Mystique had been pretty cranky lately. Not that Lance could blame her. After all, he and the rest of the Brotherhood did show up to tear apart her little family reunion.

Still, that was no excuse for her to give him two weeks of detention. She even did a half-assed job trying to come up with an excuse. Since when was his natural hair color offensive?! That got him one week, and his “insubordination” earned him another.

Luckily, she didn’t see him flip her off later; and, hopefully, she wouldn’t assume that he was the one who had keyed her car.

Lance put his physics book back into his locker and slammed the door shut with frustration. He wondered what other little tortures Mystique had planned for them.

She’ll probably fling a bunch of menial tasks at us... Or she’ll just send us on some suicide mission... Hmph. Two fuckin’ weeks of detention!

He briefly wondered what she would do to him if he skipped out on his punishment. He leaned back against his locker and waited for the halls to clear up. When that occurred, he waited for the tardy bell to ring. Ha! I’ll show her! I’ll just refuse to go to my classes and... get into more trouble... and... yeah!

His passive resistance movement was cut short when Pietro was suddenly standing next to him.

Even though Lance was now used to Pietro’s abrupt appearances, he was still a little annoyed. “Can’t you just walk at a normal pace like everybody else?”

Pietro stared at him as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, then shook his head. “Of course not.” He moved closer to Lance and inquired in a prying voice: “Soooo... What are you doing?”

“I’m going on strike. Mystique gave me two weeks of detention because she claimed that my hair color is offensive!”

“Poor baby,” he grinned. “Todd’s got the same problem and so does Fred. I wonder why she hasn’t done anything to me yet.”

“You’re just special,” Lance muttered with a scowl.

“Hey... I know something that’ll cheer you up.”

“What?”

Without warning, Lance was dragged into the bathroom by Pietro. He was led into a stall, and Pietro closed and locked the door behind them.

“What are you do--?” For once, it was Lance’s turn to be cut off by a lusty kiss.

“Taking initiative,” Pietro murmured as his lips parted from Lance’s. One long-fingered hand traveled down Lance’s chest and found its way up his shirt.

“I-in school?!” Lance, as excited as he was, couldn’t help but feel a little flustered.

“Why not?” Pietro questioned as he pulled the fabric of Lance’s shirt up. “No one’s gonna catch us; they’re all in class right now. It’s just you--” He dropped down to his knees and traced the contours of Lance’s flat stomach with eager lips, his fingers hooking onto the fabric of the older boy’s pants. “--and me.” Quick fingers snatched the fly of his pants and worked the zipper down.

“I-i, uh... alluvium,” Lance stammered dumbly. Alluvium?! Why the hell did I say that?!

Pietro gave him a funny look, then shrugged. He pulled Lance’s jeans down and looked up at his boyfriend. “Want me to stop?”

Lance shook his head, afraid that if he opened his mouth, more weird gibberish would emerge. Fingers toyed with him through the fabric of his boxers, and he could already heel his body react to the caresses. He ran his fingers through Pietro’s hair, encouraging him to continue as his own soft moans filled the stall.

“Shh,” Pietro hissed, pulling Lance’s boxers down. “Don’t want people to hear us, do you?”

“Easy for you to-- Ahh--”

That only left Lance and Pietro, the two who didn’t go to her office. After thinking it over, she came to the conclusion that it was probably Lance, since he had more of a reason to commit the act of vandalism than Pietro did. However, she secretly hoped that it was Pietro who did it, as it would finally give her an excuse to punish the brat.

She growled to herself at the thought of him and his father. What she wanted most at the moment was to wring the little whelp’s neck. After all, Magneto had taken her son away, so it would only be fair for her to return the favor.

Unfortunately, things weren’t always that easy. Magnus wanted her to play nice, and as long as she was under his employment, that was all she could do.

She stopped by the boys’ bathroom and stared at the door. Lance could be in there, since he’d apparently skipped his class... He’s probably in there smoking pot, or something...

She opened the door and stepped inside to hear a rather familiar voice. Only the voice wasn’t speaking, it was moaning quite pleasantly.

“Mmm, Pietro--”

Oh, dear God.

Well, at least he wasn’t smoking pot.

Mystique took a silent, cautious step towards the stall. The sounds she heard pretty much confirmed her suspicion, so she merely stood there, her head filling with thoughts.

I wonder what Magnus would do if he found out about his son’s “activities”, she thought to herself as she exited the bathroom as quietly as possible.

She rushed back to her office, locked the door, and returned to her true guise. She then turned away from the door and gave a startled jump.

“Magnus!” Oh yes, he’s always there when you need him, she thought dryly as she faced the Master of Magnetism.

“Mystique. I came to inform you that a new recruit will be arriving shortly.”

“Recruit? Who--”

“St. John Allerdyce of Sydney, Australia. Don’t bother sending your boys to retrieve him; you just prepare for his arrival. I have already sent somebody to bring him over here.”

“What? Who?”

“That doesn’t concern you yet, Mystique. You’ll find out in due time.”

“Of course,” she spat venomously before morphing into her Principal Darkholme form. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Yes. A question, actually.”

“What is it?”

“What happened to your car?”

Lance emerged from the bathroom stall feeling dazed and wobbly.

“That was niiiice,” he purred, walking over to the sink, where he splashed his face with water.

“I wish I brought a toothbrush to school,” remarked Pietro as he went over to the sink beside Lance. He swished some water around in his mouth before spitting it out again.

“You don’t regret anything, do you?”

“Only the fact that my mouth’s gonna taste like you for the rest of the day,” Pietro answered with a smirk. He wrapped his arms around Lance and nuzzled his face in the dark fabric of the other mutant’s shirt. “And I regret having to go to class now. I’d rather stay here than go to PE.”

“Me too. But, I gotta get to US History before I get into any more trouble.”

“I thought that was your plan.”

“It was a bad plan.”

“Mm. Okay. See ya at lunch.” Pietro gave him one last squeeze (Ow! Organs... getting... crushed!) and dashed off leaving Lance standing there, still a little dazed.

Pietro rushed into the gym, dressed out and ready to be yelled at by his teacher.

“Maximoff!” the P.E. teacher barked. “Where were you? Principal Darkholme needs to see you.”

“Oh-- I, uh, already went to see her! Yeah, that’s why I’m late.”

“So you have an admit?”

“...yes,” Pietro lied.

“Can I see it?” he asked with strained patience.

“Um, no, ‘cause I... uh, that is... I dropped it on the way over here because I was in such a hurry to get to your wonderful class, sir.”

Apparently, the man wasn’t in the mood to discipline Pietro for his tardiness, so he left it at that. “Okay. Go join the other students. We’re having a free day.”

Wah. Free day meant having to hang out with the girls’ class, too. Not that being around girls bothered him at all, it just meant that he would have to see Rogue and Kitty, as well as Summers, Wagner, and Daniels. Too many enemies in one place, and he could do nothing to torment them while in school.

He joined Todd at the bleachers and sulked. One downside to being buddies with the local delinquents was the fact that most people avoided him and his friends like they had the Bubonic plague. It wouldn’t have bothered him if he was a less social person, but going from being quite popular at his old school to an outcast at another school in a matter of days (due to a stupid transfer) was still a little depressing.

Oh, no, there’s that no-good Pietro Maximoff! Don’t talk to him because he has funny white hair and hangs out with those thugs Todd Tolensky, Lance Alvers, and Fred Dukes, he thought sarcastically as he watched the girls and boys interact.

It wasn’t fair. He was stuck with Todd, who was far too busy snatching the roaches that lived under the bleachers to notice him, when he could’ve been having fun with all of the happy little normal kids. Or, he added as his gaze traveled over to the X-Men, normal seeming.

Wagner’s kinda cute, he thought suddenly, then smacked himself on the forehead. Wait! What am I thinking?! Eww, ew, ew, ew! Fur is not sexy!

He watched the goody-goodies play a game of basketball, cringing as he took notice of their appalling lack of skill. God, they suck! I could easily whip all five of them! And this time, Lance won’t be here to interrupt...

Pietro’s eyes followed the basketball as it rebounded off of the basket, soared towards him, then landed with a painful thud on Todd’s head.

“Ow!” he cried, falling face-first against the bleachers. Adding injury to injury, he bumped his head against one of the metal rails and groaned groggily.

Pietro laughed and snatched the ball. “You okay, Todd?”

“Unhh, uhhh...”

“Hey, watch where you’re throwing this thing!” he snapped as the geeks came to retrieve their ball.

“Sorry, I was aiming for your head,” the Evan retorted sardonically.

“Never could hit your target, could ya, Evan?” Pietro smirked, not relinquishing hold of the ball.

“Just give us our ball back, Maximoff, we don’t want any trouble,” Summers said calmly.

Pietro quirked an eyebrow at Summers’ words. “You make it sound like this is a hostage situation. Besides, I wasn’t looking for a fight. I also wasn’t looking for this thing to bonk Todd on the head.”

“Look, ya albino jerk, just let us get on with our game, and you go on back to whatever the hell it is ya do.”

“Albino?!” Pietro repeated indignantly. “Eh, fine,” he then muttered, shoving the ball into Summers’ arms. “But, uh... could I play, too?”

“What?” was the reply that he received from them, except for Wagner. In Wagner’s case, it was more like a “Vhat?”

“Well,” Pietro said with a shrug, “if I played, you’d have an even number to divide into teams.” Plus, you guys are embarrassingly bad and I haven’t been able to play a good game in a long time because stupid Mystique won’t let me join the basketball team.

“Uh... sure,” Summers reluctantly said.

And so, they went off to act like normal, non-enemy, teens for the remainder of the period, leaving the dizzy Todd wobbling around the bleachers and flicking his tongue out at imaginary insects.

Lance had received yet another detention for his tardiness, but he didn’t care. Nothing could ruin his day because he had had the most amazing experience while in the boys’ bathroom.

His thoughts were wandering all over the place as his teacher droned on and on about the Reconstruction.

What a day! I got eleven days of detention, keyed Mystique’s car, and got a blow-- Oh no.

Lance glanced around, suddenly paranoid. He just remembered that he shared this class with none other than Jean Grey, the telepath.

What if she’s probing my mind right now? What if she knows? What if she blabs it to everyone? Lance was suddenly feeling very panicky. She’d probably tell Summers, then he’d tell the rest of the X-Geeks, then instead of fighting us in our next battle, they’ll just laugh at us!

Lance glared at the back of Jean’s head.

And glared.

And glared.

He stared at the back of her head for the rest of the period, filling his mind with as many non-Pietro, non-sex thoughts as possible. I’ll show her. I’ll just think false things! Ha!

I like Jean Grey. I like Jean Grey. She’s hot. She has nice tits. He didn’t even have to lie to himself for the last two mental comments. I like Jean. I like Jean. I like Jean. This is such a boring class.

At one point during the period, Jean looked back at Lance with a very perplexed expression. He wasn’t sure if this was from reading his thoughts, or because she noticed that he was staring at her relentlessly. Girls, apparently, had this sixth sense for knowing whenever they were being stared at by guys.

Still, he watched her with resolve, his gaze not once faltering.

Take that! he thought triumphantly, then reminded himself to think “I want sex with Jean” thoughts just to disgust her further.

The bell rang suddenly, and he realized that lunch was next. He jumped out of his seat and ran to the cafeteria, gathering many strange looks as he flew by.

“Lance Alvers and his buddies are sooo weird,” Taryn commented to Jean as they watched him run.

“Especially Lance,” Jean nodded. She suppressed a shudder, reminded of his perverted thoughts. She had only caught fragments of them, but that was more than enough for her.

Lance wondered why he was so eager to get to lunch. To put it simply, lunch was absolute torture. Why? Because Pietro decided to get a popsicle for lunch. He knew how much it would tempt and torment Lance, which made the icy treat all the more fun for him to eat.

Much to Lance’s discomfort, he was taking his sweet time consuming it. Instead of eating it like a normal person would, he ran his tongue up, down, and all around the popsicle as slow as possible, his eyes locked on Lance the whole time.

He’s so cruel, was Lance’s agonized thought as he watched the spectacle. Apparently, he was the only one to notice. Fred and Todd were engaged in a rather heated argument over what the school’s cheese was really made out of.

“Stop that,” Lance hissed in an undertone.

“Stop what?” Pietro asked innocently. “I’m just eating my lunch.” He smiled and took a large part of it into his mouth.

“Stop eating it like you’re-- Argh!”

Pietro took a bite out of it and shrugged. Lance cringed. I’m so glad he never did that to me...

“You’re so easy to annoy, Lance.”

“There you boys are.”

Eep. Lance felt an unpleasant presence behind him and leaned his head back to find himself staring straight up at Principal Darkholme.

“Erm... hello,” Lance said, attempting to charm her with a grin.

“Why didn’t you two report to my office?” she asked sternly.

“Because we didn’t know we were supposed to,” Pietro offered.

“Well then, Mr. Alvers, Mr. Maximoff, would you please come to my office now?” Her statement was less a question than it was a demand.

“Aww, man,” Lance groaned, getting up and following Mystique to her office.

“What’s this all about?” Pietro asked, doing the same.

Mystique closed the door behind them and said, “Somebody keyed my car. Which one of you did it?”

Lance folded his arms over his chest and said firmly, “What are you talking about?”

“One of you keyed my car!” she insisted vehemently.

Lance shook his head and said, “Wasn’t me. I spent most of this day getting yelled at by you, remember?”

“I didn’t know your car got keyed,” Pietro said honestly.

Mystique growled with frustration. “I know it was one of you!”

Pietro shot a knowing look at Lance, then shifted his gaze to Mystique. “You know, you’re not exactly the most popular principal in the world.”

“What?”

“I mean,” he said with a shrug, “anyone could’ve done it. A lot of kids don’t like you. You represent ‘the system’ that so many of them resent. Plus, you’re mean.”

This not so startling revelation wasn’t much of a blow to her pride, but it did make her angry. How dare he make the range of suspects larger!

“Besides, boss, we would never do anything like that to you. We love you,” Lance added with a broad smile.

Mystique muttered something under her breath as she clutched her head. Sometimes, I really hate my job. “Okay, then. Listen up, a new recruit will be arriving to your home on Saturday, so be prepared.”

“I guess this means we finally have to clear Rogue’s crap out of her room,” Lance muttered. He had been avoiding cleaning her room out ever since she left.

“So this guy is just coming to us? We don’t have to run out and do anything?” Pietro asked.

“That is what Magneto says,” she replied coolly.

“Uh... all right. Is that all?”

“Yes. Leave,” she said with some exasperation.

The two walked out, and Mystique watched them exit, hoping to draw out a last-minute confession from them with an icy stare. I’m almost certain one of those idiots did it! I know it!

It was a Saturday morning, and Lance was awakened by Pietro leaping onto him.

“Gaah!”

“Hey there,” Pietro said, smirking. He had Lance pinned to the bed. “Just got a call from Mysti. Our new pal’s gonna be here soon.”

“Oh, really?” Lance muttered, closing his eyes. “Screw him. I want sleep.”

“Aww, do you mean it, Lance?” Pietro cooed playfully.

“Mean what?”

“That I can screw him--”

“No!” Lance was suddenly very wide awake. “No, no, no! We didn’t even get that far yet! You’re my virgin to defile!”

Pietro blinked a few times, then his lips pulled into a sly grin. “If you say so.” He kissed Lance on the lips, then said, “Now get up. You don’t wanna greet him in your boxers, do you?”

“Maybe I do,” Lance challenged. Pietro gave him one of “those” looks. “Okay, fine. But you gotta get off of me, first.”

“Hmph. Oh, by the way, could you get Todd and Freddy up? I’m gonna cook some breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Lance mumbled, shoving Pietro off of his bed.

“Ow!” He landed with a thud on the ground. “Now I’m not making you any coffee.”

“What?! Nooo!” came Lance’s anguished protest.

Pietro laughed and zoomed out of the room. Lance pulled on a pair of jeans that happened to be lying on the floor, and walked to his closet to pull on a clean shirt. After he was properly dressed, he sauntered into the hallway and lazily pounded his fist against Todd’s door.

“Wake up!” he called. “Mystique wants us to be ready to meet our new teammate.”

Mumbled nonsense was the reply he received. Lance shrugged and walked over to Freddy’s door. He knocked loudly, but got no answer. Cautiously, Lance opened the door and peered inside. “Hey, Freddy, it’s time to get-- Aah!” Lance quickly jumped away from the door as a lamp was hurled in his direction and shattered.

“I was dreamin’!” Fred yelled irritably.

No wonder Pietro sent me to wake him up. I am so whipped, Lance thought with some dry amusement.

“Yeah, well, we got orders!” Lance retorted. “Sort of... Anyway, clean that mess up and get dressed.”

Lance then wondered with some extremely morbid curiosity what the Blob wore to bed. On second thought, I’d die a happy man never finding out.

Fred grumbled some insults as Lance walked away from his room and proceeded down the stairs. There, Pietro was whizzing about the kitchen making pancakes.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, stopping as Lance entered the room.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Do you think it would be a bad idea to ask Mystique to get another stove installed here?”

Lance chuckled and said, “After what I did to her car? She’s even more pissed because she knows I did it, but can’t prove it.”

“Oh, yeah. Damn. It’d make meals go so much faster, though,” Pietro mumbled dejectedly.

“It would,” Lance nodded, then his eyes traveled to the coffee maker. “You’re making coffee!”

“Well, I didn’t want you whining all--” Pietro was cut off by Lance wrapping his arms around him in a rib-crushing hug.

“Coffee!” He nuzzled his unshaven cheek against Pietro’s, ignoring the surprised cry.

“Hey-- ow! Stubble burn! Stop it!” he managed to say between “ow”s and giggles. “Stop! I really-- ow-- don’t think you need any caffeine--”

“What I need right now is to kiss-- Hello.” Lance relinquished Pietro from his hold and smiled nervously at Fred and Todd, who stood in the entrance of the kitchen with rather strange expressions.

“He was helping me practice for a play,” Pietro said quickly.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about plays of the nonexistent variety,” Todd said, rolling his eyes.

Pietro and Lance exchanged worried looks, and then Lance blurted out with, “We’re dating!” while Pietro said, “This isn’t what it looks like!”

“Relax. We already know,” Freddy said with a shrug of his massive shoulders.

“Idiot!” Todd seethed, slapping his own forehead with aggravation.

“Oh. Right,” Fred corrected quickly. “I mean... we had no idea you two were dating.”

Lance blinked.

Pietro blinked. “Does this mean we don’t have to sit you guys down and talk about it in a horribly long and awkward conversation?”

“How did you guys know?” Lance asked with suspicion.

“Todd told me!”

“Hey!” How dare Freddy rat him out! Lance gave Todd a menacing glare. “I-- uh-- heh, heh-- You’re not gonna hurt me, are ya, Lance?”

“We had to sneak around for weeks because we thought it was a secret!” Lance exploded.

“You’re, uh, not very discreet about it, though,” Todd pointed out in an attempt to save his skin. “I mean-- um... Well, you’re both kinda loud and... uh... you have hickeys... and...” Todd trailed off, then noticed some smoke rising up from the stove. He added with some dramatic flair: “Oh, no! The pancakes are burning!”

“What?!” Pietro rushed to the stove in order to save his culinary masterpieces.

“Phew.”

Scowling, Pietro took the burned pancakes and slapped them down on a plate. “Here you go,” he said, handing the plate to Todd.

“Aww, man...”

“Coffee’s ready!” Lance suddenly chimed, apparently forgetting all about Fred and Todd’s (somewhat imaginary) wrongdoings. He poured himself a cup and threw in the usual amount of cream and sugar. Before he could burn himself with a taste, Pietro snatched the cup away and said firmly:

“No coffee until you shave.”

“Damn,” Lance muttered, sulking back upstairs to rid himself of stubble. I really am whipped.

They were about midway through breakfast when the honking of a car’s horn signaled them outside. A clean-shaven Lance was the first to get up, though Pietro ended up beating him to the door anyway.

“This is gonna be interesting,” he muttered, stepping outside with the rest of the Brotherhood.

Mystique was in the driveway, glaring impatiently at the boys. “Hurry up and get his luggage!” she snapped.

“Yes, ma’am,” Todd mumbled sarcastically, hopping over to the trunk. Freddy wordlessly followed.

Pietro walked over to the passenger’s side and looked at the new guy curiously. “Hey. I’m Pietro Maximoff, and you are...?”

“St. John Allerdyce,” the other boy said with a smirk and a heavy Australian accent. He swung the door open and stepped out of the car. Running long fingers through his wavy blonde hair, he looked around and said, “So, this is my new home, eh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Meanwhile, Lance stood there gaping at the Aussie. “John?!”

St. John glanced over at Lance, then his eyes widened. “Lance! Long time, no see, mate!”

“Yeah... long time,” Lance said dumbly. The other boy embraced him in a fraternal hug. “How ya been?”

“Same as always. ‘ow are you?”

“Oh... the same as always,” Lance said slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Pietro. This doesn’t look good. Man, he looks pissed...

Pietro frowned in their direction, then turned to Mystique and asked in an undertone: “So, who picked this guy up?”

“Magneto sent somebody who called herself the Scarlet Witch to deliver John to us,” Mystique answered with an ugly smile.

“Oh? How come we haven’t met her yet?”

“Magnus has his reasons.”

Pietro looked back at Allerdyce and Lance, then asked, “What’re his powers?”

“He can control fire,” was her short, curt answer. “Now, go help him get settled. And be sure to inform everyone that there will be a meeting at my office on Monday before school.”

“Yeah, all right.”

“Close the trunk, Todd!” she barked, and after he complied, she drove off without another word.

“Geez, you brought a lot of stuff with you,” Todd complained as he lugged two suitcases into the house.

Pietro noted the mass of luggage with slight envy. It was probably more stuff than any of them ever had before joining the Brotherhood.

He shot a glare at John and Lance and stalked inside. Already, he didn’t like the guy.

It was late Saturday night at the mansion. Well, not really. It was more like very early Sunday morning. Anyway, it didn’t matter what time it was because everyone was asleep already. Scott was dreaming about Jean, Jean was dreaming about Scott, Kurt was just plain dreaming, and Rogue... well, Rogue was “nightmaring”.

Lance thoughts. Ugh. How disgusting. After sucking his powers out at the mall construction site, she had been experiencing his memories while she slept. So, what was the difference between Lance memories and Mystique memories? Well, Lance’s were pretty much okay... at first. Not traumatic or frightening (unless you took into consideration that the dreams were about Lance, then that would make them completely horrifying). A little sad at times, but it wasn’t anything huge enough to make her wake up crying and screaming. Mostly, the Lance Dreams were a flurry of vandalism, cheating on tests, stealing, making out or going much further with skanky girls, and just stupid stuff like that. Rogue had a feeling that the Lance Dreams were going to rot her brain cells if they continued for too long.

However, the most recent dream was something new and disturbing, because Pietro was in it. Pietro was in it, and he was kissing Lance. And Lance was kissing him back. Lots of smooching took place in this new dream. Smooching, snuggling, cuddling, making out, neck sucking-- ew.

And what the hell did Brad Pitt have to do with anything?!

Wake up, wake up, wakeupwakeup!

Rogue awoke with a jolt, covered in that cold sweat that always seemed to follow nightmares. She was gasping harshly and deeply, as if she had just escaped drowning and had a new appreciation for air.

“Like, what’s wrong?” Kitty inquired sleepily.

“It was-- oh mah God-- Gross!”

“Huh?”

“Lance dream.”

“Ew,” Kitty mumbled, before rolling over into a more comfortable position and falling asleep once more.

“Yeah,” Rogue said to herself and shivered with disgust. She stared at the ceiling, afraid to go back to sleep. Ah don’t want to experience any more of those inane Lance dreams! she declared to herself. She had to get rid of them, and fast. She didn’t want to know what else the guy did with Pietro Maximoff.

That’s it, then. She was just going to have to sample somebody else’s powers and memories if she wanted to dispose of Lance’s. The next time the X-Men fight the Brotherhood, she decided that she was going to use her powers on Toad-- no, Blob-- no, Quicksilver-- Damn! They were all equally bad!

Ah suppose Ah should just kindly ask someone at the Institute if Ah could borrow their memories for a bit, she thought irritably, still watching the ceiling with growing boredom and drowsiness. Anybody’s have gotta be better than Lance Alvers’, unless it’s one of his stupid teammates’.

A/N: Hehehe. Stubble burns are fun! I remember my first stubble burn from a guy... (I also ended up hitting my nose against the guy’s temple.. I think. All I know is that I banged my nose on his face. It was painful, but I love him so it doesn’t matter *much eye-rolling here*) I really don’t think that Rogue’s thoughts would be in an accent (simply because I don’t think thoughts are really in any accent), but I wrote it that way just... because. Also, I adore Pyro and have been looking for a way to bring him in since Chapter 1. Finally, I got lazy and devised the oh, so clever “He’s already on his way because I’m too lazy to think up an excuse” situation. Even though Pyro’s one of my most favorite characters (under Quicksilver, Gambit, and Deadpool :P), he’s probably going to be portrayed as a huge jerk later in the story, so I warn you now. I’m not really sure why I’m inclined to make him that way... Anyway, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that this story will be coming to an end soon and I’ll have a sequel running around.

Uhh, but I kind of need help with the sequel. I don’t know if I should keep the current mood of the story, or actually make it dark like I had planned. Anyway, it’s going to take place a year or two later and has to do with the emergence of the anti-mutant factions blah blah blah.

Anywho, what do you think? Should I make it darker or somehow make the Friends of Humanity a comical thing? (erm... I wonder if that’s possible) Oh yeah, and I might end up sticking Pietro with another character very briefly just to tick off Lance. I don’t know who yet, though. Ehhh, I babble too much...