Ororo moved a bit higher to make sure she didn't lose sight of Ink, who was
riding so fast that it was extremely difficult to keep up. The teen had
stolen one of Logan's bikes and gotten it out of the garage by filling it
with smoke so thick that though she could breathe and see through it fine
it had held back and enraged Logan and a worried Ororo. Ink smiled to
herself grimly, knowing it would be a few days even before Xavier could
begin to get rid of her special smoke, it had a tendency to stick around
unless she called it off.
But the smile soon was replaced by a scowl, no one in her position could stay happy for long. Sure, she had this great new bike and no one else to look after, but that was also part of the problem. She had taken care of her brothers and sisters for years and loved them deeply, she was willing to die to save them, and she had nearly done so several times when the people she stole food from caught her. And now her own sisters and brother had turned their backs, argued against her, and driven her out. That was not supposed to ever happen, she was practically their parent, she was their care-taker, she was in charge.
And now she was alone, riding off to a place she had never wanted to see again, what was happening? She knew that her life had been hard, almost impossible, but she knew what she needed and what was happening; now she was confused, furious, and plummeting into a deep depression. To try and fight these emotions she chose another danger, a physical one, pushing her bike to its limits.
Ink looked at the speed speedometer, it read 124. This was a fast bike, perfect for her use. Cars honked and swerved occasionally, but Ink neither noticed or cared, she was too busy watching for gaps in the highway traffic and digging up the road maps in her head.
'That girl is going to kill herself,' Ororo thought worriedly. She turned on her communicator and waited patiently as it rang, and then someone answered it.
"Hello?" Scott's voice answered.
"Scott, ask the professor if you can take the blackbird and come after Ink and I, I don't think I can keep up with her much longer," she said. After a pause she heard Scott briskly start to walk, and a minute later she heard a low conversation between in him and undoubtedly Professor Xavier. Then Scott got back on the communicator.
"I'll be right there," Scott said. The link closed and Ororo went back to following Ink, who was only a blur below her, seeming to knock other cars out of her way on the road.
**********
Ink pulled into a small parking lot, one she had seen many times before, one that always lead to trouble. She was in the small 'town' or Coroner, aka The Corner. It was a town so small it wasn't considered one except by its inhabitants, all fifty of them. Despite the size though, you didn't know anyone but your friends very well, and most people preferred to talk to strangers passing through.
The bar's name was 'Owen's', after the dog of the man who gave the owner the idea to start it, Owen had been shot a week later for attacking a group of school children when he and his owner went to another town to get something or other. It was a dark place full of mean people, and this was the best place to find the old one-time friend of her old one-time family.
Parking the bike in the parking slot right by the door, where she could keep an eye on it, Ink got off and sighed. Walking inside the dimly lit place she found it hadn't changed at all, not the foggy air from all the smoking that went on inside (both from cigarettes and the stove that always turned out black sandwiches to the customers). The music was still deafening, old rock, and it was still a tiny bar with a few tables and chairs, most ready to collapse into toothpicks, held together by enormous amounts of duct tape that barely held out much better in the same kind of fights that brought it there in the first place.
Ink looked around and to her relief and surprise she saw him there.
******
Harold Mackling sat in the back, as always, puffing on a cigar with a mug of coffee in front of him. He always drank coffee at all times, not believing in beer or the other beverages served at the bar. He was a druggie, not an alcoholic.
He looked up unsurprised as Ink came over by him, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it she sat down and looked around. Then she looked at him. This was the moment he had been waiting ten years for, the moment the Cassandra Aringtil confronted him about her father. He knew it was coming. He always had, and he was glad it was finally here. Cassandra never left important things alone; she never had and never would.
"Hey," she said, also unsurprised at his lack of reaction to her presence.
"Hey boy, whatcho doin roun' these parts? Ah though yeh took all them kids and when somewheres north long ago." He replied, using 'boy' only because it was his idea in the first place that she hid her true gender. Well, half his, he thought she should have gone as a lesbian, she had said no and that she was going to not just have people think she thought like a boy, but actually was a boy.
"Ah did, till one nigh when they all took flight an left their las' parent," Ink said, going back to the rusty hard speech so common in the little town. No one was quite sure why they all spoke this way, least of all the inhabitants. They just did, and that's all anybody round there needed.
"Oh ho, an did their liddle wings soar in the morning breeze, or was it Hell's lava on the groun' that made'em go?" Another town saying, you either left soaring beautifully in the morning breeze, off to find success and fortune, or you were forced out by something or other, of to meet whatever end you came upon. Ink sighed heavily.
"Twas their own fire that made them fly," she said. Harold also sighed and leaned back in his seat, not knowing what to say in this situation.
"And are they right?" he asked finally.
"Dunno, they gonna end up separated, never seein the others agin, is that right?" she asked looking up at the skinny man. He shrugged.
"An you left'em to meet that end?" he said. Ink glared at him.
"I did not come all the way from New York to be reminded of earlier days," she said, dropping the accent. Harold shrugged, so she continued. "I came to find him."
"An what're yeh doin once yeh find Carl?" he asked. "Yeh gonna kill'em? Is that gonna change nothin? Will it make it all fine?" Ink glared at him.
"Yeh know where he is, jus tell me an I'll be on my way. This aint no concern of yours till a cop questions yeh, and then that'll be the end of it for yeh. Tell'em yeh never saw or talked teh me, Ah found my way on my own. Now where is he?" Harold shrugged.
"Ah still don' see why it's important fer yeh teh go kill'em, Cass, it won't change nothin and yeh'll have a dead man on yer hands. Yeh wont be able to go back teh yer kids if yer in the slammer." He said.
"Ah'll kill'em and hide'em, that old prick wont be found fer weeks. And no one roun' here recognizes me cept yo, so the cops wont know less yeh tell'em, and Ah hope fer your sake that yeh don't, or I'll be charged fer double murder afore I'm done." Ink growled. Harold laughed, then slid a small gun across the table to Ink, who grabbed it and then put it in a pocket on the inside of her jacket.
"He moved his lyin' ass up next door teh Mrs. Packa, who died three moons ago. Yeh'll be using the gun that shot Benji." Ink paused from getting up as she heard the last comment, and felt the gun again.
"An the bullets?" she asked.
"Same brand. Ah been wait'en a decade fer this, Ah hope yeh do it righ an don't get caught. Good luck, an nice bike." He added, reaching out his hand. Ink smiled and stood, taking it and shaking.
"Yeh'll neva know what this means ter me, thanks fer yeh help Hare. Take care." She said, then turned and walked out of Owen's.
***********
Ten minutes later Ink parked her bike in the woods and continued near the road on foot, leaving the motorcycle in a ready position for a quick getaway. Taking out the gun she walked through the dark towards a house with a single light on, and a shape moving restlessly in front of it, back and fourth. Unknown to the teen, Logan was following her, talking low into the communicator and filling in Scott and Ororo of Ink's movements.
"She left my bike and is on foot, heading to this old hermit place," Logan said. I think she has a knife in her hand, she's definitely nervous about something."
"Keep hidden for now, tell us if she does anything at the house." Scott replied. Logan rolled his eyes, he wasn't just going to go up to her and ask what she was doing.
***
Ink was very nervous, but also very excited, and determined. She walked to the front door of the house, having to walk through a small porch to get there. She knocked a couple of times and then stood back, cocking the gun. She was unemotional as she heard the footsteps approach the door, and she raised the gun.
***
Logan knew what she was going to do before he saw the gun.
"Scooter, she's gonna kill somebody!" he said.
"Stop her!" Scott said immediately. Logan started running, but it was too late.
***
The front door creaked open and a tall man built muscular but rather fat was standing in it, his unshaven face looking confused and upset. When he saw Ink he froze, the last thing he ever saw where her green eyes, full of hatred and anger, and then she squeezed the trigger. Releasing every bit of frustration and fear she had ever felt, as well as the overwhelming wave of fierce rage she had against the man.
"NO!" Logan yelled, hoping to make Ink miss and save the scum's life. No doubt there was a good reason for Ink to kill him, but she shouldn't, no one should kill before they were old enough to drive.
Carl Aringtil fell from the first shot, but there were two more bullets pumped into his body. Ink did not drop the weapon for a while, nor did she turn or take her eyes of the man who had been her father until the night he shot her brother, the same night they lost their mother, and the night the thirteen children lead by an eleven year-old mutant left their drunk father and dead mother and brother to live off the streets and garbage of the world. It had started with this man, and now Ink had ended it. Three shots, one for her mother, one for her brother Benji, and one for her.
But the smile soon was replaced by a scowl, no one in her position could stay happy for long. Sure, she had this great new bike and no one else to look after, but that was also part of the problem. She had taken care of her brothers and sisters for years and loved them deeply, she was willing to die to save them, and she had nearly done so several times when the people she stole food from caught her. And now her own sisters and brother had turned their backs, argued against her, and driven her out. That was not supposed to ever happen, she was practically their parent, she was their care-taker, she was in charge.
And now she was alone, riding off to a place she had never wanted to see again, what was happening? She knew that her life had been hard, almost impossible, but she knew what she needed and what was happening; now she was confused, furious, and plummeting into a deep depression. To try and fight these emotions she chose another danger, a physical one, pushing her bike to its limits.
Ink looked at the speed speedometer, it read 124. This was a fast bike, perfect for her use. Cars honked and swerved occasionally, but Ink neither noticed or cared, she was too busy watching for gaps in the highway traffic and digging up the road maps in her head.
'That girl is going to kill herself,' Ororo thought worriedly. She turned on her communicator and waited patiently as it rang, and then someone answered it.
"Hello?" Scott's voice answered.
"Scott, ask the professor if you can take the blackbird and come after Ink and I, I don't think I can keep up with her much longer," she said. After a pause she heard Scott briskly start to walk, and a minute later she heard a low conversation between in him and undoubtedly Professor Xavier. Then Scott got back on the communicator.
"I'll be right there," Scott said. The link closed and Ororo went back to following Ink, who was only a blur below her, seeming to knock other cars out of her way on the road.
**********
Ink pulled into a small parking lot, one she had seen many times before, one that always lead to trouble. She was in the small 'town' or Coroner, aka The Corner. It was a town so small it wasn't considered one except by its inhabitants, all fifty of them. Despite the size though, you didn't know anyone but your friends very well, and most people preferred to talk to strangers passing through.
The bar's name was 'Owen's', after the dog of the man who gave the owner the idea to start it, Owen had been shot a week later for attacking a group of school children when he and his owner went to another town to get something or other. It was a dark place full of mean people, and this was the best place to find the old one-time friend of her old one-time family.
Parking the bike in the parking slot right by the door, where she could keep an eye on it, Ink got off and sighed. Walking inside the dimly lit place she found it hadn't changed at all, not the foggy air from all the smoking that went on inside (both from cigarettes and the stove that always turned out black sandwiches to the customers). The music was still deafening, old rock, and it was still a tiny bar with a few tables and chairs, most ready to collapse into toothpicks, held together by enormous amounts of duct tape that barely held out much better in the same kind of fights that brought it there in the first place.
Ink looked around and to her relief and surprise she saw him there.
******
Harold Mackling sat in the back, as always, puffing on a cigar with a mug of coffee in front of him. He always drank coffee at all times, not believing in beer or the other beverages served at the bar. He was a druggie, not an alcoholic.
He looked up unsurprised as Ink came over by him, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it she sat down and looked around. Then she looked at him. This was the moment he had been waiting ten years for, the moment the Cassandra Aringtil confronted him about her father. He knew it was coming. He always had, and he was glad it was finally here. Cassandra never left important things alone; she never had and never would.
"Hey," she said, also unsurprised at his lack of reaction to her presence.
"Hey boy, whatcho doin roun' these parts? Ah though yeh took all them kids and when somewheres north long ago." He replied, using 'boy' only because it was his idea in the first place that she hid her true gender. Well, half his, he thought she should have gone as a lesbian, she had said no and that she was going to not just have people think she thought like a boy, but actually was a boy.
"Ah did, till one nigh when they all took flight an left their las' parent," Ink said, going back to the rusty hard speech so common in the little town. No one was quite sure why they all spoke this way, least of all the inhabitants. They just did, and that's all anybody round there needed.
"Oh ho, an did their liddle wings soar in the morning breeze, or was it Hell's lava on the groun' that made'em go?" Another town saying, you either left soaring beautifully in the morning breeze, off to find success and fortune, or you were forced out by something or other, of to meet whatever end you came upon. Ink sighed heavily.
"Twas their own fire that made them fly," she said. Harold also sighed and leaned back in his seat, not knowing what to say in this situation.
"And are they right?" he asked finally.
"Dunno, they gonna end up separated, never seein the others agin, is that right?" she asked looking up at the skinny man. He shrugged.
"An you left'em to meet that end?" he said. Ink glared at him.
"I did not come all the way from New York to be reminded of earlier days," she said, dropping the accent. Harold shrugged, so she continued. "I came to find him."
"An what're yeh doin once yeh find Carl?" he asked. "Yeh gonna kill'em? Is that gonna change nothin? Will it make it all fine?" Ink glared at him.
"Yeh know where he is, jus tell me an I'll be on my way. This aint no concern of yours till a cop questions yeh, and then that'll be the end of it for yeh. Tell'em yeh never saw or talked teh me, Ah found my way on my own. Now where is he?" Harold shrugged.
"Ah still don' see why it's important fer yeh teh go kill'em, Cass, it won't change nothin and yeh'll have a dead man on yer hands. Yeh wont be able to go back teh yer kids if yer in the slammer." He said.
"Ah'll kill'em and hide'em, that old prick wont be found fer weeks. And no one roun' here recognizes me cept yo, so the cops wont know less yeh tell'em, and Ah hope fer your sake that yeh don't, or I'll be charged fer double murder afore I'm done." Ink growled. Harold laughed, then slid a small gun across the table to Ink, who grabbed it and then put it in a pocket on the inside of her jacket.
"He moved his lyin' ass up next door teh Mrs. Packa, who died three moons ago. Yeh'll be using the gun that shot Benji." Ink paused from getting up as she heard the last comment, and felt the gun again.
"An the bullets?" she asked.
"Same brand. Ah been wait'en a decade fer this, Ah hope yeh do it righ an don't get caught. Good luck, an nice bike." He added, reaching out his hand. Ink smiled and stood, taking it and shaking.
"Yeh'll neva know what this means ter me, thanks fer yeh help Hare. Take care." She said, then turned and walked out of Owen's.
***********
Ten minutes later Ink parked her bike in the woods and continued near the road on foot, leaving the motorcycle in a ready position for a quick getaway. Taking out the gun she walked through the dark towards a house with a single light on, and a shape moving restlessly in front of it, back and fourth. Unknown to the teen, Logan was following her, talking low into the communicator and filling in Scott and Ororo of Ink's movements.
"She left my bike and is on foot, heading to this old hermit place," Logan said. I think she has a knife in her hand, she's definitely nervous about something."
"Keep hidden for now, tell us if she does anything at the house." Scott replied. Logan rolled his eyes, he wasn't just going to go up to her and ask what she was doing.
***
Ink was very nervous, but also very excited, and determined. She walked to the front door of the house, having to walk through a small porch to get there. She knocked a couple of times and then stood back, cocking the gun. She was unemotional as she heard the footsteps approach the door, and she raised the gun.
***
Logan knew what she was going to do before he saw the gun.
"Scooter, she's gonna kill somebody!" he said.
"Stop her!" Scott said immediately. Logan started running, but it was too late.
***
The front door creaked open and a tall man built muscular but rather fat was standing in it, his unshaven face looking confused and upset. When he saw Ink he froze, the last thing he ever saw where her green eyes, full of hatred and anger, and then she squeezed the trigger. Releasing every bit of frustration and fear she had ever felt, as well as the overwhelming wave of fierce rage she had against the man.
"NO!" Logan yelled, hoping to make Ink miss and save the scum's life. No doubt there was a good reason for Ink to kill him, but she shouldn't, no one should kill before they were old enough to drive.
Carl Aringtil fell from the first shot, but there were two more bullets pumped into his body. Ink did not drop the weapon for a while, nor did she turn or take her eyes of the man who had been her father until the night he shot her brother, the same night they lost their mother, and the night the thirteen children lead by an eleven year-old mutant left their drunk father and dead mother and brother to live off the streets and garbage of the world. It had started with this man, and now Ink had ended it. Three shots, one for her mother, one for her brother Benji, and one for her.