Disclaimer: Fortunately for me, I do not own the X-Men. I can't handle that amount of responsibility. But, all the Juventud are my creations and therefore belong to me. Just try and steal 'em. I've been wondering what Ruckus the Bad Kitty can do when she's really mad.
Author's note: The title of this story is dedicated to Jesse Manson, for entertaining me in sophomore year Spanish; "rascacielos", "juventud", and "modelo" will always be my favorite palabras de español. This story has been fermenting in my brain for…well, since fifth grade, but I've been writing so many college papers lately that I haven't had time to regurgitate all these AWESOME thoughts, so…complete apologies to my brain.
I'm giving this an R rating for language and possibly other stuff to come.
I guess this has to be an Alternate Universe story, cause it's pretty much my own little world. No X-Treme, no Ultimate, Remy did the whole Antarctica thing, but I'm not sure about the rest of the Gambit title. Oh well. We'll see how it goes.
Someone decided to try chivalry for a change, and provided a stool for Yolana to sit on. She accepted gratefully, with a nod of her burnished head, and crossed her legs and smiled.
"And now, as I promised…hello everyone. My name is Yolana Lily, affectionately referred to as Yo-Yo or Lana, although in Ginger's case…well, Ginger seems to think I smell funny, sort of resembling, um…bird?…but, only when she's hungry. However, when that does happen, she tends to refer to me as 'dinner'. I don't particularly enjoy that, though. So let's just stick to Lana, ok? Let's see…" A look of intense concentration appeared on the face of the oldest member of the Juventud. Her sky blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "Here's something interesting. I was born on New Year's Day, never mind the year," a coquettish smile, "and I do not have a favorite color. I love them all." Yet more catcalls ascended from the audience, and Yo-Yo wagged her finger at them. "Aussie would be more than willing to kick your behinds, my friends. He's very protective of me lately for some reason, and I wouldn't rile him."
"Sounds like someone I know," Jubilee muttered, elbowing Logan in the ribs. He merely grinned. Yolana continued, seemingly unperturbed by the rapt fascination that was being paid her.
"I speak Italian…I bet you did not know that. Actually, I speak many languages, but Italian is my favorite. If any of you are willing to listen to House music, there is a song we perform called 'Spente la Stelle' where they graciously allow me to sing Italian opera." Someone laughed, and Lana tilted her head. A long, slender, pointed ear emerged from the curtain of glistening hair. "No, seriously, the two styles blend very well together. Perhaps sometime we will play it for you all. Now, enough about me – I'm sure you're not very interested in 'little ol' me', as Jazmin would say. Who would you like to meet next? Peter the towering drummer, Stephen the mediocre bass player, Aussie the porcupine guitarist, Jason the gentle baritone, or Zackary the screaming tenor?"
The crowd erupted, each person calling out the name of their personal favorite musician. Yolana listened for a moment or two, both ears now protruding from her hair, then nodded to herself and made the wise decision.
"I agree. I will call all of them out. Boys?" Cheers emerged from the audience, as the boys did indeed materialize on stage. Jason and Peter lifted a couch with seemingly no effort at all, and placed it to the side of Yolana's stool. Peter, Aussie, and Steve then proceeded to plop down upon said couch, leaving Zack and Jason to perch on the precarious arms. Storm was struck by their appearances, but she couldn't determine why. They just looked so familiar, but she couldn't figure out where from. Jason was ruggedly handsome, his eyes a warm chocolate brown that was only a few shades lighter than his skin. He was tall and powerful, and his head was clean shaven. Peter was even taller and broader than Jason, his hair coal black and his hands massive, but gentle. His gray eyes shone with kindness that was soul deep. Steve didn't look very happy to be on stage; the frown lines between his mocha-colored eyes expressed his displeasure. Strands of his hazelnut hair, tinged with red, slid into his face as he tried to melt into the couch. On the other hand, Aussie sat forward, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. The hair that distinguished him aimed for the heavens, the red spikes rustling against each other. The boy's raven black eyes surveyed the audience, a knowing grin crossing his face. Zack lounged on the far arm of the couch, sipping water from a bottle. His neon eyes glowed to match the smile on his face, and he lazily raked a hand through those brandy-brown locks that the girls in the audience were going gaga over. They were a picture, that's for sure. Jazmin snickered backstage.
With a mischievous grin, Yo-Yo turned to face the fans. "We will now field questions from the audience." The smiles faltered on the boys' faces.