The first thing Marcus noticed wasn't the unfamiliar weight of his sixteen-year-old body, or the sudden drop in his voice that made him sound like he'd been gargling bourbon since breakfast. It wasn't even the way memories of Marcus D'Ancanto—Friday night football games, Fourth of July barbecues, sweet tea on summer porches, and every drawled conversation in Caldecott County's one-stoplight downtown—came sliding into his brain like honey through a sieve.
No.
The first thing he noticed was that he was currently making out with Jenny Carlisle on his bed. Full-on, strawberry-lip-gloss, teenage-movie-scene kissing. Her strawberry-blonde hair tickled his cheek like silk, her perfume smelled like peaches and summer rain, and Marcus had no earthly idea how the hell he'd gotten there.
"Oh, sugar," he mumbled against her lips before he could stop himself.
*Sugar?*
He froze. Since when did he say 'sugar'? And why did his voice sound like it'd been slow-cooked in molasses and aged in a bourbon barrel? The drawl was so thick he half-expected someone to serve it with cornbread and honey butter.
Jenny pulled back, her blue eyes sparkling with that particular brand of teenage mischief that said she'd been orchestrating this moment longer than a Civil War campaign. Her lips curved into a smile that could've launched a thousand pickup trucks. "Mmm, I just *love* it when you talk all country, Marcus. Makes me think of long summer nights and fireflies."
She traced a finger along his jawline, and Marcus felt his borrowed teenage hormones kick into overdrive. "You know, you've been actin' all mysterious lately. Different somehow. Like you're keepin' secrets."
"Different how?" Marcus managed, trying to sound casual while his brain scrambled to figure out what Marcus D'Ancanto's normal personality was supposed to be.
"Smarter, maybe. Like you're thinkin' about bigger things than just football and frog giggin'." Jenny's eyes narrowed playfully. "You been readin' books without tellin' me, Marcus D'Ancanto?"
"Now what would give you that—"
A scream split the house in half. High-pitched. Sharp. The kind of sound that didn't just hit your ears—it grabbed your spine, shook it like a maraca, and hollered *danger* at the top of its lungs.
It came from Marie's room. Right next door.
Then—*thud*. Like someone had dropped a sack of sweet potatoes. A sack of sweet potatoes that breathed and had a heartbeat.
Marcus blinked, his borrowed reflexes already moving him toward the edge of the bed. "What in the Sam Hill—" He stopped himself, groaning internally. Perfect. Not only did the accent come factory-installed, apparently the country-fried idioms did too. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Caldecott County—population 3,247 and proud of it—chuckled at his expense.
Jenny sat up fast, her hair a tangled golden halo around her shoulders. Concern flickered across her face, but not enough to completely override her sass. "Was that your sister, or did your mama finally decide to wrangle that possum that's been gettin' into her garden?"
Before Marcus could answer, another scream rattled through the thin walls. This one worse. Raw terror mixed with heartbreak and confusion. The kind of sound people made when they discovered the monster under the bed wasn't just real—it was *them*.
Marcus pushed himself off the bed, every instinct screaming that Marie needed him. "That's definitely Marie, and she sounds like she's in trouble."
Jenny's eyebrows shot up, but she still had the audacity to smirk. "You always this heroic when your sister's havin' a crisis, or is this a new side effect of all that 'mysterious thinkin'' you've been doin'?"
He shot her a look that was half-exasperated, half-fond. "Darlin', if I wasn't heroic when family needed help, my mama would tan my hide with a switch and make me sleep in the barn with the chickens."
"Fair point." Jenny hopped off the bed after him, barefoot and still smoothing down her sundress. Despite the bravado, he could see real worry creeping into her expression. "What do you think's wrong?"
Marcus grabbed his lucky baseball bat from beside the dresser—Marcus D'Ancanto's muscle memory telling him it was the Louisville Slugger that had gotten him his only home run last season. "Don't know, but we're fixin' to find out."
Jenny raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Really? Because if there's one thing horror movies have taught me, it's that runnin' toward the screamin' is exactly how pretty people end up dead."
He flashed her that crooked, Tom Welling smile that had apparently gotten Marcus D'Ancanto out of more trouble than it had gotten him into. "Well then, it's a good thing we're both pretty enough to make it interesting."
"Marcus D'Ancanto, you are either the bravest fool I've ever met, or the most charming idiot in Mississippi."
"Sugar, around here those are pretty much the same thing."
Another scream, louder and more desperate.
Marie's door was painted white with little yellow flowers—typical teenage girl décor that suddenly felt ominous in the hallway's dim light. Light spilled out from underneath like a warning beacon, and Marcus could hear her voice through the wood, high and panicked and absolutely shattered.
"No, no, no, this can't be happenin'. David, wake up! Please, honey, wake up! Oh God, what did I do? What in heaven's name did I DO?"
Marcus didn't knock. He didn't pause to consider privacy or teenage boundaries or the fact that his sister might be in various states of undress. He just hit that door like he was sliding into home plate, the wood swinging open so hard it bounced off the wall.
The sight that greeted him made his heart—Marcus's heart, but with all of CJ's emotional investment in this story—crack right down the middle.
Marie D'Ancanto, his sixteen-year-old twin sister, was kneeling beside her bed in a yellow sundress that looked like it had been through a tornado. Her dark hair—thick and glossy without the famous white streaks she'd develop later—hung around her face like a curtain, but he could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. And on the bed, unconscious and pale as fresh cotton, was David Collins, the high school quarterback who'd been courting Marie with the persistence of a bloodhound since eighth grade.
David's breathing was shallow, his usually tan skin had taken on a grayish tint that made him look like week-old newspaper, and there was a clear handprint on his bare chest where Marie had touched him. The classic signs of uncontrolled life force absorption, though nobody in this room knew that yet.
"Marie?" Marcus's voice came out gentler than he'd intended, the Southern accent somehow making everything sound more comforting, like sweet tea on a summer evening. "Darlin', what happened here?"
"Don't!" Marie whipped her head up, and Marcus saw pure terror in her green eyes—terror mixed with self-hatred and the kind of guilt that ate people alive from the inside. "Don't come near me, Marcus! I hurt him! I don't know how in God's green earth, but I hurt him, and I might hurt you too!"
Behind Marcus, Jenny made a small sound of shock, like someone had just told her Santa Claus was actually the Easter Bunny in disguise. "Sweet Jesus, is... is David breathing?"
"He's breathin'," Marcus confirmed, his borrowed memories supplying knowledge about David's condition that felt both familiar and strange. "But barely. Marie, I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Every detail, sugar. Don't leave nothin' out."
"We were just..." Marie's voice broke like a wishbone at Thanksgiving dinner. "We were just kissin', Marcus. That's all! Just normal teenage kissin' like we've done a hundred times before. And then he got all stiff and cold, and these... these *memories* started pourin' into my head like someone had opened a floodgate."
Her hands shook as she gestured, careful not to touch anything. "His memories, Marcus! I could see his whole life, like I was watchin' home movies in fast-forward. His first day of school, his mama teachin' him to ride a bike, that time he broke his arm fallin' out of the old oak tree behind the church... and then he just collapsed!"
Marcus felt CJ's comic book knowledge clicking into place like tumblers in a lock. Classic power manifestation scenario—emotional intensity triggering dormant mutant abilities during a moment of intimate contact. Marie had just experienced her first absorption event, and she was handling it about as well as anyone could be expected to handle accidentally putting their boyfriend into a coma with their bare hands.
"It's gonna be okay," he said, taking a step closer despite her frantic warnings. "We're gonna figure this out, I promise."
"NO!" Marie scrambled backward until she hit the wall, her yellow dress bunching around her knees. "I'm dangerous, Marcus! I'm some kind of freak! Some kind of monster! Don't touch me, please don't touch me! I can't bear to hurt you too!"
Jenny stepped up beside Marcus, her face pale but her voice still carrying that trademark sass. "Okay, hold up. Time out. Somebody explain to me how kissin' somebody puts them in a coma, because that's definitely not covered in health class."
"I don't know!" Marie wailed, tears streaming down her face like summer rain. "I don't know what's wrong with me! One minute we were havin' a perfectly normal make-out session, and the next minute David's unconscious and I've got his whole life story rattlin' around in my head like marbles in a mason jar!"
But Marcus was already moving, driven by an instinct that was part CJ's knowledge of the story and part Marcus's bone-deep love for his sister. He knelt down beside her, ignoring her frantic attempts to wave him away without actually making contact.
"Marie, look at me," he said softly, his voice carrying all the warmth and certainty he could muster. "You're my sister. You're not a freak, and you're not a monster. Not to me. Not ever."
"You don't understand!" Marie's voice cracked like a whip. "I'll hurt you like I hurt David! Whatever this thing is inside me, it's like a poison! I can't control it!"
"Maybe you can't," Marcus said with absolute certainty, "but I can."
"What do you mean, you can—"
Before Marie could finish the question, Marcus reached out and took both her hands in his.
The world didn't just explode—it went supernova.
The instant his skin touched Marie's, reality seemed to fold in half and then unfold again in completely different directions. Information flooded his consciousness like the Mississippi River during spring flood, but it wasn't the chaotic, traumatic rush of uncontrolled absorption that Marie had experienced with David.
Instead, it was organized. Systematic. *Selective.*
**[SYSTEM ACTIVATION DETECTED]**
The words appeared in his mind's eye in crisp, electric-blue text, like someone had installed a video game interface directly into his brain.
**[SELECTIVE ABSORPTION GAMER SYSTEM ONLINE]**
**[WELCOME, MARCUS D'ANCANTO]**
**[SCANNING TARGET: MARIE D'ANCANTO]**
**[RELATIONSHIP STATUS: TWIN SISTER - COMPATIBLE]**
**[POWER DETECTED: UNCONTROLLED LIFE FORCE ABSORPTION]**
**[MEMORY FRAGMENTS DETECTED: MULTIPLE SOURCES]**
**[EMOTIONAL DISTRESS DETECTED: CRITICAL LEVELS]**
**[SELECTIVE INTERFACE ACTIVATED]**
A menu materialized in Marcus's peripheral vision, complete with options that looked like they'd been designed by someone who understood both user-friendly interfaces and cosmic responsibility:
**[ABSORPTION OPTIONS]**
- **POWER MIMICRY** (Temporary - 1 hour / Permanent - Irreversible / Controlled Copy - Recommended)
- **MEMORY ACCESS** (Surface thoughts / Deep memories / Skill sets / Emotional state only)
- **LIFE FORCE** (Minimal sample / Standard drain / Full absorption / Healing transfer)
- **EMOTIONAL CONNECTION** (Empathic link - Safe for family use)
**[SYSTEM RECOMMENDATION FOR TWIN SISTER: EMPATHIC CONNECTION + HEALING TRANSFER]**
**[WARNING: TARGET IS IN SEVERE EMOTIONAL DISTRESS]**
**[INITIATING COMFORT PROTOCOL...]**
Marcus mentally selected the empathic connection and healing transfer options, and suddenly he could *feel* what Marie was feeling—the crushing terror, the overwhelming guilt, the absolute certainty that she was now too dangerous to be around other people. But underneath all that trauma, he could sense something else: the raw, untamed power that was coursing through her system like electricity through a broken wire.
More importantly, he could feel her absorption ability trying to drain his life force and failing spectacularly. It was like watching someone try to empty Lake Pontchartrain with a teaspoon—the power was there, desperate and grasping, but it couldn't find any purchase on his selectively-controlled system.
"What..." Marie stared at their joined hands in absolute shock, her green eyes wide as dinner plates. "You're touchin' me. Sweet Mary and Joseph, you're actually touchin' me, and nothin' bad's happenin'!"
"Because we're family," Marcus said, which was both completely true and utterly inadequate as an explanation. "And because whatever's happenin' to you, darlin', it's happenin' to me too."
That wasn't entirely accurate—his powers were controlled where hers weren't—but it was close enough to the truth for now.
Marie's eyes filled with tears, but for the first time since this nightmare started, they weren't tears of terror. "I can touch you. Oh my God, Marcus, I can actually touch somebody without hurtin' them!"
She threw her arms around him like he was a life preserver in a hurricane, and Marcus hugged her back, feeling the system automatically adjust to maintain the empathic connection while blocking any harmful absorption effects. Through that connection, he felt the exact moment her terror began to transform into something that might eventually become hope.
**[POWER ANALYSIS COMPLETE]**
**[MARIE D'ANCANTO'S ABILITY PROFILE:]**
- **Classification:** Uncontrolled Life Force Absorption
- **Life Force Drain:** Automatic, potentially lethal, triggered by skin contact
- **Memory Transfer:** Involuntary, traumatic for both parties, permanent retention
- **Power Mimicry:** Temporary acquisition of absorbed abilities, duration varies
- **Psychological Integration:** Severe trauma from unwanted memory intrusion
- **Control Level:** Zero - Powers activate on contact regardless of intent
**[ABSORPTION COMPATIBILITY: EXTREMELY HIGH]**
**[PERMANENT ACQUISITION AVAILABLE: YES]**
**[WARNING: PERMANENT ABSORPTION WOULD GRANT UNCONTROLLED VARIANT]**
**[SYSTEM RECOMMENDATION: TEMPORARY MIMICRY ONLY - RETAIN SELECTIVE CONTROL]**
**[ALTERNATE RECOMMENDATION: DEVELOP TEACHING PROTOCOL TO HELP TARGET GAIN CONTROL]**
Marcus filed away the information about teaching Marie control. That could be incredibly useful down the road—if they survived the next few hours.
"Uh, guys?" Jenny's voice cut through the moment like a buzzsaw through pine, high-pitched with barely controlled panic and a healthy dose of what-the-hell confusion. "I don't mean to interrupt this touching sibling moment and all, but could somebody please explain to me what the Sam Hill just happened here? Because David looks like he's been drained by a vampire, and y'all are actin' like this is just another Tuesday in crazy town."
Marcus and Marie broke apart, and Marcus turned to face Jenny with the sinking realization that their secret was now shared with someone who definitely hadn't signed up for mutant family drama when she'd decided to make out with her boyfriend this afternoon.
Jenny stood in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights, except the deer was wearing a wrinkled sundress and had the expression of someone who'd just watched the laws of physics take a coffee break. Her face was pale as magnolia blossoms, and her hands were shaking like leaves in a thunderstorm. Her blue eyes darted between Marie (sitting on the floor looking guilty as sin), Marcus (whose expression probably screamed 'I know exactly what's happening and it terrifies me'), and David (unconscious and looking like he'd been left out in the sun too long).
"Jenny," Marcus started, his voice taking on that earnest quality that CJ had always used when trying to explain complicated concepts to people who weren't ready for them. "I know this looks real bad, but—"
"Real bad?" Jenny's voice cracked like a whip in a windstorm. "Marcus, your sister just... just did somethin' supernatural to David! He looks half-dead, and you're sittin' there holdin' her hands like this is perfectly normal! Like this happens every day around here!"
She gestured wildly at David's unconscious form. "And what was all that about memories? What memories? How does kissin' somebody give you their memories? That's not... that's not *normal*, Marcus!"
Through the empathic connection, Marcus could feel Marie's panic spiking like a fever, her terror that Jenny would tell everyone, that the whole town would know she was a freak, that she'd become the kind of monster parents warned their children about.
And worse, Marcus realized with growing dread as CJ's comic book knowledge supplied the context, she was probably right.
Caldecott County, Mississippi wasn't exactly known for its progressive attitudes toward anything, let alone the supernatural. This was the kind of place where people still whispered about Mrs. Henderson's great-aunt who'd supposedly been able to predict the weather by reading tea leaves, and that was just considered eccentric. If word got out that Marie D'Ancanto could drain people's life force with a touch and steal their memories in the process, the best-case scenario involved them being run out of town on a rail. The worst-case scenario involved government agencies, scientific experimentation, and possibly being hunted by people who saw mutants as threats to be eliminated rather than people to be helped.
Plus, there was the other issue—the one that made Marcus's blood run cold as his borrowed memories provided context that CJ's comic knowledge had only hinted at.
Their adoptive mother, Raven Darkhölme—though everyone in town knew her as Mrs. Dorothy D'Ancanto, widow of the late Robert D'Ancanto and pillar of the community—wasn't really their mother at all. According to most versions of Rogue's backstory, she was actually Mystique, the blue-skinned shapeshifter and terrorist who led the Brotherhood of Mutants. She'd been posing as their guardian for years, but Marcus couldn't remember if she was supposed to be protecting them, studying them, or just using them as convenient cover while she planned whatever nefarious scheme was currently occupying her attention.
Either way, the moment word got out about Marie's powers, their carefully constructed normal life was going to explode like a fireworks factory hit by lightning.
Jenny backed toward the door, her face cycling through shock, fear, and dawning realization like she was flipping through emotional channels on a broken television. "I... I need to go. I need to think about this. Process it, you know? This is just... it's too much."
"Jenny, please," Marcus said, standing up slowly like he was trying not to spook a frightened animal. His voice carried all the Tom Welling charm he could muster, mixed with genuine desperation. "You can't tell anyone about this. Please, darlin'. I'm beggin' you."
"Tell anyone about what?" Jenny's voice rose toward hysteria. "That your sister is some kind of... of mutant? That she nearly killed David with her bare hands? That she can steal people's memories by touchin' them?" She laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "How in the hell am I supposed to keep quiet about this?"
"Because if you don't," Marcus said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty, "they'll take her away. Government people, scientists, maybe worse. They'll want to study her, figure out what makes her tick. Maybe hurt her in the process."
He took a step closer, and Jenny flinched. "She's still just Marie, Jen. She's still the girl who helped you cheat on your algebra homework and taught you how to French braid your hair for homecoming. She's still the same person who stayed up all night with you when your mama was in the hospital last winter. This thing that's happened to her—it doesn't change who she is inside."
For a moment, Jenny wavered. Marcus could see the conflict in her blue eyes like storm clouds gathering—her genuine affection for Marie warring with her fear of the unknown, her desire to help fighting against her instinct for self-preservation.
But fear was a powerful motivator, and in the end, it won.
"I'm sorry," Jenny whispered, and Marcus could hear the truth in her voice. She really was sorry. But sorry wasn't going to keep their secret safe. "I just... I can't. This is too big for me, Marcus. Too scary. I'm not brave like you are."
And then she was gone, her footsteps echoing down the hallway like gunshots, followed by the thunder of her feet on the stairs and the slam of the front door that might as well have been a death knell for their old life.
Marcus closed his eyes and counted to ten, feeling Marie's despair through their connection like a physical weight pressing down on his chest. When he opened them again, Marie was looking at him with the expression of someone who'd just watched their world end.
"She's gonna tell everyone, isn't she?" Marie whispered, her voice small and broken.
"Yeah," Marcus said softly, because there was no point in lying about it. "She's gonna tell everyone."
"What are we gonna do?"
Marcus looked around Marie's bedroom—at David's unconscious form sprawled across her flowered bedspread, at the cheerleading trophies on her dresser, at the normal teenage space that suddenly felt like the last remnant of their old, safe life. When he spoke again, his voice carried all of CJ's organizational instincts wrapped in Marcus D'Ancanto's Southern determination.
"We're gonna pack," he said. "Light bags, essentials only. Clothes, money if we've got any, anything important that we can't replace and can't live without."
Marie blinked at him like he'd just suggested they sprout wings and fly to the moon. "Pack? Where in heaven's name are we gonna go?"
Marcus thought about that. In the comics, Rogue eventually ended up with the X-Men, but that was after years of being manipulated by Mystique and the Brotherhood, years of thinking she was a monster who could never be anything more than a weapon. If they left now, on their own terms, they could potentially skip that entire traumatic period and head straight for Westchester County and the sanctuary of Xavier's School.
But first, they needed to get out of Caldecott County before the townspeople decided to form a mob with pitchforks, torches, and probably shotguns, because this was Mississippi and people here took their Second Amendment rights seriously.
"North," he said finally. "We go north, find other people like us. There's gotta be others, Marie. We can't be the only ones dealin' with this kind of thing."
Through their connection, he felt her fear transform into something that might eventually become determination, mixed with a healthy dose of trust in her big brother's ability to figure things out.
"Okay," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "But what about David? We can't just leave him like this, can we? It ain't right."
Marcus looked at David's unconscious form and made a decision that was part strategic thinking and part simple human decency—the kind of choice that CJ Smith would have made, but with Marcus D'Ancanto's Southern sense of honor backing it up.
"We call 911 from a payphone once we're outta town. Anonymous tip about an unconscious person at this address. The EMTs will figure out how to help him, and the doctors at the county hospital are good people. They'll take care of him." He paused, consulting the system's medical analysis. "And Marie? He's gonna be okay. You didn't take enough to cause permanent damage. He'll wake up with a headache and some missing time, but he'll live."
"How can you possibly know that?"
Because the system had run a complete medical diagnostic and provided a full recovery projection, complete with timeline and potential complications. But Marcus couldn't exactly explain that without sounding completely insane.
"Because I can feel what you felt when it happened," he said instead, which was true enough. "And I know you, darlin'. You'd never hurt anybody on purpose, which means your power wouldn't either. Not really. It was tryin' to protect you, maybe, or just reactin' to strong emotions. But it wasn't tryin' to kill him."
It was a comforting lie wrapped around a kernel of truth, but it made Marie smile for the first time since this whole nightmare had started. And sometimes, Marcus reflected, a comforting lie was exactly what someone needed to hear.
"Alright then," she said, standing up with new resolve straightening her spine. "Let's pack and get out of here before Jenny brings half the county down on our heads."
As they headed toward the door, Marcus caught sight of himself in Marie's full-length mirror and had to do a double-take. Marcus D'Ancanto looked exactly like what you'd expect from CJ Smith's cosmic makeover—dark hair that caught the light, green eyes that seemed to hold depths they hadn't possessed before, strong cheekbones that belonged on a movie poster, and the kind of natural tan that came from actually working outdoors in the Mississippi sun. He was taller than CJ had been, with broader shoulders and the lean muscle definition of someone who'd spent summers baling hay and winters chopping firewood.
But it was his eyes that were truly different. Marcus's eyes held knowledge that sixteen-year-olds shouldn't have—knowledge of comic book timelines, cosmic entities, and the terrible weight of destiny. They were eyes that had seen too much, even though they'd only been seeing for a few hours.
**[SYSTEM UPDATE]**
**[TUTORIAL PHASE: COMPLETE]**
**[CURRENT POWER LEVEL: MINIMAL BUT GROWING]**
**[ABSORBED ABILITIES: EMPATHIC CONNECTION (MARIE D'ANCANTO)]**
**[POTENTIAL TARGETS IN IMMEDIATE AREA: 0 DETECTED]**
**[EXPANDED SCAN RADIUS: 50 MILES]**
**[POTENTIAL TARGETS DETECTED: 3 UNKNOWN SIGNATURES]**
**[RECOMMENDED COURSE OF ACTION: IMMEDIATE RELOCATION TO AREA WITH HIGHER MUTANT POPULATION DENSITY]**
**[WARNING: HOSTILE ENVIRONMENT STATUS ESCALATING]**
**[ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL DISCOVERY: 1.5 - 3 HOURS]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: DEPARTURE WITHIN 30 MINUTES FOR OPTIMAL SAFETY MARGIN]**
The system was right. Caldecott County had suddenly become enemy territory, and they needed to get gone before Jenny's inevitable panic-driven phone calls brought down every kind of trouble Marcus could imagine, and probably a few kinds he couldn't.
But he also knew something the system didn't: somewhere in the back of his mind, CJ's comic book knowledge was providing a roadmap. There was a school in Westchester County, New York, where a brilliant bald man in a wheelchair welcomed mutant children with open arms and taught them to use their powers responsibly. Charles Xavier, Professor X, founder of the X-Men and arguably the most powerful telepath on the planet.
If they could make it that far, they'd have sanctuary. They'd have a chance to learn control, to become heroes instead of victims.
But first, they had to survive the next few hours without getting lynched, captured, or worse.
"Marcus?" Marie's voice brought him back to the present moment. "You got that look again. The one where you're plannin' something complicated and probably dangerous."
"I'm plannin' on gettin' us somewhere safe," he said, giving her the kind of smile that had probably gotten Marcus D'Ancanto out of more trouble than it had caused. "Somewhere nobody's gonna look at you like you're a monster, where people will understand what you're goin' through."
"And just where might that magical place be?"
Marcus thought about Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, about the X-Men, about a future where Marie—Rogue—would become one of the most powerful and respected mutants in the world, a leader and a hero rather than just a walking weapon.
"I don't rightly know yet," he admitted, because honesty had always been important to both CJ Smith and Marcus D'Ancanto. "But I promise you this, Marie: wherever we end up, you're never gonna be alone again. And you're never gonna have to be afraid of hurtin' people you care about. I'll make sure of it."
Through their empathic connection, he felt her belief in his words settle into her heart like a warm blanket on a cold night. And for the first time since awakening in this new life, Marcus D'Ancanto felt like he might actually be able to keep the promises he was making.
Now they just had to survive long enough to keep them.
**[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]**
**[PRIMARY OBJECTIVE UPDATED: PROTECT MARIE D'ANCANTO]**
**[SECONDARY OBJECTIVE: DEVELOP POWER BASE AND CONTROL ABILITIES]**
**[TERTIARY OBJECTIVE: LOCATE XAVIER'S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS]**
**[HIDDEN OBJECTIVE DETECTED: IDENTITY OF ADOPTIVE MOTHER - INVESTIGATE WITH EXTREME CAUTION]**
**[WARNING: MULTIPLE THREAT VECTORS IDENTIFIED]**
**[LOCAL THREATS: COMMUNITY PERSECUTION, LAW ENFORCEMENT, GOVERNMENT AGENCIES]**
**[FAMILY THREATS: MYSTIQUE'S UNKNOWN AGENDA]**
**[GLOBAL THREATS: SENTINEL PROGRAM, ANTI-MUTANT ORGANIZATIONS, BROTHERHOOD RECRUITMENT]**
**[TIME CRITICAL: WINDOW FOR CLEAN ESCAPE CLOSING RAPIDLY]**
Marcus looked at the system notifications with grim satisfaction. Rob had been right about the video game interface—it was incredibly useful for organizing priorities and understanding the full scope of the strategic situation, even when that situation involved more potential enemies than a Civil War battlefield.
"Come on, sis," he said, offering Marie his hand with a smile that held all of CJ's determination and Marcus's Southern charm. "Let's go pack our lives into suitcases. We've got a long road ahead of us, and somethin' tells me it's gonna be one hell of an adventure."
As they left David's unconscious form behind and headed toward their uncertain future, Marcus couldn't help but think that Rob had been absolutely right about one thing.
This was definitely going to be one hell of a story.
---
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