The backpack was black, and full of things. Clothes, tools, sewing materials and books and patterns. A lot of reference books. Her hoodie. Her vest. Her jacket... the white one with the straps... and a book she had found at a book store in self help called “Your Powers and You: a guide for new mutants.” It had a pretty decent chapter on psychics. Actually, several. You would be surprised how many different kinds of psychics there are. Not everyone reads minds. She was not sure what she would need. She had brought it all.

Amelia adjusted the strap, and stopped in front of the room in the mansion. It was around 10:00AM on a Saturday. She was wearing blue jeans, and a white and black striped long-sleeved tee shirt.

This was Evelyns room. Theoretically. She had asked. Someone had said. It might not be. She might not be in. But she had figured just showing up and asking for help was her best bet. It wasn’t like Eevee had a cellphone or anything.

She had done a metric ton of studying and thinking, prior to coming to Evelyn for help. Lots of time spent just considering things and contemplating the nature of her powers and the universe. So—

Amelia knocked on Evelyn’s door. “Hey Evelyn,” she called. “You in?”

Evelyn was bored. The last few Saturdays she had been off at BlacTac helping out, but today she lacked community service hours to warrant getting away from the mansion. Had she thought about it, she could have easily done something to earn the punishment, but if she did that, it might raise suspicion, so it was probably good she hadn't. She was in the corner of the room, a stack of books next to her and nosing through some more chemistry texts. Dealing with a mercenary group, and heck, even being around Sam, had drawn her interest to a lot of different subjects, including weaponry, and even chemical properties on clothing. The last one reminded her of a friend, and that thought had no sooner happened than a knock came to the door.

Blinking, Evelyn closed the text and moved to answer. She spotted the bag, the girl, the excitement. [Eager. Anticipation. Nervousness.] "Are we throwing things again?" She asked, trying to judge what the backpack may contain. She let the door open, giving the invitation to enter if the older girl wanted.

The room was a strange mix of a child's bedroom and an adult's study. There were books, painting supplies, a backpack with bunny ears; there was a taser, a bunch of random materials like strings, safety pins, jars that looked like they came from the chemistry lab. There were papers stacked in neat piles, intricate blueprints pinned onto a cork-board next to a calendar with baby animals. Seeming unaware her living space was odd, she pranced over to her bed and sat on the end, scooting a stuffed animal over so Ami could sit.

Throwing things?

Amelia stepped into the room. Her eyes briefly passed over everything as she entered. Took in the eclectic mix of young and old styles and form. Childish things like bunny pack lived beside books and painting supplies. Blueprints and boards, next to a kitten calendar. And other things of the sort.

“No,” Amelia said lightly. “No throwing things today! Though if I figure this thing out you might be allowed to use that TASER on me. Or try the fireproof properties of an item. Can I sit down?”

Evelyn moved a stuffed animal aside, to give her room. She quickly filled the emptied space with herself. Insinuating herself upon the room.

Once she was seated, Amelia leaned forward and dug around in the backpack at her feet. She began pulling out things, one by one. The green Carhart hoodie, the Kevlar vest, a bound notebook full of notes and sketches. A straitjacket landed next to the Kevlar vest on the bed beside her. Amelia stopped unloading, though there still were things within the bag. That would be enough, for now. She had a decent sized pile heaped on the bed behind her, already.

Amelia looked to Evelyn and smiled lightly. “I was actually going to ask for your help with figuring out something else today. I need to figure out how made this bulletproof and knife-resistant.” She held up the straitjacket. “Why it isn’t, any more. How the green hoodie is. And how I can replicate it. And then, I was going to try and figure out how to do something new, on top of all of that! Go ahead, ask why I have a straitjacket. Because it’s a good story I honestly did not know about until just recently. And it is all sorts of f$&$ed up.”

Evelyn glanced at the various items, the notes, then back to the girl. She started feeling a little excited, the echoes in her brain already taking information and beginning to sort it. Kevlar, shirts, durability. She started to reach for the notebooks, then paused, deciding there were more polite ways to go about this.

"There is a story? Oh, uh, why do you have a straight jacket?" She repeated as requested. She was good at reading body language, but nothing could entirely fill in a full story on a jacket like that. Was it related to Ami and the de-aged cop years? Did they have those types of jackets in law enforcement? No, the Kevlar seemed more in line with that background. She felt her hand drift to a bedside table and she retrieved her own notebook and a pen with a little fluffy pom pom on the end.

"Tasering is fun. But it would be more fun on someone who actually deserved it. I don't necessarily want to injure you intentionally," the young girl admitted.

"Yeah. There is a story." Amelia said. Carefully. She'd been gungho about it, but it was also a little bit of a scary story. And she did not have the whole tale, anyways.

For the moment, she held off telling it. Evelyn was saying more stuff. Amelia's smile faltered a little.

That's right. Evelyn was actually conscious of the potential to injure her. When she'd hit her with the sai, she had worried she would hurt her and had almost wanted to call it off then and there.

"We will play it by ear," Amelia assured Evelyn. "If we can figure this stuff out, we can test it out. We can start small. Honestly, fire is more likely than electricity. I read somewhere that Kevlar is used in a fireman's jacket. And holds up pretty well against that. Less so for stabbing and slashing, I'd imagine. More a kinetic absorption sort of dealio."

Dealio. 90s called, wants its word back.

"That sound fair? We can test, when we're fairly certain it will work. Until then, we operate in the realm of hypothesis."

She held off on telling the story until Evelyn actually agreed to anything. She did not want to overwhelm the girl. As Maya had pointed out, Eevee was only 7. And also apparently, NOT cleared for the Danger Room. Or tinkering. Or whatever. Tough cookies, Maya. Tough, tough cookies. Seriousy, the chewiest, dryest you can imagine. If Eevee had good ideas, they'd pursue them. And damn the consequences.

No. She really was not as mature as her older half had been, at all. And maybe there was some bad, influencing her deep down.

Kevlar. Fire. Evelyn was processing all the information, but her resistance was fading. If she was going to get to experiment, Evelyn secretly would not turn this down. She just needed to make sure apprehensions were stated, on the record. If you stabbed the only person who let you into the Danger Room, that sort of limited the fun you could have in the future.

"So, are we figuring this out here? Are we going to need the chem lab again? What's the plan? Or, am I the plan? Because the echoes only know a bit about your powers, and the whole 'making fabric magically not fabric' bit hasn't quite been studied enough." Evelyn tried not to look excited at the possibilities. Calm, remain calm.

She had a backpack nearby with notebooks and her phone. She would take that if they went to the chem lab. If they stayed here she had a few things most seven-year-olds shouldn't have in their room. She leaned over one side and scooped up a taser and held it to Amelia. "For tasering? If you decide we need it?"

>>”So, are we figuring this out here? Are we going to need the chem lab again? What's the plan? Or, am I the plan? Because the echoes only know a bit about your powers, and the whole 'making fabric magically not fabric' bit hasn't quite been studied enough." Evelyn rambled.

Amelia opened her mouth to reply but got handed a taser before she managed it. A taser.

“Why do you have Thomas a swifts electric rifle?” She asked, then quickly amended her statement. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Of course you have a taser. Ahem. Anyways, I was thinking here to start. We can use that. Maybe more to the lab later. For things you don’t have sitting around under your pillow. Like flamethrowers.”

Amelia offered Eve a pointed look. “You don’t have a flamethrower, do you? I mean back home, I have a shotgun and some handguns but that’s just because in another life I was a cop. Bet you have matches though, or a Bic.” She smirked, morbidly amuses by the whole situation.

—

After they’d talked about the presence or lack of fire starting tools and tasers, Amelia settled back on the bed to explain. Her straitjacket and books and toys were spread around her line a minefield of interesting things.

“The reason I have a straitjacket is because, according to my brother, I was kidnapped by a shady government organization for a while, imprisoned, and no doubt experimented upon fir dubious reasons. And while I was away, an evil twin assumed my identity and stole my life.” She said it all with a straight face. No awkward laughter or smirking. “No joke. Cool, huh.” No question. Basic statement.

“According to my brother, I first used my powers to make the jacket into armor and fought my way out. No idea how true the statement is. I don’t have the fun of remembering that life.”

Evelyn, who remembered everything, would not doubt be jealous of her ability to forget. Dark thought, yeah. But dealing with dark things. Things one could beat and joke about, because come on? Was this a comic book? Action movie starring Ellen Page and Ryan Reynolds and Dakota Fanning? But I reality, dark things leave scars. The ones in your head.

Evelyn did not have a flamethrower, but she took a moment to show off one of her Molotov cocktails she had hidden before going back to project at hand. Which, unless something went wrong, should not involve blowing anything up. She did have a lighter though, which she planted next to the other project supplies. The Molotov went back to the closet in a little fireproof box. Because she was at least somewhat safe with her flamables.

"Evil twins, stolen identities. Sounds interesting. And I don't think I would ever assume stuff like that is a joke, given I'm legally over 30 years old." Evelyn shrugged. Then she picked up the straightjacket. "So, is it still like armor? Is it only armor if you're wearing it? Do I get to stab you with this one?" Evelyn asked the question like she was asking for ice cream. Somehow she lacked the moral hesitation that usually came with stabbing someone.

30?

“True.” She said. Life could get pretty strange.

Amelia regarded Eve and the straitjacket. “I think it’s probably dead. I figured that my hoodie required recharges somehow. And I doubt I’ve charged this. Plus, I think I am limited to one type of thingy at a time. Which I have to fix. Obviously.”

She smiled at Eve. “A girl has to accessorize.”

She didn’t even picture Eve stabbing her. Or stabbing her with a starched version of the straitjacket which was where her overly literal mind had temporarily gone.

They would test the hoodie. They would test to see if she could figure out or replicate the weave. Small tests, scientific. Fixing the weave would probably take time, all things do that matter. This would likely not be the work of an afternoon. What was it they said about Rome?

Amelia mumbled something about her mind suddenly being scattered like she’d lost it over the course of a month or two of neglect. And needing to gather her thoughts to figure out what they wanted to do with this.