Disc: I still don't own X-Men: Evolution, and I'd be damned if I were making money off of this. Considering I don't see any hellfire and brimstone around, I would say that I'm not profiting.
Yes, you are reading correctly, this chapter is finished. Now, if we're really lucky, part 4 won't take several MORE months.
Oh, something I forgot to mention. I said in like, part 1's notes that this fic starts after "The HeX Factor," but at the time I'd decided that, it hadn't occurred to me that Mystique has been Xavier ever since then. Since there's no concrete evidence to support it without "Day of Reckoning" (Mystique saying she has 'unfinished business' means absolutely nothing without the actual plot twist to back it up) you can safely assume I have no plans on suddenly revealing Xavier to be Mystique. I figured it's better to say that now in case anyone's expecting it so you won't be let down.
Walpurgis Night
III. Spread, Inferno
by Alhazred
madarab20@hotmail.com
Gummed up brain dead and can't decide
You can't pray enough you can't hide
You can be cool or you can cry
Do it wrong, not at all, or do it right
No one owes you no one's to blame
Save for bad dreams or DNA
Ask your conscience why and how
Do it then, do it when, but do it now
What's up (What's up)
Sweet cakes? (Sweet cakes?)
Who's hip! (Who's hip!) Anyway? (Anyway?)
Earthgirls (earthgirls) are easy (are easy)
Whatcha gonna do little buckaroo?
(Hey you better ask her nice!)
Hey all you gotta do happy fool, is ask your mom
No we all can't be Superfly
GQ-PHD-FBI
You can pretend or you can try
Move ahead, lay down dead, or slip on by
When the truth seems so far away
Buddha loves you, Jesus saves
You need answers for your dismay
Ask yourself, ask your mom, ask DNA
What's up (What's up)
Sweet cakes? (Sweet cakes?)
Who's hip! (Who's hip!) Anyway? (Anyway?)
Earthgirls (earthgirls) are easy (are easy)
Whatcha gonna do little buckaroo?
(Hey you better ask her nice!)
Hey all you gotta do happy fool, is ask your mom
~~~Ask DNA, by The Seatbelts
---
"My dear friend," Hank pleaded, "while everyone appreciates the lengths you seem willing to go to in order to help Rogue... it is three-o'clock in the morning."
Not looking away from the computer screen, Mr. Sinister restrained himself from laughing out loud. I told them I just want Apocalypse and now they're starting to think I care. How sweet. Oh well... who am I to complain, when they just care if it gets done?
"Yes, and I haven't even finished the DNA analysis yet," he finally said, debating whether or not to truly enlighten Beast on his... slightly less amount of morals then most people. They would find out if he ever had reason to work on something other then Apocalypse. "Come to think of it, I've ran it through twice and the damn thing won't analyze, something's up..."
"Have you ruled out equipment failure?" Beast decided that was a less insulting question then 'maybe something's broken?'
"Of course," Sinister answered, his mind starting to wander with different possibilities.
"Then perhaps you are going about it in the wrong way," Beast replied. "If Apocalypse is so extraordinary, perhaps his DNA is something different then what we understand as the norm?"
"You know," Mr. S snapped his fingers, and started rummaging around on the desk for a floppy disk. "You're absolutely right! I've got something around here from an old colleague of mine I kept in touch with, supposed to read the more useless data without going through the detailed analysis... assuming it works."
Upon finding the disc, Sinister shoved the little piece of plastic into the drive, shut down the normal program and opened the new one. "Now let's see, should only take a few seconds."
He spun in his chair to face Beast. "So, what are you still doing up?"
"It's my turn to wait for a phone call from our friends that are currently in the city." Scratching his head, Beast went on. "There's a bit of a chance they won't be calling at reasonable hours, and there are two patients in the Infirmary to watch over, so there is a certain logic in remaining conscious."
Sinister tilted his head. "Hank, you're weird. And I don't mean the fur. Why are they in the city?"
"Ah, one of our students, well, his parents were recently in a car accident and he and his aunt have been at the hospital with them."
"Oh, so that's why the Weather Witch I heard about isn't here?" Sinister raised an eyebrow.
"I confess," Beast regarded him with some semblance of suspicion, "that I would like to know how you obtained your information on us, but yes, that is why."
After grinning for a moment, Dr. McCoy tilted his own head to see past the clown. "It appears your task is complete."
Spinning around back to the monitor, Sinister typed at a few keys and engrossed himself in the data while Beast looked over his shoulder. "Let's see... I knew that, I knew that too, this is way too normal so far."
"Woahhhh," Sinister exclaimed, finally catching the abnormality he was looking for in the mass of information, an abnormality that was deceptively subtle. "Why are the chromosomes so huge! That's... that's..."
"I don't quite follow," Beast answered, trying to pick out the bit of information that was so important.
"That's not possible," Sinister added as an answer. "Look at this, their... how the hell does he have DNA where the chromosomes are a third larger then anything else on the planet? Unless..."
Quickly closing down the program, Sinister went back to the one he had tried before and set it for a different kind of work. With this new variable, he was confident that he could finally get the analysis, but he wasn't interested in taking another few hours to do that right now.
He wanted to see the chemical makeup. Of course, for his purposes, 'seeing' the DNA strand was about as useful as Rogue was in her coma, but he wanted to confirm his suspicion. The program was capable of putting together visuals based on how the various compounds that made up the strand were organized, much easier then using real magnification.
When the picture came up, his hands fell right from the keyboard and just hung past the chair. The clown vaguely kicked his chair back a few inches, but he didn't move otherwise. He couldn't move, and somewhere in his mind he vaguely registered that he was starting to drool.
"Fascinating," Beast commented, the revelation not lost on him at all.
Mr. Sinister reached over to the table, turned the centrifuge off, pulled the blood sample out with dangerously shaking fingers... and just stared through it. It was almost beyond his comprehension.
---
Scott awoke that morning to the sound of the Infirmary's heavy doors sliding open. "Mornin' Mr. McCoy."
"Hmmm," Beast stalked over, a droopy look on his face. It almost seemed like the fur itself under his eyes had turned black.
Scott blinked behind his glasses. "Didn't sleep well?"
"Didn't sleep at all," the furry mutant threw an exhausted smile. "We were up until three-AM trying to figure out that blood sample you brought back, and then, well, did you know Apocalypse has triple-helix DNA? It's really quite fascinating; well worth the sacrifice of a night's slumber. The protein analysis alone took two-and-a-half hours."
"Okay," Scott nodded, trying to sound like he'd understood at least a word of it. He decided, however, that there wasn't anything better to talk about. "What's so special about a triple-helix?"
"Nothing has one, my friend," Beast raised a finger. "Until now. My esteemed colleague Mr. Sinister seems to think the extra helix is an artificial addition to normal human DNA. It would certainly explain our dear blue friend's proficiency with his armor."
"Uh, Mr. McCoy," Scott decided to change the subject a little. If he ever saw that rather hard-hitting armor again, it would be too soon. "Can I ask a question?"
"Of course."
"How badly am I injured?" He wasn't entirely sure himself, but he wasn't having as hard a time breathing anymore. Still, whoever was sitting on his chest needed to get off.
"Hmmm, well, if I remember correctly," Beast scratched his head and looked over the papers on the table just to be sure. "You have six broken ribs. And two are fractured in more then one place."
Beast couldn't really tell if Scott was staring at him or actually blinking. The younger mutant's response was rather loud. "What?"
"You have-"
Scott sat up and cut him off, regretting it immediately. "He only hit me once!"
Beast pushed his glasses up his nose. "Hmm, fascinating, a testament to his strength. Or perhaps to the strength added by his mimicry of Quicksilver. We haven't a clue as to how he pulled that one..."
"C'mon Mr. McCoy, it doesn't even hurt," Scott fell back, wincing, "that much."
"Ah, that would be due to the morphine drip added into your IV. I set it up, oh... twenty minutes ago." He looked at his watch, "my, how I lose track of time when I don't sleep."
Scott was dumbstruck. "Oh man... I'm gonna miss school today..."
"And tomorrow," Beast added, a bit too cheerfully for Scott's taste. "We'll talk about Friday later. Considering there isn't much one can do to treat injuries such as yours, a lot of rest will do you good until you're strong enough to move, at which point you will want to avoid any sudden upper-body movements."
"This is not fair," Scott conceded.
Hank tacked on one more thing. "And you can forget about missions or the Danger Room for a couple of months or so."
"This is not fair." Scott bit his lip before saying anything more.
"Life rarely is, my young friend, and I speak from experience." Beast answered, a bit too cheery for Scott's liking. He wasn't the one that couldn't get out of bed because some armored lunatic had... punched him. Once.
"Well, that being said," Beast went on, "do you have any schoolwork you can accomplish without large amounts of strain?"
"Well," Scott thought. Math was out, writing required more moving then would be comfortable. "I suppose I could finish reading Paradise Lost for English, but..."
"Ah, Milton. I shall retrieve your copy during my rounds," Beast promised.
"But I," Scott began, realizing Beast was already gone. "I hate Paradise Lost..."
One punch... one punch and I'm gone...
---
"Alright everyone, pile in!"
Mr. Sinister's never-ending smile didn't bode well as he gestured to the decrepit, horribly old van in the garage. The X-Van was, in fact, gone.
"Like, you've got to be kidding," Kitty stared at it, wide eyed.
"Yeah, is that safe?" Kurt asked.
Sinister's smile instantly turned into a frown. "Look, Summers' car is out of gas, if you want to get to school, you're either walking or getting a ride from me. And nobody drives my van but me."
He dangled his keys in the air, as if to taunt them all. Joseph briefly considered stealing it, but the fact that Sinister was blocking the vehicle made that option unavailable.
Jean didn't really mind... until they all got inside. For the first time since she started high school, she was truly, consciously worried about what would happen to her image if anyone saw her. Sinister's van had to be at least fifteen years old. The seats were all separate, like some grunge version of the Blackbird's interior.
She was thankful that the seatbelts were intact, at the very least.
"Okay, everyone buckled in?" Sinister called back. Kurt had not only done that, but had let his tail free and wrapped it around the chair's arm just to be safe.
Five seconds later, Sinister turned the key in the ignition, and a second after that, he peeled out of the garage at full speed, almost tipped over while racing down the driveway, and nearly slammed into the gate before it opened.
Kurt looked like he was going to be sick, and that was just his hologram.
"Like, where'd you learn to drive!" Kitty demanded to know, wondering why she had chosen to ride shotgun.
"Driver's Ed, where else?" The clown answered, swerving onto the shortest route to Bayville High.
Joseph considered saying something, but he just sunk into his excuse for a seat instead. He'd already gotten use to hanging around Scott while at the mansion, and everyone seemed to pay little attention to him for it. Now, on the other hand... he noticed Nightcrawler, in the seat across his, was starting to glance his way every so often.
For the moment, however, he concentrated on being ready in case their driver flipped them over. Mr. Sinister was not amused when he neared Bayville High and, his impatience growing, performed a horrendously illegal action by cutting off more then one car that clearly had the right of way.
Jean almost passed out when she looked through the mercifully tinted windows and noticed the clown had barely missed knocking Duncan off the road. Seconds later, Sinister threw the wheel as far as it would go and skidded to a perfect stop in a parking space. Clearly, he'd watched The Blues Brothers one too many times. It was a miracle he hadn't been stopped enough on this one trip to have his license revoked.
Jean doubted, however, that he even had one to begin with. Fortunately, after reminding them that he would be back at the end of the day, Sinister kept his window rolled up and peeled off again once his passengers were safely out. She considering asking everyone if they were okay, especially since Kitty seemed a little off-balance, but her thoughts were interrupted by a voice she knew all too well.
"Jean!"
The telekinetic winced before spinning on her heals. "Duncan! Hi!"
"Who the hell was driving that thing? Don't you usually get a ride from Summers?"
"Driving? Scott? Oh, thaaat," she drawled out, vaguely waving a finger around. Less then two seconds and people are already asking the wrong questions... "Oh, Scott's... sick, and that was... that was a really bad driver."
"Oh, well, no offense," Duncan went for the typical jock response, "but tell the idiot if he does that again I'm gonna pound him."
"I'll do that," Jean answered, not missing a beat. She had a feeling Mr. Sinister could break Duncan over his knee if he were so inclined.
---
Quicksilver hadn't planned on going to school that morning. In fact, he was wondering what he was smoking when he told Xavier he wanted to, despite it being against the adults' better judgment. After all, if anyone caught sight of his 'injury,' it wouldn't exactly be possible to pass it off as an accident. Strangle marks, complete with fingers, just didn't happen unless someone tried to… strangle you.
That's what turtlenecks are for, he'd told them. Or he'd written them, though having to carry a little notepad everywhere wasn't such an inconvenience since he could write as fast as he could talk.
Fortunately, Forge continued to live up to his name as a genius. From what Pietro understood, the engineer wasn't around much, but he was thankful that someone a lot smarter then himself was hanging around for the current crisis. Pietro was even more thankful because Forge was currently slapping together a nice artificial larynx, small enough to fit on a necklace, no less, so he could speak while his injuries healed.
Unfortunately, Forge wouldn't be done for awhile, so he was resigned to the notepad for today.
After some pleading, Xavier had allowed him to run off, literally. After careful consideration, Pietro had decided that out of everything, actually going to school was a plus; it would make it that much easier to avoid the Brotherhood. Given their attendance record, Lance would be more likely to shove Fred and Todd to the Institute looking for him, either rationalizing he could be nowhere else or that the good ol' X-Geeks would be glad to help in the search.
That was a delusion; the Brotherhood might as well get down on their knees and beg, for all the help the X-Men would give after Wanda trashed them all, it wouldn't make a difference.
So, of course, the very first thing that went wrong with the day occurred three seconds later when Pietro walked around a corner and bumped right into Lance himself.
The younger mutant wanted to die.
And to make matters worse, Scott was writhing in pain back at the Institute, so, without his favorite rival to keep him occupied, Lance would focus all of his attention on asking things like 'where the hell have you been? When the hell are you coming back? Good god you didn't ditch us for the X-Geeks, did you?'
"Where the hell have you been!" Lance demanded.
Strike one, Pietro thought, letting out a sigh. Unable to run away, what with everyone in the halls, he scribbled on his pad and turned it so Lance could see.
"What, cat got your tongue?" Avalanche retorted, Pietro having wrote, none of your damn business.
Pietro speed-wrote again, and Lance read, No, she has YOUR tongue and FRANKLY she can keep it.
Flustered beyond redemption, Lance couldn't even think up of some kind of comeback. But he was getting angry. "Where have you-"
And Pietro shoved his notebook at his face, having long answered the question. With the X-Geeks. Deal.
It wasn't that he held anything against Lance... or Fred, or Todd, or even Wanda. Especially Wanda, she was his sister after all. But he wasn't going to be Mystique's little toy soldier, not just because his friends had no problem with it. Mesmero dying in his arms hadn't helped his thinking any. Pietro hadn't yet decided if it was a good thing that that had traumatized him into running for Xavier's open arms instead of waiting for his father to make a move.
All of this crossed Pietro's mind as he turned and started walking away, but Lance wasn't dealing with the news as well as he might have wished. In fact, Lance felt downright betrayed, as hypocritical as that was. This was made evident when yelled quite a distinctive "Hey!" and grabbed at Pietro before he was gone.
Unfortunately, Lance pulled at the collar of Pietro's sweater, and his own voice left him while Pietro glared daggers, the speed demon oblivious to Lance catching sight of the reason he couldn't talk.
At a complete loss for words, Lance let him go. Pietro was now dead set on seeing one of the guidance counselors to get his schedule changed for the sole purpose of avoiding the Brotherhood like the plague.
---
Everyone's head turned when a whistle blew at the start of second period Phys Ed. The jaws of the only students that had chosen to arrive on time, namely Jean Grey, Kurt Wagner, and Joseph Kincaid promptly hit the floor.
Logan had blown the whistle. Logan was at Bayville High.
Logan was... the gym teacher? "Is everyone always this late?"
Nobody said a word. Logan stared them down. "Helllooo?"
"Um... yeah?" Kurt answered, though Logan wasn't sure if the elf was acknowledging his presence or answering the original question.
"Logan," Jean finally spoke up. "Uh, why are you here?"
"I'm keepin' an eye on someone," Wolverine answered, checking off the appropriate names on his attendance sheet. A gust of wind blew by, leaving a piece of paper in his hands. Pietro now stood with the others. His sweatshirt was quite noticeable, compared to the typical gym clothes the others wore. "The other kids changed their minds and decided they wanted the camp after the first night with me. So here I am, and no powers at school, Jolt Boy."
Logan looked at Pietro's transfer slip and rolled his eyes.
Kurt didn't seem to care for the moment. He teleported over and stole the basketball Pietro had under his arm.
"Elf!" Logan hollered. He opted not to lecture them, as more students were finally coming in. Some of them were on the football team, and Logan certainly knew who Duncan Mathews was. He made a note to go hard on them; football players had it so easy these days, they were just completely unprepared for the real world.
A half-hour later, they had experienced a rather large taste of it. While running the football players harder then the football coach did, Logan took a look around. Jean and her friends had started a mini-soccer game, and Kurt was teaching Pietro and Joseph the finer points of gymnastics on a set of parallel bars. They had no intention of being trampled by Duncan or embarrassingly outplayed by the girls.
Jean, in fact, found herself assaulted by more Duncan insanity just as she was about to head into the locker room.
"Hey Jean, whatcha doin' tonight?"
Oh, god. She really didn't want to go out with Duncan, especially now; it was tempting to drive a knee into his crotch so he'd get the message that his personality needed adjusting. C'mon, you told Scott he's a jerk, why can't you tell the jerk?
But she couldn't. Maybe it was the whole social thing; it'd look pretty strange if a popular girl told a popular guy to go do certain things with himself, and the entire school would hear Duncan's edited version anyway. Or maybe she just didn't want to deal with the reaction, or maybe she was just too kind-hearted to let him down.
Maybe it was all three.
"Oh, kinda busy, washing my hair and all," she said, regretting it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. A classic blow-off like that was bound to get him riled.
"You're what?"
Rolling her eyes, Jean answered, "what, Duncan, would you rather I say 'I'm seeing someone else?'"
"You're what?" He repeated, eyes wide.
It was the perfect chance. And Jean took it. "See, Duncan, this is the problem in our 'relationship,' you're not satisfied with reality, you start inventing fantasies out of completely innocent comments!"
He stared at her wide-eyed, unwilling to comprehend that she could possibly be this angry with him. "But... I..."
Seeing Kurt trot up to him while keeping an eye on Jean, Logan talked before the elf had the chance. "No, I'm not gonna tell him to back off and make her look like a fool, there's only one of 'em, she can handle him herself."
Kurt stared at him for a second, amused at Logan considering Duncan a bona fide enemy. "'Only one of them?' Heh, yeah, you're right Logan..."
"Relax. Although, I suppose I'm opening myself up to be accused of favoring the boys."
"Still," Kurt raised a finger, his hologram raising two. "Better that then interfering with Jean's personal life and making her mad!"
"Exactly Elf, exactly."
Logan was actually broadcasting his thoughts on the matter. For a second, Jean decided it was a good thing he came to that conclusion; a damsel in distress she was not, nor did she have any desire to look like one.
"But, but, Duncan," she sighed, massaging the side of her head. This situation wasn't just troublesome, it was downright depressing. And it was going to stop, no matter what. Now or never. "You know, it's just not working between us. I think it is a good idea we see other people."
"But Jean! I..."
Of course, he wouldn't get the message that easily. Men in general always fell somewhere between "clueless in an endearing sort of way" and "complete dumbass." Duncan was very close to the latter. If he was going to get ideas of following her around and either begging for forgiveness or refusing to go away, drastic, desperate action was needed. "In fact, I think I'll start now."
That being said, she promptly turned around, grabbed Pietro as he jogged by, quite literally swept him off his feet, and gave him the biggest kiss of his life before he could process this new chain of events.
Duncan was certainly not pleased with this. Nor was he pleased when Pietro looked like he was enjoying it. But he was too shell-shocked to say a word.
"Now this," Logan sighed, Kurt staring in awe, "I have to break up. "Grey! Maximoff! Cut the PDA!"
Prompted by Logan, Jean put her hands to Pietro's shoulders and gently shoved him back. Pietro, on the other hand, had long left Earth and simply fell on his butt, grinning like an idiot.
A smirk on her face, Jean headed for the locker room before Duncan regained normal brain functions himself. "Hm, I should really apologize to Quicksilver for that..."
---
"Pietro, did you have to transfer into classes with all of us?" Kurt frowned, getting annoyed at the speed demon's pure lack of tact as he observed, or rather, restlessly watched the card game he was playing with Amanda.
He glared at him, zipping around to see Amanda's hand, not bothering to convey that it was either being near them and in safety or dealing with the 'hood. Besides, the teacher in charge of this study hall didn't make students actually do work.
Amanda wanted to say something about Kurt's little secret, she had certainly noticed Pietro seemed a little abnormal and her suspicions on things were starting to rise, but she kept her mouth shut and decided to concentrate instead.
Laying a card from her hand down on the board, she declared, "Saki the Clown, in defense mode."
"What?" Kurt blinked. "You're kidding, right?"
Pietro raised an eyebrow, as if he knew something from looking at her cards.
"Maybe," she said, not missing a beat.
"Hah! I play Reborn The Monster," Kurt laid the card down, and took one from the discard pile. "And I resurrect the Dark Magician, in attack mode, which annihilates Saki."
She was expecting that, Pietro finally wrote on his notepad, so Kurt and Amanda could see.
"In fact, I was," Amanda put down a card. "Blue Eyes White Dragon, in attack mode. Dark Magician is toast, and it looks like your life points just hit zero, Kurt."
"But! But!" Kurt blinked at the playing field, finally conceding. "You win."
The lunch bell rang, and Pietro shot off.
He thought lunch would be hell, pure and simple. He could change his classes, and he most certainly had done so, but lunch meant dealing with the social issue; he could sit with some of the X-Men, but he didn't feel an overwhelming need to. He certainly couldn't look Jean in the eye for the moment, lest his face turn several shades of red.
She was, in fact, one hell of a kisser.
Besides, Evan was back, and he was sitting with them. Of course, it made sense; he vanished and now he reappeared with no warning whatsoever. It was one more problem to deal with. Good lord, me n' Evan living in the same house. Be afraid...
He wasn't going to sit with Lance, Todd or Fred, either. But the looks Lance shot at him from his table had started to annoy him to the point of finishing early, which, fortunately, wasn't a difficult task.
So he ended up wandering the halls. There was going to be an assembly after lunch, so at least English was getting bit into.
Not five minutes before lunch would have ended, however, something went off. He spotted. Duncan was following Jean around, half-pissed at what she'd pulled earlier and half-desperate to get her back. This was amusing, as it was debatable if they were ever 'together' in the first place.
Of course, Jean wasn't taking his mouth lying down and was quite fine with making even more of a scene in the hallway to tell him off. Leaning against the wall, Pietro enjoyed the show.
But Pietro's amusement waned when Duncan got physical and slammed her back into her locker.
Not that Jean was incapable of handling herself. Quicksilver figured she would've slammed her knee, or the telekinetic equivalent, into the one place Duncan wouldn't have wanted her to.
But he didn't give her time. After Pietro tossed caution to the wind in favor of racing down the hall, Duncan found a piece of paper tossed into his face. Ignoring Jean for a moment to grab at it and read, Get your stinkin paws off her, you damn dirty ape, Duncan soon felt a hand on his shoulder spinning him to the side.
Then he found Pietro's fist in his face, and a second later, the sophomore had succeeded in embarrassing Duncan Mathews to the extreme when he crashed to the floor, blood running from his broken nose.
"Now I know a bunch of rowdy students aren't starting trouble on their new Vice-Principle's first day."
Pietro whirled on his heals at the sound of the new voice.
And he stopped dead when he saw the source. Duncan heaved himself to his feet, ready to knock Pietro into the land of concussions, but the sight of the new arrival downright scared him. "Oh... shit."
Duncan could lift weights for a year straight and not get the muscles the man staring them all down had.
But that wasn't what intimidated Pietro.
Pietro recognized 'Henry Gyrich' instantly, even if Apocalypse had only kept his disguise briefly in Idaho.
Jean didn't even know why he'd tensed; she hadn't been there. And Mr. Gyrich glanced at her before grinning in Pietro's direction. "How's the neck, Cricket?"
With a chuckle, he turned around and walked back down the hall.
"That's our new vice-principle?" Jean blinked, "How did he..."
She remembered not to mention Pietro when Duncan, his patience gone, scowled and left them in peace.
"Hey, like, guys," Kitty ran up to them. "You two o... kay..."
Her voice trailed off when her eyes fixed on the man stomping his way through the hall, students parting as much as possible to let him through. She caught a glimpse of the small blue "A" of his belt buckle before his back was to her, and it wasn't the most calming sight, to say the least.
---
"I don't know."
Caught off guard, Kurt stopped for a second and jogged back to Joseph's side. "Huh?"
"The Magneto thing. That's what you wanna know, isn't it?"
"Well, kinda, yeah," Kurt confessed. "To tell you the truth, I kinda liked the idea there's someone as weird as me around now."
Joseph stopped, caught a bit off guard by that. "Really?"
Kurt shrugged.
And they both laughed out loud. And then they stopped when Kurt noticed a scene developing at their destination.
Joseph was glad he had his camera.
Meanwhile, Jean knew Duncan was pissed. That had been the intention, after all. She did not, however, realize just how foolish the guy could be. She found out a minute after she spotted Mr. Sinister's van of horrors, gotten in, and closed the massive side door.
The telekinetic had made the mistake of bruising Duncan's ego and pride, and this only encouraged him further to get her back. Or get her at all, as far as she was concerned. The fact that two of his friends from the football team followed him as he stalked up and banged on the van said as much.
"Jean! Come out here right now!"
"Oh my gaawwd," she whimpered, grateful that only Kitty had arrived as of yet. And Kitty wasn't laughing, that was a good sign Supportive friends were always nice. "I'm invisible... I'm invisible... I'm... Kitty!"
Kitty jumped at Jean's sudden attention. "Like, yeah?"
"Could you, say, phase me out through the other side?"
Mr. Sinister, apparently sympathetic, leaned over the passenger seat and looked out the window. "Nah, no good, there's a crowd gathering."
Duncan banged again and referred to Jean using a word that distinctly started with the letter 'b.' Sinister's worry for her suddenly seemed to fade away, his sympathetic look warping into anger. "If he even thinks of putting a dent in..."
Duncan's fist stopped in midair when the driver's side window rolled down and Sinister stuck his head out. "Hey, jock-boy, if you touch my van again, I'm gonna break your face!"
"Little early for Halloween, buddy?" Duncan sneered in that 'I'm better then you' way of his. "I'd like to see you try, now tell Jean to open the door."
The clown turned his head back in, out of Duncan's view, while he covered half of his face so Kitty couldn't see. His whisper to the telekinetic was barely audible.
But Jean could see the words his lips formed, even if she couldn't hear, and it was such an absurd and disgusting thought that she reflexively repeated it. "He wants to rape me!"
Unfortunately, it hadn't sounded like a question, and her eyes went wide when she realized how Sinister had baited her. The clown opened his door, stepped out, and put on the perfect show. "He wants to rape you? Well, I'm not gonna let that happen."
She bounded from her seat and flung the side door open, but it was too late. Duncan, annoyed by the distraction, threw a clumsy fist at Mr. Sinister.
The poor boy had no idea what he was getting into. Sinister stepped to the side, grabbed Duncan's arm, and wrenched it around, putting Duncan in the perfect place for a sidekick into his already-broken nose.
Bleeding again, Duncan threw another punch, and this time, Sinister punched him back. Duncan staggered, but his target now became his assailant. Hopping off the ground, Sinister planted his sneaker in Duncan's face with a roundhouse kick.
The football player hit ground and rolled once, his friends backing away. They certainly didn't want to be associated with him at the moment. But Duncan was stupid enough to get back up, and Sinister grabbed him by the collar of his jacket.
The clown made sure not to slam his head into the door too hard. It was just enough to make a mark, on both Duncan and his vehicle. This time, he let the jock stay standing, ignoring him while he ran a hand over the damaged metal.
He turned back to Duncan and, through clenched teeth, spat, "you... dented... my... van!"
Freaked and knocked down more then one peg, Duncan yelped, turned tail, and ran away as fast as he could. His friends ran after him in short order.
"Oh yeah!" Sinister dusted his hands off. "'Revenge of the nerds' time, baby!"
A few feet away, Kurt and Joseph watched the jocks fleeing.
"You got good shots of that?"
"Are you kidding?" Joseph scrolled through the files on his digital camera. "I'd die to publish some of these in the paper. I can see the headlines now, 'Star Quarterback Assaulted by Mysterious Clown.'"
---
"I can not believe you did that!"
Welcoming the break from his book, Scott turned his eyes to the doors. He wished he could actually get up and go see what was going on. That had sounded like Jean, and the loud crashes and bangs that followed could have been Jean tossing the furniture at something, or someone.
The doors slid open, and Mr. Sinister dashed through as soon as the gap between them was large enough. He hit the control panel on the other side almost instantaneously, re-closing the only entrance.
With that done, he leaned against the wall like he was hiding from an angry predator.
"Figures," Scott commented. "What did you do to her?"
"Figures, what did you do to her," the clown repeated in a rather high-pitched voice. "Why am I instantly the bad guy here?"
"Because you're a raving psychotic madman?" Scott said.
"Oh hah hah." Sinister rolled his eyes. "To answer your question, I beat up her boyfriend... ex-boyfriend. Or whatever he is."
Scott tried to say something, but he found himself simply staring for a moment, his mouth hanging open. Finally, "You beat up Duncan?"
"He dented my van," the scientist pleaded. "He had it coming!"
"On school grounds?" Scott started imagining police officers interrogating Professor Xavier, demanding to know why he'd hired someone who hit minors to work in a place loaded with them. And what if they were around long enough for someone to accidentally give them all away?
"Relax, I was keeping him off Jean, he was going to rape her," Sinister chuckled.
Scott just stared at him. For once, Sinister realized that his own story was getting more ludicrous every time he said something.
"Okay, okay, he wasn't gonna rape her, but everyone that witnessed it thinks he was. Except for Jean. And Kitty, and Nightcrawler. And the Mini-me..."
"Mini-what-who?" Scott asked, wondering if he meant Joseph. The implication that Sinister knew Magneto and wasn't telling them was frightening. But then, he might have simply looked through Cerebro's files like Joseph had. "Never mind, I don't want to know."
Sinister rolled his eyes and walked over to the table near Scott's bed. "Whatever. Oh, while I'm here... I was the lucky one to go through your pockets when we came back from the mission. After I woke up, thank you Beast..."
Scott's face turned noticeably white.
Meanwhile, Sinister dug into his own pockets. "Let's see, this is yours..."
Scott saw his wallet hitting the table. "This is yours." His keys went next. "This is yours." Sinister had the courtesy to set down his cell phone instead of tossing it. "I think this is... I don't even know what this is, but I'd venture its Rogue's, actually."
Tossing the gothic-looking item down, Sinister took one more thing from his pocket; the little case he kept his syringes and samples in. Two were now missing, but one was filled with a light blue liquid. "Speaking of Rogue, I do believe I'll prove I'm as smart as I think I am."
"That was all?" Scott blurted out.
"If it wasn't, I'd give the rest to you," Mr. S called back as he swiped the curtain around the next bed over away. Rogue was in that bed, still unconscious. Her vital signs were higher then they should've been for her current state, but other then that, her condition was certainly a coma.
Sinister put a pair of gloves on, wiped down a spot at the top of her arm with alcohol, and gave her the needle.
"How long is it supposed to take?" Scott asked, the idea of not only Rogue recovering but of having some company very appealing to him.
"Well, if I'm right," Sinister stared at her, fiddling a bit with his watch, "actually, I know I'm right, just give it a little time. It is rewriting her DNA, after all."
"Rewriting DNA?" Scott paused, "That sounds... dangerous."
The clown gave a tired chuckle. "Well, technically that's how her powers work. I finally figured some of it out during my last experiment. I'm not entirely sure how, but her skin literally tears DNA from the organic things she touches and uses it to reconstruct her own. That's how she gets a mutant's powers, the X-gene comes with it. Then, over time, her DNA asserts itself."
That worried Scott; was Rogue nothing more then an experiment to him? He wasn't kidding when he said Sinister was psychotic.
"By the way, I need a blood sample from you," the scientist added as an afterthought, grabbing a normal syringe from a drawer.
Scott wasn't entirely sure he trusted Sinister, even with such simple tasks. "Why?"
"Call it... curiosity."
Sinister didn't give him a choice, but Scott didn't protest. It wasn't like he could run away, and besides, what was the harm in taking a little blood? So he rolled up his sleeve and let Sinister have his way for the moment.
Wincing as Sinister shoved the needle in with absolutely no care for his comfort, Scott said, "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."
"Oh, I don't know," Sinister grinned, holding the vial of Scott's blood up to the light as if he could see the secrets of the universe inside. "The afterlife has its benefits."
"Hey, did I come at a bad time?"
Embarrassed by his child-like mindset, Sinister quickly spun around and shoved the vial into his pocket.
Scott's reaction to the newcomer was far more positive. He hadn't been expecting his brother to walk into the room with no warning whatsoever. "Alex!"
"Heya Bro!" Alex smiled, content with his surprise. Scott noticed Alex had dark circles under hies eyes and looked more disheveled then the morning after he and Joseph had fallen asleep on the floor, but he wasn't complaining.
Mr. Sinister looked at Alex, then at Scott, tossing the word 'bro' around in his head a few times. "Oh my god, there's two of them."
Sinister almost walked out the door, but before he did so, he leaned out and peered down the corridors. Satisfied that Jean had given up, he dashed out.
Five seconds after the doors closed, his scream filled the room.
"Did he make someone mad?" Alex blinked.
"Yes, yes he did," Scott shook his head. "Hey, what are you doing here?"
Alex set his bag down and pulled a chair up near his brother. "Hey, came as soon as I heard you got hurt, man. Well, I tried, but it was a pain getting airline tickets. I'd give ya a hug, Scott, but it would probably kill you."
"Yeah," Scott groaned, "I think it would. Alex, man, you look like Hell."
"I think that's my line, Bro," Alex said. "But yeah, dude, I can't sleep on airplanes, which kinda sucks when your flight is more then ten hours each on two of 'em, ya know?"
"Ouch," Scott smiled. "Why don't you get some sleep? I mean, I'm not moving for at least another day, so I'm told, it'd be better then just sitting here."
"You being the expert in just laying around, huh?" Alex laughed. "Bro, you took the words right outta my mouth."
---
"Perhaps I should avoid her for awhile."
"Yeah, you should," Logan resisted the urge to laugh, instead opening the freezer and tossing Sinister a pack of ice. The scientist was quick to press it to the growing lump on his head. "You know, it's not a good idea to make a telekinetic mad. I wouldn't get on Storm's bad side, either."
"Can't wait to meet her," Sinister groaned, stepping out of the kitchen.
Logan hunted for a bite in the fridge, but looked up when a new scent caught his nose. "That you, Storm?"
"Indeed it is," the weather witch entered through the other door. "I... why are you dressed like a gym teacher?"
She couldn't help herself. The sight of Logan in an air-sweater and shorts with a whistle around his neck was like something out of the Twilight Zone. It was also pretty funny.
"Don't you dare laugh," he intoned, deciding an old half of a tuna sandwich would suffice for food. "I am a gym teacher. Substitute, anyway. Long story, Chuck'll tell you. Where's Spyke?"
"I dropped him off at the school earlier," Ororo said, hunting through the cupboards for to distract herself from the maddeningly hilarious sight Logan presented. "He's getting everything he has to catch up on, he'll take the late bus home."
"He's on my attendance sheet for tomorrow," Wolverine answered, eating quickly. "What a way to come back. By the way, we've got new students. And Hank has a new friend, I'd stay away from the basement."
Ororo raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Charles told me about Pietro the last time I called."
"Yep, we got Speedy now, even if he's a bit... disturbed. I'm outta here. The head coach wants me to... help... with football practice this afternoon."
"Sounds like fun," Storm chuckled. She wasn't sure whether or not to pity him.
"Loads," he said on his way out the door. She thought she could see him sticking cotton up his nose...
Storm sat at the table as she heard the feint sound of the door closing. She waited a little while, not wanting to tip off Logan's enhanced sense of hearing.
When she was sure it was safe, the weather witch broke out into the loudest, most insane laughter she'd let out in a very long time.
---
Pietro was still in a bouncy-bouncy mood when he reached the Institute. He was thankful that Xavier allowed him to run back and forth; if there was one thing he liked about being an X-Geek, it was that the adults didn't assume he was stupid. He knew well enough to avoid people and such on his dashes. Granted, a year ago he wouldn't have found a reason to care, but that big mistake of a soccer game when he and the rest of the 'hood decided to reveal themselves had schooled them all quite well.
"Ahhh, feels great," Pietro rubbed at the little golden trinket tied tightly to his throat. Forge was a genius.
"Just don't talk too fast," Forge told him, "I don't think it can keep up with you past a certain point and it'll kill out."
"Wellthat'snotmuch-"
And silence. Forge had been right, but it was a small price to pay to be able to talk for the time being. He rubbed at his throat a little, remembering it was time for his first Danger Room session. Beast was going to set them all on one other.
Oh, goody.
---
"Hey don't feel bad, dude," Quicksilver said, striking a pose, "nobody can catch me, I'm just good like that. See ya!"
Pietro sped off after that highly infuriating remark, and Kurt ported out not long after, leaving Joseph last to leave the Danger Room.
"I hate him," Joseph shook his head. He hadn't caught Quicksilver. His first real training session wasn't what he expected, that was for sure. Beast had pulled him aside beforehand and asked if he would be willing to use his magnetic gifts to mimic Magneto and give the others a toned down version of their enemy to fight against. It would be good, he said, to give some of the younger mutants a taste of something they'd one day go up against.
Maybe Mr. McCoy didn't know how much his 'relationship,' whatever it was, with Magneto was tormenting him. Joseph didn't like the idea of being 'toned down,' either. Or maybe the furry mutant had thought facing it would be healthy.
It had been healthy; cutting loose and tearing a few things up felt good, and realizing the sheer power of what he had, even without the decades of experience Magneto had in refining it... no wonder Magneto was such an asshole; it was easy.
But he couldn't catch Quicksilver. Nightcrawler didn't count, you couldn't imprison him without some measure of science, but Quicksilver was just plain annoying.
In any case, Joe was intent on heading to the infirmary and seeing Scott.
And when he got there, Scott was asleep. He knew this because Scott was snoring louder then his father did, and his father was loud enough to go through closed doors and the walls.
Figures. I guess he's just that bored...
Sitting on the stool that was already near his bed, Joe reached a hand over and brushed Scott's bangs out of his face. He could wait.
Especially when the alternative was getting his homework done and actually reading Paradise Lost. To think, he'd been happy when they told him he could be in the advanced English class...
---
"How was your first day, Logan?" Xavier smiled.
Logan closed the door behind him. "You waited here just to ask me that, didn't you?"
The professor just grinned at him and took a sip from his mug of coffee. "Perhaps. How did everything go?"
"As well as can be expected," Logan rubbed his temples for a second. "I mean, we're talking about a place filled with... kids, here, Chuck. But the guy's been quiet as near as I can tell. I have no idea if Principle Kelly knows about it or not."
"I see," Xavier nodded. "How are our students handling it?"
"Pretty well, all things considered," Logan said. "But..."
"But?"
With a sigh, Logan went on. "Well, you know how it is. The guy's in a perfect position to pull something. Most of the vice-principle's job is making sure discipline is enforced, some of our brats could give him enough of an excuse to get them alone in his office."
"I'd considered that," Charles admitted. "However, I don't believe he will act during the school day, there are too many people who would notice. He could've fought longer in Idaho, but he left."
Picking up on the professor's train of thought, Logan finished the idea. "He wants to stay secret like we do..."
"My thoughts exactly. But for what purpose, I can't say. And the question begs itself, why be in the open like this in the first place..."
"Hmm. I don't like the idea of having to wait for him to move." For once, Logan actually sounded worried. "If he's as bad as everyone says, people are going to get hurt when he does."
"I agree," Xavier cracked his knuckles, just as frustrated at the situation as Wolverine. "Sinister's tracking program doesn't work unless Apocalypse wears his armor, and I think he knows that it gives him away now. We haven't been able to find out where he stays away from the school, and he covers his 'official' tracks."
Frowning, Logan changed the subject. "That's another thing. I still don't trust that guy either."
"Well, his services may be too good to be true," Charles confessed, "but I've been keeping an eye on his mind. I haven't gone deep enough for him to realize it. He's certainly a dark man, and I won't repeat some of the things he would like to do with his practice, but I'd say he knows not to cross that line here."
To the professor's surprise, Logan smiled. "Took my advice about taking peeks already, eh Chuck?"
"I'd hardly call it 'taking peeks,'" Xavier scoffed. "More like blatant invasion."
They shared a laugh, knowing it was for a good reason anyway.
"Mommy, help, the bullies are talking about me behind my back!" A new voice shrilled. Even Logan hadn't noticed Mr. Sinister enter the main hall and take up a spot leaning against the front door. The scientist was smiling at them, amused that they weren't thinking of the possibility that he'd simply been quiet entering said door. "I'd wondered why I've been getting the odd headache lately... I'm a bit... allergic to telepathy, dear Charles, and if telling you that weakness doesn't make you trust me, I'll just wait until Rogue wakes up."
Pulling an apple from a pocket on his lab coat and taking a bite, Sinister added, "I'm impressed, I didn't think you had spying in you, Prof."
"Chew first, talk later, Bub," Logan said.
"First time for everything," Xavier said, not backing down. He didn't think Sinister was trying to guilt trip him, but by the same token, he wasn't going to give the clown anything like that, either.
Sinister became content with munching on his snack and not taking part in the conversation anymore.
Xavier had one more question for Logan to get off his chest. "What about Joseph?"
Sinister looked at the floor so they wouldn't notice the grin on his face.
"Heh," Wolverine scratched his head, thinking back to the day. "He's like... it's weird, Chuck. He's like Magneto but he's... just not."
"Magneto was shaped by World War II," Xavier said, "Joseph has the... experience... of a normal life to guide him."
Still leaning against the door, Sinister convulsed ever so slightly, holding back a chuckle.
"Yeah, you don't have to tell me, Chuck," Wolverine looked past him and at the wall for a moment, some of his only memories reminding him why he hadn't been angry with Nightcrawler for sparing Magneto, and why he himself didn't leave the terrorist inside Rebirth when it blew. It was interesting, to think that out of everyone he knew: Xavier, Storm, Beast, the kids, he understood Magneto the most. I gotta tell Chuck what Omaha Beach was like one o'these days, I wonder if Buckethead ever told Deathcamp stories.
Switching his train of thought quickly on the chance Charles would pick it up, he asked, "Any luck putting Cerebro back together?"
"No," Xavier chuckled, "I'm afraid Hank and I pushed several components too far during the diagnostics, the replacement parts should arrive today or tomorrow."
The doorbell rang as Xavier took another sip of coffee. "That could be them now."
As he was currently the closest, Sinister grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, stepping away and turning around. The handle slipped from his hand when he looked at the visitor, causing the glass to swing open all the way. A horrified yelp came from the scientist as he dropped his apple and bolted through another door and slammed it shut behind him, heading deeper into the mansion.
The rather confused police officer that took a step through the open door was no deliveryman.
"Can we help you, Officer?" Xavier said, hoping to end the rather awkward moment.
"Yes, yes you can," the man replied, eyeing the door Sinister had used as his escape route as if he were afraid to ask. "I think my son is around here, though for as much he enjoys my company it wouldn't surprise me if he isn't."
---
Mud.
That was the clearest image at the moment: wet, slimly, dark, mud. Then the rain that was turning the ground into that mud became fairly clear. The ground was slippery, it was raining too much... the sky wasn't too shrouded in clouds, but the rain was more then a simple drizzle.
The mud added to the scene's misery, it was all so depressing. The crowd of people wasn't walking around him; they were trudging. Trudging through the mud wherever the soldiers guided them. It was hard to argue with armed soldiers.
He was trudging too, and so were his parents. Were they his parents? Yes, of course, such a stupid question... but they weren't any happier then he was, that was for sure.
Where were the guards leading them? Why were they in such a packed mess of a line while other people were just doing chores around them? And they all had the star. Work shall set you free, after all...
Why had his father pushed him away? His mother certainly didn't want him to do that, but he'd even made sure the guards hadn't seen. And now the soldier in charge of this group was telling them they'd be sent off to a small camp somewhere else...
Funny, he just knew he'd never see his parents again, as if they were being herded off to... to...
That feeling of dread stayed with Joseph as he woke up, with quite a start. He was out of breath, some of his hair was plastered to his face from sweat, and he just knew that had been some kind of vague nightmare, a horrible one.
"Hey!"
"Scott?" He blinked. Now he remembered, he'd came down to see Scott, found him asleep, and stayed. "I must've nodded off..."
"More like dropped dead, you know how loud you snore?" Scott smiled, waving his arm around.
"You should talk," Joe said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"And you fell asleep on my arm, which is now asleep itself," Scott laughed, giving up on trying to shake the blood back into said limb. "So, what'd I miss at school?"
Joseph thought about it for a second, and decided to be blunt. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Jean... I don't even know what Jean did and I'm not going to try to figure it out, Mr. Sinister beat up a jock, Wolverine is pretending to be a gym teacher to keep an eye on Apocalypse, because Apocalypse is the new Vice-Principle."
"Actually I meant what happened in cl- Apocalypse is what!" Scott's reflexes betrayed him and he sat up at the surprise, but the pain it brought didn't phase him. Bending at the waist only jostled the lowest breaks.
"Well, technically," Joseph made quotes with his fingers, "'Henry Gyrich' is the vice-principle."
"That... that bastard is enforcing discipline at school?" Scott was beyond incredulous; he was pissed. The mere idea was absurd, and it didn't help that he hated Apocalypse as it was. "And why are you dressed like him?"
"I am not!" Joseph shot back, standing up and looking down at himself. He hadn't taken the coat off, and it suddenly hit him. Black leather overcoat... what else was needed? "God, I am..."
Scott smiled, giving Joseph's uniform, as it were, another look. "And like me."
"I am?"
"Yep."
He hadn't seen Scott's uniform yet, but it was true. Joseph's coat buckled at his chest with the same X-shape Scott wore for armor, except it was a light blue. Someone had a sense of humor...
"Somehow I doubt you wear weights for balance while you learn to fly," Joseph told him, pulling one of his sleeves back and showing the heavy blue brace on his forearm. The thought of kicking Scott in the face just to show him the ones on his lower legs was an amusing one, but ultimately not one he followed through with.
"You couldn't fly before?" Scott raised an eyebrow. The thought had never occurred to him, he'd assumed if Magneto could do it...
Joseph sat back down. "I didn't have a clue I could, it's not like school offers a class on magnetism, you know?"
"Yeah," Scott conceded. "I don't suppose you could fly me out the window..."
"Scott, I wear weights for balance, I have a hard enough time keeping a good center of gravity as it is. You might as well jump."
"I'm about to, and there aren't even windows in here anyway... hey," Scott trailed off, rubbing his chin. "Not everyone needs windows..."
"What are you getting at?" Joseph gave him a look.
"I have got to get out of here," Scott announced, a scheming expression on his face. "Think you could bring me some clothes and then find Kurt?"
"You want to escape?"
Crossing his neck with a finger, Scott lowered his voice. "Shhhh! Announce to the world, already! And yes, yes I do, I'm sick of doing nothing but lying here just because that idiot got a lucky shot."
"Wait, wait," Joseph shook his head. "Half your ribs are broken and you want to... what, go for a walk?"
"Hey, I can walk," Scott defended. "That's about all I can do, and I'd like to at least walk farther then the bathroom. Besides, I wanted to drag you with me... you know, our first date... that kinda thing?"
Joseph smiled at him. "That's sweet, Scott... getting in trouble for me..."
"Trouble?" Scott scratched his head, his face falling. I hadn't thought of that, yeah, running out while seriously injured might just do that. "Yeah, but it's worth it."
The doors slid open, and Scott leaned over to see past Joseph and watch Logan walk in. All things told, Logan wasn't so bad an interruption. It wasn't like he was the type to sneak in and eavesdrop.
"Hey Magnet-boy, yer wanted downstairs, in the kitchen."
Scott and Joseph shared a look, the latter positive that Scott's eyes were as wide with confusion as his own were. "Okay..."
"And leave the uniform." Logan added, walking out.
Joseph unbuckled the coat and folded it over the stool, piling the light-blue braces on top of it. He threw a wink at Scott before turning to leave. "I'll come back."
It was a quick trip to the main hall, down the stairs and into the large dining room. So far he'd had yet to eat with everyone, waiting until after the normal mealtimes and grabbing leftovers at the table in the kitchen itself as a blatant way of avoiding mass stares.
And Joseph almost felt an ulcer develop when he swung the door to the kitchen open and trotted in; the surprise was far too much. Logan could've warned him.
Leaning on the far counter, not even out of his own uniform, was his father.
"Dad! Hi?"
"You still remember who I am, well, there's that, at least," his father let out an untimely yawn, most likely the result of too much work and too little sleep.
Joseph rubbed at his eyes, a sudden pain forming behind them. "Very funny Dad. Very funny."
"Funny like not even calling all week?" The elder Kincaid crossed his arms. "I've been fighting back the little voice that tells me half the reason you're here is to avoid me."
"Dad, really," the mutant sighed. "Yes, yes, that's it exactly. I raised my grades just enough for Professor Xavier to invite me here because your presence is toxic. And I notice it's taken you a week, too!" Oh yeah, turned into a freak in about three different ways to get here too.
"And if you'd been home you'd have noticed I've been pulling double shifts since I got back..." Officer Kincaid trailed off, realizing he'd just provided more ammunition for his son.
"Well, there, see, what's it matter anyway," Joseph shrugged, "you're arresting more people, I'm alone less. Everyone's happy. But in purple, I am stunning."
"Well what the Hell do you want me to do, Joe? Working less now that you're living elsewhere sort of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, guess it does," Joseph agreed, deciding to be noncommittal for the moment. He was glad when his father changed the subject.
"How's school?"
"Well, the popular kids actually like being on camera here, easier to get good pictures," Joseph answered, one side of his lips curving into a grin as he remembered the scene Mr. Sinister had caused. "I have some great ones from today."
Robert became serious for a moment. "Oh, speaking of school, did you hear anything about some weirdo beating up a football player this afternoon?"
"Not a thing," Joseph lied. Realizing he'd answered too fast to be trustworthy, he added, "I mean, gossip would be on the other side of the school in ten minutes, you just don't miss things like that."
"Right. Well, I've still got another shift tonight," Robert answered, tugging his uniform straight. "I gotta get going. Why don't you drop by on the weekends?"
It may have been a question, but Joseph had long since noticed that when cops ask questions, it's not a bad idea to give them what they want. Especially when they double as parents.
"Oh, what, and give up a life in luxury," Joseph gestured around. If the sarcasm in his voice was any indication, however, he had agreed. "Oh, can I borrow twenty bucks?"
Completely caught off guard, Robert gave a simple answer. "What the hell for?"
"Oh, you know," his son replied, eyes shifting ever so slightly. "Stuff. Could use another memory cartridge for my camera."
"Right," Robert didn't trust him for a second; kids were masters at blowing money, after all.
"Awww, c'mon Dad," Joseph pleaded, "I haven't asked for anything in months. Well, nothing big..."
"Alright, alright," Robert conceded. He forked the cash over, deciding he'd rather pay for the convenience of avoiding an argument.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." Robert left, completely aware of the fact that his son's real reason for suddenly opening the 'fridge was to have some kind of excuse not to walk him out. But all things considered, it hadn't been the worst conversation they'd ever had.
"By the way, you might want to tell someone there's," Robert turned, but Joseph had already made his escape. Sighing, he finished the thought anyway. "Someone hiding in the bushes past the gate..."
---
Scott had almost fallen asleep when a pile of clothes dropped into his lap. "Took you long enough," he smiled.
"Don't. Ask." Joseph glared at him, shutting the curtain so Scott could have privacy.
"I can't believe you talked me into this," Kurt said, rubbing his head. "Man, I'll be detailing the Blackbird until I'm eighteen for this one. How did you get me to agree to this again?"
"I said I'd pay you," Joseph deadpanned.
Kurt's eyes lit up. "Ohhhh yeah."
"Fine, fine," Joseph pouted, reached for his wallet, and gave Kurt the twenty his father had 'loaned' him not five minutes ago.
Kurt flashed a smile, pocketed the dough and switched on his hologram as Scott emerged, now fully clothed and looking like he was in perfect health.
"Scott, are you sure you're alright?" Kurt asked, as if determined to confirm that this really was as stupid an idea as it seemed.
"Yes, Kurt, I'm sure. As long as I don't bend over really fast or raise my arms above my waist."
"Alright then," Kurt said, "where to?"
After a pause, Scott scratched his head. "You know, that's a good question."
"You didn't think of anything?" Joseph chuckled.
"No, no I didn't. I've been too busy... uh... laying here."
"Kurt, movie theatre down town?" Joseph shrugged.
"Mile and a half, no problem. Grab hologram, guys!" Kurt cracked his knuckles.
"Why are you so happy today, man?" Scott raised an eyebrow, putting a hand to Kurt's shoulder.
Joseph did the same. "He's seeing Amanda after he drops us off."
"That explains it," Scott smiled.
"Aw, shuddup," Kurt blushed, and teleported them away. Had Scott been one-hundred-percent, he thought he would've 'ported them both into a tree somewhere, but he settled for letting his imagination do that. A random alley close to the chosen destination was fine, and he bamfed away after delivering his passengers.
"Does he know about us?" Joseph wondered, having noticed Kurt's complete lack of real objection to the whole thing.
"Well, he knows about me," Scott coughed when they walked through the sulfur from Kurt's 'port. "He'd have to be blind not to put two and two together now."
"We're not going to have to worry about hiding pretty soon, are we," Joseph blinked. "Everyone's gonna just walk in on us one at a time."
Carefully avoiding a collision with a street lamp as they made their way down the sidewalk, Scott answered, "That's a frightening thought. And then Pietro would be our personal photographer."
"What, I'm not good enough," Joseph resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs. "I can set a camera timer with the best of them, I'll tell you that!"
They set out walking, completely oblivious that someone was lying in wait further down the street, carefully peering out from behind a doorway to see how close they were.
Needless to say, Scott was more then a little shocked when Lance Alvers stepped out of the shadows and cut him off. "Summers."
"What do you want, Alvers?" Scott shot back, easily getting angry with him just for getting in the way.
"What the hell did you do to him?" Lance almost shouted. He looked like he was about to burst a few blood vessels just from being angry.
Scott tilted his head, eyes blinking behind his shades. "What are you talking about?"
Getting right into his rival's face, Lance answered, "Quicksilver, you sunnuvabitch! I saw him today, he can't even talk! What did you do to him?"
Scott's mouth hung open. He wasn't sure what was more absurd; the thought that he or anyone at the Institute would abuse someone like that, especially one of their own, or the stupidity Lance was broadcasting by harassing him on the street for it. Well, it was questionable if anyone considered Pietro 'one of their own' yet, or if they ever would, but the point still made sense as far as he was concerned.
At Scott's silence, Lance grabbed him by the shirt, fully intent on showing him a very unsophisticated demonstration of vulgar vocabulary.
Unfortunately, Lance's fist hit Scott dead center in the process of grabbing him, and it was not a pleasant experience for the latter.
"GETOFF!" Scott yelled, shoving Lance back. Pain shot through his chest as fresh as when Apocalypse had taken him down, it left him clenching his teeth and breathing hard. Even Lance was surprised by the sheer force in his reaction.
And the rock tumbler was even more surprised when the grate beneath his feet suddenly split in two and dumped him into the drainage ditch. Joseph was surprised too, a little surprised that Lance had managed to bang his head on the way down and knock himself out.
Scott looked at him for a fairly long moment, and he couldn't help but laugh, albeit briefly, as it just aggravated his ribs more.. "You didn't."
"Hey, I just saw some faulty construction give way," the other smiled. Both of them peered down at the stricken Lance. "That's what he gets for ignoring me. You know, he's gonna be mighty pissed when he wakes up."
"Yeah, let's make ourselves scarce before he brings a building down on us," Scott added.
They walked off.
~~~
"Ask DNA" is the opening theme to Cowboy Bebop: Knockin' on Heaven's Door.
Yes, I hate Duncan. And yes, I hate Paradise Lost myself, I make absolutely no claims that there is no bias in this blatant venting. :)
Oy, I'm succumbing to the overcoat cliché... note to self, overcoats are not needed by every single new character. Seriously, there's actually plot for why Joseph has one, kind of. Sort of. I'm not even sure why I'm commenting on this. Actually, it's probably because I wear one myself and I'm afraid everyone's going to think I'm writing veiled self-insertions everywhere, aside from somehow just knowing my fashion habits. Of course, now that I just said that... why yes, I need mental help.
The ref list:
-Kurt and Amanda are playing "Duel Monsters" in study hall. Catch an ep of Yu-Gi-Oh or find the manga somewhere to see more. Or for that matter, buy a deck...
-Joseph's father is a reference to the Earth: Final Conflict character, Major Liam Kincaid. Major Kincaid is played by Robert Leeshock.
-On the same subject, the triple-helix DNA thing also comes from Earth: Final Conflict. Major Kincaid is the character to posses it, in fact.
-Joseph's line about being stunning in purple is from Babylon 5. Don't ask.
-Pietro's "note" to Duncan, is, of course, the classic line from Planet of the Apes.
-Star Trek: The Next Generation fans, note Robert pulling the "Picard Maneuver." Not the one about accelerating to warp 9, the uniform-tug thing. THAT Picard Manuver. Yeah, I'm serious, stop laughing.