Weightless │ X-Men (with original character)

Chapter 2

In which Marilyn Summers gets to leave the police station.

Jail was a lot more boring than what it was like in the movies. Sure, the cell at the police department wasn't technically jail, but it was the closest Marilyn ever had been to it. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands completely encased in some weird metal cuffs. She had tried to explain to the officers that it wasn't hand movements causing objects to suddenly float or crash to the ground, that it was something with her brain. They didn't believe her. There wasn't much to do, especially with her hands trapped in the cuffs. She had already counted all the cracks in the ceiling, the freckles on her arms, and the tiles on the floor. She liked counting. It was simple, consistent, comforting.

The officer at the desk across from her cell was nice enough. He wasn't like the one who brought her in. That man was rough with her, shoving her around and kicking her with his boot. Not to mention the accusations of her possessing illegal drugs. Marilyn had dubbed him "Bad Cop." The officer monitoring her now (who she called "Good Cop") didn't make her feel like a freak. He mostly ignored her, occasionally glancing her way. Once they made eye contact and he smiled. Marilyn definitely preferred him.

The door opened, and Bad Cop strode in, followed by a tall, nerdy-looking man. He was standing awkwardly and fidgeting as he talked in hushed tones with both officers. Marilyn craned her neck, trying to get a better look at him without actually standing up. He had mousy brown hair, glasses that kept sliding down his nose, and was dressed in a cardigan and slacks. He looked like a teacher, not someone that you'd find in a police station.

After a minute, Good Cop walked over to her cell. He unlocked the door with the click of a key, then removed the handcuffs on Marilyn's hand. She stretched out her fingers, trying to get her circulation going again. Her hands had long gone numb from being so still. She looked to him for instructions.

"Dr. McCoy is here to bail you out," Good Cop explained.

"I'm sorry, who?" Marilyn responded, baffled. She'd never seen this man in her life. What did he want with her?

"I'm a friend of your cousins, Alex and Scott," Dr. McCoy explained, extending a hand. Marilyn shook it cautiously, finding his to be cold and clammy. She vaguely knew about Alex and Scott, but hadn't seen them since she was small. She didn't even know what they looked like. What was going on?

Dr. McCoy offered a tense smile. "You must have a lot of questions. How about we go grab some lunch and I'll explain everything?"

Marilyn's stomach growled. She had a small breakfast at the police station, but it wasn't filling. And Dr. McCoy didn't seem like he meant any harm. She didn't have anywhere else to go, so she agreed. First she had to sign some paperwork and then Bad Cop gave her back her backpack. Once that was all taken care of, Marilyn followed Dr. McCoy out of the station and he gestured to an old-fashioned red car. "Hop on in," he told her. She got in the passenger seat and he climbed in the driver's. After starting the car, he backed out of the parking lot and started driving.

"Have any preferences as to where we eat?" He asked, scanning the area, "I'm visiting, so I'm not sure what restaurants are nearby."

"Anything's good with me, Dr. McCoy," Marilyn responded, "The closest would be a Wendy's up ahead."

"Wendy's it is," Dr. McCoy agreed, "And you can call me Hank."

Marilyn nodded, turning to look out the window. She was shivering even though she wasn't cold, and her stomach felt like it was twisting in knots. The past week had been a nightmare. First, there was the matter of her mutation. She'd been fighting with Michael, her brother, and it got physical. It had been over something stupid, but Michael had gotten angry and pushed her. Despite being four years younger, he was much bigger and stronger than her. Her best chance was to run, and she had almost made it out of the kitchen when he hurled a knife at her. Marilyn dodged it, only to realize she was floating, along with Michael the kitchen table, chairs, and utensils. Then, just as quickly as it had happened, everything came crashing back to the ground. At least Michael had left her alone after that.