St John the Divine: A Visit
- Chibi Lurrel
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St. John had been living in squalor alone and had not been enjoying it. But, he figured, at least his life was less exciting than it had been with Magneto, or Xavier. Well, rather, it was a lot less deadly.
He had counted on these things up until he got a visit from a hostile, blue, Mystique. Well, visit wasn't the right word for the violent crack his door made as she slammed it open. No knocking, straight to the lock picks. He'd sat at his rickety table, sandwich in his hands and looked up at her.
'Uh. Hi, Mystique,' he managed to stutter around a mouthful of ham and cheese.
'I guess Erik isn't staying with you, then.'
He swallowed. 'Yeah, not so much his kind of digs here.'
She snorted and sat down in his only other chair. It was kind of hot; he'd forgotten how she was naked all the damn time, and how dangerous her beauty was. There wasn't a place for that in his new life.
'Good to see you back to your normal, lovely self.'
'I've been looking for him.'
'I don't blame you. I hope you haven't come to kill me, too,' he said easily, but his hands had already tensed, the edge that came right before a battle bubbling under his skin.
She looked amused. 'You really think I would be indulging in some petty revenge? As though I wouldn't have left you had our places been reversed? We all must do what is necessary to further the cause.'
Pyro looked away, shrugging. 'I guess so. Still.'
'Erik contacted me a few weeks ago. His powers are returning.'
That that was even possible was thrilling and terrifying.
'So I guess you're in charge of putting the team back together?'
She shrugged, languid and reptilian as always, her yellow eyes glittering.
'I'm surprised you're not at his bedside, nursing him back to health.' Pyro didn't bother to keep the leer from his face as he said it. 'Although I guess you were always one for prison breaks.'
'I haven't actually seen him yet, simply heard from him. He was rather insistent that I find you.'
This explanation was surprising John. He was always Magneto's second favourite, after all, but he never got that much attention.
'I've had enough of his crazy schemes that basically just end in everyone dying. I'm sitting this one out. You can just tell him to go to hell if he can't come here and ask for me himself.'
She pulled a cell phone out of her bag and shoved it into his hand. 'You can tell him yourself.'
John blinked down at it. It was a simple phone, but someone had replaced the front cover with a vanity plate covered in cheesy looking flames. He grinned. 'Nice touch. So what's it for?'
She shrugged again and Pyro was hit by how much he had loved the lines of her shoulders. He'd missed her. 'This was my mission and now that I've done it, I'm supposed to get in touch with Erik again. He told me I'd be seeing him soon, so wherever he is, that's probably where I'm headed.' She paused and cocked her head to one side. 'You haven't seen him at all?'
'Last time I saw him, he was leaving me to die.'
'You can't be angry at your family forever.'
'Whatever.'
'Pyro,' she said, looking at him sharply, her yellow eyes narrowed.
'What?' But she just turned away and stood up.
'Nothing. Good luck.'
After she exited, loudly slamming the door behind her, Pyro was left sitting in his kitchen, a half eaten sandwich on his plate and a mystery on the table. He didn't know what to think, so he finished his sandwich. Mystique hadn't even turned herself into someone he'd been friends with and hadn't tried to fuck with his head. Something seemed off, and he eyed the telephone sitting on his kitchen table as he cleaned up. It seemed innocuous enough, flames licking over the numbers. There weren't any phone numbers programmed in, and he figured it wasn't worth it to try to call out. Anyone he could get a hold of wouldn't want to talk to him anyway. He couldn't decide if he wanted it to be a prank or if he wanted Magneto to be back.
At three am in the total darkness of his apartment, he received his first call.
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Author's Note: Finally, some twists! Sorry this story is being told in a horrifically non-chronological order.
