and changed the channel to the all Goth network or something equally as creepy. I got a few curious looks. …And Magneto is leaving! Yes! I make a final face at him as he leaves, which makes the smelly guy laugh. He whirls around and I go back to sulking before he sees. He storms out with his usual drama queen flair.

"Quicksilver! Come here!" Blue Lady barks. Normally, I’d tell her to get a life, but something about her is scary. I feel like she’s not the kind of person to mess around with.

"That goes for the rest of you brainless slugs too!" Glaring Guy, Goth Chic, Smelly Dude, and Fat Person come up obediently. Can you tell I like to make up names for people if I don’t know them?

"This is Pietro. His power is enhanced speed and he will be second in command from now on." Glaring Guy glares harder. As much as I like being the boss of people, I’m not really up to this one.

"Play nice." She says flatly, before grabbing a bottle and stomping upstairs.

"Hi!" Smelly Dude cheers. "I’m Toad, yo!" Toad it is.

"Hi."

"This is Rogue… Wave hi!" She gave me the middle finger salute and sulked off to go find fresh prey to feed off of.

"…She’s not very friendly."

"Didn’t think so."

"Fred…" Fred was eating some pizza. He seemed to notice he was being talked to.

"Wha-?" He asked with his mouth full of food. I waved. He blinked and waved back before returning to his pizza.

"And Lance." Lance stomped over and grabbed the front of my shirt.

"Listen. I don’t care WHY they think you can be in charge twig boy, but I’M the one who should be. Got it?" I put up my hands in mock surrender.

"Fine Fine!" I said super fast. He blinked and tilted his head to the side.

"Whatever…" He frowned, and sat down at the table.

"Who was the Blue Chick?" I asked.

"Chronic Smurf addict. She’s Mystique, and the principal of your new school, yo." Toad answered, trying to swipe some of Fred’s pizza and getting his hand smacked in the process.

"Mine."

"What’s her power?"

"She can turn into whoever she wants to be. Not a good person to tick off. Guess what my powers are, yo!" He chirped, bouncing up and down.

"Ummm… I’m gonna take a wild stab in the dark and say you’re a toad." I smiled. He processed Pietro speak (What Wanda had dubbed whatever I said before she got hauled off) before looking disappointed.

"Guess Lance’s." He said smugly.

"Uh…" An earthquake knocked me down, and Lance started to laugh.

"He can knock down innocent bystanders at will…" I groaned. I was still sore from being knocked into a wall earlier.

"Close." Lance got up and stuck a "I’m holier than thou" pose. "I can move the earth." …Uh. I think he causes Earthquakes. I glared at him before getting up and giving him a super speed wedgie. He yelled in surprise and pain. Revenge is sweet. Toad and Fred cracked up. Having an appreciative audience is better.

"Anyways. What’s your power?" I asked Fred.

"I… uh…"

"What he means to say is he’s immovable. And strong." Lance said with a glare.

"And what’s Rogue’s?"

"She can be creepy and has the eternal case of PMS."

"I thought that was Mystique, yo."

"Her too." Lance and Toad had a good laugh.

"Really though… She can steal your power and knock you out by touching you." Lance said.

"Ah."

"You know Mag-not-so-neato from before?" Toad asked. I was just about to answer to he was my dad, when it hit me. I had a fresh start. I don’t need to tell them now. Or if I’m lucky, ever.

"Kinda. Not important though. Just busted me outta jail far as I’m concerned." They all paused to translate into slow speak.

"You were in JAIL?" Lance cried, impressed. I nodded.

"Why?" Fred asked, emerging from the fridge with what looked like all of it’s contents and beyond.

"Robbed lockers. Framed someone for it."

"How’d you get caught?" I gritted my teeth.

"Daniels had some super friends come rescue him. I could have beat that loser into the ground if it weren’t for Shade Dude and Redhead!" Speaking so fast that even I had trouble understanding some of it.

"Shades and Redhead? THEY’RE X-GEEKS!" Fred cried. "The worst of `em too!" I listened with undivided attention for possibly the first time in my life as they explained to me all the things the X-Geeks had done to them.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Much later that night… Let’s say… Three hours.

It was getting late. Real late. Plus, I was tired.

"…Hey, where am I sleeping?"

"The basement." Lance growled, remembering he was supposed to be angry at me.

"Ignore the grouch yo. This way!" He cheered happily and bounced upstairs. I grabbed up my duffel bag and zoomed after him. Of course, I had to use a normal pace once I caught up to him, but still.

"Here it is!" He opened a room. It wasn’t much, but it was nice. Pretty decent size, with a few windows. A mattress in the corner with a blue comforter, and some other random pieces of furniture. It’d need some homey touches, but I could steal those in the morning. I grabbed the cell phone from my pocket and chunked it into the open closet with a satisfying crunch. I won’t use it unless I absolutely positively have to. Hey, I have FRIENDS. Real friends who’ll understand me. Oh God… I’ve got a case of over sappiness. They’re just another group of people who are gonna ditch me like everyone else sooner or later. … But til then, might as well enjoy it.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Ta Da! … Okay, so I kinda went on and on and on at the end, but hey! …I’ll label it off as character development. And it’s not the greatest POV fic I’ve ever done in my life. Far from the worst, but not great. Ain’t Speedy shipping great?