by Gouki
Chapter Six
Parker's Place
Mr. Creed woke up, rubbing his eyes and scratching the back of his head. He had forgotten for a moment where he was exactly. He looked at the expensive, spotless television set and clean carpet, and remembered that he was in Peter Parker's apartment. He had been sleeping on the couch, with three tiny blankets to cover him: one for his legs, the other two for his midsection and chest. He brushed them away, and sat up slowly.
The too-clean smell of this place bothered him slightly. He was still used to the aromas of ash, dirt, and decay from his Age of Apocalypse home. He shook his head vigorously, trying to banish the last bit of sleepiness from his head. He scratched his chin, and then felt the sides of his face. The sideburns he'd shaved away were already starting to reappear, as if to insist on maintaining his wolfish appearance and keep him scary looking. He grunted, and noted to himself that he'd have to take another trip to the bathroom later to shave away the new stubble, but for right now he wanted something raw and bloody to munch on.
He sniffed in the direction of the kitchen, searching for food smells. No such luck. There was meat in the freezer, but it was all cooked or processed. Yuck. Why bother to eat meat if all the taste is gonna be cooked away?
He decided to settle for a beer. Maybe a cigar too, if he could find one. Not likely, since Peter and his wife seemed almost toxin free. He could smell faint traces of tobacco from Mary Jane, but nothing too recent. He guessed that she'd been a smoker once, but had quit a while ago. Hmph. The smell of tobacco on her was faint indeed, too faint for most normal humans to detect, and almost too faint for his sensitive nose. Peter had never smoked in his life, Mr. Creed could tell, but a strange smell stung his nose that suggested mild radiation.
Radiation? Nahh, geek boy couldn't be radioactive. He was too cleany-cleany for that to be the case. The smell had to be something else, there was no way a human could survive levels of radiation high enough to leave a lingering scent. If they did, it would probably end up altering one's genetic structure, which...
Well, okay, when you put it that way, maybe it does explain his Spider-Man powers.
But it still didn't explain where he could find a cigar! The craving for tobacco now almost equalled his craving to kill when he was a pup. Suddenly he didn't feel hungry or thirsty anymore. He just wanted a smoke.
"Okay, cool it, Vic," he muttered to himself. "Ya won't die if ya don't get a smoke."
Trying to get his mind off his tobacco craving, he wandered into the office where Peter had taken Blink to show her how to use the computer to search the Internet. That was odd, because she never really had much luck with computers back home.
He approached the monitor, stared into the still glowing screen, and smiled.
"Forgot to shut the thing down 'fore ya went ta sleep, pup?"
He peered into the screen, looking at a graphic from a website that Blink had found. He looked at the display.
And suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach.
"Aw, shit," he groaned. "Of all the things she coulda stumbled onto."
Of all the ways they'd been screwed over during their lives in the Age of Apocalypse, this had to be the most unfair thing that could happen to them. He sniffed the air quickly, and, not picking up any recent trace of her scent, he slammed his fist onto the desk angrily.
"Boss?" Wild Child said with a start, running into the office. "What's wrong?"
"She's gone, Kyle," Mr. Creed muttered, "gone off to God-knows-where, and she didn't even leave a note. Aw, I'm sorry, pup."
"S'wrong?" Wild Child growled, scratching his ear.
Mr. Creed didn't answer but instead groaned, "Why'd she have ta start learnin' about computers NOW?"
The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning
Westchester, New York
Blink fought back tears of rage as she stomped through the hallways of the school, searching for the legendary Professor X.
Charles Xavier, the man whose life she and her fellow X-Men fought to save, so that the hellish timeline they had lived, no, existed through, would be corrected.
The man who had betrayed her.
"Xavier!" she hollered angrily into the seemingly empty study she had entered.
No answer. She absolutely could not believe this. How could this be happening, after everything that had happened to her? When she found him, she wasn't sure what she'd do, but knew that he had to pay for his crimes...
"My crimes?" a soft, almost childlike voice answered her thoughts, filled with pain and wisdom. "Tell me, how have I wronged you?"
Blink spun around with a start, attempting to suppress the gasp that begged to betray her sudden unease. She took in the sight of a slim bald man in a floating gold-colored wheelchair, partially obscured by the shadows of the unlit room, his deep blue eyes seemingly the only feature that she could see. His stare was one of genuine care and concern, one that bored deep into the depths of her soul.
She met it with one of the most hateful looks she could muster.
This did not last, however, and she collapsed to her knees, bursting into sobs of despair and rage. Her cries echoed all over the darkened room, and she found herself not resisting when Xavier hummed over to her and lifted her off the floor. Numbly, she rested her head against his shoulder as he gently carried her out of the room, allowing herself to be soothed by his nurturing telepathic bio-rhythms until she fell asleep.
As the events of the past few days slowly faded from her thoughts, she distinctly sensed one last thought, from Professor Xavier, creep into her mind.
"I will make amends for whatever I have done. I promise."
Xavier sighed as he set the mutant girl gently into the bed of his guest bedroom, and exited with new troubles to burden his already frustrated mind.
Wolverine
"Bein' a good lil' cub, sittin' around in yer lil' forest playground," Logan growled, stalking up to the man who, just two days ago, had been all but lobotomized by severe trauma to the skull and brain, and was now lazing about in his new paradise. The forest was a false holographic representation provided by the Shi'ar technology worked into the Danger Room, but it was enough to keep Sabretooth calm and quiet.
Hearing Logan's voice, Sabretooth timidly sat up from the patch of grass and gazed at him. A sound escaped 'Tooth's lips, somewhere between a puppy's eager whine and a child's moan in frightened anticipation of a feared punishment, as Logan neared him. Logan hadn't faced Sabretooth since their last confrontation two days ago, but now something compelled him to face this loathed creature-person.
What he would do now, he had absolutely no idea of. Right now, he settled on just talking, since Sabretooth apparently couldn't talk back, and didn't seem to be willing to provoke a duel between the two of them.
Sabretooth's eyes widened slightly as Logan's hands reached for his head. He quivered as he felt fingers slide behind the back of his head and brought him closer to Logan. His breathing slowed, slowed, slowed, as Logan's face neared closer and closer to his own.
"Lissen up, Creed," Logan whispered softly, "you may a' been pullin' off some Academy Award winnin' stuff with the rest o' the X-Men, but I ain't so forgivin'. This 'sweet lil' newborn kitty-cat' act won't fool me as easily as it does them. I so much as IMAGINE you fakin' this act and revertin' back to bad person Sabretooth..."
Logan let go of Sabretooth's head, and the wet sound of muscle, skin and blood being ripped with a chunking, sloshing, SCHLICK!!! caused the seemingly gentle creature to start as three bone claws popped out of his hand.
He waved them meaningfully at Sabretooth's face, finishing, "...I'll finish what I started with yer brain a coupla days ago. Meantime, sit around in yer lil' forest and be a good lil' cub."
He left Sabretooth rattled and quivering in his "forest." If Sabretooth was faking his amnesia and inabilities to communicate, Logan had given him the message that he wouldn't get away with it. If he WASN'T faking, Logan knew that at least the "gist" of the message had been communicated.
Either way, Logan let him know who was in charge.
Beast
Dr. Henry "Hank" P. McCoy ambled down the corridors of the second level basement, humming to himself the tune from the Rolling Stones "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" and keeping the plate of raw meat and warm milk as far from his nose as humanly (or, in Hank's case, as Beastly) possible to avoid the smell. He was on his way to the Danger Room to feed his patient, Sabretooth, and keeping as positive an attitude as he could about the situation. Sure, the smell of raw meat and warm milk bothered him, and Sabretooth was the last person any one in the Xavier Institute wanted to be delivering snacks to, but it could be worse.
Exactly how it could be worse, Hank wasn't quite certain of at the moment, but at least Sabretooth was maintaining a gentle demeanor.
Ever since the X-Men had returned to the Xavier Institute two days ago and found Sabretooth ripped, burnt, and nearly lobotomized by their teammate Wolverine, emotions among the team were in slight disarray.
It seemed that while the universe (and all of reality as they knew it, for that matter) had been saved, the X-Men were falling apart. Thinking that they'd soon be destroyed by the M'Kraan Crystal's reality destroying crystallization wave, Rogue and Remy kissed in a desperate attempt to share at least one physical act together. When the wave disappeared right before the X-Men's eyes, they found a terrified Rogue holding a comatose Remy, her mind filled to overflowing with his dark secrets and painful memories. She had dropped him and had flown off into the night sky. Scott sent Bobby after her almost immediately, to find out what she had discovered that shocked her so much. Bobby didn't return however, and for that matter, neither did Rogue. Bishop had taken to flipping out every now and then, sometimes unable to discern reality from fantasy and retiring to his rest quarters, complaining of severe migraine headaches. Granted, Bishop was never very social to begin with, coming from an alternate future where the X-Men were betrayed and murdered by one of their own members, but since his return from Israel after preventing Legion from destroying the past, he seemed uneasy, maybe even slightly hostile toward the other X-Men. And to top it all off, Logan had taken to staying outside of the mansion after he nearly killed Sabretooth. All the X-Men had tried to convince him that they didn't blame him for what he did, but he insisted on distancing himself from the X-Men and especially Sabretooth.
Hank ran into Logan four yards from the doors of the Danger Room. Holding the plate away from his nose, he waved at Logan cheerfully and stopped humming.
"Logan! Ceasing your self-imposed exile after only two days?"
Logan shook his head and grunted, "No, Hank. I just had something important ta say to the jerk that I poked in the head with my claw. On my way back to my self-imposed exile right now."
Hank smiled sadly. "Logan, we realize you're upset about Sabretooth, but you've been outside for the past two days--"
Logan cut him off sharply with a raised hand. "--an' I'll stay outside s'long as that maniac is alive an' in the house. I laid down the law with Creed, but if I stay in here much longer I'll end up killin' the worthless fucking bastard. This ain't 'bout bein' ashamed o' what I did to Creed. This is 'bout what'll happen to me if I have to be in the same vicinity as that jerk."
And with that, Logan was gone, so fast that Hank almost didn't see him leave.
"Oh well. Just realize that we all will be available to support you, should you require us."
A hole in space opened before Hank, outlined by a ring of pink fire.
"Oh, my stars and garters," he whispered. With a curiosity that stemmed from his years of science study, he approached the hole, and peered into it, the plate of food for Sabretooth forgotten for the second time since he made his way to the Danger Room. "A transportal. How fascinating."
Sabretooth's meal would have to wait. Hank set the plate down and looked into the transportal once again, noting that it seemed to originate from within the mansion, judging from the surroundings. The guest bedroom on the second floor, more accurately. The 'portal's source of origin seemed to be the young mutant girl sleeping in the bed of the guest bedroom. From beneath her closed lids, her eyes were glowing bright pink, with tiny rays of light sneaking out from them.
She was in R.E.M. sleep, or Rapid Eye Movement, which meant she was dreaming. Judging from the appearance of the portal, her profuse perspiration, and disturbed tossing and turning, Hank guessed that whatever she was dreaming about was not pleasant.
"Charles?" he called out mentally, knowing that Professor Charles Xavier would detect his call telepathically.
*Yes, Henry?* Xavier answered.
"You don't happen to have a guest that you didn't tell the X-Men about, do you?" Hank inquired.
*As a matter of fact I do, Henry. She is sleeping at the moment,--*
"--in the guest room, perhaps?"
*Naturally. Is something wrong?*
"Not necessarily. Your guest seems to have utilized her mutant abilities while she is dreaming. She seems disturbed by the dreams."
*A portal?*
"Yes. One opened right in front of me as I journeyed to the Danger Room to deliver Sabretooth's meal to him. It leads to the guest room. Should I enter the portal to tend to the girl, or shall I remain an observer whilst she lay in agitated dreamsleep?"
*Stay where you are, Henry. While she sleeps, she could close the portal at any time, and I don't want you to take that risk. Jean and I will tend to the girl, if she is in any distress. Deliver Creed's meal, and meet us in the guest room promptly.*
Blue-furred Hank sketched a mock salute and nodded. "Will do, Charles."
However, before he could leave, the girl awoke, took one good look at him, and leapt at him through her portal.
Murder was in her eyes.
"Nuts," Hank muttered.
The girl closed the gap between calm and chaos.