Allo, allo everyone!
Sorry it took me so long to update; a close family friend lost her daughter in a car crash, so I've been helping her out and trying to keep from bawling. Plus I'm grounded form the internet unless I have parentals in the room, so you know how it is... *sigh*
But I'm doing better now. How are all of you? Doing well I hope?
Pendragon: Hello, dear! How are you? LOVE the review! TOTALLY made my day! I read it whenever I'm down, teehee. *smiles big* HEY EVERYONE! PENDRAGON CALLED ME 'LUV'! YAY! ( LOL. Yes, you can attack my flamer if you'd like. Not sure how much it would affect her, though, as I think she's gone right now. LOL. Anyway, thank you for the awesome reviews! I'm writing this for you, as I don't believe anyone else is reading it except for Twistedmind. (
So, everyone, enjoy!
Dedicated to: Pendragon, who always manages to bring a smile to my face, and Twsitedmind, who's somehow gotten me to see Mystique in a new light.
Have you ever watched one of those nature shows that feature wolves when they hunt?
The big dogs stalk their prey quietly, and the stupid deer or whatever never even sees them coming. Or maybe it does, and it runs for a while and winds up backed against a big rock wall that mysteriously appears.
The wolves surround it and seem to kind of chuckle as they advance, teeth bared, ready to leap forward and tear their victim limb from limb.
If you have, you've seen the scene of my very first kidnapping (congrats).
Of course, the wolves were really a group of terrorist mutant women and the stupid deer was really me (and I'm NOT stupid), but you get the basic gist.
I walked in innocently enough, holding a stolen library book in one hand and a hotdog in the other. I was chewing my food and reading the book, minding my own business, ignoring the smear of ketchup on my chin (I probably looked about seven or eight), and I look up and there are at least a dozen women, all with Cheshire cat grins, staring at me.
I dropped the book and my hotdog (what a waste of three bucks, eh?) and one of them snickered.
Now, I love writing. That's pretty obvious, since I'm sitting here typing this whole account up for you now. But one of my favorite things about writing is describing people and things so I'm going to spend the next page and a half telling you precisely what these women looked like (bear with me. It's IMPORTANT).
The one nearest to me (the lady winding the rope around her hand and walking forward) had THE perfect body (the only reason I noticed was because she was...ummm...not dressed at all), even better then my mom's, sleek and slim, but still muscular and obviously strong, definitely not someone I'd want to find myself fighting against (too bad, huh?).
Her face was long and angular, with perfectly clear and smooth skin and the kind of flaming red hair that seems to tumble down just right.
So, how'd I know she was a mutant?
She was blue.
No, I'm not talking sad-blue.
I mean, her skin was the color of my eyes, shimmering eerily like sapphire water and erupting in scales—actual SCALES—in some places.
Still, even the scales didn't clue me in as much as the eyes.
They were yellow, scintillating with sparks of malevolence and pooled with loathing, glowing ethereally with more darkness then I'd thought anyone capable of having.
The woman next to her was stunning as well, with just as nice of a body hidden under the kind of clothes my mom would wear on a good day. She had a pale, clear complexion with locks of blonde hair that fell over her oval- shaped face attractively, making her scarlet lips and icy-blue eyes stand out more than anything else. When I looked at her, she winked at me and blew me a kiss; I immediately looked to the left of the blue, scaly lady.
This woman was taller than the other two, not quite as muscular but very skeletal, with white—actually WHITE, like snow— skin that was such a deep contrast to her jet black hair that it hurt my eyes. I blinked a few times before looking back at her, and studied her long face, her blood-red lips, and her crimson eyes. She was definitely the scariest-looking of the bunch.
The rest of the women appeared the same way: tall and beautiful, skinny with perfect skin and hair (brown, blonde, black), and eyes (hazel, brown, blue, green, gray) that held as much evil as the next female.
To say the least, I was overwhelmed just looking around at them.
When they all pounced, I was done for.
All I really remember is falling to the ground, screaming, someone clapping a hand over my mouth, a jumble of voices, people pulling at and tying up my arms and then a sharp prick of pain in my neck.
Then it went dark.
Don't you just hate that?
'Then it went dark'.
It's just been used so many times, it's become boring.
I guess I COULD go back and change it, but I'm too lazy (hey, sue me) and I guess if I quit writing now, I'll never get back to it.
I'll just make it up to you somehow, ok?
Do you know the feeling of cold stone against bare skin? The sounds of whispers that seem to melt into infinite and seep into your very soul? The metallic tang of your own blood in your mouth? The awful, nauseating stench of decay in your nose?
If you do, then try to remember the time in which you sensed those things. Was it a good time? Were you very happy when you could smell rotting flesh inches away from you?
I didn't really think so.
I wasn't either.
I suppose you're wondering why I didn't tell you what I saw when I finally awoke.
I didn't see anything at first.
Someone had covered my eyes.
I squirmed slightly, making a face as a wave of pulsing bile rose in my throat and I struggled to get away from the cause of the odor suffocating me.
When I did, there was a soft chorus of muffled laughter, and a woman's voice purred, "Look who's finally awake."
Of course, that just panicked me more, especially considering I'd just found that my wrists were tied together and someone had thrown an old sack over my head, and I groaned in anxiety, blinking sweat out of my eyes.
I heard more chuckling and the clicking of high heels on the hard floor and I moved away from the sound, breathing hard, ignoring the throbbing heat reverberating around my face.
The footsteps stopped and then someone roughly grabbed the sack above me and jerked it off, causing me to fall forward on my stomach with a gasp of pain; a bolt of agony shot through my side.
More laughter, and then someone clicked her tongue, "Oh, dear. You fell. Let me help you up, Sweetheart."
The entire space echoed with laughter as the woman reached down and ripped me up by my hair, earning a strangled cry and a few choice words from me.
She laughed, roughly turning my chin to her face her, "Oh, Ladies. This one has a temper."
I glared at her, breathing heavily through clenched teeth, humiliation ringing through my sore and burning body.
"Let go," I ordered furiously, pulling my chin from her grasp, "and don't touch me."
The assembled group giggled like schoolchildren and I shot them an annoyed look, "Shut up."
They just laughed harder.
"Teach her, Margaret!" one chirped, face turning red from laughter.
I felt cool fingers wrap around my throat and tighten as I was lifted from the ground, my feet dangling maybe an inch off of the floor.
Yea, it hurt.
Yea I was scared.
But more than that, I was furious.
I wanted to tear her smirking face off.
For some reason, my rebel personality had kicked in before my scared one had.
Therefore, instead of crying or begging for mercy, I lashed out with my foot and caught her squarely in the chest, making her drop me on the rock floor (OUCH) and swear loudly, advancing with fists raised and eyes scintillating with livid hatred.
I stayed on the floor, tugging pathetically at the thin ropes binding my arms with my teeth, scooting back from Margaret and starting to feel maybe a trifle bit afraid (I was ready to burst into tears of defeat and beg for mercy, ok?)
Then, just as Margaret was within inches of me and was leaning down to flay me, she stopped and smirked maliciously as I bumped into someone's legs and winced as a hand slid down to rest softly on my head, "Playing nicely with her, aren't you, Girls?"
Margaret snickered, sliding back into a spot in the crowd as she gave me a triumphant sneer.
I thought about sticking my tongue out at her, but A) it seemed childish and B) I was frozen with fear so I couldn't anyway.
The person behind me stooped gracefully down and turned my head with a blue- skinned hand, "Are you enjoying yourself?"
I looked at her silently, masking the fear I felt, and asked, "Who are YOU?"
The woman's dark lips parted in a devilish grin, revealing shocking white teeth, "I'm surprised. Most of the others always asked, 'Where am I?' when I came in."
I frowned slightly, honestly confused, and slowly muttered, "...others..?"
She nodded simply to my right, and I turned to where she'd indicated; immediately, the breath was swiped form my lungs and my blood caught in my veins.
Slumped against a wall inches from me, with dried blood caked on the floor surrounding them, was what must have been, at one time, the bodies of children.
They were all rotting by now, tossed carelessly aside by whoever had murdered them, and I noticed that they were all either chained to the walls or else locked in cages.
All of their faces were frozen in screams of horror, their forms locked in fetal positions; somehow, their last cries and pleas for help echoed into my head.
I was frozen in terror, my mouth slightly agape, my heart lodged in my throat, my stomach heaving; and then I seemed to snap out of my horrified trance and I turned sharply away, gasping.
Everyone watched me with amused interest, remaining silent, but still ready to laugh at any given moment.
After the choking waves of nausea had passed, I turned back to the blue- fleshed woman and breathed, "What did you DO to them?!?!?"
She smiled slightly, reaching out and tucking a sweaty strand of my hair behind my ear, "Whatever it took, Sweetness."
I could only stare at her, confusion and fear crashing over my head, until I finally croaked again, "Who are you?"
She seemed thoughtful for a moment, glowing eyes flickering with wonder as she tried to decide on which words would be best to answer me.
She came up with good ones.
"I am many things, Dearest. I am many forms, many people, many lives, all entwined into one. I am the essence of evil and the taste of blood." She grinned, almost manically, and pulled me closer, much to the delight of her 'audience', "I am the sound of a shriek in the night, the sight of a darkened alley..."
She paused and stroked my cheek, "...the feel of a blade across your flesh..."
I pulled away from her, falling back and scrambling away from the insane female.
The ladies were all chuckling, not loud or intrusive, simply appreciative, a sound that added to this crazy woman's speech.
"I am the old woman you see waking down the street. I am the businessman who pushes past you on the subway."
She had stood and was advancing on me, the two women from before (the blonde-haired one and the black-haired, red-eyed one) following close behind, grinning like devils.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I shrieked, struggling to push myself backwards without using my still-bound wrists.
"I am the mother whose children always seem to throw tantrums in the supermarket line. I am the gang member who sprays profanity on the walls of buildings..."
I had crashed into the wall of surrounding women and they jerked me to my feet, pushing me forward as they chuckled at my misfortune.
I stumbled and collapsed into the fanatical woman's arms, struggling for an instant, but stopping as her final words were hissed into my ear, "I am the filthy man from the hotel, the mother who keeps her daughter locked in the car while she 'pleases' men, the little girl who runs away from home and lives in a hole."
She smiled at me sweetly, cradling my head in her arms, "...but you can call me Mystique."
I looked up the word 'Mystique' in the dictionary once I finally got out of that Hellhole (yes, I did get out...but I'll explain that in a sec) and this is the definition:
Mystique: a complex of somewhat mystical attitudes and feelings surrounding some person, institution, activity, etc.
I guess you might say that it fits her like a glove, huh?
Anyway, back to my 'courageous escape'.
Actually, they let me go.
Yea, they did.
They knocked me out, carried me back to my 'hole in the wall', and left me there.
Simple enough.
So, why'd they take me in the first place?
GREAT question.
Turns out, one of the mutant women there (she was Mystique's best friend; I'll leave it at that) could see the future. She was known as Destiny, and according to her, I was going to be found by this group of other mutants known as the X-Men, who happened to be their worst enemies.
Actually, that's an understatement.
The way Reagan (the blonde-haired woman who was like the second-in-command) said it, the X-Men were lower then snail slime, which says quite a bit.
They were hated more than anyone else by that group of women, although I didn't know why then.
Anyway, I was going to be taken in by these folks, and they were going to take care of me and be all nice and all, and I was going to learn that I was a mutant (which was pretty dumb; I obviously just learned form her at that moment that I was mutant) and I would learn to control my powers and become an X-Man myself.
Cool.
Right. With my life, you really think it's gonna turn out that way?
No.
Mystique wanted me to be a kind of spy, find out things about the X-Men for them so that I could tell them and they could come in and attack/kill everyone.
Great.
Now, don't get me wrong; I wasn't keen on the idea of betraying ANYONE to these psychos; I'm just not that kind of person. I mean, I didn't even KNOW these 'X-Men', but I CERTAINLY didn't want them to get killed!
Of course I basically told her to shove it, but once she threatened to snap my neck in half like a twig and the ladies pinned me down for her to do it, I was a lot more agreeable to their terms.
I'm not proud of it or anything; I still feel bad about being such a wimp.
I mean, I can't believe it took so little to make me agree to such horrific things! I saw what they could do to people, yet I still agreed to place these folks I'd never even met into their hands.
So without a doubt, I felt horribly ashamed when I agreed to do as they said, but just try to imagine yourself in my place for a second.
You're lying in this terribly dark and cold place where you've never been before. Your heart is thudding madly against your ribs as you struggle against the dozen or so women pinning you to the icy floor and crushing the breath from your lungs. Some strange lady that you've never met but who calls herself 'Mystique' and describes herself as 'the essence of evil' and 'the taste of blood' has her hands around your head and is telling you that, unless you promise to betray these people you've never met before, she will snap your neck in half. You're surrounded by the corpses of older people who DO have their necks snapped in half, so you know what this woman is capable of and you have no doubt in your mind that she will hurt you if you don't listen to her. Your terror has peaked to the point that you can actually hear the horrific crack as your neck falls limply to your shoulders.
So what would you do?
If you said you'd stay silent, toast to you.
I couldn't do it.
It was just too much.
I snapped under the pressure and swore to her that I would be her stupid little spy.
And she let me go.
She actually smiled, kissed the crown of my head like she was proud of me, and then she let me go.
I can't say that once I woke up I was actually able to live with my decision for a while, but after a few days the reality wore off and I was able to basically move on.
I was able to treat what happened as any old nightmare and pretend that nothing was going on; nothing bad was happening.
I was perfectly capable of hiding the fact that I was a horrible, treacherous monster.
At least, until I met the X-Men.
Sorry it took me so long to update; a close family friend lost her daughter in a car crash, so I've been helping her out and trying to keep from bawling. Plus I'm grounded form the internet unless I have parentals in the room, so you know how it is... *sigh*
But I'm doing better now. How are all of you? Doing well I hope?
Pendragon: Hello, dear! How are you? LOVE the review! TOTALLY made my day! I read it whenever I'm down, teehee. *smiles big* HEY EVERYONE! PENDRAGON CALLED ME 'LUV'! YAY! ( LOL. Yes, you can attack my flamer if you'd like. Not sure how much it would affect her, though, as I think she's gone right now. LOL. Anyway, thank you for the awesome reviews! I'm writing this for you, as I don't believe anyone else is reading it except for Twistedmind. (
So, everyone, enjoy!
Dedicated to: Pendragon, who always manages to bring a smile to my face, and Twsitedmind, who's somehow gotten me to see Mystique in a new light.
Have you ever watched one of those nature shows that feature wolves when they hunt?
The big dogs stalk their prey quietly, and the stupid deer or whatever never even sees them coming. Or maybe it does, and it runs for a while and winds up backed against a big rock wall that mysteriously appears.
The wolves surround it and seem to kind of chuckle as they advance, teeth bared, ready to leap forward and tear their victim limb from limb.
If you have, you've seen the scene of my very first kidnapping (congrats).
Of course, the wolves were really a group of terrorist mutant women and the stupid deer was really me (and I'm NOT stupid), but you get the basic gist.
I walked in innocently enough, holding a stolen library book in one hand and a hotdog in the other. I was chewing my food and reading the book, minding my own business, ignoring the smear of ketchup on my chin (I probably looked about seven or eight), and I look up and there are at least a dozen women, all with Cheshire cat grins, staring at me.
I dropped the book and my hotdog (what a waste of three bucks, eh?) and one of them snickered.
Now, I love writing. That's pretty obvious, since I'm sitting here typing this whole account up for you now. But one of my favorite things about writing is describing people and things so I'm going to spend the next page and a half telling you precisely what these women looked like (bear with me. It's IMPORTANT).
The one nearest to me (the lady winding the rope around her hand and walking forward) had THE perfect body (the only reason I noticed was because she was...ummm...not dressed at all), even better then my mom's, sleek and slim, but still muscular and obviously strong, definitely not someone I'd want to find myself fighting against (too bad, huh?).
Her face was long and angular, with perfectly clear and smooth skin and the kind of flaming red hair that seems to tumble down just right.
So, how'd I know she was a mutant?
She was blue.
No, I'm not talking sad-blue.
I mean, her skin was the color of my eyes, shimmering eerily like sapphire water and erupting in scales—actual SCALES—in some places.
Still, even the scales didn't clue me in as much as the eyes.
They were yellow, scintillating with sparks of malevolence and pooled with loathing, glowing ethereally with more darkness then I'd thought anyone capable of having.
The woman next to her was stunning as well, with just as nice of a body hidden under the kind of clothes my mom would wear on a good day. She had a pale, clear complexion with locks of blonde hair that fell over her oval- shaped face attractively, making her scarlet lips and icy-blue eyes stand out more than anything else. When I looked at her, she winked at me and blew me a kiss; I immediately looked to the left of the blue, scaly lady.
This woman was taller than the other two, not quite as muscular but very skeletal, with white—actually WHITE, like snow— skin that was such a deep contrast to her jet black hair that it hurt my eyes. I blinked a few times before looking back at her, and studied her long face, her blood-red lips, and her crimson eyes. She was definitely the scariest-looking of the bunch.
The rest of the women appeared the same way: tall and beautiful, skinny with perfect skin and hair (brown, blonde, black), and eyes (hazel, brown, blue, green, gray) that held as much evil as the next female.
To say the least, I was overwhelmed just looking around at them.
When they all pounced, I was done for.
All I really remember is falling to the ground, screaming, someone clapping a hand over my mouth, a jumble of voices, people pulling at and tying up my arms and then a sharp prick of pain in my neck.
Then it went dark.
Don't you just hate that?
'Then it went dark'.
It's just been used so many times, it's become boring.
I guess I COULD go back and change it, but I'm too lazy (hey, sue me) and I guess if I quit writing now, I'll never get back to it.
I'll just make it up to you somehow, ok?
Do you know the feeling of cold stone against bare skin? The sounds of whispers that seem to melt into infinite and seep into your very soul? The metallic tang of your own blood in your mouth? The awful, nauseating stench of decay in your nose?
If you do, then try to remember the time in which you sensed those things. Was it a good time? Were you very happy when you could smell rotting flesh inches away from you?
I didn't really think so.
I wasn't either.
I suppose you're wondering why I didn't tell you what I saw when I finally awoke.
I didn't see anything at first.
Someone had covered my eyes.
I squirmed slightly, making a face as a wave of pulsing bile rose in my throat and I struggled to get away from the cause of the odor suffocating me.
When I did, there was a soft chorus of muffled laughter, and a woman's voice purred, "Look who's finally awake."
Of course, that just panicked me more, especially considering I'd just found that my wrists were tied together and someone had thrown an old sack over my head, and I groaned in anxiety, blinking sweat out of my eyes.
I heard more chuckling and the clicking of high heels on the hard floor and I moved away from the sound, breathing hard, ignoring the throbbing heat reverberating around my face.
The footsteps stopped and then someone roughly grabbed the sack above me and jerked it off, causing me to fall forward on my stomach with a gasp of pain; a bolt of agony shot through my side.
More laughter, and then someone clicked her tongue, "Oh, dear. You fell. Let me help you up, Sweetheart."
The entire space echoed with laughter as the woman reached down and ripped me up by my hair, earning a strangled cry and a few choice words from me.
She laughed, roughly turning my chin to her face her, "Oh, Ladies. This one has a temper."
I glared at her, breathing heavily through clenched teeth, humiliation ringing through my sore and burning body.
"Let go," I ordered furiously, pulling my chin from her grasp, "and don't touch me."
The assembled group giggled like schoolchildren and I shot them an annoyed look, "Shut up."
They just laughed harder.
"Teach her, Margaret!" one chirped, face turning red from laughter.
I felt cool fingers wrap around my throat and tighten as I was lifted from the ground, my feet dangling maybe an inch off of the floor.
Yea, it hurt.
Yea I was scared.
But more than that, I was furious.
I wanted to tear her smirking face off.
For some reason, my rebel personality had kicked in before my scared one had.
Therefore, instead of crying or begging for mercy, I lashed out with my foot and caught her squarely in the chest, making her drop me on the rock floor (OUCH) and swear loudly, advancing with fists raised and eyes scintillating with livid hatred.
I stayed on the floor, tugging pathetically at the thin ropes binding my arms with my teeth, scooting back from Margaret and starting to feel maybe a trifle bit afraid (I was ready to burst into tears of defeat and beg for mercy, ok?)
Then, just as Margaret was within inches of me and was leaning down to flay me, she stopped and smirked maliciously as I bumped into someone's legs and winced as a hand slid down to rest softly on my head, "Playing nicely with her, aren't you, Girls?"
Margaret snickered, sliding back into a spot in the crowd as she gave me a triumphant sneer.
I thought about sticking my tongue out at her, but A) it seemed childish and B) I was frozen with fear so I couldn't anyway.
The person behind me stooped gracefully down and turned my head with a blue- skinned hand, "Are you enjoying yourself?"
I looked at her silently, masking the fear I felt, and asked, "Who are YOU?"
The woman's dark lips parted in a devilish grin, revealing shocking white teeth, "I'm surprised. Most of the others always asked, 'Where am I?' when I came in."
I frowned slightly, honestly confused, and slowly muttered, "...others..?"
She nodded simply to my right, and I turned to where she'd indicated; immediately, the breath was swiped form my lungs and my blood caught in my veins.
Slumped against a wall inches from me, with dried blood caked on the floor surrounding them, was what must have been, at one time, the bodies of children.
They were all rotting by now, tossed carelessly aside by whoever had murdered them, and I noticed that they were all either chained to the walls or else locked in cages.
All of their faces were frozen in screams of horror, their forms locked in fetal positions; somehow, their last cries and pleas for help echoed into my head.
I was frozen in terror, my mouth slightly agape, my heart lodged in my throat, my stomach heaving; and then I seemed to snap out of my horrified trance and I turned sharply away, gasping.
Everyone watched me with amused interest, remaining silent, but still ready to laugh at any given moment.
After the choking waves of nausea had passed, I turned back to the blue- fleshed woman and breathed, "What did you DO to them?!?!?"
She smiled slightly, reaching out and tucking a sweaty strand of my hair behind my ear, "Whatever it took, Sweetness."
I could only stare at her, confusion and fear crashing over my head, until I finally croaked again, "Who are you?"
She seemed thoughtful for a moment, glowing eyes flickering with wonder as she tried to decide on which words would be best to answer me.
She came up with good ones.
"I am many things, Dearest. I am many forms, many people, many lives, all entwined into one. I am the essence of evil and the taste of blood." She grinned, almost manically, and pulled me closer, much to the delight of her 'audience', "I am the sound of a shriek in the night, the sight of a darkened alley..."
She paused and stroked my cheek, "...the feel of a blade across your flesh..."
I pulled away from her, falling back and scrambling away from the insane female.
The ladies were all chuckling, not loud or intrusive, simply appreciative, a sound that added to this crazy woman's speech.
"I am the old woman you see waking down the street. I am the businessman who pushes past you on the subway."
She had stood and was advancing on me, the two women from before (the blonde-haired one and the black-haired, red-eyed one) following close behind, grinning like devils.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I shrieked, struggling to push myself backwards without using my still-bound wrists.
"I am the mother whose children always seem to throw tantrums in the supermarket line. I am the gang member who sprays profanity on the walls of buildings..."
I had crashed into the wall of surrounding women and they jerked me to my feet, pushing me forward as they chuckled at my misfortune.
I stumbled and collapsed into the fanatical woman's arms, struggling for an instant, but stopping as her final words were hissed into my ear, "I am the filthy man from the hotel, the mother who keeps her daughter locked in the car while she 'pleases' men, the little girl who runs away from home and lives in a hole."
She smiled at me sweetly, cradling my head in her arms, "...but you can call me Mystique."
I looked up the word 'Mystique' in the dictionary once I finally got out of that Hellhole (yes, I did get out...but I'll explain that in a sec) and this is the definition:
Mystique: a complex of somewhat mystical attitudes and feelings surrounding some person, institution, activity, etc.
I guess you might say that it fits her like a glove, huh?
Anyway, back to my 'courageous escape'.
Actually, they let me go.
Yea, they did.
They knocked me out, carried me back to my 'hole in the wall', and left me there.
Simple enough.
So, why'd they take me in the first place?
GREAT question.
Turns out, one of the mutant women there (she was Mystique's best friend; I'll leave it at that) could see the future. She was known as Destiny, and according to her, I was going to be found by this group of other mutants known as the X-Men, who happened to be their worst enemies.
Actually, that's an understatement.
The way Reagan (the blonde-haired woman who was like the second-in-command) said it, the X-Men were lower then snail slime, which says quite a bit.
They were hated more than anyone else by that group of women, although I didn't know why then.
Anyway, I was going to be taken in by these folks, and they were going to take care of me and be all nice and all, and I was going to learn that I was a mutant (which was pretty dumb; I obviously just learned form her at that moment that I was mutant) and I would learn to control my powers and become an X-Man myself.
Cool.
Right. With my life, you really think it's gonna turn out that way?
No.
Mystique wanted me to be a kind of spy, find out things about the X-Men for them so that I could tell them and they could come in and attack/kill everyone.
Great.
Now, don't get me wrong; I wasn't keen on the idea of betraying ANYONE to these psychos; I'm just not that kind of person. I mean, I didn't even KNOW these 'X-Men', but I CERTAINLY didn't want them to get killed!
Of course I basically told her to shove it, but once she threatened to snap my neck in half like a twig and the ladies pinned me down for her to do it, I was a lot more agreeable to their terms.
I'm not proud of it or anything; I still feel bad about being such a wimp.
I mean, I can't believe it took so little to make me agree to such horrific things! I saw what they could do to people, yet I still agreed to place these folks I'd never even met into their hands.
So without a doubt, I felt horribly ashamed when I agreed to do as they said, but just try to imagine yourself in my place for a second.
You're lying in this terribly dark and cold place where you've never been before. Your heart is thudding madly against your ribs as you struggle against the dozen or so women pinning you to the icy floor and crushing the breath from your lungs. Some strange lady that you've never met but who calls herself 'Mystique' and describes herself as 'the essence of evil' and 'the taste of blood' has her hands around your head and is telling you that, unless you promise to betray these people you've never met before, she will snap your neck in half. You're surrounded by the corpses of older people who DO have their necks snapped in half, so you know what this woman is capable of and you have no doubt in your mind that she will hurt you if you don't listen to her. Your terror has peaked to the point that you can actually hear the horrific crack as your neck falls limply to your shoulders.
So what would you do?
If you said you'd stay silent, toast to you.
I couldn't do it.
It was just too much.
I snapped under the pressure and swore to her that I would be her stupid little spy.
And she let me go.
She actually smiled, kissed the crown of my head like she was proud of me, and then she let me go.
I can't say that once I woke up I was actually able to live with my decision for a while, but after a few days the reality wore off and I was able to basically move on.
I was able to treat what happened as any old nightmare and pretend that nothing was going on; nothing bad was happening.
I was perfectly capable of hiding the fact that I was a horrible, treacherous monster.
At least, until I met the X-Men.