AN: Whew! Hmm, yes well; it certainly has taken me a while to type out this next chapter, hasn't it? I really do apologize. I had it all written out, then I lost the disk, along with most of my files, and then other things just kept on happening…I am really sorry!
This chapter is one of the darkest, because (in my opinion) the death of ones parent's or guardian type figure tends to leave and imprint, and I really wanted to make clear the bitter and callous attitude she so coolly doses. This was supposed to be posted Jan 1st, but seeing as the sight is down for 24 hours, it'll be up Jan 2nd. Happy New Year all!
Burn the Needle
The dust may have long since settled, but her eyes continued to water. Her father stood before her eyes shifting between the damage she had caused and her eyes. She wanted him to scream, she wanted him to swear, to curse, anything but this.
Instead, he gave her the look, and this told her all: Disappointment, confusion, such intense anger and worse of all, embarrassment. He began to pace, poking the broken foam with his foot, muttering Chinese incantations. She heard every word.
"I, I'm sorry," she tried to say, her voice all but drowned by guilt. "I was curious, I wanted to hear, I-I didn't think it would break…Dad," he raised a palm to silence her.
"That just it, hm? You. It always about you." Her jaw snapped shut. "Who cares if your mother and father worked their whole lives to build respect, to create all that you have. Selfish!" she jumped back. He kept his face from her, she could not even appeal to his eyes. Even so, his voice bit, hard. There was no turning away, no place to hide. This was all her fault. Jubilee was not then, the happy and snappy teen. She was just like all the other Beverly snobs she so detested.
"Dad, please," she had never in her life felt such remorse, such utter personal distaste.
"Get out," he hissed. Jubilee stared at him, appalled. "Out" he condemned. Shock reined her body. Numbly lifting her knapsack onto her shoulders, she trudged slowly to the door, felt the coolness of the handle and opened it.
"Bye," she whispered, a single tear trailing down her cheek.
The wind was cold. In all her life she had never felt such a cold, or such a fear. Even the moon morphed into mocking masks. The dark, which at one time had been her only friend, now stood against her. Before her stood her house, looming in a strangely ominous way. It had never looked at her that way before. She knew it was her own fault, she knew she had no one but herself to blame. For once, the blame fell entirely on her shoulders, fault being laid on no other.
She wanted to avoid this moment, the judgment that awaited her through the tall mahogany doors. Nothing she could say would plead her case and (possibly the only time in her life) she lost her need to be right. Her feet lead the way, body protesting. Through the iron gates, up the winding marble pathway, past the courtesy limo, the corvette, the family Porsche; each expense added to the throng of knives digging their way through her soul. I'm such a jerk! Her mind jolted.
Up past the glorified entrance, she reached to the panel beside the doors, ready to enter her access code. Before she raised a finger, her eyes caught a bright light, filtering between a crack. The entry stood slightly ajar. Narrowing her eyes in confusion, she cautiously pushed it open. Her parents always kept the doors shut and barred, where they really so clouded by disappointment that they had forgotten? Impossible as it seemed, more guilt found its way to her.
Closing with a resolute 'click', the doors blocked her escape. Chokingly stepping forward, Jubilee called out;
"Mum, Dad?" no answer. She gulped. "Are you guys home?" The living room flourished in an expanse of Persian rugs and original Monet's. Her eyes searched for any sign of maid's, butlers, helpers who usually filled the mansion in every corner. No one could be found. Nervousness seeped in place of her confusion. Quickening her pace, she strode into the kitchen.
No chef bustling about for dinner's preparation, no frenzied state as succulent goods flew together in a frying pan; nothing. "Francois?" no response either.
Jubilee's gaze traced to the stove, which she noticed was turned on. The burners blinked brightly, noting someone's presence was here. Approaching, she detected an odd substance around the searing metal. Sniffing the air, she noted the incense of burning residue. Lifting a wooden spoon, she poked the slab of charcoal, which resembled some evolved meat-like substance. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she spun, facing the opposing wall. She froze. Suddenly, she understood just what the melted chunk was.
Her mind raced. Images of similar sights flooded her mind, televisions interpretation not quite matching the description before her. Blood; litres, gallons, rivers of it; it dripped over the freezers handle, splashed on the wall, spelled out 'murder' in ripples. Her brain shut down. Impossible, her mind whispered. It can't be, it can't be! Ignoring her survival instincts, she grabbed the soaking handle, springing open the freezers heavy frame. Her lunch heaved a path out her mouth.
They were laid, no, hung all over the frozen ice. Her eyes teared, a deep nausea overwhelming her. Fear no longer seemed an emotion but a brutal confrontation. Francois, the man who created masterpieces of cuisine dangled, a horrified mask burned on his face, from thick hooks used for animal hides. Mina, Iesha, the gardener, they were all appointed a similar fate. Deep gashes lined their bodies, as if some beast had literally ripped out their lives. Giant holes of missing limbs and skin told the story of their deaths, their blood freshly dripping out in a river where she stood.
Jubilee stood agape. Her mouth dropped open, terror fed her soul.
"Ahh!" she screamed, a gargling sound perpetuated from somewhere deep. Throwing herself to her feet, she all but slipped in the sticky crimson, rushing out of the decaying stench. "AGHH!" her shrieks filled the dead house. She cried, louder, louder, praying for someone to hear her voice. Logic long since abandoned, she ran up the familiar staircase, bloody hands marking the banister and walls as she slid clumsily up. "Momma," she whispered. The steps grew increasingly steeper as she advanced, terror seizing her heart. "Daddy…"
The hallway to the master suite looked as normal as ever. No pictures hung askew, no rustling of rugs, scratched paint or any sign of struggle. A brief elation filled her. They got away, her mind pumped. They hid, they ran. She crept through the corridor, as silent as possible. The possibility of the attacker remaining struck her for a moment, and she thought quickly of abandoning her quest. Grotesque images of the faculty below forced her to keep on track. They won't end up like that…they can't end up like that.
Repeating the mantra through her chaotic psyche, she found it somewhat easier to trace a way to the door. Her hand trembled violently as she reached out for the handle. She tried once, twice, thrice to grasp the illusive crystal knob. On the fourth try, however, her fingers managed to grasp the coolness weakly, turning the clutch as they did. A familiar click blasted her ears away and the door creaked open.
Her heart plunged through her chest. A loss of sensation, stronger than any fear draped her very core and she wished for nothing more then waking from this nightmare. Hunks of plaster and mortar were missing from the usually immaculate chamber. Broken glass from various lamps and picture frames crackled under her steps as she approached the bed. Two forms, two beloved corpses screamed back at her from the grave.
"…M-mom," her voice carried little less then a sob. The makers of her existence, the Adam and Eve of her life were laid in a sadistically picturesque fashion, their mauled faces leaning into one another. Only their eyes told the tale of their fear, their horror. "dad," she choked again. Throwing herself onto their bodies, she pleaded desperately to uncaring faces.
"Don't go, p-please don't…wake up!!" she trembled brutally, carelessly wiping tears from her bloodied face. Her fingertips searched for the faintest breath, the lightest pulse, and found none. "WAKE UP!" her howls received no response. Logic seared a path to her tantric state and she remembered the presence of the phone. Reaching across, she yanked the receiver her way, punching in the lifesaving three-digit code.
"Hello, nine-one-one. What is the state of your emergency?" Her voice lost its way to hysterics. She tried to remain calm, to do exactly what she'd been taught in first aid; deliver all the information and remain on the line for further assistance. The advice deemed simpler to follow when corpses did not grin your way.
"B-blood, there's so much…oh my god…"
"Please miss, remain calm. What is the address of the accident? Do you need paramedical assistance?" the voice of the administrational cooed irritatingly soft, almost sing-songy. Jubilee choked back a gag.
"S-seven…no, t-three seventy-four Beverly Hills Crescent. Oh my god, p-please, they're not breathing," a cold chill ran down her spine. Something told her she was no longer alone. Turning around slowly, she felt another wave of shock lace her bones.
"Miss? Miss? Are you still there? Miss, please remain on the line until help arrives." It smirked. Demonic eyes glowed from beneath furry brows, a squashed nose and curled lip donning the monster closest resemblance to some sort of wildcat. It kept its gaze locked on Jubilee, shifting momentarily to his handy work on the duvet then sending her a chilling grin.
A new sickness washed over her. It pulsated more powerfully than the shock that stole away her senses, the pain of her loss, the grotesque brutality of the moment. One word could describe the fire that burned her veins, searing her insides on fire. Revenge.
It strutted around the bed, to where the phone plugged into the wall. Reaching out with a claw-like hand, he ripped the feeble line from the wall, smirking as dust danced around them both. The urgent demands of the emergency receptionist cut off immediately, leaving only the two until the police arrived.
Its lip curled up, revealing two extended canine fangs. They glinted red; the same shade through which the young teen saw. A cry echoed around her and she realized it came from her own mouth.
"MURDERER!" she cried, leaping to the towering beast. With one arm, he repelled her attack, sending her reeling across the room. Instead of smashing into the wall however, she flipped mid-toss, pushing off the soft drywall barrelling into the being full force. Her elbows collided with his ribs, shooting air from his lungs. She was sure she heard a cracking as they landed.
"I'm gonna enjoy this, frail," he grunted. In a split second, he was back on his feet, claws digging mercilessly into her neck. Slow, so painfully slow, he pulled her until she hung level from his face. Her eyes burned, her lungs burned, her whole body smouldered as an invisible fire spread through her. Is this what is feels like to die?
Just as her eyes rolled back, flickering for what she thought was certainly the final time, the itching in her hands became overpowering. The proverbial scent of scalding flesh reached her mind and she was vaguely aware of hitting the ground as beastie howled in pain.
Her airway open, oxygen burst in her lungs, the most tantalizing of all palatable goodness. She blinked, once, twice and the dizziness faded, only to be replaced by a continual smashing of bells beneath her brow. Still though, the heat did not recede. Instead, it intensified smoking her hands in a blistering blaze.
She looked up, confusion ebbing her closer to insanity as she saw scald marks on the monster's arms, still smoking from her touch. Even more surprising was the fact that they were beginning to heal, closing before her very eyes!
"What the fuck…" she whispered. The oversized fur ball all but chortled at the revelation.
"Mutant, eh?" he licked the grime from his claws and started toward her, menace leaking from every stride. Raising his trunk-like arm, the razor fingers fell toward her faster than lightening. Her eyes viewed the next scene in slow motion.
Hands raised, Jubilee let out a cry as they exploded. Loud bangs erupted around the room, as if some military militia were pounding rounds over a megaphone. Lights, brighter than anything she'd ever seen, blazed before her, carrying a heat more intense than infinite suns. Kitty caught the blast in his gut, claws but an inch from her skull. The force propelled through him, vaulting him not only across the room, but through the thickly paned glass of the balcony's French doors.
The glass dissipated within the heated vortex, the villain shrieking over the ledge. Then, it was over. The light receded, the sonic booms were unheard, and all that remained was the searing pain of acidic flames.
She dared not move. She dared not make any sound that would shake her from her shock filled reverie. Time, it seems, pauses for no one.
"HANGHH! AGHHH!" All at once it returned; the pain, the anger, the loss, the confusion. "AGH!" She lifted her blistered and smoking palms as if praying for release from the heavens. Blinded by tears, she somehow found her parent's once more. Her wails muffled slightly as she buried her face in the softness of their embrace. Around her, a soft comfort held her, the only factor enabling her mind to resist the calling of insanity. "N-noo, noo," she sobbed, over and over and over.
In the distance, police lights flashes, ropes marking off the Mansion. They had carried away the cook, the maids, the gardener. Broken howls guided them to the next horror. The press jumped excitedly at the new addition to the evening news, it was sure to make headlines.
They found her on the bed, huddling before the corpses. Blood and sweat and fear intermingled on both her physical and psychological state.
"Come this way dear," their voices were soft, their guidance well meant. To her though, they were all empty promises. Promises of joys that would never again present themselves, wonders she would never again feel and a family she would never again have.
Lingering one final stare as she was hauled away in the back of a cruiser, she felt her eyes glaze; no more tears able to fall. She whispered a final salutation;
"Goodbye."
s s
Now that that's all nicely done, onto the next chapter! It will be a lot less intense. The introduction of the X-team will be made and (yay!) Wolvie's first appearance. Bare with me, it will not take another year, upon my word!
Love you all,
@_@
