Once upon a time (or a few
days ago), in a land far, far away (or in California, if you happen to
live on the East Coast), three high school students decided to take a well-deserved
break from studying for the SAT's, and had driven all the way to the beach
for some wholesome fun in the sun. They were all gorgeous, if you go for
the stereotypical teen flick type of looks--the blonde bombshell, Alison
Blair, was decked out in an electric-green bikini that was anything but
modest, the token purple-haired "punk princess," Betsy Braddock, was lounging
around in a somewhat less eye-popping dark blue one-piece...and the last
girl was some normal human chick that nobody cares about 'cause she doesn't
have any nifty mutant powers, so we'll just call her Random Baywatch Extra
No. 1.
"...And then I had to break
up with him," Alison was chattering a mile a minute, her green-tinted fashion
shades slipping down to her nose as she went on, "Which, in retrospect
(whoa, major SAT word!), was kind of stupid on my part, since there goes
my guitar player!"
"Mmm hmm," Betsy nodded
sleepily, and despite the fact that she hasn't spoken a single word so
far, we can still tell that her "Mmm hmm" has a British accent, because
God forbid people forget that she's from the U.K.!
Random Baywatch Extra No.
1 opened her pink lipsticked mouth and began to speak, but thankfully before
she could shrill out some valley girl nonsense, a guy in his early twenties
with blonde-highlighted light brown hair and a million watt grin jogged
over to the three girls and began his sales pitch.
"Wassup to all my loyal
fangirls out there," the obnoxious guy bubbled into the lens of a camera
his sidekick was toting. "Looks like I've found three righteous babes right
here to represent the Golden State in our annual Miss Teen USA Beauty Pageant...but
don't worry, you all are still all numero Bono in my heart!" He then turned
to the three "righteous babes," who were now staring incredulously at him,
before Alison spoke up with mild curiosity, "Who are you?"
"And who're you calling
"babes," you lowly American?" Betsy snapped coldly, taking particular offense
at being likened to some talking pink pig.
"I am Bryan Yeastbrest!"
the blonde guy puffed with obvious pride, poking out his none-too-impressive
chest and striking an automatic pose, while the cameraman zoomed in on
a close-up of His Royal Machoness. Dead silence followed his melodramatic
introduction, as Alison, Betsy, and Random Chick continued to gawk cluelessly
at him. Under their scornful scrutiny, the guy's Hollywood stance began
to waver, and he hastened to add somewhat uneasily, "You know, the totally
tripping host of All-American Hotties: The Search For The Next Top Hooter
Girl?" Crickets chirped (although how the hell they found their way
to the beach is still one of the biggest mysteries to this day, along with
the likes of the Loch Ness Monster and Stonehenge), as Alison, Betsy, and
Random Baywatch Extra No. 1 stared back with blank, uncomprehending looks
on their faces.
"I also had a recurring
role on ER as Paramedic No. 20?" Bryan prodded, to no avail. Finally,
in a burst of frustration, he sniped, "And I played the cute guy from the
café in the latest Kate Hudson movie!"
"Oh!" the three girls chorused
together, lights of recognition finally dawning in their eyes.
"Yes, oh!" Bryan
huffed insultedly, before clearing his throat and diving back into his
sales pitch. "Anyway, I'm representing Babelline, the cosmetics corporation
that's sponsoring the Miss Teen USA Beauty Pageant, and right now we're
on a search for Miss Teen California." As Alison and Random Chick let out
squeals of excitement and Betsy frowned and wondered what this had to do
with her, a decisively non-California native, Bryan flashed his trademark
million watt grin that made him look constipated, and singsonged, "So,
how'd you three hotties like to try out?"
Two Hours Later...
"...And our top three finalists
for the Miss Teen California crown are," the silver-haired announcer bellowed
out. "Third place: Jasmine Delacroix, Miss Teen Beverly Hills!" A beautiful,
perfectly-tanned redhead strutted her way onto the podium.
"Second place: Layla Ling,
Miss Teen Santa Cruz!" A stunning Chinese girl with whip-straight raven
hair paraded to her place next to Miss Teen Beverly Hills.
"And finally, Alison Blair,
Miss Teen Malibu, is our lucky first-place winner and will be going on
to represent our very own Golden State at the Miss Teen USA competition
next month!" the announcer finished in a dramatic boom, as an elated Alison
gave the standard Oh-my-gosh-I-can't-believe-I-won! squeals and
gestures, before happily dancing her way to the podium to accept her rose
bouquet and imitation diamond tiara.
"This is the happiest day
of my life!" she cried emotionally, as flashbulbs went off in the audience.
"I just want to say--"
*BOOM!!!*
Alison never got to lavish the crowds with a stereotypically corny
acceptance speech, when the tiara exploded right in her face just as the
previous year's Miss Teen California was handing it to Alison. As the smoke
started clearing up and panicked cries erupted everywhere, a little note
could be seen fluttering dramatically onto the sand. A silhouetted figure
bearing a remarkable resemblance to Logan bent down to pick it up, grunting
gruffly to himself as he read the message. WATCH OUT FOR ME AT THE MISS
TEEN USA PAGEANT, were glued boldly onto the paper from magazine letter
cutouts. I'LL STOP YOU MUTANTS FROM TAKING OVER BEAUTY CONTESTS AROUND
THE WORLD! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Three Days After That...
Pietro Maximoff zipped around
the back seat of the moving Jeep. He drummed his fingers impatiently against
his knees. He sighed forlornly, blowing the air out of a corner of his
mouth. He stepped all over his twin sister Wanda as he leaned over to the
front and started fiddling around with the radio. After impatiently going
through some Evanescence, Christina Aguilera, Bruce Springsteen, Eminem,
and Hilary Duff (huh?!) at lightning speed, he finally bored of the game
and zipped to the back seat again. Finally, he began to speak.
"Are we there yet?" Pietro
whined obnoxiously, pouting and kicking his legs around like a spoiled
eight-year-old child on a long road trip.
"No," Lance Alvers, the
token leader of the Brotherhood, snapped irritably from the front seat,
swerving to avoid a blue Nissan going the wrong direction on a one-way
street.
"Are we there yet?" Pietro
piped up not even five minutes after that, when admiring how gorgeous his
perfect platinum hair looked became too monotonous for him.
"No," Lance gritted out,
as he concentrated on avoiding a series of potholes before hitting one
so large that he would have rocketed right up and out of his Jeep had he
not been wearing a seat belt (for once in his life!). Five minutes afterwards,
that familiar voice inevitably began to whine again.
"Are we there--" Pietro
started to gripe, when a flash of bright blue light followed by a sudden
mad shriek cut into his chant. Lance adjusted his rearview mirror to see
what had happened, and caught a glimpse of the black-and-burgundy-clad
Wanda Maximoff sitting calmly beside the now incapacitated and curiously
smoking body of her twin brother.
"Thanks a million, Wanda,"
he breathed gratefully, just as he arrived at their intended destination
and cut the engine.
The three Brotherhood members
exited the Jeep, Lance grudgingly dragging Pietro with him as a pair of
heavy wrought-iron gates automatically opened, leading them to the stately
mansion inside. A distinguished-looking African-American woman with long,
snowy white hair was waiting for them by the entrance, throwing open the
glass front doors of the mansion and for once wearing a grateful look as
the familiar faces of the three teens emerged from the shadows.
"Thank you for coming on
such short notice," Ororo Monroe, a.k.a. the mutant weather witch known
as Storm, spoke up gratefully as she led Lance, Wanda, and the slowly reawakening
Pietro inside. "The Professor's waiting for you in the library with the
core members of the X-Men team."
By the time Pietro finally
came to, he discovered that somebody had carelessly and with complete disregard
to his gorgeous silver-gilt hair flung him onto an overstuffed velvet sofa
beside some figure his still slightly blurred vision was only beginning
to bring into focus.
"Are you all right?" a vaguely
familiar voice spoke up, its owner leaning down to examine his eyes and
make sure he hadn't gotten a concussion. Pietro looked, and found himself
staring into a furry, elfin blue monstrosity of a face that wrenched a
high-pitched scream from the silver-haired speedster and sent him shooting
up from his chair and zipping away for safety...only to careen right into
Logan and bounce off rather pathetically from his chest with a grunt of,
"Oof!"
"Idiot," Wanda's voice could
be heard sneering in exasperation, and as Pietro tried to regain his composure
and an offended Kurt Wagner huffed and swore up and down that he wasn't
that
bad-looking, Lance turned to Xavier and asked incredulously, "So basically,
you're saying we should team up and take out this anti-mutant freak who's
blowing up beauty pageants?" Xavier nodded calmly in response.
"That's right," he spoke
in a grave voice. "The police aren't putting as much effort into their
manhunt for this bomber as they ought to, for many of them are unfortunately
prejudiced against mutants and see these acts of terrorism as a good riddance,
which means we'll unfortunately have to send our own team undercover to
the Miss Teen USA Beauty Pageant which is to take place next month, and
try to put a stop to this."
"Fine by me," Pietro immediately piped up, before Lance could even get a word out, and as the taller Brotherhood boy turned to glare irritably at his fair-haired teammate, Pietro quickly pulled Lance aside and whispered into his ear, "Trust me, Alvers, this is a win-win situation for us: the chicks will be the ones doing the actual work since they'll have to go undercover at the pageant, which leaves us with all the free time in the world, at some glitzy location and surrounded by fifty gorgeous girls--well, fortysomething gorgeous girls, depending on how many X-bimbos the Chrome Dome's planning to send!" Lance began to smirk as comprehension dawned into his eyes, before the two teens exchanged gleeful low fives and grinned devilishly in anticipation. Straightening up, Lance turned to Xavier and offered charitably, "All right, Baldy--erm, I mean, Your Honor--we're in!"
Scott and Kurt's eyebrows
flew up in shock at the Brotherhood's generosity, the two boys exchanging
suspicious looks before Scott came forward and asked, "You do know
what you're getting yourselves into, right?" Lance and Pietro nodded, trying
to look as angelic as possible even while their gleeful smirks grew mile-wide,
before Kurt sighed and asked, "So it's settled, zen. Vhich one of you is
going to be ze "California girl," and vhich one of you is going to be ze
"blonde bombshell?" Lance and Pietro's eyes flew wide open, before the
latter sputtered in disbelief, "Wh-what are you talking about?"
"Didn't we tell you?" Scott
asked, unable to keep a note of triumph from creeping into his voice even
though he would be sadly sharing in their miserable fate. "We're
the ones who'll be going undercover as the beauty pageant contestants!"
"Ja, ze girls--Jean, Keety,
and Rogue--absolutely refused to participate in ze competition, on account
of zeir feminist ideals. Somesing about how degrading it is to today's
young woman to be--and I quote--"parading around in skimpy bikinis and
ridiculously overpriced evening gowns, vhile a panel of hormonal losers
judge zem solely on zeir bodies like zey vere pieces of meat on display!"
Kurt further explained.
"Yeah, and I have a feeling
that for once Wanda would agree with them, wouldn't you, Wanda?" Here Scott
turned expectantly to the only female member of the Brotherhood, who confirmed
Pietro and Lance's fears by curtly nodding her head.
"So you see," Kurt finished
morosely, "ve have no choice but to cross-dress and enter into ze beauty
contest ourselves!"
*Thud!* *Thud!*
Scott and Kurt reluctantly reached forward to catch the bodies of the
flabbergasted Lance and Pietro as they fainted. Scott lucked out and was
able to easily support the unconscious Pietro, while Kurt got stuck with
Lance and promptly collapsed under the weight of the taller, more muscular
boy.