*A/N: Wahoo! A SEQUEL! Well, the movie is coming out tomorrow (this being the 1st of May) and I hope that everyone is going to see it as soon as it comes out! I, myself, have tickets for opening night and Saturday... hehehe... Well, I hope everyone enjoys the sequel (both my fic AND the movie!), and I have a couple of surprises in store! Let's hope that everyone continues to read this even after the Movie puts my mere writing to shame. Lol... anyway, hope you enjoy this!

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'He's dead.'

'He's insane.'

'He got what he deserved.'

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John touched his forehead gently as it throbbed just the opposite. He did not open his eyes for his splitting headache consumed every ounce of energy that he possessed in his being. Slowly, he managed to pry his eyelids open for a quick glance around. He was no longer in the comfort of his home. He wasn't lounging in his modest, but suitable apartment, or taking a nap in his comfortable chair. This room hurt his eyes even though his eyelids were not even half open; the brightness penetrated the small cracks from which John saw through, and he felt as if he was immediately sightless.

Then, a blinding white light made him shut his eyes tightly and he cursed the very source of all brightness of the world. The agitated mutant clutched his head and did not open his eyes. He wanted to know where he was; he wanted to escape. Then a soothing voice flowed into his ears. A voice as sweet as Jasmine in blooming season, and as fresh as succulent fruit recently plucked from a forbidden tree. John instantly found comfort in the intoxicating voice and began to open his eyes. He could have sworn that the melodic tones belonged to an angel, but when his pupils focused, there was no angel after all.

A homely looking woman stood in front of him. Her clothes were a dismal brown with matching, dismal brown shoes. In fact, as he studied the woman further, he noticed that her hair was too, brown and her eyes stared at him intently- her brown eyes. John thought she looked like a forgotten mudslide that rolled its way into a slimy swamp. It wasn't that she was ugly, per say, just... homely. That was the only word he could find. There was nothing special about her, nothing striking that he could ever even imagine to remember about her. She was just there- a stranger that reminded him of a swamp.

Pyro felt like rolling over so the woman couldn't look at him anymore, but he found himself bound to the table by thick leather straps that were linked together with even thicker metal clasps. Feeling like an accused prisoner, he struggled for his life, trying to stretch the binding as much as he could. He listened to the woman gasp as he moved frantically about, attempting freedom. He sensed her back away in shock. The straps would not give; they were certainly made for this type of activity. Reluctantly, Pyro conceded.

The woman approached him and Pyro opened his eyes. They were full of anger and hatred. Whoever had done this to him would die, he would make sure of that. But his thoughts were interrupted by the woman's voice speaking to him yet again, "Mr. Allerdyce, please compose yourself. I am not here to harm you, merely interrogate you." She peered at John through black-rimmed glasses. Seeing as he could do nothing else, John acquiesced and let a man that he hadn't seen before un-strap his bindings. Just as he thought to break free, the man pulled out handcuffs and snapped them around Pyro's wrists. He struggled with the metal cuffs for a moment but then exhaled in defeat. His efforts were futile.

John found himself being led by the two strange people to another room that was located through many intricate hallways and restricted doors. The woman in brown walked somewhat in front of John and the man that still held into him, her mud colored heels clicking sharply on the tile floor that gleamed with newly-polished pride. It hurt his eyes. Finally, they reached their destination.

"Great. Finally. I thought we were going to Egypt seeing how long it took us to get here. I wasn't even sure if we were in the same state anymore," John joked. The Swamp Woman didn't reply. She simply removed her glasses and rubbed them with a soft cloth as John's 'escort' pushed him into the room and directed him toward a chair and a table. Apprehensively, Pyro took a seat and placed his clasped hands on the surface in front of him. She was going to interrogate him? Why? John felt uneasy as the woman stood in front of him. The man that had led John in walked briskly out of the door; it shut with a loud smack.

For a moment, everything was silent until, "Mr. Allerdyce, could you tell me what you remember of this morning?" What the hell was this? Why did Swamp Lady care what he did? Rolling his eyes, he sighed and recounted what he had done, "I woke up this morning, sat my lazy ass down in my comfortable chair and watched TV." The woman nodded. "Yes, continue." Pyro shook his head but kept on speaking, "I was going to call my old friends, but didn't, and went to sit back down. Then..." He suddenly stopped and noticed that the woman had looked up at him and was staring at him intently.

"Yes, Mr. Allerdyce? What next?" John ignored her and thought for a moment. What had happened? His memory was lucid before that point in time; what had happened? Then realization struck. Psylocke had come to his door. She was crying and reeked of innocence. John smacked his fist on the table. It was all a ruse! She wanted him to be within close reach so she could... What did she do? 'Ah, yes.' Pyro sneered. He pulled back the collar of his shirt and inspected the crook that his neck and shoulder made with his fingers. Yes, there was a small puncture there; he could feel it.

He heard the woman speak up again, "Yes, Mr..."

"It's John," he accidentally spat. He could feel the woman's sudden alertness as she hastily apologized, "Sorry...uh- John. Now is there something else that you would like to tell me?" Pyro sensed that his short remark had made her nervous and lose her edge. She had been convinced that she was in charge of the situation, but John had turned the tables. It was now a mutual conversation, not an interrogation.

"I was stabbed," He said, "with a needle. Here." He pointed to the wound without moving his eyes from hers and didn't bother with fixing his mangled collar. He only stared at the woman opposite him through her black-rimmed glasses. She avoided his gaze and he noticed a small blush creeping up to her neck. He still stared even though he knew that it made the Swamp Lady feel uncomfortable. Then she spoke, "Okay, well... is that all you have to tell me?" Pyro clenched his teeth and spat, "I don't even know why the hell I'm here. I didn't need to tell you anything. I know my rights and I can plead the fifth just as easy as you can pretend that you're in charge here."

He suddenly wished he hadn't said that for the Swamp Woman's dark eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a sneer, "All right, pretty boy. You don't have to talk, but we'll see if you'll change your mind after tonight." And with that she opened the door and slammed it behind her. Two large men in long white coats appeared in the doorway. One man grabbed Pyro roughly and pushed him toward the door. "You're comin' with us, buddy," The huskier one growled. John felt that he wouldn't like this at all.

Soon, the two men led Pyro to an isolated area. There were no other doors around but one that was straight ahead of them. John glanced around and took note of the pristine white walls that blended into the floor. The entire corridor seemed to spiral downward as they reached their destination. A jingle of keys was all John heard before he was thrown into the room. Colliding with something soft, he stumbled and fell onto his face. The men only laughed and locked the door. John was left alone.

Frantically, Pyro directed his head in every direction. It was just then that he realized where he was.

He was in a padded room, and this was an insane asylum.