Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Marvel Comics and are being used for non-profit entertainment only. Lucienne, the Master, and this story belong to me, Magik, the author.

    The girl stood before her master, arms outstretched, head and eyes down. "I have learned."

    The man peered at her over a steaming cup of tea. "What have you learned?"

    Her cerulean eyes glanced up and fell into the depths of his black ones. He was a formidable man, her master. A count form long ago with black hair and pale skin and black eyes. It was said that he had walked the earth for thousands of years. Some whispered that he could not die.

    "Well, Lucienne, what have you learned?" The Master looked at the girl before him. Lucienne LeBeau. He had found her wandering around the streets of Paris five years ago, her spirit crushed and her dreams broken.

    "I have learned about my brother," Lucienne replied as she swept her reddish brown hair away from her sharp face. "I have found Remy."

Months Later:

    The girl swept her long, reddish brown hair off her neck and climbed out of the back of the airplane. Being a stowaway on a cargo plane was not fun at all. She had been wedged between a crate of papayas and a crate of red wine for over three hours. The smell was really starting to get to her.

    As her feet touched the ground, Lucienne scanned the are for any shadow lurkers. The Master had warned her time and time again about being careful and cautious. After all, she would be of no use to him if she were caught.

    She sighed and gazed around the empty airport one last time. There were no able bodied men running out to unload the plane and there wasn't any security making sure that no one had damaged the goods. There was no one at all around.

    "Tres facile," Lucienne whispered to herself in French. She wasn't used to speaking her native language. The Master had always frowned on that. He was English and he liked to hear her tutored, bell like, voice speaking English.

    It was then that Lucienne felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against her neck. "You stay right there, missy. Don't move a muscle." The cop's voice was shaking with fear. He was a new recruit and had taken the airport job because he thought it would be easy.

    The girl bit her lip and narrowed her cerulean eyes as she scanned for something to work her mutant power on. Nothing and no one was going to stop her from seeing her brother. No one.

    Besides a flight of stairs, that lead up to the central office, was a small loading crane. Lucienne smiled as the cop's hand shook. Then she started murmuring under her breath and blowing gusts of air in the crane's direction. Slowly, the lights came on and the crane started up.

    The young cop heard the racket and turned around. "Holy Mary, mother of Jesus, what's happening?" he cried out in shock and horror as he released the girl.

    "Bye bye, Monsieur," Lucienne called as she blew him a kiss and then disappeared into the night.

Days later:

    Lucienne narrowed her eyes at the sing that read "Xavier's School for Higher Learning". So, her brother was in some kind of school now. She laughed to herself. The Master would be so surprised when he heard about this.

    The place was heavily guarded by technical and mental devices alike. She could "feel" every inanimate object in the place. Every piece of metal, plastic, wood, etc., resonated in her mind. After all, she had to know if there was something in there that she could use her power on.

    The girl tucked her long, reddish brown braid into her black jumpsuit, pulled the hood down and started to break into the school. The iron gates were easy enough to get through. All she had to do was "convince" the metal to bend. The other alarm devices were a trifle tricker, they took a little more "convincing" before she was allowed to pass undetected. As far as the mental alarms went, Lucienne could only pray that the Master's shield over her mind were still in place.

    As the red search lights came on, she figured that they weren't. "Maerd," she whispered under her breath.

    Someone stepped out of the darkness. He was a bulky man, short, with wild black hair and sharp eyes. "Hello, darlin'," he drawled.

    Lucienne frowned. She wanted to spit on him. No one called her "darling".

    "What are ye doin' here, girl?" he questioned. He was standing right in front of her.

    Her cerulean eyes peered up at the house, then down at him. "I am looking for my brother, little man."

    The man smiled. "Whose yer brother?"

    A strange smile spread across her lips. "Monsieur, a girl never gives away her secrets."

    For a minute there was silence and she used that minute to stretch her senses out, looking for something, anything, she could meld with her power. In the man's body was something, a substance...metal. It glowed like a star in her head. Lucienne almost used it against him. Almost, but she couldn't. That would have killed him.

    The little man lit a cigar. "Well, ya haven't proved ta be a menace. Ya comin' in, girl?" He started to walk off and she was quick to follow. The Master had always said, "When someone invites you in, go. It will give you the chance to get your bearings and they will lose the home advantage."

    "Monsieur?"

    "Yeah?"

    "My name is Lucienne. I would prefer not to be called "darling" or "girl".

    Once again the little man smiled. "Okay, `Cienne. I'm Logan."

    "It's nice to meet you, Logan," Lucienne said as they stepped into the mansion. This was going to be a lot better than she had planned. A whole lot. But as her left foot crossed the threshold, something felt...wrong. The next moment she had been mindblasted. One thought remained as she fell unconscious: I knew it was too good to be true.

    Wolverine glared down at the young girl's body that was in a heap on the floor. His rock hard black eyes looked up at the person who had mindblasted the frail. "You want ta tell me why ya did that, Betts?"

    Psylocke narrowed her purple eyes, pursed her lips, and finally said, "The telepathic alarms went off--in my head! The first rule of protocol for an intruder is to subdue them. That's all I did." Her voice was as cool as the night air that blew in through the still open door.

    He smirked and lit a cigar, watching her face twist with displeasure. "Yeah, but ya see, I was takin' care o' the girl."

    There was a small snort of indignance from Betsy as she pulled her gauzy, purple robe tighter about herself and turned to walk up the stairs. "Tough. I really hate alarms going off in my head." With that she flipped the dark purple hair over her shoulder and sauntered up the steps.

    Wolvy smiled coyly for a minute. So he was going to be playing that game with Betts tonight. Ms. Cool and Collected versus Mr. Not Right in the Head. Then he reminded himself that neither of them were right in the head, that much he could smell on her.

    "Uhhh," the kid moaned as she shifted slightly. The long, reddish brown braid had slipped out of the black bodysuit and hung down her back. A few wisps had escaped the clasp and clung errantly to her face.

    With the tip of his toe, he rolled her over. Her face was small and delicate but contained sharp features that reminded him of somebody in the house. And she had spoken in French a few times. Not much but enough to give him a clue as to who she professed to be related to.

    It seemed odd, though, for the young girl to speak in French with an English accent but then Betsy spoke in an English accent and she looked Asian. He shrugged and puffed on his cigar, waiting for the kid to wake up.

    Lucienne could feel the floor on her back now. Someone had rolled her over. The sharp tang of cigar smoke hung in the air and made her want to retch with every breath. Whoever had mindblasted her knew what they were doing. It had taken her out without hurting her in the slightest.

    As her wits started to come back to her, she instinctively reached out with her powers to find any objects that she could draw into her control. Bad mistake. As banged up as her head was she couldn't keep a firm grasp on her power. Before she knew what had happened she could "feel" about ten inanimate objects start to move towards what they saw as her attacker.

    "What the flamin'?!" Wolverine cried as about ten things from a book to a sword used for decoration shot at him. He dodged them easily but taking them out was going to be another matter entirely. They seemed to have a mindset to kill or injure him. But what could have caused them to react like that?

    His eyes traveled down to the floor and the semi-conscious girl. It would just figure that she was a mutant. This wasn't like any telekinesis he had seen, though. By all rights, if the kid was down the knives and crap should be too.

    Taking the chance that the objects wouldn't strike if he was close to her, Wolvy knelt down next to the kid. Her eyes were fluttering back and forth under the lids, as though she was trying to wake up or get back in control and couldn't. "Kid," he whispered and shook her. "Lucienne, ya gotta get up and call these suckers off. I don't want ta hurt ya, darlin'."

    There was a muffled whimper from Lucienne and them the sword turned around and flew straight at Wolverine's head.