Outside the house the storm was at full power. Winds ripped across the ground, lifting anything and everything into the air and battering it against trees and walls. Strange things were in the darkness and rain. Hulking shadows with glowing eyes, monstrous growls. Class threes, and many of them.
A single class two was braving the storm, it had been granted a mutant ability of minor elemental control. It held its hands up creating a bubble of calmness around itself. All too soon though it learned that the storm was the least of its worries as a huge leathery hand broke through the bubble and smacked the mutant into the wind.
It was carried six yards to the side before another equally large, albeit more fleshy, hand knocked it to the ground. With a growl the class three raised its hands to crush the mutant, but a piercing noise made it stop and become docile. The class three turned away and continued walking through the storm.
After a few seconds of cowering, the storm passed over the second class. Replaced by sunlight and a large group of second class mutants walking behind it with their arms raised. They ignored the mutant, and walked past him, while an even larger number of mutant gathered around to look at him. They all wore black leather trench coats and stylized gas masks. They parted as a small, impish mutant scurried over to the second class.
"Well, well, well. You are not number five. We do not need you if you are not number five." The imp stood up and as small as it seemed it managed to tower over the men near it. It turned on the nearest masked man and picked him up with one hand around his neck. "IS THAT NUMBER FIVE?!" The imp had a high voice, squeaky, grating, and very angry. The man, though he obviously had over a hundred pounds on the small creature, shook his head vigorously obviously terrified. "So you knew?" The voice was a whisper as the imp leaned intimately close to the man's ear. A slight nod in response.
The motion was intimate and slow. The imp's hand grabbed the back of the man's skull, and his chin. Then with a swift, brief movement and a sharp crack, the imp twisted the man's skull around one-hundred eighty degrees. As fast as the body fell the imp returned to his impish crouched posture, again looking entirely small. He turned to the now very frightened class two, "We just got a job opening, do you want to live?"
"Y-yes. Yes! I want to live."
"Too bad we don't need you. You are not number five." With a nod the other mutants, the one in masks, closed in on the man as his screams rose. The imp disappeared amidst the fray, but his voice could be heard saying, "Where are your number five, we can't finish or experiments without you."