Teacher name: Ms. Horrible (Georgey)

The Agnes incident was still fresh in his mind. As much as Jorge was glad that those psychopaths were sitting in a jail cell right now, he still worried about everything that had happened at the school. Those parents and their mutant body guard had done a number on the living room and not only that but they had really shaken up that poor young girl. He had been hearing, through Gemma of course, that Agnes was coping well, but part of him still wanted to be involved, to see for himself. That was his whole reasoning behind this trip. He was only coming to inform Agnes about the next stage of her parents sentencing, but at the same time he just wanted to check up to make sure that she was okay.

The green of the grass and trees rolled by the sleek, black Chevy Impala as it rode down the path towards the Xavier Sister School. Jorge Cervantes calmly sat behind the wheel, musing on Agnes’ wellbeing. The detective felt bad because it seemed that the only time he was coming to the mansion these days was for business, instead of visiting Gemma.

He’d make sure to make it up to her. He never wanted to be this type of cop, the kind that nearly neglects those whom he loves and cares about. But that was why he was alone this whole time. Few women have been able to withstand a relationship like this…

Except for Gemma. That had to mean something…right?

Cracking his neck to the side, Jorge spied the upcoming mansion and immediate reached forward to lower the volume on his radio. As he got closer though, he noticed an odd sight: a little old woman, standing outside the gates and staring the buzzer. The only reason the scene struck him as odd was because why hadn’t the guard let her in? But as he drove up and spied the guard station, he saw of course that the guard was not on duty. Probably doing rounds.

“Well, that’s not right,” Jorge muttered as he slowed his car into a crawl until he parked on the outside.

Once he was parked, Jorge slipped out of the vehicle and smiled at the woman. The detective, dressed navy blue jeans, white shirt with his badge hanging around his neck and the same old, brown leather bomber jacket, casually walked up to the older woman. He wondered if she was a relative to one of the staff members or students.

“Hello. Having trouble getting in?” He asked warmly.

The last thing that Jorge saw was a floating walking cane, surrounded by an emerald green light. At first the detective was not sure what to make of it oddity, but those thoughts were promptly beat out of his skull by the resounding sounds of THWHACK! THWACK!! THUMP!! THUD to which Jorge replied with a groan and yelp. Normally Jorge had better reflexes than this but it was his fault for not expecting such an onslaught.

His head sounded thumped, the detective shook his head and found himself on the ground, arms up in over to protect his head from a further beating. He had no idea what prompted that attack but as he slowly lowered his arms, he looked up to see the older woman had her cane quickly returning to her hand and the emerald glow dissipate. She looked apologetic but also a little peeved at him.

>> “I'm very sorry, young man…Please do not sneak up on Old Women like that. They might have a heart attack.”

“Or…give a guy a concussion…” Jorge muttered as he slowly moved onto his feet.

In doing so he began to dust himself off and attempted to push down the actual pain he was feeling around his skull. That cane sure had walloped him good. He was going to have to make sure to take some asprin before things got any worse. With a groan he rubbed the back of his neck as he stood up straight and eyed the woman closely.

Was it really her that had just done that? Was she a mutant as well? A glance to the trunk on the ground and the look on her face told him she was. After all, why would she be here at the school? New staff member? Relative arriving for a long stay? Maybe dropping off a care-trunk to one of the students? Whatever the case, he hoped that she was not simply here to cause trouble and to accost innocent police officers who were simply trying to help.

>> “Letting me in would indeed be sweet of you. Especially since you might have a concussion. How many fingers am I holding up?"

“I’m okay. You’d be surprised how many times I get hit in the head,” he said with a small smirk. Just the idea that this little old woman that walloped him so thoroughly almost made him want to laugh but he kept his mouth shut. Instead he peered at the fingers she held up and responded with the correct number…he hoped. Still rubbing a sore spot on his head he glanced at the guard station again. “By all means, let me help you in. My name is Jorge Cervantes, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” he said with a chuckle.

Walking up to the keypad at the gate entrance Jorge punched in the code that Gemma had given him awhile ago so that he could come and go to the mansion as he pleased. He could have her escort him in all the time. He just hoped that the kindly seeming old woman here had good intentions. The last time complete strangers had been let into the mansion Agnes parents had caused quite the ruckus. At least in this situation he was the one letting the stranger in. He could keep an eye on her.

>> “You, Mr Cervantes, have been hit on the head by me…So let me be the judge of whether you need a day in bed. And yes, I am qualified to send you there. And I might... simply drag you there.”

Jorge had never been spoken to in such a way before and to be honest he was just a little scared. Well, let’s be honest, being a police officer of course he was spoken to in this manner before. But the truth of the matter was that Jorge was used to such speeches coming from angry pedestrians, those that believed he was “on the take” or some other type of sell-out or corrupted figure. But there was something in way in which this woman spoke to him that was oddly comforting and yet terrifying at the same time; she jabbed his chest, she spoke in an unfaltering tone, it was almost as if he were being spoken to by his old abuelita.

Shifting a little uncomfortable at his feet, because let’s face it what was the man to really do, and looked from side to side. He couldn’t really arrest her, she had only attacked him because he had startled her, and now she really seemed as if she were trying to assess the damage. The cop’s hands were tied.

>> “Now bend your head please…”

It must have looked comical for the taller, grizzly detective to look so beaten down and unsure of the woman in front of him. Jorge had gone up against some to the toughest criminals and psychos this city has ever produced and it was this old woman that was making him shake in his boots a little. Looking like a caught misbehaving child, Jorge very slowly bent down to allow the woman to take a look at the top of his head where she so soundly thrashed him.

He felt her finger gently brush through his hair to feel for the wounds she had delivered to him. God he hoped that Gemma was not inside watching this…

>> “My name is Stephens. You may call me Granny. Young man."

Jorge winced slightly as she touched one of the more sensitive areas that was beginning to bruise underneath his hair. In the back of his mind Jorge knew that he would find all this very funny later on…but for now he tried to keep some of his dignity.

“Ugh, it’s nice to meet you, Ms. Stephens…err…Granny…” he replied as he waited for her to finish her inspection of his head. “So, um, what brings you to the mansion? If you don’t mind me asking.”

>> “Yes, yes, yes… Skull intact, skin not broken, hematoma, of course... but not badly... I seem to be getting soft.”

“I’m sorry?” Jorge mumbled as she continued to check his wounds.

Apparently the woman was a little disappointed that she hadn’t harmed him more. That was certainly a little terrifying but the man was not about to question her on it. He would rather keep his mouth shut and let her continue his work.

She was interesting from what he could tell so far. She had this old world quality in which she expected every to respect their elders and to never talk back. In a way he really admired that she still held such a mentality with how the world was today. Few, if any people, actually show respect for their fellow man anymore. They spend much of their time completely wrapped up in their own worlds, with their own ideas about how things should be run. If there was one thing that people did not like to do was to openly show respect anymore.

The woman shifted her attention slightly as she continued to check his head for any further signs of harm. It was only as she doing so that she finally had answered his question.

>> “I don't mind you asking at all…I have come to teach classes here. The counselor recruited me herself…Are you presently experiencing dizziness, nausea or blurry vision? And do not try to hide things from me.”

Still held in her grip, Jorge shook (or least tried to), his head.

“Uh, no ma’am. None of those,” he said with an honest smile. He waited until she was done inspecting his head before finally righted himself up and spoke again. “Thank you for your concern, and congratulations on the teaching job. I’m sure the kids here will learn a lot from you.” He nodded gratefully. “The counselor huh? You wouldn’t happen to mean a Ms. Gemma Taylor, would you? I know her quite well.”

>> “Now let us find some ice for that head of yours.”

Jorge smirked appreciatively and nodded his head. When he saw her offered arm, Jorge immediately took it in case she needed help making it across the gravel-like pathway. But as he walked with her, and of course noted the large, extremely heavy wood trunk floating gently along beside her, he had to wonder if he were aiding her progress across the path or if it were the other way around. The woman certainly seemed to have some interesting surprises about her, and she was more than capable of helping herself.

But…whatever this was, he was only too happy to help/accept help. Holding her arm he walked at her gentle pace and eyed the gravel on the ground for any would be obstacles. The bigger rocks loved to play havoc with the shoes of everyone here.

>> “And to answer your question: Yes she was one Miss Gemma Taylor. Quite handsome woman, is she not?”

“Very much so,” Jorge said with a smile to match the one that was being given to him.

He eyed her curiously after her statement, another small smile appearing across his lips. He had an inkling that she was already assuming that he was in a relationship with Gemma. She was just like any motherly figure that Jorge had experienced in his life time. His own abuelita was always asking questions like that, trying to get Jorge to admit whether he liked a certain woman or if he thought she would be a good catch. He loved the woman dearly but she had a way about her that just loved to meddle in the affairs of others. But, when confronted about such knowledge, she would merely scoff and say that she was old and it was her business no matter way.

There was no arguing with her. The same could be said about Granny Stephen’s here. She that same fiery personality that was tempered in the notion that no matter what, she was right. The world would simply have to conform itself to understand that.

The idea brought another smirk to his face as he helped her to the front door of her new school.

>> “Should you experience said neurological symptoms, go to an ER. But enough of your pretty young head.”

He chuckled in response but nodded in thanks. “I most certainly will, Granny. Thank you very much.” Once he arrived to the front doors, Jorge grabbed the handle, and pushed them open. A breath of cool air from the inside immediately dashed out and flooded the pair of them, gently ruffling their hair. Jorge then held the door open and stepped aside so that there was enough room for her to walk past him. “Welcome to Xavier’s Sister School.”

The old woman was quick to brush past him and Jorge could only stand back with a small smile as he watched her survey her new home. She did seem to be rather at piece her, like she felt as if she really belonged. From his eyes she really seemed to fit the interior of the mansion, as if it she were cut out of a cloth made just for it. She was a tough old bird but that isn’t the worst of things to have in this school. After all, he had seen many of the students who came through these doors and they all needed a stern yet caring hand to guide them. The last thing he wanted to see, as a cop, was more of these students being arrested or called on because they couldn’t control their powers.

Granny Stephens definitely seemed like the type that could handle whatever they threw at her.

>> “Who is in charge of housekeeping here? He needs a firm talking-to.”

She definitely can handle anything he thought with a small chuckle.

Jorge was about to proclaim that he did not know all of the staff at this school yet. He knew some of the teachers and, of course, his girlfriend Gemma, but other than that he was not entirely sure who it was that cleaned this place up. He was not completely surprised either, especially considering what had gone down here with Agnes and her parents. They were more than likely still in the middle of doing repairs.

But, as he stepped forward, ready to answer this, he felt the sudden shove and push of large object at his back. He had turned and realized that it was Granny’s trunk that was shoving him so solidly. Try as he might to keep from being shoved over, the detective could only get out of the object’s way as it casually continued on, oblivious of anything that had been blocking it. Once it set itself down, Jorge walked around it, shaking his head a bit as he glared at that beast of a suitcase.

Then he turned as Granny motioned for him to follow. Well, not so much as ‘motioned’ but ‘demanded’ as he limped away with her cane.

>> “Come now, young man. Let not your Counselor say I damaged her goods permanently.”

“Um, yes ma’am,” Jorge muttered as he jogged briefly to catch up to her and casually slowed himself down to a stroll next to her. In the back of his mind, all he could do was smirk. This kid’s…they were all going to be in for a real treat when they took her classes…

Jorge followed, like an obedient child after the much older woman as she led him through the hall and in the mansion’s rather large kitchen. He wanted to offer to help her look for whatever it was he needed. After all he had been in this kitchen quite a few times since he was pretty close to living here. He visited Gemma often, and in doing so, had learned his way around this place. But as he stood there, he watched the spry old woman ducking around left and right, going through everything and instantly learning where everything was. Who was he to stand in her way? Still…it was good manners to offer.

So, as Jorge stepped forward and opened his mouth, what he was going to say was “Can I help you find anything?” Instead, he was cut off even before he could begin when Granny Stephens returned to his side and handed out a large checkered dish towel with ice wrapped up inside…

>> “Now young man, hold that... to your head, but be sure to move it a bit around. Otherwise the children might get brain-sorbet for dinner.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Jorge said with a small smile and placed the impromptu ice pack onto the top of his head. He probably looked rather comically like this. But he knew he really was in no position to argue with her. The last thing he wanted was another cane to the back of his head. He winced as he moved the ice pack to another spot on his head. That was definitely going to hurt in the morning.

But as he stood there, holding the ice pack to his head as it he had just been severely beaten up for his wallet in some dark alley, he watched as the Granny finally stopped moving and looked back at him. Jorge really did not know what else to say this old woman as she removed her hat and fixed her hair. He was glad that she was so concerned for harming him so much but he knew it really was not all that bad. But just try and tell her that. There would be no sense to it. If anything she harm him worse just to prove that she was right.

So, Jorge casually waited in the kitchen as he moved the icepack over again to another sore spot he had felt. At least the ice was help, even it did being to melt and soak the bag.

>> “And Officer, if you don't mind me asking: What is it you do?”

Time for the casual chat now, huh? Well…at least she was no longer accosting him. But it was obvious that she was delving for information, especially since she was going to live here, it only made sense that she would make notes on all those who inhabited and visited. And it was obvious that this question had nothing to do with his job. It was already evident that he was a police officer so she was not curious about that. What she wanted to know involved something of a more genetic nature…

Clever girl… was all he thought as he smirked silently at her.

“Water,” was all he said at first as he moved the ice pack to yet another tender spot. God, what was this, a fourth spot now? “I can move water.”