Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters, locations and concepts belonging to Marvel Entertainment. No claim of ownership is made or implied by me in using their property. No part of this work is intended for material gain of any kind. It is intended for the sole purpose of creative exercise and the entertainment of others.
The Adventures of Kitty Pryde
Issue 3, January 2006
Cover image: Kitty is being attacked on three sides by gun toting agents wearing the sunburst emblem of Black Air. Her fist is slamming into the jaw of one while her knee takes out another. The third agent's attack passes harmlessly through her. In the back, Pete Wisdom is lounging on a deck chair, wearing his favorite trench coat and holding a glass of scotch while he watches Kitty fight. "A little help would be nice!" Kitty growls, despite the fact that she has things well in hand. Pete's plaintive response is, "But I'm watching my favourite programme!"
Kitty is sitting at a table in a smoke filled bar, looking conflicted. She has switched from the suit and skirt combo she had arrived in England wearing for her more typical jeans and t-shirt. One hand lazily stirs the drink in front of her, while she has her other elbow on the table to prop her chin on her palm. She looks to the side and says, "You really didn't have to do this."
Stan Lee does not present
The Mutant With One Red Shoe
Heathrow Airport.
The pub atmosphere combines shades of old world comfort and last-drink-before-the-flight pacing. At any time of the day or night it has an equal chance of being packed with customers or quiet as a graveyard. Right now happens to be an example of the former. The table Kitty sits at is centrally located. Nothing cozy, like a booth in a dark corner. All the better to discourage certain directions a conversation might go.
Not that any of that makes a difference to her companion.
At the other side of the table sits a thin, but imposing man, looking relaxed and satisfied as he holds his drink. He is Pete Wisdom, agent of MI-13, the British Intelligence Service division devoted to the supernatural, and former member of the original Excalibur. More importantly, he was the other half of Kitty's first mature relationship.
It hadn't ended well.
"Hardly," he says. "You were nice enough to stay and visit Brian for a few days after Kurt and the other two left in the Blackbird. So escorting you to the airport's the least I could do. You don't even have the rat to keep you company."
Kitty flits her eyes back to him, as though measuring his intentions. "Lockheed doesn't like airports, so he's flying home on his own. And I don't recall a trip to the pub being included in your original offer."
Pete shrugs. "Part of the package. Besides, I hardly got to see you after we nabbed those doppelganger blokes. You haven't been avoiding me, have you?"
"Of course I haven't been avoiding you," Kitty sniffs. "How can you even think such a thing?"
"Occupational hazard," Pete says as he lifts his scotch. "Makes it hard to accept things as coincidence."
"Sorry to disappoint, but nothing deliberate was involved."
"Good to know. Think of this as a way to make up for all those missed opportunities, then."
Kitty stirs her cocktail. "Well, all right," she says. "Damn," she thinks, "He's got me."
Pete smirks behind his glass. "Heh," he thinks. "That got her."
An uncomfortable moment of silence follows. Kitty notices Pete's hand twitch toward his empty pocket and permits herself a relaxed grin.
"So I guess it's true," she observes.
"What's that?" Pete says, still trying to sound pleasant.
"You really have quit smoking."
Pete's composure slips a bit as he nearly scowls. Trying to keep the sarcasm from leaking through, he says, "Yeah, it's brilliant. Wish I'd done it ages ago."
"Well..." Kitty begins brightly, but by the time the word finishes dragging its way out of her she looks uncomfortable again. She had been about to say something about it helping him to live longer.
Earlier, as they had ordered their drinks, she had come dangerously close to asking if he planned to cut his scotch with Geritol. The jokes still come naturally to her.
When they had been dating they often shared such banter, a private game to nullify the issue of their age difference. It was intended to dismiss the objections others might have, but ironically, the only ones to actually express concerns about it were themselves.
Since then, the whole subject has become an unspoken taboo. Too easy for it to be misunderstood. Too easy to dredge up old feelings that hadn't been adequately resolved.
"...Well I'm glad."
"You don't look to happy from where I sit," Pete says, well aware of her discomfort.
Kitty tries to wave it off. "I'm just upset because the flight's going to cause me to miss the Cubs game."
"Still a fan, then?" Meanwhile, Pete thinks, "Didn't baseball season just end?"
"For life. Some habits can't be broken," Kitty says quietly.
"Yeah," Pete agrees. "Especially the unhealthy ones."
Not liking the sudden awkwardness, Kitty decides to change the subject. She indicates the spot where the bartender is mixing drinks and says, "I actually worked in a bar for a bit."
"Yeah," Pete says, taking another sip from his drink. "Some place called 'The Belles of Hell,' but I doubt anybody would have recognized you back then."
Kitty gapes at him. "Have you been checking up on me?"
"Perish the thought. As you said before, my job's to know things."
"Correction:" Kitty says, lifting a finger, "Your job is to know important things."
"Anything can be important if the right person's asking," Pete quips.
"How very mercenary of you."
"Easy, now," Pete says, falling to the defensive. "I'll have you know my first orders after M-Day were to check on every mutant still known to be active, and I wasn't about to report to my superiors with some bollocks about there only being 198 of us left."
"You've been checking up on me," Kitty says matter-of-factly. She lifts her glass and directs a piercing stare at him while pointedly arching one eyebrow. To his credit, Pete holds up under the gaze for a good while before his resolve falters.
"Yeah, all right, I was checking up on you," Pete concedes. "Can't blame a bloke for being concerned, yeah? Way you were dressing and acting, anybody would have thought you'd gone off the rails. Hell, you even saw a shrink for a bit, there."
Now it becomes Kitty's turn to take the defensive. "The tattoos and piercings were fakes, I swear! I would have never done something like that for real!"
Pete doesn't look entirely convinced. "What about before that, with the evil pixie 'do, the attitude and the slicing at people with one of your mate's old bone claws?"
Kitty stares at him in stunned disbelief for a moment.
"You just made all that up," she accuses when she finally finds her voice.
Pete tosses her a knowing smile. "Denial, Pryde? That's a rare thing for you." Quietly, into his glass he mumbles, "Not unheard of, but rare."
"I'm serious!"
Pete shrugs. "It's not like I don't have proof, you know."
Kitty crosses her arms. "Fine. Let's see your proof."
"Well, if you insist." Pete withdraws a sophisticated looking pocket computer and taps a few buttons. "There you are."
He hands it over so that Kitty can look at the screen, and her eyes widen in disbelief. "Can't say I'm not relieved you've gotten past that episode," he informs her.
On the wide touchscreen is a clear image of Kitty in her Neo Saga costume. Deep blue with yellow gloves, boots and belt. Two yellow stripes with white trim cross like swords over her chest, forming an "X," narrowing to points near her waist. Her mask is a thin pair of fabric arches, giving her an almost batlike appearance. The collar of her outfit is turned up, nearly obscuring her entire neck. On her right hand, mounted to a metal brace that is somewhere between a wrist gauntlet and brass knuckles, a single bone claw juts out.
In the photo Kitty is crouched low, her weapon arm at the ready. The expression on her face shows an inappropriate eagerness for violence.
"Can you send this to my computer?" Kitty says, simultaneously curious, unnerved and scandalized.
"Hang on," Pete says dubiously. "You aren't actually suggesting that isn't you, are you?"
"I have no idea who this is, but I intend to find out."
Pete leans across the table, one finger pointing toward the computer. "If that's the case, then where were you when this photo was taken?"
Before Kitty can answer, a frazzled woman in a business suit bumps into their table, nearly spilling Pete's drink and dumping several folders of paper onto the floor. "Oh!" she cries.
"Bloody Hell!" Pete exclaims. "Watch where you're going, you!"
"I'm sorry!" the woman says as she hastily collects her papers. "I'm so sorry!" She continues to grumble as she fumbles about on all fours. "Brilliant. Just brilliant. I'm running late and this happens."
As the woman makes a show of cramming things into her pack and getting her things together, she skillfully slips a small device into Pete's satchel.
In a flash her arms are again loaded and she hustles her way out of the bar. "I swear if I miss my flight..." are the last words she's heard saying before she's lost from sight.
Pete watches her leave with mild annoyance. "Bird almost made me spill my drink," he mumbles quietly. He turns to face Kitty again and nonchalantly says, "You saw that, yeah?"
"Of course," Kitty says quietly. "You wouldn't believe the sorts of things my students have tried to get past me since I started teaching."
Pete joins Kitty in a chuckle that is interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.
The phone rings again. "Mind if I take that?" Pete asks politely.
"By all means," Kitty invites.
Pete reaches into his worn trenchcoat and withdraws his phone. "Caller I.D. says it's the boss." He flips it open and brings it to his ear. "Wisdom here."
Kitty studies Pete with a bemused expression as she listens to his end of the conversation. Pete is sitting erect and his voice is all business as he responds to the voice on the phone.
"Yes," Pete says attentively.
"Here?"
"So, it's urgent, then."
"Of course."
"I understand."
"I'm on it, Chief."
Pete shuts his phone and puts it away, giving Kitty a knowing look, which she returns.
"That was the great and powerful Sir Mortimer Grimsdale informing me that Black Air is in this very airport planning all sorts of naughtiness in a short time and it's up to me to stop them."
Kitty calmly nods after soaking the information in. She casually takes a sip of her drink and says, "Soooooo, trap?"
"Pretty much," Pete tells her.
"I don't suppose you'd consider ignoring it or calling in some back-up?"
"After all the hard work and preparation they must have gone through? Perish the thought."
Kitty shakes her head, but her eyes sparkle and her smile betrays her eagerness. "Mustn't disappoint them, then."
"Indeed."
Not far from the terminal pub, a darkened storage room quietly waits. Numerous crates are stacked along the walls next to supply shelves filled with boxes, tools and other items. It is a true multipurpose room. Large enough for temporary storage, but equipped to handle brief office work.
The silence in the room is broken by a faint click as the red light on a door lock switches off to be replaced by a dot of green. The knob slowly rotates and the door swings open, revealing Pete on the other side. In his hand is an electronic device that slightly resembles a small taser.
"Gadgets, hmpf" Pete grumbles.
He flips the light switch and glances over the room before taking a few steps inside. "Anybody home?" he says. He gets no answer save the calm he walked into. He ventures further into the room. "Shame I gave up smoking. This would be a perfect chance to light one up without someone yelling at me to—"
"Stop right there!" A voice barks at him. A group of men in Black Air battle gear, wielding spitguns, burst from their hiding places and confront Wisdom.
Pete briefly gapes at them, disbelief loud on his face. "I wasn't gonna! I said I quit, didn't I?"
The men form a line and aim their guns at him. "Keep your hands where we can seem them!" one of them yells. "No tricks!"
"Easy, mates," Pete says as he slowly raises his arms, palms out. "I wouldn't think of trying anything against five men armed with spitguns standing ten feet away from me."
"Smart choice," the agent compliments him. A moment later he realizes how strange what Pete just said sounded and squints. "What?"
Behind them, a blur of motion drops unnoticed from the ceiling.
"Always did love this part," Pete thinks, barely containing an indulgent smile.
The agents all recoil in shock as they see a hand sweep through their chests and guns. Wild sparks fly from the electronic weapons, turning them into useless hunks of metal in the agents' arms.
"No!" one of them shouts, too late aware of Kitty's presence.
"Guess again!" Kitty retorts and drops in a manner much like her namesake to sweep one of their legs out. The man pitches into his fellows and they all fall into a heap. "Already?" Kitty says, sounding a bit disappointed as she pounces on them, kicking and punching before they have a chance to recover.
Seven more agents burst from hiding places deeper in the room, while another band rushes in through the doorway, blocking them in.
"It's a trap, Kitty!" Pete yells as he spreads his hands out. White-hot knives fire from his fingertips, blasting several spitguns before they can be used.
Kitty somersaults backwards through a couple, taking out their guns and putting herself behind them. "We've already established that!" She hammers her fists on one of the agents before using him as a brace to deliver a couple of flying kicks at a few others who try to come to his aid. "It hardly matters, these guys are just as useless as the others. You know, I bet fighting jokers like these all the time played a big part in the trouble I had readjusting to the X-Men."
"Hang on," Pete says in a scandalized voice. He launches a jab at an unfortunate agent before proceeding with his response. "Are you suggesting you went soft? Scratch that, are you saying I had something to do with it?"
"Not necessarily. Just that the X-Men attract a higher class of bad guy."
Kitty and Pete pull a sudden reversal, and take down two agents with a pair of right hooks. Their movements compliment each other, even as their words do not.
"Well aren't we all high and mighty?" Pete taunts.
"Fine," Kitty growls as she vaults over one agent and drives both feet into another. "You tell me who my toughest opponent was while I was with you; the random thugs we fought in Genosha? How about the random thugs at The Chalk & Cheese, or the ones hiding in our Hotel? Ooh, wait!" she finishes with light sarcasm, "Maybe it was those Bamf dolls!"
"Well, excuse me! Excalibur wasn't exactly a combat outfit back then. Besides, you were always more comfortable sitting in front of a computer, and you ruddy well know it!" Pete drives his elbow into the gut of an unfortunate agent, who doubles over in agony.
"I still am," Kitty concedes as she phases to let a few gun blasts fly harmlessly through her. "Not that it looks that way at the moment."
"Shall I ask these gentlemen to excuse themselves until they can bring back someone more challenging?" Pete asks with mock politeness.
"No need," A deep, rumbling voice says from the doorway.
"You can try me."
Blocking the room's only exit is a huge and muscular man. From straight on he seems to be almost all broad shoulders, thick legs and bulging biceps. His hair is in a neat buzz cut and he regards Kitty and Pete with a savage, lopsided leer.
Holding out his arms in what might have been a welcoming gesture, the man says, "Normally I'd be loathe to step into the middle of a lover's quarrel, but you're messing up my boys and I'll have to ask you to surrender peacefully now."
"We're not--"
"Think again, toerag!" Pete says and thrusts his fingers toward the man. "Hrkkk!" Pete's fingers barely begin to glow when he clutches his stomach in agony.
"Pete!" Kitty cries out in alarm. She shoves past an agent and kneels at his side, draping one arm over his shoulders for support. "What happened?"
Pete staggers to his feet, noting that the agents have briefly stepped back. "I'll be fine," he assures her.
The man's grin grows wider. "Hurt didn't it? Allow me to introduce myself. The name's Backlash, and I give your mutant powers a rather nasty side effect. The more you use 'em, the more it'll hurt, until you kill yourselves from the inside. Don't worry too much, though. I've brought a pair of pretty necklaces to make sure you don't accidentally die too much."
"A pair..?" Pete says with concern. "Kitty, I think it's time we pulled off an escape."
"The only exit's sealed off," Kitty says with a smile that is born half from anger and half from eagerness. "Besides, we don't need our powers to take these losers!"
Moments later...
"Don't say it, Wisdom,"
"Wasn't going to."
Kitty and Pete are sitting on the floor in the middle of the multipurpose room, tied back-to-back. Thick ropes bind their hands together and wrap around their waists, leaving them little room to wriggle. To complete the picture, each of them is wearing an inhibitor collar around their necks. The device, one of the ultimate symbols of mutant oppression, completely neutralizes the mutant talents of anyone forced to wear them.
Those agents who hadn't been beaten to a pulp stand guard around the two, with Backlash watching over them. Everyone else is gone, either having limped out themselves or simply dragged out by those still conscious and able.
There is a quick double-rap at the door and one of the agents opens it. Into the room steps the frazzled businesswoman who had collided with Pete in the pub. She is wearing a pair of shades and looks much more composed. She strikes a haughty pose as she regards the two prisoners. "Excellent. You played right into our hands. Black Air has yet to fall so far that it forgets those who have crossed us."
"Don't flatter yourself," Pete advises. "I saw you putting that transmitter in my bag."
"You were intended to."
Pete looks directly at the woman, his face stony. "Well, you've got me, so why don't you let her go and we'll call it square."
The woman chuckles at his bravado. "Silly boy, you're just the bonus."
Kitty performs a quick double take. "You were after me?"
"Of course," the woman tells her. "You're the only one who can help us destroy Cerebra."
There is a moment of stunned silence as Kitty absorbs the woman's words. "That's crazy on more levels than I have time to list."
"Don't think you can do it?" she teases.
"I won't do it. End of story."
"But you can do it. You have the access and the know-how. All you need is the virus," The woman waves a pocket flash drive next to her own ear, "which we have."
"You're talking about betraying the X-Men and abandoning every mutant who needs the protection of Xavier's," Kitty points out. "And since M-Day, that protection is needed more than ever."
"Protection? Or confinement? All the world's mutants gathered in one place, where they can easily be tracked, destroyed or used at anyone's, most likely the American Government's convenience? Trust me, the mutants that remain will be much better off on their own, and the rest of the world will breathe easier."
"Forget it."
The lady from Black Air frowns, but still seems confident.
"And now, the threats," Pete mumbles.
"Backlash, are you prepared for Plan B?"
The large man cracks his knuckles ominously. "Ready, and eager."
"Miss Pryde, the Institute is offering asylum to any mutant who seeks it, no questions asked, correct?"
Kitty gives her a guarded look, as though she were a snake.
"Backlash's ability is always on. He can't control it or shut it off. There are quite a few mutants like him, aren't there? How long do you suppose they'll last with him in their midst?"
Kitty can barely contain her rage, though her mind immediately leaps to images of dear friends who would easily fall to such a power. "He'll never make it past the front gates!"
"He'll get far enough. I assure you, by the time anyone realizes he's the one responsible, the morale at Xavier's will have long been shattered."
"You just want to kill mutants, and I'll never help you do that!"
"It's a dangerous world, Miss Pryde. Some mutants are bound to die either way, but it will be far fewer if Cerebra is destroyed. Don't think of it as killing mutants. Think of it as liberating them."
Kitty sits silently, refusing to look the woman in the eyes.
"We'll give you some time to think about it." At the woman's signal, everybody files out of the room. She is last to leave, and as she stands in the doorway, she says, "Don't take too long to decide. I wouldn't want you to miss your flight."
A grim silence falls over the room again, broken only as Pete and Kitty shift to get more comfortable in their awkward positions. Though they are back to back, they still seem to be working to look away from each other.
Pete finally speaks, and his words have a hollow calmness to them.
"So, you're dating again."
"Oh my God!" Kitty blurts. "You actually want to talk about this now?"
"Why not? We've got the time. Besides, my nose itches and I'd like to focus on something else."
Kitty squeezes her eyes shut, as if a headache is creeping into her. "I don't want to talk about it."
"In general, or with me?" Pete challenges, moving his head so he can speak over his shoulder more comfortably.
"How can you even think about my romantic life at a time like this?"
"Tsk," Pete chides her. "That's the problem with you phaser-types."
"'Phaser-types?'"
"You think you're entitled to just ghost away from anything unpleasant. You just can't stand it when you have to sit and take it like regular people. I'm sure everyone else cries buckets for you at times like this, but I've got a few things to say, and since we're a bit tied up at the moment you may as well listen."
"There's nothing to say," Kitty says through clenched teeth.
"Not from where I sit, Pryde."
"Ancient history. All of it."
Pete kicks out a bitter laugh. "You've got me all wrong. This isn't about me. I've moved on."
"Feh. Like Hell."
"I have. You've got a beau and cheers to you for it. I'm not asking why it isn't me."
"Then—"
Pete hastens to finish, talking over her to drive the point home. "I'm asking why him."
Kitty's face becomes a picture of shock and anguish as her words catch in her throat. For a moment she cannot answer.
Finally Kitty drops her head and shakes it in disbelief. "Y'know, for a guy who boasts about how he's moved on, you're clinging awfully hard to a grudge that Peter's more than redeemed himself of."
"Yeah, he did a real good thing, back then," Pete says with mock sincerity. "Is that why you're with him?"
"Look, we're still working things out."
"Do you love him?"
Another bout of silence attacks the young woman. "...It's complicated."
"Seems pretty simple to me, actually. I've even worked out a theory on the whole thing."
"The simplest thing would be to leave it alone," Kitty says, her voice taking a hard edge. "It's probably the least dangerous thing, too."
Pete ignores the warning. "I think you're with him because he's safe."
"Sod off. You and your theory."
"Not today," Pete says. "Way I see it, you've had it pretty rough since you returned to the Colonies. Lot of bad things have come your way and all your attempts to find a new direction for your life have pretty much fallen apart."
"Thanks for the history lesson," Kitty's voice is still clear, but quavers slightly, and her eyes show the faintest hint of moisture.
"It's true, though. Must've made you a bit gun shy. Too scared to let your feelings take you in a new direction, so now you're back with your mates and following the lead of that hag from the Hellfire Club. Then suddenly he shows up, all nice and gift wrapped, like an old security blanket.
"Must make things simple, having your first love back. Everybody already knows him, so you don't have to worry about them getting used to you being together. Hell, they'd probably have a harder time if you hadn't." Pete is relentless as he continues his damning list of assets. "You'll never be scared of what you might do or who you might become. Plus, he's so devoted to you it's sickening. Kinda like having a St. Bernard for a pet."
Kitty feels a momentary regret that their position prevents her from laughing in his face. "And I'm not the St. Bernard type of girl, is that it?"
"No, Pryde, you're not. You're the pet fire-breathing flying purple rat type of girl."
"Lockheed's not a pet!" Kitty yells, finally losing her temper. "He's my friend!"
"Proves my point," Pete shrugs.
"What is your point?!"
"My point is simple's not you. You like quantum mechanics and piloting jet aircraft. Famous bands let you dance on stage during their concerts. You have a temper and a way with words that has forced everyone from angry mobs to Asgardian Immortals to back down from you. You're an extraordinary woman, Kitty, and you're not the sort to make the easy choice. No matter how hard you try to deny it, eventually you're going to want something more than a bloke who paints in his room and does little else."
The woman from Black Air steps back into the room with Backlash and a few agents. "Time's up," she tells them.
"I'm not done yelling at this guy!" Kitty objects.
"Sunshine, I do love my Soaps, but time grows short and I need an answer. I was hoping to hear something closer to deep and sincere soul searching while I eavesdropped on you."
Kitty looks at the woman, her eyes hard and angry. "What happens to him?"
The woman saunters over to the pair and traces a finger along his shoulder. "There are... other parties interested in Mr. Wisdom. Personally I think we should teach him a lesson about what happens to traitors, but we're being paid very well."
"Well, now I feel downright privileged," Kitty snarls.
With a disappointed sigh, the woman turns to the brute behind her. "It looks like you'll be flying alone, Backlash. Try to focus on the refugees. We simply wish to break public confidence in Xavier's, but if you should find an opportunity to kill a few X-Men... even better."
"Wait!" Kitty blurts. She drops her head in defeat. "I'll... I'll do it."
"I knew you'd see things our way," the woman says with satisfaction. "Go ahead and untie them."
"No need," Kitty says. Her hands rise, pulling the loose rope away. The cords fall limply to the ground as she and Pete slowly stand. A couple of the agents step back and point their guns at them, but they are ignored. "You should know better than to use ropes on someone taught by Storm. There's no knot I can't undo."
"Very impressive," the woman says with an appreciative smirk.
Kitty points at the inhibitor collar. "I am going to need some help with this, though."
Backlash shoots her a nasty grin. "Just be careful, Missy. We wouldn't want you keeling over before the job is done."
"I'll keep that in mind," Kitty says as she is freed from the anti-mutant device. She walks toward the woman when Pete crosses his arms.
"So that's it then? You're just going to give in to them?" her former lover calls after her.
"I don't have a choice, Pete," Kitty says angrily.
"Just as I thought. You've turned coward, Pryde. Why didn't you just take the Blackbird home with everybody else?"
Kitty whirls on him. "Because I'm not the sort of person who takes the first ferry off the island the minute things get rough!" she hisses.
"No," Pete says, pointing a finger at her, "You're the sort who runs off to college and tries to pretend her old life never existed!"
Kitty's eyes widen in shock. "How dare you," she whispers.
"How dare you!" Kitty storms up to Pete and swings her hand toward his cheek, but he catches her by the wrist and holds her arm tight.
They lock eyes for a fraction of a second, a final moment of consent and resolve.
Suddenly, still holding his grip on Kitty's arm, Pete uses his other hand to sweep her by the waist and pull her into deep and passionate kiss. Kitty trembles, her eyes squeezed shut, her trapped fist clenched. She lifts her free hand and presses it against his neck.
The carefully chosen angle and close proximity ensures that nobody notices her fingers briefly phase into the circuitry of his inhibitor collar, nor does anyone hear her grunt of pain, neatly muffled into Pete's lips.
They remain locked in this tense embrace for a moment, until Kitty finally shoves him away. "Creep!" she yells at him.
"Upset, Pryde?" Pete asks with a smirk. "Maybe 'cause you enjoyed it?"
The woman fans herself in appreciation of their display. "I certainly did," she says.
Kitty stalks over to her and snatches the flash drive out of her hand. "Just get me out of here. I don't care what you do with him."
"Of course," the woman says. "You'll be leaving with Backlash. He has the tickets. I'd suggest not getting any cute ideas. He won't hesitate to kill you, and after that he'll submit himself to the protection of Xavier's 'sanctuary.'"
"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."
Moments later...
Kitty walks through the terminal with Backlash, looking stony. Almost robotic. "So what's the plan? Am I supposed to pretend to be your sister or bride or something?"
The muscular man rolls his eyes. "You're a wanted criminal caught inside our borders. You're being extradited. I'm an air marshal assigned to be your escort. That way, if you try anything, the authorities and bystanders will come to my aid."
"You sure? To the casual observer, I think our roles might be reversed."
"Perhaps," Backlash agrees, "But I'm the one with the badge, and you're too well known to pass off anonymously forever. Just be glad you're not wearing handcuffs."
At the security checkpoint he is true to his word, showing the guards a pair of files and a badge. They accept his documents and wave him through, giving Kitty a few suspicious glares.
As they sit in the waiting area of the concourse, Kitty continues to try to engage him in light conversation. "I don't suppose we'll be traveling first class?"
"And place you in close proximity to the pilot? Dangerous sort like you? Coach will suffice."
Backlash waits until everyone else has boarded the plane before he takes Kitty to the entryway and hands over the tickets. They step onto the plane and squeeze their way to their seats in the tail section.
"I prefer the aisle," Kitty offers.
"Window," Backlash growls. "Go on."
Kitty takes her seat and gazes through the window, studying the airport, tracing it from end to end as the plane races toward takeoff.
"What's the matter, Miss Pryde?" Backlash says, noting the lines of concern written on her face. "Nothing snappy left to say?"
"Just thinking." Kitty says aimlessly.
The subject of her thoughts, however, is not shared with her captor. "Hope you know what you're doing, Pete."
"Nice work, Kitty," Pete thinks as he tries to make himself comfortable on a chair. Since Backlash's departure the remaining four agents have become more nervous, and a few keep their guns trained on him. "Not deep enough to fry the thing right away and tip them off. Not so light it can reroute itself."
Pete leans back with his hands behind his head so that he can focus without being seen. "Just a little longer."
The woman paces around the room, looking very pleased with herself. "I'm surprised you can relax," she tells Pete. "Your days of causing trouble for Black Air are over."
Pete rolls her head toward her and offers a lazy smile. "Promises, promises. You know what they say about counting chickens."
"Just a little more..." He thinks.
The woman pauses in her circuit around the room. "Confident, are we? Why set yourself up for disappointment? Your lady gave up. It's only a matter of time before you do as well."
Pete shrugs. "Let's just say that recent history tells me that siding with you lot is a losing bet."
"Almost..."
The woman checks her watch and turns to address the agents. "They should be on their way. It's time for us to make our next delivery." She stops and looks closely at Pete. "Wait-- something's wrong." She peers closer, stepping across the room to get a better look.
"Why isn't your collar—-?"
In a blink, Pete flings his arms out and fires his hot knives at the stunned agents. The bursts of pure heat hit a couple of their guns, frying their circuits and melting the barrels. One agent is struck in the arm, and he falls to the floor, clutching it in agony.
"No!" the woman yells as Pete jumps from his seat. "It's impossible!" She is so unnerved she actually falls backward on herself.
"Y'know, I think you actually believe that," Pete says as he slowly bears down on her. "Some sick part of you is convinced that your stupid plan was flawless, and the sour look on your faces when it all blows apart makes tossing you on your sorry bums all the sweeter."
The woman scoots backward along the floor, trying to get away from Pete. "What are you waiting for?!" she yells at the quartet of remaining agents. "Kill him!"
The response from the agents in the room is varied and ineffectual. The two agents who lost their guns charge Pete. The one hit in the arm curls into the fetal position and weakly groans, "Kill 'im yourself." The one agent not hit had been lounging near the back of the room and now fumbles for the pistol at his belt.
Pete launches himself at one of the agents, but at the last moment reverses direction and uses his own momentum to throw him into the path of the other agent. They collide into each other with a SMACK! and as they stumble apart Pete hooks one of them into a headlock. He aims his free hand at the agent going for his gun and fires a continuous blast of hot knives at the floor near the agent's feet.
The agent jumps and howls in panic, nearly losing the grip on his gun before realizing that all the knives missed him. He breathes a sigh of relief and raises his pistol before he notices the floor beneath him buckle. Before he can do anything else, a gaping hole materializes beneath him and he falls, screaming, to the floor below, leaving only a sizzling rim where Pete's knives had cut into the surface he had been standing on.
Pete tightens his grip on the other agent's neck and swings him around to toss him back at the agent he had just collided with a moment ago, and the second impact proves to be too much for both of them.
The woman manages to rise back to her feet and makes a mad dash for the doorway, but Pete is too swift for her. "You aren't trying to skip out on me, are you?" he says as he catches her by the scruff of the neck.
"No!" she says, looking far more helpless than before.
"Wrong, Lady!" Pete says, dragging her back. He stands over her, as imposing as an avenging angel. He wraps his hand around her throat, still gripping her from behind, and leans in so he can talk directly into her ear. "I want to know which flight Kitty's on..." he says to her. He holds his free hand in front of her face so she can see his hot knives dancing from finger to finger, like tiny fish hopping in a pond. She can hear them hiss and the glow illuminates his face to cast him in a devilish guise. "...and you're going to tell me, or I will do things you lot are too scared to even whisper about."
The woman's breaths become shallow with panic. Her eyes are wild and tears well up at the edges. "Please..." she begs.
"TELL ME!"
Kitty makes a show of studying Backlash as the plane reaches its cruising altitude. Periodically she punctuates her gaze with a strategic "Hm!" or "Hmmm-hm!" The effect on the large man takes a bit to show, but eventually he cannot disguise his snarl.
"What's so bloody fascinating?" he demands.
"Just wondering what could motivate someone like you to turn against his own kind."
Backlash lets out a derisive snort. "My own kind? I kill anyone using their mutant power inside twenty feet. Do you actually think the reason I can do it makes a lick of difference?"
The comment gives Kitty a fleeting hope that she might be able to get through to her captor. "None of us get to choose our power, and you're not the only one whose power is harmful to other mutants. That's why it's important to learn to control our powers whether we're happy with them or not."
"Oh, but I am happy. I was born to kill mutants, and I've embraced that. That's who I am. That's what matters to me, and if you weren't such a prat you'd realize it's what matters to you as well. Anytime a mutant shows up at your school, the first thing all of you ask about is their powers. That's why your Headmistress is kicking out all the students who got the short end on M-Day. Mutants will never be a community because the only thing you have in common is the same thing everyone has in common: an accident of birth."
Kitty crosses her arms in irritation. "Hmpf. Bet you were a cynic even before you found out what your power was."
"I'm not a cynic. I'm a realist."
"You're a madman who gets off on murder, and I'm going to stop you."
"And how, exactly do you intend to do that?"
Kitty turns to look at the window just in time to see the world tilt as the plane angles into a turn. "Right on time," she thinks. "Oh," she says casually, "With a little help from my friends."
The Captain's voice suddenly rings through the intercom. "This is your Captain speaking. We seem to have run into a slight difficulty and will need to return to Heathrow. I'd like to ask everyone to remain in their seats until we have landed. I want to assure you that there is absolutely nothing to worry about and we apologize for any inconvenience and delay this may cause."
Many groans follow this announcement, but none are as displeased as Kitty's seatmate. "Wha?" Backlash says as his head snaps forward. He shoots Kitty a savage glare. "You're behind this, aren't you? I warned you not to try anything!"
The huge man leaves his seat and withdraws a gun from its hiding place on his belt. "Now you're going to suffer the consequences!"
"Sir!" a flight attendant says when she notices Backlash. "Sir! Please return to your seat- Ahhhh!" She recoils in fear when she sees his gun.
"Air Marshal!" the bruiser yells before the passengers have a chance to react. He storms toward the front of the plane with murder clear in his eyes. People flinch from him as he rushes past, fear of the gun or respect for his announced authority preventing them from interfering.
"Can't let him get to the pilot," Kitty thinks as she launches herself into the aisle. "Not enough room to fight him hand-to-hand, and I have to convince everyone not to trust him anyway."
"He's lying!" Kitty yells as she runs after him. She reaches him just as he crosses the wall that separates coach from the rest of the plane. With no better options, she bravely leaps onto his back, locking her arms around his throat. "Look out! He's got a gun!"
The announcement is enough to tip the scales in the side of fear. The passengers now look utterly terrified and shriek every time his pistol wanders in their direction.
"Get off!" Backlash shouts, attempting to throw Kitty off. When he finds that her grip is too tight, he slams her into the overhead compartments.
"Ah!" Kitty cries in pain. Despite the brutal attack, she keeps her arms locked in place, but when he rams her up again, she feels her grip start to loosen.
Knowing he's got her, Backlash leans forward and uses his free arm to fling her at the cockpit door. She bounces, but is able to roll into it enough to prevent herself from suffering too much damage. Dazed, but mobile, she quickly rises back to her feat and braces herself against the door.
"You'll have to kill me to get past me," she tells him defiantly.
"We already covered that," he leers, raising the barrel of his gun.
"Eagh!" Kitty cries out in agony, though nothing seems to have happened to her. Her guts feel like they're being twisted into knots, set of fire, and then trampled on. Backlash pauses, confused, until realization dawns on him.
"You're phasing?"
Backlash glares at her with contempt. "Crazy bird. You're actually trying to protect yourself with your power?" The passengers all around him seem almost frozen in place as they regard him, and his gun, with terrified apprehension.
Kitty is unable to respond with words. She can barely stand, nearly hunched over as she braces herself against the cockpit door. Her brow already glistens with sweat and her breath is ragged. Her eyes, however, speak volumes. They lock with her adversary's in a piercing gaze of complete determination.
"Have it your way, but I'll make sure you die with the blood of a few innocents on your hands!" With that, Backlash turns his gun sideways and fires it on one of the passengers. The unfortunate target is a proper looking businesswoman who has been quaking with fear from the moment everything became chaotic. A horrified scream erupts from the entire plane in a single voice, and the expression on the target's face is one of pure shock.
The bullet flies through both her and the window behind her. It takes her, Backlash, and the rest of the plane a moment to realize it has done so without harm.
"What the--?" Backlash says.
"Not me," Kitty manages to say with a labored voice. The damage from Backlash's power, or perhaps the strain of her own actions, has caused a nasty nosebleed to start on her.
Backlash suddenly realizes that he's starting to move backwards ever-so-slowly. "Huh?" he says.
"The whole plane..." she continues.
His feet sink through the floor of the plane, and Backlash flails his arms, grasping desperately at the seats around him, but his hands pass through them as if they were nothing but air.
"...and e-everyone in it..."
Backlash moves more rapidly, and he can only be seen from the neck up as he yells, "Oh, bugger!"
"...except you."
The plane sails away with thunderous speed, rapidly becoming little more than a speck as Backlash begins his unexpected plummet from the clouds. He can only watch and scream helplessly.
Kitty collapses to the floor of the plane, coughing blood, completely spent. She can barely hold herself up on all fours as several passengers approach her to help.
With her last ounce of strength she leans herself back so that she can rest her back against the cockpit door. "Is everyone okay?" she asks weakly.
A middle aged man in a tweed suit lifts her wrist to check her pulse. "Everyone's fine. You saved us all."
Kitty's vision starts to go blurry as she tries to focus on the man. A trickle of blood creeps down her chin as she struggles to keep her eyes open.
She's barely lucid by this point, but manages to say, "Need to... tell P..."
"Shh," the man tells her, though he sounds like he's miles away. "I'm a doctor..."
The world goes black before she can hear what else he has to say.
The darkness is comforting. No unpleasant images or voices intrude upon it. It is nothing more than a simple emptiness. There isn't even a sense of time.
But it does not last forever.
The darkness begins to yield, and vague shapes move into her vision.
"Uhnnn."
One of the shapes moves closer. "Pryde?" a familiar voice says. "You awake, Kitty?"
Kitty blinks a few times to clear her head and smiles when she recognizes Pete hovering over her.
"I did something new with my powers today," she says dreamily.
"Put yourself in the hospital is what you did," Pete gruffs a bit. "And that was two days ago."
"Everything's so blurry," Kitty yawns. She feels herself becoming more alert with each breath.
"Hang on," Pete says and slides something onto her face. "Found these in your pack." As her vision clears, she realizes that he has put her round spectacles on her. "Better?"
Pete's expression softens again. "I brought you some flowers," he says, brandishing a bouquet.
Kitty glances about her hospital room and sees that it is filled with vases overflowing with an abundance of flowers. Dangling get well cards show that they are from various X-Men, the Braddocks, the crew and passengers of the plane she saved, and even one signed by her students Warren, Scott, Ben and Alana. Next to Alana's signature is a cartoon drawing of a smiling kitten face.
"'Course, I wasn't the only one."
A sudden flapping announces the presence of another friend in the room. Lockheed the dragon maneuvers himself strategically so that he is between Pete and Kitty and can hog all her attention. He hovers next to her, cooing with genuine concern.
"Lockheed!" Kitty says, still weak but very delighted.
"He came with the flowers," Pete says wryly. "Seems he'd just arrived at the mansion when they got the news. He was going to turn right around and come back until everyone convinced him it'd be faster to ride in the Blackbird. He hasn't left your side since. Still hates me, too."
"Hsss!" Lockheed tosses over his wing.
"Same to you," Pete taunts.
"Boys! Be nice!" Kitty laughs in a tired way and then gives Pete a more serious look. "The plane?"
"You saved 'em, Pryde. Captain says you're a hero. Says he's never seen anything like it. Leave it to you to worry about them, first." He tries to seem light, but his expression slowly darkens.
"How bad-?"
"You took a beating all right. Another few seconds and you might have died."
"-Should see the other guy," Kitty says sleepily.
"Luckily," he stresses, "most of the internal damage was minor, and the doctors say you'll be back on your feet in a day or two." He pauses a moment. "Speaking of healing up, how about we keep that whole kissing thing between us, all right? If word of that gets back to yer boyfriend..." he leaves the rest hanging.
Kitty manages a small shrug. "It was just to fool the bad guys, right?"
"Yeah... Sure."
Lockheed flies back to the stand next to the bed, seeming to sense the moment growing between the two.
Pete looks at her, torn by all the things he wants to say, and unsure where he should start, or even if he should start. Finally, Kitty solves the problem by reaching out to take one of his hands and saying, "What is it?"
Pete doesn't answer for a second as he chooses his words. "Just wondering... Do you remember after Dream Nails, when I asked if you wanted to run off and lead a life of crime with me?"
A look of confusion crosses the young woman's eyes. "What?"
Pete puts a hand behind his head, feeling awkward. "Ever wonder- how things would be different if you'd said yes?"
Kitty manages a slow grin. "Silly git..." She can feel herself starting to slip back into a restful slumber as tubes she's hooked to pump a new stream of drugs. Sleep manages to overtake her, but not before she finishes saying one last thing.
"Sometimes... sometimes..."
Next: Chicken Soup for the Young Mutant's Soul!
Notes:
This story takes place after New Excalibur #3.
The break-up between Kitty and Pete Wisdom made a lot of people unhappy. The same holds true for the break-up between Kitty and Peter, but they remained on the same team, and were able to reach a new understanding that allowed them to remain teammates and friends. This was my attempt to give Kitty and Pete a way to reach a similar understanding. I don't have any personal feelings about who Kitty "belongs" with, but Pete was a major part of Kitty's life and it would be disrespectful to her if I tried to ignore that.
A side note about Issue 2- The scene in the cocktail bar is based on a real life experience. My wife and I accidentally stumpled into such a place while walking to a wedding. I happened to be the one blissfully unware of where we had found ourselves until my eyes fell on the stage with the pole rising from it. Fortunately nobody was dancing at the time.