Disclaimer thingie: Marvel owns the X-Men and all of their relatives. BBC/Lionheart own Doctor Who and Ms. Sam-Jones. Highlander is, iirc, owned by Rysher Entertainment. Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon (all hail the Master) and Fox/WB.
Marya, otoh, is mine. Borrow her without asking and I'll have my lackeys get medieval on your roody-poo candy ass.
Also, this is one of those "Guess the Author" challenges. So far, only ONE person has attempted it.
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.
Author's notes: I've been tricked into rewriting a ton of X-history, so bear with me.
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished.
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga, 3
Welcome to the Jungle
by Suzy DeZorga
It was later that evening when the people of X-Factor arrived. Lorna Dane in the lead, her green hair escaping any attempts to tame it down -- even at the short length it now sported. The other members, Forge, Wild Child, Sabretooth -- the one I raised an eyebrow at -- Val Cooper, and one I recognised and knew. My face split into a grin.
An evil grin, as I suddenly thought of something to do that would be fun. For me. I moved swiftly to accomplish my task.
Raven had time to only turn and open her mouth in shock before I pounced her, wrapping my arms about her and giggling as I screeched in her ear. "RAVEN!!!!"
"Mare, you will SO pay for this," she hissed, wincing as her eardrums protested.
"This IS payment," I whispered back, chuckling evilly.
"You bitch." Raven hugged me back, though. She obviously remembered what it was for. I wasn't going to remind her, though. Not with pure as the driven snow Grey around.
I released her and stepped back, grinning. "Glad to see Satan still hasn't a consort."
"I thought the man was polygamous and you'd be there keeping him company already," she replied dryly, reaching up to push her hair off her face.
"You know Mystique?" Jean Grey, in all her redheadedness, was staring at me in shock. Apparently my just knowing her was enough for Grey.
"I've known Raven for..." I tried to remember how long it'd been.
"Too long." Raven inserted, placing her blue hands on her mini-skirt clad hips. "Why?"
"No reason." In an instant, Jean's whole demeanor changed and she was sweetly condescending. "I guess you're here to reconnect with your daughter, Rogue."
"Actually, no. I got dragged here against my will." Raven glared at Forge, who was chatting with Bishop. Weapons, I think, from what I could catch from the conversation.
"Oh? This from the woman who refused to get dragged to a club on her birthday -- we will not mention which one, but it was in the upper digits."
She glared at me and mumbled something under her breath.
I snickered. "What? Didn't quite hear that."
"Losing your hearing, dear? I hear it's one of the onsets of old age."
"Oh, piss off, Raven," I muttered, grinning.
"Not yet," she smiled sweetly at me, "I'm staying 'till Christmas."
"I see you brought the kitty cat," I noted dryly, as Victor moved into my line of sight.
"Unfortunately. Bastard needs to be in a cage."
I pondered for a moment, then snickered again. "We could put him in one." I blinked, realising suddenly that Grey was still watching us with a disapproving look in her eyes. "Can I help you, Jean?" I asked politely.
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm on to you, DeZorga."
"On to me?" I blinked and refrained from looking at Raven. It would be very bad if we both laughed our asses off at Jean.
"Yes," she hissed, then whirled away and stalked off.
Lorna took her place. "Hello." She cocked her head at me, eyes neutral. "And you are?"
"Marya DeZorga. Joined about five days ago. All this," I gestured at the chatting X-Family, "is making me a little nervous."
"Ah." She glanced at Raven, then me, then held her hand out. As we shook, I could see her fighting her curiosity. It won. "So, you two know each other?"
"Well, not in the Biblical sense," I replied.
She coughed, her eyes twinkling as Raven snorted. "I think you're going to do just fine." Dane glanced at where Jean was arguing with Scot. "Although, Jean appears to have taken you in extreme dislike."
"Caught that, eh?"
"Marya, it's not as if she hides it," Raven noted.
Lorna nodded in agreement and turned towards the rest of X-Factor. "C'mon, I'll introduce you."
---
To say the least, the other X-Men were NOT happy to have Sabes around. My solution of chopping off both his heads and freeze-drying the rest was met with horrified looks and 'we can't kill!' disclaimers. Val claimed that she had to bring him with her. After all, he was her charge and so she had to look after him.
"Bullshit." I stood and began pacing. Xavier's study was very crowded at the moment, with three-quarters of the X-Crowd in there, and the other quarter out watching Creed. "You could very easily have left him in a holding cell, Cooper."
"And have him taken away from me? DeZorga, there are portions of the government that want to experiment on him -- healing factor and all."
"And you couldn't let them?" Raven sounded bored. I knew better.
"Cooper, you're frigging nuts. This," I gestured, nearly hitting someone – I glanced mentally; Bobby -- in the head, "is Christmas."
"He's controlled. He can't hurt anyone--"
I cut her off, anger finally spilling out. "Not good enough, VAL. I've seen some of his work."
"You have?" She sounded surprised. Guess ol' Val forgot how large a radius the circle I moved in was.
"Yes." I stopped pacing and turned to the door. "And so help me, I'm not letting him do anything like that again."
I was halfway down the hall to the foyer before any of them caught up with me. Cooper in the lead, of course. Raven was right behind her though.
"DeZorga, what the hell are you doing?"
"Making sure he can't hurt anyone." The foyer loomed into sight, a small group of X-ers sitting around a tall, golden-haired figure.
Sabes raised his head and looked at me. "Hallo, Louisa."
He didn't get time to say more. My power lashed out, catching his mind like a fly in amber. Ruthlessly, I ignored the pain I was producing in him and began.
Rerouting the mental pathways is a chancy business at best. Not that I cared, I certainly wouldn't cry if Creed ended up brain-damaged. Might make it easier to get everyone agree to euthanising him. But I was after specific pathways. For an instant, I still saw the foyer, then my knees folded and I saw nothing but the pulsing, living framework of a human brain.
A combination of telepathy, healing and telekinesis provided my tools and I began finding and reworking, melding the pathways of aggression and anger, rage and hatred in Creed's brain. I found the pain and pleasure centers and skewed them to apathy. Time had slowed, letting me weave and dart through his mind like a lightning bug without any intervention from the other telepaths.
Distantly, I could hear Creed screaming, feel his pain. I didn't care. I'd seen his work, he deserved this and much worse. One last stitch, then I pulled back slightly to inspect my work. It wasn't permanent, I knew that. His healing factor would slowly unravel it all. But it would do. For now.
Time snapped back into place and I gasped, doubling over in sympathetic empathic pain. Shields...A set of shields snapped closed around me, cutting off Creed's pain.
"Thank you, Betsy," I croaked out, slowly relaxing. Rule one when messing with someone's mind: don't forget your shields. Rule two: if you forget your shields, make sure there's another telepath about. Rule three: if you forgot one and two, you're fucked.
The English telepath in an Asiatic ninja body snorted from behind me. "You're welcome."
Slowly I straightened, still on my knees, but not doubled over. I reached out and reset my shields, getting rid of any residual phantom pain and the slight under-chatter of everyone's minds. Even Betsy's shields weren't strong enough for me. I closed my eyes and visualised them. They glowed a vibrant reddish purple around me. Under them were my own, a green network with silver tracery on top of deep blue.
Opening my eyes again, I stared at Creed. He lay on his side, curled into a ball whimpering softly. I wasn't in any mood to care how much pain he was in. "Could someone give me a hand?"
Raven silently extended hers. Apparently, I had acquired Raven, Betsy and – I raised an eyebrow in surprise -- Lorna as protectors from the rest of the X-family. The three were bracketing me, keeping anyone from stopping me. I caught Raven's hand and slowly pulled myself up to stand, wavering. I shook my head and the world steadied a bit. "Thanks."
"Can I have my hand back?"
"Oh. Yeah." I released it. "What? None of you seen Creed in pain before?" I turned and looked at the Professor. "End problem."
---
I sat cross-legged on my made up bed and pondered dinner. It was not going to be a fun affair, I knew that. After all, with the large number of people, it was going to be crowded. And loud, noisy, etc. and I was not looking forward to fielding more questions on what I'd done to the now docile Creed.
'If they don't understand it the first time, let it go,' one of my old teachers had once said. He was right.
"Most humans are irrepressibly stupid."
"Uhuh. And I'm one of the exceptions, right?"
He reached up and scratched his sandy curls before shrugging his shoulders in the multi-coloured monstrosity he called a jacket. "Yes."
A knock on the door interrupted my musings and I did a quick scan before deciding whether to tell the person to piss off or not.
It was Raven, so I decided to answer the door. "Yes?"
"A bunch of us are going into Westchester for dinner -- Harry's Hideaway, the pub."
"I'll get dressed."
---
If Harry's Hideaway had ambiance, it was of that relaxed sort. The kind where it begs you to come and get drunk off your ass before leaving and getting sick in the parking lot.
Our company was of varied state, with Betsy, Raven and I in the lead. We'd borrowed Xavier's van "hey, dad, can I borrow the car?" flashed through my mind, and I chuckled. We hadn't wrecked it, though. Logan had followed us with Gambit behind him.
The booths were cracked brown vinyl, the tables that old moldy-looking formica. Wood walls with that ingrained smoke look. And the bar. As with any pub-type establishment, there had to be a bar. And there was. A long, cherry-red topped affair. Behind it sat myriad shelves filled with lots of alcohol.
The jukebox was playing some hit from the 70's. I vaguely recognised it as being one of the songs I'd detested a lot during that decade. Disco had only barely been my style. I was much more into black than sequins. Especially red, blue, white and yellow sequins on bright white.
I shook my head to get rid of those memories and looked at Raven. "D'you think we'll all fit in a booth?"
"With this bunch?" Raven snorted. Our bunch consisted of me, Raven, Logan, Gambit, Betsy, Nate, Dom. "We can split into two, though."
"Make the guys sit by themselves?"
"Why not?" Raven grinned and turned to Logan. "You choose a table, wildman."
He mock-growled at her and led the way across the floor to a corner booth and nearby table. With much shifting of chairs and the table, we got the entire group in one spot. I ended up sandwiched between Betsy and Raven.
"So, Rave, what's up with you and Forge?"
"Nothing," Raven said, too quickly.
"Just some latent sexual tension and traded barbs?" Dom interjected, from across the table.
"No." Raven glared balefully at Domino. "We're -- colleagues, of a sort."
"Yeah, just like Nate and I are."
I snickered. "Oh, come now, Dom, you're making him blush." She was, too. He was beginning to get that hunted look. The kind most men get when surrounded by women gossiping. Logan and Remy were sporting that look too, to a lesser extent.
The waitress arrived at that point, saving the boys. For later.
---
"So," Raven said, "who's the new fascination?"
"Me?" I blinked innocently and turned to Betsy. "I'm sorry Warren couldn't come with us."
"I'm not sure if that would have been a good thing, anyway," Braddock replied dryly.
I looked at Harry's and grinned. "Not exactly his scene here, is it?"
"Not really mine, either," Betsy pointed out, her violet eyes glinting with amusement.
"Braddock's much more the Ivy League Olive Garden type," Raven sardonically noted.
"Olive Garden?" Dom brightened, "Haven't been there in ages." She cast a sidelong look at Cable. "No one ever invites me."
"Dom, cherie, you could invite de lad yourself," Remy pointed out, from Betsy's side.
Logan inserted his own words of wisdom with, "Just don't forget to make him pay, Nina."
I chuckled as Dom blanked the expression on her face and Nate blushed even more. "Really, guys, if I'd known that's where everyone wanted to go..."
"You'd still have wanted to come here." Nate was watching me with those uncanny eyes. One silvery-gold, one blue, both penetrating.
"Yeah." I shrugged. "I've had my fill of ritzy-artsy-fartsy places. I," I paused and took a sip of the beer in front of me, "needed a break."
"And this way you don't have to explain what you did to that bastard." Raven raised her own glass. "In fact, I propose a toast."
Everyone shrugged and lifted their glasses, I held mine up an looked at Raven, "Well?"
"I toast, to Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga. May she always get her man."
I snorted. "I toast, to all of us, may we live into old age so we can tell our great grandchildren about our adventures."
"Speak for yourself, Dez, I'm NOT telling my grandkids half of what I did," Dom retorted.
On that note, we all drank.
For a moment, we all were in accord. And then all hell broke loose.
"You stupid mutie scum! You don't belong here, get out!"
The voice shattered our peace, and we were all stiffening, straightening, reaching for our non-existent weapons. Well, except for Raven, who NEVER goes unarmed. And me. But I always have a knife on me. The voice came from the bar area, so it wasn't aimed at us. We could have just ignored it.
"Move, Rave, I've gotta hit the washroom." I dug an elbow into her side. She winced, but moved.
"Mare, don't do anything stupid."
I flashed her a dangerous smile. "When have I ever done that?"
"Oh, shit," she whispered, to my departing back.
Dom snorted from behind me as I carefully maneuvered through the crowd. "You knew she'd do something as soon as she heard it."
I could see the combatants, now. A young man was standing in front of his date. She couldn't have been more than twenty-one, blonde, unless it was dyed. Her skin was mottled red and green, almost Christmassy. Looking at it, I knew that it wasn't a mutation. Even from here I could see the kneedle marks. Tats like that must have taken her years to finish.
The man accosting the tattooed girl and her boyfriend was big and butch-looking. He was also drunk off his ass and in need of a lobotomy. Or death. I wasn't sure which sounded more poetic.
"Excuse me?" I politely inserted myself between them and looked impishly up at the drunkard. "I couldn't help but overhear you. And, sir?" I leaned in close, wincing away from his breath, and whispered, "You're making an ass of yourself."
He bellowed. That's the only word for it. It sounded like a bull getting maimed (snip, snip) and really *feeling* the pain. "Stupid bitch, get outta my way so I can thrash this scumbag!"
"Um...Sorry, can't do that." I smiled ingeniously up at him while surreptitiously checking the crowd for my dinner companions. Rave was on my left, Betsy to my right. Behind me, chatting with the bartender, I could sense Dom. Cable was a null behind his shields and Logan was a mass of emotions. Remy, on the other hand glowed coolly from directly behind the 'gentleman' in front of me.
Empathy is a wonderful tool. It's also a hazard in a fight. Which is why as soon as I'd ascertained their relative positions, I shut it down. The man in front of me was still trying to work through his alcoholic haze to decide if he could hit me or not.
"C'mon, sir, let's just drop this, okay?" I smiled again, stepping into him again. Unconsciously, he moved away. Good. Very good. If I could keep this up, I could get him far enough away that the two he'd been yelling at could--
"DEZ!" Dom's voice shattered my mental hold on the man and made me aware that something was wrong. Very wrong. Instinct slammed through me and I twisted, but not far enough. A knife slipped into my side. My knife, I realised dimly.
The boy didn't have time to do more than look at me with dead eyes before Betsy grabbed him from behind, using a nerve pinch to get him to drop the knife. Raven caught me as the shock hit and my legs went. "Mare--"
"Gimme a moment," I gasped. The wound wasn't shallow, but I wasn't going to die from it.
The blood was a catalyst, though. The delicately balanced room erupted into violence. People threw chairs, beer, glasses, plates, forks and spoons and myriad other articles of the establishment. I even saw a pair of gentlemen's undergarments weave past me at one point.
Raven fought above me and then was swallowed up as I tried to dodge everything and slip out. My blood slipped through the fingers I had clasped to my left side. It wouldn't stop bleeding. And the little prick still had my knife.
I ducked under one table and scuttled out into the path of a pinwheeling drunkard. We both went down and I lost the grip on my wound. Blood gushed out, happily spilling on the ground. "Fuck."
It was succinct and to the point. I was pinned under the dead weight of a man twice my weight, who stank of large amounts of booze and other disgusting things while I bled to death. And around me a bar fight of massive proportions was taking place, and I *wasn't having fun.*
"That's it. That's bloody it." Power flared around me, and delved into the wound, my healing factor kicking into overtime. Within ten seconds I wasn't bleeding anymore. Twenty and the wound had sealed completely. Thirty and I began shoving upwards, attempting to remove my captor.
Something grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him up. "Ah, dere you be, chere."
"Give me a hand, Remy."
He complied, and I was rapidly standing in the middle of the eye of the bar fight. "Thanks."
One word and both of us weighed back in, searching for our comrades and trying to remove ourselves in one piece.
I was suddenly back to back with Braddock, who had a handy way of snapkicking her opponents. I found myself using good old fashioned punches, though. And blocks. We were slowly slipping towards the door. No words or mental abilities were needed for this, you'd have to be dumb to not want to get out of a bar fight.
Bar fights aren't fought on any "I'm right, you're wrong!" principle. They're nothing but a group of people descending to the level of primitives and spilling blood for the fun of it. It's not exactly kill or be killed, but it's close. More like, knock them out first, or they knock you into the plate-glass window. I've gone through plate glass. It hurts.
"Fuckin'ell, Mare, you know how to show a girl a good time." Raven. She was just there, abruptly. She hadn't taken her gun out and her eyes were glowing. I guess she didn't get out much.
"I do try," I said dryly, dodging another clumsily thrown punch. We were nearly to the door by this time. Nate had made it there first and thrown it open. Somewhere in the bar behind me I could hear Logan going at it with a happy madness.
"Go, chere." Remy appeared on my other side and shoved me to the door, grabbing my opponent and flipping him back into the bar.
"Fine, fine," I muttered, slipping through the door and immediately to the side as Raven and Betsy dashed through. "Where's Logan?"
"Remy went to get him." Betsy replied calmly. She was barely flushed, as if it had been just a routine excercise. I envied her that for a moment, then winced. "What is it?"
"I'm coming down off the bloody adrenaline-high," I replied testily, as my legs turned to water. "Even healed, I lost a ton of blood."
"Duh," Raven said dryly, before she slipped underneath my right arm and stabled me.
"Thanks," I mumbled, as we staggered to the van.
"Don't mention it."
In the distance, I heard the van start. And as we walked towards it, I vaguely wondered what had happened to the man who'd knifed me and the tattooed girl. Come to that, where the hell was my knife?
---
I was hot, tired, sweaty and in a slight amount of pain. I'd just been in a bar fight and I did NOT need some redheaded tight-ass bitch with a poker residing where her backbone should be telling ME I was irresponsible.
"--this sort of behavior will NOT be tolerated!"
"Grey?" My voice was neutral, but I was seething. How DARE SHE?
She wasn't calming down, but I did see Raven slowly back away from us. She took Forge and the finally-met Hank McCoy with her. "You have an excuse for this sort of flagrantly destructive behavior?" Her hands were already on her hips, she reminded me of caricatures of bad mothers, all anger and rage, no compassion. "I'd like to hear it."
"I didn't start the fight."
State the facts, they always said. Start there, then elaborate. Grey wasn't going to give me the chance. This I already knew. After all, she hadn't listened when Betsy -- gods bless her -- had attempted to explain.
"That's exactly what I thought you'd say," she snapped, cutting me off. She was pacing, now, in full Rant Mode. "It's just the kind of thing I would expect from an irresponsible little poser who thinks she can be an X-Man, but only cares about spying on us!"
"Nice run-on." I said, conversationally. Peripherally I knew Rave had gotten everyone out of the room. And someone had summoned Charles, I could feel him trying to link with me. Fuck off, old man, I thought tiredly, I'm still dealing with your hellcat. "Not that any of it was true."
"Really?" She asked me scornfully, her voice quieting, "I've read your confidential file. I *know* what you've done with your life."
"Jean. Only I was allowed access to that file, per Nick's request," Charles barked, from behind her.
Jean whirled and looked down at him, "Then you've seen it -- what she did. Shall I escort her to the Danger Room so we can put her in a cell?"
"I don't think so," I said coldly, standing. I looked at Xavier. "You knew everything that was in my file. And you still took me on." I cocked my head, "Do your people normally question your judgment like this?"
He didn't get a chance to respond, Jean was whirling back to me, anger incarnate. "You stupid bitch!"
I saw the punch, I even had time to stop it. I didn't. A few seconds later, I was dazedly staring up at the ceiling of the infirmary. Blood crawled lazily down my cheek from the corner of my mouth. Several teeth ached, and I knew chewing was going to be damned difficult. Wincing, I looked up to see Jean held in the grip of a TK hand.
"Thanks, Nate." I rasped out, leaning against the bed I'd fallen against. I straightened and my vision went gray for a moment. "Shit."
"Shut up and sit still," Dom was snapping at me. I must've really gotten hit. How much TK had been behind Jean's punch?
My mind wandered for a bit as my brain reset itself. Massive bloodloss does that to me. I overheard snatches and pieces of conversations and a few bits of mental conversation. Odd feeling, that. I had the notion that someone was deliberately letting me into them.
Either way, I ended up waking to find a large, blue furry thing looming over me. Unlike most women I just blinked, "Hallo." Or tried to say it.
"Ah, you're awake." Nice, cultured, male voice.
I nodded and regretted it. Stars burst behind my eyes for a moment, then steadied as the latent healing kicked up a notch by subconscious control. My healing abilities are boosted by two things. One, my telepathy/TK. Second, I'm a Slayer. There are a few funky mystical bits that come with that. Including healing, pain-blocking and super strength.
"Water," I croaked.
A movement, and a cup was held to my lips. The fur on the hand there was so very soft. I drank. Water slid down my abused and parched throat. Lovely, glorious, wet, water.
"Thank you." My voice sounded normal, now. "How long have I been out?"
"Well..."
The hesitancy made me nervous, and I turned on my side to look up at the blue-furred man. "Tell me."
"A day and a half."
"WHAT?" I sat up straight, ignoring the slight wooziness that hit me. "You drugged me, didn't you." I closed my eyes and muttered in Greek.
"I do apologise, but due to the majority of your friends who attempted to convince us of your innocence being of similarly disreputable past, it was deemed the best solution."
He did sound unhappy. "And I'm awake now, because..?"
"With the egregarious amount of sedative I had to pump into your veins, I made a decision to let this dose wear off, so as not to damage your body or brain in any way."
I nodded. "I've got a high immunity to a lot of drugs. Especially sedatives and pain killers." I winced. The loginess was annoying, but it was slowly dissipating. What was worse was the sense that I'd missed something big. Something I needed to be around for.
"I am, as you may have guessed, Henry McCoy." He held out a handpaw.
As I accepted and shook it, I suddenly was assaulted by a myriad of images. I swayed and leaned back into the pillows. his hand released mine as he reached out to steady me.
"You should lie down, make sure the sedative has completely worn off."
"No. Thanks, but, no." I shoved away from him and rolled out of the bed on the other side. For a second, the room spun. What the HELL had they given me?
Whatever it was, it was sodding powerful. Nothing could normally keep me knocked out for a few hours, let alone a day and a half. And leave me feeling like this? Nuhuh. I turned to gaze at the doctor across the bed from me. "What did you give me?"
"Just a sedative." He sounded reluctant to tell me what was in it.
I, on the other hand, needed to know what had been successful at drugging me so deeply. "Look, HON, tell me. Please." I added the please only at the last minute.
He blinked at me, then nodded slowly. "Codeine and morphine, along with a special mixture I made up for telepaths -- to dull their receptions."
I realised he really wasn't going to tell me. Fine. I could deal with that. One thing still bothered me, though. "Can I borrow a robe? I rather doubt nudity is a standard in the X-Mansion."
McCoy blinked at me, apparently only now taking into account the fact that I was naked as the day I was born. "Yes. Just a moment." He stepped out of the antiseptic, thoroughly high tech-looking, exam room and came back a moment later with a discarded lab coat. "I do apologise for not thinking on this sooner."
"That's okay." I shrugged into the coat and found it nearly twice my size. I sort of disappeared in the voluminous folds. "Thanks."
I left the doctor to his work, whatever it was. He liked leaning over a microscope and muttering gleefully. That struck me as wrong, but I wasn't sure why. The hallway to my room was empty, thank the gods. I didn't need anyone seeing me in this bloody lab coat. Especially since I'm sure I looked like a kid playing dressup with mum's clothes.
That thought made me stop for a moment. I hadn't ever done that. Never had the chance to play dressup. My life had been too weird, what with time storms, past, present and future Fates depending on me.
It suddenly occurred to me that they had made a big fuss over me. Yet, here I was, awake and roaming the hallways. Alone. As that thought crossed my mind, I finally identified the slight shurring noise behind me and turned to stare at Scott. "Following me? How quaint."
"Guarding you," he said shortly.
I snorted. "From Jean, or the rest of the X-Men?" After all, *I* certainly hadn't thrown the first punch. Hell, I hadn't even thrown one punch at the redhaired bitch.
"Neither." He appeared to be trying not to look at my less-than-perfectly-clothed state.
"Uhuh." I turned and continued down the hall, tossing over my shoulder, "Well, if you're going to do this the right way, keep up with me."
I heard him stumble slightly to keep up, but then he was fine. My room was only a few more doors down the hall, I opened the door and stepped in. The door was swinging shut behind me, when Scott shoved it open again. I whirled and glared. "Unless you're into voyeurism, I plan to get dressed. ALONE."
He blushed and backed out, letting the door shut.
Considering my wardrobe, I decided it was going to be a comfort day. Power dressing could wait for when I felt the need to impress. Personally, they could toss me out on my ear, and I wouldn't care. Well, almost wouldn't. As I mentally went back over the last few days and put together the bits and pieces of mental conversation I'd overheard, I pulled on black jeans, a green T-shirt with "I've been a Goddess, have you?" stenciled in black and white on the front, black socks and boots.
My collection of T-shirts was extensive. I had everything from very mundane things, to some of the previously mentioned shirts (most notably, the "I'm a bitch, ask me how" shirt). I, unfortunately, tended to get them destroyed a lot, too. Battle tends to rip, tear and shred fabric.
Hair was my next thought, so I glanced in the mirror and sighed. The multicoloured mass needed to be washed, but, as usual, it was neatly in place. Well, not neatly. It was wildly cascading every which way, but it looked like it was supposed to do that. Which it did. I sighed again and grabbed a knife and sheath, quickly strapping them into my boot. Since I'd lost the one at my back to the bloody hooligan at the bar, I needed another.
The hooligan...My mind grabbed that thought and something niggled. Something about the way he'd looked at me, his eyes flat and black. I shook my head and the feeling dislodged and buried itself again. Dammit. What was of more interest, I suddenly remembered, was the weird flash I'd gotten when shaking McCoy's hand. I frowned and reached for another knife -- this one for my back.
Something was very wrong, there. But I didn't have time to figure out what, suddenly. A mind-voice slammed into my shields and tapped me on the back.
#X-Men, we have an intruder!#
"Shit." I was moving for the door when Scott opened it.
"I've--"
I barreled past him, heading towards the foyer at a near dead-run. Not that running to danger was a good thing, but I had the feeling that I'd be needed. And soon.
---
End Chapter Three
=====
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'
__________________________________________________
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga
Marya, otoh, is mine. Borrow her without asking and I'll have my lackeys get medieval on your roody-poo candy ass.
Also, this is one of those "Guess the Author" challenges. So far, only ONE person has attempted it.
PG13/R for swearing and some nastiness.
Author's notes: I've been tricked into rewriting a ton of X-history, so bear with me.
Dedication: To Lynxie, because she's half-co-plotter, or something. And because she wouldn't let me stop writing -.- To Acetal for betaing this monster, it ain't over yet, bub. To KayJay and Mitai and Alicia for the origin of the crazy idea. And to Tapestry for helping Lynxie kick me and get it finished.
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga, 3
Welcome to the Jungle
by Suzy DeZorga
It was later that evening when the people of X-Factor arrived. Lorna Dane in the lead, her green hair escaping any attempts to tame it down -- even at the short length it now sported. The other members, Forge, Wild Child, Sabretooth -- the one I raised an eyebrow at -- Val Cooper, and one I recognised and knew. My face split into a grin.
An evil grin, as I suddenly thought of something to do that would be fun. For me. I moved swiftly to accomplish my task.
Raven had time to only turn and open her mouth in shock before I pounced her, wrapping my arms about her and giggling as I screeched in her ear. "RAVEN!!!!"
"Mare, you will SO pay for this," she hissed, wincing as her eardrums protested.
"This IS payment," I whispered back, chuckling evilly.
"You bitch." Raven hugged me back, though. She obviously remembered what it was for. I wasn't going to remind her, though. Not with pure as the driven snow Grey around.
I released her and stepped back, grinning. "Glad to see Satan still hasn't a consort."
"I thought the man was polygamous and you'd be there keeping him company already," she replied dryly, reaching up to push her hair off her face.
"You know Mystique?" Jean Grey, in all her redheadedness, was staring at me in shock. Apparently my just knowing her was enough for Grey.
"I've known Raven for..." I tried to remember how long it'd been.
"Too long." Raven inserted, placing her blue hands on her mini-skirt clad hips. "Why?"
"No reason." In an instant, Jean's whole demeanor changed and she was sweetly condescending. "I guess you're here to reconnect with your daughter, Rogue."
"Actually, no. I got dragged here against my will." Raven glared at Forge, who was chatting with Bishop. Weapons, I think, from what I could catch from the conversation.
"Oh? This from the woman who refused to get dragged to a club on her birthday -- we will not mention which one, but it was in the upper digits."
She glared at me and mumbled something under her breath.
I snickered. "What? Didn't quite hear that."
"Losing your hearing, dear? I hear it's one of the onsets of old age."
"Oh, piss off, Raven," I muttered, grinning.
"Not yet," she smiled sweetly at me, "I'm staying 'till Christmas."
"I see you brought the kitty cat," I noted dryly, as Victor moved into my line of sight.
"Unfortunately. Bastard needs to be in a cage."
I pondered for a moment, then snickered again. "We could put him in one." I blinked, realising suddenly that Grey was still watching us with a disapproving look in her eyes. "Can I help you, Jean?" I asked politely.
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm on to you, DeZorga."
"On to me?" I blinked and refrained from looking at Raven. It would be very bad if we both laughed our asses off at Jean.
"Yes," she hissed, then whirled away and stalked off.
Lorna took her place. "Hello." She cocked her head at me, eyes neutral. "And you are?"
"Marya DeZorga. Joined about five days ago. All this," I gestured at the chatting X-Family, "is making me a little nervous."
"Ah." She glanced at Raven, then me, then held her hand out. As we shook, I could see her fighting her curiosity. It won. "So, you two know each other?"
"Well, not in the Biblical sense," I replied.
She coughed, her eyes twinkling as Raven snorted. "I think you're going to do just fine." Dane glanced at where Jean was arguing with Scot. "Although, Jean appears to have taken you in extreme dislike."
"Caught that, eh?"
"Marya, it's not as if she hides it," Raven noted.
Lorna nodded in agreement and turned towards the rest of X-Factor. "C'mon, I'll introduce you."
---
To say the least, the other X-Men were NOT happy to have Sabes around. My solution of chopping off both his heads and freeze-drying the rest was met with horrified looks and 'we can't kill!' disclaimers. Val claimed that she had to bring him with her. After all, he was her charge and so she had to look after him.
"Bullshit." I stood and began pacing. Xavier's study was very crowded at the moment, with three-quarters of the X-Crowd in there, and the other quarter out watching Creed. "You could very easily have left him in a holding cell, Cooper."
"And have him taken away from me? DeZorga, there are portions of the government that want to experiment on him -- healing factor and all."
"And you couldn't let them?" Raven sounded bored. I knew better.
"Cooper, you're frigging nuts. This," I gestured, nearly hitting someone – I glanced mentally; Bobby -- in the head, "is Christmas."
"He's controlled. He can't hurt anyone--"
I cut her off, anger finally spilling out. "Not good enough, VAL. I've seen some of his work."
"You have?" She sounded surprised. Guess ol' Val forgot how large a radius the circle I moved in was.
"Yes." I stopped pacing and turned to the door. "And so help me, I'm not letting him do anything like that again."
I was halfway down the hall to the foyer before any of them caught up with me. Cooper in the lead, of course. Raven was right behind her though.
"DeZorga, what the hell are you doing?"
"Making sure he can't hurt anyone." The foyer loomed into sight, a small group of X-ers sitting around a tall, golden-haired figure.
Sabes raised his head and looked at me. "Hallo, Louisa."
He didn't get time to say more. My power lashed out, catching his mind like a fly in amber. Ruthlessly, I ignored the pain I was producing in him and began.
Rerouting the mental pathways is a chancy business at best. Not that I cared, I certainly wouldn't cry if Creed ended up brain-damaged. Might make it easier to get everyone agree to euthanising him. But I was after specific pathways. For an instant, I still saw the foyer, then my knees folded and I saw nothing but the pulsing, living framework of a human brain.
A combination of telepathy, healing and telekinesis provided my tools and I began finding and reworking, melding the pathways of aggression and anger, rage and hatred in Creed's brain. I found the pain and pleasure centers and skewed them to apathy. Time had slowed, letting me weave and dart through his mind like a lightning bug without any intervention from the other telepaths.
Distantly, I could hear Creed screaming, feel his pain. I didn't care. I'd seen his work, he deserved this and much worse. One last stitch, then I pulled back slightly to inspect my work. It wasn't permanent, I knew that. His healing factor would slowly unravel it all. But it would do. For now.
Time snapped back into place and I gasped, doubling over in sympathetic empathic pain. Shields...A set of shields snapped closed around me, cutting off Creed's pain.
"Thank you, Betsy," I croaked out, slowly relaxing. Rule one when messing with someone's mind: don't forget your shields. Rule two: if you forget your shields, make sure there's another telepath about. Rule three: if you forgot one and two, you're fucked.
The English telepath in an Asiatic ninja body snorted from behind me. "You're welcome."
Slowly I straightened, still on my knees, but not doubled over. I reached out and reset my shields, getting rid of any residual phantom pain and the slight under-chatter of everyone's minds. Even Betsy's shields weren't strong enough for me. I closed my eyes and visualised them. They glowed a vibrant reddish purple around me. Under them were my own, a green network with silver tracery on top of deep blue.
Opening my eyes again, I stared at Creed. He lay on his side, curled into a ball whimpering softly. I wasn't in any mood to care how much pain he was in. "Could someone give me a hand?"
Raven silently extended hers. Apparently, I had acquired Raven, Betsy and – I raised an eyebrow in surprise -- Lorna as protectors from the rest of the X-family. The three were bracketing me, keeping anyone from stopping me. I caught Raven's hand and slowly pulled myself up to stand, wavering. I shook my head and the world steadied a bit. "Thanks."
"Can I have my hand back?"
"Oh. Yeah." I released it. "What? None of you seen Creed in pain before?" I turned and looked at the Professor. "End problem."
---
I sat cross-legged on my made up bed and pondered dinner. It was not going to be a fun affair, I knew that. After all, with the large number of people, it was going to be crowded. And loud, noisy, etc. and I was not looking forward to fielding more questions on what I'd done to the now docile Creed.
'If they don't understand it the first time, let it go,' one of my old teachers had once said. He was right.
"Most humans are irrepressibly stupid."
"Uhuh. And I'm one of the exceptions, right?"
He reached up and scratched his sandy curls before shrugging his shoulders in the multi-coloured monstrosity he called a jacket. "Yes."
A knock on the door interrupted my musings and I did a quick scan before deciding whether to tell the person to piss off or not.
It was Raven, so I decided to answer the door. "Yes?"
"A bunch of us are going into Westchester for dinner -- Harry's Hideaway, the pub."
"I'll get dressed."
---
If Harry's Hideaway had ambiance, it was of that relaxed sort. The kind where it begs you to come and get drunk off your ass before leaving and getting sick in the parking lot.
Our company was of varied state, with Betsy, Raven and I in the lead. We'd borrowed Xavier's van "hey, dad, can I borrow the car?" flashed through my mind, and I chuckled. We hadn't wrecked it, though. Logan had followed us with Gambit behind him.
The booths were cracked brown vinyl, the tables that old moldy-looking formica. Wood walls with that ingrained smoke look. And the bar. As with any pub-type establishment, there had to be a bar. And there was. A long, cherry-red topped affair. Behind it sat myriad shelves filled with lots of alcohol.
The jukebox was playing some hit from the 70's. I vaguely recognised it as being one of the songs I'd detested a lot during that decade. Disco had only barely been my style. I was much more into black than sequins. Especially red, blue, white and yellow sequins on bright white.
I shook my head to get rid of those memories and looked at Raven. "D'you think we'll all fit in a booth?"
"With this bunch?" Raven snorted. Our bunch consisted of me, Raven, Logan, Gambit, Betsy, Nate, Dom. "We can split into two, though."
"Make the guys sit by themselves?"
"Why not?" Raven grinned and turned to Logan. "You choose a table, wildman."
He mock-growled at her and led the way across the floor to a corner booth and nearby table. With much shifting of chairs and the table, we got the entire group in one spot. I ended up sandwiched between Betsy and Raven.
"So, Rave, what's up with you and Forge?"
"Nothing," Raven said, too quickly.
"Just some latent sexual tension and traded barbs?" Dom interjected, from across the table.
"No." Raven glared balefully at Domino. "We're -- colleagues, of a sort."
"Yeah, just like Nate and I are."
I snickered. "Oh, come now, Dom, you're making him blush." She was, too. He was beginning to get that hunted look. The kind most men get when surrounded by women gossiping. Logan and Remy were sporting that look too, to a lesser extent.
The waitress arrived at that point, saving the boys. For later.
---
"So," Raven said, "who's the new fascination?"
"Me?" I blinked innocently and turned to Betsy. "I'm sorry Warren couldn't come with us."
"I'm not sure if that would have been a good thing, anyway," Braddock replied dryly.
I looked at Harry's and grinned. "Not exactly his scene here, is it?"
"Not really mine, either," Betsy pointed out, her violet eyes glinting with amusement.
"Braddock's much more the Ivy League Olive Garden type," Raven sardonically noted.
"Olive Garden?" Dom brightened, "Haven't been there in ages." She cast a sidelong look at Cable. "No one ever invites me."
"Dom, cherie, you could invite de lad yourself," Remy pointed out, from Betsy's side.
Logan inserted his own words of wisdom with, "Just don't forget to make him pay, Nina."
I chuckled as Dom blanked the expression on her face and Nate blushed even more. "Really, guys, if I'd known that's where everyone wanted to go..."
"You'd still have wanted to come here." Nate was watching me with those uncanny eyes. One silvery-gold, one blue, both penetrating.
"Yeah." I shrugged. "I've had my fill of ritzy-artsy-fartsy places. I," I paused and took a sip of the beer in front of me, "needed a break."
"And this way you don't have to explain what you did to that bastard." Raven raised her own glass. "In fact, I propose a toast."
Everyone shrugged and lifted their glasses, I held mine up an looked at Raven, "Well?"
"I toast, to Marya Louisa Susanna DeZorga. May she always get her man."
I snorted. "I toast, to all of us, may we live into old age so we can tell our great grandchildren about our adventures."
"Speak for yourself, Dez, I'm NOT telling my grandkids half of what I did," Dom retorted.
On that note, we all drank.
For a moment, we all were in accord. And then all hell broke loose.
"You stupid mutie scum! You don't belong here, get out!"
The voice shattered our peace, and we were all stiffening, straightening, reaching for our non-existent weapons. Well, except for Raven, who NEVER goes unarmed. And me. But I always have a knife on me. The voice came from the bar area, so it wasn't aimed at us. We could have just ignored it.
"Move, Rave, I've gotta hit the washroom." I dug an elbow into her side. She winced, but moved.
"Mare, don't do anything stupid."
I flashed her a dangerous smile. "When have I ever done that?"
"Oh, shit," she whispered, to my departing back.
Dom snorted from behind me as I carefully maneuvered through the crowd. "You knew she'd do something as soon as she heard it."
I could see the combatants, now. A young man was standing in front of his date. She couldn't have been more than twenty-one, blonde, unless it was dyed. Her skin was mottled red and green, almost Christmassy. Looking at it, I knew that it wasn't a mutation. Even from here I could see the kneedle marks. Tats like that must have taken her years to finish.
The man accosting the tattooed girl and her boyfriend was big and butch-looking. He was also drunk off his ass and in need of a lobotomy. Or death. I wasn't sure which sounded more poetic.
"Excuse me?" I politely inserted myself between them and looked impishly up at the drunkard. "I couldn't help but overhear you. And, sir?" I leaned in close, wincing away from his breath, and whispered, "You're making an ass of yourself."
He bellowed. That's the only word for it. It sounded like a bull getting maimed (snip, snip) and really *feeling* the pain. "Stupid bitch, get outta my way so I can thrash this scumbag!"
"Um...Sorry, can't do that." I smiled ingeniously up at him while surreptitiously checking the crowd for my dinner companions. Rave was on my left, Betsy to my right. Behind me, chatting with the bartender, I could sense Dom. Cable was a null behind his shields and Logan was a mass of emotions. Remy, on the other hand glowed coolly from directly behind the 'gentleman' in front of me.
Empathy is a wonderful tool. It's also a hazard in a fight. Which is why as soon as I'd ascertained their relative positions, I shut it down. The man in front of me was still trying to work through his alcoholic haze to decide if he could hit me or not.
"C'mon, sir, let's just drop this, okay?" I smiled again, stepping into him again. Unconsciously, he moved away. Good. Very good. If I could keep this up, I could get him far enough away that the two he'd been yelling at could--
"DEZ!" Dom's voice shattered my mental hold on the man and made me aware that something was wrong. Very wrong. Instinct slammed through me and I twisted, but not far enough. A knife slipped into my side. My knife, I realised dimly.
The boy didn't have time to do more than look at me with dead eyes before Betsy grabbed him from behind, using a nerve pinch to get him to drop the knife. Raven caught me as the shock hit and my legs went. "Mare--"
"Gimme a moment," I gasped. The wound wasn't shallow, but I wasn't going to die from it.
The blood was a catalyst, though. The delicately balanced room erupted into violence. People threw chairs, beer, glasses, plates, forks and spoons and myriad other articles of the establishment. I even saw a pair of gentlemen's undergarments weave past me at one point.
Raven fought above me and then was swallowed up as I tried to dodge everything and slip out. My blood slipped through the fingers I had clasped to my left side. It wouldn't stop bleeding. And the little prick still had my knife.
I ducked under one table and scuttled out into the path of a pinwheeling drunkard. We both went down and I lost the grip on my wound. Blood gushed out, happily spilling on the ground. "Fuck."
It was succinct and to the point. I was pinned under the dead weight of a man twice my weight, who stank of large amounts of booze and other disgusting things while I bled to death. And around me a bar fight of massive proportions was taking place, and I *wasn't having fun.*
"That's it. That's bloody it." Power flared around me, and delved into the wound, my healing factor kicking into overtime. Within ten seconds I wasn't bleeding anymore. Twenty and the wound had sealed completely. Thirty and I began shoving upwards, attempting to remove my captor.
Something grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him up. "Ah, dere you be, chere."
"Give me a hand, Remy."
He complied, and I was rapidly standing in the middle of the eye of the bar fight. "Thanks."
One word and both of us weighed back in, searching for our comrades and trying to remove ourselves in one piece.
I was suddenly back to back with Braddock, who had a handy way of snapkicking her opponents. I found myself using good old fashioned punches, though. And blocks. We were slowly slipping towards the door. No words or mental abilities were needed for this, you'd have to be dumb to not want to get out of a bar fight.
Bar fights aren't fought on any "I'm right, you're wrong!" principle. They're nothing but a group of people descending to the level of primitives and spilling blood for the fun of it. It's not exactly kill or be killed, but it's close. More like, knock them out first, or they knock you into the plate-glass window. I've gone through plate glass. It hurts.
"Fuckin'ell, Mare, you know how to show a girl a good time." Raven. She was just there, abruptly. She hadn't taken her gun out and her eyes were glowing. I guess she didn't get out much.
"I do try," I said dryly, dodging another clumsily thrown punch. We were nearly to the door by this time. Nate had made it there first and thrown it open. Somewhere in the bar behind me I could hear Logan going at it with a happy madness.
"Go, chere." Remy appeared on my other side and shoved me to the door, grabbing my opponent and flipping him back into the bar.
"Fine, fine," I muttered, slipping through the door and immediately to the side as Raven and Betsy dashed through. "Where's Logan?"
"Remy went to get him." Betsy replied calmly. She was barely flushed, as if it had been just a routine excercise. I envied her that for a moment, then winced. "What is it?"
"I'm coming down off the bloody adrenaline-high," I replied testily, as my legs turned to water. "Even healed, I lost a ton of blood."
"Duh," Raven said dryly, before she slipped underneath my right arm and stabled me.
"Thanks," I mumbled, as we staggered to the van.
"Don't mention it."
In the distance, I heard the van start. And as we walked towards it, I vaguely wondered what had happened to the man who'd knifed me and the tattooed girl. Come to that, where the hell was my knife?
---
I was hot, tired, sweaty and in a slight amount of pain. I'd just been in a bar fight and I did NOT need some redheaded tight-ass bitch with a poker residing where her backbone should be telling ME I was irresponsible.
"--this sort of behavior will NOT be tolerated!"
"Grey?" My voice was neutral, but I was seething. How DARE SHE?
She wasn't calming down, but I did see Raven slowly back away from us. She took Forge and the finally-met Hank McCoy with her. "You have an excuse for this sort of flagrantly destructive behavior?" Her hands were already on her hips, she reminded me of caricatures of bad mothers, all anger and rage, no compassion. "I'd like to hear it."
"I didn't start the fight."
State the facts, they always said. Start there, then elaborate. Grey wasn't going to give me the chance. This I already knew. After all, she hadn't listened when Betsy -- gods bless her -- had attempted to explain.
"That's exactly what I thought you'd say," she snapped, cutting me off. She was pacing, now, in full Rant Mode. "It's just the kind of thing I would expect from an irresponsible little poser who thinks she can be an X-Man, but only cares about spying on us!"
"Nice run-on." I said, conversationally. Peripherally I knew Rave had gotten everyone out of the room. And someone had summoned Charles, I could feel him trying to link with me. Fuck off, old man, I thought tiredly, I'm still dealing with your hellcat. "Not that any of it was true."
"Really?" She asked me scornfully, her voice quieting, "I've read your confidential file. I *know* what you've done with your life."
"Jean. Only I was allowed access to that file, per Nick's request," Charles barked, from behind her.
Jean whirled and looked down at him, "Then you've seen it -- what she did. Shall I escort her to the Danger Room so we can put her in a cell?"
"I don't think so," I said coldly, standing. I looked at Xavier. "You knew everything that was in my file. And you still took me on." I cocked my head, "Do your people normally question your judgment like this?"
He didn't get a chance to respond, Jean was whirling back to me, anger incarnate. "You stupid bitch!"
I saw the punch, I even had time to stop it. I didn't. A few seconds later, I was dazedly staring up at the ceiling of the infirmary. Blood crawled lazily down my cheek from the corner of my mouth. Several teeth ached, and I knew chewing was going to be damned difficult. Wincing, I looked up to see Jean held in the grip of a TK hand.
"Thanks, Nate." I rasped out, leaning against the bed I'd fallen against. I straightened and my vision went gray for a moment. "Shit."
"Shut up and sit still," Dom was snapping at me. I must've really gotten hit. How much TK had been behind Jean's punch?
My mind wandered for a bit as my brain reset itself. Massive bloodloss does that to me. I overheard snatches and pieces of conversations and a few bits of mental conversation. Odd feeling, that. I had the notion that someone was deliberately letting me into them.
Either way, I ended up waking to find a large, blue furry thing looming over me. Unlike most women I just blinked, "Hallo." Or tried to say it.
"Ah, you're awake." Nice, cultured, male voice.
I nodded and regretted it. Stars burst behind my eyes for a moment, then steadied as the latent healing kicked up a notch by subconscious control. My healing abilities are boosted by two things. One, my telepathy/TK. Second, I'm a Slayer. There are a few funky mystical bits that come with that. Including healing, pain-blocking and super strength.
"Water," I croaked.
A movement, and a cup was held to my lips. The fur on the hand there was so very soft. I drank. Water slid down my abused and parched throat. Lovely, glorious, wet, water.
"Thank you." My voice sounded normal, now. "How long have I been out?"
"Well..."
The hesitancy made me nervous, and I turned on my side to look up at the blue-furred man. "Tell me."
"A day and a half."
"WHAT?" I sat up straight, ignoring the slight wooziness that hit me. "You drugged me, didn't you." I closed my eyes and muttered in Greek.
"I do apologise, but due to the majority of your friends who attempted to convince us of your innocence being of similarly disreputable past, it was deemed the best solution."
He did sound unhappy. "And I'm awake now, because..?"
"With the egregarious amount of sedative I had to pump into your veins, I made a decision to let this dose wear off, so as not to damage your body or brain in any way."
I nodded. "I've got a high immunity to a lot of drugs. Especially sedatives and pain killers." I winced. The loginess was annoying, but it was slowly dissipating. What was worse was the sense that I'd missed something big. Something I needed to be around for.
"I am, as you may have guessed, Henry McCoy." He held out a handpaw.
As I accepted and shook it, I suddenly was assaulted by a myriad of images. I swayed and leaned back into the pillows. his hand released mine as he reached out to steady me.
"You should lie down, make sure the sedative has completely worn off."
"No. Thanks, but, no." I shoved away from him and rolled out of the bed on the other side. For a second, the room spun. What the HELL had they given me?
Whatever it was, it was sodding powerful. Nothing could normally keep me knocked out for a few hours, let alone a day and a half. And leave me feeling like this? Nuhuh. I turned to gaze at the doctor across the bed from me. "What did you give me?"
"Just a sedative." He sounded reluctant to tell me what was in it.
I, on the other hand, needed to know what had been successful at drugging me so deeply. "Look, HON, tell me. Please." I added the please only at the last minute.
He blinked at me, then nodded slowly. "Codeine and morphine, along with a special mixture I made up for telepaths -- to dull their receptions."
I realised he really wasn't going to tell me. Fine. I could deal with that. One thing still bothered me, though. "Can I borrow a robe? I rather doubt nudity is a standard in the X-Mansion."
McCoy blinked at me, apparently only now taking into account the fact that I was naked as the day I was born. "Yes. Just a moment." He stepped out of the antiseptic, thoroughly high tech-looking, exam room and came back a moment later with a discarded lab coat. "I do apologise for not thinking on this sooner."
"That's okay." I shrugged into the coat and found it nearly twice my size. I sort of disappeared in the voluminous folds. "Thanks."
I left the doctor to his work, whatever it was. He liked leaning over a microscope and muttering gleefully. That struck me as wrong, but I wasn't sure why. The hallway to my room was empty, thank the gods. I didn't need anyone seeing me in this bloody lab coat. Especially since I'm sure I looked like a kid playing dressup with mum's clothes.
That thought made me stop for a moment. I hadn't ever done that. Never had the chance to play dressup. My life had been too weird, what with time storms, past, present and future Fates depending on me.
It suddenly occurred to me that they had made a big fuss over me. Yet, here I was, awake and roaming the hallways. Alone. As that thought crossed my mind, I finally identified the slight shurring noise behind me and turned to stare at Scott. "Following me? How quaint."
"Guarding you," he said shortly.
I snorted. "From Jean, or the rest of the X-Men?" After all, *I* certainly hadn't thrown the first punch. Hell, I hadn't even thrown one punch at the redhaired bitch.
"Neither." He appeared to be trying not to look at my less-than-perfectly-clothed state.
"Uhuh." I turned and continued down the hall, tossing over my shoulder, "Well, if you're going to do this the right way, keep up with me."
I heard him stumble slightly to keep up, but then he was fine. My room was only a few more doors down the hall, I opened the door and stepped in. The door was swinging shut behind me, when Scott shoved it open again. I whirled and glared. "Unless you're into voyeurism, I plan to get dressed. ALONE."
He blushed and backed out, letting the door shut.
Considering my wardrobe, I decided it was going to be a comfort day. Power dressing could wait for when I felt the need to impress. Personally, they could toss me out on my ear, and I wouldn't care. Well, almost wouldn't. As I mentally went back over the last few days and put together the bits and pieces of mental conversation I'd overheard, I pulled on black jeans, a green T-shirt with "I've been a Goddess, have you?" stenciled in black and white on the front, black socks and boots.
My collection of T-shirts was extensive. I had everything from very mundane things, to some of the previously mentioned shirts (most notably, the "I'm a bitch, ask me how" shirt). I, unfortunately, tended to get them destroyed a lot, too. Battle tends to rip, tear and shred fabric.
Hair was my next thought, so I glanced in the mirror and sighed. The multicoloured mass needed to be washed, but, as usual, it was neatly in place. Well, not neatly. It was wildly cascading every which way, but it looked like it was supposed to do that. Which it did. I sighed again and grabbed a knife and sheath, quickly strapping them into my boot. Since I'd lost the one at my back to the bloody hooligan at the bar, I needed another.
The hooligan...My mind grabbed that thought and something niggled. Something about the way he'd looked at me, his eyes flat and black. I shook my head and the feeling dislodged and buried itself again. Dammit. What was of more interest, I suddenly remembered, was the weird flash I'd gotten when shaking McCoy's hand. I frowned and reached for another knife -- this one for my back.
Something was very wrong, there. But I didn't have time to figure out what, suddenly. A mind-voice slammed into my shields and tapped me on the back.
#X-Men, we have an intruder!#
"Shit." I was moving for the door when Scott opened it.
"I've--"
I barreled past him, heading towards the foyer at a near dead-run. Not that running to danger was a good thing, but I had the feeling that I'd be needed. And soon.
---
End Chapter Three
=====
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'
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© 2000 Suzy DeZorga