Chapter Summary: There are 6 mutants in the cellar of That Pub on Joan's Street. They're all so excited about the number yet Lyall remembers the vast numbers in the movies. She's gotta get this WMPL going.
Notes: Thank you thank you for the 17 follows! That is the most I have! I'm so excited! :3 Little things make me smile!
In the movies, because, you know, they're so totally right, as soon as the main protagonist steps into a bar, a pub, or a tavern, the whole occupants pause in the middle of drinking and turn to eye the newcomer with a death stare.
That Pub on Joan St was a well-lit, fashionably furnished to the age's standards, and clean utensils. The drinks sourced from an island in the middle of the pub, an average sized man with an ordinary beard and closely cropped brown hair, and a black-and-brown uniform. Appearances scream boring, but his smell stank of dried bones and nothing else. He was a mutant hiding in plain sight.
Victor smelt it too. He nudged me, and headed straight for the bar. He sat down and quietly made a conversation with the nearest barkeeper, a younger boy with a far too thick upper lip and humongous buckteeth to be considered handsome, waiting for the bone-man to come around.
I slide in the seat next to the young boy and get hit by a smell of female hormones almost overwhelmed by the stronger male scent. Jesus fuck, two mutants? Excitement prickled the back of my neck, and I almost jumped up and down like the day a book was published. Two mutants, on the first day we set foot in another land. Elastic was a little underestimation.
"Hey," the Russian-accent sourced from a man that stank of dry bone and had just as skinny arms (it reminded me of those African children who've never ate in their life at all, they were that skinny. Wait, were those his legs?) slid along the rich brown ebony wood, careful not to actually touch it with his waist. Otherwise I'm sure I would've expected a grinding noise. "What do you want to drink?"
"Do you accept dollars?" I slyly say, hand diving in between my collar to place my fingers over the sheets of notes. The man eyed my chest, spotting the slight bump and put two and two together. He sighed and shook his head. I lace my fingers, placing the pads of my fingers just before where my claws emerge. "How about people like you and your female-male buddy?" A millimetre of bone claws broke the outer skin, slowly inching forward.
A caught breath. The man stiffly nodded and whipped it up, placing it before me. I turn my head to Victor and he winked at me, nails far longer than they were seconds ago. We had done the same thing, and hilariously almost at the same time. Gripping the rough wooden handle of the jug-sized bo'le (sometimes the era's words just stuck to my head, no matter how much I tried to give everybody mine) Victor slid across the three stools between us, bumping his cup with mine.
"Cheers big ears," I smile almost giddily at my half-brother.
"Same goes big toes," he chants back, remembering all the times I would say that back to him, and tips back his cup at the same time as me, weak liquid sloshing down the sides into our mouths.
Bone and Fe-male refused to make any conversation with the two of us beyond the occasional bar-tending questions. Time wasn't a problem for us, we'd quietly draw nuts-and-crosses games on my skin using Victor's fingers and laughed about the few and far between fun times in the Civil war, mainly consisting of stories about Victor beating up a sexist pig in the army after every promotion I receive.
The rest of the population were ushered out around 10pm, the two mutants slowly cleaning up as Victor and I sat in the stools and quietly fooled around with our healing factor.
"Right," Fe-male sighed, flicking the poor lock on the cleaning storage shut with a barely noticeable flick of his wrist. "What do you want, coming in here and telling us we're mutants?"
"Well," Victor drawls and I silently let him have this one. Being the Major-General of the American Army requires lots of political experience, stuffy people on top of racist morons. Victor, for once, can do it. "It's not hard, Fe-male," Victor stresses the hyphen by drawing out the 'e' "you stink of female stench, far stronger than any male could even do and Mr Bone here has toothpicks for arms and legs and his smell like dried white stuff you find in warzones months after the battle happens."
Fe-male and Bone bite their lips, Fe-male's bottom lip disappearing under the far larger one and an odd sound reasoning from the grinding (?!) of Bone's mouth. I quirked my eye brow at them, feeling the no need of words just fine enough. They had admitted they were mutants, and accepted that we were too.
"And what if we are mutants? Why would we want to tell you?" Fe-male snaps, fingers clenching into fists, arms ridged by his waist. Like we were memorized by a spell, our personal weapons stabbed each other in the chest. We refused to filch at the feeling of something burying in our chests. A speeding bullet was far worst.
With a squelching noise, I drew back my claws from Victor's chest taking time to show the two strangers my bloody 'extra' bones, neither of their faces flinching; although Fe-male did go a little pale. So Bone was used to blood.
"What's your name?" I smile brightly at them, a shocking difference to the smirks I had sent them the whole night. "I've been calling you Bone and Fe-male the whole time. I don't think your parents called you that."
"Gerrant, and he's Lucius," Bones mutters quietly as Fe-male, now known as Lucius, bends down sideways, groping at something under the bar. A loud clunk cracked, gone as it soon started. It sounded far too like a gun on the battlefield, and that was the reason why my claws were out and Victor clicked into a defence stance.
"Come," grunts Gerrant, Russian accent thicker in his rolling emotions. I couldn't pin what emotion, but it certainly affected his voice. I keep my laughter to myself, and instead grip Victor's thick sleeves at the wrist and forcibly drag his unwilling body to the hole in the floor, following Gerrant and Lucius.
Under the pub is a perfectly fine, lit cellar with no touch of creepiness. Two other men are facing their backs to us as they slump over a medium sized table, a deck of cards neatly lined up.
"David," Lucius snaps, "Why didn't you tell me that these two were coming?"
"Because you told me to stay away from your brother," grits out a man with sideburns and outrageous blond hair. Violent purple hair shifted next to him, a face the colour of an apple turning in surprise to stare at us, the newcomers.
Lucius is suspiciously quiet. Bad blood? That didn't seem like it when the captain spoke of his brother.
"Zxyzzrx, please call me Z." smiles the outrageously coloured man, friendly vibes radiating from his – wait were those blue arms? Was this Kurt's relative?
"Lyall Howlett and Victor Creed. We're half-siblings." I introduce, letting my fingers go from Victor's sleeve, letting it drop to my side.
"Yes," David grunts, glass clenched in his hand mumbled into the table "I know."
"Sorry, David just has a hard time coping with his mutation." Z breezily grins at his friend, "he can see everything in the past." David coughs, lifting his grey shelled head to look at me with baggy eyes. Ooh, yeah, that would suck. Lots. I turn to Gerrant and his arm blurs and fades, leaving bone.
I am not kidding; nothing holding the white substance together but air. It takes me back to Luke, skin inching its way up my bones to regrow, but his skin doesn't.
"I'm completely bone. My body will continue on, but acts like I do have muscle, skin and blood." Gerrant flexes his fingers grimly, staring down at them with hate. "I hate my mutation."
I take a few shuffles forward and offer him my hand. "Nice to meet you," I grin, evident that I was just far too used to the bloody remains from the Civil War. Gerrant mumbles something in reply, blank face not betraying a single feeling. But he offers his bone hand anyway and firmly shakes it, my baby-smooth skin barely catching on the somewhat rough surface of Gerrant's true look.
"I can… change gender…" Lucius stiffly says (oh, that explains the hormones), biting his fingers into the skin of his palms. He's waiting for something, a melange of negative connotations. I flinch inwardly. Why were mutants so hated? We're just humans + X gene. I turn my body to face Lucius, eagerly holding out my hand to Lucius.
"Being a guy would be cool as." Lucius did indeed pick up on my hidden message, and bit his lower lip again. Obviously changing another person's gender was really hard or I was the first to ask him.
"So what can you do Z?" Victor gruffly snaps at the now khaki green tinged man as Lucius shyly slides his hand into mine.
"I don't know if this'll hurt," he warns softly and closes his eyes. "You're the first person I've done it on." I smile at him even though he can't see it.
"I can conceive illusions whenever I want. It's how I can help other mutants hide their physical attributions." Z replies as something trembles under Lucius' skin; it reaches mine and seeps into it.
Abruptly it draws away, his hand now sweating from the effort. Or should I say, she, since Lucius had huge lumps on her chest, thinner arms and clothes hanging off her once-buff shoulders. Her face was a little softer now; the top lip was now at a normal size.
"Meet Lucy," she pants, stumbling back into a chair one of her mates drew out. "Sorry it didn't work; ran out of energy." But I think we both knew that it wasn't from lack of energy; it was the fear of hate if she couldn't transform me back, the fear humans installed in her, the fear to show what she can do.
"Don't worry," I shrug, flexing my fingers before clenching them "Took me a long time to learn how to control these." Z took in a sharp breath as the bones took their time squeezing themselves out of my arm, a few drops of blood landing on the cobblestone floor.
"Wow," Z breathes, and turns to Victor with starry eyes. "What can you do?" Victor smirks and his index finger nail grows. He drags it down the nearest wooden wall, carving a deep 'V' into it, a stark difference from all the shallow half-arsed lines.
The men (and woman) made approving noises and patted us both on the back. We smile. This was far more different than when Marth and Sherman told us of their powers; they hated theirs, afraid of showing them at all, and detested and envied at the same time with our ease of showing our mutant side.
"And we both have incredible, super-fast, healing factors." Victor throws on the end, demonstrating when he draws a bloody line on my arm as I stab him in the leg with my claws. Yeah, that is actually charted. We did… kinda… make deal to do this whenever our abilities came up.
"Z, how do you make illusions?" I ask, because "dude, how useful is that? You could do so much…"
"I… can't exactly explain it. Can't do it with more than 1 person, I'm afraid, so it's useless when a group of people attack you, and you can't feel the illusions." Z sighs, a face of wonder as he explores the impossible possibilities. I turn to him, hopeful. He shakes his head in amusement and squeezes his eyes shut.
And something shifted inside me. The real world fades into this sea of aqua green, badly-drawn fish darting around me and my hair floats in the so-called sea like I'm diving. I laugh and reach out to touch the fish but it darts out of reach. I sway in the imaginary current, limbs weighing nothing as the ocean carries me around.
"That was is epic." I breathe when the strange feeling in my gut fades and I've returned to the cellar under the That Pub on Joan St. with David, Lucy, Victor and Z. Z looks away awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. "Victor, Victor, you should do it,"
"No." Victor grows, crossing his arms hotly. "I am perfectly fine with the way I see the world, thank you very much." I pout and mutter spoil sport under my breath and turn back to Lucy and Z.
There are six mutants here. There are six mutants here. Excitement poured from every single pore of my body. Holy fuck, there's six mutants here. I can't resist to let out a giddy giggle, bouncing, and letting out a small squeal. "Victor," I breathe, "There's six mutants here!" Victor can link to my exhilaration, a bright smile, not a smirk or a grin, lighting up his face. He nods, resting his large hands on my shoulder. Even through I'm far taller for an average woman even in Amy's era, my younger half-brother still towers over me.
"Two other mutants?" Z jumps up, rushing over to cup my hands in his. His skin is swirling with so many colours it makes my head dizzy. "Oooh, please introduce us!"
"Sorry," I sigh mournfully, "they're back in America."
Victor nudges me. I bite my lip and tug my lightly sweaty hands out of Z's slack hands.
"What are their mutations?"
I cast my eyes downwards. "We've agreed not to tell anyone about our mutants unless they agree to. Victor and I grew up in Canadian woods after his thirteenth birthday; we weren't on the receiving end of teratophobia and subsequently, not afraid to show our abilities."
"Wait, you grew up in Canadia? In a forest?" Lucy eyes my fingers as I tug on the stiff sleeve of my Victorian jacket.
"Uh, yeah."
"No wonder you're so barbaric and awkward in those clothes." Lucy slaps away my hands fingering the edges of my pockets to slip my aching thumbs inside, resting. "If you want to parade as a man, you need to learn how to. And, on top of that, how to be a woman."
"Ew," I winkle my nose and cheekily wink at Victor, twisting my head over my shoulder to look at him. "But I don't want to become a civilised human (or mutant) with manners."
"I'll make you," Lucy threatens half-heartedly, poking me in the chest playfully. It was under no illusion that Victor and I could easily take down all four of them in a snap.
"Okay, but you have to agree to join the WMPL, all of you. And possibly get it going." I wait for the outburst.
"Wait, what?" Z asks, puzzled. I could almost see the Rubik cube forming in his hand. Oh yeah, an actual master of illusions. Duh.
"There is, another, reason why Lucius', sorry, Lucy's, brother gave us your pub's address." I start and a deathly silence descends on the group. I'm afraid to look them in the eye. What if nobody will accept our idea? With a great big breath, I force out "WouldyouliketojointheWorldMutantProtectionLegion?" in one go.
"The what?" Gerrant snaps, Z's illusion not betraying anything on his friend's face. I mean, yeah, that was easy to figure out when Z explained his tricks.
"Yes," David firmly looks me in the eye. "It's a wonderful idea Lyall. Only foolish, idiotic people with no sense of self-preservation will not join it."
Z brightens at his past-seeing friend. "Can I join? David's always true about good stuff, even if we've never seen or heard of it before."
"What is it," Lucy quietly murmurs murderously, and I rub my hands together, nervous as fuck. "Tell me, what it is." Lucy's voice is almost pleading. Did her brother do something to her? Hate her ability? Ooh boy sometimes I just hate our sibling species. I just can't convince people to open up when they've denied their biological function their whole life.
"It's an organisation, for mutants, of course, uh, it's still on the drawing board. The Captain of The Soldier Sailor overheard us talking about it and agreed with us. I'm hoping to extend the awareness to other mutants, without any human knowledge, that they're not alone, that it's okay to be a freak, and to see how many mutants there are in the world and everyone's abilities." I smile warmly at the thought yet I'm met with silence.
"Why do you think it's going to work?" grumbles Gerrant, still serious as normal. It's strange yet amazingly cool watching Gerrant, when his mouth opens a little bit and you can't see anything inside except darkness. His and Z's mutation are fascinating.
"Because this is an example of how desperate we are for proof that the six of us are not the only mutants in the entire world." Victor snaps, coming down from standing guard at the staircases if the four of them go nuts for some unknown reason to stand shoulder to shoulder to me, chest puffed out in defense. "Did you not see how Lyall and Z reacted to a measly six of us in one room? Jeeze, six…" Victor mumbles the last two words to himself, only I identifying the enthusiastic shock hidden in his body language.
Gerrant and Lucy glare down at the floor. Well, I'm assuming Gerrant did. All he did was tilt his head downwards. His facial features were frozen in a blank state.
"How sure are you that this'll work?" Lucy demands.
"It always seems impossible until it is done."
Lucy quietens. Blinking, I see that she does want this to happen but –
Anger bubbles up inside me. Fucking humans, fucking society, fucking teratophobias. I am sick and tired of them. I knew they were selfish; greedy little shits that didn't like to be anything less than the dominating lifeform, top of the food chain. But you never realise their hate until you were the eye of the storm. Waiting for the wind to whip you, rain to lash you and yet when it does hit, it is nothing like you've ever braced for.
Lucy is scared. Of her brother, of her parents of those who have discovered her X-gene and shamed her. Gerrant would probably live forever if he can live on without his body, no matter what state. Z could never show how wonderful his powers were and David would constantly be looked down upon when he can see anything that has happened.
Victor places a hand on my shoulder and I take a deep breath. I unclench my hands and welcome the feeling of my claws sliding back in.
The four stare at me, and I can sense that they're all wondering what the big blow out was. Lucy stares at me, almost challenging, as if to say "if you can't argue your way into recruiting me, then how do you expect to run a world-wide organization and keep it a secret?"
"I want this so very badly Lucy. Victor and I ran away from home after killing both of my fathers, biological and adopted, when my mother kicked us out for being freaks. And I was the only one with my mutant abilities activated. I am so, so, so lucky I had Victor with me. This may not be the case with everybody else in the world. Be aware that we're approaching war again; money is worth less and less. Families can only afford one child. That is also what the Legion is. A place where other mutants can find family, use their powers responsibly without the scare of other humans.
"I want to gather fellow mutant-kind scattered across the world and tell them 'hey you can do that' and not get into a ridiculous argument about how stupid that idea is. I don't care if this would create chaos in the future, I just want a home where we can do whatever we want whenever we want. Is that too much to ask? Fine, I'm not the perfect leader; or follower; I'm not the one to defend my honor or others. I'm hard boiled, nearing 50 already, and may nearly not have done this in the first place. But I want to change the world. I want to be that change. And for all that I wish for this to work in a snap of my fingers, I need help, desperately."
"It's okay," Lucifer smiles warmly, as if chuckling at a joke. "We'll join."
Gerrant didn't move, but there was some kind of acceptance radiating.
I groan. They totally pulled the rug from under me.
[x]
"I think we should call the WMPL something else."
I hum. The book's pages seemed to turn by themselves. By god, I miss reading. But this wasn't any kind of reading; it was one of the first copies of A Study In Scarlet.
"How about the Limitless Yielding Aarde Lusus-naturae Legion?"
"Lyall?" Victor nudges me, and I look up to his suspicious smirk that never fails to scare the hebijeebiess out of me.
"Yesssss?" I drew the word out, questioning. "What do you want?"
"Never mind, you answered the question." He sits back with a satisfying smirk directed to Jimmy, one of the first recruits since the starting of WMPL. "Go on, everyone thinks so."
"Great! I'll be leaving now, tally ho chaps." I smile dimly at his British accent. It was very much like a medical accent, since, you know, he can throw his mind back at least a 100 years (but sadly he can't affect it).
"Wait, what was the question?" I turn to Victor but his hat just so slipped down over his eyes so it looks like he's asleep. It doesn't feel like it. His breathing hasn't slowed down enough yet, but he does look very sleep-like to the average eye. I give him a stink eye he can't see and eagerly return to my book.
Teratophobia is "fear of bearing a deformed child or dear of monsters or deformed people." That would cover most mutants as their powers are mostly found by their family and only their family.