Rahne and Jubilee hurried down the hall towards the den. The sounds of a childish argument greeted them as soon as they got through the door.
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
Jubilee lifted the decorative cloth covering a small table. "Jamie honey?" she bent over. "What are you doing under the table?"
"Ray chased me, and he made it be all thundery," Jamie sniffled.
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"They've been at it for ten minutes," Jean buried her face in her hands. "Ten. Minutes."
"Aw, sweetie," Jubilee sat and took Jamie in a sisterly cuddle. "Ray can't make thunder. It's just a storm. It can't hurt you."
"The sparking terror, on the other hand, is wanted outside," Rahne gave Ray a Glare.
"Wha? Me? Jubilee just said I didn't do it!" Ray protested.
"Ms. Munroe wants you," Rahne shrugged. "I think ye'd best scoot along now."
Ray grumbled something about how the world was out to get him personally, and left.
"Peace," Jean said, her eyes completely glazed over. "Quiet..."
"She's scaring me," Kitty said, backing towards a corner.
"Whatever," Evan mumbled, completely absorbed in some comic book.
Rogue rolled her eyes. So much for quietly entertaining family togetherness.
**********
"I'm going to absorb the lightning," Storm explained. "If it's too strong, I'll channel some to you. Understood?"
"Yeah, whatever," Ray bent his head against the driving rain. The wet was already seeping through his uniform.
"When you're ready, draw the lightning," the weather-witch instructed, lifting gently into the air.
Ray glanced up, cocked his hand like a gun, and fired a blue bolt of electricity skyward from his index finger. In response, purple spikes dove towards him like kamikaze planes. Storm spread her arms out, guiding the lightning into her body.
"I can do this," she coached herself. "I can contain the power."
Ray turned to see if anyone was watching him out the mansion windows. He saw Amara in her bedroom and grinned at her. She waved back.
Storm let out a moan of agony and released the excess energy. Ray was hit in the side by a high-voltage lightning strike. Unprepared for the sudden charge, he acted on instinct, releasing a wave of electricity in all directions. Sparks flew everywhere. At their focal point, an overtaxed mutant passed out.
**********
It was raining, and Kurt didn't care. He let his feet draw lines in the mud and play tic-tac-toe with each other. Thunder rumbled, much closer than last time he'd heard it, but still he couldn't bear the thought of going back inside. Anyway, a little weather never hurt anyone.
A blue lightning bolt shot up from somewhere in front of the mansion. Up? Whatever. A dozen or so forks of lightning sliced through the clouds in the normal direction. There was an odd zapping noise.
And then everything was in slow motion. Blue arcs of electricity danced wildly across the landscape, striking everything. One in particular caught Kurt's attention. It came straight towards him, hung in mid-air for an impossible second, and fell into the fish pond. Voltage rocketed through the water, spread through the wet ground, and raced up through the soles of Kurt's feet.
He was going to die.
No. He was going to burn the energy before it killed him.
*Bamf*
**********
*Blimph*
Q: Am I alive?
A: Yes.
Q: Why am I not breathing?
A: You're underwater.
Kurt flagellated his limbs in some bad parody of a generic swimming-stroke, and by a minor miracle managed to reach the surface.
Q: Where am I?
A: I dunno.
Q: What do I do now?
A: Why are you asking me?
Q: That wasn't an answer.
A: That wasn't a question.
Kurt used his eyes and found himself in the shadow of a small boat. He dog-paddled over, crawled up the hull, and peeked over the edge. There was some old guy, and a pile of junk.
Q: What form am I in?
A: Default.
Q: Should I use the image inducer?
A: I'd suggest it.
Kurt prodded the button, but the little device stubbornly refused to do anything. "Shorted out," the soggy one said, a little too loudly.
"Who's there?" shouted the old man, turning around.
"Just some guy trying not to get slammed in Davey Jones' locker," Kurt called back.
"No clinging to my boat. Yer either on, or yer off. Pick one."
"I think I prefer on."
"Get up here, then." The man began walking towards the railing.
Kurt slid around to port. While the man was busy peering over the starboard side, he climbed onto the deck and dove under a sack.
"I heard that!"
Kurt didn't answer.
"'Nother rule. I see everyone what rides on my boat."
"Not this someone," Kurt burrowed deeper into the pile.
"You c'n just get off then," the man shrugged.
Kurt didn't answer that either.
"I'm going to get lunch in one minute," the man marked the time on his watch. "You get out here before, or you're off my boat by the time I get back."
He *was* hungry. He peeked half an eye out from under the sack.
"Thirty seconds."
Sigh. "Don't scream?" Kurt begged.
"Ain't screamed at nothin' in thirty years."
Kurt cautiously extracted himself from the junk heap and stood up. The man didn't scream. He didn't blink. He didn't even bother looking beyond his passenger's face. "Sit," he said, indicating a stool bolted to the deck.
Kurt sat. The man disappeared into the cabin and soon came back with the sort of food that could sit on a shelf for ten years and still be perfectly fine. After spreading it on the table (also bolted down), he offered his hand. "Malkus Piccolo," he introduced himself. "World traveler."
"Kurt Wagner," said the owner of that name, after a brief handshake. "Mutant freak-boy."
"You always this dramatic?" Malkus glanced sideways at his guest while reaching for something to eat.
"Wouldn't you be?" Kurt sighed, artfully filling his plate to capacity. "I mean, if you were blue and furry and had a tail and all."
"No," Malkus apparently had no rules against talking with one's mouth full. "Kinda wish I were."
Kurt choked on a biscuit, and not because it was dryer than Arizona air. "*Why*?" he coughed.
"I'm a seeker of the unusual," Malkus gestured grandly with a fork. "I seen things like you wouldn't believe. Trouble is, it's mighty near impossible for ordinary men to get near the wee folk."
Kurt chewed thoughtfully, and watched Malkus watching him. Suddenly, two thoughts connected in his head. "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed. "I am *not* an elf!"
Malkus blinked.
"Or a leprechaun," Kurt started counting off digits, "Or a gnome, or a fairy, or any other sort of little person."
"If you say so," the traveler shrugged.
"You don't believe me."
"I'll take yer word fer what y'are," Malkus scraped idly at his plate. "'S just not very interesting."
"Oh yeah," Kurt rolled his eyes. "You could find a dozen people on the street just like me."
"If y'knew where t'look."
"Who *are* you?" The food no longer seemed of any importance.
"Malkus Piccolo, world traveler."
Kurt forgot to blink for quite a long time.
"Okay," he admitted finally. "I did know some fairies back home. They were fooled too."
"Where y'from?" Malkus inquired.
"Germany."
"Coast?"
"Mountains."
They watched the waves in silence for a bit.
"Where y'bound for?"
"Anywhere away from there," Kurt waved his hand in the general direction of the American continent.
"Fancy a visit to Atlantis?"
"You're kidding me."
"You have trust issues."
"Give me a break. *Atlantis*?"
"'S amazing what they've built underwater there."
"You've *been* there?" Kurt boggled.
"Couple times. Not one of my favorite places."
"Dare I ask where you like to go?"
"Hm. There's a whole island of people where not a one of 'em's got a single opinion in his head," Malkus said thoughtfully. "'S a riot to ask one of 'im what his favorite color is."
Kurt's brain nearly blew a fuse trying to comprehend a world with no opinions.
"Well, Atlantis it is then," Malkus got up and began clearing the leftovers.
"Atlantis it is," Kurt agreed.
And they spent many days sailing quite companionably across the world's ocean.
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
Jubilee lifted the decorative cloth covering a small table. "Jamie honey?" she bent over. "What are you doing under the table?"
"Ray chased me, and he made it be all thundery," Jamie sniffled.
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"They've been at it for ten minutes," Jean buried her face in her hands. "Ten. Minutes."
"Aw, sweetie," Jubilee sat and took Jamie in a sisterly cuddle. "Ray can't make thunder. It's just a storm. It can't hurt you."
"The sparking terror, on the other hand, is wanted outside," Rahne gave Ray a Glare.
"Wha? Me? Jubilee just said I didn't do it!" Ray protested.
"Ms. Munroe wants you," Rahne shrugged. "I think ye'd best scoot along now."
Ray grumbled something about how the world was out to get him personally, and left.
"Peace," Jean said, her eyes completely glazed over. "Quiet..."
"She's scaring me," Kitty said, backing towards a corner.
"Whatever," Evan mumbled, completely absorbed in some comic book.
Rogue rolled her eyes. So much for quietly entertaining family togetherness.
**********
"I'm going to absorb the lightning," Storm explained. "If it's too strong, I'll channel some to you. Understood?"
"Yeah, whatever," Ray bent his head against the driving rain. The wet was already seeping through his uniform.
"When you're ready, draw the lightning," the weather-witch instructed, lifting gently into the air.
Ray glanced up, cocked his hand like a gun, and fired a blue bolt of electricity skyward from his index finger. In response, purple spikes dove towards him like kamikaze planes. Storm spread her arms out, guiding the lightning into her body.
"I can do this," she coached herself. "I can contain the power."
Ray turned to see if anyone was watching him out the mansion windows. He saw Amara in her bedroom and grinned at her. She waved back.
Storm let out a moan of agony and released the excess energy. Ray was hit in the side by a high-voltage lightning strike. Unprepared for the sudden charge, he acted on instinct, releasing a wave of electricity in all directions. Sparks flew everywhere. At their focal point, an overtaxed mutant passed out.
**********
It was raining, and Kurt didn't care. He let his feet draw lines in the mud and play tic-tac-toe with each other. Thunder rumbled, much closer than last time he'd heard it, but still he couldn't bear the thought of going back inside. Anyway, a little weather never hurt anyone.
A blue lightning bolt shot up from somewhere in front of the mansion. Up? Whatever. A dozen or so forks of lightning sliced through the clouds in the normal direction. There was an odd zapping noise.
And then everything was in slow motion. Blue arcs of electricity danced wildly across the landscape, striking everything. One in particular caught Kurt's attention. It came straight towards him, hung in mid-air for an impossible second, and fell into the fish pond. Voltage rocketed through the water, spread through the wet ground, and raced up through the soles of Kurt's feet.
He was going to die.
No. He was going to burn the energy before it killed him.
*Bamf*
**********
*Blimph*
Q: Am I alive?
A: Yes.
Q: Why am I not breathing?
A: You're underwater.
Kurt flagellated his limbs in some bad parody of a generic swimming-stroke, and by a minor miracle managed to reach the surface.
Q: Where am I?
A: I dunno.
Q: What do I do now?
A: Why are you asking me?
Q: That wasn't an answer.
A: That wasn't a question.
Kurt used his eyes and found himself in the shadow of a small boat. He dog-paddled over, crawled up the hull, and peeked over the edge. There was some old guy, and a pile of junk.
Q: What form am I in?
A: Default.
Q: Should I use the image inducer?
A: I'd suggest it.
Kurt prodded the button, but the little device stubbornly refused to do anything. "Shorted out," the soggy one said, a little too loudly.
"Who's there?" shouted the old man, turning around.
"Just some guy trying not to get slammed in Davey Jones' locker," Kurt called back.
"No clinging to my boat. Yer either on, or yer off. Pick one."
"I think I prefer on."
"Get up here, then." The man began walking towards the railing.
Kurt slid around to port. While the man was busy peering over the starboard side, he climbed onto the deck and dove under a sack.
"I heard that!"
Kurt didn't answer.
"'Nother rule. I see everyone what rides on my boat."
"Not this someone," Kurt burrowed deeper into the pile.
"You c'n just get off then," the man shrugged.
Kurt didn't answer that either.
"I'm going to get lunch in one minute," the man marked the time on his watch. "You get out here before, or you're off my boat by the time I get back."
He *was* hungry. He peeked half an eye out from under the sack.
"Thirty seconds."
Sigh. "Don't scream?" Kurt begged.
"Ain't screamed at nothin' in thirty years."
Kurt cautiously extracted himself from the junk heap and stood up. The man didn't scream. He didn't blink. He didn't even bother looking beyond his passenger's face. "Sit," he said, indicating a stool bolted to the deck.
Kurt sat. The man disappeared into the cabin and soon came back with the sort of food that could sit on a shelf for ten years and still be perfectly fine. After spreading it on the table (also bolted down), he offered his hand. "Malkus Piccolo," he introduced himself. "World traveler."
"Kurt Wagner," said the owner of that name, after a brief handshake. "Mutant freak-boy."
"You always this dramatic?" Malkus glanced sideways at his guest while reaching for something to eat.
"Wouldn't you be?" Kurt sighed, artfully filling his plate to capacity. "I mean, if you were blue and furry and had a tail and all."
"No," Malkus apparently had no rules against talking with one's mouth full. "Kinda wish I were."
Kurt choked on a biscuit, and not because it was dryer than Arizona air. "*Why*?" he coughed.
"I'm a seeker of the unusual," Malkus gestured grandly with a fork. "I seen things like you wouldn't believe. Trouble is, it's mighty near impossible for ordinary men to get near the wee folk."
Kurt chewed thoughtfully, and watched Malkus watching him. Suddenly, two thoughts connected in his head. "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed. "I am *not* an elf!"
Malkus blinked.
"Or a leprechaun," Kurt started counting off digits, "Or a gnome, or a fairy, or any other sort of little person."
"If you say so," the traveler shrugged.
"You don't believe me."
"I'll take yer word fer what y'are," Malkus scraped idly at his plate. "'S just not very interesting."
"Oh yeah," Kurt rolled his eyes. "You could find a dozen people on the street just like me."
"If y'knew where t'look."
"Who *are* you?" The food no longer seemed of any importance.
"Malkus Piccolo, world traveler."
Kurt forgot to blink for quite a long time.
"Okay," he admitted finally. "I did know some fairies back home. They were fooled too."
"Where y'from?" Malkus inquired.
"Germany."
"Coast?"
"Mountains."
They watched the waves in silence for a bit.
"Where y'bound for?"
"Anywhere away from there," Kurt waved his hand in the general direction of the American continent.
"Fancy a visit to Atlantis?"
"You're kidding me."
"You have trust issues."
"Give me a break. *Atlantis*?"
"'S amazing what they've built underwater there."
"You've *been* there?" Kurt boggled.
"Couple times. Not one of my favorite places."
"Dare I ask where you like to go?"
"Hm. There's a whole island of people where not a one of 'em's got a single opinion in his head," Malkus said thoughtfully. "'S a riot to ask one of 'im what his favorite color is."
Kurt's brain nearly blew a fuse trying to comprehend a world with no opinions.
"Well, Atlantis it is then," Malkus got up and began clearing the leftovers.
"Atlantis it is," Kurt agreed.
And they spent many days sailing quite companionably across the world's ocean.