11- Chapter 11.


"Pretty sure it's the girl," the man murmurs. "Right height, right build. Black hair, green eyes. Claws. And she was near a mouthy telekinetic boy."

The woman sitting opposite him raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows. "That's too good to be true," she says, then smiles. "I'm going to have to plan this out. This is too big to rush."

"So you'll clear the mutie infestation on that goddamn island?"

The woman makes a face. "Hell no. This is personal. And I'm not stupid enough to take on all the X-men at once." She pauses. "My boss reckons it's a constant supply. A breeding farm."

"I thought you were your own boss now."

"Woops," she says, smiling slightly. "I am. I'm a mercenary…but there are people who will pay for that kind of thing. Like I said…this is personal, between me and the girl. I owe her for something she did to me a bit ago. I owe her a whole lot."

"I told you because I thought you would clear the island," he says. "Oneof them isn't going to help." He smiles at her. "There is a man, with a large gun, and a scope, on the rooftop across the street. He is waiting for my signal. If I—"

She answers by reaching forwards, taking his hair in her hand and smashing his face into the plate in front of him. The few people sitting on the patio with them let out screams and stumble to get out of their chairs, watching in horror as the man weakly raises his face again, blood dripping from the lacerations his broken glasses have caused him. "—hurrk," he says, the good eye seeing that the woman has picked up her drinking glass. She

SMASH! As she brings it down on the edge of the table, creating a jagged edge. She tilts his head back, her hand still in his hair, then draws the edge down his face. To his throat.

"Think this is signal enough?" she says. She slits his throat, just as the shot rushes towards her. It hits her in the head.

"ARRGH!" She arches her back, catches herself with her hands on the table. "Stupid…" she reaches for her communication device.

"The Breadbox," she murmurs, looking at the building where the shot had come from. "Roof. Right corner. Bullet hit me from 3 o' clock."

"I killed him as soon as he shot you,"comes the reply.

"…" the woman closes her eyes. "Why did you wait?"

"I thought it would be funny."

"I hate you, Wilson. I'm fucking serious, I will rip your balls off and shove them down your throat."

"That's the first action I've seen in months! Can you do that thing where—"

"GRR!" the woman crushes the communicator. "Fuck." She hangs her head for a second longer, then heads back into the restaurant just as the Police pull up outside, sirens blazing.

A moment later the cops barge in. "FREEZE!" the officer bellows. The woman studies him for a moment. He's young, and he looks terrified as he points his gun at her. "Hands in the AIR, where I can SEE them. NOW!"

"Sweetie…why would you even try to approach me without a SWAT team?"

The policeman stares at her, cocks his gun and puts his hand on the trigger.

She reaches into her belt. He shoots her in the chest, near her heart; the bullet bounces off her skin, and she pulls a grenade out of her belt, then approaches him as he stares at her, realizing he is going to die.

"I'll give you two options. The first is you take that shiny gun you seem to be so proud of, and shoot yourself in the head. The second is I force-feed you this grenade."

The officer thinks for a moment.

She puts her finger in the pin's loop and begins to pull. He looks at the restaurant around them, sees a family staring at him, with a toddler in a high chair, who smiles and reaches towards him.

"You wouldn't," he says. "There's children here."

"Oh, I love kids!" she says. "I have a history of taking care of one. Here, I'll show you how much kids mean to me." She moves over to the toddler; the father lungs at her with his fork as she coos at the child, pulling the grenade pin and shoving the father away with her elbow. She gives the grenade to the child, who giggles and automatically begins to suck on it.

KA-BLAMMMMMMM!

"Oh, shit!" the man on the rooftop says, watching the restaurant explode in a flurry of orange gold flames. His mask twists as he frowns deeply. "Guess this means I'm not getting paid. I wonder if she has any family who—"

He peers into the flames more closely, then sees a woman emerge, brushing off her shredded clothes with an expression of displeasure.

"UP HERE KIMURA!" he shouts enthusiastically, waving his red gloved hand.

"Idiot," Kimura says to herself.

Laura is sitting by the desk, the pots of paint and other accessories that Cessily bought her strewn about. There is a terrible smell permeating the air, or at least to Laura's delicate nose there is. She is painting her nails with an opaque black color, having decided that it is more practical. Out of all the colors, it will help to hide dirt, especially blood. She also likes the effect.

Julian is watching her from the bed. He's supposed to be studying, but he's obviously not, as the book is lying open on his stomach, flat, and his eyes are on her.

"Come here," he says after a minute.

"I can't," Laura replies. "I am busy."

He reaches out, and the paint pot flies to his hand. "I want to try it," he says. "See if I can hold the brush. Here, lie on the bed."

"You might get paint on it."

"Don't care. Lie down."

She hesitates, then gets off the chair, and moves to the bed, sitting beside him. He pulls up his legs so he is sitting cross-legged, and pulls her half-completed hand onto his knee, then dips the brush in the paint. "Should be able to do this," he murmurs.

Laura tilts her head, watching as he gently draws the brush down her nail. The paint is cold, and the sensation is strange. His control is quite good, considering it's only been a month since his hands were replanted on his wrists. In fact, much better than it should be.

Beast had been stunned at how fast Julian was healing, and had finally discovered that his routing the telekinesis through his limb to guide it had essentially caused this. Every time he sent a thought through to his fingers, nerves were telekinetically reconnected far better than a micro surgeon could ever accomplish. Even the smallest nerves were being repaired internally.

Julian had been prescribed another set of exercises, which involved using his TK to lift weights, with stress on the fact that he alternate hands (and combat his natural tendency to use his left one). This also applies to everyday use. Otherwise he could end up with one good hand and one bad one. If he follows the orders, and is consistent, Beast thinks he will make a full recovery, and that eventually his hands will be as they were before the accident.

"Don't tell anyone I'm doing this," Julian says after a moment, as he finishes her left hand. She lifts her hand and studies the effect; it is visually pleasing. She smiles slightly.

"Other hand," he says. She lays it down on his lap, holding the other in the air. The package had warned to do so for about ten minutes.

"I'm pretty good at this," he says, after about three minutes have passed. "Too bad I'm a guy, huh?"

"Why?" Laura asks.

"Guys don't do stuff like this." He grins. "We like sports, and video games, and wrestling. Not girly things, like bubble baths and painting your nails."

"But you are painting mine."

"Well, I like it. I just don't want other guys knowing that." He pauses. "They'd think it's weird."

Unnatural behavior. Laura understands this desire to fit in.

"I like that you are male," Laura says, in answer to his original suggestion.

He grins again. "Me too." He pauses. "It's kind of nice that you're a girl. I guess it could have gone the other way, if that sample they made you from hadn't been damaged, right?"

Laura pauses. She has not thought much about this. She was even madefrom a damaged sample. This is another indication of how inadequate she is; but Julian didn't intend for the comment to be taken that way. She nods. "Yes." She pauses. "Would you have still…liked me?"

"Not like I do now." He dips the brush in the paint jar again. "Probably would have been your friend…but I don't swing that way, Laura."

"'Swing that way?'" she asks.

"Not gay."

"Oh." She tilts her head, watching his downturned face as he concentrates on her hand. Her eyes focus on his mouth, which is a little open, and suddenly she realizes she isglad the sample was damaged. If things had been any other way, she would not be experiencing what she is able to now.

Julian glances up and catches her gaze. He smiles; she smiles, then she leans forwards and kisses him. She begins to wrap her hands around his neck, but he grabs her wrists, holding the paint jar with his mind.

"Mmph. Still wet. Give it a few minutes."

"Okay," Laura says, but she is impatient. She shifts.

"Could do your toes meanwhile. Lie down," he instructs.

She complies, and watches as he proceeds to paint the nails black, bringing her toes into definition. After finishing, he sets the pot aside and takes her right foot in his hands. Then he starts to rub it, first the heel, then the forefoot, then his thumb works its way into the arch. Laura presses her head into the pillows and makes a small sound as he works on the area, feeling a tingling work its way up her body, on the same nerve pathway as some very sensitive areas.

"Good?" he asks her, raising his eyebrows.

Laura nods, and smiles dreamily.

He continues to work on her foot, then does the other one, judging the success of his efforts by the reception of tiny sounds he receives, and he notes that she is starting to breathe more heavily. He tests her nails for dryness, then he reaches up, under her skirt, and hooks his fingers into her underwear and pulls them down her legs and off. He spreads her knees, pushing her legs up and out.

Laura watches him as he hikes her skirt up around her waist and then runs his fingers over the insides of her legs. She feels his thumbs travel down the middle of her bottom, and she closes her eyes at the sensation, almost trembling at his touch. Even though they have been intimate a few times now, she still has trouble believing that it is really him causing the sensations. She likes to watch him, to reassure herself that he's actually there.

Everywhere he touches tingles. He dips his little finger inside of her, spreading upwards. Then he begins, sliding his thumb inside and pressing down as he rubs something between two fingers. The sensation is gentle and teasing, not overwhelming, as Laura has experienced several times, with clients in the past. He seems to have an instinctive knack for what she will like.

She feels her insides tighten and she starts to breathe heavier, very quickly; he replaces his thumb with several fingers and pushes them in, as deeply as he can reach, rubbing the fingertips across something that pushes her over the edge. As she convulses inside, he keeps moving, and it grows in intensity. She arches her back and makes a growling sound.

SPOOING! Julian stares at the claws imbedded in his mattress.

"Well, I guess you liked it," he says, pulling his fingers out slowly. Laura pants for a moment, then retracts her claws. "I am…sorry," she says.

"It's just a mattress." He grins. "I rate how good a job I've done by the number of claws you pop."

Laura smiles in return. He sits up, then works his way up her body and kisses her deeply, his hands finding hers and rubbing them. She looks up and notices that his fingertips are glowing; the tingling sensation makes sense now.

"I've got something I want to try," he murmurs, as they part momentarily.

"What?" she asks, still breathing heavily. He props himself to his elbows and begins to roll up the hem of her t-shirt, sliding his hands underneath and brushing his fingertips against the underside of her breasts.

"You'll see." He pauses. "It involves my powers…and my dick."

"Did you get the expansion pack?" Victor asks Santo, as he leans against the side of the dorm wall.

"You know it. I bet you play mean bass, dude."

"How you figure?"

"Your arm," Santo says. "That thing's gotta produce some fuckin' awesome chords."

"Maybe," Victor says.

"So you're in?"

"Sure. When?"

"Tonight, at—"

SNKKT! Two claws burst through the metal siding, on either side of Victor's neck.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Victor screams, in pure terror. The claws retract.

"X IS TRYING TO KILL YOU! I KNEW IT!"Santo bellows.

About a minute later, Julian peers around the corner. "You guys okay?" he asks, his eyes wide.

Santo and Victor stare at him.

"Your girlfriend just tried to stab him in the neck!" Santo accuses.

Laura's head appears, around Julian's bare shoulder. The hem of the t-shirt he was wearing earlier is visible, which on her falls down just past her hips. "I am…sorry," she says. Her cheeks are red, with what appears to be embarrassment.

"YOU TRIED TO STAB ME IN THE NECK! YOU CRAZY—" Victor yells, having regained his senses.

"Uhh, it was an accident," Julian says. "Sorry, Vic."

"…" Victor glares at him.

"Yes…it was un…intentional," Laura reiterates, a little slowly.

Santo looks at the pair. "GROSS!" he yells. "HOLY SHIT! I did NOT want to think about that! TMI! TMI! GOD!"

He stomps off, fuming. Victor shoots them a final glare and follows his friend.

"Damn." Julian turns back to the girl. "Need me to carry you back, too?"

Laura leans against him and nods. Then they exchange smiles.

"Dude, I'm counting on you guys!" Santo barks suddenly, making both jump slightly. They are sitting on the couch, watching TV; they had started with sitting apart, their backs ramrod straight—as they were still a little uncertain about public displays of affection—but had ended up curled together, with Julian propped up on the arm rest, and Laura using him as a body pillow. Santo is now looming over the back of the sofa, peering at them.

"Wha—" Julian asks. He'd nodded off slightly.

"Rockband!" Santo says enthusiastically. "You're my second guitar." He looks at Laura. "She can be a groupie," he adds. "You already actlike one, anyways."

"No way. She gets a real part." Julian sits up slightly.

"But I wanna go all the way! Get us in the top-ranking competition games again! And she ain't played before."

The boys look at Laura, who blinks.

"Vocals are out,man," Santo warns him. "No one wants to hear a robot sing."

"Shut up!" Julian says automatically, but he secretly agrees that Laura probably wouldn't do very well on this area. She's far too technical.

"She can audition, then," Santo says. "I've told all the other kids. I need vocals, and a drummer."

"She bought you the game," Julian points out. "Isn't that an automatic spot?"

Santo glares at him. "X, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. But I wanna get the best band out there, and you're not rock star material."

"It's a freaking video game, Santo," Julian says. "And we'd be competing with basement nerds."

"Then we're already the best, aren't we?" Santo grins. "Seven, in the rec room. DON'T BE LATE!"

He leaves, and Julian rolls his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry about him, alright?"

"Why?" Laura asks. "He wants to ensure his group is the best at what they do. It is perfectly reasonable."

"He's being a jerk," Julian explains, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "If he doesn't let you play, I won't either. I'm sick of watching you get cut out of things."

He starts to stroke his hand down her hair, and she closes her eyes, like a kitten.

That evening, several kids gather in the rec room, to try out for Santo's Rockband group. Laura watches as Match finishes the drum sequence, and Santo says he'll consider him (and he is very critical; he judges based on the score the player receives when finished).

"NEXT!"Santo bellows. Pixie approaches, smiling. "I want to sing!" she says.

Moments later everyone is trying not to wince, in politeness. The most horrible, off-tune sound in the world is coming out of the small, winged girl. She stresses the wrong tones, and a glance at the screen shows Laura how the game works. It is related to the pitch of the voice; the player is supposed to create a sound at the same moment a colored bar passes through a counter in the game.

Pixie's doing it all wrong. She's singing something about 'genies in bottles' and 'rubbing her the right way'. But it is clear she is being rubbed the wrong way, by the sounds she is making.

"I wish to leave," Laura murmurs.

"We all do," Julian says. "Jesus Christ…" he rubs his ears, then looks at Pixie, and the girl suddenly makes a loud shriek of protest as he holds her jaw shut mentally. "That's enough," he says.

"…" Pixie throws down the microphone and starts making sounds that are probably insults, but are unintelligible due to her fused jaw. At that moment, Nori walks in. She takes in the yelling girl, Julian's glowing eyes, and grins.

"I agree a hundred and ten percent, Megan," she says.

"No one asked you. Why are you even here?" he demands.

Silence throughout the room. Nori has kept to herself for a bit, probably embarrassed about her outburst in which she'd nearly hurt Julian. As angry as she was, even she realizes she can't do things like that and still be accepted on the island.

"Santo was saying something about Rockband," Nori says. "Thought I'd try for drummer."

"HELL YES!" Santo says. "Dude…super speed drums!"

Julian glares at him. "No freakin' way!"

"BUT—" Santo looks desperate. "Just forgive her already, man!"

"She tried to kill me!"

"Who gives a fuck!"

"I kind of do!" Julian yells back, astonished.

"Guys—" Nori holds up her hand, looks down. "Look. Keller, I…I didn't mean to hit you that hard. I asked Beast about it…my gauntlets shorted out in the water. And salt water's not that great of a dampener for electricity. It's actually a conductor, a really strong one."

"She is correct," Laura pipes up.

"I'm still pissed you would take a shot at me, Ashida," Julian says. "I thought we were past the immature stage. You know, since we're devoting all our energy to staying alive, and all."

"You used your powers first!" Nori says, her voice rising. She pauses. "Let's just…call it even, ok? We can't avoid each other forever."

Julian's silent a moment. "I guess," he says finally.

"DRUMMER'S FILLED!"Santo bellows, startling everyone. Several kids make faces, and leave the room. "Alright…so Cess…and X still has to go. For vocals."

"She's trying to sing?" Nori asks.

"Yeah," Julian says, his face daring her to comment.

Cessily emerges from the corner of the room, smiles and picks up the microphone. "I'll choose something easy. How about…" she picks an old Beatle's song, and is surprisingly pretty good, although her voice wavers in parts. Her score is in the 70's, which impresses Santo.

"I'd say you're it," he says. "X is gonna be a joke."

"Shut up," Julian says. He glances at Laura. "If they say mean things, don't listen. It's just for fun."

Laura approaches the gaming system warily and picks up the microphone, scanning the list. She has heard a few of these songs in bars with Logan before; the 'preview' of the songs are the same. She selects one called 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'. The screen loads, and she thinks back to her memory of the song. She keeps unconscious logs of all details about her environment; sounds, smells, tastes, actions; this was ingrained in her through torture methods at a very early age. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth as the sound starts; five minutes and one second later, she opens them again, and looks at Santo.

"Will that suffice?" she asks.

Silence. All eyes are glued to her, and the 100 score flashing on the screen.

Finally Santo speaks. "Dude…I I think she just stole Cobain's trademark song," he says, to Julian, who is also watching her, his forehead wrinkled. No one can figure out how Laura has suddenly managed to grasp a concept so far out of her reach as to translate emotion into sound. Also, her voice is quite amazingly sonorous and perfectly pitched, as is evidenced by the score on the screen.

"Well…I officially withdraw myaudition," Cessily says. "Laura, I didn't know you liked music!"

"I don't," Laura says.

Silence.

"…huh?" Santo asks.

"What the hell was that, then?" Julian asks, also stumped.

"I can accurately reproduce sounds I have heard before," Laura says. "I received training, for infiltrating voice-activated security systems. This recording played in an establishment Logan took me to on June 21. He was watching a football game between the Chicago Bears and the Seattle Seahawks while this played in the background."

"Well, you can have the job," Santo says. "Fuck being in the top ranking…we're going for the TOP TEN!"

The selected people play several games on their instruments, Julian sitting out because they are short a guitar. Then people start to yawn. By now it is getting late, so the teens filter out of the rec room, towards the dorms.

"You're full of surprises," Julian says, as they approach the dividing hallway. He hesitates, thinking about asking her to come to his room again, then stays quiet, thinking that he does not want to act clingy. Laura notes his silence and feels disappointed, but says nothing; he must have a reason to not want to do that. She smiles at him.

"Goodnight," she says.

"Night." He leans over and kisses her on the cheek, then they part ways.