Cover Up The Sun

Chapter 3

Thursday morning found Loki in one of the many small gyms that dotted the campuses, surrounded by a crowd of bleary-eyed adolescents. Xavier had given Loki a very good idea of what sort of students would be attending this class, but it was still a bit of a shock to actually look around and see them – not just students but truly children, young even by the mayfly standards of this realm. The oldest couldn't be more than fourteen, going by how Xavier had described the years that bounded mortal development, and the youngest appeared about nine.

Xavier had explained that most mutants' powers did not manifest until adolescence, so even if Xavier were able to scry their presence using Cerebro at an earlier age than that, there was no need to invite them to the school for the safety of the children and those around them. But occasionally, a mutant appeared whose powers were so strong – or so idiosyncratic – that they began to manifest early.

Loki understood – on an intellectual level, at least – that Midgard nowadays played host to so many mortals that even taking into account the extremely low rate of mutants in the populace, there were hundreds of thousands of them at a time. By contrast, the population of Xavier's School for Gifted Youths topped out at a few hundred permanent residents (with more coming and going seasonally.) Mutant children (or adults) were only brought here by their concerned families when their powers became too much for them to safely handle – or when those families themselves turned on their own children, rejecting them for what they had become. Or did worse than reject them.

Loki tried not to compare his own family history too much to those orphaned mutants. He tried not to read his own loss and anguish in every small face. But he was not always successful. He knew that the relatively small number of mutants at Xavier's school was proof that most mortal parents were not like that – that most parents tried, with varying degrees of success, to cope with their children's sudden differences – but there were still so many that did not.

It was clear by their expressions that they had no idea what they were doing there, and that most of them were not accustomed to being awake at that hour. One side of Loki's lips curled up, as he recalled many sunrises he'd watched from the training grounds of Asgard, clammy with dew. These mortals had no idea, they really didn't.

Loki stepped out, hands clasped behind his back and long coat swinging around him. He wore a much plainer and looser set of clothes today than usual, in dark greens and greys and black with little adornment, more suitable for physical activity than for court (although all of Asgard's fashions are practical for war.) But to eyes accustomed to Midgard fashions, he still looked formal and intimidating, and he knew it.

"Greetings," he said, letting his eyes slide around the room to take in the students there. "I'm sure you're all wondering why you've been called here at this hour. The truth is, today is the day that you will begin your defense training."

The students traded uncertain glances, and one girl in the back slid her hand up to wave in the air tentatively. Loki at first ignored her as he continued with his preplanned speech, prepared to overlook her undisciplined fidgeting; but her hand only waved higher in the air as he spoke, and when he sent her a warning glance she nearly rose on her toes in response. At last it occurred to Loki that she was trying to get his attention, that this was some Midgardian classroom ritual, and with a frown he finished off his speech and pointed in her direction to single her out.

"You," he said. "What's your name?"

"Tenko," she said, lowering her hand. She had straight black hair and dark eyes that looked at him fearlessly from under smooth eyelids. "Um, we aren't supposed to be learning to fight yet. The minimum age for starting X-Man training is fourteen, and you have to opt in and pass a bunch of evaluations first to make sure your powers are even useful."