It's All Relative
Chapter Five
"Why haven't they contacted us, yet? Something must have happened. We should have heard from them," Mystique was ranting, pacing back and forth over the thin carpet in Toad's apartment; their new base of operations.
Avalanche sat on the tattered sofa, eyes closed, completely tuning her voice out of his head with the help of his Discman.
"Jus' chill, Mystique," Blob told her, taking his head out of the refrigerator long enough so that she could hear him. "Toad knows what he's doin'."
"That may be, but I am losing my patience," she replied. "This is all touch and go with the sudden change of plans, and I don't like being out of the loop."
"Relax, boss," Blob emerged from the kitchen with an enormous submarine sandwich, containing most of what had just been in the fridge. "Wanna bite?"
Mystique delicately wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned away. "No, thank you."
Blob shrugged. "More for me." He sunk his teeth into his dinner. Mayonnaise and mustard squirted out the back, and Mystique sidestepped to avoid getting it on her white dress. Blob grinned as he swallowed the bite, a large piece of lettuce lodged between his front teeth.
"Gross," Mystique muttered under her breath. She began pacing the room again. "Maybe something's wrong with the computer, and Toad can't contact us. Avalanche, are you sure everything is working properly? Avalanche?" She looked at him and saw that he was oblivious to her words. "Alvers!" she screamed, clapping her hands in front of his face.
His eyes popped open and he jumped. "What?!" he yelled, startled, and removed his headphones.
"Is the computer completely in working order?" he repeated.
"How the hell should I know?" he retorted. "I ain't Toad. I don't know nothin' about these damn stupid things!"
"Then I want you to take it in to a repair shop and ensure it is functioning properly," she ordered. "Immediately."
"Mystique, it's past the middle of the God-damn night."
"Then you can wait there until they open," she hissed. "Now get out of my sight."
"Mystique-"
"NOW!"
"Aw, Christ," Avalanche cursed under his breath as he hauled himself off the couch, gathered up the laptop computer, and stomped out of the room.
"Goddamn bitch," Avalanche snarled as he made his way down the dimly lit streets. "Who the fuck does she think she is?"
There was no moon out, and the streetlights flickered as the bulbs slowly burned out. It was no concern to the dark-haired mutant; he could handle any back-alley thug who tried to start something with him. Once in a while, he hadn't bothered using his powers, relishing in the feeling of his rock-hard fist plowing into the side of a would-be mugger's skull. Living in this part of the city, it had become a regular routine, and most of the usual kids out late at night could recognize him by sight now, and steered clear.
A small object, presumably a rock, was hurled out of the alley to his left and shattered the lamp, leaving Avalanche standing in near-total darkness, with only the chilling sound of metal scraping on metal. This was new, and yet terribly familiar.
"Havin' problems with the boss lady, Alvers?" came a growly voice that the Brotherhood member recognized instantly.
"Nah, I was talkin' about your mom, old man," Avalanche shot back.
"Not smart, punk," Wolverine emerged from the alley, claws bared. "Not smart at all."
Avalanche's dark eyes watched his opponent closely; waiting for any indication that Wolverine would attack.
"Whatcha got there, bub?" Wolverine raised an eyebrow. "Somethin' the X-Men would be interested in, no doubt."
Avalanche glanced down at the laptop, and then took a protective stance, holding out his hand. "Back off, old man, you don't have a clue what you're dealin' with."
"Well then, mebbe it's time I got a clue, Bub," Wolverine mused, and lunged at his enemy.
Avalanche had been ready, and ducked and rolled under the X-Man's jumping attack.
"I warned you, freak!" Avalanche repeated as he landed on his feet. "Back off!" He smashed his foot into the cement, and the sidewalk exploded as the mini quake shot toward Wolverine.
The Canadian mutant jumped just as the tremor reached him, and spin-kicked a fist-sized block of flying concrete. The rock caught Avalanche on the side of the head, and he dropped to the ground. The younger mutant shook his head, trying not to lose consciousness. He moved noticeably slower as Wolverine approached him, but was still quick enough to push the laptop out of harm's way, and then wheel his feet around to kick Wolverine's legs out from under him.
As he hit the ground, Wolverine retracted his claws, preparing for a fist fight and wanting to enjoy the event. He wanted to feel Avalanche's thick head growing softer as it was tenderized beneath his relentless assault.
Both mutants sprang to their feet and ran at each other. Punches were exchanged; blow after solid blow landed by both fighters.
Finally, Wolverine knocked Avalanche to the ground, but the younger mutant used his momentum to roll back to his feet. He turned to run, and Wolverine pursued. Avalanche stopped and Wolverine ducked, narrowly avoiding the sudden wheel kick. With his opponent off-balance, Avalanche redirected his attack to the brick wall of the building beside him. One strong burst of seismic force and the brick wall exploded onto Wolverine.
Avalanche stopped to catch his breath, regarding the pile of rubble. "Some people just can't take a hint," he smirked, then turned to retrieve the laptop.
"No, they can't," Wolverine agreed, pushing his way out from under the bricks.
Avalanche let out a frustrated cry and turned to attack. Wolverine ducked the anger-fueled punch, knocked his arm away, unsheathed his claws, and stabbed Avalanche through the shoulder with a savage snarl.
Avalanche howled in pain, and Wolverine landed a final punch to knock him unconscious.
"That's the only thing I'll ever teach you, Bub," Wolverine panted. "Never just assume you've won."
Quicksilver raced through the files on X-Factor's computer database, searching for the stored information on Warren Worthington III, also known as Archangel. He soon located a phone number and immediately picked up a nearby telephone and dialed.
"Worthington residence," came a tired-sounding voice after a few rings.
"I need to speak with Mr. Worthington," Quicksilver demanded.
"I'm sorry, sir," the butler declined the request. "But Mr. Worthington is preoccupied at this time. I would advise to call back at a later-"
"Look, this is an emergency," Quicksilver pleaded. "Tell Worthington that it's Quicksilver of X-Factor. He'll take the call."
"Just a moment, sir," was the reply, and minute later, Worthington's voice could be heard.
"Pietro? What's going on?" he asked.
"Warren," Quicksilver heaved a relieved sigh. "I need your help. I need to contact Betsy."
"And you're assuming I know where she is?" Worthington questioned. "You know that she likes to remain anonymous."
"This is important, Warren," Quicksilver frowned. "The X-Men need her help."
"Then why are you-"
"Wolverine gave me the orders to contact you," he cut him off. "X-Factor is helping the X-Men control the riots because there's something bigger going down."
"And what's that?"
"A possible confrontation between the Brotherhood and the newly reformed Friends of Humanity. It's likely that Mystique wants to pick up where Magneto left off in leading the mutant revolution, and, as if that wasn't enough, Morph's been kidnapped. Now, Jean needs Betsy's help to find the Brotherhood with Cerebro before it's too late."
Worthington was silent for a moment, and then spoke. "I'll give her the message."
"Thank you."
Warren Worthington III slowly replaced the telephone receiver on the cradle and ran his fingers through his long blond hair. It was always something like this that kept him from leading a normal life. He wanted nothing more than to go back into that bedroom and pretend he'd never had that conversation.
He turned around and met the gaze of Betsy Braddock, known to a minimal number of acquaintances as Psylocke, watching him from his bedroom doorway.
"Trouble?" she asked.
"Looks like it."
She walked forward and traced her finger up his muscular chest. "Then we'll have to continue this later," she smiled, and kissed him softly. "Let's go."
"Yoo-hoo, anybody home?" Wolverine's gruff voice rang down the hallways of the Xavier Institute. He was carrying the laptop in one hand, and Avalanche over his shoulder, the blood from his injury staining Wolverine's costume. "We got us a visitor."
"What's going on, Logan?" Jubilee walked down the stairs, rubbing her eyes. Her short hair was mussed and she wore a yellow and white nightgown. "Where have you been all night?"
"Huntin'," he smirked. "You mind the sight of blood, kid?"
"It makes me queasy," she nodded, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Why?"
"Don't look."
So, of course, she looked.
"Oh my God, Logan!" she exclaimed. "What happened out there?"
"Met up with Rocky, here," he indicated Avalanche with a nod of his head.
"I-is he-?"
"He's alive, but I gotta get him to the Infirmary. I think he's gonna be the answer to our little 'where's the Brotherhood holdin' up?' problem."
"I-I gotta sit down for a second," Jubilee stammered, her face going pale.
"Look, kid, just take a deep breath and run and get Hank for me, okay?" Wolverine bargained. "You can chuck your chili after that."
"R-right," she nodded, scampering back up the stairway.
"Something's wrong."
Velocity looked up at the sound of Toad's voice. "What?"
Toad shook his head, punching the keys on the keyboard in front of him. "I've got the satellite signal rigged, all these computers are networked properly, but I can't get through to Mystique. Something's gone sodding wrong."
"Maybe it's a crossed wire?" she suggested. He shifted his gaze and glared at her. "Sorry, nevermind," she backpedaled.
"It's nothing I've done," he scowled. "Something's wrong back home."
The sun's rays broke the horizon, and the sound of a buzzer disturbed the thoughts of Cyclops and Storm as they sat in the War Room. Cyclops looked up at one of the many monitors and raised an eyebrow at the sight of the sleek woman at the front door.
"X-Men?" Psylocke spoke into the intercom after ringing the buzzer again. "Jean? Anybody there?"
"Cyclops here," he confirmed. "How did you get past security?"
"Accomplished ninja thief, duh."
Cyclops frowned. "What are you doing here?"
"Wolverine sent for me," she spoke as if it were obvious. "I'm here to give Jean a break from Cerebro. C'mon, Cyke, get on the ball here."
"Uh," Cyclops glanced at Storm. She shook her head, indicating that she knew nothing of the arrangement. "I don't know anything about this. I'm going to make sure you're telling the truth," he replied, not liking how she was making him sound stupid. He spoke into the commlink for the mansion. "Wolverine? Psylocke just showed up, claiming to be here on invitation from you. Know anything about it?"
"Yeah, Cyke," Wolverine replied. "I figured we could use all the help we could get, y'know?"
Cyclops turned back to the intercom for the front door. "Alright, you're clear," he told Psylocke, and she grinned, openly amused by his attempt to swallow his pride.
"I knew I was forgettin' to tell him somethin'," Wolverine smirked. "I'm gonna hear about it later, too." He turned back to Beast. "So what's the diagnosis, doc?"
"Mr. Alvers' condition has stabilized," Beast replied, without looking up from the heart-rate monitor he was setting up. "But he is very fortunate, Logan. You missed puncturing his lung by a hair's breadth."
"Lucky I was in a good mood then, eh?" Wolverine replied sarcastically, and Beast rolled his eyes.
Wolverine quietly observed as Beast finished with the monitor. Avalanche lay unconscious on the white hospital bed, hooked up to both the monitor and an IV unit. His arm was tightly bound across his chest, hindering his shoulder from moving to prevent any further damage to the wound. The last thing he needed was torn muscles or severed nerves, if there weren't already.
"It is my professional opinion that Mr. Alvers be taken to a hospital as soon as possible," Beast stated. "I can only do so much without the necessary equipment. And while he has received the proper medical attention, I simply do not have the time to monitor his condition. I'm afraid there is much on my proverbial plate, at the moment."
"Ya done good, Hank," Wolverine assured him. "I'll take 'im in soon as I get some answers."
"Do as you must, Logan," Beast replied. "But his blood loss was great. It will be some time before he regains consciousness."
"I'll be here when he does, you can count on that."
"Bloody hell," Toad shook his head. "This is pissing me right off. They must've turned off the damn computer. I sodding well told them not to do that!"
Velocity bit her lower lip. "This isn't like Mystique at all," she stated. "Something must have happened. Is there any other way we can contact them?"
Toad wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Well, yeah. We can call 'em, but the whole point of the computer was so we wouldn't have to. Phone calls are too damn easy to trace, and I know the cops have my line tapped. All they need is one bloody shred of evidence and they'll lock me up for good."
"Could you use the scrambler?" she asked after a few minutes of thinking.
"Theoretically, yes," he nodded. "But it's possible that the scrambler could completely warp the signal. We wouldn't be able to hear each other."
"But the call would be untraceable?"
"Yes, again, in theory."
"Keep trying to connect," she said, standing up and messing his gelled hair. "We'll use the call as a last resort."
"Check," he replied, and continued his efforts to contact Mystique, all the while mumbling something about Blob probably spilling something in the circuitry.
Velocity walked down the corridors to the mess hall and prepared two food trays then carried them to the detention block of the compound. In one cell, Graydon Creed sat huddled in the corner. Next door was Morph (who had been forced to wear an inhibitor collar) sitting on the hard bed, regarding her with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk.
"What?" she gave in.
"Just hypothesizing why you would once again grace me with your presence," he grinned. "Can't get me outta your head, am I right?"
"Morph," she concealed her smile. "Don't start."
"Hey, I'm serious," Morph persisted. "Come on, Nadia. This sexual tension between us has gone on way too long." He got off the bed and made his way over to where she stood on the other side of the bars. "Just this once, why can't we disregard the whole good-guy-vs-bad-girl protocol and indulge our primal urges? Though, if I may backpedal for a moment, I must say the bad girl thing is a definite turn on."
Velocity's green eyes locked with his. Morph had been playing these games all week, and Velocity, who, more often than not, had found herself with nothing better to do, had been visiting rather often. She found it amusing listening to whatever new ploy to convince her to let him out that he'd come up with.
"Face it, Nadia, we were meant to be. Just forget Pyro because you can't fight fate, babe. And, y'know, I can take any form you want if you'd just be kind enough to remove this little inhibitor collar..."
"Uh huh, nice try," she nodded. "But I'm afraid that taking off that collar and having you turn into Mr. Fantastic and squeezing through these bars-" she shoved the food tray through the slot, ramming Morph in the stomach, "-just wouldn't be that smart, now would it?"
"By whose perspective?" Morph grinned.
"Better luck next time," she smirked, and left after leaving the other tray in Creed's cell.
Morph watched her go, and then turned to Creed. "I've got her exactly where I want her," he joked, then picked up the tray, returned to the bed, and prepared to eat his meal.
Jean?
The first thought that crossed Jean Grey's mind was that, somehow, the Professor was trying to contact her from across the cosmos. This bit of hope was dismissed, however, when she realized the telepathic voice was feminine, and one she'd not heard in quite some time.
"Betsy?" Jean opened her eyes, breaking her link with Cerebro.
"Hey, girl," Psylocke replied, walking toward her. Jean removed Cerebro's helmet, stood, and embraced the raven-haired ninja. Psylocke's mind told Jean her reason for being there. "How you doin'?"
"I've been better," Jean answered honestly.
"You look it. No offence."
"None taken."
The two telepaths, though they hadn't known each other long, spoke as if they were old friends, due to the unique connection they shared. It was the same connection they shared with the minds of the other telepaths who had been held hostage by Apocalypse in the Axis of Time.
"Get outta here and take a nap," Psylocke ordered, smiling. "I think I can figure out how this sucker works."
Jean stifled her yawn, and then nodded. "Thanks, Betsy." She left the room, and Psylocke look her seat in front of Cerebro.
"Stylish," she remarked as she picked up the helmet and put it on her head. "Okay, Cerebro, baby. Whadda we got so far? Any recent mutant activity?"
"Welcome, Psylocke," Cerebro replied. "Confirmed mutant activity occurred at oh-two-hundred hours last night. Mutant identified: Lance Alvers. Codename: Avalanche. Affiliation: Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. Age-"
"Blah, blah, blah, and Wolverine opened up a can of whoop-ass on him, then brought him here to the Infirmary," Psylocke cut in. "I know all that already. Any information on the other missing Brotherhood members?"
"There have been no further instances of activity from any of the mutants I am currently programmed to locate."
"Let's see if we can't change that."
Toad still sat, staring blankly at the computer screen, head resting in his hands. Only his eyes moved as he watched Pyro enter the control room, continuously looking over his shoulder.
"Why do I have the creepiest feeling that Sabretooth is watching me everywhere I go?" he asked.
"'Cause he probably is?"
"Wish I knew where that creep is," Pyro walked over to Toad and sat in the chair next to him, putting his feet up on the desk. "He hasn't even threatened my life all week. It's freakin' me out." Toad smirked at the sarcasm. "So, how's it goin'?"
"They're disconnected," he frowned. "I'm gonna call and find out if I should just make the transmission from here."
"Might as well, mate. Obviously Mystique doesn't think it's important enough to do herself."
"I think it's something more than that. I just don't know what."
"Right, well, give 'er a ring then, mate, an' see what's what."
Toad rose from his chair and picked up the receiver from the nearby telephone. Picking up his small scrambling device, he slowly unscrewed the mouthpiece and carefully connected the object to the gadgetry inside. This procedure completed, Toad held the receiver to his ear and dialed the number for his apartment in New York.
The phone rang.
Mystique awoke suddenly, startled by the loud noise in the previously silent apartment. She'd fallen asleep on the couch that Avalanche had been sitting on hours earlier. Blob and Avalanche were nowhere to be seen, and she assumed that they were sleeping elsewhere in the apartment.
She jumped off the couch and ran to the phone, answering on the fourth ring.
"Hello?"
"What the bloody hell is going on over there? Why can't I sodding well get through to you on the God-damn computer?"
Mystique winced, realizing that she'd made a serious mistake. "Toad, I'm so sorry, it's my fault. I thought something was wrong with the computer and sent Avalanche to have it checked out last night."
"Tell me you did not just say that."
She didn't respond, and there was a heavy growl on the other side. The next voice Mystique heard was Pyro's, and Toad could be heard swearing in the background.
"Crykie, did you ever piss him off!" Pyro commented.
"We can still proceed to the next phase," she told him. "I want you to make the transmission from there."
"Why? Just hook the computer back up and Morty'll patch ya through."
"Alright," she nodded. "Avalanche? Where did you put the computer?" After a moment with no response, she called again. "Lance?"
Blob emerged from the adjacent bedroom, sleepy-eyed. "He ain't here, boss," he shook his head. "He never came back last night."
Mystique was at a loss for words, but Pyro had heard.
"Mystique," he was obviously speaking through clenched teeth, worried about his best friend, "if anything's happened to him, I swear I'll-"
"What's wrong now?" Toad's voice interrupted.
"Lance is missing," Pyro relayed. "With the computer."
Toad cursed loud enough for Mystique to hear then took back the receiver.
"Mystique, I'll send the transmission from here, but you need to get out of that apartment."
"Why?"
"My line's tapped. I scrambled this transmission so they won't be able to trace it, but as soon as we contact Kelly, the X-Men are gonna hear about something going on at my place. Get out fast, and try to find Avalanche. We'll meet at the rendezvous point on schedule."
"Check, see you then." She hung up and turned to Blob. "Pack up, we're moving."
Toad lowered the telephone receiver to the cradle, and then released his furious grip. "She always has to make everything so God-damn difficult," he spoke in just over a whisper, rubbing his temples.
"Don't you worry your pretty little head over it, mate," Pyro trashed a piece of paper he'd absently picked up and begun to read, and Toad raised an eyebrow at the remark. "She's just having her fun playing leader while the rest of us do the work. She'll get hers."
"And you're not worried about Lance?"
Pyro shrugged. "'Course I'm worried, but Lance is a big boy. 'E knows how to look after himself. 'E's just had a minor setback, I'll wager."
"You hope."
"Yeah, well..." Pyro trailed off, scratching his head. He stood up and asked, "You know where Nadia is?"
"She was here before you left."
"And that helps me how? Where is she now?"
Toad scribbled something from the screen onto a piece of paper and shrugged. "Beats me," he replied, chewing on the end of the pencil in his hand.
Pyro wandered over to one of the other computers and began to click the mouse button, seemingly searching for something. "Damn bastard," he stated after a few moments.
"What?"
"Surveillance cam twelve."
Toad brought up the image on his screen and observed Morph sitting in his cell. "Wow, would you look at that," he remarked sarcastically. "I can't believe he'd have the audacity to be doing absolutely nothing. Good eye, Johnny, someone oughtta go down there and beat the bloody hell out of him for being so damn co-operative." He turned and discovered that if looks could kill, Pyro would be his assassin. Toad grinned.
"Okay, smart-ass, I meant that he's eating," Pyro retorted. "And since you and I are here, and Sabretooth doesn't deliver, that means that Nadia brought it to him."
"So?"
"So it wasn't her job today! Why the hell is she always going down there? I bet something's going on between-"
"Okay, you need to sit down and shut up," Toad interrupted him. Surprised, Pyro complied. "Nadia's integrity is not in question here. You realize that she could have any guy she wanted, right?"
"Yeah-"
"Yeah, but she chose you."
"Ouch, mate."
"Deal with it," Toad furrowed his eyebrows. "And stop acting like such a jackass."
Velocity was on her way back to the control room, and she spotted Sabretooth standing beside the doorway, staying out of sight from those within.
"What are you doing?" she asked curiously.
"Eavesdropping."
"Not really your style, is it?"
"Yeah, well, I followed Idiot-Boy here and figured they wouldn't say anything interesting if I was in the room," he bared his feline teeth in a grin.
"And have they?"
"Lance is missing, we're making the transmission now, and your boyfriend doesn't trust you," he replied, listing off the high points of the conversation.
"Shit. I hope Lance is okay. It's not like him to..." what he had said finally clicked, "...wait, what did you say?"
"He thinks you're fooling around with the pint-sized shapeshifter," Sabretooth was eager to cause a little trouble, and hopefully see Pyro get dumped on his skinny ass.
Velocity frowned. Why would he think that? she wondered, her face showing visible distress. She looked up at Sabretooth, who was watching her reaction carefully.
"I meant the part about us making the transmission, Hairball," she regained her dominating attitude. "As ranking officer on this mission, it'll be my responsibility to talk to Kelly." She pushed past him and he grinned again; he'd always liked her spunk. He followed her into the room.
"Alright, boys, playtime is over," she announced. "Toad, hook up that scrambler. I don't want Kelly tracing this transmission back here. Pyro and Sabretooth, go pack up the helicopter."
Toad immediately set to work, and Pyro stopped for a moment before joining Sabretooth.
"Nadia, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked her.
"I'm sorry, John," she shook her head. "We have to get this finished and rendezvous with the others. Lance could be in trouble. We can talk on the helicopter."
"Oh...kay," he was a bit surprised that she wouldn't take the moment to speak with him, and followed the oddly-grinning Sabretooth out to the storage building.