Hey everybody, so yes. Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and spinoffs), Dollhouse, Firefly and Serenity sequel movie – plus numerous comics – did get himself enmeshed in the X-Men comic world. FINALLY! That's all I have to say. After rereading my older back issues I started researching some interesting new ones that have come out since the turn of the century. Astonishing X-Men by Joss Whedon answered my every need. Read it! I'm telling you, you have no business being a Kitty Pryde or Piotr Rasputin fan if you haven't or don't.
This is rated T for the use of one British cuss word that Emma Frost loves to use, it's like her signature British-ness, and any references Kitty might make to her attraction to the "sexy" Piotr (that's about as far as it'll go). It'll be mild for most if not all of the story since Kitty'll be off planet for most of it. Oh no, did I give too much away? But wait, who is Petrof? Enjoy! And review, so I can keep writing more for you.
The name is Pryde, Kitty Pryde. And this is my own private bullet, comin' your way! And I figure if I have to be stuck, alone, in this colossal (sorry, Piotr) bullet speeding way, way, way faster than the speed of sound and I don't know what else, I can make my own cornball jokes to pass the time. I couldn't say how long I've been in here, except to say that after the first 15 minutes it had already been too long – and those were the 15 minutes prior to its crash course headed towards Earth. The alien metal this bullet – literally, guys, I'm not joshing you, an actual bullet built big enough to destroy our home planet, Earth – is made of makes me super squiggy. It's not like any other type of sensation I can think of. When I told Emma it wasn't pain or nausea, I wasn't lying. It's more like the precursor to a headache. The pain hasn't started but you feel the tension lurking in the dark corners behind your eyes. Sometimes, when I'm at my crankiest, I wish it was painful. Then it'd be so much less annoying. Then my mood dissipates, usually from lack of energy, and I'm grateful it isn't painful. I mean, come on guys, I'm not a masochist or anything.
Sometimes I think I've been on this metal projectile for years. I know that's impossible because I haven't had anything to eat or drink since before I landed on the Breakworld. I guess time seems to move slower when the ground at your feet, walls and ceiling around you all seem to hum slightly with the ricochet effect of being shot at warp speed and not hitting a target that was big enough to stop it. I know we didn't hit Earth. At least, I don't think we left any permanent damage when I phased us – myself and my bullet – through the Earth. Maybe that's why I'm so tired. I did pray to the Big Guy to give me the strength to do it. Perhaps he only leant it to me on the condition that I pay him back for it with interest after we won. I guess that's fair (and yes, I do think diverting total destruction of our planet was a win). It's not like I have anything else to do except lay here.
I did eventually find the strength to flip over. And then a while ago – okay, who are we kidding, it could have been a second or a month ago – I tried to sit up. Most of the time I keep my back pressed against the rear wall. The only reason I know what wall faces which direction is because I don't get a weird sense of vertigo on this one wall. Geez, I feel dirty. Talk about what I didn't get to do before I did this today … okay, let's just agree not to debate the whole time issue every time I reference its passing. It's giving me a headache. Or, that's just the alloy that built my ride; oh man, I'm so totally wigging.
I didn't eat, I didn't drink, and I didn't shower or change into clean clothes. I didn't say goodbye to my mom – oh, Mom, she's all alone now after Dad (in Genosha) and … me. No, Piotr will take care of her. He's good like that. Piotr. Maybe he's the reason I keep fighting the urge to weep openly. I'm not a stuck up skank like that British "bint" Emma Frost is. I cry when I want and whenever I want. I see no shame in it. It keeps the pipes clear, you know? Something my dad used to say. But I'm trying to conserve H2O and am dreaming of waking up with Nobel Prize winning eco-scientist knowledge on how to convert alien metal into the most basic and essential of life needs – like water. But back to Piotr.
Piotr Nikolaevitch Rasputin. Russian farm boy mutant who turns into a metal giant muscle man known as Colossus, member of the X-Men; and my definition of a knight in shining armor since the day I laid eyes on him at the tender age of 14 at a café in my hometown of Chicago. God, is he hot! And sweet, and sexy, and kind, considerate, gentle, understanding, overprotective, way too quiet, obnoxiously difficult to interpret sometimes –especially when he goes nonverbal with the cues. I mean, really, I wouldn't end up yelling at him so much if he didn't drive me crazy trying to guess what he's thinking 98.76549899 (just 'cause – Come on guys, hello, death by involuntary projection through outer space and time and Nebula and Earth and magma and walls and … sorry, I think I fell asleep. I told ya, the Big Guy is getting his comeuppance; I'm paying the dues for a whole planet's survival! And man, are they steep!) % of the time.
I guess I don't mind our odd yelling fights. No, Piotr never yelled at me, ya numskulls! Didn't you hear the whole "silent, dark, broody, sexy, scrumptious …" yeah, that went in a direction you aren't granted access to; because they – the fights – usually ended up with the two of us making out and basically all over each other. Maybe that's why he does it? OH MY GOD – epiphany?No, Piotr's too … good of a guy to do something like that on purpose. I guess it's just fate making sure the flames of our love stay fiery hot while the coals continue to burn just as warm. Darn, I've been here so long I'm turning into the Poet Laureate, forget Einstein.
I've been here so long … depression time. What year is it on Earth? Piotr's probably fallen in love with someone else, again. I know it's unfair, considering my loopy time condition at the moment, but it really burns me up that he's always able to run away from our perfect soul-mateyness and convince himself that he's found someone better than me. Alright, again, honesty time – I'm not that egotistical. Maybe the Zashija…. Whatever her name was better than me – Ugh, I hate men! They make your self esteem spin round and round as they slowly flush it and you down the toilet, argh!
No, you know what. Piotr can go marry whatever bimbo ditzy drooly slut bag he wants because if I ever get off this rollercoaster ride from eternal hell, courtesy of S.W.O.R.D. idiocy and the tyrants of the Breakworld; I won't even be in Piotr's league anymore. I'm the fucking hero who kept the WORLD from dying by mega-gunshot wound to the core of the Earth. Hells yeah! They should name a holiday after me. No wait, forget that. A whole country. No, you know what, I saved the bucket of rock, dirt, water and plant they live on, the least they could do is name the bucket after me.
Welcome to Planet Kitty Pryde, home of the best superhero ever born – Kitty Pryde! And who is that worm who grovels over the scraps at Superhero Kitty's heroic planetary table? Piotr Rasputin, just the man who gave up his own life to save the human race from extinction via Legacy virus. Shit, I'm crying now. You see, we're totally made for each other. And he's just got too much muscle to use his brain to figure that out. Damn him and his stacked, gorgeous, and totally BLONDE wife. Of course she's blonde, they always are aren't they?
Excuse me. I need just a moment to myself. Ha, ha. I'm hilarious, I know.
I know I'm turning into that hormonal crazy PMS woman that society hates and men fear worse than the plague! It's the result of everything, you know? Why can't the good guys get a break for a while? I mean, look at Scott. Not that I don't totally hate the Nikita Chiquita Mata Hari that he moved on with – oh shit, she's totally BLONDE too! But at least he had years with Jean before she died (for the last time). At least he married her and was able to love her and know all about her. Piotr and I, we didn't get that chance. We totally never got more than 2 nights in each other's arms before he was supposed to commit mass genocide and destroy a planet – God people, he'd never do it! While he did all that, I was supposed to disable the computers on the missile that ended up being the bullet that super-glued itself to my sorry superhero power.
I mean, I know he knows I love him, but I didn't get to say it before … yeah, God, I know I'm still paying you back for the last time I asked you for something; but if I could just see Piotr one more time, just to hold him in my arms and tell him I love him, I would totally reconsider asking you to intervene on my behalf when this bullet bites the big one. Whenever that is, I'll reconsider it. I mean, check out my karma, my points have got to be through the roof at this point, yeah? I don't know if you know this, you've got so many people you've got to pay attention to, I understand, but I've saved the world more times than can be counted on my 10 fingers and even after, including my ten toes … maybe, I'd have to do the math. Please God? I just, I never told him I loved him or how happy I was in that vision I saw of us married with our beautiful baby boy Michael – you know, before the Emma Frost shit show that went on in my head – and the Institute. We could have had that, you know. We could have had been everything right for each other.
- / -
In another space and time; in a different dimension; at the opposite end of the universe
"Target acquired. Preparing to launch first wave of preemptive strikes. "
"Remember fellas, we need to crack it open and keep it from hitting the surrounding planet or moons, okay? We don't want the feds complaining with us on this one."
