Chapter 2

From the moonlight that streamed into the window, Martin Croft could just make out his new cell-mate. He had been slumped in the northeast corner of the cell for nearly a week now. Apparently, he had neglected to shave or change his clothes, because he now looked like some sort of bum. His reddish-brown hair had grown past his shoulders, especially the white strands that hid his eyes. Martin began to wonder if he was even alive anymore. He decided to find out, because if the boy was dead, the stink he was giving off would just get worse.

Casting a wary glance towards the guard outside the cell, Martin crawled over to his cellmate. Despite all the things aforementioned, perhaps the strangest was the fact that the boy still had a thick collar around his neck, as well as matching manacles on his hands. Martin could see where the manacles had left red marks on the boy’s wrists. He brushed the long hair out of the boy’s eyes, only to be lost in the sky-blue pools that stared weakly back at him.

“Poor kid,” Martin mumbled as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small pick and pushed it carefully into the manacles’ lock. Glancing at the guard again, Martin turned the pick until the manacles slid silently to the floor. The boy instantly came to life, rubbing his wrists to get the circulation back. “What you in for, son?” Martin asked.

“Murder,” the boy whispered nervously.

“Don’t worry, kid. The Lord knows you didn’t do it, and that’ll be good enough for eternity.” The boy nodded and hugged himself. “Here,” Martin said, offering the boy his blanket.

“You’re very kind, sir,” the boy said as he took it.

Martin chuckled. “I’m just an old man that doesn’t like to see people suffer. When’s your trial?”

“Tomorrow, I think,” the boy said slowly.

The cell was silent for a while until Martin asked, “Want me to take that collar off for you, son?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he moved back. “No, don’t!”

“Calm down, son! I’m only trying to help.”

“I-I know. Sorry, sir. It’s just that it’s got a shock to it. If you touch it, it could kill you.”

Martin’s eyes narrowed as he muttered a curse. “They have no right, the filthy pigs! That’s no way to treat a human being, or a mutant!”

“Then you knew?” the boy asked.

“I took a wild guess,” Martin replied. “I knew they wouldn’t stick a serial killler in here, so I figured you had to be. Only other explanation for the collar, anyway.”

The boy nodded and smiled a bit. “You and I know that for sure, but they don’t. Only stuck this thing on me because they didn’t know the difference.”

“Which just goes to show that no one should be treated like that,” Martin scoffed. “How you gonna discriminate against a mutant if you can’t tell whether he’s a mutant or not?”

The boy didn’t bother to answer Martin’s question. His, like all the others, were pointless now. “Guess Magneto was right. Even if Xavier’s dream does come true, it’ll be too long in coming.”

Martin arched an eyebrow. “Magneto? He’s just one of those high and mighty types. If he had any brains, he’d get his act together and try to work for peace. Him and those punks that follow him so blindly are just making things worse.”

The War Room had been silent for the last ten minutes, and Rose couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well, what are we going to do?” she asked no one in particular.

“That’s why we’re all here,” Xavier said, “because we must take some action very soon.”

“What kind of action?” Jean asked suspiciously.

“Relax, Jean,” Storm said. “No one here is trying to hurt your son.”

“But we just can’t take him back in like nothing happened,” Cyclops argued. “He’s killed a man, even if it was Creed. Besides, we should wait until his trial ends before we do anything.”

“Scott is correct in that respect,” Xavier replied, “but I doubt his trial will be fair. We must assume that he’ll receive some sort of sentencing, even for killing someone like Creed. If the public discovers he is a mutant, they’ll demand something much worse.”

“I believe we should investigate the case ourselves, Charles. Perhaps we can find evidence that the authorities have missed,” Beast added.

“That’s an excellent idea, Hank,” Storm said, “but how do we know Nathan will be safe in his current location in the meantime? The Friends of Humanity will surely try to harm him before the trial.”

“They can try all they want, Storm. No one’s going to harm the boy while I’m around,” Cable said flatly.

“Your determination is appreciated,” Xavier replied, “but you are one, while they are many. I would prefer to send a small group to assure the X-Man’s safety.”

“How long are they gonna be in there?” Jubilee whined.

Everett shrugged and juggled a tennis ball in his hands. “They could be all night, Jubes. You know how the X-Men are.”

“All the same, we should be in there,” Paige said. “Nate was our friend, too. He’s like family to all of us. Besides, he wasn’t an X-Man, he was part of Generation X!”

“I think ‘was’ is the important word there, Sunshine,” Chamber remarked, “because it was Nate’s decision to leave us. That’s why we got Wonder Girl over there as our leader.”

The four young mutants glanced over at Monet St. Croix, their silent, but effective, leader. She had changed greatly since Nate left the team. The long hair that had once flowed well past her shoulders was much shorter, and she had even lost some of her ‘I’m-rich-and-you’re-not’ attitude. Most of the team had figured out that before he left, Nate had said or done something to Monet to make her change. While no one had figured out exactly what that was, they certainly enjoyed the change.

“I’m sure the X-Men are doing what they feel is best,” Monet said suddenly, rising from her seat.

“Oh great! She’s one of them,” Jubilee muttered.

“I am not,” Monet replied sharply. “I know the X-Men have every right to talk about Nate’s future.” Then, with a slight smile, she added, “I also know that Generation X has every right to ignore their commands and go find Nate ourselves.”

Jubilee gasped in shock, and Everett dropped his tennis ball.

“You’re serious, M?” Paige asked uncertainly.

“As serious as the threat that humanity poses for incarcerated mutants,” Monet assured her. “Now, find Gaia and get suited up. We leave as soon as possible.”