Disclaimer: All original X-Men characters are owned solely by Marvel. Any
use of them in this story is for free entertainment alone. All other
characters besides those, including but not limited to Selene (Moon
Sphinx), are mine and cannot be written into any other stories without my
permission.
Author's Note: This story uses a mix between the comic and movie versions, but I'll try to make the blending of the two as smooth as possible for those who have only seen the movie. The only differences may be seen in other char's histories and some personalities. I'll try and keep the movie physical looks the same. tenshikoneko03 's character Layla (Returning to a World Once Forgotten) has been added as well, and should co-exist along her general plot lines.
Chapter 1
The heart of a city never truly sleeps. The night lamps flickered every once and a while, and sleazy jams drifted out of opening and closing doors of bars and strip joints.
The streets were dead though; save for the one soul. The strong whir of a powerful engine was the only music to be heard. It was a sleek machine, this bike, a custom piece of art. Its body was black enough to reflect and refract every light like some obsidian mirror. The occupant held her body close. All black. All leather. A single white braid entwined with blue flailing behind like a flag. For loners such as her, the solitude of the streets was a haven of comfort.
She stopped at one of those sordid bars, the kind where rough bikers and alcoholics spilled out into the streets, a bottle of beer in hand, watching their motorcycles like jealous husbands. Now they had something new to watch. She swung her obviously well shaped leg over the other side, and the guys whistled in appreciation.
Her tall form was clad in a full, well shined leather bodysuit with a large silver zipper down the front. The zipper itself rested between her full breasts giving a rather good view. The racy costume was complete with a wide leather belt and silver plated buckle of Celtic engravings. Knee-high laced boots fitted over the legs of her outfit. She removed her helmet, tucking it under her arm, and fitted a slim pair of reflected sunglasses over her eyes before any color was determined. She walked inside.
Males drunk never seem to notice much. These males only saw a well-built sex object in black leather, ripe for taking. They didn't notice that her skin was nearly as white as her hair, or visa versa. Nor did they take much notice in the blue streaks that decorated that knee length coil. Did they not see the odd symbols tattooed on her face, or even that her ears were a bit odd shaped; pointed like a real-life daoine sidhe?
No. They were drunk, and they were the Razor Crosses; a criminal gang with a reputation of theft, murder, and rape. No one could mistake them. They all wore leather vests with a crucifix made of razors drenched in blood emblazoned on the back. Now there was a new piece of ass in their bar.
She settled herself on a ripped cushion barstool, murmuring for a beer, and removing a bill from a hidden pocket. She paid no notice to the brutish crowd that settled around her, leering.
One moved in, his hot filthy breath in her face. She frowned and took a swig of her bottle. "Hey, beautiful." he whispered in a sorry attempt at seduction. "Haven't seen you around here before."
She smirked. "I try to avoid dumps like this unless I'm in serious need."
He shrugged off the insult. He already knew it was a dump, but the barkeep here let them do as they please.so long as the mess was cleaned afterwards. "You sure are in serious need, honey. What you probably want is some action, huh?" He and the rest of the group laughed lustily. He licked his lips and made for a grab, but suddenly grunted in shock when his stool was kicked out from beneath him. Enraged eyes stared back at themselves in the reflective glasses inches from his porky face.
"Trash like you makes me sick." She whispered, though loud enough for them all to hear. She tossed another bill on the bar as a tip, and sauntered out the bar door. The fallen leader hissed, snapped his chubby fingers and pointed his comrades to the door. They all grinned in expectancy as they ran out after the female that dared to taunt the Razor Crosses. The barkeep turned his back and made a silent prayer for the poor girl.
She had gotten as far as a block, or so, when she heard the heated pace behind her. Cursing she jumped into an alleyway and hurried down it. She heard their excited shouts and growled in frustration. They had seen her. She ran faster.not enough time.her gift would take to long to hide her. She came to a dead end.
"Damn it!"
She turned swiftly, looking each way or the other for any possible exit route. There were none. And now she was trapped.
The beefy headman laughed low in his throat. "You should have said yes, baby. We would have been nice then. Now you just gonna have to take it the way we want it.long and hard." He waved his men in. "Time for a little gang bang, fellas."
One of the men grabbed her left arm and twisted it behind her back. He made the mistake of resting his ugly mug on the wrong shoulder. She sent her fist into his face causing him to reel back.
"Bitch! You'll pay for every insult!" He cried out, helping himself off the ground. No one would lift him to his feet. She chuckled. They rushed her blindly, enraged like stupid bovine beasts. They had no real mind for fighting save strength in numbers. She crouched and swiped three from their feet with a single kick. Another man brought out a switchblade, but displayed no skill. He merely swung it back and forth between them, perhaps hoping to get a successful hit. She dove for his knees and tackled him to the ground.
"Enough!" She cried and sprang off through a break in the crowd for the main streets. Her nimble feet lightly beat at the ground as she raced down this way, or that. It was during this moment she remembered she forgot her bike and helmet.or rather her acquired bike and helmet. No matter.
She was coming up onto a block mostly covered by a massive cathedral. The doors would be heavily locked, no doubt, and she could not see, or hear, any of her pursuers behind her. She stepped up to the barred threshold and laid a hand on the smoothly carved wood.
Now is as good a time as any.
She took a steady breath, and concentrated.
A few of the gang were not so far behind. They weren't all fat or unfit. This small number saw the strangest sight. Their would-be victim was escaping into the locked cathedral.through the very wood of the doors, like she was slowly melding into its substance.
The first looker grabbed another by the front of his shirt and shoved him off in the other direction. "Go tell the boss we gotta mutie on our hands.and it's all gonna go down in the ol' church."
.
Author's Note: This story uses a mix between the comic and movie versions, but I'll try to make the blending of the two as smooth as possible for those who have only seen the movie. The only differences may be seen in other char's histories and some personalities. I'll try and keep the movie physical looks the same. tenshikoneko03 's character Layla (Returning to a World Once Forgotten) has been added as well, and should co-exist along her general plot lines.
Chapter 1
The heart of a city never truly sleeps. The night lamps flickered every once and a while, and sleazy jams drifted out of opening and closing doors of bars and strip joints.
The streets were dead though; save for the one soul. The strong whir of a powerful engine was the only music to be heard. It was a sleek machine, this bike, a custom piece of art. Its body was black enough to reflect and refract every light like some obsidian mirror. The occupant held her body close. All black. All leather. A single white braid entwined with blue flailing behind like a flag. For loners such as her, the solitude of the streets was a haven of comfort.
She stopped at one of those sordid bars, the kind where rough bikers and alcoholics spilled out into the streets, a bottle of beer in hand, watching their motorcycles like jealous husbands. Now they had something new to watch. She swung her obviously well shaped leg over the other side, and the guys whistled in appreciation.
Her tall form was clad in a full, well shined leather bodysuit with a large silver zipper down the front. The zipper itself rested between her full breasts giving a rather good view. The racy costume was complete with a wide leather belt and silver plated buckle of Celtic engravings. Knee-high laced boots fitted over the legs of her outfit. She removed her helmet, tucking it under her arm, and fitted a slim pair of reflected sunglasses over her eyes before any color was determined. She walked inside.
Males drunk never seem to notice much. These males only saw a well-built sex object in black leather, ripe for taking. They didn't notice that her skin was nearly as white as her hair, or visa versa. Nor did they take much notice in the blue streaks that decorated that knee length coil. Did they not see the odd symbols tattooed on her face, or even that her ears were a bit odd shaped; pointed like a real-life daoine sidhe?
No. They were drunk, and they were the Razor Crosses; a criminal gang with a reputation of theft, murder, and rape. No one could mistake them. They all wore leather vests with a crucifix made of razors drenched in blood emblazoned on the back. Now there was a new piece of ass in their bar.
She settled herself on a ripped cushion barstool, murmuring for a beer, and removing a bill from a hidden pocket. She paid no notice to the brutish crowd that settled around her, leering.
One moved in, his hot filthy breath in her face. She frowned and took a swig of her bottle. "Hey, beautiful." he whispered in a sorry attempt at seduction. "Haven't seen you around here before."
She smirked. "I try to avoid dumps like this unless I'm in serious need."
He shrugged off the insult. He already knew it was a dump, but the barkeep here let them do as they please.so long as the mess was cleaned afterwards. "You sure are in serious need, honey. What you probably want is some action, huh?" He and the rest of the group laughed lustily. He licked his lips and made for a grab, but suddenly grunted in shock when his stool was kicked out from beneath him. Enraged eyes stared back at themselves in the reflective glasses inches from his porky face.
"Trash like you makes me sick." She whispered, though loud enough for them all to hear. She tossed another bill on the bar as a tip, and sauntered out the bar door. The fallen leader hissed, snapped his chubby fingers and pointed his comrades to the door. They all grinned in expectancy as they ran out after the female that dared to taunt the Razor Crosses. The barkeep turned his back and made a silent prayer for the poor girl.
She had gotten as far as a block, or so, when she heard the heated pace behind her. Cursing she jumped into an alleyway and hurried down it. She heard their excited shouts and growled in frustration. They had seen her. She ran faster.not enough time.her gift would take to long to hide her. She came to a dead end.
"Damn it!"
She turned swiftly, looking each way or the other for any possible exit route. There were none. And now she was trapped.
The beefy headman laughed low in his throat. "You should have said yes, baby. We would have been nice then. Now you just gonna have to take it the way we want it.long and hard." He waved his men in. "Time for a little gang bang, fellas."
One of the men grabbed her left arm and twisted it behind her back. He made the mistake of resting his ugly mug on the wrong shoulder. She sent her fist into his face causing him to reel back.
"Bitch! You'll pay for every insult!" He cried out, helping himself off the ground. No one would lift him to his feet. She chuckled. They rushed her blindly, enraged like stupid bovine beasts. They had no real mind for fighting save strength in numbers. She crouched and swiped three from their feet with a single kick. Another man brought out a switchblade, but displayed no skill. He merely swung it back and forth between them, perhaps hoping to get a successful hit. She dove for his knees and tackled him to the ground.
"Enough!" She cried and sprang off through a break in the crowd for the main streets. Her nimble feet lightly beat at the ground as she raced down this way, or that. It was during this moment she remembered she forgot her bike and helmet.or rather her acquired bike and helmet. No matter.
She was coming up onto a block mostly covered by a massive cathedral. The doors would be heavily locked, no doubt, and she could not see, or hear, any of her pursuers behind her. She stepped up to the barred threshold and laid a hand on the smoothly carved wood.
Now is as good a time as any.
She took a steady breath, and concentrated.
A few of the gang were not so far behind. They weren't all fat or unfit. This small number saw the strangest sight. Their would-be victim was escaping into the locked cathedral.through the very wood of the doors, like she was slowly melding into its substance.
The first looker grabbed another by the front of his shirt and shoved him off in the other direction. "Go tell the boss we gotta mutie on our hands.and it's all gonna go down in the ol' church."
.