The Stuff of Villains: Sweat and Smoke

by jaygoose

Pyro had never been burned by the flames that he commanded before. The most that he’d ever felt from the fire he harnessed was a radiating heat that he felt right down to his bones. It was enough to bring a smile to his normally sullen face.

"The Stuff of Villains: Sweat and Smoke"

(Part One of the Pyro Chronicles)

*****Author's Note*****

This fic is rated R.

This fic is part of the Zip and Zap Verse. Takes place after Pyro's prologue "Snap and Click."

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with X-Men and probably never will. I do however claim all rights to my character Vashoba Wagner and her brother Static. Also, God bless Bryan Singer for directing two of the greatest movies of all time.

This fic contains slash, hints of a Bobby/ St. John pairing. Don't read it if slash troubles you. I, on the other hand absolutely love it. Slash is good.

*****

"Ow!"

Mystique sighed loudly in frustration.

"John." She stated simply. "If you keep fidgeting I'll never get finished."

"Fine." He replied while rolling his eyes.

Mystique finished applying the antibiotics and bandages to the boy's hands, smiling upon her completion.

"You'd think that you'd never been burned before, Johnny." She smiled and patted him on the leg. 

"I 'aven't."

Mystique was visibly surprised.

"Ah, well, first time for everything." She said as she headed for the door. "I suppose that I will excuse you from your training this week. Lucky you."

"Yeah, lucky me." He said to himself.

St. John Allerdyce, the mutant known as Pyro, sat on the edge of a med lab table staring at his bandaged hands. They ached. His hands. And they burned as if they were on fire themselves with even the slightest movement. In all his life he had never known such pain. Because of John's mutant gift to psionically manipulate fire, his body's natural chemistry was not what most people would call natural.  He is always warm, extremely warm. His normal body temperature is 38.5 ˚C (101.3 ˚F); which is a fever by most doctors' standards. When his mutation is in active use, he has the ability to see heat signatures and a genius intuition for fuel resources.  He just seemed to knows how much of a given object, be it thing or person, it takes to sustain his beloved flames. His hair is also another mark of his mutation. He was actually born a blonde, but by the time he was ten, it began to darken in to an orange color. Many say that it actually resembles fire itself. His hair had in fact gotten so much attention that for a time he had dyed it back blonde and later on a much more neutral reddish-brown color. But of course now it had grown back in as its natural carroty shade.

However, Pyro had never been burned by the flames that he commanded before. The most that he'd ever felt from the fire he harnessed was a radiating heat that he felt right down to his bones. It was enough to bring a smile to his normally sullen face. But truly being burned was most definitely nothing to smile about. It fucking hurt. Now he knew how those people had felt today…those people last month in Phoenix…those cops in Boston.

The teenaged flame thrower gave a huge sigh as leapt off of the table. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, in an attempt to save himself further pain. Then, as preceded through the halls of the Brotherhood's HQ he ran through the events of the day in hopes of discovering what he had done wrong. He stared bitterly at his bandaged hands.

"Pyro?"

The boy jumped in surprise and turned to see Mystique standing behind him. He cursed himself for being so frightened.

"Are you alright?" The blue skinned metamorph asked. "If you need to talk…"

"No." He said suddenly. "I'm fine. Really."

Magneto's second in command eyed the Aussie carefully. "Very well." She replied. "I'll be outside if you need me. And…By the way, you did very well today. So don't worry so much. There was nothing else you could have done."

"Yeah, right." He mumbled to himself.

And with that she was gone, leaving the pyrotic alone with his thoughts.

St. John liked Mystique the most out of everyone else in the Brotherhood. Magneto was just too intimidating to actually feel comfortable around, let alone have decent conversation with. Sabretooth was… hell…Sabretooth. And Quicksilver was all right, if you could get past the fact that he was an egotistical asshole. The rest of the Brotherhood's associates were barely around long enough after a mission for the boy to even catch their names. But Mystique was cool, for a naked blue chick. But then again, what naked chick wasn't cool. Mysty, as Pyro affectionately called her, was teaching him how to fight. It was one thing to be able to manage fire but another when you don't really feel it necessary to burn your opponent to a crisp. He'd remembered her telling him once that he was a quick study. He learned through her tutelage that one didn't have to be 6'1'' and 290 pounds of pure muscle to be able to do damage. Lucky for him, being that he was only 5'9' and 147 pounds. In other words, he was become more agile than he was strong. He thought about it, he would have preferred the later. If Eric Lehnsherr would have known better, he would have left St. John at the edge of those woods in Alkali Lake, but for some reason, the man thought that he had potential.

"Ha." John snorted to himself. "If he only knew."

The only reason John had left Xavier's was because he had felt so out of place. No one wanted him there. Not even his best friend Bobby. Bobby didn't need him anymore, he had his precious Marie; a girl that he couldn't even touch. Bobby'd chosen her over some one that he had been able to touch. Him. 

"Idiot!" He uttered aloud.

"That's right." A small voice echoed in his head. "Dwell on anything but what happened today."  He ignored it.

However, John definitely did not want to go there and drudge up bitter feelings towards Bobby. Really, what was the point? He had agreed to put an end to he and Bobby's odd little relationship with no more to be said about it. Though, he would never admit that it was the final straw that made him leave with Eric. But Bobby had been a complete bastard. After Bobby had begun his relationship with Rogue, his late night visits to John did not decrease in the least. One of the troubles of dating a girl you can't touch without dying. But, St. John being the caring friend that he was, never said a word about it. In fact he had truly enjoyed being so close with Bobby. The night of the Stryker invasion had been just one of the many nights that Bobby had told him that he loved him. But of course Bobby was still lying on top of him at the time. 

John could practically hear the sound of bare feet paddling across a wooden floor…getting closer and closer...the feeling of Bobby abnormally cold body climbing into his bed…Bobby's ice cold hands rubbing his back, urging him to turn over…his breath on John's neck. But of course everyone knew how that had ended.

*****

[Some time ago…The X-Men's infamous campsite, a scene from X2]

"We need to talk."

John sighed heavily and looked up at his roommate Bobby Drake.

"Fine."

"C'mon. Over here."

Bobby led the boy away from the campsite. Once they were comfortable distance away Bobby stopped suddenly and faced his friend. The cyrokinetic leaned heavily against a tree and slumped to the ground. The pyrokinetic followed suit.

"About what happened at the house…" Bobby began.

"You forgive me." John finished with a slight smirk.

"Yeah." Bobby said never taking his eyes off of the currently brunette boy. "I know why you did it."

He let the last comment hang in the air for a moment. John just stared at the ground.

"I know you were trying to protect us." Bobby finally said.

He only heard a grunt from St. John in response.

"Us?" The green-eyed fire mutant asked.

Bobby didn't answer at first. "Me." He eventually muttered.

"Always."

It was a full ten minutes before another word was uttered. Then Bobby sighed. It was now or never.

"I don't think that we should…" Bobby stumbled for the right words.

"What?" John asked, his scowl firmly in place.

"I don't think that we should… y'know…" Bobby groaned at his failure to complete the sentence. It was so much harder than he thought it would be.

"You don't think that we should fuck anymore." John stated plainly.

Bobby heaved a rather large sigh. He couldn't even look his friend in the eyes. He ran his hand nervously through sandy curls.

"I'm sorry."

John groaned angrily and stood up. 

"Don't be." He said as stomped off deeper into the woods.

"Johnny." Bobby said apparently to himself and then he left.

John found himself lost in the woods soon after, which was a good thing. He couldn't bare for Bobby or anyone else, for that matter, to see him cry. Because, then he would have to explain himself. And how embarrassing would it be to have to tell who ever it was that you were upset, because just yesterday your boyfriend/roommate/best friend told you that he loved you after fucking you silly, only to dump you the next day because he got a kiss from his untouchable girlfriend and didn't quite die. Fuck no! St. John Allerdyce still had some pride. Though thoroughly bruised, it still existed. Maybe he should have hooked up with Rogue first. Then Bobby would be the one alone in the woods sobbing as quietly as he could so that the Wolverine wouldn't hear him.

*****

John swallowed hard. He knew then that he could no longer be one Xavier's gifted youngsters. Magneto was just a convenient way out. But now, especially after today, he didn't feel that he belonged with the Brotherhood as much anymore either. That left his options down to nil. He had nowhere else to go. Well…he could go back to Xavier's. They were such goodies goods that they'd most definitely take him back. But that would mean giving up his freedom. Being restricted again was not something he wanted. But even after such a fucked up parting he still missed Bobby.

"Idiot!" He groaned at himself.

John paddled through the cold, metal halls; his boots knocking against the floor with every step. He was almost tempted to go talk to Mystique about his troubles, but deep down he still didn't truly trust the woman. Especially, with something that was as potentially damaging as this. He wasn't quite ready to reveal that part of his life to anyone. Though, he was sure that Rogue knew. Whether it was from her touching him, or Bobby for that matter, at the Drakes' place or the fact that Bobby had actually told her; he wasn't sure which bothered him most. Although, the thought of sweaty images of he and Bobby running through her head was enough to make him smile.

"That dumbass, Drake never thought of that, huh? He thought. "It's about time she knew what her boyfriend was about."

He'd finally made it to his room. His door, and well as all the others, was made of shinny metal, he could see himself in it. He smiled faintly at his uniform. "Look at me, I'm a super villain!"  It was leather, like the X-Men's but it is was a rusty orange and dark red color (1). He fiddled with the oversized yellow goggles that rested in his hair; he now noticed the bags under his eyes. He was tired, bone tired. Now, he knew why Mystique had been so persistent, he did really look troubled. His normally lively green eyes looked haunted. Today had most definitely been a bad day.  He lifted his bandaged hand to the door knob and turned it with a wince.

"Damned burns."

He slinked into his room and began the task of slipping out of uniform. It wasn't as easy as it seemed even without the burned appendages. He most definitely needed a shower, but Mystique had insisted that he not get his injuries wet.

"Damned burns."

He sighed and rummaged through his drawers and found something suitable to wear. He hated going to bed without his shower but he did not feel like taking it up with Mysty later on. He turned his nose up at his offending smell. He smelt like sweat, sweat and smoke. He fell back into his bed reluctantly. Flashes of the day's events played before his eyes. He bit his lip in frustration. It wasn't his fault that those folks had been so stupid and slow.

"When most people see fire, they run don't they?"

He was doing it again; going from one life's misery right to another. Weren't there any happy memories locked away in his thick skull? Nevertheless, unfortunately for Mr. Allerdyce, he did fell horrible. He had ignored the feeling long enough. It was time he faced his guilt, as he was sure that all super villains probably did at one time or another, no matter if they ever admitted to it or not. He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. You see, today the Brotherhood had gone on another mission…

*****

[Richmond, Virginia: Some woods outside a normal looking facility, on the inside of one of Magneto's many forms of transportation.]

"St. John?"

"Yeeessss, Mysty."

"You know, I hate it when you call me that." Was the reply.

"I know…Mysty." Pyro answered. "But I also 'ate it when you call me St. John."

"Pay attention, Pyro!" Mystique growled.

"Ok. Ok." Pyro laughed.

The exchange had caused Quicksilver to chuckle as well.

"This is very important. So, don't fuck up." The blue woman said as she rummaged through many blue print layouts. "Pietro and I will be entering from the north side entrance. You will be entering through this part of the ventilation system. I've checked it out. You shouldn't have any trouble."

"An' why exactly do I 'ave to enter through a ventilation system?" the human flamethrower asked.

"Because you insisted on doing everything but helping me plan this job." Mystique answered.

"And because you're scrawny and can fit in the ventilation system." Quicksilver added.

John gave Pietro an evil sneer. Some times he just could not stand the silver haired speed demon. 

"Victor will be arriving with Eric shortly after they set off the alarm." Mystique said with a grimace. "But do not panic, Pyro, these people don't have enough fire power to even come close to stopping us."

"What exactly are we raiding this place for again?" Pyro asked.

"That's none of your concern at this point." Mystique replied. "You just go to room 214 and get the files from the director's computer. He's out of town this week, his office should be empty. Wait for me to contact you when I have reached the surveillance room. The computer in the director's office isn't linked to the others so you should still be able to access it. There shouldn't be any problems, right Pietro?"

"Yeah, yeah." Pietro griped.

"But wouldn't it be a better idea for you to deal with the computers?" Pyro asked.

"I have others things that I must attend to, John." She answered, turning her back to him. "I have faith in you, I taught you well enough. You'll be fine."

"Yeah, Johnny." Quicksilver smirked. "You'll be fine. It's just sissy work anyways. Leave the important stuff to us."

"Those files are important." Mystique said to Pietro, and then to Pyro. "So. Do. Not. Fuck. Up!"  She emphasized this while cocking a rather large, nasty looking gun.

"Yeah, Mysty." Pyro said with wide eyes. "I 'eard ya."

"Is your fuel pack full, John?" The metamorph asked.

"Yes…Mother." He said sarcastically while giving his fuel pack a reassured pat.

"And remember, don't burn anything… important." She added.

So Pyro was off. He entered the building just as Mystique had said. He hadn't had any trouble what so ever and he hoped that the others had had the same luck. The ventilation chutes were smaller than Miss Darkholme had originally said, but he squeezed through expertly nonetheless.  

He made his way quietly through the many paths, twists and turns of the building's ventilation system. The only sound to be heard was the light tapping of his fuel pack as is knocked against the top of the chute occasionally. He secretly hated his flamethrower kit, he much preferred his lighter, but Magneto had suggested the flamethrower because it was truly more practical in battle. But at the moment it was more of a pain in the ass than it was worth. He would never understand for the life of him why Mystique would send a grown man with a flamethrower tied to his back through a ventilation chute that was barely able to fit a malnourished eight year old.

How the fuck did he end up in this situation anyway? It seemed like only yesterday he and Sam Guthrie were passing answers in Scott Summer's Algebra class. And now he was a real life mutant terrorist crawling through a fucking air duct covered in about three inches of dust and what he supposed were mostly human skin cells most likely.  The young Aussie paused suddenly.

"Was I supposed to take a right or a left? Fuck!"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and searched for Mystiques directions. His tongue pecked out from the side of his mouth and his brow knitted slightly, tell-tale signs of Allerdyce concentration. He caught himself doing it; he vaguely remembered an image of his mother. She used to stare off into space with the exact expression when thinking of an acceptable answer to one of his many childhood curiosities. He exhaled loudly.

 "No time for this now." He told himself. "Right. I go right."  

He trudged through the filthy ducts until her reached his destination. He waited patiently for Mystique's confirmation. He peered into the office through the grate. Not a soul. It was almost too easy. Now where's the fun it that?

"Pyro?"

"Pyro?"

It took the boy only a few seconds to realize that Mystique was trying to contact him.

"Huh, yeah, Mysty?" He whispered into his com device.

"I'm in." She said simply. "Now hurry. And…"

"Don't fuck up." Pyro answered. "I know. See ya, Mysty."

"Oh, ye of little faith." The Aussie said to no one in particular and then went about the business of unscrewing the vent.

Five minutes later, Pyro found himself in front of a computer monitor. He had already hacked into the director's computer and was currently inserting the disc that would hold all of Mystique's precious files.

"A new record. Mysty would be proud." He said to himself. He snapped and clicked his lighter methodically.  "I wonder what's so important that we would risk so much for."

Pyro wasn't sure but, from what he could glean from the screenshots, the files were plans for some kind of machine. Interesting…But what that hell did this machine do?

Pyro's concentration was broken by the sound of a key in the director's door.

"Fuck!"

The boy stared to the screen tapping his fingers impatiently, all the while still clicking his lighter.

"'urry the fuck up, ya fuckin' piece o'…"

"What are you doing here?!" A definitely feminine voice croaked. "Who are you?!"

The voice belonged to a tiny brown haired woman wearing black horn rimmed glasses. She was clutching a set of keys and holding a clip board tightly to her chest. She was dressed in an ugly brown dress and a white lab coat. Obviously she worked here.

"I'm…I'm calling security." She said weakly as she went for the phone in the office.

The pyrokinetic rose from the chair to greet his new visitor and clasped a gloved hand over hers. The lady was about chin level to the boy now, but she still refused to back down. A fire burned in the woman's dark brown eyes; it hinted at an undeniable strength hidden just behind them. Pyro's slightly peeved expression gave way to a wicked grin.

"Who ya tryin' ta fool, Mysty?" Pyro said as he sat back into the chair.

"Ha." The brown haired lady scoffed before wondrously changing into the more imposing figure of a blue skinned devil woman.

"That's more like it." Pyro said, not even turning to acknowledge his field commander.

"I'm impressed, Mr. Allerdyce." Mystique said. "Though, it was just a small test."

"Did I pass?" He asked still staring at the screen.

"You did good." Mystique replied as she ruffled his hair.

"Ey, watch the hair!' Pyro cried.

"You're one of the few, who can see through my disguises."

"Disguises." He scoffed. "Is that what were callin' 'em these days?"

Mystique laughed lightly.

"So," Pyro began. "What the hell is this thing anyway?"

"Something that will turn the tide in our favor."

"Ya know, you're startin' ta sound more and more like ol' Mags everyday. Scary, that." Pyro stated. "Its not one of those adamantium mutating gismos again, is it?"

"No." Mystique smiled at the carrot haired boy. "Not unless you think your friend Marie would be interested."

And with that Mysty was gone again.

Pyro turned back to the computer and retrieved the disc. And not a minute later the red alert went off. The Aussie glanced at his watch.

"Gotta hand it to ol' Mags, he is punctual." He said as he headed for the door.

And into chaos.

When Pyro made it into the hall it was completely empty, surprisingly. He reached in his back pocket again and retrieved the paper that contains Mystique's directions. Miss Darkholme had informed them all of the specifics of the facility's evacuation plan. The many personnel and scientists that worked here were to go to the east side of the building which contained a safe house and transportation away from the facility. Pyro's destination however was the west side that contained the facility's more cherished transportation, their stealth jet. Magneto determined that since they were already stealing, they might as well take all the goodies this place had to offer. Besides the jet would be a more suitable escape than those old vans they had used to get here in the first place.

Pyro had to move fast because time was no longer on his side. As much as he figured Mystique liked him, he was quite sure that she would still leave him here if need be. And Magneto, he was sure, wouldn't bat an eye. The pyrokinetic sprinted down the corridors until her reached a large office furnished with an ample amount of desks, computers, and cubicles. According to Mystique, the door on the far side was the quickest way to the hanger that contained the Brotherhood's getaway jet. But as soon as he attempted to cross the room he was bombarded with a shit load of gunfire. He dived to the floor and looked up to find that he was being targeted by two guys dressed in military fatigues.

"Not enough fire power ta even come close to stoppin' us?" Pyro uttered under his breath, recalling what Mystique had said earlier. "Famous last words."

"On your knees! Put you're hands on your head!" One of the guards shouted.

"Ey, buddy," Pyro crowed getting on his knees. "If that's all ya wanted, than all ya 'ad to do was ask!"

"Yeah, Blake," The other guy said. "I don't think all the shootin' was necessary."   

"Would you shut up, James?!" Blake yelled. "Not in front of the perp!"

"Fine." James griped. "What are you doing here?" James directed toward Pyro.

Pyro rolled his eyes.

"Where are you and your friends heading. We know that you're with them." Blake said trying his best to sound threatening but the cracking in his voice succeeded in giving him away.

"What gave me away?" Pyro asked. "The fact that I obviously broke in 'ere? Or my wicked sense o' style?" He said motioning to his uniform. "Or maybe it was my flamethrower?"

And before Pyro's would be captors could even think about reacting, he sent forth a wave of flame so powerful that it melted their guns before they could get another shot off, not to mention, burning their hands to utter uselessness. Trusty ol' Approach #17, also known as the Flash Furnace, works every time.

Pyro's custom flamethrower consisted of a fuel pack that was fitted to him perfectly. It clung closely to his back and was the exact same color of his suit. The tubes were connected to the pack, attached closely to his arms and preceded up to Pyro's thick fire resistant gloves. From the openings at the top of his gloves the pyrotic could ignite a flame and bend it to his demented will. There were times when he even let himself think that perhaps the flamethrower was even better than his trusty lighter. But then he thought better of it. Oddly enough, though the guards never even noticed the flamethrower. Ah, the smell of burning flesh.  

Although his hands were badly burned, Blake seemed intent on taking the young Aussie captive. James on the other hand was currently on the floor, writhing in agony. The more persistent guard reached behind his back and produced another smaller handgun and took aim at the fire-wielding mutant.

"Ah, so ya still wanna play?" Pyro said as a maniacal grin spread across his face.

When Pyro was around fire, he completely lost touch with reality. But whenever his powers were in active use it was like he changed into a completely different person. St. John was the sane one. He was the one that dealt with everyday life and managed to appear somewhat normal. In general, St. John Allerdyce was cocky, arrogant, and an ass. But honestly, if you were able to control something as completely primal and untamable as fire, you might be a touch of a cocky, arrogant bastard yourself. When he was Pyro, the Mutant Master of Fire, he tended to lean on the insane side, just a little. And even for an eighteen year old, his control and form were undeniably excellent. Back at Xavier's he was one of the most gifted students when it came to his powers. A talent of John's that Xavier had definitely taken notice of. Pyro knew that Xavier had had hopes of him one day becoming one of his precious X-Men. Even the Professor couldn't ignore the fact that St. John Allerdyce had the potential to be one damned powerful mutant. An extremely dangerous one too. So why the hell couldn't ol' Blake here catch a fucking clue. Ah, well, he would have plenty of time to think on it in the burn ward. That is, if he lived long enough to make it there.  

Time for Approach #55, a personal favorite, Phoenix Fire. Though, Bobby Drake had always said it looked more like a flaming chicken. What the hell did he know anyway? Pyro squeezed the mechanism in the palm of his hand that ignited the flame and just as quickly a huge bird made of fire charged forth. Pyro eyes lit up just as Sergeant Blake did. The grin on his face ever increasing as his beloved flames grew larger. His didn't seem to care that most of the room was now engulfed and smoldering. All he cared about now was his darling inferno and the havoc it was causing. James had long since taken off down the hall from which he'd come and left his fallen comrade to die a most painful death. But Pyro didn't care, Sgt. Blake had tried to hurt him, and for that he deserved to die. Just like those cops in Boston. They had shot Logan with out even giving him a chance to explain. Just like humans. They all deserved to die if you asked Pyro.

Not far away from his burning paradise, Pyro heard the unmistakable screams of a woman. He turned and tried to pin point where the scream had come from. There, underneath a desk, barely visible through the smoke and flames was a young woman coughing and crying. It was the same brown haired woman that Mystique had come to him as. She looked scared. And that's when Pyro lost his grip on St. John Allerdyce. Pyro's flames went on unchecked. St. John's attention was now on the poor woman who had been unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the extremely wrong time. 

"Fuck!" St. John bellowed.

Totally ignoring the wall of fire in front of him the teenager jumped and landed only a few feet away from the frightened woman. This only caused her to burrow further under the desks.

"Stay back!" She screamed. "Please…please don't hurt me!" She sobbed.

John groaned in frustration. Of course she was scared, wasn't he the one who had just roasted a guy not a minute ago?

"I'm not going to 'urt ya!" He said as he tried to get closer.

In all his effort to save this young woman, John had lost his control over his little barbeque. He hadn't noticed that it had quickly doubled in size. He didn't even feel it licking at his heels.  The only thing on his mind was trying to help this idiot woman who obviously didn't have the brains god gave a sheep. It didn't matter anyway fire never burned Pyro. But unfortunately, it would most definitely burn 'Miss Brown' here.

"C'mon lady!" He grunted as he continued to crawl along the floor.

He could barely see her through all the smoke. And the idiot woman was just scooting further and further out of reach. Why did he even give a damn anyway? She could just let herself burn to a crisp for all he cared. But he couldn't bring himself to leave her, and he had no clue why. Why had she even stayed here after he torched those guys the first time? For that matter, why hadn't those stupid guards ran? Does everyone in this stupid building have a death wish or something?      

"When most people see fire, they run don't they?"

John was so focused on getting to the idiot woman in brown that he hadn't noticed the flaming cubicle wall until it had fallen on him.

******

St. John's eyes shot open. He sat up and wiped his sweat soaked brow with the back of his bandaged hands. Lucky for him, Mystique had sent Pietro to find him. Maybe Mysty really did like him, or maybe those files really were important. It really didn't matter enough for him to ask. Deep down he knew that he really didn't want to know. He couldn't bare finding out that the people he'd left his home and all the people that he'd once cared for really didn't give a shit about him.

He sat up on his hands and immediately regretted it. He winced and stared at the white swathed traitors in distain. Pyro's little inferno had to have gotten damned hot to have burned through John's fire resistant gloves. He was lucky that those were the only injuries that he'd escaped with. They had betrayed him…his hands. Pyro never got burned by fire. Pyro was the Mutant Master of Fire. But maybe St. John did get burned; well it wasn't like it was the first time. Only that time he hadn't ended up with scars for everyone to see.

So why was he itching to get on the phone and call him. Bobby would never understand. He would just say I told you so.

"You can always come home, Johnny."

 "You forgive me." John muttered aloud.

"I know why you did it."

"I was just trying to protect you, Bobby."  

But Bobby wouldn't understand. He still believed that one day humans would accept mutants and treat them as equals. But St. John Allerdyce knew better and so did Pyro. Humans would always respond to mutants the way that idiot woman had back in Virginia. They'd rather die than accept a mutant's help. So maybe they should. The X-Men would have never had the nerve to raid that building. The X-Men would just wait for something terrible to happen and then try to stop it. The Brotherhood took a more proactive approach. That was more of Pyro's style. But was it St. John's style? St. John just wanted to be left alone. He just wanted to be who he was without having to explain himself all the time. He remembered when he used to have that with Bobby.

John stared longingly at the phone. Since he'd left he had called Xavier's a total of ten times. His late night conversations with Bobby had not exactly been fulfilling. Most of the time, Bobby just went on about the goings on at the school. Bobby had been the one to tell him that Tabby and the fabulous freak brothers had turned up there. John hadn't told Magneto, he knew better than anyone that the Brotherhood wasn't for everyone.  He decided that it wouldn't hurt to call Bobby just one more time.

******

Bobby groaned loudly from underneath his comforter. It was entirely too late for someone to be calling and he had the urge to frost that bastard of a phone. But Static jumped up before he got the chance.

"Drake and Wagner Funeral Home. You kill 'em. Drake chills 'em." Static chirped; he was too playful for a guy rubbing sleep from his eyes.  "I just make 'em look pretty."

Bobby just stared at the electrokinetic with an annoyed look on his face before burrowing back underneath his blanket. St. John recognized the voice on the other end of the phone.

"It's me Static." John said plainly.

"Oh, Hi St. John." Static said loud enough for Bobby to hear him. 

"Is he awake?" John asked trying his best to sound as if he didn't care.

Bobby glared at Static from underneath the covers.

"He's not here, Johnny." Static answered. "I think he's off somewhere with Roguey."

Bobby rolled his eyes and huffed loudly. He mouthed the words: 'Don't tell him that!'

John growled rather loudly on the other end, before trying to calm himself.

"Just tell him I called." John said. "And Static…"

"Yeah?"

"My name is Pyro."

"Oh, right." Static said. "Sorry. Pyro."

"Hey…"

"Yeah?"

"You think your sister's up?" John asked, trying his best not to sound too hopeful.

"She's always up." Static said with a smile.

"I can tell you're smiling, Static." John grumbled.

"Am not." Static said, his grin increasing. "Hold on, I'll switch ya over to her room."

******

"Wanda?"

"Hi, John." The Scarlet Witch grumbled on the other end. "Vash!"

John could hear the sound of the phone on the other end flying across the room and landing with a thump on the other side.

"Wanda!" Vash griped as she rolled over onto her stomach and answered the phone. "House 'O Beauty, this is Cutie!"

"'ullo, Vash."

"Hullo, Sinjin." She said with a smile.

John could only laugh in reply. "So who told ya about that?" He asked.

"I am very resourceful." The teleporter said with a smirk that St. John couldn't see but just knew it was there. "Or would you prefer Saint John?"

"I prefer what ever ya want to call me." John answered.

"I like Saint John." She said. "So, St. John, what cha doin'?"

"Oh, just angstin'."

"Tell, St. John that he interrupted a very interesting dream I was having." Wanda shouted from the other side of the room. "Tabby was just about to give me a full body massage."

"Hmm." John said simply.

"Perv." Vash replied.

"So, VASHOBA, what cha doing?"

"Reading."

"What?"

"Lord of the Rings."

"Ya know they 'ave that on DVD now." John said while laughing.

"Yeah, but it's more fun this way."

"Really."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Vash could hear the snap/click sound of John's lighter on the other end.

"I heard about what happened today."

"Oh?"

"We do have a rather large television here."

"Oh."

"A lot of those folks died."

Silence. Snap. Click.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"How ya doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Really. Ya know it is 2:15 in the morning."

"And?"

"Fine." She huffed. "So when ya coming to see me again?"

"Eh?"

"I haven't seen you around in a while. When are ya coming to see me again?"

"Vash…" The tension was evident in his voice.

"Johnny, believe me, the last thing I am doing is becoming attached." She laughed. "We haven't even had sex yet."

At that St. John had to laugh. "So are you saying we will eventually?"

"Oh, c'mon John. I saw the way you looked at me last time." She joked. "You want me. You want me so bad."

"So, I bet Summers was just itching to come after us after today."

"Well, you sure can kill a mood." Vash grumbled. "Yeah, he was all: 'Those bastards. We should do something. They're up to something.' and shit. Typical Cyclops."

"Hell if I know." John replied. "They don't tell me anything. My job is simply to burn shit."

There was an uncomfortable pause. More snapping and clicking.

"You didn't really try to kill anyone did you, John?" She said so low that he barely heard her.

John sighed noticeably on the other end. "Of course not."

"Well, how about Pyro?"

"What part are ya on?" He asked trying to change the subject.

Vash sighed before answering, "Legolas and Gimli are having a contest. They're counting how many Orcs they kill in battle. I think Legolas is winning, which is good, because Orlando Bloom is hot."

"Oh."

Another uncomfortable pause and John and his damned lighter.

"How about Friday?"

"Friday?" She said a little confused.

"Yeah, we can go do somethin'."

"Sounds good."

"Okay then."

Yet another uncomfortable pause in the conversation and the unmistakable sounds of a shark faced Zippo.

"So…" John began. "What cha wearing?"

"Goodnight, St. John."

"Goodnight, Vashoba."

She could tell he was smiling on the other end and she smiled herself before hanging up the phone.

******Author's Note******

(1.) It's a slightly modified version of Evolution Pyro's suit. I think that it could actually work in real life. Except I modified his flamethrower, it's sleeker and the tubes aren't hanging off everywhere. C'mon anything is better that Comic Pyro's suit. If you haven't seen it, Google it; it's horrible.