18
It turned out good for Psylocke that Anne-Marie never showed up again that night. The puppy that Cortez gave her absorbed all of her attention. Elizabeth called her Chel. The shaggy black female resembled a Labrador, having the markings of future pointy triangular ears that remained cutely folded for now. Due to the fact that before she gains Acolytes' trust that would allow her to walk freely, Psylocke was apparently to stay locked up for some time, so the animal was to raise her spirits, keeping company and providing some occupation.
The woman did not think of Chel as a living souvenir of Fabian, nor an image softener in her eyes. She identified herself with this doggie, who felt lost after being taken away from the mother and was frightened by a completely new environment. Psylocke got here suddenly, taken out of context, without any personal belongings such as a stupid toothbrush, not to mention money, with which she could at least get herself a phone card and tell her brother that she is alive before he sends whole S.H.I.E.L.D. after her.
When she mentioned it at the modest breakfast, which she shared with two of the Acolytes remaining at this time in the area, Amelia Voght brought herself to speak for the first time:
– Don't say I didn't warn you – she said as the grouch imperative told her to, although in fact she was still ashamed to speak to Psylocke, since her colleagues have identified her as Braddock.
One had to admit that they happened to have their meal in a place strangely beautiful as for the standards of the rest of the building. It was a porch, glazed to allow for air conditioning, which in turn made it possible to benefit from the sun without the heat of the outside. The windows have been recently washed on the explicit request of Carmella. Considerable-sized potted plants were placed in the of corners, as well as bamboo furniture lined with pillows was not completely devoid of taste.
– Do not take her words personally, honey – chirped Carmella Unuscione, spilling green tea into cups for the three of them. – It is true that it's always difficult to construct a decent wardrobe from scratch, but the basis for life itself we can handle immediately, and even Lord Boss will be nice.
Psylocke nodded quite freely, putting a chocolate croissant on her plate, while Carmella's loud voice filled the veranda: '... there is a line which men are unable to pass, if they see a good enough pair of tits.' Her own built must have been one of those: Carmella embodied the ideal of a Latin sex bomb, which dominated in the men's dreams of blue lagoon and exotic beauty.
In contrast to the rest of the Acolytes who almost never parted with their uniforms, she wore hipsters and tops that barely hid the tastier details of her body. The dark-eyed Mexican with a mass of black curls miraculously had enough charm in her, that whatever she did, it looked gratefully. Even the way she ate her croissant on the other side of the table seemed to Elizabeth accentuated with sex appeal. She had a silver cross pendant suspended just in the way, so that its bottom tip would land in the most interesting place.
Although Psylocke was not inherently secretive, from the beginning she deliberately remained focused only on collecting information about the new company and reluctantly revealed much about herself. Besides, she was convinced that the apparent openness of the Acolytes is also lined with distrust, after all, them and the X-men were closed circles, whose foundation was trust, and that does not come in a few days.
Constantly talking, usually something in the kind of 'with a man, you need to proceed like with a mop: push hard, push hard and hit on the ground'. Carmella happily took Elizabeth to the city centre. Psylocke immediately got to like her, especially because of her honesty, which at her level of verbosity could quickly show that she is intelligent as well. She borrowed her her own money for the assembly of a basic cosmetic and hygienic set, helping her to decide when choosing towel patterns (of which the Genoshan stores represented a veritable selection, due to the beach tourist nature of the island) and then a properly low-cut red dress.
At some point, Psylocke stopped at a phone booth, asking Carmella to wait for her a little further away on a bench. She could never be sure as to what she could catch her on saying during the conversation with her brother and she cared very much about not making his identity immediately obvious to the allies of Apocalypse.
With a little disgust she held the dirty phone as close as possible to her ear without touching it, before Brian finally answered. When she presented herself, he revived as if he had already send Iron Man in search of her both in the space and on the bottom of the ocean.
– Betsy! – it grated terribly in the receiver in reaction of the internal speaker on the loud voice of Captain Britain. – Thank God, you're alive!
– Not really God – she corrected, smiling to herself maliciously. She knew one thing: her brother was one of a kind. Nobody in their right mind would give themselves such a codename.
– We thought you died in an explosion at the mansion, I didn't want to believe, in the end no bodies were found – Brian continued clearly delighted, as usual ignoring the scepticism of his sister. – Where are you?
She sighed.
– Far away. It's hard to explain... on Genosha. I came here – after a moment's thought, she added – with a partner.
– Ah, yes... – her brother's personality did not allow him to get angry, although such justification of Elizabeth's disappearance could be either very irresponsible, or false, given what were the circumstances and how hard everyone was trying looking for her.
Psylocke seemed aware of this, so she finally broke the silence and ended:
– I'm calling as soon as I could, so that you don't worry any more. Everything is fine. I will contact you again.
When she hung up it occurred to her that by saying that she suggested it might not be fine. But Brian seemed to be at least much calmer. She put the phone card to her totally empty new wallet and she went back to where she left Carmella.
But she was no longer alone. At this moment some sourpuss in a shirt patterned in tribal motifs approached her, with a firmly upright posture showing high self-respect and being used to it of someone else. Fabian. Elizabeth had time to learn already that he had his breakfast alone, usually with a book in a cafe, to which no one else felt neither actually was invited.
– Oh. There you are – an instinctive feeling stopped her from a more profuse welcome, as if the two were somehow related. She lost interest in smiling to them.
– We went out for a little shopping, My Lord Boss, she required care – Carmella was paying court, smiling as usual.
– It's just as well.
Cortez looked at her with undisguised reluctance, despite that what he said was in a tone quite nice for himself. Psylocke associated confusion of positive and negative reactions to the opposite sex with the remnants of a failed closer relationship. That's why she felt uncomfortable when the outgoing Mexican leaped to her and embraced her with an arm.
– It's unbelievable that such a girl did not immediately get rid of someone like you – Psylocke felt like a subject of partner malice.
– Leave her alone – said Fabian, who apparently was able not only to command, but to ask too.
He looked into the eyes of Psylocke to examine her reaction, but then Carmella started in turn to hover around him in smooth movements.
– We know each other for so long, Lord Boss. The Acolytes feel at ease with nobody as well as with each other – she spoke with a sweet voice. – You are a pair as pretty as a picture. Maybe I could join you someday?
Cortez cleared his throat, unable to suppress a smile.
– Girls, do you want to finish me off?
Carmella winked coquettishly.
– Do not flatter yourself, ugly, I mean only your sweet damsel.
Psylocke immediately understood everything. The most attractive and likeable guy always turned out to be gay. And it was him who had the most of sexy girlfriends on his neck and knees. The justice rare in this world made the other side looked alike. In her mind she shrugged her shoulders – allright, Carmella did actually put her hands on her hips, and she thought about what an analogous reaction of a man would be for something like that, if, as it seemed, he liked them both. Although she only felt she has been licked in the face, she pretended to like Unuscione's kiss.
No matter who he was and how much he could normally control himself, Fabian momentarily froze in complete stillness and lack of awareness, only after a second he recovered and pulled Carmella's hand.
– Ouch, that hurts – she meowed with an innocent face, although she knew that it is one more word and Cortez smite her with an energy wave.
– Get your hands off – he cut off definitely and let her go, even though for a while she had to rub her wrist.
Psylocke from behind Carmella sent him a defiant smile. She was finally starting to have fun in here. To leave no doubt as to who she prefers, she walked past the woman without a word and touched the hand of Fabian for him to accompany her further on. She was aware that if she shakes his confidence bout herself even a little more, as she had done several times so far, he could let it drop. And this would not be what professional leading by the nose allows.
She almost felt sorry for him when after some time of walking in the direction of the apartments he asked if he should carry her shopping bags. Naturally, she had to take advantage of this and hand them over to him, otherwise she would not be herself, but at the same time she finally said, glancing from under the seductively downcast lashes:
– I hope you won't cry that I've kissed her sooner than ever you. Let us say that what was a long time ago counts. And now it's my turn.
If it was a stolen kiss, then Cortez accepted the thief on the red carpet, and he handed her a bow-decorated key to the safe. His kiss was very different from Warren's, but she could like it just as much and one day maybe she could erase the past from her memory. It will take her more time to earn the trust of such an independent tough guy, but that is the way with love that one wants to trust someone faster than their reason would allow them to. And she had a hunch that Cortez has fallen in love with her already.
It seemed that he does not want to let her go from his arm at all on the sidewalk next to the bags with the towel and dress dropped no matter here. She would not be against such a solution due to one fact, namely, whatever was his past as a soldier or a Genoshan slave, its result was fabulous fit shape, which she could feel through the shirt at close. However, as they were public figures, especially him in here, and this was too much. Therefore, only in his room, to which she shamelessly invited herself, she undid all the buttons and watching the lines of his muscles with equal joy like she was looking at herself in the mirror.
Her attention was driven away only by a sudden burst of scrapes and rustling from the floor. It was Chel who fell among the shopping bags when playing with a rubber ball. There was nothing else on the floor. Actually, Fabian's apartment was disappointingly empty, just like the one of his sister. The furniture was modest as of a two-star hotel and apart from it there were only three categories of things: books, clothes and a bowls of fruit. Cortez read a many books and quickly; he never accumulated any of them, which is why they were all borrowed. For this reason they were worn and treated without the great respect typical for Psylocke, who always put them on the shelf in order according to their sizes and themes.
– I don't know anything about you – she started, letting go of his shirt tails and glanced at Chel playing. She went towards an armchair, then she sat down comfortably in it. – Although I have heard a lot.
– Do you believe in any of it? – he asked, not following her to the second seat.
– Maybe some parts. Sit down – she suggested, but Fabian did not do it.
Instead, he picked up a loud-ticking watch, which fell out from one of the shopping bags a while ago. It was supposed to help the weaned puppy to fall asleep more easily. Despite the nice fame, the shield was the same as in all the other cheap watches available in Genoshan souvenir stores, white with red numbers. A sticker with the name of the island and the date of the previous year was glued to the stand. Someone had carelessly overlooked its change.
For him Genosha was like this stupid souvenir: a parody of something positive. Even after several years of Magneto's efforts to make this place a peace sanctuary for mutants and a good example for other nations, there were still objects like this one. The product of a country boasting about its blue beaches, modern hotels and high standard of living of its citizens, for which cheap income and not having to carry out the least prestigious work allowed them, still disgraced by the unethical context of its production.
– Genosha is like this watch – he said and Psylocke only raised an eyebrow not trying to understand why sometimes he does not bother to introduce some context for his words. – When the burden of the war will move somewhere else, we will have a chance too. And you will, if you are with us.
Psylocke thought she will not join the Acolytes, if they fail to convince her particularly. She tried to figure Cortez out to know what they are really about. She was not going to waste a tear on them if they turn out to be just a bunch of lunatics. But she did not want to tell him that openly. They did not trust one another, which made communication almost impossible. But now it was her turn for a non-safe move.
– Let's say I'm with you. After all I didn't run away – she continued. – But there is no way I 'm going to bed with you before I know one thing.
– I guess this is a necessary and insufficient condition.
– Did you sleep with all the women, you've had on the team? Because if there is an entrance examination, it better not be that.
– Not with all of them – he answered cheerfully and joined her at the other seat.
– It's comforting – she played a sigh of relief.
She was finally able to get rid of the impression that they are having a verbal duel instead of a talk. She took the tangerine, which he gave her and started turn it around in her hands while he was peeling his.
– When you took over Genosha – she continued – and you showed on the news, they hinted that in Spain you were someone important. An expelled prince.
Fabian snorted and almost rolled his eyes. She laughed.
– You don't like the sound of it? Your sister probably enjoys her origin.
– You know, every girl ever wants to be a princess, but do you know at least one boy who played a prince? A knight, a warrior – all right, he could be a prince by the way, but a lordly goof? Nah. – he did not say this seriously, because of which Psylocke practically imagined that he smiled.
She leaned more toward him, still resting on one hand in one of her "mysterious beauty" poses.
– Mmm, I get it. You are one of those cool guys, who don't look at explosions.
– Of course – Fabian picked up and added – by planning that I will pierce the tyres in cripples' wheelchairs, that I will shout "you dirty pauper" at the scaffolding on which men are working, that I will slap babies in the underground and nudge the blind in the street, I publicly curse the spirit of humanity.1
– But not to overdo it, but you're not a conquistador, who allowsthe silent spell of the wild to seduce his unrestrained soul beyond the borders of admissible desires – Elizabeth added with a smile as soon as she remembered the fragment. – I do not see the opposition members' heads stuck on the fence.2
– Growing in strength does not lie in nurturing the weakness around oneself.
– That is why I still don't know what the Acolytes are about. I'd already know you're a spoilt despot, if it were that simple. Some time ago I wouldn't even bother about the knowledge of what you are. But something happened that made us alike. The who I am and the who people think I am began to diverge.
– I appreciate that. What was it about?
– I died – she said impatiently, with no particular recipient for this feeling – instead of some Japanese woman. I have been inserted in her body and you can imagine how important it can be to become someone else when one had been a model.
– Hmm... I'm sorry, maybe it proves rather not in favour of my mind's quickness, but I do not see much difference. I guess I didn't remember the image of pheromones correctly after all.
– Bah! I did all I could to cover up the differences – she said proudly. – I eventually declared that I've had surgery, but if not for the protection of professor Xavier, who had to affirm and swear on everything that it is me in this body... there would be nothing – she got a little anxious, but in a moment she regained the energy – that we were alike was probably one of the reasons why they chose me. She was like the Russians from the east, a bit Asian, a bit European.3 There is still plenty of differences! I've become shorter due to these short legs, more shapely, that's true, but in turn my size reduced in here – it was a joke of her to pretend there was a reason that would justify her stroking along the bra cups with her finger, from the insight into which only a few layers of material kept the viewer.
Even if it was unreasonable of her to confess, and even more in front of him, of the problem which once almost destroyed her world and which she never mentioned to anyone, she still felt good about it now. She needed to finally call by name the big deal shrouded in mystery, whose own echo grew unnecessarily to enormous importance, but when spoken out shrunk to the size of an anecdote.
In addition, a glimpse of her sincerity allowed Fabian to say something more.
– You're a telepath – he started, handing her a half of his mandarin, because she still did not peel her own. She ate it this time. – I can show you. You read whatever you want about the Acolytes from my memory.
– As far as I can – Elizabeth hesitated. – It's not too often that I read thoughts, I always focus on using my skills in combat.
She did not mention that the second personality which accompanied her since the reincarnation was showing its presence inside her, undermining her concentration necessary for mind reading.
– I will lead you – proposed Cortez, moving his chair closer.
Like Mystique, with his frequency and extent of getting under the skin of others, he had to learn to reign over his mind, including shielding himself to some extent against telepaths.
– Focus then – Psylocke asked, putting her hands on his temples. Physical contact made it easier to focus at least by a factor of aim. – Where are we going?
– Maybe to something short and easy. You will find out what was going on with the rabbit.
They closed their eyes and quickly stopped hearing the claw scraping of Chel running around on the floor.
Psylocke found herself among an uproar. Quickly she learned it was a school gym – the background has gained some more detail, there was a sports coach on her side, on a short bench several people cheered. Netting hung before her and she moved lively on her half of the field. Not knowing anything about herself, she saw only the freckled hands bouncing the ball to others and sometimes pieces of her outfit. Everyone was shouting at the moment in a completely incomprehensible language and sometimes even out of herself she heard a boyish voice joining them. It was because of it and the surroundings that she found out she is the Fabian of secondary school age.
No trace of rabbits.
The match was played, Fabia's team eventually lost, although the boys were so joyfully excited that they felt like winners. The coach showed them the thumbs up, only she did not understand anything of the words, except their expressly optimistic tone.
And then the vision stopped and suddenly broke off from the rapid pace and became virtually a snapshot. In slow motion she herself patting someone on the shoulder and that it made them euphoric. And then a break again.
After a moment she entered a nice home, but it was far less than a palace, if this was supposed to be a royal family. Its standard resembled that of her own home in England. She went inside and upstairs, but no one greeted her. She was feeling strange in the skin of a teenager who moved everywhere impatiently and keenly jumping and running, just like her brother, the age at which she moved with grace, full of attention for the order of her hairstyle. As Fabian she had strands of hair on the face every minute. She looked around for someone, but she did not find them in one of the rooms. This one could not belong to him, but Anne–Marie. Inside there was an order of which she would not suspect a teenage boy and there were pictures hanging, photo frames and a plush dinosaur set on a shelf.
Her vision stopped next to a cage with a patchy rabbit. She leaned over it, and as expected, the cowardly animal bucked and hit the bars rattling. Fabian without caring about it opened the outer door and picked up the squirming animal. After a moment already it no longer looked like mere plucking up. First the ball of fur stiffened motionless in the tightly clenched hands, and then it began to shake and struggle so desperately that it was difficult to hold it. Finally it wilted. Fabian turned it around in his hands a few times, he snorted a short laugh, then put the dead animal back in the cage.
After that he remained in the room for a moment, taking a few steps to the sides from time to time and the vision stopped. When she regained consciousness, Psylocke just let go Cortez' temples and blinked several times.
– Damn – she whispered.
They used to say that he was a sociopath. That he had a foreign accent. That he was impetuous and raged when someone accused him of a relationship with his sister. And that he shot in the head one of those saying it and did not rush to wash away his blood. But also that his favourite colour was yellow, or that he writes with his left hand – she also recalled as a consolation.
– I could not tell you, but I did not understand what you were saying – she said.
For some reason Psylocke did not want to inquire about the detailed meaning of what she saw in the memory. She preferred to leave it for later speculation. Before Cortez could answer, she interjected again:
– But hey, redhead, the prince thing is an exaggeration. Even my brother lived in a larger home.
She had to bite her tongue not only not to let him figure out that this time she meant her second, ill brother, whom she never mentions, but also not to put her foot in it with 'and Warren, he had such a mansion that the Queen could intrude on it by mistake.' Her words were only an intentional, a little nervous rhetoric move, which had facilitated the avoidance of response to the memory images.
– Next time I will be translating to you as we go – promised Fabian. – It's my mother's brother who is the next king, but it no longer has anything to do with me. I have been crossed out from the family a few years after the rabbit. Anne-Marie was so... reckless to run with the discovery of her power to our parents.
– ...and probably at one go she spilled the beans about you too – said Psylocke. No matter how many examples of negative reaction to a mutation in the family she heard about, among the X-Men it happened often, they still annoyed her. – Sigh ... parents; panic is one thing, but this sick idea of Genosha is another. Correct me if I'm wrong; the country legalized a class division and in practice, slavery. As a result of the low cost in a few decades they almost crushed their island under a heap of tourist resorts. Overall, it was known that uncomfortable mutants are invited here, although other countries were not allowed to openly accept this invitation. Hence the successful and unsuccessful traffic on an uncalculated exactly scale – she said quickly and mechanically, as if reciting an editorial note. – But at this moment the mutant topic in general was very young as such, and there were not so many ones identified and recognized as a threat, as they are now. The arrival of Magneto and Asteroid M marked the first real peak of political tension in the matter.
He nodded, more of a conventional courtesy than out of necessity. She continued:
– This is all that the X-men heard, those who for the same ten years were warming their rumps by Charles Xavier's fireplace. Now I want to know more – she raised an eyebrow in order to hide real curiosity behind a theatrical one. – How does passing bricks teach to run countries.
– It's not just the bricks – said Cortez. – It was already in me. That's why I recalled the match.
He did not say that it was then that for the first time he thought seriously that he was a good leader. That people like his resoultness. He did not believe that his authority was due to mutant skills, as it could be inferred sometimes.
– Getting Genosha was not easy. But Central America is what I would really like... – he said dreamily, as if it was just about a car a little too high-end. Psylocke repeated this sentence to herself in her head once more when she realized that he was not joking when thinking in these terms. – I promised Cuba to Delgado. They even used to call us 'Cuba Libre' before Magneto, because we used to talk to each other in Spanish. If you want to know. We had a master. There were collars and cabins. He was not that bad. In my first years they withdrew the cells. Collars were since then not only blocking powers, but they limited the range without walls. They were programmed depending on the job and it was possible to wander within the ghetto, up to the gates and to the coast on the other. The master was reasonable. He did not want to oppress us too much so that the outside world could not easily oppose, and for us not to rebel too quickly. I'll tell you that people got used to it over time. Cement, bricks, or something else, the manger, and then to boxing. Quite like those on the other side of the wall.
Psylocke recalled what, inter alia, she overheard by chance in some soldiers' conversation under her window a few days ago. That once Cortez 'slaughtered someone with a shovel!', '... I tell you, with a fork!', '... No no, the cutlery guy was Manson.' She would not accept a puppy as a gift from someone who would be able to finish someone off in such a way, so she asked him telepathically:
'What was the killing with a shovel about? You often appeared in people's minds in the first days after the Genosha attack."
'They'd always beat for getting a gun and even then it was hard to get ammunition' – he said. 'I had a shovel in my hands every day, it had a sharp end, and he stood with his back to me expecting nothing. Anne-Marie also told me that this event drew attention. I hit him only a few times, he died because nobody wanted to help him. Why don't you ask directly?'
Pink butterfly mask disappeared from her face.
– I'm not sure if it's prudent to stay close to you, even if you only had in your reach... a fork.
He sighed and wondered what to say to defend himself.
– The leader of the ghetto had changed and everything moved on again, according to another order – he explained patiently. – It's not that everyone has the privilege to play Captain America. I grab life by the throat and I act in favour of what is important to me – Elizabeth wanted to look away, but he looked at her with almost hypnotic involvement, so similar to that of Xavier. – Some people think that they can judge whether a death was deserved or not, most simply believe that human classification of the good and the naughty is of any value. And the facts are that life goes on without it. I swear I would not do anything to hurt you.
After the last sentence she seemed to suddenly wake up.
– All right... Nor am I Sailor Moon after all. Heh heh... – she said nervously, not knowing how to get rid of his glance when she began to blush. He could at least blink! She clapped her hands, joining them in front of him. – You're strange. Fabian... show me another memory, because can't stand you any more.
– You used my name.
– Yes, yes, know your lady's grace – she waved at him kindly, just before putting a hand on his temples again. – Don't grin, just recall something not depressing.
This time he took her on sun-bathed Genosha, on a dusty path. On one side it was tiled with paving stones, which they continued to place in the opposite direction. She concentrated hard, so that she could see people and background in more detail, but she still could not change the viewing perspective. Once again she was Fabian and she could not even decide what to look at and replicated everything the way he saw it in the past. On sessions with the professor it was all so easy. There, Elizabeth and her second personality were separate individuals, the presence of Xavier was felt close by and he could watch what he wanted from a third-person perspective.
It seemed to her she feels hot. She stared at the paving stones she laid, but in her mind she heard a series of verses that sounded like a song. Somehow she managed to ask the present Fabian on her own behalf what's going on.
'The Catalan' – she heard in her consciousness. 'It annoyed me that I forget the language.'
She could heard simple English around, spoken by each person with another bizarre accent. Some grammatical tricks hurt the British mind of Psylocke with their incorrectness.
They worked on one of the regular city streets, surrounded on two sides by low-rise glass buildings. Suddenly the past Fabian turned in someone's direction, and after a moment he whispered:
– Allen, what is it?
Creature of this name squealed shyly in reply:
– Those who walk there... they know me from school.
He was such a lovely boy, that if she were not two times older than him now and met him in person, she would not let him get away without a date. He had big eyes with narrow pupils because of the strong sun and short messy brown hair, whose wisps formed curls, of which the most beautiful were in front of the ears. He also had a fringe which stood slightly upwards and was completely white, that way she recognised in him the present Chrome.
Looking back at the hateful rumour by Rogue, that allegedly they were a couple with Fabian, she thought that even if it were true, though it was not, she could forgive it. Alarmed and embarrassed Allen looked like a crying kitten so that she did not only just want to hug him and lull saying that everything will be all right, but also to go for the jugular of whom he feared immediately afterwards. And by this time some kids approached him along the pavement, which was separated from their area of work with a striped ribbon.
'Chrome comes from South Africa' – said the voice of Cortez in her mind, while this memory self crouched like he was ready to jump in case the others made any kind of quip. 'For him Genosha is not at the other end of the world. He grew up with the knowledge that close by they run a camp for mutants, he did not know exactly of what kind, but to turn out to be a mutant had to be the fulfilment of a considerable concern. He has seen enough in his country what can be legitimately done with those who are uncomfortable and saw here the beginning of the mutant version of apartheid. He was not much mistaken.'
– Hey, but this is Yuric! And they said that he rots in a juvie!
Well, it happened. If nothing had happened, there would be no memory of it...
– He was always strange, but this...
A few comments were made and then suddenly, when the word 'worker' was finally used, Allen who bent lower and lower until then raised his head and threw a paving stone at the group of teenagers. A squeal was heard when he hit one of them in the knee, but then he threw one more, then another, releasing his rage in the swing and a scream. He shouted aloud, but Psylocke heard absolutely nothing in this place. Even all the other sounds disappeared for the moment.
Before she could think about it, some passers-by stopped around outraged, someone claimed Allen's identification number to make a complaint. Cortez jumped in the direction of a missy who was just coming hastily from behind; she wore shorts, a rumpled hat and a shirt made of knotted cloth, in which her breasts pounced on each step. She screamed at Allen and soothed the free citizens with subservient formulas before even approaching them completely. Fabian appeared in front of her so that she jumped in place and stopped, breaking off in mid-sentence of the next apology. He growled an insult at her in Spanish, with a voice so uncomfortably low that it gave creeps. He probably called her a whore, but this was just what Cortez did not translate to Psylocke.
– Just try to report, and I'll rip your legs out of your ass and you will have nothing more to give the guard.
Suddenly, Psylocke recognised that the woman was Carmella Unuscione. A little neglected, with her hands stained with drops of white paint and dust, but just as attractive as she is now. It seemed that his words hurt her. The telepath was sure it was clear to her now, but not necessarily for the past Fabian. That was not a random insult, by accident too strong; It was more like the effect of a long-established hostile relation. Psylocke could not guess what had to happen in order to transform that state of affairs into the current peace. She felt sorry for Carmella and she thought how unceremoniously they had left her on her own in the city.
– Why did you mute what Chrome had said? – she asked, realizing after a while that she is saying it aloud in the real room with Cortez..
– I thought it was important to him – he replied quietly, but she no longer listened; she forgot her question when she opened her eyes and learnt her current situation. – I could not concentrate any longer.
Cortez was leaning over her chair and he was very close. She did not mind, and even wanted him to be closer. He could kill rabbits, even with a shovel, if he wanted to. Recently he got too interesting for her to let these little things bother her when holding him tightly and tasting the kisses that she claimed for herself. That day she did not let him leave these two ugly rooms anymore.
1 Camus, „the Fall". In this fragment the first person narrator talks about the advantages of releasing his inner evil. He thinks it is better than pretending to be good while hiding the evil inside, as he did before.
2 Conrad, „the Heart of Darkness". The point of the story is, as in "Lord Jim", is the verification of a man's moral system at a moment of trial. In the wild, European law did not reach, the actual morality was put to the test. Psylocke refers to the character of Kurtz, who does not pass this trial with positive result.
3 It's not that I don't think that a fully japanese physique would not be pretty enough for Psylocke and that is why I wrote about a mix! I wanted to make her at least a bit how she should be, which is an Asian, because the cannon Kwannon is shamelessly european in 100%.
