Disclaimer – I still don't own X-Men: Evolution or anything else that belongs to Marvel…. (insert witty disclaimer here.)
Having just now seen "The HeX Factor" as I write this note, I've decided that yes, this fic can take place after it. Yep, that means a bit of Wanda, just not much cause I hadn't planned for her in the first place... but geez, I still wonder if I was hearing that conversation between Scott & Jean right. If there's ever been dialog that required absolutely no effort to be deliberately and grossly misinterpreted by slash authors, it has to be that.
On the other hand, this most certainly is AU after "The HeX Factor." As I write THIS note, I've just seen "Day of Reckoning," and I have... other ideas for the things DoR handled. Mwa hah hah. I say that like it's not AU already, cause, yeah, you know Scott and Jean are gonna hook up sometime, but... now I'm just talking too much.
Finally, I'm a big fat liar. It's true. I promised the slash would be at it's worse in chapter 1, and I managed to outdo myself here. For the sake of humor, no less -_-; Eh heh. But yeah, if you try to read around the slash (wouldn't blame you,) I suggest you skip the first scene involving Scott and Joseph alone in a room and jump right into the Pietro-humor.
Walpurgis Night
II. Baptize, Inferno
by Alhazred
madarab20@hotmail.com
I'm very good with pain. –Isembard Prince, Lexx
---
Pietro hated the rain. He just couldn't stand it because it forced him to slow down. All that water in his eyes... it just wouldn't do for him to run headfirst into a lamppost because everything was a blur. It certainly wouldn't do his face any good...
So, mired deep in thought, he was forced to... jog. Pietro Maximoff, Quicksilver himself, was reduced to the gentlest of trots because of falling water.
He would never let himself live it down.
Deciding it was all or nothing, Pietro slowed to a walk. Through one of those quaint little suburban parks and he was there anyway. Not that said park was anything more then some lawns and a walkway or two lined with bushes, but it was still a shortcut.
He wasn't entirely sure why he was afraid of going home, either. It wasn't like the Brotherhood had a telepath, even if Tabitha could have been a tele-pain when she was feeling nasty and Mystique could read body language like a book. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to miss Tabitha in comparison to the blue shape shifter. So Mystique and Lance, good friend that he was, would realize in short order that something was amiss, but Pietro didn't have to tell them anything.
Unless Wanda let loose with a hex and forced him to blab his mouth off, an improbability she could most certainly influence.
But the Brotherhood didn't really concern Pietro. Friends and family or not, he couldn't bring himself to let loyalty to his friends enter the equation. No, the little thought that had since turned into an obsessive idea was a personal matter. The others didn't have to think about what Mystique wanted them to do. They didn't...
What was that?
Suddenly feeling like a supporting character in a slasher movie, Pietro wiped the rain from his eyes for the billionth time and spun around.
Nothing was there. Most sane people were either inside for the storm or driving through it instead of walking, anyway. But why could he have sworn someone had stepped on a twig...
Shrugging it off, the speed demon turned around.
And he nearly jumped out of his shoes, for there was now a tall, shadowy person blocking his path, a person who was most assuredly not there a few seconds ago. Once his heart rate returned to normal, Pietro lost his fear; it wasn't like he couldn't outrun or use his speed to outfight a mugger, rain or not.
So he stood still while the man, at least he assumed it was a man from the figure's build, stumbled forward. The stumbling was what worried Pietro; the guy didn't move like he was in the best of health.
The creepy image faded somewhat when the figure stepped away from the relative shade provided by a nearby tree. Not that there was any sunlight to begin with, but the clever could make themselves look cryptic when they needed.
As far as Quicksilver was concerned, the guy wasn't exactly dressed like a model citizen. He was bald not unlike Xavier... except Xavier didn't have a mass of greenish tattoos curling around his face or a Dracula robe over his shoulders.
And Xavier didn't walk around with blood on his shirt. On top of it all, Pietro recognized him; he was Mesmero, the obligatory fortune-teller that had been a part of this year's carnival.
Every sense he had told Pietro the dude was bad news at the moment... he planned on running and being done with it.
Then... then Mesmero smiled.
"I know you," he breathed, more a realization then a revelation. "Yes, I considered using you once... perhaps I can do so now. Yes, an ironic way of getting back at that miserable bastard... after everything I did for him..."
He coughed, hacking up what might have been more blood in the dim light nature currently offered.
Now Pietro was determined to run. Mesmero was seriously screwed and he didn't want to be mixed up in it.
So he had to wonder why, if he was telling his legs to run in the opposite direction, he was instead walking toward the shady character.
He was walking against his will. Every step was against his volition; his mind no longer had any say in his actions.
The loss of control stayed right up until he was standing face to face Mesmero, whom he now realized to be a telepath. But it didn't particularly matter, because Pietro wasn't going to move, not when he felt like he was slowly but surely falling asleep.
But he wasn't falling asleep. No, he was falling into a trance, and he couldn't do anything about it.
Quite suddenly, he opened his eyes and found he was dry. No more rain, but no more park, for that matter. He looked around and realized he was in some sort of cave, a cave decorated with high columns and artwork on the carved-flat walls. Sunlight lit the crumbling temple from the entrance.
And Mesmero was quietly walking along the passageway, a determined but pleased expression on his face, a huge black... thing, leather it looked like, slung over his shoulder. Most importantly, there was no hole in his chest. Pietro trotted up to him...
Mesmero ignored him completely. Snapping his fingers in front of the telepath's face, Pietro realized he was seeing a memory.
So he followed the memory. Mesmero walked to the back of the cave, stopping at a monstrous stone door that went to the ceiling. The hunk of cowhide still on his shoulder, Mesmero reached into a pocket on his cloak and pulled out a fair-sized pendant suspended from a long chain. Pietro looked around him in time to see the golden chain be torn off, leaving only a circular, multicolored trinket. Each different color was a separate segment, each one locked into each other to form a sort of pie.
Mesmero inserted that pie into a circle in the door. The token completed the painting on the door, but more interesting, an area of the middle rose up and turned it into a dial. The mind reader turned that dial, matching colors up with others on the door as if it were some kind of archaic safe. Eventually, the door made a click.
Something told Pietro it would be in his best interest to back away when Mesmero did. Not long after, a violent white light seemed to split the door down the middle, and it pulled apart as two halves, the light growing stronger with each passing second until it abruptly blinked out.
The cavern was calm again. All seemed well. The door led into a simple chamber, it seemed, but none of the sunlight from the entrance dared reach in there.
For a moment, Pietro didn't get it. There was no apparent point to this; maybe Mesmero had been expecting an ancient treasure behind the mystical lock, maybe...
And then he heard it; a footfall on the stone, the echo coming from the newly opened chamber. Quicksilver shuddered; whatever Mesmero was remembering, it was dark. It was Evil.
Yet another shadowy figure appeared in the dark chamber. But this one didn't look human.
When the newcomer walked into the light, it revealed himself to be human after all... sort of. His face was blue, what Pietro could see of it. The entire rest of his eight-foot frame was covered in a freakish set of blue-tinted, segmented armor, the shapes and protrusions around him making him look like an Egyptian Pharaoh gone seriously wrong.
Mesmero was, in simple terms, mesmerized. A nervous smile painted his face, whereas the newcomer's smile was one of contentment and scheming. The telepath was still while the man approached.
Before he was halfway to Mesmero, Pietro watched as that strange armor suddenly became alive, each segment twisting around each other in tandem, a clattering noise sounding as it reshaped itself around the owner's body, as if by his will. In seconds, the image of the Pharaoh was gone, replaced instead by a blue haired man with sleek armor wrapped cleanly around his skin, no spot untouched save his neck and head. Only black highlights in the metal's pattern broke the color.
When he finally reached Mesmero, the telepath was too enamored to speak. So the newcomer broke the ice.
"You've brought what I asked."
It wasn't a question. Mesmero dropped to his knees and presented his other item to the man as if it were priceless. "Yes, Lord Apocalypse."
Apocalypse snatched the leather; Pietro could see now it was a trench coat that had to be custom-made to fit the frame it was meant for.
The blue-clad man slipped it on without skipping a beat. "Get up."
Quicksilver could hear it in his voice, the enjoyment at inspiring fear. It was like he didn't want his servant to bow because he knew Mesmero was frightened of his wrath anyway.
Mesmero was still while Apocalypse walked around him ever so slowly. "Yes... I can get used to the new-world," he commented. "Fashion has certainly improved... in some places. You've done quite well Mesmero, quite well..."
Mesmero seemed elated at the praise, the way an aspiring writer would feel if Stephen King mentioned he liked their work.
"To think I can even find mutants grouped together for what I need here... this will be an interesting time," Apocalypse went on, almost coming full circle around his servant but putting an arm around his shoulder from the side. "Unfortunately..."
A flash of white light, and Pietro was back in the rain, somewhere secluded, near the park he'd been walking through. Very near.
Apocalypse finished his sentence after looking around into the air, as if he knew something or someone was around. "You will better accomplish your next task in death."
A snickt and the sound of flesh being punctured reached Pietro's ears. Mesmero jumped, wide-eyed, a hand slowly traveling toward his chest... where a long metal thing like a worm was impaling him from behind. The object came from the bottom side of the blue man's wrist, wrapped sleekly down Mesmero's arm and then... moved to his back where it went through.
The first sound again... and the tendril pulled back into its owner with ungodly speed. Apocalypse turned and simply walked away while Mesmero clutched vainly at his mortal wound and started stumbling about. "Enjoy the void, Mesmero," Apocalypse called back as the distance grew. "You may rest now. For your loyalty I spare you a life in my world."
Pietro barely noticed his vision go dark again. This time, when he opened his eyes, he was back in the park... and Mesmero was dead at his feet.
---
"So... Yeahthat'saboutallofit."
"Mersmero would be a mutant, I assume," Mr. Sinister raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't budge. He didn't seem to mind the intense stares of nearly everyone in the room when he said the word 'mutant,' either. "He controlled minds?"
"He controlled minds," Xavier repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Controlled minds as opposed to reading them, he wasn't a strong telepath otherwise."
"That's clever... that's very clever. Almost twenty years and the bastard hasn't changed at all." the odd man looked at the ceiling and rubbed his chin. "Get others to do your dirty work and no one knows you exist."
Still leaning against the wall, Wolverine rolled his eyes. "Can we please get some sleep now?"
"You can sleep all you want, I on the other hand, have work to do," Mr. Sinister commented, getting up and leaving as if he were never there. Everyone save Xavier stared at the door after him and blinked several times.
"I'll check his background just to be on the safe side," Xavier wheeled out from behind his desk. "For all I know, he can fool telepathy. But I believe Logan has a good idea, we could all probably use some sleep."
If anyone didn't agree, they didn't say anything as they left. Though Pietro had gone through a different door then the others before anyone else remembered he was there, Wolverine had never forgotten in the first place. "You didn't tell them about Quicksilver."
"No, I believe everyone's had enough shocks for one night. And it might be easier if they simply happen to notice he doesn't leave. I'm more worried about how the Brotherhood will react to his departure."
Logan finally sat down. "Eh. He'll probably be here for all of two days like Alvers was. He'll get over being shaken up by the weird stuff."
"I'm not so sure, Logan," Chares responded, his voice filled with grim certainly instead of the optimism he'd had when Lance had come that night. "If his encounter with Mesmero was his sole motivation for coming to us, I would agree with you, but... ah, what does it matter."
Logan didn't need telepathy to recognize Xavier's 'it's personal' tone before he went on.
"Besides, I think the day's other new addition will prove to be more... interesting. Especially considering Cerebro is now finding Magneto here, not that it can see anywhere else for the moment after what Hank and I... tore out."
"Heh," Logan chuckled, grabbing something chocolate from a nearby candy jar. "Interesting to who, us or Shades?"
"I don't quite follow you," Charles arched an eyebrow.
Rolling his eyes, the other mutant answered, "Chuck, sometimes you really outta take a little peek or two. I, on the other hand, can't help smelling certain things, thing's like Cyke's cologne all over Magneto's groupie. I really should tell him to lay off that stuff... too easy to follow."
Xavier blinked at this implication. Hard. Logan, however, was not perturbed. "Same with the Half Pint and that weird perfume of hers too, the last thing they need is for someone like Sabretooth to get 'em alone in the woods... speaking of woods, you want me to hold off with the new kids and wait until things calm down?"
Sighing, Xavier pondered that. "No. The sooner they have their survival training, the better. Though it amuses me that they chose you over the camp."
"They just don't know me as well as the older kids."
Xavier could've sworn Logan was grinning.
"Just don't let anyone destroy the world while we're gone, Chuck."
---
Jean was thankful that school had been cancelled that morning; she had had no intention of pulling an all-nighter to do her homework after things had calmed down the night before.
She had, at first, planned to see if Scott had woken up yet and fill him in on what he'd missed. Walking down the corridor, however, brought about an interesting and rather unwelcome change of plans.
Always trying to restrain her abilities when they weren't needed, Jean often found that her lack of total control was a slightly larger problem then others might think. Sure, Scott could kill people with an inadvertent glance, but he just needed his glasses. Kurt was... well, blue, but he had his image inducer.
Jean, on the other hand, wasn't Xavier, and she still wasn't completely capable of filtering out meandering thoughts in big crowds, or really, really strong thought broadcasting. Getting caught off-guard by the strong willed was always a horrible experience. People who felt something so powerfully that they broadcast it like a telepathic rock song; deafening and completely unavoidable.
And the wave of sheer anguish that was saturating the area like gas was no different. It wasn't horribly strong, but it was there, nonetheless.
Walking back the way she came was the first obvious solution. But then, that would be abandoning whoever it was this was coming from, and, depressing or not, it wouldn't feel right.
So she walked on. The corridor wasn't that long, and after she'd passed a certain door, the feeling lessened slightly instead of getting stronger. The source located, she tried to figure out who was inside; that was Evan's room, and Evan wasn't around at the moment. She made a mental note to ask one of the adults just where Evan had been lately.
Seeing that the door was open a crack, Jean stepped up to it. She couldn't hear anything, so she gave it a gentle push.
Pietro Maximoff looked almost pathetic, hugging his knees to his chest while he leaned against the balcony of his room, his eyes closed as he snoozed. "Quicksilver?"
Started out of his light slumber, Pietro jumped. "Eh heh, must've dozed off."
His eyes were a little bloodshot. Had he been crying, she wondered? Suddenly she felt rather cruel for not even calling him his name, so used to meeting Quicksilver on the battlefield and not Pietro in a... more normal way, even if the Brotherhood had been increasingly less hostile since the soccer game incident.
The Bayville Sirens had certainly proved that. Oh, what a time that had been...
Coming back top the present, Jean realized the feeling she sensed was rapidly fading; maybe he'd been having one mother of a nightmare. He'd had his composure for quite awhile it seemed, but he wasn't over whatever was bothering him, not by a long shot.
"Are you alright?"
"OfcoursewhatmadeyouthinkIwasn't?" He answered, far too quickly even for Pietro. After a second, he cocked an eyebrow at her and put a finger to his head. "You sneaking around in here like Charles? Whatever could you be looking for?"
"I... what do you mean, 'like Charles?'" Jean gave him a look, finding it hard to believe the professor would invade his privacy.
"Oh, just... ya know, so he could see the Mesmero thing himself," he answered, finally stretching his legs out. And his thoughts were still freakishly loud; Jean knew he'd moved quite deliberately to stop looking vulnerable.
"Well, if you have to know," Jean leaned on the railing herself and stared at her feet. "Your mood is so loud I can hear it down the hallway... sorry."
"Sorry," he said, almost synchronized with her. "My 'mood?' Who are you, Counselor Troi?"
"Who?"
Pietro blanched. "Eh, never mind."
"You're staying with us, aren't you?" Jean spoke, the thought reaching her mouth before she realized it.
"Yeah. I've been trying to talk to Summers about it all week, but, well... I could never bring up the subject before we decided to smash each other. ShouldajustthrownmyselfatBaldy'smercyinthefirstplace."
Jean chuckled at that, and found her curiosity getting the better of her. "Do you mind if I ask..."
"I got sick of sitting around waiting for him... them anymore," he answered, already knowing what had her puzzled. Jean raised an eyebrow. "Mystique and my father, I mean... I'm sick of waiting for him... I'm tired of being treated like I don't exist... and then Mystique, she finally comes back and she brings my... she brings that damned witch in like nothing and she wants to attack him..."
"Your father?" Jean asked instinctively, having no idea Pietro's father was anywhere around in the first place, much less part of the Brotherhood. She left the witch topic alone, Pietro hadn't given any clues about why she mattered so much.
He looked at her like she'd turned green. "Rogue never said anything? Xavier never said anything?"
Slowly, she shook her head and wondered what Rogue had to do with it.
"You guys don't know?" He chuckled.
Again, Jean shook her head while she tried to think. It came to her, of course, that Rogue had touched him before, more then enough to get quite a few memories. Mystique and his father... Mystique and... Mystique only worked with Magneto with the Brother... hood... "Oh, my..."
"Yepstoryofmylife," he answered. "My father's a big refrigerator magnet. And Mystique wants us to attack him but... but... he's still my father. So those are my choices; my non-existent father or my dangerously psychotic... never mind. But I chose. Huh... you know, Rogue must have a lot going through her mind that she never even talks about."
"Rogue doesn't give away peoples' secrets. I just realized she probably has a few of mine too," Jean said. Her face fell a little at the thought of her friend.
Pietro noticed. "She'll be fine," he said, "girl's stubborn as Hell. I mean, really, why else would she keep drooling over one-eye? The single most unavailable guy in so many ways?" Jean gave him a look, and then Pietro returned it. "Waitaminute, thatmakesnosense, she's touched you and him before, I mean, how did she not know he wasn't interested?"
"Are we talking about what I think we're talking about?" Jean retaliated, completely caught off guard by the tangent the conversation had gone. Pietro hopped to his feet while he nodded, and Jean couldn't help but notice how quickly he looked like normal Pietro again. The idea of causing mischief certainly rejuvenated him. "And how do you know?"
"Uh uh, you first," he waved a finger in her face.
"I don't have a clue," she chuckled and leaned on the wall. "Maybe since Scott doesn't exactly 'know' himself, I don't know either. And she wouldn't know from touching him for the same reason. I just suspect things and try to get him to talk about it every now and then. Make any sense?"
He stared at her for a moment and shook his head. "No... ButI'lltakeyourwordforit."
And then Quicksilver started laughing. In fact, he laughed so much that Jean was afraid he was having a nervous breakdown. "Oh, he knows now though," he finally said after calming down.
Confused, she asked, "and you know he knows, how?"
"I think I 'know' I'm getting a headache, enough with people knowing things already."
Muffled laughter reached their ears. "Scott's room is the next one down?"
"Yep," Jean asked, remembering that fact herself. "Sounds like he isn't alone. Guess he's awake."
"That would be how I know, by the way."
"Excuse me?"
"You are not, in fact, excused," Pietro chuckled. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the hallway, though Jean only followed because she didn't feel like prying him off.
He leaned over to look through Scott's quite open door, Jean looking past him.
Scott and Joseph were leaning over the balcony, looking over the grounds. "Wonder who was laughing... sounded like Pietro."
Quicksilver frowned. "Bad enough he looks like my dad... ugh, what an image."
Jean decided to keep her mouth shut on that topic.
"Wonder why he's still around," Scott added, Joseph wrapping an arm around his waist. "Then again... the only possible explanation frightens me."
"Think he's staying?"
"Next he'll ask, 'is that a good thing or a bad thing,'" Pietro rolled his eyes. Not like I have anywhere else to go...
Jean just shook her head. "This is worse then a soap opera."
"Worse then Titanic," he corrected, wishing again for that picture.
"Are you?" They could hear Scott ask back.
"Yeah," Joseph smiled.
Jean felt an involuntary worry creep over her when she heard that, and she felt guilty for it. He really does look like Magneto...
"As long as the beds are more comfortable then the floor... I can't believe we fell asleep on the floor..."
"Well, that's something I can guarantee you," Scott answered, running a hand through Joseph's white hair.
"I wonder if they realize how wrong that sounded. WelloooookaythenIthinkthatprovesmypoint," Pietro once again pulled on Jean, this time to an ample distance away from the door when Scott pulled Joseph close and kissed him. "You'dthinkthey'dclosethefreakindooralready!"
"Well they probably will after they hear your babbling nonsense," she answered. "I mean, I'm not gonna pretend to stand here and make out with you so they don't know we were spying. Good night Pietro."
He watched her walk away a bit incredulously, thinking about that, not really realizing what he mumbled. "Huh... why would we have to pretend?"
Pietro.
"Wahhh!" Pietro tripped and slumped against the wall before he realized what was happening. "Oh maaaan, I'm never gonna get used to that..."
Yes, I try to keep the mental traffic down, I shouldn't be giving you all heart attacks, after all, Xavier's voice continued in his mind. Sometime this morning I'd like you to head down to the machine shop in the basement, I'm sure you can find something there to take your mind off of your troubles.
"Um... sure... whatever," Pietro finally relaxed. He stood up and dusted himself off as Scott walked out of his door and looked down the hallway.
"What's with the noise, Maximoff?"
"Oh," Pietro didn't skip a beat, simply raising a hand and pointing his thumb to the corridor behind him. "That's your boyfriend echoing in the halls. You must be quite the animal."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that!" Totally scandalized, Scott turned a slight shade of red.
For a second, Pietro opened his mouth to say something pertaining to Scott's well-developed ability to 'pretend' and cite examples such as Taryn, but he decided he had just enough tact not to and became content with letting out a chuckle.
The older mutant sighed. "What's so funny?"
"Heh heh, you." Quicksilver answered, hopping to his feet. "Don'ttakethisthewrongway, wellyoucanifyouwantto, but you're so cliché, Summers, that it's just hilarious."
"I'm flattered," Cyclops answered, his voice humiliatingly dry.
"And you've always beensopredictabletoo!" Pietro went on, buzzing around Scott once or twice. "Why, I bet you're dragging him to the Danger Room in less then ten minutes just 'because!'"
"Well, yeah," Scott started, the grin he usually wore when on a Danger Room high suddenly fading into a scowl when he realized he'd just been zinged.
The speed demon sighed. "Irestmycase."
---
Edward Kelly often wondered what he'd done to deserve... this. Bayville High was the death of sanity if there ever was one. He really didn't know. Sure, he'd done his normal share of misdeeds as a teenager, and there was that time he almost slept with a married woman, but he'd done the right thing and hauled ass away when she'd mentioned it.
So really, he didn't deserve this. Not one bit. All he wanted was a good job, maybe to get into politics in his later years. Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was.
Along with his good job he also received weirdo kids who could do things like destroy things by looking at them, create earthquakes, vanish into thin air... it didn't help that no one else even remembered it, either. He'd been expecting reporters and police and whatnot the very day after that soccer game, but there was nothing. No one knew.
Except for one Edward Kelly. And now, Principle Kelly had the task of hiring another faculty member with the school's budget already stretched thin, a vice-principle. A vice-principle, as if he couldn't handle things on his own! He'd only handled the freaks of nature and demons from Hell invading his gym. Not that the school board knew that. No, they had just said 'hire a vice-principle so your students don't get rowdy.' Like a vice-principle could have stopped the water main from being bombed?
At least his office was dry. At least he had a place to actually interview the first, and so far only prospective employee interested in the position. At least the building was quiet for once, save for the maintenance workers.
When a knock came on his door, he sighed. "Come in."
He turned around, and immediately thought, if his job is to enforce discipline, all the kids need to do is look at him. "Mr. Gyrich? Pleasure to finally meet you."
"And you, Principle Kelly. You know, I hear you have a few problems with certain... 'gifted' children at this school..."
---
"This is so wretchedly annoying. Bastard's right at my fingertips and all I have is the same, decades-old data. Forge, any coffee left?"
Kitty, Joseph and Pietro walked into the workshop only to be assaulted by completely ridiculous amounts of printer paper flying in their direction, apparently being tossed from the center. At the same time, a cart topped with several half-
Unfortunately, while Kitty let it phase through her, the boys had no such luxury and quickly became tangled in the stuff as every single document was printed on old, attached sprocket paper and none of the sheets had been separated.
This made things even worse for Pietro, who tried to get out of it with his speed, but ended up falling on his face, wrapped in it. "Mmmmphh!"
"Uh, like, hi Forge."
Turning off his welding torch, Forge flipped up his faceplate and smiled, his arm returning to 'normal.' "Hey Kitty. What's goin' on?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing..."
"Help?" Pietro squeaked, his head poking out through the blob of dead tree.
"Don't fuck up the documents, damnit!"
Mr. Sinister was not amused.
"Oh yeah. Guys," Forge looked up again, "Have you met Sinister?"
"That's Mister Sinister, thank you," the scientist added. And then he was up stalking over to Pietro, where he promptly grabbed the end of the document chain, pulled, rolled him into the wall, and tossed the pile of papers in another direction as if he didn't care in the first place. With that done, he plopped back into his chair, kicked off and spun around like a fool while his fingers twirled a pen around. "Hey Forge, how's it goin' over there?"
As if on cue, the thing Forge was working on exploded in the engineer's face, covering him with soot. He pulled his faceplate off and took a break, just as Logan made an entrance. "Oh, just lovely."
"Clown man. Rogue?" Logan was dressed for the wilderness, apparently making a few last stops before taking the younger mutants out.
"What about Rogue?"
Logan glared death. "Did you not say you could help Rogue or am I going deaf?"
"Yes, I said I could help Rogue," Sinister shouted, clearly angered at Logan's blithe disregard for procedure. "When I get a fucking sample of DNA from Apocalypse! Do you see a DNA sample around here? No? Gee, I don't either! Go bug Xavier to get faster computers if it's not quick enough."
Clearly, it was taking all of Logan's willpower not to slice his arm off. Either that, or Xavier was just that convincing when he said Mr. Sinister could help. Logan just rolled his eyes and shook his head, apparently considering everything and coming to the conclusion that it was just barely a valid excuse before he left.
"Some people just don't need mutations to be freaks," Sinister commented. He spun in his chair again and stopped to raise fingers at Pietro and Joseph. "So, you and you, I need blood samples!"
"You need what?" Joseph blinked. Pietro screamed not long after, as Beast had sneaked up on him with another syringe.
"Self-disinfecting syringes are wonderful things," the furry mutant commented as Pietro started running around the room in circles, saying words he really shouldn't have. "But then again, so is knowing how to do that without tying one's arm off."
A chortle came from Sinister. "God I love this place, an engineer and chemist in the same lab as me, what more could I want... oh, your help!"
"Like... my help?" Kitty blinked.
"Yes, your help. You're the programming wiz, right?"
"I am?" Kitty raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm not the best in the class, but..."
"But you're good, and anyone that's a legend for frying three computers is better then me, so c'mere and tell me what I'm doing wrong."
"Like... okay..."
---
"You know Scott... everywhere we go we seem to revolve back around to your room. Why not my room? Why not outside? People are going to think we're a pair of bunnies at this rate."
"My room's closer to the Danger Room."
"Right. Remind me never to go in there again?" Joseph rubbed at his jaw.
"Are you kidding? Training sessions are daily!" Scott grinned like an idiot.
Joseph groaned. "And I just went in there of my own free will when I'll be getting my fill of it starting tomorrow?"
"Yep!"
"I'm getting a headache."
"Wimp, I've been aching everywhere since we got out of there," Scott sat down on his bed, prompting a distinct cracking sound to come from his shoulder. He winced, "that can't have been good."
He dropped the next words from his mouth when Joseph slid to his side. Scott let out a relaxed sigh when he felt the other mutant's hands slide up his shirt and rub his shoulders. "I could get used to this..."
"Maybe I found my secret talent."
"Ow!" Scott cried.
Joseph snickered. "And maybe not."
"You did that on purpose! Ow!"
"You're right, I did."
Scott rolled his eyes. "Note to self, never forget uniform with its nice, kinda-protective armor again."
"Your uniform has armor?" Joseph was curious; he hadn't gotten a uniform yet, and the idea of customizing it was intriguing.
Leaning back into his massage, Scott chuckled. "Of course. Something has to say 'I'm the leader,' you know."
"So the enemy knows who to kill first?"
"Yeah... what?" Scott exclaimed.
"Fortunately, you have me to rush in and save you."
"My knight in shining armor?" Scott threw an arm around his boyfriend and tackled him backward.
"I'm confused, I thought you were the one that had armor..."
Joseph smiled like an idiot, trying to tug away from being half-buried under Scott. "You know, my arm is going numb."
"Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?"
Joseph hmmphed, and Scott didn't move. "You know, make an excellent pillow."
"Now you're just getting annoying, you know that?"
"Annoying? No, annoying is Pietro singing 'Scott and Joe sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.'"
"He sang that?" Joseph made a face.
Scott laughed. "No, but I'm sure he will."
"Yeah, so am I," the other answered. Determined to put an end to Scott's little game, Joseph pulled his arm in a different direction and forced himself out from under Scott's head. His hand still being under it, he managed to pull Scott's shirt over his head and cover his face in the process, just after swiping his shades.
"Hey!" Scott bolted up and almost fell over, yanking his shirt the rest of the way off on the way.
Keeping his eyes shut, Scott stretched out an arm and searched around. "So, couldn't wait to get my shirt off again, huh?"
Joseph stood up and sneaked around his now-blinded significant other. "What, like I mind the view? You know, I seem to remember you being in this situation before, you haven't improved much since then."
Scott followed his voice and tackled him back to the bed as soon as he moved to just the right place. "Give 'em up, Joe," he snickered.
"Or what, you'll take my shirt off?" Joseph retorted. Nevertheless, he took Scott's hand and gave him his shades.
"You'd like it too much," Scott insisted, putting his glasses back on.
Joseph merely grinned and wrapped his arms around Scott's back. "I like this too much."
"I'm not dignifying that with a response," Scott smirked and kept him pinned. "And frankly, I'm getting sick of being the one that always loses his clothes. I need some reason to keep my eye open."
"But I'd much rather look at you, you're the muscle in this relationship, I'm just the brains."
"You know," Scott pondered, "I just realized my door isn't locked, and the idea of someone walking in right now is almost as scary as the idea of you having a brain."
Rather then making some sort of comeback, Joseph raised a hand from Scott's back, and the sound of a lock turning reached their ears. "Not so scary anymore, is it?"
"No," Scott answered him, his voice lower.
Joseph didn't say anything back this time, and Scott held the silence.
"Why do I know you're looking me in the eye?" Joseph wondered.
Scott didn't budge. "You want the long, dramatic answer, or the easy one?"
"The easy one," he said back.
"Because I am."
Joseph pulled him closer, and Scott kissed him. They both closed their eyes just in time to miss Kitty's head phasing through the wall again. They also missed her hand phasing through so she could bite down on it and keep from saying something before she vanished back into the next room.
Scott didn't even come up for air, he went right down to Joseph's neck. His eyes shot open when he realized his belt was coming undone a second later.
Except this time, he'd caught a glimpse of Kitty's head coming through the wall. At least, he thought he did; a part of him refused to believe that she was... nah. She couldn't. She wouldn't. But it did the job of bringing him back to reality.
"Scott... stop."
---
Pietro wondered how he'd ended up an innocent bystander in this... situation. It was really quite a horrible situation.
It was all Jean's fault. The girl just wasn't innocent when she didn't want to be, the Bayville Sirens had certainly proved that. Her innocence, apparently, tended to wane only in certain situations: when someone needed a discreet kind of help, when there was gossip interesting enough to warrant being nosy, and when she wanted to see how someone she cared about was doing.
The problem here was that this scene of horror classified itself under not only the second, but the third of those conditions as well. Pietro hadn't wanted to know why Jean had barged into his room with Kitty on her heals. He hadn't wanted to know why she'd been so into her mindset that she didn't notice him for several seconds.
Of course, he had told her he didn't mind the use of his room. That had been his big mistake.
And then Kitty had said, "Like, I can't believe I'm doing this."
It was around that time that Pietro had noticed Jean was holding an ear to the wall.
"So why are we like, in this room?"
"So we could spy on people," Jean shrugged.
"Like, Jean, when'd you get interested in gossip?" Kitty blinked.
Jean's lips curved into a smile of pure evil. "Since the gossip was this juicy."
Spurred on by this, Kitty proceeded to stick her head through the wall. Two seconds later, she pulled back and looked Jean with such huge eyes that Pietro thought they would explode.
However, that was the only amount of questioning Jean received from her. Because the telekinetic was right; this was juicy gossip, and Kitty promptly resumed her blatant invasion of privacy.
Again, it wasn't long before she pulled back, and this time with a report. "Whoa-ho, like, Scott's shirt just came off!"
"And?" Jean encouraged after a second.
Pietro almost went into cardiac arrest. "Ohhmygaawwwwwd..." Kitty went back, and Pietro proceeded to cover his ears. "I'm not hearing this..."
"Someone's belt just got out of the way," was Kitty's next bit of information.
Jean became distracted when Pietro, his ears still covered and his eyes now closed, started shouting something along the lines of "Laaaa la la lalalala la la lalalalalaaaaaaaa!"
Kitty went back but came out instantly this time. "Oops... I think I got, like, busted..."
Jean's face fell. It fell more when Pietro, who truly couldn't hear her words anymore, only that she was talking, assumed the worst and kept his mantra up. "I'm not hearing this LA LA LAAAAALALALALAAAALA!"
Jean forced his jaws shut, prompting Pietro to start hopping around, pulling at his chin and mumbling things that, fortunately, were inaudible.
"Um, Jean," Kitty piped up, "Shouldn't we like, run?"
"Good idea!"
Pietro watched Jean take hold of Kitty's arm as they walked into the closet on the opposite wall, phasing out through the other side.
Jabbing his finger rather uselessly at that closet, Pietro felt Jean's telekinesis let go and shouted the first thing that came to mind. "You guys are sick, you know that!"
And from the wall Kitty had been sticking her head through came a thump, and then Scott's muffled voice. "Mind your own damn business, Maximoff!"
Oops, maybe I should've said 'girls.'
He stood there for a few seconds, staring blankly at the wall, at a total loss while he struggled to process the sheer absurdity of what had just happened. "Of all the mansions in the world, I have to move into the one where the adults are Nazi teachers, every single TV has a V-Chip, and closets are used in very disturbing ways."
Pietro's face fell. It was just too much.
So he decided to go running. And he ran away very quickly.
---
Scott felt like his fist was stuck to the wall. Pietro's shouting had been a... convenient distraction, despite the fact that they hadn't even been making any noise he could have heard. Pietro making no sense whatsoever wasn't knew.
But now, the distraction was over. And he had no idea what to say. Joseph hadn't moved, and Scott had only done so because staying on top of him would've been more then a little awkward.
"Is he always that strange?"
"You got me, he's been living here about as long as you've been..."
He didn't want to admit it, but Scott was glad Joseph had said something first. He hadn't had a clue what to say, short of begging for forgiveness for going too far. Again.
Not that anything was resolved. "Hey Scott?"
"Yeah?"
Joseph still didn't move. "Are you mad at me?"
"Are you kidding?" Scott responded, his mouth giving off the rather sudden thought before he realized it. "Why would I be? Joe, we seem to be going in circles here, I cross a line and then you hate yourself for it. Can we stop that?"
"Some guys would be happy if their boyfriend kept all the emotional baggage for themselves," Joseph laughed, finally sitting up. His face turned neutral again after a few seconds. "You know, you're not the only hormonally driven teenage male in this room, but..."
"But?" Scott prodded.
"Hey, that's it, isn't it?" Joseph smiled all of a sudden, leaving quite a cliffhanger.
"But what?" Scott demanded, his demeanor turning a bit incredulous..
And Joseph took great pleasure in completely ignoring it. "Promise not to get mad at me when I say this?"
"The fact that you said that worries me to no end," Scott gave up and pretended to think about it, "so, no."
"Very funny," the other deadpanned. "I'm going to say it anyway; you can't stand losing control of yourself."
"I can too!" Scott huffed, vaguely kicking at the floor before his face fell in resignation. "Okay, so I can't."
"Yeah, I know the feeling...
"I kind of... left something out, played on words... well, blatantly lied."
"Huh?" Scott blinked behind his glasses, unprepared for the sudden, apparent topic change. Off hand, he couldn't even remember anything Joseph could've lied about.
"Remember, I said I hadn't had a relationship before? I kind of... have. Sort of."
"Oh," Scott answered.
"More then once, actually..."
"Oh," Scott answered. He'd actually been expecting much worse, and he couldn't help but find Joe's worry to be amusing. "So?"
"Uh, it gets better," Joseph stared at the wall rather suddenly. "I've kinda been... where we were about to go... before. Quite a few times, actually..."
That caught Scott off guard. "Oh."
"Would you shut up and at least get mad already?" Joseph snapped, the repetition getting on his nerves before he realized it. "Sorry..."
"Well, look on the bright side," Scott answered. He wasn't mad at all, he honestly didn't wonder what the big deal was, Joseph's past was his own business as far as he was concerned. But he wasn't about to get into a morale debate on the issue of talking about sex. "You've single handedly doubled my ego with the idea that I'm just special enough to warrant waiting until the right time."
"Oh, what have I done," Joseph smiled. "You'd be surprised how important the 'right time' is when you've never had anything besides a few, ah, purely physical relationships."
"I won't ask," Scott deadpanned.
---
"So, like, a lot of the functions here were way off, but I fixed those up, and then some of those, like, variables that have to do with his armor made no sense but I fixed those too and didn't touch the actual blocks of data cause I, like, suck in Science and I have no idea what they mean... but I think it'll like, work now!"
"Tired. Sleep." Mr. Sinister's head rose an inch from the table, and went back down for a moment before he shot into conciousness. "It's fixed? It took me three months to write what I had and you fixed it... in one morning?"
"Basically," Kitty looked at the ceiling, lost in thought, "like, yeah!"
"And you say you're not the best in your class?"
Kitty just shrugged, smiled and walked away
Forge rubbed at his eyes, having long fallen asleep from boredom. Then he sniffed the air, not unlike Logan would do. "Is that... food?"
Sinister hadn't noticed, but Beast had come back, and had done them a rather genourous favor by bringing their lunch to them. "Yes, I thought you both would like some measure of sustenance after your..."
"Gimmie!"
Before Beast's eyes, Forge almost tackled him. To be more precise, he tackled the tray easily balanced on one hand. Eagerly grabbing one of the very large plates and a fork, Forge almost leapt back to his workbench and dug in.
Sinister, on the other hand, was content to let Beast set his plate on a nearby table as he planted himself in his chair and turned the monitor to his main workstation back on. "It works! Now all I need is a larger search area..."
"Oh, I already took care of that," Hank mentioned. "You should find that there is a GPS sattelite over this hemisphere that is... ready and willing to provide its assistance."
"Really? I need a few more PhDs, you people are humbling me at every turn. Now, lessie," the scientist tapped a few keys, changing the display before he grabbed the comm. unit Xavier had given him. "He's in Idaho. It really is that simple... what could he possibly want there..."
"Maybe he likes potatoes," Forge shrugged.
"Hmm, a reasonably well populated area as well," Hank looked at the display over Sinister's shoulder. "It would seem I'm sitting this one out."
"Well at least everyone here'll have some adult supervision," Sinister chuckled. He fished around his desk for a sizable PDA and, checking the remote link between it and the desktop system, bolted out of his chair and the room.
Two seconds later, he ran back into the machine shop. "Oh hey, Forge, did you finish it?"
"Did I finish, he asks," Forge grinned. The mechanic flung a sheet off of the table and grabbed for the object he had made in the night, tossing it to Sinister.
"Genius, Forge. Genius," Sinister slipped it under his belt at the small of his back, hidden beneath his coat.
---
Another conversation was progressing while Sinister made his way out. The Blackbird served as a backdrop for Cyclops and Professor X.
"This isn't going to be the easiest of situations, Scott."
"Yeah, tell me about it, Professor," Scott chuckled, absent-mindedly rubbing a spot on his side that was still sore from his... encounter with Apocalypse. "Mr. McCoy isn't coming this time, I guess?"
"No, the area has too many people and we want to keep a low profile, hence why you're foregoing the uniforms this time," Charles steepled his fingers and sighed. "And you're probably going to want to kill me for this, but I'm afraid Mr. Sinister is going with you."
"Mister Who?" Scott blinked.
Making a face, Xavier answered, "I'm sorry, you haven't met him yet... you will shortly, obviously. It might be more appropriate to say you're going with him rather then vice-versa, though truthfully, I haven't figured out if I refuse to let him go alone because I don't trust him or because I don't trust him to not get killed."
"What's the team?"
"Yourself, Kurt, Kitty and Pietro."
"Quicksilver?" Scott's face fell before he could catch himself from sounding dismayed.
"I realize you're not thrilled with his presence here, Scott, but he's... been through a lot. I hope you'll give him the benefit of the doubt."
"Yeah, I still don't trust him," Scott concluded.
Five seconds later, the far door opened and Pietro ran into the room, zoomed around Scott a few times to annoy him, and stopped on a dime between the two. "Your mondo extraordinary supercalifragolisticexpialidocious Quicksilver has arrived. Thank you."
Pietro took a bow. Scott almost shot an 'I'm-developing-a-sudden-headache' look to Xavier, but he looked Pietro over instead. "Pietro?"
"Yeah?"
"No uniforms," Cyclops told him, mustering the blandest voice he could.
Blinking a few times, Quicksilver looked down at his homemade, streamlined, silver uniform he opted to wear rather then the standard X-Men black. The thought of Lance in one of those things had been too much. "Oh. Oops."
With that, he zoomed out again.
"Professor," Scott begged through gritted teeth. Xavier chuckled under his breath as, in the meantime, Quicksilver again blazed into the hanger and, this time leaving after-images of his preferred normal clothes, dashed right into the jet.
The unmistakable sound of Kurt teleporting in behind him prompted Scott to turn around. He wasn't entirely sure his visor hadn't suddenly gone off the deep end. The scientist with his hand on Kurt's shoulder was just that bad.
Mr. Sinister didn't look amused. "I hope you appreciate this."
"I hope you will."
"Just remember, my friend," the clown held up a finger, "I warned you that this was a bad idea, it's not my fault if they don't come back alive."
Kurt scratched his head as he watched the oddball climb into the jet. "He's kinda pessimistic."
Scott was too busy paying attention to the scientist as he entered the jet. He could swear the sparkle of red under his coat was... no, it couldn't have been. But it was food for thought, filling enough for Scott to barely register Kitty phasing through the wall and into the jet.
---
"Why is he on a college campus in Idaho?" Scott asked, still slightly miffed that Mr. Sinister had blatantly stolen the pilot's seat from him.
"If I knew, I'd say," the scientist answered, keeping one hand on the controls and looking at his PDA with the other, the small moving dot almost having a hypnotic effect. "I haven't said 'cause I don't know."
"And why are we following him there?"
"I need a sample of his DNA to help your friend," Sinister answered, shoving his little computer back into his pocket. "Which means, basically, I knock him down, you all hold him down, I shove a needle in his head. Cranial fluid would be nice too, but not the top priority."
Scott wasn't going to pretend that he cared for Mr. Sinister's attitude after the short while he'd already spent... in his presence as they flew for their destination. Quicksilver, on the other hand, didn't really care about such things. "SohowlongtillwegettherealreadyI'mgettingimpatientIcould'verantherefaster!"
"Quicksilver, stop complaining," Kurt chided him, "just enjoy the ride, we might all be bruised and broken for the trip home."
"Like, yeah," Kitty chuckled, "listen to Nightcrawler, if you're gonna get sick like Lance you better like, do it now!"
"No codenames this trip, guys," Scott called back, taking the moment to replace his shades with his visor. Kurt flipped on his image inducer.
"A guy wearing a big Star Trek prop, me, and another guy in blue armor, yeah, we'll be real inconspicuous," Mr. Sinister added.
"Can we try to be a little optimistic, here," Scott insisted, getting more then a little annoyed every time the scientist insisted on smashing morale somehow.
Mr. Sinister merely chuckled.
---
Jerry wasn't quite used to his new job yet. It was boring, as most jobs were, but at least it was on campus. Still, he never imagined himself as a security guard, least of all, a security guard a museum, certainly not the weapons and armor museum at his college.
But it was work, and it wasn't really hard work. Jerry doubted anyone would ever steal anything from this place, as cool as some of the weapons were.
But that didn't mean he should slack off. Least of all when he heard a clanging noise in one of the storage closets. So Jerry did the logical thing and checked it out.
Unfortunately, he had no idea that the supposed intruder was not only real, but baiting him as well. He opened the door, and never saw it coming when a very large man in a trench coat grabbed him, pulled him into the closet, and snapped his neck.
"Such a delightful waste of human life," Apocalypse commented to himself as he tossed the corpse to the closet's wall and shut the door, his eyes starting to scan over the various bladed weapons in the gallery.
And then a poof of smoke in one of the doorways heralded Kurt's arrival, with Scott holding onto his shoulder.
Kurt vanished and reappeared a second later, this time with Kitty and Pietro in front of a display case. He teleported away once more, and Apocalypse turned around when he heard the mutant bamf in behind him... with Mr. Sinister.
The immortal smiled, looking right at the scientist. "Well, well, well. Long time no mind-read, Mr. Essex."
"No, you killed Essex," Sinister growled, "after your burnt his face off. What are you after now? Caesar's DNA on a bloody sword?"
Cyclops' eyes went wide behind his visor, and the others didn't make a move. He vaguely thought that he would've liked to have been informed the clown and the crazy knew each other. This certainly changed a few things; old grudges were dangerous in combat, and Sinister sounded like he had one to the point of calling it a blood oath.
"Oh, something far better," Apocalypse answered, his human disguise giving way to blue skin and shining armor under his coat. He turned and glanced around at the mutants surrounding him. "I suppose you think you're all going to stop me. Hmm... no."
Not even bothering to look, Apocalypse raised an arm to one side. For a second, the sound of his armor changing resonated from under his sleeve, but after that, a blast that Scott remembered well shot out in Kurt's direction.
Kurt, however, had quicker reflexes, and he 'ported away just in time. Mr. Sinister didn't budge, even when the display case behind him shattered. "That's called vandalism."
"Is it now?" Apocalypse chuckled, "I'll show you vandalism!"
This time, something else came from the immortal's arm; with a sound like that of a sword being drawn, a long, gray-metal tendril shot out from the bottom of his wrist. The appendage curled around a bit and then lashed out toward the scientist while the X-Men watched, fascinated and horrified at the same time. Scott almost wished Joseph had come, his powers probably could've stopped that, at least.
That wish didn't last when Mr. Sinister dashed away and the tendril made a hole in the wall like it was piercing butter. But the scientist was proving to be far more then a nerd; he went right for Apocalypse and, reaching him, grabbed for something at his belt.
Sinister had been carrying nunchucks at his back, covered by his coat, and he gladly attacked his target with it. The weapon was made of metal, but the ends were tipped with something red; something unmistakable.
Mr. Sinister was wielding Gems of Cytorrak. And when one of those ends hit Apocalypse head on, there was a small flash of light and a grunt of actual, true pain from the armored warrior as he staggered back.
Sinister pressed his attack, the grace and style he displayed showing that he obviously knew how to fight. Apocalypse was humbled every time he landed a blow, until his back hit the wall. But it wasn't to last. Now over the surprise, Apocalypse reached an arm out and blocked the next blow, before shoving Sinister to the floor and halfway across the room with a simple push.
"I'm not even going to ask where you found those," he bellowed, stomping toward his enemy. The smash of an optic blast from Scott against his side caught his attention, and he turned.
Scott blasted him again, still with no effect.
"We've been here before, boy," Apocalypse intoned. "And you don't have your friend to grab me this time."
"Who says I need her?" Scott fired one more time, catching Apocalypse completely off guard. For all his bravado, he had one small weak point, and Scott had figured it out. The immortal jumped back when the beam hit him square in the eyes and, while it didn't hurt, the light was more then enough to blind him for the moment.
Sinister took the opportunity to spring off his feet and dive at him, planting the ends of his weapon into the much larger man's temple.
Apocalypse didn't only fall, he actually bled where the scientist had slammed him. "Hold him down! Hold him down!"
Apocalypse was not amused, and it was obvious that he would have already pushed Mr. Sinister away if he hadn't been trying to reach a hand around to rub at his eyes. Upon seeing the geneticist, small and frail compared to the massive armored warrior, attempting to hold down his query while grabbing a somewhat large syringe from his pocket, Scott and Pietro dashed over and held down one his arms. Once Kitty got her hands on the lashing tendril, she forced it to phase through the others when it whipped around at them, carrying her along for the ride.
Kitty went through another display and then the wall when she lost her grip. But Mr. Sinister had already pulled the cap from his syringe and jammed his needle into his "patient's" jugular; he was getting blood already. With his other hand he managed to, with uncanny precision, shove another needle, made of adamantium, into Apocalypse's head and get the clear cranial fluid he'd wanted.
Apocalypse was still far from amused. Coming down from his anger high and thinking rationally again, he flung the children off his arm and wrapped the tendril around Sinister's ankle. Before the scientist went flying, however, he'd managed to get what he needed. The needles broke off the syringes, he'd had to yank them so fast, but he didn't care. The liquids inside were all he needed, and he promptly shoved the capsules into a small metal case for protection before they went into his pocket.
That accomplished, he held his weapon in a defensive stance while Apocalypse stood, a bit miffed as if the entire experience had been more embarrassing then painful. Plucking the metal from his skin and tossing it away without a care, he looked around once more.
Completely ignoring the X-Men, Apocalypse let his eyes wander over the scattered exhibits, paying special attention to the swords. Before long, his eyes lit up and he strode toward a pile of relics that had been knocked down.
And then Kitty phased halfway through the wall, grabbed the sword he was reaching for, stuck her tongue out at him, and phased back.
"You bitch!" Apocalypse shouted. Enraged, he ran into the wall and knocked it over rather then teleport to the other side. Having not expected that, Kitty stared at him from the other room, the heavy blade swung over her shoulder.
"Like, bad idea..."
"I'll say," Apocalypse snarled, his nostrils flaring as he stalked toward her. He raised his other arm and another tendril shot into the air, curled around itself and hurled at Kitty. So caught off guard at being attacked by such a bizarre weapon, Kitty completely forgot that she could let it pass through her and, dropping the heavy sword, dived out of the way.
The metal whip lashed out and crashed into another display instead of her face, scattering even more ancient weapons around and knocking over an Egyptian sarcophagus they had been sorted around.
And then Kurt 'ported over to it, put a hand on the blade, smiled, called out, "thanks!" and bamfed away with the weapon.
"Mutants," Apocalypse grunted in frustration. Kurt hadn't gone far, back to the others, and Apocalypse fully intended to get the item he'd come for. "Foolish mortals..."
Rather then running after them again, Apocalypse turned and stared intently. He concentrated... and then he blinked before shouting around to the air. "That's a clever trick, Xavier! You've gotten better since last time!"
Sinister took note of the fact that Apocalypse had limits after all; had the immortal's telepathy been absolute, he would have known that Professor Xavier was halfway across the country at the Institute, using technology to augment his powers and provide a block.
Taking the chance to toss a few remarks, Pietro dashed around their opponent a few times. "What, can't fight like a man?" He dashed a few steps away when Apocalypse tried to blast him. "Too much mind for your own good, Braniac?"
"Too much indeed, Rodent," Apocalypse glared, "something you certainly wouldn't have experience in."
But he didn't move. Pietro, a cocky grin on his face as always, decided to try and stare him down.
He didn't see the metal appendage that Apocalypse controlled slithering on the floor, still laid out. Without a sound to tip the speed demon off, the tendril flew into the air and wrapped around Pietro, bounding his arms and legs and pulling him to Apocalypse
Pietro opened his mouth to say something, but everything happened so fast, even for him, that he couldn't get a word out. When he finally remembered to inhale, Apocalypse had released his appendage and wrapped a massive, armored hand around the speed demon's throat.
Pietro froze, his face no more then an inch from his captor's, Apocalypse holding his shorter form up off of the ground and staring unblinkingly, almost burning holes in the mutant's retinas.
"Hmmm. If I see fear in your eyes, I wonder what you see in mine. This will be interesting."
Pietro grabbed at his arm and struggled, trying desperately to breath, but Apocalypse merely held him off to the side, squeezing harder as he looked up and surveyed the scene. Kurt looked like he was about to teleport and bamf the speed demon away. Kitty was still, waiting for an opportunity to do something. Sinister's footfalls gave away that he was coming up from behind.
So Apocalypse broke into a run, and he ran so fast it was as if he'd somehow stolen Quicksilver's powers. A dust cloud flew up behind his heels, the metal thundering off the floor in rapid succession.
None of the X-Men saw it coming, least of all Scott. Apocalypse decided that Pietro had quite the gift; Scott was either so surprised or so caught off guard he was nowhere near close to letting off a shot by the time the much larger man swung his fist.
The others watched in horror as that fist connected, not only with the strength of an immortal but with Quicksilver's speed. The blow sent Scott flying into the wall with near-bone-crunching force, so hard that he left a human-shaped impression and webbing cracks in it when he dropped to the floor.
Not about to slow down, Apocalypse drew his arm back and tossed Pietro into Kurt. And Kurt went down, so surprised at the turn of events that he didn't even think to teleport, the two of them creating a tangle. Pietro was quick to throw Kurt away, grabbing at his throat and gulping down air, only to cough it out.
Sinister ran for him again, but Apocalypse teleported away just after his tendrils retracted with unnerving speed. He materialized over his weapon. This time, there was no one to take it save Apocalypse himself. He extended his arm and the tendril shot out once more, wrapping around the relic faster then he could have reached with his hand. It pulled back, and Apocalypse caught his treasure perfectly by the handle.
"Now... I'll have some fun."
The armored warrior vanished in his light again and ended up back in the other room, behind Mr, Sinister. But Sinister was already too smart for that, and he spun on his heels, ready to strike.
Apocalypse didn't move for him just yet, and it wasn't long for his reasoning to show. More segments of metal like his armor clattered into existence out of thin air, around his newfound weapon. The metal curled around the handle and made it longer, while more shaped around the blade in an elongated "A," protecting the old, fragile metal and creating ultra-sharp edges.
Sinister took a defensive stance, but Apocalypse didn't attack him. Instead, he tipped the sword to his side and touched it to the Egyptian sarcophagus that had been knocked over earlier. Without warning, the sword began glowing with an orange light, something completely different then anything Apocalypse did, but extraordinary in itself. The light flowed down the blade and formed an aura around the ancient coffin, eventually fading into it.
The battleground hung in dead silence, with Apocalypse patiently waiting for the results of whatever he'd just done, and the X-Men anticipating those same results.
"I wasn't expecting 'The Mummy Returns Again,'" Kurt commented, staying perfectly still otherwise.
Apocalypse didn't respond. But he watched as a transparent, ghostly hand reached through the old casket's front, dropping down and pulling the form within up through. The figure was that of a small child, apparently a little boy, cloaked in a robe that was too long for his height.
"Hi," he said, in an extraordinarily innocent voice. His mouth was barely visible under the heavy shadowing robes and hood.
"War, say hello to them in your... usual fashion," Apocalypse smiled, moving the sword to his other hand.
Without another word, the child, War, clapped his hands above his head.
And the scattered spears, swords, daggers and other pointed weapons all across the floor suddenly rose into the air, the sharp ones pointing at everyone in the room save the translucent child and Apocalypse.
Mr. Sinister analyzed the situation and came to a rational scientific conclusion. "Well, this sucks!"
And then the weapons shot for their targets. Sinister thought he could smash them all away with his 'chucks, but that lasted for two wooden spears before he started ducking and dodging around the heavy metal. Kurt teleported around the rooms, but not before an axe put a cut down his forearm that he didn't even notice at the moment. Kitty started phasing and was perfectly content to let everything go through her.
And Scott, his breathing ragged, one hand glued to his side with the other at his visor, started blasting. When that proved to be futile as the weapons that survived his optic beams rose into the air again, he turned his attention elsewhere and blasted War.
The ghost child hit the wall much like Scott himself had, and he briefly wondered how something apparently immaterial could thud. And then Scott shot him again just to be on the safe side. It apparently broke War's concentration, because the flying swords dropped to the floor.
And Apocalypse… chuckled. "I have what I came for."
"I'm tired," War added, still no hint of any real emotion in his childish voice, nothing more then a yawn.
With that, the immortal reared his sword up and spun on his heels, smashing it into the wall. The blade hit so precisely that a large, gaping hole tore out instead of a simple slice, and Apocalypse ducked through it and around the corner after taking a moment to deliver a mocking bow to his enemies War simply walked after him.
Kurt wanted to go after them, but Sinister grabbed his arm before he made a move. "Let them go, we've gotten what we came... for... too?"
The scientist felt wetness on his hand, and Kurt jumped when he brought it up and they both saw why.
The top of Kurt's forearm had a clean, perfect slice right up through the glove and his skin to the elbow; not very deep, but large and still bleeding. His fur staining red was a far more grotesque sight then it should have been. Thinking for the short term, Kurt pulled off his other, intact glove and wrapped it around as much of the wound as possible.
Meanwhile, terrified for Scott's health, Pietro and Kitty tried to ease him up on their shoulders. Unfortunately, Scott, blood starting to dribble from his mouth, was in too much pain to think rationally and the two of them were on a mindset of getting him help as soon as possible.
Mr. Sinister, on the other hand, figured that Apocalypse had probably broken a few of Scott's ribs in a bad way, to say nothing of his back slamming the wall. And if he was bleeding from the mouth, he probably had a punctured lung from his own ribs. Sinister realized, upon seeing the situation, that immediately moving Scott was not the best idea, and he was rather adamant about how to handle it. "Jesusfuckingchristdon'tmovehim!"
A group teleport by Kurt to the X-Jet and five minutes later, the battered mutants were on their way home. Kurt and Kitty laid Scott on the floor, an oxygen mask to help him breath the only thing on the plane they could use to help him for now. Pietro was starting to feel the effects of his near strangulation, and his voice was gone, while Kurt had at least managed to stop his own injury from bleeding.
"I told him I should've went alone," Sinister mumbled to himself, pushing the jet's engines harder then most would dare. He flipped on the auto pilot and got up, preparing to... assess the damage.
---
"I can not believe..."
Sinister did not appreciate being yelled at. "Don't you go blaming things on me!"
"Blaming things on you? You are Blame you sorry excuse for a-" Scott tried to get out.
"Shut the fuck up, are you pissed 'cause you got hammered? Is that it? Do you have any idea how long it would've taken me to help your friend without his blood? I think I deserve some consider... ation... here..."
Crumpling to the floor in the middle of his sentence, Mr. Sinister fell asleep.
And Beast stood behind him, an empty syringe in his hand. His face changed from annoyance to relief.
"Eh heh, thanks Mr. McCoy," Scott scratched his head, or tried to before moving his arm reminded him of his injuries. He was still having trouble breathing, feeling his broken ribs every time he dared inhale. And his tongue hurt, it was a miracle he could talk normally. Kurt had to pull to make sure he wouldn't fall off his shoulder. "Guess we kinda got... over... worked..."
"Woah!" Kurt cried, Scott no longer trying to support himself and slipping from his grasp. He pulled the now-unconscious mutant back up to notice another syringe in his other arm, a syringe that carefully floated out and back to Jean a few feet away.
"I think they both need rest," an innocent-sounding Jean answered. "Besides, all we need is Scott to go ranting while we diagnose him. Someone really should tell him testosterone isn't an elixir. Kurt, did you figure anything out on the way back?"
With Beast grabbing Scott's legs to help Nightcrawler bring him to the nearest bed, he answered, "Um... he didn't let Mr. S get very far patting him down, but he said Scott had broken ribs and... we thought he was bleeding internally, but it looks like he just bit his tongue instead of coughing blood up."
"That's gonna kill him, no Danger Room sessions for awhile," Jean sighed; though she felt a serious concern. "I thought only Lance would ever get Scott to shout at the top of his lungs, let alone stand, with injuries like that."
Kurt didn't help the mood, rather glumly saying, "It gets better."
The furry mutant bamfed away, coming back a second later with Pietro hanging onto him.
Jean's eyes went wide. "What the Hell!"
Scott had serious injuries, but at least he looked like he would live. On the other hand, Pietro had red around his eyes and a huge, vaguely hand shaped bruise around his neck. He simply shrugged at Jean's comment, his voice totally gone.
Kurt wasn't even going to mention his own bandaged arm until the more serious injuries were taken care of.
Mr. Sinister started snoring on the floor.
---
You know, this chapter is a lot shorter then it was going to be. It was originally about… fifty pages but... well, I certainly don't have an attention span for that. Nothing's cut though, just saved for later...
The ref list:
For those of you that don't watch Star Trek, Counselor Troi is, aside from Captain Obvious, an empath who can read emotions.
If you didn't catch Scott swiping Wolverine's lines from the movie... well, go watch it again. 8P To tell you the truth, the only reason Scott is losing his shirt more then Captain Kirk is so I could work that in.
Sinister's line about not saying because he's not knowing is inspired by a line from Babylon 5.
Joseph's line about Scott not improving since being in the same situation is vaguely based on a line from Cowboy Bebop. I actually have the episode it's from (I love boxed sets,) but I'm too lazy to get up and put the DVD in to get it word for word at the moment.
Apoc's line, "Such a delightful waste of human life," is from Lexx.
Kurt's "The Mummy Returns Again" line is reffing Julia's Apocalypse fic, The Beginning and the End. You know, that one I told you to go read?
War's character design is based off of the Bahamut Fayth in Final Fantasy X.