There Must Be Some Kind of Way Out of Here
Chapter 41
Author's Note: I'd hope by the forty-first chapter that you know this already - stuff in italics are thoughts and I love you all. Oh, and I'm so so sorry for long time it took me to post this. I really apologize for making you wait.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of this - Marvel and Kid's WB do, except my original character, John. Oh, and I don't even know if this goes here, but if you don't like bad words, just...pretend they're something different.
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John stifled a yawn into his hand, and lazily gazed out the window beside him. It was bright outside, the sun radiating it's golden heat onto the world below. John wished he were outside in it.
But no, I'm stuck in here, listening to whatever it is the teacher is talking about.
John looked over at the teacher in question. What was she talking about? He heard her speak, drone on in an over-rehearsed tone, but the words made no sense. But most of the blame for that went to John's inability to pay attention at that moment in time. It wasn't the teacher's fault, not really. His eyes drifted back to the window and the view outside.
The window was why he couldn't pay attention. Well, not the window exactly, but what he saw through the window. He could see the school's football field, and beside it, the track, and a row of scaffolding, marking the construction of some new building. Or maybe for the repairing of a building. John wasn't quite sure, but he really didn't care. It took more than a football field and metal poles and plywood to catch his attention (although his arms could manage to do that).
Watching cheerleaders practice was always a favorite past-time for John. Hell, it's a favorite for any guy. He tried to convince himself that he wasn't getting an education for something other than a shallow, superficial teenage reason. But for the life of him, he couldn't.
It was about a month ago that John Jashback came to Bayville, to live in the Xavier Institute with other mutants like himself. He was slowly starting to fit in with the others, and as a whole, they stopped bothering him so much. The euphoria of his being new was probably wearing off from the others.
He had just been released from his four weeks of being grounded, not that it made much of a difference to him. He still didn't know where anything was in town. He didn't have to attend Danger Room sessions anymore, but he still had to exercise and such, which made sense to him. He had gotten his special watch from the Professor a week before, and it made him feel more comfortable at school. None one would end up accidentally pulling pulling off his arm. Of course, everyone who knew of his curse was always rather cautious around him. Well, except maybe the guys in the Brotherhood, but John had the slinking idea they were still scared of him. Well, maybe scared was too strong a word. 'Wary' seemed more like it. He made a point to say hello to them, whenever he'd pass them in the hall, or see them skulking about. Perhaps, he told himself, if he was civil around them, they wouldn't mess with him, helping his whole 'staying out of trouble' thing work out.
"I'm sorry if I seem to be boring you, Mister Jashback," a shrill voice said, shattering his relative serenity and train of thought.
John wrenched his eyes from the glorious sight outside and over to the wrinkled face of his -subject- teacher, one Mrs. Brinkley. He studied her gruesome facial features for a moment - it was hard not to, as she had pushed her face into his. She had seen better days, as was plainly obvious from the lines and creases in her forehead and cheeks. John put her age in the mid-fifties, but he wouldn't have been surprised if she were ten years older. She had a rather crabby disposition to her, like she hated young people and her job. John was pretty sure that she had liked teaching at one point in her life, but she only stuck around now because she was close to retirement.
He managed to crack a weak smile before jerking a thumb at something random outside the window. "I'm sorry. It's just...such a nice day out..."
Mrs. Brinkley made a 'humph' of a snort and turned her head away, before continuing with her lecturing about whatever she was trying to teach, slowly walking up and down the rows of students. John still didn't know what it was that she was saying; he barely remembered what class he was in.
From the corner of his eye, John caught a brief flicker of movement. He glanced over to see a girl in the row next to him, stifling a giggle behind her hand, her eyes cast in his direction. Her face went crimson when she caught John looking at her, and she quickly turned away, much to his amusement. The girl carefully stared at the top of her desk, eyes glued to it, and she brought up a hand to obstruct John's view of her face. Or maybe she was just trying to get John to disappear from her sight.
He remembered her name as Amber, because well, as sad as it was, John couldn't forget a pretty girl's name. He'd never spoken a word to her, but he heard her name during the roll call one day, and never forgot. She was, after all, very attractive, with long, red-brown hair. He thought the hair made her look even better.
John sat up a little more straight in his seat, and smiled to himself. A beautiful girl, getting flustered because he looked at her? That was better than watching cheerleaders practice any day! Well...almost any day.
You know, she just might be embarrassed that you caught her laughing at you.
He looked back over at her, and caught her sneaking a look back at him. Her cheeks went red again, and the hand blocked her face again. John beamed brightly inward, really not caring what his nagging conscience said.
John feigned paying attention for the rest of the period, if only to keep the teacher off his back. He paid less attention to the outside, it's only redeeming quality being that it was freedom. His real attention was directed to ensuring that he kept looking at the girl next to him, making the glances short, a knowing smile across his lips.
When the harmonic ringing of the bell marked the end of the class period, John watched as Amber was the first one up and out of her desk, and she bolted out the door, but not before turning back long enough to smile at John. It made joy blossom through his body.
He had never been a huge hit with the ladies, but it was almost always due to him being shy around them, and nervous and timid. He almost always made himself the fool around the opposite sex, so he tried to steer clear of them altogether. John always figured that could help him survive his teenage years, because no matter what anyone says, the opinion of your schoolmates does matter to you, if only because you see them five days a week, eight hours a day, nine months out of the year. Of course, that was before he had come to the Institute. Oh, he still generally felt the same now around girls, but he was a little less worrisome and a little more brazen in his behavior.
The thought that he could potentially date a non-mutant girl was thrilling to John, if only it helped him retain what little normalcy a guy who had arms that fell off could have. But then he always thought back to the day that Jean had sort of opened up to him, and he felt a little selfish for thinking that.
Before he became lost in his head again, John climbed into the line of people slowly snaking it's way into the hall, and almost like floating on air, he put aside disgruntled thoughts on the slowness of his fellow students and happily made his way to his locker.
As he ambled his way down the hall, he passed the lurking Brotherhood members, as he often did, as one of their particular hang-outs was close to his locker. The big guy, the Blob, and the little crouching guy, the Toad, along with Lance and Pietro were leaning against a wall, sending death glares to anyone who merely looked in their direction. Walking by, John nodded to them and simply said, "Sup guys." He didn't wait for an answer - he never did. If they wanted to really talk to him, they'd make a move to do it. Something hit John a moment later; they were standing almost directly across from his intended destination.
Side-stepping a couple who decided to make out in the middle of the hall, John stopped in the middle of a long row of lockers, all painted an ugly blue-green color. Wondering what the architects were thinking when they chose the paint, he crouched down to his bottom locker, and fumbled with the dial, before finally entering his combination. John's shoulders stiffened, almost as if knowing that the Brotherhood guys were staring at him. Tossing in his book from the previous class, he pulled out another and unfolded himself, stretching a little once he was finally upright. Kicking his locker door shut, John spun on his heel and...
A breath smelling of cinnamon hit John, square in the nose, and for a brief moment, he was swimming in a sea of cinna-scented water. He blinked hard, letting his eyes come back into focus.
The first thing he really noticed was pink. Bright, powdery pink. Then he saw the skin, a cheek to be exact, on which the pink rested. His perspective shifted backwards, and he saw a face. A female face. One that was vaguely familiar.
That's right! The girl with the ass, just before Lance pummeled me into submission. You remember? That great first day of school.
Then suddenly, he saw red. Literally. Well, more of a light red. It took John a moment to realize that it was gum. He flinched slightly from the loud *SMACK* when it popped. The shattered fragments of flavored rubber were pulled backwards by a pair of big, luscious, curvaceous lips.
A pair of eyes gave John a quick once-over, and those same lips turned into a half-sneer. "So you're the new guy I've been hearing so much about," said a voice. It was hard for John to explain it's tone...it was a little shrilly, and sort of whiny, teetering on the edge of sounding annoying. And it had a hint of permanent amusement to it.
"Um. What?" Oh yes, that was good. Shut up.
John's field of vision seemed to pull back, and he got his first good look at the girl. She was moderately attractive, her beauty marred by her overuse of makeup and her ghastly hairstyle. The rest of her...she had a killer body; nothing but curves.
The half-sneer turned into a full-fledged grin. "You're kinda cute, I guess. I can see what Amara saw in you." She brought a hand up under his chin for a second, tilting his head down an inch, before laughing softly.
Meanwhile, John stood, silent and confused.
"Oh right!" she exclaimed. "I was supposed to do something to you." Her hands came up and took hold of John's left arm, and pulled hard.
John yanked his arm out of her hands and rubbed his shoulder. "What the hell was that for?" he said angrily, his confusion swallowed by anger.
She tossed her head and John barely caught what she murmured, "That's what I get for listening to the Brainless Boys..." Louder, she said, "Sorry 'bout that. Just checking something. See ya around, cutie." She turned and walked away, swaying her hips as she did so. Needless to say, John watched her until she was out of sight.
Shaking his head in a mixture of amazement and amusement, John eyes slid back over to the Brotherhood guys, who were staring back at him, jaws to the floor. Lance regained his composure before the others, and elbowed the big guy, gesturing him to go in John's direction. He made his way over to John, a worried look on his face.
"Uh...how come your uh...your uh...you know, arm didn't come off?" He seemed like a nervous wreck, and idly twisted a button on his oversized overalls. He didn't even look at John, choosing to stare intently at the stucco lining where the wall met the ceiling.
"Huh?"
"What he means to say, is how come your arm didn't come off, yo?"
John looked over at the frog boy in confusion, who had literally hopped over to them.
"Why?"
"I dunno. Cause it's freaky. In a cool kind of way."
John shook his head. "You're a confusing bunch, you know that?" Oh, like it takes a lot to confuse you/me... Shut up.
The frog boy nodded, before grinning, revealing sickly green teeth. "We're like that." He stuck out his hand. "I figure since we pulled your arm off and all, and you say 'hello' to us, that I owe you my name. I'm Todd, and this wanna-be house appraiser is Fred." He nudged the much larger boy, who looked down at the two of them and smiled weakly, but didn't say anything, so the frog boy...er, Todd, continued, "We're the Brotherhood - mutants, like you. Of course, you knew that already. Else I don't think you'd be so buddy-buddy with the X-Geeks."
John grasped his hand and shook it, choosing to ignore the loving nickname he referred to the others as. "Yeah, I knew all that before I met you. I'm John, the guy who's arm comes off. Arms, to be exact. I'm the guy who got his ass kicked by Lance and Pietro. And uh...an X-Geek..."
Todd grinned again, his lips peeling back to once again reveal those vile teeth. John wondered if he'd ever heard of a toothbrush. "Yah, but you don't hold any grudges over it. Besides, you made Pietro scream like a girl, and that's somethin' he's never gonna stop hearing." He paused long enough to look over his shoulder and snicker, and then continued. "And you got in a fight with that jerk, Duncan. That makes you a decent fella in my book, and it's the same with Fred here, once he decides to talk." He leaned in close to John, who fought with all his willpower to not recoil from the boy's stench, and whispered, "Just don't laugh at him, and he's a good guy." He stepped backwards, much to John's relief. He fought hard to maintain his composure.
John looked up at the big guy, no, Fred, who managed to smile weakly, breaking the big 'tough guy' aura that he naturally emanated. John studied his garish mohawk for a moment, while wondering who had to sew together such large overalls, while generally getting a feel on the much larger boy's personality. On a first glance, he looked slow, but a second, more careful look made you realize that he was someone you didn't want to piss off. Hell, John had first-hand knowledge of that. Fred did slam him into the lockers, after all.
"Oh yeah," John said, coming back into reality a little. He held up an arm and pointed to the watch. "This is why my arm didn't come off," he whispered. Todd didn't seem to notice, but John sure as hell did - they were still in a very much crowded hallway. But from the noise and general buzz of people talking and moving and concentrating on other things, John was pretty sure no one could have heard them. But he didn't exactly want to take chances.
Eyeing him warily, Todd slipped a grimy hand around the wrist of John's right arm, and gave it a sharp tug.
As if on an amusement park ride, John's face lunged forward to the ground, and abruptly stopped, and jerked back upright.
John snatched his arm back out of Todd's grip, and rubbed his shoulder. "Jesus Christ, is everyone going to friggin' do that to me, today?"
"Eh heh heh..." Todd snickered. "Sorry. That girl before...that was Tabitha. She's Brotherhood too...and a dirty klepto, even for our standards!" His tone implied that there was some hostility about that. John was too...confused/frightened/hardened to open up that can of worms.
"Y..yeah... I kinda pieced that together. Uh....what does she do?"
"Trust me, bro. You...you don't want to know."
John laughed at his little rhyme, but he didn't think Todd caught it.
And overhead, the bell rang out it's shrilly call.
"Shit, I'm late to class!"
It was Todd's turn to laugh, and he finally said, "Oh yeah. X-Geek to the core..."
John shook his head, still confused. He bid Todd and Silent Fred a hasty goodbye and sprinted off to class.
The day had gone from...as normal as he could muster, to good, and then to...surreal. He met Tabitha, and the name tingled a memory in the back of his mind - black leather. He grinned as he ran to class, thinking about her shapely body concealed in the somber-tinted rawhide suit.
Okay, so maybe the day hadn't gone to complete hell and a hand basket...
In a way, John had made friends with the Brotherhood...and all it really cost him was a pair of sore shoulder blades; a fair trade he decided, when compared to the alternatives, the two biggest ones being Pietro kicking his ass so quickly that John wouldn't be able to fight back, or Fred pulling off his limbs that lacked the ability to regenerate...
But luckily, John had prevented such a scenario from happening...well, there was nothing he could do about Pietro, but he pushed it out of his mind. It would only make his day worse. But it was already screwy in the first place.
Just another typical day, I guess. A typical day...
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Alright, so the chapter was a little weird, and I'm so sorry for making you wait so long for it. I hope this makes up for the long wait. Again, I'm sorry about that. I'll try to quicken the pace, really.
Chapter 41
Author's Note: I'd hope by the forty-first chapter that you know this already - stuff in italics are thoughts and I love you all. Oh, and I'm so so sorry for long time it took me to post this. I really apologize for making you wait.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of this - Marvel and Kid's WB do, except my original character, John. Oh, and I don't even know if this goes here, but if you don't like bad words, just...pretend they're something different.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
John stifled a yawn into his hand, and lazily gazed out the window beside him. It was bright outside, the sun radiating it's golden heat onto the world below. John wished he were outside in it.
But no, I'm stuck in here, listening to whatever it is the teacher is talking about.
John looked over at the teacher in question. What was she talking about? He heard her speak, drone on in an over-rehearsed tone, but the words made no sense. But most of the blame for that went to John's inability to pay attention at that moment in time. It wasn't the teacher's fault, not really. His eyes drifted back to the window and the view outside.
The window was why he couldn't pay attention. Well, not the window exactly, but what he saw through the window. He could see the school's football field, and beside it, the track, and a row of scaffolding, marking the construction of some new building. Or maybe for the repairing of a building. John wasn't quite sure, but he really didn't care. It took more than a football field and metal poles and plywood to catch his attention (although his arms could manage to do that).
Watching cheerleaders practice was always a favorite past-time for John. Hell, it's a favorite for any guy. He tried to convince himself that he wasn't getting an education for something other than a shallow, superficial teenage reason. But for the life of him, he couldn't.
It was about a month ago that John Jashback came to Bayville, to live in the Xavier Institute with other mutants like himself. He was slowly starting to fit in with the others, and as a whole, they stopped bothering him so much. The euphoria of his being new was probably wearing off from the others.
He had just been released from his four weeks of being grounded, not that it made much of a difference to him. He still didn't know where anything was in town. He didn't have to attend Danger Room sessions anymore, but he still had to exercise and such, which made sense to him. He had gotten his special watch from the Professor a week before, and it made him feel more comfortable at school. None one would end up accidentally pulling pulling off his arm. Of course, everyone who knew of his curse was always rather cautious around him. Well, except maybe the guys in the Brotherhood, but John had the slinking idea they were still scared of him. Well, maybe scared was too strong a word. 'Wary' seemed more like it. He made a point to say hello to them, whenever he'd pass them in the hall, or see them skulking about. Perhaps, he told himself, if he was civil around them, they wouldn't mess with him, helping his whole 'staying out of trouble' thing work out.
"I'm sorry if I seem to be boring you, Mister Jashback," a shrill voice said, shattering his relative serenity and train of thought.
John wrenched his eyes from the glorious sight outside and over to the wrinkled face of his -subject- teacher, one Mrs. Brinkley. He studied her gruesome facial features for a moment - it was hard not to, as she had pushed her face into his. She had seen better days, as was plainly obvious from the lines and creases in her forehead and cheeks. John put her age in the mid-fifties, but he wouldn't have been surprised if she were ten years older. She had a rather crabby disposition to her, like she hated young people and her job. John was pretty sure that she had liked teaching at one point in her life, but she only stuck around now because she was close to retirement.
He managed to crack a weak smile before jerking a thumb at something random outside the window. "I'm sorry. It's just...such a nice day out..."
Mrs. Brinkley made a 'humph' of a snort and turned her head away, before continuing with her lecturing about whatever she was trying to teach, slowly walking up and down the rows of students. John still didn't know what it was that she was saying; he barely remembered what class he was in.
From the corner of his eye, John caught a brief flicker of movement. He glanced over to see a girl in the row next to him, stifling a giggle behind her hand, her eyes cast in his direction. Her face went crimson when she caught John looking at her, and she quickly turned away, much to his amusement. The girl carefully stared at the top of her desk, eyes glued to it, and she brought up a hand to obstruct John's view of her face. Or maybe she was just trying to get John to disappear from her sight.
He remembered her name as Amber, because well, as sad as it was, John couldn't forget a pretty girl's name. He'd never spoken a word to her, but he heard her name during the roll call one day, and never forgot. She was, after all, very attractive, with long, red-brown hair. He thought the hair made her look even better.
John sat up a little more straight in his seat, and smiled to himself. A beautiful girl, getting flustered because he looked at her? That was better than watching cheerleaders practice any day! Well...almost any day.
You know, she just might be embarrassed that you caught her laughing at you.
He looked back over at her, and caught her sneaking a look back at him. Her cheeks went red again, and the hand blocked her face again. John beamed brightly inward, really not caring what his nagging conscience said.
John feigned paying attention for the rest of the period, if only to keep the teacher off his back. He paid less attention to the outside, it's only redeeming quality being that it was freedom. His real attention was directed to ensuring that he kept looking at the girl next to him, making the glances short, a knowing smile across his lips.
When the harmonic ringing of the bell marked the end of the class period, John watched as Amber was the first one up and out of her desk, and she bolted out the door, but not before turning back long enough to smile at John. It made joy blossom through his body.
He had never been a huge hit with the ladies, but it was almost always due to him being shy around them, and nervous and timid. He almost always made himself the fool around the opposite sex, so he tried to steer clear of them altogether. John always figured that could help him survive his teenage years, because no matter what anyone says, the opinion of your schoolmates does matter to you, if only because you see them five days a week, eight hours a day, nine months out of the year. Of course, that was before he had come to the Institute. Oh, he still generally felt the same now around girls, but he was a little less worrisome and a little more brazen in his behavior.
The thought that he could potentially date a non-mutant girl was thrilling to John, if only it helped him retain what little normalcy a guy who had arms that fell off could have. But then he always thought back to the day that Jean had sort of opened up to him, and he felt a little selfish for thinking that.
Before he became lost in his head again, John climbed into the line of people slowly snaking it's way into the hall, and almost like floating on air, he put aside disgruntled thoughts on the slowness of his fellow students and happily made his way to his locker.
As he ambled his way down the hall, he passed the lurking Brotherhood members, as he often did, as one of their particular hang-outs was close to his locker. The big guy, the Blob, and the little crouching guy, the Toad, along with Lance and Pietro were leaning against a wall, sending death glares to anyone who merely looked in their direction. Walking by, John nodded to them and simply said, "Sup guys." He didn't wait for an answer - he never did. If they wanted to really talk to him, they'd make a move to do it. Something hit John a moment later; they were standing almost directly across from his intended destination.
Side-stepping a couple who decided to make out in the middle of the hall, John stopped in the middle of a long row of lockers, all painted an ugly blue-green color. Wondering what the architects were thinking when they chose the paint, he crouched down to his bottom locker, and fumbled with the dial, before finally entering his combination. John's shoulders stiffened, almost as if knowing that the Brotherhood guys were staring at him. Tossing in his book from the previous class, he pulled out another and unfolded himself, stretching a little once he was finally upright. Kicking his locker door shut, John spun on his heel and...
A breath smelling of cinnamon hit John, square in the nose, and for a brief moment, he was swimming in a sea of cinna-scented water. He blinked hard, letting his eyes come back into focus.
The first thing he really noticed was pink. Bright, powdery pink. Then he saw the skin, a cheek to be exact, on which the pink rested. His perspective shifted backwards, and he saw a face. A female face. One that was vaguely familiar.
That's right! The girl with the ass, just before Lance pummeled me into submission. You remember? That great first day of school.
Then suddenly, he saw red. Literally. Well, more of a light red. It took John a moment to realize that it was gum. He flinched slightly from the loud *SMACK* when it popped. The shattered fragments of flavored rubber were pulled backwards by a pair of big, luscious, curvaceous lips.
A pair of eyes gave John a quick once-over, and those same lips turned into a half-sneer. "So you're the new guy I've been hearing so much about," said a voice. It was hard for John to explain it's tone...it was a little shrilly, and sort of whiny, teetering on the edge of sounding annoying. And it had a hint of permanent amusement to it.
"Um. What?" Oh yes, that was good. Shut up.
John's field of vision seemed to pull back, and he got his first good look at the girl. She was moderately attractive, her beauty marred by her overuse of makeup and her ghastly hairstyle. The rest of her...she had a killer body; nothing but curves.
The half-sneer turned into a full-fledged grin. "You're kinda cute, I guess. I can see what Amara saw in you." She brought a hand up under his chin for a second, tilting his head down an inch, before laughing softly.
Meanwhile, John stood, silent and confused.
"Oh right!" she exclaimed. "I was supposed to do something to you." Her hands came up and took hold of John's left arm, and pulled hard.
John yanked his arm out of her hands and rubbed his shoulder. "What the hell was that for?" he said angrily, his confusion swallowed by anger.
She tossed her head and John barely caught what she murmured, "That's what I get for listening to the Brainless Boys..." Louder, she said, "Sorry 'bout that. Just checking something. See ya around, cutie." She turned and walked away, swaying her hips as she did so. Needless to say, John watched her until she was out of sight.
Shaking his head in a mixture of amazement and amusement, John eyes slid back over to the Brotherhood guys, who were staring back at him, jaws to the floor. Lance regained his composure before the others, and elbowed the big guy, gesturing him to go in John's direction. He made his way over to John, a worried look on his face.
"Uh...how come your uh...your uh...you know, arm didn't come off?" He seemed like a nervous wreck, and idly twisted a button on his oversized overalls. He didn't even look at John, choosing to stare intently at the stucco lining where the wall met the ceiling.
"Huh?"
"What he means to say, is how come your arm didn't come off, yo?"
John looked over at the frog boy in confusion, who had literally hopped over to them.
"Why?"
"I dunno. Cause it's freaky. In a cool kind of way."
John shook his head. "You're a confusing bunch, you know that?" Oh, like it takes a lot to confuse you/me... Shut up.
The frog boy nodded, before grinning, revealing sickly green teeth. "We're like that." He stuck out his hand. "I figure since we pulled your arm off and all, and you say 'hello' to us, that I owe you my name. I'm Todd, and this wanna-be house appraiser is Fred." He nudged the much larger boy, who looked down at the two of them and smiled weakly, but didn't say anything, so the frog boy...er, Todd, continued, "We're the Brotherhood - mutants, like you. Of course, you knew that already. Else I don't think you'd be so buddy-buddy with the X-Geeks."
John grasped his hand and shook it, choosing to ignore the loving nickname he referred to the others as. "Yeah, I knew all that before I met you. I'm John, the guy who's arm comes off. Arms, to be exact. I'm the guy who got his ass kicked by Lance and Pietro. And uh...an X-Geek..."
Todd grinned again, his lips peeling back to once again reveal those vile teeth. John wondered if he'd ever heard of a toothbrush. "Yah, but you don't hold any grudges over it. Besides, you made Pietro scream like a girl, and that's somethin' he's never gonna stop hearing." He paused long enough to look over his shoulder and snicker, and then continued. "And you got in a fight with that jerk, Duncan. That makes you a decent fella in my book, and it's the same with Fred here, once he decides to talk." He leaned in close to John, who fought with all his willpower to not recoil from the boy's stench, and whispered, "Just don't laugh at him, and he's a good guy." He stepped backwards, much to John's relief. He fought hard to maintain his composure.
John looked up at the big guy, no, Fred, who managed to smile weakly, breaking the big 'tough guy' aura that he naturally emanated. John studied his garish mohawk for a moment, while wondering who had to sew together such large overalls, while generally getting a feel on the much larger boy's personality. On a first glance, he looked slow, but a second, more careful look made you realize that he was someone you didn't want to piss off. Hell, John had first-hand knowledge of that. Fred did slam him into the lockers, after all.
"Oh yeah," John said, coming back into reality a little. He held up an arm and pointed to the watch. "This is why my arm didn't come off," he whispered. Todd didn't seem to notice, but John sure as hell did - they were still in a very much crowded hallway. But from the noise and general buzz of people talking and moving and concentrating on other things, John was pretty sure no one could have heard them. But he didn't exactly want to take chances.
Eyeing him warily, Todd slipped a grimy hand around the wrist of John's right arm, and gave it a sharp tug.
As if on an amusement park ride, John's face lunged forward to the ground, and abruptly stopped, and jerked back upright.
John snatched his arm back out of Todd's grip, and rubbed his shoulder. "Jesus Christ, is everyone going to friggin' do that to me, today?"
"Eh heh heh..." Todd snickered. "Sorry. That girl before...that was Tabitha. She's Brotherhood too...and a dirty klepto, even for our standards!" His tone implied that there was some hostility about that. John was too...confused/frightened/hardened to open up that can of worms.
"Y..yeah... I kinda pieced that together. Uh....what does she do?"
"Trust me, bro. You...you don't want to know."
John laughed at his little rhyme, but he didn't think Todd caught it.
And overhead, the bell rang out it's shrilly call.
"Shit, I'm late to class!"
It was Todd's turn to laugh, and he finally said, "Oh yeah. X-Geek to the core..."
John shook his head, still confused. He bid Todd and Silent Fred a hasty goodbye and sprinted off to class.
The day had gone from...as normal as he could muster, to good, and then to...surreal. He met Tabitha, and the name tingled a memory in the back of his mind - black leather. He grinned as he ran to class, thinking about her shapely body concealed in the somber-tinted rawhide suit.
Okay, so maybe the day hadn't gone to complete hell and a hand basket...
In a way, John had made friends with the Brotherhood...and all it really cost him was a pair of sore shoulder blades; a fair trade he decided, when compared to the alternatives, the two biggest ones being Pietro kicking his ass so quickly that John wouldn't be able to fight back, or Fred pulling off his limbs that lacked the ability to regenerate...
But luckily, John had prevented such a scenario from happening...well, there was nothing he could do about Pietro, but he pushed it out of his mind. It would only make his day worse. But it was already screwy in the first place.
Just another typical day, I guess. A typical day...
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Alright, so the chapter was a little weird, and I'm so sorry for making you wait so long for it. I hope this makes up for the long wait. Again, I'm sorry about that. I'll try to quicken the pace, really.