I'm writing these Author's Notes while being even more incoherent than
usual, so they're . . . weird. Not that my Author's Notes are ever gonna
win the Nobel Prize even on a good day . . . But I am extremely out of it
at the moment. If I hadn't met my cousin in school, who nicely pointed out
that it wasn't Wednesday, I would have ended up in the wrong classroom. But
the chapter itself was written when I was normal (well, as normal as I can
ever be) so that's pretty okay to read.
Thank you thank you -thank- you for all the nice reviews! They make me very happy! And makes me write faster! Everything good in here is for you guys! Everything bad exists because all of my CD's are boring. An extra little "thank you" to John Surber for informing me what Banff means. (if you didn't know, it's a ski resort in the Alberta Rockies in Canada. *nods in approval*)
Yeah. I don't really have a comment for this chapter. Oh well. It's slightly longer than the previous one! Hurrah!
Big big big thanks to Death Lord La for beta reading!!!
Warning: I'm trying to write Gambit's accent in this chapter. Ahh! The one he usually has, because I've been told that he has no accent in Evo. And Remy's and St. John's personalities are made up entirely by me. (oh no!)
Well, here's chapter three.
-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-
Chapter 3
Outside of Bayville, there is a hotel. It is placed in the middle of the woods, away from civilization, with a lake in the back. Your stereotypical horror-movie house, complete with gargoyles on the roof, secret hallways, and a bloody history similar to that of the hotel in "The Shining". Naturally the hotel had been closed down, as that is what happens to hotels where an employee decides to go on a murderous rampage through the rooms. The building stood closed for many years, forgotten by all but the oldest citizens that mentioned it when complaining about what the world was coming to.
After many years, there came a man who had been looking for a place to settle down. Not to age quietly, no, this man had slightly bigger plans than that . . . such as world domination. Since the hotel was in such a nice secluded place (and very cheap), the man bought it, moving in everything that would help him to achieve his goal. Things like strange, powerful machines, and his absolutely terrifying henchmen . . .
"The Power Puff Girls!"
*click*
"I'm counting to ten. One . . . two . . . three . . ."
*click*
"This backpack turns into a dance studio . . ."
*click*
"Oh no-o-oo! A twister! Ruun!"
"This is sooooo boring," Pietro Maximoff sighted from where he was draped over an armchair. "Gimme the remote, you're too slow." He then proceeded to lounge at the current Remote-King, St. John Allerdyce, who possessed the couch at the moment. The blonde teen squealed and tried to escape, but of course, the speed demon was too fast for him.
"Ey, get offa me!" the Australian yelled, resolving to hitting the white- haired teen in the head with the remote.
"C'mon, gimmegimmegimme!" Pietro shouted, then reeling back when the pyromaniac got in a perfect hit on his nose. The speedster grabbed his nose and glared at St. John.
"Bitch."
St. John only flipped him off and returned to watching the TV with a smug look.
*click*
"It's 3 toothpastes in one!"
*click*
"Yeah butterfly tongues! There's nothing more amazing than butterfly tongues . . ."
*click*
"It's been raining hard all day, but right now, it's letting up . . . . ."
"C'mon, Johnny-boy, let's do something funny!" Pietro exclaimed, starting to feel his braincells dying from boredom. There was absolutely nothing to do, since all the teenaged boys were forbidden to leave the grounds of the hotel. After all, Xavier had spies everywhere! Or maybe it was just because of the fact that Piotr Rasputin was the only one of them that didn't cause massive scenes wherever he went. And it wasn't because of the fact that the other three teenagers were so extremely good-looking, it was because of the "accidents" that were prone to happen when they were around.
Not that Remy or Johnny is anywhere -near- as good-looking as me, Pietro contemplated, returning to TV-induced-zombie-state when he noticed St. John wasn't really interested in talking to him, for once not feeling like bugging the hell out of the person that dared to ignore him. Even if Johnny's kinda cute . . . No! Dating teammates are -not- a good idea, dammit! I know that. If anyone knows that, it's me. Uh-hu. I -know-. Hmm . . . I wonder if we've got any peanut butter left.
And with that final thought, Pietro jumped up and sped away to the kitchen area, leaving the other boy alone with the weather-channel.
~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~
There wasn't any peanut butter in the fridge. Or in the cupboards. Or in the oven.
"Goddammitwhydon'twehaveanypeanutbutter?!"
"Huh?" Remy LeBeau asked from the kitchen table where he sat doing nothing in particular except looking extremely tired. Yup, I'm sooo much better looking than him. Pietro noted to himself. I'm the handsomest person in the world. And -incredibly- bored. I want peanut butter!
"I want peanut butter," the speed demon said at a slower pace. Apparently not slow enough, because Remy still had a 'stop talking so fast you stupid . . . thing!'-look on his face.
"P-e-a-nut butt-e-r," Pietro half-spelled. "What's the matter with you, are you drunk or something?"
"Not any more," Remy muttered, letting his head fall down on the tabletop.
"What? You guys got drunk without me? That's so . . . so . . . mean!"
"Just me an' Elisa. We raided Magneto's wine cellar. Well, she did, I just happened t' show up in time. Besides, you don' drink."
"Yes I do. I'm just not stupid enough to steal anything from Magneto. Do you have -any- idea what he'll do to you when he finds out?"
"I hope he kills me. I haven' felt dis sick since de first time I drank. Dere must 'ave been something wrong with de wine."
"Hey, maybe it was poisoned and you're gonna die a slow painful death," Pietro suggested, not without some glee.
"Ugh," was all Remy had to say to that.
"Dammit luv, you look like something the cat dragged in," came a new voice from the doorway. The Cajun turned his head a little, looking at the black- haired girl standing there, but not bothering to reply. Pietro snickered a little at Remy's continuously pathetic appearance.
"Hey, Remy, if there was something wrong with the wine, how come Elisa looks nowhere near as trashy as you? She drank too, right?"
"De chere has to be more used t' alcohol, after all, she's lived for three hundred years," Remy muttered, not too happy about being mocked.
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Elisa Brooks said, sauntering over to the counter to grab an apple. "And for your information Remy, I'm no older than a hundred and fifty."
"And aging with grace," Remy noted. After all, Elisa didn't look a day over seventeen.
"I don't age, that's the problem," Elisa muttered, taking a big (but still lady-like) bite out of the apple.
"After all that time you haven't learned some common sense? Stealing from Magneto is -not- very smart!" Pietro exclaimed, then switching subject. "Have you seen any peanut butter?"
"Sweetheart, I didn't -steal- from Magneto, I merely borrowed some of his wine. He won't even notice, if only Remy'll shape up a little. And no, I haven't seen any peanut butter. Have you seen my boots?"
"What boots? You have like, hundreds of 'em," the speedster replied. Oh no, no peanut butter. Damn. And why do I speak like a valley girl?
"My French black knee boots," the girl explained, slightly annoyed. "They're missing."
"Maybe Sabretooth stole dem," Remy snickered from the tabletop. Pietro also grinned at that, but Elisa still looked annoyed.
"Your sense of humor does not amuse me. Well, maybe a little. But I want my sodding boots!"
"Hey, we can go to the mall and buy new boots for you," Pietro suggested, lighting up at the aspect of -doing- something. "And then we can buy peanut butter!"
"You're not allowed t' leave dis house," Remy pointed out. "Disturbing de peace in de cinema was not appreciated by neither de guards nor Magneto."
"You blew up a phone boot," Pietro replied, feeling slightly depressed again. Dammit! I don't wanna be here! "That wasn't very popular either. So you're grounded, too! Ha!"
Remy raised his head to give Pietro an annoyed look.
"Whatever. You are strange."
"Yeah . . . Well . . . You're stranger!" The speedster exclaimed, not really coming up with any good insults. After all, he was hungry!
Remy just blinked. Then a blond figure stormed into the kitchen at high speed. The figure turned out to be the resident pyromaniac.
"Help me!" St. John squealed, hiding behind Pietro. The speed demon looked at him with half irritation and half amusement. He -is- hot . . . and I want peanut butter. Even if the craving for peanut butter wasn't as great as earlier. No, the white-haired teen didn't really want peanut butter any more, but it had become a -challenge- to find some.
"Whassa matter?" he asked the Australian, trying to forget all about peanut butter and good-looking teammates.
"The psychopath's after me!!"
"Which one, we've got lots of 'em 'round here."
"We do?" St. John blinked. "I though there only was Sabretooth and Magneto."
"Well . . . Elisa's slightly psycho."
"Why thank you," Elisa said, raising her apple in a salute. "You're somewhat psychotic, too."
Pietro mock-bowed. "Thank -you- for seeing my great potential." He turned back to St. John. "And Remy's a pseudo psychopath when he hasn't got a hangover. And you're a pyro-psychopath. I guess the only one that's not a psychopath around here is Peter, but he's Russian, so it all adds up."
"Right . . ." the pyro-psychopath in question frowned, then returning to panicked state when Victor Creed entered the room in a less-than-happy mood. Without Elisa's boots. And without eyebrows.
Upon noticing this, Pietro, Remy and Elisa just stared. And stared. And stared. None of them dared to laugh, even if laughter almost was required, because Sabretooth looked ready to kill. The target for his rage was most likely St. John, who was clinging to Pietro's back again, trying to become invisible. However, since invisibility wasn't the power the Australian was gifted with, he was still discernible behind the thinner teenager.
"You!" the furry furious mutant growled, advancing towards the two boys, his intent clearly visible on his face, even without eyebrows. St. John squealed again.
"Please pleaseplease Pietro, get me away from him," he begged the speedster, glancing around for possible exits while the big scary mutant came closer.
"And why should I do that?" Pietro replied, feeling slightly nervous (but not showing it, of course!) even if he wasn't to blame for anything this time. After all, he would end up in the crossfire if he didn't move soon.
"Because you're such a good friend? Because you can't let a fellow mutant go down this way? Because I'll pay you?!"
"Bingo!" Pietro exclaimed. Money was always good. "Hold on." With that, the white-haired gypsy sped out of the kitchen, St. John still firmly attached to his back, leaving behind the outraged Sabretooth as well as the two other mutants who couldn't conceal their laughter anymore.
tbc
-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-
Disclaimer: Elisa Brooks don't belong to me, she belongs to Amber-goddess. X-Men don't belong to me. One third of my collection of X-Men magazines don't belong to me. But this story is mine! Hahaha!
Another pointless chapter brought to you by the one and only idiot nr 72056. And the ending sucks. Again. Even more so than usual, actually. But I couldn't come up with a better one. And I was completely obsessed with peanut butter while writing this. Just so you know. Yup.
Gah, I think I totally butchered Elisa. Which is bad, coz she's awesome. Did I do okay? Amber-goddess, was she very OOC? And remember, as soon as one OC turns unbearable, -tell me-! Very important. But I hope Elisa didn't disturb anyone. Did you get her powers? They were subtly (or not) hinted.
And I didn't get all that many suggestions for different pairings . . . Maybe it's just me that's obsessed with romance of any kind due to my dysfunctional love life. Oh well. There will be lots and lots of romance in here eventually. And angst (muahahaha!)! Suggest some pairings now. In this story there's two people that are destined to be together (*smiles happily*) but all the others are open for every option. And I'm very easy to convince on pairings, especially odd ones. I'll even throw in some Pyro/Sabretooth if someone asks for it. *blinks in horror at that idea* Or not. Maybe some things are better left unwritten . . .
Next chapter: Well, you'll find out what really -did- happen to Mystique's closet. Yay! *skips off to write about "Empire Record"*
Thank you thank you -thank- you for all the nice reviews! They make me very happy! And makes me write faster! Everything good in here is for you guys! Everything bad exists because all of my CD's are boring. An extra little "thank you" to John Surber for informing me what Banff means. (if you didn't know, it's a ski resort in the Alberta Rockies in Canada. *nods in approval*)
Yeah. I don't really have a comment for this chapter. Oh well. It's slightly longer than the previous one! Hurrah!
Big big big thanks to Death Lord La for beta reading!!!
Warning: I'm trying to write Gambit's accent in this chapter. Ahh! The one he usually has, because I've been told that he has no accent in Evo. And Remy's and St. John's personalities are made up entirely by me. (oh no!)
Well, here's chapter three.
-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-
Chapter 3
Outside of Bayville, there is a hotel. It is placed in the middle of the woods, away from civilization, with a lake in the back. Your stereotypical horror-movie house, complete with gargoyles on the roof, secret hallways, and a bloody history similar to that of the hotel in "The Shining". Naturally the hotel had been closed down, as that is what happens to hotels where an employee decides to go on a murderous rampage through the rooms. The building stood closed for many years, forgotten by all but the oldest citizens that mentioned it when complaining about what the world was coming to.
After many years, there came a man who had been looking for a place to settle down. Not to age quietly, no, this man had slightly bigger plans than that . . . such as world domination. Since the hotel was in such a nice secluded place (and very cheap), the man bought it, moving in everything that would help him to achieve his goal. Things like strange, powerful machines, and his absolutely terrifying henchmen . . .
"The Power Puff Girls!"
*click*
"I'm counting to ten. One . . . two . . . three . . ."
*click*
"This backpack turns into a dance studio . . ."
*click*
"Oh no-o-oo! A twister! Ruun!"
"This is sooooo boring," Pietro Maximoff sighted from where he was draped over an armchair. "Gimme the remote, you're too slow." He then proceeded to lounge at the current Remote-King, St. John Allerdyce, who possessed the couch at the moment. The blonde teen squealed and tried to escape, but of course, the speed demon was too fast for him.
"Ey, get offa me!" the Australian yelled, resolving to hitting the white- haired teen in the head with the remote.
"C'mon, gimmegimmegimme!" Pietro shouted, then reeling back when the pyromaniac got in a perfect hit on his nose. The speedster grabbed his nose and glared at St. John.
"Bitch."
St. John only flipped him off and returned to watching the TV with a smug look.
*click*
"It's 3 toothpastes in one!"
*click*
"Yeah butterfly tongues! There's nothing more amazing than butterfly tongues . . ."
*click*
"It's been raining hard all day, but right now, it's letting up . . . . ."
"C'mon, Johnny-boy, let's do something funny!" Pietro exclaimed, starting to feel his braincells dying from boredom. There was absolutely nothing to do, since all the teenaged boys were forbidden to leave the grounds of the hotel. After all, Xavier had spies everywhere! Or maybe it was just because of the fact that Piotr Rasputin was the only one of them that didn't cause massive scenes wherever he went. And it wasn't because of the fact that the other three teenagers were so extremely good-looking, it was because of the "accidents" that were prone to happen when they were around.
Not that Remy or Johnny is anywhere -near- as good-looking as me, Pietro contemplated, returning to TV-induced-zombie-state when he noticed St. John wasn't really interested in talking to him, for once not feeling like bugging the hell out of the person that dared to ignore him. Even if Johnny's kinda cute . . . No! Dating teammates are -not- a good idea, dammit! I know that. If anyone knows that, it's me. Uh-hu. I -know-. Hmm . . . I wonder if we've got any peanut butter left.
And with that final thought, Pietro jumped up and sped away to the kitchen area, leaving the other boy alone with the weather-channel.
~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~
There wasn't any peanut butter in the fridge. Or in the cupboards. Or in the oven.
"Goddammitwhydon'twehaveanypeanutbutter?!"
"Huh?" Remy LeBeau asked from the kitchen table where he sat doing nothing in particular except looking extremely tired. Yup, I'm sooo much better looking than him. Pietro noted to himself. I'm the handsomest person in the world. And -incredibly- bored. I want peanut butter!
"I want peanut butter," the speed demon said at a slower pace. Apparently not slow enough, because Remy still had a 'stop talking so fast you stupid . . . thing!'-look on his face.
"P-e-a-nut butt-e-r," Pietro half-spelled. "What's the matter with you, are you drunk or something?"
"Not any more," Remy muttered, letting his head fall down on the tabletop.
"What? You guys got drunk without me? That's so . . . so . . . mean!"
"Just me an' Elisa. We raided Magneto's wine cellar. Well, she did, I just happened t' show up in time. Besides, you don' drink."
"Yes I do. I'm just not stupid enough to steal anything from Magneto. Do you have -any- idea what he'll do to you when he finds out?"
"I hope he kills me. I haven' felt dis sick since de first time I drank. Dere must 'ave been something wrong with de wine."
"Hey, maybe it was poisoned and you're gonna die a slow painful death," Pietro suggested, not without some glee.
"Ugh," was all Remy had to say to that.
"Dammit luv, you look like something the cat dragged in," came a new voice from the doorway. The Cajun turned his head a little, looking at the black- haired girl standing there, but not bothering to reply. Pietro snickered a little at Remy's continuously pathetic appearance.
"Hey, Remy, if there was something wrong with the wine, how come Elisa looks nowhere near as trashy as you? She drank too, right?"
"De chere has to be more used t' alcohol, after all, she's lived for three hundred years," Remy muttered, not too happy about being mocked.
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," Elisa Brooks said, sauntering over to the counter to grab an apple. "And for your information Remy, I'm no older than a hundred and fifty."
"And aging with grace," Remy noted. After all, Elisa didn't look a day over seventeen.
"I don't age, that's the problem," Elisa muttered, taking a big (but still lady-like) bite out of the apple.
"After all that time you haven't learned some common sense? Stealing from Magneto is -not- very smart!" Pietro exclaimed, then switching subject. "Have you seen any peanut butter?"
"Sweetheart, I didn't -steal- from Magneto, I merely borrowed some of his wine. He won't even notice, if only Remy'll shape up a little. And no, I haven't seen any peanut butter. Have you seen my boots?"
"What boots? You have like, hundreds of 'em," the speedster replied. Oh no, no peanut butter. Damn. And why do I speak like a valley girl?
"My French black knee boots," the girl explained, slightly annoyed. "They're missing."
"Maybe Sabretooth stole dem," Remy snickered from the tabletop. Pietro also grinned at that, but Elisa still looked annoyed.
"Your sense of humor does not amuse me. Well, maybe a little. But I want my sodding boots!"
"Hey, we can go to the mall and buy new boots for you," Pietro suggested, lighting up at the aspect of -doing- something. "And then we can buy peanut butter!"
"You're not allowed t' leave dis house," Remy pointed out. "Disturbing de peace in de cinema was not appreciated by neither de guards nor Magneto."
"You blew up a phone boot," Pietro replied, feeling slightly depressed again. Dammit! I don't wanna be here! "That wasn't very popular either. So you're grounded, too! Ha!"
Remy raised his head to give Pietro an annoyed look.
"Whatever. You are strange."
"Yeah . . . Well . . . You're stranger!" The speedster exclaimed, not really coming up with any good insults. After all, he was hungry!
Remy just blinked. Then a blond figure stormed into the kitchen at high speed. The figure turned out to be the resident pyromaniac.
"Help me!" St. John squealed, hiding behind Pietro. The speed demon looked at him with half irritation and half amusement. He -is- hot . . . and I want peanut butter. Even if the craving for peanut butter wasn't as great as earlier. No, the white-haired teen didn't really want peanut butter any more, but it had become a -challenge- to find some.
"Whassa matter?" he asked the Australian, trying to forget all about peanut butter and good-looking teammates.
"The psychopath's after me!!"
"Which one, we've got lots of 'em 'round here."
"We do?" St. John blinked. "I though there only was Sabretooth and Magneto."
"Well . . . Elisa's slightly psycho."
"Why thank you," Elisa said, raising her apple in a salute. "You're somewhat psychotic, too."
Pietro mock-bowed. "Thank -you- for seeing my great potential." He turned back to St. John. "And Remy's a pseudo psychopath when he hasn't got a hangover. And you're a pyro-psychopath. I guess the only one that's not a psychopath around here is Peter, but he's Russian, so it all adds up."
"Right . . ." the pyro-psychopath in question frowned, then returning to panicked state when Victor Creed entered the room in a less-than-happy mood. Without Elisa's boots. And without eyebrows.
Upon noticing this, Pietro, Remy and Elisa just stared. And stared. And stared. None of them dared to laugh, even if laughter almost was required, because Sabretooth looked ready to kill. The target for his rage was most likely St. John, who was clinging to Pietro's back again, trying to become invisible. However, since invisibility wasn't the power the Australian was gifted with, he was still discernible behind the thinner teenager.
"You!" the furry furious mutant growled, advancing towards the two boys, his intent clearly visible on his face, even without eyebrows. St. John squealed again.
"Please pleaseplease Pietro, get me away from him," he begged the speedster, glancing around for possible exits while the big scary mutant came closer.
"And why should I do that?" Pietro replied, feeling slightly nervous (but not showing it, of course!) even if he wasn't to blame for anything this time. After all, he would end up in the crossfire if he didn't move soon.
"Because you're such a good friend? Because you can't let a fellow mutant go down this way? Because I'll pay you?!"
"Bingo!" Pietro exclaimed. Money was always good. "Hold on." With that, the white-haired gypsy sped out of the kitchen, St. John still firmly attached to his back, leaving behind the outraged Sabretooth as well as the two other mutants who couldn't conceal their laughter anymore.
tbc
-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-@-
Disclaimer: Elisa Brooks don't belong to me, she belongs to Amber-goddess. X-Men don't belong to me. One third of my collection of X-Men magazines don't belong to me. But this story is mine! Hahaha!
Another pointless chapter brought to you by the one and only idiot nr 72056. And the ending sucks. Again. Even more so than usual, actually. But I couldn't come up with a better one. And I was completely obsessed with peanut butter while writing this. Just so you know. Yup.
Gah, I think I totally butchered Elisa. Which is bad, coz she's awesome. Did I do okay? Amber-goddess, was she very OOC? And remember, as soon as one OC turns unbearable, -tell me-! Very important. But I hope Elisa didn't disturb anyone. Did you get her powers? They were subtly (or not) hinted.
And I didn't get all that many suggestions for different pairings . . . Maybe it's just me that's obsessed with romance of any kind due to my dysfunctional love life. Oh well. There will be lots and lots of romance in here eventually. And angst (muahahaha!)! Suggest some pairings now. In this story there's two people that are destined to be together (*smiles happily*) but all the others are open for every option. And I'm very easy to convince on pairings, especially odd ones. I'll even throw in some Pyro/Sabretooth if someone asks for it. *blinks in horror at that idea* Or not. Maybe some things are better left unwritten . . .
Next chapter: Well, you'll find out what really -did- happen to Mystique's closet. Yay! *skips off to write about "Empire Record"*