Chapter 2! I'm on a roll, yeah baby! Anyways, DISCLAIMER: I am not worthy of owning something as cool as X-Men, so yeah. Also, I thought this might have turned out a bit ramble-y, so a thousand apologies. Reviews, preese! =3
It's bright.
That was Kaia's first thought when she woke up. The next was she hurt all over. Like, she really hurt. Cracking open her eyes, she was startled to see someone standing over her. Her mouth gaped, as though she was trying to yell, but in her panic she forgot she couldn't speak. So she tried the next best thing: she tried to fling her arm up and punch the figure.
She also forgot she had gotten beaten to a pulp.
Her arm completely refused to cooperate. So she simply laid there, and the figure stooped down. She could tell whoever it was, they were grinning. And then a tongue slithered out from behind the teeth. Apparently, it was that snake guy again, and she so wanted to be able to get up. She'd wipe that smug grin off his face.
"Lookssss like you're finally awake. How did you like your firsssst day on the job?" he hissed, before standing up as someone else came in the room. "Oh cut the crap Slick. You know when you talk like that it gives me a headache." He stuck his tongue out before sucking it back in and leering, "Yeah, whatever, Psycha. It sets the mood."
Doodle simply sat there, trying to see these different people. The woman came over, and checked over any wounds she might have had. Doodle sucked in a sharp breath when Psycha touched something sensitive. "Okay, she's looking like she's already on the mend. I'd say she might have regenerative abilities, but it's probably more just because she's still young."
Slick harrumphed and sat down in a chair next to the bed. "How old are you, exactly?" he asked Doodle. She opened her mouth, but no sounds came out. "Can't speak, eh? Well, that makes it a tad bit more complicated. But we can fix that. Psycha, care to lend a hand?" She glanced over, before her eyes narrowed. Slick winced, and then shook his head as if to clear it. "That wasn't very nice, I hope you know."
Turning back to Doodle, he was surprised to find her weakly lifting her less injured arm. Her tattoo swirled like it had before, and he smacked his forehead. "Oh yeah! I fergot you can do that. So you're. . .17? Huh, shouldn't you be at home?" He said this with such a knowing grin that Doodle just scowled at him.
"So, how'd you like the club?"
Doodle wasn't sure how to express this with words, so she simply stuck her tongue out. "Aw, don't feel that way. I'm sure it was just cuz it was your first time. You'll learn how to fight better, and you'll love it here." Doodle gave him a disbelieving look. "No really. You even get a cut of the bets. I think you'd do great."
She arched an eyebrow when he mentioned money. 'How much of a cut?' the ink scrawled. "Enough," he laughed, and pointed to her bag that was hanging on one of the posts. "And don't act like you don't need the money. Running away from home is an expensive ordeal, and what you have won't last you too long."
Doodle rolled her eyes, and Psycha came over from wherever she had gone. "Ooh, Slick, you do not want me to translate what she's calling you right now. But, I do think I know how to keep her on. How about, in good faith, you can keep all your winnings from your debut fight, and you promise to do at least five more?" Doodle looked over at her suspiciously, and then began ranting thoughts off.
Psycha held up a finger, and closed her eyes. "Okay, okay, slow down first. And quiet down, you don't have to shout. Sheesh. Anyways, no, it will be different mutants most of the time. And no, you won't have to fight every night. We'll help you any way we can; we do have a stake in you, anyways. Hey hey hey, don't take that attitude with me. It was all Slick's idea; I'm just his accountant."
After a moment, Doodle mulled it all over and just had one more question. "If you'd like, we can teach you how to fight. Unfortunately, we can't help with your powers, we don't really know how to make those better except with practice. But you looked fine last night." And then she turned to Slick, talking about probabilities and the high rollers that frequent the club.
Doodle decided she'd go back to bed.
It was a few days before she could walk again. Slick had a friend stop by, who could help heal up some of her more serious injuries, like her cracked ribs. It wasn't long before she was able to move more freely, and that's when Slick started coaching her. She had been wary of him at first; after all, the guy had just shoved her into a fight ring without any warning. But he explained himself.
Supposedly there was a mob boss who had a psychic in his employ. He also ran the club, and came up with the mutant fights. Well, he had his psychic keep a lookout for new mutants; whenever one was spotted, they were lured to the club, and were added to his collection if they were worth it.
If not, they wouldn't last long in the ring.
Psycha apparently also did this for Slick, sometimes even messing with the mobster's psychic. That's how they had gotten a hold of Doodle before he had. If they hadn't put her in the ring, she would've been free game to anyone who wanted to put a claim on her. And her power was one of the more unique ones, so she would've been a prime target for the boss.
She really should've thanked him, but after a practice fight with him, all she could think of telling him was where he could stick his slippery tongue. Psycha was a bit more practical. She taught more styles and moves, rather than just flat out fighting her. After a week, Doodle felt good enough to fight again. Fights were at night, so Psycha spent the day with her discussing possible opponents.
There was a psychic, but he wasn't good at physical. There was one who could produce crystals, but they were more defensive than offensive. And then there was pyro, almost completely offensive, no defense whatsoever. Finally there was speedster, she'd have to watch out if she was matched up against him.
"Oh, and last but not least, you can't take any weapons in with you. Whatever you need to fight, you'd better prepare it before you go in the ring. Now get some rest. Slick will get you before we have to leave so you can get ready." And with that Psycha left Doodle alone in her room. She was allowed to wander the apartment, but she preferred to stay in her room. Reaching for her backpack, she pulled out her wallet, and grinned at the wad that was stuffed in it. They had given her the money from the other day, and she had never held so much in her life. When your odds are long shots, you make a lot of money beating them.
Then she tugged out the old photo from its sleeve.
This was the real reason she was on the run. Rubbing the face in the picture like she always did, she couldn't but think about that one fateful day. Living up north was always enjoyable. The seasons were gorgeous, from the lush summers to the icy winters. Living in Maine, she had access to lots of little ponds around. One morning, she remembered, she left early wanting to find a pond to have all to herself. She was a good ice skater, for her age. She didn't think she would need help.
Then she found her pond. It was a ways off the road, hidden behind a small knot of trees. Her cheeks were already cherry red from the cold. It was so small, she assumed it was solid ice by now. But when she got near the middle of the pond, it shattered. It was deeper than she had anticipated. She couldn't touch the bottom, and her ice skates were weighing her down. Clinging to the edge of the ice, she did the only thing she could think of: she screamed.
Her waterproof jacket kept most of the icy water out, but it was still cold. She didn't know how long she was there, but her voice was hoarse, and she had ripped her gloves off to throw for attention. Her fingertips were blue. She was barely able to stay above the water; the cold water she was swallowing was hurting her throat and making it hard to think. Her grip on the ice slipped, and she began to sink into the pond.
But someone grabbed her arm.
Dragged to shore spluttering, she got a look at her savior. It was her older brother Mikhail. He ripped off his jacket and bundled her up, running her to the hospital. Later the doctors said if he hadn't found her and gotten her there so quickly, she would've been dead for sure. Unfortunately, between the cold water and her yelling, her vocal cords were destroyed. She didn't leave for weeks. And neither did he.
He was the first who had found out about her mutant powers. They must have developed following the accident. He helped her hide them, and watched over her, protecting her from bullies. Then he found out he was a mutant too. She didn't remember exactly what his power was, or how it worked, but she knew one thing: her parents were terrified of him.
He ran away, and they moved instantly.
She began to struggle with school, she started getting in fights. That's how her powers got so good. Practice makes perfect, her parents always told her. So she did. She had been planning on running away ever since she got that letter from her brother. She didn't know how he had found her, but she did have somewhere as her destination in mind finally. And here she was now.
Slick poked his head in through the door, and tossed her a pair of wristbands. "Figured you'd like more surface area for ink, and these mark you as part of my group. Keeps you safe from talent seekers. Anyways, get ready, we're leaving in about twenty minutes, meet us downstairs."
Nodding, Doodle shoved the picture of her brother back in her wallet, tossing it back into her bag. Then she slipped the wristbands on, and grabbed a handful of markers. Popping the caps off, she drained them one by one of their contents, soaking them into her jacket and pants and the wrist bands.
She was ready for anything now.