Author's Note: Kudos to djkauf for betaing this for me. Pic Credit: Found at Comicvine.
This story is unfinished at this point. My lack of interaction with my readers has pretty much killed my creativity across the board with all of my stories, so I'm releasing this one in hopes of reigniting the spark.

Chapter One

Previously on I Am The Night by Enemyoffun:

Location: STAR Labs, Chicago, IL

As I was flipping through the channels, the door opened and another girl came into the room. She was about my age, reddish brown hair, t-shirt and jeans. She looked out of place and as nervous as hell. She smiled at me and took a seat on the other side of the room. I watched her for a few minutes but it was clear that she was really uncomfortable. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was a Meta, too. It was the way she sat and walked, it screamed guy. It was the way she looked, too. Her clothes were a bit too tight even though they were for the proper gender and her hair was done all wrong. I felt bad for her because it was clear that she didn’t want this at all.

“Hi” I said, trying to make small talk. “My name’s Stephanie, what’s yours?”

She snorted. “Kevin…I mean, Kitty I guess.”

“That’s cute,” I said, trying to be nice. It was, too, I wish I’d thought of something that cute.

She scoffed. “My Mom’s idea.”

She shifted a bit, allowing me to see some of her ankle. It was then that I saw a purple dragon tat there. “Cool tat.”

She tugged on her pant leg but it was clear that it was just a tad short. “That’s Lockheed. He’s my school’s mascot. It was pretty cool when me and the guys got them, though it was on my arm before; I’m not sure how it got down there.”

I smiled and nodded. I decided to break the ice. “What’s your thing?”

She shrugged. “Damned if I know. Took a bad tackle in practice, knocked me out cold. When I woke up, bam, boob city. Two nights ago, I woke up underneath my bed. Then this morning I was in the basement, three floors beneath my room. My Mom freaked and brought me here. They said on the news they could help people like me.”

I nodded. We talked for a bit more. Kitty went to a school just outside Chicago or at least she did. After becoming her new self, she hasn’t been back since. Her mother was seriously considering moving, making a clean start somewhere else. Kitty said she found a brochure in the mail for some private school in Westchester County New York. She wasn’t too keen on the idea but it sounded cool to me.

And now, Chapter One of Ceiling Kitty is Watching You:

Tuesday, September 13, Year One.

When I stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of STAR Labs, I had to stop to pick a wedgie out of my butt. The weird look I got from some guy in a lab coat as he was going inside made me pause and think about what I was doing.

I guess girls don’t pick at their annoying panties like guys do.

“Something botherin’ you, bub?”

He flushed and rushed inside. I was really starting to dislike Americans. Three years ago, Mom ups and moves us to Chicago from Ontario. Everything was going fine. I even picked up football as a sport. My junior year I made starting wide receiver, then Smack Thompson nails me into the water table and rings my bell.

The next thing I know, I’m in the hospital and I have boobs, a tiny waist, a butt that you could copy and make valentines of, and my amazing wonder wand is MIA.

Then the masterminds at STAR Labs are able to diagnose something important. I’m a Meta.

DUH!

I mean seriously, after all the stories on the internet and TV about the majority of the Meta’s spontaneously changing gender, I think I figured that one out on my own without having to give a gallon of blood in the process.

Mom bumped me from the side. “Let’s go, Kitty.”

I felt like a stupid cat with that name.

“We’ve got a lot to do to get you ready for your new school.”

I caught up with her by the time we reached the car. “Mom, can we talk about this?”

She didn’t even bother looking at me. “We already talked. You don’t want to go back to your old school and we can’t move again so soon. I have a good job that I’m not prepared to leave. So, the school in Westchester is your only option.”

We got in and I did up my belt before squirming a little in the seat. The clothes she gave me were too small, but I already knew what she had in mind for alternative clothing. If I went to Westchester then I’d be in a school uniform which consisted of a skirt and those stupid girly shoes with the strap over the foot and socks that came up to my knee.

She wasn’t going to blow money on clothes that I wouldn’t wear.

“Where are we going?” I asked as she exited to the street.

“You can’t keep borrowing my things. We’ll need to get you your own essentials and we’ll have your ears pierced while we’re out.”

At my groaning she shot me a look. “You said you wanted to fit in so nobody would think you were a guy before. There aren’t a whole lot of girls running around without pierced ears, Kitty.”

I leaned on the door’s armrest and looked out the window cursing the stupid metagene and its presence in my body. I couldn’t even get a decent power. How is moving around in your sleep a power? It was totally useless.

I didn’t even rate a visit by the government liaison according to the brains at STAR Labs. They just took my picture and sent my information off.

Unless I was one of those super strong girls like Miss Mars it didn’t seem like anyone really cared too much. Sure, they went through the motions. They acted all caring and concerned that I woke up in the basement, but really, who would give a crap about that? Even I didn’t. I was saddled with a designation of a Base-Level Metahuman Variant. That meant I switched genders, and had a power that didn’t do much. I was one of the other nine percent of the Earth’s population that had what they termed nuisance powers.

So they did their tests and I answered their questions. Then with a pat on the back and a we’ll call you with the results, I was ushered out.

My new ID would be couriered to me within the next couple of days.

And so it went.

Mom was true to her word. I had all the girl niceties by the time we got back home. My very own makeup that she had already started in on the basics with, my very own tampons for that illustrious occasion, and a variety of toiletries ended the abuse. I called it my girl-kit since it fit all nice and neat into one of those smaller travel bags that wasn’t quite a suitcase.

She didn’t go all out and buy me everything a girl could ever wish for considering I would be leaving in six days. What she did buy was four sets of clothes that I could wear on the weekends. That consisted of different jeans, four warm shirts and a sweater. Anything else I needed she gave me a credit card for or I could use my own money.

By the time we made it home that night I was in full on grouch mood, my earlobes ached, and Mom wasn’t in much better mood either.

“I’m not leaving my motorcycle.”

“Kitty, you can’t take it with you. There’s no place to put it on the bus.”

“Then I’ll ride it to New York. I’m eighteen. It’s not against the law or anything.”

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“But…”

Then she left the room.

I tossed my bags on the bed and changed out of her clothes and into my own which wound up being a lot more comfortable. I grabbed my keys and helmet on the way out.

When my dad left us he also left behind a lot of his stuff, one thing of note was a classic Indian motorcycle that was supposed to be big deal. It was the first thing Mom let me sell. Anything of his that I sold, I got to keep the money, so you can imagine I went on a spree. EBay was my buddy and pal.

All the parts he collected over the years brought a decent amount, but the restored bike itself brought the big bucks. More than enough to buy my own bike that was actually new and didn’t need to be worked on every month. That’s where the Harley Softail Crossbones in blue pearl came from.

I adjusted my helmet as best as I could and took off to the dealer to buy a new one. Bad helmet fit pretty much equates to a broken neck if you wreck. Plus, if the bike was going to be my main mode of transportation then I’d need some accessories to go with it.

It was a different experience, riding with such a light body. According to the doctors, I’d lost eight inches in height and a hundred and twenty-five pounds of weight; where it all went, I didn’t have a clue. I was a lot smaller, obviously. That made controlling the turns a little different, but by the time I’d made it to the dealer I thought I had everything down pretty well.

One of the sales people met me out front and started in on their spiel thinking I was a newbie to the motorcycle scene.

“I already know what I want.”

Unlike most of the female species I know what I want when I walk into a store. The only thing that took me a little time was trying on a few items to make sure I had the right size. I wound up leaving with a sizable chunk on mom’s credit card, but I had what I needed.

All I had to decide on was which way I was going to travel next, New York or Minnesota.

Oh, right. You wouldn’t know about that just yet.

Remember we moved north of Chicago from Canada? There was a reason for that.

When Mom discovered my dad whoring around, she took up with a family friend soon after. I grew up thinking of him as my uncle. He was around a heck of a lot more than my actual dad, teaching me about fishing, hunting, and the like. He was a real outdoorsman. He was the one who taught me the basics in self-defense and using my body to its maximum potential. I owed my short stint in football to him as well.

I wasn’t a super Kung-Fu ninja or anything, but I could take a fall without injury and I could actually hit something without bruising my hand. Like I said, the basics.

Anyway, my uncle was the closest thing I had to family outside of the dysfunctional one I already had. He wanted to marry Mom, but after Dad left she didn’t want anything to do with more commitment.

That probably has something to do with why she’s so gung-ho about shipping me off to New York.

So, that was my other option. He lived in Minnesota.

~O~

“Where did you get those clothes?” Mom asked as soon as I came strolling through the door.

“If I’m taking my bike then I’ll need something to keep me warm and keep the rain off of me.”

“I thought we agreed that you weren’t taking that thing.”

She never liked that I rode a motorcycle. It was too much like my dad.

“No, you said that we’d talk about it later. I said I wasn’t leaving it here.”

“And who paid for that?”

I let my mouth drop open a little in disbelief. “Are you serious? Because of you and dad I have the genetics that changed me into this and you want me to pay for my own clothes. Sure… fine… no problem. I’ll cut you a check before I leave.”

It would dig deeply into my savings but the leathers would last a heck of a lot longer than my regular clothes. I’d worked hard the last three summers to stow away as much cash as possible before moving out after my senior year. After selling Dad’s leftovers I had about twenty-thousand put away. The bike cost me twelve. Walking away from the dealer tonight dropped it another fifteen hundred. So that left me with about sixty-five hundred.

My football scholarship was a bust because of the sex change. That meant college was a thing of the past, because I seriously doubted Mom was going to pony-up the dough.

Feeling my eyes starting to burn, I took off to my room and locked the door.

“You’re not going to freaking cry, you big baby.”

Pulling open the top drawer of my dresser I took my checkbook out and wrote the full amount I spent that night including an estimate around what she spent on my regular clothes.

“There, now I don’t owe her shit.”

I rubbed at my nose and sniffed before moving to the closet and pulling out an old duffle bag.

Slowly and methodically, I started rolling up my clothes and stashing them inside. I even changed out of the clothes I was wearing and put on the leathers, boots, gloves, and hair restraint. When I finished that I looked around my room.

Everything that was left held too many memories for who I was. Kevin Pryde was dead. All that was left was Kitty, or Katherine rather, or maybe Kathy. I hated them all. Maybe I could just be Pryde, or I could come up with a lame codename like all the other metas. Sleepwalking Girl!

I emptied my wallet into the hip purse that I bought at the dealer, slipped my phone inside and secured it.

Taking my helmet, I broke open the Bluetooth and audio accessories box and installed them inside. Testing it out, I called the number they gave me for STAR Labs and left a message for the government liaison to hold my papers until I could give them an alternate address for them to send them to.

That was pretty much it.

“Goodbye cruel Chicago.”

~O~

Mom was on her feet moments after I walked through the living room to the garage entrance.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving. You obviously don’t want me here, so I’m saving you the cost of sending me away to a boarding school so I won’t embarrass you.”

“Kitty…”

“Don’t call me that. It’s not my name.”

When I reached my bike I set the duffle on the storage rack and started strapping it down with bungee cords.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I overreacted. This is all just so confusing. One minute you’re my darling boy and the next…”

“I’m a girl with a disappointing super power and without a scholarship so that means no college. It’s all just one big disappointment, isn’t it, Mom.”

She moved in beside me and took hold of my arm. “No, that’s not it at all. You’ve always been a good boy.”

Pulling away from her, I stashed the girl-kit in the left saddlebag and then went over to the corner of the garage and retrieved my sleeping bag and camping equipment. It wasn’t much. Well, the bag was a pretty good grade. My uncle bought it for me. The tent was a simple pup, single size. That one fit in the right saddlebag along with the working contents of my hiking backpack. It wasn’t much, but I could spend a few days camping in a state park instead of paying for a motel if I needed to.

“Please don’t go. Don’t worry about the money. It doesn’t mean that much to me. I was just shocked.”

Speaking of which, I reached down and unzipped the waist purse and pulled out the check and her credit card. “Here. This is for the money I spent tonight and for the clothes and stuff you bought me. We’re square; I don’t owe you anything and you don’t owe me anything.”

~O~

She didn’t take the check, so I dropped it on the floor, put my helmet on and left. I was so tired of all the game playing and the manipulations. It all started when my dad left and it’s been going on ever since. Usually it was less obvious than what went on that night, but it’s taken me a couple of years to grow up a little and figure things out.

Needless to say I was annoyed, feeling betrayed, and to top it all off I was feeling sorry for myself.

When I reached the interstate it was already full dark and I turned north ready for my long ride to Minnesota.

Just in case you’re wondering, extended trips on a motorcycle is a little rough on the butt. I had a full seat and it was pretty comfortable for the first two hours, but after that, even the extra cushion I grew when I turned into a girl didn’t help.

I made regular stops just to walk around and work out the kinks, but after some trucker guy took an interest in me during my last rest stop, I confined my down time to gas stations. As Kevin I could have kicked his ass from here to next Sunday, but in my current body I probably couldn’t put up much of a fight. That gave me even more reason to visit my uncle. I seriously had to learn how to defend myself with no height, no weight, and no muscle.

When I made it to Duluth I pulled off into the first Motel 6 I could find. I was in no mood to pitch a tent and I wanted a shower big time. After an argument with the desk clerk about how my status changed so I didn’t have a current ID, his wife came out seeing me in tears and smacked him on the back of the head.

I had a key in my hand thirty seconds later.

The shower was sublime. I let the hot water pound on my back and butt for what had to be thirty minutes. Then I dried off and slipped between the sheets until late morning.

When I woke, it took me a few seconds to remember what had transpired over the last twenty-four hours. A glance at the clock told me that I had three hours until checkout time. That left me plenty of time to get ready.

Believe it or not, I still had yet had the peace and privacy to really look at myself after the change.

Mom took the week off to annoy the heck out of me. It seemed like I was allowed a certain amount of time in the bathroom after a shower and if I went over then she was knocking at the door wondering if I was okay or what I was doing.

I couldn’t exactly say, “I’m checking myself out, Mom. Can you give me a couple of hours?”

Even at night she had the room across from mine so if I had my light on when she went to bed she’d knock again.

That didn’t mean I hadn’t seen everything. I even tried out a few things under the covers with the lights off on the second day. That was a trip and a half. Things were a lot different girl-wise than they were boy-wise, but I guess that’s obvious.

What I’m getting at is I just never had the time to really explore this new metagene-changed body at length.

I didn’t bother with nightclothes of any type since I was by myself. For the last few days I used my football jersey. It was gigantically big and the collar hung halfway down my arm on one side, but it also hung over my butt by a goodly amount too. If I were still a guy and saw me in it I probably would just throw myself on the bed and well…

Anyway.

Standing in front of the large mirror over the sink I looked at myself, I mean really looked. Everything was simply cute. My hair was kind of flat, but the reddish-brown made it cute. Mom had it up in a high ponytail the first day, which looked… you guessed it, cute.

My hazel brown-green eyes looked greener in the buff. My nose was tiny and pert and my lips were full but not really puffy full, just cute.

I’m a small B-cup in case you were wondering.

My sexiest feature was my butt. There was no way around that one. It wasn’t all bubbly but it was shaped really nice. The legs were just average looking. Nothing was overly muscular. I was soft.

All of my football training was gone. I’d be lucky if I could bench sixty pounds let alone the hundred and sixty I averaged in training. I had a lot of work ahead of me if I wanted to make the most of myself in the future.

A casual brush of my hand against my legs let me know that they needed to be shaved.

Mom wasn’t wrong when she said I didn’t want people to know that I was a guy. I mean how embarrassing is that? So she gave me a rundown on what life was like in girl-land. That included a lesson in leg shaving, nail maintenance, hair care, and skin care. We hadn’t gotten to makeup yet. Plus, I had already forgotten half of what she said about the other stuff.

I sat my naked butt down on the edge of the bed and thought about what Mom had actually done for me over the last couple of days and then how I treated her when she finally spazzed. Throughout it all she remained calm and collected while I was the one freaking out.

I palmed my face and hunched over. “I served her a nice big piece of ass-pie complete with a side of chilled sarcasm. She takes a week off from work and holds your stupid inconsiderate hand through all of this then when she finally has her own little breakdown you abandon her. You’re a class act, bub.”

Looking at the very small set of dresser drawers, I spotted my cell phone which I turned off the precious night. I sighed and steeled myself for what I was about to do.

“Kitty!” She sounded frantic.

“Hey, Mom.” Me, not so much.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything? I can come get you. Where are you at?”

“I’m fine. I’m at a Motel 6 in Duluth.”

She was silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry about how I reacted.”

“Me too,” I said. “I was just sitting here thinking about how you haven’t… I mean… you kept it together for me and I go off on you. It wasn’t really fair to you. I’m sorry.”

Aww hell, she’s crying.

“Mom, don’t cry.”

“I thought you left for good, Kitty. I’m entitled to cry a little.” She got herself under control and cleared her throat. “Are you coming back home?”

It was me that gave an uncomfortable pause this time. “I thought I’d go visit…”

“Oh,” she said. “I know you’ve been writing. Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh. I mean school’s blown for me. I was thinking about just getting my GED and then getting a job somewhere.”

She didn’t waste any time replying. “You can get a job right here in Deerfield and when you’re ready, I’ll pay for your college. I still have a few connections. I’m sure I could get you into U of I. You can live here with me and we can save on dormitories and meals. Honey, come home.”

I was gritting my teeth trying not to cry. There were some serious downsides to being a girl. I’ve cried more in the last four days than I had in my entire lifetime.

“I need some time to get my head together, Mom. That’s why I came up here. You know he was always good at getting me to focus.”

We spoke for a little longer, but it was just more of the same. Eventually, I told her I had to shave my legs before they kicked me out and she reluctantly let me go.

Shaving is kind of cathartic if you do it right. As a guy, give me three or four minutes and I was clean and slapping on some after-shave before heading out the door. As a girl, I sat on the edge of the tub and concentrated solely on the long smooth strokes, a casual cleaning of the blade in the water and two taps to shake it out, then again and again.

At the end, I cleaned up a little in the mid-section and then rinsed. I did remember to put some lotion on so my skin wouldn’t dry out. That was easy enough to transition from my male side. Instead of after-shave, there was Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion. It was the only scent that didn’t make me think of femininity, although it was pretty feminine.

I gave makeup a shot. I mean how hard could it be?

~O~

“Oh, honey you really did used to be boy.”

All I wanted to do was turn my room key in and thank them for letting me stay without a major hassle, but one look from the lady and she had the most pitying face imaginable.

“What?”

“Your makeup, sweetheart… it’s…” she cringed apologetically. “Not good. Arthur, get your butt up here and watch the front.”

She held her hand out to me and said, “Come on honey. Get your makeup and come back inside. I’ll help you out.”

Oh, God. I knew it. I look like a hooker.

After making sure Arthur would watch my bike I grabbed my girl-kit and wormed my way behind the counter where the lady waited.

“Inside there and wash off everything.”

“Is it really that bad?” I asked.

She didn’t answer. “Go… wash.”

I looked in the mirror, grimaced and then got busy. It took me a good five minutes to get everything off before I returned and sat down. She already had every set out for me.

“I’m Lucille, sweetie.”

“I’m K… Kitty or Katherine, whichever, I guess.”

I got the pity look again. “What did your name used to be?”

“Kevin.”

Lucille patted the chair beside her. “Well, I think Kitty fits you just fine. I’m going to write all of this down as I talk you through that way you’ll have a reference when you do it for yourself, okay?”

I nodded eagerly. “That’d be great.”

Thirty minutes turned into an hour while she showed me what everything was and its purpose. Then I did it all while she supervised. At the end, I looked totally different.

“There, you see how your lipstick doesn’t scream out at the world, and only accents your face?”

I nodded.

“Save this one for when you have a sexy red dress and you’re ready to seduce some lucky… uh…”

I shook my head. “I think it’ll be a while before I’m that far along.”

Lucille patted my shoulder. “That’s probably for the best, honey. You need to watch yourself. You’re the one that would carry the baby for the next nine months. You should think about proper birth control.”

I swallowed and then choked out, “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

Barring divine intervention I didn’t think that would ever be a problem.

Once I loaded everything back up, she kissed me on the cheek and wished me luck.

“Twelve-thirty,” I said to myself as I pulled out of the parking lot. “Two hours to the turn off and then the fun begins.”

~O~

About half-way there, in a little town called Silver Bay, I spotted a billboard for Academy Sports. Then my mind tweaked to what I was going to be asking my uncle to do. I pulled off and found a parking spot close to the front door then did a little more shopping before hitting the road again.

Lutsen was the turnoff into Superior National Forest. He had a cabin, or so he said. The directions were fairly simple. He had sent them one time when I thought we were going to go for a visit, but had to cancel at the last minute. I was really pissed at Mom for that, but now that I was older I kind of knew why she didn’t want to go.

She didn’t want to be the little woman. Living in the middle of nowhere didn’t appeal to her, even if she was in love with the guy that wouldn’t leave it.

Once I spotted the General Store I took the next right and started climbing. The paved road ended after four miles and it turned into a wide single lane road that looked like it saw more foot traffic than anything else. Another three miles and I slowed to look for one of those decorative clay suns hanging in a tree then I took that immediate left. It was another two miles until the road turned into a pathway. I wound up praying that I was going the right way.

I’d really hate to wind up some freaky teen horror movie with a family of inbred cannibals.

The pathway ended into a wide clearing and a very well built natural log cabin. The rumble of the Harley sounded really loud until I braked and killed the engine.

I watched the front of the cabin and waited for him to come out, but there wasn’t any movement.

“Great. He’s probably not even here.”

I undid the chin strap and pulled the helmet off then I popped open my jacket. It was warm enough on the road, but sitting still it became hot. Kicking out the stand, I got off and set the helmet down and stripped the jacket off. That left me with a blue camisole and my leather riding pants.

“You lost?”

I spun around and saw him standing there in a pair of tight jeans and a white, but somewhat sweaty wife-beater shirt, carrying a really big double-bladed axe.

Something deep down in me stretched and extended its claws before it started purring.

Whoa.

He was totally different. When I last saw my uncle — who’s not really my uncle — he was graying on the sides above his ears and while he was muscular, he wasn’t a freaking tank like the guy standing before me now. He looked my height, but that was made up for with a barrel-sized chest and arms the size of my legs… put together.

“I said are you lost. You alright, girl?”

I nodded. “Can we talk for a minute?”

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow, totally confused. “Uh… sure. He motioned with his left hand and I smiled at the ever-present cigar between his fingers. “There’s some chairs on the porch. Help yourself. You thirsty?”

I nodded again and smiled. “Anything’s fine.”

He grunted. “I’ve got beer, bottled water, and coffee, and you don’t look old enough for beer.”

Shaking my head I said, “I’m eighteen. Water is cool.”

He popped his cigar between his teeth. “I’m Logan.”

My grin almost felt like it was going to split my face. “I’m Kitty.”

His lips twisted ever-so-slightly with a smile. “Let’s get you that water and you can tell me what brings you up to chat.”

When he approached I saw his nostrils spread out a little like he smelled something. He got an odd look in his eyes and then escorted me up three steps to a homemade looking rocking chair.

“I’ll be right back.”

I played for a small while, rocking back and forth, feeling free for the first time in a while. When the door opened I stopped and took the offered bottle to quench my thirst.

“You remind me of someone.”

Giving him inquisitive eyes I stayed silent.

“You’re a metahuman,” he said.

I almost spit my water right out. Instead, I swallowed and asked in disbelief. “How?”

“Kevin?”

My mouth dropped open. There was no freaking way he could know who I was.

“Did Mom call ahead?”

He grinned and twisted the cap off his beer before leaning back to take a long swig. I watched his throat muscles working, emptying half the bottle before coming up for air.

“No phone. It’s your scent.”

I sniffed and then lifted my arm to see if I reeked. “I don’t stink.”

Logan shook his head. “You smell like your mother a little. It’s different, but it’s her all the same. Plus, I saw the Illinois tag on your bike and you’re eighteen. Not to mention you walk like a guy.”

Dammit! I thought I was getting better at that.

“When did it happen?”

I frowned. “Four days ago. I took a bad hit at football practice, woke up in the hospital like this.”

He winced a little for my benefit, I’m sure. “Tough break.”

I watched him take a more reasonable sip off his bottle before getting to the meat of the conversation.

“Uncle Logan.”

He groaned. “God kid, don’t call me that anymore. Just Logan is fine since I’m not really your uncle.”

I smiled and ducked my head. “I was wondering… I mean I know it’s kind of short notice and all…”

“Does your Mom know you’re here?”

I blinked at the interruption. “Uh, yeah.”

Then came the dubious eyes.

“Really. I called her from Duluth this morning and told her where I was going.”

“So you took off on her.”

With a shrug I concentrated on the bottle in my hands. “We got in an argument, but we’re cool now. I told her I wanted to see you and…” my voice kind of trailed off at that point.

“What did she say to that?”

“She asked me if I was sure.”

He grunted again. “She tell you about me?”

Looking up at him I watched as his blue eyes bored their way into me. “What do you mean?”

With a final pull off his bottle he leaned forward. “I’m a mutant too, or a metahuman, whatever you want to call it. We called it mutant back in the day.”

I snapped my fingers. “That’s why you look so different now! You got younger and you’re so big.”

Logan chuckled. “I got big because I built this entire place alone, from scratch. I’ve been this young for a while now, ever since I turned twenty-one.”

That kind of confused me a little, making me wonder when he turned twenty-one. “Do you have a power?”

His face turned distant as he looked down at his bottle. “Healing. It’s hard for me to really be hurt, plus a few extras.”

I deflated and leaned back in my chair. “You have more than one power?”

“Enhanced senses: smell and hearing mostly. I can see a little better than most people at night.”

“I sleepwalk.”

His eyebrows bunched up like he was asking if I was kidding.

“I shit you not. It only happens when I’m asleep. One night I woke up under the bed and the next night in the basement. So don’t feel bad. Your powers could be worse.”

Logan chuckled a little and then it looked like it was turning into a full blown belly laugh except he didn’t possess any sort of belly whatsoever. He got up and went back inside while I finished my water. When he came back out he handed me another bottle and in addition to that, a single beer.

“Just one. I think you earned it.”

I took it from him and struggled with the cap in frustration.

“Here.” He took it from me and twisted the cap off like it was nothing.

“Man, being a girl sucks sometimes,” I said.

“It’s not what’s on the outside that counts, half-pint.”

I emptied a mouthful of dark beer into my mouth and swallowed against the bitterness. Apparently my taste for beer had changed, but I welcomed it just the same.

“So, is this a just a friendly visit or did you need something?” Logan asked.

“I’m soft again,” I said with annoyance.

He looked me over with a critical eye. “You know what you’re asking? It’ll be just like starting from the beginning. Girls don’t muscle up like guys do, which means that you’ll have to work twice as hard.”

I nodded.

“I’m not gonna take it easy on you just because you’re a girl now. I’ll tell you what to do and I expect it will be done before you stop. If that means a little ache or a little blood then so be it. No whining.”

“I remember.”

Logan grinned with a feral look on his face. “No, you really don’t.”

I stood up and handed him my partially empty beer. “Where do I start?”

~O~

He allowed me time to haul my stuff inside the one room cabin while he set up a foldaway cot for me. I changed into a pair of Under Armour workout stretch shorts and a sports bra. When I stepped back outside he was puffing away on his cigar and handed me his axe.

“About thirty feet behind that tree line is where I was working. Finish the lot then find me. I’ll be behind the cabin.”

The axe must have weighed ten pounds by itself, but I lifted it without showing any strain. I wasn’t that weak. When I saw what I’d be chopping I nearly got back on my bike and left. Instead, I slipped on my workout gloves and wrestled what had to be a sixty or seventy pound hunk of tree in place and started chopping.

It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

For those of you that have never tried it, chopping and hauling wood is probably the most strenuous workout you could devise. You use virtually every muscle in your body; believe me, I know.

After the first five hours Logan came by with a bottle of water and I nearly emptied it in one go.

“Not bad for thirty minutes.”

I choked on the water and wound up coughing half of it back out. The tips of my fingers were already red and a little swollen and I had various cuts on my legs and forearms from splinters.

He smacked me on the center of my back. “You’re doing good, half-pint. Keep it up.”

My muscles were already screaming at me to give up and crawl back to the bike, but my brain pushed me further. Just one more log. Just one more log.

When it started becoming hard to see I looked up into the sky, though the branches of the trees, and wondered exactly how long I’d been out there. My arms were like rubber; I could actually feel what muscles I had, vibrating with overexertion.

Just one more. Just one more.

I tried lifting the ten pound axe again, but I couldn’t make it budge. For the last thirty minutes I was lucky if I even hit the log let alone hit it in the right place. I was kind of surprised that I hadn’t chopped my foot off to tell the truth.

That’s pretty much when my knees said, screw this, and I felt them give out. Before I hit the ground something scooped me up. It was probably an angel that had come for me. My heart probably gave out and I was being dragged off to my final judgment. I hope I wore clean underwear.

“I’m sure your underwear is just fine, kid.”

I couldn’t even open my eyes, but the angel sounded just like Uncle Logan.

“I’m not your uncle and I’m sure as hell not an angel.”

The sounds of my boots hitting the ground preceded the shower running a second before I got tossed into it. My eyes flew open and I screamed high and loud at the cold water slamming onto my body.

“Logan!”

“Ten minutes to dinner. You don’t make it to the table by the time it’s set then you don’t eat.”

I tried scrambling up, but I slipped and hit the floor. “Oww!”

“That’s gonna leave a mark.”

“Asshole!”

He turned around chuckling as he walked away.

Cold water showers, of course, and he didn’t even have so much as a curtain. The soap looked homemade.

“Who makes their own soap?”

“Eight minutes!”

All modesty aside I soaped down and rinsed off. I’d have to wash my hair properly the next day. Thankfully, he left me a towel which I only halfway dried off with before wrapping it around me and sprinting back inside to my pack to retrieve a pair of panties and my football jersey.

Looking up I saw Logan had his back to me at the stove, so I slipped on the clothes and made it to the kitchen as he was spooning something into a bowl.

“What’s that?”

“Deer stew. Make sure you eat all of it.”

He turned to hand me the bowl and saw what I was wearing. I think I caught him off guard. My hair was still dripping onto the jersey making it a little wet and my legs were bare and smooth from my morning shave. All humor aside, it made me happy that I’d rendered him speechless.

I took the proffered bowl and a wedge of homemade bread then went to sit down.

Within ten minutes I was mopping up the last of the stew with the bread and making yummy sounds.

“That was really good, Logan.”

He grunted and kept his eyes averted. “Get some sleep. Don’t eat anything for breakfast; we’re running tomorrow morning. Eat after.”

I nodded and didn’t argue. Sleep sounded like the best thing imaginable.

~O~

“Oh, God. I’m gonna die,” I whispered to myself after the first five hours of running through a well-worn path in the woods.

“Pick it up, kid. We’ve only been running for thirty minutes. This is just a warm up.”

I woke up that morning with only moderate aches. It was surprising until Logan told me that most mutants — his word for metahumans — had a moderate healing ability and to count myself lucky. At the moment I felt like I was going to…

“Blaaaarg!”

My stomach was cramping and rolling as I had to stop and vomit to the side of the trail.

After I was through, he was behind me holding a bottle of water. “Here wash your mouth out and then take one small sip, no more.”

I followed directions and he shoved the water in his pack.

“Just one more mile. Just one more mile.”

“I think it’s more like five.”

“Shut up, Logan. Just one more mile. Just one more mile.”

TBC...

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