So, this is one of my new stories, that I've finally decided to post. I haven't completed it yet, but I've written a fair few chapters so far. I wanted to finish it then post it but I've gotten impatient and decided to just go for it. It's a little/a lot different to my usual sort of stuff, but I think you'll like it just the same. Be sure to let me know what you think.

9th October 2028…

Benjamin had barely swung his legs out of the flat sheet covered block of concrete they called a bed, when a small, but strong, pair of arms seized him round the shoulders, squeezing tightly.

"Happy birthday Benji!" A voice whispered softly. Benjamin sighed, patting his little sister's head affectionately.

"Thanks." He said shortly.

"I made you this." She said, thrusting something small into his palm.

Rubbing his eyes blearily, he pulled the cord of the bedside lamp, the only light in the room, to try and get a better look at what she'd handed him. It was a bracelet, made from a piece of old black shoelace, a big red button in the middle of it.

A small smile crept up his face. "Thanks, again." He said quietly. "It's real nice. But shouldn't you be getting back to your room?"

"I had to say happy birthday to my big brother! It doesn't matter if I get caught." She shrugged, bouncing slightly on the bed, it squeaking loudly in reply.

"It does matter." He replied bluntly, as he fixed the bracelet onto his wrist. "Go on, go back to your room, I don't want you ending up in the cellar today."

"But, but it's your birthday!" Beatrix protested, folding her arms. Benjamin stood up and looked down at her.

"Exactly. So, back to bed, and I'll see you when they wake us. I'm sure they'll be coming around soon, then I'll see you at breakfast."

She sighed dramatically, but slowly opened the door to his bedroom, creeping back to hers. Benjamin hoped none of the care-workers caught her on her way.

Benjamin hated that title: care-workers. That kind of hinted that they were supposed to look after the children at the orphanage. They didn't. The staff at Copse View Orphanage were cruel and abusive. They beat them, and they used starvation as a punishment. His younger cousin Brandon hadn't been granted any food for 7 days now just for laughing when a care-worker tripped on a toy. He'd then got the blame and his eating privileges taken away.

Benjamin, Beatrix and Blair had been stealing him food from their own plates, of course. He'd be near dead by now if they hadn't, or at least pretty ill. Regardless of how much the four cousins looked out for each other, they were all pretty thin, and looking worse for wear. But so were all the kids there.

Glancing over at the other bed in the room, he looked at Brandon, who was still fast asleep, an arm dangling near the floor, and a patch of blonde hair peering out from under the sparse covers.

Every morning when he woke up, Benjamin had a little ritual: He made sure Brandon was still there; still there and still alive, then he'd go to the toilet, and walk back to his room the long way, passing his younger sister Beatrix and his cousin Blair's room, making sure both were okay in there too. Still there and still alive. Seeing as Beatrix had visited him this morning, he'd assume Blair was doing okay (hell, it wasn't like the girl couldn't stand up for herself, but as the oldest, Benjamin felt he had a responsibility to all of his remaining family) and leave his toilet trip this morning.

The last step of his morning ritual was to think about his parents. His Mom and his Dad. Blossom and Brick Jojo. He remembered them fondly, and well. He was five when they had died, Beatrix was only one. He thought about the last time he had seen them, his Dad scruffing his hair as he passed and said goodbye, his mother scooping him up and planting a kiss on his cheek. She'd told him she loved him, and they wouldn't be long. They were only doing what they had to do.

Except he never saw them again. None of them did. Blair's and Brandon's parents, his aunts and uncles, had died that day too. Blair was 3, Brandon 2. And his grandfather had passed the day before, but he wasn't supposed to know that.

Nine years had passed since then, and the four of them had been sent to orphanage after orphanage, children's home after children's home. Copse View was the worst one they'd set foot in, and unfortunately the one they'd been at the longest. Everyday they found themselves hoping they got moved again.

But the state the world was in now, kids were being left orphans left right and centre. The home's got fuller and fuller, and the more crowded they got, the more bloodthirsty the staff became. But just as much as kids were being delivered to the homes, they were also being collected, fostered out. But the Jojo's were not allowed to be fostered out. It was in the homes they stayed, until Benjamin turned 18 at least.

Being five when that fateful day happened, Benjamin remembered it the most vividly. Beatrix and Brandon had absolutely no recollection of their parents, neither of them even knew what they looked like, they had lived off their cousin and siblings descriptions of them. Blair vaguely remembered her parents, she hung onto each memory she could, more precious to her then anything she could ever own.

But there was one thing Benjamin remembered, which was perhaps the most precious thing about the four of them. He knew none of his cousins or his sister remembered them, and it was the only thing he had failed to educate them on. Making sure Brandon was sleeping, Benjamin got up, tip toeing over to the set of drawers they shared and picking up the shard of mirror atop of it.

Staring intently at his reflection, he watched his deep crimson eyes go from normal (as normal as red eyes could be) pupils, to glowing red orbs as he focused. He blinked, nervous he'd wake Brandon, and placed the mirror back down before he shattered it even more, pulling a hand through his scruffy red hair that hit his collarbone.

Being the son of two super powered people, as were his sister and cousins, Benjamin was born with superpowers. They were apart of who he was, they were natural to him. But he couldn't use them. And he couldn't let his sister and cousins in on it either. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth what could happen…

He shivered. Not worth the risk.

But their powers were what caused them to be victim of many beatings. Beatings that may not necessarily always hurt them, but this didn't stop the care-workers from trying harder.

Benjamin had lost count how many times him or one of the others had came in limping, black and blue, then an hour later were completely healed. This frustrated the staff. So they'd try harder next time, starve these four just that little bit longer, beat them that little bit harder.

Benjamin, Beatrix, Brandon and Blair Jojo were also ostracized due to how different they were. One of them only had to lose their temper and inexplicably obliterate an object, or bend something with ease that should not have bent, in front of someone and they'd be labeled a dangerous freak. Benjamin, of course, knew what was happening. And each time it did, he pondered whether it was worth filling his family in on what was happening to them, and that it was perfectly natural for them, but he never did. It simply wasn't worth the risk it could impose on them.

One of the main reasons they seemed to move all the time was due to the amount of things, and sometimes even other children, they had damaged.

"But, I didn't mean to!" He'd shout, as he was dragged away.

"You're a cruel, violent child!"

He shook his head; he wasn't cruel or violent. None of them were, they were just, misunderstood. Different. Special, he'd tell his sister when she'd cry about it.

Now, on his 14th birthday, nine years since he freely used his powers as he should, he'd gotten used to not using them. He'd pretty much convinced himself they wouldn't work properly anyway (even though he knew himself they did, if he wanted them to). He wouldn't admit it, but he was almost too scared to try to use them properly. To try to fly, or shoot jets of burning light from his palms. Or breath fire as his father could, that had always been a favourite of his as a small child.

The care-workers knew they were different, those Jojo's. They weren't allowed to be separated to different care homes. They weren't allowed to be fostered, like so many of the other children did.

They watched them more.

Brandon turned in bed, clicking his dark navy eyes open, and looking at Benjamin. "Happy birthday Ben." He muttered, sitting up slowly.

Benjamin grunted in reply.

"You're like a proper teenager now." He said as he stretched.

"Pretty much." Benjamin agreed. "Only 4 more years, then I can get all of us out of here."

Brandon nodded dreamily. That was their dream. The moment Benjamin turned 18 they were out of there, him as their legal guardian.

Their bedroom door swung open then, a ragged, angry looking woman poking her head in. "Get up!" She squawked, slamming the door behind her.

"Good morning to you too." Benjamin muttered in reply.

Beatrix pulled the mangled old brush through her hair with great difficulty, wincing as a clump of bright red knots came with the brush.

Blinking as a few tears fell from her cerise cherry pink eyes, she tried in vain to get her hair to a knot free state. It was long, thick and unruly, possessing a mind of its own, as Blair told her daily. Wavy and reaching her ankles, she was in desperate need of a good trim.

But the care-workers refused to do so, and getting ahold of a pair of scissors in this place was like uncovering a pot of gold. Blair's thick, spiky black hair was much longer then she liked it too, reaching halfway down her back at the minute.

The raven haired girl tutted as she snatched the brush from her young cousins hands, beginning to attempt to tame her mane herself.

The same weathered looking woman threw their door open, howling at them to get up and come down for breakfast. Blair gave the woman a signature death glare in reply, squinting her mint green eyes at her.

"I swear to God if I ever get ahold of a pair of scissors I'll cut that old witches' throat before I tend to your hair." She hissed, her hand swooping down Beatrix's back. It took a few strokes before she realized the brush was no longer in her hand, but tangled in the redhead's bushy hair.

Said redhead gasped. "Blair! There's no need to get all, pyscho! And watch it, you almost pulled it out of my scalp!"

"Do you want me to help you or not?" She barked in reply, resting a hand on her prepubescent hip.

"Help please." Beatrix giggled, swinging her legs off the rickety old stool she sat on.

As much as they bickered, they got on tremendously really, regardless of being like chalk and cheese. Blair, a black haired, mint green eyed feisty, violent and sometimes damn right out of control, mini version of her mother, and Beatrix, an opinionated, bossy, refined clever clogs mini version of her mother.

About 20 minutes later, her hair was as knot free as it was going to get, so they gave up, heading down to eat after they quickly washed and changed.

When they entered the dining room, both received a blow to the back of the head from afore mentioned witch. "What took you both so long? What are you up to?" She demanded.

"We were brushing through my hair." Beatrix bleated, edging away and heading for Benjamin, who had just risen from his seat. Brandon was wolfing down some toast while the care-worker in charge was distracted.

"Not a crime, last I checked?" Blair spat angrily.

The woman narrowed her eyes but dropped it.

"Happy birthday man." Blair said, sitting down by her red eyed cousin, slapping him on the back so hard it winded him.

"Hmph." He replied, glaring at the woman who was surveying the children like a hawk. "More like just, birthday."

It was raining hard that day. But that was typical; it always seemed to be raining these days. Especially in Townsville. She wasn't in Townsville right now though. She was 40 miles out, in the middle of nowhere.

Pulling the black raincoat she wore over her head tighter against the wind and rain, she glanced up at the large, Victorian style building a few yards in front of her.

Copse View Orphanage, she read off the sign. Looking down at the tattered map she held in her hands, which was now sodden from the rain, she let out a hopeful sigh. I really hope this one is it. We're beginning to lose hope.

Stepping inside a shabby looking reception, she carefully removed her wet coat, patting down her pinned back salt and pepper hair. She was only a short woman, standing at 4 foot 11 inches, with vibrant blue eyes. She turned her attention to the receptionist, tapping away at a computer screen. She hadn't even noticed someone had come inside.

Clearing her throat loudly, the woman at the computer behind the desk looked up lazily.

"Can I help you?"

"Sandra Jones." She said, holding a dainty hand out. The stubby receptionist stared at it, until Sandra retreated it, furrowing her brow.

"Nice to meet you… What can I help you with?" She didn't sound like it was nice at all.

"I'm looking for some children, and I was wondering if you could tell me if they are living at this orphanage?"

The woman pulled a face that said 'And-why-should-I-help-you-with-that?' So Sandra whipped out a card from her pocket.

"On his masters orders." She added politely.

Lifting her head curiously, she saw the green card with big letters on it, reading RC.

"Very well." She answered, still skeptical. "Who is it you're looking for?"

"The Jojo kids. All four of them."

Receptionist woman raised an eyebrow, then sighed tiredly. "The Jojo's are not up for adoption or fostering. They are to remain in the care of us under his masters orders, you have no idea the amount of people who think they can swoop in here and just –"

"I'm not here to foster. Don't you understand, I am here for his masters' work? You don't question him, do you?" Sandra asked, mock shock, her voice carrying a hint of danger. "I take that as they are here?"

Looking stumped, the receptionist gave a small nod. "They are here. All four."

"Wonderful. I request a room with them. No cameras, at his masters orders." She said, smiling commandingly, placing the card back into her pocket.

Not taking her eyes off Sandra Jones, the receptionist picked up her phone, and summoned a woman called Jane.

A tired, moth eaten woman appeared at the door, her eyes accusing. "What?" She demanded sharply.

Sandra smiled sweetly, presenting her hand again. "Sandra Jones. I am here on his masters business. About the Jojo kids?"

Jane made a 'hmf' sort of noise, her eyes wide as she stared at Sandra. "Jane Pickett. I'm in charge here."

"Charmed. Now, I require a room. No cameras, and these four children, if you may." Her voice was authoritative, daring someone to defy her.

"And why is that?"

"Because his master has sent me. Would you like me to contact him personally? Then maybe he can tell you what to do? He absolutely hates being disturbed for trivial things like this –" She began to rant offhandedly, pulling her phone from her pocket, but Jane interrupted her.

"That won't be- no, no it's fine. Come, I'll take you to a room and then bring them in. You want all four?" Jane guided her through the door.

Sandra looked around at the conditions of the place as she followed. It was shabby, every corner visible homing black mould, the floors and walls dusty. Kids peered out of their rooms, sneaking back in as Jane glared at them.

She felt enraged as she surveyed the dwelling. How could they look after children here, in a place so filthy? The children looked like characters from Oliver Twist.

When they got to a room right at the back of the building, Jane held the door open, and Sandra walked in sniffing haughtily at the room's condition. "I'm going to need a couple more chairs." She commented, dusting one off and perching on it, holding her hands on the table.

She grunted in reply, closing the door. Seconds later she dragged two more chairs in. "I'll be back with them in a moment. What is it you need them for exactly?"

"His master's orders, as I said. It is just a check up, Miss. Pickett. You do understand who they are?"

"Oh, okay. And yes, yes, of course. Well, they are trouble, I warn you. Especially the brunette girl. Do you want me to supervise? I keep em in line, I do." She said gruffly, a smug expression on her face.

"I can assure you I can handle them." Sandra smiled shrewdly.

Jane Pickett looked dubious, but she left. Sandra's cool and calm composure broke slightly, nerves kicking in. This could be it. She could be finally seeing them again, after 9 years, 2 of those years spent searching.

The door to the side room opened again, Miss. Pickett marching in. She stepped to the side, and a tall, redhead, with wild crimson eyes stepped in, almost the very spit of his father, followed by a shorter, scrawny blonde boy, deep navy eyes, a shorter still girl, with cold mint green eyes, spiky black hair that stuck out all over the place and lay halfway down her back. Then a small girl with cerise pink eyes, with masses of thick red hair cascading down her back, almost touching the floor.

Sandra had to keep her cool. She couldn't slip up in front of Miss. Pickett. She let out a lulling sigh then turned to the weathered woman, nodding at her, the professionalism returning. "Okay. You may go."

She huffed her way out, slamming the door. Sandra looked at the four children for a while, but then told them all to take a seat. Benjamin was evaluating her, his red eyes intense, not moving off this strangers face. But he wasn't so sure. There was something familiar about her. He couldn't quite figure it out, but there was definitely something. Brandon looked confused, and almost a little frightened. Blair was just plain glaring at her, but Beatrix was smiling a small, intrigued smile.

She continued to stare at them in amazement, until Blair huffed loudly (and oh so 'Buttercup-esque') and Sandra realized she should introduce herself. "Hello, my name is Sandra. Sandra Utonium. Does that name stir anything?" She asked cautiously, wondering how much they knew, or didn't know.

Blair, Brandon and Beatrix all looked blank (and in Blair's case, still angry), but it stirred something in Benjamin. "Utonium?" He asked.

God he even sounded like his Dad. "That's right. Though, Utonium is my married name. My maiden name is Keane."

None showed any sign of recognition. Benjamin was racking his brains. Utonium. Utonium. Why did he know that name?

There was an awkward little silence while Sandra tried to figure out where to start. You've spent all this time trying to find them and now you've found them; you're sitting in silence! Just start from the beginning! Her brain urged her.

"Oh!" She suddenly cried. "Benjamin, I almost forgot, here." She rummaged in her pocket, bringing out a card in a red envelope. "Happy birthday my dear."

He raised an eyebrow, sliding the card across the table and carefully opening it, eyeing her tentatively. "How do you know my name?"

Sandra only nodded at him keenly, urging him to read the card.

"I got him a bracelet. Well, actually I made it." Beatrix said proudly.

"That is lovely darling." Sandra said affectionately.

Benjamin paused as he shoved the ripped envelope aside and looked at her angrily. Why was she being so nice to them? What did she want?

He then looked down at the card:

To Benjamin,

Happy 14th Birthday my dear,

All my love,

Grandma

He looked up at her sharply. "Grandma?"

She smiled, nodding. "That's right."

Benjamin kept looking at her. She did look familiar. Awfully familiar. Bright, kind blue eyes. Not his mother's mother, rather her stepmother, but he called her Grandma nonetheless. She'd always been a Grandma to him. He suddenly remembered spending days with her while his mother and father were out defending the city. She was so familiar.

"I was married to your Grandpa, your mothers' father, Professor John Utonium. Do you remember me? Us?"

Brandon and Beatrix looked shocked. Blair still looked annoyed, though a little surprised too. "Didn't our Grandpa die?" She spat.

A sad, sullen look over took her as she looked at the pine tabletop. "He did yes, the same year you four went missing. The day before in fact."

"The same year our parents died." Benjamin said flatly, trying to keep his voice even, though his mind was hammering him with a barrage of questions. Why was she here now?! She was nine years too late.

"Died?" She questioned. She shook her head, a petite smile playing on her lips. "Oh no, you're parents are not dead. They are very much alive."

Brandon and Beatrix's eyes were like saucers, saucers filled to the brim with hope. "Alive? But, but they died… We were told they died…" Brandon stuttered.

Blair and Benjamin looked astonished, then furious. "No, they're dead! Them men said so!" Blair yelled.

"What men?" Sandra inquired delicately.

"The men that came and took us, the day our parents died." Blair said bitterly.

"The men that killed Robin." Benjamin said, watching Sandra's reaction.

"Yes, yes that's right. Well, for many years we all thought your parents were dead, because they told us that too. They went to face Ramiro, and never came back. The press said they were killed in battle, though you can't trust the papers as they're all controlled by him. We assumed the worst. But we mustn't assume things, especially things as important as this."

She looked them all over again. They were all scrawny looking, skinny and malnourished, faded bruises about their arms.

"They're not looking after you here are they?"

Blair scoffed. "Where have they? It's no different anywhere."

Beatrix shrugged. "It doesn't matter too much. Everything heals so quickly on us cos we're strange and all."

"What have I told you?! It's not because we're strange. Because we're-"

"Special, I know." Beatrix interrupted her brother lazily. "But everyone else just calls us freaks. We're not normal, us four. That's' why they always watch us more. And hit us more. Brandon hasn't eaten properly for a week, have you?"

Brandon shook his head.

Sandra's face screwed up in disgust. "Well don't worry, where you're going you'll be fed everyday. And they only treat you that way because they're afraid of your super powers."

"Where we're going?" Benjamin asked.

"Super powers?!" Blair, Brandon and Beatrix exclaimed vibrantly.

"What super powers? We don't have super powers!" Blair cried.

"Yeah, only the people in the comics have those." Brandon mumbled, confused.

Sandra turned a disbelieving eye on Benjamin. "Your super powers…Surely you must know- You didn't tell them?!"

Benjamin looked guilty, and riled at the same time. Like his father, he was very good at the dangerous, moody, dark look, Sandra noted. "I couldn't!" He yelped eventually.

"Why not?" She pressed.

"You knew about this?!" Blair demanded.

"We have superpowers?" Brandon squeaked.

"Yes, you do. You were all born with them. You got them from your parents. They were born with them too. I mean, why else do you think unordinary things happen around you?" Sandra said. "You are four very powerful people. Benjamin."

He looked round at her quickly, half hating her for grassing him up.

"Why couldn't you tell them?"

He hesitated, not sure whether to just be honest. With a sigh he decided it was time to tell the truth. "Because, because the men who came, they said, they said they'd kill us if we used our powers again."

Sandra scoffed. "They'd have a hard time killing you four. But don't worry, I am sure any five year old whose house gets bombarded by armed men would be frightened."

"I wasn't frightened!" He cried. "Just that – well then they killed Robin before our very eyes." Benjamin said, his eyes seeming hollow.

"They, they killed someone in front of us?" Beatrix mumbled. Benjamin nodded.

"She was a friend of our parents. She was looking after us that day." Benjamin explained.

"I remember her too." Blair spoke up, Benjamin looking up at her.

"You do?"

"Yeah. She was, nice."

"Why on earth have you four never spoken about this? I do hope you've stuck together all these years." Sandra lectured.

"We have, Benjamin has looked after us." Beatrix said, a proud glow as she spoke of her brother. "And Blair, I guess."

Blair rolled her eyes.

"Good, I am ever so glad. I've been looking for you four for a long time. We have much to discuss. But first we need to get you out of here, then I can explain everything." Sandra said, dusting her hands off and standing. "This place is revolting."

Beatrix giggled. "So where are we going?!"

"To the safest place on Earth."

"And how the hell are we going to get there?!" Benjamin cried doubtfully. "We can't just stroll out."

"Oh, we can." Sandra said, opening the door.

Blair snorted. "No offence lady-"

She interrupted her. "Grandma, not lady."

"Grandma, but we can't just wander out. I mean, don't you think we've tried that one?" Blair grumbled as they all stepped out.

"My my Blair, you do have your mothers attitude. Come on. Do you have any belongings you'd like to bring with you?" She turned to face them, hands on hips.

"Nope."

"Absolutely nothing."

"Okay, then let's go."

They got to the door leading to the reception, when Miss. Pickett came stalking towards them, bellowing.

"And just where do you think you're going?!"

"Oh, we're leaving now, if that's all right with you." Sandra said, a finality to her voice that Brandon thought he personally wouldn't mess with. Miss. Pickett had other ideas though.

"As a matter of fact it isn't. You asked to speak with them, you did. Now they go back to the common room and you go home, okay?" She instructed, but Sandra just tutted.

She pulled a phone out of her pocket, dialling uninterestedly. "His lordship will not be pleased about this calling for frivolous things, but if you won't cooperate then I'll just have to." She sighed.

Miss. Pickett looked panicked, but she waited a few seconds, to see if Sandra was bluffing. She wasn't.

"Put me through to Ramiro's office, please. Yes it is with regards to that. Ummhmm, not cooperating in the slightest." She complained down the phone.

"Hang it up! Hang it up! Go go, take them! They're nothing but trouble anyway!" She hollered, opening the door and forcing them through to the reception.

"That's much better. Oh, and Jane, was it? I think you need to considerably up your standards in this place. It's downright disgusting. I think pigs are kept in nicer conditions. Take care." She said, a phoney smile plastered on her face, as she opened the front door, leading Benjamin, Blair, Brandon and Beatrix out into the pouring rain.

r&r and let me know what you think so far :)