New Year's Day:
I'd spent the night, dancing, reveling and in general and
discovering that I was rather immune to the effects of alcohol,
I lost track of the X-Men and wound up spending a great deal
of time talking to Shinobi...
I wasn't surprised to discover that he had been an abused kid, too.
Seemed like it didn't matter, wheather one was rich or poor, nor
what colour your skin was or your genetic makeup...some things in
life were oddly parrallel.
And he was struggling with trying to find his own identity,
after his late--and much unlamented--father's death. I knew how
tough that was, hell, I'd spent over 10 years trying to "find
myself" and still fought some of the inner demons every day...
I wasn't going to let him make excuses to me for some of the
things he's done, but I could understand why he'd done them--
and after talking all night about vAnaous things, I had begun
to get to know the real Shinobi Shaw.
Hell, we even had a "date" for lunch after he got back from his
business trip to Tokyo, and he'd left me with a Platnuim card in
case I ran into any emergencies...
I was in a good mood, and part of my hyper-active mind was running
through options as I walked for a means of transportation,
heading through the pre-dawn light back to Westchester County.
It was beautiful out, and I didn't mind the length of the walk..
it gave me time to gather my thoughts on a number of things that'd
happened in the last month...
I was partially lost in thought when I recognised the mansion
before me, and carefully slipped through the gap I'd bent in the
fence, then wandering up the driveway...
I "felt" a sudden "gloom" settle over my mind, in part due to
the sense of forboding I suddenly got from my Sight-gift, and
the sense I got from my strong, shortrange telepathy.
Somebody wasn't happy with me, and I didn't have to guess who...
I pulled an Altoid out of my evening bag and crunched through
the newly fallen snow up to the door and let myself in.
Ororo opened the door, obviously one of the early birds here,
giving me a worried look, "Ro--Anastasia, we were all worried about
you..."
I glared at her, "Since when do ye worry about a grown woman,
who happens to want to enjoy a night out? And what business is
it of yers if I did stay out?"
The weather elemental stopped, unaccustomed to her "mothering"
being lost on a familiar face, that now had burning golden eyes,
"I--ah...."
The black velvet of my cocktail gown swirled around my ankles,
leaving me a stark, hopefully intimidating contrast with the
pure white snow that I stood upon, "Sod off, Ms. Munroe..."
It was then I heard someone clear their throat behind me, and
saw Scott standing there, weAnang his "Al Borland" plaid flannel
shirt, jeans and hiking boots, cup of coffee in hand, "You are a
part of this team, and we expect the courtesy of knowing of your
where abouts..."
The emotions eminating from the man grated on my newly enhansed
psychic senses as Jean, Hank, Remy Logan and Charles were revealed
to be in the parlour, and with Ororo and Stick-in-the-mud behind
me, I was a bit at a disadvantage, but I was determined to hold
my ground, because my private life was none of their damned
business.
I pinned Scott down with a dark glare, instinctivly switching
to mind speak, [Sod off, toerag! Ye have NO right to try and
dictate my coming and going. I am not a part of yer team, nor
am I one of yer little toy soldiers or idealists. Chromedome's
got a few nice ideas running around in that vault he calls a
head, but I've lived out in the "real world" alot longer than
most of ye have... 31 years of it, and I've got the mental scars
to prove it. Ye "kids" have been isolated out here, in the lap
of luxury and ye, in particular, have been looking at the world
through some intensely rose coloured specs, peg boy... Why don't
ye crawl back under your rock and pretend to love yer fiancee
and be a good little boy? I know where ye go on Monday nights.]
Scott stopped short, his face flaming at the inference I'd made,
leaving him sputtering, "Wha...how? You can't be strong enough to
read me?"
[Who said anything about how strong my telepathy needs to be?]
I replied, with a dangerous smile, [I don't need it, "Poppa Pump"...
I can See, remember?]
The look on his face was priceless as he slithered out of the
room. There were some people in the world, that just begged
to be ground under the heel of the truth because they were so
self deluded and clueless....no, it was more than that... some
of them were just that plain stupid...
Even Ol' Cueball was speechless.
Charles opened his mouth, and then closed it again--several
times, apparently thinking better of attempting to lecture me
at that pAnacular moment...
[Well, if the rest of ye are thinking that I'm a "good little
girl" who'll capitulate to "daddy's" wishes and appologise,
yer wrong,] I told them, though Remy couldn't meet me in the
eye and Ororo was still dumbfounded, [I'm my own person, and
who I choose to call friend is my business, not anybody else's.
Got that? Good. There are maybe two or three of this lot of
angsting loosers I'd be willing to call friends... And only
one of them is in this room right now...]
I pinned Hank "Bones" McCoy witha meaningful gaze, waiting for
the shit to hit the fan....
Charles motioned for Hank to leave, "This is between the remainder
of us, Hank..."
I stepped inside the door, wiping my bare feet of the cool,
white flakes, eyes ablaze. Funny how he'd dismissed Hank, but
not Remy.. that silver-tongued rogue was no friend of mine...
Xavier steepled his fingers and regarded me, "Your choice of....
companions... leaves much to be desired, Anastasia. The Shaws
are wholely unsuitable people, they have a past history with the
X-Men.. of proving to be backstabbing, conniving individuals..."
Ororo nodded in concurrance, but didn't say anything as Summers
returned and decided to insert his two cents worth, "You put
the team at risk last night... Your're being irresponsible..."
I raised an eyebrow, [Really? Since when did being a student at
the Xavier Institute make one an X-man? I don't recall ever being
part of yer precious little team, Summers...]
He swallowed hard, as if he suddenly rememebered that I wasn't
the same woman who'd been at his beck and call for the last few
years, he tried to regain his "authority" but fell flat on his
face, "Ro..Anaande...that's not the point...."
I gave them one of those "evil", cold, calculating smiles I've
been known to share with those whom are in very real danger of
pissing me off, [Isn't it, though? I may be training individually
with Kit, Liz, Kurt, Hank and Emma, but that doesn't mean that my
goal is to parade around in spandex like the rest of ye rotters...
I've got better things to do...]
Summers made an effort to grab my arm and stop me from leaving,
only to realise too late that the martial arts training I'd been
immersed in had taken hold... I had instinctively used the moves
that I'd been drilling on to reflexively break his grip on me,
and whip his arm behind his back, my bare hand digging into his
flesh...
Xavier's eyes went wide as he saw me.. whose face..and ostebsibly
powers.. were familiar to him, making skin to skin contact with
his "teacher's pet"... Scott acted like he was afraid something
was going to happen, when I finally released him a few minutes
later, with nothing more than a badly disloacted shoulder to show
for it...
"My sister couldn't be touched," I told him bluntly, speakin
aloud, as if I were talking to a child, "I dont't like being
touched...especially by strangers. Do that again, and I'll break
it insead of dislocating it!"
Ororo paled as she realised what had just happened: "Rogue" had
touched someone without absorbing them...Xavier tried to use
his telepathy on me, but found he was as unable to "read" me
as he'd been my little sister, whose body I now inhabited.
I heard the fringes of telepathic conversation as Ororo went
to help Summers with that dislocated shoulder, and Xavier tried
to figure out what just happened... All I wanted was a nice
shower, pair of jeans and a clean shirt...and some breakfast...
I headed up to my room, and locked the door after taking the
caligraphied name card out of the door and printed the name of
one of my favourite WildStorm comic characters on it...
It now said "Savant"....
I'd spent the night, dancing, reveling and in general and
discovering that I was rather immune to the effects of alcohol,
I lost track of the X-Men and wound up spending a great deal
of time talking to Shinobi...
I wasn't surprised to discover that he had been an abused kid, too.
Seemed like it didn't matter, wheather one was rich or poor, nor
what colour your skin was or your genetic makeup...some things in
life were oddly parrallel.
And he was struggling with trying to find his own identity,
after his late--and much unlamented--father's death. I knew how
tough that was, hell, I'd spent over 10 years trying to "find
myself" and still fought some of the inner demons every day...
I wasn't going to let him make excuses to me for some of the
things he's done, but I could understand why he'd done them--
and after talking all night about vAnaous things, I had begun
to get to know the real Shinobi Shaw.
Hell, we even had a "date" for lunch after he got back from his
business trip to Tokyo, and he'd left me with a Platnuim card in
case I ran into any emergencies...
I was in a good mood, and part of my hyper-active mind was running
through options as I walked for a means of transportation,
heading through the pre-dawn light back to Westchester County.
It was beautiful out, and I didn't mind the length of the walk..
it gave me time to gather my thoughts on a number of things that'd
happened in the last month...
I was partially lost in thought when I recognised the mansion
before me, and carefully slipped through the gap I'd bent in the
fence, then wandering up the driveway...
I "felt" a sudden "gloom" settle over my mind, in part due to
the sense of forboding I suddenly got from my Sight-gift, and
the sense I got from my strong, shortrange telepathy.
Somebody wasn't happy with me, and I didn't have to guess who...
I pulled an Altoid out of my evening bag and crunched through
the newly fallen snow up to the door and let myself in.
Ororo opened the door, obviously one of the early birds here,
giving me a worried look, "Ro--Anastasia, we were all worried about
you..."
I glared at her, "Since when do ye worry about a grown woman,
who happens to want to enjoy a night out? And what business is
it of yers if I did stay out?"
The weather elemental stopped, unaccustomed to her "mothering"
being lost on a familiar face, that now had burning golden eyes,
"I--ah...."
The black velvet of my cocktail gown swirled around my ankles,
leaving me a stark, hopefully intimidating contrast with the
pure white snow that I stood upon, "Sod off, Ms. Munroe..."
It was then I heard someone clear their throat behind me, and
saw Scott standing there, weAnang his "Al Borland" plaid flannel
shirt, jeans and hiking boots, cup of coffee in hand, "You are a
part of this team, and we expect the courtesy of knowing of your
where abouts..."
The emotions eminating from the man grated on my newly enhansed
psychic senses as Jean, Hank, Remy Logan and Charles were revealed
to be in the parlour, and with Ororo and Stick-in-the-mud behind
me, I was a bit at a disadvantage, but I was determined to hold
my ground, because my private life was none of their damned
business.
I pinned Scott down with a dark glare, instinctivly switching
to mind speak, [Sod off, toerag! Ye have NO right to try and
dictate my coming and going. I am not a part of yer team, nor
am I one of yer little toy soldiers or idealists. Chromedome's
got a few nice ideas running around in that vault he calls a
head, but I've lived out in the "real world" alot longer than
most of ye have... 31 years of it, and I've got the mental scars
to prove it. Ye "kids" have been isolated out here, in the lap
of luxury and ye, in particular, have been looking at the world
through some intensely rose coloured specs, peg boy... Why don't
ye crawl back under your rock and pretend to love yer fiancee
and be a good little boy? I know where ye go on Monday nights.]
Scott stopped short, his face flaming at the inference I'd made,
leaving him sputtering, "Wha...how? You can't be strong enough to
read me?"
[Who said anything about how strong my telepathy needs to be?]
I replied, with a dangerous smile, [I don't need it, "Poppa Pump"...
I can See, remember?]
The look on his face was priceless as he slithered out of the
room. There were some people in the world, that just begged
to be ground under the heel of the truth because they were so
self deluded and clueless....no, it was more than that... some
of them were just that plain stupid...
Even Ol' Cueball was speechless.
Charles opened his mouth, and then closed it again--several
times, apparently thinking better of attempting to lecture me
at that pAnacular moment...
[Well, if the rest of ye are thinking that I'm a "good little
girl" who'll capitulate to "daddy's" wishes and appologise,
yer wrong,] I told them, though Remy couldn't meet me in the
eye and Ororo was still dumbfounded, [I'm my own person, and
who I choose to call friend is my business, not anybody else's.
Got that? Good. There are maybe two or three of this lot of
angsting loosers I'd be willing to call friends... And only
one of them is in this room right now...]
I pinned Hank "Bones" McCoy witha meaningful gaze, waiting for
the shit to hit the fan....
Charles motioned for Hank to leave, "This is between the remainder
of us, Hank..."
I stepped inside the door, wiping my bare feet of the cool,
white flakes, eyes ablaze. Funny how he'd dismissed Hank, but
not Remy.. that silver-tongued rogue was no friend of mine...
Xavier steepled his fingers and regarded me, "Your choice of....
companions... leaves much to be desired, Anastasia. The Shaws
are wholely unsuitable people, they have a past history with the
X-Men.. of proving to be backstabbing, conniving individuals..."
Ororo nodded in concurrance, but didn't say anything as Summers
returned and decided to insert his two cents worth, "You put
the team at risk last night... Your're being irresponsible..."
I raised an eyebrow, [Really? Since when did being a student at
the Xavier Institute make one an X-man? I don't recall ever being
part of yer precious little team, Summers...]
He swallowed hard, as if he suddenly rememebered that I wasn't
the same woman who'd been at his beck and call for the last few
years, he tried to regain his "authority" but fell flat on his
face, "Ro..Anaande...that's not the point...."
I gave them one of those "evil", cold, calculating smiles I've
been known to share with those whom are in very real danger of
pissing me off, [Isn't it, though? I may be training individually
with Kit, Liz, Kurt, Hank and Emma, but that doesn't mean that my
goal is to parade around in spandex like the rest of ye rotters...
I've got better things to do...]
Summers made an effort to grab my arm and stop me from leaving,
only to realise too late that the martial arts training I'd been
immersed in had taken hold... I had instinctively used the moves
that I'd been drilling on to reflexively break his grip on me,
and whip his arm behind his back, my bare hand digging into his
flesh...
Xavier's eyes went wide as he saw me.. whose face..and ostebsibly
powers.. were familiar to him, making skin to skin contact with
his "teacher's pet"... Scott acted like he was afraid something
was going to happen, when I finally released him a few minutes
later, with nothing more than a badly disloacted shoulder to show
for it...
"My sister couldn't be touched," I told him bluntly, speakin
aloud, as if I were talking to a child, "I dont't like being
touched...especially by strangers. Do that again, and I'll break
it insead of dislocating it!"
Ororo paled as she realised what had just happened: "Rogue" had
touched someone without absorbing them...Xavier tried to use
his telepathy on me, but found he was as unable to "read" me
as he'd been my little sister, whose body I now inhabited.
I heard the fringes of telepathic conversation as Ororo went
to help Summers with that dislocated shoulder, and Xavier tried
to figure out what just happened... All I wanted was a nice
shower, pair of jeans and a clean shirt...and some breakfast...
I headed up to my room, and locked the door after taking the
caligraphied name card out of the door and printed the name of
one of my favourite WildStorm comic characters on it...
It now said "Savant"....