Disclaimer: I don't own any of the X-men, including Dazzler and Quicksilver, obviously. I just think they're awesome hehe.
A/N: I wanted Dazzler to show up in Age of Apocalypse, and since Quicksilver loves music, one thing led to another. So here we are with a Dazzler/Quicksilver fic! I don't know if they already have a ship name, but I've been referring to them as Lightspeed. Because I'm a dork.
Mixtape
Chapter 1
"Five minutes, Ms. Blaire!" a stage manager yelled from the doorway.
"You've got it," Alison said, not turning attention away from the mirror in front of her. She was putting the finishing touches on her make-up, creating distinctive bright blue marks around her eyes. It was almost like a domino mask, though she didn't wear it to obscure her identity. Nah, most of everyone already knew that. Nope, the make-up was just part of her rock'n'roll act, just like the glitter on her skin and the wild blow-out look of her light blond, pink-streaked hair.
She stood up straight and brushed her hands over her denim and sequins outfit. Glittering rock princess was basically the style she was going for, and she looked the part. These days, her music was getting more popular and she was selling records and 8-tracks. Soon she hoped would be out of these medium size venues and out on massive stages, lights blazing and music roaring. She could imagine it already, the screams of the crowd and wail of the guitar bursting into the most ridiculously rad light show ever.
The more noise the better during her concerts. The louder the crowd yelled, the better she could make the show as the lasers and beams exploded around her, created by her abilities. Her power was flashy.
Literally.
Ali looked in the mirror one last time, pleased with what she saw, and then she exited the room. She didn't have a bodyguard, per say, but her band's roadie tended to stay close. They were both mutants, and it was his opinion that mutants had to look out for each other. Guido was hanging around outside of the little backstage dressing room, his arms crossed over his massive chest.
"Cutting it close, princess," he said, glancing at her over his sunglasses.
"I'm right on time," she replied.
"Look, don't do anything stupid out there," he said as the two of them walked toward the stage.
"You don't have to lecture me," she said, "I know what I'm doing."
"Hey." His gigantic hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around. "It's different now. People don't know what to think about mutants any more after that purple guy, and you can't go showing off without getting caught."
He was referring to the Apocalypse incident that had happened a few months ago. It had caused some major problems for mutant-human relations, mainly because people didn't know whether to trust mutants more for saving them or to be more afraid because a handful of mutants had almost destroyed the world. A few vocal anti-mutant groups had popped up, including an outspoken, militant one called the Friends of Humanity, or FoH. They had started protesting at places where they knew mutants gathered, and a few fights had broken out. Nothing too bloody yet, but things were escalating.
"Guido, people just think it's a light show," she said, reaching up to briefly pat his hand and then pry it off her shoulder, "It's just a gimmick to them."
"For now," he said, "Til they guess that they're not normal lights."
"The likelihood of that is nil." They had been having the argument every night for the past two weeks, and she was getting tired of the skipping record of a conversation. No one was going to put two and two together: the music was the source of the lights, and she was the source of both. Her power allowed her to turn sound into light. It was weird, even for a power, and absolutely no one would guess it.
"You worry too much," she said, flashing him a smile, "And you're going to make me late."
Guido huffed and stepped out of the way, allowing her to scoot past him. She stopped at the stage door.
The air stank of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweaty young adults. The venue was a small, abandoned warehouse, one that the local music scene must've commandeered for its own uses a long time ago. There were holes in the crumpling ceiling. Pale moonlight tried to edge into those gaps. The whole place looked as if it might collapse into a pile of black clothes, tin siding, and guitar rifts.
Ali loved it.
Taking a deep breath, she sauntered out onto the stage, tossing her wild blond and pink hair. Her heart beat against her chest, following along with the sound of drums and bass guitar as she snatched up her guitar and tossed the white glittering strap over her shoulder. This was her stage, her world, her moment.
There was a roar of approval at her appearance, and in response, she allowed a burst of light to explode from the back of the stage where fake light systems were rigged. This was part of why people came to her shows. They were a spectacle of light and sound, a hundred lasers coalescing from on the stage and around the venue.
Instead of addressing the crowd right away, Ali gave them a saucy smile and started to sing. Around her, white and blue lights danced and then shimmered away while her song caught the audience. The crowd's screams formed into radiant bursts of orange, red, and blue above their heads.
When she had first started performing, it had been hard to sing and play and create the light show at the same now, but now it was as easy as breathing. At least until she tried more complicated things. As long as she allowed the noises to form the lights that naturally wanted to become, it was simple.
As the song ended, she sent an undulating wave of white light out over the crowd and then shattered it into falling starlight. There were shrieks and laughter and many of them reached out as if to try and catch the glittering bits before they dissipated. Ali grinned and waved at them.
"How's it going, Richmond?" she asked, taking her mic from its stand as the crowd shouted back an indecipherable answer. "I'm going to take that as a 'radical.'" Stepping back, she gestured around at her band mates. "These are the Sparks, and I'm Dazzler but enough talking, right? You're here for the music!" Popping the mic back into place, she hit another chord, causing spinning lasers to cascade down on the stage.
If there hadn't been a quiet pause right before the lyrics started, she never would have heard to distinctive crack of gunfire. One minute, she was starting to dodge and the next she was out back behind the warehouse, wearing a silver jacket she hadn't had on a second ago while her stomach felt like it was turning inside out. And there was a very familiar mercury-haired man sitting on a motorcycle, holding out a helmet to her.
"Hey, Ali," Peter Freaking Maximoff said, wiggling the helmet at her, "You coming? Or do you suddenly like getting shot at by crazy people?"