The Warrior with No Name

By The Odd Little Turtle Named Froggie

(Marvel owns their characters, I created some to play with them.

Input welcome. Thanks to those who leave comments and those who don't. Extra cookies for those who do. meh)

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It was strange: Using my gift for the first time in a long time. I felt useful for the first time in a long time, too. On the other hand, I have failed a friend. She was more than a friend, but my family. I have failed all of my family now. How useful are my gifts if I cannot save those closest to me?

Little Snowflake is not very taken with Kitty, but we have been through much, and I have not made the best decisions regarding her since she came to America. Another failure. Perhaps my sister will warm up to her. They appear to like the same things. Kitty has lost friends just as Illyana has. I hope she will be able to relate to Katya.

I wrote it again. 'Katya.' I hope that I do not slip up and say it aloud and in front of her. She is different from the others, but keeping my distance is best. I do not want to fail her either.

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"I do not know what to do," Piotr said finally, sounding resigned.

Kitty pressed a hand to her mouth, horrified at what had happened. "I'm sorry, Peter."

She really had liked Evie Brogan. Anger rose and didn't ebb when she thought of hurting those responsible. Even away from the violence of promoting peace, she couldn't get away from it. Humans, mutant and non-mutant, were horrible, aggressive creatures. Xavier was crazy if he thought he change that. She'd left to gain some semblance of normal. But normal? Normal was violence, hatred. She seethed with righteous anger.

"I am, too. I did not mean to trouble you, Kitty. I just needed to talk to someone."

Kitty pulled phone away from her ear, stared at the device like it had sprouted wings and breathed fire.

Wow. "And you called me?" Unexpected heat seared her cheeks, and it wasn't from the previous anger.

"Spiderman says that he will talk to you tomorrow. He said you would want to know what is going on." Kitty listened to the accented baritone, letting the rich timbre of his voice wrap her in a warm cocoon. "I am putting off calling David and Logan or Kurt would have cursed at me and hung up before even listening. We don't really know anything at this point to call David anyway. I will let the police handle it for now."

Kitty was silent a minute, taking in the background noise on the other end of the phone. She thought she heard yelling, but wasn't sure. "Peter, do you—do you guys have a place to crash?"

"Crash?" He sounded puzzled. "Oh, you mean sleep? Nyet. No, not yet. I—"

She didn't hesitate. "You guys are crashing at my place then." He started to say something, but she ignored him. "I insist. Trying to get a hotel or something at this time of night is too difficult anyway. We're just closing up here. You know where Riff's is right? You said at lunch you've been here."

There was a pregnant pause. "Yorkville? I don't know, Kitty."

"I'll wait for you. We've got a bit more to go."

He sighed, said something in Russian. A question. A young female voice answered back in Russian. His sister. She didn't sound happy. He posed another question, got an affirmative.

"I have to get a few things for Mikhail," he said finally. "I don't want you to wait at work. I will meet you at your home."

Kitty gave him directions; they said their good-byes and hung up the phone. She sagged against the bar, its coldness soothing against the skin of her back. Where had that come from? What was she thinking inviting a virtual stranger into her home? With his cat and his little sister. Sal usually commented on her telephone calls or at least made some kind of face. She was unusually well-behaved as Kitty had stood rigid and listened to Piotr's story.

"So?" she prodded, crossing her tattooed, muscular arms across her leather-clad chest.

Kitty's frown deepened. "Tall, Dark and Russian is coming home with me tonight."

"Babe, isn't that a good thing?"

"A fire, Sal. He lost everything. If I hadn't asked Spiderman to go out there, who knows what would have happened?" Kitty explained everything. Sal's lined face grew more somber as the story progressed, her thin lips thinning into a straight line, her pierced eyebrows drawing into a frown.

When Kitty finished her story, Sal remarked, "Good thing you and Spiderman are on a first name basis."

Kitty snorted, poured herself a shot of whiskey. "You ain't kiddin'." She sighed, downed it in a gulp. The harsh fluid hit the back of her throat, burning her mouth, and she made a face. It was liquid fire all the way to her belly.

She looked down at her attire, immediately regretting her choice of clothing for tonight. It was okay for her line of work, bartending, dancing on the bar when times called for it. Her skin showed in way too many places, making her feel self-conscious of her body for the first time in years. If Piotr's reaction to body piercing was any indication, Kitty's belly button ring would not go over well when he saw it. Illyana would probably use that against him, and Kitty would get the blame for it. She didn't even want to think about her tattoos. Bad influence. Yeah. Very bad. "I hope I get home before he and his sister get there. What I'm wearing works for drunken bikers and bar dancing, but it does not make for great first impressions for a fifteen-year-old."

Sal looked at her, dark eyes roving over Kitty, taking her in. She'd always been attracted to the younger brunette, but Kitty had made it clear from the get go she didn't swing that way. Tonight, Sal thought she looked delicious. Even the brown corkscrews that framed her elfin face looked yummy. From the dragon tattoo on her upper left arm to the leather, abdomen-baring halter top that exposed the dangling dragon belly ring at her navel and all of her tanned back and the tattoo there to the revealing tight leather pants that laced up on either side baring smooth skin under the laces until they tucked into the Harley Davidson biker boots at mid-calf, Kitty looked every bit a hot biker chick and not the nerdy college student she professed to be. No, not a good impression for a fifteen year old, Sal decided. Good enough to dance on the bar though.

She looked around the bar and noted what still had to be done. "Tell ya what, you're through for tonight. If you need tomorrow off, call me. He's probably gonna need to adjust. Fires are bad news."

"Thanks, Sal, but I'm not gonna do that to you with Ginger being on pregnancy leave."

"Suit yourself, Pretty Kitty," the older woman said, gave a shrug. "Thought I would offer it anyway. Let me know what happens with Tall, Dark and Russian."

Kitty grinned and clocked out, rushing to the nearest subway. It was almost four when she finally got home. Luckily she beat Piotr and Illyana to her apartment by a good twenty minutes as they had to switch trains at four different places compared to her switching only twice.

Lockheed greeted her sleepily, crawling instead of flying to her. He cooed when she picked him up and nuzzled him, happy he was only the size of a large cat.

"Hey you," she said, stroking his scaled chin with her nimble fingers. Even after having him around for ten years, she still marveled over his lavender-hued and mother-of-pearl iridescent scales stippled along his hide in diamond patterns along his back from the top of his horned head to the end of his thick tail. The dragon cooed again, burped smoke.

She smiled, enjoying his idiosyncrasies. "We're going to have company," she told him, licked her lips nervously. Through their psychic connection, she sent images of Piotr, tried not to focus her attention on the tenderness of his blue eyes, or the hard planes of his right hot body. Communicating with images had been difficult to get used to when Lockheed first established the connection because Lockheed couldn't vocalize words in order to express himself. To say that she had been shocked would be an understatement. Her baby dragon was intelligent, not just a pet. Communication was a wonderful bonus to finding him. He was her precious gift and was so glad Professor Xavier had allowed her to keep him.

Lockheed raspberried her. His images to her were of him setting Piotr's hair on fire with his fire breath and the big man running in comic relief around her apartment with Lockheed looking on laughing. She wanted to take back her last kind thought about him.

"Be nice," she admonished, wagging a finger at him and frowning. "No flame blowing."

More images came across, this time of Lockheed setting a book of matches at the big man's feet.

"I mean it, Lockheed. He was in a fire tonight and may have lost a friend. He doesn't have a home to go to."

The purple dragon sent a yellow rose through their connection, his way of apologizing. He flew out of Kitty's arms and perched on the counter in the kitchen. Visions of cookies danced through her head—literally, as Lockheed eyed the Tinkerbell cookie jar on the counter. Laughing, she took off Tink's head and snagged two chocolate chip cookies from the jar's belly. One she munched on, the other she gave to her little dragon. He grabbed it greedily in his tiny claws, stuffed it in his mouth.

"Silly dragon," she accused, amused with his behavior. He gave her a toothy, dragon smile, licking his lips with his forked pink tongue. "I've got to change."

He wanted to know why; an image of a Bamf doll asking why in Kurt Wagner's Germanic-accented voice appeared. Kitty smiled. Lockheed always thought of Nightcrawler as his plush replica. She had no idea why.

"He's not the only one coming," Kitty went down the hall to her bedroom, Lockheed flapping his wings after her. "I want to make a good impression."

Lockheed thought she looked lovely. His thoughts told her so.

She hugged him. "Thanks, Lockheed." She sat on her bed, removed her boots, wrinkling her nose at the odor of her feet. Standing on them for several hours straight didn't make them smell all that great.

"Pppppft," Lockheed agreed as Kitty took off her socks and scratched her toes in the carpet. He went to his basket in the corner of her bedroom, circled one, two, three times, and curled into a ball. He sent images of Kitty sleeping, of Kurt and Logan sleeping, the dragon's way of telling her goodnight. She was glad he no longer sent the images of Pete, Rahne, Betsy, or Meggan.

"Good night, dragon."

Kitty was able to change into sweats and a tee-shirt and wash the subway funk off her hands before Piotr and his sister arrived. She was digging for blankets in the hall closet when the phone rang.

"Miss Pryde?"

She recognized the voice as the building's security guard. She always enjoyed the older man's heavy Brooklyn accent. "Hi, Marv."

"Ma'am, the visitors you said to expect are here, and I went ahead and sent them up."

She thanked him and hung up, scurrying back to the closet, regretting the bad habit of chunking stuff in. And none of the sets for the pull out couch were very masculine. It was one thing for Kurt to give her a hard time when he came for visits, quite another for a stranger to be offended. She hoped Piotr liked her apartment. And his cat and his sister, she added, don't forget about them.

The door chime buzzed and she felt a momentary wave of panic. What if his sister decided she hated her and Piotr agreed? A little voice questioned. She breathed in shallow, quick gasps, reigning herself in, mentally preparing herself to answer the door, willing herself to take a step and then another.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by two wary, blurry-eyed strangers and a wailing cat in a crate. She chastised herself for being silly. These people needed her and a welcoming smile stretched across her face. Kitty refused to pity them. She wouldn't want to be pitied if she were in their shoes.

"Come on in."

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(More on the way. I hope everyone enjoyed my version of Lockheed. Input welcome.)