ISSUE #1

"When am I going to be let out, Doc?" I shouted, lying stiff in the sterile, white hospital bed. The smell of disinfectants and the blindingly white walls were starting to burn my eyes.

"Don't worry, young Mr. Locke," Dr. McCoy, a man with the body of a beast, replied. "The device should arrive shortly. Just be patient." He went back to humming his tune, completely unbothered.

I've been stuck in this room ever since my mutation activated, and it's not because I suddenly gained super speed and could leap tall buildings in a single bound. When it first kicked in, I could only see one color: blue. But then I saw them all. First came the colors of the visible spectrum, and then some I had never seen before. It looked like a miracle, but then the pain started. All the colors began to overload my mind. I spent minutes in agony until a pair of large, furry paws picked me up.

Before all this, I was just a regular kid living in a nice suburban neighborhood. I used to wish for days when MLK, Elsa, and Frozone would team up, so I wouldn't have to go to school. But after my dad was found out to be a mutant at work, everything changed.

Living in the suburbs, people looked at me like I didn't belong. Even after we moved to the ghetto, some still gave me the same looks, but at least they kept to themselves. We were getting by for a few months—until the Purifiers came. I remember bullets, my parents' screams, my father begging them to let my mother go. But the Purifiers didn't care—muties and their supporters could all go to hell in their eyes. I was too weak to fight for my parents, so I hid in the closet while the gunshots rang out. Then my mother screamed, "Look, she's a damn mutie too," and one of them shouted, "Looks like she wants to fight back." More gunshots. After a few minutes, I came out. I didn't even notice the hot tears rolling down my face until I stood over my parents' bodies. That's when it happened. The shiny metallic liquid, flowing from my mother's body to mine.

In the following week, our landlord felt sorry for me and helped sell our belongings and organize the funeral. The police wrote it off as gang violence. A month later, I moved to Mutant Town. My neighbor, Mr. M, helped me get settled. I thought the black metallic liquid wrapping around my midsection was my mutation. I worked part-time to pay for my room, even though I still had some money from what we sold. It just felt right to work.

One night, on my way home from work, I was shoved against a wall. "Get his wallet, shoes, then stab the little nigga," one of them said. Their words terrified me so much my eyes burned, but no tears came. The gang holding me suddenly started clutching their eyes, screaming in pain. I didn't care what was happening to them—I knew I needed to get out of there. I made it home, collapsed onto the couch, clutching my eyes in agony. The pain was unbearable. Then I passed out. The next thing I knew, the X-Men were there—Beast and Emma Frost.

"Hello, young man," said Beast. "We're the X-Men."

"The X-Men? Why are they here?" I thought, my voice rasping out. "What's wrong with me?"

"Try not to talk, young Mr. Locke," said Beast. "You've strained your vocal cords."

"You poor young man," said the beautiful blonde in all white. "You were writhing on the floor when we found you. Physically and mentally."

"But I thought my mutation was the liquid metal," I muttered, confused.

"We'll need to look into that," said Beast. "But I can't do much without the proper equipment."

"Would it be alright if you came with us to our institute?" Emma asked, her voice softer. "We'd like to help you."

I didn't belong in Mutant Town. I wasn't used to this life. I missed my parents, missed being happy. But those days were gone. All I could do now was keep moving forward. The liquid around my waist warmed up as if agreeing.

"I'll come with you, but could you help me pack my things?" I said, a little stronger this time.

"Of course, young man," Beast replied with a smile. "You won't regret it."

For some reason, when he said that, a chill ran down my spine. I packed everything I needed and left a note for Mr. M. On my way out, I noticed bandages over my eyes in the reflection of the TV. But… I could see perfectly.

"Ms. Emma, what's going on with my eyes?" I asked, confused.

"Oh, honey, that's why we're taking you to the institute," Emma said with a smirk. "And call me Ms. Frost—I'm going to be your headmistress." Something told me that smirk was going to lead to a lot of trouble in the future.