Thanks to my reviewers! I would appreciate some more, but... Flames welcome!
I just fixed this chapter. Sorry about randomly calling Jin "Lin". I totally spaced and started using a name from one of my old Fruits Basket fanfitions.
I don't effing own the X-Men. Stop asking me!
Onwards!
Chapter 3:
As his yellowish eyes snapped open, Mort looked at the ceiling confusedly. He sat up, and looked around at the room surrounding him. After a few seconds, he was fully aware of where he was staying, but the room looked much different by day. There were shelves of gleaming trophies for all manner of martial arts accomplishments, and every one had "Hiroshi Yamada" engraved at the bottom. The walls were a dull white, but it was hard to notice it with all of the various posters of dojo masters splayed across them. It looked a bit like Mort's old room, but without the disassembled electronics everywhere.
He gave a grin, but then as he looked down at the borrowed clothes it turned to a grimace. He'd have to stop back by home today.
He'd slept in without meaning to. It was already nine o'clock, and he normally woke at seven or eight. Sitting on the edge of his bed, the green man rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"Good Morning, Mort!" yelled an oriental woman from the kitchen. Jin must've heard me, he mused. Pulling on the battle pants he'd been wearing for the past week and a half, a grimace crossed his face. The shirt was too gross to even consider wearing. (A.N. Okay, I admit it. I just wanted him with his shirt off. Happy!)
In the kitchen sat Jin in a silky kimono and a clothed Hiroshi, sipping at tea. Mort's heart lept. Tea! Not-American tea! Hiroshi saw the look of glee on his face. "Oh yes, the British appreciate good tea too, don't they? Well go on and sit down, and I'll get you a glass."
Mort did as he was told. Jin gave him a grin. "So you be helping at the dojo, ne?"
He nodded. "I've been doing martial arts since I can remember. It's really a thing tha' I can ge' another job tha' I can use 'em in."
She grinned at him. "They a' no coincidences in dis wo'd. (There are no coincidences in this world.) So you be hewping us wid de undaground too? (So you'll be helping us with the underground too?)"
"The underground? You mean the mutant underground railroad? Well you folks 'ave gotten me ou' of more'n one problem. I'd be ecstatic." He took some tea from Hiroshi, and took it in slowly. After years of crude, bagged American tea, even the foreign taste of this tea brought him back to Britain. No matter how many bad memories it held, he would always be a Britain boy at heart. Always.
"Mort, I need to go out to get some groceries. Will you be alright here with Jin?" asked Hiroshi who was wandering around looking under and behind things.
"Yes, bu' I prolly won' be here when you ge' back. I need to stop by me old base to pick up clothes and such."
"Of course. And Jin, you'll need to get to work then. I'll leave a key in the plaque on the door. There's a keyhole on the back of it. Lin, have you seen my keys?"
"Have you checked yo pockets?"
"Ah, right. There they are. I'll get going now..." He paused at the door, a look of frustration on his smile-creased face.
Jin took a softer look to her face. "Have fun at the grocery store, Hiroshi."
He smiled, and walked out the door.
"Say, Jin," said Mort, "Does Hiroshi have any... you know..."
"He is just getting owd. Needs some reminding now and then."
Mort nodded. "I should prolly be setting off then. It's been nice chatting with you, Jin."
"Hai. I shoud get dwessed fo' work now." She ducked her head, and left the room.
l-l-l-
He had once again reluctantly pulled on the nasty, sweaty hoodie, and was heading down to a small airfield. "Oy, Tom!" he called into the overcrowded hanger, "Tommy-boy, it's Mort!"
A freakishly skeletal man that sat at about seven and a half feel tall stuck his head out from behind a plane. "Mort!" He rushed over and gave the green man a hearty hug. "Man, I thought you were dead! Where the hell've you been!"
"Streets, mostly."
"Aww, tough luck, man. You know I'd offer you a place to stay if I could, but me 'n Lauren just ain't got no more room! We already have all the kids sharing two rooms, and with another one on the way..."
"I's awright, Tommy. I know 'ow it is. Besides, I go' me a job and board in China Town."
"China Town?"
He nodded. "Japanese neighborhood. Assistant trainer at the dojo, and uh..." he dropped to a whisper, "a little spot in the underground..." His friend's eyes widened. "So Lauren's pregnant again!"
"Yup! Six months along now! I'm hopin' it's a girl for her sake. I mean, nine boys might be a little more than she could take."
Mort chuckled. "I can't remember the last time I saw the kids. How're they all doin' now?"
"Alan's sixteen now, and has yet to come out of the closet. I found some magazines in his room, though, so I'm sure of it by now. Tyler just got his first signs of mutation. That makes four of them now! Near as I can tell, he's a camouflager. Jack's still purple, so we figure it probably won't go away..." the spindly guy gave a giggle, "But I doubt you're here to talk about all them. What's up?"
"I'm gonna need my 'copter for the day. Headin' to the island to get some stuff."
"Ah, yeah. It's over here, collecting dust."
Mort gave his friend a good hug, a thank you, and took off.
l-l-l-
To some, the island would have looked creepy, but to the web-fingered man who gave it a lopsided grin, it was a haven. A haven that was now a lost cause. The chopper pulled smoothly into the enormous cavern of a hangar, and he hopped out.
Within a few minutes, he was back in his old familiar room, littered with miscellaneous martial arts trophies, posters of the masters, and dissected electronics. How was he supposed to decide on what was important?
His toothbrush, gel, ultra-sensitive shampoo, ultra-sensitive soap, and green hair dye were necessities. His battle suit, training suit, and everyday clothes were coming, and by now the duffel on his bed was half full. CDs, tools, and electronics blueprints took up most of the rest. On top of all that, he put things that, at the risk of sounding sentimental, he couldn't leave: A picture of him, Mystique, Sabertooth, and Magneto looking like some odd sort of family; The trophy from the first major competition he had won; A little necklace.
The necklace was a small silver chain with a tiny engraving of Saint Germaine Cousin hanging from it. One of the nuns at the orphanage gave it to him when he was quite young. Saint Germaine was born with a tiny deformed hand, so her parents shunned and abused her. The townsfolk ridiculed her.
"But she was given God's grace, and sits in heaven today." Mort echoed the voice of Sister Agnes as it had spoken to him so many years ago. Such kind words she had spoken. He sighed, and zipped the bag.
I really wanna know what you all think, mmmmkay? So if you'll please, please review, that would be super!