25: Missions
Now there's no holding back
I"m making to attack
My blood is singing with your voice
I want to pour it out
Florence + The Machine ~ 'Howl'
The days blurred together, it seemed. We stopped in the weirdest places. Why Stryker wanted him to do something there, I had no clue. Did I wonder? Yes. Did I ask? No.
We systematically stopped in some rinky-dink town called Bayville, the party city of Las Vegas, and now we were on to New Orleans. At all the stops, I was sternly ordered to stay in either the car or a hotel room and threatened with dire consequences should I even think of leaving.
It wasn't like I was scared, I knew I could heal from whatever he threw at me, even though that might be child abuse, but… yeah. It wasn't a fear, just a very healthy respect for a man who killed people very creatively. So here I was in the car, listening to the windshield wipers swish across the glass, brushing the water droplets away so that he could see the road. I was getting very used to take out food and sleeping in the passenger's seat. Is this what I'll be doing until I'm not a minor anymore? Lovely.
"Don't go to sleep, kid. We're stopping at a motel in another ten miles." I lifted my head and wondered if I should add psychic to his list of powers. "Don't look so surprised," he told me, smirking. "You smelled drowsy." His claws extended and hit the cruise control without him ever moving his hands.
"You can smell sleepy?" I said, shifting in my seat to wake myself up.
"There are smells for everything, kid."
"My name is Val," I muttered.
"I know." His fangs gleamed as he smiled.
"So why don't you use it?" I said, irritated beyond belief.
"It's a lot more entertaining to see your hackles rise."
I snorted, looking away. Mrwor. It meant ugh in cat.
Victor pulled into the motel parking lot and glanced over at…Val. She had fallen asleep anyway. He shook his head, knowing that she looked so much like her mother. Though she had his temperament. For the cub that she was, he had made a pretty good one. Rather than wake her, he just opened her door and picked her up, carrying to her room and setting her on the bed. He figured if she got cold and woke up, she could put herself under the blankets. He checked that her door was locked before going to his room and promptly putting his head on the pillow. But he couldn't sleep. The events of the last few days kept replaying in his head, over and over. The distrust for Stryker was growing. That *$# major… keeps tryin' ta weasel outta our deal.
He remembered the scene in the high school. After pouncing on the punk kid, Stryker had stepped in, spoiling his fun. After shooting Creed a disapproving look he had tranq'ed him and said, "All that's left now is Logan and I …trust that you can handle that."
"I did before, didn't I?" he had snarled, remembering their fight up in Canada.
"Oh, yes," Stryker said rather scornfully, walking past. "You did that."
Creed's eyes had narrowed at his tone. No human turned its back on him. He had turned his head to watch Stryker walk down the hall. "Our deal. It still applies, right?" Suspicion laced his tone.
"Of course," Stryker had said, turning, "Now bag him and tag him, captain."
He had handed the kid off to the waiting soldiers, and had walked three blocks back to where he had parked his car. Val had given him a worried look, but had said nothing. After he had been driving for ten minutes, she finally said, "I don't suppose I'm allowed to ask about that red light that flashed, or why you smell like smoke."
"No, you're not." He had growled out.
She had shrugged and let it go.
He stared up at the hotel ceiling and wondered why he cared more about Stryker staying away from Val and less about the adamantium now.
This staying-in-the-car idea was all well and good, but it failed to incorporate the idea that after eating, sometimes one needed to use restroom facilities. Dusk was falling, and the nightlife was beginning to come out. I squirmed uncomfortably, knowing it might be a long time before he came back. I pulled on the door handle to let myself out, not able to stand the wait. Shutting the door, I pressed my ears flat to my head and tried to arrange my hair over them. The view through the side view mirror wasn't the best, so I couldn't tell how affective my attempt was.
A Cajun Restaurant blasted jazz down the street; I figured they would have a bathroom. The maître d' tried to seat me, but I explained my problem. She looked a little suspicious, but she let me use their facilities. I made doubly sure to thank her profusely before I left, although what would I have done? Steal all their toilet paper and soap?
I made tracks to the car, feeling a whole lot better. That feeling didn't last long.
No, no, don't do this, I begged inwardly as I tugged on the door handle. It wouldn't open. It had locked me out. Awesome… I thought sarcastically as I sat on the hood. This was going to be so much fun to explain to him.
I quickly realized that sitting in a locked car offered a lot more security than sitting atop a locked car, especially in New Orleans at night. People walking around gave me funny looks, and I tried to look everywhere but at them.
"Hey babe," some obviously drunk guy slurred.
Creeper, I thought to myself, pretending not to hear. Keep walking.
He didn't. "What're y' doin' out heah by y'self?"
Stalker, I thought, glancing around for a quick exit if I needed it. I could smell the booze on them, mixing with their boring human scent; it made my hackles rise.
"She's not talkin'. Think she can't heah us?" one asked.
Oh, yay, there's a pack of them.
"Y're an idjut," another said as he swayed toward me.
I hissed and snarled, dodging his outstretched hand. My ears pricked up and they all yelped, sobering up somewhat. "Stay away from me, creep," I growled. Intimidation might make them leave; I hadn't learned to take on multiple attackers just yet.
"Sh-she's got cat ears," the first one slurred. Really, Sherlock?
"It's a mutant!" another said, pointing a finger at me.
"Freak!"
"Mutie!"
"Kill it!"
Fabulous. One of them swung at me. Dodging his fist required rolling off the car. I kicked his legs out from under him and made for the exit I had scouted out. Apparently, the human flight instinct within me was still alive and well.
"Get it!" Their cries had attracted the rabble of the city, the makings of a mob. Not good, I thought frantically to myself as I dashed through the alleys of New Orleans, staying away from the French Quarter; that's where he had gone.
I turned my head; they were gaining on me. Their angry faces freaked me out. Just as I looked forward again, I hit my forehead REALLY HARD on something, so hard that I fell to my knees and saw stars. I could feel the gash on my head begin to heal, but blood dripped into my eyes, making it hard to see. I had hit a fire escape ladder that wasn't pulled up all the way. Beginning to unsteadily run again, I passed another alley mouth and an arm shot out and grabbed me.
Shrieking, I started to punch the body the arm was attached to, but a hoarse whisper said, "I'm a friend! Calm down!" My eyes that could see in the dark perceived a guy my age or a little older, with spiky hair. "This way!" he exclaimed, tugging me along as my pursuers closed in. Oddly enough, I wasn't scared. It felt like my emotions had been wrapped in cotton.
"Where are we going?" I said as I nearly tripped over a fallen trash can lid.
"Away from here," he said, darting around a corner. All around were shadowy corners and blazing neon signs as we passed through crowded streets of partiers and through the alleys of crumbling brick buildings.
"Do you know where you're going?" I demanded.
"Nope," he replied cheerfully, and my anger and fear washed away again as the grip on my hand tightened. My feet felt heavy, and I stumbled.
"Whatever that is, stop doing it! It makes my feet go all muddled!"
"Sorry," he said, and my adrenaline came flooding back. I would need it –our pursuers were catching up, having absorbed some fresh, sober people into their midst. There was also the fact that we had hit a dead end. Not literally, but it was a close thing. A large wooden fence illuminated by a flickering streetlight on the other side blocked our escape onto the next thoroughfare.
"What do we do?" I yelled, searching for something to scale the fence with.
"Best defense is a good offense," he said, smiling. The streetlight sparked. His eyes glinted, and I started backing up. "Here they come," he whispered. I turned to face our aggressors and flexed my fists. My back was to a wall. I could do this.
They threw rocks and bricks.
It hurt a lot, even though I healed quickly.
I yowled and tossed them back with better accuracy. Thank you, night vision.
They screamed.
The light bulb in the streetlight glowed brightly and then burst. My hair stood up on my head as strings of pure electricity flowed to my spiky-haired rescuer. He held out his hands to contain the small lightning bolts. About half the crowd ran away just at that. The rest hit the road as the lightning began to shoot out at them. The air was totally charged with electrons, making the hair on my arms stand on end. The mental picture I got was like a yo-yo shooting out and then retracting. With yells and hollers, they scattered like chaff blown by the wind. And then we were alone. I shook my head, feeling a slightly fuzzy, sleepy feeling leave me.
"You were doing it again, weren't you?" I said accusingly. He didn't turn around or move. The lighting was gone from his hand, which was good; he wasn't responding, though. Is this bad? I wondered, walking toward him. I reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. "Hey are you okay?"
He whirled around. "No, don't –"
My palm made contact with his shoulder, I heard a loud 'zap', and there was PAIN in my hand. I jerked back, grabbing my right wrist. We both stared at the blackened, crisp skin on my hand.
"Holy…. I'm so sorry –I can't control the discharge –" he immediately began saying.
"No, no it's okay," I said slowly. My hand began to slough off the dead, charred skin and regenerate new, healthy skin. Tilting my palm, I let the dead skin fall off like the dust it now was. "It's okay," I said gain with a smile. He smiled back. I took a minute to study him, having a breather now. His hair was indeed spiky and jet-black; his eyes were dark, but lights danced in their depths. A side effect of electricity? I wondered. He just looked like a regular guy in jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket.
"Sooo…." I said. "If you walk outside when it's lightning, do you get hit?"
"I haven't tried it." He smiled. "I only manipulate the electricity."
"What were you doing that was making me sleepy, then?"
"I'm an empath as well. Sorry. I usually equate calm with sleep, and I was trying to calm you down. I'm Nate," he added. "What's your name?"
"Val," I said. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I bit my lip. "Why did you help me?"
He shrugged. "I could feel your emotions. You were scared. 'Sides, we should stick together you know?"
No, I didn't. I didn't know anyone who would do what he did for me. "I think I should… get back," I mumbled. "He's gonna be really mad if he comes back and I'm gone…"
"Who?"
"My dad." It was a little easier than telling Kayla. "Do you know the way back?"
"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Maybe we should find it." He held his hand out to me, and I gave it a look. "The discharge is all gone," he told me.
That wasn't what made me look at it strangely, but I took it. "Does it shock you, too?" I asked.
"No. There's just a buzz in my fingers when I'm throwing lightning," he –Nate –said.
We started to walk back the way we came, but I quickly realized something weird was going on. His gait was just strange. "Are you limping?" I finally said, stopping. "Are you hurt?"
"No –well, yes, I am limping but…I was born like this. One leg is slightly shorter than the other."
My brow furrowed. "But you ran just fine…"
He laughed in an embarrassed way. "Well…I cheat. I levitate."
"You're an empath, you manipulate electricity, and you levitate?"
"Yep."
I rolled my eyes and started walking again. "I'm glad I'm just a feral."
"How about a question for a question?" Nate asked. "Is Val short for something?"
"Uh huh. Valiant. Did we pass that fire hydrant?" I pointed.
"Cool name. Yeah, I'm pretty sure we go left here." We walked along in silence, listening to the music that seeped out of the clubs, bars, and gin joints along the way.
Victor could see John Wraith on the balcony of the club. He smiled and kicked a fallen beer bottle, walking into the shadows. Wraith teleported into the alley.
"Are you my brother's new babysitter, John?" he said, stepping out of the shadows.
Wraith turned. "I ain't Bradley, Victor, and your creepy black coat don't scare me."
"Really?" Creed smirked. "Worked on Dukes." John's fist collided with his jaw and Victor hissed, recoiling.
"You shouldn't'a done that," john said, putting up a boxer's stance. "Now I'm gonna kill ya 'fore Logan even gets the chance." He 'ported again, dodging Victor's swipe to reappear, socking Creed from all angles.
"Y'know John, there's something I always wanted to tell you," Creed said as Wraith teleported again. Victor swung around with claws extended and caught him right in between solid and gas. "You're predictable." His hand was inside of John's stomach. John gagged, frantically trying to 'port away again, but Victor's grip wouldn't let him go. "Ooh. I can feel your spine, Johnny boy. That's funny, never knew you had one." Viciously snapping John's spine, Victor pulled his hand out of the corpse of John Wraith, letting it fall to the ground. He sneered at the man as he pulled a vial out of his coat and extracted the DNA Stryker wanted.
Right then the alley wall exploded and a man came flying through. Putting vial in his pocket, Creed stared from his crouch as his little brother picked himself up, coughing. You always were a little dense, Jimmy, he thought as Logan finally caught sight of him. Out of the building hopped a semi-familiar Cajun who muttered something, but was elbowed in the face by Jimmy. Victor got to his feet as Jimmy extended his new adamantium claws.
"Ooh," Creed said sarcastically, "shiny."
His brother just stood there, shaking from anger.
"Tell me somethin', Jimmy. Do you even know how to kill me?" Victor growled.
Jimmy's expression was pure rage. "I'm gonna cut your *$*#$ head off. See if that works."
Victor laughed. The two ran at each other and Victor pounced, but this time Logan was ready. He dodged and let Victor go sliding across the alley.
Jimmy cracked his neck. "Gettin' slow, old man," he said spitefully.
They engaged again. Victor roared as Jimmy's metal claws sliced through his hand. The other claws stabbed him in the chest, pinning him against a stack of crates.
"Son of a $*#%," Jimmy hissed as Victor tried to breathe past the blood filling his lungs. "You're going to die to what you did to her."
Creed's lip lifted in a snarl, showing his fangs. Anyone who's willing to kill because of a woman is a whipped pup.
And then the alley exploded again. The blast forced the two brothers apart and down into opposite sides of the alley. Victor let his lungs heal, and then pushed his bulk off the ground, but then froze for a second, cocking his head.
Yells. Far away and very distant, but he could still recognize one of them.
Val. #*% you kid, didn't I tell you to stay in the #$& car! He inwardly berated her.Victor stared at his brother, just beginning to regain his feet. I don't need ta prove I'm better than ya right now. Plenty a time to do that later. Victor began to back down the alley, warily but rapidly.
"Victor!" Jimmy yelled after him, incensed.
Sorry Jimmy. I don't have time ta kick your *#$ right now. My cub is worth more than your sorry traitorous hide!
Creed made tracks away from the French Quarter by way of rooftops and circuitous routes. He didn't want Jimmy tracing him back to his cub. He didn't trust anyone with what belonged to him. He had time now to vent his anger, so every once in a while he would crush something to express his general frustration at Jimmy, Stryker, and pretty much the whole world. He paused to smell the air, and sure enough, her scent rode the air currents. Hell and blast, he inwardly cursed, I told her to stay in the $*$# car! He jumped from the rooftop he was currently on and landed lightly on his feet like the big cat he was. He was only a few blocks now.