Yes, Now I've moved on to comics/movies/shows to kill. Let me warn you though, I've only seen the movies (and read some of the summaries on the X-Men Wiki), so if you're expecting this to be more towards the comics, go look somewhere else. Other than that, I don't really have anything to say other than that I own nothing but my OC, and I'm making no money off this.
Also, you NEED TO REVIEW.
"Let me go!" I struggled against my captors. "I don't want to hurt you! But if you don't let me go right now, I will!" They laughed, like they didn't believe me. The one in front, his breath soaked with alcohol, pulled a switchblade out of his pocket.
"Listen, little girl. You're going to do exactly what I say, and I won't use this. But if you don't…" He smiled a greasy, gap-filled grin. "Well, I'll let you use your imagination. Now, are we going to have a problem?" I took a deep breath, absorbing the stench of the men.
"I think we're going to have a problem. See, I wasn't going to get too angry when you started giving me a hard time. I thought, 'Hey, they're drunk, but once I tell them off they'll do the smart thing.' When you grabbed me I thought, "Okay, they're stupid, but when I tell them to back off, they'll do the safe thing and go away.' But now you're threatening me, and I'm pissed. So, yeah, we have a problem."
I extended my six claws (three on each hand) to full length, about nine inches. They bled a little, but it healed quickly. Both the man in front of me and the man behind me jumped. The one behind me started muttering that maybe they should find other girl. I shook my head and clicked my tongue.
"Oh no. That's not going to do. I've taken a personal interest in you two, and I don't think I want to let you go yet." I looked at the man's fingers on my waist. Dispassionately, I sliced them off. I cut myself in the process, but I healed almost instantly. The man screamed and dropped me. I stepped away from him, towards the other man. "Hey, big boy. That's a nice knife. Wanna play, see who's got the better blade?"
"You're nuts!" He dropped the knife and ran off. I picked up the blade with the same uncaring way I had cut the one man's fingers off. Turning it around in my hands, I threw it at the fleeing man, hitting him square in the back. He let out a gut wrenching shriek and fell to the ground. I pulled out the man's mobile, and dialed 911.
"Nine-one-one, please state your emergency." The woman on the line had a pleasant voice, with a thick accent I decided to mimic to mask my voice.
"Yes, dispatcher? My boyfriend got real drunk at Drifter's Paradise Bar and cut up some guys who were giving me a hard time. Can you send an ambulance to the alley behind the Bar for them? I'm not sticking around because I'm scared my boyfriend might come back. When he get this drunk, he hurts me." I made myself sound terrified and weak, and the dispatcher ate up the huge lie.
"Okay, honey. We'll send someone out there right away. You give me your name and we'll check up on you later. For now, get to a place you feel safe." Thinking quickly, I came up with a fake name and address.
"My name is Scarlett O'Donnell and I live at 42 Wallace Avenue, Apartment C. But my boyfriend has a key, so I'm going to my aunt's house. You can reach me on this phone." I hung up and tossed the phone on the ground. "Good luck finding me," I muttered. God, people will believe anything if you act scared.
I took off my blood-covered shirt and zipped my jacket up to my neck. I opened the door to the bar and walked in like nothing had happened. I looked at the No Mutants sign, then ignored it. The prejudice was irrational, and since most people didn't see my mutation, I didn't bother with it. I sat down at the bar next to some guy with funky hair that curled in from the sides towards the top of his head. His scent reached my nose, and I looked at him again. I didn't think I knew him, but he smelled familiar.
"What'll it be?" The bartender broke into my thoughts. I blinked slowly, willing for him not to ask for my I.D. I didn't have one; I have no idea how old I'm supposed to be, and I looked about fifteen. "And if it's anything alcoholic, I'll need to see some I.D." Damn.
"I'll have a water. No ice." I sighed and sat back. I cocked an eyebrow at the familiar stranger. "What are you drinking?" He slid his eyes over to me.
"Beer." He looked back to it. No conversation coming from him. When my water came, I sniffed it gently, then decided against drinking it. I really didn't like this bar, or this town, but I was a bit stranded. If this guy was heading my direction, I'd try to hitch a ride. "You got a name, kid?"
"Yeah. Amanda." Maybe he would talk. "What's yours?" I surreptitiously took a deeper, more analyzing sniff. He smelled like a mutant, and there was a trace of a metal that seemed so familiar. There was no other word I could think of but familiar, but that wasnt right, but I knew I knew that smell.
"Come on kid, drop the fake name. We both know that's not what you go by." He didn't look at me, but somehow I felt that he could see right through the words that fooled the world.
"Fine. You can call me Lynx. What's your name?" He took a sip of his beer. I heard the sirens in the distance, the ambulance finally getting here. Without showing any outward signs of the panic I was feeling, I said, "Never mind. I gotta go. It's been nice talking to you." I stood up and strolled to the front door.
Taking a deep breath, I kept myself from bolting. I could and would make it out the door without flipping out. A stool slid out behind me, but I didn't look back. I had to focus on getting out of this place. I made it to the sidewalk before my emotions fully hit me; I had probably killed both of those men. I crouched down on the sidewalk, holding my knees. Whenever I got like that, unfeeling to the pain I'd inflicted, I got swamped by the remorse later; I hated these claws and the things they made me feel.
I heard and felt a motorcycle roll onto the pavement in front of me. "Need a ride, Lynx?" It was the guy from the bar. I rubbed my eyes and looked up at him.
"Yeah, where you headed?" I didn't really care, but it'd be good to know. I really did need to get out of town quick.
"New York. So you want a ride or not?" He revved the bike. Hey, I was headed to NY, too. I had heard there was a place there where they helped mutants with nowhere else to go, and I guess that was me, now. I jumped onto the back and he tried to hand me a helmet.
"Screw the helmet, guy. Let's just go." He shrugged and took off. We were going way past the speed limit, but I didn't care. It was exhilarating to feel the wind in my hair, but I had to resist the urge to let my claws come out. They had a bad habit of doing that whenever I felt a strong emotion.
We drove out of the rinky-dink town and hit the highway. Here, he really sped up. There was no one but us on the road, and the night washed over my hectic feelings like a cooling salve. For that ride, everything felt right. My hair was whipped back by the wind, out of my face, letting the scents of everything else come easier. I felt more electrically alive then I ever had before. Finally, as the sky started to lighten, an tinting on the horizon imperceptible to normal human eyes, the guy asked if I was ready to pull over. We had rolled up to a gas station, where I assumed we were going to fill up the tank.
"Well, that depends. Are you kicking me off? Because if you're not, and you're fine to keep going, so am I." I was actually kind of tired because I hadn't slept in about three days. I was good for about two and a half before I went downhill. But I sure as hell wasn't going to fall asleep with an absolute stranger around.
"We need gas," he said. Wow, was this guy tight-lipped. He barely said anything at all, let alone anything reassuring or nice. Maybe that's why I trusted him a little more than regular people; he wasn't trying to get me to relax or anything, but I was anyway.
He jumped off the bike, taking the keys with him. I scooted forward so I was on the seat more completely, and turned to face the guy. I watched him pump the gas silently. The quiet was getting to me, and I felt like I was going to fall asleep. It's amazing how alive one can feel one moment, then dead tired the next. I fought against the heavy feeling in my body, and tried to stay awake, but it was useless, and I was out before he was done.
~x X-Men x~
I woke up in an okay bed; it was clean, but none too soft. I quickly took in my surroundings. There was some cheap wallpaper thrown up on the wall, a table with a lamp on it, two chairs, and a dresser with a small TV on it. Off to my right was a door, which I assumed was the door to the bathroom. The guy was in one of the chairs, watching the parking lot from a crack in the curtains. When I woke up, he looked over at me.
"Hey." He was still keeping his talking to a minimum.
"Hey." I could play that game, too. Alright, I was bluffing; I was too curious for my own good. "You know, you never told me your real name." He looked back out the window.
"Logan." I smirked. I would use his line from earlier.
"Come on guy, Drop the fake name. We both know that's not what you go by." I thought I saw his jaw twitch, either from holding back a smile or from annoyance, I had no clue which.
"Wolverine." I liked it. Wolverine. It fit him. He was a loner.
"Well, Wolverine, I am taking a shower." I decided to call him that every chance I got. I jumped out of the bed and walked to the bathroom. I washed off, then put my pants and bra back on. I didn't have another shirt with me, and my jacket would stick to me and be uncomfortable. I stuck my head out of the door. "Do you have an extra shirt I can borrow?"
"Where's yours? On second thought, I don't wanna know." He pulled out a flannel shirt almost identical to the one he was wearing and tossed it to me. I slid my arms into the sleeves and stepped out of the bathroom, buttoning the shirt as I moved.
"So, where to now? What's in New York for you?" I sat down on the other chair, which faced the one Wolverine was in.
"Home. What's in New York for you?" He stopped looking out the window and faced me completely. I sighed and sat back.
"I'm not exactly sure. I heard about this place, but for all I know, it could be a complete crock. I mean, it sounds too good to be true." I was afraid that he would laugh at me if he found out that I thought there was someplace for me. "Well, we gonna hit the road?" He nodded and we headed for the door.
The receptionist waved to us on our way out. "Have a nice trip, Mr. Richards. I hope you and your daughter make it to Boston in time for that reenactment!" She smiled at him, and he nodded at her. When we got to the bike, I grinned at him.
"Daughter? Reenactment? That sounds like an interesting cover story." I hopped onto the front seat and gripped the handlebars. He looked at me incredulously.
"What do you think you're doing?" He reached into his pocket for the keys, but I held up my hand and showed him that I had them. "When'd you get those?"
"Oh come on. I want to drive. It's been a long time since I've been on a good, fast motorcycle." He went to grab the keys, but I jumped off the seat and out of his reach. "It's not like I'm going to steal it. If I wanted to, I could have been out of here twenty minutes ago."
"Fine. But you wear the helmet." I put a hand over my heart and fell back dramatically.
"Oh no! Not the helmet! Whatever shall I do?" I grabbed it and put it on. "Hop on, 'Mr. Richards'."
"You're a lot more energetic than you were last night." I giggled. "What?" I shook my head.
"That just sounds really dirty. Especially when you're saying it to a girl who looks young enough to be your daughter." I felt Wolverine shake his head. "Yes, I'm immature. I know." I felt a rumble that could have been a chuckle or a growl. This guy needed to work on his communication skills; I had no idea if he thought I was funny or a nuisance.
"If you're not going to start the bike, I'm going to drive," he said. "We're not too far away. We could make it to the mansion by this afternoon if you'd get a move on." I put the key in the ignition and revved the bike.
"Mansion?" Backing out of the parking space, I angled toward the driveway.
"Yeah. Home. It's in Westchester County." He was back to his terse self. I sighed and headed for the highway.
"Westchester County? That's where I'm headed, too. Do you know the area well?" He nodded. I would have turned back to talk to him better, but we hit traffic. It was early, but it was like every car in the state was on that stretch of road. "Do you know where Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters is?"
"Yeah… That's where I live." Now it was my turn to look at him incredulously. "I'm a professor there."
"Then what were you doing in that town last night?" He rubbed his neck.
"Looking for you. Charles sent me to talk to you about coming to the school, but I never got a chance to." I raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn't see me.
"There was plenty of opportunity. At the bar, on the ride here. Hell, you could have talked to me this morning." I shook my head, but kept my eyes on traffic. I resisted the urge to hit him over the head.
"I got… distracted. But since you were heading there anyway, I didn't really need to talk to you about it."
"Yeah, but you didn't know I was heading there until just now." Under my breath I muttered, "Dumbass." He squeezed me around the waist.
"I heard that." I grinned cheekily at him.
"I know."
So, what do you think? R&R please! =3
(Oh, anybody reading this after reading any of my other fan fics, what do you think of my page break thingy (~x X-Men x~)? Tell me if I should keep it or change it. (Yes, I know it's trivial, but what are you going to do?)
I FIXED THE ONE TYPO IN THERE, ALYSON YOU GRAMMAR NAZI.