Fighting Chance Vol 2 #8

(Yes, this is available for a lower tier. I usually post chapters that have more of a floating aspect in the timeline for lower tiers because if they don’t need previous chapters to follow along, I might as well.)

The fancy hotel suite in Midtown Manhattan was its own kind of ridiculous, full of fancy bathrobes that had her honestly surprised they weren’t monogrammed and room service and all other sorts of impressive things that told Kitty her parents were really going all out to make her feel loved after not seeing her since Christmas.

Right now though, Katherine Anne Pryde was sprawled lazily across the overstuffed couch, remote in one hand and her smartphone in the other, doing her very best to find something on the big flat screen TV that didn’t make her want to phase through the floor from secondhand embarrassment or sheer boredom.

The suite was honestly way too nice for their usual vacations, but her dad had insisted on “doing it right” since this was their first real family trip since she’d left home to go to school.

Since I became a mutant, went unspoken obviously, but every one of the Prydes knew what this whole trip was really about. They just didn’t bring it up to avoid having to lie, all so her parents could continue on like everything was normal while she tried to pretend she hadn’t spent the last few months dodging all sorts of danger and apparently training to be a superhero, because that was her life now.

“Rebecca, have you seen my camera?” Dad called from her parent’s room, and Kitty could hear him opening and closing drawers with the kind of methodical military precision that meant he’d already checked the same places three times.

“It’s on the nightstand, honey, right where you left it.”

“Ah, thank you, sweetums.”

Dad walked out, checking his camera now that he’d finally found it, transparent visor on his head and a bright white I Heart NY t-shirt worn proudly, despite being a little oversized. Mom was applying sunscreen a half-step outside the bathroom, the door open as she just slathered the stuff on and rubbed it in deep until she was a full shade paler. It’s like she thinks the stuff is some kind of magic forcefield against all life’s problems.

I mean, sure, Kitty knew all about how skin cancer was bad, (melanoma was no joke) but there were way bigger things to worry about. 

Like figuring out whether Kurt was going to teleport into her room again without knocking first because apparently privacy wasn’t a concept that existed at Xavier’s School for Gifted Students. Living at the mansion still felt like boarding school for freaks, which honestly it kind of was, except the freaks could walk through walls and shoot lasers from their eyes and teleport in puffs of smoke that smelled like brimstone. Still getting used to this whole Homo Superior thing.

And wasn’t that such a crazy choice for a name.

It was only one step better than mutant.

As smart as the professor was, the guy did not know anything about branding.

“You sure you don’t want to come, sweetie? The Statue of Liberty’s supposed to be, like, really inspiring?” Mom’s voice had that carefully casual tone that meant she was trying not to sound like she was begging, but she was totally begging and it was totally obvious.

“Mom, I’m fifteen. I think I can handle shopping by myself.” Kitty tried to sound confident and mature, which was harder than it should have been when part of her brain was still processing the fact that she could literally fall through the floor if she got distracted enough. The whole mutant thing was still so new that sometimes she forgot she wasn’t just a normal girl from Illinois who happened to be really good at getting into places she wasn’t supposed to be.

Dad looked up from his camera, thick mustache and beard hiding an expression that was probably very paternal and serious. “Manhattan’s a big city, Kit-Kat. Lot of weirdos out there.”

If only you knew about the weirdos I know. She didn’t talk much about school with her parents, not over the holidays during Christmas and especially not during summer break. It was hard enough getting her parents to be okay with the fact that their daughter had drastically different genetics without complicating their understanding with blue teleporting Germans who hung from the ceiling or a magnetic supervillain with his own asteroid. God, this was absolutely the weirdest school year ever.

“Come on, Dad,” Kitty said, sitting up straighter with a whole spoonful of confidence into her voice, “you know nothing can hurt me.”

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes in a way Kitty was sure was genetic, Mom handed over a thick envelope, placing it in Kitty’s hands with the kind of ceremony and gravity usually reserved for passing down family heirlooms. “Two hundred and fifty dollars. That’s it.”

“Two hundred and….” Kitty stared at the envelope like it had told her she had to dress all grunge and goth like her Southern roommate who was definitely no belle. “What am I supposed to do with two-fifty?” It was a mountain of effort to keep the whine out of her voice because Katherine Pryde was no baby, no matter what anyone said. “I mean, sure, Deerfield, fine, but not in New York City of all places?”

But seriously, two hundred and fifty dollars sounded like a lot until you started looking at price tags in Manhattan. A sandwich is like twenty dollars here with a drink and fries. Honestly, a pretzel is at least five.

“Buy something nice, kitty-kat, that’s what,” Dad answered back, trying to sound serious even as he tried to detangle his arm from the camera strap. “And don’t do anything da… stu… just stay in the safe areas, Kitty.”

“And… just…” Mom smoothed down her thick head of red hair, checking her reflection in the mirror. “Just use your judgement, okay?”

Whatever that means. 

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

New York City was alive, and as much as Kitty loved that, it took some getting used to as she left the hotel and walked through the city. Going from quiet Deerfield, Illinois (just look at the name), to almost as quiet but way richer Westchester County was almost a lateral move. Most of the time, you could rely on some expectation of silence and hearing yourself think wasn’t an impossibility.

Although, in the mansion, silence wasn’t really a given.

Hell, she was still getting used to this whole mutant thing, which felt like the understatement of the century. First semester at Bayville High had been interesting, if by interesting you meant completely insane and occasionally life-threatening.

Being a mutant gave her so many questions.

Like, where were all the mutants in history? Was Captain America a mutant?

And more importantly, why did nobody seem to know what mutants were or talk about them? Hell, it seemed like her parents seemed to talk around it all the time and they never said the actual m-word, which was a whole new bucket of weird.

People had phones and social media and Youtube. How was everything still secret? Why weren’t mutants a huge topic and all over the place? People spent all day talking about Iron Man or the Hulk or that weird lightning guy in the desert last year.

How do you hide people who could walk through walls? Or shoot lasers from their eyes? Or teleport? Or any of the dozens of other completely impossible things that happened on a daily basis at school? It just didn’t add up.

But she was no Harriet the Spy and honestly, Kitty had stopped thinking about it all that much after mentioning it to Professor Logan during one of their training sessions.

“Chuck’s got his ways, kid. Don’t question it too hard.”

Which was probably good advice, because Professor Xavier’s powers were weird in a way that made her brain hurt when she thought about them too much. Like, mind control weird.

Thinking about it led to questions about consent and free will and whether any of her thoughts were actually her own, and that was a rabbit hole she definitely didn’t want to go down.

Focus, Kitty. Shopping. It’s shopping time.

Time to find something she could afford with her tragically limited budget, something cute that didn’t scream tourist. Maybe a new top for when she got back to school, something that would make the boys at Bayville look past Jean to see her. Definitely something that would make her mom and dad say, “young lady”. A tiny bit of pearl clutching wouldn’t hurt.

In no time at all, she’d found a whole outfit and a bunch of accessories that was technically within budget if she ate nothing but hotel breakfast for the rest of the trip. Score. Being honest, Kitty was feeling pretty proud of her shoppings skills when she walked out of the store with her bags, already planning how and where she would wear these once school started back up.

Which was probably why she wasn’t watching where she was going when she bumped into someone hard enough to nearly send herself sprawling backward onto the sidewalk like some kind of clumsy tourist stereotype. Her bag went flying, and for a split second she thought she was going to phase through the concrete in sheer embarrassment, but then a strong arm caught her, and another handed her the same bag back, Kitty taking it without even thinking.

“‘scuse me.” As that same set of arms assisted her back to her feet, steadying her with the kind of easy strength that made her stomach do a little flip, Kitty blinked, confused but definitely not complaining as she found herself looking up at the smiling face of a taller kid who definitely hadn’t been there five seconds ago.

Dark-skinned, with a fresh short haircut that looked like he’d just come from the barber, wearing a blue muscle shirt that definitely showed off the fact that he spent a lot of time working out. He had this confident energy about him, like he was completely comfortable in his own skin in a way that Kitty was still figuring out how to be.

Okay, hello there.

“Watch where you’re walking, tough guy.” Kitty pursed her lips a half-second after. That sounded way more flirty than I meant but… eh… Looking him up and down, she didn’t really mind that.

Tough guy raised an eyebrow with the kind of confidence that suggested he was used to being called out and didn’t particularly mind it. “You walked into me.”

Point taken. His voice really did have this bounce to it, like he was somewhere in between cracking a joke or starting a fight.

Kitty couldn’t help the smile spreading on her face as he smiled at her. “Okay, fair point. But you could’ve moved. Like, seen me coming? I’m not exactly stealth mode here.”

She gestured to her bright yellow sundress, which was about as subtle as a neon sign and definitely not designed for blending into crowds, and all he gave in response was a shrug.

“My B.”

“Yeah,” Kitty shot back with a scoff, not meaning it as much as she tried to. “It is your B. I could’ve dropped my stuff.”

Again, with a shrug.

Sighing, the Midwest-born mutant rolled her eyes and decided to introduce herself.

“I’m Ki-Katherine…” The correction came out before she could stop it, because Kit-Kat was what her dad called her and Kitty was what her friends called her, but Katherine sounded more grown-up, more like the kind of girl who could handle herself in Manhattan.

“Zain.” The name came out simple and confident. “Zain Powers.”

Kitty raised an eyebrow, because that definitely wasn’t a name she’d heard before, unless you counted the actor who played the jerk in Titanic. “Zane?” she repeated, pretty sure that was what he said, wasn’t it?

“No, see, don’t ask how, but I can tell you’re saying it wrong.” The boy’s grin widened, like he was enjoying the fact that his name was apparently more complicated than it looked. “It’s Z-A-I-N, not A-N-E.”

Kitty blinked, processing the spelling slowly. “Is that supposed to be better?”

“My friends call me Zee, I guess.” 

“Do they, really?” 

“Ehhhh, kinda.” The admission came out flat and honest, and they both cracked up at that.

“So what’s with the muscle shirt? You trying to show off or…?” The question came out mostly because she couldn’t stop looking at his arms, which were definitely the kind of arms that belonged to someone who spent serious time in the gym.

“It’s hot. I’m practical.” Zain flexed slightly, not showing off exactly but definitely not hiding anything either. “Plus, I earned these.”

“It’s hot. I’m practical.” He flexed slightly, not showing off exactly but definitely not hiding anything either. “Plus, I earned these.”

Oh my God. Kitty felt her cheeks warm up, because wow, okay, woow, he definitely earned those. “Earned them how? You lift cars or something?” She was only half-joking but it was the kind of joke she’d make with somebody new to Xavier’s.

“Nooo… more like beating up hardened criminals.” The words came out casual, like he was talking about beating levels in a video game instead of actual people, and for a second Kitty wasn’t sure if she’d just stumbled onto the most interesting boy in Manhattan.

The mutant rolled her eyes, because seriously, pull the other one. “Suuuure.”

“So you’re not from here, right? I can tell,” Zain said, smoothly changing the subject in a way that made her wonder if he was actually serious about the criminal thing.

“That obvious?” Kitty tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling suddenly self-conscious about her midwest accent. “I’m here with my family. Tourist stuff. You?” The question came out automatically, because if he could ask about her background, she could definitely ask about his.

“I live here. Been here a while.” There was something in the way he said it that suggested ‘a while’ might be relative, like maybe he hadn’t always lived here but had been around long enough to consider it home.

He’s interesting. The thought hit her with the kind of clarity that usually preceded questionable life choices. Definitely trouble. But she liked trouble, especially when it came in the form of cute boys who caught her when she fell and had the kind of confidence that suggested they could handle whatever weirdness life threw at them. He was definitely cooler than Scott with his uptight boy scout routine, and way more interesting than Kurt with his constant apologizing for existing.

Zain seemed genuinely curious about her, not just hitting on her but actually listening to what she was saying, which was unfortunately rarer than it should have been in her experience with teenage boys. They leaned against a storefront while people walked past in the typical New York chaos of everyone trying to get somewhere else as fast as humanly possible, but somehow they were in their own little bubble of conversation that felt separate from all the noise and movement around them.

“So what do you do? Like, for fun?” The question seemed innocent enough, but Kitty was starting to suspect that nothing about this conversation was as simple as it seemed on the surface.

“I train. Work out. Hang with my boys.” Zain’s answer was straightforward but somehow managed to suggest that training and working out might involve more than just keeping in shape for health reasons.

“You?” He turned the question back on her with the kind of genuine interest that made her want to tell him everything and also absolutely nothing, because explaining that she went to a school for mutant teenagers was probably not the best conversation starter for a casual street encounter.

“School. Friends. Normal stuff.” The words came out automatically, because what else was she supposed to say? That she lived in a mansion with teenagers who could control the weather and read minds? That her biggest academic challenge was learning to control her ability to walk through solid matter without accidentally falling through the planet? That her idea of normal had been completely redefined over the course of three months?

Except for the whole mutant thing. The thought sat in her head like a weight, because there was something about him that made her want to be honest, that made her think he might actually understand if she told him the truth. But she’d been living with the secret for months now, and the habit of keeping it locked down was stronger than her impulse to trust a cute stranger with information that could probably get her kicked out of school and possibly arrested.

There was something about him though, something that made her want to phase through the sidewalk, not from nervousness but from excitement. The kind of feeling she got when she was standing at the edge of something new and potentially dangerous and couldn’t decide whether to run toward it or away from it.

“Fighter boooooyyyy.” The voice came from somewhere behind them, female and definitely flirtatious, sung out in a teasing, sing-song tone that made Kitty’s stomach drop in the way it always did when she realized she was about to lose something she’d just started to want.

Zain’s eyes widened like he’d just heard his death sentence being read aloud, and suddenly his whole posture changed from relaxed and confident to tense and ready to run. “It was nice talking to you, Katherine.”

The words came out suddenly formal, like he was trying to put distance between them even before he started backing away, and Kitty felt something twist in her chest.

He took off running, not jogging or walking quickly but full sprint, moving almost as fast as she’d seen Kurt when he wasn’t teleporting, which should have been impossible for someone without powers but there he was, disappearing into the crowd like he’d never been there at all.

Leaving Kitty standing there with her mouth open, shopping bag in hand, trying to process what had just happened and why the coolest boy she’d seen in months just ran away from her like she had cooties. What the hell?

Someone turned the corner really fast, and Kitty found herself looking at a girl with white hair and a black Hello Kitty inspired outfit that somehow managed to be both cute and vaguely threatening. Tank top and short skirt with tall black boots, all put together with the kind of precision that suggested she’d put serious thought into looking effortlessly dangerous. Her eyes were narrowed as she scanned the crowd, and there was something predatory in the way she moved that made Kitty take an involuntary step backward.

“I know you’re here, fighter booooy.” Her voice had this playful menace to it, like a cat toying with a mouse, and suddenly Zain’s panicked exit made a lot more sense. This was clearly not the kind of girl you wanted chasing you through the streets of Manhattan, especially if you had secrets to keep.

She ran in the direction Zain had gone, moving with impossible grace like she was barely touching the ground, and Kitty found herself watching the whole thing with the kind of fascination that came from witnessing something that was definitely not normal human behavior. The girl moved like some of the more advanced students at Xavier’s, with the kind of fluid precision that suggested enhanced abilities and possibly a complete disregard for normal human limitations.

So that’s his type. White hair, goth-cute, probably dangerous, and dangerous-looking. Great. 

She picked up her shopping bag, and turned to the side to eye up her reflection in a store window. Maybe I should dye my hair. A couple seconds later, Kitty shook her head as the image of her with white hair passed through her thoughts. I’ll probably end up looking like a wannabe tryhard.

Still, she couldn’t help but accept the fact that the girl in the reflection looked young and suburban and safe, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing but was definitely not the kind of thing that inspired mysterious boys to stick around for more conversation.

Why are the cute ones always taken? It was like some kind of universal law designed specifically to torture teenage girls. 

Story of her life, really. 

Just when things started getting interesting, reality had to come along and remind her that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. The interesting ones always had baggage, or complicated relationships. Or in this case, apparently a super hot stalker who dressed like an anime character.