Disclaimer: "Only two things are infinite—the universe and stupidity—and I'm not sure about the universe."

(An: So in this one, I attempt to fuck with canon. As a result, it's... weird. I haven't watched the series through in a long time. Which makes me sad. Anyway, the song is "Sugar, We're Going Down.")

Am I more than you bargained for yet? I been dying to tell you anything you wanna hear

I'm starting to think I had no idea what I was getting into when Magsy showed up and broke me out of that asylum. You'd think I'd know to be a little cautious around a guy in a fucking purple cape, but you'd also think the doctors back home would realize that maybe the weird fires that always seemed to happen around me were mutant powers and not just "incurable pyromania."

But that's just me being bitter. And I guess the worries about Mags are just me being stupid. I mean, I've done some pretty nasty things for him—scaring the X-men is the least of it, trust me. And still this... it just doesn't feel right.

It doesn't.

When I told Remy about it, he just scoffed at me. "It's not like your job's to hurt the femme," he said. He was smoking, like always. I was tempted to make his cigarette explode in his face—I hate the smell of the damn things—but the last time I did that, he threatened to blow up my typewriter. And he almost did. I'd really rather not risk the "almost" part.

I mentioned the femme in question was the boss's daughter, but he just flapped a hand at me. "What's it bother you for?" He looked even grumpier than usual. Has for a while now—I think it's because of that hot Southern chick, but don't quote me on that. I might write romance novels on the side, but I'm really bad at picking out who's eyeing who.

Remy just looked at me for a second. Then he sighed. "Look, John, this life? You do what the boss says. You don't think about it, you just do it. Just be glad he left all the nasty work for Jason—your job is just to leave the breadcrumbs for her, that's all. Ain't no problem." Then he clapped me on the back and went to go rob parking meters or something.

I can't tell you how weird it was to hear him reference a nursery rhyme.

I thought about asking Pete for advice, but he's been in a bad mood ever since the attack on the X-men. He seems to actually believe it when they call themselves the good guys. I think he's just spent too long in the Siberian wastes. There's no such thing as good or bad, only what you have to do and what you don't.

So if I have to do this, why does it bug me so much? I don't even know what Magneto wants his daughter up here for anyway. Maybe he wants to buy her a pony or something. Yeah. A pony. Everybody likes ponies.

We're going down down In an early round But sugar, we're going down swinging

So... I think I did the stupidest thing ever today. Or it might have been the best thing ever. I guess you'll have to make your own mind up on that—I did it, and that's that.

Well, I did what I had to with the setting-the-bridge-on-fire bit. I had fun with it, too. It's really nice to get paid to set things on fire, let me tell you. But I don't like to dwell on the past, good or bad.

Now, I know why the boss sent me to, ah, get Wanda's attention. Pete, Remy, and Sabes all have their uses, but when it comes to making a scene, no one, not no one, can top me. Remy's got the theatrical flair, too, but I've got flashier powers. So. That made sense. But when he told me I was supposed to lead her away from the ski lift... that confused me.

So I asked him. And I really didn't like the answer I got. "Think logically, John," Mags said, his back to me. "I know it's difficult for you, but try, just this once. Piotr's heart is much too soft for this work. Remy would doubtless try to help her escape, just to spite me. Jason is hard enough to keep under control as it is, and Sabretooth would probably hurt her in the attempt. That leaves you."

His words were nice enough, but contempt throbbed like a tumor under each word. I heard what he said, but I also heard what he didn't say: You are an idiot, smart enough to be left alone but not smart enough to do anything I have to worry about.

I'm a lot of things—reckless, destruction-loving, maybe a little suicidal—but I am not stupid. Every word from his mouth just made me madder and madder, until I had to stop myself from punching him.

I think that's why I led Wanda in the wrong direction. I took her away from the ski trails and Mags's base to a place where the terrain was rough enough that no one was likely to disturb us. Then I skidded to a stop and unbuckled my snowboard. Wanda stopped in front of me, her eyes narrowed. "Where's my father?" she demanded, her hands and eyes glowing blue.

I flinched back. I'd seen what she could do—her father said she had probability powers, but to me that just seemed to mean she could do whatever the fuck she wanted. And she was mentally unstable. What a lovely combination. I hadn't even said anything and I was already regretting letting my pride get in the way of my orders.

When I didn't light up or answer her question, Wanda raised her eyebrows. I realized I had no idea what I was going to do next. Which is okay. Improvisation always suits me best. "...Where'd you learn to snowboard?"

Wanda shriekd and threw a pair of blue lighting bolts at me. They knocked me off my feet and sent me sliding down the hilltop until I ran into a tree. It hurt, but it was better than losing sight of her. This was my game now. I had brought her here, so it was time to nut up and fuck with Magneto. I got to my feet, rubbing my sore back. "Okay, okay, dumb question. Obviously, you are a woman of many talents."

"One of which is kicking your ass," Wanda replied. I'd never seen more hatred in my life. No wonder Magneto wanted to change her memory—this wasn't the kind of hate you could ever deal with in therapy. It was endless. "I'd be glad to demonstrate if you don't tell me where—he—is." With those last three words, she leaned toward me, her teeth bared in a truly terrifying glare.

I swallowed. "I can show you if you really want," I said, forcing myself to stare back. Hopefully, I looked nonchalant instead of like I was about to piss my pants. Wanda growled, honest-to-God growled. Like Sabertooth when you steal his pin-ups. "Um. Obviously you do. I should never have questioned your resolve. I just thought you ought to go into this fully informed, that's all! I know I wouldn't want anybody fucking with my head against my will."

Wanda's frown deepened, although I thought I glimpsed uncertainty for a moment. "He's already 'fucked with my head' plenty," she replied, doing a horrible imitation of my accent. "What more could he do to me?" She tried to sound like there was no answer to that, but I could tell she was wondering.

Good. I had an in. Now I just had to make sure she didn't kill me. I leaned toward her and tapped her on the forehead, jerking back before she could react. I was sure she could throw a punch as well as she threw hex bolts. "Word on the street—the street being his evil base of evil—says he's got a telepath."

Wanda crossed her arms, the image of Not Impressed. "Everyone and their mother has a telepath. They're as common as dirt."

My in was shriveling. I started speaking faster—I babbled, if you will. "Well, this one has no morals. Or possibly human genes for that matter. He may just be the missing link." Wanda's hands started to glow again. Crap. "Man or monkey, it doesn't matter. Magneto wants to erase your memory." The words sounded exactly as ridiculous out loud as they did in my head.

God, who does this stuff outside of comic books?

Wanda, however, didn't seem to agree. When I spat it out, she blinked. The lights around her hands winked out, and she lowered her head to frown at the ground. "...He wants to erase my memory?" she murmured. For a moment, she sounded like a lost little girl instead of a crazy bitch. It made me feel... almost sentimental. For a moment, anyway. Then she growled and stomped toward me, pressing a hand rimmed with blue fire to my throat. "Why should I believe you? You're one of his stooges. He paid you to tell me this."

My one ambition in life is to die a smartass. "Actually, he's not paying me. Hasn't for weeks. Being a villain sucks that way." Wanda's fingers tightened around my throat, sending a shock through me. I yelped and jumped back, out of her hold. Then I held up my hands. "But I swear, I'm telling the truth."

Wanda glared at me. This time, it wasn't Daddy hatred I saw in her eyes: it was just plain old mistrust, like the look in a feral cat's eyes. Then she wrinkled her nose. "Why... why would you do something so stupid?"

Like father, like daughter, I guess. Scowling, I shook my head. "Well, excuse me for trying to be a decent fucking person for once in my life. I guess I should just go straight to kicking puppies and stealing candy from babies, 'cause there ain't no profit in this life."

Wanda stared at me. She didn't seem angry... no, she just looked like she honestly couldn't believe anything anyone said to her. For some reason—maybe it was that little girl I'd heard—I felt like I owed her a real answer. I looked away. "...Your dad never did me any good either, all right? He insulted me. I figured the least I could do was try and fuck with him a little."

Wanda rubbed her wrists, her eyes fixed on me. Gotta tell you, it was creepy as hell. Ten-odd minutes of conversation, and I'd yet to see any hint of the real person behind all that ice in her stare. "...So what do you think I should do?"

I blinked. "You're asking me?" Wanda raised her eyebrows. Funny how terrifying she could make that one little look. I took another few steps back before I gave her question any real thought. Rubbing my arms—I hate the cold—I shrugged. "Well, if it were me, I'd go as far in the opposite direction as I could. I know you got that whole 'revenge' thing on your mind, but there's being single-minded, and then there's being suicidal. Trust me, I know the difference. If he catches you, he'll break you, and then how are you gonna kill him?"

Wanda put her hands on her hips, shaking her head as though she'd realized asking me for advice was the stupidest idea ever. "Shouldn't you be trying to protect him or something?" I just looked at her. After a moment, she turned her back on him. "You're talking like I should be afraid. That's not true. He should. He knows it. That's why he's gone to all this trouble to hide from him—he knows I can kill him." Something about the way she said "can" made me wonder if it led to a "will," if she really had the guts or not. I couldn't tell, not with her back turned. She glanced at me, still scowling. "How does he think he'll catch me, anyway?"

I shrugged again. "Well, you know. Knock-out gas always was one of his favorite things."

Wanda frowned. Then she walked over to me. I jerked back, expecting her to slug me or something, but she just grabbed my arm, forcing me to stand still. Then she just stared at me, her eyes like a pair of sapphires. I don't mean that as a compliment. They were cold, hard. Dead. Shaking her head, she let go of me and backed off. "If I find out you've lied to me—if you've kept me from killing him—I'll find you, and I'll kill you first."

I did my best not to gulp. "I'll... I'll keep that in mind." She drummed her fingers on her arm, still staring at me. "What?"

After a minute, she shrugged. "I learned when I was little. Before the whole 'asylum' thing." She got back on her board and slid away before I realized what she meant.

I'll be your number one with a bullet Loaded god complex Cock it and pull it

Mags was damn pissed at me, 'course. But I told him Wanda attacked me before I could do any leading, and, lucky me, he didn't get Jason to check his lie. Guess there's some advantages to people thinking you're dumb.

I didn't tell anyone else the truth, either. Don't get me wrong. I like Remy and Pete. Remy's a good time, and Pete... well, Pete is the only honest-to-God nice guy I've ever met. But neither of them can keep secrets. Pete's just a terrible liar, but Remy—well, I know that he'd sell me out if he thought there was even a chance of an advantage for him in it. What you get for being best friends with villains, I guess.

Once I realized I had to keep it a secret, I did what I always do: I made myself forget it. I mean, I still knew what had happened, but whenever snatches of conversation or images of her face tried to claim my mind, I pushed it away and focused instead on the mental version of my novel. In my head, I'm about five chapters ahead of where I actually am. Go figure.

I didn't really forget it, though, and that saved my life.

I don't sleep much, so when Wanda broke in, I was still awake. I was trying to have a well-earned smoke after finishing my daily word quota—and then my door crumpled in on itself, like a giant had seized it and planned to use it for a little wasteketball. (1)

I thought it was Magneto, naturally, and I got to my feet, running through all the things I'd done to piss him off in the last twenty-four hours. Which one had gotten his goat this time? But it wasn't Mags: it was Wanda. I have to admit, when I saw her, my brain kind of shut down. When I do try and plan, I don't cope well with being interrupted. And, of course, the glare on her face didn't help matters. Girl could kill plants from twenty feet away, I swear.

Wanda put her hands on her hips. Her glare slowly—horribly, "oh, shit, I'm going to die" slowly—shifted from incomprehensible rage to puzzlement. "...I owe you," she said after a moment. I made an noise. It might have been "guh." I have no excuse for this besides utter terror and a certainty I would soon lose control of my bladder. Wanda rolled her eyes. "That means I'm not going to hurt you, dumbass."

"...Oh." I managed to relax a little and stopped worrying about ruining my boxers. "Um." I blinked a few times, still not entirely sure she was there. I've had weirder wet dreams. My words finally returned from their holiday in Ibiza so I could form a coherent sentence. "...So what are you going to do?"

Wanda's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to kill my father. Why the hell else would I be here?" She paused. "You didn't lie to me last time." Though her words were softer than usual, they still sounded a lot like a threat, so I didn't reply. She still looked like she was thinking anyway. Frowning, she looked back at me. "So where is he?"

I knew. And I had a feeling it would get me killed, since it wouldn't make Wanda happy. I'm pretty sure my genitals disappeared entirely from fright. "...Um. He's. He's not here right now, actually."

Wanda shrieked—a noise that sounded more like it came from some tormented wild cat than a human mouth. Then she turned her back on me, her shoulders tight. I was relatively sure she couldn't hex me, so I made myself relax a little. If I was going to die, I at least wanted to die cool. It was just a little hard to be cool when you had a crazy person in your room and no acetylene available. When she spoke again, though, she sounded... sad. Not murderous. "...I was afraid you'd say that."

Despite myself, her voice wrenched at me. I've got a decent person in me somewhere—I know, I know, crazy. I guess I felt for her more than I'd like because I know we've both been in the loony bin. "I'm not lying. He's off on some weird supervillain thing."

Wanda rubbed her forehead. "I would come when he was fucking gone," she muttered. Then she paused and glanced at me, murder in her eyes again. "Is that telepath of his still here?"

I shook my head. Thankfully, my words hadn't deserted me this time. "He went back to Italy for a while. Your dad thought it was better to, uh, lie low for a while, I guess."

Wanda paused, then raised her eyebrows at me. "What did you tell him anyway? About why I didn't come?"

I shrugged. "I said you kicked my ass." I was hoping for at least a little surprise, but Wanda just shook her head as though that was all to be expected. Then she went back out in the hallway, leaving me with a busted door and a confused expression.

We're always sleeping in And sleeping for the wrong team

Wanda didn't give me enough time to forget her this time. She also caught me napping. Well, more like passed out. When I do sleep, it's like the dead. Her entrance was also a lot less flashy this time. Instead of breaking down my door, she just unlocked it with her powers. Apparently, anyway. The first thing I remember is her shaking me awake. "Pyro. Pyro!"

I blinked. It took me a second to remember she was talking to me—I always have that difficulty with my codename. I've been St. John for nineteen years; I've only been Pyro for about six months. "...Er?" I managed finally. I knew who she was, but that didn't change the fact that her presence made no sense whatsoever. Wanda slapped my cheek—not gently. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. "Okay, okay, I'm awake." I slapped her hands away so I could sit up and look at her. "What are you doing here?"

At that, Wanda just smiled. In the most awful, "I will eat your soul" way possible. God, she was scary. "Well, since Father's still gone, I figured I'd ruin this place while he was out." The amount of pleasure in her voice was scary in itself. She was seriously messed up.

I have to admit, I thought it was hot. I'm a masochist like that.

I rubbed the side of my face; I was still half-asleep. "Oh. That's nice. Why'd you wake me up?" Wanda just stared at me. "Oh. Right. You owe me. So I... get to get out?" Wanda nodded like I was a very small child who had just learned to add two plus two. I wanted to kick her for that, but that would disprove my "I'm not stupid" thesis. "Um. All right." I got up and grabbed a clean-ish shirt from the floor, checking my pockets for my lighters. Not that I ever take them out, but, you know. I like being thorough.

Getting dressed woke me up a little more, and I realized there was one flaw in Wanda's plan. She was already getting impatient—her eyes flicked over everything but me, and one foot tapped the floor like she was trying to break it—but... well, I had to bring this up. "Er. About the other Acolytes."

Wanda flapped a hand at me. "This is about my father, not them. I'm setting off the alarm before I leave—they'll have a warning. Five minutes. Maybe."

I rocked back on my heels. Five minutes was enough for Remy, but Pete... Pete slept like the dead. And God knows he'd been through enough. "Er. How much do you owe me, exactly?" Wanda shot me a glare that I'm sure gave me cancer. "Can't I just go wake them up?" I paused. "Not Vikkie. Just Remy and Pete. They're... they're not in this because they want to be either."

Wanda opened her mouth, probably to say something nasty. Then she frowned, drumming her fingers on her arm. After a moment, she held up two fingers. "You have two minutes to get them up before I start breaking things. Any later than that, and you're getting out on your own."

I thought about saying something pert, but decided against it. I was sure she was already counting. Instead, I just snapped her a quick salute and ran down the hall to Pete's room.

Waking the other Acolytes is always my least-favorite chore, but it was easier this time since I didn't worry about Sabes. I might have a decent person inside me, but I'm no saint. I didn't give a crap about him. Remy and Pete were... reluctant at first, but once I mentioned Wanda, they snapped to like proper soldiers. We didn't waste much time on sentimentalities. I don't want either of them to die, sure, but that doesn't mean I like them.

When I finished with Remy, I went out into the hall again. Wanda was standing at the end. I ran over to her—wasn't sure how much I had left on my countdown, and I was sure she would keep her promise, whether I was in sight or not. "So," I said, walking up to her. "What now?"

Wanda just twitched her fingers at me to follow. She led me down to the security room, which was on the second level of the base. I've never been inside—Mags is much too paranoid to let any of us near the security system. Which is justifiable, I guess. Anyway, Wanda hexed the door open and stepped inside. The room was lined with buttons and lights from floor to ceiling. After a moment of contemplation, Wanda shrugged and just hexed the whole thing.

To my surprise, no sparks shot from anything. An alarm started going off, however, and most of the little lights started flashing. Nodding, Wanda walked out. "What did you do?" I asked, glancing back at the machinery.

Wanda shrugged. "I just told it to self-destruct in five minutes. Now come on." With that, she started running down the hall. I didn't waste another look back; I doubted Wanda would wait for me.

Wanda took turns at breakneck speed, heading down hallways I'd never seen before. When we finally reached the side of the metal dome that covered the base, Wanda just hexed a hole in the wall. Who needs power over metal anyway? We came out on the non-tourist-y side of Mount Ararose. Wanda retreated to a copse of trees a good distance away. I hesitated. Wanda glanced over at me, her face unreadable. "Are you coming or are you running?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. "I don't care either way. My debt's paid."

I glanced back at the base. Flames were shooting out of the hole Wanda and I had used to exit. Well. That answered that question. I walked over next to Wanda and sat down. She raised her eyebrows, and I shrugged. "I may not get to play with the fire—don't want the boss to think it was me, after all—but that doesn't mean I can't savor the blaze." I propped my chin on my hands and turned my attention to the fire.

After a few minutes, there was a loud bang, and the metal dome crumpled in on itself, exposing more of the base. Which was also on fire. What fun. I was content just to watch, but after a few minutes, I realized Wanda was staring at me, not the fire. "What?" I asked, glancing at her.

Wanda shrugged, looking back at the base. "What are you going to do now?" Her voice was... soft. For Wanda, anyway. "Are you going to wait for him to get back, or just skip town?"

Wanda had done a lot of things that surprised me, but she had never shown any interest in my plans or my wants. Well, except for answering my question when I kept her from getting her mind wiped, but I don't really think that counts. I studied her face, but there were no answers there. Slowly, I shrugged. "Don't know. Probably just make it up like I always do."

Still looking at her, I wondered if today was a good day to press my luck. I glanced at the base. "...Why do you ask?"

Wanda didn't look at me, and she didn't speak for so long that I thought she wasn't going to answer. Then she sighed, just as the largest of the fires burned itself out. "Because it would suck to have to fight you after you helped me out like that." She rested one mittened hand in the snow, staring at it with a fixed, flat glare. "I'm still going to kill him, you know. This was just to make me feel better. I'll find him, no matter what it takes."

I was starting to get cold sitting on my bum in the snow—it wasn't as bad as it could be because of the heat coming from the base—so I got up, turning away from her. I didn't like the way my thoughts were going. I wanted them to stop.

But, like I said, I'm not good with getting interrupted when I'm planning. The words came without me even thinking about it. "Sounds like a road trip to me," I said, sticking my hands in my armpits to warm them up. "Who's driving?"

Wanda got up. I wanted to look at her to judge her level of pissed—whether it was "shove me in the snow" pissed or "hex me into the base" pissed—but I made myself keep staring at the base, even though the flames weren't near as distracting as they were before. "...Who said I wanted you to come?"

Now I looked at her. To my surprise, she didn't look angry. Just... confused. Lost. Like she had when she realized I wasn't trying to do her a bad turn the first time we were standing on this mountain together. I raised and lowered one shoulder. "Whoever said I wasn't?"

Wanda looked at me for a moment longer, and then she shrugged, her face settling into flat indifference again. "Whatever. If you don't get in my way, it doesn't matter what you do." She paused, and then she glanced at me. "I don't know how to drive."

I smiled. It felt weird, but... right. Like a reflex or something. "Well. Maybe we can work some lessons into our busy 'Magneto killing' schedule." I paused. "We'll have to hotwire a car first, I guess, but—"

Wanda flapped a hand at me. I thought I saw a flash of amusement in her eyes. "Details."

My smile stayed as I set my hands in my pockets. "Yeah. Details."

(That... wasn't written very well. I apologize. I think the next one will be more Jonda-y as opposed to just John-and Wanda. Here's hoping.)

(1) Wastebasket basketball.