A/N: I realize I haven't updated since, forever, but I also realize very few actually care, if any. Enjoy, leave a review if you wish, if you don't, then don't unconvenience yourself.
John came walking towards the two in all of his leather and shoelaces glory. The ever present Zippo was rhythmically clicked off and on as the cocky teen raised his arm to slap his friend on the shoulder. It was coming in for landing along the blond's broad shoulder when the blond coughed and shuddered. John stifle a laugh and said, "Whoa man, bow to my powers! I can hit him without even touching him!"
Jubilee looked slightly amused as Bobby centered his icy glare onto the fire mutant. "For your information," Bobby began, "I choked on an ice cube or something, not your amazing psionic powers."
"Whatever man," John replied and took a seat next to the two drinking companions. Jubilee's bracelets dangled as she said, "What? Long Islands aren't supposed to have ice in them."
Poor Mark, who had finally calmed down, was yet again rudely interrupted from his favorite song by the strong hand of the bracelet addict. The front of his ripped tank with a multitude of shiny safety pins was jerked forward by Jubilee as she spoke very slowly, as if the blue-haired bartender couldn't speak English, "Long…Islands…Don't.. Contain..ICE!" After this slow, deliberate speech, Jubilee flung the college student suddenly backwards into the display of filthy mugs and glasses. Mark's iPod slipped out of his back pocket and fell to the floor like a bowling ball being thrown out of the Empire State building. The look on Mark's face was like the bowling ball landed on his foot.
John whistled appreciatory at the former mall resident's up front way with dealing with people who annoyed her. Jubilee looked satisfied in her great handiwork. Bobby was looking sideways at the supine Mark like he had lobsters for ears.
Between sips of what was left of her daiquiri, Jubilee struck up conversation with John on why children of successful people end up so weird. John, who never really had a lot of money, and Jubilee, who lived in a mall, could never grasp why kids who had everything laid out for them decided to throw it all away. "Yeah," John started talking to Jubilee, "just take Bobby for example. He had a great life, a good family, and a college fund. And what does he do? He tells them he's a little mutant boy! Talk about stupid." At the end, John gesticulated towards the dazed blond. According to the unwritten script, this was the time where Bobby would butt in and begin a spiel about how his parents deserved the truth and all that jazz. John's hand dangled in the air while he waited for a response, but Bobby just sat there looking like he just got off the Mr. Freeze ride at Six Flags. Jubilee raised an eyebrow and John shook his hand in front of Bobby's vacant eyes.
John decided to resort to a surefire method, "Hey Bobby, your girlfriend is shagging Wolverine."
Jubilee's other eyebrow joined its companion at the top of her head as what normally worked to wake up Bobby failed.
Bobby heard a faint buzzing in his right ear. He turned his head slightly only saw blurred splotches of light. He swiveled his head around and couldn't find John or Jubes. Not wanting to be left at the slimy bar with Mark, or whoever he was, he tried to stand up to go search through the haze for them. In the process, his elbow hit his drink which promptly sploshed the rest of its contents into the obscured floor. His feet tried to move forward, but the just slid along the slick floor. Bobby didn't know what happened. There he was, sitting on the floor, without a clue as to how he got there. One of those fuzzy spots, he noticed, seemed to be saying something. All that Bobby's brain registered was, "Nyuaggkkyy, yaakkk kkooo?" Bobby couldn't understand, but he could smell the pungent odor of lighter fluid invaded his senses. Suddenly, Bobby was transported back to an old memory. Instinctively curling up, Bobby could've sworn that the rafters were crumbling and the fierce tongues of flame were trying to get at him. The buzzing in his hear accelerated to a high whine; like the screaming. How he hated those screams. Those screams followed him into his nightmares, into anti-mutant protests, and into every conflict. The whine increase; the flames must be getting closer. Bobby opened his eyes and saw the blurs arcing and racing towards him. His mind raced into overdrive. Not thinking, he shielded his face from his flames and lost control of his powers. He felt the refreshing cold seeping out of his hands and stopping those blurs, those splotches. Pushing himself up, he ran forward. He had to stop all the flames, his mind told him, the screaming won't go away until you do. Bobby raised his arms to stop them all, but a hand came out of nowhere and violently grabbed the nape of his neck. He felt something petal soft crash against his lips. The screaming was now an entire chorus of damned and Bobby tried to push those other lips away. They weren't what he wanted! They reeked of cigar smoke and the dust that gathers on old opera gloves. He tried hard to push them away, but they were slowly killing them. The cold, his precious cold, was slowly leaving him. He gave up and collapsed onto the floor with the screams of scores of victims stabbing his fragile mind…