Mystique and Magneto's Great Culinary Caper
By Persephone
AN: Well, this is it. Thank everyone who has reviewed so far: todd fan, Eileen, SailorWade, Ambrosia, Red Witch, Alison Sky, happymaximus, Kelly, The Desert Fox, DragonBlond, Goldylokz, and, of course, Yelhsa D. You are all fantastic! I adore you all!
Chapter Eight Of Phones and Hawaii
"Man, am I glad we got out of there!" Todd exclaimed.
"Amen to that," Fred said, nodding vigorously. The Brotherhood had decided to take a tactical retreat after Wanda's cheese grater arm had gotten tired. Wanda herself was sitting in the front seat of the Avalanche, having taken over Charlie's spot. Charlie himself had been in a strange mood when they'd left Magneto's, muttering to himself about senseless violence and 'kids today, no respect for their elders.'
He had requested they let him out at the highway, and they had done so, letting him, Bob Marley, and Jim go on their merry way.
Lance was very happily driving the Avalanche, since they had been forced to drag Mystique out to the car, unable to awaken her, and had dumped her in the back seat. She was still snoring away. Fred was munching on the honey ham he had taken, saying that they really needed it more than Magneto and his crew. They had also taken the silverware, figuring that they could use it more than Magneto.
"Hey, Lance, stop here," Todd said suddenly, seeing a Kwik-E-Mart. Lance did so without argument, still in the euphoric "I can't believe I'm driving this sexy beast of a vehicle" stage. Todd bounded out of the car, and ran inside. A minute later, he returned with a small bag.
"Here," he said, proffering it to Wanda.
She accepted it cautiously, and looked inside warily. A huge grin soon spread across her face, though.
"You got me ice cream!" she said happily, pulling the pint of cookie dough ice cream out. "Thank you!"
And then she gave Todd a quick hug.
Todd knew that if he had died at that moment, he would die happy.
And so the Brotherhood made their way home.
**
Magneto moaned in pain as he slowly regained consciousness. He could honestly not remember the last time he had hurt so very much. Maybe never. All he knew was that he was throwing that cursed cheese grater in the trash as soon as he was able to get up. No, he would run it over with his Volvo, then throw it away. No, run it over, then melt it, then toss the still liquified remains out to sea to choke some random endangered species. That would be the evil route.
Then he would do the same to his daughter, followed shortly by the severe beating of that neanderthal Sabretooth. They would all suffer. For a long, long time. Like for a full week after he stopped aching himself.
Magneto moaned again, and experimentally opened his eyes. The dining room was empty. Where had they all gone? It had only been a minute since he had passed out... er, decided to take a small nap.
He climbed unsteadily to his feet. His nose throbbed, his head hurt, and it felt like someone had attacked him with a cheese grater. Imagine that. He looked around the dining room. All the chairs were knocked over, the good silver was missing, and the honey ham was gone.
They had taken off! How dare they! When he found them, he was going to wrap them all up in steel bars, and make them forever wander the earth looking of a blowtorch powerful enough to melt through it, freeing them from the full body suits of steel. He would get even for them leaving him.
Maybe, though, the Rascals were still here, hiding. And maybe they knew where the dead man Sabretooth was. Then after they told him, as they would, of course, he would hunt that furry maniac down and teach him to botch up an important mission.
Magneto smiled ferally at a chicken bone which was defying gravity and balancing on a dinner roll. Had any of the mutants under his tutelage been in the room, they would have immediately cowered at the sight of Magneto's furious, bloody face. He was going to get revenge, and teach those disrespectful miscreants exactly why he was one of the most feared mutants in the world! He was Magneto, hear him roar!
He made his way deeper into his evil lair. Passing a window in the hall, he noticed that night had fallen. He must have been out a little longer than he had first reckoned. Where would he find his minions...er, students at?
The Cajun kid was usually on the phone talking to one girl or another. Magneto headed to where the phone sat in the living room on a small table next to the large comfy leather couch. The phone was sitting there, looking lonely. The answering machine flashed that there were twenty seven messages. Magneto decided to check them out, on the off chance that one was for him. It was only his home, after all.
Two were for Poitr, one sounding like his mother and the other his sister. Four were for St John, from a father, a random Aussie, and two teenage girls. One message was from someone selling vinyl siding. Six messages were for his lousy son, all of them simpering teenage girls. There were fourteen messages for the Cajun brat. Five from simpering teenage girls, another three from slightly older women, probably in their early twenties. One was from the kid's criminal adoptive father, and the next five messages were all from Belladonna, the Cajun's scary girlfriend. As far as Magneto could figure, the Cajun kid came from a family perfectly accepting of his mutant status, but he had come to him just to get away from the girl, who was apparently rather violent and rightfully jealous.
Magneto fumed to himself for a moment, angry that he never got any messages. Of course, Creed didn't either, but Creed also had a cell phone.
A cell phone...
He could call the miserable ice cream eater! Make him think he wasn't really mad, and then lure him into a false sense of security. Then, BAM! He would take his revenge.
Yes, he was evil. He was darn good at it, too.
Magneto was smirking evilly at himself as he picked up the phone to dial the number of Sabretooth's cell phone when it struck him that he hadn't the fuzziest clue what Creed's number was.
Well, if that didn't just take the cake. A perfectly evil plot spoiled by such a plebeian mistake. Wait! He knew Mystique's number... He had called there to nag about the Brotherhood's failures enough that he could dial without looking. And they were probably home by now, including that devil child of his...
He was positive Wanda took after his wife. No way she got that temper and ability to hold a grudge from him.
He picked up the phone, and called the Brotherhood's boarding house. After four rings, it was picked up.
"Wally's Roadkill Café... You kill 'em, we grill 'em!" came Toad's voice, sounding sickeningly cheerful.
"Put Mystique on," growled Magneto.
"You're just in luck!" the young mutant said cheerfully. "She just woke up."
Magneto was in no mood to hear the boy speak cheerfully any longer. "If you don't get her on the phone right now, I will see how many strokes with a VERY SHARP axe it takes to chop me off some frog legs."
On the other end, Toad squeaked, and Magneto could clearly hear him yelling, "Hey, Mystique! Maggie's on the phone, and he doesn't sound too happy to me!"
"Give me that!" snapped Mystique, and he heard muffled sounds before the blue woman's voice came through the line smoothly. "Hello, Magneto."
"What is Creed's cell phone number?" Magneto decided to cut right to the point.
"I'm not sure," Mystique said, sounding confused at the question. "He always changes it after I find out what it is."
"Tell that demon child of mine that I'm not happy with her at all," Magneto said as he hung up. That had been useless.
Magneto decided that he had to continue to check out the lair to see if any of the Rascals were still here. He was already leaning towards there not being any due to the eerie silence of the building, but it was always worth a look.
An hour later, Magneto had checked every broom closet and under every bed in the place, but there was no one there. Only one more place...
The basement.
Magneto hated the basement.
He hated it with the fiery passion of ten thousand burning suns. It was just a horrible place. He never, ever went there. Never.
He slowly opened the door, and cautiously peeked down the steps. Inky blackness. He pushed the door completely open, and groped on the wall for the light switch. He found it, and flicked it. Flickering light filled the narrow stairwell.
Magneto swallowed, and reminded himself that this was for revenge only. He had to be strong, because he was evil. Charles wouldn't be afraid of a creepy basement. Charles would just wheel right down the stairs and laugh at him.
Magneto stepped on the first step. He made it to the second one. He paused, and cautiously yelled, "Anyone there?"
"NO!" came a snarled reply from the shadowy depths of the basement.
"Aargh!" Magneto shrieked like a little girl, and promptly fell down the steps. As he lay at the bottom, in severe pain for the second time that night, he heard voices around him.
"Is he dead?"
"Doesn't look like it... He's still breathing."
"Told ya! Fork over that twenty, Poitr."
"What should we do?"
"Man, he's gonna kill us."
"Hey, here are his keys!"
"Where'd you get those, Pietro?"
"His pocket. Look, here's his credit card, too."
"Awesome!"
"Give me those, you little brat."
"Eep. Okay."
As darkness overtook Magneto, he heard one final comment.
"How do you all feel about Hawaii?"
***
Well, it's been fun. Thank you all so much for reading!!
~Persephone
By Persephone
AN: Well, this is it. Thank everyone who has reviewed so far: todd fan, Eileen, SailorWade, Ambrosia, Red Witch, Alison Sky, happymaximus, Kelly, The Desert Fox, DragonBlond, Goldylokz, and, of course, Yelhsa D. You are all fantastic! I adore you all!
Chapter Eight Of Phones and Hawaii
"Man, am I glad we got out of there!" Todd exclaimed.
"Amen to that," Fred said, nodding vigorously. The Brotherhood had decided to take a tactical retreat after Wanda's cheese grater arm had gotten tired. Wanda herself was sitting in the front seat of the Avalanche, having taken over Charlie's spot. Charlie himself had been in a strange mood when they'd left Magneto's, muttering to himself about senseless violence and 'kids today, no respect for their elders.'
He had requested they let him out at the highway, and they had done so, letting him, Bob Marley, and Jim go on their merry way.
Lance was very happily driving the Avalanche, since they had been forced to drag Mystique out to the car, unable to awaken her, and had dumped her in the back seat. She was still snoring away. Fred was munching on the honey ham he had taken, saying that they really needed it more than Magneto and his crew. They had also taken the silverware, figuring that they could use it more than Magneto.
"Hey, Lance, stop here," Todd said suddenly, seeing a Kwik-E-Mart. Lance did so without argument, still in the euphoric "I can't believe I'm driving this sexy beast of a vehicle" stage. Todd bounded out of the car, and ran inside. A minute later, he returned with a small bag.
"Here," he said, proffering it to Wanda.
She accepted it cautiously, and looked inside warily. A huge grin soon spread across her face, though.
"You got me ice cream!" she said happily, pulling the pint of cookie dough ice cream out. "Thank you!"
And then she gave Todd a quick hug.
Todd knew that if he had died at that moment, he would die happy.
And so the Brotherhood made their way home.
**
Magneto moaned in pain as he slowly regained consciousness. He could honestly not remember the last time he had hurt so very much. Maybe never. All he knew was that he was throwing that cursed cheese grater in the trash as soon as he was able to get up. No, he would run it over with his Volvo, then throw it away. No, run it over, then melt it, then toss the still liquified remains out to sea to choke some random endangered species. That would be the evil route.
Then he would do the same to his daughter, followed shortly by the severe beating of that neanderthal Sabretooth. They would all suffer. For a long, long time. Like for a full week after he stopped aching himself.
Magneto moaned again, and experimentally opened his eyes. The dining room was empty. Where had they all gone? It had only been a minute since he had passed out... er, decided to take a small nap.
He climbed unsteadily to his feet. His nose throbbed, his head hurt, and it felt like someone had attacked him with a cheese grater. Imagine that. He looked around the dining room. All the chairs were knocked over, the good silver was missing, and the honey ham was gone.
They had taken off! How dare they! When he found them, he was going to wrap them all up in steel bars, and make them forever wander the earth looking of a blowtorch powerful enough to melt through it, freeing them from the full body suits of steel. He would get even for them leaving him.
Maybe, though, the Rascals were still here, hiding. And maybe they knew where the dead man Sabretooth was. Then after they told him, as they would, of course, he would hunt that furry maniac down and teach him to botch up an important mission.
Magneto smiled ferally at a chicken bone which was defying gravity and balancing on a dinner roll. Had any of the mutants under his tutelage been in the room, they would have immediately cowered at the sight of Magneto's furious, bloody face. He was going to get revenge, and teach those disrespectful miscreants exactly why he was one of the most feared mutants in the world! He was Magneto, hear him roar!
He made his way deeper into his evil lair. Passing a window in the hall, he noticed that night had fallen. He must have been out a little longer than he had first reckoned. Where would he find his minions...er, students at?
The Cajun kid was usually on the phone talking to one girl or another. Magneto headed to where the phone sat in the living room on a small table next to the large comfy leather couch. The phone was sitting there, looking lonely. The answering machine flashed that there were twenty seven messages. Magneto decided to check them out, on the off chance that one was for him. It was only his home, after all.
Two were for Poitr, one sounding like his mother and the other his sister. Four were for St John, from a father, a random Aussie, and two teenage girls. One message was from someone selling vinyl siding. Six messages were for his lousy son, all of them simpering teenage girls. There were fourteen messages for the Cajun brat. Five from simpering teenage girls, another three from slightly older women, probably in their early twenties. One was from the kid's criminal adoptive father, and the next five messages were all from Belladonna, the Cajun's scary girlfriend. As far as Magneto could figure, the Cajun kid came from a family perfectly accepting of his mutant status, but he had come to him just to get away from the girl, who was apparently rather violent and rightfully jealous.
Magneto fumed to himself for a moment, angry that he never got any messages. Of course, Creed didn't either, but Creed also had a cell phone.
A cell phone...
He could call the miserable ice cream eater! Make him think he wasn't really mad, and then lure him into a false sense of security. Then, BAM! He would take his revenge.
Yes, he was evil. He was darn good at it, too.
Magneto was smirking evilly at himself as he picked up the phone to dial the number of Sabretooth's cell phone when it struck him that he hadn't the fuzziest clue what Creed's number was.
Well, if that didn't just take the cake. A perfectly evil plot spoiled by such a plebeian mistake. Wait! He knew Mystique's number... He had called there to nag about the Brotherhood's failures enough that he could dial without looking. And they were probably home by now, including that devil child of his...
He was positive Wanda took after his wife. No way she got that temper and ability to hold a grudge from him.
He picked up the phone, and called the Brotherhood's boarding house. After four rings, it was picked up.
"Wally's Roadkill Café... You kill 'em, we grill 'em!" came Toad's voice, sounding sickeningly cheerful.
"Put Mystique on," growled Magneto.
"You're just in luck!" the young mutant said cheerfully. "She just woke up."
Magneto was in no mood to hear the boy speak cheerfully any longer. "If you don't get her on the phone right now, I will see how many strokes with a VERY SHARP axe it takes to chop me off some frog legs."
On the other end, Toad squeaked, and Magneto could clearly hear him yelling, "Hey, Mystique! Maggie's on the phone, and he doesn't sound too happy to me!"
"Give me that!" snapped Mystique, and he heard muffled sounds before the blue woman's voice came through the line smoothly. "Hello, Magneto."
"What is Creed's cell phone number?" Magneto decided to cut right to the point.
"I'm not sure," Mystique said, sounding confused at the question. "He always changes it after I find out what it is."
"Tell that demon child of mine that I'm not happy with her at all," Magneto said as he hung up. That had been useless.
Magneto decided that he had to continue to check out the lair to see if any of the Rascals were still here. He was already leaning towards there not being any due to the eerie silence of the building, but it was always worth a look.
An hour later, Magneto had checked every broom closet and under every bed in the place, but there was no one there. Only one more place...
The basement.
Magneto hated the basement.
He hated it with the fiery passion of ten thousand burning suns. It was just a horrible place. He never, ever went there. Never.
He slowly opened the door, and cautiously peeked down the steps. Inky blackness. He pushed the door completely open, and groped on the wall for the light switch. He found it, and flicked it. Flickering light filled the narrow stairwell.
Magneto swallowed, and reminded himself that this was for revenge only. He had to be strong, because he was evil. Charles wouldn't be afraid of a creepy basement. Charles would just wheel right down the stairs and laugh at him.
Magneto stepped on the first step. He made it to the second one. He paused, and cautiously yelled, "Anyone there?"
"NO!" came a snarled reply from the shadowy depths of the basement.
"Aargh!" Magneto shrieked like a little girl, and promptly fell down the steps. As he lay at the bottom, in severe pain for the second time that night, he heard voices around him.
"Is he dead?"
"Doesn't look like it... He's still breathing."
"Told ya! Fork over that twenty, Poitr."
"What should we do?"
"Man, he's gonna kill us."
"Hey, here are his keys!"
"Where'd you get those, Pietro?"
"His pocket. Look, here's his credit card, too."
"Awesome!"
"Give me those, you little brat."
"Eep. Okay."
As darkness overtook Magneto, he heard one final comment.
"How do you all feel about Hawaii?"
***
Well, it's been fun. Thank you all so much for reading!!
~Persephone