"I Tried"

Furor Paxx

Chapter 35- My Face, My Life, My Identity!

Pietro prodded Lance in the chest. When Lance didn't move, Pietro stabbed him in the ribs with one of his long, thin fingers. Still nothing.

"Is he dead?" Kurt whispered over Pietro's shoulder. "What do we do if he's dead?"

"He's not dead." Scott knelt beside Lance. The Brotherhood stared suspiciously at him, wondering whether he was an imposter.

"Of course he isn't." Said the second Scott. "I'm not a murderer."

The Old Scott, or at least the one everyone assumed was Old Scott, stood and faced off with the New Scott. The New Scott gave the Old Scott a strange look. "What's your problem, Lance? If you had come home to see some stranger who looks, talks and acts like you getting chummy with your friends, you would have just cracked his head open and demanded answers from his cold corpse."

Old Scott stared at New Scott in shock. 'Who the hell is this guy who looks, talks but certainly doesn't act like me? Wait, does he act like me? Do I act like him? Oh my God, do I really look like Lance?' Old Scott blinked rapidly. "Who the- Who are you?"

New Scott ignored the question, instead crouching down to check on Lance. Lance was coughing and writhing in pain on the ground. Reassured that Lance's life was in no danger, New Scott stood and kicked him in the stomach. "Get lost." He ordered and then charged through the group and into the house.

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"So, I take it you guys are having some trouble beyond thieves, huh." Logan stared at Lance with that strange look again.

"Iffeel shick." Lance moaned.

Pietro sat down hard. "Now that you mention it, my head hurts."

Logan watched as, one by one, the Brotherhood either retired to their rooms or collapsed where they stood. Finally, only Todd was left standing.

"So…" Todd began, trying to think of something civil to say to Logan, or maybe how to escape the X-Man. "Come inside?" He offered, sure that Logan would reject it.

Instead, Logan snorted and went through the front door like he owned the place. Todd immediately regretted the invitation. Even so, he followed Logan inside and into the kitchen.

"Where're the goods?" Logan sniffed his way to the oven and stared at a plate of cookies.

"Hm? What?" Todd looked around. "What goods?"

Logan strolled over to the cabinet that Todd was prone to sleeping in. He flashed a toothy smile at Todd and opened the door.

Inside were three bottles of rum and a few bottles of dark liquid that must have been more hard liquor.

Todd laughed nervously. "Oh, that… well, I have no idea where that came from. Nope. Must 'a been there forever. Wow, if you want it- take it. Please."

Logan grasped two bottles in each hand. "There was more the last time I was here. A lot more. Any idea where it went?"

Todd shook his head vigorously. "Uh-uh. No, sir. No clue, no idea, no guilt. I am innocent."

Logan snorted. "Whatever, runt. Now look, unless you want me to practice my slice and dice technique on you, you'll keep these safe for me." Logan shoved the four bottles in Todd's arms.

Todd looked at the bottles and then at Logan. "Why not just take them with you?" He asked in a frightened whisper.

"Chuck won't let me drink at his place, so I guess I'll just drink here."

Todd laughed again. "Yes, yes. Brilliant idea. Drink, drink." He gestured for Logan to take the bottles back.

Logan growled. "Maybe later. For now I gotta find your wheels." Logan headed for the door, but turned around in the threshold. "Todd, if I find out you been drinking any of that stuff…"

Once again, Todd panicked. "Oh no, not me- never! That stuff," Todd choked on his words, "bad- very bad. I… I'd pour it out if I wasn't sure you'd want it."

"Good kid." Logan grinned and walked out of the house.

Todd dumped the bottles in the sink and left the kitchen just in time to run into Scott (old Scott or New Scott- he couldn't tell.) who was barreling outside. "My car," he shrieked in indignation. "That bastard stole my car!"

Todd peered outside. The motorcycle and convertible were zooming away.

He sighed and crawled up the stairs to his room as Scott dove for the telephone. Today was a Bad Day. A very Bad Day.