Chapter Four
Some Kind of Stranger

"All my words are secondhand and
Useless in the face of this
Rationale and rhyme and reason
Pale beside a single kiss."
- the Sisters of Mercy

He was a living cliché.

I mean, really, you think "rock star" and immediately wot comes ter mind is a bloke in leather trousers with too-long hair and a sort of lurking sexuality, doin' lines off a groupie's breast.

An' that roit there pretty much sums up Aleister Ashbury. After the first gig in London he invited me ter come with 'im t'some sort of party that eventually wound up in his hotel room. Celebrities and half-naked women (girls, really) writhed every which-way; booze and pills and god-knows-wot-else were available to all and sundry, and Ashbury was at the center of it all, lounging on a leather sofa like a decadent king in a chaotic kingdom.

I wanted to be him.

Speakin' of the gig... it was quite possibly the most fantastic moment of me life.

I was eerily calm prior t'me first performance as Ashbury's opening act. Paige kept flitting about, but I 'ardly noticed her, or anyone else for that matter. I was at the center of the storm, just waiting. Perfectly serene as I took me place on stage, in the dark. It was only in the moments before the lights went up, lookin' out at the sea of anonymous faces bobbin' in the gloom that I felt something - a thick, anxious knot coiling at the base of me spine. My guts - wot's left of em - were leaden, hot and heavy, but my mind was remarkably clear and detached, and I thought t'meself: 'ere we go.

And when I started ter play?

Heh. All aboard the Express Kundalini.

I remember sittin in Emma's office once with Monet for one of Emma's psi-training sessions. That particular day, Emma decided t'lecture us on wot she called 'the group mind.'

She said that with crowds an' such, situations can arise when all their attention is focused on one object, provided it's something they feel emotional about.

"When a person's emotions are stirred towards an object or person or what have you," Emma had said, "they pour out psionic energy. Whether they notice it consciously or not, this affects everyone nearby, especially if the others in the crowd are focused on the same object." She'd gone on ter say that this was why perfectly sane, normal people who under normal circumstances wouldn't hurt a fly can wind up part of a bloodthirsty mob.

"Now, knowing this," Emma 'ad said and grinned a trifle evilly, "you of course realize that if you can influence the emotions and thoughts of the crowd before the inception of the Group Mind, you can control the entire herd."

Then she and Monet 'ad sort of given me the "poor Jono with 'is shoddy telepathic skills" look and gone on ter some related topic.

Standin' there on stage, I could feel the Group Mind as a sort of amorphous fog. An' when I started ter 'sing', I suddenly realized that Ashbury had been right - their emotions were mine. I could play em like I played me guitar if I wanted to.

The question was... how far would I go with that? There's a difference between nudgin' someone's emotions and bloody mind-controlling 'em, after all, but when exactly do you cross the line?

That question still plagued me as I watched Ashbury's drummer pick a groupie up over one shoulder and carry 'er, squealing, out of the room. I was so wrapped up in me own thoughts that I didn't notice that Ashbury 'ad slid off the couch and sat down next ter me until he whispered in me ear: "Thinking deep thoughts?"

I couldn't help it - I jumped. He laughed at that and moved his head back, smiling.

Naw, not really.

Ashbury shook his head slowly. "You're a liar," he said, soundin' somewhat amused. "You're troubled, I can tell."

I knew that he could tell I was upset somehow, and denying it might arouse suspicion. I looked around and me eye landed on the group of girls getting' utterly wasted while the remaining band members circled em like hungry wolves. Ashbury followed my gaze and grinned.

"Oi, you there!" he called ter a sweet looking blonde who was currently 'aving a hard time walking in high heels. He gestured an' she wobbled over, damn near collapsing onto Ashbury. He smiled and pushed her onto me. "This here is my good friend Jonothon," he told 'er, and she giggled. "He's my new opening act."

She looked at me. "Oh, wow," she said. She had big blue eyes an' I was reminded uncomfortably of Paige as she squirmed in me lap. "Never 'eard anything like that before. You were incredible!"

Ashbury was watching me. I could see him over the girl's shoulder.

I had confessed t'Bobby once that while I was seeing Gayle I wasn't exactly faithful. I really did love that gel, and the others didn't mean anything ter me, but that didn't make it right. I look back at it now and wonder how I could have done it. I mean, I understand the whole hormonal urge thing, but what I can no longer understand is how casually I could treat real love like dirt. I was a different person then, I guess.

Which is why, I suppose, I shoved the gel off me lap and onto the floor. She hit with a thud and an' 'ooof', and both she and Ashbury looked at me fer an explanation. I ignored the gel, starin' Ashbury in the eye instead.

I don't fuck low-genes anymore, I said simply. Ashbury nodded slowly, and I could tell that he approved of me answer.

I'll see you tomorrow, I said, standing up. This scene was too much to handle at the moment, and I left, trying not to think about Ashbury, Paige, or Bobby.

Especially Bobby.

London passed in a blur. Paige was there constantly; asking me if I'd figured out wot Ashbury was up to yet. I told her no, which was true. The only thing I was relatively sure of was that the man had some sort of psi ability, and I told Paige as much. I got the impression that HQ was getting' a bit impatient, and this added to my desire to avoid Paige as well as I could. I was afraid of facing questions I had no answers for.

It was in Manchester that I got a bit of a surprise. I walked inter the dressing room an' was greeted with the sight of Stacy X lounging all over Ashbury's bassist, neither of em wearing a whole helluva lot.

"Jonothon!" Ashbury greeted me warmly. "Lookit what we found, mate... a mutant groupie." He sidled up ter me and smiled. "She's all yours."

Stacy grinned at me. "Hey, handsome," she said, sliding off the bassist and slinking over t'me. "After the show I was hopin' you could show a poor American girl around a little."

I did my level best to remember how I used t'act towards such advances and casually threw an arm around her waist. We'll see about that, luv, I told her as the other members of the band cackled lewdly.

Stacy and I did wind up retiring to my hotel room together as a matter of fact, although obviously not fer the reasons everyone thought.

I think you impressed them, I told her as she collapsed onto the bed.

"Yeah. It's amazing how popular you are when you can get a guy off with just your little finger." She lifted her head to look at me and grinned. "His bass player is like, in lust with me. 'You get backstage passes t'ALL the shows, luvvy!'" She snorted, and I reflected that her British accent, while horrible, was still better than Bobby's.

"Hey, you keepin' in touch with your boyfriend?"

You'd think SHE was the telepath.

Not really, no. I shrugged. Too risky.

She nodded. "I just figured, you know, since the band there said you won't fuck the groupies..."

I shrugged again, highly uncomfortable. Not the human ones, anyway. Part of the homo-superior act, yer know?

"Yeah, brilliant cover," she responded. "But it is a cover. You wouldn't have made that up unless you didn't want to sleep with those girls for some reason. And I think that that reason has a tendency to wear really bad Hawaiian shirts."

Look, let's just stay focused on the mission, awright? Bleedin' 'ell, I sounded like Worthington.

"Fine." She sighed. "From what I hear from the band, Ashbury's some sort of telepath."

Yeah, that's wot I figured out, too. Still not sure 'ow it works, mind, and I've yet t'catch him mind-controlling the audience.

She sighed. "Brother, nothing's easy."

Glasgow is where things went wrong.

Stacy 'ad managed t'make herself part of the entourage, mostly because Ashbury's bassist really was quite taken with her, or at least with 'er abilities. I found this very bloody amusing.

During the Glasgow concert, I forced meself t'pay attention not t'the music or the scene or anything like that… I stood backstage and tried to remain unobtrusive as I did me level best to reach out telepathically and figure out wot, if anything, Ashbury was doing to the crowd.

Nothing. I got absolutely nothing. In fact, I was starting t'curse me wretched talents as a psi in general when I suddenly realized that something 'ad changed.

It was the Group Mind. We were about halfway through the concert, an' I suddenly realized that the thoughts and emotions of the audience 'ad somehow managed to coalesce into a bloody sentient being!

And it was looking at me.

Bugger.

I stopped wot I was doing immediately and retreated t'the dressing room, shook up. I was so shook up I didn't notice there was anyone else there until a familiar voice said, "Sparky?"

I looked up and saw Jubilee at the door. She shut it behind 'er and came over to me. "Bobby got me backstage," she explained. "Jeez, you okay? You look weird."

I shook me 'ead. I'm fine. But I think I might finally be getting' close t'figuring out wot's goin' on here.

Jubilee nodded. "Good. That's good." She scrutinized me carefully. "Are you REALLY okay, dude?"

I told you, I'm fine, I snapped.

"Okay, okay. I just ask cos Hayseed's worried about you. She says you're spending all your time with Ashbury."

Isn't that wot I'm here t'do? I asked, annoyed. It's the bloody mission, innit?

"Yeah, but she's worried that you're not thinking about the 'bloody mission,'" Jubilee retorted sharply.

Wot's that supposed t'mean? I thought for the second time. Instead I gestured at the door. You better get out of 'ere. Everyone knows I don't fuck human groupies.

She stood. Her lips were very thin. "Yeah. Okay. Good luck, Jono." An' as she left, I think I heard her mutter, "Don't forget what you're here for."

After the show, Ashbury spotted me backstage and head directly for me. Shite, I thought. He knows.

"Jonothon," he said warmly, "come for a ride with us, eh?" I nodded, terrified mute.

A few confused moments later and I was sittin' in a black stretch limo wiv Ashbury and a blonde groupie. The groupie was high on something, but I'll be damned if I know wot.

"So, Jon," he said as the groupie explored the mini-bar. "Noticed you watching the show tonight."

I nodded. Good performance, I offered, and he waved a hand dismissively.

"You weren't watching me."

Shite.

No.

He grinned at me. "Curious?"

Very, I admitted. Ashbury leaned back, casually pushing the groupie over with one elbow. She squawked indignantly before goin' back t'emptying the miniature booze bottles.

"The crowd, it's like they put out this... brain-fog. I can shape it into whatever I like, give it life." 'E sounded pretty fucken smug with himself as 'e told me this. "If that makes any sense."

Sort of, I said, pretending t'understand less than I did.

"I can tell it to do things. Y'know, like with telepathy. It affects the crowd how I instruct it to."

He leaned close, so close that I could almost smell him. "It's like your 'voice'. Between the two of us, we could get anyone to do pretty much anything we wanted…"

The groupie leaned back, her legs sprawling open and one hand going unabashedly t'Ashbury's thigh. I had a terrific view up her mini-skirt and could see quite clearly that the gel was not wearing any knickers. Classy.

Ashbury noticed me gaze and grinned wolfishly. Very slowly and still watchin' me out of the corner of his eye, he leaned over and started kissing the gel's neck. She wriggled a bit, glossy lips parting. I looked out the window when I saw 'im stick a hand up her skirt.

I made the mistake of looking back when I heard a zipper pull. The groupie was givin' Ashbury head... but he was looking at ME. I tried desperately t'appear nonchalant as his gaze pierced mine.

Didn't quite work, I'm afraid.

Ashbury pried her off of him and after some maneuvering got her on all fours. Facing me. Bloody hell.

He slipped a rubber on and started fuckin' her, 'is hands on her hips. He thrust and she moved back and forth, moaning nonsense little whispers that meant nothing. Base lust was coming off of both of em, no affection whatsoever. I wanted ter be revolted, but couldn't.

Still his eyes were on me, and I couldn't look away.

I stumbled inter me room, dazed and almost sick with desire. Ashbury had dropped me at the hotel; he an' the groupie remaining in the limo t'speed to some unknown destination. As I'd gone ter climb out of the car he'd leaned over an' brushed a finger behind me ear. "Think about it," he said, 'is sensual lips barely moving.

I peeled my shirt off and kicked my boots savagely across the room. Bloody well hard to think of anything else. Agitated, I threw me socks after me boots. I paced the room, noting that it was nearly 2:30 AM. Christ, how long 'ad we been in that fucken limo?

His eyes, searing inter me as he moved. His lips, curling into barely-there promises. "Between the two of us..."

There was a knock at the door. I opened it, half afraid (and half hopeful) that it would be Ashbury. It wasn't - it was Bobby. I could only stare fer a moment, positive I was seeing things.

No, it was him. No hallucination would wear such an ugly shirt. Get in 'ere, you bloody nit, I snarled, and pulled him across the threshold.

"Why Jono, this is so sudden," he said, nearly trippin' over his own two feet. I shut the door as fast as I could and grabbed him, acting almost exclusively on body impulse. Me hands twisted inter his hair and my lower half humped gracelessly.

Calm the fuck down, Starsmore I chided meself and paused, running the fingers of one hand down Bobby's cheekbone to trace the outline of his lips. Nice lips, perfect for kissing.

But not sensual. Not wolfish.

I slipped me index finger inter his mouth when 'e parted his lips, relishing the feel of tongue and teeth on skin. I found that I couldn't look in 'is eyes because my traitor mind kept whispering, "Think about it. Between the two of us… Think about it."

Bobby pulled me hands away from him and said, softly, damningly, "I guess you missed me, too."

I couldn't reply, but I couldn't let him leave either, so I wrapped me arms around him and let him hold me tight.

Get yer clothes off, I said.

While Bobby stripped quickly and clumsily, I dug through me bag fer the bottle of lube I remembered packin'. I put it on the bedside table and then went to Bobby, pulling him close so I didn't have to see his face. 'Is mouth fastened onto my skin as my neck rolled back an' I reached down between us t'grip his cock. I stroked him fast and with no gentleness or particular finesse, and he bit me shoulder. I wanted more of that, oh yes.

'E got me trousers off, for which I was profoundly grateful really. In the process we stumbled, coming down on the bed. Dizzy with wanting, I grabbed Bobby and pulled him on top of me, writhing and nuzzling the tattered remains of me face against his neck, his shoulder.

"Jesus, Jono," Bobby murmured. I pushed him back a bit and waved one hand at the table. I wasn't in the mood ter be admired, held, comforted or loved - I felt like if he didn't fuck me quick I was goin' ter explode.

Bobby, prat that he is, was kinda just lookin' at me so after more effort than I care ter admit I managed ter say, Stop oglin' and fuck me.

That seemed t'get the point across.

Bobby slid off of me and groped fer the bedside table - honestly I'm surprised he didn't knock it over. That's Bobby for you, I thought and immediately felt something constrict where me heart no longer is. I looked away and instead got on all fours, head hanging down, staring at the coverlet.

"Jono?" he asked, almost tentatively. I did not want t'feel his concern. I slid down and just buried my face in the bed. Yer not the one I want right now, I thought. But yer the one I'm with. I was so turned on it fucken hurt and I reached out instinctively with me mind to him, beggin' without words fer him to just take me already. Come here, I thought, and a second later 'e did. Damn near bowled me over, actually, and I relaxed a little. He mouthed 'is way across me back, a hot bundle of lust that soothed me like a balm. I didn't want to think - just to feel.

He slid a finger inside me and it felt so fucken good - I wanted ter moan and writhe and whine. I guess I did something because I could feel Bobby wince mentally and withdraw the digit. I soothed the sore spots as best I could and was rewarded when 'e kissed me back with scathing gentleness. Then 'e slid forward inter me.

Wonderful. But not enough. I needed ter be fucked right proper - I could still not get the image of Ashbury's lips out of me head. I managed to force out one word, and one word only, to convey wot I wanted: Harder.

Bobby complied as I bucked beneath him, jerking frantically on me cock with one hand. Now was not the time for subtlety, technique, romance, or any of that shite. This was raw and bestial and exactly wot I craved. I felt like I was burning alive, with fire runnin' through me veins and sparks in me head. I was mindless.

Orgasm blotted out everything. I lost complete sense of who an' where I was for a moment, and could only lie there, wishing I was panting, when it was done.

Bobby pulled out and sat on the edge of the bed, his breathin' uneven. I noticed then that somethin' was amiss - parts of my bandages 'ad seared away and scorched the bed. Bugger, I remarked, sittin' up as well. I had been driven ter the point where I was completely disregardful of physical danger and that scared me badly. Wot scared me more was that it hadn't been thinkin' about the man I was with that 'ad done it.

Bobby was entirely silent, which was not usual fer him. I placed a hand on 'is arm. You alright? I asked, wonderin' if maybe I'd hurt him worse than I'd thought via the telepathic link between us.

'E took a deep breath, exhaled, and then grinned like an idiot. "Uh, wow," he said.

So much for me doing irreparable damage to 'im. I stared at im for a moment, at his open, ridiculous expression, and felt something clench in me chest again. Then I started ter laugh, because it was either do that or scream.

'Uh, wow,' I repeated. 'Wow.' Yeah, yeah... that most certainly qualifies as a fucken wow, I think. Too roit. I giggled. I could 'ave killed us both and all he can say is 'wow.' I finally felt I could look 'im in the eyes, so I did.

You'd better get out of here.

Bobby nodded and got up ter go to the bathroom. I sat on the bed, starin' at a corner of the room, thinking about lips and sex and fame and potential.

Edinburgh.

I fell asleep on the tour bus and was woken by a husky voice whispering, "wakey-wakey" in me ear. I opened me eyes and found Ashbury leaning over me, grinning. The rest of the bus was empty already.

Hi, I managed.

"Hello," he replied. He hadn't moved away at all an' I got the feeling he 'ad no intention of doin' so.

Where is everyone? That's right, ignore the hunger glitterin' in those eyes…

"Gone." Ashbury moved forward so he was straddlin' me leg. I could dimly feel the press of 'is thigh against me own.

Oh. Best we join them, eh?

"No rush," Ashbury said and placed his hand on me stomach. He slid it upwards, stoppin' at the place me heart used ter be. I grabbed 'is hand and took it away.

No.

"I bet after it happened you felt like you'd lost everything," he whispered. "But you gained so much more." He leaned in and placed his lips against me ear again. "You're exquisite."

I shoved him, hard, an' he landed with a thud on the floor of the bus. He looked shocked fer a minute, an' then his grin resurfaced. I stood up.

No, I repeated.

"Afraid, Jon?" he asked. He didn't bother getting up from where he's fallen - jus' made himself more comfortable. "Don't be. I mean it - you are exquisite. Jesus, the two of us together? Nobody could stop us, mate. Fucken nobody." His tongue snaked out over 'is lips. "And we'd be so bloody hot," he said in a low, hoarse voice.

Oh, how I wanted him.

I could imagine the feel of leather beneath me fingers, the memory-scent of tobacco an sweat, the heat, the violence. I could imagine Ashbury's husky moans an' obscene words of encouragement. I could imagine the feeling of veins set on fire.

But when it was done, wot then? Would Ashbury look at me wiv wide eyes and say, "wow"? Cuddle up beside me? Show up fer no reason at obscene hours of the mornin, not fer sex but just ter talk? Bring fucken twinkies! No, I rather thought not. There was no love between us.

I turned and headed fer the exit, goin' down the stairs as quick as I dared. I stalked across the parkin' lot, head down, and when I heard Ashbury call after me I did not look back.

After that, everything went pretty much straight to hell.

I paced backstage prior ter the concert, filled with a nervous energy I couldn't credit ter any one source. I caught sight of Stacey on Ashbury's bassist again an I wanted desperately ter take her aside an talk to 'er. But, no. Finally I was told ter get me arse onstage, which I did with a great sense of relief.

The set went well - it was probably the best performance of me life. I don't think I've ever poured so much of my self inter me music before, an' I doubt I ever will again. It was like bleedin' out there on stage, cuttin' meself ter the core and then going even deeper. I kept my eyes closed fer most of it because I didn't want ter see anyone, let alone feel them. I closed off the input circuits and just… bled.

I can wait a long, long time before I hear another lovesong...

The audience was stunned after I finished, breakin' into applause only after I'd stumbled blindly offstage. Me, I sat down on a set of stairs besides a pile of wires and shite an' just stared at the floor. Eventually, I heard Ashbury take the stage. He sounded pissed off.

Good, I thought.

I felt a hand on me shoulder about halfway through Ashbury's third song. "Jono?"

I turned. It was Paige.

Hi, sunshine, I said. I moved so she could sit beside me, which she did.

"Jono," she said, and sighed. "Something's not right with you."

I nodded. Several things. But I'm workin' on a few of em, anyway. I ran a hand through my hair. Paige, we need ter talk later. About Ashbury an' how his powers work. I haven't told you all I-- I stopped.

Something was wrong.

"Jono?"

Shhh!

I groped blindly with me mind an' I got it straight away - it was the Group Mind. It, like Ashbury, was pissed off.

Deeply.

Paige, I said. The crowd--!

She was up an on 'er feet right quick, runnin' over ter the stage exit so she could peer out an see wot was goin' on. I stumbled forward, headin right fer the curtain, a sickening sense of dread seepin' through me.

The crowd was a fucken mob. Wot 'ad probably started as a mosh pit was now a giant, pulsating knot of kids punchin' and kicken' and screamin' at each other. A few who hadn't been sucked inter the Group Mind were tryin' ter back away, but they were bein' attacked by those of the kids who were lost in a haze of violence.

Dimly, I heard Paige yell fer Stacey. My attention was focused on Ashbury, who was yellin' inter the mike. He turned away form the crowd fer a second, saw me, an' grinned.

You bastard! I ran at im, hopin' that if I could stop the performance the Group Mind would start ter dispel. He was ready for me - he grabbed the mic stand an' threw it at me. I got tangled an fell ter the ground, cursing heavily. Ashbury bolted backstage while the rest of the band fell on me, doin' a pretty fair job of beatin the shite out of me before I blasted a few of em. I didn't want ter do that much, though, as me psionics seemed ter just intensify the amorphous cloud of anger hangin' over the crowd. Thankfully Paige showed up, husked inter some sort of metal, an proceeded ter subdue the band.

I got up and ran backstage, determined ter find Ashbury.

It wasn't hard, as he'd gone straight fer the rear exit. I caught up ter him in the parking lot out back. He was winded - rock stars, unlike super villains, aren't used ter dashin madly fer their lives.

Ashbury! I called, an he straightened up.

"What's the matter, Jon?" he asked. "Thought you hated low-genes."

I shook my head. Is this because of me? Wot's wrong, not used ter rejection?

Ashbury laughed. "'Rejection' my arse." He grinned at me, slowly and sensually. "You wanted it. You wanted it so bad I'm surprised you didn't bust your fly open in anticipation."

I advanced on him. Yeah, I said softly. But that's just sex, Ashbury. S'funny you haven't noticed wiv all yer manipulating, but there's more ter people than lust. More than despair. More than hate. I was close ter him now - if I'd had a mouth, I would've called it kissin' distance. As it was, it was more like the danger zone.

I could have 'ad you. But I'd rather 'ave more.

Ashbury laughed again. "You'll never have more," he said.

I have a Jewish accountant, I snarled. An' he's more than you'll EVER be ter me.

I decked him. Hard. And he went out like a light.

Tosser, I said ter his prone body. And that's when I heard the shout behind me. I'd barely turned when a bundle in a Hawaiian shirt slammed inter me, nearly knockin me over.

Bobby.

He stepped back after a second, smiling dopily. "I'm supposed to punch you now," he said.

Well, don't, I said. Radio Worthington and tell 'im ter get the authorities 'ere. Then kiss me. Anywhere. Anyhow.

Bobby grabbed his radio and did as I'd asked. I felt kind of sick, actually, and wondered just wot the fuck I'd just meant by me last request. Kiss? Bleedin' ell, I was spittin' fire everywhere.

Bobby got off the radio and I struggled ter think of something ter say. But then he was there, holdin me, in ice-form. His lips, cold enough fer me to feel them perfectly, touched my forehead, eyelids, cheek, and behind me ear. That last one elected a more carnal response in me than was probably appropriate so I stepped back. I could feel meself tryin' ter smile.

"You okay?" he asked.

Yeah. Now.

Ashbury was taken care of by some UK mutant police thing. I testified against him, an 'ad to endure a stern lecture from Kurt afterwards on account of me withholding information from the tam. After all, I'd mostly figured out wot Ashbury was doin' and I hadn't told anyone. Kurt made me feel properly ashamed, but not like I was a total failure. I knew he forgave me, an' that was enough.

Paige an' Jubilee decided ter stick around fer a while at the mansion. Seeing Paige is a bit weird, and I must say that her taste in men seems ter 'ave gone straight ter hell as I heard she went out fer dinner with Wirthington, but.. it's nice ter have em aound, all the same.

I realized I'm no longer cut out fer the fabulous life of a rock star, if indeed I ever was. Wot I do now may not be conventional, an' it may not be very glorious, but at least I feel like I'm out there helping someone.

Although...

The other night Bobby dropped by. With twinkies. We talked a bit, an then he just sat there on the bed, chewin thoughtfully, as I played a bit on the guitar.

I know, it's only rock and roll... but I like it. I like it.