Author's note:
I'd like to take this time to thank DemonRogue13 for sending me my first
review! Thank you! Anyway, I'm sure as you all know by now, I do not own X-
men evolution or any of its characters (except Rikhel, who hasn't been
introduced yet so it doesn't matter() Anyway, for anybody that likes OCs,
she will be introduced in this chapter, so READ ON! Thank you.
Taking Pietro to the hospital would probably have been the wisest thing to do, but that would also have involved explaining the speedster's unusually high metabolism and humming heart-beat...so the idea was vetoed. Instead, Lance tore an old black work shirt into strands and tied them around Pietro's bloodied hand, creating a make-shift bandage. Cleaning the remainder of Pietro's wounds, on the other hand, would most likely prove a greater challenge. Deep cuts around his eyes would make it hard for Lance to keep the alcohol swabbing to only the wounds, especially with the amount of squirming Pietro was doing. "OW, would you cut it! It BURNS! IT FREEEEZES!" "Oh, would you stop being such a baby! It's just gonna burn a little, and it wouldn't hurt so much if you'd hold still!" Pietro limited his movement to an occasional eye-roll or spasm, but still held the un- mistakable look of a young child being forced into something as horrible as, say, vegetables. "C'mon Lance, would you hurry up?!" "Ya, ya; I hear you. Just keep that up and I'll consider dipping that hand of yours in this stuff." "I'm keeping STILL; what more do you want?!?" Lance still wasn't quite sure how Pietro had suddenly found all this energy, when not even an hour ago he could barely stand up...wait, an hour ago?! Lance turned suddenly and stared blankly at the wall clock, which had somehow survived Pietro's little fit. 7:39...that couldn't be right! "Aw shit! Look what you did Pietro; I'm late!" Pietro shot his friend a puzzled look. "Late? For what?" Lance had already started up toward his room at break-neck speeds. "Airport huff puff...sister, late to pick up huff puff sister!" About 2 minutes later, he re-emerged fully-dressed in his usual attire and tightly clutching his car keys. Before running out the door into the cold November morning, he turned again to Pietro. "I want this house at least presentable by the time I get back, or...or...no more sugar!" With that said, Lance trudged out, slamming the door behind him; leaving an awestruck and half-bandaged Pietro lying in the middle of their living room floor. "Sister; Lance has a sister?!?"
The airport was, as Lance expected, quite crowded. "Jesus, how many people could possibly be coming to Bayville for the holidays? We're right smack in the middle of bum-fuck Egypt!" Looking around, Lance seriously hoped that when he found his sister, she'd recognize him, cause he sure as hell wouldn't be able to find her in all this- "Excuse me; I'm looking for a Lance Alvers, has anybody by that name been to the desk?" A thin blond woman behind the counter looked over at the teenager. "I'm sorry little girl, but nobody by that name has checked in yet. Would you like me to call for him?" "No, thanks anyway...I'll just call him." Lance turned quickly to face the main desk, and sure enough, there she was; Rikhel. Even though he was 3 years older than her, they still looked quite a good deal alike. She had inherited his chocolate-brown eyes, pink complexion, and brown hair (which had been colored a light burgundy). She wore black-rimmed eye glasses that magnified her eyes just the right amount, and a curvy hour-glass figure...just like their mother. But there was something completely new; broad silver wings protruded from her back, which she had folded against her sides. "HEY, KHEL! Need a ride, sis?"
Pietro reached down for another piece of broken glass. It was odd; try as he might, his memory of the night before was slowly waning. He remembered the TV, smashing that son of a bitch for everything he was worth. He'd seen something that really made him mad, heard something that made him snap...but what? He chucked a shard of glass in frustration, narrowly missing Toad, who had been making his way down the stairs to the kitchen. "Um...good morning to you too, yo." Pietro turned; he hadn't meant for anybody to see him do that, but it didn't really matter anyway. Toad made his way cautiously around more shards of glass and splintered picture frames. "What the hell were you doing down here?" "I guess I just, you know, spaced out." Toad turned to face Pietro, opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. "Suuuure, whatever. Look, do you know where Lance is? He was supposed to make breakfast this morning, yo." "Ya, he went to go pick up his sister at the airport...do you know anything about us having company?" Toad shrugged "Maybe I do, maybe I don't; that all depends on whether or not you're gonna make breakfast." "NO I am not going to make breakfast, I-" But before he could finish, Toad had already turned around and started hopping back up the stairs, closing his door behind him. Pietro heard the muffled voice of his teammate through the door. "No breakfast, no info. Wake me up again when Lance shows, yo."
It wasn't too much longer before Pietro heard the crunch of gravel outside as Lance's jeep pulled into the driveway, accompanied by a young girl. Pietro didn't bother to look up when he heard the front door open, to be honest, he couldn't have cared less.
"Ya Khel, you're really gonna like it here. We got lots of room, and cable, and food- OH SHIT! Food, breakfast! Um...how does Chinese sound to you? Pizza? Whatever you want, I'll-" "Lance, chill out! I'm your sister, not the prime minister. Besides, I'm not really hungry and...what happened here?!"
Taking Pietro to the hospital would probably have been the wisest thing to do, but that would also have involved explaining the speedster's unusually high metabolism and humming heart-beat...so the idea was vetoed. Instead, Lance tore an old black work shirt into strands and tied them around Pietro's bloodied hand, creating a make-shift bandage. Cleaning the remainder of Pietro's wounds, on the other hand, would most likely prove a greater challenge. Deep cuts around his eyes would make it hard for Lance to keep the alcohol swabbing to only the wounds, especially with the amount of squirming Pietro was doing. "OW, would you cut it! It BURNS! IT FREEEEZES!" "Oh, would you stop being such a baby! It's just gonna burn a little, and it wouldn't hurt so much if you'd hold still!" Pietro limited his movement to an occasional eye-roll or spasm, but still held the un- mistakable look of a young child being forced into something as horrible as, say, vegetables. "C'mon Lance, would you hurry up?!" "Ya, ya; I hear you. Just keep that up and I'll consider dipping that hand of yours in this stuff." "I'm keeping STILL; what more do you want?!?" Lance still wasn't quite sure how Pietro had suddenly found all this energy, when not even an hour ago he could barely stand up...wait, an hour ago?! Lance turned suddenly and stared blankly at the wall clock, which had somehow survived Pietro's little fit. 7:39...that couldn't be right! "Aw shit! Look what you did Pietro; I'm late!" Pietro shot his friend a puzzled look. "Late? For what?" Lance had already started up toward his room at break-neck speeds. "Airport huff puff...sister, late to pick up huff puff sister!" About 2 minutes later, he re-emerged fully-dressed in his usual attire and tightly clutching his car keys. Before running out the door into the cold November morning, he turned again to Pietro. "I want this house at least presentable by the time I get back, or...or...no more sugar!" With that said, Lance trudged out, slamming the door behind him; leaving an awestruck and half-bandaged Pietro lying in the middle of their living room floor. "Sister; Lance has a sister?!?"
The airport was, as Lance expected, quite crowded. "Jesus, how many people could possibly be coming to Bayville for the holidays? We're right smack in the middle of bum-fuck Egypt!" Looking around, Lance seriously hoped that when he found his sister, she'd recognize him, cause he sure as hell wouldn't be able to find her in all this- "Excuse me; I'm looking for a Lance Alvers, has anybody by that name been to the desk?" A thin blond woman behind the counter looked over at the teenager. "I'm sorry little girl, but nobody by that name has checked in yet. Would you like me to call for him?" "No, thanks anyway...I'll just call him." Lance turned quickly to face the main desk, and sure enough, there she was; Rikhel. Even though he was 3 years older than her, they still looked quite a good deal alike. She had inherited his chocolate-brown eyes, pink complexion, and brown hair (which had been colored a light burgundy). She wore black-rimmed eye glasses that magnified her eyes just the right amount, and a curvy hour-glass figure...just like their mother. But there was something completely new; broad silver wings protruded from her back, which she had folded against her sides. "HEY, KHEL! Need a ride, sis?"
Pietro reached down for another piece of broken glass. It was odd; try as he might, his memory of the night before was slowly waning. He remembered the TV, smashing that son of a bitch for everything he was worth. He'd seen something that really made him mad, heard something that made him snap...but what? He chucked a shard of glass in frustration, narrowly missing Toad, who had been making his way down the stairs to the kitchen. "Um...good morning to you too, yo." Pietro turned; he hadn't meant for anybody to see him do that, but it didn't really matter anyway. Toad made his way cautiously around more shards of glass and splintered picture frames. "What the hell were you doing down here?" "I guess I just, you know, spaced out." Toad turned to face Pietro, opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. "Suuuure, whatever. Look, do you know where Lance is? He was supposed to make breakfast this morning, yo." "Ya, he went to go pick up his sister at the airport...do you know anything about us having company?" Toad shrugged "Maybe I do, maybe I don't; that all depends on whether or not you're gonna make breakfast." "NO I am not going to make breakfast, I-" But before he could finish, Toad had already turned around and started hopping back up the stairs, closing his door behind him. Pietro heard the muffled voice of his teammate through the door. "No breakfast, no info. Wake me up again when Lance shows, yo."
It wasn't too much longer before Pietro heard the crunch of gravel outside as Lance's jeep pulled into the driveway, accompanied by a young girl. Pietro didn't bother to look up when he heard the front door open, to be honest, he couldn't have cared less.
"Ya Khel, you're really gonna like it here. We got lots of room, and cable, and food- OH SHIT! Food, breakfast! Um...how does Chinese sound to you? Pizza? Whatever you want, I'll-" "Lance, chill out! I'm your sister, not the prime minister. Besides, I'm not really hungry and...what happened here?!"