WERE I TO WRITE: X-Men
What if the person next to you was a mutant? Would you really know? This is, perhaps, a key point to the undercurrent of the paranoia that you can find among the story of the X-Men. But it's a little unfair, since mutants fall into two categories-- the obvious-if-not-downright-hideous (Marrow, the Morlocks, even Anole) and the beautiful heroes who are our headliners (Emma Frost, Cyclops, even Angel.) But what if even these 'beautiful mutants' still had that One Thing. You know, some slight hint that Something was wrong with them, just enough so that the people around them felt that nagging, lingering sense of Wrong, similar to the way you feel when you know you forgot something when you left home but can't remember what.
What if you were Bobby Drake?
What if you always looked like you were sweating, because the air around you naturally condensed like it would around a glass of lemonade in the summertime?
What if your hands always left a brief outline when you lifted them from the table, the way others' might when they lean against a cold glass window?
What if your breath was always visible if one happened to glance at just the right angle into the sun?
What if you always wear the wrong outfit, dressing too warmly when winter hit because you just fail to notice?
What if your skin was always much more pale than anyone around you, verging on the point of translucent?
What if people who stayed too much in your proximity began to become uncomfortable, and even shiver?
That's when you'd realize that as 'normal' as you could pass, you'd never be able to find a place in 'normal' society. And for Bobby Drake, this is his dilemma. He's increasingly frustrated in his attempts to find his place. He wants it to be out there, in the world, but he's forced to stay behind, instead, locked away with the enclave of X-Men. He'd never show it, would always overcompensate with his party attitude, but the coldest he's ever felt is the cold of being truly alone.
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