"Bloody hell," Toad leaned forward on the barstool to get a better look at the fuzzy black and white television across the counter.
"I know, it's insane," the waitress agreed, setting down another beer in front of the mutant. "Harry's gonna have to close up shop," she continued, "just isn't safe anymore, not with the Government raiding known mutant hang outs and arresting everyone."
"Let them try to arrest me," he muttered angrily, his British accent stronger with passion.
"They're talking about giant robot Sentinels keeping guard around the 'safe zones' making sure everyone stays in," she looked disgustedly at the television, wiping her hands on the dirty apron at her waist, "or making sure they don't get out alive."
"Bullocks," Toad swore, reaching in his pocket for the tab.
"Keep it honey, you and your friends better get outta town."
He ignored her, pressing the money in her hand. Few people treated Toad as decently as Molly did. She was old and ugly and had worked at Harry's since it had opened, and had never once treated him like everyone else did. Like a Toad.
He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt low over his head, and the jacket he wore, tighter around his bulky frame. Lucky it was winter or he would have stuck out like a sore thumb. He thought about Molly's words on the way back to the seedy motel he was staying at. Maybe he should get out of town.
He wondered momentarily about what Erik and the other were planning. Surely they wouldn't go down without a fight. The thought was a longing one for a moment, but then he forced himself to think about Liberty Island, and how they'd left him to die, and the familiar rage welled up to replace the loneliness in his heart.
Half of him had hoped that once Erik got out of jail that he would be looked for. But he should have known better. He was no longer of any use to Magneto. The plan had failed, and Toad knew Magneto well enough to know that he would be the one blamed for the equipment failure.
When he reached the motel he lay on the bed trying to drift to sleep, but the nagging fear and doubt of the future kept him up until he sat again and flipped on the television. A mutant child's face was centered on the screen. It was hideously ugly: a big-snouted nose, and sharp jagged little teeth, but the eyes were definitely a child's: frightened and confused.
The newscaster was speaking and Toad forced himself to pay attention. The child had been killed earlier that evening. The age undetermined, but it was the first to perish while resisting arrest by the hand of the monstrous sentinels.
'More of these Sentinels have been sighted all over the country, and the government is asking all of it's citizens to please stay in your homes and do not approach them. They are programmed simply to take into custody any mutant they come across, but trying to resist them can inadvertently lead to the mutants demise.'
"Inadvertently my ass," Toad snarled, fighting back the urge to kick in the set.
The next image surprised him.
'A private school in Westchester, NY, uncovered by the late William Striker as being a safe house for mutants, was raided this morning. The occupants are still putting up much resistance, attempting to buy time for some of their number to escape. Already many of them have been unaccounted for and it is believed they are hiding out or on the run. If you have any information about these mutants please call …'
The screen fizzled and Toad leaned forward, eyes glued in place. A beautiful redhead he recognized took the place of the vapid Blonde he'd been watching.
"Please," Jean Grey began, "They're killing the children. Please don't let this happen. We can't hold off much longer. Anyone…please…help us"
The screen wavered again, and the Blonde was back, looking irritated.
'Please ignore that unsanctioned interruption in our broadcast. We are looking into it's source right now, it has no bearing on tonight's news.'
The remote snapped in Toad's grasp. The X-Men were calling for help? And the bloody government was killing them. The ones who'd worked so hard for peaceful co-existance. Toad found it ironic.
No love was lost between the amphibious mutant and the heroic X-Men. He'd done his best to kill the redhead last he'd seen her, but the image of the ugly child burned into his memory. It hit home as hard as anything else ever had.
Growing up on the streets of London, he'd been beaten, ridiculed, even sexually mishandled. Magneto had rescued him, but his life was still not perfect. There he was the brunt of Erik's anger, he was the lapdog and the lackey. Not until he'd gone off on his own, after nearly being killed by the X-Men's Storm, had he really been free. And even now he lived in constant fear, moving from place to place every few nights, never leaving a trail anyone could follow.
But even when things had been their worst, his opponent could be beaten back. He had a fighting chance, and he'd taken it. Even the meanest bully has a weakness. Even the most terrible foster father can be kicked in the bloody skull. But giant robots?
The little kid never had a chance. And his life was ripped away from him, by something he couldn't fight, something he couldn't reason with, or run away from.
And that made Toad angry.