A/N: Thanks so much for all of your fantastic reviews. You guys are the best.

Also, this is the part where the X-Men reference comes into play. If you are unfamiliar with the series, Wikipedia is an excellent source to find out more about it.

Basically, a mutant is a person with superpowers—hope that doesn't give too much away about the following chapter (I just couldn't let Freddie and Carly have all the fun, now, could I?).

Thanks again. Enjoy.

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Chapter Three:

Sam

"Fredward! Ms. Beson?"

I banged my fist a couple more times on the door. Nothing.

"They still aren't answering?" Carly called from inside our room.

"Nope!" I said excitedly. "Maybe they died."

I smiled.

"Samantha Pucket!" Carly scolded. She emerged from the room fully dressed and ready to go. She also had on one of those 'behave yourself' faces. I sighed.

"I was just kidding," I lied. "He hasn't replied to any of your text messages?"

"No—I'm starting to get a little worried. Freddie always replies to my text messages. Always!" She sounded kind of hysterical. It was amusing.

"Look, Carly, I'm sure Ms. Benson was just a little excited about introducing Freddie to his wolf cousins," I tried saying it with a straight face. Didn't work.

"Sam, this is serious. I don't know anything about this stupid place," Carly said with a frown. "And it's so unlike Ms. Benson to leave anyone unsupervised."

"Not to worry, kiddo—mama's got an A-class sniffer," I said proudly, tapping my finger to my nose. "Everything will be fine so long as I can smell. And what I smell now is a buffet full of pancakes. C'mon!"

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Breakfast was great, which made the rest of the day a whole hell of a lot easier. Carly dragged me all across this wretched town called Forks, trying to find this Mary Alice Brandon character before we actually went to the house. Carly kept saying she didn't want to be intrusive and just show up out of nowhere, but I was ready to knock down the door.

I swear we'd circled Forks about three times total before she gave up and sat on a street curb in the downtown area.

"I don't know what to do!" she yelped helplessly. I offered her a stick of bacon. "No thanks. I'm not in the mood for grease-infested meat."

"Hey," I replied, offended.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm just starting to think that we're in a little over our heads." she looked up at the cloudy sky, moping. "I wish this situation was more realistic; I'm starting to feel stupid for even coming on this trip."

"Nonsense, Carls—we'll find your aunt or die trying. But we're not gonna find her just sitting around and complaining. Let's go." I was usually a lazy person. Okay, I was much lazier than anyone else I knew, but seeing Carly all sad and stuff just wasn't fun. I pulled her arm and we started walking back toward the main part of the city. That's when I noticed a sign.

It was a brightly lit neon sign, the sleazy kind that you find in Vegas. In fact, I might have seen one exactly like it when I was younger, maybe—back when my mom liked to gamble. She doesn't gamble much nowadays because we don't have many nice things. Anyway, the sign was bright and appealing and fun—and it depicted a hand holding three cards. Three Ace's at that.

"Let's go in here," I suggested to Carly, and pulled her inside.

It was a magic shop. Dirty, crowded, and full of secondhand smoke—just the way I liked it. There were a bunch of knick knacks and other things that I thought my mom might like for Christmas. In the very back was a man in a top hat with a cigar in his mouth. He lifted his head to greet us.

"Welcome, chillun'," he said with a heavy accent. He wasn't an old man, just older than both me and Carly—maybe in his late twenties or so. His hair was shaggy and brown and he had some stubble encircling his face. I swore I recognized him from somewhere—maybe a movie or something. I didn't know.

"How much for this?" I asked, picking up a package of clear marbles. They'd be perfect for throwing at glass. The strange guy looked over at me and smiled.

"Fuh you? Free," he said with a wink. I wasn't sure whether to be creeped out or amused. Going with the second notion, I stepped forward.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Carly whispered frantically, grabbing my arm.

"Nice cane you got there," I continued talking to him, despite Carly's hold on my shirt. I gestured to the detailed rod that was leaned up against the wall next to him. It seemed familiar, too. "Where'd ya get it?"

"'Twas a gift," he said aloofly, like breathing.

I didn't believe him. "You sure about that?"

"O'course—think I'm lyin'?" he questioned with a grin. I noticed for the first time the stack of cards that he shuffled in his hands. They moved fluently, left to right, up and down. It was a little too professional for my taste, and I winced. Where had I seen this guy before?

Then it hit me.

Those stupid, idiotic cards—the same ones that had caused the fire that night.

And that cane! It wasn't his—it was my grandpa's. He'd carved it a few months before he had died.

But it was this guy's menacing grin—I instantly knew where I had seen it before. In the mirror. Everyday since I could remember.

It was mine.

"You're my dad!"

Carly paused to stare at me and the guy behind the counter stopped shuffling the cards. That's all I really remembered before I lunged forward and began to pound the guy's face in. I never would have known I stopped if that giant 8-Ball hadn't exploded in my hand. I knew it was one of his sick little magic tricks—the same kind he'd shown me when I was young.

I briefly saw Carly fly back and hit a wall before I returned my attention to Gambit the Great, the man who had scarred my life forever.

There was another explosion, and after that, I couldn't remember a thing.

The next thing I saw was an angel, and I wondered how the hell I ended up here.

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