I don't own Jubilee, Sabretooth, the X-Men, or Generation X. I'm borrowing them for my own nefarious devices. Marvel owns them and tortures them (and their readers) more than I ever could.
I don't own Asher or any characters within the Anita Blake universe. I humbly bow down before the almighty Laurell K Hamilton, for she is a goddess.
I don't own Methos or any characters within the Highlander universe, I believe Rysher does. Rysher scares me, so I wouldn't dare infringe upon their copyrights.
The idea behind the links is a concept adapted from L.J. Smith's Dark Visions Trilogy. L.J. Smith is a goddess among writers for young adult fiction. I bow down before her.
Kora is an original character, so I do own her. Please don't use her unless you ask and recieve permission. (By me, people. Don't get smart.) Not that any of you would want to borrow her. Sheesh.
Timelines: (And pay attention, this gets weird.)
Jubilee and Creed - After Ev's death and Gambit's return from Antarctica, before Moira and Cyclops die. I have aged Jubilee because I'm annoyed at her being thirteen for six years. (That's worse than my mom being 39, again. For the seventh time.)
Asher - After a modified Blue Moon. Assume Anita's still dating both of her boys but is still pouting because Asher got into Anita's mind when she fed him. (Asher's timeline is the most confusing to those who've read the series.)
Methos - After The Four Horsemen and Revelations, before the movie.
Title of Series: The Web - Borne Of The Fall
Part One
"Three Mutants, A Vampire, And An Immortal Walk Into A Bar..."
Rating: PG-13 for language and situations
METHOS
"I'll have a beer, whatever's on tap."
Alcohol, one of life's constants. Like me.
I sigh as I settle down on the barstool. Tonight I'm feeling my years. The words of lovers long dead and the feel of blood on my hands weighs on me.
Gods, who am I tonight? Where am I? When am I? The bartender sets a glass of beer down in front of me, then moves on to other customers. One taste of the beer reminds me that I'm in the US. Only Americans could turn beer into carbonated piss. Judging from the prevalent accents surrounding me, I'm in New York. Why the hell am I-... Oh. Yeah.
I slump further over the bar, remembering how I came to be in New York. Duncan bloody MacLeod of the bloody Clan MacLeod. I left Paris. I ran from Paris, MacLeod, and the memory of my fallen brothers. Caspian, Silas, Kronos. To each of their names, I take a long drink from my beer, silently toasting them. My brothers in arms, in everything but blood. I may not be the Death I had been millennia ago, but they are... were still my brothers. We lived for each other because we were there for each other, and because of me they are dead. Silas even died at my own hand.
I stare at my right hand. It is my strong hand, my sword hand, the hand that deals Death.
With my left hand, I take my beer and drain it. I push the glass back onto the bar and call for another.
ASHER
"I... I'll have what he's having."
The taller man turns to stare at me as though he hadn't noticed me contemplating the stool beside him for the past few minutes. Perhaps he hadn't. He seemed to be considering something very important.
Watching the man, I decide that he is unique in that his face is so plain I'd be hard pressed to accurately describe him. His face is angular and sharp, with high-carved cheekbones, proud nose, and a thin mouth. His body, even while slouched in it's relaxed posture, seemed to be of average height, maybe a bit taller, and lean. His clothing choice spoke of little money. His eyes, however, moved with quicksilver intelligence. Perhaps he was a student, then. It would explain the old, relaxed clothing and gaunt appearance. But none of that explains the bitter taste of despair, loss, and self-aimed anger radiating from the man. Not that it's any of my business, anyway.
I finally decide to sit when the bartender returns with two beers. I don't know why I ordered it, I can't drink or eat. At least, not human food. I gave that up when I became a vampire some three hundred years ago.
I notice the man studying me. I know he's only returning the favor, as I had spent several minutes just watching him, but I can't help but feel like a freak under a microscope. I wonder what he sees from his vantage point. Simply the beautiful side? The man I had once been? My golden hair, sky blue eyes, and whole, untouched skin? Or can he see the scars that cover my entire left side? Does he wonder what sort of monstrous weapon did this to me? Does he fear the same monster will come for him? Perhaps he sees me as the monster to be feared and destroyed.
As though sensing my discomfort, he returns his gaze to his drink and slips back into his own contemplations. Following his lead, I turn my eyes to the amber beer I ordered but cannot drink. I miss my Julianna, my human servant, lover, and friend. She was the last woman to have truly loved me, the Executioner not counting because her love was merely Jean Claude's before Julianna was killed, I was scarred by holy water, and Jean Claude became my most hated enemy.
Right then, I wished I could drink, if only to toast the memory of Julianna and my long dead love for Jean Claude.
JUBILEE "Yo, 'tender! Gimme a beer."
I concentrate my will on the skeptical bartender and calmly tell him, "I'm twenty-one and I look it. No need to check my ID."
The older man looks confused as the telepathic command seeps into his brain. Then he nods and moves to start filling a frosty glass with beer. I nod to myself, silently thanking my teacher, Emma Frost, for her instruction on telepathic manipulation. She'd been thrilled when I developed the talent shortly after my fifteenth birthday and has been giving me private lessons ever since. Three years of tutoring under a teacher as amoral and exacting as Frost has instilled an incredible amount of control over my powers and the mindset to use them to get whatever I need. I wonder if Frost would yell at me for getting drunk or praise me for how I did it. Probably give me extra credit for my "real world application," I decide.
The dude next to me snorts as I settle on the stool next to him, probably at my comment about being twenty-one. The guy's probably no more than twenty-three and is thin as hell. Looking into his intelligent green-gray eyes, I decide he's actually pretty cute, despite the long, angular nose.
"Hey, mind yer own business, bub."
A glimmer of amusement passes through his eyes, then it disappears, leaving only a bright pain in them. His eyes make him look older, and I realize I know exactly what that's like. I lightly finger my sore and bandaged wrist, remembering the cold eyes in the hallway mirror before I left the mansion. I looked dead inside. I wish I felt dead.
The bartender startles me when he sets my beer down in front of me. I give him a small, grim smile of thanks. I turn back to the dude next to me, but see him focused on his drink, lost in memories. I know the 'lost in memories' look well because of my time spent with Logan. It used to worry me when I was younger. Now I do it myself.
Beyond the cute dude is a totally gorgeous hottie. I just manage not to wince when he turns to give me the once over. Well, half of him is hot. The other half looks like it met the angry end of a flame-thrower. He's scarred pretty bad, but nowhere near as bad as Deadpool and Maverick. He looks wounded, though. As though he thinks I'm going to run from the room screaming. 'Sorry, bud. I ain't screamin' for no one,' I think at him. I then offer him a smile. He looks a little shocked at the gesture, but gives a pale smile back.
I nod, satisfied, and turn back to my beer. I kick the backpack I put on the floor to make sure it's still there, then sip the beer. It's a taste I've been learning to acquire lately, and though I should be saving my money, I need one tonight. I'll find a place to sleep later.
CREED I know that smell. The moment I walked into the bar, warnings were going off. It's the runts' frail, Jubilee. I see her sitting at the bar next to a guy who looks more than a little sloshed, judging from his posture. I sniff the area again, hunting for the runt himself. The frail hasta have a babysitter, right? Wrong, I realize. I see her nursing a beer while kicking at a bag on the floor. 'Ha! The kid musta run away from home.'
I move up behind her and growl at the bartender for a beer. He eyes me like he's scared, but moves to get my drink. I watch Jubilee's back straighten, but she doesn't turn to face me. I had hoped to smell fear from her, but all I'm getting is weariness.
"Couldn't stand the heat, huh frail?"
Her grip tightens on her glass and I scent blood. "Hello, Creed."
I've never heard her sound so cold and distant. The girl is an emotion fighter, like me. Normally when she fights me, she uses the adrenaline from her fear. I notice the white bandages on her wrist when they begin to spot with crimson. Now I understand. She tried to leave the X-Geeks one way, but failed. Now she's gathered up some guts to take the next available road.
I wonder why she thought it was so bad there. I mean, I've lived at that damn mansion and I know how hypocritical the bastards are, but Jubilee's just a kid. What the hell could have been so bad for her?
I sit down on the open barstool next to her, aware that she's probably wondering why I haven't tried to gut her yet. In all honesty, I don't know. Maybe it's just the bad day I've been having. Maybe I just want to watch the X-Kiddie flounder in self-pity and get drunk off her ass. Maybe I'm just curious. Most cats are, I suppose. When the bartender sets my beer in front of me, Jubilee orders a refill. The guy doesn't even blink at the request comin' from a kid. Huh.
I turn to check out my surroundings and notice the man on the other side of the frail glance at me appraisingly. His baggy clothing hides his body well, but I can tell by his hands that he works out. If I didn't know better, I'd say he worked with swords, but he doesn't strike me as the ninja type. I bare my teeth at him in warning. 'No matter how good you think you are, I'm better.'
He nods almost imperceptibly and turns back to his drink. He's a killer. I can almost smell the blood on him.
Jubilee and the blonde at the end of the bar watch us, the blonde with interest, the frail with narrowed eyes. The blonde's a vampire. He smells of old blood and snake-den. He probably thinks he's foolin' everyone here into thinking he's human. Stupid corpse. I wonder if the frail's figured out she's surrounded by killers. Given her suicide attempt, I wonder if she's here on purpose.
She turns back to her beer when the bartender brings her a fresh one. She's lost something since the last time we fought. The will to survive? Nah, she still wants to live, despite the slash on her wrist. Maybe something to live for, then. If I were a poetic kinda guy, I'd say she lost her innocence, her laughter. But I'm not, so I won't.
It's not like I don't know how it is, though. Sure, it's been a while, but before I was the killer I am today, I was a boy. A boy fuckin' chained in a basement and treated like an animal, forced to kill his food with his bare hands and eat it raw. Just a boy.
I take a long drink of my beer.
KORA I'm hungry.
I suppose all the energy I got from home had to wear off eventually. To be honest, I had wondered when this hunger would flair up again. I haven't eaten anything, as I had at home. I haven't fed since I left, almost... five days ago, I think.
These times, daytime and nighttime, are hard to get used to. That's why I find myself in this bar, I guess. It's one of the few places open at this hour that has a lot of people.
I'm still very hungry.
I move to the bar and sit at the end, next to a giant of a man. Tall, muscular, blonde hair and blue eyes. His hair and eyes are like mine, I note. Though that's where the similarities end. I'm smaller than him by far.
The man serving drinks comes over to look at me. His lip kind of curls before he informs me that girls my age shouldn't be in places like this. The girl to the left of the tall man tells the... bartender? Yes, bartender. That's the word. The girl blinks one eye at me and tells the bartender that it's okay and I'm old enough to be served here and he blinks, then apologizes to me.
I nod my understanding. When he asks me what I'd like to order, I find myself at a loss. There's a glass in front of the man beside me. I'll just taste that and see if it's acceptable.
It's when I reach for the glass and the man grabs my wrist that all hell breaks loose.
CREED The blonde frail actually went for my drink!
I can't believe it. She looks a little lost, but not stupid. I see her mouth drop in shock when I grab her. Then I can only feel...
There's a pulling sensation, like someone's tugging on a 'tub drain. I feel a pop and it is rushing from me. I don't know what it is, but it sparkles, like iridescent champaign. It is coming from me and the girl is just soaking it up, her cobalt eyes almost on fire. 'What the hell is going on?'
*I'm sorry. I'm just so hungry.* A voice, high and clear, whispers through me.
'Shit. The bitch is a telepath.' I try to snarl, but I feel locked in place. Time has slowed all around me, but thoughts are rushing through my head. Memories long buried, emotions seldom experienced.
*That is rude and wrong. I'm not a telepath. I think.* The voice, so musical, is more clear. Like veils are ripping out from between us, making her more visible to me. Curiosity begins to color the world.
Then there's another voice, strong and brash. Jubilee. *Creed! What's wrong? Oh shi-!*
And the power between us surges.
JUBILEE I saw the girl reach for Creed's drink. She musta had a death wish, or somethin'. Then Creed got this weird expression on his face. When I reached out to sense what was wrong, the shit hit the fan.
It's mega-strange being in Creed's mind, and I can tell it's his immediately. There's a fringe of red to every thought, every action. It's like watching a movie singed around the edges. There's something else here, too. It's like when the light hits a bubble and you can see rainbows swirl over the surface. Creed doesn't strike me as the rainbow-bubbly type.
*Girl, you better stop whatever you're doin', or you're gonna be majorly sorry.* It has to be the kid at the end of the bar, there's no one else it can be.
*This has never happened before. I don't know how to stop it.* Shit, not only does she look like Tinkerbell, she sounds like her too.
*I don't care what you do, just break the fuckin' conn- Shit! Pay attention to me, you stupid git!* But her attention doesn't return to me. I'm trying to call her back. Hell, even Creed's growling at her to get back with us, but she's riding the power and drifting away.
Oh crap, cutey and hottie!
ASHER I'm not sure what's happening.
One moment I'm watching the young Asian girl charm the bartender into giving the blonde, elfin-featured girl a drink and the next I feel someone invading my mind.
Crackles of energy pour over me, but each one is so different! One is fierce and tastes like blood while another is buoyant and light.
*Stop it! You don't know what you're doing!* Ouch. That one was like fireworks, each word exploding with multicolor sparks behind his eyes. I feel confusion, fear, and a sensation of fulfillment. Everything is clashing together in a heated whirlwind.
There's a sudden rush and the heat of a desert bathed in sunlight. Another presence fills my head, sharp like steel and old as sin. Lightning laces through the world.
The power seems to hit a wall and roll back on us like a wave.
I'm drowning in it.
METHOS 'Bloody hell! What's going on!?'
The world must have tilted off it's bloody axis, because I'm in the Twilight Zone, I just know it.
"You heard the man, frail. Whatja do to us?" A growling voice, one used to being obeyed and answered. It echoes against me, rubbing my brain like a cat seeking attention.
'Gods, it's like I can hear his voice in my head.'
"You fuckin' are, now shut up and let the frail answer!" The taller blonde snaps at me. Creed. His name is Victor Creed.
"Yo, Vic. This pro'ly isn't the place for this chat, huh?" And the Chinese girl with the California accent is Jubilation Lee, Jubilee for short. How do I know this!?
On my left, the half-scarred, half-ethereal blonde chokes. Jubilee is at his side in an instant. I almost didn't see her move.
*Ash, I need you to relax. Whatever happened is hitting you harder than the rest of us. Let me see if I can bleed some of this power off.*
Oh, Gods. I can see it now. It's a wave of pink just trying to swallow him whole. Jubilee puts her hand on the pink glow and curses in Mandarin. I can feel... something. A flair resembling a mini-Quickening sparks up, then dies off. The pink glow goes with it.
I find myself on my feet, helping Jubilee prop the gasping blonde up. Asher. His name is Asher and he's a vampire. I waver on my feet.
"Dude, I need you to not pass out on me, okay?" Jubilee's watching me with her blue eyes.
'Contacts? How else could a so obviously Chinese girl have blue eyes?'
Those eyes narrow down on me. *Watch it, bub. I don't need no contacts.* Again, I hear her in my head.
I find myself centering, the dizziness passing. "Look, what's going on here? I can-"
"Not here." That's Creed. I turn to look at him only to find him standing with his hand on the girl, Kora Sorren's, shoulder. He thinks she's going to run but she feels more curious about what happened than afraid. "The kid's right. We're going to my place." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a couple twenties to toss on the bar, his right hand never leaving Kora's shoulder. Somehow, I don't think he'll take me saying 'no' for an answer.
I help Asher off the stool while Jubilee moves to grab her backpack, then stands back at Asher's side, ready to help in case he falls over. Creed steers Kora to the door while Jubilee, Asher, and I trail behind. A glance back tells us we only gained a few odd glances, but no bells were going off for anyone.
After five thousand years, you'd think I'd have seen and done everything there is to do, learned all I need to know. You'd think that after five thousand years I'd be less afraid of a man, a mutant, who looks like he could gut me and feels like he'd like nothing better than to try.
Apparently not.