Chapter Two: Morning Conversations

by akheliades

Synopsis: day-to-day interactions between the mutants of the X-Mansion, including peach vs. guava juice, and how cereal bowls remain unwashed.

Comments are welcome. Tell me what you think!


The sword blade wasn't long enough to decapitate the Sentinel; he had to content himself with slicing its android throat and where would have been a windpipe and larynx. Instead of spilling blood, he saw the unwrought metal and wire, swaying in the frizzle of sparks and burnt circuits.

He then proceeded to stab it in the "eye" for good measure. The light from the optic sensor faded. It would do, for now.

"Computer: end program. List combat statistics: Gaveedra G7, time-stamp and save under X-Force Archive."

He did it out of habit; there wasn't much the computer tallies could tell him that his warrior instincts could not assess on the battlefield. It was a matter of posterity, really. He would leave the training information within the team database, and just in case his leader wished to examine his progress, he could do so easily. To his knowledge, Cable never did so, but Shatterstar saved the data, anyways.

The computer had plenty of memory for storage.

Reality faded around him, leaving him amidst gleaming, reinforced dura-steel walls. There were no more threats or dangers. Only then would he sheath his swords and walk towards the doors. They slid and revealed a waiting X-Man.

"Bishop." Shatterstar said without preamble.

"Shatterstar. Good session?"

The alien warrior nodded, and began to walk towards the locker room. He took off his helm as he did so. Bishop followed the X-Forcer, as was their custom. He counted two new scratches near the left temple, but kept it to himself. Best not to irritate that perfectionist of an alien, he surmised.

"A shorter session than usual," Shatterstar stated, as he pulled the catch-handle and pried open the metal door to his locker. It would not do to slice it open; he had been reprimanded for that before, after a rare Danger Room session had gone poorly for him.

"There should not be a problem. The sequence can easily extend its duration," Bishop remarked, as Shatterstar loosened his shoulder armor and peeled off his damp uniform top. "I added a few features: quicker data calling and several non-linear learning algorithms, so it can change tactics for greater challenges."

He grinned, and so did Shatterstar.

"I look forward to these meetings," Shatterstar said simply, "and I can always destroy your machinations another time." He unraveled the laces of his boots. It was not too promising, for even Mojoworld-fashioned and X-Men-redesigned footwear could do nothing against soaked shoelaces.

"Perhaps." He handed Shatterstar a deodorant bar. The alien returned with a quizzical look, but took it anyway.

"Trust me: you are in need of it. It would be poor preparation to be given away to the enemy, solely by bad smell." The smirk returned.

"I see that you have learned more humor from your team-mates," he said drily, all the while applying it liberally under his arms.

"A little. They find it disconcerting when I make a joke," Bishop confessed. "You know something of sarcasm, I see."

"It can be useful at times." He fished around the metal box for .. what were they called? .. those popular blue denim pants. There is a colloquial term for them that is universally common. Shrugging mentally, he seized them and balanced easily on one foot while putting one leg in. He leapt, and the other leg snugly fit itself to his body.

"Graceful," Bishop commented, leaning along another row of lockers.

"I try my best." He buttoned and tightened the belt. "I admit that my teammates also worry when I joke, but I believe it is good for them."

"And what would this benefit be?"

"It teaches them caution and encourages flexibility," he pondered, as he fished around the locker for his grey Xaviers T-shirt. "My teammates are still young, and require more training."

"Training is important. I remember drilling soldiers that were five years their junior."

"I remember slaying fully-grown dragons at that age," mused the the off-worlder. The laces on his sneakers were much easier to manipulate than those sodden boots.

Bishop blinked. "Your teammates are right. You are disconcerting when you joke."

"That was not a joke." He looked up from his shoes to a disbelieving X-Man, and shrugged. "Mojoworld is a diverse reality."

"I can only imagine."


Shatterstar threw his uniform into the communal laundry bag, and taking his blades by their scabbards, he followed Bishop to one of the many kitchens on the premises. As Bishop sat at the table and withdrew his guns for cleaning and reloading, he browsed through the refridgerator.

"Odd .. no soy-protein left. Peach mango juice, or guava melon?"

"Guava. It is not as sickeningly sweet."

"Quite a choice of words. Do they truly differ so greatly?"

Bishop looked up.

"Shatterstar, I grew up on nutrition paste and dehydrated food matter. Taste was hardly a main concern for us." He returned to the task of dismantling his plasma rifle. "The foodstuffs of this era all seem exotic to me."

"Try gladiator rations," Shatterstar replied, shutting the door with his foot, as he had seen Rictor do when similarly having his hands occupied. A good tactic, he thought.

"Occasionally our performance in the Arena warranted better food, and a few times we even dined as guests of some dignitary. We chewed and swallowed and were polite, but on the whole, we would gratefully return to simpler fare the same evening, as was our custom."

He poured a glass for Bishop, and then another for himself. He then took a long drink, and appeared thoughtful.

"You are right. This is milder than the peach."

Bishop shrugged. "There's always more of it left. The others do prefer the sweeter blend."

"Then there is more remaining for us, then," he said, refilling his glass. He then stole one of Bishop's oiled rags and unsheathing one blade, began to work on perfecting its shine. Absently he began to discuss his idea of using topographical holography for motion sensors, which were juxtaposed by Bishop's own suggestions about the implementation.

"Summers would never allow a breach of privacy of that sort," pointed out Shatterstar. "It would not matter if every resident of the Mansion approved. That man is ironically and unnaturally stubborn when it comes to personal discretion."

"One of many men," Bishop admitted. "It must be a trait of these times. However, there is always the threat of entry from bedroom windows. And how would you compensate for the selective sensitivity around common areas, otherwise? Such a thing would not be easily overcome, not even with the advanced computer support aiding in our planning."

"I might know of a few methods by hardware mainlining, and bedroom security would be disturbed for only a day or so, each. Do you know anyone with the right software skills?"

"Forge is unavailable, but Shadowcat is visiting. She could be persuaded," Bishop suggested. He looked over to his companion, curious.

Shatterstar's expression was unreadable. He tilted the blade to examine the reflection. "How would you rate her abilities?"

"She has an expert knowledge of systems and programming. I remember that she designed the Danger Room interface, as well as having lent her aid to Professor Xavier with some of the preliminary groundwork for Cerebro II. These are indeed formidable tasks."

"I have heard a few things, as well. She can be trusted?"

"Unshakeable loyalty. She is one of the X-Men of the Second Generation, and has stood with Xavier's cause for years."

Shatterstar stopped his polishing. "Not a single doubt, Bishop? This must be new to you." He managed a grin of his own.

Bishop glared. "There are always doubts, but fewer here with this one."

Neither said a word for a few moments.

"She seemed capable of disabling first-echelon Hand ninjas," Shatterstar remarked. "It was without the benefit of her mutant powers, I suspect. Is it common prowess for X-Men?"

"She was trained by Logan." Shatterstar then looked at his friend, and could have sworn he saw a smirk in the larger man's face.

"That was not in her records," he replied. "She sounds a worthy adversary."

"Keeping tabs on her, I see. Are you and her adversaries, then?"

"She."

"What did you say?" Bishop set down his gun, and looked at Shatterstar. "I don't understand your meaning."

"'Are you and she' is correct, not 'Are you and her'."

"You are improving your English. I had not known that television would bother with such a difference in grammar."

"You are improving your humor."

"And you are avoiding the question."

"I have not. But if you care for an answer, then the answer is no. We are not adversaries."

"Then what are you?"

"I am a gladiator-turned-political dissident-turned-X-Force-member. She is an X-Man-turned-Excalibur affiliate. I had thought that was obvious."

"That much I observed."

Shatterstar could swear that had he looked up, he would catch Bishop with one of those secret smirks. He was about to reply when Gambit walked somewhat steadily into the kitchen, smelling of smoke and the autumn wind. He was met by twin glares and a table of weapons, shiny and quickly accessible to hand.

"Remind me t' not catch bot' of you by surprise," the Cajun grinned, heading for the cabinet for a glass. Filling it from the faucet tap, he took a sip and looked back at the pair.

"Not a kind sight t' see readily-armed hommes so early in de mornin," he commented, "Makes a perfe'tly innocent boy like me worry for my life." He leaned next to the stove, still examining the two.

"And you would be the epitome of innocence, LeBeau?" Bishop challenged.

"Mebbe I be, mebbe not," Remy replied, taking another sip of water. "Don' ask de chat 1 why 'e smiles, non?"

[ 1 French for 'cat' ]

This time the silence was deafening. Shatterstar sighed inwardly. Bishop was always more belligerent when the Cajun X-Man was concerned. The rare smirking and good humor would vanish completely, and there would be no more joy in continuing the conversation. At least we did manage to discuss that topography idea. His thoughts then turned to Kitty Pryde, and wondered if she would care to work on her time away from duty.

"Som'ting on your mind, 'Etoile 2 ?"

[ 2 French for 'star' ]

Gambit's voice startled him a little, breaking his concentration. That should not have happened, he told himself sharply. He gazed at the X-Man.

"Implementation issues on security, LeBeau. Thank you for asking, however."

The X-Man raised an eyebrow. Bishop continued to glare, making sure to direct the empty gun-point towards the standing man. Shatterstar sighed again, mentally -- neither of them would back down. They were stubborn men. For an instant, he wondered if his teammates felt the same way about him and his habits, but quickly set aside the idea as silly and meaningless.

I couldn't possibly appear that fanatical.

"There are matters I should attend to," Shatterstar said, getting up and sheathing his blades. "Have a good session, LeBeau."

"Bishop," he nodded to his friend.

Bishop nodded back, as the X-Forcer moved towards the still-dark hallway.

"What matters could de boy 'ave t' worry about? Read up on de latest TV Guide? Split ends?"

The time-displaced X-Man never stopped his glare as he rose and moved to the Danger Room.

"Som'ting I said?" Gambit said, grinning like the cat he had alluded to before. Bishop stopped to glare once more, and then left him alone to the kitchen.

Sometimes that man really got on his nerves.


The clock read 5:30, and try as she might, she could not return to that happy land of dreams. She yawned and stretched, trying to work the kinks out from last night's workout. It wasn't working -- too many consecutive hours of waking, and too many ninjas to put down for the count. Damned ninjas .. can't live with 'em, can't beat 'em all up.

It was true. Logan had written the program and all its levels, after all, and even Psylocke hadn't beaten it yet.

Perhaps she would cajole Storm for a back-rub later, or maybe Jubilee. Kitty then stopped and realized that by asking either of them, then very likely Gambit would overhear somehow and she'd have to deal with his own sultry offers to perform the deed himself. Sometimes that man is incorrigible. Then she snickered, imagining a jealous Rogue pummeling the charm out of the Cajun. That'd teach him.

Kitty slipped quietly over a dozing Lockheed and across the hallway, tiptoeing on sock-covered feet to see if the Gen-X'er, Jubilee, was awake. Loud snores answered her, as she opened the door a crack and peered in. She could make out a leg from under the covers, a corner of a black Limp Bizkit T-shirt, and maybe a hand; nothing conclusive, however, except for a half-coherent mumble about the Care Bears leaving her Sugar Bombs alone.

She sighed, and resigned to wait until later to talk with the teen. Maybe a morning back rub and some old-fashioned girl-talk were too much to ask for, this early in the day. Descending the stairs, Kitty passed a Gambit reeking of smoke, and phasing to her intangible form, she glided through the remaining floors of the Mansion and settled precisely on one of the free chairs surrounding the kitchen table. Some of the X-Men then jumped a little at the sudden appearance, followed by a few others laughing at their expense.

Score, grinned Kitty. No matter where her life would lead, the Mansion would always be home. She then solidified, replied to a score or so of "Good Mornings," and moved to the cabinets, scouring for something good to eat.

"All right! Sugar Bombs!" Kitty exclaimed, "I love this stuff!" She then proceeded to raid the fridge .. past the empty whole milk carton, then skim and more skim .. and finally, to the 1% milk carton.

"Coffee for me, sugah for you, sugah," Rogue quipped, taking a sip from her mug. A few of the X-Men groaned, as Rogue snapped, "Hey! Ah can be funny too, y'all .."

"Kitty, are you sure you don't want any eggs? Pancakes?" Jean asked, turning a little from the stove.

"Nah, thanks Jean. I'm good," Kitty replied, sitting down before a bowl and spoon, and then realizing that the milk carton was suddenly frozen solid.

"Bobby!" His bowl of Sugar Bombs sat finished on the table, but the man was nowhere to be found. They did hear the boyish snicker and the stampede of footsteps up the flights of stairs, however.

"Arrrrrrrrrgh!!!"

"Want me to hunt down his sorry ass for ya, Darlin'?" offered Logan, sipping from his own coffee. Storm shuddered, wondering how he could drink such a strong blend without the aid or cream or sugar. He only winked, and Storm simply shook her head and returned to her herbal tea.

"Nah .. just kick his ass in the Danger Room, will you?" Kitty said from behind the fridge. "Crap! That was the last one! There's only skim left!"

"What's wrong with skim milk?" Jean asked, flipping another pancake.

"It's tantamount to white-colored water!"

Kitty poked her head out. "We don't have any heat dispellers on the team now, do we, Professor?" she asked hopefully.

The Professor managed a small grin, and shook his head.

"Darn it." She looked again into the fridge, and wondered how much skim milk she would have to add for any milk taste at all ..

A sudden cry of "Aaaaaaaah! I'll get you for this, ya damned Popsicle!!!!" and maniacal laughter from the upper floors turned the heads of everyone in the kitchen.

"Could it be our most comedic and sangfroid compatriot Bobby?" Hank asked, looking up from the paper. Xavier shook his head, as everyone else wondered what sangfroid meant.

"Wonder what happened ta Jubilee," Rogue thought out loud.

A mostly-unmanly shriek erupted from a similar origin, followed by "Ha! Gotcha back, ya overgrown, sorry-excuse-for-an-ice-cube! Nobody messes with the super-awesome-and-always-rad-and-stylin Jubes!"

"Little Firecracker's been putting on airs, hasn't she?" laughed Logan.

"She's no longer little, Logan," Storm amended. Logan sighed, and nodded.

"I bet he pantsed him. I would have." Kitty then sighed and cautiously brought out the skim milk. "Then again, I suppose it would be 'trouser'ed, back in England .." In England, they wouldn't bother with this 1% milk, either ..

She poured the bare amount of milk to cover the cereal, and attempted a taste. Fortunately, Sugar Bombs were laced with their namesake ingredient, and the now sugar-watery skim was just tolerable. Kitty presently began to eat with more fervor.


A grouchy Jubilee then entered the kitchen, shivering slightly. The other X-Men looked at her warily.

"Iced sheets .. wedgied, then pantsed," she explained. Everyone then nodded, pitied Bobby, and Jean prompted began to prepare a cup of hot cocoa for the shivering Gen-X'er.

She then sat down next to Kitty, and pushed her bowl towards the older girl. Between munches, Kitty poured the precious cereal into the bowl. Jubilee then made the motion for pouring, and Kitty pointed to the carton. The other X-Men looked on with interest.

"Crap! Skim?" Jubilee groaned. Kitty nodded, and swallowed.

"It's not so bad, really."

Jubilee eyed the carton carefully, as if it would make sudden moves.

"Try it. Es fyne," Kitty added, taking another spoonful and chewing. "Woud ie bee eateeng fvis overwise?"

"Ya got a point there, Pryde." Doing a similar measurement with the milk, Jubilee made a small taste, and realizing it was safe, started devouring the contents of the bowl.

The X-Men continued looking on, wide-eyed.

"Wow. Ah've never seen her do it," Rogue said. "I mean, it's skim .."

"For the last time, what is wrong with skim, people!" Cyclops demanded. "It's just as nutritious as regular milk, but without all the fat! It's very healthy! Good for you!"

Nobody was willing to answer. Cyclops sighed, and returned to his cup of coffee.

"It tastes like crap," grumbled a grouchy Cable, as he proceeded into the kitchen and poured the remaining coffee from the pot into his extra-large "Touch-This-and-I'll-Shoot-You-...-Really" mug. He took a few gulps and instantly felt better. Even Bobby Drake wouldn't dare mess with that cup, especially after a cryptic warning from Domino, who cited G.W. Bridge and 'on pain of death.' He later dubbed it 'the Holy Grail of Pranks,' and would stare wistfully at it on an occasional morning.

"Thank you, Nathan," retorted Cyclops. He looked at his wristwatch. "Ten minutes, people." Collective groans followed suit.

"Anyone want the last pancake?" offered Jean. A furry hand was raised, and the pancake then floated to Hank's plate.

"My most indubitable thanks, dear Jean."

"You're very welcome, Henry."

Most of the X-Men then began to float towards the Danger Room. Jean Grey gave Jubilee her hot cocoa, and excused herself to switch into uniform. Beast then got up and rinsed his plate, and then decided to check in the lab just before session. Cyclops moved to the Room to double-check the program parameters, as Cable and the Professor took the more relaxed route and slowly finished their coffee.

Kitty and Jubilee simply went for thirds, each watching the other for any sudden moves towards the diminishing box of Sugar Bombs.


"So, Kitty," began the Professor, "What did transpire in the Danger Room, last night?"

"I'm a bit curious myself," added Cable.

Kitty chewed and swallowed. "Oh, it was just a misunderstanding. Something about Lockheed being a threat."

"Lockheed?" the Professor was surprised.

"I guess 'Star has never been introduced to the dragon?" Cable asked.

"I guess not. He did take it pretty seriously, though," Kitty thought, and then resumed eating her cereal. "Is he usually quick to anger?"

"Usually he's amazingly serious and imperturable, and stoic to a fault, but depending on how the other person reacts .." mused Cable. "I'll have a talk with him."

"I mean, he wasn't horrid to me or anything .." protested Kitty.

"I'll do it anyway. That one has to be more careful," explained Cable. "He's run into combat situations in a rage before, though he's been better about it lately. A reminder can't hurt him, at least."

Kitty could swear that Jubilee was about to move and say something, but instead, she paused, and took a heaping spoonful of Sugar Bombs instead. The chewing and crunching sounded more forced, however.

"I don't think I've ever sat down and analyzed him," Xavier wondered, "That is, I haven't gotten to know the boy. Most of your other charges were students of mine at one point, Nathan, but I confess, Shatterstar is still a mystery to me."

"Join the club then, Professor."

The two men both chuckled, and the Professor then retired to his duties. Cable left to check on his team, leaving the two girls with an empty box of cereal.


"Wow. I never eat that stuff anymore," sighed Kitty, "Moira's a health nut."

"You mean you were able to sneak a box past Jean?" Jubilee's eyes widened. "This box is Bobby's -- otherwise it'd be oatmeal or something."

"Oh, Jean wasn't around then. It was just after the Phoenix thing occurred, or so they tell me."

"Oh, okay. I'm surprised sometimes that the guys can keep everything like that straight."

"Me too."

Neither girl wanted to get up and put the bowls in the sink. Then Jubilee tried balancing her spoon on her nose.

"Say, why aren't you with the other X-Men? Don't they have a practice session coming up?"

Jubilee sighed, causing the spoon to fall to the floor and Kitty to giggle momentarily.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Pryde. Anyways, Prof said that since I haven't worked with the Danger Room for about a year, and bein' that today's a harder session than most, I should probably sit out until the next one." She then slid down to the floor in pursuit of the spoon. "Wolvie might do double-duty, and I might join him, though."

"Huh. That sucks. The Professor never let me train unsupervised in there either, when I was your age. I had to convince him that I'd program it so that I wouldn't get hurt."

"Tell me about it .. well, except the programming part. Found it!"

She leapt up, brandishing the metallic quarry, and dropped it into the bowl with a click and a thud. "Yeah, Prof can be a real pain, sometimes." She then looked over at the older girl.

"Say, what did go on in the Danger Room last night, anyways? I heard an alarm and went running downstairs like mad. You had us all worried there."

"It was strange. All I remember was going through the Hand program that Logan..."

"Wolvie," Jubilee insisted.

"What? No! His name is Logan!!"

"It's Wolvie, now! He likes being called that!"

"Wolvie is a dog's name!"

"It's cool!"

"His name is Logan!"

"It's too serious! Nobody ever uses 'Logan' unless we have to tell Wolvie that his old black-ops teammate guy who he probably doesn't remember too well anyway died or wants him dead or something."

"All right, fine!" an exasperated Kitty gave up. "I was going through the program that 'Wolvie' set up. All of a sudden, Lockheed comes flying in the doors, and the next thing I knew, I see this guy with a sword hacking his way towards him."

"Sounds like 'Star, yep. Hacking through people, that's him." She sighed and shook her head.

Kitty looked at the younger girl warily, and continued.

"Anyways, he starts telling me that Lockheed is likely to betray and kill us all, and at one point I thought he was going to attack the both of us."

"Did you insult him or something?" pointed out Jubilee, resting her chin on her hand. "He's really big on honor and stuff, you know."

"Actually, that was probably it," replied Kitty, astonished. "How'd you guess?"

"He came with Ev and me when we saw Phantom Menace. Kept on pointing out how the Jedi weren't as honorable in battle as they said -- like retreating when they should have fought the Sith. He really liked that Darth Maul guy, though, and thought the ending was a crock."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I know! I mean, pretty boy Ewan MacGregor just so happens to get Liam Neeson's lightsabre and .."

"No, I mean Shatterstar. He went with you guys? He seems .. I don't know, guarded? .. reminds me a little of Bishop when he first arrived."

"You know, that's the weird thing. Both of them get along really well, which maybe isn't so weird after all. But everyone seems to think he's cold-blooded or something, like how the guys treated Wolvie when he first joined the X-Men." She scowled.

"Logan did mention it a few times," recalled the former X-Man, "He'd never admit that it bothered him, but you could tell sometimes, when he was on the back porch, smoking on one of those cigars and thinking to himself."

Jubilee nodded and paused for a moment, as if changing the direction of her thoughts.

"'Star does open up sometimes, depending on the people around. Even friendly. He let me borrow his quarter-staff once, when Bobby froze the N64."

"Wow."

"Yeah. I guess he felt sorry for keeping me from taking the chainsaw." Jubes added wistfully, "I really liked that N64."

Kitty patted Jubes on the back, who returned with a grateful smile.

"Something tells me that he doesn't trust many people, even around here," Kitty murmured.

"That's for sure, Pryde. They don't call ya a genius for nothin,' do they?" She grinned at her.

"Har har, Jubes." Kitty moved her elbow, and then felt a spot of .. gun grease on the table?

"Gross," she grumbled, pointing at it.

"Bishop was probably cleaning his guns again," inspected Jubilee. She then touched a nick mark on the table, and murmured a "Hmm .."

Kitty caught the mark and looked closely. "Knife? Serrated edge?" She looked at the younger girl, who nodded.

"Long blade .. at least 6 inches, I'd say," commented Jubilee, "You know, we pick up the oddest talents from hangin' with Wolvie."

"I don't know .. these look like they're from a sabre or something," Kitty responded absently, touching the marks. "They could even be Shatterstar's. He would carry a sabre."

"Ya don't say? Alien-guy on your mind, if you don't mind me wondering?"

Kitty turned to the teen, who was able to keep a perfectly innocent face. She sighed, because she used to be able to do the very same thing.

"Well, we were just talking about him before."

"Were," Jubilee said, adding the quotation-mark finger gestures for emphasis. "You mentioned him again."

"In that he was the most likely cause of cutting up the kitchen table," the older girl replied, slightly defensively. "If it was bubble gum, I'd be staring at you, you know."

"Just wondering is all, Pryde." Jubilee gave a curious stare.

"What now? I don't have bed head, do I?" She checked to make sure.

"Naw, nothing like that. Just that you and 'Star might make an interestin' pair."

"WHAT?"

"I said 'pair,' not 'couple.' Sheesh! Just that he must trust you, 'cause he didn't skewer or dice up Lockheed first. It means you could be in his good books, ya know. Not many people are." Kitty narrowed her eyes at Jubilee, who shrugged.

"He trusts you, too," Kitty pointed out.

"'Course. We hung out a couple times. I showed him where all the good arcades are in the shopping malls 'round here, and then introduced him to the gooey goodness of cheesy mall fries. He really likes them with jalapenos, you know, but he never actually buys any."

"Why not? I mean, at the mall, even Storm finds an excuse to have a batch of them. Scott probably has some too .. once in a blue moon, of course."

"Not sure. But he was willing to have some of mine, when I offered."

"Huh. I guess it's something like getting Logan to play volleyball with us."

"Wolvie."

"Yeah, yeah."

Jubilee debated whether to put the bowls in the sink or not, and it was then that she wondered, I wonder what Bish an' 'Star were talking about, earlier. She thought for a moment, then dismissed that train of thought. "Hey, it's Saturday! Want to see if any good 'toons are on?"

Kitty then grinned. "Race ya."

"You're on!"

Thunderous footsteps towards the den soon followed, the cereal bowls left forgotten for the morning.

"Hey, no fair runnin' through walls, Pryde! Ya don't see me blastin' them down, do ya?"

-- fin --