Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!!! Clear enough for you?
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Nike crept cat-like along the blackened streets in the dead of night. Her tightly laced sneakers didn't make a sound on the worn asphalt. She was equipped with a walkie-talkie, rope, a small knife, and lock-picks. She was dressed from head to toe in black, so as to be more invisible in the night...
Ya, right!
Nike smiled and applied another coat of cherry lip-gloss. She stuck the case back into her red purse. Nike lightly brushed a piece of lint off of her red top. Her pink flip-flops flipped pleasantly against the smooth pavement. She wore short, blue cutoffs. Pyro walked beside her, also casually dressed. They arrived at the building that they were looking for. It was at least twenty stories. It was completely covered in windows, though the windows were all, of coarse, tinted black. Definitely a government building. Nike and Pyro entered. A sign near the door, complete with a map, said;
Mutant Registrations Office
Nike consulted the map for a moment, and then walked towards the elevator.
"Hey, kid!" Someone yelled. Nike turned.
"Yes?" She asked.
"You are not supposed to be in here. As guard of the office, I will have to escort you out." Nike smilled at the man.
"Oh, that won't be necessary," she said.
"Oh, ok then. What is it that you want?" He asked. Nike smiled again.
"I would like you to show me to the files of registered mutants. If you would be so kind." The guard grinned.
"Right this way, miss. Come with me." He led Nike and Pyro to the elevator, and up to the top floor. "Through this room here." They crossed the threshold to a large room filled with filing cabinets. "Now, do you want the files of mutants living with parents or relatives? Or perhaps..." Nike cut him off.
"The first, please," she said, throwing him one of her award winning smiles. He grinned stupidly. Nike could have that effect on people. He led the two to a large filling cabinet against the far wall.
"Ok, Here y'are! Now, each drawer is labeled with a series of letters. Like, here. M's-T's. Labeled for names. But in this cabinet next to it, they are labeled for powers. You'll find all of the people who can create things, fire, ice, etcetera, in the 'C' section. Are you looking for a certain person, or just for certain powers?"
"Powers," Pyro said.
"Hey, pall," the guard said gruffly, "I was talking to the lady! Not you, so but out." Nike smiled at her comrade then turned to the guard.
"Powers would be fine. Preferably people who can create or control, but also shape shifters, and people with psychic powers."
"Ok," the guard told her, bending down to get a better look at some of the lower drawers, "The creators and controllers would be in the 'C's. Psychics would be under 'T' for telepathy, telekinesis. Stuff like that." Nike grinned at him and opened the drawer labeled 'A'-'E'. She leafed through it until she found 'Control, Fire' and 'Create, ice'. She plucked out both folders. She then looked randomly, pulling out 'Control, explosions,' and 'Create, pain'. She looked at Pyro as she pulled out the last one.
"Look, Pyro," she demanded, "Pain casters. I've never seen this before. Interesting." Pyro took the file and looked through it.
"Only about six of them, by the looks of it," he commented.
"Hey," the guard commanded, "Shut up, you." Nike laughed, and the guard flushed.
"Now," Nike said, "Open the 'T' through 'Z' file, please." The guard did so, and from there she pulled 'Telekinesis', 'Telepyro', and 'Telepath'. She also took out 'Teleport', but didn't seem to want to.
"Thank you," she said to the guard, "Leave, please. I would like to have a minute alone with my colleague." He tipped his hat at her.
"Yes, Miss." He threw one last angry glare at Pyro before strolling from the room, closing the door behind him. Nike opened the 'P'-'T' box, and looked through it until she found 'Shape shifters'. She pulled out the folder, and handed in to Pyro.
"I'm gonna go find a bathroom, k?" Pyro said. Nike nodded. He placed the folders on the ground and headed out the door. Actually, Nike was glad he was gone. It gave her a moment to check something.
Carefully, she opened a box two cabinets down. For registered, but escaped mutants. The 'P'-'T' box. She kept looking furtively over her shoulder. Her hand shook. She took a deep breath, then pulled out a file labeled, 'Persuasion'. She drew in another shaky breath, then opened the file. Each person had a few sheets stapled together. Nike glanced at the first one. Bueford; Hillary. No good. The second was Douglas; Archer. Third, there was Goodall; Nathan. Then came Hendrick; Matthew, Jackson; Violet, Newman; Kristen, and Pierce; Jonathan. Nike held her breath and slowly turned to the last section in the folder. In letters that seemed to jump out from the page, Nike read, Reese; Holly, her own name.
"Oh, God," she whispered. Nike dropped the papers. They fluttered to the ground. She silently stooped to pick them up. She was still registered. Magneto had lied. He had told her that, should she join the brotherhood, her files would be erased. No more running. To Nike, it had sounded like heaven. Nike, the great persuasionist, conned by someone without half the persuasion skills that she had, even without her gift. And she had been stupid enough to fall for it. Tears of anger burned her flushed cheeks. It had all been a lie. As she stood, there was a police force that was specially trained to look for her and other mutants like her. Escaped.
She finally knew the truth.
Pyro came back into the room.
"Nike?" he asked. She gasped and spun around. She hadn't heard him come in. With one look at the steady flow of tears raining down her cheeks like two waterfalls, he knew something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked her, "What's wrong? Nike?" Voicelessly, she thrust the papers at him. He took them and read the first page. It wouldn't really make sense to him. He did not know her real name. "Some kid named Holly Reese. So?" Nike waved a hand at the paper, still sobbing. Pyro turned the page. He turned the next and gasped. On the page was a picture. HER picture. Black and white. Full front, and profile, like a prisoner. "Nike, you're registered!" He demanded. She buried her face in her hands and wailed, nodding. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her. She cleared her throat and hiccupped once or twice before answering.
"I w-wasn't sup-posed to be!" she cried, "M-magneto said that if I w-went to work f-f-for him, then he would wipe m-my f-f-files!" She began crying again, and Pyro got no more out of her. He sighed. She straightened, drying her eyes with her wrist. The sadness was gone, and was replaced by ferocious anger. "What did he promise you?" Nike asked. Pyro looked down and mumbled something inaudible.
"What?" Nike asked, leaning towards him. Pyro repeated again, a little louder, but still Nike could not hear.
"He said he'd give me..." Pyro trailed off. Nike looked at him encouragingly. "Respect," Pyro said, looking down. "He promised respect, and training, and..." once again he trailed off.
"What?" Nike asked gently.
"A family." Pyro finished lamely, "He said he'd give me people who would act like a family to me. Good friends."
"Oh," said Nike, not really sure how to reply to that. "Did he deliver?" she questioned.
"Huh?" Pyro asked, confused, for a moment, "Uh, yeah. Well, sort of. He doesn't respect me. Training sucks. But I do have friends. Well, some." He gave Nike a meaningful glance. She blushed.
"You know, I think every one was supposed to be given something by Magneto. I dunno. Maybe there is a war coming. Do you think we're on the right side?" She queried. He thought for a moment, then replied, "I don't know. I haven't wondered that since I came with him." Nike nodded.
"Yeah," she said, "I've been wondering. If Magneto's cause is really so great, and good, and all that, then why are there more mutants fighting against human destruction than for? Why so many trying to stop him? I mean, before I knew I was a mutant, I had a family and all that. People weren't so bad. Then I became a mutant, and all of a sudden I convinced myself they were all some evil, angry monster that wants me dead. I had a best friend," she met Pyro's eyes. Tears were glistening in her own, "She was really nice, even after I found out what I was. When my parents disowned me," she stopped for a few slow, steadying breaths. But it was no use. She burst into tears. She sank back against the cabinets and sat down. Saying the words was like pouring salt in wounds that had not yet healed. Pyro sat beside her, and draped an arm around her shoulder. She dried her eyes and went on, "She hid me in her basement for a week, until her parents found out. I ran away then. I never came back. Thought it was her fault. Why wouldn't she save me? I was just eight. I didn't really understand what was happening to me. All I knew was that, all at once I went from having loving parents, lots of friends, to being all alone." Her blue eyes gave on a misted appearance. She stared at the far wall, but she didn't really see it, "I was there, without anyone. Then they caught me." She drew a shuddering breath, like trying to stop a bad dream. But the memories kept coming, and she buried her head in Pyro's chest. He held her lightly. She sniffed once or twice. "What a place to be pouring out my life's story, hey?" she asked Pyro. He laughed, looking around the little room. She hiccupped. "So, what about you?" she asked, removing her face from his shirt. But he wasn't looking at her. He was busy with the gun pointed in between his eyes.
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A/N: OK, I know, a little sappy, but that's ok! If you read it, please review! I mean, come on people, if you stuck with me this long, drop a line or two.
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Nike crept cat-like along the blackened streets in the dead of night. Her tightly laced sneakers didn't make a sound on the worn asphalt. She was equipped with a walkie-talkie, rope, a small knife, and lock-picks. She was dressed from head to toe in black, so as to be more invisible in the night...
Ya, right!
Nike smiled and applied another coat of cherry lip-gloss. She stuck the case back into her red purse. Nike lightly brushed a piece of lint off of her red top. Her pink flip-flops flipped pleasantly against the smooth pavement. She wore short, blue cutoffs. Pyro walked beside her, also casually dressed. They arrived at the building that they were looking for. It was at least twenty stories. It was completely covered in windows, though the windows were all, of coarse, tinted black. Definitely a government building. Nike and Pyro entered. A sign near the door, complete with a map, said;
Mutant Registrations Office
Nike consulted the map for a moment, and then walked towards the elevator.
"Hey, kid!" Someone yelled. Nike turned.
"Yes?" She asked.
"You are not supposed to be in here. As guard of the office, I will have to escort you out." Nike smilled at the man.
"Oh, that won't be necessary," she said.
"Oh, ok then. What is it that you want?" He asked. Nike smiled again.
"I would like you to show me to the files of registered mutants. If you would be so kind." The guard grinned.
"Right this way, miss. Come with me." He led Nike and Pyro to the elevator, and up to the top floor. "Through this room here." They crossed the threshold to a large room filled with filing cabinets. "Now, do you want the files of mutants living with parents or relatives? Or perhaps..." Nike cut him off.
"The first, please," she said, throwing him one of her award winning smiles. He grinned stupidly. Nike could have that effect on people. He led the two to a large filling cabinet against the far wall.
"Ok, Here y'are! Now, each drawer is labeled with a series of letters. Like, here. M's-T's. Labeled for names. But in this cabinet next to it, they are labeled for powers. You'll find all of the people who can create things, fire, ice, etcetera, in the 'C' section. Are you looking for a certain person, or just for certain powers?"
"Powers," Pyro said.
"Hey, pall," the guard said gruffly, "I was talking to the lady! Not you, so but out." Nike smiled at her comrade then turned to the guard.
"Powers would be fine. Preferably people who can create or control, but also shape shifters, and people with psychic powers."
"Ok," the guard told her, bending down to get a better look at some of the lower drawers, "The creators and controllers would be in the 'C's. Psychics would be under 'T' for telepathy, telekinesis. Stuff like that." Nike grinned at him and opened the drawer labeled 'A'-'E'. She leafed through it until she found 'Control, Fire' and 'Create, ice'. She plucked out both folders. She then looked randomly, pulling out 'Control, explosions,' and 'Create, pain'. She looked at Pyro as she pulled out the last one.
"Look, Pyro," she demanded, "Pain casters. I've never seen this before. Interesting." Pyro took the file and looked through it.
"Only about six of them, by the looks of it," he commented.
"Hey," the guard commanded, "Shut up, you." Nike laughed, and the guard flushed.
"Now," Nike said, "Open the 'T' through 'Z' file, please." The guard did so, and from there she pulled 'Telekinesis', 'Telepyro', and 'Telepath'. She also took out 'Teleport', but didn't seem to want to.
"Thank you," she said to the guard, "Leave, please. I would like to have a minute alone with my colleague." He tipped his hat at her.
"Yes, Miss." He threw one last angry glare at Pyro before strolling from the room, closing the door behind him. Nike opened the 'P'-'T' box, and looked through it until she found 'Shape shifters'. She pulled out the folder, and handed in to Pyro.
"I'm gonna go find a bathroom, k?" Pyro said. Nike nodded. He placed the folders on the ground and headed out the door. Actually, Nike was glad he was gone. It gave her a moment to check something.
Carefully, she opened a box two cabinets down. For registered, but escaped mutants. The 'P'-'T' box. She kept looking furtively over her shoulder. Her hand shook. She took a deep breath, then pulled out a file labeled, 'Persuasion'. She drew in another shaky breath, then opened the file. Each person had a few sheets stapled together. Nike glanced at the first one. Bueford; Hillary. No good. The second was Douglas; Archer. Third, there was Goodall; Nathan. Then came Hendrick; Matthew, Jackson; Violet, Newman; Kristen, and Pierce; Jonathan. Nike held her breath and slowly turned to the last section in the folder. In letters that seemed to jump out from the page, Nike read, Reese; Holly, her own name.
"Oh, God," she whispered. Nike dropped the papers. They fluttered to the ground. She silently stooped to pick them up. She was still registered. Magneto had lied. He had told her that, should she join the brotherhood, her files would be erased. No more running. To Nike, it had sounded like heaven. Nike, the great persuasionist, conned by someone without half the persuasion skills that she had, even without her gift. And she had been stupid enough to fall for it. Tears of anger burned her flushed cheeks. It had all been a lie. As she stood, there was a police force that was specially trained to look for her and other mutants like her. Escaped.
She finally knew the truth.
Pyro came back into the room.
"Nike?" he asked. She gasped and spun around. She hadn't heard him come in. With one look at the steady flow of tears raining down her cheeks like two waterfalls, he knew something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked her, "What's wrong? Nike?" Voicelessly, she thrust the papers at him. He took them and read the first page. It wouldn't really make sense to him. He did not know her real name. "Some kid named Holly Reese. So?" Nike waved a hand at the paper, still sobbing. Pyro turned the page. He turned the next and gasped. On the page was a picture. HER picture. Black and white. Full front, and profile, like a prisoner. "Nike, you're registered!" He demanded. She buried her face in her hands and wailed, nodding. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked her. She cleared her throat and hiccupped once or twice before answering.
"I w-wasn't sup-posed to be!" she cried, "M-magneto said that if I w-went to work f-f-for him, then he would wipe m-my f-f-files!" She began crying again, and Pyro got no more out of her. He sighed. She straightened, drying her eyes with her wrist. The sadness was gone, and was replaced by ferocious anger. "What did he promise you?" Nike asked. Pyro looked down and mumbled something inaudible.
"What?" Nike asked, leaning towards him. Pyro repeated again, a little louder, but still Nike could not hear.
"He said he'd give me..." Pyro trailed off. Nike looked at him encouragingly. "Respect," Pyro said, looking down. "He promised respect, and training, and..." once again he trailed off.
"What?" Nike asked gently.
"A family." Pyro finished lamely, "He said he'd give me people who would act like a family to me. Good friends."
"Oh," said Nike, not really sure how to reply to that. "Did he deliver?" she questioned.
"Huh?" Pyro asked, confused, for a moment, "Uh, yeah. Well, sort of. He doesn't respect me. Training sucks. But I do have friends. Well, some." He gave Nike a meaningful glance. She blushed.
"You know, I think every one was supposed to be given something by Magneto. I dunno. Maybe there is a war coming. Do you think we're on the right side?" She queried. He thought for a moment, then replied, "I don't know. I haven't wondered that since I came with him." Nike nodded.
"Yeah," she said, "I've been wondering. If Magneto's cause is really so great, and good, and all that, then why are there more mutants fighting against human destruction than for? Why so many trying to stop him? I mean, before I knew I was a mutant, I had a family and all that. People weren't so bad. Then I became a mutant, and all of a sudden I convinced myself they were all some evil, angry monster that wants me dead. I had a best friend," she met Pyro's eyes. Tears were glistening in her own, "She was really nice, even after I found out what I was. When my parents disowned me," she stopped for a few slow, steadying breaths. But it was no use. She burst into tears. She sank back against the cabinets and sat down. Saying the words was like pouring salt in wounds that had not yet healed. Pyro sat beside her, and draped an arm around her shoulder. She dried her eyes and went on, "She hid me in her basement for a week, until her parents found out. I ran away then. I never came back. Thought it was her fault. Why wouldn't she save me? I was just eight. I didn't really understand what was happening to me. All I knew was that, all at once I went from having loving parents, lots of friends, to being all alone." Her blue eyes gave on a misted appearance. She stared at the far wall, but she didn't really see it, "I was there, without anyone. Then they caught me." She drew a shuddering breath, like trying to stop a bad dream. But the memories kept coming, and she buried her head in Pyro's chest. He held her lightly. She sniffed once or twice. "What a place to be pouring out my life's story, hey?" she asked Pyro. He laughed, looking around the little room. She hiccupped. "So, what about you?" she asked, removing her face from his shirt. But he wasn't looking at her. He was busy with the gun pointed in between his eyes.
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A/N: OK, I know, a little sappy, but that's ok! If you read it, please review! I mean, come on people, if you stuck with me this long, drop a line or two.