Micah angrily paced around his room at the Mansion, throwing objects that seemed to be in need of a good throwing.

“That stupid Deirdra and her stupid-”

Thunk. “A Brief History of India” was thrown to the ground.

“-gorgeous hair and perfect body-”

Thunk. Spanish fell to the floor.

“-and strong yet thin arms-”

Thunk. Calculus landed with a thud.

“-and great taste in jewelry and clothes!”

THUNK!

Micah swore and threw a Biology textbook into the wall. “Who does she think she is, anyway? Just because she’s gorgeous and strong doesn’t mean she can do whatever the hell she wants. And look at her! No wonder humans hate mutants if all they ever see are blonde psychopaths tearing holes in walls while spouting some sort of nonsense about ‘humans are so mean so I can do what I want’ blah blah blah. As if she really even believes that. I mean sure, she’s probably been discriminated against, but hasn’t everyone? And it’s so freaking obvious she’s just using human hatred towards mutants to validate her own selfish greed. How dare she! Some mutants get killed because of that bigotry, but she just uses so she can steal from humans without feeling bad about it. That hag! If I ever see her again, I’m going to…”

Micah collapsed onto his bead, exhausted. “…do what Micah? Beat her head in? Then how does that make you any better than her? She uses hatred to validate violence, so you can’t let yourself stoop to that level.”

Micah sighed and hugged a pillow close. “So what are my options? I mean, I’m not strong like she is. I can’t punch holes in walls. I can’t fly. I can’t read minds. What can I do? Use my supermemory to think her into submission? God, my power SUCKS! I can’t do anything useful!”

Fed up with life and just about everything else for the evening, Micah undressed and tried to sleep. This effort was unsuccessful. His stupid supermemory kept reminding him of the way Deirdra had simply waltzed out of the jewelry store with all that stolen jewelry, and how he had been powerless to help that guy when she just tossed him against the wall. I guess that’s what really sucks about having a mutated memory. Not only can I not forget how utterly powerless I was, I remember it in high-definition perfect detail.

After a few hours of uselessly replaying the scene over and again, tossing and kicking his sheets, Micah sat up in bed. Well, I guess sleep is out of the question. Lifting a somewhat bent copy of “A Brief History of India” onto his lap, Micah turned on a light and started memorizing, which unfortunately didn’t put him in a better mood.

“Ugh, look at this! History is just the same stupid pointless wars being fought over and over again. Same stupid tactics, same stupid pointless body counts. You’d think people would learn that violence is only a temporary solution. It solves nothing in the long run.”

Micah was just about to slam the book shut when a chapter heading caught his eyes. “Gandhi?”

As Micah read more about how one peaceful man had changed the course of history for an entire country, and idea began to grow in his glowing brain. He jumped up, and started pacing around his room. “Of course! The X-men have been using violence for years, and that hasn’t exactly done a whole lot to turn the tide of anti-mutant sentiment which is caused by mutant violence in the first place, so maybe more violence isn’t the answer. It’s so simple. Violence only breeds more violence, so if you want to breed peace…”

Micah sat down at his desk and beginning scribbling down some ideas on the first sheet of paper he could find. Several hours and a small heap of crumbled pieces of paper later, Micah had something he was comfortable presenting. As dawns rays fell across the room, Micah finally caught a few hours of sleep.

…

The next morning, after a quick shower and hastily throwing on whatever was clean, Micah clutched a hastily written piece of paper and paced not in front in his dorm room but in front of the Office Area of the Mansion.

Wait, what am I even thinking? I mean come one, I’m just the new guy with the lame memory power. Who’s going to listen to me? And what if I get laughed at? I mean, community service? Really? That’s so lame and hippy-ish. I should just go back to my room and forget about it.

Just as Micah was about to head back to his room, he stopped himself. No Micah, how are you going to be a hero if you can’t even share one simple idea?

Before he had time to talk himself out of it again, Micah stepped into the office and greeted a man with a closely cropped haircut.

“Hi, my name is Micah. Are you Mr. Garrett Wills, the one in charge of Public Relations? If so, I have an idea I’d like to share with you. I think it could change everything.”

Garrett sat at his desk, a three dimensional image being turned and rotated on the screen before him. It was his suit, now finished for the most part. He had added a small utility belt and found some interesting devices to add, but he was still poring over a very important problem. Reach. There were a plethora of possible enemies he might be facing in the near future and many of them could put him down before he could get to them. Of course, lying in wait for an ambush was always the primary option, but sometimes that would not be a possibility. He was not getting caught in a bad spot like that.

So, how to defeat this problem? He had his own ranged attack, potent in of itself. The problem for it was that some may either be resistant to the pain spikes or in other cases, like Abyss or Isabel, they could simply come charging right through anyway. What could bridge the gap? His hand raised before him and he pushed it forward, fingers fanning outward. His wrist pulled back and moved forward, as if he was some wizard leisurely throwing spells from his palms. What could bridge the gap? The gesture and the thought kept snapping back.

A doorknob turning halted his creative process and he quickly sat up straight, closing the image on the screen out and saving it to his hard disk. A young man entered that he didn't recognize, seeming to be brimming with zest for something. It was in his eyes and on his face. Genuine interest. What ap leasant change from bored nodding.“Hi, my name is Micah. Are you Mr. Garrett Wills, the one in charge of Public Relations? If so, I have an idea I’d like to share with you. I think it could change everything.”

Garrett's own face lit up. Not only an interesting idea, but one that could change everything. And to boot, it even had something to do with his office at the Mansion. It wasn't often that Garrett's own honest interest was piqued. " Those ideas are the best kind. I'd love to hear all about it. Do shut the door, please and have a seat." he leaned forward his body signalling his interest in the coming topic, whatever it might be. In the back of his mind, the thought process over reach continued to wind.

Micah gulped as he accepted Mr. Wills offer and took a seat. Okay, you’re already in here. It’s too late to run away now.

“So I, um, I was thinking about the X-Men, and I realized that they have this stance, right? ‘Make the world a better place for both humans and mutants alike’. Which is totally awesome, and the group does awesome work, I mean, I’m sure they’ve saved the countless lives over and over again, but have they actually succeeded in doing much to change the way humans feel about mutants? Or about how mutants feel about humans? I’ve just been here for a few days, but so far no one’s filled me on any real agenda other than ‘kick the asses of people who don’t agree with us.’ Do we really think that we can solve the problem of human and mutant violence by simply adding more violence to the mix? I think it’s obvious that more needs to be done. Something proactive. I mean, right now the group is always at a disadvantage because they merely ‘respond’ to threats. You’re always going to be the underdog if you’re constantly stuck making the second move, so I think it’s time we made the first move and did something radical, something different.”

Micah gulped, almost too nervous to continue. Okay, here comes the part where he’s either going to laugh or think I’m brilliant.

“It’s time to stop fighting and start doing things that actually show the world what mutants have to offer. If all they ever see are mutants using their powers for violence, even if it’s in the name of stopping violence, all humans will ever think of when it comes to mutant powers is, well, violence. So let’s start using our powers in ways that help the community and show that being a mutant is also about being a part of a grand coexistence. Let’s use our powers to rebuild broken down areas of the city. Let’s use our powers to create art and music and theatre. In short,” Micah fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, “it’s a massive PR campaign. That’s why I came to you Mr. Wills. I hope you can help me make this idea a reality."

And so Micah sat. And then he spoke. His ideas were concise and prepared, though they seemed to run a bit like a tap left on too long. He had probably obsessed over it a great deal. It was like a stream of consciousness that had been dammed up too long and then here it came, washing the valleys clean. Garrett couldn't help but chuckle a bit when he mentioned the mantra. ‘Kick the asses of people who don’t agree with us.’ How truth could be spoken so eloquently and even more so from the mouth of someone so fresh and new. The man before Garrett was an idea. His bold decisions and movements filled him with envy, wishing he had been so bold when he had first arrived.

There seemed to be a brief pause, perhaps for either air or to swallow down whatever nervousness Micah had. Garrett folded his hands and listened intently to the rest of the pitch. Using mutations to make the world a better place. Who knew? The jury was still out on who should enjoy the true benefit, but surely the things he spoke of could only help relations between humans and mutants. Garrett let it absorb for a moment and then he retorted. " I think it is the best idea I have heard in a long time, Micah. I think that you have a long and bright future here with us. I am happy to aid you in any way you like in this matter. I can certainly contribute Mansion funds toward this project, as well as speak to Sam about it. I also have a network of mutant operated businesses that I can involve with this endeavor if you like." With a practiced and polished flipping gesture of his fingers, he drew a card from the drawer, handing it to him. It read MORA in the center, beneath described as Mutant Outreach Resource Alliance, then his name and the title Chairman. A phone number was in the bottom right along with an email.

Micah was stunned. “Wow, that was easier than I thought. Um, thanks.”

Micah took the card. “A network of mutant businesses? The ideas are…” Micah’s mind flashed with a thought, “…limitless. I mean, as far as the project, the backing of mutant businesses could be lucrative for everyone. I mean, why not show everyone that mutant’s can be used as a viable and growing pool of potential employees? After all, if there’s any way to tempt Americans, it’s with the power of the almighty dollar.”

Glancing at the card, Micah was yet again impressed by Mr. Wills. Chairman of this MORA group and head of PR of the X-Men? When does this guy find time to sleep?

“Thank you so much Mr. Wills. I think this could change everything, be everything.” Micah forced a smile and then turned to go. Boldly barging into someone’s office and spouting off about some crackpot plan had used more confidence in ten minutes than he normally had in a week. It was time to go before his will broke and his speech just degraded into useless babble.

At the door, he paused, and turned again towards the desk. “Oh, and um, there was one more thing about the idea.” Micah fidgeted with his hair subconsciously. “I think it should be called ‘The New Dawn Project’. It’s an opportunity to create a new world for humans and mutants alike, a new chance, and a well, ‘new dawn’, for everyone.”

Micah smirked. "Kind of hokey, I know. I guess that's just the idealist in me."