Just a little bit of pimp-age/plugging: Some sketchy illustrations for this story and "I'm Still Here" as well as just Toad sketches in general have found their way onto my deviant art gallery. Eventually I'm going to sit myself down and do some serious illos. (/end pimpage)

BTW, I write to music, and while it doesn't fit this chapter, the song that I think works well for what both Gabby and Mort are feeling now is Matchbox 20's "Push." Not so much the refrain, but the attitude. 1stpart of Verse 1 and 2cd part of Verse 2 are Mortie, and vice versa for Gabby (2cd of v1, 1st of v2). *shrug* This chapter ended up going in a different direction, but the song works for them anyway, I think. You can bet Gabby's pissed.... ANYWAY!

Toad, Magneto, BrotherHood and X-men (c) Marvel. Jake Falco's mine...wanna trade?

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Mortimer Toynbee --Toad-- walked mechanically down the pavement, avoiding the street lamps and listening to the hollow echo of his footsteps. In the soft, sacred stillness that preceded the dawn, he felt as though he were the only living thing in the city. The sun had not quite risen yet and long, blue shadows crept across faded brick walls and down the concrete before his bare feet. He shivered; despite it being mid-September, the air was chilly and moist. He walked on, lost in his own thoughts, the murmur of the sleeping city rising gradually as it woke to another day. A new start.

And Toad--no, Mortimer--no, Toad-- was determined to treat it like one.


Toad fingered the remaining fifty cents in his pocket, staring out of the bus window as the sunlight began to seep over the buildings. Most of the ten he had used at a dingy thrift shop to buy a hooded jacket and a cheap pair of shoes. The rest, except for the two quarters, had gone towards busfare. He self-consciously tugged at the hood, making sure that it covered his face, and kept his head bent. One of his few fellow passengers--a tired-looking woman-glanced at him curiously. He hunched his shoulders away from her and dug a folded-up paper from his pocket. A small twinge of guilt shot through him; the ten dollars mentioned in his note hadn't been the only thing he had stole-'Borrowed! Borrowed!' Carefully he smoothed out the photograph that he had swiped. It had been in the back on a small shelf of photos, a snapshot of Gabby in a black karate uniform-'A gi, that's what Brother-Sensei called them,' he remembered.-- one hand ruffling a blonde child's hair, the other resting casually on a black belt embroidered with gold letters. She was grinning playfully up at the camera. On the back of the photo was written in red ink "Rose's Red Belt Ceremony: 10/24/02." He hadn't really intended to take the photo--he had just been looking at the pictures on the shelf when this one had caught his eye. There had been two copies of it in the frame and without even knowing what he had been doing, he'd stuffed one of them in his pocket. He still wasn't sure why he'd taken it -'After all, I should just forget her and get back to business as usual. She'll probably do the same', he reasoned, folding it up and shoving it back into his pocket. -- but some small part of him was glad that he had.

The bus pulled to a smoke-belching stop outside of an airport. Toad sighed and pushed himself from the cold, uncomfortable seat. He had a long walk ahead of him.

"Falco's Private Air Services and Garage, how th'hell kin I help--" The scrawny, grease-stained man behind the counter trailed off as he recognized the mutant who had just walked into his office. Mortimer raised an eyebrow and inclined his head with a forced, predatory grin.

"'Ello, Jake." The smaller man fumbled with something on his desk and hurried to stand up, running a nervous hand through his greasy gray hair.

"H-hey. Hey," he said again. "I thought youse was all dead or something. Um, good ta see ya alive an' all, T-man."

"I'm sure. And it's Toad." Toad had little patience with the fidgety, fast-talking mutant or the nick-names that he had been given by him since he had joined the Brotherhood. Jake blinked his large eyes rapidly and nodded, bobbing his head up and down, birdlike.

"Right, right. Well, like I said, glad ta see yer doin' all right, and, ah--"

"M'copter, Jake," said Toad, leaning on the desk. "I need it."

"Ah, yeah, well...about that...y'see-" Toad calmly grabbed the man by the lapels of his filthy mechanic's cover-all and narrowed his eyes.

"Where's my copter, Jake?"

"Well, it's just...after Magneto got caught an' all...well, bein' associated wit' you guys suddenly didn't seem like such a hot career move and--"

"Jake..."

"I sold it, okay. Found a nice buyer, hobbyist-type, who didn't ask questions. Whaddaya want it for anyway? Y'haven't used it in months!"

"You sold my bloody helicopter?!?" Toad's fist tightened around the smaller mutant's collar. True, the helicopter had technically belonged to Magneto, but over the past nine years Toad had put so much blood, sweat, and swearing into the wretched machine that he considered it more his than anything. He had learned the basics of mechanics on it. He could always coax it to do just what he needed, or swear at it until it complied. It had been like a pet, a best friend, almost. And now... "You did not bleeding sell MY helicopter!"

Jake cowered in the face of the green mutant's wrath, holding up his thin hands to shield himself, while babbling incoherent but feverent apologies.

"Look, Toad, I didn't want to! Honest, I didn't, but the Feds already started snoopin' around the private airlines. They know I'm a mutant; I'm on their sh*t-list, nothin' I can do about it! If they woulda come, they woulda found that an'...well, you know Feds! If one'a youse guys had left so much as a friggen candy wrapper here, they woulda been able to trace it to youse, an' then where would I be?"

"It's only been four bloody days, Jake," growled Toad menacingly. "No way you coulda found a buyer in that time. You've had this set up for a good long while, haven't you?" Jake's large eyes darted frantically around the room. Toad shook him by the collar once, jolting his gaze back to him.

"Well, maybe I did show the guy around a few times before. He said he liked your 'copter, nothin' I did. Said the engine had been worked on real sweet an' all. Liked the way it ran."

"You let him fly my 'copter?!" The slightly hysterical edge crept back into Toad's voice and Jake cringed.

"Only once. I-I couldn't think of a good excuse not ta let him..."

"Y'mean aside from the fact that it wasn't yours?!" Toad growled again, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. With a frustrated snarl he threw the smaller mutant back. Turning, he raked a hand through his hair, trying to focus on what was important. 'But my 'copter...' a tiny voice whimpered. After a few moments of fighting for control, Toad turned back to face the cowering mutant.

"I need somethin' that'll fly." Jake nodded feverently, grateful that he wasn't about to be torn apart by a mutant terrorist that he had personally seen kick holes in uncooperative machinery.

"Right, right. No pro'lem at all. Jus' you wait, I'll fix you up with somethin' nice. I got this solid little Longbow Apache, military salvage. Runs real nice. An' seein' as how you're my buddy, I'll cut you a sweet deal on her..." Toad crossed his arms and eyed Jake cooly.

"Seein' as how you bloody sold my 'copter, that th' Boss was payin' you to house here, without even so much as bloody asking, mate, I'd say that you owe me the heap, an' then some."

"What, for free? Ah, come on, Toad. Guys like me, we gotta live too, y'know." Toad leaned over the desk on one arm and looked directly into the other man's dark, inhuman eyes.

"Nah, I really don' think y'do."

Jake's face paled visibly, and his already enormous eyes seemed to grow even larger. Toad was almost certain the man was going to wet himself. For about a minute he sat there, staring speechlessly up at the threatening green mutant who was looming over him, trying to form words, but somewhat forgetting how. After a long silence, he nodded shakily and somehow managed to stand up.

"R-right...follow me..."

An hour later he was over the Atlantic, the dull chopping hum of the blades droning angrily in the noonday sky. Toad cursed under his breath and jiggled the wheel. Bloody piece of crap. It kept pulling to the right. He made a mental note to start fixing it as soon as things were back to normal. There was no way it could ever replace his 'copter, he thought with a sense of loss, but he might as well get started now, and maybe by the time Magneto got back this sorry hunk of metal would be sky-worthy. He smiled to himself, mentally cataloguing what would probably have to be done first. See to the steering, obviously, which would mean...Ah, he couldn't wait to be back up to his elbows inside an engine again. Machines were so wonderfully reliable. Even the unreliably reliable ones. Not like people or life. With a machine, all you had to do was find the right part, turn it, replace it, clean it, whatever, and the thing ran like new. It was simple and logical. You just had to figure out what was wrong, what you wanted to happen, and then fixing it was easy. No matter what was wrong, you could do something about it and fix it. It's be so nice if life were even remotely like that. But no...in life, finding out what was wrong was the easy part. And then, good bloody luck trying to fix it. There weren't any set rules for life, no guide-lines, not even so much as a "How to...For Dummies" book. The only thing you could do was look out for yourself and take what you could. Yeah, machines were a hell of a lot better.

Toad squinted at a dark shape that was growing a little bit too his left. He adjusted his path toward it and grinned as a stark, black island came into focus.

Home.

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Hmm...Jake Falco...another one of those characters who just popped up. Hell, once he started talking, he wouldn't shut up. He'll probably whinge his way into "I'm Still Here." ...y'know, I've been going out of my way for the past 12 chapters to avoid having Toad call the lair "home" and then he just does it here to spite me. There was also supposed to be a lot of introspective thinking , but Toad told me he's tired of thinking and just wants to pretend everything's okay...yah, sure, buddy...^_~