Mandatory Semi-Prologue

Ruth had a little anger issue. At least, that's what Charles and Hank liked to call it whenever they had to douse her with water or use the fire extinguisher because she got a little too upset.

She pretended to sleep, listening as the door opened. She heard Hank's low voice, saying something to someone. The second voice she didn't recognize. It wasn't Charles' soft English accent, it was more rich sounding, deep.

"Don't make her go to her classes," the mystery voice said. Ruth liked this voice, it knew what was up. "If you don't know the extent of her powers, don't make her join a class of kids that do, that's not helpful for anyone. Just bring her her homework and leave her alone."

"But Alex—"

"She's a kid, Hank. She can't be more than sixteen, she's younger than Scott. Younger than Sean when we first got to him."

"...I'm worried about her, Alex. She nearly burned her room down last night when she was sleeping. Her hair turns into fire."

"...that's really cool."

"Alex!"

"Calm down, Bozo, it's okay. Look, let's figure it out later. Let's just let her sleep."

Ruth opened her eyes and sat up, staring at the door where Hank and this new person, Alex, had been hovering not a minute before. She had been there a month and had no idea who anyone was; for all she knew, this Alex person could have been at the school for years.

She closed her eyes and settled onto her bed, sighing as she relaxed fully, she back unused to the lack of tension. Within minutes she was in a dreamless, restless sleep. There were no fires that night, the first in a week.

º º º º º

Ruth sat crossed legged on her bed, listening to music on her Walkman. She had received a note on her disabled alarm clock telling her that she didn't have to go to class. She already knew, but seeing it in Hank's writing made it a lot better. At least, she assumed it was Hank's handwriting, she had never actually seen it.

There was a knock on the door and her heart deflated. It was probably Hank trying to convince her to go on a run to release endorphins or whatever science discovered ten years ago.

She stood up and opened the door to reveal a man with long blonde hair carrying an impressive stack of books. She guessed he was Alex. She let him in wordlessly, moving to stand in the middle of the room.

He shut the door partway, leaving it ajar slightly. She relaxed, feeling safe enough to sit on her bed. He placed the books on her desk, making a noise when it shook, hands scrambling to keep whatever would fall steady.

He sighed and turned to face her, sticking out his hand, a lopsided grin on his face. "Alex Summers."

She shook it warily. "Ruth Dakin."

His smile grew wider. "Ruth Dakin Bailey?"

"Get out of my room."

He laughed loudly, his head titling back slightly. She blinked, startled at the sound. She hadn't heard anyone laugh in quite some time. Not in her presence, at least; she had definitely heard people laughing in the halls and in the other rooms.

He pulled up her chair and sat across from her. "So Hank told me your hair lights up when you're angry. Well, fire, but same thing."

She nodded. "Yeah...who're you again?"

He smiled. "Alex Summers. I'm one of the original X-Men. I'm Scott's brother."

She felt her ears go pink and looked at her hands. She had heard of the original X-Men, mostly from the stories in the halls and through the walls, but she had no idea who Scott was. She didn't talk to anyone or go out much, or at all. She had a feeling he was important, given the way Alex said his name.

"Wow, you really don't go out much."

She glared up at him, feeling the irritation begin to manifest. She wasn't angry enough for it to consume her, but she was irritated enough to start feeling the symptoms. Her hands started to get sweaty and her foot kept tapping.

She felt her hair start rise and she knew it was turning red. She stared at Alex, gauging his reaction. If he didn't react badly, maybe she wouldn't have to explode. He stared back, gaze flickering up to her hair.

"That's pretty cool."

She frowned, all semblance of irritation flowing away to make room for confusion. "What?"

He shrugged. "Your hair looks like a candle." She stared at him incredulously and he sighed. "Sorry if that's not the reaction you wanted, but I shoot plasma hula hoops from my body, so excuse me if I'm not impressed."

He shocked a laugh out of her. "Hula hoops?"

He smiled and nodded. "Ask Hank, he was there." A weird look travelled onto his face and he stared at a space between them, a faraway look in his eyes.

Everyone knew the story of the original X-Men. Mystique—Raven—would often tell the story if she got nostalgic enough and people could often pry some stories from Hank. There were others, but neither would ever say what happened to them.

"Are you okay?" Ruth asked after counting two minutes on her clock.

He looked up, blinking. He gave her a strained smile. "Yeah. C'mon, let's go find Hank. He has a test he wants to run."

º º º º º

Ruth walked into the lab, jumping when the door slammed shut. She whirled around, expecting to see Alex was there. He wasn't. She rushed to the door, trying to open it to let him in. It was locked.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. All those scary movies she saw were bullshit and there was no way anyone could get into the mansion undetected; they had the Professor. She looked around the room.

She had heard the story of the mansion being blown up because of the whole Apocalypse incident. Some guy named—Oh. Oh. Alex was the one who had blown up the ship, blowing up the mansion. She wondered how he and everyone else survived that.

The room had been rebuilt, it was still the size of a large two-story mall, but without the warcraft. Hank learned from his mistakes.

She frowned, looking at all the boxes and tables and other things littering the room. She walked carefully towards them, shuddering. They were so eerily in the lighting and their placement made no sense, even for Hank.

There was the scuttle of footsteps and she jumped, whirling around. Her heart was starting to race. "Hank?" She mentally slapped herself; calling out was what people in horror movies did before they died.

The scuttling was on the other side of the room. Her heart leaped into her throat. This was exactly the type of thing that was in those movies. She tried to calm herself and think about all those times she thought there were ghosts in her house because she watched too many movies.

Then all those scary scenes and thoughts flooded into her head. Great.

There was the sound of a chair scraping and she whirled around, trying to find the source of the sound. In the middle of the room was a chair, just sitting there. She shuddered, feeling her feet start to tingle.

She turned around slowly, then jumped at the empty space of air in front of her. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Good job, Ruthie. Maybe if you're lucky, someone's filming this for posterity."

She took a deep breath and walked towards the chair in the middle of the floor, kicking it. "Bite me, ass-seat."

She looked around, feeling goosebumps on her arms. The room's lighting was getting dimmer. There was the faint sound of footsteps in the far corner, blocked by a large mass of something she couldn't tell in the dark.

"Hank," she called out, "This isn't funny." If she was going to go, she was gonna go in the most cliche way possible.

The footsteps came from the other wall. She jumped and turned around, seeing only the dark area that wasn't lit. The footsteps stopped the moment after she faced them. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweating, and her feet and arms were tingling.

She turned around to look at the tables and nearly screamed throwing her hands up to her mouth. All the tables and chairs had been pushed to the center of the room, stacked upon each other. She stared at it in horror. She was going to die here.

She started to back up, thinking up an escape plan. Her back hit something and she whirled around, staring at the large box. She traced the plastic wrapping, feeling the tug on her shaking fingers.

She followed the plastic as she walked around the massive box. Her heart started to pound as she stood right next to the corner. She took a deep breath and slowly rounded the corner. There was nothing there.

There was a shriek and something jumped out from behind the other side. Ruth screamed, stumbling backwards, staring at its grotesque, maniacal face.

She ran the other way, towards the other side of the room. She jumped behind one of the other boxes, breathing ragged. She heard a high-pitched laugh from the other side of the room. She shut her eyes, looking for an escape route.

She heard the sound of breathing next to her. A cold breath hit her neck, making her shudder. The breathing was getting heavier and closer. From the corner of her eye, she saw a hand reaching for her shoulder.

She screamed, scrambling away, running back towards the tables where the lights were. She was in full panic. She couldn't see straight, her head was spinning, and she was close to tears. There was the maniacal laugh again. Footsteps made their way towards her and she took off at a sprint.

She ran towards the box closest to the door and ducked down, trying to hide herself in the shadows.

"Ruthie," the voice called out, high pitched and warped, "Come out."

She covered her mouth to keep from screaming, trying not to breathe. The footsteps drew nearer before heading in the opposite direction. She let out a breath and sighed.

A hand grabbed her shoulder. "Gotcha!"

She screamed, ripping her arm away. She ran the other way, but something else caught her, breathing heavily. She screamed, trying to get away, hearing footsteps walking slowly towards her. She screamed, drowning out the cackling that was drawing dangerously nearer.

Her attacker pinned her against a box, her head hitting the plastic roughly. The cackling was so close. She struggled against the arms keeping her stuck, not sure if she was screaming and not caring anymore because she needed to get away.

Another pair of hands were on her shoulders and then she was screaming and thrashing and getting away.

The next thing she knew she was on the rafters and all the lights were on.

A/N ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED JUNE 13, 2016, BUT UPDATED TO CHANGE THE GIF UP TOP. Bear with me, this chapter will make sense and I apologize for the less than mediocre writing for the last section. I promise it gets better. Please remember this is severely unedited please forgive any horrendous mistakes.