ignored them. “But the perception is that we’re freaks or worse. That we’re Magnetos, just waiting to happen. We’ve been taking it on the chin so long, just trying to keep from being wiped out, I think we’ve forgotten that we have a purpose.” He stood up and pointed east toward the mainland, far in the distance. “I know the rest of the world has forgotten. The point is—”
He turned back to them and was startled to find that they were all standing on a normally proportioned beach. The water gently lapped up to their toes. He could hear the dolphins in the distance making loud, high-pitched sounds. He knew why they were doing it, and realized he’d never hear dolphin noises the same way again. Hank nodded with satisfaction at the remote control.
“The point is simply this: We need to get into the world. Saving lives, helping with disaster relief. We need to present ourselves as a team like any other. Avengers, Fantastic Four—they don’t get chased through the streets with torches and pitchforks…”
“Here come the tights,” Wolverine said under his breath.
“Sorry, Logan,” said Scott, trying to sound sympathetic and not succeeding terribly well. “Super heroes wear costumes. And quite frankly, all the black leather is making people nervous.”
Kitty put up her hand again, then glanced at it self-consciously and lowered it as she said, “Okay, I officially, really,
really
don’t know why I’m here. I’m not a fighter. Not like you guys.”
64 “You’ve been in it plenty, kid. I’d take you at my back any day.” Only Wolverine could take a compliment and make it sound like a grudging admission.
“But you’re not a fighter,” Scott agreed with her. “Your power isn’t aggressive, it’s protective. That’s good to show. You’re likable. Even Logan likes you. Which says something.” Logan tilted his head slightly in mute agreement. “Hank’s articulate as anything, but what people see is mostly…well…a Beast. Emma’s a former villain, Logan’s a thug—”
“Born and bred,” said Logan.
“And me,” Scott said, “I can lead a team, but I haven’t looked anybody in the eye since I was fifteen.”
“So I’m…what? A P.R. stunt?” Kitty was clearly not sure she liked the sound of that.
“Yes, our own little poster child. Isn’t that sweet?” Emma said with what sounded like a purr. “The ‘Nonthreatening Shadowcat’ or ‘Sprite’ or ‘Ariel’—a made-up compound noun, a brand of soda, and a cartoon mermaid—or whatever incredibly unimpressive name you’re using nowadays.”
“Emma, shut up,” said Scott.
Emma had almost as practiced a poker face as Scott, but this time she reacted with visible surprise at the rebuke. Scott ignored her. “You all may have perfectly good reasons for not wanting to do this, but you’re the team I chose. So think about it.”
There was dead silence for a long moment, and then Hank finally said what absolutely none of them were thinking:
“Am I the only one who’s dying to see the outfits?”
65 I don’t know what to make of it.
I go back to my room, get showered, wash cloud out of my hair, get dressed. I only have one actual class today and, considering I’ve never actually taught someone, I don’t do a half-bad job of it. As I walk through the hallways, I hear kids muttering about the big fight they saw in the morning. “I thought they were supposed to be super heroes,” one of them says, and another replies, “Super heroes always fight each other. It’s how they say ‘hello.’”
Super heroes. Such a stupid phrase. I’m not even sure what that means. The obvious thing is that it’s someone with super-powers, but there are guys with no extraordinary powers who the public calls super heroes. What’s required to be one? You take on an assumed name, wear some kind of protective armor, carry a weapon, and try to right wrongs with a sidekick following you around? By those criteria, Don Quixote was a
He turned back to them and was startled to find that they were all standing on a normally proportioned beach. The water gently lapped up to their toes. He could hear the dolphins in the distance making loud, high-pitched sounds. He knew why they were doing it, and realized he’d never hear dolphin noises the same way again. Hank nodded with satisfaction at the remote control.
“The point is simply this: We need to get into the world. Saving lives, helping with disaster relief. We need to present ourselves as a team like any other. Avengers, Fantastic Four—they don’t get chased through the streets with torches and pitchforks…”
“Here come the tights,” Wolverine said under his breath.
“Sorry, Logan,” said Scott, trying to sound sympathetic and not succeeding terribly well. “Super heroes wear costumes. And quite frankly, all the black leather is making people nervous.”
Kitty put up her hand again, then glanced at it self-consciously and lowered it as she said, “Okay, I officially, really,
really
don’t know why I’m here. I’m not a fighter. Not like you guys.”
64 “You’ve been in it plenty, kid. I’d take you at my back any day.” Only Wolverine could take a compliment and make it sound like a grudging admission.
“But you’re not a fighter,” Scott agreed with her. “Your power isn’t aggressive, it’s protective. That’s good to show. You’re likable. Even Logan likes you. Which says something.” Logan tilted his head slightly in mute agreement. “Hank’s articulate as anything, but what people see is mostly…well…a Beast. Emma’s a former villain, Logan’s a thug—”
“Born and bred,” said Logan.
“And me,” Scott said, “I can lead a team, but I haven’t looked anybody in the eye since I was fifteen.”
“So I’m…what? A P.R. stunt?” Kitty was clearly not sure she liked the sound of that.
“Yes, our own little poster child. Isn’t that sweet?” Emma said with what sounded like a purr. “The ‘Nonthreatening Shadowcat’ or ‘Sprite’ or ‘Ariel’—a made-up compound noun, a brand of soda, and a cartoon mermaid—or whatever incredibly unimpressive name you’re using nowadays.”
“Emma, shut up,” said Scott.
Emma had almost as practiced a poker face as Scott, but this time she reacted with visible surprise at the rebuke. Scott ignored her. “You all may have perfectly good reasons for not wanting to do this, but you’re the team I chose. So think about it.”
There was dead silence for a long moment, and then Hank finally said what absolutely none of them were thinking:
“Am I the only one who’s dying to see the outfits?”
65 I don’t know what to make of it.
I go back to my room, get showered, wash cloud out of my hair, get dressed. I only have one actual class today and, considering I’ve never actually taught someone, I don’t do a half-bad job of it. As I walk through the hallways, I hear kids muttering about the big fight they saw in the morning. “I thought they were supposed to be super heroes,” one of them says, and another replies, “Super heroes always fight each other. It’s how they say ‘hello.’”
Super heroes. Such a stupid phrase. I’m not even sure what that means. The obvious thing is that it’s someone with super-powers, but there are guys with no extraordinary powers who the public calls super heroes. What’s required to be one? You take on an assumed name, wear some kind of protective armor, carry a weapon, and try to right wrongs with a sidekick following you around? By those criteria, Don Quixote was a
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