You were a younger mutant who’s been a trainee for the X-men. You got a little l scuffed up in the battle, a gnash danced along your chest. It was in a fight saving a younger mutant from the humans; you all had managed to save the child mutant; but some of you got hurt.

With your act of sacrifice and bravery they offered an official spot on the team for you, and you said you’d think about it. You didn’t know if you fit in here; even if it was other mutants just like you; some of them grew up and were treated like you, some worse or better. But you also didn’t know if you agree with their ideas. Treat humans with respect and save them, when they treated your kind like this?

You’re heard of an island named Genosha. Where mutants of all sizes and color and powers lived. Only mutants. It was led and guarded by Magneto; who believed humans should perish and let mutants rule the planet.

Right now you were in your room; messing and fumbling with the wound on your chest, trying to patch it up. Until you heard creaking and the door open.

It was Colossus. He had a thick Russian accent; and his mutation made his skin metal like; he was hard to scratch up, or punch or dent. He had a hella punch; and was very tall and big; but he was a soft hearted man. He had bandages in his hands for you when he walked over and sat on the bed.

“How are you feeling?”