Re-Evolution: Episode 1: The Shadow Over New Salem

"I have a ride waiting, but we should totally freak out over the results when they post them on the board in the morning. We can either break out the confetti or go into half-mourning," Darcy rambled as they headed to their lockers after the trials.

Morgan ran her hand through her hair with an amused grin. "I'll pack an extra veil, you know. Just in case." She winked at her. "Let's meet up first thing, huh?"

"Perfect, catcha then, captain." Darcy flashed her mock salute, and jogged off down the hallway.

"Catch you then." Morgan waved her off with an amused little grin, before she shouldered her own bag "Guess I'll head on out..."

She checked her phone as she started walking.

"Hey, Morgan," a bitchy voice snapped from behind her. "Headed home already?"

Morgan stopped, turning slowly to look over her shoulder with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, actually. See, some of us have lives, you know?"

It was the girl that Morgan had caught talking about her in cheer trials girl, and her two lackies. The bitch smiled like a snake.

"Awww, that's too bad. We were thinking we could hang out, you know? Maybe give you some fashion advice."

Morgan put her hand on her hip, turning to lean against the wall as she kept her eyes on them. "That so? Didn't know the Abercrombie and Bitch Gang had an opening." She smirked, flipping her inverted cross between her fingers. "Believe it or not, I'm *pretty* savvy with fashion."

The bitch crossed her arms, her eyes hard. "Well then, maybe we can give you some *other* advice, right girls?"

Her friend giggled, covering her mouth with her manicured fingers. "Oh I think we can, Becky. I think it's advice he *really* needs."

Morgan's eye twitched, and she crossed her arms 

"Do you three have a point between you? Because I'm about to fuck off. After all, I don't have any time for girls who aren't even going to make cheer team."

"You want the point, miss Connelly?"  Becky snorted. "Here it is. Know where you aren't wanted. The cheer team doesn't need *freaks* like you on it. Got that?"

Morgan's eyes darkened further, her jaw setting stiffly  as a soft hiss left her lips. "Is that so? I'm a freak, am I?" 

In the waning light of the afternoon, the school's hallway was home to plenty of shadows. The outlines of windows and trees danced in the darkness around them, a stretched reflection in the light of the lowering sun.

Angry tears beaded at the edge of Morgan's eyes as she took a step forward. "Why don't you just piss off?"

There was the sudden sound of a locker shutting hard a little further down the hall, and a warm, but slightly ominous voice, with a russian accent, cut through the scene..

"I imagine you ladies are late for something, is that not so?" 

A large silhouette stood in the light of the school's doorway.

Becky made a face, shrinking back toward her friends as they were no longer alone in the hall. "Hiiii, Peter."

At that, the shadows all seemed to release at once. The shadowy branches of the trees which had started to crawl along the ground in stretching silhouettes now looked like normal shadows once more. For a brief moment they almost seemed to shudder, before snapping back.

But Morgan, who's eyes were dark and furious, slowly untensed as she glanced at the doorway.

"Uhm..." One of other girls said "i don't thiiink we're late for anything..."

Becky eyed the shadows nervously, before she snorted. "Whatever, come on, girls, only nerds stay this long after school." She strode forward, past Peter, and out the door.

Morgan hissed through her teeth before stamping her foot. "Go get another dye job, you ugly bitch!" she shouted after her and her friends left the door.

The broad young man sighed and strode forward toward Morgan, and spoke soothingly. "They cackle like crows, do they not? But you should pay them no mind."

"they called me a freak," Morgan muttered, leaning on the wall as she looked over at the big young man. "We were shipped out here to escape that kind of thing, and here it is happening again. And I didn't even *do* anything."

Peter had a strong face, and soft dark hair cut short but not cropped too close. He had a warm, somber face, and gentle eyes. He was dressed plainly, in a pair of jeans, t-shirt and unzipped hoodie. He carried a heavy backpack easily in one arm. He offered her his free hand.

"People control their fear of what they don't understand through petty attacks. Especially people who are... immature. I'm sure you're no more freak than I, Miss Connelly."

Morgan took his hand, tears leaking from her eyes as she took a deep breath, her fingers tightening against his palm.

"...immature or not, they don't have to take it out on me. I'm *tired* of them always taking it out on me. In Maine...here. It'll never stop." Her eyes narrowed, and in a voice that dripped with bitterness and hurt she whispered half to herself, "...if we were back in Maine, i could have *really* given them something to fear."

Peter squeezed her hand gently, and glanced at the shadows. "Ah...yes. Miss Morgan, why don't we find somewhere quiet and chat, yes? I will buy you a soda."

Morgan sniffed, and wiped her eyes with her other hand. "Yeah that...that sounds nice. Thanks...Peter, was it? that's what that...girl..called you."

"That's right, Peter. Well, technically it's Piotr, Piotr Rasputin, but you can only ask so much in terms of pronunciation," he explained with a smile. He put his hand on her shoulder, and started to lead her down the hall.

Morgan followed him with a weak smile "Piotr, huh?" she repeated, taking a moment to make sure she got the pronunciation right. "I'm Morgan Connelly...nice to meet you." 

She pressed her free hand to her head, trying to ward off the impending ache of stress. "....Sorry about getting all emotional. It's just...a lot. I"ve been dealing with this kind of shit for years, I should have a thicker skin."

Piotr chuckled softly. "Even the thickest skin can not always protect the heart. But it's no bad thing to have a soft one." he pushed open the door of an empty student lounge; there were chairs and vending machines inside.

Morgan smiled at him wanly, "You should transfer to our theater class. You've got a real way with poetry, Piotr." She walked over to the vending machine with a sigh "but I guess I see what you mean.."

"I took theatre last year I'm afraid, but thank you." He handed her his student ID. "Please, get whatever you like."

Morgan put it into the machine with a thankful smile. "you want anything, big guy?"

"Why not. Thank you. "

Morgan put the card through the machine, buying them a couple of drinks. She handed one to him before taking a seat with a sigh. "Thanks again. It's a real nice gesture, you didn't have to buy me anything."

"It's nothing, really," he said, taking the drink and sitting down gingerly in the chair beside her. "I am hoping that we can be friends."

"Friends, huh?" Morgan asked, staring at the top of her soda with the trace of a smile for a moment before she popped it  open and took a sip. "You'd want to be friends with a 'spooky freak' like me? ...might be nice. You seem like a nice guy."

"It is my fondest ambition to be considered a good man, though I often fall terribly short of it," he confided. "But I don't find you 'spooky', I suppose because I am a bit odd myself."

Morgan looked him over again with a quirk of her eyebrow as she sipped her shoulder.

"Is that so?"

"You're not alone here, Morgan," he told her gently, but firmly. "I assure you."

Morgan was quiet for a moment , but when she finally spoke it was quiet and a little pained.

"...You don't really know how odd I really am, Piotr. No matter what Greg says, I'm not like other people. There's a reason we were run out of town, and it's got nothing to do with why those girls are mocking me. Not in totality anyway."

Piotr shook his head. "I believe that I understand more than you think, though perhaps it must be shown, not spoken of. May I do something which you may find alarming, and which I must ask you not to speak of?"

Morgan leaned on her hand, not certain where he was going with this. But there was no sense saying no. What was he gonna do, flash her? "I'm a girl who keeps her secrets," she purred, "you show me yours, I'll show you mine."

The young man merely nodded, missing, or at least ignoring, the subtext. He reached out his muscular arm, and pulled the hoodie back from it, showing pale flesh, up to his elbow.

And then something happened. The sinew in his arm tensed, and a silvery light bloomed at his fingertips, spreading down his arm to the crook over it, and where it passed, Piotr's arm seemed to have been covered by, or converted to, silvery metal plates, like a suit of armor.

"Holy shit." Morgan whispered. She reached over and touched it, placing her hand on his wrist "holy shit"

Piotr smiled softly as she touched him, not flinching away. The metal was warm, like body heat.

"A most curious condition, yes?"

"Real curious." Morgan breathed quietly. "You can turn yourself into a literal knight in shining armor with an ability like that, eh? The girls must love you."

"Regrettably I have not found this to be the case, as of yet." He took his arm back gingerly, and it shifted back to pink flesh, the plates seeming to fuse away into normal skin. He pulled his sleeve down.

"Tragic." Morgan told him, with an air of amazement still in her voice. "Maybe you'll have more luck soon." 

She brushed her hand through her hair, tucking it over a very much pointed ear and grinned wide enough to show her fangs "I did promise to show you mine, so...don't tell anyone what I show you, huh? If my brother finds out I'm 'misbehaving' he'll have a fit."

"You have my word," Piotr nodded. "Though I believe I saw some of it in the hall, already, unless I am much mistaken."

"...." Morgan flushed, her cheeks darkening as she shrugged her shoulders. Not stealthy, it seemed. She was as bad as Greg. "...It may have started acting up out there, yeah. I...try to control it, but.."

She reached her hand out towards the shadow cast by the vending machine. It crawled along the ground like slithering snakes, until it rose **up**, and curled into her waiting hand like wisps of smoke. The animate shadow first formed a skeletal hand as she concentrated, before it twisted and flowed into the form of a single rose, which she offered to him.

"Go on. Take it."

Piotr looked at the object in mild surprise, his eyebrows raised, but he did as he was told, and accepted the flower. He held it up to his face and turned it over in his fingers.It was the perfect form of a rose, but all made in the same matte black, as if plucked from its own shadow.

"Marvelous."

Morgan wryly grinned her fang-toothed smile. "People back home called me a monster. A witch. A demon. You know, all those fun things." She gestured to the rose. "But whatever I am, the shadows are mine to control."

He shook his head and smiled softly at her. 

"You are no monster, Morgan, this I know. As I said to you, there are more of us than you think. My mentor, a man named Charles Xavier, calls us mutants. An evolution of mankind."

Morgan twisted her hand, letting the shadow slither over it as she turned her eyes downward in thought. She smiled wryly.

"...an evolution of mankind, huh?...mutants. I guess in my heart I always knew me and Greg weren't the only--the only ones out there who weren't human..." She glanced at him. "but as far as I knew, it was just the two of us back home in Red Oak..." she hesitated a moment before asking "is your 'mentor'...one of us too?"

"He is," Piotr nodded, "a gifted man in many senses of the word. He is a teacher and a guide to many of us who fall outside the human norm. He runs an institute, a sort of boarding school, where we can be ourselves, and he can help us learn to understand our own gifts."

"Huh." Morgan dissipated the shadow, which returned to normal behind her; though it did seem to flicker between shapes now and again as she looked into her drink. She smiled sadly. "A boarding school where we can be ourselves huh?...where we don't have to hide...where we can learn. That sounds too good to be true."

"It may sound that way, but I assure you it's very real. And the 'too good to be true' feeling may wear off when I tell you it does mean extra classes to attend, and dorms."

 Morgan laughed. 

"Tch. Ah, there's the downside. More school and a roommate." She wiped her eyes, which seemed to keep watering despite her best efforts. "My brother, Greg. He keeps telling me he wants things to be 'normal'. Like...that we should force ourselves to fit in. That I should dress the right way and act the right way...but we aren't normal. Especially since the change...mutation, I guess."

"It's understandable to want to fit in, to bury what makes you different, when you have no way to express that difference without rejection, even fear," Piotr nodded. "Perhaps you and your brother could come to visit our institute for an afternoon. I know you would find it welcoming, and I am certain that Professor Xavier would be happy to meet you."

Morgan leaned back in her chair with a half smile. “Yeah. You know what? maybe...I'll bring that up to him tonight. See if he'd like to tour the place with me. No harm in meeting the guy and looking around..."

"No harm at all," he agreed. "I will look forward to your visit. Perhaps if you like, there, I can show you my full 'suit of armor'."

"You know what, Piotr? I'm looking forward to that." She flipped her hair over her shoulder, "and maybe I can show you my teleportation bullshit, too."

"I would be honored to see," he said with a smile. He raised his drink to her. "But I am afraid I must be going. One of those 'extra classes' I mentioned calls me."

Morgan raised her can to him with a slim smile "See you around, Piotr."

She stood and had one of the shadows reach over and lift her bag for her. Snatching it out of the tendril , she threw it over her shoulder. "Enjoy those after school lessons. I'd better get home before my brother blows a gasket."

With a quick text to her brother reading 'Meet you at home', she headed out the door.