I don't own X-men: Evolution
St John sat hunched over, eyeing the rest of the Acolytes from his position on the chair. He snapped his lighter opened and shut as he listened to his boss blather on about some unimportant detail...John's thoughts were drifting elsewhere.
"Homme, could you stop it wit' de lighter, s'il te plait?" Remy's irritated voice brought John back to earth with a thump.
"Sorry, mate. I'll try'n keep the flames down to a minimum." He flashed a toothy smile.
"It's not de fire so much as de noise. Mon Dieu, but my head hurts." The Cajun's voice sank down to a growly mumble as Magneto turned his head their way.
"And AS I was saying..." Eric Lensherr glared at them for a moment before turning his head away, "If we want this plan to work, the captive students will have to be kept under constant vigilance. I think that seeing as we have two captives and two Acolytes in need of maturity and a sense of responsibility..." He glared at John and Remy again, "You boys will help our new...guests...feel right at home."
The "guests" in question exchanged nervous glances. Amara had no idea how Roberto had been captured, but she hoped fervently that they could get out soon. She had no desire to spend the next few days under the watchful eye of an Acolyte. Glancing over at St John, she made up her mind to try and be paired up with Remy—Rogue had always held out for the fact that Remy wasn't like the other Acolytes...supposedly he was a good person under the trench coat and flirty personality.
John looked across the room at Amara; she was sitting mutely besier her dark-skinned teammate, watching the proceedings without expression. He resolutely made up his mind to be paired up with her; there was a mistake he had to correct, and besides, Rmy might have sworn he'd given up his flirtatious ways for Rogue, but Pyro wanted to be on the safe side.
Magneto, in the meantime, was finishing up his spiel: "...and so I'd like Pyro to have the girl, while Remy, you take care of the boy. I don't trust you around females any more."
Amara felt her hopes plummet. She would have to spend the rest of her duration here being dogged by Pyro. Just great. She looked at him again; he was grinning cheerfully at her as if the cave incident had never occurred. She quickly dropped her eyes to stare at her feet; when she raised them again it was to stare right into John's bright blue orbs about three inches away from her face.
Disregarding her squeak of surprise, Pyro took her by the elbows and set her gently on her feet.
"Well come on then, sheila. I'll give ya the grand tour, howzat?" Still smiling happily, Pyro grabbed her wrist in a grip like iron and commenced dragging her out of the room after himself. Amara rolled her eyes and clamped her lips together. The silent treatment would have to work for now.
John chatted away to her in a carefree matter as if he didn't notice the stony silence of his female charge. "So, here's the kitchen, roight next t' the TV room...moind the little step. There! Okay, and up these stairs is the bathroom, to yer left, then down this 'ere hall is the bedrooms."
He stopped suddenly, turning back to Remy (who had been following with Roberto in tow) with a quizzical look on his face. "D'you 'ave any oidea where our guests are sleepin?"
"I have taken liberty to prepare adjacent rooms for our new...friends." Magneto's voice boomed from behind them, deliberately (Amara noticed) avoiding the use of the word 'prisoners'. "Piotr is only just preparing the connecting doors..."
Connecting doors? What the heck? The four people turned to regard the Master of Magnetism standing at the foot of the stairs.
"Yes. I have decided that the only way for you to enter into the hall will be through the room of the Acolyte who has charge of you. That way the risks of...escape...will be diminished somewhat. The doors connecting directly from your respective rooms to the halls will be boarded shut, I am sorry. This is but a precaution." And with that, Magneto walked away.
St John's expression didn't alter once; he remained carefully cheerful. "Alroight then, that's settled. Uhhh, moy room's just over here." He pushed the door on the right side of the hall open, and Amara was forced to follow into Pyro's bedroom.
It was very sparsely furnished, almost Spartan; a bed, with a table beside it, and a dresser were the only pieces of furniture. From the scorch marks on the walls, Amara suspected that Pyro had burned any other flammable items within the room.
Colossus stood against the far wall, nailing a handle onto a new-looking door. He finished driving in the last spike and stood up, nodding solemnly to Amara and her captor. "John. I have finished the door. There is no lock, but I trust it will be adequate. Good day." And with that, the Russian left, closing the door to the hall behind him.
Amara stood for a moment, looking around silently. Then slowly, deliberately, she stalked over to the newly constructed door and went into 'her' room, slamming the door on her way in.
St John sighed. What a mess.
"Jubilee, Rahne, Ray, Bobby, Jamie, Sam..." Hank McCoy's voice trailed off as he looked around the tired and dispirited group, who (after much running and confusion) had all ultimately ended up back at the campsite. "Does anyone know what might have happened to Roberto or Amara?"
"I—Roberto was following me, Mr. McCoy. He was right behind me...and then he wasn't." Ray's voice was miserable. He should have been looking out for the rest of the group...but instead he had run. "I don't know what...I don't know what happened."
"Amara told me to take Jubes and run," Sam volunteered, wearily passing a hand over his eyes. "She said she wasn't tired...that she could make it. I thought she could too."
Rahne, too exhausted to morph out of her wolf form, whined from her sprawled out position on the ground.
Hank made a swift decision. "We're demoralized, exhausted, and very likely to be attacked again. I want you, Bobby," He picked out the oldest of the group, "to drive everyone back to the mansion. I will wait here until tomorrow for Amara and Roberto; they are both smart kids, and I think that if they do not show up after twenty-four hours there is a good chance that they are no longer in the vicinity."
"But, Mr. McCoy—"
"No buts, Mr. Madrox. You will be safe at the mansion...try to contact the Professor to tell him what has happened. Please co-operate with me on this."
"Yes sir."
Amara sat on the cot that was the only piece of furniture in the small room, looking out the window. She hoped that Mr. McCoy and her friends were alright, and that they would come to look for her soon.
She grimaced, thinking of her predicament. Stuck in a small room, the only doorway of which was connected to the room of a boy who was her enemy. A boy who said he loved her. A boy who randomly kissed her with so much passion...It was like some bad romance novel sprung from the twisted mind of an author with writer's block.
She stared at the door moodily. Time for escape planning. Or sleep. Suddenly, all the exhaustion of the day came flooding back to her—hiking, fighting, running, fighting some more...Sleep was a very good idea.
A/N: Okay my friends. Amara is not liking St John. Nor the situation in which she has found herself. What exactly was up with her shooting the magma at the cave entrance at the end of last chapter? Will the X-men come in time to save her from Magneto's evil plans? What ARE Magneto's evil plans? Will John and Amara ever be reconciled?
All these questions and more will be answered next time...on "A general helping of fluff" !!!!!
Now, on to the two reviews!! (Come on, people. I'm a writer. My ego is suffering something terrible here. Review...please?)
The Uncanny R-Man: Love the name. Thanks for the praise, I shall cherish it to my heart forever. lol. Amyro is amazing, isn't it?
Pietro's Kitten: Yes, angst has this tendency to pop up in stories of mine, doesn't it? Well, I'm trying to work towards fluff, but Amara isn't letting me. She's still a little mad. Your story is quite amazing I must say, after reading two chapters of it, I'm hooked. Keep on writing, you're really very good at it.