Natasha Creed is property of Xx-Disturbed-xX or is the other way around? who cares?
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Gambit knew something was wrong the moment he found Logan outside, cowering under a large tree. A cigar shakes in one of his hands as he puffs on it. "Somet'ing wrong, mon ami?" Logan jumps. "Oh, hey, Gumob...band practice,"he mumbles, twitching on the words 'band' and 'practice',"The kids brought friends." "Oui.....it dat bad, mon ami?" "Worse...." Gambit nods and heads inside, whistling the tune to 'Love Stinks' under his breathe. The sounds of 'band practice' hit him instantly when he opened the mansion door. Several notes are taped to the fridge; he reads them.
Went to commit suicide. -Scott.
In town....had to buy a dress. -Rogue/Stormy
"Roguey, don' wear dresses."
Far far far away. -Hank McCoy
Similar notes litter the counter, door, and cupboards. De petites can' be dat bad, he thinks while pulling off notes and throwing them away, Dere's not'ing dat could drive de good doctor from his lab. Gambit knew he'd been wrong the instant he heard the sounds coming from the living room; the scary part was it was actually in tune for once. The sound of someone yelling (or was is suppoused to be singing?) comes from the room along with the sound of drums, a trumpet, and other assorted insturments."No, no, no! That's really, really bad! You're singing too high, Ravine!" "Ravine?"he questions, entering the room with a raised eyebrow. Angel's head shot up from reading some music. "Remy, what are you doing here?" "Last time Remy checked he lived here, petite....who dese...people?" Angel points to Tara. "Well that's Tara, Natasha Creed's on the accustic guitar, and Ravine DeAngelos' playing keyboards....our saxophone player, Dixie MacGranger's got the flu...guys, this is Remy,"she introduces before returning to her music.
'Natasha Creed' was something diffrent for her last name. Red streaked black hair hung to well below her shoulders and her eyes were like his with reversed; black on red. A pair of hole filled jeans and a too big, slightly holey white t-shirt covers her body along with a pair of combat boots. 'Ravine DeAngelos' scared him, plain and simple. Black hair, skin the color of Storm, tight jeans, a black shirt with ANTI-LOVE across the front in purple glitter with combat boots and a black long-sleeved shirt tied around her waist; braclets of every color lined her wrists. There was a tattoo of a heart surrounded and slashed through with barb wire on the left side of her neck. Gambit begins to worry. "Petites, can Remy talk to you a moment?" Tara shakes her head. "Can't, Rems. Band Practice is only another two hours...back to practice. Minor Distortion needs it." A screeching-like sound comes in the next few moments followed shortly by the other insturments and the sound of Ravine's singing; he cringes away. The girl was too high.
One of the windows cracks and shatters after a few moments of vigorous playing; the 'band' stops. "Ah, hell. Second one in an hour,"Natasha mumbles, freezing with her hand poised to play another note on the guitar,"maybe we oughtta go, Angel." "Nah, stay...Professor's loaded with dough." "I smell Creed. Where's Creed? Where is he?" The outburst comes from Logan who appears from nowhere, sniffing the air much like a dog would. All five of the room occuptants look up as he moves around sniffing at random people and sometimes inanimate objects. "I know you're here Creed....where are you...come out...I want to play a little game of Murder in the Dark with you..it's HER!" Gambit waits for the outburst but gets a suprise when Natasha speaks up. "Dude, don't sniff me.....the name's Natasha Creed, not Creed." "Logan, don't sniff my friends,"Tara scowls and tosses one of the drumsticks she holds at him; it bounces off his head and hits the floor with a THUNK. Ravine straightens from putting up her keyboard into a long black bag. "I think that's my cue to jet, Angel....see ya at school tomorrow, Tara, Angel, 'Tasha." "Bye, Ravine..." "Later." "Lata."
"She smells like Creed..."he growls, sniffing her some more. "Logan!" "Dat explains why she and de werewolf have de same name, mon ami." He gets ignored. "Do you know Victor Creed, kid?" "Yeah....he's my dad. Quit sniffing me; that's making disturbing images!" Tara and Angel both shudder. "Too much information." Logan growls. "Vic ain't got no kid..." "Who lied to you? Quit sniffing me!" Talon-like claws pop out of her fingernails and she glowers at him. Gambit stares. "Sharp." "Logan, 'Tasha, no fighting. The rec room's already wrecked..." "That's kind of fitting,"Angel announces, putting up her case and beginning to gather up the other items from their 'practice'. She gets ignored, also. Natasha's talons go in and she smirks. "Sorry...the asshole shouldn't sniff people...it gives them ideas." Logan growls. "Get out! Get out! GET OUT!" His voice echoes and Natasha rolls her eyes. "I'll go....Dad'll be pissed if I'm late. Lata, Angel, Tara...see ya, Rems, Asshole.." She sauters out of the mansion, guitar slung over one shoulder, bag over the other, as if she owned the entire place. "Since when do YOU TWO have a band?" Angel looks at her hand. "About nine days..." She holds up seven fingers. Tara holds up nine. "Nine days....Minor Distortion will be huge some day." "Minor Distortion...?"
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If you're wondering about hte band name I combined Minor Threat and Social Distortion...yes, sue me. This band won't make much appearance but will show up off and on....it some people like the idea I may make a second part to it away from this....it won't be removed unlike my other story which got quite a few 'racist' comments.
xXrogue_demonXx
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Gambit knew something was wrong the moment he found Logan outside, cowering under a large tree. A cigar shakes in one of his hands as he puffs on it. "Somet'ing wrong, mon ami?" Logan jumps. "Oh, hey, Gumob...band practice,"he mumbles, twitching on the words 'band' and 'practice',"The kids brought friends." "Oui.....it dat bad, mon ami?" "Worse...." Gambit nods and heads inside, whistling the tune to 'Love Stinks' under his breathe. The sounds of 'band practice' hit him instantly when he opened the mansion door. Several notes are taped to the fridge; he reads them.
Went to commit suicide. -Scott.
In town....had to buy a dress. -Rogue/Stormy
"Roguey, don' wear dresses."
Far far far away. -Hank McCoy
Similar notes litter the counter, door, and cupboards. De petites can' be dat bad, he thinks while pulling off notes and throwing them away, Dere's not'ing dat could drive de good doctor from his lab. Gambit knew he'd been wrong the instant he heard the sounds coming from the living room; the scary part was it was actually in tune for once. The sound of someone yelling (or was is suppoused to be singing?) comes from the room along with the sound of drums, a trumpet, and other assorted insturments."No, no, no! That's really, really bad! You're singing too high, Ravine!" "Ravine?"he questions, entering the room with a raised eyebrow. Angel's head shot up from reading some music. "Remy, what are you doing here?" "Last time Remy checked he lived here, petite....who dese...people?" Angel points to Tara. "Well that's Tara, Natasha Creed's on the accustic guitar, and Ravine DeAngelos' playing keyboards....our saxophone player, Dixie MacGranger's got the flu...guys, this is Remy,"she introduces before returning to her music.
'Natasha Creed' was something diffrent for her last name. Red streaked black hair hung to well below her shoulders and her eyes were like his with reversed; black on red. A pair of hole filled jeans and a too big, slightly holey white t-shirt covers her body along with a pair of combat boots. 'Ravine DeAngelos' scared him, plain and simple. Black hair, skin the color of Storm, tight jeans, a black shirt with ANTI-LOVE across the front in purple glitter with combat boots and a black long-sleeved shirt tied around her waist; braclets of every color lined her wrists. There was a tattoo of a heart surrounded and slashed through with barb wire on the left side of her neck. Gambit begins to worry. "Petites, can Remy talk to you a moment?" Tara shakes her head. "Can't, Rems. Band Practice is only another two hours...back to practice. Minor Distortion needs it." A screeching-like sound comes in the next few moments followed shortly by the other insturments and the sound of Ravine's singing; he cringes away. The girl was too high.
One of the windows cracks and shatters after a few moments of vigorous playing; the 'band' stops. "Ah, hell. Second one in an hour,"Natasha mumbles, freezing with her hand poised to play another note on the guitar,"maybe we oughtta go, Angel." "Nah, stay...Professor's loaded with dough." "I smell Creed. Where's Creed? Where is he?" The outburst comes from Logan who appears from nowhere, sniffing the air much like a dog would. All five of the room occuptants look up as he moves around sniffing at random people and sometimes inanimate objects. "I know you're here Creed....where are you...come out...I want to play a little game of Murder in the Dark with you..it's HER!" Gambit waits for the outburst but gets a suprise when Natasha speaks up. "Dude, don't sniff me.....the name's Natasha Creed, not Creed." "Logan, don't sniff my friends,"Tara scowls and tosses one of the drumsticks she holds at him; it bounces off his head and hits the floor with a THUNK. Ravine straightens from putting up her keyboard into a long black bag. "I think that's my cue to jet, Angel....see ya at school tomorrow, Tara, Angel, 'Tasha." "Bye, Ravine..." "Later." "Lata."
"She smells like Creed..."he growls, sniffing her some more. "Logan!" "Dat explains why she and de werewolf have de same name, mon ami." He gets ignored. "Do you know Victor Creed, kid?" "Yeah....he's my dad. Quit sniffing me; that's making disturbing images!" Tara and Angel both shudder. "Too much information." Logan growls. "Vic ain't got no kid..." "Who lied to you? Quit sniffing me!" Talon-like claws pop out of her fingernails and she glowers at him. Gambit stares. "Sharp." "Logan, 'Tasha, no fighting. The rec room's already wrecked..." "That's kind of fitting,"Angel announces, putting up her case and beginning to gather up the other items from their 'practice'. She gets ignored, also. Natasha's talons go in and she smirks. "Sorry...the asshole shouldn't sniff people...it gives them ideas." Logan growls. "Get out! Get out! GET OUT!" His voice echoes and Natasha rolls her eyes. "I'll go....Dad'll be pissed if I'm late. Lata, Angel, Tara...see ya, Rems, Asshole.." She sauters out of the mansion, guitar slung over one shoulder, bag over the other, as if she owned the entire place. "Since when do YOU TWO have a band?" Angel looks at her hand. "About nine days..." She holds up seven fingers. Tara holds up nine. "Nine days....Minor Distortion will be huge some day." "Minor Distortion...?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you're wondering about hte band name I combined Minor Threat and Social Distortion...yes, sue me. This band won't make much appearance but will show up off and on....it some people like the idea I may make a second part to it away from this....it won't be removed unlike my other story which got quite a few 'racist' comments.
xXrogue_demonXx