Alrighty, folks, uh . . . what was I doing? Oh right! First, reviews!
Little Took: Go Hoosiers!! Oh cool, I didn't think there was any other authors from Indiana beside KT Ichijouji and me on this site! I can't say I've been to your city. The only southern town I've been to is Nashville, Indiana, and Seymour, Indiana. Oh yeah, and Bedford! As everyone's probably already figured out, I'm from . . . well, Indianapolis, but I live in Avon. Anyways, thanks for reviewing!
Blue Dragon Git: Thank you thank you for thinking my characters are cool! Especially Pegasus, considering I thought him up in, like, a minute specifically for this story. I hate to tell ya, though, but he doesn't have a major role in the story. He's just the guy that provides the not-needed commentary. Long live comic relief in the form of talking horses!
AHCD: Yes, talking horses seems to be an obsession with you, doesn't it. I'm not the comic relief! I'm just the guy that does the disclaimers. Hey, it's got great pay! No not really. La-dee-dah. Dämon doesn't own X-Men, but she ~does~ own my brother, Pegasus. And all the other Wildcats! Mwahahahaha!
[Ben Stein voice] Wow . . . Almighty Horsey Calendar of Doom has a brother.
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"Y'know, Shadow, it's not exactly ~easy~ to find ~one~ guy in an entire town," Pegasus complained, glaring down at the masses congregating in the parking lot of Regal Cinemas. "This has got to be, like, the most impossible mission in the history of--"
"Angel?"
"Hm?
"Shut up."
"Rokay . . ."
"And no Scooby-Doo impressions! That's Rätsel's job."
"Yeah, I know. But isn't that, like, why Anton likes that stupid dog so much?" Pegasus grinned smugly, watching Shadowlion out of the corner of his eye. Shadowlion didn't appear annoyed or angry with the stallion. In fact, her face was completely devoid of emotion. "So much for no therapy, man. You need it, like, more than ever!" His pitch rose at the end of the sentence as it melted into a short, nervous laugh. "Dude, like, what is ~with~ you today? It's like the lights are on but nobody's home!"
Shadowlion shook her head. "The Fog's back, Angel," she whispered sadly.
"Oh no. No, Shadow, not again. The Fog's gone for good, okay, man? Shadow, listen to my voice! Shadow!" Pegasus' voice was beginning to sound frantic. "Shadow?" he whispered. 'Oh, man, we've gotta find Toad! Now were the hell is that slimeball?!' Pegasus' hawk-like gaze swept across the empty lots, alleyways, and office parks.
The Fog, as Shadowlion had always called it, was a clouding of her mind. It was almost like a seizure, but not as dangerous. The clouding was a flashback, when Shadowlion would practically relive her parents' death. It ended quickly, but the haze in her mind that blocked all sight and sound remained. All she would hear was a melancholy song, like a feline version of a wolf's howl, inside her mind. The song held a voice. The Voice, the Song, was what guided the Wildcats in everything. The Song was the reason Shadowlion was the Wildcats' leader. Eventually, after listening to it, or if someone else managed to "wake" her, Shadowlion's vision and hearing would clear, and she would be back to normal. Sometimes, if she listened long enough, a feline shadow would form in the Fog, and the Voice would become louder and clearer. The way Anton tried to explain it, the shadow and the Voice belonged to the one relative Shadowlion had that had not yet deserted her . . . because he couldn't: her great-grandfather, Puma.
Much to Shadowlion's dismay and sadness, the Song slowly drifted away from her after a while, after Panthera and Beau had woken her from it too many times. It had been two and a half weeks since Shadowlion had last heard the Song. Some of the Wildcats saw this as a blessing, a sign that they were now being led by a wide-awake, living mutant, instead of a half-awake mutant listening to the voice of a dead mutant. Others knew it would bring more harm than good.
Pegasus circled high above the Shiloh office park, carefully watching Shadowlion, waiting for the moment when her eyes wouldn't seem to be looking inside instead of out.
After a moment, the girl blinked, her eyes cleared and she stared at Pegasus with mixed emotions. "What did Puma say, Shadow?" Pegasus asked quietly.
Shadowlion looked about the office park, and sharply pointed at a small alleyway between two wings of one of the buildings. "There! Puma says Mortimer's down there!"
Pegasus looked hard at the spot where Shadowlion was pointing, and sure enough, there sat Toad, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. That or just plain lost. "Damn! Smart dead dude! Alright!" The Holstein tilted down and went into another dive, this one slightly slower and more controlled than the last. He crashed to the ground heavily on first his front two hooves than his back two. Shadowlion nearly fell off his back even before he had completely landed as she tried to get to Toad before he freaked out and tried to whack the poor horse.
Shadowlion fell into Toad's arms before he even knew what was happening. "What the hell? How did--"
"Thank the gods!" Shadowlion cried, squeezing Toad and forgetting to mind her claws.
"How did you find me? I thought I'd lost that damn bird!"
"'That damn bird' is the only reason somebody with a brain came looking for you! How did you two get seperated?" Shadowlion glared at Toad, who was in turn glaring at Pegasus. The stallion was prancing about with a wide smile on his face.
"The bloody little coward got knocked down in a crowd and then ran off. He was afraid he'd get stepped on, so he left me out here and went home! You ought to clip his wings and teach him how to walk right," Toad spat. "And just for the record, I refuse to go anywhere else with him." He crossed his arms and grinned slyly when Shadowlion rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Freakin' vulture! He said he'd looked everywhere for you! No wonder he had no idea where you were," growled Shadowlion. "Better yet, I'll bind his wings and cut that greasy hair of his. I'll have Beau cut it -- he does such a hack job with his own hair . . ."
"Great, great. Now, get off me."
"Huh?" Shadowlion was in such a euphoria at having the Song back she hadn't paid much attention to what she was doing. She now sat straddling Toad with her "paws" held up, much like a cat does. "Oh . . . Sorry." She jumped backwards and sat up like one of the circus tigers. "So, you fly, doncha?" Shadowlion pointed at Pegasus, who immediately straightened and stood like a statue.
"He doesn't do loops or barrel rolls or anything, does he?"
"Not unless I tell him to. He's not a show flyer, man, chill out. He can fly slow," replied Shadowlion coyly, "if yer nothin' but a femmer chicken!" Pegasus did his chicken impression, clucking and squawking like a chicken with emphysema or something.
"Femmer, huh? How do you know Geordie?"
"I read books . . ." Shadowlion swatted Pegasus to get him to shut up and kneel down. She swung her left leg over and sat patiently, waiting for Toad to make up his mind. "Chicken."
Toad hesitated, but refused to allow himself to be called a chicken again. Still, he halted a moment before climbing on the stallion's back behind Shadowlion. "I'm no chicken," he whispered in Shadowlion's ear.
She grinned back and discreetly tapped Pegasus three times on the neck. Without a warning, the giant horse shot into the air, spiraling as fast as he could. He neighed loudly until Shadowlion cuffed him for creating such a raucous. Pegasus went up faster and faster until he was nearly six stories above the ground, then he turned into a dive, tilting back up at about two stories from the ground, and finally leveling off at somewhere in between one to two miles up. Toad, not caring for anything but his life after that, was still clinging to Shadowlion, who let out a loud roar. "Who's no chicken?"
"B-gawk!" shrieked Pegasus.
"Don't . . . do that . . . again," Toad gasped.
"You can let go of me now, chicken-man," Shadowlion said.
"And let this damn horse drop me to the pavement!? I don't intend on becoming road-kill just yet!"
"You wouldn't be road-kill, man," replied Pegasus. "You would be, like, a highway pancake. You'd be dead before the first car came anywhere near you!"
"Thanks. I feel loved now," Toad muttered.
"No worries, hun. You are," laughed Shadowlion. "No doubt Anton already knows I left, which means we'll be dragged all the way to Weiß Drache to hear a good lecture from him."
"Anton?"
Pegasus glanced over his shoulder nervously to see how Shadowlion would handle this situation. The thing of it was: only Beau, Panthera, Shadowlion, Pegasus, and Anton's son and daughter, Aryan and Sabine, knew who the enigmatic White Dragon really was. And they were the only ones that were supposed to know.
"Well, you've heard of the White Dragon, right? The White Dragon is a mutant, a teleporter, named Anton Wagoner, from ancient Egypt. He was also the commanding officer at . . . at Auschwitz-Birkenau in World War Two."
"You mean to tell me we're led by a damn Nazi!? How ironic."
"That's why White Dragon didn't like you. He remembers Eric Lehnsherr. You called him Magneto, right? Well, Lehnsherr was pretty much the reason Anton nearly got thrown out of the Reich. Anton felt so sorry for the boy. He may be a Nazi, but he's not black-hearted and completely cold-blooded. Anton and Lehnsherr . . . they became such good friends it--" Shadowlion stopped herself, because her voice was slowly fading into nothing. She took a deep breath and tried again. "Anton couldn't stand to see his friend, especially just a boy, in so much pain and agony, so . . . he set him free. Anton helped Lehnsherr to escape Auschwitz, and got him a passport, to board the first ship out of Europe bound for America. So that's why he ended up here.
"And recently, with all the crap in the news about Lehnsherr in that prison, and then mysteriously vanishing . . . Anton's worried. He realizes the mistake he made in releasing Lehnsherr. He thinks it's all his fault, no matter what any of us tell him. He's afraid . . . of you. He's afraid that Lehnsherr will come looking for you, and finally find him, after all these years."
"But why would Anton be afraid of Magneto? If what you say is true, then Magneto owes Anton his life!"
"Yeah, man, but Lehnsherr didn't always think that way," Pegasus said. "Uh- oh. Oh that's not good. Look down."
Shadowlion looked down, and Toad forced himself to, and down in Shadowlion's backyard ("We're already here?" Shadowlion asked) was Beau, holding DeSoto by what seemed to be his neck. Pegasus slowly lowered himself down, making a much more graceful landing than before.
"What's going on, Beauregard?" Shadowlion demanded, waiting for Toad to get off the horse first so she could climb down.
"White Dragon wishes to see you."
"Oh great," snapped Shadowlion, dropping to the ground. "I'm in trouble for somethin', aren't I?"
"Says he wants to see Toad, too," Beau continued, ignoring Shadowlion completely.
"Alright, whatever, man. If the Almighty Dragon wishes to see me, then so be it. Almighty Royal Pain-in-the-Ass is more like it."
Beau rolled his eyes and began shoving DeSoto towards the shed, another way into the underground network. There was one tunnel in the Underground which led to a mansion not far south from Austin Lakes. The mansion was Anton's own Weiß Drache, which was, ironically, German for White Dragon. Pegasus walked towards the back of the enclosed yard, watching Shadowlion, who was unceremoniously yanking Toad along in her wake, sadly. He nickered softly, but Shadowlion didn't hear him. The shed itself looked harmless: painted black with gold trim with a giant Oriole painted on the north side of it. The Oriole was Anton's work, and it was a "stunning work of art" as Sabine said once. On the south side was an African lion, "the likeness of Shadowlion's great-grandfather" Anton had told everyone. Puma was an icon to the Wildcats, their idol, and to some, a god. He was their leader, in a distant, twisted sort of way. The giant white lion with the golden mane and turquoise blue eyes. Sadly, the Wagoner's were the only ones to ever know Puma.
Inside the shed, it was empty, except for the ancient Egyptian heiroglyphics on the wall, telling the story of the Anubis Ring and the Soul-Reaver Pike, weapons said to once belong to the ancient Egyptian god of Death, Anubis. The Ring and the Pike were now showcased underneath Weiß Drache.
The Ring was said to have a magic which would make a mutant lose their powers for as long as they wore it. Their appearances wouldn't change, but their powers just wouldn't work. Anton couldn't teleport, Beau and Panthera couldn't use their claws, and Sabine couldn't shapeshift (a power inherited from her mother). It was sometimes comical, expecially when one of the other recruits wore it for one day. "A friend of Beauregard's from New Orleans" was all anyone could get out of Panthera before he arrived. This "friend" turned out to be a thief from the French Quarter named Remy LeBeau. During the Alkali Lake incident, Remy's powers had been exposed, and he was forced to run. Lucky for him Beau still cared enough to come back to New Orleans to look for him. Remy's second day, Anton tricked him into wearing the Anubis Ring, knowing full well that Remy would try to make a run for it with the Ring. "A thief is a thief," Anton had told Beau. "Now watch." Sure enough, Remy ran. And the Hunters found him. With the Ring on, though, he couldn't use his powers. Before he got shot, Anton came and saved his sorry hide, strangling one of the Hunters to death in the process. "Now you know," Anton had said to Remy, "that we're ~always~ watching you. And nothing - ~nothing~ - is worth stealing from the Wildcats."
The Soul-Reaver Pike was a deadly weapon that Anton allowed no one to use except himself. The story told the anyone stabbed with the Pike would lose his soul to the weapon. With each soul the weapon became stronger, and harder to properly control, which was why even Anton refused to use it. There was a joke that the older Wildcats told the children as a way to make them behave, that unless you're good, Anton will steal your soul with the Pike. A sick, mean, evil joke, yes, but it worked. There were few troublemakers in the Wildcats, and they were Beau, Remy, Shadowlion, and Toad anyways.
In the floor of the shed was a large trapdoor nearly the size of the entire 11' x 13' construction. With Toad's help, Beau swung the door up and latched it to a hook on the wall to keep it from slamming shut. You got hit on the head with that door, you were out for a good five or six hours. Under the trapdoor was a staircase, which was designed to resemble the Grand Staircase in the Titanic.
The staircase opened up into a large room. There were modern paintings, done by Anton himself, of Anubis, Seth, Horus, and Bastet on every wall, and the room was lit by torches. There was a wide doorway on the opposite side of the room flanked by a statue of Anubis on the left and Bastet on the right. The Anubis Statue held a replica of the Soul-Reaver Pike and Bastet held out a replica of the Anubis Ring on a golden chain. There was a long, dead-end hallway leading back from the doorway. At the end, on the left side, was a lift, which went down to the lower levels of the Underground, and on the right, another, smaller staircase. At the bottom of this staircase was a network of tunnels leading to all different locations in Avon, the largest of which led to Weiß Drache. This was the route which Beau, Shadowlion, Toad, and DeSoto took. Just before they began to descend the second staircase, they ran into - though not literally - Remy, who had just come from the broad "Weiß Drache" tunnel, which everyone called the Matrix, after the mutant who had designed the underground.
"He's not happy, monsieur," Remy said to Beau.
"Lovely. And let me guess, you've been promoted to garçon de message?" Beau grinned evilly. His three companions looked from one to the other, trying to see if any of them knew French.
"Non, Beau, I'm still a recruit. But," Remy said spitefully, then he brightened, "I get to be trained personally by An- White Dragon." He looked up to see if Toad or DeSoto had caught his slight. Toad had, but DeSoto was stupid.
"Whatever," Shadowlion muttered. She shoved DeSoto. "Let's go Bobo."
"Do not call me 'Bobo', por favor," DeSoto said meekly.
"Obnoxious wuss," spat Beau. He grabbed DeSoto's shirt collar and shoved him hard. The boy stumbled down a few steps before tripping and somersaulting the rest of the way into the darkness at the bottom of the staircase. "Whoops."
Everybody laughed. DeSoto was the only one they could pick on without having Anton yelling at them for it. Anton never liked children, and DeSoto least of all. If his father, DeLito Diego, hadn't been such a good friend of Anton's, DeSoto would've been kicked to the curb ages ago.
"Maybe I should warn you," said Remy as Shadowlion and Toad passed him, "that there are torches missing from the Matrix."
"Missing?" Beau asked, continuing on down the stairs behind Shadowlion and Toad, with Remy right beside him. "How could torches be missing?"
Remy shrugged. "If only I knew--"
Shadowlion was giving him a strange look again and Remy couldn't tell whether it was because she thought he had something to do with the stolen torches, or she was just enthralled by his accent again, which was obviously stronger than Beauregard's.
"I had nothing do to with it," Remy said defensively. "Do you honestly think I am the only Wildcat that steals, chère?"
Shadowlion felt like she was melting, and forced herself to turn away from Remy and ignore him. The last time she listened to him, she looked like a lovesick puppy dog, and Panthera nearly backhanded her for it, too. Not to say Panthera didn't react the same way to Remy's voice and looks, but she had a horrible habit of hiding her emotions, especially in front of Remy. "She fancies him," Matrix, the thirteen-year-old who had designed the Underground, had said to Shadowlion on Remy's second day. When Anton had finally brought him back, Panthera was fauning all over Remy, and shouting at Anton for letting him get hurt, even though he only had a few cuts, scrapes, and bruises from trying to run from the Hunters. Anton didn't bother to argue; he knew better than to argue with an angry mother - Panthera most of all - even if Remy was only her son's friend.
To keep her mind from wandering back to Remy, Shadowlion instead tried to concentrate on Matrix. The boy himself was strange: five feet four inches tall, barely one hundred and fifteen pounds, long black hair and brown eyes. His eyes weren't normal, no matter what some of you may think. If you made eye contact with him, he would automatically be able to tell you your life story, give a list of every friend you've ever had, and name off every Christmas present you ever got and what year you got it in. That was his power, that and his super-intelligence. Matrix was only thirteen, yet he was almost as smart as Eintsein was. Matrix was, by ethnicity and looks, Japanese. That was why Shadowlion had bee attracted to him in the first place: he was Oriental. She always liked the Oriental. But Matrix was actually from London. A ~very~ strange child.
Shadowlion hadn't even noticed that they'd made it to the bottom of the stairs and were now walking along the Matrix itself. The walls were lined with torches and painted with images of Puma, Anton and his brother Anubis, and Bastet fighting the Egyptian god of destruction and plague, Seth. It was meant to be a story, but because of the Matrix's design, Shadowlion and her friends were reading the story backwards.
Toad and DeSoto couldn't remember how long they walked, although the others had made the trip to Weiß Drache several times. The Matrix seemed endless, and monotonous. A few times, they passed other Wildcats. They all shrunk away from Shadowlion, and the girls and women would stop to gawk at poor Remy. There was one stretch of the Matrix which was unreasonably dark, and DeSoto accidently ran into a wall.
"Finally," Shadowlion hissed, shoving DeSoto to the ground behind her and yanking on something silver which glinted in the distant torchlight. With a loud creaking and a rush of wind, a broad door was opened. There appeared to be a throne room on the other side, which was exactly what it was. They had entered a side-door. Running the length of the room was an emerald green rug with a white, Japanese-style dragon embroidered on it. DeSoto was the only one to hesitate, so Beau dragged him in by his wrists.
"Beauregard, let the boy walk," said a man sitting on a silver jackal bench similar to Tutankhamen's lion throne. The man's skin was so pale it was pure white, his hair was a beautiful golden blonde, and his eyes a chrome yellow. He raised a two-fingered hand as a sign for Shadowlion and her friends to stop. When DeSoto was shoved up beside Toad, the man's eyes narrowed and his long, forked tail lashed angrily. "DeSoto, can't you do anything right?"
"White D-dragon, s-s-señor, soy arrepentido, s-señor," DeSoto stuttered, vaguely noticing how the man, Anton, shifted position as if to lunge at him and strangle him to death. Or worse: steal his soul. The boy's eyes darted to the Soul-Reaver Pike which Anton had reached for.
"What? You think I would waste my brother's magic Pike on you?" Anton hissed callously. "Herr DeSoto, I don't care if your father's a friend of mine. You're not getting out of a punishment this time." DeSoto squeaked. "But, I ~will~ be kind enough to let Dämon and Mortimer decide your punishment." He laughed cruelly, watching as DeSoto's eyes grew wide. But, in the middle of his laugh, somebody from behind him flicked him in the ear.
"I don't think so, Anton," Panthera said, circling around the bench to stare down at Anton. "Shadowlion will ask for him to be killed and--"
"S'il vous plaît, chère," Remy interrupted, "let Anton do as he pleases. Don't interfere."
Panthera looked at Remy with disbelief, then glared at Anton. "Whatever brainwash technique you used on him I'll--" Anton held up his hand again to silence Panthera.
"Dämon, bitte, say something before she cuts my head off."
"Alright . . . I already know," said Shadowlion slyly. "Bind his wings for two weeks . . ." She listened, pleased with herself, as DeSoto released the breath he'd been holding. " . . . and make him work with Matrix for that time . . . " DeSoto made a choking noise. " . . . and have Beau cut off that hair of his."
At that, DeSoto squealed, "No! Not my hair, Señoritas Shadowlion! Anything but!"
"We can clip his wings," Anton said.
"Nein . . . his hair." Shadowlion grinned evilly. "And just so you know, it was Mortimer's idea to bind his wings."
"Good. Mortimer, I'm sorry for not trusting you before. Whatever I had against you, it's gone." Anton whistled sharply, and another teleporter, this one with calico blue and white skin and red hair, 'ported up behind DeSoto with a length of rope in his hands. "Aryan, bind his wings and throw him in Matrix's lab. Tell Matrix that as DeSoto's punishment, Shadowlion chose to have him work with Matrix."
"Are you sure this won't be a punishment for poor ol' Matrix?" Aryan asked. Aryan hated DeSoto even more than his father, Anton, did.
"Just do it, Aryan," snapped Anton. Aryan didn't hesitate again. He dragged DeSoto off to a dark corner of the throne room to tie his wings up.
By now, Panthera had slunk around the room and come up beside Remy without anyone noticing. She put her arms around his waist and looked up into his red and black eyes. When he looked into hers, he noticed a sadness and worry.
"I have some bad news," Anton said into the silence, stepping down from the with the Soul-Reaver Pike in his hand. "And we have a mission to New York."
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Wow. That was long. Sorry, I just had to put Gambit in there.
Alrighty then . . . review please!
Little Took: Go Hoosiers!! Oh cool, I didn't think there was any other authors from Indiana beside KT Ichijouji and me on this site! I can't say I've been to your city. The only southern town I've been to is Nashville, Indiana, and Seymour, Indiana. Oh yeah, and Bedford! As everyone's probably already figured out, I'm from . . . well, Indianapolis, but I live in Avon. Anyways, thanks for reviewing!
Blue Dragon Git: Thank you thank you for thinking my characters are cool! Especially Pegasus, considering I thought him up in, like, a minute specifically for this story. I hate to tell ya, though, but he doesn't have a major role in the story. He's just the guy that provides the not-needed commentary. Long live comic relief in the form of talking horses!
AHCD: Yes, talking horses seems to be an obsession with you, doesn't it. I'm not the comic relief! I'm just the guy that does the disclaimers. Hey, it's got great pay! No not really. La-dee-dah. Dämon doesn't own X-Men, but she ~does~ own my brother, Pegasus. And all the other Wildcats! Mwahahahaha!
[Ben Stein voice] Wow . . . Almighty Horsey Calendar of Doom has a brother.
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"Y'know, Shadow, it's not exactly ~easy~ to find ~one~ guy in an entire town," Pegasus complained, glaring down at the masses congregating in the parking lot of Regal Cinemas. "This has got to be, like, the most impossible mission in the history of--"
"Angel?"
"Hm?
"Shut up."
"Rokay . . ."
"And no Scooby-Doo impressions! That's Rätsel's job."
"Yeah, I know. But isn't that, like, why Anton likes that stupid dog so much?" Pegasus grinned smugly, watching Shadowlion out of the corner of his eye. Shadowlion didn't appear annoyed or angry with the stallion. In fact, her face was completely devoid of emotion. "So much for no therapy, man. You need it, like, more than ever!" His pitch rose at the end of the sentence as it melted into a short, nervous laugh. "Dude, like, what is ~with~ you today? It's like the lights are on but nobody's home!"
Shadowlion shook her head. "The Fog's back, Angel," she whispered sadly.
"Oh no. No, Shadow, not again. The Fog's gone for good, okay, man? Shadow, listen to my voice! Shadow!" Pegasus' voice was beginning to sound frantic. "Shadow?" he whispered. 'Oh, man, we've gotta find Toad! Now were the hell is that slimeball?!' Pegasus' hawk-like gaze swept across the empty lots, alleyways, and office parks.
The Fog, as Shadowlion had always called it, was a clouding of her mind. It was almost like a seizure, but not as dangerous. The clouding was a flashback, when Shadowlion would practically relive her parents' death. It ended quickly, but the haze in her mind that blocked all sight and sound remained. All she would hear was a melancholy song, like a feline version of a wolf's howl, inside her mind. The song held a voice. The Voice, the Song, was what guided the Wildcats in everything. The Song was the reason Shadowlion was the Wildcats' leader. Eventually, after listening to it, or if someone else managed to "wake" her, Shadowlion's vision and hearing would clear, and she would be back to normal. Sometimes, if she listened long enough, a feline shadow would form in the Fog, and the Voice would become louder and clearer. The way Anton tried to explain it, the shadow and the Voice belonged to the one relative Shadowlion had that had not yet deserted her . . . because he couldn't: her great-grandfather, Puma.
Much to Shadowlion's dismay and sadness, the Song slowly drifted away from her after a while, after Panthera and Beau had woken her from it too many times. It had been two and a half weeks since Shadowlion had last heard the Song. Some of the Wildcats saw this as a blessing, a sign that they were now being led by a wide-awake, living mutant, instead of a half-awake mutant listening to the voice of a dead mutant. Others knew it would bring more harm than good.
Pegasus circled high above the Shiloh office park, carefully watching Shadowlion, waiting for the moment when her eyes wouldn't seem to be looking inside instead of out.
After a moment, the girl blinked, her eyes cleared and she stared at Pegasus with mixed emotions. "What did Puma say, Shadow?" Pegasus asked quietly.
Shadowlion looked about the office park, and sharply pointed at a small alleyway between two wings of one of the buildings. "There! Puma says Mortimer's down there!"
Pegasus looked hard at the spot where Shadowlion was pointing, and sure enough, there sat Toad, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. That or just plain lost. "Damn! Smart dead dude! Alright!" The Holstein tilted down and went into another dive, this one slightly slower and more controlled than the last. He crashed to the ground heavily on first his front two hooves than his back two. Shadowlion nearly fell off his back even before he had completely landed as she tried to get to Toad before he freaked out and tried to whack the poor horse.
Shadowlion fell into Toad's arms before he even knew what was happening. "What the hell? How did--"
"Thank the gods!" Shadowlion cried, squeezing Toad and forgetting to mind her claws.
"How did you find me? I thought I'd lost that damn bird!"
"'That damn bird' is the only reason somebody with a brain came looking for you! How did you two get seperated?" Shadowlion glared at Toad, who was in turn glaring at Pegasus. The stallion was prancing about with a wide smile on his face.
"The bloody little coward got knocked down in a crowd and then ran off. He was afraid he'd get stepped on, so he left me out here and went home! You ought to clip his wings and teach him how to walk right," Toad spat. "And just for the record, I refuse to go anywhere else with him." He crossed his arms and grinned slyly when Shadowlion rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Freakin' vulture! He said he'd looked everywhere for you! No wonder he had no idea where you were," growled Shadowlion. "Better yet, I'll bind his wings and cut that greasy hair of his. I'll have Beau cut it -- he does such a hack job with his own hair . . ."
"Great, great. Now, get off me."
"Huh?" Shadowlion was in such a euphoria at having the Song back she hadn't paid much attention to what she was doing. She now sat straddling Toad with her "paws" held up, much like a cat does. "Oh . . . Sorry." She jumped backwards and sat up like one of the circus tigers. "So, you fly, doncha?" Shadowlion pointed at Pegasus, who immediately straightened and stood like a statue.
"He doesn't do loops or barrel rolls or anything, does he?"
"Not unless I tell him to. He's not a show flyer, man, chill out. He can fly slow," replied Shadowlion coyly, "if yer nothin' but a femmer chicken!" Pegasus did his chicken impression, clucking and squawking like a chicken with emphysema or something.
"Femmer, huh? How do you know Geordie?"
"I read books . . ." Shadowlion swatted Pegasus to get him to shut up and kneel down. She swung her left leg over and sat patiently, waiting for Toad to make up his mind. "Chicken."
Toad hesitated, but refused to allow himself to be called a chicken again. Still, he halted a moment before climbing on the stallion's back behind Shadowlion. "I'm no chicken," he whispered in Shadowlion's ear.
She grinned back and discreetly tapped Pegasus three times on the neck. Without a warning, the giant horse shot into the air, spiraling as fast as he could. He neighed loudly until Shadowlion cuffed him for creating such a raucous. Pegasus went up faster and faster until he was nearly six stories above the ground, then he turned into a dive, tilting back up at about two stories from the ground, and finally leveling off at somewhere in between one to two miles up. Toad, not caring for anything but his life after that, was still clinging to Shadowlion, who let out a loud roar. "Who's no chicken?"
"B-gawk!" shrieked Pegasus.
"Don't . . . do that . . . again," Toad gasped.
"You can let go of me now, chicken-man," Shadowlion said.
"And let this damn horse drop me to the pavement!? I don't intend on becoming road-kill just yet!"
"You wouldn't be road-kill, man," replied Pegasus. "You would be, like, a highway pancake. You'd be dead before the first car came anywhere near you!"
"Thanks. I feel loved now," Toad muttered.
"No worries, hun. You are," laughed Shadowlion. "No doubt Anton already knows I left, which means we'll be dragged all the way to Weiß Drache to hear a good lecture from him."
"Anton?"
Pegasus glanced over his shoulder nervously to see how Shadowlion would handle this situation. The thing of it was: only Beau, Panthera, Shadowlion, Pegasus, and Anton's son and daughter, Aryan and Sabine, knew who the enigmatic White Dragon really was. And they were the only ones that were supposed to know.
"Well, you've heard of the White Dragon, right? The White Dragon is a mutant, a teleporter, named Anton Wagoner, from ancient Egypt. He was also the commanding officer at . . . at Auschwitz-Birkenau in World War Two."
"You mean to tell me we're led by a damn Nazi!? How ironic."
"That's why White Dragon didn't like you. He remembers Eric Lehnsherr. You called him Magneto, right? Well, Lehnsherr was pretty much the reason Anton nearly got thrown out of the Reich. Anton felt so sorry for the boy. He may be a Nazi, but he's not black-hearted and completely cold-blooded. Anton and Lehnsherr . . . they became such good friends it--" Shadowlion stopped herself, because her voice was slowly fading into nothing. She took a deep breath and tried again. "Anton couldn't stand to see his friend, especially just a boy, in so much pain and agony, so . . . he set him free. Anton helped Lehnsherr to escape Auschwitz, and got him a passport, to board the first ship out of Europe bound for America. So that's why he ended up here.
"And recently, with all the crap in the news about Lehnsherr in that prison, and then mysteriously vanishing . . . Anton's worried. He realizes the mistake he made in releasing Lehnsherr. He thinks it's all his fault, no matter what any of us tell him. He's afraid . . . of you. He's afraid that Lehnsherr will come looking for you, and finally find him, after all these years."
"But why would Anton be afraid of Magneto? If what you say is true, then Magneto owes Anton his life!"
"Yeah, man, but Lehnsherr didn't always think that way," Pegasus said. "Uh- oh. Oh that's not good. Look down."
Shadowlion looked down, and Toad forced himself to, and down in Shadowlion's backyard ("We're already here?" Shadowlion asked) was Beau, holding DeSoto by what seemed to be his neck. Pegasus slowly lowered himself down, making a much more graceful landing than before.
"What's going on, Beauregard?" Shadowlion demanded, waiting for Toad to get off the horse first so she could climb down.
"White Dragon wishes to see you."
"Oh great," snapped Shadowlion, dropping to the ground. "I'm in trouble for somethin', aren't I?"
"Says he wants to see Toad, too," Beau continued, ignoring Shadowlion completely.
"Alright, whatever, man. If the Almighty Dragon wishes to see me, then so be it. Almighty Royal Pain-in-the-Ass is more like it."
Beau rolled his eyes and began shoving DeSoto towards the shed, another way into the underground network. There was one tunnel in the Underground which led to a mansion not far south from Austin Lakes. The mansion was Anton's own Weiß Drache, which was, ironically, German for White Dragon. Pegasus walked towards the back of the enclosed yard, watching Shadowlion, who was unceremoniously yanking Toad along in her wake, sadly. He nickered softly, but Shadowlion didn't hear him. The shed itself looked harmless: painted black with gold trim with a giant Oriole painted on the north side of it. The Oriole was Anton's work, and it was a "stunning work of art" as Sabine said once. On the south side was an African lion, "the likeness of Shadowlion's great-grandfather" Anton had told everyone. Puma was an icon to the Wildcats, their idol, and to some, a god. He was their leader, in a distant, twisted sort of way. The giant white lion with the golden mane and turquoise blue eyes. Sadly, the Wagoner's were the only ones to ever know Puma.
Inside the shed, it was empty, except for the ancient Egyptian heiroglyphics on the wall, telling the story of the Anubis Ring and the Soul-Reaver Pike, weapons said to once belong to the ancient Egyptian god of Death, Anubis. The Ring and the Pike were now showcased underneath Weiß Drache.
The Ring was said to have a magic which would make a mutant lose their powers for as long as they wore it. Their appearances wouldn't change, but their powers just wouldn't work. Anton couldn't teleport, Beau and Panthera couldn't use their claws, and Sabine couldn't shapeshift (a power inherited from her mother). It was sometimes comical, expecially when one of the other recruits wore it for one day. "A friend of Beauregard's from New Orleans" was all anyone could get out of Panthera before he arrived. This "friend" turned out to be a thief from the French Quarter named Remy LeBeau. During the Alkali Lake incident, Remy's powers had been exposed, and he was forced to run. Lucky for him Beau still cared enough to come back to New Orleans to look for him. Remy's second day, Anton tricked him into wearing the Anubis Ring, knowing full well that Remy would try to make a run for it with the Ring. "A thief is a thief," Anton had told Beau. "Now watch." Sure enough, Remy ran. And the Hunters found him. With the Ring on, though, he couldn't use his powers. Before he got shot, Anton came and saved his sorry hide, strangling one of the Hunters to death in the process. "Now you know," Anton had said to Remy, "that we're ~always~ watching you. And nothing - ~nothing~ - is worth stealing from the Wildcats."
The Soul-Reaver Pike was a deadly weapon that Anton allowed no one to use except himself. The story told the anyone stabbed with the Pike would lose his soul to the weapon. With each soul the weapon became stronger, and harder to properly control, which was why even Anton refused to use it. There was a joke that the older Wildcats told the children as a way to make them behave, that unless you're good, Anton will steal your soul with the Pike. A sick, mean, evil joke, yes, but it worked. There were few troublemakers in the Wildcats, and they were Beau, Remy, Shadowlion, and Toad anyways.
In the floor of the shed was a large trapdoor nearly the size of the entire 11' x 13' construction. With Toad's help, Beau swung the door up and latched it to a hook on the wall to keep it from slamming shut. You got hit on the head with that door, you were out for a good five or six hours. Under the trapdoor was a staircase, which was designed to resemble the Grand Staircase in the Titanic.
The staircase opened up into a large room. There were modern paintings, done by Anton himself, of Anubis, Seth, Horus, and Bastet on every wall, and the room was lit by torches. There was a wide doorway on the opposite side of the room flanked by a statue of Anubis on the left and Bastet on the right. The Anubis Statue held a replica of the Soul-Reaver Pike and Bastet held out a replica of the Anubis Ring on a golden chain. There was a long, dead-end hallway leading back from the doorway. At the end, on the left side, was a lift, which went down to the lower levels of the Underground, and on the right, another, smaller staircase. At the bottom of this staircase was a network of tunnels leading to all different locations in Avon, the largest of which led to Weiß Drache. This was the route which Beau, Shadowlion, Toad, and DeSoto took. Just before they began to descend the second staircase, they ran into - though not literally - Remy, who had just come from the broad "Weiß Drache" tunnel, which everyone called the Matrix, after the mutant who had designed the underground.
"He's not happy, monsieur," Remy said to Beau.
"Lovely. And let me guess, you've been promoted to garçon de message?" Beau grinned evilly. His three companions looked from one to the other, trying to see if any of them knew French.
"Non, Beau, I'm still a recruit. But," Remy said spitefully, then he brightened, "I get to be trained personally by An- White Dragon." He looked up to see if Toad or DeSoto had caught his slight. Toad had, but DeSoto was stupid.
"Whatever," Shadowlion muttered. She shoved DeSoto. "Let's go Bobo."
"Do not call me 'Bobo', por favor," DeSoto said meekly.
"Obnoxious wuss," spat Beau. He grabbed DeSoto's shirt collar and shoved him hard. The boy stumbled down a few steps before tripping and somersaulting the rest of the way into the darkness at the bottom of the staircase. "Whoops."
Everybody laughed. DeSoto was the only one they could pick on without having Anton yelling at them for it. Anton never liked children, and DeSoto least of all. If his father, DeLito Diego, hadn't been such a good friend of Anton's, DeSoto would've been kicked to the curb ages ago.
"Maybe I should warn you," said Remy as Shadowlion and Toad passed him, "that there are torches missing from the Matrix."
"Missing?" Beau asked, continuing on down the stairs behind Shadowlion and Toad, with Remy right beside him. "How could torches be missing?"
Remy shrugged. "If only I knew--"
Shadowlion was giving him a strange look again and Remy couldn't tell whether it was because she thought he had something to do with the stolen torches, or she was just enthralled by his accent again, which was obviously stronger than Beauregard's.
"I had nothing do to with it," Remy said defensively. "Do you honestly think I am the only Wildcat that steals, chère?"
Shadowlion felt like she was melting, and forced herself to turn away from Remy and ignore him. The last time she listened to him, she looked like a lovesick puppy dog, and Panthera nearly backhanded her for it, too. Not to say Panthera didn't react the same way to Remy's voice and looks, but she had a horrible habit of hiding her emotions, especially in front of Remy. "She fancies him," Matrix, the thirteen-year-old who had designed the Underground, had said to Shadowlion on Remy's second day. When Anton had finally brought him back, Panthera was fauning all over Remy, and shouting at Anton for letting him get hurt, even though he only had a few cuts, scrapes, and bruises from trying to run from the Hunters. Anton didn't bother to argue; he knew better than to argue with an angry mother - Panthera most of all - even if Remy was only her son's friend.
To keep her mind from wandering back to Remy, Shadowlion instead tried to concentrate on Matrix. The boy himself was strange: five feet four inches tall, barely one hundred and fifteen pounds, long black hair and brown eyes. His eyes weren't normal, no matter what some of you may think. If you made eye contact with him, he would automatically be able to tell you your life story, give a list of every friend you've ever had, and name off every Christmas present you ever got and what year you got it in. That was his power, that and his super-intelligence. Matrix was only thirteen, yet he was almost as smart as Eintsein was. Matrix was, by ethnicity and looks, Japanese. That was why Shadowlion had bee attracted to him in the first place: he was Oriental. She always liked the Oriental. But Matrix was actually from London. A ~very~ strange child.
Shadowlion hadn't even noticed that they'd made it to the bottom of the stairs and were now walking along the Matrix itself. The walls were lined with torches and painted with images of Puma, Anton and his brother Anubis, and Bastet fighting the Egyptian god of destruction and plague, Seth. It was meant to be a story, but because of the Matrix's design, Shadowlion and her friends were reading the story backwards.
Toad and DeSoto couldn't remember how long they walked, although the others had made the trip to Weiß Drache several times. The Matrix seemed endless, and monotonous. A few times, they passed other Wildcats. They all shrunk away from Shadowlion, and the girls and women would stop to gawk at poor Remy. There was one stretch of the Matrix which was unreasonably dark, and DeSoto accidently ran into a wall.
"Finally," Shadowlion hissed, shoving DeSoto to the ground behind her and yanking on something silver which glinted in the distant torchlight. With a loud creaking and a rush of wind, a broad door was opened. There appeared to be a throne room on the other side, which was exactly what it was. They had entered a side-door. Running the length of the room was an emerald green rug with a white, Japanese-style dragon embroidered on it. DeSoto was the only one to hesitate, so Beau dragged him in by his wrists.
"Beauregard, let the boy walk," said a man sitting on a silver jackal bench similar to Tutankhamen's lion throne. The man's skin was so pale it was pure white, his hair was a beautiful golden blonde, and his eyes a chrome yellow. He raised a two-fingered hand as a sign for Shadowlion and her friends to stop. When DeSoto was shoved up beside Toad, the man's eyes narrowed and his long, forked tail lashed angrily. "DeSoto, can't you do anything right?"
"White D-dragon, s-s-señor, soy arrepentido, s-señor," DeSoto stuttered, vaguely noticing how the man, Anton, shifted position as if to lunge at him and strangle him to death. Or worse: steal his soul. The boy's eyes darted to the Soul-Reaver Pike which Anton had reached for.
"What? You think I would waste my brother's magic Pike on you?" Anton hissed callously. "Herr DeSoto, I don't care if your father's a friend of mine. You're not getting out of a punishment this time." DeSoto squeaked. "But, I ~will~ be kind enough to let Dämon and Mortimer decide your punishment." He laughed cruelly, watching as DeSoto's eyes grew wide. But, in the middle of his laugh, somebody from behind him flicked him in the ear.
"I don't think so, Anton," Panthera said, circling around the bench to stare down at Anton. "Shadowlion will ask for him to be killed and--"
"S'il vous plaît, chère," Remy interrupted, "let Anton do as he pleases. Don't interfere."
Panthera looked at Remy with disbelief, then glared at Anton. "Whatever brainwash technique you used on him I'll--" Anton held up his hand again to silence Panthera.
"Dämon, bitte, say something before she cuts my head off."
"Alright . . . I already know," said Shadowlion slyly. "Bind his wings for two weeks . . ." She listened, pleased with herself, as DeSoto released the breath he'd been holding. " . . . and make him work with Matrix for that time . . . " DeSoto made a choking noise. " . . . and have Beau cut off that hair of his."
At that, DeSoto squealed, "No! Not my hair, Señoritas Shadowlion! Anything but!"
"We can clip his wings," Anton said.
"Nein . . . his hair." Shadowlion grinned evilly. "And just so you know, it was Mortimer's idea to bind his wings."
"Good. Mortimer, I'm sorry for not trusting you before. Whatever I had against you, it's gone." Anton whistled sharply, and another teleporter, this one with calico blue and white skin and red hair, 'ported up behind DeSoto with a length of rope in his hands. "Aryan, bind his wings and throw him in Matrix's lab. Tell Matrix that as DeSoto's punishment, Shadowlion chose to have him work with Matrix."
"Are you sure this won't be a punishment for poor ol' Matrix?" Aryan asked. Aryan hated DeSoto even more than his father, Anton, did.
"Just do it, Aryan," snapped Anton. Aryan didn't hesitate again. He dragged DeSoto off to a dark corner of the throne room to tie his wings up.
By now, Panthera had slunk around the room and come up beside Remy without anyone noticing. She put her arms around his waist and looked up into his red and black eyes. When he looked into hers, he noticed a sadness and worry.
"I have some bad news," Anton said into the silence, stepping down from the with the Soul-Reaver Pike in his hand. "And we have a mission to New York."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Wow. That was long. Sorry, I just had to put Gambit in there.
Alrighty then . . . review please!
