10/27/2013 EDIT: Hi everybody, it's bluelizard91. I'm in the middle of writer's block (again), so I'm giving myself a little break and editing the chapters I've already posted for style and better flow of reading. I'll do my best to update my stories soon, but with writer's block and the Internet going on the fritz for a week it'll take some time...Thank you all for being patient, and thanks to all the people reviewed (and all the people who didn't) for taking the time to read my story!

Disclaimer: I still don't own the X-Men, sadly...

Chapter 1

A low hiss, like steam from a pipe, escaped the clenched teeth of the otherwise silent figure crouched in the dark bushes, betraying his nervousness.

"What is it, Kurt?" Another, female figure whispered from the darkness close by. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Someone is coming," came the terse reply from the one named Kurt, his sharp ears picking up the sound of a car's engine and the radio tuned to the music station. "It might be them."

"Yes." The voice of the woman was cold and hard, but tinged with excitement. Kurt could feel the sneer in her voice. His tail lashed furiously, echoing the woman's sentiments and swishing against the shrubbery behind him.

"Hush!" The woman suddenly admonished for silence. Kurt stilled his movements and saw her hunch down in the bushes, away from the dim moonlight. He looked towards the narrow road cutting through the gloom of the forest, in time to see the first flood of yellow headlights illuminate the asphalt from around a bend. He too dropped to all fours in the shadows and waited. A smile played across his features, small and grim in anticipation.

The yellow of a vehicle's headlights came closer, and the vehicle rounded the bend; a pickup truck, unassuming and normal in every way to the casual observer. Within the truck were two men.

"Ugh...Mitchell, turn that music down," growled the burly man driving the truck. He gave an annoyed sideways glare from beneath his black plaid racer cap.

"Oh come on, O'Hara, it's just some music." The smaller man in the passenger seat replied casually, giving an annoyed look at the driver in return.

"That may be, but we been listen' ta that racket for an hour now." O' Hara stated flatly.

"No we ain't," retorted the man called Mitchell.

"Yeah we have," O'Hara insisted.

"Ain't."

"Have."

"Ain't."

"We have too!" shouted the driver, now losing all patience. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he reached over to the radio and forcibly turned off the blaring country music.

"Now what'd ya do that for?" The smaller man shouted indignantly, leaning forward in his seat. He quickly turned the radio on again.

"Mitchell! You turn that junk down, now!" O'Hara ordered in a yell. When Mitchell refused, he again attempted to cut off the wailing music, but this time both his hands left the wheel. It was only for a moment, but that was all it took.

"O'Hara! Watch it!" Mitchell yelled in warning as the truck swerved. O'Hara grabbed the wheel and spun back to the road, instinctively jamming his foot down on the brake. The truck skidded to a halt in the middle of the lonely road, jolting the two men in their seats. The truck sat there, idling. O'Hara quickly put the gear into park before turning on his partner.

"Why'd you yell like that?! Ya darn near scared the bejeesus outta me!" O'Hara yelled at the top of his voice, now royally ticked off.

"Sorry O'Hara. Just thought…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." O'Hara grumbled under his breath.

Mitchell's eyes nervously scanned the road ahead. "I…I thought I saw an animal, like a dog, in the road…"

O'Hara ignored him. "Sounded like a tire mighta popped," he grunted in annoyance, digging around for a flashlight and opening the truck door. He heaved his large frame out of the vehicle and took a moment to turn on his light, before leaning over to check the tires of the truck.

"You gonna help me?" He half snarled at Mitchell.

"Whatever." Mitchell replied reluctantly.

O'Hara began grumbling again at the other man's laziness, but he was suddenly interrupted.

"Uh…O'Hara, we have company..." Mitchell pointed out nervously, as he too clambered from the cab of the truck. O'Hara straightened up from his task, puzzled at the other man's words, and followed his associate's gaze into the pool of yellow light thrown by the headlights. Standing confidently in the road was a red haired woman dressed in black - and with blue skin - holding a pistol in her hand, which was pointed directly at the trembling Mitchell's head.

"Tch, tch, tch," she tutted with a smirk. "Smells like someone's been drinking." Her voice had a low pitch and would have been almost elegant, if it wasn't so sneering and cold.

The two men were caught off guard for a moment. Mitchell raised his hands slowly, to show he had no weapon, and tried to be reasonable.

"Listen lady, we don't want no trouble…" He began uncertainly.

"Oh, but I do," the woman pointed out as she smiled almost sweetly. "You have something I want."

Mitchell sputtered, trying to think of a reply and failing. O'Hara slowly moved his free hand to grip the butt of the pistol hidden beneath his jacket. In the black night beyond there was a faint whooshing sort of noise, and the smell of brimstone wafted to his nostrils on the breeze. He thought there might have been an odd yellowish flash somewhere in the brush as well, but he wasn't sure...He felt himself sweating as he gripped the gun, desperately calculating the odds. Only a mutant could have blue skin like this lady, and there was no telling what she could do or how strong she was…Maybe they were lucky and she was alone...

"Kurt!" the woman shouted suddenly, her eyes impatiently darting to focus on something in the darkness, her gun still steady.

"It's not here!" came the frustrated voice of a young man in reply, somewhere behind the truck.

Some much for the woman being alone. O'Hara acted, his nerves getting the better of him. Whipping out his pistol he fired desperately at the woman, once, twice. Both shots missed. With an ease that could only be acquired by long experience, the blue woman dropped into a crouch below the whistling bullets and rolled swiftly into the shadows, all in one fluid movement. Pumping with adrenaline O'Hara whirled around to where the other voice had been, his gun and flashlight at the ready. Only the sight of the road and shrubbery greeted him. Mitchell stood rooted in place, still trying to pull himself together enough to help deal with the situation.

O'Hara swore angrily and raced to the back of the truck to see if they'd been robbed. He had only a moment to detect a slight scrabbling noise underneath the truck, before something swept his legs right out from beneath him. He landed flat on his face, his gun and flashlight knocked from his hands and sliding out of reach. He struggled only for an instant, reaching blindly for his gun, before a heavy something landed on his back and struck at his neck. Everything went completely dark.

"O'Hara?!" Mitchell shouted in a panic, erratically turning this way and that as he looked for his partner. He gave a choked cry of shock when the blue woman appeared before him, seemingly from nowhere, and pinched his neck. He dropped to the ground, ungracefully and unconsciousness.

"Kurt!" the woman shouted again, leaving Mitchell where he was and striding quickly to the area behind the truck. A shadowy figure with glowing yellow eyes stepped away from O'Hara's unconscious body and grabbed the woman's hand. With another soft 'whoosh', they were gone in a nanosecond's flash of light. All that was left was the truck, still idling in the road, and a lingering puff of smoke scented with brimstone.