Right Place, Wrong Time
The sensation of the fluid draining away woke her. She took one, liquidy cough, gagging on the fluid that was still in her lungs, and then heaved and disgorged it. It splattered on the cool metal floor.
Cool metal floor. Cool metal tube. Cool metal-enclosed hands.
"That's it. The first breath is always the hardest."
No, not cool hands. Frozen. Icy against her already chilled skin. He plucked her from the tube with inhuman ease, cradling her against his breast—the diamond emblazoned across the chest of his armor mirrored the diamond emblazoned across both their brows.
He brushed back her damp locks with a gentle touch—surprising gentleness for one so cruel. But then, she remembered her lessons well—torture by kindness. Strike when they least expect it. Be the unknown quarter. Lessons learned and soon to be put to use.
He laid her on the examination table, proceeding to clean the last of the fluid from her body. A soft towel was used—anything rough might abrade the flesh made tender so soon after being freed of the tubes. She allowed him to do as he would, moving as he bid her, in perfect, silent obedience.
And then, after she was clean, dry, and clothed, the indoctrination began anew. What had been telepathically imprinted upon her in the mechanical 'womb', she remembered. It was time to drive home all of the lessons she'd learned in that slumber. She would soon have to prove to a pack of noisy, angry mutants that she was their equal—or better yet, their leader.
* * * * * * * *
Sitting in the back of van that read 'Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters' was a miserable mutant--Jonothon Starsmore idly decided that he would rather have blown out his ears then any other body part than listen to any more of Jubilee and Angelo's raucous singing to the ridiculous song that was pumped through the speakers—'Hot Cha', by They Might Be Giants.
*I swear I'm gonna 'unt down 'ooever thought up this bloody tune, and bludgeon them to death*
, Jonothon thought irritably. They'd left the CD on 'shuffle' in the player—since Ange was driving and Jubilee had gotten shotgun, that's where it stayed.But thankfully, the drive was almost over. Then he would be free. Paige, Angelo and Monet would be headed to a lecture at MIT and the rest of them had various errands to run. They'd all meet back in the Boston Commons.
As the van began to slow, Jonothon knew his suffering would soon be over. There would be no more obnoxious singing and no more of the nothingness between him and Angelo.
That'd been the hardest part of the past two months since the fateful night at the beach house, and he and Angelo's fist fight. Angelo had stopped responding to Jonothon, almost totally. Add to it the fact was the rest of the team treated Jono differently—Angelo's support had vanished.
Guess the saying was true. You never know how good a thing is till it's gone.
The van was parked near the Commons itself—Jubilee, Gayle, Jonothon, and Everett all piled out of the car and Paige immediately commandeered the van's front seat once Jubilee was out of it. "See you in a couple of hours! Be here and be on time!" she said brightly—and then they were off.
Before the van even pulled away from the curb, Jubilee's mind was already in motion, and she grinned deviously at Jonothon and Gayle as she took Everett's arm. "Y' know, we're got a couple, and you two are a couple…"
Yeh? Jonthon wasn't sure he like the sound of this…
"You two wanna come with me an' Ev? We're gonna go hit the movies." Her eyes flickered between the pair of them. "Could make it a double date."
* * * * * * * *
"Shit, Ruck, pick a target and lets just get on with it!"
"Shaddap, dogboy. I'm workin' here!" called Ruckus—pink-haired and badly dressed, he was the leader of the motley crew known as the 'Nasty Boys'—employed by a dark figure known as Mr. Sinister, they were usually up to no good.
This was no different, no matter that Sinister wasn't writing a paycheck for this little outing. This was just a 'hit and run'. It's purpose? To see if the new 'pet' of Sinister's—a black clad, magenta-haired woman that the Big S had brazenly told Ruckus that he'd 'accept' as one of the Nasty Boys—would work out with the rest of the team.
But no matter Sinister's orders, Ruckus was going to put her to a simplistic test. She was fresh from the vats, after all, and he wanted to make sure that this young thing was everything that Sinister could produce.
"Yeah, you could sure fool me." The furry mutant sneered, as he paced the rooftop.
"Anyone could fool you," hissed one of his other companions, a giant… purple man
"Shut your hole, George!"
The leader of this ragtag mercenary band glanced over his shoulder and sighed. "Shut up!" As it quieted down to mere grumbles, he turned his gaze to the Commons below. And then a van pulling over caught his eyes.
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
It was emblazoned right across the side of the van, in golden lettering.
And to the eyes of the wild haired, badly dressed Ruckus, he'd finally found what he was looking for. Four kids piled out of the car. Kids! Mutant kids, but kids! Something to toy with…
"We've got a winner, boys…" He ignored the irritated snort from the black-clad 'pet' of Sinister's, and continued, "We got us some dirty X-Brats! Seems to be the newest brood of trainees are down in town."
"Oooh?" The other four men moved over, Gorgeous George's near-liquid hand wrapping around the binoculars as he sloshed past his leader. They all took turns, peering down at the van that had pulled up to the sidewalk and let four young mutants disembark.
"We have a winner," snickered Ramrod, picking up his club. "Lets kick some ass!"
They all turned to Ruckus, who then looked to the woman this was all for. White, pupil-less eyes stared defiantly up at him from her facemask as she stared defiantly back. "Shall we get this over with?"
"Yeah. You gotta paste at least one before you're really a Nasty Boy. Got it?" Ruckus asked of her.
She shrugged, and then nodded once, to indicate her understanding.
A tele-portal swallowed them up and they vanished—to the Boston Commons below.
* * * * * * * *
Double date? T' the movies? Are y— Jonothon began uncertainly as Jubilee flashed him the best Bambi eyes she could manage, but Gayle smoothly cut him off.
"Yes. Sounds lovely." She slid her hand into his, and smiled sweetly at him as he looked at her, befuddled. Well, she offered psionically, since she had his powers since her last feeding, for all that we're 'back together', we've not gone out once.
His brows dipped and furrowed. Well, it wasn't like he was able to really be 'normal', and give Gayle much else. What would one double date to the movies hurt? It'd be dark, they'd be in the back with luck, and no one would be looking at him. Right. Double it is. It was worth it just to see her smile as she took her arm in his.
"What are we going to see?" Of course, Ev would be the practical one, asking before they got to the theatre to argue. "After all, we've all got very different tastes."
"Well, I'm easy to please," Gayle said lightly
Like 'ell yer are, Jonothon teased her gently.
"I didn't mean like that, Jonny," she teased in return.
Everett blushed slightly, and Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Okay," said the paffer, "before you to get to tearing your clothes off in the park, why don't we—"
Jubilee's diatribe was cut short by the sound of grinding brakes and then metal crushing metal, and all four whipped their head around. In the thick Boston traffic, Angelo hasn't gotten very far—and the reason why was the twenty-foot man in leather breeches and a vest in the middle of the intersection.
"Jesus!" gasped Gayle, and then looked quickly back to the group. "So, now what?!"
"Now we go to the rescue!" Jubilee called as she started running over.
Jonothon sighed as he began to tear over, hands tugging down his bandages around his face. Just another day with Generation X…
* * * * * * *
"So, do you think this lecture is going to bore us to tears, ladies, or—"
"It'll only be boring if you don't learn anything," Monet said curtly from just behind the driver's seat. She glanced out the window, as the car pulled away, and then glanced back.
"It's only an hour long lecture, Ange," Paige said as she glanced over at her boyfriend as he drove.
He cut his eyes briefly to her, and then looked back at the road—and the man that was suddenly RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM!?
"Madre de dios!"
Ange slammed on the brakes, tires squealing as he brought the car to a jarring stop. Paige hadn't yet buckled her seatbelt and whipped forward and smacked her head hard on the dash, and then again as they were hit from behind. Horns started blaring, Angelo began cursing, and Monet was already peering around as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
And then the man they'd hit—the suddenly giant man!—brought his fist down on the van's hood—and demolished the engine, making the van tilt up with the motion and then drop, jarring all three. Angelo glanced back—Monet looked ruffled, but otherwise fine—Paige, on the other hand, was bleeding and still.
Angelo unbuckled his seatbelt quietly and reached out to grab the unconscious Paige, trying to pull her to him with his distended skin—and then the door was torn away on one side.
"Oh," said the ball of fur that grinned past Paige's body toward the Latino, "Ya gotta be kiddin' me! This is gonna be to easy!"
"Hardly!" Monet said sharpy, kicking out her door and heading out into the fray.
Before Angelo could respond to either, a shadow passed over his window and he looked to see his own door was also being torn off its hinges and and being tossed aside. And then there was nothing but… purple?!
A purple face with gleaming, amber eyes. "Hello, friend. Time to die. Hope you don't mind—just an initiation for a new member of the pack." Lips turned upward in a crescent of cruelty. Whatever it was, it was pouring it self into the car—and into Angelo's lap! It's mass was warm, like someone's skin, and not at all slimy like one would think… but that didn't mean Angelo wanted him oozing around him!
"Dios!" But fighting it was like trying to push back water—it just flowed around him and swallowed him up and soon all he could feel was the cool ooze as it enveloped his body and dragged him out of the care, no matter how badly he struggled.
And then, as it forced itself between his teeth and over his tongue, he wondered if he was going to drown to death in the middle of Boston—on a mutant's oozy mass.
It couldn't possibly get any worse.
* * * * * * * *
Monet was distinctly displeased. She had a lecture to go to and she really was interested in the speaker's theories on mutation!
But then she was bouncing about the back seat like pinball, bouncing off ceilings and walls—someone has definitely tilted the game! "Dieu!" And then doors were suddenly missing and Paige and Angelo had—no, Paige was unconscious!—were being hauled out by two distinctly inhuman and unpleasent figures.
And she was hardly about to let any of this happen. She caught the motion of four bodies dodging traffic as they ran over and the pileup finally ceased. Mutant terror ran rampant in the streets.
And of course, Generation X was right in the middle of it.
She contacted her four approaching teammates as she went for an ariel view. We have six assailents. Reason unknown. Angelo is currently subdued and Paige is unconscious and—Dieu! She is the hands of the hairy one! And then she began a swooping dive, skirt whipping around her legs. She promised herself that she was going to simply have to start wearing shorts beneath her clothes, though she was thankful that the people were too busy panicking and scattering to get a peek at her panties. Jonothon! Angelo is subdued! Go around the other side of the van and help him!
Got yer! I'll get Skin, yer get 'usk! Wot 'bout the other four? Jonothon asked, his flaming visage inspiring screams among the people fleeing from their vehicles.
Monet's voice was calm . Take it one step at a time, Jonothon. And hit them hard. She swooped down into the fray, grabbing at Paige's assailent, one hand on the limp young woman's shoulder, the other on the hirsute man's shoulder. "Let her go now!"
"Sorry, babe, but she's my kill for this game!"
Monet sighed softly. "I gave you a chance. It's a pity you squandered it!" And then her fist snapped out and into his nose, just as she used her considerable strength to tear Paige from his arms. The mutants's claws raked over Paige's flesh, ruining her clothes and producing deep cuts.
I'm getting Paige out of here. She's down for the duration of this melee. Get Angelo and then get out of there. I'll stay in mental contact with you all.
But Monet didn't wait for an answer as she flew a safe distance to the commons to strip away Paige's skin—and her teammate's wounds. Hopefully, she'd be alright.
* * * * * * * *
Jonothon summed them up as he slipped through cars. The big guy had growth powers, because he was getting bigger with each blow Everett as he borrowed Monet's flight with his sychnostic aura. He saw the pink-haired man in the bad jacket pointing at the rapidly approaching Generation Xers and issued orders to the masked woman—the only woman in the group—and a wild haired punk with a very long, spiked stick in his hands.
Gayle looked at him briefly as she darted close. Any thoughts on who I should snack on first?
I don't know! Go for 'ooever yer can. Truthfully, he didn't want to think about her using her emplating offensively. He remembered what it was like to be fed off of violently. But he just let the others go off to their own thing.
He ran past the hairy, fanged and clawed mutant who was still very unconscious, and came around to find a truly disgusting sight.
Thrashing about was a writhing mass of purple and gray, that sported a humanoid head and arms. The rest just seemed to be a deep purple mass of ooze that somehow maintained a semi-solid form.
Sticking out of it, and clutching to anything within reach—car antennas, side view mirrors, and bumpers—was the elastic skin of Jonothon's former best friend, Angelo Epinosa.
An—Skin! Let 'im go, yer blighter!
"And just how are you going to get me to let him loose, boy? Can't blast me off him—you'll hit him harder then you can hit me."
The skin whipped and whirled, trying find purchase and pull free—and Jonothon sprinted forward to add his strength. Yeh, yer arse-lickin' monster, but if yer attack me, yer'll lose yer grip on 'im. So pick yer target!
The skin trembled in his grip and then began to fall slack. Jonothon looked at the gray strands in horror—and the blob merely gave a terrible smile, lips staying in that rictus grin as it spoke, "Oh, you want him back, now? Here, then."
And then it gathered in on itself, mass shifting and rolling to bring Angelo's now-limp form into it's 'hands', and then threw the unconscious form of Jonothon's former best friend straight at him.
He did his best to catch him—and slammed into a nearby car. His skull smacked hard against the the fender, and he saw light more brilliant then that of his chamber explode before his eyes.
Then, he joined Angelo in a state of unconsciousness, mindless that the ooze was sloshing inexorably closer.
* * * * * * * * *
SHRRRRRIIIIIIIP!
Monet paused only for a moment—time was of the essence, and if Paige wasn't going to come back around to help—then she'd have to be left in the relative safety of the park. "Paige?"
"Wha' hi' me?"
"The dash. Twice. You didn't buckle your seatbelt." Monet helped the hayseed situp, and looked her over. "You defaulted to your uniform. Are you able to fight? Both Angelo—" she paused a moment, looking toward the fray, "And Jonothon have been removed from the conflict. We need you."
Paige moaned softly and then struggled to her feet. "Ah got a throbbin' headache, but Ah can function." She took another breath, and then moved over to Monet, as she got a look over at scene. The massive bulk of the man she recognized as 'Slab' from the Xavier Files that they'd studied in class was the first—and at this point, most dangerous—threat she saw.
But she knew how she could at least deter his assault. "Ah—I need a aerial assault. Want to give me a lift?"
Monet nodded, sliding her arms around Paige's waist as she took the sky. She could see Gayle, Everett and Jubilee below. Gayle was wrestling with the darkhaired, club wielding mercenary, while Ev engaged both the pink-haired 'screamer' and Slab simultaenously. The furred mutant that Monet had felled earlier was still unconsicous against the hood of a station wagon.
Paige's eyes swept over the chaos on the 'battleground' they'd made out of the intersection. But then she saw the purple mass slurping toward the unconscious pair of Angelo and Jono as Monet zipped around, circling high over Slab's head. "Change course! We'll get them outta the way first, and then we'll get the big bruiser!" she cried, pointing toward her fallen comrades.
Monet sighed softly, but did as she was told. "I hope you have a plan in mind."
"Bet I do! Just hope I can pull it off!" As the pair swooped lower, Monet could hear the tearing of Paige's skin—and then something began to drip against her skin—after beginning to eat little holes in her skirt!
"Husk, what have you turned into?!"
And the answer was pouring forth from where Paige has husked away her arm, using it as a sort of make-shift hose. Acid was splattering against the ooze who let up a agonized scream. "Drop me! Get Chamber and Skin out of there!" Monet did as she wished, grabbling up the two teens before the acid that was sloshing around the ooze began to eat into their skin as well.
Again, she flew toward the park, looking for safety and respite—and discovered Angelo was not breathing. Without hestiation, Jonothon was forgotten, laid out and Monet had to carefully use her super strength to get Angelo to forcibly disgorge the liquid from his lungs with CPR.
After all, Paige would never forgive her if Angelo died—and Monet would never forgive herself.
* * * * * * * *
The magenta-haired woman dodged Jubilee's paffs like she knew where they were aimed before they ever left her fingertips. She was horribly nimble, this spry woman, and was frustrating even Jubilee's agile attacks with ease. If she wasn't charging up shuriken and throwing them, she was dancing around Jubilee's blasts and getting in quick, physical strikes.
She was playing with her. Her! Jubilation Lee! Partner to Wolverine, former X-Man! She was being toyed with by some bimbo with magenta hair!
"Haven't you gotten it?" she laughed lightly, "You're not going to beat us!"
"Oh, c'mon! You're Sinister's sloppy seconds! You're a reject team for a reject scientist!" Paffs flew with insults, but Jubilee still couldn't hit her. It was like she had some preternatural sense of where the plasma was going to be in the next instant.
"That's going to change. You see, the rosters' growing, little girl. I'm just the beginning—the shape of things to come."
"You're gonna be the shape of street pizza if I get ya!"
"Big words. Put your money where your mouth is, Jubilee!" And then more shurikens flew and Jubilee had to dodge behind another car. She paused, caught breath—and then the black-clad woman was practically atop her.
Jubilee screamed—and cut loose.
* * * * * * * *
Gayle was dimly aware, as the heavy wooden club smacked her shoulder, that she needed to listen more closely to Callisto in class. The dark-haired, club-wielding psychopath had battered her badly, but she'd been able to keep out of his reach—just barely.
But no matter that she was losing this particular battle, she was enjoying herself. Part of her sung with the thrill of the duck and dodge, and figuring out. Now, if she could only get him in close, find purchase on him and sup! Then, this fight would move on!
"What is it, doll?" He sneered as he took another swing. "Ya don't seem t' wanna get too," SMASH went a car window, "close! I bathed this week!"
She tumbled backwards, dodging and then darting to the side, "Sorry, luv, got a man!" Gayle growled as she rolled across the hood of one of the vehicles and toward the open space of the intersection—where things hadn't turned into a twenty-car pile up.
But then the club was suddenly thumping against the back of her knees, and they gave way beneath her. Gayle hit the concrete with a cry—and then felt him reach down to haul her up. "Say g'night, sweet heart!"
The Brit's lips split in a bloody grin as her hands found purchase on him. "G'night, sweetheart." And then he gasped as her tiny maws tore through flesh and muscle, tongues drilling deep to find bone—to get at the mutant marrow she craved.
He stagged and cried out—and then toppled as she drained him. Cheeks flushed from the sudden flood of energy and strength—her wounds healed, her health was restored, and she was ready for round two.
She dropped his unconscious form, and then took up his club. It obeyed her whims, lengthening and shrinking as she took a moment to get the hang of his powers, and then it sprouted cruel thorns at her bidding.
She grinned before she took off running to rejoin the fray, eyes unnaturally bright.
It was time for some payback.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Being between the massive mutant and the loud, badly dressed pink-haired one was less then pleasing for Everett. But at least Monet had come for backup after dropping off Paige.
Desperately trying to multi-task with multiple powers—he was trying to maintain the pink-haired leader's sound powers so he didn't go deaf everytime he amplified the sounds of screams and approaching sirens, Monet's invulnerability and telepathy, and trying to fight at the same time.
To say the least, he was really pushing his limits.
I could use a hand here M! He sent to his teammate as he blasted back, re-amplifying the sound that the pink-haired man—Ruckus, he thought his name was—and re-directing it back at the big guy.
I'm a bit busy making sure Angelo doesn't suffocate on another mutant's… mass. You'll have to fend for yourself till I stabalize his condition! Monet returned irritably.
Everett dodged one of the car-crushing blows of the big mutant and then amplified the sound of the blow back at him. Would these people ever give up?
Unexpectedly, an explosion knocked them all off their feet. A car flipped over onto its side—and onto the unconscious furry mutant with a sickening CRUNCH! Jubilee's paffs expanded in a rapid bubble of light, blinding everyone who was foolish enough. A body clad all in black flew back from the blast—and landed on the turf some distance away in the Boston Commons.
"Shit," swore Ruckus, rubbing his eyes to try and get the colors burnt into his retinas to fade. "Well, there went her initiation!" He turned a grinned at Everett, and said, "Sorry to whup your asses and run, but we could really give a shit less about you. Just had to see if the new gal had what it took be a nasty boy." He laughed a moment as he moved over to his giant companion's side. "Give me a bird's eye view, Slab!!"
Slab lifted him up and hefted him above the scene—he could see Ramrod laid out and bleeding, an auburn haired girl running over with his club in hand, and the purple puddle that was George slurping up onto a car and howling in pain, his mass easily halved after Husk's acid attack. Hairbag lay crushed beneath a Volkswagen Beetle, his broken legs poking out from beneath it's mass, and the new girl was screwed, no matter how you looked at.
He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small pad. "Good thing we don't need get to get out of here," he muttered to Slab, who turned his head to look up at him. "What about her? We just gonna leave her here?'
"Yup. For each their own. The boss may pay the bills—but no one but me tells me who's gonna be the next Nasty Boy," Ruckus sneered, and then waved to the gathering of Generation Xers. "Thanks for the work out. See you around!"
And then a field of white enveloped them—or their bodies—and they were gone.
Ev stood and stared blankly at the empty space, and then looked over at the crater Jubilee had formed around herself with the form of her blast—and where she slumped, unconscious.
Paige staggered around the van, leaning heavily on the hood. She was pratically ashen—the effort of that acid husk had drained her severely. But never the less, she managed to breath out one sentence.
"Does this mean we won?"
He shrugged tiredly, and then jogged over to Jubilee's side. "If we won, boy did we get hashed in the process," he said as he leaned over and rolled her onto her back. She was apparently just unconscious and seemed unharmed.
"Jubilee?"
Jubilee regained consciousness in Everett's embrace, and then saw Paige and Gayle come up behind him. Gayle wasn't even flushed from her run, and she looked better then she had in a long time.
"What happened?" Jubilee mumbled as she struggled to sit up.
"You blew your stack, apparently," Ev said as he sat her up slowly, "and whoever they were 'initiating'." Ev looked over to the commons, and then helped her up. Gayle and Paige stepped back, and then watched Monet soar over to check on their fallen opponent, leaving Angelo and Jono laying in the shade of a tree.
"C'mon," her said, helping her to her feet. "Lets go see what happened to Chamber and Skin." She nodded, and all four headed after back to the Commons.
* * * * * * *
Monet landed between where she'd lain Angelo and Jono, and the magenta haired girl they that had impacted the grass. She had spent the remainder of the fight with Angelo and Jono—Angelo's breath was ragged, but apparently, she's been able to help him expell all of that viscious purple ooze that had once been a part of Gorgeous George. He was no longer in any danger of suffocation.
She glanced over as Ev, Jubilee, and the others began to make their way over, and offered calmly, "We must decide on a further course of action. The van is inoperable. Are we going to try and get home on our own? Jonothon and Angelo are both in no condition to move on their own…"
Paige and Gayle moved immediately over to their respective beau's sides, and Monet simply sighed. "That was not an answer to my question. They are both fine—though I had to perform CPR on Angelo to get him breathing once I'd gotten him to disgorge the… mass of that mutant from his lungs." Her eyes briefly turned to Gayle, and then said, "Jono merely suffered a blow to the skull. He should come around shortly, knowing his odd resistance to physical injury."
Paige cradled Angelo's head in her lap, and then glanced over—and started. "She's moving!"
All eyes turned to the black-clad woman who had fallen among them, and Ev began to cautiously approach. Gayle also rose from Jono's side, and crept closer.
The woman sat up, moaning in pain as she moves with agonizing slowness. "Little bitch packs a punch," she mumbled under her breath—and reached up, pulling away the mask that had ruined in the fight. She tore it off with a yelp—part of the material had burned and melted against her skin.
Monet was the first to get a look at her face. "Mon dieu! Clarice?"
The quartet froze. Monet, Ev, and Jubilee all registered shock, while Gayle was simply lost. Finally, Paige looked up from her worrisome position by Ange, and gasped softly. "Clarice?"
The woman tried to struggle to her feet, and only managed to et to her knees before swaying and falling forward to her hands. None approached. "In the flesh… no matter how burned it may be." Indeed it was her—her lavender skin, the white eyes, the odd marks across her brow and cheeks and the diamond in the center of her brow.
Paige struggled to her feet, her eyes wide—horrified. "But we… we saw ya… die. Emma felt ya go!"
"Careful, Paige, your country's showing," the girl retorted, and then her eyes blared white. "But that was one of my 'sisters'. I'm Clarice version… oh, hell, I don't know." She chuckles softly at their horrified expressions, and waved a had negligently. "Don't worry. You haven't seen the last of me. I'll come… visit."
"She's teleporting!" Gayle exclaimed as she felt the girl charge the air with her mutant energies.
A black portal appeared beneath Clarice's feet, and she fell through without another word. A moment later, it closed over as if it'd never been there at all. She was gone. Here and then gone, just that quick.
For a time, there was silence… and then Paige's sob of denial spurred them all to movement. Monet said descisively, "We're getting out of here. Paige can you husk into a flight worthy form?"
The farmgirl nodded quietly. "Ah think Ah can…"
Monet nodded. "Then you will husk into a flight worthy form and carry Angelo. Everett will synch to me and carry Jubilee and Gayle. And I will carry Jonothon. But we're not waiting any longer."
They nodded mutely, and Paige wiped her eyes. She had to be strong. She had to get Angelo home. She gripped the skin of her neck and gritted her teeth—and ripped her flesh away to reveal who could have easily been Warren Worthington's little sister. She flexed her newly husked wings experimentally, and then beat them a few times, getting easily off the ground. They'd easily carry her and Angelo aloft.
She picked up Angelo gently, and then looked at the others. Monet was already headed aloft with Jono, and Ev followed after, Jubilee and Gayle in his arms. And then there was the beat of wings and she hit the sky behind the others. It was only a couple of hours and then they'd be home… and she'd be able to have a good cry over the betrayal she felt. Clarice! Alive! And working with Sinister's mercenaries, the Nasty Boys? What could be worse?
She just hoped nothing else could go wrong after this.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
She came too much as she had the first time. The liquid drained away, and this time she forced the fluid from her lungs with a practiced cough.
"Much better."
Sinister's icy hands plucked the girl called Clarice Ferguson once more the tube. "You were very badly injured," he stated without emotion. "But I have improved your reflexes to help compensate for your headstrong behavior."
"I will do better next time."
"There will be no next time, Clarice."
She blinked in confusion at her master and creator. "What do you mean, 'no next time'? What are you going to do with me?"
"I have another possible use for you. You were not meant to go with the graceless Nasty Boys. However, you did have to at least have a 'blooding' in the field. You have. Now, I can put you to better use now that you have an idea of what it can be like." Sinister laid her across the table, and went through the familiar ritual of wiping away the sticky regen-fluids.
Clarice said nothing till he was finished, and then asked meekly, "So what do you have planned, sir?"
"Have you ever heard of the Children's Crusade, Clarice?"
"No."
His black lips curled up in a cruel smile and he extended to her a black jumper for hre to wear, before moving away. "Once you dressed, meet me in the living chambers. I will have a story to tell you… and outline our plans."
With a whisper of the ribbons of his cloak, he moved away, leaving her to cloth herself and wonder just what he had planned for her… and the children.