(A/N: Mr. Rabbit belongs to my S.O./writing partner Chris. The other puppet characters are my own invention.)
Dawn broke over the Brotherhood house. As golden fingers caressed the old, battered woodwork, inside all was still.
Lance Alvers was draped across his bed, snoring lightly. A shadowy form glided to the side of his bed. It bent down, close to his ear, and said:
"GOOD MORNING, LANCE!"
Lance crashed onto the floor. He untangled himself from the blankets and came face to face with a felt rabbit puppet.
"MR. RABBIT SAYS TIME TO GET UP!" Pietro Maximoff squeaked in the voice of the puppet. (At least it wasn't the anatomically correct one.)
"Mr. Rabbit can . . ." The rest was a mumbled string of incoherent curses as Lance rooted around on the floor for some pants.
"AH AH AH! DON'T WANT TO USE THOSE NASTY WORDS WHERE TAD CAN HEAR!"
"It's Saturday! Why do I need to get up this early on a Saturday? What time is it, anyway?"
"SIX FORTY-FIVE!"
"Can I talk to you, not the puppet?"
"SORRY! I mean, sorry."
"So why are we getting up at the crack of dawn?" Lance groped around and found a shirt that was at least halfway decent.
"Cause Her Highness says so." Pietro sighed and pulled Lance along the floor. "She says we all need to be at some stupid meeting about some new mutant that the X-Geeks will probably end up recruiting anyway . . ."
Lance jumped to his feet. "I'm going back to bed."
"No you're not." Mystique herself yanked him by the hair and dragged him out into the hall. "You are going to go down and join us. End of story."
Lance opened his mouth to protest, but one glare from Mystique cut him off before the words could come out. "Stupid training session," he muttered, low enough so she couldn't hear him.
At the Xavier Institute, Scott Summers studied the computer printout in front of him. "You sure this is the right house?" he asked Professor Xavier.
"Yes, once I cross-checked the street address with our records. I would recommend that you take Logan with you to keep an eye on things while I make arrangements for Storm to interview our new recruit."
"Isn't she a little . . . young?" Scott asked. "I've never heard of a nine-year-old having these kinds of abilities before."
"It's not inconceivable, though it is unusual," Xavier replied. "She does have the gene on both sides of the family, according to our records."
There was a file between them labeled HILL, LINDSAY. Scott opened it and read a bit of her background—and it was, to put it mildly, fascinating stuff. The girl's mother, a psychiatrist, was a low-level telepath, and her father also possessed the mutant gene, although in him it was dormant.
"Makes you wonder," he said, "how many other X-positives are out there and don't even know it."
"Someday," Xavier said, "we'll be able to test earlier, possibly even at birth. For now, we do what we can."
Jean Gray entered the room and looked at both of them. "I hate to interrupt, but there's a bit of a problem with finding the girl."
"What problem?"
"Her mother has just left the family home and taken two of the children with her."
"Two of them?" Scott asked. "I thought she only had two."
Jean shook her head. "Dr. Hill gave birth to a third child about five months ago. All of a sudden, he turned up missing. We're trying to find him or her . . ."
"We need to find all four of them," said Xavier. "And bring them here so the other two children can be tested."
Tad was in his bouncer seat with Toad as they walked through the park. The Brotherhood's training exercises were down at the far end, just beyond the duck pond.
"Gah gee ah," Tad gurgled.
"Hey, Taddy," Toad said. "Let's sit here and play in the sandbox. Okay?"
"Dah!" Toad gently lifted Tad out of the seat and put him in the sandbox. "Gee mah!"
"Yeah, what you said."
Across the way, the Brotherhood were doing something that was supposed to be training. However, it looked more like a Keystone Kops audition to Todd.
Mystique saw him and glared at him. "Why aren't you taking part in this training session?" she demanded.
"But if I do, who's gonna watch Tad?"
Tad rolled over and tried to eat some sand. "No, no, Taddy! Yucky! Don't! That's not good for you!"
Tad paid no attention to his older brother's admonitions; he was having too much fun in the sandbox. "Gah!"
Todd picked the baby up and sat him back in his seat. "No eating sand," he told Tad sternly.
"Gah bah gah doo!" Tad gurgled. He grabbed a handful of sand and threw it in the air. "Mah gah boo dee!"
"Aah! My eyes!" Toad complained, trying to get the sand out. All he succeeded in doing was rubbing it in further. Mystique sighed and sent Blob to fetch Toad.
"Mystique says you gotta come over here right now," Blob said.
"I'm blind! I'm scarred for life! Tad, what have you done, you bad baby?"
Tad gurgled and threw more sand, which fortunately didn't hit anyone this time. "What is it with that kid?" Blob sighed.
"It hurts! IT HURTS!" Toad shouted, still rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, be quiet, you big baby!" Lance snapped. "It's only a little sand!"
Toad was still hopping around like a crazy person when Mystique stormed over to him. "What exactly are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?"
"My eyes!" Toad shouted in blind (no pun intended) panic. "I can't see anything!"
"Oh, stop it!" Mystique grumbled, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and dragging him to the practice area. "It's only a little sand! You're not having a heart attack!"
"AW, CHEER UP, TODDY!" Mr. Rabbit said. Toad hated Mr. Rabbit, and hated Pietro for bringing the puppet along. "IT'LL BE FUN!"
Mystique grabbed the puppet and tore it into little felt pieces. "The next time I catch you with one of your little friends, I will rip you apart! Got it?"
A terrified Pietro shrank back from Mystique's wrath. "Sorry, Boss Lady," he mumbled.
"I should hope so," Mystique snapped. With that, the training resumed (such as it was). Tad watched, playing with his little stuffed doll.
There was a shrill chirping noise from the phone currently sitting in Mystique's pocket. She picked it up and reluctantly answered. "Hello?"
"What are you doing right now?" Magneto demanded.
"We're trying to have a training session," she grumbled.
"A new mutant has been detected somewhere in the city."
"Really? Who? Where?" She signaled the boys to stop what they were doing.
"Her name is Lindsay Hill. She's somewhere in Bayville, but I'm not sure where. The family's dropped out of sight. It's up to you to track them down."
"Why don't we just grab her when she comes out of school? What's she look like?"
A tiny photo popped up on the phone screen. The words "Don't mess this up" floated beneath it.
"Get in the car, boys," she ordered. "We have work to do."
"What about our training session?" Lance asked.
"Our plans have changed. We're on retrieval duty today."
"Retrieving who?"
Mystique rolled her eyes. "I'll explain on the way. You just drive."
"What about Tad?" asked Toad.
"We'll bring him with us!"
"O-Okay," Toad said, hopping back to pick up Tad in his seat. The infant had pulled up a handful of grass and was chewing on it.
"No, Tad! Yucky!"
Tad just looked at him.
"Yucky." Toad pried the grass out of his tiny hand and then scooped what hadn't already been swallowed out of his mouth.
"This from someone who eats bugs," Lance said.
Just for that, Todd thwacked him on the side of the head with his tongue.
"Ow!"
"Stop fooling around!" Mystique screamed. "Get in the car now before I kill you!"
The Brotherhood shrank back from the screaming madwoman, and got in the car.
"Hey." Fred had his second original thought of his lifetime. "If it's Saturday, why are we picking her up at school?"
Mystique rolled her eyes. "She's in an extra-credit program! Now less talk and more speed!"
"I'm at the limit as it is!" Lance complained.
It took them forever to get to the school . . .
. . . and they were too late. The X-Men had beaten them to the girl, by mere moments, it looked like.
"Aw, no!" Toad complained. "If we only could have got here a few minutes sooner . . ."
"Maybe if we didn't have a ton of baby toys to pick up, we would have," Pietro snapped.
Toad gave him a death glare. "Shut up, you baby-hater!"
"I don't hate babies! All I said was—"
"Both of you shut up!" Mystique hissed. "I want to hear what they're saying."
Toad and Lance flinched, then fell silent.
The girl's mother, though she hadn't heard Mystique, also became silent. If only she had turned around at that exact moment, a lot of worry and heartache would have been avoided. But she just hurried off with the girl, with never a look back . . .
"Blast it!" Mystique muttered as she watched them drive away.
"WHAT A BUNCH OF DOODY-HEADS!" said an obnoxious voice. "MR. SALAMANDER SAYS LET'S GET 'EM!"
All eyes turned to Pietro, who gave them a stupid grin. He waved the puppet around like a flag, until Mystique grabbed it away. Mr. Salamander met the same fate as Mr. Rabbit . . . a shredding courtesy of Lance, followed by a shower of fabric confetti.
"Mr. Salamander, meet my friend, Mr. Wastebasket!"
Pietro was ticked off—he'd spent days making those puppets. "What is your problem, Lance?"
"My problem is you and your stupid puppets!" Lance shot back. "You're getting really annoying, you know that?"
"My puppets are not annoying!"
"I wasn't talking about the puppets!"
"MR. HORSEFLY SAYS LEAVE HIS PAL PIETRO ALONE!"
"Horsefly? Where?" Toad's long, sticky tongue shot out into the air and snagged the puppet.
"Hey!" Pietro protested. He tried to grab Mr. Horsefly away, but Toad wasn't finished with him yet.
"Mine!"
"Mine!"
"Mine!"
"MINE!"
Tad let out a wail that got everyone's attention.
"What's wrong, Taddy?" Todd asked, as if the baby could answer.
While he was distracted, Pietro snatched Mr. Horsefly back and stuffed him into his pocket. (It was a good thing he had designed himself a practice suit with pockets.) The puppet war was far from over.
Another morning.
Another rude puppet awakening.
Pietro had worked extra-hard on this one, and he wasn't about to let all that work go to waste.
He tiptoed past Tad, who was sleeping in his room this time around, and searched through his closet until he found a megaphone. Puppet in one hand, megaphone in the other, he crept to the bottom of the stairs.
"GOOOOD MOOORNING, BROTHERHOOD!"
There was the thud of someone falling out of bed.
"UP, UP, UP!" he exclaimed. "RISE AND SHINE! A NEW DAY AWAITS YOU!" He started to sing "Here Comes the Sun" in the squeaky puppet voice, but as he didn't know half the words, it was mostly "la la la".
A tousled head peeked over the upstairs railing. Lance had known who it was right away—it was like the guy made a career out of annoying people. Or was it just the people he lived with?
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Lance demanded.
"SEVEN-THIRTY!"
"In the morning! On a Sunday! Have you lost your mind?"
The others were getting up to see what the noise was. Todd was mad that whoever it was had woken up Tad. Fred had been pulled out of a dream about all the pizza he could eat. And Mystique was just mad on general principles.
Pietro slowly backed away as they came for him. "Uh, guys . . . it's not me! It's the puppet's fault! Isn't that right, Mr. Possum?"
Mr. Possum was strangely silent.
"We don't like Mr. Possum," Lance said, in an eerily calm voice.
"We didn't like Mr. Rabbit, either," Todd said in a similar tone, "did we, Tad?"
Tad reached for the offensive puppet, but Pietro pulled it away. "No! They're my puppets! I made them!"
"And I told you not to," said Mystique.
They had him backed up against the wall now, and there was no escape.
"No . . . don't do this, please!"
"End of the line, Mr. Possum!" Fred grabbed the puppet away and ripped it apart till it was no more than shreds of felt.
"NO!" Pietro knelt down and gathered up all the pieces, as if he could put it back together.
Someone stepped on his hand.
He yelped and looked up. From down here, Mystique looked like an angry giant.
"Now it's your turn," she said with an evil smile.
"Noooooo!" Pietro got to his feet, pushed past her, and ran screaming out the front door.
The boys and Mystique stared after him.
"Who forgot to put the bolts on last night?" she demanded. No one answered.
"Oh, well," she said at last. "Go search his room for any more puppet-making materials."
"What are you gonna do?" Todd asked. Tad was chewing on the sleeve of his pajama top, but he didn't notice.
She rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding? It's too early in the morning! I'm going back to bed."
