"You-you're my mother?" Talia managed to squeak out after several minutes of stunned silence. The revelation hit her like a gut shot, knocking the air straight out of her lungs. Talia was still pressed against the car window, her petite frame curled onto the car seat and the tip of her tail clasped in one hand. She drew her index finger across the point repetitively, burying herself as far from this strange woman…Wait, this strange woman? Should I call her mom? Mother? Is this woman even my mother? She does look like me, a lot. A whole lot. But she just transformed from Ms. Wall Street into…well, this! She could be some weird government agent. She could be an evil mad scientist. She could be Scanner! Alright, maybe not that, but, I mean, this is someone who left me on a doorstep. Does she have a reason for that or-
"Yes, and you have no idea how long I've waited to say that to you Talia." The woman responded, pulling Talia firmly out of her thoughts, at least for the moment.
"Um, thank you?" She looked up at this woman through a thin curtain of black hair, afraid to meet her gaze.
"I realize that you're probably angry with me, I want you to know that right now. You have every right in the world to be angry with me. But there are others, Talia, others who want you dead.The woman replied with a mixture of sorrow and nostalgia. The woman pushed the key into the ignition once more, this time bringing the truck to life, its headlights shining brightly in front of the car and the dashboard glowing green. She checked the rearview mirror and both side mirrors several times before allowing herself to transform once more. Glasses that looked as real as anything were born from this woman's face with a whim, and her short red hair suddenly grew length and darkened. The short black halter top dissipated, being replaced by a stockholder's power suit. Talia felt much less fright than last time, instead watching the entire show with a rapt awe. She took special note of this woman's eyes, the way they clouded over before changing completely, turning a dull, rusty gold before finally turning to white sclera with brown irises.
"Why did you leave me in front of that church? Is…that what you're going to tell me?" Two questions that she had not wanted ask, and certainly held no intentions of doing so. It felt like her larynx and mouth had betrayed her, forcing the words out despite her ardent objections. The SUV halted its' course, the engine idling as the monstrous automotive lay half in, half out of the parking space.
"I-I don't want to tell you here. It is a very long story; it can't be told in a car."
"But you're going to tell me?"
"Yes, tonight. I have a room at the Blue Garden Inn."
"Wait, a hotel room? What about my parents?" For the first time since she had hit the brakes, this woman actually looked at Talia, rather than staring out the windshield towards the empty asphalt.
"I have…your adoptive parents, Talia, I didn't even think about it." She let her head hit the steering wheel softly, and behind her fake eyeglasses sad brown eyes closed.
"Well, I want them to know I'm alright, I was arrested, and they know that. They're probably looking for me right now, and, you know…" There was a small part of Talia that became increasingly nervous with every passing second, and it was beginning to give itself voice. It was the voice of paranoia. However, another voice felt pity for this woman, this woman who had apparently been scouring the earth looking for her, for who knows how long.
"Of course dear. I'm so sorry, I never even thought about it. I was just so happy that I had finally found you, I wasn't thinking straight." Talia studied this woman, still under the guise of Ms. Wall Street.
"Ok, I guess I can call them from the hotel." Talia Josephine Royce, nineteen years old and a straight-A student since kindergarten, had just conceded to stay with a woman she had known for less than a half-hour. She gave herself mental excuses, such as she was not defenseless, and this woman appeared to wish her no ill will. However, in her heart of hearts, there was only one reason Talia did not get out of that car and head straight for her house, only one reason in the entirety of the cosmos that she settled into the soft leather seat and wrapped the nylon seatbelt around her waist. Ever since Talia had been old enough to have rational thought, she had desired, more than anything, to know why she had been left on a doorstep, and she was willing to risk her own life in the hopes of finding that reason.
"Alright folks, story goes like this. We're lookin' for Nightcrawler's sister. All we've got is a name and a baby picture, so it ain't gonna be easy," Logan scanned the small crown gathered around him as he began his speech. The entrance ramp to the jet was still lowered, sinking an inch or two into the soft ground below. They had landed just outside of the city in the thick growth of the forest, preferring not to rely solely on the darkness which now blanketed the sky above. His eye caught Piotr first, although that was almost completely because of height. The young man stood ramrod straight, like someone had attached a string to the crown of his skull and simply yanked upwards. He next caught Remy, as tall as Piotr give or take a few inches, but one would almost never guess from the way he slouched against one of the support poles for the ramp, his posture as relaxed and unconcerned as Piotr's was militant and attentive. He made a mental note of where the two stood before continuing his speech. "And Mystique ain't gonna make it any easier for us. Now, a lot of us here have tangled with her before, so you know what to expect. And for those of you that ain't met her yet, watch yourselves. Mystique will exploit any weakness she can find, so I'll repeat: Watch yourselves. Now, this is a big city, so we're gonna split up into-
"That is unnecessary." Logan turned his attention towards the voice, and found himself momentarily stunned when he saw it was Jean. He was even more shocked when he saw something in her eyes, something that you could only recognize if you yourself had felt its touch and suffered its hideous consequences. He saw animal instinct, not the human reptilian brain, but raw, pure animal instinct, the type of instinct that only knew fight or flight. Logan knew that instinct intimately, and to see it in the eyes of someone so young filled him with a dreadful surprise. He shook it off quickly, hoping no one had noticed his momentary lapse.
"How's that, red?"
"It is unnecessary to form a search party. I have located the person we seek."
"Jean, where is she?" Professor Xavier calmly questioned. If he was concerned at all about this sudden jump in ability, he did not show it.
"She is in an unmoving automotive. The last location I can pinpoint for her is a local Police Station."
"A police station…Hmm…If this girl, Talia, used her powers in public, it would make sense that she was arrested. That would explain why she only appeared on Cerebro briefly. Jean, are you positive that this is the girl?"
"I am certain, as well as insulted that you must ask. Her mind is confused, but this is the Talia Josephine we seek," She paused to take a breath. "I wish to have a moment of solitude." Jean sated flatly before walking several paces away from the jet, sitting down on a large rock with her back towards the group. Everyone's eyes watched this with little understanding of what it meant, or even if this was their friend. Logan was the first to break through the bewildered fog that had settled over the group.
"What the hell was that?" It may have lacked an abundance of eloquence, but he certainly spoke for the entire group.
"I am not sure, but I've already asked Hank to search local police radios for any descriptions of Talia. Kitty, I'd like you to assist Dr. McCoy," Kitty shook her head in acknowledgement before rising on air and disappearing through the solid titanium that made up the body of the jet. Possessing the power to become intangible came with more fringe benefits than one would at first believe. "As for the rest of you, do not wander too far and stay sharp. The information we need could come at any moment." The small group hardly dispersed from the area, still confused about the display they had just witnessed.
Inside the jet, Kitty's soft footsteps produced quiet whispers as she quickly made her way across the jet in the direction of Henry McCoy, whose hulking blue form was hunched over blinking computer screens, their bright glow the only things visible. It gave him an ominous, mad scientist image, and Kitty gently approached him, lightly tapping him on the shoulder.
"Ah, Katherine. Charles informed me he would be sending you up here to assist me."
"Yea, well, I'm not, like, sure what I can do to help."
"Nonsense. There's plenty you can do to help. If nothing else, you're keeping me company." At this, Kitty gave a smile.
"Yea. Hey, what are you doing there?" Kitty asked, pointing towards one of the computer screens. This particular screen had text speeding across the screen with barely a moment to consider anything written.
"This? I'm scanning all logged police reports for any descriptions matching that of Nightcrawler's sister. Specifically, I've entered in a rough physical description, and I am currently scanning every file, quarantining any that match the keywords."
"Wow, is that legal?"
"Only for elected officals."
"Hey, Dr. McCoy, Can I ask you a question?"
"More sarcastic folk than I would point out that you just did. How may I be of service, Miss Pryde?"
"Well, I was, like, wondering what you knew about telling the future?"
"Precognition? People have debated it for centuries, whether or not it actually exists, benefits, curses. Kings have been crowned and empires have been vanquished in the name of the future. A few times, I've often wondered how life would have been had I possessed such a talent. It's quite an expansive area; is there any way you could narrow your quandary?"
"Well, how good are you at keeping secrets? I mean, this is really something that can't get out, but you've got, like, a hundred doctorates so if anyone can help, I think you can."
"My dear, I've found living in a school requires secrets as nothing more than a part of daily life. What seems to be troubling you?" Some might have seen Henry's slightly jovial nature as a sign he wasn't taking Kitty seriously, however, Kitty saw this in a different light. She thought of Logan, wrapped up in tortures performed on him by unseen hands, and of the Professor, who was the thumb in a dam that threatened to burst forth with hate and murder at any moment. In contrast, Henry's light-hearted words were a comfort.
"Well, it's like this I've got a friend, and she's talking about getting visions of the future. I mean, not like visions like a hallucination, but she's got a gut feeling that, like, something's going to happen to her. Something bad."
"A vision of death?"
"She didn't come out and say that, but yea, that's the general point." Henry rubbed the thick tuft of a goatee growing down from his wide face. He eyed Kitty thoughtfully for several minutes, wanting to phrase his answer as best as possible.
"Well, from time to time humans have shown the ability to foretell events, and I know of one or two mutants with some power of precognition, with a few others rumored but unconfirmed. Is your friend a mutant?"
"Yea. Yea, she is, but she doesn't live at the institute. She's a pen pal of mine." Kitty hoped the explanation she'd just birthed from nothingness would hold weight.
"Well, I don't suppose she is a seer," Henry trailed off momentarily as Kitty shook her head NO. Henry nodded before continuing, "Well, since that's out, how seriously is she talking about this? Could she possibly do harm to herself?"
"No! I mean, no, she wouldn't-I mean she couldn't."
"Ok, well, is she under a lot of stress?"
"Yea, pretty much all the time…wait, stress could cause that?"
"Katherine, you would be amazed what stress can do to the carbon-based body. The list is almost endless.
"Wait, would that explain why Jean is acting so weird? You know, just stress at college," Henry's expression changed, and he grimaced for several seconds before finally granting a slight, uneasy nod in the affirmative.
"I heard what happened outside; Charles gave me the details. I can't say for certain that it is stress, or possibly something else."Lying to the students…Henry, are you no better than Charles? Any further internal monologue on Henry's part was forgotten with the help of a series of loud beeps from the computer monitor, signaling that the long search through the police database was finally through. Hank let out a loud exhale, momentarily forgetting that Kitty was still in direct presence.
"I don't believe it…Jean was right," Henry exclaimed as he depressed a single button on the keyboard in front of him, a printer whirring to life. "Everything she said, it-it's here."
"That's good," Kitty said, her voice full of perkiness. After a full minute, her smile fell. "It is good, isn't it?" Henry stood up, the metal chair spinning.
"Let's just get out to the rest of the team right now."
"Jean was right, Charles. I found a record of a Talia Josephine Royce in the police records. Blue skin, tail, five-foot-four; she was arrested today for assault."
"Henry, did you get an address?" Henry waved a single piece of paper grasped in his left hand.
"Charles, how you underestimate me. Not only do I have the address, but I know how to get there. We are actually within a mile of the station where she is being held."
"That is fortuitous. Still, we shouldn't waste any time." The X-men began trudging behind Scott, going from Scott Summers to Cyclops in record time. Henry and the Professor, however, lagged behind, neither moving from the spot of dirt just beyond the edge of the exit ramp.
"Still feel confident sending teenagers off to fight your battles, Charles?"
"I notice you didn't feel it necessary to mention any of it to them. It's easy to pass judgment when it isn't your head beneath the guillotine." Charles turned his face from Henry's, pushing the control stick of his wheelchair forward, however, the wheels simply spun in the dirt. Henry had grabbed the back of the chair.
"Charles, I'm not asking you to place your head beneath anything. Those children trust you with their lives, and you are squandering all of that, all for some twenty year old fight, and then there's Jean-"
"What about Jean, Henry?"
"I've told you time and time again the risk of her powers. What part of 'exponential growth' went by you Charles?"
"What exactly do you suggest, Henry? Would you like me to turn her over to SHIELD? Maybe some of those anti-mutant scientists, I'm sure they'd love to pick through her mind."
"There are OPTIONS! It doesn't have to be the worst possible scenario!" Henry shouted, letting go of Charles' wheelchair just long enough for him to wheel out of Henry's grasp.
"Henry, I vowed many years ago that mutants and humans could live together peacefully. That fight has cost me the use of my legs, among other things dear to me. I will not cripple another so that you may sleep more peacefully at night."
"So that's the end of it, is it?" Charles sighed, staring at the retreating forms of his team rather than Dr. McCoy.
"Mention it again, my friend, and you will no longer be welcome in my home, or on my team. I'm sorry." Charles turned, wheeling towards the fading group as Henry simply stood in the dirt.
"She's not here? What do you mean she's not here; you're the ones that arrested her!" Catherine slapped her palm on the counter in front of her as a physical exclamation point. She and Walter were standing in the lobby of the police station Talia had been taken to only hours earlier.
"She was arrested by one of our officers, ma'am, but she's no longer here." The officer took another sip from his mug of coffee before glancing back at Catherine. Quit looking at me like I know something, bitch, he thought, taking in the cold steely gaze she had fixed on him. They parked me in front of this desk and this might be where I'll die. They don't tell me shit. Brian had been more depressed than usual about his job this night, although the idea of hating his job was not a new concept. Jesus, first one woman stands in here and shouts until she's blue in the face, now this woman's claiming that she's the mother. And I'm gonna be the one that gets blamed for all this. Fucking great.
"She's no longer here? What the hell does that mean?" Brian lazily punched in a series of keystrokes into the filthy keyboard in front of him, caked with several layers of dust and dried droplets of spilled coffee.
"Bond was posted a half-hour ago by the mother." At saying the last word, Brian internally winced, knowing what was about to come.
"By the mother," Walter shouted. "The mother's right here! You let our daughter out of here with a complete stranger!" Brian opened his mouth to speak, but Catherine cut him off.
"Forget it; don't say another word. Get your commanding officer; I want to speak to him now." Catherine didn't shout, in fact, she did not even raise her voice. Instead she spoke in a low monotone voice that made Brain wish she was yelling. Brain rose from his perch, regarding with one eye several people who had just entered the lobby.Get in line, folks, Brian thought as he walked in the direction of his CO. Get in line with every other jerk-off taxpayer who wants a piece of my ass.
"I can't believe this, how in the hell do you lose a person? How in the hell do you lose a person?" Catherine shouted, spitting out both instances of hell with furious venom. Behind her, a small group of people stirred, speaking softly among themselves, before finally an aging gentleman in a wheelchair slowly approached the two parents.
"Excuse me for prying, but would you happen to be the parents of a Talia Josephine?" Walter snorted derisively before answering.
"Not according to these people, we're not."
"Walter, Don't be rude. Who are you?" The man in the wheelchair extended a single hand forward, which Cathie, then Walter both shook in greeting.
"I am Charles Xavier, and I run a school for mutants. I am here-
"Xavier? Of The Xavier Institute in New York?" Charles held a look of shock momentarily.
"So you've heard of it?"
"Yes, we went to see you lecture at UCLA at Berkley. Excuse me for being blunt, but why are you here?" Charles' face took a sour look for a second, and he waved his hand towards his group. Catherine's jaw smacked the filth-ridden linoleum below her feet as a young man stepped out of the crowd, every inch of him a dead ringer for their own daughter. His ever-moving tail, pointed ears, gold eyes, and blue skin, all was just the same as the girl they had raised.
"Guten Tag. My-My name is Kurt Wagner." He spoke in a broken German accent, substantial time away from the country eroding at the way he spoke.
"This young man and your adopted daughter are twins. They were born to a mutant who has since taken on the name Mystique. She believes mutants are the next step in the evolutionary chain, and will soon take over. She is highly prone to violence in order to accomplish her goals."
"Violence? Does she have our daughter? Is she safe?"
"I do not know. However, I would recommend finding her as soon as possible."
"I'll be out in a minute, Talia. Make yourself at home." Mystique said, shutting and locking the bathroom door behind her without waiting for a response. It was most likely for the best, as Talia was too distracted by the sheer opulence of the room. The Blue Garden Inn was one of the city's oldest structures, and also it's priciest. Talia had only been inside once, when she and Jeanette were both fifteen. Bored on a spring break and in a state of semi-altered consciousness, they had snuck in during a busy business convention, spending the next few hours running about the hotel as most of the conventioneers assumed the two girls were somebody else's offspring and, therefore, somebody else's problem. The diversion lasted long enough for the two girls to raid the buffet table and swipe a few pocketfuls of free pens, key chains, and other freebies given out by vendors looking to spread their name. Their luck ran out, however, when they got the idea in them to take advantage of the hotel's generous pool area. It wasn't long after that the manager of the hotel was alerted to their presence. Jeanette's silver tongue was the only reason that they weren't arrested, and even then they had to wait while their parents were contacted. They were both, of course, grounded for a month with no television, phone, or anything else a teenager holds dear to their heart.
This, however, was her first time in any of the actual rooms, and, to be honest, she was a little disappointed. It wasn't the room itself, not with the fine oak furniture and oriental carpeting. There had been a mystery before to these rooms, thanks in no small part to her past run-in with the hotel. Snapping herself out of her daze, Talia quickly dug into the sagging black bag strapped around her shoulder, yanking out the sizable hunk of plastic that constituted her cell phone. She couldn't explain it, but she felt a burning need to call her adoptive parents before this woman came back into the room. She punched in the number to her mother's cell phone, quick contact that name of the game. After nineteen years, Talia knew how her mother dealt with stress, and "not well" explained everything fairly well.
"Talia? Oh my god, are you ok? Where are you?"
"Mom, I'm fine, I'm fine. Look, I don't want you worrying about me, I'm alright."
"Talia, we're at the police station, they say I bailed you out. What's going on?" Talia glanced back at the locked bathroom door before turning back to face the phone, dropping her voice to only slightly above a whisper.
"I'm safe, that's all I can tell you." Talia readied herself to snap her phone shut, but her mother's voice made her pause momentarily.
"Talia, where are you? Tell me."
"Look, mom, I can't tell you. This isn't something I can explain to you. This is just something I have to do, and deal with the consequences later. I love you mom. Tell dad I love him too."
Her mother let out another voice of protest, but all she received was the silent noise of the connection ending as her phone lit up, the words "Call Ended" blinking in digital.
"She-hung up on me." Catherine brought her phone in front of her face and stared hard, the words as plain as day, and still she found herself unable to comprehend their meaning.
"Well, Professor Xavier," Walter questioned nervously. "Were you able to…contact our daughter?" I hope that's the right word for it, Walter thought, having never asked someone to telepathically communicate with his daughter before.
"Yes, she at some establishment called the Blue Garden Inn. Do either of you know where that is?"
"Talia?" Mystique had left the bathroom, oddly appearing to have used the room to change into her natural form. It was the second time tonight Mystique had shocked Talia out of her thoughts.
"Mom? Uh, you, don't, um, mind me calling you 'mom', do you?" She stammered, and she nervously began tapping one boot-clad foot. She held her phone behind her back, pushing the heavy plastic brick into one of her back pockets.
"No, of course not. No, as a matter of fact, I think I like you calling me that," Mystique smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed, motioning for Talia to do the same, which she did in a rapid fashion.
"You asked about your…birth earlier. I suppose I should tell you that story first."
"Yea. Why did you get rid of me?" There was some bitterness in her voice; Talia could hardly be blamed for that. However, she was surprised at how little there was in there, and she wondered about that old cliché of time healing all wounds.
"I never wanted to, but after what happened between me and your father, it was the best option I had out of no options."
"My father, what, was he a serial killer?" Talia let out a loud snort, but her smile fell when she locked eyes with Mystique again. Her stony glare silently displayed the message that Talia should forget any notion of further joke telling. Without once taking off eye contact with her mother, Talia set down on the corner of the bed.
"You have to understand, I was born like this, Talia, and my mutation didn't trigger until I was a teenager. My family tried to kill me before I was placed in foster care. I was very bitter about everything for a very long time. I was in my seventies when I first met your father, right after the end of the Vietnam War."
"Wait, your seventies? How…how old are you?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Let's just say it's one more reason I consider myself above humanity. Now, may I continue," Mystique asked, to which Talia rapidly nodded her head. "Thank you, dear. Your father was a handsome man, but very…wrapped up. In everything. He had these ideas, and at first I thought he was crazy. Then, he showed me what he could do," Mystique grinned. "I was in awe of him. I had been masquerading as a nurse, getting income by selling whatever I came across that was fetching a price. He was wandering about after hours while I was on one of my raids. The first time he showed me what he could do, I didn't believe it. I didn't believe there were others like me. I thought I had some special punishment courtesy of evolution or God or whoever was responsible. The short straw in life. But him, he showed me another way of looking at this. He called it a gift. I sat up that entire night, talking to him. He left me in a daze, talking about his utopian vision for all of us. It had all been dreamed up by him and his friend, another mutant. It was beautiful, it was the first time I had used that word to describe anything."
"Wow. That sounds awesome." Talia whistled in awe.
"Yes, well, for a long time things were going well, all of us working together. We found more people that thought like us, more that wished for our voices to be heard." Mystique lost herself in a sudden wave of nostalgia, prompting Talia to speak up again after several minutes of silence.
"Well, what happened?"
"He got…swept up in what he believed, swept up in the idea of mutants. He-he wanted to experiment on you. I ran, and I tried to hide you as best I could," Talia blinked; processing everything she had just been told. "That was my motivation for finding you again, Talia. I think he may have finally found you. That's why I came back," Mystique took a deep breath. "And that's why we have to leave tonight."
"Run? Tonight!" Talia exclaimed in fervent disbelief, but Mystique was interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone, a sleek black model with faux ivory trim, and a large pad with several plastic buttons assigned to direct-dial various areas of the hotel, all organized by a laminated card slipped onto the plastic covering. A light blinked, indicating a call from the front desk.
"Yes, what do you want?" Mystique hissed into the phone. She had many reasons to be irritable, only some of which had been told to Talia.
"Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Adler, but I just wanted to alert you that we had a large group of people looking for you. We detained them at the front desk, however, they have managed to make their way into the hotel, and we believe they're heading for your room." Mystique only response audible to the front desk clerk was a loud curse and the sound of the handset being slammed into the cradle with full force, enough to crack both. Without so much as blinking, Mystique was across the room, digging through the large canvas tote bag she had brought in from her car. Various object spilled out of bag until Mystique simply let the whole thing drop to the carpeted floor, knocking over the fragile wooden chair the bag had been resting on as well.
It was scarcely a moment before Talia was able to see what Raven had been searching for; a large gray handgun was gripped tightly in one hand, with two thin black objects Talia guessed to be ammo in the other. She walked to door in an angry stride, cocking the gun before peering out the peephole. Talia grabbed two fistfuls of the comforter in a stressed panic, squeezing as tight as she could. Mystique slid the chain lock on the door out of place, and then clicked the deadbolt out of place, before throwing open the door with her gun aimed in front of her.
The Blue Garden Inn had a very unique architecture, mostly due to the fact it had not been originally planned as a hotel, but instead an indoor garden. The project had proved too ambitious and expensive for the city, and it was until a wealthy developer from San Francisco heard about the project, and, after altering the idea to include a hotel, invested enough to make the building a reality. The garden had been done away with in the mid-seventies to make way for an indoor pool, but several palm trees dotted the ground floor, with decorative vines crawling across the front of each balcony. It was this artfully trimmed foliage that currently hampered Mystique vision of the lobby, for it was only when one attempted to aim a firearm through the leaves of a palm tree that one could truly how difficult a task it truly was. Still, she kept a steady eye on the ground level, waiting for a sign of the X-men.
"What-Why do you have guns?" Talia shouted loudly. She jumped off the bed, but as soon as she did so she was hit with the realization that she had no clue whatsoever where to run. Mystique answered her in a low monotone that evoked a drill instructor, turning back to give Talia the most cursory of glances before shutting the door. Although she set all the locks, Mystique made no effort to move back into the main area of the room, instead slinking into the darkness of the unlit bathroom.
"Talia, I wanted to wait until later to tell you this, however, there are mutants that work against us. They work with humans who perform sick experiments on us. Nothing more than the Mengles of our times," and Mystique most likely had much more to say, however it was at that exact moment that the door flew open, the inside handle of the door leaving a sizable crater in the wallpaper and plaster on the opposite wall. Talia saw, standing in the doorway, the culprit behind this intrusion, a short, squat man wearing a leather bodysuit. For some reason, Talia saw him and thought of a Weeble. Talia had time to think of little else, because it was at that moment that Mystique leaned out of the bathroom just enough to fire one of her pistols, burying a single slug into the man's skull. "That is one of them. Quickly now, that won't keep him for long."
The sound of chaos was faint, but it was audible nonetheless. A hotel full of people emptying out in a panic was not a quiet event. Talia, somewhere in the back of her head, wished that she was among those running, but she was not. Instead, she was pressed into a corner unable to tell her legs to move.
"Talia, hurry up. This man isn't going to stay down for long." Talia was still too shocked to question that statement, however, no part her brain, no matter how shocked, was willing to risk the anger of someone holding two loaded guns. She didn't take her eyes off of either person for a second, making her first two steps slowly and deliberately. Once those were completed, Talia sped up her movements, and she was almost by her mother's side when three long silver claws shot out of the hand closest to Mystique, and the hand that supported them sent them into the lower half of Mystique's shin, cleanly slicing through bone and marrow. Losing her balance, Mystique collapsed backwards onto the slick, cool tile of the bathroom floor as the man who had so previously been dead uttered an animalistic howl before flipping himself into a crouch. He grinned an evil, savage grin Mystique's way before becoming in a single moment aware that there was somebody else in the room.
Talia had been frozen in fear before, but now that this beast was actually looking at her, Talia felt a sick emptiness in the pit of her stomach and believed that she would die in this room, with air and freedom and escape only feet away. The door was snagged on an exposed two-by-four, and the guardian between death and escape stood up now, no longer hunched on the floor in a killing position.
"Wait," but that was all he was able to get out before Mystique was back on her feet, smashing the butt of a gun into his cheek, and, with the free hand, grasping him by the neck and forcing him, head first, through a door-sized full length mirror and straight into the wall behind it.
The path had been left clear, and Talia wasted no effort in forcing her feet to carry her out the door. She wanted no more to do with that room, nor anyone in it. She had got the story of her birth, although she had no guarantee as to the veracity of that story. She let out a silent yell of joy inside her head, but her joy was short-lived. Two groups, one coming from either end of the balcony, most dressed similarly to the man with the claws, whom she could hear yelling anew. With no time for true rational thought, Talia lept onto the brass banister in front of her, its glean diminished from a combination of age and constant polishing, and wrapped her tail around it. She let herself fall, praying constantly that this idea, which she had never attempted before that moment, would work. She tipped herself forward, letting gravity take over as she released her tail's hold on the railing and, grabbing the lower edge of concrete that made up the third floor walkway, managed to land on the second floor walkway by swinging her legs inward. It was in no way a graceful landing, her landing in a heap on her stomach, but Talia had managed to escape whoever was on the balcony above her, and that was enough. She pushed herself to her feet, checked for any grievous bodily injury, and, upon finding none worth stopping for, bolted down the balcony.
As the battle between Mystique and Wolverine raged on, the rest of the X-men reached the door, still gaping open. Most of the team switched between peering over the balcony and expressing disbelief over the stunt they had just witnessed.
"Nightcrawler, teleport down there, see if you can-"
"Forget the kid," Wolverine bellowed after throwing Mystique into the wall with enough force to crack both the wall and Mystique's back. "Someone get the hell in here!" And that was all he was able to get out before a blue foot connected with the back of his neck, a move that would have paralyzed anyone else. Being who he was, however, Wolverine simply let out a low groan of pain and hit the ground before swinging around, connecting three pointed claws with Mystique's abdomen. "Nevermind."
Mystique hit the ground sideways. Gut wounds were always the worst. They closed up just the same as anything else, but they let out a putrid smell, something Mystique had never gotten used to no matter how many times it happened. Putting a single hand to the wound, she took in several deep, ragged breaths before spying what she believed at the second to be her saving grace, or a the very least a good omen. One of her pistols was within reach, and once the cold metal was in her grasp she felt a resurgence of energy course through her body. She turned her gaze toward Wolverine, standing at her feet with his claws unsheathed.
"I can go at this just as long as you, Raven," and she knew the only reason he was using her real name was for humiliation. "Just give up. All we're doing is tiring each other out." If he saw the gun, he didn't care. Too bad for him. Her wound had healed, and she took full advantage of that, springing on top of Logan, pinning him in a matter of seconds and straddling him over top of his waist.
"What, you think you got me in a good position." He cracked.
"Of course. I have access to your windpipe." She used the butt of the gun as brass knuckles, slamming her fist into Logan's throat several times in rapid succession before stopping, frozen. She hadn't stopped of her own volition; rather, it was the claws piercing her back. Logan had managed to maneuver his arms behind Mystique, and he lay gasping for air as Mystique painfully, slowly attempted to pull herself free as warm, sticky blood filled her lungs.
Jean Grey's eyes snapped open.
Jean Grey, who had previously been concentrating on emotions, telepathically focusing from person to person,
That would be something to experience. And she began to move herself toward the open door. Behind her, she heard Scott, but she did not pause to listen.
Despite the fact his windpipe had not yet fully healed, Wolverine sprung to his feet, pushing Mystique off of him. The damage he had done to her would take longer than what she did to him, but he wished to be gone. Fighting someone like this gave him no pleasure, for a multitude of reasons. When you could heal every possible kind of injury, you could detach yourself from pain, but he couldn't see that as any sort of admirable goal. He was not four steps away, however, when a bullet whizzed past his nose, catching his cheek in a thin slice.
"Give it up," Logan wheezed, turning to face a Mystique who was holding a pistol in one outstretched, shaky hand. She balled her empty hand into a fist, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet. "She ran off. You ain't starting a new brotherhood or shippin' her off to fight whatever fight you won't." His voice picked up as he spoke further, and perhaps as celebration, he pulled a flattened cigar and silver lighter out of a small pocket on the pant leg of his suit.
"Y-y-you don't kn-ow h-h-alf as m-uch as y-you think, Wolverine," Mystique steadied herself before aiming her gun toward Logan once more, who gave her a look of mild irritation. He plucked the lit cigar, loosely holding it with his thumb, index, and middle fingers. He opened his mouth, possibly to utter some form a retort, but it was at that moment that he jerked, every muscle tensing at once. The lit cigar dropped to the ground, glowing embers scattering and singing the carpet before putting itself out by invisible hand. As he began to hover in the air, Mystique scrambled to her feet as quick as she could. She held the gun out in front of her, but it did her no good. Wolverine flew backwards through the air, flying over the balcony and crashing to the ground three stories below. Mystique heard a large splash of water as she kept her gun trained on the open doorway, and it was no time before Jean Grey stood in the small foyer, the door slamming shut behind her. Beyond it, Mystique could hear the other X-men pounding on the door, and in part of her brain it struck her as odd that a door that had been kicked open would lock.
"Oh, that would be me," Jean uttered in a cold, flat voice, and the next thing she felt was blinding, white-hot pain inside her skull. She brought her hands to her temples, shrieking as every thought in her head was scrambled. Jean took slow, deliberate steps toward Mystique, placing her hands at Mystique's temples, pushing the shape shifter's hands to her sides as Jean brought mystique to eye level. "I got curious, what with the wonderfully emotions you and Logan were experiencing, and I being the curious person I am, I had just had to see what this felt like for myself. I must say, I approve whole-heartedly."
Pushing her self with what little strength she had left, Raven maneuvered the barrel of her gun as close to Jean's head as she could make it. Mystique concentrated with every brain cell that wasn't preoccupied with screaming in agony, praying that her index finger would twitch just a fraction of an inch. She was no longer fighting out of vengeance. Instead, another instinct had kicked in, one much more primal, more base.
Survival.
Mystique's only wish now was that she could see another day.
"Look into my eyes, Raven. I can make this very quick, or I can make this very slow. It will be painful all the same, but it is the difference between disconnecting your brain stem from your central nervous system; and boiling each hemisphere of brain separately inside your own skull. Really, it is your choice. I get my fun either way." Mystique resisted as best she could, but the beauty queen sociopath in front of her pushed further and further, and the solid wall behind left Mystique nowhere to turn. The instinct for survival kicked into overdrive. With one last ounce of strength, she pushed her finger that final micron of an inch, the cold metal of the gun kicking in her hand as the bullet fired. In her last moments of consciousness, she felt release as Jean's grip on her mind loosened.
It was at that very moment that Scott, bored and impatient with trying to open the door through polite, conventional means, simply hit the button on the side of his visor. A straight line of pure energy shot out of his eyes and a loud crack went through the air, followed very quickly by the acrid, noxious odor of burning brass and wood. Scott wasted no time, slamming into what was left of the door with his shoulder and bolting into the room. He spotted Jean lying on the floor, her hair sticky with a growing pool of blood beneath her head. He was by her side in a second, his shouts of her name bringing the rest of the team inside the large hotel room. The professor wheeled next to him, placing a hand on Scott's shoulder.
"They're alive, Charles. They are both in comas, but they're alive.
"Henry, we need to get both of them to a hospital immediately."
"I'm not leaving her side." To Scott, it was fact and a statement of mission. The professor said nothing, but simply motioned for Scott to follow him and began wheeling toward the door. Scott followed, but along his way he took passing glances of everyone, sly glances easier to steal when no one could see your eyes. He noticed Kitty was near tears, she and Jean had been close, but he also noticed Rogue was distraught, and Scott found that he didn't know if Rogue was distraught over Mystique or Jean. He saw Colossus and Gambit, both looked uneasy towards the whole situation, understandable since neither had known Mystique or Jean personally. Scott did take note that Colossus had sloughed off his metal skin, perhaps out of respect or perhaps just because there was no longer the imminent threat of battle. He last spied Nightcrawler, not even standing but sitting in a chair he had turned to face the wall. Scott did not let his gaze last longer than a moment; for some reason he felt guilty even looking at Nightcrawler at the moment. Let him grieve, Scott thought as he and Charles left the room.
"Scott, I understand-"
"No, you don't. Jean is lying in a pool of her own blood in that room. She hasn't been feeling well ever since I went down to Pennsylvania. It was my leadership that led to her into this hotel. So the first she sees when she wakes up is going to be me." Scott kept his posture firm even if his voice wavered at the end.
"Scott, I understand what you are saying, but I need you here, leading them. I promise-" The professor was interrupted again, this time not by Scott's words but by his actions, as Scott smashed the flat end of his palm against the wall.
"Just get her to a hospital. I'm going to go in there, organize the team, find Kurt's sister, and then," Scott pointed his index finger at Charles' face. "I want a real reason why I have to be here instead of by Jean's side. Get her to a hospital." Scott angrily, turning to enter again the room without a last glance towards the professor.
"Kitty, Rogue. I need you to get down to the security room. Check all of the tapes for Kurt's sister; see if there is any sign of her leaving the hotel." Both Kitty and Rogue looked up, shocked.
"Scott, Jean's laying hehre in a coma." Scott exhaled through his nostrils in a frustrated manner.
"And we're getting her to a hospital. Right now, I need to know if Talia is still in the hotel or not. Check in on the communicators as soon as you've found out." Neither looked particularly overjoyed about it, but Kitty phased them both through the floorboards. As both girls disappeared through the floorboards, Logan came into the room followed closely by the Professor.
"Ah, Wolverine. It would seem Mystique got the advantage over you, at least momentarily," commented Henry, folding a bedsheet into a makeshift stretcher. "Back to normal?"
"Same as always, McCoy. What did she do to Jean?" Logan questioned, showing no apparent concern for Mystique.
"Mystique shot her, close range. Fortunately for Jean, Mystique's aim was off, although time is still most certainly of the essence. Would you mind taking an end? We need to get both of these women to the nearest hospital." Henry asked, gesturing to the far end of the bed sheet he had slid under her form. Scott noticed the sheet taking on a deep scarlet color, and his breath caught in his throat.
"Sure, Hank," Logan was across the room in three steps. "But yer wrong about Mystique."
"Oh, and how is that," They both pulled, lifting Jean's form several inches above the carpet. They began to walk, with Logan moving backwards. "Get her downstairs, and we'll come back for Mystique."
"Wasn't Mystique that tossed me over that balcony. It was Jean."
"Wait, what? What did you say?" Scott began to follow, coming as close to Wolverine as possible without entering the narrow foyer that stood between the doorway and the actual room.
"Jean was the one threw me into that pool. There's only one thing that feels like a telepath going in your head, and that's exactly what I felt." Scott wanted to press Logan for more information, but Hank spoke up before any further talks could occur.
"Scott, please. We have to go. I promise you'll be the first to know as soon as she wakes up." Scott didn't say anything in return, just nodding as Hank and Logan left the room, Jean's body still suspended in the cotton hammock as it disappeared from sight.
"We went through all the video of every door in or out of this hotel. Lucky for us this hotel has all brand-new security equipment. Top-notch stuff, I mean, their direct line feed-"
"Shadowcat," said Scott. The team, or what remained of it, was circled in front of the Blue Garden's registration desk. There were no personal anywhere to be seen. No guests were frolicking about in the pool or milling about. What Mystique's gunshots hadn't finished Logan's three-story dive certainly had done the job. The hotel was deserted, and that was fine with Scott. He was already stretched as thin as could be; he wished as little external stress as possible. In fact, his wish was that the girl would come out of her own volition and he could be at the hospital."Were you able to find her on any of the footage?"
"No. We checked every exit for the past twenty minutes. No sign of her."
"That means she's still in the hotel," Scott stared toward the far end of the hotel with a look of disbelief on his face. "Alright team, here's the plan. We're going to make master keys using the magnetic card system. After that, split into two's. Between us, we've got enough people to cover each floor," Scott was about to continue, but noticed Remy shooting looks Rogue's way. She responded by glancing looks of deep-seated hatred when she wasn't pointedly ignoring him. "Gambit, you're with me." The Cajun man twisted his lips in a sneer.
"Yi bebysittin' me, Summers?"
"Call it whatever you want. Nightcrawler, I want you and Colossus to check out the fourth and third floors. Rogue and Shadowcat, I want you to take the rooms on the second and third floors. Gambit and I will take the employee areas. Use the magnetic card reader behind the counter to make yourself a master key, and make sure to keep in contact in case there are any issues." Scott said by way of dismissal. Nightcrawler was the first to leave as Colossus trudged behind, still in his flesh form. Rogue and Kitty were not far behind, heading just behind the counter toward the key room. Gambit and Scott were the last to leave, Gambit uncharacteristically quiet, not that Scott was paying attention to him either way. Scott's body was hunting for Talia, but his mind was concerned with Jean. He flashed back to her limp form cradled in the bedsheet, her face growing paler by the passing seconds. There was an empty pit in his stomach, the idea that Jean might not make it through this, and no matter what he did to ignore that nauseating pit it wouldn't go away. He was reflecting on this, and also his outburst towards the professor, when the acrid stench of tobacco wavered slowly past his nostrils. He snapped out of his reflection to see Remy leaning with his shoulder against the cool, smooth surface of the marble countertop.
"Where ti first, fearless leader?" Scott shot him an annoyed look, but refused any answer, instead simply walking past him to the first door and swiping through.
"Check everywhere. Kurt has the ability to blend into the shadows, it's logical his sister might have the same ability,"They made their way through the offices with relative ease, no corner or cabinet left alone. The basement was next, and they were halfway through the pantry of the kitchen when a storage closet refused to open, the result of a neglected track upon which the door ran. Becoming frustrated at this, Scott punched the wall as hard as he could, the pain in his knuckles an immediate reminder that physical pain did not distract from emotional pain.
"Got a question fo' yi, Summers. Why yi still here?" Scott heard Remy from behind him, and gritted his teeth, half from the pain of punching the wall and half in an effort to keep down his anger.
"Because Kurt's sister is still somewhere in this hotel." Scott replied angrily.
"So yi sayin' yi'd rather be here den by yo girl's side?" He asked it casually, however, he still found himself pinned against the door jamb within a flash of time, an angry X-man's hand gasping him by the neck. Scott's teeth were gritted together so hard it was a small wonder that they didn't snap off altogether, and for several seconds neither one knew what was going to happen next. All at once, however, Scott released his hold on Remy before turning his back to the Cajun and shaking his head. Remy did not allow his body to move in any way, not even to pick up the cigarette still smoldering on the tile.
"Do not, for one minute, think that I don't care about Jean. That girl is the most important thing in the world to me, and right now I don't know if she's going to live or die. So I would advise you to watch your mouth." Emotionally exhausted, Scott collapsed backwards to the wall, sinking down to the non-skid floor. Gambit stomped out the cigarette on the floor before pulling another out of his pack.
"Yi t'ink yi de only one ever lost yo' girl?" There were roughly a thousand things Scott was expecting to hear Remy say. That question didn't even come under consideration for the list.
"What?" Scott asked, but before Remy could answer, a noise came from the next room, smacking against the wall. They met eyes briefly before both tiptoeing, creeping over towards the door without either one telling the other to do so. It was hardly necessary to tell someone to be quiet when you were playing what boiled down to a game of Hide-and-Seek with bigger stakes. Remy laid a gentle hand on the door knob. His eyes again met Scott, who very slowly and softly nodded his head, giving Remy the silent go-ahead to open the door. He threw the door open with one solid motion…
…And before Scott could comprehend it, Remy was thrown backward with a crashing force, colliding with great force against a heavy wooden butcher's block, the first thing with which the back of his head happened to collide. Scott stood statue still, unable to force his feet to respond to any command.
"Gambit, Are you alright?" Scott came by his side, but found his efforts rewarded by a hard uppercut to the jaw.
[Author's Note: I do not own any Marvel characters, and I make no money off this work. Please do not repost this without my knowledge. Exam time is coming, so this may be the last chapter I post this year. I don't know, I may try to sneak something in before December 31. Who knows? All I ask is that you read and please leave a little feedback.