A/N: Another chapter update before the year mark to the prior one! Go me! I wish I could spit these out faster but with streaming services, work, and time-consuming hobbies (including this one), I do my absolute best. Thanks for reading. Click the review button and leave me one.
They Call Me Pyro
Chapter 13
From White Walls to Penthouse
Bobby
"Daddy!" Lexi shouted from the other side of the hallway and ran as fast as her short legs could take her down the corridor to reach him.
"Whatcha got there, Jellybean?" Bobby said as he knelt on one knee to her level.
"Here," she said as she outstretched the red flower to him.
He took it, put it under his nose, and inhaled. "It's called a Hisbicus."
"Oh, almost forgot, Daddy . . . Pyro told me to tell you that 'He'll see you soon.'"
He tilted his head as he was unsure what he was being told because Allerdyce was several levels down and unequivocally unable to pass through solids. Fresh air and freedom were off-limits. "Where did you see him?"
"Outside with a blue lady with pretty red hair."
Bobby wanted to crush the flower and grimace but forced himself to keep a neutral expression. He was annoyed with Pyro, not his daughter. His former friend couldn't see the help they were offering, just the inconvenient isolation and precautions that were necessary for them and the pyromaniac himself. Double-checking the information, he eyed her, asking again, "Lexi, are you sure it was John/Pyro that was outside?"
With absolute confidence, she bobbed her head up and down a few times.
"Huh, is that so," he said low, more to himself than her. Then at a normal volume, he asked, "Who were you outside with?"
Instead of responding verbally, Lexi's lips spread into a shy smile knowing he wouldn't like the answer.
His frown slightly deepened as he waited a few moments to see if she would confess. When she didn't, he told her, "We'll talk about that later with Mom. Here, you keep it," he said as he gave the flower back to her and rose to full height. "When I see him I'll tell him what a pretty flower you found. But first, show me where you saw Pyro."
Automatically, Lexi grabbed Bobby's hand and led him.
Pyro
When the car's smooth continuous motion turned into stop and go, I awoke. I adjusted myself in the seat to align my back straight with the backrest while gazing at the tall buildings. My hunch was correct: Manhattan. The Big Apple. The City That Never Sleeps as it's also known. Even though I've never stepped foot in NYC, I knew where we were off the bat. Of course, the I Love New York gift shop we had just passed by didn't hurt either.
Am I impressed? So far all I can see are crowded sidewalks and a lot of yellow cabs. It's too early to form an opinion but I doubt we're here to go sightseeing and do all of the things tourists flock here for. Why are we here? Beats me. Nevertheless, I still don't ask. We inch along. Besides loud music there's a symphony of horn tooting, too. Apparently, there's a cycling tour that's made this typically congestion-free street into bumper-to-bumper traffic.
I rotate my head to cast a steady glance at Mystique and she returns it in kind. This traffic is slowly killing both of us. I'm tempted to get out and walk but I'll just get completely lost . . . which doesn't seem that bad compared to this.
"Do we have long to go?" I finally asked.
"When we get closer, I'll let you know."
She points to a swanky-looking building almost forty-five long minutes later, and we're still two blocks away, stuck at a red light. At least now our destination is viewable.
I glare out of the window, envious of the pedestrians. Mystique and I are so close but yet an eternity away. I just want to stretch my legs and be mobile. "No wonder New Yorkers are pissed off most of the time," I muttered.
We pass the traffic light finally and I'm silently grateful. Of course, we get stuck at the next one but it's the last. Naturally, the building is tall but the entrance alone oozes luxury. The cars pull into a dark marble floor flecked with gold. There are many bell hoppers and valet workers dressed in burgundy uniforms trimmed with gold. There are two sets of doors on either side of the entrance with a revolving door in the middle. By the time we're able to move again, there's no one else waiting in a car at the front of the hotel. Mystique pulls in and the door is opened for her almost immediately. The valet driver helps her out of the vehicle as she hands him the key while another employee opens mine. I utter a quick thanks and hop out, relieved I'm no longer confined inside a metal box with wheels. I turn my back on the hotel to view a fraction of NYC without the frame of a car window. After a mental shrug, these terse three words come to mind: Still not impressed.
"John," Mystique called. After a moment, I spun toward her. "Ready?"
Being forced to use the name I was born with, I could hear the slight bitterness in her tone, unbeknown to those within earshot, but calling me Pyro with so many within hearing range wouldn't have been smart. Pyros/arsonists are not welcomed with open arms unless it's part of their professional title like a Pyrotechnician. If something catches fire in this building, I don't want them to come knocking, neither does Mystique.
I follow her into the building through a set of double doors. The expansive mahogany front desk is off to the side with a handful of people manning it. Each step Mystique takes through the lobby projects confidence and belonging. I can't even begin to imagine what I convey as I trail behind her. I definitely don't belong here. But is it obvious? My gaze doesn't wander so I have no idea if judgemental eyes are tracking me. No one is stopping me so I guess I'm not a blip on anyone's radar. Frankly, I'm a little bothered by it but that's just a personal peeve that's not important. We're still on the low-profile train and that's where we want to be. I'm aware being on the DL in a high-end hotel is an oxymoron of sorts, but this is where I was brought, and you sure as hell won't hear me complain about it.
The elevator ahead was not the elevator we'd use. Ours was through a short alcove and kind of private if you weren't in the know. I guess I'm now included in that group, but it's just by association, which doesn't really count. Hmm. Do they think I'm an escort? I'm not tall enough or broad to qualify as a bodyguard. Nevertheless, I'm sure they've seen it all and I don't care. I care that I'm no longer at Xavier's and that I'm with a like-minded mutant from my past that's going to help our future and not just hope for the best like the rest of them. Fuck Xaviers and the X-Men! If they get in my way I'm going to use my power to its full extent and not my words.
The elevator operator greeted Mystique while giving me a curt nod but I didn't catch the last name he used for her as his Irish accent was thick. He pressed the up button for us and the metal doors parted open a second later. The operator gestured for us to board first. He didn't ask anything as he automatically pressed the P5 button in front of us but after I took a quick glance at the panel, all five of the buttons are engraved with just a P and their corresponding single-digit number.
When we reached P5, the doors opened and the living room to her penthouse was in full view. I exited first with Mystique behind me wishing the employee a good day and slipping him a tip before stepping off herself. In a blink, the operator disappeared behind the metal doors. Once I reached the midpoint of the room, I took a 180-degree view, whistling low. The couch was inviting but I was reluctantly longing for a bed. The floor-to-ceiling window reached the full length of the room with a set of double doors to access the terrace. My stomach rumbled but it'll go ignored as sleep took priority.
"Would you like a tour? Or you can go explore the penthouse on your own."
"Another time, thanks," I said around a yawn. The damn traffic made me sleepy. "Where's my bed?"
"Take the stairs to the first landing and make a left."
I followed her instructions and climbed the floating staircase. I tilted my head back. Did the stairs lead to two more floors? Mentally shrugging, I'd answer that question at another time. Passing through the bedroom threshold, before anything else, the window caught my attention. It was expansive and the same height as the other one, I noticed the fancy touchpad on the left. Then I made my way to the room's bathroom, marveling at the architecture. "A hot tub, too?" I said aloud to myself. "Nice." The toilet seat was already up so I took care of business. When I exited, I noticed something small in wrapping paper on the bedside nightstand. My lips quirked up as I peered at it. Once it was in my hand, I didn't hesitate tearing into the paper. The cool metal kissed my fingers. The Zippo featured a raven with the word Nevermore etched in red block letters under the bird where it perched. As I walked back to the window to close the curtain using the touchpad, I held the lighter and flicked it open. A pleased sigh escaped my lips; I'd missed that sound. Without striking the wheel with my thumb, with a final snap, I shut the lighter. The curtain slowly closed as I sat on the side of the bed, placing the Zippo on the nightstand, and then kicking off my boots. I blinked a few times in the dark before lying on my side in my clothes and jacket. Slumber came immensely easily on the softest mattress I've ever encountered.
x - X - x - X - x
Absently, I used my arm to cover the brightness annoying my closed eyelids. Then I remembered setting the timer and tossed that arm promptly to the side, opening my eyes to glare at the ceiling. No snooze button option this time. At the reluctant end of my nap, I got out of bed without making an audible sound and strolled to the window after I slid my feet into the boots. My gaze traveled from the horizon to the sidewalk below, watching people going about their monotonous day. Would I ever want that kind of life? Easy answer: hell no. I turned from the window and passed the bed only to backtrack to grab the Zippo before heading out of the bedroom. My stomach growled as I descended the stairs. Mystique looked comfortable on the couch with her back propped with a pillow and her long legs spread out in front of her as she studied the laptop screen before her.
"The menu for room service is on the counter in the kitchen. Order anything you want," she told me before my foot hit the landing.
In acknowledgment, I opened the Zippo and snapped it closed, making my way toward the menu.
The first item listed was nachos but not just any kind. They were elevated to the T. It was tempting to order two portions but I didn't want to fill up on only tortilla chips. My eyes traveled down the menu as I mentally picked as they went: filet Mignon, sliders, and mini eggrolls Tex-Mex style with beer to wash it all down. "Do you want anything before I call?"
Mystique replied, "If there's nothing remotely healthy in your order already, add a garden salad to it for me with grilled chicken and house dressing on the side. You can place the order directly from the Smart fridge. There's cash in the top draw for tipping on the right side."
"Ten-four."
The fridge's built-in tablet was easy to use. After I received the confirmation, it stated the wait time was around thirty-five minutes with the grand total that would be charged to the room. Then I slid the drawer open and pulled out a single bill from the pile for the tip before folding it and stuffing it into my rear pocket.
She was spoiling me. How could I ever go back to living any other way? Yes, I used to live in a mansion . . . but (and it's a big one) with many, many mutants. Not the same. It's nice to have space in a luxurious place.
"I could get used to this kind of lifestyle," I uttered as I strolled into the living room, taking a seat across from her, purposely man-spreading. How could I not? So much room!
"I've been staying here for about three years now." She shut the laptop. "Traveled and did whatever I desired. I also checked up on you quite often as my transportation options aren't limited and I wanted to make sure they weren't keeping you unconscious deliberately."
"Perhaps there are still holes in my memory, Raven, but I could've sworn I was indifferent to you." She gave me a closed-lipped smile and went back to whatever she was doing on the laptop. "What are you doing?"
"Research."
"On?" I prompted.
"Our first target. But first things first, nourishing fuel, and then we'll see what you're capable of."
I fished the Zippo from my front pocket. "Thanks for this." Click. Clack. Click. Clack. "You're full of surprises." Click. Clack. Click. Clack. "That doesn't bother you?" I remember that it annoyed practically everyone else but I would ignore their huffs and sighs and they would eventually get irritated and leave the room.
Her eyes remained on the screen. "If it did, I wouldn't have gifted you with it. It didn't then. It doesn't now."
A voice from the intercom and a prompt stomach grumble halted my reply. The food was prepared and ready to be delivered. I stood and waited by the door to intercept. The grub was rolled in heartbeats later and my tip received a "Thank you very much, Sir. Have a wonderful day" before the elevator closed and he disappeared just as fast as he arrived. I pushed it into the kitchen and placed the salad on one side and the nachos and eggrolls in the middle. The rest was on my side—there will be leftovers for sure.
x - X - x - X - x
A belch from my throat announced I was finished. Mystique's belch beat mine tenfold by length and volume. I smirked at her but said nothing. My memory still isn't one hundred percent but I know for a fact that that was the best meal I've ever had.
She speared the remaining lettuce with her fork and let it hang as she said, "Glad I ordered this." Then she speared an eggroll as she chewed the green "good-for-you" stuff.
Tipping my beer bottle toward her, I said, "There's corn and beans in that. Those are healthy."
She, in turn, tipped hers. "Corn turns into sugar in your bloodstream," she replied, then took a swig.
"But . . . it's a vegetable." I pressed the bottle to my lips and upended it.
"There are many others that don't turn into sugar. Brussels sprouts, asparagus . . ."
I made a face while hers remained neutral without so much as a twitch. Could she sense I was slightly internally irked? I knew she was teasing me but she was unreadable as usual.
"Okay, enough about healthy foods, and on to testing your new and evolved ability."
Instantly, I perked up and absently leaned in closer with the table between us, forearms laid out in front of me. "Tell me more."
Bobby
Bobby's daughter ran ahead and then jumped into a particular spot in the grass. When he caught up to her, he looked around. "So this is where you saw him?"
"Yes!" Lexi answered with over-the-top enthusiasm that kids do. She pointed to the grass. "See."
His blue gaze followed the grass foot indentations. "Very good, Sweet Pea." Her face shifted into a grimace and it reminded him of Pyro; so much so that he couldn't stifle laughter.
Lexi placed her hands on her hips. "What's so funny? I don't like peas."
"But it's a sweet pea," he said after sobering.
She pouted and stomped her foot. "It doesn't matter."
He laughed again.
She scrunched her facial features. "Why is this funny, Daddy?"
After he sobered, he inhaled and exhaled, and told her, "I'm not laughing at you, Honey Bunny. I'm just now realizing how much of a child an acquaintance is and more likely than not, still is."
She looked up at him and smiled. "I like honey."
"Me too." He took another glance in the direction that his former best friend and shapeshifting foe went. "Let's go back. Daddy has to take care of something."
In less than a heartbeat, Lexi asked, "Can I come?"
He gave her a closed-lipped smile and ruffled her hair, his gaze inadvertently traveling toward the distance again, answering, "No, Honey, not this time." I have to do this solo.
Pyro
"Wouldn't you rather just experience it without prior context?" she countered.
Regarding her, I thought about it for a few moments, then uttered, "Is that wise due to the circumstances?"
"If you're concerned about burning down the hotel," she paused and flashed a smirk, "which is quite odd . . . don't sweat it."
"A little bit of that," I admitted, "but I mostly don't want to lose my marbles."
She tsked at me and I immediately regretted what I'd said, slumping in my seat, averting my eyes. Mimicking Magneto's voice, she said, "You've finally achieved greatness and you're now hesitant to use it?"
I squared my shoulders, straightening. "You won't be able to stop me," I challenged matter-of-factly.
"I'm highly aware, Pyro," she said tersely and slightly clipped using her own unique voice, then waved at me dismissively. "Let me worry about that." She stood. "Come with me."