TITLE: Lightening Hit The Little Tree
AUTHOR: Fyre.
RATING: PG-13 (so far)
SUMMARY: There's a new X-Men team member…
SPOILERS: No comment ;)
DISCLAIMER: None of this stuff belongs to me. Honestly. I'm poor.

FEEDBACK: I like! I like it muchly!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: What was once a Mary-Sue fic was aadapted into this cross-over *sniffs proudly* Hopefully, this is better than what it orginially was.

It seemed like a human flood, or a stampede, barely controlled in its steady, murmuring, seething mass of life.

Amid the expanse of humanity, a single girl stood, motionless, an island in a sea of people, her pale eyes staring emptily up at the massive signs that proclaimed her welcome in this new part of her country.

Allowing herself to be half-pulled, half-pushed along by the flow, Electra – as she now called herself – felt insignificant. Tiny. In more ways than one.

Her slender hands were bunched in tight fists, which had been carefully and tightly swathed with lengths of bandages, her right thumb and forefinger the only visible sections of either of her hands. They were wrapped around the strap of her weighty rucksack nervously.

"Why am I doing this?" She had been whispering that same question to herself throughout her entire flight from California to New York, her fears and doubts intensifying with every hour that had passed. "I shouldn't have run..."

But she couldn't go back.

Not now.

Not ever.

The day she had realised that she was different had been the day she had fled. In fact, that she was so different was the very reason she had run, not telling anyone, taking nothing but her lightest and most precious items with her.

Halted by security, her mind wandered back, back to the familiar faces and the friends she knew she could never see again. They wouldn't even recognise her now, she knew it. Even just a few months on the run had proved that.

The annoyingly-familiar burning prickled at her eyes, her fists sweeping the hissing tears away. Surrounded by so many people, she felt terrifyingly alone. All she had left was the hope that what she had heard was true.

"You can go." The officer prompted grudgingly, obviously hoping that the odd-looking girl would prove a troublemaker. Unfortunately, all of Electra Harris' paperwork appeared to be completely in order.

Apart from the fact that all of it was fake, right down the files in the F.B.I. computer systems, but she wasn't about to tell the officer that, hefting her rucksack further up her back and hurrying passed him, pausing in the arrivals hall and looking around slowly.

Spotting a seat in the corner, she was pleased to notice the crowd opened up around her, suspicious and wary glances and comments sent in her direction detracting from the moment, as she made her way towards it.

She knew why they were staring.

Not only was she diferent in her abilities, but her looks. And quite possibly her aura too. She had wondered how her only ally had known about her when he found her stowing away on the back of his truck. He said he could sense her.

He had terrified her at first, massive – nearly two feet taller than her, his shadow darkening his face, making it more terrifying than it really was. But now, here she was, having followed his wise advice. Advice she had only taken after almost seven and a half months of hiding out and sneaking journeys when she could manage.

That's why she was now sitting in the corner of a bustling airport in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, waiting for a complete stranger to take her to a safe haven for her and her kind.

She just hoped he was right.

Letting her rucksack slide to the floor with a heavy thump, she pulled her feet up underneath her and exhaled a long sigh. She knew she looked pathetic and she definitely felt it, more so than her eighteen years should really have allowed.

The sight of her fellow-passengers meeting family members and friends sent a tidal wave of envy careening through her, the swell of jealousy taunting her and tempting her to unravel the only things that held her temper at bay.

Instead, however, she reached a trembling hand into her capricious coat pocket, withdrawing a dog-eared paperback and curling uncomfortably into the seat to read it, briefly considering the possibility that she might not be recognised or helped.

The flicker of her reflection in a gleaming mirror several feet away caught her atention. A bitter little laugh broke from her lips, raising a hand to touch her cheek with a crackle. "How could they miss you?" She muttered, "You look like a freak. They'll know you...if they show face."

And she had to admit that that was one helluva big 'if'.

*

Striding alongside Professor Xavier, Cyclops glanced back at the car as they made their way across the bustling parking lot. Driving as fast as they dared, the X-Man and his 'boss' had gotten to the airport as quickly as they could and Xavier was convinced that their new charge was still present.

Behind them, the dazzlingly illuminated skyline of Manhattan glinted brightly against the dark velvet of the night sky. Even though it was almost midnight, the city was still bursting to the seams with all manner of activity.

Entering the arrivals hall, the two mutants glanced around the fairly busy chamber, the younger of the two making his way after the professor, who was unerringly making his way towards an isolated individual, who crouched inobtrusively in the corner of the seating area, eyes focused intently on anything but her surroundings.

It was an expression both men had come to recognise.

"Electra?"

Her silver-haired head jerked up sharply, ice-blue eyes warily flicking from Xavier to Cyclops and back again, her silver-sheened skin taut. "Who wants to know?" She asked, her tone guarded. She shifted slightly, sparks of electricity crackling across her skin.

"You asked for help." Xavier smiled gently, clearly aware of just how much this girl had grown to depend on herself, not trusting anyone else. "I'm Charles Xavier. My friend – Monty Reynolds – told me that you would be here."

She nodded once, tucked her book away. "And who's that?" She gestured to Cyclops, her eyes settling on the tightly-strapped on visor.

"I'm Scott." He elaborated, casting a winning smile at her, receiving only an impassive gaze in response. "I'm a friend of the Professor."

Another nod.

"Perhaps we ought to head back?" Xavier suggested, breaking the awkward silence. Electra glanced at him, expression empty. "Would you like to come and live at the school for the time being, Electra?"

"School?"

Xavier gave her a secretive smile. "You'll fit in just fine." He explained quietly, fighting down a small smile as she nodded again, rose to her feet, her long leather coat settling around her with a shake of her hips.

"Nice jacket."

Pale blue eyes glanced down at it, the threat of a smile creeping onto her lips. "Got it from...an old acquaintance." She said softly, running a hand down the textured black leather. "So...where are we headed?"

*

Casting a sidelong glance at his young passenger, Cyclops took in her gaunt face and fear-laced posture, her body rigid as if preparing for flight, her hands defensively clutched to her body, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Even so, in spite of this and her diminuitive frame, he could tell that she was a tough little thing, a person who had seen more than her fair share of evil and faced it. It shone in her misty, empty eyes.

Dressed from head-to-toe in black, she seemed to be aiming for the sinister look, probably attempting to keep any interested parties at bay. Looking frightening was often more effective than actually being so. Only those clumpy bandages seemed out of place...

"Why are you watching me?" She asked quietly, her gaze fixed on the dark road that wound on ahead of them.

"I was wondering what happened to your hands. Did you get hurt?"

Her full attention turned to him, a curious expression crossing her face. "It wasn't me that was hurt." Running her finger over the bumpy material of the bandage, she paused, seeming to be struggling over what to say. "I can't control the power."

"I know the feeling." Cyclops tapped at his visor, a pained smile crossing his face at the memories he had of the time before Xavier had found him, helped him. "When did you find out about your power?"

Her shoulders rose in a shrug. "About seven and a half months ago." She replied, her tone neutral. "Someone tried to hurt my friend and...it just happened. I thought I had killed them both, so I ran..." Her finger brushed the cuff of her jacket again, her lashes crackling when she blinked. "It was only when I stopped running that I saw what I was. What I looked like."

"It doesn't matter what you look like." Xavier reassured her gently, feeling the intense pain and loneliness the young woman was clearly feeling. Aside from the metallic sheen of her skin,she didn't even look very different, compared to some of the students at his school.

"You can say that." She caught his gaze in the mirror, her expression blank. "You don't look like there's anything...different about you."

A small smile twitched the corners of Cyclops' mouth up. "You look as different as Storm." He remarked. "And people don't pick on her anymore." There was a pause. "There is always the fact that she can manipulate the weather, but I'm sure that's nothing to do with it."

"Scott." Xavier's amused chatisement roused the hint of a sad smile from the girl, before her mask of solemnity fell back into place.

Focusing his attention back on the road, Cyclops curbed the urge to frown. This kid was going to be tough to crack. She had already regressed so much into herself, that it seemed impossible to imagine her as anything other than an empty-eyed, stony-faced young woman.

But they would do it somehow.

*

Sinking down onto the unmade bed, Electra's gaze flicked around the room. There were four neat beds, each with a small locker alongside it, the items decorating them suggesting that the other three inhabitants of the spacious room were also girls.

Her rucksack lay beside her, the zipper half-open. Tugging the contents out, spreading them across the mattress, she proceeded to fold her sparse pile of clothing, the majority of it lined with a material similar to rubber, that prevented anyone brushing passed her electrocuting themselves through the current that buzzed in her skin.

And yet, it had proved on several occassions too weak to prevent the power that roiled within her from spewing from her palms, which was why her hands remained curled in tight fists and swathed to the wrist in bandages.

Pausing, she lifted her most precious belonging, running her finger over the sheet of glass that covered the photograph of her and her two best friends, taken what seemed like an eternity ago, before she had found she was different.

Or would that be more different?

After all, living on a Hellmouth was different. Being involved with – in rapid succession – a demon-possessed computer, a werewolf and her normal best friend was different. Being best friends with a Slayer who was in love with a vampire was different.

More different suddenly seemed appropriate.

Placing the photograph reverently in a drawer in her locker, she laid her clothing carefully in on top of it, the drawer sliding shut just as the door of the room swung inwards, two girls running in, laughing happily.

The taller of the two girls was maybe a little younger than she was. She looked normal, her dark brown hair given an exotic look thanks to the pure white waves that curled down around her face.

The other, too, looked completely normal, her bright clothing only serving to emphasis her dark hair and eyes, a wide smile on her face.

"You must be Electra." The brunette girl said. She smiled again, offered a gloved hand to the silver-haired mutant, who simply nodded in silent greeting. The girl paused, withdrew her hand with an awkward glance at the bandages. "Uh...I'm Rogue."

"And I'm Jubilee." The other girl added. Electra glanced at her, uncertain what to do. These were mutants? Or were they normal? Nothing about them looked at all strange, but then, neither the Professor or Scott had looked strange either.

"Are you guys...uh...like me?"

Rogue and Jubilee exchanged glances, nudging one another. Finally, Rogue nodded. "We're mutants, if that's what you mean." She smiled faintly. "That's why I have to wear these." She held up her gloved hands.

"You don't look like you are." Skeptically, tilting her head, the silver-haired mutant barely stifled a shriek when a girl's head popped through the centre of the door, turning to look at the three girls, a wide grin on her face.

"I wondered if you'd arrived!" The head said.

Electra took several slow breaths. "Okay..." She managed to say, one of her clumpy hands pressed to her heart. "Don't ever do that again."

Stepping completely through the door, the short-haired girl gave her an infectious smile. "I don't get to surprise people often." She offered as an explanation, her eyes dancing. "I'm Kitty. I guess you're Electra."

"Does everyone in this place know who I am?"

The door opened, permitting Cyclops and a tall, dark-haired woman to enter. "Jean, this is Electra. Electra, this is Jean Grey, our resident doctor and public relations person."

"I've seen you on the news." Electra nodded warily. "You were lobbying against the mutant registration act. Please tell me I'm not the only one who thought Senator Kelly could have done with a good kick up the ass."

Jean Grey smothered a smile at the girl's attitude. The muted chuckles from the other three girls suggested they agreed too. "I don't think any of the kids at the school would disagree with you there." She said. Glancing at the other girls, the doctor paused. "Would you mind coming with me, Electra? I'd like to talk to you, if that's all right."

Shrugging out of her duster, the silver-haired mutant rose, tiny flecks of lightening dancing with every movement. "I guess I've got nothing better to do." She replied, following Grey out of the room, leaving Cyclops to basically summarise what he knew about the girl to her new roommates.

*

"So she is in a similar position as Rogue, then?" Xavier arched a brow.

Jean nodded, gestured to the images projected on the screens. "It's as if she has an electric current running through her skin." She explained. "Just touching her bare skin would inflict a powerful shock, but that's not the main feature of her power." Pressing the play on the recording system, she let them watch.

Abruptly, the screen erupted in a fizz of static.

"What happened?" Storm asked, furrowing her brow.

Jean replayed the recording, screen by screen. "When Electra opens her hands, her palms emit beams of pure electricity, in a similar way as Cyclops does with his eyes." Tapping the screen, she pointed to the pure spots of white on the girl's hands. "She short-circuited almost everything in the labs with the power in the blast."

"Damn." Wolvering swore, half awed.

"Is it possible for her to control it?" Storm knew the power of electricity from her ability to pull down the lightening.

Jean nodded. "She's spent months containing it by keeping her hands in fists and bandaged up, but we're working on some gloves that should prevent minor shock and allow her to focus the power with a panel on the palm. Hopefully, she should be able to exert more control of the intensity and strength as well."

"Like my vizor?"

"Exactly." Flicking off the screen, Jean turned to face the small group directly. "But there's more to Electra than there is to an average mutant." Xavier gave her a prompting nod. "She confessed that her hometown was a centre of supernatural power and she was a practising witch."

A snort of disblief rose from Logan. "You have to be shittin' me." He growled. "Don't tell me you believe in witches, Jean."

"I may not believe in them, but she does have some telekinetic abilities that are certainly not natural." The doctor shrugged. "But then, if you had told me that I would know people who could blast energy from their eyes or control the weather when I was a teenager, I wouldn't have believed it either."

There was a long silence, the group mulling over this new information. Xavier let his gaze wander each of them, hoping they would accept the girl. She had been running for far too long, even though she had faced things far worse than mutation.

"There ain't a chance she'll go bad?" Logan finally voice the question they all wanted to ask.

Xavier intervened on Jean's behalf. "She's a good girl, that much I can tell." He spoke quietly, firmly. "She's seen both the good and the bad sides of life. I don't think she would ever want to be on the wrong side."

The group seemed to accept that, nodding.

Jean had been right when she had said there was more to Electra than any other mutant. On the journey, he had done a very light probe of her mind, finding her memories filled with fear, anger, loneliness, but also strength, stubborness, power and – above all – resolve.

He had attempted to go a little deeper, only to find the girl had twisted in her seat and was staring hollowly at him. "If you want to know." She had said, calm as ever. "You just have to ask me."

"For the time being," He drew himself back to the present, to the lab, where his team waited expectantly for his orders. "I suggest we make her feel as welcome as possible and let her tell us more in her own time."

*

Pursing her lips, tapping series of keys in rapid succession, Electra frowned. 'Access denied' flashed up on the screen for the umpteenth time that hour. Her fingers flew, trying another code, determined to override the system.

"What are you doin', kid?"

Raising her eyes over the top of the screen, the former red head flashed a faint smile at the dangerous-looking man. "F.B.I. files." She replied, the furious tap-tap-tap beat of her fingers never breaking pace or rhythm.

"You hack F.B.I. Files often?"

The tiny smile he had grown accustomed to spread a little wider. "We don't have cable." She replied, expression almost deadpan. "So we have to make our own fun."

"Did anyone ever tell you you're strange?"

"Recently? No."

Logan chuckled softly. "Well, kid, you're strange."

Her eyebrow rose slightly. "Look whose talking." Her attention was rivetted back to the screen, glove-clad fingers a blur on the keys, teeth nibbling thoughtfully on her lower lip. A tiny wrinkle appeared between her brows, but still, the beat of the keys never faltered.

Leaving her to whatever it was that she was doing, Logan spotted one of the girl's roommates and possibly the only other person inflicted with a similar condition of being unable to touch another person: Rogue.

"Hey, kid."

"Logan, hi!" Her smile was a genuine one. In the months since they had first arrived at the school, she had changed from a terrified girl into a confident young woman. "Were you talking to Electra?"

He nodded once. "Didn't get much outta her." He grunted. "She's busy crackin' some government files or somethin'."

"As usual." Rogue cast a genuinely fond smile in the direction of the spike-haired, silver-skinned hacker. "She's got to be the smartest person in the school after the X-Men." In a hushed tone, she confessed. "I think she might be as smart as the Professor sometimes."

Logan glanced over at the intent, silvery young mutant. He would have to agree with Rogue's uneasy judgement. The kid was smart. Real smart. Smart with computers, smart with math, smart with languages, smart with everything.

Which made her all the more dangerous, if she ever decided to join the side of the mutants who fought against humanity. For some reason, he couldn't shake the suspision that she might still do that. Even after having her around for two months, only Xavier – and possibly Jean – knew more than that she was an eighteen year old mutant-cum-witch and she had run away from her home in California.

That lack of knowledge was the main root of his distrust, but there was something else: his gut instincts.

Normally, he could tell whether someone was good or bad within a matter of minutes, but that kid was a mystery, completely baffling. She seemed to close in on herself, rather than let anyone get close.

"She's a strange kid." He muttered, half to himself.

To his surprise, Rogue nodded, her cheeks flushing at the thought of accusing her friend of being different. "She's so focused. She always concentrates so hard, like she's trying to remember everything that she sees and hears...it's kinda frightening."

That only increased his suspicions.

Glancing over at the metallic-coloured mutant, he ground his jaw. He was goin' to have to watch that kid, that was for damn sure.

*

Drawing the cuffs of her uniform over her hands, Electra lifted her head, a small smile pulling her silvery lips upwards. Turning her hands over, she glanced at both palms, the round discs that controlled her power flow securely in place.

It had taken months for her to reach the status of X-Men team member. Even though she had reached the post far quicker than most of the kids, she hadn't done it on merit alone. Her fighting skills had improved, along with her intense focus and ability to manipulate her power to do whatever she willed.

Although still relatively little was known about her, she was reasonably trusted: determined, tough, resourceful and intensely powerful, she was intimidating, even if she didn't intend to be.

"Ready, kid?" Logan was still one of the few people who had remained utterly suspicious of her, of her promotion to team member. As far as he knew, she had gone to Xavier and asked to be put on the team and the old man had agreed wholeheartedly. That worried the older X-Man, her determination to be in on the mission.

She nodded, gave him a tight grin. "You know it."

She had been the one who had cracked the code on an intercepted message between some of the known mutant dissidents, which seemed far too much of a coincidence for the X-man known as Wolverine to accept.

There had been rumours that Magneto was once again in leadership of the group, his escape from jail being unmentioned in the oblivious media and covered up by the prison council. No doubt he was out for revenge all over again.

Gesturing for her to board the jet, he watched her climb, her willowy frame looking tough and strong despite its size, her uniform hugging her body, leaving very little to the imagination.

Something told him to trust her, but he couldn't. Something in her demeanour, her attitude, the way she consistently had Xavier's ear in the most aggravating of circumstances: it all seemed to add up to something suspicious.

Following her up into the jet, he slid into his usual seat, glancing over at the two others in the front seats. Cyclops gave him a thumbs up, knowing of Wolverine's wariness about the silver-haired girl. Storm simply smiled.

"This should be fun." Electra murmured, rubbing her hands together in gleeful anticipation. The static made the hair of the triad rise and she promptly gave them a sheepish look. "Um...I'll just sit still now, okay?"

"Crazy kid." Logan muttered under his breath, drawing small grins from the two older X-Men.

*

Of all the places in the city, Magneto had to choose a deserted, tumbledown warehouse in the middle of nowhere to try and set his trap. Logan exhaled a frustrated sigh, the scent of his partner's excitement and nervousness reaching him.

Storm and Cyclops had taken the lower level, leaving Electra and Wolverine to scope out the top floor.

Which was just asking for trouble, Logan thought. Whenever an X-Man was on an upper-floor, they usually ended up being thrown down something or falling to another level. And, typically, it happened to be his turn for a big fall.

"Sst!" With a swift hand gesture, he backed the girl against the wall, his nostrils flaring, finding a new scent. A familiar scent. His claws 'snickt' out, glinting vaguely in the dusty light that filtered through the cracked roof.

"What?" He could hear the crackle of Electra's skin, could smell the tingle of electricity hanging in the air.

Before he could reply, there was a muffled shriek from behind him. Whipping around, he found Electra still standing there, pointing down at the floor, an expression of utter disgust on her face. "A rat!"

He sighed again, turned, catching the scent once more. Edging along in the shadows, he glanced back at his slight sidekick, her expression seeming illuminated with joy, the grin on her lips more terrifying than her usual emotionless face.

Stopping short, he rolled his eyes and muttered. "Aw, shit."

His spin was fast. Fast enough to catch Electra's ankle as she aimed for his head, flipping her head over heels to land on her feet, a change morphing her features back into the blue-scaled face he recognised as Mystique.

"I thought you would have learned from the last time." Blocking several rapid blows, he kicked out her legs, his ears catching the stifled scream from high above him. Trust the kid to get in trouble her first time out.

"Took you a while to figure it out, baby." She purred, smashing him in the face with her heel, then repeating the blow to his stomach.

He couldn't say how long the fight lasted, but the woman abruptly shifted shape again, becoming recognisable as the face he saw in the mirror every morning, right down to the claws protruding from the knuckles.

Which meant that another of the team were close by.

"That wasn't very nice." Electra's voice icily stated, crackling with anger. God, did she sound pissed. Incredibley pissed. He and his twin turned to the girl, matching expressions on their furious faces, but their anger couldn't match hers.

"Blast him!" Mystique growled, her voice and intonation perfect.

Electra arched an eyebrow. "You don't like him, do you, Mystique?"

The blue woman froze, the baffled look that crossed her face – Wolverine's face – priceless. It was seldom that people recognised her in a form that was not clearly her own, especially an immature, wannabe X-Man.

"Kid, take her down." Logan put in quietly. "Don't kill her."

Electra released a small, harsh chuckle. "Really, Logan, why do you think I would do something like that?" She pressed her palms together, a ball of blue-white light forming between her clenched hands. "I've got a point to prove...what better way is there than this?"

The gleaming ball of light exploded through the air, smashing into the X-Man, sending him sailing through the air to connect with the wall at the other end of the warehouse, his body twitching as the current passed through the adamantium.

It hurt like hell, but it would never have been enough to kill him. He just couldn't move, no feeling energy left within him, his whole body a mass of burning pins and needles.

Folding her arms, Electra turned to Mystique, who had returned to her own form. "Was that good enough?"

The blue mutant laughed softly, walked over to the fallen Wolverine. "I'm impressed." She remarked, turning back to the silver-skinned mutant. "You really had them convinced that you were a good guy."

"You know Xavier and his 'quest for hope' crap." Electra spoke softly, eyes never leaving Logan's face, shadowed and empty once again. "Took some time to get in under their skin, but now, I know everything there is to know. Even the old boy believed me."

Cracking his eyes open with a pained growl, Logan tried to rise, but his body betrayed him. "I knew there was somethin' wrong with you." He spat, dizzying pain exploding through his body. He hadn't felt this bad in a long time. "The Profesor...he trusted you..."

"Thats his loss." Flicking another surge of electricity at him, she stepped away as the X-Man slumped into unconsciousness and turned to the blue-skinned woman who stood next to her. "I think its time for us to disappear, don't you?"

Distantly aware of the two women stalking away, Logan strained to draw breath, his eyes half-closed. He had to stay a little conscious, just until Storm and Cyclops found him. He had to tell them what had happened.

"Logan?" Storm's voice was the first he heard, forcing his eyes open to stare up at her. "Logan, what happened? Where's Electra?"

He stared at her mutely, blinked. "She set us up." His voice sounded rough, hoarser than he could recall it sounding. "She's joined them."

He saw Cyclops and Storm exchange glances, fearful glances, heard them ask him something, but he couldn't say what. He was just feeling so disorientated and there were those black spots blotting out his vision.

Let them take care of it, he thought, I can't stay awake anymore.

*

Xavier took the news remarkably well, his stoic features never revealing a suggestion of what he was thinking. Folding his hands in his lap, he had leaned back in his chair, gazing out into the bustling gardens.

Logan had been deposited carefully in his bed, until his accelerated healing had kicked in. He was up and about and raring for revenge within twelve hours, prowling furiously across the floor of Xavier's study.

The meeting of the X-Men had been called as soon as he was able to move freely. This uncalled for development was something none of them hoped they would have to face, knowing Electra's power and intelligence.

Outside, the sky was dark, crickets chirping softly. The school was silent, the children in their beds, most of them asleep.

"So, what are we gonna do?"

"Firstly," Xavier spoke calmly, but with enough authority to still the wolf-like mutant's pacing impatient pacing. "We're going to stay calm." He cast a glance towards the window. "Ah, good. They've arrived." He seemed to speaking half to himself.

Cyclops glanced at Jean, then Xavier. "Who have, Professor?"

"You'll meet them in a moment." The telepathic mutant smiled enigmatically, his extraordinary patience never wavering.

Storm, Jean and Cyclops pivoted in their seats as the door opened behind them, revealing a small group standing in the huge hallway. Logan narrowed his eyes, sniffing the air. There was something definitely not normal about the gang, most of whom were just kids.

There were seven of them altogether, five male and two female. Oddly enough, it appeared that the more petite of the girls, a slight blonde, was in charge of the rest of the group, despite the three men who were all clearly older than she.

The oldest of the group wore an exhausted look on his face, like that of a harassed father. He looked a little younger than Xavier himself. The other two men looked as if they were around the same age as Cyclops, but they were complete foils of one another.

Dark-haired with a brooding air about him, the taller seemed to draw the shadows around him, sexy in a tall-dark-and-handsome way, oozing mystery and unwanted charisma that he seemed entirely oblivious of.

The other looked every inch a punk rebel, leaning casually against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from his black-polished fingers. His short, black leather jacket coupled with the bleached hair screamed that he wasn't the kind of man a nice girl took to meet her mother.

Alongside the perfectly-attired brunette girl, the other dark-haired male stood. He looked like he was around eighteen, a slightly goofy look about him, while the smallest – who had vivid green- and black-striped hair – was standing impassively to one side.

The petite blonde was looking exceptionally pissed, feet apart, body incased in a combination of black and red leather, her heeled boots adding a deceptive few inches to her diminuitive height.

"Who the hell are you?" Logan voiced the question none of the others were blunt enough to.

"I'm Buffy." The blonde's snarl matched his own. "Wanna tell me what the Hell you've done with my friend?"