xp_communication | Letter, to be delivered via postal mail

To:
R. Fielder
#GC99102-202
C/O Federal Penitentiary Postal Service

Robert,

Or, as you prefer it, Masque.

Hello. You may not remember me, but I hope that you do. Perhaps a smidgen of recollection, an ounce of guilt, or a small twinge in your left arm when it rains. I hope that you remember me, because I have not forgotten the events of one year ago. If it gives you a moment of vindication to know that your acts were not forgotten, then that much I can give you. I find it fair, for what you gave me - an appreciation of who I am, not who I thought I wanted to be. You gave me pain, and agony, and the horror of watching my friends transformed alongside myself into your idea of psychological mindgames made flesh.

And you also gave me the chance to see that I could be something better. That I could grow beyond reactive anger. That much you gave to me, so this much I can give to you.

In the past twelve months, I have had fifty patents approved. Twenty-one of them have been for devices in the field of medicine, most of those prosthetics to assist the physically disabled. My inventions are helping crippled men to walk, an injured mother to hold her child, and a ten year old boy with a defective heart valve to have a new lease on life. This last weekend, I even got to run around with dinosaurs.

Do you remember Kyle? He's pulling a 3.6 grade point average in his junior year of high school now. The other day we took a drive to New York. He didn't have to cover his ears, or hide his teeth, or pretend he was something other than what he is. A seventeen year old kid having the time of his life.

Do you remember Jay? He's touring the Midwest, picking up audiences wherever he can for his totally unique style of music. Little bit pop, little bit country, and admittedly a little bit emo, but what can you do. Those big wings of his? He doesn't hide them, either. He's not ashamed. He's a star.

There are many more names I could give you. I've kept in touch with some of them, your former victims. They're not all rich and famous, but they're moving on with their lives. They are no longer afraid.

I am no longer afraid.

Thank you for that, Robert.

I see that you have a parole hearing in a few years. And I speak honestly when I hope that in that time you have changed enough to earn a second chance. I hope that you want to change - to be better than your circumstance.

I will never forget what happened one year ago, but I do not let it control me. That is what I want to give you, Robert. The knowledge that like the effects of your power, your attempt at a legacy of hate and pain has been erased.

You changed us, but not into what you wanted. We are proud of what we have become.

Sincerely,

John Henry Forge
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
1407 Greymalkin Lane
Westchester, NY