I am protecting a floor full of empty rooms with my life.

One lonely form at the top of the stairs.
Doors shaking, windows shattering, the sounds of fight, to the death, no punches held, gunshots deafeningly close.

Make them think we are hiding in our rooms. Make them think we are children cowering in corners.

There are no children here.

They called it the Danger Room, and now it was the safest place in New York City.

It felt like a dream. Or, rather, the end of a dream. A dream dreamt by so many people, so many children, so many mutants who did not dare to hope anymore.
But they could dream.

And the gorwn-ups were here to wake them up.
And make them pay for something they did not do.

Was it a dream?
Maya looked down at the arrows, lodged between the floorboards so she could pick them up more easily.
The better to kill you people with.

It did feel like a dream.

She was not alone though. There were others, just outside her line of vision, but she knew they were there. Fighting.
And then there were others again, hidden deep underground, locked in the Danger Room.
Protected.

It felt like everyone she cared about was in that room.
Or should have been.

((TBC))

What the f*ck was I thinking?...

The world came down to a galaxy of freckles. Tiny ones, barely visible, over the Milky Way of pale skin, and red flames aroun the edges.

I ran out of arrows.

One breath. Another. Someone else was breathing too, and Maya was not entirely sure who was breathing in and who was breathing out.
Entirely too close.

Ami's gonna kill me for this.

Everything was numb. And slow.
It's wasn't over.
It was just the eye of the storm.

Shattered glass, dust, splinters cruched under her knees. Paint peeled under her right palm. Her left hand was soft and warm.

It's gonna look like I was being a hero.
False.
I was trying to survive.
I just suck at that.

There was a whole lot of noise. Somewhere. Far away.
Gunshots, yelling. Her name? More shots.
Someone needed to get those trigger-happy bigot dumbf*cks out of the building.

"Maxine..."

... you are an idot.
And a friend.
And a b*tch.
You're gonna survive the freaking apocalypse.
You always do.

All the movies were wrong.
It didn't hurt at all.
It was just warm and kind of annoying.
Who shoots a kid anyway?
Twice?
In the back?!

"... I think, you should, y'know. Run."

This was sooo not in the X-men contract.
This was not written anywhere.

Her hands let go of their own. Her knees gave out.
That quick?
Whoa.

Sorry, I did not mean to die for you.
...
Sorry, I did not mean to die for someone else.

"Well... this sucks."