The Warrior with No Name
By The Odd Little Turtle Named Froggie
(Disclaimer: Colossus, Illyana, Kitty and others are property of Marvel. I created David Brogan and his wife Amelia for this story. This is a work of fanfiction.
Hope everyone enjoys me wrapping up some final answers before the showdown. I think the last chapter left many confused. And I do hope that everyone enjoys my version of Magik. Big plans for her in the future.
I've changed the type of story to include action/adventure.
Input welcomed. Thanks go to everyone who was kind enough to review, and thanks go to those who have been following this convoluted thing.)
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Journal Entry: April 9th
My baby sister is 25 years old. Illyana Nikolievna. My only family left. She disappeared, and when she reappeared with Amelia in tow, she had aged ten years. She will not confide in me. I think she may have confided in Katya, and I do not know if that makes me happy that she has found a confidant or jealous of Katya. It is not easy to be jealous of Katya. Katya is—well, she is wonderful. There I said it--or wrote it, rather.
Illyana has a tattoo and several piercings in each ear. I did not even get a say in how she grew up. A tattoo. A bolt of lightning from her jaw, down her neck, across her shoulders and back, and down her side to just below her knee.
I do not know what to do. Everything is good and everything is bad.
I blame Katya for giving her the tattoo idea before she disappeared. Perhaps Katya is not all that wonderful.
Great. Now I am confused again.
#
"Romany?"
David watched coldly as Kitty went limp again. How she'd managed to awaken with all the psychic energy he was using on her to keep her out cold was beyond him. He thumbed through her thoughts deliberately violating her sense of privacy, smirking evilly when he found a particularly interesting memory. Spiderman was Peter Parker. He filed it away for another day. He sifted through her thoughts; pleased with the ease he could navigate her mind.
David frowned. One thought, a memory of some kind, was slipping away like a cloud. That shouldn't be happening. He managed to latch on to it. Kitty giving birth. But the memory itself was… oh, a plant. Someone, a psychic much more powerful than himself, had given Kitty this memory. There were others nearby and he studied them like a scientist would study a lab rat.
Whoa.
She'd been given a whole new life with a husband and child only to have that life used against her to find…well, now that's kind of gross, he thought and put the memories back where he'd found them, giving them a nudge so that Kitty wouldn't remember them so vividly.
He pulled out of her mind and looked at her as she dangled in the air in a straight jacket with only some rope keeping her from falling sixty-three stories. She had the power and the abilities to save Amelia. Her mind was in a fragile state as it was and it should have been easy to manipulate.
But he wouldn't hesitate to cut the rope if her mind, even in its unconscious and fragile state, refused to cooperate. Hell, he'd shot his own mother and hired those punks to light up the place. Nothing could stop him from killing Piotr's girlfriend. Only getting Amelia out mattered. If that required breaking a few eggs, then—
He started when his cell phone rang. His dark eyes glittered in the LCD light of the phone's face when he identified the caller. He flipped it open and held the device to his ear, grinning broadly, wickedly. He and Amelia would be safe from the Kingpin. David would make damn sure of that.
"So you figured it out," he told his former friend, Piotr Rasputin.
#
"Choose."
Piotr could only stare blankly at the paper he held between his thick fingers. Choose? Between his baby sister, his best friend and his new friend? How the hell was he supposed to do that? He felt sick, bile beginning to rise in the back of his throat.
He looked around frantically to see some evidence as to who had taken his sister and friends. His blue gaze pierced the room, taking in the darkened atmosphere, everything glittering from the disco ball on the ceiling of the dance floor. A few couples had made their way to the dance floor; others were already there, swaying to the slow music. Waiters and waitresses filtered around the candlelit tables scattered around the circular room, attending their guests.
He directed his attention back to the young woman who had handed him the yellow-gold envelope. Without really meaning to, his artist's eyes appraised her. She had dark brown eyes and rich black hair. She was tall, and her body was slender, her wrists delicate. He felt certain that had he not met Kitty, this young woman would be someone to add to his list of conquests—if he kept lists. He frowned at that particular thought. How had that happened, he wondered as he collected his thoughts. When had Kitty come to matter so much? She was his friend, he reminded himself. And he was hers. He set the thoughts aside, getting his priorities in order.
1. Find out who abducted his friends and sister.
2. Find his friends and sister.
3. Find their abductor.
4. Give his best imitation of the Hulk on said abductor.
As gently as he could, so as not alarm her, he posed his question to the young woman standing in front of him. "The gentleman who gave this to you," he began, bringing his thoughts together and trying to sound as reasonable as possible. "What did he look like?"
She gazed at him quizzically. "He was the man that came in with you," she replied, her voice light and musical. Piotr's heart stopped beating for a split second. David? David took the girls?
"He paid the bill and took his daughter with him," she continued as though his world hadn't just shattered. "He said there was a family emergency."
Daughter? Family emergency? Was this some sort of prank? He thanked the woman, and she went on her way. He blinked, looked down at the now-offending piece of paper.
"Choose."
Had David kidnapped his baby sister and his friend? David had taken Illyana, of that he was certain. And Kitty had screamed during her conversation with Logan. Piotr had never heard Logan so frantic. The feral mutant had always taken everything in stride.
"Boizhe Moi," he mumbled, swiped a big hand across his face, felt the roughness of the calluses on the pads of his fingers. He wasn't surprised to find his hands were trembling, the white paper held between his thick fingers quivering ever so slightly. His stomach rolled and he feared he would be physically ill. The bass music filtered through his skull only causing more nausea.
A trickle of sweat worked its way down his spine as he made his way through the packed room and out the door, the paper clutched in his hand, the envelope long forgotten. The cool night air did little to alleviate his fear, his anger, his revulsion. He paid little attention to his surroundings. Several people eyed him with distaste. One woman told him to "Watch it, ya moron."
"Choose."
Why had David done this? David was supposed to be his friend, his comrade. He'd known David since he was nineteen. The younger man had still been in high school when Piotr and his wife had moved into the apartment building just up the street from Anya's former dance studio. Buddies, as David had said on several occasions. During the tumultuous time that was the process of his divorce, Piotr briefly dated a young woman by the name of Amelia. David had been smitten. Since Amelia and Piotr had never really worked, Piotr set up his friend and his ex-girlfriend. David had married her. Piotr had been his best man. So what had changed so much that David would kidnap his baby sister and his new friend?
"Choose."
Illyana: His only family left.
Kitty: A woman who he was close to.
His sister, his Snowflake: the last joy he had left.
Kitty Pryde, Katya: the woman who managed to give him joy.
Piotr started at that thought as he looked around the crowded street, hoping to have a glimpse of David, Illyana or Kitty. He walked quickly away from the building intent on finding Kitty's parked car, to the parking garage up the street.
"Choose."
The choice should be easy. Go and rescue Illyana. She was defenseless. Kitty could fend for herself, and he was sure she would understand if he rescued his sister first. Piotr cursed himself for not allowing Wolverine to give Illyana field training. He had not wanted Illyana exposed to the dangerous lifestyle of the X-men.
Who was he kidding? He lived in New York City, in the Bronx. That was just as dangerous for his sister as the X-men. Not for the first time since leaving the team did Piotr regret ever meeting Anya Makarova. The only good thing to ever come from that woman was Zilya and Anya had hidden the virus that killed her from him. Zilya had been in the final stages of the virus when Anya had left her at the Institute.
The lifestyle of the X-men had been dangerous, but it had been fun. When this was over, he thought with surety, he would see if Cyclops and Emma would allow him back on the team. They were unsanctioned, but he supposed there was always space. Logan had said there were several teaching positions open at the Institute, one specifically for art. Perhaps—
"Choose."
"Nyet," he said with finality and took out his cell phone and dialed David.
The man who answered sounded like his friend, but the tone… that was not the David he knew. The David he knew was a kind and generous soul who smiled as much as possible and made others smile with him.
"So you figured it out."
Piotr took one calming breath and then barked his question, "Where are they?"
"Gotta choose which one ya want to save, Peter," David told him. "Which one will live? Which one will die?"
A sensation of sickness and desolation swept over him. He gripped his phone tighter, willing David to be only joking. Please, god, let him be joking. "You cannot be serious, Tovarisch."
"As serious as a heart attack." There was a brief pause and he added, "Tovarisch."
Piotr's frown deepened. Friend indeed. A friend doesn't kidnap his friend's sister or his friend's girlfriend. "Why are you doing this?"
"'S'funny you should ask," David told him. "I could tell ya. Or I could let you figure it out on your own."
"Where are they?" Piotr was growing impatient.
David gave a clipped laugh. "Which one? Illyana or Kitty?"
"I choose them both," Piotr answered through clenched teeth.
Again David laughed, this time it was a hardy laugh that Piotr knew made David's belly jiggle. "One or the other, Peter. And do hurry. Time is of the essence. Call me back when you've chosen, and I'll tell you where she is."
The line went dead and Piotr cursed heavily and hardily pouring forth all his anger into the profanity and crushing the phone in his hand.
"Whoa. And I thought Wolverine cursed like a sailor, bro."
"Lenin's Ghost!"
Illyana Nikolievna? What has happened to you?
#
Three suns dipped low on the horizon, casting an eerie orange glow on the Land. Illyana watched as the two figures—a petite pale-skinned blond girl with strange streaks of purple and blue, and a much taller, elderly black woman with long white hair—retreated into the brown and green striped forest, pushing through the strange underbrush. Memories of her first meeting with the Witch assaulted her, and she frowned. Then sighed. Damn manipulative wench. Icy tendrils sank into her heart chilling her despite the warmness of the evening.
It wasn't like should could have left before now, but it still angered Illyana after all these years. She took a deep breath and steadied herself for what she needed to do, her slender callused hands gliding through her blonde spikes. She could do this. She could.
She'd just conquered someone really big and really powerful. So, yeah, she could do this. She could face her brother and tell him all that had transpired in the ten years that she'd been away. She could.
Really. It was no big deal.
Yeah.
And she was the Queen of Sheba. Or as Papa had said on many occasions, "When the crayfish will whistle on the mountain."
She took another calming breath. How would Piotr react to seeing his baby sister all grown up? She wondered, her blue eyes glancing left and then right, searching for any sign of danger. To her well-trained crystal blue eyes there was nothing out of the ordinary, but she dared not use greater magicks to search for anything close by. The Witch would sense it.
"Time to find everyone," she told herself quietly, slowly edging towards the Lake's edge, careful to keep from making too much noise. The goblins would be here any time now. The Witch had just barely managed to keep the beasts at bay that inital meeting. Hopefully, she wasn't supposed to help lessen their number, for she had a mission to accomplish. It was essential to get the timing right. Only a few moments should be allowed to pass for Piotr and the others. The triple suns reflected off the surface of the Lake, and Illyana squinted. Her blue gaze pierced the distance to the Caer Hallow, the white castle that had taken on an eerie golden-yellow color. She shuddered in revulsion. Ten years was a long time. If only there was another way, she thought, but she quickly dismissed the any ideas stemming from that train of thought. What was done was done. Her brother needed her. Kitty needed her. Gathering her long skirt in her fists and kneeling down at the water's edge she called upon a scrying incantation and located her brother, Kitty, David and Amelia.
She gasped when she saw Amelia's state, her heart going out to the woman. "Boizhe Moi."
The red-haired woman looked worse for wear. The Kingpin's men hadn't treated David's wife very well. She was thin, pale and beaten. Her clothing was torn and dirty, and her hair matted and stringy. Bruises ringed her brown eyes and blood smeared her face in several places.
"Do I know you?" she croaked when Illyana manifested in the room in which she was held prisoner.
"Illyana Nikolievna Rasputina, Sorceress Supreme," Illyana announced automatically, "I'm Peter's little sister."
Amelia only nodded, looked somewhat relieved. "You've gotten taller since I last saw you."
"Yeah. That happens. Let's get you to David before he does too much more damage."
The red-haired battered Amelia Brogan smiled for the first time in weeks and took Illyana's proffered hand.
They reappeared in the parking garage Illyana had left so many years before, her heart in her throat at the sight of her brother. He was just as she remembered him. Tall, sturdy and broad shouldered. A broad grin stretched across her face and amusement flickered in her blue eyes at the sound of his Russian profanity. Mama would wash his mouth out and Papa would have tanned his hide had they heard him.
"Whoa," she said firmly, her voice echoing in the chamber, "and I thought Wolverine cursed like a sailor, bro."
Piotr jumped and spun around, his expression was like someone who had been struck in the face. "Lenin's Ghost!" he cried. He blinked a few times as his brain processed what he was seeing and then stared. She was keenly aware of his scrutiny as she stood there, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Hi, Piotr."
"Illyana Nikolievna?" he finally managed to ask. "Amelia?"
Amelia broke free with tears streaming down her face and limped in a rush to Piotr. Automatically he reached out and clutched her to him. She cried into his chest, her slight frame shuddering with each pent up sob. He held her in place for a few moments; let her gather her strength from his, a hand slipping into her hair, the other curving around her shoulders.
Illyana wanted to hug him, too. Oh, but to just rush to him like Amelia did and be accepted wholeheartedly. It had been so long since she had seen him, spoken with him, gotten one of the hugs she knew he reserved only for her. Even the other Piotr hadn't been her Piotr, her older brother. But she only nodded instead, keeping her distance for the moment, until it was the right time to get one of his special brotherly hugs. "It's me, Piotr Nikolievitch." She took a step forward. "We don't have much time. Kitty's trapped at the Chrysler Building."
"Trapped?" Piotr's face was an instance mask of worry. Illyana smiled inwardly. What she had suspected as a teenager she could fully realize as an adult. Her brother was head over heels for Kitty. She was secretly pleased and sincerely hoped Kitty felt the same way. From what she remembered, Kitty had gone through much more than Piotr. And now woman was in the hands of a madman.
"The building is on fire, and she's out cold. Somethin's crashed into it."
"Terrorists?" He directed his attention to the woman in his arms, drying her tears, giving her comforting words even as he listened to his sister.
Illyana shook her head, trying to remember the images from the scrying pool. "Nah, I think it was one of the X-jets. I think David might have knocked it into the fiftieth story or so when he thought he was gonna get caught. And he still there."
"You, you have grown up, little one," he commented quietly, scrutinizing her.
She knew this would come up, and she dreaded it. Anxiety spurted through her. What if he didn't understand? What if he didn't accept her back into his life? What if, when he found out what she had done, he told her to back to her Land and never return? She ran a hand across the scar on her brow, a habit she'd picked up whilst training with Cat and the Witch.
"Yeah," she finally said, somewhat sheepishly. "Uh, y'know that little dimension I teleport through?" At his short nod, she continued, "well, when I managed to get out of your gallery and teleport directly there, I was going to turn around and 'port into the men's room at—" She faltered briefly, trying to think of the name of the restaurant—"Garden… Paradise Garden, but I got…delayed."
"Obviously." He was deadpan.
"I kinda had to overthrow a dictatorship in order to be able to use my powers to 'port," she told him. "It took longer than I expected it would. The overlord had methods of tracking my energy signature, so I couldn't just leave. They would have set these really nasty traps."
"You will tell me in detail later?" he ventured quietly.
She shrugged. "Maybe."
He looked at her sharply. The sight of her confused him. What had happened to his fifteen-year-old sister? The withdrawn and wary look in her eyes caught him off guard. Her blue eyes were just as haunted as Kitty's, if not more so.
"I am here, little one," he told her just as quietly as before, "if you need me. I only wish I could have help you against this dictator. You must have gone through much." He strolled forward and embraced his baby sister, now a grown woman. "Welcome home, Illyana Nikolievna," he whispered, and hot tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks, a cry of relief broke from her lips. She held him tightly. Finally, after ten years of fighting demons, both inner and outer, she was home.
Illyana gave a shuddering sigh and looked up into her brother's loving gaze. "I've missed you so much, Piotr Nikolievitch." She smiled then, a real smile, and it warmed his heart that her face lit up. "I would have done just about anything to get you to Limbo, but I couldn't risk it. It took ten years."
"Ten—"
"I'm twenty-five, I think. There's not really any time there… huh… I think I'm older than Kitty now."
"My baby sister is four years younger than me," he mused.
She gave an impish half-smile. "But I'm cute."
He nodded and chuckled. He held his sister tightly against him again then released her. "So. Rescue?"
"Rescue," she agreed, in Russian. He blinked. It had obviously been a while since she had spoken their native tongue. She sounded like a tourist. She flushed slightly, frowning, and switched back to English. "To me it's been about five years since I've spoken the language. You and I will have to practice after we get Kitty.
"David's there at the Chrysler Building too. He's doing something to her, but I'm not entirely sure what it is that he's doing. So it's probably best if we hurry."
He switched to his changeform, his clothing tearing, his dress shoes ripping. Illyana grinned. How she missed seeing him change! Her knight in shining armor. Even if it wasn't her Piotr who had been changing before. Amelia only looked on wide-eyed.
"I'm a mutant," he told her. "Let's go find David and Kitty."
She could only nod as he gingerly picked her up with one arm and hefted his sister with the other. They disappeared in a short burst of golden light as a shining disk devoured them and only left behind the slight scent of cherry blossoms.
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(Tell me what you think. Up next: The show down! Newly inspired by UXM # 302 for the upcoming scenes.)