The Feline Assassin

***Chapter 8***

 The 'x men' drill me with question after question. "Where do you come from?" Canada, I reply. "What are your powers?" You will see soon, I reply. "Why were those men chasing you?" Because I am a mutant, I reply. "How old are you?" Seventeen, I reply. "Where did you grow up?" In captivity, I answer. Scott is about to ask something when I cut him off. "Not that I don't enjoy being asked twenty questions, all though I truly don't, from my calculations we are in New York. This is where you told me 'The Institute' is, am I right?" I ask, crossing my legs and smiling, my sharp fangs in view. "Yes, it is. How do you know so much about the world if you grew up in captivity?" Kurt asks in a crisp accent, watching me with his glowing eyes. "I had schooling and I saw...pictures." I reply, sounding stupid. "Of New York?" Scott jutted in. "Of the world. Russia, India, Africa, Australia, everywhere." I did not mention that the reason I learned about the world was so that I could one day destroy it so Dad could take over. "We are landing. Buckle your seatbelts." A man whose name was Wolverine said through the speakers. He seems gruff, closed off, and tough. I like him. Not to mention, I remember him from a long time ago. A time when Dad had just recently lost Mother and Jason was sent away to this same school I was going to. Father gave a man named Logan an offer, a steel body. Logan survived the procedure and called himself WOLVERINE. Growing up, all I knew him as was Weapon X, a man I had replaced. I was everything he wasn't, Dad had told me. I had agility, light weight, healing powers, and knowledge beyond any before me. I was made to destroy the world. I was jarred from my trip down memory lane when the plane landed with a thump. "Here we are. Home." Kurt tells me. I stand and follow him down the ramp, lacing on my act of courage and confidence again. It was like a mask, disguising my true self from the world. In reality, I am a scared little girl. I have been that ever since Dad sent me to that little enclosed room and he blamed Jason for killing Mother. Jason was an illusionist. Whatever he wanted you to see, you would see. Supposedly when Mother killed herself to get away from her marriage it was Jason's fault. I never knew what happened to him. And now here I was, my feet pattering on the same ground Jason's once had. My catlike eyes observe my surroundings: the pond, the giant mansion, the green grass, the wall around it all. I want to think it was like a prison, but instead the first word that pop into my head are, 'peaceful'. It is kind of like a sanctuary, cut off from the destruction of the world. My gaze is caught by a small, bald man in a wheelchair coming toward us. A woman with fiery hair pushes him. "Welcome, my dear girl." He tells me, looking shocked. "Professor, it is nice to see you again." I reply, calmly.