A.N.This one was written under the influence of Hawthorne Heights, Eminem, Semisonic, Shinedown, Dashboard Confessional, and Senses Fail...all weirdness should be blamed on that...and a funky rice crispy treat. I don't own shit.

Thanks for the reviews:

El Diablo: Thanx girl…u better hurry up and finish that other fic!

Me: I don't know who u r, but thanx for the encouraging reviews! Keep reading!

Elorinna Evenstarre: Yeah…Kit's a bartender, but she was once in the comics…keep reading, you'll get a few more surprises!

NaijaStrawberrie: Thanx for reviewing, and I luv your screename!

To everyone else: If you're gonna Read then Review damnit!

Chapter Two: Something Sour

Wisdom wandered the streets of London with a screwed up face. That was the last time he got drunk in Romany's friend's bar. What did Romany introduce her as…? Shady…Shaper…Shockwatch? Shockwatch? Where did Shockwatch come from?

No matter, he wouldn't be seeing that cheeky brunette ever again. Had to admire her courage and spunk though. Not many people would stand up to the great Peter Wisdom, slug him a couple in the face, toss him out on his arse, and live to see a new day.

Great Peter Wisdom…Ha! What a joke.

Wisdom glanced around in surprise. "Hey! 'oo said tha?"

It's that pesky little thing called your messed up conscience. I'm here to tell you that you need to go back to Romany's apartment tomorrow and apologize to Shadow for trashing her bar. You should have that much courtesy.

"SHADOW! Tha was 'er name! I knew it 'ad a SH in it! Wait…what kinda twit calls 'erself Shadow?"

And you're proud for remembering the first two syllables in her name? Man, there is something seriously wrong with your head.

"'ey! Ye know ye just insulted yerself!"

Do you know that you are talking to yourself, in public, about a Shadow? Can you imagine what people are saying about you right now?

"I am th' Great Peter Wisdom…I don' give a bloody shot in 'ell wha' people think!"

Man, how smashed are you?

"I am pretty smashed…bu' tha's no' the point! I can get bloody well smashed if I damn well please! I deserve it especially after dealin with Da for the pas' week! And then I get me arse kicked by a bloody bird! Now, Misser Conscience, tell me I don' desserve to ge' bloody well pissed out of me face!"

You might deserve it, but you need to make restitution with Shadow. I have a feeling that you two are going to be seeing a lot of each other in the next few weeks, and you might want to trust me on this, you don't want to get on her bad side.

"Oh…now ye tell me this! Wat good is a conscience if ye never tell me wha' ta do before I get me bloody arse kicked?"

I'm warning you ahead of time that if you get on Shadow's bad side that what you got tonight will only be the beginning. Now go home and take a shower. You smell like pig shit.

"Shut the fu… Oh..'ello. 'scuse me language ma'am."

"And just who da hell are ya talkin' to Wisdom?" came a husky southern female's voice.

"Me conscience…wait…did I just say tha' out loud? An 'oo is ye? Step into the light where I can see yer face," Wisdom replied sluggishly as he squinted into the darkness outside the small circle of light in the thick fog afforded by one of London's ancient streetlights.

A pale white face with bright green eyes ringed in black, peered in at him through the fog, revealing a head of dark hair sporting two white streaks.

"'oo are ye? I don' recognize yer face," Wisdom slurred as he grasped the chin of the person to bring it closer to his face.

"NO! Don't…"

Clunck

"Damnit Wisdom…like ah need yer bloodeh thoughts in my head! Damn! Ah'm even talkin' like ya now, ya drunk bloke!" the woman exclaimed, the deep southern accent mixed with the London brogue sounding rather hilarious rolling off her tongue.

She picked up the now incapacitated British Intelligence agent and threw him over her shoulder. She dodged through the back alleys as well as any London street rat, trying to keep inconspicuous about carrying a drunk thirty-something year old man around on her back, while attempting to get him back to his "loft".

This wasn't the way things should've gone. She should've made contact, found out where Kit was and gotten the hell away from the notorious Black Air agent. They had met once before and god what a mess that had been.

She wasn't even going to bother recounting that shit. (1)

She began hauling the man up the stairs to the apartment she saw in his memories…at least until she saw the six flights and then she took the convenient elevator off to the side in the lobby.

"Six flights a stairs mah arse! Ain't no way in the history of heaven an earth would ah have carried yer bum arse all the way up there. Gawd ah hate yer accent! AN boy do ya ever stink! Urgh…now ah want ta throw up!"

She dumped Wisdom on the floor of his filthy flat and she took herself into the bathroom…where she promptly shrieked and stomped on a half a dozen cockroaches that were swarming, yes swarming, around what looked like a half eaten pastry.

"Oh mah gawd, that was frickin' nasty!"

50 miles away on Muir: (2)

"No. No. Honey, I din't tell 'im nothin'. 'e asked the Prof. No, really. Shadow! I mean it! Yeh I can understand why ye would be suspicious, buh I din't tell him anythin'. Okay…Luvs…tell Romany I said 'i. Okay…Bye."

The feral looking blonde sighed as she hung up the receiver, causing the others in the kitchen to look at her inquisitively.

"Wha is it darlin'?" her husband, Britain's most famous guardian, Captain Britain, asked as he pushed his paper aside at the table so she could put down her bowl of cereal.

"Shads is 'aving trouble with that old boyfriend from America…Lance I think 'is name was," Shadow's good friend Meggan Braddock replied as she stared thoughtfully at her food.

"Don't even think it Meggan, luv. It's not yer place te 'help'," Brian Braddock snickered gently as he put down his paper and looked at his wife.

"'elp? 'oo said anythin' about 'elpin' anyone? Not me," Meggan stuttered guiltily.

"Mmmm Hmmm. I know tha look, hon."

3465 miles away in Salem County:

The motorcycle blasted over the frosted black pavement, the man sitting astride smiling one of his rare smiles at the ecstasy of the ride and of the night. He was headed towards the Xavier Institute after a long night of bar-brawling and drinking. His wife Ororo Munroe-Howlett would probably have something to say about it, something very loud and very angry, but he didn't care. His first "grandchild" was born today, and this was his way of celebrating it. Jubilee and Bobby's baby girl was adorably annoying, and he just couldn't stand the cooing and the purring and the baby talk one more minute…so he went to go do "macho" stuff to get the testosterone flowing back into his system. Now all he needed was a good night's sleep of holding his wife in his arms.

So much for that, he thought as he arrived at the gate and standing there was the Flaming Maniac, the Silent Russian, the Ugly Toad, and the Garbage Eating Giant.

"What the hell are you four doin' here?"

(1) Don't even bother asking why Rogue knows Wisdom, its too long and complicated to understand.

(2) I'm not sure how many miles Muir Island is from London