Duncan Fraser stared at the screen of his phone, dazed. It was a given that Clementine would stir up trouble again. Yet the timing could not have been worse. Burying his face in his hands, Duncan let out a sigh. It was almost unbelievable how terrible the cards were that life had recently dealt him. The break-up with Alba, Corleone’s auspicious warning, the canceled funding, and – of course – Clementine. Any sane man would’ve folded. He had chosen to bluff instead. [color=7ea7d8]“Doctor Fraser?”[/color] The woman sounded impatient. [color=7ea7d8]“We’re already live.”[/color] With some effort, he pulled himself together. [color=9e0b0f]“Right, yes. Sorry” [/color] She gestured toward the stage, where two seats stood opposite of each other. One was filled already. [color=6ecff6]“Our first guest tonight is a doctor in biochemistry and mutant genetics, but you may know him best as the former X-man Red Haze. Please welcome, Doctor Fraser!” [/color] There were only a dozen paces between him and the chair. The thunderous applause made it feel like a hundred. With a short and awkward wave to the audience, Duncan stepped into the light and view of the cameras. Too many, in his opinion. The chair wasn’t comfortable. [color=6ecff6]“It’s amazing to have you here on our show Doctor Fraser.”[/color] The other man was in his 40s, with blond-dyed hair in a tight ponytail. His name was Brandon Walker. One of the most popular show hosts of the last decade. And like any talk show Duncan had ever watched, Brandon began with a duel of pleasantries. [color=6ecff6] “You might, dare I say it, perhaps be the most sophisticated guest we’ve ever had on this panel.”[/color] [color=9e0b0f]“Really? Well, thank you. I am glad to be here.”[/color] He faked a smile, the way his father used to do. [color=6ecff6]“Now, with this unprecedented surge of mutants making themselves known, there are so many questions I’ve been dying to ask. First off-”[/color] The man leaned forward a little, interlacing his fingers. [color=6ecff6]“Doctor Fraser, do you think mutants are dangerous?”[/color] [color=9e0b0f]“Not inherently, no.”[/color] Came the delayed response. [color=6ecff6]“Inherently?”[/color] Sharp blue eyes studied him. On the internet, millions more did. A single slip of the tongue could warrant a hate-crime. [color=9e0b0f]“I would argue that all people are dangerous when they are afraid and misunderstood. Unfortunately, that is the reality for many minorities out there. Including us.” [/color] [color=6ecff6]“But can we really talk about us-”[/color] he gestured to Duncan and himself, [color=6ecff6]“as the same people? Because Professor Louwman who we had on our show last week said, and I quote, ‘new species emerge when mutations produce individuals who can outperform the groups they came from.’ He called you a new species.”[/color] The host gave him a questioning look. Duncan nodded. [color=9e0b0f]“There’s a lot of scientists who think so and personally, I agree. But-“[/color] he raised a finger and said, [color=9e0b0f]“we are still of the genus ‘Homo’. That is the collective name for species that scientists consider human. Like how we define both German Shepherds and Golden Retrievers dogs, while the owners know that they act very different.” [/color] The host chuckled. [color=6ecff6]“I see, thank you for explaining that to us.”[/color] Duncan doubted that he cared. [color=6ecff6]“So, you think we can coexist peacefully?”[/color] Before Duncan could answer, the host continued. [color=6ecff6]“Because I did some reading and as you know, the more primitive animals tend to go extinct because the strong outcompete the weak. Us-“[/color] he paraphrased with his fingers [color=6ecff6]“-primitive humans, could be totally eliminated that way too, couldn’t we?”[/color] He paused, then added [color=6ecff6]“eliminated by the strong. By the mutants.”[/color] The host was looking for drama. For confrontation. The best Duncan could do was laugh it away. [color=9e0b0f]“Those are some very Darwinian principles. Fortunately for us, our society is built on ethics instead.”[/color] Duncan retorted. [color=9e0b0f]“What is the saying again? The meek shall inherit the earth?”[/color] The host smiled with perfect white teeth.[color=6ecff6] “Ah yes, the meek shall inherit the earth.” [/color] - It took three hours to travel from the studio back to the cheap hotel room he had rented. Room 511B. Fifth-floor, 11th door on the right side of the hallway. Of course, as was always his luck, the reservation hadn’t come through and all they could offer was a room that hadn’t be cleaned yet at the end of the hallway. He wasn’t going to unpack any of his luggage there. From what he could tell, the couple that had been in this room before him had really gone to town. Duncan sighed. The interview had went on for an hour and a half. A ‘talk show’ they called it, while most of their viewers listened to it as podcast. At least he hoped that his appearance on the show would help the rising tensions between the two groups simmer down a little. X-man or not, the feelings of responsibility were still there. He plucked the remote from the bed and switched on the television. Perhaps he could still catch the tail end of the show. It wouldn’t do him any good to know how they had edited it to paint him in a bad light – surely it wouldn’t – but he was curious nevertheless. That was how he fell asleep twenty minutes later. In the chair he had placed in front of the tv. Bored by his own words. Until the sounds of gunshots tore through the hallway. Duncan leapt out of his chair, wide awake in an instant. His glasses were already off – his true sight cloaking the world in dull gray and vibrant, eager red where he could find it. The most obvious source was below him. The red pattern of the room’s carpet flowed to him like liquid fire and formed a machete in his waiting hand. He considered drawing on more but knew he couldn’t afford to utilize anything larger indoors. Then, with caution, Duncan opened the door to the hallway. He stalked through the hotel’s hallway with urgency, phone held to his ear – calling his emergency number. Alba Rodriguez. Better known as [i]The Heron[/i]. A celebrated X-man and coincidentally, also his ex since a week. No wonder she didn’t pick up. The floor was eerily quiet, save for his own heavy heartbeat. A door was kicked in. Room 511B. It dawned on him then and there. Whoever this was had come searching for him. He silently counted to three in his head. Then barged in. The room was identical to his own. The sheets of the double bed were pulled back to reveal the forms of two motionless men. A figure stirred beside the bed, and Duncan didn’t wait. The red-translucent machete scattered into needles and blasted in the figure’s general direction like a shotgun round. She – he could tell the figure was a she now – danced elegantly to the side somehow evading the brunt of his attack. Not hesitating either, the woman emptied her clip on him. The carpet dulled in an instant as its red colour leapt up to form a riot shield on his arm. The bullets slammed against it to no avail. Before he could counterattack, she leapt through the window. Duncan rushed toward it. Yet all he found below was the darkness of the night. - If there was one good thing to be said about any of this, then it had to be that he was supposed to be at the police department anyways. The state he arrived in, however, was anything less than desirable. He’d enjoyed a full three hours of sleep, a visit of the police, the manager’s angry tirade, and a fine for destroying the carpets. To say that it showed, well that was an understatement. He held on tight to his take-away coffee as he mentally prepared to deal with both Clementine and the other one. If he even bothered to show up. When his number finally flickered on the big screen and he could walk to the front desk, his cup was already halfway empty. The conversation that followed felt equally long to him. As if the officer was just trying to find an excuse to keep the conversation going. [color=9e0b0f]”Listen, just tell me how much the bail is and where I should sign. I’ve had a long night, so-“[/color] He stopped mid-sentence. The digital board hanging above the front desk vibrated in a way that made him squint to read the numbers. That meant one of two things. Either he really shouldn’t have bought this fourth coffee, or the third of the merry band was here. Electrical devices did that when Errol was close. No one was able to tell that way. No one but him. He had theorized before that it had to do with their parentage. In truth, he wasn’t sure. [color=9e0b0f]“Right.”[/color] As if the day couldn’t have gotten worse. Errol actually decided to show up. [color=9e0b0f]“Let’s hurry this along. I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible." [/color]