Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men: Evolution, or any other Marvel or WB property.

Notes: Yes! Mojoverse! Okay, well, it looks as if most of you readers/reviewers have guessed who the villain is. I love Mojo. I think that he's just a great villain. Anyhow, guess what?!? I'm sick!!! Wait a minute, I'm not all that excited about it. What does that mean for you? Well, it probably means I'll be in bed writing a lot. So I guess that's a good thing for you, depending on how you look at it.

Snitter in Rivendell: Not really certain how long this story will be. I basically come up with an idea, think of a beginning, and then begin to write. I guess I should have a plan for where the stories are going, but I usually don't. Let's see. . .I'm thinking that I could probably write a lot on this one, so let's say for right now, hm. . .eleven chapters. Which is a lot for me.

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Kitty walked down the hall towards Jean's room. She was in a pretty bad state nowadays. Kurt and Scott had been missing for about a day and a half. No one even knew where to look. There had been no word from either one of them, and with the exception of Kitty, Bobby, and Jean, the Institute was beginning to think that the worst had happened. Kitty wouldn't. . .couldn't. . .give up hope that they were both okay. It was like Bobby had said. She didn't feel as if they were dead. She didn't feel the loss that she would have had they died. She simply felt lost.

Kitty paused outside of Jean's door. She was about to knock when she crying from inside. Silently, she walked away. Jean had taken the news about Scott pretty poorly. Kitty had a hunch a couple of months ago that it would take something big to wake Jean up to how she felt about Scott. Well, the "big" thing had happened, and Jean wasn't taking it well. She had refused to talk to most people at the Institute, with the exception of Kitty. Kitty just didn't want to bother her right now. She knew how important it was for others to grieve in solitude sometimes.

Kitty walked to the stairs, planning to go down to the kitchen to get something to eat. She hesitated at the second floor though. It was the boys' floor, and instead of continuing on to the kitchen, she walked down the hallway. She walked straight to Kurt's room, and then through the door. His room was shrouded in darkness. Kitty found the light switch, and flipped it on. She looked over his room, at the posters for pirate movies on the walls, the novels and bibles lining the shelves, the slightly messy, yet still neat pile of clothing on the floor. She walked over to his bed, and laid down on it. Pulling his sheets up to her face, she sniffed deeply, taking in his scent.

She fell asleep in his bed.

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"Scott, ve haff been valking zrough zis forest for a day now. I don't zink ve're going in ze right direction." Kurt said, a weary look on his face.

"Well, then, tell me, Kurt. Which way is the right direction?" Scott asked, annoyed. He'd heard this from Kurt at least once an hour.

"I don't know." Kurt said, and then fell to the ground.

Scott stopped and turned back to his friend. He kicked himself for not remembering. Kurt's metabolism worked about ten times faster than everyone else's did. He was burning calories away from all of this walking and tromping through the forest. He must have been horribly tired, and Scott felt like a heel for pushing him this far. Scott realized that the only reason that he demanded that they leave that clearing was because he was confused and scared, and had to do something.

"You okay, Kurt?" Scott asked.

"Jah. I zink I just may need to rest for a little vhile."

"Why don't we do that?" Scott said, falling into place next to Kurt.

The two of them laid there for awhile, looking into the sky.

"You know, I've spent most of my life hated for vhat I looked like, so I turned to God. I vondered, vhat kind of God, vould make someone who looked like me. I've spent most of my life talking viz God. I didn't zink zat zis vould happen." Kurt said.

"What would happen?" Scott asked, feeling his eyes closing.

"I didn't zink zat he vould send me to Hell." Kurt said before falling asleep.

"Hey, at least you have a friend here." Scott said, and then followed Kurt's lead and fell asleep.

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"Reality television! It's the wave of the future!" Minor Domo shouted to the beings seated around the table.

"What is this. . .reality television?" an investor who looked like a giant moth asked.

"Non-scripted entertainment. Put normal, or abnormal, beings into situations simply to see how they react." Major Domo said.

"Non-scripted?" a giant woman asked.

"Non-scripted. Imagine! You are stranded on a desert island. Your only resources are what you have available to you on the island. What would you do if a Blethor attacked you?" Minor Domo asked.

"And viewers actually. . .care. . .what happens to these beings?" the Moth Man asked.

"Look at these ratings!" She screamed with a triumphant smile on he face.

"The costs are negligible. Look at what we are doing here." Major Domo said, getting up from his seat and handing publicity materials to the investors.

"What we have done is taken two beings from an alternate dimension. These beings possess powers, making them more than their human counterparts. We have dropped them into our fourth largest sound stage, made up to look like a dead forest. Inside this soundstage, we have cameras that capture their every move, microphones that capture their every word. And then what we do is, one by one, introduce beasts to attack them. These creatures get deadlier and deadlier. We started out with a plenorath, which the two defeated easily."

"Oh golly, you all should have seen it! The live audience ate it up!" Minor Domo shouted, and the promptly quieted down with a dirty look from Major Domo.

"Yes. It was. . .invigorating. Anyhow, in twenty minutes, we will be introducing a bynot to them." He said, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

"A bynot? How nice." One of the Spineless Ones said.

"Yes. Once again, we have gathered you here to find potential investors in the technology that brought these two ratings giants into our world. Our own money is spent. We need more of these beings from that other realm in order to remain high in the ratings, and in control of the populace." Major Domo said.

"What happened to the technology? Why can't you do it again right now?" The Giant Woman asked.

"We had a small problem with some rebels." Major Domo said.

"Longshot!" Minor Domo squealed.

Once again, Major Domo threw her a look that said "shut up or else."

"Longshot? Longshot destroyed your machine? Longshot is here?" Moth Man asked.

"He has been sighted. No more than that." Major Domo said.

"But, Major, I thought. . ." Minor began.

"Minor!" he snarled. When she shut up, he turned back to the investors. "I apologize for my assistant. She's very. . .excitable.

"This is all good and well, Major Domo, but what is he planning on doing with this?" The Giant Woman asked.

"My boss? Why, pleasing the viewers, of course." Major Domo said and smiled.

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A figure ran across the street, from one abandoned theater to another. The garish lights of the world in which he inhabited weren't very good for stealth movement, and his mission was dire. He had to get the machine back to the resistance headquarters. His four-fingered hand was gripped tight around it. In his hearts, both of them, he couldn't believe that such a tiny object held such power. Everything in his world was grand, large. Size was power. More viewers meant more ratings. More ratings meant more power. More power meant more control. He above all should know this. He was once a ratings giant himself.

He knew nothing of the world from which the two young strangers had come. He only knew that he must get there, to warn the others. Otherwise, his enemy would bring more of them over. And there would be nothing that he could do to stop it.

A security team flew through the air in front of him. To a human, they would resemble two very large wasps, with arms like a praying mantis. They each held a long stick in their hand. If they were to touch the head of that stick to anyone, that person would surely die. They flew on, the sound of their buzzing wings trailing into the distance.

Longshot took a breath. In his hand, he was playing with small blades, which resembled razors. If the security teams truly were looking for him, he'd give them a fight they wouldn't forget. Or rather, a fight they wouldn't remember, since they'd be dead.

He ran further down the street, reaching an alley next to a huge arena. He knew what the inside looked like. Millions of screens, being watched by millions of viewers, their eyes held open by special devices which never allowed them to close. It disgusted him. Further on down the alley was a sewer grate. He hated going down this way, but it would be the only way to avoid the security around the complex. The last thing that he wanted was a run-in with Warwolves.

Slipping into the sewer, he heard the sound of wings buzzing above him. Looking up, two of the waspish looking creatures were swooping down on him. With aim unlike any being anywhere, he threw two of his blades at them. Both blades reached their targets, sinking deep into the heads of the creatures. They fell out of the air immediately. Longshot knew now that all hell was going to break loose. His enemy wouldn't allow him to escape easily. Almost as a sign of bad karma, he heard the howling of Warwolvesin the distance.

"Great." He said, slipping into the sewers, hoping they would mask his scent.

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Kurt awoke first. His eyes opened, and at first his brain couldn't adjust to what he was seeing. He closed his eyes again, and then reopened them.

"Vas?" he breathed.

The forest was gone. They were no longer surrounded by the landscape in which they fell asleep. Instead, they were in some type of metal hallway. They were sleeping on a grated floor. Flashing lights and smoke assailed his eyes, and he immediately fell into panic.

"Scott! Scott! Vake up!" he screamed.

Scott bolted upward, his hand flying to his visor. He looked around at their new surroundings, and felt his jaw drop.

"What. . .the. . .hell?" he asked.

"Exactly! Ve're in hell!" Kurt wailed.

"Kurt, get a grip on yourself. We're not dead. We're not in hell." Scott yelled.

Kurt nodded, dropping his eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Scott. I just don't know how much more of zis I can take." Kurt said.

"It's okay, buddy. Hey, we're still together, right? We can take care of each other."

"Right. Right." Kurt said, looking up to Scott's face.\

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Now, if ve're not in Hell, vhere are ve?" he asked.

"I don't know." Scott said, looking around. "Looks like a space ship from a movie or something, though. Doesn't it?"

"Jah. It also looks like somevhere zat I no longer vant to be. Let's get out of here." Kurt said, getting up, and then tripping over something.

"What is it?" Scott asked.

"Anozzer box." Kurt said, rubbing his head where it hit the floor.

"Open it." Scott said.

Kurt opened the box, which was fairly larger than the last one. Inside were two long, cylindrical objects. Each ended in a stock. Kurt looked up at Scott, frightened.

"What is it? I can't see it that well. It's too dark." Scott said.

"I zink. . .I zink zat zey are guns." Kurt said.

He pulled one out, and sure enough, a gun was exactly what it was. It was, however, a gun like neither of them had ever seen. It was long, it had a huge magazine on it, and some type of box that was beeping. Flipping the cover off of the box, it showed measurements of range, and it read like sonar. Looking beneath the guns, Kurt found more energy bars, and a first aid kit. Next to the box, Kurt found two bags, almost like their school backpacks, but these looked made for action, with multiple straps and supports.

"Vhat is going on?" Kurt asked.

"Take them." Scott said, strapping a bag to his back.

Kurt got up and did the same thing. He carried the energy bars in his bag, while Scott carried the first aid kit.

"And ze guns?" Kurt asked nervously. He hated guns.

Scott debated with himself for a moment, and then nodded.

"Those, too." He said.

"You. . .you're sure." Kurt asked.

"Kurt, I don't like it either. But we don't know what's going on. And even though I hate to say this. . .we may need them." Scott said.

"Scott, I don't know if I could use them to. . .for vhat zey are made for. . .I don't. . ."

"Then, Kurt, let's pray that we don't need to. But I'm not going to let you die. And if one of these things can prevent that. . ." he trailed off.

"You are right. Once again, I'm sorry." Kurt said, taking a gun with a look of distaste.

The two of them finished gearing up, and then looked down the hallway.

"Okay, let's go." Scott said.

As they trudged down the hallway, Kurt began to look around, and almost felt as if he recognized where he was.

"Scott, zis place. . .I zink I've seen it before. Or, razzer, seen somezing like it before." Kurt said.

"Where could you have possibly seen someplace like this?" Scott asked.

"In a movie." Kurt said.

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Bobby sat outside, looking out onto the grounds. He sat under Kurt's favorite tree, hoping that, somehow, being there would give him a clue as to where to look for him and Scott. So far, no good. Sighing, he shifted on the ground. He felt horrible. Who he felt the worst for though, with the exception of Kurt and Scott, were Jean and Kitty. Neither of them had taken the loss of Kurt and Scott very well. Bobby had always thought he'd seen more to the two couples' relationships than just "best friends." He couldn't be certain, but he was pretty sure that Jean and Kitty's feelings ran a little deeper. Kurt's and Scott's, too.

Bobby was about to get up and go back to the mansion when a ball of white light appeared in front of him. His eyes went wide, and as he watched, a form materialized.

"It's like the Terminator!" his brain screamed.

The white light disappeared, leaving a male who looked to be in his early twenties. He was blonde, and when he looked at Bobby, Bobby could see that there was something weird about his left eye. Almost as if it were shining. He had long blonde hair, and was dressed in all black. Bobby fell to the ground and began to crawl backwards, away from the stranger. The stranger walked towards him, and when he reached him, offered Bobby his hand. Bobby noticed that he only had three fingers and a thumb.

"Hello. I'm here to help." Longshot said.

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Major and Minor walked down the same interminably long hallway that ran through the complex. They had just left the investors meeting, and both were very happy with the results. It had been no contest. As soon as each investor saw the results of their actions in the ratings books, they were clamoring to give them more money. Minor was still bothered by one detail, however, and kept glancing at Major Domo, wanting to ask, but not wanting to get into trouble.

"Did our new talent find their care package?" Major Domo asked.

"Yes, sir. They have the packs, the supplies, and the weapons you specified."

"Good."

Minor Domo continued to cast side-glances at Major Domo.

"Yes, Minor?" Major asked.

"Well, Sir, I was just wondering. . .what are we gonna do about Longshot stealing the machine?" she blurted out the last part at high speed.

Major stopped, looked up and down the hallway to make certain that they were alone.

"We'll build another one. When Longshot is found, I'll release the Warwolves on him."

Minor Domo gaped at Major as he walked away.

"Even he's not that lucky." Major said.

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Okay, so there's a somewhat shorter chapter 3. I may have to slow down a little bit. I'm going to burn myself out. Anyhow, hope you enjoyed it. I love the idea of the Mojoverse, and I dig all of the characters from there (Mojo, Longshot, Major and Minor Domo, the Agent, Ricochet Rita, etc.). Anyhow, I should have the next chapter up in the next day or so.

Later.