DISCLAIMER: Ummm...not mine? Yay, I'm right, what do I win?!?!

AUTHORS NOTES: If you don't know what's going on, go back and read chapter 1. It wont help any, cause the whole story is nutty, but I still want you to read it, heehee.



CHAPTER 2.


Wolverine sniffed the air uneasily. The dark London street smelt bad. Very bad. He couldn't quite place it- somewhere between ash and rotting leaves. A distinctive mixture that he had smelt before on the few times he had been to London.

Before the scene had even opened up in front of Wolverine, before the door had shut, he had smelt that particular stench, and known exactly where he was. The scent of sewerage thrown into the mix had confirmed just where in was in London. He was in a sewer under the city, and it smelt worse than anything before, with the possible exception of dead skunk.

Wolverine had tried desperately to return, but the door had slammed shut and disappeared, and the sewer had mysteriously come into view. Unable to go back, he had decided to go up, despite the fact that there was only cement above him.

London now had a new manhole, courtesy of his claws.

So, he had wandered around the general area in the slums of the city looking for a clue of how he could go back, until something struck him- a familiar scent.

He sniffed the air again. There was no doubt about it. Magneto was here somewhere. Wolverine could smell the faint metallic tinge that covered him, and he seemed to magnetize every metal thing he walked past. Wolverine could feel his bones wanting to stick to stuff whenever he brushed up against them, and it was driving him crazy.

Wolverine turned into an alley filled with overflowing trash cans, rats, and fighting, clawing cats. He was close now. Despite the stench of the alley, Magneto's trail was strong.

Wolverine stealthily walked down the alley, until the trail disappeared into a doorway inset into one of the tall buildings lining the narrow street. Frowning, he tried to open the door, as he wondered what Magneto would want in a dump like this.

It was locked.

Growling in frustration, he unlocked the door, by popping his claws and slicing off the knob. Then, he sliced off the hinges for good measure, and kicked the door done warily. The last time he had gone through a door, he had wound up in London. Naturally, he was a bit suspicious of them.

There was no other town or place behind the door though. Only a winding, rusted metal staircase and walls which were dripping with moisture. The scent trail went up the shaky staircase, so Wolverine followed it up to the second floor, where he was greeted by the sight of a row of numbered doors. He realised abruptly that the filthy structure was an apartment building.

Ignoring the painfully obvious smells of young children, and focusing only on Magneto's metallic signature, he followed it to room 2C.

Wolverine pressed an ear against the door. He could hear someone moving around inside, and could smell who it was..

Wolverine twisted the knob eagerly, anticipating a fight, and stepped into the squalid apartment, which was the source of the moisture on the walls downstairs.

Magneto was standing in the middle of the room, in the stance that Wolverine had privately thought made him look like he had a wedgie, and smiled. "Ah, you must be Toad. Greetings. I am Magneto."

Wolverine hastily stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Toad? There was only three answers to this puzzle. 1) Magneto was going crazy, 2) He was going crazy, or 3)-

"That's right Wolverine. Very clever, you're the first to figure it out, although the others aren't far behind you."

Wolverine spun around, and glared his most deadly stare at the author as she stepped out of her green cloud. "What the flamin' hell is goin' on here?"

The author, dressed in a simple white dress that looked dazzlingly bright and clean compared to the rest of the apartment building smiled smugly, and Wolverine resisted the urge to use his claws to slice it off her face.

"You tell me what's going on. You did figure it out, after all." She told him.

"When we walked through the doors, we stepped into the lives of the people who's name was on it." Wolverine said with a sinking feeling. "So, here, people who knew Toad think I'm him."

The author clapped her hands mockingly. "Very good, my furry little man."

Wolverine growled in the back of his throat. "I'd rather talk to Magneto than you, you lousy author."

Turning, he re-entered the apartment, and shut the door behind him, preparing to talk with the incredibly boring Magneto. The aforementioned villain was still standing in the middle of the room, and was now staring at Wolverine as if he had turned into a big hairy spider. "Is something wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing at all, bub." Wolverine told him. It might actually be kinda fun to play the villain for once in his life. And even if he didn't like it, who cared? That's what claws were for.

Magneto gave him a hesitant smile, the kind that says 'I'm trapped in a room with a madman' but he started to talk again. Wolverine repressed a sigh, and made himself listen.

"Toad, you no longer need fear oppression from the human scum." Magneto said grandly, and Wolverine resisted- barely- the urge to cough into his hand 'bullshit.'

Magneto continued. "I am offering you the chance to join me and my Brotherhood of Mutants. Will you join?"

Wolverine shrugged. "Sure, why the hell not?"

"Excellent!" Magneto said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "We shall leave for my base in Antarctica tomorrow. But first, we must pick up our colleague, a mutant called Sabretooth."

Wolverine's blood froze. "Sabretooth? Bub, you gotta be outta your mind!" He said angrily, before opening the door and leaving again. He had to have a few words with a certain author.

As he had thought, she was still outside. When she saw Wolverine, she began to laugh. "So, you finally remembered your old pal? Bet you'd LOVE to work with him!"

Wolverine popped his claws, and advanced on her slowly, more than willing to slice her into chop suey. Just so long as he could wipe the smug look of her smarmy face.

The author regarded him with a look of faint interest on her face, before asking, "How do you plan to get back if I am dead?"

Wolverine stopped. He hadn't thought of that. He was a 'kill with my adamantium claws, think about stuff later' kinda guy, and while he desperately wanted to kill her, he knew that the author was his only ticket back to the real world.

"How do I get back?" He asked her.

The author grinned maliciously. "Give me a sample of your blood. I'll let you live in peace then- well, for a little while. A few weeks at least, all to yourself. And if I do put you in any more weird situations, I won't be there for the next few stories."

Wolverine considered. In his opinion, this was a pretty good deal. "Promise?"

The author smiled sweetly. "Sure, I guess." She produced a test tube from somewhere within the volumous sleeves of her white dress.

Wolverine took the test tube in his hand, and stared at it for a moment, before closing his hand over the cool glass to think. He didn't like the idea of quitting, but the very thought of working with that bastard Sabretooth made his stomach churn. Which was he to pick? Giving into one of the most diabolical authors ever, or teaming up with Sabretooth?

His thought were interrupted by a sharp pain shooting through his hand and up his arm, and he opened his fist to reveal a crushed test tube. He had squeezed it so hard it had broken in his grasp.

"Damnit, be careful!" The author scolded, producing another crystalline tube.

Wolverine watched dis-interestedly as his mangled palm started to heal quickly. He was about to turn the author down- he had honour, after all- when, quick as lighting, the author darted in, and scooped up some blood into the test tube she was holding.

Wolverine roared, and tried to slice at her with his claws, but she nimbly dodged out of the way, and he encountered air only. He slashed at her again, and she ducked underneath the deadly adamantium.

"Thankyou!" She said cheerfully, disappearing in her smoke cloud once more. Wolverine felt his blood boil, and he knew that he was on the verge of going berserk. He had never met a person who infuriated him as much as the author did.

"You could at least let me go, now that you have my DNA, you heartless bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you, you sick, twisted pain in the ass!?" Wolverine yelled to the air in fury.

At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, green smoke began to swirl up, slowly swallowing him whole.

****************************************************************************

Toad blinked his yellow eyes in shock as his surroundings came into focus. He recognized the area- he had been here on a mission for Magneto only six months ago, to meet a useful contact with information for the Brotherhood. Toad couldn't figure out why on earth he was in the New Orleans swamp. He had expected to find the way out, knowing the author's soft spot for Gambit, who's name was on the door, or at least another room. Not a whole new town.

He began to trek through the swamps, hoping he was heading in the general direction of the city. There was a huge mansion which he could see that was not too far away, but Toad didn't feel like asking them for help. They'd probably just scream 'mutant' and call the cops on him.

Toad decided that when he got into the city, the first thing he would do was call Magneto, and talk him in to bombing the evil factory. When Magneto heard who was behind it, Toad was sure that he would be happy to blow it to kingdom come.

He was relishing in the beautiful thoughts of flaming factories, and burning authors when he saw the figure seemingly melt out of the darkness, and call out to him.

"Shit!" Toad hissed.

"Remy!" The person called out, jogging towards him. "Remy, what are you doin' out 'ere?"

Toad checked over his shoulder. He couldn't see anyone else behind him who may be the Remy that the person was calling out too. "Who the bloody hell are you?" He called back irritably. "And who's Remy?"

The person- whom Toad could now see was a man- gave him a funny look before stepping into place beside him, matching his quick pace. "You're Remy s'far as I know. And last I check, I be your cousin Lapin.

Toad began to laugh. He knew a little French. "Lapin? Your name is Rabbit?"

The man looked a little miffed. "You know full well it's a nickname, Remy. And you're not one to talk, mon cousin. Or should I call you Gambit?"

Toad tried to control his surprise. This lunatic thought he was Gambit? On any other night, when the author wasn't involved, he might have found it amusing. Instead, he frowned. Something very odd was going on here, and he would have bet all the money he owned that a certain crazy teenage author was behind it all. Shrugging, Toad decided to go along with it for now. The women seemed to like the Cajun, and if they thought he was Gambit...well, that was all right with him!

He followed the man called Lapin (a name which was still making him chuckle) towards the large house he had seen nearby when he appeared in New Orleans. As they drew closer, Toad could hear music from a few years ago belting out, and Toad almost laughed. This day and age and they were still listening to music that in his opinion was ancient? Still, Toad mused as they entered the house, 'Lady Marmalade' was a pretty catchy song. And the old film clip with the four divas...Toad grinned to himself.

Lapin (Toad still had no idea what his real name was) gave Toad a big smile. "So, ready ta marry Bella tomorrow? Could mean de end of your days of charm."

Toad gaped for a second. Gambit had been MARRIED?!?! Wow, the things you found out about a person when their friends thought you were them. He definitely had to find out more. So, he gave Lapin a big, froggy grin in return. "You bet your ass I am, Bugs."

Lapin glared at him. "If it twern't yer bachelor party, Remy, I'd kick yer ass for calling me dat!"

Toad laughed, and went to mingle. This was a great opportunity, in his opinion.

For the rest of the night, Toad acted like the biggest jerk he was capable of being, which actually didn't require too much effort. After a while, people began to assume he had had just a little too much to drink- this only encouraged Toad to act like more of a bastard.

He was in the process of annoying the hell out of Gambit's adopted father, a middle aged guy called Jean-Luc, when a huge cake was wheeled into the room on a trolley by two caterers in white uniforms. Grinning, they beat a hasty retreat, as all the chatter in the room stopped, and amused smiles came across the faces of all the men, despite the fact that most were pretty pissed off at him.

Lapin took Toad by the shoulders from behind, and guided him over to the cake. "'Appy bachelor party, Remy. You're a jerk," at this, all the men began to laugh, "and you get on our nerves," random applause broke out, "you steal ALL de fine femmes," at this, everyone began cheering in agreement, "but we wish you de best of luck in your life after de marriage. We know dat it's goin' ta be tough livin' with dat shrew Bella for de good of de Guilds." A standing ovation was given now.

Lapin handed Toad a large knife, which glinted in the bright light. Before Toad could cut into the cake though, the top burst open, and a striking woman with blonde braids and blue eyes in a long, blue, glittery ball gown stood up.

"Merci, Emil. Shrew, am I?" She asked Lapin coolly, and, grinning, he shrugged.

Toad gaped as she carefully stepped out, and gave him a long, passionate kiss, while the watching men laughed. Lapin- or Emil- slapped Toad around the shoulders so hard he nearly fell over.

"Bella 'ere wouldn't let us hire a real stripper." He explained. "Dis femmes gonna keep you on a short leash Remy."

Toad coughed a little in embarrassment, as Bella smiled seductively at him. The one thought that just wouldn't get out of his mind was 'Why did the Cajun leave all this to join the X-Freaks? Toad's head felt like it was going to explode.

"Excuse me. I need to go outside for a moment." He announced, walking out of the room, and leaving a very suprised looking Bella Donna in his wake.

Toad walked out onto a little balcony he found coming off a room on the second floor, and sighed. He was quickly getting bored with this place, and being thought of as Gambit, and wanted to go kill someone who recognised him for him.

Spotting a bird in a nearby tree, he quickly reached out with his tongue, grabbed it, and swallowed it whole. Toad didn't particularly like the taste of raw bird, but it helped to keep his tongue limber. He coughed lightly as a feather tickled the back of his throat, and nearly leaped off the balcony when someone slapped him on the back.

"Better, Toad?" The person asked.

"Much better, than- Hey!" He suddenly realised that this person had called him by his code name. He turned around, and groaned. Floating in midair, wearing a trench coat, and looking very pleased with herself was the author.

"Go away!" Toad yelled. "Just leave me alone!"

The author regarded him with pity. "I can't just leave you alone, unless you give me a blood sample. I do need a plot after all. And I could just leave you alone if that's what you REALLY want...but then you'd be left with all these people thinking you are Remy for the rest of your life."

Toad glared at her, and seriously considered reaching out with his tongue and slapping her upside the head. "Piss. Off."

The author shook her head. "Tut tut. Language! Why won't you give me a teeny bit?"

Toad gritted his teeth. "How many times do I have to say it?" He asked her. "Just piss off!"

She shrugged, and smiled smugly. "Bet you'll be sick of it soon. Bye!"

"Why do you think that?" Toad asked demanded but she had already disappeared.

*****************************************************************************

Nightcrawler trudged through the snow, cursing in a surprisingly fluent way for a man as devoted to God as he was. He was cold. He could imagine his toes succumbing to frostbite, even as he walked.

At least swearing helped to keep him warm.

His whole body was numb, except for a faint burning, tingling sensation, which hurt in a distant kind of way. While a few minutes ago, Nightcrawler would have done anything to get rid of that feeling, as a tan and brown snarling missile slammed into him, he was suddenly glad for it.

He flew through the air, and smashed into a tree, stunned, then fell to the ground, with a yelp of pain.

Wet bark biting into his back, and freezing snow cradling him, Nightcrawler blearily focused his frozen eyes on the advancing figure. Somewhere, somehow in the back of his mind he recognized the animal like creature as Sabretooth. Fan-flipping-tastic.

"Whatsa matter, Wolverine?" He sneered. "Gone soft? Ya didn't even smell me comin', ya weakling."

Wolverine? Huh? Nightcrawler's head was whirling, and not only from the crash into the tree. Another piece of the jigsaw puzzle had just fallen into place for him.

Sabretooth walked over to him, and looked down at Nightcrawler, disdain clear in his slitted cat-eyes. Despite the cold, he looked perfectly comfortable- which irritated Nightcrawler no end.

"Please Sabretooth." Nightcrawler murmured weakly. His voice was raw from not being used in an attempt to conserve heat, and the freezing conditions. "You have ze wrong person."

Sabretooth stared at him, puzzlement all over his face, and for a moment, Nightcrawler though that he might just go away. But then, hand moving so fast that it was a blur, Sabretooth reached down and slashed a hand across Nightcrawler's chest. Thanks to the blessed cold though, the blue mutant barely felt a thing, even though he knew he should be in pain.

Nightcrawler staggered to his feat, and glared defiantly at Sabretooth. He was determined to win now. It was one thing to let yourself be pushed around by an author- it was quite another matter to be pushed around by Sabretooth, and Nightcrawler wasn't going to stand for it.

The blond mutant laughed heartily. "So, decided to fight me after all, wimp?" he lunged at Nightcrawler, who BAMF!ed away before he could get hit again.

Nightcrawler re-appeared again just above Sabretooth, and gave him a quick, dirty kick to the head, before teleporting again. When he reappeared again though, he collapsed to the ground. Fighting the blizzard as he walked through it, and the deep bloody gash on his chest had sapped him of his strength. He was too weak to teleport again.

Sabretooth, growling, walked over. "I don't know how ya did that, Wolverine, but yer gonna pay for it, runt."

"Author, help!" Nightcrawler cried out planitively.

Time seemed to stop. Sabretooth, who had been lining Nightcrawler up to punt him over the trees, froze in a ridiculous pose that should have been impossible to manage, as it defied gravity.

Even the wind seemed to stop, and Nightcrawler could see snowflakes frozen in midair. He crawled over to one, still to weak to stand, and admired it, suspended in all it's glory in midair. Blood escaping from his injuries stained the pristine white snow, and in a way, Nightcrawler thought absentmindedly, it was pretty too.

"You called?" Came the familiar, mocking voice.

Nightcrawler had never before felt relief at the sight of the author. She was still dressed in her ski jacket and earmuffs, which made Nightcrawler even more jealous than he had ever been before- but he was still immensely glad to see her.

"Please...please help me." Nightcrawler said through gritted teeth, though it made his stomach churn to say it.

The author smiled. "And what will you give me in exchange?"

Nightcrawler hissed through his pointed teeth. "You can have a DNA sample." He said reluctantly.

Grinning triumphantly and kneeling beside him, the author pulled a test tube out of her pocket. Collecting a little from the deep wounds on his chest, she sealed it up, and safely tucked it away.

She looked Nightcrawler in the eyes briefly, and Nightcrawler saw an honest emotion on her face that wasn't cruel- pity. For him. Her forehead dimpled in a look of concentration, and, holding out a hand over the cuts, which were bleeding heavily, green smoke collected. When it cleared away, the deep gashes were no more. The only proof of their existence was his shredded spandex costume.

The author stood up, and gestured absent mindedly at him. Green smoke slowly swallowed him up, and everything went black. For a moment, Nightcrawler floated in the eerie blackness, before he noticed a green light which he was heading for. The green light enveloped him, before disappearing, and he felt the distinct sensation of falling.

*****************************************************************************

Gambit thrashed madly as three of the surprisingly strong clowns dragged him over to the cabinet. "Non! Gambit don' want ta go in dere!"

The clowns tried to stuff him into the cabinet where he would be sliced up like a turkey, and he twisted and turned in their grip even more. "Non! Stop it! MERDE!!"

Another two clowns raced over to help, and together, the five managed to get him in, and shut the door, with his head sticking out the end. The audience was nearly dying from laughter at his predicament, as Gambit kicked and punched the insides of the box.

"Please! Sil vous plais!" He cried out, as the biggest woman he had ever seen in his life came over to him, holding in her hands what was possibly the biggest, sharpest looking saw known to man.

"Ahhhh!" Gambit hollered. "Someone, 'elp me. What did Gambit ever do ta you?"

Off to the side, a green smoke cloud swirled up, and the author reappeared, still dressed in her ringmasters outfit. "Ready to give in now?" She called out, laughing.

"Never!" Gambit spat.

The author's cheeky grin just grew even wider. "Maybe I can convince you..." She reached into her pocket, and pulled out two test tubes with a bit of red in them.

Gambit just stared for a moment. "Who do dey belong too?" He asked her.

"Guess."

Gambit thought about it. "Nightcrawler and Toad?" he guessed.

The author shook her head. "Nope."

Gambit stared so hard at her that his eyes nearly fell out of his head. "WOLVERINE gave in?! No way!"

The author just gave him an obnoxiously mysterious smile, and said to the large circus woman, "You can continue."

The woman smiled at the author, lank blond hair sticking to her cheeks, and placed her saw on the top of the box, and started to cut through it.

Gambit sucked in his breath, trying to get away from the shiny blade. He felt it hit his body armor with a harsh grating sound.

"Ok, ok!" He yelped. "Let Gambit out! We negotiate, non?"

The author shook her head. "Nope. No negotiations. I get a sample of your blood willingly, or I let that saw go through you, and I get some DNA that way."

Gambit hesitated for a second. But then, the saw gave a particularly jarring scrape against his armor, and he nodded furiously. "Ok! I go along with it. JUST LET ME OUT OF 'ERE!"

Green smoke encased him, and for a moment all he saw was blackness, then green light. He could feel that he was sitting on something, and could now see that the green was a cloud of slowly dispersing smoke. He breathed in, inhaling a little of the smoke, and began to cough as it tickled the back of his throat.

As the smoke vanished completely, he realised that the author was no where in sight, and he was sitting on top of what he now referred to as "The Cabinet of Doom." The painted and lacquered surface reflected light back up at him, and there was a deep cut right through the center. Gambit shuddered, and made himself look away from it. He busied himself by checking out the condition of his body armor. He hissed in annoyance as he realised that there was a deep groove in it, and that the saw had been very close to cutting though.

Suddenly, something sharp dug into the back of his neck, and pain flared up through his head. "Ow!" Gambit yelped, jumping off the box, and landing on the saw dust covered floor. "What de..."

The author had been behind him. She grinned, and held up a syringe with a tiny bit of blood in it. "Merci, Monsieur LeBeau." She told him, eyes flashing with excitement as she made the needle disappear in a cloud of green.

Gambit glared at her as menacingly as he was able to manage. "And jus' what de hell do ya t'ink you be doin', you sorcière diabolique?" He demanded, words becoming slightly garbled as his accent thickened in anger.

The author sighed, in mock exasperation, as if Gambit was a petulant child. "Taking a blood sample, of course. What did you think?"

Gambit rubbed the back of his neck, which was steadily throbbing, and his fingers came away damp with blood. "Gambit dunno what he be t'inkin', but he sure weren't 'specting you ta stab me in da back of de neck!"

The author frowned, and pulled something from one of her many pockets. "Bandaid?"

Gambit watched her warily, eyes never leaving hers as he darted in and grabbed the bandaid.

"Now, say thankyou." She admonished him.

"Merci." Gambit grumbled reluctantly, applying the plastic strip to the back of his neck as best he could. "Now, how 'bout lettin' Gambit outta dis loony bin now, non?"

She just laughed. "Nightcrawler would be VERY insulted to hear you say that! I'm sure the rest of these lovely people would be hurt too, to hear that you didn't enjoy your stay." She waved cheerfully at the clowns, and they waved back.

"Trust you ta be friends with dese freaks." Gambit muttered. "You know what you are, petite? Sadistic. And creepy. And a sadomasochist. And..and..."

"An author?" She supplied.

"Yes!" Gambit said triumphantly. "An auteur. Do you have any idea how sick you are? Speakin' of sick, dese people take de cake. How on earth did da elf put up with dese gens insensé for so long..."

He was still complaining as the green smoke took him away from the circus.

*****************************************************************************

Toad stretched his arms and legs, as he woke up in the luxurious bed. Then, for good measure, he stretched his tongue as well, quickly snapping it out, then back in.

So far, Toad was having an extremely good time, living Gambit's life. Of course, there was a dampner on the situation- being naturally paranoid, Toad couldn't help thinking that the author was using all of this to her advantage.

Yawning, he sat up in bed, looked around at the beautiful room, and shook his head in awe. Toad had always thought the Cajun was a bit of an idiot, but he was obviously a bigger dork than he had originally thought. Toad couldn't imagine leaving behind something like this, and taking up a job in Xavier's band of losers.

Suddenly, there was a crashing sound from outside the door, and Emil- or Bugs, as Toad had taken to calling him- burst through the door, slightly out of breath. He stared at Toad, goggle eyed.

"Remy, what ya doin' in bed still?" he gasped. "We gotta be at de wedding soon!"

Toad stared at him, alcohol fogged brain not comprehending for a moment, before it occurred to him that after a bachelor party, a wedding usually followed, and Emil was dressed in a tux, with his hair neatly styled.

Toad groaned, and flopped back into bed. "I'm tired." He whined. "Tell the blonde I'll marry her tomorrow. I need sleep."

Emil stared at him, astonished, than began to laugh. Toad just frowned. That wasn't the response he had been expecting from him.

Still laughing, Emil opened up the closet, and pulled out a crisp tuxedo. The black contrasted sharply to the white walls of the room. "Her ya go, Remy. I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes, non?"

"Non, you won't actually." Toad said sarcastically, but Emil ignored him, and left, shutting the door after him.

Moaning, Toad literally rolled out of the bed, and lay on the floor for a moment, before dragging himself to his feet and pulling on the tux. Maybe this was the author's form of torture. If it was, Toad had to admit that it was pretty effective.

Stumbling out of his- no Gambit's room, Toad reminded himself- he stepped over the shards of porcelain outside his door (which looked suspiciously like the expensive vase that had rested on a pedestal near the door last night, and was obviously the source of the crash earlier) and stumbled, barefoot, downstairs, to be greeted by the oddest sight ever.

A row of men was lined up in the living room, as if for inspection. Toad recognised some of the men from last night. While they had been loud and boisterous the previous evening, they now were as well-behaved as choir boys, and Emil was among them. And that's when Toad saw the drill inspector. A large, elderly woman with a long floral scarf wrapped around her greying hair. When she heard Toad's footsteps on the stairs, she turned and fixed him with a death stare that would have made Sabretooth proud.

"Remy LeBeau!" She snapped. "Jus' what did you t'ink you were doin'? Plannin' on laying around all day, hmm?"

Toad took a moment to decipher what she said in her thick Cajun accent, and frowned. He was not in the mood for crap today. "Look, lady." He said in a low, dangerous tone. "I don't know who the bloody hell you are, but I'm really not in the mood for this sort of shit today!"

By now, Toad was taking out all his deeply hidden frustrations on the woman, anger and annoyance that had accumulated over many years. "I put up with being ordered around ALL! FREAKIN'! DAY! by that PIG Magneto, so I REALLY DON'T WANT TO PUT UP WITH IT FROM YOU! And if that wasn't enough, I have an insane fifteen year old girl trying to steal my blood! If that isn't enough to warrant a really bad mood, I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL DOES!" Toad stopped, suddenly aware that all the people in the room were giving him funny looks. "So...yeah." He finished lamely.

While Toad had run out of frustration to vent, the woman looked like she was more than able to yell back at Toad, and with a tirade that lasted a lot longer.

"Remy LeBeau." She said, shooting daggers from her eyes. "I don't know what's wrong wid you today, and I know you're not like dis normally- and dat's de only t'ing stoppen' me from given' you a good whoppen' like I used to when you was a chile. But if you EVER speak to me like dat again, I'll flog your hide, grown homme or not! Now LINE UP!"

Toad deflated. "Yes sir...mamn." He corrected hastily when he noticed the look on her face, and dejectedly went and stood next to Emil, as the woman continued her inspection of everyone's appearance.

He could feel Lapin staring at him. "Remy, what you t'ink you're doin', yellin' at Tante Mattie like dat? You gotta death wish?"

Toad resisted the urge to tell him that his name was not Remy, it was Toad, or Mortimeer, and whispered back, "Just nerves- about the wedding."

"I don't care if you're nervous or not, you don't yell at Tante!" Emil told him fiercely. "Remy, you've been acting odd since last night. What's wrong?"

Toad gulped. Nowhere to run now. Unless...

"Tante!" He yelled in his best frantic voice. "I don...I mean, Remy don't feel so good! The nerves are getting to me, I gotta hurl!" After what was, in his opinion, a sterling performance, Toad raced up the stairs, and into 'his' room. With a sigh of relief, he kicked off his tie and jacket, and collapsed on to the bed. "This place was ok at first," Toad mumbled, "but the brochure didn't mention crazy women in flowered scarves!"

He hastily took off the fancy tux, threw it on the floor, and pulled on the black leather jacket, jeans, and grey t-shirt he had been wearing when he stepped into New Orleans. He was going back to New York.

He was hunting under the bed for his boots and socks, when there was a light tap at the door. Grumbling, he crawled out from under the bed (managing to bash his head in the process) and opened the door. There was no one there.

Completely forgetting about the shards of vase outside his door, a gift of Emil's clumsiness, he stepped outside to look for who had knocked, and run off.

And, of course, he stepped on the vase fragments.

"OWWW!" He bellowed, clutching the door frame with one hand, and his mangled foot with the other. "Damn it to hell!" He began to curse, and his balance wavered slightly. He clutched the door frame tightly, and began to swear even more.

Toad heard thundering footsteps on the stairs, and Tante Mattie appeared. "I'll probably get yelled at for bleeding on the carpet." He muttered rebelliously under his breathe.

Instead, the woman raced over to him, and tried to check out the cut. "Chile, let me help you too de bathroom, and we'll get dat fixed up." She said soothingly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Together, the two hobbled towards the bathroom. Toad sat on the edge of the bathtub, as Tante began rummaging through the cabinets under the vanity.

While she was searching for whatever it was she was looking for, Toad let his attention wander. He was curious as to when the author would strike again- she hadn't returned since her chat to him last night, and Toad was starting to feel a little nervous.

A painful scraping feeling came from his foot, which brought him back to awareness. He drew his foot towards him, out of Tante's reach.

"Hey!" He yelled, about to tell her off, when he noticed what she was holding in her hand.

A small test tube, containing blood.

Toad stared at her, aghast, even as Matte's features melted back into the familiar olive face of the author. Long black hair shrunk into short brown hair, and the kindly smile was replaced by a smug one.

"Thankyou very much, Mister Toynbee." She said in an exaggerated British accent.

Before either could blink, Toad's tongue shot out. It wrapped around the vile, and headed back towards Toad.

"Hey!" The author yelled in outrage, diving forward. She grabbed the tongue, and pried the test tube from it's slimy grip. She wiped her fingers on her jacket in disgust, even as she dissolved into green mist.

Toad's tongue darted out in vain, meeting only mid air. As his tongue recoiled, Toad saw it being swallowed by green mist, just like the author had been. The green mist was taking all of him now, and he disappeared.

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Well, there ends the 2nd chapter of the odd story! I should be able to upload the rest very soon, possibly tomorrow if I finish proofreading it before basketball trials. (wish me luck!) Hope I haven't warped your minds too much!