Roaddog4:69
I don't own the characters that I didn't create…yadda,yadda,yadda…please
don't sue me.
Now three days later, Araña sat in a chair in Professor Xavier's
office, flanked by Scott. It had been an interesting three days. The School was
incredible. Fellow Mutants everywhere, some with incredible powers.
Unfortunately, the asshole from town lived here, too. His name was
Logan. Wolverine. Whichever, he was still Asshole to her. He was almost as
charming to everyone else as he had been to her. And he was pushy. Araña didn't
take to being pushed. After having enough of him one day, she spat venom at him,
not enough to be fatal but enough to burn a hole through the flannel that he
had been wearing. He responded with a crisp * snikt * sound revealing long
claws that extended from his knuckles. Needless to say, Araña was a bit more
intimidated by him than he was by her.
He was the only hitch though, she was fitting in, and as much as she
hated to admit it…it felt good. Finally she didn't feel like a freak, but she
had to keep moving. " If I had come here just after leaving home, I think
I would have loved it, but I've been out on my own for too long, and I miss
it," she tried to justify her decision to Scott and the Professor.
"You must do what makes you happy, Araña," Xavier replied.
"I agree," Scott said standing up, "And when you get
enough independence, come back. We'll be here."
"Thank you for understanding," Araña replied.
"Why don't you go and pack, then I'll take you into town."
"Scott," Xavier began, "I need you here this
afternoon."
"Professor?" Scott questioned.
"I need you here," Xavier continued with a piercing glare.
"Araña, why don't you go and pack and I'll arrange a ride for you."
"Okay," she replied, sensing that there was more going on
than what she would be told, "Scott, thanks for everything."
"My pleasure, Araña." With that she left the room and Xavier
waited for the door to close behind her before he began to speak.
"She's a bright girl. Headstrong with and iron will. She would
make a wonderful addition to the school."
"Yes, but she wants to leave and I promised her…"
Xavier held up one hand to silence him. "If she goes to the
station with you, she'll get on a train and maybe never come back, on the other
hand if we send her with Logan…"
"Logan?!?" Scott exclaimed, "You can't trust him with
this kid. They'll kill each other before they get into town. You know she
burned a hole in his shirt?"
"I realize he's a bit overbearing, but…did you say she burned a
hole in his shirt?" Scott nodded slowly, after a few seconds thought
Xavier dismissed that argument with a wave of his hand. "The reason they
don't get along is because they are so much alike. If we send him with her, it
is possible that she will see that if another free spirit can stand living
here, maybe she can too."
"Professor," Scott began to object, but Xavier raised his
hand again, silencing him.
"Just send Logan down, will you?" Scott nodded, then turned
and shook his head all the way to the door.
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"No way, Professor. There is no way that I'm goin' along with
this. If she wants t' go then let 'er go."
"Logan," he replied, "you miss the point."
"No, Professor, I get the point. You want the kid t' stay an' you
figure if she goes with me then she will decide that she wants t' stay. Well if
you send her with me, she's gonna stay alright because she's gonna be in a
shallow grave on the side of th' road somewhere."
"Don't count on it, Asshole," came the voice from the door.
Logan turned to see Araña standing at the door. Five foot three, in jeans and a
loose-fitting black t-shirt. Fair skinned with a long blond ponytail, she
wasn't a bad looking kid, but there was just something about her that irked
Logan. "Professor," she began, dropping her bag just inside the door,
as she walked past Logan, "If it's a problem to get me a ride then don't
worry about it. I can hitch into town."
"Sounds like a hell of an idea t' me," Logan growled as he
turned and made his way past her to the door.
Logan,
came the voice in his head. Dammit, Logan thought to himself, as he
stopped and turned around. Seeing the look on the Professor's face he knew that
he would end up doing this whether he wanted to or not. Huffing, he shook his
head. "Grab your bag, darlin'. Let's go," he said gruffly as he
pushed his way past her to the door.
"Don't do me any favors," Araña replied defiantly.
Growling Logan turned back towards her, lip curled up in a snarl, hair
bristling, he looked more animal than man, and Araña despite her best efforts
to hide her fear involuntarily took a step back. His snarl turned more into a
smirk as he repeated, "I said, 'Let's go'."
Now pissed that she had lost face, Araña regained her ground plus a
step. Now in Logan's face she ripped off her sunglasses to reveal red eyes, and
with venom in her voice she replied, "Fuck you."
Logan raised his right hand and with a * snikt * his claws sprung from
his knuckles. Adrenaline pumping way beyond the scope of rational thought,
Araña responded by spraying venom onto his claws. She knew it wouldn't do any
damage, but it would smoke like hell.
"Enough!" the Professor shouted. Several seconds went by
before either moved and the professor was preparing to shout again when Araña
looked down, grabbed her bag and pushed past Logan out the door.
* Snikt * as Logan retracted his claws, "Sweet kid," he
stated as the turned to the professor, "I can see why you'd want t' keep
'er around." With that he followed Araña out the door. Xavier slumped down
into his wheelchair, as he began to think that maybe this wasn't such a great
idea after all.
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Dammit! Logan thought as he walked up to the counter, have to put up with
this damn kid for another day. In retrospect calling for train times in
advance would have been a good idea. They had just missed the last train to
Denver and there wouldn't be another until morning. Early morning, too early to
make going back to the school worthwhile.
"Need rooms," he growled at the annoyingly pleasant clerk
behind the counter.
"I'm sorry, sir," she began cheerily, "We have only one
room left in the hotel."
"In th' entire place? One room?"
"Shriner's Convention, sir."
"Goddamned Shriner's," Araña stated flatly, "Please tell
me that the room you have has two beds."
"No ma'am, I'm sorry it doesn't," as she watched the color
drain from both of their faces the clerk continued helpfully, "I can have
housekeeping put a cot in the room."
"Yes!" Araña and Logan shouted together.
"Alrighty," the clerk continued. "Fill out this card
please and I need to know how you intend to pay for the room." Logan
quickly snatched the card, and began scribbling on it. Araña stared expectantly
at the side of his face, waiting for him to respond to the clerk. By the time
he finished the card both the clerk and Araña were staring at him. He sighed
heavily, sliding the card across the desk to the clerk, he looked directly
ahead, "I know you're not expecting me t' pay for this." Araña
remained silent, staring blankly at him until he sighed again, reached into his
pocket and produced his wallet.
"Visa?"
"Of course, Mr…" the clerk paused trying to decipher the name
on the registration card, then looked at the name on the credit card, "Mr.
Sommers." The clerk turned her back to run the credit card, as Logan
smiled to himself. This whole thing should have been Cyke's dirty work; Logan
just figured he should spring for some of it.
"Room 412, Mr. Sommers."
"Smokin' room?"
"No sir, I'm sorry." Logan grumbled something about damn
liberals as he turned and walked away. Araña smiled at the clerk as she took
the key and followed Logan.
Standing outside the door to their hotel room, Logan grabbed the key
out of Araña's hand, and after repeated attempts, could not get the door to
open. He looked incredibly frustrated and Araña was beginning to worry that he
was just going to take the door off of the hinges.
"Let me try," she said pushing her way past him. She placed
one hand flat on the door and the other grasped the key firmly. Exhaling
softly, she jiggled the key in the door several times before making the attempt
to turn it, the door opened. Sweeping her hand in the door, "That's
typically male. You can get it in the hole no problem, but when it comes to
doing something in the hole, you're all clueless." Growling, he stormed
past her into the room. Smiling smugly to herself she followed. He grabbed the
ice bucket off of the counter and headed back out.
"I need ice," and beer he thought to himself.
"I'm going t' th' store."
"Great, could you pick me up some Tampax?" she called to him
as he neared the door. He froze in his steps, breathed deeply, yanked the door
open and was gone. "Asshole," she said to herself as the door closed.
"Bitch," he yelled once in the hall.
Inside the room, Araña heard him and smiled. Grabbing the clicker off
of the bedside table, she turned the TV on to discover that the room had two
channels. One porn and one pay-per-view. Great, she thought to herself
as she clicked the TV off. Flopping back on the bed she removed her sunglasses
and tossed them onto the nightstand. Too bad Scott didn't spring for a nicer
hotel room, she thought to herself and smiled. Maybe Logan wasn't as big
an asshole as originally thought. Any man who steals a credit card can't be all
bad.
Laying her head to one side, Araña noticed a small alarm-clock/radio.
Hell, can't watch TV, might as well hear some music. Commercials, commercials
and more commercials. Why the hell do they bother to call it a radio station if
they play nothing but commercials? She thought to herself heaving a deep
breath.
She was reaching to turn off the radio when she heard the opening music
for a song that she knew. She turned it up a little, and wiggled to the music
while still laying on the bed. Then decided 'Screw that,' she stood and cranked
the music. And with her back to the door she started dancing.
Wiggling, shaking, and head banging. She pulled the scrunchy from her
hair, giving it its freedom. She continued dancing until the song was began to
wind down, and then suddenly the sound was cut off. She turned to see what the
hell happened, only to be greeted by Logan's smirking visage.
She smiled nervously as she felt color creep into her cheeks. "You
said, store. I was assuming a longer trip."
"Store's across the street."
"Great," she replied, nodding, and pursing her lips. "If
you'll excuse me," she said, "I'm going to go into the bathroom and
die now." She dropped her head into her hand and pushed past him into the
bathroom. He smiled to himself as he placed the six-pack of beer on the counter.
Pulling one bottle from the cardboard case he twisted off the top and took a
long pull.
Slowly the door to the bathroom opened and Araña stepped out.
"So," Logan began, leaning back in this chair, "that a
style of dancing?"
She sat on the bed and looked away, "Couldn't leave it alone,
could you?" she asked shaking her head as she turned back to him. He made
a casual, 'who knows' gesture with his hand and beer bottle. Spotting the
six-pack she slowly started towards it, "It's my own theory on dancing.
Get out there and shake everything you can for the duration of the song and
usually by the end there is someone waiting to buy you a beer," as she
finished the last of the sentence, she reached casually for a bottle.
Deftly, Logan swept it away. "Are you even old enough to drink
that?"
She huffed, "Are you so old that you feel the need to ask?"
He grinned crookedly, "You'd be surprised."
She rolled her eyes and flopped down on the far corner of the bed,
Logan sat on the opposite corner, closest to the beer. "So what's on
TV?" he asked picking up the remote in his free hand. She watched him flip
the TV on as she pulled her hair back up. "Is this it?" he asked
upset.
Seeing he was intent on the TV, Araña lifted her right hand and aimed
her right index finger at one of the bottles of beer still in the six-pack.
Concentrating, she closed her eyes, and from the hourglass on her wrist, shot a
thin strand of silk four feet to the table. By the time Logan realized what she
was doing, the silk had already wrapped around the neck of the bottle, and with
a quick flick of her wrist, the silk retracted and brought the bottle to her
waiting hand.
Logan raised one eyebrow as she twisted the cap off of her bottle, and
took a long, long pull. When she finally set the bottle down it was more than
three quarters gone. She smiled then finished the last of her beer. Feeling
threatened, he downed the rest of his.
She tossed her bottle into the corner, and he followed suit. She lined
her finger up once again, and again repeated the feat. Amazed, Logan took one
more beer out of the six. She twisted the cap off and downed the whole thing,
without breathing. He paused with his bottle halfway to his mouth, as he
watched in awe. Throwing the bottle into the corner with the other two, she
smiled at him, challengingly. Not to be outdone, Logan downed his too, and then
tossed his bottle into the corner.
She lined up her finger once again, but before she could once again
retrieve a cold one without moving, Logan plucked the last two beers and handed
her one. "Thanks," she said, twisting it open.
"You learn t' drink like that at home?" he asked opening his
own.
"Nope," she replied, swallowing, "I never drank at
home."
"So you haven't been drinking fer long?"
"About four years. Since I was about fifteen."
"What were you doing out on your own that young?"
"My parents were always very understanding about my…" she
gestured at the hourglass on her hand and pointed at her eyes,
"unfortunately, when they died, the uncle that I was sent to live with was
not quite as open-minded." She paused long enough to take another swig.
"My oldest cousin told me that his father was planning to send me to a
'home'. Turned out to be a hospital for the criminally insane. Well I wasn't
going to play that. So I took off. Been on my own since." She finished and
took another long swig of her beer. Logan followed suit and before they knew
it, they were out. "I can't believe you only bought a six-pack," she
criticized.
"I wasn't expectin' t' share or t' turn this trip into a bender.
But I think we need more sustenance."
"I couldn't agree more," she replied leaning in.
He stood and patted the back pocket of his jeans checking for his
wallet. Finding it there he picked up the room key and headed for the door.
"You sure you have enough to pay for this?"
"Yeah," he replied, "Got a twenty in my wallet."
"Oh," she replied, reaching into her own pocket, "you
mean this twenty."
"Bitch," he said, reaching for the bill.
"Asshole," she replied, smiling and handing it over. He
snatched it from her hand and left. Maybe not such an asshole, after all, she
thought to herself.