Part the Ninth: Goblin Lead Them
[Author's Note: Unusual title, I know, but our dear elf *has* been
called a goblin on a number of occasions in ComicContinuity :) It's from
a line in Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ -- "Up and down, up
and down! I shall lead them up and down. I am feared in field and town.
Goblin, lead them up and down." Kinda appropriate for what I got
planned. MWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA... :) This one has a few references to
_Opa's Brushes_ so I think it's safe to assume we have a sequel.]
It was early. *Too* early for anything resembling civilised
conversation, so the new mutants simply glared at Amara, who pointedly
refused to curl up and die just because they thought she should.
"We all know why we're here," said Wolverine. "So I won't bother
repeating myself. Instead, I'm gonna ask one of you. Squirt?"
Jamie yawned. "We're here 'cause Amara's a dirty thief."
"Am not! I gave them *back*!"
"After a wee bit of 'friendly persuasion', aye," muttered Rahne.
"Don't tell me ye wouldn'a hung onto 'em if ye thought ye could.
Daftie."
Logan grinned. It was the kind of smile he got when *he* was going to
have fun and no-one else was. "That's right. So I cooked up a little
survival exercise for you."
There was a mutual groan, and those who thought themselves too close
to Amara sidestepped further away.
"We're doing a little 'hunting'. You're gonna learn tracking, stalking
and hopefully some common sense. All before breakfast."
"Are we going to be killing some poor, defenceless animal?" asked
Jubilee.
"Nope. We've got a mock quarry. This time. ELF!"
{Bamf!} "En guarde!" Kurt lunged at Logan, marking his uniform with
the large piece of red chalk in his hand. "Ha. You're dead. I win.
When's breakfast?"
Logan sighed. "For the last time, *I'm* not the target. *They* are. If
they catch and hold you, *you're* dead. However, if you tag them,
*they're* dead. This is a battle of wits, people. Use any offensive
powers and you've earned everybody an hour in the Danger Room. With me."
"What? Why's everyone looking at me?" said Ray.
"Just *try* and remember your anger management, today?" said Roberto.
"As long as you keep trying to physically hurt Nightcrawler, you're
never going to win. He's quicker than you."
"And speakin' of quick," said Logan. "You've got five minutes, Elf. No
'portin', no leaving the grounds, and that includes climbing on the
fence. No cliff-crawlin' either. Indoors is out of bounds. Get
creative."
"Jawohl, mein Herr!" Kurt took off at a gallop.
"Lesson one. Tracking. Elf's left us a nice set of footprints in the
drive. I want you to familiarise yourself with how they look, where he
puts his weight and why. We've only got three minutes to learn about our
prey before we go after him."
"But - you said he had five," said Amara. "Isn't that cheating?"
"You expect your enemy to play fair?" Logan smirked. "I wouldn't
worry. The Elf knows the score. He's good at avoiding hunters."
There was another mutual glare at Amara. This time, she had the sense
to look ashamed.
"Pay attention," said Logan. "All of you. There's no confusin' Kurt's
tracks with anythin' else, so that makes it easier for us to follow him.
At least here. If I'm any judge, he'll figure out a way to mess up the
scent trail, too. Rin - you know the elf's scent?"
"Aye," said Rahne. "Smells powerful strange."
"It's the fur. Throws off yer ability to classify 'im. We also have a
slight advantage of knowing his habits. Always work with what you know.
Now. What do we know?"
"He's no stupid," said Rahne, "He's full of tricks."
"He's as neat as a pin," said Roberto. "He can't stand dirt."
"He sheds," said Amara.
"Um," Jamie held up his hand. "He's real quiet? *I* never hear him
when he walks. He could be right behind you and you'd never notice?"
"He can climb like nothin' else on Earth," said Sam.
"Wasn't he in a circus?" ventured Ray. "On the trapeese or something?"
"Yeah. 'Die Fliedertuefel'," Bobby grinned. "He's got an old poster in
his scrapbook."
"Egomaniac," said Jubilee.
"Time's up. Let's get huntin'." Logan singled out Amara. "And *you're*
ridin' point."
"I'm doing what?"
"Hank? What's with the stopwatch?" asked Ororo.
"Logan is out training the new recruits," said Hank, as if that
explained everything. "It's only a matter of time until we're going to
need to fix the gardens."
There was a distant {fwoomph!} as a tree caught fire.
Hanks topped the watch. "Five minutes. Impressive. They usually don't
last that long."
Kurt gallopped up, laughing maniacally. "There goes one of my decoys,"
he gestured with a grin. "It's amazing what you can do with twigs and
vines."
Someone screamed, "Get me *down* from here!"
"And green saplings," added Kurt.
Ororo sighed. "One of these days, we're going to have to have a little
talk about everything your Uncle Wolfgang taught you."
"Not this morning, Frau'. I have to lead a wild chase."
"Shut up! This is *not* funny!" Amara winced as her head hit the
ground again. "*Owwww*..."
Rahne was helpless with laughter. So was Jamie, Sam, and Roberto.
"Bobby, whip up some sleet and put the tree out. Ray, get 'er down
before she earns you another demerit."
"Yessir," said Bobby.
"Right," said Ray. He focussed a little 'zap' of his mutant energy at
the vine.
Amara fell like a sack of potatoes and complained bitterly about it.
"Break my *leg* next time... Am I dead, now, Mr Logan?"
"Nope. Elf didn't tag ya. Get up. Rob, you're on point. Keep yer eyes
open."
Roberto picked up a stick to prod any suspicious leaf drifts with.
There was muffled giggling from somewhere in the trees.
"Sir?" said Sam. "We're bein' watched."
"Of course. Elf's huntin' us like we're huntin' him," Logan was
remarkably cool about that. "Makes sense for him to start workin' our
numbers down."
"Whoah," said Roberto. "Look at *this*."
Logan did. "Ha. Old indian trick." He pointed out the mess of prints
to the others. "Run around every which way so yer enemy won't know where
you went. Ray. You work it out."
Ray mumbled something under his breath.
"Keep talkin' like that an' you'll earn a demerit, bub," said Logan.
Ray sighed. He stared at the prints. "The freshest ones go *that*
way," he pointed, "but the weight's all wrong. When he walks,
Nightcrawler's toes kick dirt back on his prints. He was walking
backards. Which means he was going *this* way," he followed the trail.
"But the prints stop... Up. He went *up*."
"Good," said Logan. "Now turn around."
He did, and the rest of the group burst out laughing.
Ray craned his neck to see. The back of his uniform was covered in
chalk marks. Kurt had had the time and opportunity to draw a picture
across Ray's back.
"Impressionistic," said Amara, "and spartain, but he really *captured*
the moment."
"*I* didn't know he could *draw*," said Roberto.
Ray took off his uniform top to have a look. There, on the back, were
two stick figures. The one with pointy hair had a bunch of question
marks around his head while the one with the tail held an artist's
pallette and was saying, "I love a canvas that stays still!"
"You're *dead*," said Logan. "Go wait for the others at the fountain."
Ray grinned. "Hey. I made it through an entire session without getting
a demerit," he wandered off. "YES! I am Spartacus!"
"I thought dying was a *bad* thing," Rogue said as she popped open
another deck chair.
"Yeah, but I 'died' without earning any demerits," Ray was still
grinning. "*And* I get to *eat*."
Kitty came outside, bearing another tray of foodstuffs. "Like, Ororo
got totally sick of Kurt begging at the kitchen window," she said,
laying the tray on the collapsable table. "Then she got like, *really*
sick of us flirting while he did it, so she like, told us to set this up
for you guys."
"Great! Dying really works up an appetite."
"You should try being hunted, sometime," said a voice under the
tablecloth. "No *that's* excercise, ja?"
"Sweetie!" Kitty squealed, flipping up a corner of the tablecloth.
"When did *you* get here?"
"Just after you went back in from putting out the Gatorade," Kurt
emerged from his hiding place and kissed her. Then he put a chalk-mark
in the centre of her forehead.
"Like, what is *that* for?"
"Mercy killing. Just in case Herr Logan decides to draft you."
"Awww... you're so *sweet*," Kitty hugged him and planted a chaste
kiss on his nose. "Now go out there and give 'em like, heck."
"Jawohl, meine Dame," Kurt purred.
Rogue made retching noises into the finger food.
Rahne was in her wolf form, sniffing Kurt's trail out across rocky
ground. It lead right into a patch of something pungent. She yelped,
pawing at her nose as she reverted to her human shape. Tears streamed
from her eyes. "Ack! Yeauch! *EW*! Tha's *disgustin'*... My nose'll
never be the *same*. Eeeeeewwwwwww..."
"Be glad the elf didn't roll in it," said Logan.
There was a mutual, "*EW*..." from the surviving mutants.
"Rin, you're with the walking wounded," Logan gestured at Amara and
Bobby, the latter of whom was still trying to remove the last vestiges
of one of Kurt's 'tar babies'. Fortunately, he'd used mud instead of
tar, but the result was similar.
"I found something!" Roberto crowed. "He left some of that gunk on
this tree. He's gone climbing again."
"Waitasecond," said Sam. "Where's Jamie?"
"Aw man..." Roberto sighed. "Please don't let this get us a demerit...
Jamie! Where are you?"
"Thanks for givin' away our position, bub," growled Logan. "Even if
the Elf *didn't* already know - he knows now."
Sam pushed aside some shrubbery to reveal a distant figure. It was
sitting very still, and resembled a certain blue fuzzball. "He ain't
gettin' *me* with a stupid tar baby," Sam murmured, and hucked a rock at
it.
Suddenly, there were three figures. Sam winced, and rushed to untie
the original. It really *was* amazing, what you could do with nature's
cast-offs.
"Sorry, Jamie. I really thought you were a tar baby."
Logan was frowning. "Why the hell didn't he 'kill' you, Squirt? He
sure had the opportunity."
One of Jamie's doubles took the gag from Jamie's mouth. "It's 'cause
I'm live bait," he said.
Sam looked at his leg. "Aw shoot." There was a thick chalk line down
it. "I'm not only dead, but I'm crippled to boot." He sighed. "See you
all on the 'other side', I guess."
To add insult to injury, Kurt and Kitty were kissing when Sam got to
the buffet breakfast, and they looked like they'd been doing it for a
while.
"How long--?"
"Couple of minutes," said Jubilee. "They'd be cute if they weren't so
damn disgusting."
"Urgh. They're frenching again," murmured Ray.
"Thank you *so* much for the news bulletin I did *not* need,"
sarcasmed Rogue. "You two! Come up fo' air!"
"Hmm?" Kitty looked dazed. "You want somethin', roomie?"
"Yeah. I want you to quit messin' around and start workin' for a
change."
"Jealous, meine schwester?" Kurt waggled his eyebrows at her.
"Shut up. You're supposed to be teachin' the rest of them a lesson."
There was a distant, "Waugh!"
"There goes one of mein tiger traps." Kurt smiled and waved bye-bye at
Kitty. "Au revoir, leibchen."
"When you're *quite* finished cussin', down there..." said Logan.
"He put chalk on the rocks down here," said Roberto. "I'm covered in
red!"
Amara and Rahne had to hold each other up from the laughing they were
doing.
"Permission to recover the body, sir?" giggled Bobby.
"Whatever. Take you're time. You're dead, too."
"*What*?" Bobby craned his head. There was red chalk all over his
back. "Great. *Just* great."
"BWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAA... He played tic-tac-toe!"
"Shut up, Jamie."
"You two!" Logan barked at the girls. "Sober up. We're droppin' like
flies out here. Pay attention and try to stay alive."
"Why didn't you yell at Jamie?"
"*He* always has his back to something. Kid knows to stay on guard."
"Um. I kinda do that anyway so's no-one bumps me from behind," said
Jamie. "Sorry."
"Why be sorry about bein' a difficult target, kid?"
Jamie grinned. Compliments from Logan were rare and treasured.
Rahne stomped towards the buffet, cursing in Gaelic all the way. She
looked like she'd had an outbreak of some rather aggressive measles.
Kitty started laughing.
"I won't ask," said Rogue. "I *won't* ask."
"I was shot," said Rahne. "He'd coloured up a bunch of acorns and
fired at us. Amara got us another demerit by firin' up an' only savin'
her daft muckle self."
The rest of the new recruits moaned.
"CHAAAAAARRRRRRGE!" {Whump!} "Ooohhh... That *hurt*." The latter was a
chorus of Jamie-duplicates picking themselves up off the forest floor.
"*What*," Amara demanded, "is your *problem*?"
"Confusing the enemy?" One of the Jamies grinned. "The more there is
of me, the less likely he is to get me. I can outnumber him."
"This," Logan announced, "is going to be interestin' to watch."
All the Jamies started shoving each other. It got exponential from
there.
"I am surrounded by idiots," announced Amara. "It's time that peasant
heard the Voice of Authority."
Logan was hiding his mouth.
"*Peasant*! Surrender yourself and We may be merciful. As you can see,
Our forces are growing by the second. Submit now, or face the wrath of
Our command."
The Jamies were laughing.
"Nice speech, Princess. For a dead woman."
Amara looked over her shoulder. It was another portrait in red chalk.
"I'M GOING TO *SKIN* HIM! STUPID, MANGY, WORTHLESS, BAREFOOT, UNWASHED,
BOOTLESS, GYPSY -- *PEASANT*!"
"Get over it and get goin'." Logan jerked a thumb towards the
Institute's mansion. He then faced the proliferation of Jamies. "Okay.
That's *more* than enough of you. Unless you all like cold canned
ravioli for breakfast."
About two hundred Jamie Madroxes saluted. Then they scattered.
"...hahahahahahahahahaaaahahahaahahahahahahahaaa..." Evan pounded the
table. "That is *so* *LAME*!"
"I *order* you to read it! *Aloud*!"
Kitty was the one who sobered up enough to be intelligable. "Okay.
Okay," she managed through giggling fits. "It's got you on a soapbox,
saying like, 'blablablablablabla' andum - waaaahahahahahahaha..."
"You've got zits and stink and flies," giggled Ray.
"And a suspicious puddle at yer feet," added Rahne.
"And a ball and chain on your ankle that says 'thief'," said Sam.
"And Kurt's behind you like, drawing on you and saying 'I'll pretty
her up a bit'," said Kitty.
"And it's got, 'she needs the help' written underneath," squealed
Roberto.
Amara caught fire with a barely audible {whoomph}. "Rrrrr!"
"Ah-ah-ah," cooed Jean. "Fighting while your dead earns you personal
demerits."
"I... *hate*... telepaths," Amara managed through gritted teeth.
"Bobby? Could you -ah... fix that?"
"Nuh-uh. I'm not going near her."
Kurt gallopped by like a bat out of hades. There was a doppler-
distorted, "No time, sorry, Katzchen!"
Fifty-so Jamies charged after him, bellowing at the top of their
lungs.
"*KILL* THE PEASANT!"
"*Amara*..."
The chase had been fun for a change. Right up until now. Everywhere he
went, there was a cluster of Jamies waiting for him. They were tripping
over each other and multiplying like some maddened variant of the
_Gremlins_ movies.
They were *everywhere*.
He was starting to panic. He knew it, but he couldn't help it. What
*really* didn't help were the flashbacks to places like Winzeldorf,
where they didn't like strangers, gypsies or demons. In that order. He
had to remind himself that if he didn't smell burning pitch or naptha,
he was safe.
He had to remind himself that this was America, and he was among
friends.
He had to look out for that boulder.
{CRACK!}
"Oops," said a half-dozen Jamies.
"Is he dead?"
"Please don't be dead..."
"Look, he'd breathing."
"We gotta help him!"
"We gotta get *Logan*."
"Don't touch him! He could'a broken something."
"But he's *bleeding*!"
A good twenty of him said, "IthinkI'mgonnabesick..."
It was a very bad day when you could argue with yourself. Jamie, or at
least he *thought* he was the original Jamie, bit his lip. Kurt was one
of his personal real live heroes, because of all the neat stuff he could
do. Kurt *taught* him, instead of doing things for him, and never once
believed that Jamie was incapable of trying.
He taught Jamie stuff that started with warnings like, "You really
shouldn't be learning how to do this, but--"
And now Kurt'd run headfirst into a big rock and he didn't know what
to *do*.
Kurt would have done something if their situations were reversed.
"Okay," he said. "This is what we're gonna do." He had no idea where
the orders came from, but they sounded like the right things to do. He
sent a bunch of his doubles running for help, and recruited some of his
newer selves to help gently lift Nightcrawler and get him out of this
lonely little corner of the estate.
They had to be *very* careful. If he tripped and fell while he was
holding someone, there was no *telling* what could happen. They had to
march, and march slowly.
"Seen where they went?" Logan asked the assembled X-men.
"Which 'they' are you talkin' about?" asked Rogue. "I've seen Jamies
headin' every which way but straight up fo' the last half hour."
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't wanna *know* how many
of 'em there are by now."
"Conservative estimates are in the late hundreds," said Amara.
"Did you hear me askin'?" Logan speared an apple and, just as he got
close to taking a bite, froze. Then he grinned. "Whaddaya know. The
little squirt got him."
Then about eight Jamies yelled for help.
"...kurt..." everything was so distant. He could hardly hear. People
were saying his name, but they were far away. So very far away. He could
only open his eyes a flicker, and saw blurry shapes dancing around him.
"...kurt... oh sweetie... can you squeeze my hand?"
How could Katzchen be so close and sound so far away? Kurt tried to
move his hand. All he could do was get his thumb to twitch.
Rough fingers probed his neck, feeling the bones. "...nothin'
broken... red, you getting anything?"
_Hey there. You all right?_
_Nein, I'm half left._ He tried to smile. Face wouldn't work. _But
seriously? I'm having a little trouble with feedback in here._
"...concussion," said Jean, "he should recover in time."
_Jean? You still listening?_
_Something you want to pass on?_
_Make sure Logan doesn't feed the Jamies cold ravioli? It's not his
fault that there's a thousand of him._
_You *know* that that's a lie. I can tell._
_Ja, but -- he really hates cold ravioli._
Jean's telepathic presence sighed. _How the hell can you give me
bambi-eyes when you're unconscious?_
_It's a knack._
"Comfy?"
Kurt grinned, looking a little strange because the bandage on his head
forced one eye half-shut. "Hmmmmm... I think I can survive." He purred
subliminally when Katzchen smoothed his fur down with her hand.
Kitty giggled. "You tickle when you do that," she cooed.
"Is it something I should apologise for?"
"Never." Kitty produced the bowl she'd bought in for him. "Open up,
now."
Kurt obeyed, chewing on the offered mouthful. "Mmmm... Ravioli."
"Logan said that since the Jamies ate half of the groceries for this
week, you should like, get what he should've had in the first place. But
I like, nuked it when he wasn't looking."
"I knew I was in love with an angel."
"Flatterer."
"Don't tell me you don't love it, leibe."
Their lips met, and they both murmured their appreciation of the kiss.
Someone cleared their throat. They looked up, blushing slightly. It
was Logan.
"Keep it G-rated, you two," he growled. "Chuck may like kids, but he
don't like *kids* having kids. And neither do I."
Kurt's uncovered eyebrow raised. "What kind of superman do you think I
*am*, mein Herr? I ran into a verdammt big *rock* this morning..."
Logan glared at him. "Yeah, and you're milkin' it for all it's worth."
Kitty was going quite pink. "Uh. Mr Logan... we like *know* we're not
ready for all that junk. It's just like, kissing."
"Good. Keep it that way." He stalked off with a wry, "Enjoy your cold
dinner, elf."
"I won't tell him if you won't," said Kurt.
"Deal."
[Author's Note: Unusual title, I know, but our dear elf *has* been
called a goblin on a number of occasions in ComicContinuity :) It's from
a line in Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ -- "Up and down, up
and down! I shall lead them up and down. I am feared in field and town.
Goblin, lead them up and down." Kinda appropriate for what I got
planned. MWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA... :) This one has a few references to
_Opa's Brushes_ so I think it's safe to assume we have a sequel.]
It was early. *Too* early for anything resembling civilised
conversation, so the new mutants simply glared at Amara, who pointedly
refused to curl up and die just because they thought she should.
"We all know why we're here," said Wolverine. "So I won't bother
repeating myself. Instead, I'm gonna ask one of you. Squirt?"
Jamie yawned. "We're here 'cause Amara's a dirty thief."
"Am not! I gave them *back*!"
"After a wee bit of 'friendly persuasion', aye," muttered Rahne.
"Don't tell me ye wouldn'a hung onto 'em if ye thought ye could.
Daftie."
Logan grinned. It was the kind of smile he got when *he* was going to
have fun and no-one else was. "That's right. So I cooked up a little
survival exercise for you."
There was a mutual groan, and those who thought themselves too close
to Amara sidestepped further away.
"We're doing a little 'hunting'. You're gonna learn tracking, stalking
and hopefully some common sense. All before breakfast."
"Are we going to be killing some poor, defenceless animal?" asked
Jubilee.
"Nope. We've got a mock quarry. This time. ELF!"
{Bamf!} "En guarde!" Kurt lunged at Logan, marking his uniform with
the large piece of red chalk in his hand. "Ha. You're dead. I win.
When's breakfast?"
Logan sighed. "For the last time, *I'm* not the target. *They* are. If
they catch and hold you, *you're* dead. However, if you tag them,
*they're* dead. This is a battle of wits, people. Use any offensive
powers and you've earned everybody an hour in the Danger Room. With me."
"What? Why's everyone looking at me?" said Ray.
"Just *try* and remember your anger management, today?" said Roberto.
"As long as you keep trying to physically hurt Nightcrawler, you're
never going to win. He's quicker than you."
"And speakin' of quick," said Logan. "You've got five minutes, Elf. No
'portin', no leaving the grounds, and that includes climbing on the
fence. No cliff-crawlin' either. Indoors is out of bounds. Get
creative."
"Jawohl, mein Herr!" Kurt took off at a gallop.
"Lesson one. Tracking. Elf's left us a nice set of footprints in the
drive. I want you to familiarise yourself with how they look, where he
puts his weight and why. We've only got three minutes to learn about our
prey before we go after him."
"But - you said he had five," said Amara. "Isn't that cheating?"
"You expect your enemy to play fair?" Logan smirked. "I wouldn't
worry. The Elf knows the score. He's good at avoiding hunters."
There was another mutual glare at Amara. This time, she had the sense
to look ashamed.
"Pay attention," said Logan. "All of you. There's no confusin' Kurt's
tracks with anythin' else, so that makes it easier for us to follow him.
At least here. If I'm any judge, he'll figure out a way to mess up the
scent trail, too. Rin - you know the elf's scent?"
"Aye," said Rahne. "Smells powerful strange."
"It's the fur. Throws off yer ability to classify 'im. We also have a
slight advantage of knowing his habits. Always work with what you know.
Now. What do we know?"
"He's no stupid," said Rahne, "He's full of tricks."
"He's as neat as a pin," said Roberto. "He can't stand dirt."
"He sheds," said Amara.
"Um," Jamie held up his hand. "He's real quiet? *I* never hear him
when he walks. He could be right behind you and you'd never notice?"
"He can climb like nothin' else on Earth," said Sam.
"Wasn't he in a circus?" ventured Ray. "On the trapeese or something?"
"Yeah. 'Die Fliedertuefel'," Bobby grinned. "He's got an old poster in
his scrapbook."
"Egomaniac," said Jubilee.
"Time's up. Let's get huntin'." Logan singled out Amara. "And *you're*
ridin' point."
"I'm doing what?"
"Hank? What's with the stopwatch?" asked Ororo.
"Logan is out training the new recruits," said Hank, as if that
explained everything. "It's only a matter of time until we're going to
need to fix the gardens."
There was a distant {fwoomph!} as a tree caught fire.
Hanks topped the watch. "Five minutes. Impressive. They usually don't
last that long."
Kurt gallopped up, laughing maniacally. "There goes one of my decoys,"
he gestured with a grin. "It's amazing what you can do with twigs and
vines."
Someone screamed, "Get me *down* from here!"
"And green saplings," added Kurt.
Ororo sighed. "One of these days, we're going to have to have a little
talk about everything your Uncle Wolfgang taught you."
"Not this morning, Frau'. I have to lead a wild chase."
"Shut up! This is *not* funny!" Amara winced as her head hit the
ground again. "*Owwww*..."
Rahne was helpless with laughter. So was Jamie, Sam, and Roberto.
"Bobby, whip up some sleet and put the tree out. Ray, get 'er down
before she earns you another demerit."
"Yessir," said Bobby.
"Right," said Ray. He focussed a little 'zap' of his mutant energy at
the vine.
Amara fell like a sack of potatoes and complained bitterly about it.
"Break my *leg* next time... Am I dead, now, Mr Logan?"
"Nope. Elf didn't tag ya. Get up. Rob, you're on point. Keep yer eyes
open."
Roberto picked up a stick to prod any suspicious leaf drifts with.
There was muffled giggling from somewhere in the trees.
"Sir?" said Sam. "We're bein' watched."
"Of course. Elf's huntin' us like we're huntin' him," Logan was
remarkably cool about that. "Makes sense for him to start workin' our
numbers down."
"Whoah," said Roberto. "Look at *this*."
Logan did. "Ha. Old indian trick." He pointed out the mess of prints
to the others. "Run around every which way so yer enemy won't know where
you went. Ray. You work it out."
Ray mumbled something under his breath.
"Keep talkin' like that an' you'll earn a demerit, bub," said Logan.
Ray sighed. He stared at the prints. "The freshest ones go *that*
way," he pointed, "but the weight's all wrong. When he walks,
Nightcrawler's toes kick dirt back on his prints. He was walking
backards. Which means he was going *this* way," he followed the trail.
"But the prints stop... Up. He went *up*."
"Good," said Logan. "Now turn around."
He did, and the rest of the group burst out laughing.
Ray craned his neck to see. The back of his uniform was covered in
chalk marks. Kurt had had the time and opportunity to draw a picture
across Ray's back.
"Impressionistic," said Amara, "and spartain, but he really *captured*
the moment."
"*I* didn't know he could *draw*," said Roberto.
Ray took off his uniform top to have a look. There, on the back, were
two stick figures. The one with pointy hair had a bunch of question
marks around his head while the one with the tail held an artist's
pallette and was saying, "I love a canvas that stays still!"
"You're *dead*," said Logan. "Go wait for the others at the fountain."
Ray grinned. "Hey. I made it through an entire session without getting
a demerit," he wandered off. "YES! I am Spartacus!"
"I thought dying was a *bad* thing," Rogue said as she popped open
another deck chair.
"Yeah, but I 'died' without earning any demerits," Ray was still
grinning. "*And* I get to *eat*."
Kitty came outside, bearing another tray of foodstuffs. "Like, Ororo
got totally sick of Kurt begging at the kitchen window," she said,
laying the tray on the collapsable table. "Then she got like, *really*
sick of us flirting while he did it, so she like, told us to set this up
for you guys."
"Great! Dying really works up an appetite."
"You should try being hunted, sometime," said a voice under the
tablecloth. "No *that's* excercise, ja?"
"Sweetie!" Kitty squealed, flipping up a corner of the tablecloth.
"When did *you* get here?"
"Just after you went back in from putting out the Gatorade," Kurt
emerged from his hiding place and kissed her. Then he put a chalk-mark
in the centre of her forehead.
"Like, what is *that* for?"
"Mercy killing. Just in case Herr Logan decides to draft you."
"Awww... you're so *sweet*," Kitty hugged him and planted a chaste
kiss on his nose. "Now go out there and give 'em like, heck."
"Jawohl, meine Dame," Kurt purred.
Rogue made retching noises into the finger food.
Rahne was in her wolf form, sniffing Kurt's trail out across rocky
ground. It lead right into a patch of something pungent. She yelped,
pawing at her nose as she reverted to her human shape. Tears streamed
from her eyes. "Ack! Yeauch! *EW*! Tha's *disgustin'*... My nose'll
never be the *same*. Eeeeeewwwwwww..."
"Be glad the elf didn't roll in it," said Logan.
There was a mutual, "*EW*..." from the surviving mutants.
"Rin, you're with the walking wounded," Logan gestured at Amara and
Bobby, the latter of whom was still trying to remove the last vestiges
of one of Kurt's 'tar babies'. Fortunately, he'd used mud instead of
tar, but the result was similar.
"I found something!" Roberto crowed. "He left some of that gunk on
this tree. He's gone climbing again."
"Waitasecond," said Sam. "Where's Jamie?"
"Aw man..." Roberto sighed. "Please don't let this get us a demerit...
Jamie! Where are you?"
"Thanks for givin' away our position, bub," growled Logan. "Even if
the Elf *didn't* already know - he knows now."
Sam pushed aside some shrubbery to reveal a distant figure. It was
sitting very still, and resembled a certain blue fuzzball. "He ain't
gettin' *me* with a stupid tar baby," Sam murmured, and hucked a rock at
it.
Suddenly, there were three figures. Sam winced, and rushed to untie
the original. It really *was* amazing, what you could do with nature's
cast-offs.
"Sorry, Jamie. I really thought you were a tar baby."
Logan was frowning. "Why the hell didn't he 'kill' you, Squirt? He
sure had the opportunity."
One of Jamie's doubles took the gag from Jamie's mouth. "It's 'cause
I'm live bait," he said.
Sam looked at his leg. "Aw shoot." There was a thick chalk line down
it. "I'm not only dead, but I'm crippled to boot." He sighed. "See you
all on the 'other side', I guess."
To add insult to injury, Kurt and Kitty were kissing when Sam got to
the buffet breakfast, and they looked like they'd been doing it for a
while.
"How long--?"
"Couple of minutes," said Jubilee. "They'd be cute if they weren't so
damn disgusting."
"Urgh. They're frenching again," murmured Ray.
"Thank you *so* much for the news bulletin I did *not* need,"
sarcasmed Rogue. "You two! Come up fo' air!"
"Hmm?" Kitty looked dazed. "You want somethin', roomie?"
"Yeah. I want you to quit messin' around and start workin' for a
change."
"Jealous, meine schwester?" Kurt waggled his eyebrows at her.
"Shut up. You're supposed to be teachin' the rest of them a lesson."
There was a distant, "Waugh!"
"There goes one of mein tiger traps." Kurt smiled and waved bye-bye at
Kitty. "Au revoir, leibchen."
"When you're *quite* finished cussin', down there..." said Logan.
"He put chalk on the rocks down here," said Roberto. "I'm covered in
red!"
Amara and Rahne had to hold each other up from the laughing they were
doing.
"Permission to recover the body, sir?" giggled Bobby.
"Whatever. Take you're time. You're dead, too."
"*What*?" Bobby craned his head. There was red chalk all over his
back. "Great. *Just* great."
"BWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAA... He played tic-tac-toe!"
"Shut up, Jamie."
"You two!" Logan barked at the girls. "Sober up. We're droppin' like
flies out here. Pay attention and try to stay alive."
"Why didn't you yell at Jamie?"
"*He* always has his back to something. Kid knows to stay on guard."
"Um. I kinda do that anyway so's no-one bumps me from behind," said
Jamie. "Sorry."
"Why be sorry about bein' a difficult target, kid?"
Jamie grinned. Compliments from Logan were rare and treasured.
Rahne stomped towards the buffet, cursing in Gaelic all the way. She
looked like she'd had an outbreak of some rather aggressive measles.
Kitty started laughing.
"I won't ask," said Rogue. "I *won't* ask."
"I was shot," said Rahne. "He'd coloured up a bunch of acorns and
fired at us. Amara got us another demerit by firin' up an' only savin'
her daft muckle self."
The rest of the new recruits moaned.
"CHAAAAAARRRRRRGE!" {Whump!} "Ooohhh... That *hurt*." The latter was a
chorus of Jamie-duplicates picking themselves up off the forest floor.
"*What*," Amara demanded, "is your *problem*?"
"Confusing the enemy?" One of the Jamies grinned. "The more there is
of me, the less likely he is to get me. I can outnumber him."
"This," Logan announced, "is going to be interestin' to watch."
All the Jamies started shoving each other. It got exponential from
there.
"I am surrounded by idiots," announced Amara. "It's time that peasant
heard the Voice of Authority."
Logan was hiding his mouth.
"*Peasant*! Surrender yourself and We may be merciful. As you can see,
Our forces are growing by the second. Submit now, or face the wrath of
Our command."
The Jamies were laughing.
"Nice speech, Princess. For a dead woman."
Amara looked over her shoulder. It was another portrait in red chalk.
"I'M GOING TO *SKIN* HIM! STUPID, MANGY, WORTHLESS, BAREFOOT, UNWASHED,
BOOTLESS, GYPSY -- *PEASANT*!"
"Get over it and get goin'." Logan jerked a thumb towards the
Institute's mansion. He then faced the proliferation of Jamies. "Okay.
That's *more* than enough of you. Unless you all like cold canned
ravioli for breakfast."
About two hundred Jamie Madroxes saluted. Then they scattered.
"...hahahahahahahahahaaaahahahaahahahahahahahaaa..." Evan pounded the
table. "That is *so* *LAME*!"
"I *order* you to read it! *Aloud*!"
Kitty was the one who sobered up enough to be intelligable. "Okay.
Okay," she managed through giggling fits. "It's got you on a soapbox,
saying like, 'blablablablablabla' andum - waaaahahahahahahaha..."
"You've got zits and stink and flies," giggled Ray.
"And a suspicious puddle at yer feet," added Rahne.
"And a ball and chain on your ankle that says 'thief'," said Sam.
"And Kurt's behind you like, drawing on you and saying 'I'll pretty
her up a bit'," said Kitty.
"And it's got, 'she needs the help' written underneath," squealed
Roberto.
Amara caught fire with a barely audible {whoomph}. "Rrrrr!"
"Ah-ah-ah," cooed Jean. "Fighting while your dead earns you personal
demerits."
"I... *hate*... telepaths," Amara managed through gritted teeth.
"Bobby? Could you -ah... fix that?"
"Nuh-uh. I'm not going near her."
Kurt gallopped by like a bat out of hades. There was a doppler-
distorted, "No time, sorry, Katzchen!"
Fifty-so Jamies charged after him, bellowing at the top of their
lungs.
"*KILL* THE PEASANT!"
"*Amara*..."
The chase had been fun for a change. Right up until now. Everywhere he
went, there was a cluster of Jamies waiting for him. They were tripping
over each other and multiplying like some maddened variant of the
_Gremlins_ movies.
They were *everywhere*.
He was starting to panic. He knew it, but he couldn't help it. What
*really* didn't help were the flashbacks to places like Winzeldorf,
where they didn't like strangers, gypsies or demons. In that order. He
had to remind himself that if he didn't smell burning pitch or naptha,
he was safe.
He had to remind himself that this was America, and he was among
friends.
He had to look out for that boulder.
{CRACK!}
"Oops," said a half-dozen Jamies.
"Is he dead?"
"Please don't be dead..."
"Look, he'd breathing."
"We gotta help him!"
"We gotta get *Logan*."
"Don't touch him! He could'a broken something."
"But he's *bleeding*!"
A good twenty of him said, "IthinkI'mgonnabesick..."
It was a very bad day when you could argue with yourself. Jamie, or at
least he *thought* he was the original Jamie, bit his lip. Kurt was one
of his personal real live heroes, because of all the neat stuff he could
do. Kurt *taught* him, instead of doing things for him, and never once
believed that Jamie was incapable of trying.
He taught Jamie stuff that started with warnings like, "You really
shouldn't be learning how to do this, but--"
And now Kurt'd run headfirst into a big rock and he didn't know what
to *do*.
Kurt would have done something if their situations were reversed.
"Okay," he said. "This is what we're gonna do." He had no idea where
the orders came from, but they sounded like the right things to do. He
sent a bunch of his doubles running for help, and recruited some of his
newer selves to help gently lift Nightcrawler and get him out of this
lonely little corner of the estate.
They had to be *very* careful. If he tripped and fell while he was
holding someone, there was no *telling* what could happen. They had to
march, and march slowly.
"Seen where they went?" Logan asked the assembled X-men.
"Which 'they' are you talkin' about?" asked Rogue. "I've seen Jamies
headin' every which way but straight up fo' the last half hour."
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't wanna *know* how many
of 'em there are by now."
"Conservative estimates are in the late hundreds," said Amara.
"Did you hear me askin'?" Logan speared an apple and, just as he got
close to taking a bite, froze. Then he grinned. "Whaddaya know. The
little squirt got him."
Then about eight Jamies yelled for help.
"...kurt..." everything was so distant. He could hardly hear. People
were saying his name, but they were far away. So very far away. He could
only open his eyes a flicker, and saw blurry shapes dancing around him.
"...kurt... oh sweetie... can you squeeze my hand?"
How could Katzchen be so close and sound so far away? Kurt tried to
move his hand. All he could do was get his thumb to twitch.
Rough fingers probed his neck, feeling the bones. "...nothin'
broken... red, you getting anything?"
_Hey there. You all right?_
_Nein, I'm half left._ He tried to smile. Face wouldn't work. _But
seriously? I'm having a little trouble with feedback in here._
"...concussion," said Jean, "he should recover in time."
_Jean? You still listening?_
_Something you want to pass on?_
_Make sure Logan doesn't feed the Jamies cold ravioli? It's not his
fault that there's a thousand of him._
_You *know* that that's a lie. I can tell._
_Ja, but -- he really hates cold ravioli._
Jean's telepathic presence sighed. _How the hell can you give me
bambi-eyes when you're unconscious?_
_It's a knack._
"Comfy?"
Kurt grinned, looking a little strange because the bandage on his head
forced one eye half-shut. "Hmmmmm... I think I can survive." He purred
subliminally when Katzchen smoothed his fur down with her hand.
Kitty giggled. "You tickle when you do that," she cooed.
"Is it something I should apologise for?"
"Never." Kitty produced the bowl she'd bought in for him. "Open up,
now."
Kurt obeyed, chewing on the offered mouthful. "Mmmm... Ravioli."
"Logan said that since the Jamies ate half of the groceries for this
week, you should like, get what he should've had in the first place. But
I like, nuked it when he wasn't looking."
"I knew I was in love with an angel."
"Flatterer."
"Don't tell me you don't love it, leibe."
Their lips met, and they both murmured their appreciation of the kiss.
Someone cleared their throat. They looked up, blushing slightly. It
was Logan.
"Keep it G-rated, you two," he growled. "Chuck may like kids, but he
don't like *kids* having kids. And neither do I."
Kurt's uncovered eyebrow raised. "What kind of superman do you think I
*am*, mein Herr? I ran into a verdammt big *rock* this morning..."
Logan glared at him. "Yeah, and you're milkin' it for all it's worth."
Kitty was going quite pink. "Uh. Mr Logan... we like *know* we're not
ready for all that junk. It's just like, kissing."
"Good. Keep it that way." He stalked off with a wry, "Enjoy your cold
dinner, elf."
"I won't tell him if you won't," said Kurt.
"Deal."