Superhero Landing

by Darkpenn

Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Angel Dust have more in common than they might have thought. This collection consolidates the four stores about them (so far).

Superhero Landing

Chapter 1: Best of Frenemies

Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Angel Dust have fought each other. Now they will fight together.

[Author's note: This story collection begins a while after the end of the movie Deadpool. It consolidates the four stories Best of Frenemies, Strangest of Heroes, When In Doubt Blow Something Up and What You Need To Be.]

Ellie Phimister sighed. She was bored, which was not uncommon. But this time it was real, not just the usual teenage affectation. The X-Men mansion was currently being re-built, after its most recent blowing-up, and her trainer Colossus was on a mission to which she had pointedly not been invited. At least he had said she could take some time off. So now, late at night, she was wandering through one of the less salubrious parts of the city. Many other young women might have been worried about being there, but then very few could create nuclear explosions on demand.

She came to a bar/nightclub/sleazejoint. She recognised the name; she had heard that it was tolerant of mutants. So she went in. It was not the sort of place that checked IDs, which was helpful. Since she didn't have any. Never had.

She got herself a glass of something and wandered to the noisy section in the rear, where there was a cagefight going on. A dark-haired, heavyset woman and a guy who was much bigger and apparently doped up on a drug that made him drool. She found a place where she could see the action and sipped her drink.

The man was laying into the woman, punch after punch, but the woman was still on her feet, not even bruised. Every now and then she blocked a blow or punched back, in a rather desultory way. Aside from that, she merely walked around, as if she was going through the motions.

Hmm, thought Ellie. She looks ... sort of familiar.

Aha.

"Hey!" shouted Ellie. "Angel Dust! Hi!"

The woman looked around, trying to pick the voice out of the crowd. When she did, she walked over to Ellie.

"Oh," she said, through the bars. "It's ... uh, I never heard your name, that time."

The guy threw a punch at her. Angel Dust caught his fist, twisted, and tossed him to the other side of the cage.

"Negasonic Teenage Warhead," said Ellie.

"You're kidding."

The guy came charging back. Angel Dust kicked out, catching him in the gut. Then she picked him up, lifted him over her head, and threw him again. She turned back to Ellie.

Ellie shrugged. "Meh," she said.

"You planning to have another drink?" said Angel Dust. "Mind if I join you?"

Ellie shrugged again. But, she thought, that might be alright. Better than hanging by herself, waiting for some douchebag to hit on her.

"Just a second," said Angel Dust. She gestured for the guy to come at her again, which he did, shrieking. She whacked into him, a volley of punches and kicks. When she thought she had done enough to entertain the crowd, she grabbed him and swung him around. There was a klong! as he smashed into the bars of the cage, face-first. He sagged down, to cheers and boos.

Someone unlocked the door of the cage and Angel Dust came out and joined Ellie. Angel Dust lifted a drink from a passing tray and they went to a booth. It was occupied by a half-dozen guys but they left when Angel Dust suggested that they might prefer to sit somewhere else.

"I have the feeling," said Ellie, "that I'm supposed to be fighting you. Since you're, you know, an evil fuck. From what I've heard."

"Evil? Not really. Bad, yes. Maybe very bad, depending on the circumstances. So do we have to dance? Again."

Ellie considered. "I'm thinking no dancing. It's not that I don't care. It's ... actually, it is that I don't care."

"Huh. Negasonic Teenage Warhead, eh? Sounds like a song by some bad-hair metal band."

"Ellie, then."

"Christina."

They shook hands, a bit stiffly. Since in their previous meeting they had almost killed each other.

"You do the cage thing often?" said Ellie.

"Girl's gotta eat."

"But you didn't look too interested in that fight."

Christina shrugged. Then she said, "Well, yeah. Turns out that the owner of this place owes me ... something. He was also the owner – one of them, anyway – of the ... facility ... where I used to work. So I think he owes me some back pay. Quite a lot."

"The Factory? Where you tortured people to activate their mutant genes?"

Christina nodded. "And where I went through all that too. Some of us weren't born with powers, you know. Some of us had to earn them. Even if we didn't want to."

"Oh, boo-hoo."

The two of them stared at each other. Then Christina gave a sharp, snorting laugh. She raised her glass. "So here's to unwanted superpowers and crap lives," she said.

"Damn right," said Ellie. They drained their glasses and Christina gestured to a waitress for two more.

"So how do you get to meet the owner guy?" said Ellie.

"Any second now."

Two big guys, wearing suits, came up to them. "You were supposed to take a dive," said one of them to Christina. "Boss lost some money because of that."

"He tripped and fell over," said Christina. "I'll explain it to your boss in person."

"Yeah," said the guy. "You will."

Christina finished her drink and stood up. Then she picked up Ellie's glass and drained it. Ellie sighed and stood up too.

"You're coming?" said Christina to her.

"Got nothing better to do."

One of the guys looked at her. "And what are you supposed to be?" he said. "A junior dyke bimbo? Do you mind if I call you that?"

"No. Do you mind if I melt your face?"

"Aren't you supposed to be one of the good guys?" said Christina to Ellie.

"I'm on a break."

"Huh. Well, let's go."

The four of them went into the back of the bar/nightclub/sleazejoint and up several flights of stairs. Eventually, the two guys took Ellie and Christina into a large, well-appointed office. There was a weedy-looking guy sitting behind a desk.

There was a man and a woman standing behind him. Mutants, thought Ellie. She glanced at Christina, who was obviously thinking the same.

The two guys who had brought them in took up positions at the back of the office.

The weedy man gestured for Christina and Ellie to sit down in plush chairs facing the desk, which they did.

"My name is Shole," he said.

"I'm guessing your first name starts with A and your middle name starts with S," said Ellie.

Christina laughed again, that harsh, bitter laugh.

"Very funny," said Shole. "But I have heard it before." He looked at Christina. "You have cost me some money tonight. You were supposed to both lose that fight, and make it look good. You did neither."

"Speaking of money, you owe me some. But I'll let it slide if you give me something else. Information. Which I believe you have."

"Why should I give you anything?"

Christina gave a little smile. "You know why they call me Angel Dust, right?"

Shole grimaced, and pushed a button on his desk. Immediately, heavy metal cuffs shot out of the arms of the chairs and wrapped around Christina's and Ellie's wrists.

"Really?" said Christina. She started to flex her muscles.

"Let me," said Ellie.

"That's alright, I can do it."

"So can I."

"Well, somebody do something!" snapped Shole.

Christina smashed her restraints at the same moment as a blast of heat dissolved Ellie's cuffs.

The woman behind Shole raised her arms, and her fingers turned into dagger-tipped tentacles, zooming towards them. Christina lifted the remains of her chair to use as a shield. The tentacles smashed into it and stuck there. Christina grabbed the tentacles and pulled, jerking the woman off her feet.

Ellie put two waves of energy out, one towards the goons at the rear of the room and one towards Shole. But the other bodyguard jumped in front of Shole. He projected some sort of forcefield, knocking the wave back.

"Nothing can pierce that shield," said Shole. "Don't waste your time trying."

Ellie shrugged again. She knelt and punched at the floor, sending a tremor of energy across the room. The floor collapsed, and the bodyguard, Shole, his desk and a variety of furniture went tumbling through the hole. Down to ... wherever it went.

Christina still had a grip on the woman's tentacles, and was flinging her around the room, bouncing her off walls. She finally let her fall. "Had enough yet?" she said.

"Pretty much," groaned the woman.

Ellie turned to the two goons, who were still picking themselves up. "I was going to melt the face of one of you," she said, "but I can't remember which."

They each pointed at the other.

"Have to do both, then," said Ellie.

"Huh," said Christina. She looked at the two men. "I understand that there is a hidden safe in this room. Show me, and I'll do what I can to restrain my friend."

"I'm your friend?" said Ellie. "We're friends, now?"

"Sure, why not. Even if we're not supposed to be."

"Hmm. Okay then."

"It's behind a fake panel in the corner!" said one of the guys.

"Uh, what?" said Christina. "Oh, the safe, right."

Stepping around the gaping hole, the guys showed how the panel slid aside to reveal a heavy safe with a combination lock.

"But we don't know how to open it," said the other one. "Only Shole knows. Knew."

"That's alright, I have a key," said Ellie. She put her hand on the safe and generated a burst of energy. The hinges and the lock disintegrated. Christina ripped what remained away. They peered in.

There was money – quite a lot of it. And, at the back, a book – a ledger, with a battered black cover. Christina took it out and looked at it, not opening it.

"So what is it?" said Ellie.

"Records. Of the early days of the mutant Factory. Before I worked there. I was one of the first ones taken. Considered to be an experiment. Me, and my younger brother. After we were in a car accident." She opened the book. Ellie saw that her hands were shaking slightly.

There was a long list of names. And details of what had been done to them. Where they had gone later. She touched her own surname: Polvere. And the name of her brother.

"You know," said Ellie, "the X-Men try to find and rescue mutants in trouble. This book might be useful for that."

"But it would also be useful to me."

"Hey," said the tentacle-woman. "There's a photocopier in the next room."

Christina and Ellie looked at each other. They both nodded. Christina pointed to one of the goons. "You. Make a copy of this. Every page. Do a good job and you get to keep your skin. Make it snappy." She pointed to the other one. "You. Find a bag large enough to take all of this money. Make it two bags."

They scampered off to their tasks. In a few minutes, Christina was stuffing cash into one of the bags. The guy came back with the ledger and the copy. She put the original into her bag. Ellie put the copy into the other bag, a backpack, and lifted it onto her shoulder.

"Don't forget your share of the money," said Christina, holding out several large wads of currency. "Or is that against the X-Men code?"

"I'm sure it is." Then she took the money and put it into the bag. "Technically, I'm not an X-Man. But even if I was ... "

"Girl's gotta eat."

"Something like that."

They went down to the bar/nightclub/sleazejoint and then onto the street. They walked along together for a little while. At a random corner, they stopped.

"Thanks for the help," said Christina.

"Thanks, too," said Ellie.

"For what?"

"For ... treating me like an adult, I guess."

Christina shrugged her muscular shoulders. "Maybe we'll cross paths again," she said. "Hope so. Since we're friends."

"Yeah, maybe."

Christina turned and walked away. Ellie watched her go.

"See you," she said softly.

END

Strangest of Heroes

Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Angel Dust are walking different paths, but they might lead to the same destination.

[Author's note: This story takes place a few days after the events of the story Best of Frenemies, which in turn takes places a while after the movie Deadpool.]

Ellie – Negasonic Teenage Warhead – took a deep breath. Then a blast of energy shot out of her. The target dummy disintegrated.

"That is ... alright," said Colossus. "But the task is about control. You were supposed to hit only the weapon person was holding."

"You don't always want complete destruction," said Anna – Rogue. "Sometimes you want precision."

"I could do it a few days ago, and that was for real," Ellie muttered.

"What was special about that time, young one?" said Colossus.

For starters, no-one was calling me young one, thought Ellie.

"Anyway, maybe that is enough for today," said Anna.

So Ellie returned to her room. It was remarkably bare: a sleeping bag in one corner and a cardboard box in another, a few other things scattered around. She sat on the floor and, after a while, took a book made from stapled, photocopied pages from the backpack. She began to read, shuddering when she read certain passages. She found another section at the end of the book, a list of clients and buyers. One name kept coming up: the Warlord. Right from the start, he had been a major purchaser of mutants from the Factory. Probably, thought Ellie, the evil-fuck equivalent of a wholesaler. There was an address.

Anna knocked on the door and came in. She looked around for a chair, didn't find one, and then sat down next to Ellie. After a while, she said, "You know, we could get you some furniture. Goes with the regular mansion re-build."

"This is how I lived for a long time," said Ellie. "Before here."

There was a long silence between them. That was alright with Ellie. Long silences were kind of her thing.

Then Anna said, "You're distracted. I'm thinking it has something to do with what you're reading. What is it?"

"Stuff of nightmares," said Ellie. "This is a copy of a record about the mutant Factory that created Deadpool, as well as a lot of others that weren't so lucky. The early days."

"You want to tell me how you got it?"

"No."

"Or who you got it from?"

"No."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"No idea. I thought it would help track down some mutants who might be in trouble. Now I am not so sure. I've heard of a few of them. Bad guys. Or working for bad guys, at least. Might not be the same thing, I know. They were fitted with control collars. Sometimes, that took away all or part of their memories. Under the circumstances, that was almost a mercy."

There was another long silence. Anna said, "Are you happy here, Ellie?"

"Happier than I have been anywhere else."

"That is not really an answer. The question I am really asking is, do you think you want to be an X-Man?"

Ellie shrugged. "Not sure. It's nice to be with ... unusual ... people. But ... I'm not sure that I'm the right sort of person. I've been thinking about it ever since the thing with Deadpool."

Anna nodded.

"There's something I don't understand," said Ellie. "How is it that you guys always know what to do? Know what the right thing is, I mean. It seems to be very clear to you. Like Colossus with his five key moments. I don't think I've understood that part of the training. I've been to the Professor's classes and everything. But ... I'm not sure I get it."

"Yeah, that's hard. In the end, I don't think it can be taught. Not really. It's something you have to find for yourself. Ellie, do you know what a Rumspringa is?"

"Course not."

"It's a term the Amish people use. It means, sort of, going out into the world. It's the final part of a person's education. When they come back, they decide whether they want to commit to the community or not. Some do, some don't. Maybe it's time for your Rumspringa. I think that this book might be part of that."

There was another long silence as they both turned over their thoughts. Then Ellie said, "Yeah, okay."

"Do you, uh, need money?"

Ellie opened the backpack and showed the contents to Anna.

"Whoa," said Anna. "I don't want to know where you got it."

"No. You don't."

It was the next day. Ellie and Colossus were at the bus stop not far from the Xavier mansion. "You have been good trainee, young one," said Colossus. "What more you must learn, I cannot teach."

"And you have been a good ... whatever you are."

The bus arrived and the door opened. Ellie hefted her pack and started to get on.

Colossus held out something. It was a protein bar. "For trip," he said. She smiled, as much as she ever did, and took it.

"And give the big lady best regards," said Colossus.

Part II

Christina – Angel Dust – was standing outside the building which, she believed, was the headquarters of the Warlord. Eight stories, and dedicated entirely to the Warlord's operations. It was not the only building of his organisation but appeared to be the main one. She had never met the Warlord; when she worked at the Factory all the sales were handled by Francis.

She often felt lost without Francis. He had been the one who told her what to do, and when, and how. She had supplied the muscle. Even the plan to get to Shole had been suggested by Francis.

Not that he had cared about it, one way or another. Or about anything. When she had mentioned that she needed to find her brother he had simply stared at her, feeling nothing.

At first, she had thought that he could not enjoy anything. But gradually she had come to realise that he enjoyed inflicting pain on the people – wracked by disease or, like she and her brother, broken by injury – who had come into the Factory. Perhaps that was why the consortium who had owned it had plucked him out of the production line and put him in charge. She did not know why he had picked her to be his assistant. She assumed that he simply needed someone to do the heavy lifting. It was quite clear that he was not capable of feeling desire. A little grudging respect for her abilities, perhaps, but that was all.

So she had worked at the Factory, doing what she did. It was better than being a collared slave, and it even paid well. And if she had not agreed to go to the Factory in the first place – and agreed on the condition that her brother, who had been rendered near-comatose in the accident, would be included in the deal – she would certainly have died from the injuries.

She took something from the pocket of her jacket. A photograph. It was cracked and faded. It was all she had. She put it back, and looked at the building again.

Her first instinct had been, once she had got the address from the book, to go in punching. But there were clearly many people in the building, most of them armed. She did not know what weapons they might have but the fact that the Warlord was familiar with mutants meant that there was probably specialist hardware. She might be tough but she was not bullet-proof. So a frontal assault might not be the best way.

She had seen a helicopter come and go from a pad of the roof. She began to walk around the block, looking upwards. The next building was about the same height. The gap between them was too far for a normal person to leap.

But she was not a normal person.

The Warlord was seated at his ornate desk, studying the accounts of his organisation. The black-tech trade and people trafficking divisions of the business were doing well but the collapse of the Factory, and the end of the stream of mutants, had punched a very large hole in what he called the 'special weapons' side. Clients were starting to complain about the lack of new supplies. He had begun to form a plan to start another Factory. Under his control. Cut out middle men like Ajax, prick that he had been.

He picked up an invoice and stared at it. It was from the company that manufactured and supplied the collars that turned the mutants into slaves. Of course, it wasn't as easy as simply strapping one on. Their minds had to already be pretty much shattered; the Factory had been good for that. If their memories had been suppressed it was easier, although the process was not always successful or permanent. And a collar lasted, at the most, five or six months. So you had to keep replacing them. Eventually, their minds turned to mush anyway.

He glanced at the mutant, his bodyguard/assassin, standing in the corner. A huge figure, with jagged scars running across his face. At the end of his right arm was a massive bone hook. That was why the Warlord had called him Talon. He had served well – the Warlord could not remember how many of his enemies had been torn apart by that claw – but was probably nearing the end of his useful life. So in the few months he would probably be sold to one of the mandingo corporations, and the Warlord would buy a new mutant bodyguard. A pretty young woman, perhaps, one who could also ... perform other duties.

He looked again at the invoice. He was sick of paying for something he should rightfully own. He had recently made a takeover bid for the company – New Age Control Systems – but it had been rejected. The bid had only been money. Maybe it was time to make the owner another offer, one that could not be refused. That would fit with the Factory plan. Vertical integration, cover all the bases. Monopolise the mutant business. Because that's what they were. Business. Assets. Products.

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of an alarm. A security breach. He turned to the bank of monitors on one wall of his office as the head of his security unit came running in. "The roof," said the man. "A sensor was tripped. Someone jumped from the building next door."

The Warlord looked at the monitor covering the roof. It showed a large woman making short work of the uniformed guards there. "A strong one, by the look of things," he said. "Get a squad up there, heavy gear. Take no action until I get there, I want to see this one go down."

By the time he and Talon reached the roof the woman had dispatched several more of his men, although now she was surrounded. When she saw him, she threw down the two guys she had been punching.

"May I know the name of the lady who has been turning my men into pulp?" he said to her.

"They call me Angel Dust," she said. "And I'm no lady. I want to know what happened to one of the mutants you bought. A few years back. Or I'll keep taking your little army apart."

"Ah, but there have been so many, so many, my dear. Perhaps I should tell you that I don't respond well to threats. In fact, I have had a lot of practice in dealing with people like you." He gave a gesture, and his men drew tasers. Not ordinary tasers; these packed enough charge to bring down an elephant. The first man fired, and the barbs whacked into her. The charge made her shout with pain – but she was able to pull the wires out.

And she pulled the second one out – just. But not the third, or the fourth, or the fifth. She sagged to her knees, paralysing current running through her. "Painful, eh?" said the Warlord.

"Had worse," she said through gritted teeth.

"Huh," said the Warlord. "Well, if you've been through the Factory, that might be true." He gave another gesture. Talon stepped forward, and raised his massive claw, ready to strike.

She looked up at him. "Pietro," she whispered.

And then he hit her.

She came awake slowly, every muscle aching. She was lying on a table, unable to move from the neck down. She tried to lift herself. Nothing.

"Stasis field," said the Warlord, standing next to the table. "You might be able to break chains or ropes, but not this. The harder you push the more it pushes back."

She could see that she was in some sort of lab, and the field around her gave a faint shimmer. There was a technician in a white coat standing nearby.

"I think you might be worth something," said the Warlord. "One of my business partners runs a, well, I suppose the old-fashioned word is brothel. Specialising in mutants. I suppose there are men who would find you attractive, in a way. Not me, I should say, I prefer the young ones. Nevertheless, I think you'll fetch a decent price. Once you've got a collar on. Of course, that entails breaking your mind. That won't be too hard. Like this."

The technician pushed a button, and a massive jolt of electricity ran through Christina. She would have screamed, had she been able.

"One of those every few minutes should do it, in a day or so," said the Warlord. "Well, I'll be seeing you. Not that you'll know, of course."

He turned and walked away. The technician pushed the button again.

Part III

Ellie was sitting in a cafe, studying the building. She had decided what she needed to do, and this was a place to start.

But what next? The man she wanted, the Warlord, was sure to be protected, and he was certain to be smart. What had Colossus said? Under-estimating your enemy is the path to failure. Use all your assets, young one.

She thought about her powers. Yes, she could generate energy fields about herself, and even project them for a short distance. The problem was that it took her several seconds to build up her energy, and for those seconds she was vulnerable. And she was still trying to find a way to control her powers, to focus them and define them. It was difficult, especially in high-stress situations.

Not really the sort of powers that she needed to get in there and locate the information she wanted. She ran her hand over her cropped hair. Then she stopped. Hmm, she thought. Use all your assets.

One of the guards at the front desk nudged the other one. He nodded towards the young woman coming through the main doors. Long blond hair, a tight shirt cut to the cleavage, a skirt so short it was almost a belt, and thigh-high, stiletto-heeled boots. And a shiny blue ribbon around her neck.

"Whoa, momma," said the guard softly.

She came up to the desk. "I have a package," she said. "To Mister The Warlord."

"And what's the package?" said one of the guards.

"Me," she said, with a vixen smile. She pointed to the ribbon. There was a tag: To my best client. From Ajax.

The guard pushed a button on the console. "Sir," he said. "There is a ... a package here for you. A young woman. From Ajax."

A camera lens turned towards her.

The voice of the Warlord came through a speaker: "I thought Ajax was dead."

"Which is what he wanted everyone to think," said the woman. "Now he's back. And he has sent me to make amends for ... the inconvenience."

She leaned forward on the desk, showing her quality-over-quantity cleavage to the camera.

There was a long pause. "How old are you, my dear?" said the Warlord.

"Old enough," she said. "But just barely."

A few more seconds passed. Then the door of a private elevator hissed open.

"You can go up," said the guard.

In the elevator, she checked the outfit. It would have been useful, she thought, if someone at the mansion had shown me how to walk in high heels. And to wear a wig. But no, it was all destroy this or don't destroy that.

The door opened and she stepped into the Warlord's office. He was standing in front of his desk, with a bodyguard, a mutant with a scarred face and a clawed hand, behind him, leaning against the wall. A half-dozen human guards were in the office as well, with weapons.

She walked up to the Warlord. She pulled the ribbon off and handed it to him.

"And just what can you do, girl?" he said.

She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. He smiled. "Certainly a better offer than the one made by our other visitor today," he said.

"Other?"

The Warlord pointed at one of the monitors. It showed Christina, trapped on a table, convulsing as much as she could within a stasis field. Ellie stifled a gasp.

She forced a smile, and nodded towards the guards. "I don't think we need an audience," she said. "Unless you want it that way, of course."

He gestured for the guards to leave, which they did. But the big mutant stayed.

Suddenly, he pulled her into his arms, and kissed her savagely on the lips. His breath tasted of something harsh, sour and Russian. He let her go, and then put his hand on her head to push her to her knees. "Let's see if you can do what you say, young one," he snarled.

Another man who calls me young one, thought Ellie. She fought down her disgust, but she could feel the energy beginning to build, unbidden.

The Warlord was still pushing her down, winding his fingers into the blond hair.

And then the wig came off.

Ellie jumped back. The Warlord looked at the wig in his hand. Then he looked at her.

"Yep," she said. "You're screwed."

Her eyes began to glow.

The Warlord moved, lunging for a button on his desk. "Talon, kill her!" he shouted.

She unleashed a burst of kinetic energy, pushing the desk across the room, into Talon, ramming him into the wall. The Warlord was thrown the other way, sliding across the floor.

She had an idea. She touched her ear, as if to activate a transmitter hidden there. "All units advance!" she shouted. "Squad A, the main entrance, Squad B, the back!"

She saw the Warlord start in surprise. "An X-Man," he said.

"That's X-Woman to you, moron," she said.

But the alarm had been sounded, and guards were beginning to pour into the room. One of them fired a taser at her; she generated a shield that stopped the barbs dead. She extended it, pushing the men back. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Warlord and Talon disappear through a side door.

More of the guards were firing at her now, tasers and other weapons, and she was struggling to keep her shield in place. She was in danger of being overwhelmed. She suddenly realised, almost absurdly, that much of the bimbo clothing from Makeovers'r'Us had been burned away by her energy bursts. She was down to her underwear.

She glanced again at the monitor, at the image of Christina. On the bottom of the screen was the location. Fourth floor.

"Goddamn," she muttered. "I guess now I have to save you. Since we're friends."

The door of the elevator was still open. She dived for it, rolling to avoid the taser shots. The doors closed behind her, and she pushed the button 4.

The lab technician had heard the alarm, and was wondering what she should do. Then the door exploded, and a young woman wearing scorched lingerie walked in.

"First, give me the coat," said the woman. "Second, get out."

The tech handed over the coat and then ran for the exit.

Another alarm started. Over a speaker, a voice said, "This facility has been compromised. All personnel evacuate to Beta site."

Ellie pulled the coat on and looked at the control panel of the table. She couldn't make head or tail of it ... so she put her hand on it and blew it to hell. The stasis field evaporated.

She helped Christina sit up. "Good ... good to see you again," rasped Christina.

"I suppose I should ask if you are alright," said Ellie. "But that would be a stupid."

"Yeah, stupid and then some. Do you know where the Warlord and his bodyguard are?"

"No, but I'm guessing they're leaving. No idea how."

"Helicopter, probably. We should get up to the roof, maybe we can catch them. Wait, let me make sure that I still have – " She checked the pockets of her jacket. She gave a sigh of relief as she pulled the photograph out.

Ellie looked at it. It was of two young people, ordinary, smiling, almost laughing, as if they had had too much to drink. They looked as if having too much to drink was not unusual for them.

"Who is it?" said Ellie.

"Me, and my brother Pietro," said Christina as she massaged sensation back into her legs. "I'd thought he was dead until one of the people who had worked for Francis said something. But Deadpool turned that guy into kebab before he could tell me more."

"But ... you look so different," said Ellie.

"This photo was taken before the accident, before the Factory, before everything. The Factory ... the process ... it changed me. Made me ... like this. It changed him too, I guess. He was shipped out before I ... was finished. When I saw him today, he didn't recognise me. His memory must have been suppressed by the damn collar."

"The bodyguard? Talon, I think he was called."

Christina nodded. "We have to get to the helipad."

They ran up the stairs, Ellie assisting Christina as well as she could. The door leading to the roof was locked but Christina tore it off its hinges. She was regaining her strength fast.

The helicopter was already a hundred metres away.

"Can you bring it down?" said Christina.

"Too far."

"But you can try!"

Ellie stared at her. "Too far, I said. My powers don't work like that. I'm not some sort of cannon."

They watched the helicopter disappear. Then they returned to what was left of the Warlord's office. The building had become strangely empty. Ellie began to sort through the documents scattered about.

"What are you looking for?"Christina said.

"This," said Ellie, holding up a piece of paper. It was the invoice from New Age Systems Control. "The place that makes the collars. The things that turn mutants into slaves."

"You want to take them down?"

"Nothing better to do. But there's no address on this."

Christina thought about it.

"Maybe I owe you one," she said.

END

When In Doubt, Blow Something Up

On the path to end a terrible evil, Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Angel Dust encounter powerful foes.

[Author's note: This story takes place a short time after the story Strangest of Heroes, which in turn follows Best of Frenemies.]

"Tell me something," said Ellie. "Why are we in a strip club?"

"I like strip clubs," said Christina.

"Oh," said Ellie. "Does that mean you're into girls?"

"You can like strip clubs without being into girls."

Ellie thought about it. "Not really," she said.

"This is where I saw Deadpool's girlfriend that time. Pretty piece, that one."

A waitress in all-reveal underwear delivered their drinks. Large doses of whiskey. Christina downed hers in a gulp.

"You haven't asked me if I was under-age for this place," said Ellie.

"Why would I do that?"

"Well, you know ... because I am."

"Huh. Well, fuck that. You fit right in."

Not sure if that's good or bad, thought Ellie. She said, "Still don't know why we're here."

"You said you wanted to locate the source of the control collars. There's someone working here who might know. He'll be in soon. You gonna drink that?"

"Eventually."

Christina picked up Ellie's drink and downed it. "Too late."

"Why are you helping me do this?" said Ellie. "Are you seeking some sort of redemption?"

"Redemption? For what?"

"For doing all that stuff in the Factory."

"I don't need redemption. Everyone who went through there would have died otherwise. Including me. That was the deal."

"But they didn't volunteer thinking they would end up as slaves."

"Isn't that better than being dead?"

Ellie considered it. She didn't have an answer. She wondered what the Professor would say.

For a moment, the thudding music stopped.

"Shift change," said Christina. "And our cue. Let's go."

She led Ellie across the club to the glass booth where the DJ was. The door was locked, until Christina opened it. They went in.

The DJ turned to them. "Angel Dust!" he said. "Haven't seen you since ... that thing. Destroyed much lately?"

"Not enough."

Ellie was staring at the guy. "Fuck, you are ... really old. Really, really old. I didn't think people could be as old as you and not be incredibly dead. You could be my grandfather's grandfather. If I had a grandfather. But at least it explains why the music here is such crap."

The DJ turned the music in the booth down to a low murmur, although it continued to pound away in the club. He studied Ellie. "Young whippersnapper," he said.

"Yeah yeah, I'll stay off your lawn."

"Well, this banter is fun but we need some information," said Christina. She explained to the DJ what they wanted.

"You don't want to know about that place," said the DJ. "You really don't. People who go there don't come back. Including some who went there on the same mission you're talking about."

"All the more reason," said Ellie.

"The word around is that the Warlord is trying to take over that end of the business," said the DJ.

"Not really a surprise," said Christina. She picked up a pen that was lying on the console. "Now, you can tell my friend what she wants to know or I can insert this where the sun doesn't shine. You know that I can do that. Damn, you know that I'd like to do it."

The DJ smiled again but this time it was rather forced. Then he gave Ellie the location she wanted.

"That wasn't so hard, was it," said Christina. She put the pen into the DJ's breast pocket. "There, nice and inserted," she said, giving it a little pat.

The two of them left the club, Christina swiping another whiskey from a table on the way.

"You like the booze," said Ellie, as they were standing outside.

"Yeah, since it helped to bring me to my current sorry situation you'd think I would have learned. But learning things is not what I do. This is where we part company, Ellie. You've got the address, although why you want to do it I don't understand. I plan to keep looking for my brother, see if there's a way to bring him back. I've got things to say to him."

Ellie nodded. "Good luck with that."

"You too."

Ellie turned and walked away. Christina watched her go. Then she looked at the club. I wonder ... she thought.

She went back inside.

Part II

Ellie was standing on the edge of the roof. This was the warehouse where, according to the DJ, the control collars were made. New Age Control Systems.

She looked out over the night-lit city. Her long coat moved behind her in the wind.

Goddamn, I'm in a superhero pose, she thought suddenly. Like Batman. Damn damn damn. Quickly, she changed position.

She checked around. There was a skylight, and she peeped through it. Yeah, this was the place alright: a long table with four people working on the collars. A production line. There was a series of computers, and cabinets for documents. The operation was being overseen by a middle-aged blond woman in a lab coat.

So this is where purgatory was manufactured.

Ellie considered. She realised that she did not know what she should do. Should she call the X-Men? The police? Was what was going on here actually a crime?

She knew that she needed to see more, to understand how extensive this facility was. She saw a small maintenance hatch nearby, leading to a metal gangway inside.

She took off her coat. She had taken the precaution of putting her blast-proof X-Man outfit on – no sense in burning another set of clothes, if the need arose. She opened the hatch and wriggled through, easing herself into the building and onto the gangway. Carefully, she crept along.

She gave a gasp when she saw them: stacks of boxes of completed collars, on a series of shelves. Ready for shipping. Dozens. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. And every one represented a mutant slave. She could feel her anger start to rise. She fought it down.

"Hello up there!" called a voice. "We have been waiting for you!"

Ellie looked down. It was the blond woman. She was looking up at her – and there were two men with machine guns next to her.

The men with the guns fired. Bullets bounced around Ellie, throwing sparks off the metal. But she knew they had not been trying to hit her. Just telling her that they could.

"Why don't you come down and join us?" called the woman. "That ladder there. Don't try to be clever, and you might live a bit longer."

Not much choice. So Ellie climbed down. When she was on the ground the woman and her guards came over to her. And there was another woman as well. A mutant, with crimson-tinged skin and an expression that spoke of a nasty attitude. A heavy leather coat. No control collar. The technicians who had been working on the production line had left.

The blond woman looked at her. "I've heard of you. I like to keep up with the mutant community. Negasonic Teenage Warhead. A friend of mine – well, someone who occasionally takes money from me – told me you might drop in. Tell me, is there something I can call you that is not such a mouthful?"

"That's my name," said Ellie, "If you don't like it, fuck you."

"Really. Well, I am Doctor Moreau." She looked at the insignia on the shoulder of Ellie's uniform. "X-Man, eh? But I think that you are not here in an official capacity. Nevertheless, I need you to tell me all about them. I expect that one day I will have to deal with them, and I would like to be prepared. Powers, weaknesses, tactics, everything."

"Is there some part of 'fuck you' that needs translation?" said Ellie. But she saw that the two men had moved into position, one on each side of her, their guns only a few inches from her temples. They each put a hand under her arm, pinning her.

"Oh, you young people, so expressive," said Moreau. "But nevertheless, you will tell me. Red will see to that." She gestured for the mutant to step forward.

Red put her hand on Ellie's head. There was a pulse of dark energy.

Ellie screamed – of at least tried to. Her body had become a rigid as stone, but it felt as if every nerve was on fire. If she was not being held up by the two men she would have collapsed.

Red took her hand away.

"Quite a power, isn't it?" said Moreau. "And here's the funny thing. It only works on mutants. Which goes to show, I think, that you people are your own worst enemy."

Ellie could feel the paralysis wearing off. And then Red touched her again. She struggled to remain conscious.

"Feel free to pass out," said Moreau. "You'll recover, and then we'll start again. We've plenty of time. After a while, you will give in, and give me chapter and verse on the others. You might end up with some bling of your own." She gestured at the stacks of collars. "That's really the bigger story, isn't it. Eventually, most of you mutants will have one. And I'm working on technology that will be able to identify mutants when they are born. They can receive a collar right then. That's how it will be. And then you will serve us. Forever."

Ellie had recovered enough to speak. She stared at Red. "So you're alright with that?" she said.

Red smiled. "Better an employee on the winning side than a loser slave," she said. "Which is what you will be, pretty. Maybe I'll make you mine." She hit her again.

Moreau was staring at Ellie. "You know, you are much stronger than I would have thought," she said.

Ellie wondered if she had the will left. She decided she did. She spat in Moreau's face.

Moreau started. She saw Ellie give a grim smile.

Moreau wiped the spittle away and gestured to Red again. "Make the next one extra strong," she said.

Suddenly, from above them was a crash. Glass rained down. And Christina came plummeting in, through the skylight. She hit the floor so hard the whole place trembled. Superhero landing.

She stood up and brushed shards of glass from her hair. She glanced at Ellie. "I guess this means," she said, "that you can't trust anyone in the music business."

"Red, get her!" shouted Moreau.

"Don't let her touch you!" gasped Ellie. One of the men hit her in the stomach with the butt of his gun. Ellie grunted in pain.

"You two, watch her," said Moreau to the guards. "If she so much as glows, put a bullet in her. A lot of bullets."

Red was running forward but Christina, warned, upended a desk to stop her. But Red pushed it aside and kept coming, reaching out.

Christina picked up a wooden pole and swung it. It smashed into Red, sending her down. But she was up again in a moment. Christina swung again, and this time Red caught the pole. There was a flash of crimson energy along it. Christina flung the pole aside just before it reached her.

"Why don't you try punching me?" snarled Red. "Of course, to do that you have to touch me. Which you can't."

"I guessing you don't get asked on dates much, then," said Christina. She picked up one of the computers and threw it. It whacked into Red, driving her back.

Ellie was aware of the two guns pointing at her. Some of her sensation had returned but the men were still keeping her pinned. She closed her eyes, as if exhausted.

Concentrate, she told herself. Focus. She gathered what energy she had. She pushed it into her hands. Her fingers. The tips.

Now.

Twin bolts of energy shot from her, slamming into the guns and knocking them from the men's hands. Stunned, the two men released their grip on her. Then they realised that that was a mistake.

Ellie lashed out, a punch and a kick. Good thing Colossus made me practice the hand-to-hand, she thought. He always told me it would come in useful.

She kept hitting, the movement helping to drive away the remains of the paralysis and build her energy. One of the men went down to a looping kick to the head. She turned to face the other. Her eyes flickered with nuclear heat.

He turned and ran.

Christina was still battling Red. The fight had carried them across the warehouse, into the storage area. Suddenly, Christina held up a hand. "Wait, time out!" she said. Red stopped.

"You seem to be not a bad person," said Christina to her. "Well, not very bad, I mean. Perhaps you've just fallen in with the wrong crowd. So if you walk away right now, I'm willing to put this whole incident down as a draw."

Red gave a snorting laugh. "Or what?" she snarled.

"This," said Christina. She reached up and pulled the shelf of control collars down onto Red. She went down. But she was not finished yet.

Christina grabbed her. No, thought Ellie. Not her. The coat.

Christina ripped the heavy leather coat from Red before she could fully recover. She tore it into two, wrapping a piece around each hand.

"You should have called it even," said Christina.

Wham.

Then another punch. And another. Red staggered backwards. There was another series of hammering blows. She tottered, almost unconscious. Christina, her hands still protected, picked her up and swung her. And sent her flying through a window. There was a shattering of glass and a scream as she disappeared into the darkness.

Ellie walked over to Christina, who was calmly unwrapping the leather from her hands.

"Where did you send her?" said Ellie, nodding at the shattered window.

"Beats me."

They looked around. "Stand back," said Ellie. Christina did.

Negasonic Teenage Warhead unleashed a massive blast of energy. The collars, the tools, the computers, the cabinets of papers, everything went up. There was no trace of the technology left.

Ellie turned to Moreau. She put one hand on her throat. The other was aflame with energy. She pulled it back, ready to strike. "You don't deserve to live," she said. Her eyes were on fire.

A moment, she suddenly thought. This is a moment.

Am I cold-blooded killer or not?

She let the energy subside.

"You have nothing left now," she said to Moreau. "It's not for me to punish you. But if you ever so much as think about this technology again, I'll burn you to ashes."

Then she turned and walked away.

Moreau rubbed the bruises on her neck. "What a weakling," she muttered.

"Don't think so," said Christina. "But she is one of the good guys. And they have rules. Your problem, though, is that I am not one of the good guys. I say, screw the rules."

She put a hand on each side of the Doctor's head and twisted. There was a brutal snap. She slumped to the floor, dead.

She joined Ellie outside the warehouse.

"I think it's fair to say that she won't be going back into the slave trade any time soon," said Christina, as they began to walk along the street. "And, by the way, the DJ says he's sorry."

"Like I've always said, you can't trust anyone over nineteen. Do I need to thank you for the dramatic rescue?"

"Nah. But maybe you can tell me something."

"What?"

"The big metal guy. Has he ever mentioned me?"

Ellie smiled. "He told me," she said, "to give you his best regards."

END

What You Need To Be

For Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Angel Dust, this is where the road leads.

[Author's note: This story immediately follows the story When In Doubt, Blow Something Up, which in turn follows Strangest of Heroes. It concludes the collection featuring Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Angel Dust.]

"You keep one knee bent for the impact and the other leg at the back for balance," said Christina. "If you can project some of your kinetic energy under you there should be no trouble."

"Tell the truth, I think it's a bit showy," said Ellie. "Too Iron Man."

"Yeah, there is that." She took another large swig of whiskey. She had almost finished the bottle. "You want to try it?" She gestured at the ground, five stories below the ledge where they were sitting. It was the roof of the not-very-expensive hotel where Ellie had rented a room.

"Uh, maybe not right now." She took a sip from her own bottle. She had only had a few mouthfuls but her head was already starting to spin. She didn't think it was from the height, or from the fight at what had once been New Age Control Systems, although she still felt bruised and battered from it.

"Suit yourself." Christina drained her bottle and tossed it over the edge. Ellie thought that it took a long time to hit the ground.

Christina took Ellie's bottle from her, took a swig, and handed it back. They were watching the sun come up.

"Are we up here," said Ellie, "so you can get me drunk and nail me? 'Cos I might be alright with that. Maybe."

Christina considered. "I hadn't thought about it ... until you mentioned it. But ... no, I don't think so."

"You saving yourself for Colossus?"

Christina laughed. "A girl's allowed to have some fantasies," she said. "Maybe I'll give him a call sometime. After ... the Warlord."

"I've got the number." Ellie put her head on Christina's muscular shoulder and closed her eyes.

She awoke with her head throbbing. She realised she was in her bed in her hotel room, still wearing her X-Man uniform but with her boots off. There were sheets and blankets over her.

She sat up – it made her head hurt even more – and looked around. It looked as if Christina had slept on the couch, after carrying her to bed. There was the sound of the shower running. It stopped, and a few moments later Christina emerged, naked and drying her hair.

Ellie's jaw dropped. She had not realised that Christina was so ... big.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't know you were awake," said Christina. "I should have put on a robe. Or something."

"Yeah, maybe."

Christina found a robe and put it on. She pointed to the table, where there was coffee and bagels. "I got breakfast for us," she said. "Even though it's one o'clock in the afternoon."

Ellie struggled into the shower, and let the hot water clear her head. She wrapped a towel around herself, thinking that everything about her body seemed really small now. She sighed, and joined Christina at the table. She wondered if Christina's capacity to absorb huge amounts of liquor stemmed from her mutant toughness or her Italian-background genes. Bit of both, probably.

"You got any ideas about how to find the Warlord?" said Christina. "He won't be going back to his main building. He's got a reputation for being careful. And with that helicopter he can jump around from site to site."

Ellie considered. "Yeah, he's got a chopper," she mused. "Maybe ... let me think ... yeah, maybe." She retrieved her phone and searched for a number, and then called it. "Is that the Civil Aircraft Authority? You handle helicopters, right? I have client for my photography business, he wants me to take some shots of his helicopter, but I've lost the address. It's a big helicopter, maybe a converted military one. The number on the side is DM602. Can you tell me where it is now? ... Okay, got it, thanks."

She turned to Christina. "There's a small private airport on the edge of the city," she said. "The chopper is on its way there now, scheduled to land in about an hour. Good thing I took a note of the number on it." She called up a map of the area, showing the airport, on her phone.

Christina raised her eyebrows. "Fuck, that's impressive," she said. "You're ... really smart. Even with a hangover."

"My first one."

"Really? Well, damn, girl, you're the goods, alright. Feel like a trip to the airport?"

"Yeah, but maybe we should get dressed first."

Part II

They were in the back of a cab. The Indian driver was looking at Ellie in the mirror.

"I know you!" he suddenly said. "Friend of Mister Pool! I am Dopinder. You remember, I had my cousin in the trunk. He was crushed terribly. Very unfortunate. For him."

"Oh, you, yeah, I remember now," said Ellie.

"Where is your metal friend?"

"Er, he's ... at home."

"You know, I heard that where I dropped you off last time, you and the metal guy and Mister Pool, that there was a big accident. An aircraft carrier fell over. Did you see that?"

"She caused it," put in Christina.

"Oh," said Dopinder. "Very peculiar."

"You kind of had to be there," said Ellie.

"Since you are a friend of Mister Pool," said Dopinder, "you should have something that he left here." He passed a sub-machine gun over the seat.

The two women looked at each other. "Who are we to refuse?" said Christina. She took it, and tucked it into her belt.

They pulled up at the entrance of the airport. Ellie handed Dopinder a large bill. "Are you going to be creating some chaos now?" he said.

"Most likely. You should probably get out of here."

They watched him drive away. "That was ... odd," said Christina.

"Welcome to my life," said Ellie.

They set off for the helipad at a run. They took cover behind a building and peeped around.

The helicopter had just landed. The Warlord and a posse of his men disembarked and started heading for a line of SUVs, four of them. There were three motorbikes as well, probably to act as an escort. All the men around the Warlord were armed with machine guns.

And there was Talon.

The Warlord and Talon were in the second vehicle of the four. The convoy set off, two motorbikes at the front and one at the back.

"Damn, we're going to miss them," muttered Christina.

"They haven't made it yet." They ran for another building, which fronted onto the road. The last bike in the convoy was coming up. "Take him," Ellie said.

Christina leaped out and punched into the guy on the bike. He went flying one way, and the bike went the other. But as the guy fell, his gun fired. Christina picked him up and punched him again, knocking him out.

The last SUV in the convoy had stopped, alerted by the shots. It turned and began to come back – fast. It was coming straight at them, intending to mow them down.

Ellie started to walk towards the vehicle – and then run. The energy shield began to form around her, a blur of heat and force.

She smashed into the car, and it disintegrated. Bits and pieces, and men, went flying.

Ellie dusted herself off.

"Holy shit!" said Christina. "I knew you could do that, but still ... fuck!"

"One down," said Ellie. "Let's get after the others."

"But how? That car's not going anywhere, ever."

"On this," said Ellie, lifting the motorbike. She got on, and started it up.

"You know how to ride one of these things?"

"Benefits of a mis-spent youth. Get on the back."

Christina managed to squeeze on behind Ellie. And they were off.

"I suppose I should tell you," said Christina, as she put her arms around Ellie, "that I've never been on a motorbike before."

"Great," muttered Ellie. "Lean when I lean. And hang on." She punched the speed.

In a few minutes, they saw the three vehicles of the convoy, just as they moved onto the freeway that led into the city. The last SUV in the line began to slow. Ellie was coming up behind them.

Suddenly, each of the rear doors, and the roof panel, flew open. From each, a man with a machine gun leaned out and fired.

But there was nothing there. Ellie had pulled into the adjoining lane, behind a truck. Now she swung back in – alongside the SUV. Christina grabbed hold of one of the gunners, and yanked him out. The SUV swerved wildly.

Christina pulled the sub-machine gun from her belt. She sprayed the SUV with bullets, and then shot at the tires. They blew out, and the vehicle swerved again, and slowed. It started to fall back. Christina threw the empty gun aside.

Ellie held up two fingers.

The other motorbikes had turned and were coming at them. The riders lifted their guns.

"These are mine," said Ellie.

The distance was closing fast. Fifty yards. Thirty.

Ellie was aware that there were other cars on the freeway. Keep it focused, she told herself.

The blast swept along the road, picking up the bikes and throwing them aside. Ellie zoomed through the wreckage.

Up ahead, the two SUVs had pulled to a stop. Men had got out of them and were firing into the air, clearing the stretch of road of civilian traffic. Cars began to turn back, coming the other way.

Ellie pulled to the side and stopped to let the traffic pass. The two women looked at the pair of SUVs. The men had lined up to form a gauntlet.

"They've got enough firepower to turn us into chopped meat if we go straight in," said Ellie. "You know, that piece of freeway looks ... familiar." She glanced at an overhead sign. She had a sudden recollection of a body falling from it, and then Deadpool trying to convince Colossus that he had had nothing to do with it.

Christina was looking around. "I know I'm not great on the tactics, but I have an idea. Do you remember what we were talking about when we were on the roof?"

"About you getting me drunk and nailing me?"

"No, the other thing."

Ellie thought about it. "Oh, that. Right."

The Warlord was standing at the back of his phalanx of men. Talon was at his side. One of his men was looking down the freeway.

"They've gone," he said. "Where did they go?"

"Maybe they've given up," said another man.

"No," said the Warlord. "They haven't."

There was a sound – from above them. The motorbike came roaring off the overpass forty feet up. The two women jumped off while it was in the air.

The bike smashed into one of the SUVs, bounced off, and went skidding into the group of men.

Christina hit the asphalt with a massive thump; Ellie came down next to her, on a cushion of energy, more lightly, her leather coat flowing around her. "Well, that wasn't so hard," she said.

But Christina was already charging, smashing into the Warlord's thugs. She threw them left and right, fighting her way towards the Warlord and Talon.

Ellie let go a burst of energy that pushed the wreck of the SUV into a group of men, scattering them.

Suddenly, Christina and Ellie were facing the Warlord. He stared at them.

"Just what," he said, "do you have against me? As if it isn't enough that you wreck my base of operations and destroy the company that I planned to take over. Now you're making it personal. When I'm nothing but a businessman trying to make some money."

"If you have to ask, I probably can't tell you," said Ellie. "But you're an evil fuck, and as far as I concerned that's enough."

"It isn't you I want," said Christina. She pointed at Talon. "It's him. Take that collar off and let him come with us and we'll let you live."

"Maybe," added Ellie. She saw that some of the men were getting up, collecting their guns.

The Warlord smiled. "In that case, you will have him. Talon, kill this woman!"

Talon came striding forward, and punched into Christina. "No," she said. "Pietro, don't – "

But he smashed into her again, sending her flying.

The men raised their guns and aimed at her. "Uh-uh," said Ellie to them. She let them see that her hands were glowing with balls of heat. "Let's keep this a one-on-one. You guys put the guns down and I, well, I won't turn you to cinders."

They put their guns down.

Talon was still punching into Christina, blows like hammers. He swung the bone claw at her but she blocked it. She kicked, and drove him back a few steps. But then he came charging forward again. He lifted her up by the throat, off her feet, throttling her. She clawed and struck at him. She managed to get her foot between them and pushed herself away. He whacked into her again and she went rolling across the asphalt, losing skin. She lay there, panting, bleeding.

The Warlord walked over, and looked down at her. "Looks like you lose, bitch," he said.

She gave a grim smile. Then she opened her hand to show him what was in it.

Talon's control collar.

"Don't think so," she said.

The Warlord heard a sound behind him. And then the bone claw came sweeping down. His head left his body. It rolled, rolled, and stopped. The face wore an expression of astonishment.

One of the thugs picked up a gun and fired at Christina. But Talon – Pietro – lifted her and put her behind him, protecting her. Bullets slammed into him.

And then one of the other bodyguards knocked the gunman down. "You moron, you'll kill us all!" he shouted. "Haven't you seen what the young one can do!?"

Young one, thought Ellie. But this time she smiled.

"It's over," said Ellie to the men. "Start running. Or ... "

They ran. Fast. In a few moments, they were gone.

Ellie walked over to Christina. She was kneeling, with Pietro's head in her lap. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she was saying. "That night ... you told me I'd had too much to drink. But I didn't listen to you. I ... I'm so sorry – " Tears began to roll down her face.

Pietro reached up and brushed them away. "Sei perdonato," he said softly.

Forgiven, thought Ellie.

"Hey, he's not dead yet," she said. "One of these cars is still working, I think. There's a hospital nearby."

Christina lifted him into her arms. "Let's go," she said.

Coda

It was three days later. Ellie, Christina and Pietro were sitting in a cafe near Ellie's hotel.

"Glad to see that you're doing alright, Pietro," said Ellie.

"It will take more than bullets to finish me," he said.

"What are you going to do now, the two of you?" said Ellie.

Christina considered. "Pietro and I need some time together, somewhere quiet. Time to talk. Think. Recover. From everything."

Ellie handed her a card. There was a telephone number written on it. "For when you're ready," she said. "And I'll give him your regards."

Christina took it, and tucked it into her cleavage. "What about you?"

"I think ... I think I am ready to go back to the Xavier mansion."

"And become an X-Man?"

"Let's say that I've learned a few things I had to learn for myself. Like how to not be a pretentious brat the whole time. But as for being an X-Man, well, we'll see."

"As far as I'm concerned, you're already a hero."

Ellie smiled. She got up and started for the door. She was almost there when Christina called out to her. She came striding across the room. She swept Ellie into her arms and kissed her – and Ellie kissed back. It was a hard, passionate kiss. "You know," Christina said softly, "maybe I should have nailed you that time."

"Or maybe," said Ellie, "I should have nailed you."

They parted. "See you," said Christina.

"See you," said Ellie.

END

Note to readers: Darkpenn recently published a novel about a female superhero (sort of). Anyone who is interested can find it on Amazon. Title is I, Viridian: Supervillain. E-copy and hard copy. Author name is Derek Parker. Book blurb is:

This is the story of Viridian: supervillain, fan of Shakespeare, owner of many sexy shoes, carefree and irresponsible at the competitive level, bearer of a mystical gem that gives her incredible powers.

Raised by thieves to be a thief, she was never really a child, or never grew up, she doesn't know which. When she washes up on the shores of Oklahoma City, pursued by shadowy forces and an unknown enemy, she links up with an oddball gang of would-be supercriminals: mastermind Monk, samurai Tantō, strongman Cave, and the remarkable Flux.

And through them she discovers what it is she is looking for: a reason to fight, a reason to stay, a reason to care, and, most of all, a reason to love.