Andrea Cartwell had always known there was something wrong with her.

When she was in the ten years old her class had visited the city's energy lab, she had felt it. Something stirring inside her, an electrical current waiting to break free. She was scared, and her fear somehow harnessed it. Within moments the lab was on fire, a mysterious shock wave having started it by passing straight through the little girl.

Now, seven years later, she was living the only life she learned she could. On her own.

She kept to herself most of the time, ever since her incidents. She couldn't be afraid, even though it could come so easily. Her curse activated on an almost weekly basis.

Only just yesterday she had been walking home, deciding to take the back alley to her shit apartment, when she'd felt someone behind her, following her.

Turning around she saw a man, scruff of a beard on his face, eyes cold and black. He grabbed her shoulder and rammed her into the brick wall, the force nearly knocking her unconscious.

"Gimme your money, bitch!" he'd yelled, whipping a gun out and pointing it at her head. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe- the fear had started working again, stronger this time. It wasn't the first she'd been faced with a weapon either, her innocent figure was prey to cowards with armory. At five foot six, a slim cherry blonde like her didn't stand a chance on any given day.

But when she was afraid...

"I said give me your fucking money!" he yelled, bits of spit flying into her face. She whimpered, but it was too late, the fear had burst and she saw the bolt of energy shoot out and strike the man straight in the gut. His mouth fell open in a perfect "O", and for a moment the energy hung there over his body as the life slowly left his eyes. It's crackling seemed to dim as her fear slowly subsided, and then she was running, desperate to get as far away from the crime seen as she could.

When she returned to her apartment, she ran into the tiny bathroom to wash the blood off her face: when the man had been blasted, his insides had splattered everywhere, what part of him wasn't left burnt to a crisp. She couldn't help it- she started crying, her tears mixing with the man's blood on her face as they dripped and ran down the sink. Too many she thought desperately I've killed too many people this way... The fact that it had always been in self defense had stopped crossing her mind ages ago. You can only kill so many people before you start blaming yourself.

It was morning, and as Andrea opened her eyes she blue sky out her window. She had nearly forgotten the previous night's incident when she caught sight of the bloody rag that was her clothes in the corner of the room. Her breath caught in her throat when suddenly she heard a sharp rap on the door. The knot in her chest tightened, and she sat up quickly, her oversized t shirt and boxer shorts hanging off her lean frame as she walked quickly over to the door, tying her hair up into a sloppy pony tail as she went.

She opened the door a crack, and the first thing she saw was a blinding blue eye. Looking up and asking Please, please don't let this be bad, to whoever might be listening, she opened the door and put on her best drowsy smile.

In the hall outside stood two men, both dressed rather sharply in long coats and shiny shoes. Both brunettes, one smiled at her, the other looked around rather stern and uncomfortably to be in such a poor looking building.

"Hello. Andrea Cartwell, I presume?" asked the smiling man, his blue eyes twinkling.

She felt her stomach drop. If they knew her name they must know something about the incident the previous night.

"Who are you?" she asked in her most nonchalant voice, trying to doll up the innocence so many criminal seemed to find in her.

"Charles Xavier." the man smiled. He smiled to much.

"And you?" she asked the other man, who finally brought his gaze to hers.

"Erik Lensherr." he said, a bored tone in his voice. Andrea took them in, trying to see if they were wearing any detective badges she might have missed. She couldn't find any so she kept playing along.

"How can I help you gentlemen?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe in she hoped to be a carefree manner.

Actually, we were hoping you could help us.

She jumped. She could have sworn the voice had been inside her head, but it was in Xavier's voice. That wasn't possible, surely, but before she had time to over think it she heard a sound.

There was a soft ding from behind and the elevator doors opened into her hallway. Out stepped two men, dressed in navy blue attire that Andrea could only recognize so well.

The police.

"Hey!" one of them called, starting a slow jog toward them, and Andrea's heart thudded frightfully. "Step away from the girl, men, get away from her!" he called.

I'll take care of this. The voice said again, and her mind whirrled. What was going on? Who were these men and what did they want from her? And why were the police here? Where they going to arrest her? What did he mean "take care of it"?

The cops were rushing now, trying to get to the group and Andrea was slowly closing her door.

"Don't go anywhere miss, you get back out here!" one of the cops yelled, but just as they were about to shove past Charles and Erik something happened.

Time seemed to slow down. The next thing Andrea knew, the cops had stopped in mid run. Charles had two fingers to his head, and suddenly, his face a mask of concentration, time seemed to speed up again, but the police had stopped running.

"We'll take it from here gentlemen." Charles said calmly to the two police. "You may report back to your stations that there was nothing to see."

Nodding the two police disappeared around the corner back into the elevator, and down the shaft. Andrea turned to the two men standing at her door.

"Who are you people?" she whispered. Charles let out a sigh.

"We..." he said, casting a glance at Erik, "are one of you."