by Gouki
Chapter Four
Spider-Man
The man was dressed in a skin-tight red and blue outfit and mask. On the attacker's chest was a symbol of a spider, crawling on a crimson web. The Spider-Man's face was completely covered by his mask, but Blink could swear she could see a scowl forming beneath it.
"Sabretooth!" the Spider-Man shouted, wrestling Mr. Creed to the ground. "I don't know what you're doing here in New York, but you just chose the wrong city to terrorize!"
Mr. Creed grabbed the Spider-Man by the throat and tossed him away. "Terrorize? Seems to me the place was fine before YOU attacked me." The little old lady sitting on the bench ten yards away took no notice of the battle, but a couple jogging through the park stopped to watch the tussle, from a safe distance, of course.
Blink hopped on top of Spider-Man, and had withdrew one of the spikes from the quiver slung across her left shoulder. She pointed it at his face and charged it with her mutant spacial displacement power. Wild Child growled in anticipation of a tussle, but was held back by Mr. Creed, who slowly got to his feet, watching Blink handle the situation with the greatest of ease.
"You've got to be pretty strong and fast to knock down Mister Creed," she said, waving the spike dangerously close to Spider-Man's face. "But I doubt you're stupid enough to get your head teleported off your shoulders."
The Spider-Man nodded. "Yeah, well," he answered, taking a look around to see that Mr. Creed had already gotten to his feet, "I'm not as stupid as I may look. But I'm also not going to let you get away with whatever dastardly plan the three of you have got in mind!"
Mr. Creed almost laughed. Dastardly plan? What kind of joker used words like that? This guy obviously was joking. Instead of laughing, he leaned down to the Spider-Man and replied, "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."
Blink continued to hold the glowing spike at Spider-Man's face. "Look," she said softly, "we don't want any trouble. I don't know what misunderstanding caused you to attack us, but we don't have any 'dastardly plans,' okay?"
"That guy standing over me and this girl obviously isn't the Mr. Creed that I know," Spider-Man thought, holding back a sigh of relief. "If he was, then he would have taken advantage of my disadvantage a long time ago."
Mr. Creed tapped on Blink's shoulder and motioned for her to get off the Spider-Man.
"Listen," Mr. Creed said to the Spider, "I'm not interested in a fight right now. Neither are my two friends. We're tired and dirty and hungry. So either help us out or leave us alone, 'cuz we don't want to mess ya up."
Spider-Man got to his feet and looked around from the Mr. Creed lookalike to his two companions. Now that he had a better look at them, they didn't look all that dangerous. His "Spider Sense" buzzed slightly when he was around them, but it didn't necessarily tell him that the trio was bad news. It definitely told him to be wary of them, but not that they posed any immediate threat to him or anyone else.
If he could avoid the gratuitous fight bit with a group of strangers that he didn't even know, he WOULD avoid it.
"Tell you people what," Spider-Man offered, "I have a friend, who goes by the name of Peter Parker."
Mr. Creed nodded. "Yeah?"
"Well," Spider-Man continued, "he's probably not home right now, but I don't think he'll mind a few visitors."
Mr. Creed put his arm around Spider-Man's comparatively small shoulders and said, "Ya know, we're not too familiar with this town. Maybe you could show us where this 'Peter' lives."
Parker's Apartment
Blink was immediately impressed with Peter Parker's apartment. Of course, she would have been impressed with just about any apartment in New York, as most of them weren't all burned to brittle skeletons or demolished into rubble, like most of the buildings on her Earth. This apartment vaguely reminded her of her home, before Abyss.
Before the Age of Apocalypse.
The carpet, a creamy beige color, was the first thing Blink noticed when she walked into the apartment with Mr. Creed and Wild Child. Before her life turned into a living nightmare, the carpet in her home was the same color. The rest of the place was not as familiar. Parker had a large, round, purple couch in the center of his living room, two cabinets filled with strange plastic cassettes and disks (videos, Mister Creed had called them), and a very large television planted right in front of the couch.
Blink knew about television; she had one right in her own bedroom once. Before her life as an X-Man. She looked around, absorbing everything that had happened in the last few. . . hours? Days? She really couldn't tell how long they'd spent wandering in the M'Kraan Crystal before they'd arrived in this new world. She looked to where long unused instincts told her the kitchen would be. Wild Child and Mr. Creed were there sure enough, making there way to Parker's refrigerator, looking for food or beer. Or both.
The longer she looked about this place, the more she remembered her life before Apocalypse and Abyss and all the other horsemen and lackeys had destroyed it. In the three years she had spent as the "junior" X-Man, Blink had learned to let go of her life as Clarice Ferguson. She had learned, for better or for worse, how to kill in the name of freedom. She had learned how to fight. How to survive.
And most important of all, she had learned to do all of that for what she was witnessing right now. The right to have a home, freedom, and peace of mind. Parker wasn't home, and he probably wasn't worrying about whether or not he'd come home to find everything and everyone he ever cared about destroyed, and he didn't have to. This world didn't have the Age of Apocalypse to worry about.
She started to tremble. She had fought so hard, so long, to win back everything that was taken from her that she didn't know what to do with it when she finally won it back. She collapsed onto the couch, overwhelmed by its comfort. The other X-Men had fought just as hard as she had, and they were all dead now. She started to cry, a quiet, muffled series of chokes and sobs which caused her entire body to shake.
Mr. Creed and Wild Child heard the crying and exited the kitchen, rushing over to the couch Blink was sitting on. Her hands covered her face, trying to hold back the waterfall of tears which fell down her pink cheeks, rushing to her chin and finally streaming down her neck, where they were absorbed by the collar of the dingy, torn green X-Men uniform she wore. It was the second time in days Mr. Creed had seen her cry like this. He sat down next to her and wrapped his massive arms around her. Wild Child sat on the floor, as would a faithful dog, and looked up sympathetically to Blink as Mr. Creed began to gently rock her back and forth paternally.
"Shhh," he whispered calmingly. He knew why she was crying. The same emotions came over him in the park, and he had almost given in to the same reaction Blink had given in to, before Spider-Man had mercifully provided a helpful distraction.
But now, Mr. Creed had no such distraction, and salty saline began to flood his eyes as well.
"They all died," Blink choked out, "and we're still alive."
What had they done not to deserve salvation that we didn't do? she wondered silently.
"Shh," Mr. Creed whispered again, kissing her on the forehead gently. "They've all been given new lives; new chances. They ain't dead, pup. They're startin' over again, in this world."
He held her on the couch for another couple of hours before she fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep. When he was certain that the soft snores were real, he gently laid her down on the couch and backed away from her.
Wild Child
"So," a rough voice grunted, "she's gonna be okay, right, boss?"
Mr. Creed couldn't believe his ears. He recognized the voice, but he couldn't believe the voice was actually forming words. He looked at Wild Child in barely concealed shock.
"Huh?" he asked, looking at Wild Child, half expecting his partner not to answer back, but instead look at him like he was crazy.
Sure enough, Wild Child did not do that. He simply answered, "I said, do you think she's gonna be alright?"
Mr. Creed nodded slowly. Wild Child's words were slightly strained from disuse, and higher in pitch than his usual snarls, growls, and yips. He spoke the words not as someone just learning how to speak would, but rather as someone who could speak, but for the longest time was prevented from doing so.
"Kyle?" Mr. Creed addressed Wild Child.
"Yeah, boss?"
"First of all, don't call me 'boss.' When'd ya start speakin' again?" Mr. Creed asked incredulously.
Wild Child scratched behind his right ear as he shrugged.
"I dunno."
Mr. Creed scowled in confusion. "How come yer startin' now?"
Wild Child continued scratching his right ear. Once again, he replied, "I dunno."
Mr. Creed dismissed it with a wave of his hand. He walked back to the kitchen, yelling back to the newly talking Wild Child, "Well, anyways, ya want a beer?"
Wild Child scampered back into the kitchen, answering, "Yeah, sure. Hope this Parker guy doesn't mind us bummin' his brew."
Mr. Creed laughed. "Kyle, I don't think a guy that dresses up in red and blue spandex and calls hisself 'Spider-Man' is gonna worry too much about his beer."
Mr. Creed smiled at Wild Child's surprised reaction. He knew the second he walked into the apartment that Peter Parker and Spider-Man were both the same person, but said nothing to Blink and Wild Child. He didn't want to give Blink anymore to worry about, and he had figured that Wild Child wouldn't care anyway.
Okay, so he was wrong about Wild Child's reaction.
"Spidey's smell is all over this place," Mr. Creed explained, pointing to his nose. "I searched for a different scent, and the only ones I picked up was him and some other woman."
Wild Child's interest was immediate. "A woman?"
Mr. Creed nodded. "She's probably married to the dork, so I wouldn't go getting' yer hopes up, Kyle."
Then Mr. Creed got up and walked off. Wild Child didn't follow, but instead finished the beer. He hadn't had one in a long time, so he started to feel a bit tipsy. He decided to wait and let his healing factor take care of the alcohol before drinking another. Then he went back into the living room of Parker's apartment.
Where did Mr. Creed go?
Wild Child didn't have time to go look for him. He sat down on the floor next to the couch, faithfully guarding the sleeping Blink. After a couple of hours, he began to feel drowsy. Scratching behind his right ear one last time before he prepared to lie down, he yawned and took one last look at Blink, deciding she would be fine. But before he could fall asleep, he heard clicking sounds coming from the door of the living room. He went to the door to investigate, a was greeted by the most beautiful sight he had ever seen when the door opened.
She was a tall, slim, red-haired woman who was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans which were stretched tightly around the curves of her hips and thighs, and a light blue blouse which did little to hide the shape of the full, round breasts within it. Her face was a wonderful collection of sparsely placed brown freckles, large emerald-green eyes, high cheekbones, and a pair of lovely, pouty lips.
Those emerald eyes widened in shock as they gazed upon Wild Child.
"Hi," he murmured shyly. "My name's Kyle."
She took one good look at Kyle, a collection of bruises, cuts, scratches, and dirt, all wrapped in a blood speckled, ripped, and muddy orange spandex aerobics outfit. She took in the filthy, long blond hair which laid limply on his shoulders, framing a thin, bony looking face that smiled at her with mouth full of perfect teeth accentuated by razor sharp canines, and silvery gray eyes which revealed his hunger in pools of immediate infatuation.
She reacted the only way she knew how to this grinning, eager creature.
She fainted.
"Huh," Kyle, the Wild Child, grunted.
Mr. Creed
Mr. Creed felt like he was in heaven. Peter's apartment was, by anybody from this timeline's standards, fairly common. Nothing fancy, just two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen (which doubled as the dining room), and a living room. There was also a washing machine and dryer, which he had put to good use by running his X-Man uniform through.
He let out a growling, relieved sigh as a rain of scalding water rushed onto him. He watched his feet as dirt, blood, machine oil, and other mysterious substances slid off him and down the drain of this bath tub he was now showering in.
It had been soooooo long since he had had a shower this comfortable.
He grabbed a bar of soap, and then, surveying the amount of dirt that seemed permanently caked onto his body in the past few days, hoped it would be enough. It was, but just barely. The bar of soap had been brand new when Mr. Creed snatched it up. Now it was barely a sliver.
"Lemme see, whatsis dork got fer cleaning' hair?" Mr. Creed mumbled as he reached for various bottles that lay neatly stacked on the mini shelf inside the tub. "Head 'n Shoulders, Pantene Pro Vee, whatever. Shampoo and conditioner in one. Whatta buncha crap."
He took a look at the label of the "Pantene Pro V" and decided to use that one on his damaged, dingy hair. Cleaning this hair was a real nightmare, as it got tangled constantly as he massaged the shampoo into his scalp, and was kind of stiffly matted together in some places. He had had to shampoo twice to get all of it clean. But he didn't care. He now had time to relish in the inconveniences of washing long hair.
He stared at the drain next to his feet once again, and decide maybe he'd better let the water run for just a few more minutes just to get all that junk offa the tub floor. Then, he pushed the shower curtain out of his way and grabbed a towel. He was barely successful in wrapping the tiny towel around his thickly muscled waist.
"Geez," he muttered as he made his way to the fogged mirror above the bathroom sink. "This guy's even skinnier than he looks."
He wiped the steam off from the mirror and studied his face in awe. The shower had freshened him up, and his face had lost many of the lines and tiny wrinkles it had picked up during the Age of Apocalypse. His hair, usually a dull sandy color, was now a bright, shiny golden blonde. Hell, even the stubble on his chin looked better!
Speaking' of which. . .
Mr. Creed looked at a can of shaving cream and a razor, something that he hadn't seen in years, not one that was brand new and not worn out, anyway. He looked at the wolfish sideburns on his face and decided those would be the first to go. He liked the sideburns, but he felt that maybe they added to his "ferocious" appearance too much. Besides, he wasn't that person anymore.
After the sideburns were gone, the rest of the growth on his jaw followed. He raised his left hand to his chin and cheekbones, stroking his face to test the smoothness of where he had shaved away his beard. "With a haircut," he mused, "Kyle and Clarice won't recognize me."
He tugged at the mirror gently, to see if it maybe doubled as a medicine cabinet. Sure enough, the mirror pulled away from the wall, revealing a cabinet full of dental floss, mouthwash, aspirin, and other bathroom articles.
"Got any scissors in here?" he mumbled as he shifted things around carefully.
No such luck. There was a pair of scissors, but they were way too small for Mr. Creed to find useful. He dried himself off with another towel, and then got back into his uniform, which seemed as brand-new as he felt. He had put on everything except for his boots and gloves, because he hadn't put them into the washer, and they were still rather smelly.
He tied his long wet blond hair into a ponytail and walked out of the bathroom barefoot. He made his way into the living room just in time to see a beautiful red haired woman walk into the apartment, look at Wild Child, and faint.
"Great," he muttered. "Just what we need."
Blink
Blink blushed breathlessly as her escort led her across a dance floor of silver clouds in a pink and blue sky. She could see her suitor's expensive, tastefully tailored tuxedo, his brown, shiny hair, and his charmingly perfect smile, but when she tried to focus on his face, it was swathed in shadows, only giving a mere hint of his brutal handsomeness, leaving much to her imagination. She looked down at herself, seeing that she was wearing a very elegant, skin-tight black dress that was somewhat suggestive. She knew she should have felt bashful about wearing something that revealed so much, but instead she felt very comfortable, and allowed herself to glide along the dance floor without a care in the world. Even if she had stopped to think about it, she would have told herself that her X-Man uniform didn't really conceal much of her either, and she wore that almost all the time.
She didn't even think twice about the absence of the fuchsia pink color of her skin. It was as if the dark, golden brown tan of her skin was the color it had been all of her life. She didn't stop to wonder if her hair had also changed color, or if the purple birthmarks on her face had disappeared. All she cared about was this dance.
Her suitor pulled her closer to him suddenly. She could feel her body squeeze against his tightly as his face moved closer to hers. Even this close to him, his face was concealed by the shadows. However, now it seemed easier to make out the hidden features of his face. Now it seemed more boyishly cute than brutally handsome, but it was still difficult to tell. What she could see seemed rather familiar, but now she didn't care. His intent was as clear as day. His face leaned closer to hers, and she found herself leaning closer to him.
She closed her eyes, breathlessly anticipating a passionate kiss.
It never came.
Her suitor was ripped from her arms savagely, and unceremoniously smashed into the floor, which was no longer composed of soft clouds, but now of cold, unforgiving granite. Blink herself was swatted off her feet, and she crashed into the cold, hard floor as well, the force of the blow knocking the wind out of her and bouncing her closed eyes open. She looked at herself again, and instead of seeing the sexy black gown and tanned brown skin, she beheld the familiar sight of her light green X-Man uniform dress and fuchsia skin.
The identity of her attacker came as no surprise.
"Holocaust," she spit out, taking in the horrific sight of Apocalypse's right hand man and most trusted Horseman. He stepped toward her in his bulky life support armor, aiming at her with the cannon that was permanently set into the left arm of his armor. The clear, orange crystal of his armor was brightly lit by the glowing skeletal remains of the body of one of the most dangerous mutants the X-Men had ever faced.
What remained of the skin on his skeletal face stretched into an evil smile, which could only faintly be seen inside the orange crystal. "Why, Blink," he cackled, "you seem to be enjoying yourself, you genetic traitor. I'm so sorry about your 'date,' but, he was weak, and as such, my father commanded his death. So shall it be with you."
Blink hopped out of the way of the microwave radiation blast that erupted from Holocaust's cannon arm without warning. She had no spikes to charge with her mutant power, so she had no means of attacking Holocaust directly.
So she improvised. She teleported behind Holocaust, and, using surprise to her advantage, she hopped onto his back, wrapping arms around his neck.
Holocaust flailed around, swinging his arms wildly. Blink held on for dear life, when it occurred to her. . .
"Foolish child!" Holocaust screamed. "You know that you are unable to teleport charge any living thing!"
Blink placed her hands on Holocaust's crystal armor, feeling mutant energies flow through her. "Maybe," she answered Holocaust, "but I'm betting your life support armor, a NON-living thing, is a different story. So let's dance, buddy!"
As soon as Holocaust's armor was completely charged with teleportational energy, Blink leapt off him. She hit the ground, running fast. She was not immune to her own powers, as far as she knew. She didn't want to be near Holocaust when his armor exploded.
Of course, she hadn't counted on Holocaust chasing after her. "Come back here, Blink!" he screamed.
Blink turned around just in time to see Holocaust leap toward her. His armor had changed from glowing orange to glowing pink. He was a giant Blink-bomb, ready to go off.
Before Holocaust could slam into her, a figure sprung in front of him.
The suitor. Somehow, he had survived Holocaust's brutal attack, and was now leaping to save Blink from him. He obviously didn't realize that what he was about to do was suicide.
As the two bodies collided, Blink screamed in defiance. Then she plunged out of the darkness. . .
"Ahhhhhh!!!!!" Blink screamed as she woke from her nightmare. She sat up on the couch, wheezing in relief. "A dream. Just a dream."
She looked around the room, remembering where she was. Parker's apartment. She noticed Wild Child and Mr. Creed kneeling over an inert body of a red haired woman lying on the floor. She hopped off the couch, racing over to the unconscious woman, who was already surrounded by Blink's two partners.
"Hiya, pup," Mr. Creed greeted her genially. "Have a bad dream?"
Blink nodded. "I'll be okay." She looked at Mr. Creed again and gaped in surprise. "Mister Creed, what happened to you?!!"
He smiled, unintentionally showing his fangs. "I got hit by a truck fulla soap and shave. Dirt and my sideburns were the casualties, but I got away okay." He leaned toward Blink and Wild Child and took a quick sniff. "Woo!!! Smells like you and Kyle could benefit from a similar attack."
Mary Jane
The red haired woman moaned softly, slowly regaining consciousness. Creed looked at Wild Child, silently indicating to him that he should get lost. Wild Child obeyed, scampering off to the kitchen. Blink helped Mr. Creed place the woman onto the couch, and then joined Wild Child in the kitchen.
The woman's eyes finally fluttered open. While unconscious, she dreamed briefly about a blond man creature with sharp teeth and orange spandex, grinning like a ten year old boy in a candy store. Now she was staring into the face of a blond man, who was grinning at her with sharp teeth, and in orange spandex, no less, but this man creature was much larger than the one she had dreamed about.
"Hi," she whimpered, intimidated. "I'm Mary Jane. Mary Jane Parker."
Mr. Creed nodded and returned her greeting with a grunt. "Sorry my friend scared ya, MJ," he apologized. "We've had kind of a rough day, so you'll have to excuse our appearances. Peter invited us. Sorta."
The red haired woman looked around and frowned. She only saw one person. God, she hoped this man was schizophrenic or something. If this man was a friend of her husband, she'd kill him when he got home from work.
"Us?"
Mr. Creed remembered that Blink and Wild Child were still in the kitchen. "Oh, yeah. I got two other friends in the kitchen."
Mary Jane hopped off the couch and ran to the kitchen to see what this huge bodybuilder vampire was talking about. Sure enough, there were two more people in the kitchen. Wild Child, who was raiding the refrigerator, spun around in reaction to the racing footsteps and instantly forgot about getting food. When he got sight of the redhead running into the kitchen, his eyes fixed on her bouncing breasts, and, instantly aroused, he looked up from her breasts to her beautiful (but hysterical) face and smiled once again.
"Hi, there," he said, the smile pasted onto his face.
Blink looked from the woman to Wild Child. It was the first time Blink had ever heard Wild Child talk.
Mary Jane looked at the blond, skinny animal-man, and then turned her gaze to the pink (!), elf-like girl. The girl looked from her companion to the woman.
"Hi," she said, following her partner's lead, with a guilty smile on her face.
Mary Jane grabbed her forehead, sensing that a headache was on the horizon. She moaned angrily, jumping up and down in frustration. As she did so, Wild Child continued to watch her, fascinated by the bouncy movements of her body as she threw her tantrum.
"Peter!!!!" Mary Jane shouted to her absent husband as she continued to throw her tantrum. "You are in BIG trouble when you get home, buster!"