A visit from Mr. Porchelli in the morning was expected, but not looked forward to. As he had the day before, the man walked briskly through the lines of cages, peering in to make sure every mutant was smiling fakely.

  "I am NOT in a good mood, not in a good mood AT all. Hm, good...good, good."

 The voice got steadily closer to Jamie's cage, and immediately stopped as soon as it got there.

  "Smile, Stutta, I don't like to see my freaks unhappy."

 Jamie remained motionless, shivering pathetically. Mr.Porchelli frowned.

  "Steve." He requested, sounding distant and far-off. "Open Stutta's cage."

 Steve walked forward anxiously and opened the cage, his hands trembling in anticipation.

  "Now, Stutta, I want to see you smile." Mr. Porchelli ordered, chuckling at the noticable size differant between the two, but his laughter immediately stopped when Jamie did nothing. With the speed of a coppersnake Mr.Porchelli's strong hand was clasped around Jamie's small neck, easily lifting him off of the ground.

  "SMILE!"

 Kicking his legs uselessly and reaching his hands up to try and pry the hand away from his neck, Jamie took in small breaths, choking miserably. Not for a moment did he show signs of a smile.

  "I don't like seeing my freaks unhappy." Mr.Porchelli said through clenched teeth, digging his nails into the back of Jamie's neck. "Because you know, Stutta...when my FREAKS are unhappy, it makes ME unhappy. And you don't want to see me unhappy...DO YOU?"

 Mr.Porcelli tightened his hold on Jamie's neck, making the boy gasp and choke.

  "Mr.Porchelli..." Serenade's voice was heard behind the two. Mr.Porchelli turned his head at the other mutant in surprise.

  "Serenade?" The older man asked in surprise, furrowing his eyebrows angerly. Serenade tooked taken aback by this look, but he continued.

  "Mr.Porchelli, he can't breathe!"

 Mr.Porchelli stared at Serenade, and, noticing the worry that was almost carefully hidden in the mutant's face, darted his eyes from Jamie, to Serenade, back to Jamie, than back to Serenade while smirking.

  "Serenade..."He said mockingly, throwing a gasping Jamie aside into a very unhappy Steve, leaving two multiples for the other carnies to catch. The older man clicked his tongue at Serenade, as though dissapointed. "Serenade...I would have at least thought you'd go for men perhaps even CLOSE to your age."

 Serenade had the darkness of a scowl on his face, but managed a half of a smile, complete with half of a frown.

  "STEVE!" Mr.Porchelli yelled in amusement, turning away from Serenade's cage. "Steve?"

 Another carnie was standing where Steve had been, holding Jamie. There was the sound of curses, struggling, and then Steve's voice, "Coming boss!"

 Steve emerged from behind a maze of cages, holding two fighting Jamies by their collars.

  "I had ta do a little PEST control." He joked, laughing stupidly at his own statement. Mr.Porchelli let out a small guffaw at Steve, but stayed on his own buisness.

  "Steve. These two..." He pointed to Jamie, the only one left at that moment (the other two had phased back into him), and then to Serenade, now glowering obviously at Mr.Porchelli. "These two are getting close. I don't like it when my freaks get close. It practically SPELLS mutiny! Move Stutta to the west, and alert his wrangler immediately to have him punished severely." With an evil smile, Mr.Porchelli pinched Jamie's cheek. "You can thank your buddy Serenade for that."

 Jamie glared as he was pushed off by Steve to the west wing.

  "Oh yes, Serenade." Mr.Porchelli added before he followed them. "You'll be pleased to know that your little friend Stutta has Dave... you remember right? YOUR old wrangler!"

*********** ***********

 The words echoed in Serenade's mind, frightening him. Old wrangler, old wrangler, old wrangler.

 Stutta was given his old wrangler? He must have been...nineteen when he had that wrangler. It had been the worst five months of his entire time at the circus, if not his entire life. He shuddered and clutched his guitar tightly as the reoccurring memories freely flowed through him, and he closed his eyes, trying to send them to the secluded space at the back of his mind he kept everything he didn't want to deal with.

 Unfortunately, it didn't work this time. He doubted it ever worked. Somehow, someway, the thoughts and memories he tried to put there came back to him, like a blow to the head, when he least expected it. With reluctance he let the haunting experience sweep over him, almost as though he were living it all over again.

~~~~~~~~

 The dark, musty room was silent and eerie as the new mutant waited for his wrangler, seething with anger and embarrassment. How dare they call him a freak? How dare they attach a collar to him, like some worthless animal? He was no animal. He was no freak!

 Staring around at the room he had been forced into, he realized it was colorful, and not as dark as he had thought. Struggling to stand, he noticed a few random circus items he had not noticed on his entrance; piles of flame torches in the corner, a chest of colorful clothing to the side, a rack of masks in the opposite corner. To his left, a miraculous looking chest of drawers. Being nineteen and incredibly curious, Jack Singer walked slowly up to the chest, a scowl inhabiting his face when he saw most of the drawers were accompanied with built in locks.

 All but the first one.

 Smirking with the coincidence of the situation, he swiftly and softly pulled open the large, long drawer, cringing as it gave a large creak, breaking the heavy, almost tense, silence. Peering into the drawer, Jack glanced at its contents and nearly cried out with glee. A guitar! A wonderful, solid, tuned, ready and waiting guitar! It seemed as though it had been placed there for his convenience, almost like they could guess his actions and knew he would look there.

 With a grin lighting up his handsome features, he struck a few cords on the instrument, savoring the feel of it resting in his arms, the cool, smooth wood sending a shudder of pleasure searing through his body. Music was like a drug to him. He lived off it, reaching out and snatching every chord, every note, every measure he possibly could, feeding off rhythms and beats, drinking soprano, alto, and tenor. What he would do without his music, he need not know. He would get somewhere with it, and it would carry him there.

  " WHAT ARE YOU DOIN�, BOY?" An angry, thundering voice cut into his thoughts, causing him to jump and swing around, his usually calm features distorted into what looked like alarmed shock.

  " I was just lookin� mista." He said in a loud, trembling voice, his heavy Brooklyn accent getting the better of his speech.

  " Well, you ain�t supposed to be lookin�, FREAK! You supposed to be TRAININ�!" The man moved closer, towering over him and making him feel as though he were an ant on a picnic basket; unwanted, unneeded, something to be squashed and laughed at.

  " I ain�t a freak!" He said this statement confidently, though not quite believing it himself. "And I ain�t trainin� for NOTHIN!"

 The man laughed, a hearty, deep, evil sounding laughter that filled the room and seemed to bounce off the walls, coming strait back to them and shaking the ground with its mockery. It was obvious the man found him incredibly amusing, though for what, he simply could not tell.

 As suddenly as it had started, the laughter was gone, leaving the atmosphere with a sense of emptiness, as though it were now too pure for its own good. As though to fill the emptiness, the man suddenly and swiftly grabbed his collar and slammed him up against the chest of drawers, his face just centimeters away from the mutant�s.

  " You ain�t trainin for nothin�? Well, that�s funny, we got you down for music. You gonna work here, and you gonna work here well, you got me? I don�t care if I gotta beat it into you, FREAK, you�ll do it! Understand?"

 Jack said nothing, the reality of what had just been said still sinking into his mind and shocking him into silence.

  " UNDERSTAND?!" The man yelled angrily, slamming him against the chest once more, a shadow of a smirk appearing on his face as he heard a faint crack from his victim�s back. "ANSWER ME, FREAK!"

 Jack still said nothing, his mouth in a thin line and his eyes unfocused. For a moment he said not a word, simply staring off into space while his new wrangler looked slightly confused, before he turned back to him and stated, firm as he could when being threatened,

  " I ain�t a freak, and I ain�t doin� nuttin� for the likes a� you."

 This appeared to enrage the wrangler, as his face turned an unnatural shade of purple and his hand, which had been by his side through previous events, clenched into a fist and twitched convulsively, as though having an inner battle with itself.

 In the end, the evil side of the hand won over, and the fist landed, hard, into Jack�s nose. Face now red with fury, the angry wrangler moved to raise his fist again, but was stopped by Jack, who swiftly and easily caught it in his hand, jerking it backward and grimaced when he heard a snap. Maneuvering so that he was face to face with the wrangler, simply inches from his face, Jack started to sing softly, his breath barely touching the face of the shocked wrangler.

  " Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound"

 At the sound of the strong, vibrant voice, the man�s eyelids drooped slowly, and his grip on Jack loosening considerably.

  "That saved a wretch like me."

 The man�s arms stayed pinning Jack against the chest of drawers, but Jack could sense a slight sway in his standing position, and his eyes were almost completely closed.

  " I once was lost, but now am found."

 At these words the man let his arms fall limply to his sides, visibly swaying as though about to fall over. His eyes were now completely shut, and if Jack had let out a breath he would have thundered to the ground, fast asleep.

  "Was blind, but now I see."

 With the last note of melody, the man slumped to the dirty, smudged ground, fast asleep and emitting loud snores. His eyes widening in panic at having used his powers in a bad way, Jack turned and prepared to run out of the tent, failing and tripping over the sleeping wrangler�s large body, his head hitting the hard pavement and blackness engulfing him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

 Serenade shuddered as he remembered the consequences of that fateful day. He still had the ugly scars. His wrangler, the fore mentioned wrangler, had not been happy with him. He was a violent one, that Dave� too violent for his own good. He grimaced as he tried to force the pictures of his bruising and bloody punishment out of his mind. After that, he was a good mutant. He was a good freak. Not one toe out of line, not one pound off the balance. He knew the punishment if he did. Instead, he became everyone�s favorite mutant, the one everyone could look up to.

 His eyes clouded with worry and self hatred as he remembered those terrible days he had experienced, and the ones he hoped Stutta wouldn�t have to experience in his place. Stutta was a bright one, brighter than most his age, but street smarts, attitude wise, he was anything but. Closing his eyes and strumming his guitar blankly, Serenade prayed Stutta wouldn�t get himself into trouble.

 Not like he did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 A large stomping sound was what awoke Jamie from his distracted fuming. How dare they separate him from Serenade? They would pay, alright, pay!

  " On your feet, freak!" A heavy southern drawl ordered loudly, his rusty voice making Jamie angrier, but still forcing him to his feet. "Good. 'Least you does what you're told. Now there's only one reason ya coulda been sent ta me: you're a troublemakin' little freak. They tells me your violent, and stubborn as a mule. Well that's all gunna change now, ain't it..." He looked down at his clipboard. "Stutta?"

 Jamie glared angerly at the figure in front of him, not answering. The man was large, but not "Scott" large, with a greasy looking stained t-shirt on underneath a dirty jean jacket. His pot belly stuck out considerably, making his mud-caked jeans look too tight for him.

 The man looked enraged.

  " You betta answer me, freak, or you'll have hell ta pay!"

 Jamie stood still, unmoving and silent. His eyes widened, however, at the man's toned confidence.

  " You don't answer, but I know you mean ta say it. That tongue a' yours got caught by a cat, and I intend to shoot it. A'fore I can do nothin', however, ya gotta get a picture. And ya know whatcha gotta do?"

 Jamie gave the man a blank look, signalling that, even if he did know, he would not say so.

 The man merely shrugged at this reaction.

  " Yer gunna SMILE, freak. The photographer is gunna say 'smile', and dammit, freak, you better smile. I wanna hear folks COO when they look at THIS picture. Do you hear me? COO!"

 Jamie nodded mutely and allowed himself to be roughly led into a room by the man.

  " I'm Sir." The man allowed, pushing Jamie into a chair and standing in front of him. "Some folks like to call me Dave. You call me Dave and you won't be seein' daylight for a week. You got me, freak? It's Sir ta you."

 Jamie opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by the entering of the photographer.

  " Let's get this OVER with." He mumbled, easily setting up the photography equipment in front of Jamie and then moving forward to examine his subject.

  " Hm...hm...wonderful, wonderful, now..." The photogragher unfolded a tray table in front of Jamie. "Now, rest your elbow on here, just like that, and put your fist right *here*, underneath your eye, now look at that wall behind me, PERFECT." The photogragher walked backward to his camera and clicked a few pictures, then gathered his equipment up once again.

  " I'll have these for you by tonight's show, Sir." He promised, before exiting. Sir looked Jamie over heavily before stepping back and grinning in an almost insane, evil manner.

  " Now, Stutta, I'm gunna work you like you ain't neva been worked before."

************ ************

  " So...this is the circus?" Jean questioned, wrinkling her nose in obvious discust. The circus looked like a tent, from the outside, surrounded by many smaller tents, but once a person entered through the "tent" flaps, they could see that the "tent" was nothing more than a stadium covered in a tent. The concrete walls were colored red, and the floor that they walked upon (also concrete) was black, shining like a freshly polished eight ball upon the table.

  " Yes, Jean, this is the circus. We must look for any signs of clues that Multiple is or could have stayed here."

 The X-men/Brotherhood, upon coming to the circus, made up quite a large group throughout the line of waiters. The line swept far through the street, showing that this circus was, indeed, popular.

  "Hey look, like, pictures!" Kitty exclaimed, pointing as they entered a red carpetted hallway. The black walls were coverered in rows and rows of framed pictures, each with a name written underneath it.

  " Randler." Scott read, quirking an eyebrow. "Whale, Camalot, Serenade, Stretchy, Airhead...what...what is with these names?"

 Wolverine examined the names and pictures.

  " Seems here these people look pretty happy, if ya ask me."

 Rogue gasped in front of them all in line, pointing.

  " Look!" She said brethily, pointing numbly to a framed picture camoflaged amist the many. It was framed, like all the others, and if one had not been looking closely, one would never notice the striking resemblance the kid in the picture had with...

  " Jamie!" Tabitha sqealed, running forward and touching the glass of the picture. "He's here! We found him!"

  " Stutta?" Lance narrowed his eyes angerly, the ground trembling beneath them. "They called him STUTTA?! Why I outta..."

  " Calm down, Rocky." Logan glared, roughly grabbing Lance's shoulder and breaking his concentration. Lance pulled away as though burnt, and pouted over to Pietro, who, although he was hiding it well, looked equally upset about the nickname that Jamie had been given.

  "He looks...happy in that picture." Kitty pointed out, nudging Scott with her elbow. Indeed, Jamie did look, at first glance, delighted and slightly bored, his withstature free and easy. But, at second glance, his eyes looked pained, and a small bit frightened, his pose tense and forced.

 With his arm comfortably around Lance's shoulders, Pietro's eyes darted hyperly to the headshots around Jamie's. At second glance, they too, looked troubled, perhaps...frightened.

  "Common, move it, city trash!" A southerner in the line behind them yelled, sounding annoyed. And so the X-Men moved on, into the circus.