War does not determine who is right - only who is left. - Anonymous

_______

"Rogue Mutants, who call themselves Sound-Wave and Viper, have been located in Charlotte, North Carolina. The Mutant Containment Force received an anonymous tip of their location and successfully apprehended one of the Rogues. Viper, known to have the ability of poisonous saliva, managed to flee during the altercation. The MCF advises all residents in the Charlotte area to remain indoors for the next 24 hours and to call the MCF help-line for any information."

A mug-shot of a woman in her mid-thirties with shaven, bright, neon green hair and yellow, snake-like eyes pops onto the screen with a phone number at the bottom. Following, a list of all apparent charges against her begin rolling. 

"I bet the suits at the news station changed her eyes to scare people," a voice behind me sighs. "Look how crooked they are! That's not natural!"

"Or maybe she really is part snake," I counter, turning the tv off. "Mutants have had stranger traits."

"Child, not every Mutant is bad," the voice continues, and I finally turn to look at the small, Korean grandmother - lovingly called Nana - waddling her way into the kitchen.

"Well," I mutter with a sigh, "they're not all good either."

In this new world, there are two groups of people: those who have super abilities (Mutants) and those that don't (Normals).

Mutants are people who have capabilities that go far beyond human limitation. For example, if the fastest human can run 27.8 miles-per-hour, a Mutant with a speed ability can most likely run 200 miles-per-hour by the time they reach the age of 10. Just like Normals, Mutants have to train and learn their abilities in order to use them to their fullest extent. Normals, on the other hand, are regular people. Normals don't have abilities like Mutants do, but they are the majority.

And this is their world.

"There are only so many people on this earth. Why must they be foolish and become reckless with who they are?" Nana responds. "You know, back in Korea, my brother and I..."

Her voice fades away as she starts rummaging through the kitchen, becoming distracted with whatever comes before her. Nana was born and raised in Korea, only moving to America roughly twenty plus years ago. She never married, never had any children. Although not my biological grandmother, she took me under her wing and raised me like her own. She's seen the very best and very worst parts of me. Every tear I've shed, she's wiped away. Every smile I've given, she smiled back. Every awkward development, she's taught me how to persevere through it.

I watch as her posture straightens, and her eyes begin to cloud over. Like clockwork, I grab the sticky pad magnet from the fridge and a pencil and set it before Nana. Without blinking or even looking down at the sticky pad, Nana grabs the pencil and writes something down.

"The Henry family will have twin girls - Ella and Emma."

The cloudiness fades, and Nana reads what she's written on the sticky pad. "I never understood families who named their children with similar sounding names. Makes it confusing."

One more thing - Nana is a Mutant. Her ability being clairvoyance - being able to see into the future. The extent of her abilities only she knows. I've been lucky enough to witness moments of her knowing what tomorrow's weather will be like and the outcome of the Olympics. Though she doesn't try to hide her ability, whenever I ask about myself or whether or not she's seen her own future, she only smiles at me with those knowing eyes.

"I'm going to stop by the cemetery after classes," I tell her, washing my empty dishes in the sink.

"Ah, today is their anniversary." Nana shakes her head and puts the watering can down. Turning to look at me, she sighs softly. "16 years, is it?"

I nod, feeling the emotion of the day tangle in my stomach. "It still feels like yesterday," I whisper, and Nana places a small, wrinkled hand atop my shoulder.

"Little light, there was nothing you could do but live. I'm positive that they don't even have to see what I have seen to be proud of you."

With misty eyes, I thank Nana and wipe my nose. She sees me off, and grabbing my backpack and my car keys, I exit my house. Without delay, I drive to school with only memories of the past clouding my mind.

_______

The drive to school is short and uneventful with my only companion being the drone of the radio. By the time I find a parking space, I still have 15 minutes before class begins, so I stop by the school store to purchase a drink. Twisting the cap open, I take a small sip of the cold beverage as I make my way towards the first lecture of the day. As I near the lecture hall, I spot a group of people loitering in front of the entrance stairs.

"Protect student rights! We deserve to attend a place of education without the threat of Rogue Mutants. Stand with us; stand for freedom!" a guy with a microphone chants. Two tall speakers loom behind him as he repeats the phrase, each time with more gusto and spit dripping down his chin.

A few of his peers stand in front of him with clipboards, stopping anyone attempting to leave or enter the building. Each of them repeats, "Stand for freedom!" as they attempt to hand the clipboard over to the innocent bystanders.

"If you're not with us, you're against us!" the guy with the microphone all but yells, causing a flock of birds to abandon their tree. The rest of us cringe and hold our ears from his offending voice, yet it does not deter him. Those with the clipboards begin chanting along with him.

"If you're not with us —,"

" — you're against us!"

"If you're not with us —,"

" — you're against us!"

"If you're not —,"

A loud pop bursts through the speakers, causing everyone within a 50-yard radius to collectively hold their ears and duck. A low buzz emits through the speakers, before abruptly cutting off. The guy holding the microphone attempts to speak into the handheld but is met with no sound. A few students clap.

The stream of students attempting to enter and leave the building continues as normal. I risk a glance at the protesters as they observe their (definitely fried) equipment. With another sip of my drink, I continue on my way, feeling a familiar buzz in my fingertips.

"If you're not for us," I whisper to the wind, "you're against us."