Write Me an X [Archive] - Page 3 - Comic Book Resources Forums

J Harper

04-25-2006, 01:20 AM

Hey all,

To my utter surprise and against my initial intentions I have started the penultimate chapter of Deathless. I post a teaser here and now. It's fresh and very rough, so please forgive any crudness.

Also, I mention again that Chapter 12 - The Calm Before... is complete up at FanFiction.Net. I didn't get too many comments on it, and I'd really like to know what people thought of it.

Now, the beginning of Hell breaking loose.

Deathless

By

Jeremy Harper

Note – The Astonishing X-Men are the property of Marvel Comics and are used without permission.

Chapter 13 – To Slay

A flaring gold light erupted, pushing back the murk of early dawn and illuminating the sere clearing. A twisting column of flame snaked high into the air, writhing and crackling as from its infernal heart emerged monsters. Myedvyed Tsar; Misery; Vultariax; Solovey Razboynik – wreathed in fire that did not burn, which smoked and guttered and died in the cold, crisp air of the taiga. Next came Danila Volkevich, still in wolf’s form, his eyes flashing red, exhaling sparks and black fumes, momentarily transformed by the method of his teleportation into a hound of Hell. After Volkevich, Nikolai the Deathless manifested, seemingly a great demon Prince clad in crimson and gold, haloed by the tatters of a sorcerous inferno. Finally, dwarfed by his son, yet no less ominous, stepped Koschei the Deathless, his black caftan of rotting silk clutched tight around his skeletal form, an ermine cap encircled by a band of gold crowning his head, the Drakhon Key clutched in his gnarled and bony hand. As he set foot on Siberian soil the column of fired collapsed and vanished, leaving but a slight mark of scorched grass and earth.

Koschei’s nostrils flared wide, and he inhaled deeply, taking in as much clean air as he could. He looked about, turning in a circle, staring up at the lightening sky, the rising sun staining it a ruddy gold to the east, while a purple darkness still held mastery of the west. He looked at the tall trees encircling the mile wide clearing – tall firs and crooked larches, their needles a rich and healthy bluish-green. Koschei sighed, then laughed, reveling in the sensations he felt. For the first time in nearly a century he enjoyed the freedom of the open country… a country that would soon be his. He turned to his followers, rotting teeth bared in a grin of predatory anticipation.

“Now, my faithful druzhina,” he whispered. “Now you will see a miracle wrought, and a prophecy fulfilled.” He gestured with his free hand and the druzhina came hither, assembling besides him. Still grinning, Koschei looked up at Nikolai, who stood at the sorcerer’s right. The Great Prince of the Earth gazed out to the west, still as the morning air, his silver eyes shining bright through his golden mask. “Are you ready, Nikolai, my darling childe?”

“Yes, father,” Nikolai answered, his reply barely a ghost of sound.

“Then I begin.”

Jeremy Harper

Amokitty

04-25-2006, 09:51 AM

I'm so excited about this!! This is whetting my appetite for the explosive finish.

I'm also curious about what happened to "Bliss"? I hope it's going to see the light of day!

*Goes off to write review*

xakko

04-25-2006, 06:37 PM

ooooh... great little tease there, Mr. Harper...

are you excited getting near the end?

J Harper

04-28-2006, 09:23 PM

ooooh... great little tease there, Mr. Harper...

are you excited getting near the end?

Oh yes, I am. Part of the reason why I pushed up the time schedule for To Slay. This is the chapter I've been working towards for the past two years (Good God!). I want to get it out, soon, and I'd dearly love to see peoples' faces when they finally read it. While I've sown hints here and there about Koschei's plot, I wonder if anyone has seen what's coming.

Cheers!

Jeremy Harper

xakko

04-28-2006, 09:29 PM

Oh yes, I am. Part of the reason why I pushed up the time schedule for To Slay. This is the chapter I've been working towards for the past two years (Good God!). I want to get it out, soon, and I'd dearly love to see peoples' faces when they finally read it. While I've sown hints here and there about Koschei's plot, I wonder if anyone has seen what's coming.

Cheers!

Jeremy Harper
and I thought 5 months between Kit's Laughing chapters was bad.

Speaking of which...

xakko

04-28-2006, 09:36 PM

Chapter 12
“Signal to Noise”

"Peter, mein freund, you need to relax. They will be all right. You know this," said Kurt in his most reassuring tone. His large friend had been pacing back and forth since Kitty's call, encased in his armored form. There was a nervous energy about him, bespeaking a strong desire for action. He lay a three-fingered hand on Piotr's shoulder, and gestured with his other, "Now, please, get out of your changeform. You are frightening the children."

The students of Xavier's were nervously milling in the hallway, casting wary glances at the hulking figure. Colossus was staring into the distance, his fists clenched tight. For a moment, he just stood there, brow furrowed, face twisted into a scowl. Then, with agonizing slowness, his eyes closed and, with a distinctive flash, organic steel was replaced by flesh and bone. With an almost audible sigh of relief, the tension in the hall noticeably diminished.

"Da, you are right. It does little to quiet the mind, to know that such men are still out there. I would prefer to be there with Katya."

"Careful Peter, people might think you still care," laughed Kurt.

The Russian's shoulder's sagged, "It is not a very good joke, friend Kurt. You know that I care for her. Very deeply." He walked over to a window and gazed out at a small hill in the distance.

"My apologies. I did not mean to hurt you." He frowned, hesitant. With a faint shrug, he continued, "But in that vein, I worry that you are hurting yourself. And our Kätzchen as well."

Peter's face fell, "It seems that even in my best efforts I cannot help but hurt those I love." He paused, struggling with some untold weight. "You saw earlier a picture of my greatest shame, the first time I betrayed and hurt Katya. My second was the night I nearly murdered that Wisdom person, and broke her heart yet again. Even more than my betrayal of all of you to join Magneto. I have talked with Dr. Campbell, and I realize that the brain damage I had suffered and my grief led me to that point, but he could not help me understand why I continue to hurt this woman I purport to care so much about. Am I just some selfish ass who thinks only of his own needs..."

"Peter, I did not say..."

"Please, tovarisch, let me speak. I seldom try to put things into words. I do not know if I have any to express my sorrow. But during my confinement by Ord, I had much time to think. I remember how I came to Muir Island that night. It was... perhaps two weeks after the battle against Sarah's Gene Nation. It had felt good- very good- to fight alongside my comrades again, but I knew I had no place with them. Not then, no matter what Ororo had said."

His face was tense with the recollections, "I first tried to reconnect with my art, but had not been able to pick up a brush. So I spent what funds I had to go to Paris, to go to museums. I found no solace in the works there, not even among the great masters in the Louvre. I considered returning to my homeland. I have a few remaining relatives there." A bitter twist had joined his already somber tone. He was a man for whom family had always been paramount, and had suffered much. His parents had been brutally murdered by his government. The brother he had idolized, thought lost to an explosion, then found again, but totally mad, and then lost once more.. And then the tragic death of his younger sister to the very disease he'd later given his life to cure.

---

Drinking coffee,
Have to stay awake and think of you.
Aching awfully,
Knowing my perceptions aren't true.
If you were what I've made you,
Not as your acts betrayed you
How could I keep away?
But things still lead me on,
A word, and then it's gone.
What lives here, and what's stray?
Tell me please, what's signal and what's noise?

Kitty's mind was focused on a single image. Sitting on a hill, hugging her knees, as the man with whom she had planned to spend the rest of her life tore out her heart and shattered her dreams. The memory stood out among a montage of her history with one Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin. Rachel saw this much clearly- it was a lodestone around her friend's neck, standing in the way of her personal growth. Coupled with the bitterness of her parents' divorce, it went a long way towards explaining the lack of success in her love life.

Rachel wasn't even sure how to begin. Kitty was singing along to the CD, a throaty sound tinged heavily with sorrow. The few tentative psi touches she'd made hadn't been rebuffed so much as lost in the background. It seemed well nigh impossible to even get a thought in, but this wasn't a moment that would easily come again.

*So, um, Peter...* Rachel pushed past the mnemonic cobwebs to ensure that she was being received.

*What about him?* Kitty's thoughts were harsh, defensive. Rachel could feel the psi-shields learned from the Professor about to snap into place, but then, sensing her friend's shock at such a brusque reply, Kitty added in a more concilliatory manner, * I'm sorry, Ray. I just don't know what there is to say about him anymore. I don't even know what to think about him...*

*Why don't you tell me what you know, and maybe we can figure out where we go from there?*

Kitty sniffled a bit. *What's there to know? He dumped me for the memory of some dead alien that he couldn't even communicate with. Oh, he still cared, but he just didn't love me anymore. So we both got hurt, and then we both almost died in that massacre down in the tunnels. We spent months recuperating on Muir- starting talking again, connecting. But then he goes off wandering and ends up in Dallas just in time to die with the rest of the X-men. But, of course, thanks to Roma, that weren't really dead, or they were back pretty damn quick in any event. They just went to Australia to play covert vigilante strike force. Never letting us know that they were alive. Then the big lunk ends up reborn as "Peter Nicholas", famous Soho painter, and hooks up with Callisto of all people. At least he was at peace, until Shadow King pulled him back in. Then he got hurt in the fight with the X-Cutioner, then Illyana... got sick. And then she...*

The young woman stopped to wipe away the free flowing tears. Rachel stifled an irrational surge of jealousy at the mention of Kitty's "other" best friend, as her companion continued her thought. *I still wonder that... if we'd put her in the Shi'ar device- kept her alive until the cure was found...*

xakko

04-28-2006, 09:41 PM

"I was not ready to go to Russia. There are too many ghosts there. It occurred to me that while I had not been receptive at the time, you all had helped me- healed me, up at Muir. I came to think that perhaps you would welcome me again, allow me to take time. To think about what I should do. And so I headed to Scotland."

"On foot?"

"Da. It was another poor decision, I know."

"Peter, that must have taken weeks!" Kurt exclaimed. To walk from Paris to Muir, an island off the north coast of Scotland, was a truly incredible feat, even factoring in the Russian's prodigious stamina.

"Not so long, tovarisch, as I walked straight through. Perhaps a little over seven days. It was, I confess, not the most pleasant way to cross the English channel. I am happy to report that the Institute's duffel bags are quite waterproof."

Nightcrawler did some quick calculations in his head. He stared at Colossus with wide yellow eyes. "Even still, that's around seven hundred miles. Over a week of walking- without sleep? I know that you do not seem to tire in your armored form, but still... your brain still requires rest."

With a deep sigh, Piotr nodded gravely. "There is more, I fear. When I set out for Muir, I believe it was with the best of intentions- to see my friends again and hopefully find a place where I could try to put my life back together. I remembered our time as patients there after the events in the Morlock tunnels fondly." He paused, with a crooked smile crossing his face, "Perhaps 'fondly' is too strong a word. Dr. MacTaggart was a stern taskmistress, and Callisto also. Some of their rehabilitation exercises left me longing for early Danger Room training. And certainly there was nothing good about the circumstances that brought us there. But I had been there with you, and Katya. Not that you remember, of course, since you were still in a coma when I returned to the X-men."

"Returned to die, as I recall," the blue furred German said, his fangs clenched. "The first thing I hear upon awakening is that you- and Ororo, and Logan and the rest, had perished on live television. Kitty was devastated."

"It was hard for us, too. It was Ororo's thought to protect our loved ones by feigning our deaths, to better strike at our enemies, to avenge those who had died and stop future massacres."

Kurt shook his head sadly, "So many months wasted. So much tragedy in the Inferno that resulted from that simple decision. It was not, I fear, one of our wind rider's best."

Piotr's eyes were downcast, "Nyet, if we had stayed in touch, perhaps I could have aided my Illyana Nikolievna in her time of need..."

"Bygones, Peter There is nothing to be done for it now," came Kurt's grave reply, clearly seeking to avoid playing "what if?". "You were saying how you'd felt welcome at Muir, and were walking."

"Yes. It had been my thinking that Muir might welcome me again. As mile after mile passed, I began to wonder if I had not made yet another error in judgement. Logan had called me traitor, turncoat; and so I had been. What if you and Rachel and Dr. MacTaggart- and Katya- felt the same? I considered turning back, somewhere around Manchester, but I did not know where else to go. I tried to remember the day my head injury was healed, for some hint as to what I might expect upon arriving. As you may expect, some of my memories of that day were somewhat hazy. I remembered petitioning Exodus to go and retrieve Katya, believing her story. There was anger when I realized she was deceiving me. Then I woke up and she was saying it would be all right. I remember her holding me as I wept. There was a commotion- I realized that you were fighting my fellow Acolytes over me. I had given my word, and I would not have people get injured over me. And so I chose to return to Avalon, of my own free will."

Kurt stroked his chin, "But first... before you left, Kitty kissed you."

"Da," the large man nodded, the beginning of a blush creeping across his cheeks. "It was... a very memorable kiss. Like the ones from when we were younger, but more adult. I thought about that kiss when I was back on Avalon, full of regret for what would never be."

---

Interference
Or is that the broadcast that I've got?
Your appearance
Renders me incapable of thought

Here's your voice on the phone.
Your sweet and sullen tone,
What am I to believe?
Did you blow me a kiss
Or was that just tape hiss?
When I hang up, will you grieve?
Have pity, now, what's signal and what's noise

*So, after Illyana passed away- God, what a meaningless phrase that is. Passed away? Was taken away is more like it. Stolen away. Murdered by a sick, twisted disease engineered from the madness of a clone of your time displaced half-brother Cable. * Incongruously, she laughed, but it was hollow, sardonic. *Does that mean he's your step-clone? But anyway, after she died, Peter was inconsolable. He burned all his paintings- his lifes work- except for a scant few I was able to save. He and I had spent the entire night after she'd died together by the pool, comforting each other. Or so I thought then. He was stuck in his armored form, it wasn't like he could cry or anything, and I know my eyes weren't too clear. Now I wonder, since he wasn't allowing himself to feel anything, if maybe he thought he was being there for me, out of some vague sense of obligation. For whatever reason, this tragedy reminded me how important both he and 'Yana were to me, and it made his betrayal- going over to Magneto- that much worse.*

*I can imagine,* sent Rachel, *You both needed to be there for one another right then, and he was too damn self-absorbed to see it. Yes, I know he was suffering from brain damage, but still... You were so sad when you returned to Excalibur. I tried my best to be there for you, we all did, but I know how much you were still hurting. Still, the look on the Professor's face when you snapped at him was priceless.*

*Well, he did have it coming!* The corners of her mouth drifted upwards slightly at the memory, *He had just asked me to trick a man who still meant a great deal to me, and whose sister I was still mourning. I have to admit that his plan did work- up to a point. We managed to heal his wound, I could be there as he released all that grief he'd had to keep bottled in. I thought- well, part of me did- that things might finally be OK. But I can't honestly say that I was surprised that he chose to honor his promise to Exodus and return to Avalon.*

"Mmmmmmmm," Rachel spoke aloud, gleaning a measure of insight from the recollection of one tender, goodbye kiss. *You may not have been surprised, but that didn't stop you from giving him a taste of what he'd be missing if he left, did it?*

To her shame, Kitty felt her cheeks turn hot. *Maybe a little... you don't think that he was obsessing over that the whole time he was up there, do you? I mean, it's really rather flattering and all, but it was just one kiss. It would certainly explain why he was a borderline psychotic when he arrived at Muir...*

*That would've been downright creepy!* Rachel projected, *But I was talking to Storm once- she was talking about some of the regrets she carried with her, and she was talking about some fight against Gene Nation, when she had to pull out Marrow's heart-*

*Now there's one death where I wouldn't have cried had it stuck* joked Kitty.

*Yeah, well, she'd said something about Petey kissing Callisto at the end of that caper. So I don't know how obsessed the big lug was at that point. What happened between there and Muir- how he even got to Muir- well, your guess is as good as mine.*

*Y'know Ray, that's always kinda bothered me as well. When we got in touch with the Institute after the - incident - with Pete, they seemed even more surprised than we were. I was so mad at him at the time I didn't realize they'd just fought alongside him, and he'd been just fine. I was still angry several days later when he'd tried to talk about things... I wasn't in any mood for excuses until Pete was fine again. I wonder now what he was trying to tell me, what possibly could have happened to him.*

*I could always sneak in and rummage around a bit.* Rachel's thoughts were arched, with a mischevious glint, *When I was first learning to use my telepathy, I was encouraged to use Uncle Petey as a guinea pig. He didn't have as many layers of subtext to everything that the rest of you did. It wasn't that he was stupid- you know that- it was just that his thoughts weren't as complicated with self rationalizations and other secrets that we hide from ourselves. There were some rather naughty thoughts about you- Aunt Kate, that is- but the Professor would have me steer clear when I came across those. Not that I didn't pick up a pointer or two...*

xakko

04-28-2006, 09:43 PM

Kitty was blushing furiously. She'd always felt a bit uncomfortable about that aspect of Rachel's life. Her best friend had grown up in an alternate timeline. It was one where Peter had never been abducted by the Beyonder and fallen for some alien, one where the two fo them had stayed together- gotten married, had children. One where he'd never broken her heart. Part of her- a tiny, childish part- envied that other self, and she had long outgrown such pettiness. Kate Pryde- the one from Rachel's world- lived in a nightmare that she couldn't possibly fathom, one that could only be compared to the horrors her people had suffered in the Holocaust. And had Peter stayed faithful, she would never have trained under Logan, never have met Alishdair Kinross or Pete Wisdom. And she knew she was a better person for that. A little rougher, a little nastier, a little dirtier, certainly, but what had once been naive pluck and chutzpah had been tempered into steely resolve and will.

She did, however, make a mental note to have Peter work on his mental defenses. Just in case they did end up together despite the odds, and in case an enterprising young telepath wanted to practice.

*I heard that!* Rachel sent, *It seems that you haven't been able to entirely dismiss reconciliation, at least as a possibility.*

*You can hardly blame me!* Kitty's thought were defensive. *There are forces way beyond my control here. Every time I thought I'd moved on, he would come exploding back into my life. I mean, I no sooner return from Japan where I'd gone to get away from him, and then Arcade kidnaps the two of us for one of his stupid games. Just us. I don't know if he knew about the breakup or not- he's just the sort to get his jollies pairing up two former lovers like that. All I know is that I wanted to kill that evil little prick.*

The young brunette's mind seethed with uncharacteristic anger. She took a deep breath and tried to relax. *I did get a bit of guilty pleasure out of it, making a fool out of the big guy. And it was nice to have him demonstrate that he still cared.*

---

"So, this kiss... it resonated in you? Is that why-?" Kurt struggled to find the right words. "I do not mean to bring up a painful memory..."

"Too many of my memories are so. It made for difficult days when I was imprisoned." Peter paused, to gather his thoughts, "I do suppose I thought more and more of that kiss as I walked through Northern England and into Scotland. At first, I told myselve that it was just a simple kiss goodbye. We had been friends a long time, despite my past poor treatment of her. She flew in from England to care for poor Illyana withouth hesitation, to be there for her when my duties as an X-men kept calling me away. I do not believe I ever truly thanked her, so overwhelmed as I was with grief and anger. After such behavior, it did not make sense for one kiss to mean more than that. I would try to put it out of my head. As I walked, memories would come unbidden, and seemed to take on new meaning. I remembered how Katya and I were married in Rachel's future. I remember her stealing glances from time to time, such as when my costume was destroyed by Arcade. I tried to convince myself that it was so long ago, that she was still young."

Kurt hesitated to speak, not wanting to stop the momentum of his normally laconic friend.

The large man continued, "I began to think of all the times she would save me. Ha! The beautiful princess saving the knight in armor. She offered to marry Caliban to save me after my encounter with the Brotherhood. She rescued me when I was underground against Nimrod and the Hellfire Club. She even tried to save me from my folly, rescuing a painting of Illyana that I would dearly have missed. And even in carrying out Gospodin Xavier's ploy to draw me down to the island to heal my injury, certainly once again she was trying to save me. This tiny girl- this remarkable young woman- had been my own guardian angel for a long time, and I, for the most part, had been less than grateful. I began to wonder how she could continue to be so good to me. Could it be that she, somehow, miraculously, somehow still loved me? For many, many miles, I would scarcely allow myself to even consider it. She was a friend, nothing more. But what if, I asked myself, she still desired what we had together?"

Kurt grabbed hold of both of his friend's arms, "Mein Gott! It was all a fraud! Ord has clearly given us a decoy! Sinister must have created a clone! Piotr Nikolaevitch Rasputin has not spoken so much in his entire life at one point!"

With that, he laughed, "I do not mean to interrupt you, but you were getting quite tense there."

"Just a little," agreed Piotr with a nod. "As I recount those days, it is easy to see where I went wrong. da? The longer I walked, the more I convinced myself that Katya had been waiting, would still be waiting for me. I began to think my sins of the past, casting aside my love for her for the memory of poor, doomed Zsaji, had been somehow wiped away, and that somehow the loss of my family could be balanced by starting a new family with her. I would daydream how we would be reunited. She would be on that one outcropping, facing south where you can see the mainland. I would sneak up behind her-"

"Sneak up on Kitty? You? Even you must have realized how utterly and completely unrealistic that was. I would think that would have reminded you it was all a fantasyl..."

Piotr smiled, "I know now. At the time- not so much. Logan certainly has taught her well. But then, in this waking dream, it was much more... romantic. It was, as you say, a fantasy, after all. So to continue, I would approach her from behind and ask her why she was so sad, and she would turn around, and run to me and embrace me, and ask me if I was real, and I would say that I was, that I had returned and that we had shed enough tears, and I would ensure that there was no more need."

Kurt groaned audibly, "Ever the romantic, Peter? Remind me to give you a lesson or three on how to properly woo a woman. It generally requires a dish with significantly less cheese."

"You are perhaps offering a course? I do not remember such an entry in the curriculum, at least when I was a student. It might have made my life easier."

"It's advanced study, I admit, but I would happily grant you an exemption to correct such egregious behavior."

Piotr laughed, "Spaceeba, my friend. Perhaps I may have need in the future for such learning. It certainly would have added some better dialogue to my daydreams, if not in real life. It seems odd to think on it now, how I created so many of these vignettes during that journey, each more ridiculous than the last. At the first, she and I would just resume our friendship, and later start with one romantic date, leading to more, and then eventually... well, you can gather the rest. But that took too long, since she clearly had been waiting for me for so many months. It ended up that I would just drop to one knee and propose right there on the bluff."

The image of Piotr, on bended knee, still dripping wet from walking from the Scottish mainland, overtook Nightcrawler, "Mein Gott, Peter, I think I am finally beginning to understand your actions that night. By the time you reached us, your sleep deprived mind had probably already passed beyond the proposal. You may have even been suffering the delusion that you were already wed- that she would accept must have become a mere formailty. "

Peter could only nod, sadly, his giant frame deflated with a nearly visible aura of shame.

Kurt's yellow eyes were aglow with comprehension, "So, when you saw Kitty kissing Wisdom, what had been a certainty for several days in your head suddenly came crashing down all around you. You were hysterical, and you took it out on Herr Wisdom. It also serves to explain your nearly incoherent speech, and your clumsy movements. Your body may not fatigue, but your mind certainly was. That probably saved his life."

"It does not excuse me actions, tovarisch. I nearly killed a man out of my own stupidity- in a jealous fit over a woman who I had no claim to, save the remnants of friendship," the Russian said, "Had I but rested one night in Stornoway, I may have come to my senses, been able to see her as she was- a friend, not a lover or wife. I could have avoided all that guilt that plagues me to this day."

"Again, Peter, you cannot allow these memories to define your relationship with Kitty. What is it that those financial commercials say?- 'Past performances does not guarantee future results." That was then; surely now is something different."

Piotr did not appear to be listening. "Perhaps, if things had been right between us, I could have been a better friend to Katya back then. I might have been able to provide comfort and advice about breaking the news of the incident during her time at SHIELD to Wisdom, so that she could learn from my mistakes. It grieved me to see her hurt so. And I was in sore need of her counsel when dear Meggan developed that unfortunation 'crush' on me before Brian returned."

"You need to let those memories go, mein freund, Kurt said, laying a gentle hand on the larger man's shoulder, "Perhaps it is an advantage of my faith, but it is a concept that you must learn- to forgive yourself. Even the vaunted strength of Colossus cannot bear the weight of self-recrimination forever."

xakko

04-28-2006, 09:44 PM

Here's your photo,
I found it cleaning out my bottom drawer.
When you wrote, oh,
I couldn't keep from wondering what for.

Through the gray, through the grain,
A picture taken in the rain,
That doesn't show your face.
Connected dots don't make a line,
You confuse me every time.
Confusion has its place.

But just this once, what's signal and what's noise?

*So, all of this stuff with Peter went down after I left. What was he like when he joined up with Excalibur?*

Kitty frowned a bit, collecting her thoughts in a dazzle of images. *You know, that's a good question. At first I didn't want to have anything to do with him after what he'd done. I would be polite and all, talk to him- he was my teammate again and he'd been through a lot. It was much later when I realized that after I had told him that Pete was really good to me, that he had accepted it without question. We never really spent that much time together, and when we did, it was just the same old X-men banter. I was a little suspicious, but also very worried, because he'd taken to brooding a lot, which was so unlike him. Before, he'd either go to paint or do some menial labor or just go vent some aggression by smashing stuff. Pete said he was just being Russian, but he didn't know Piotr like I did. It wasn't normal at all. I knew he was hurting, I knew he had all this pain to work through. And I also knew that while I was being young and in love, all of the sudden other members of Excalibur- Rahne, Rory, Meggan- had grown closer to him than I was. Piotr and I were still friends- I'd become more certain of that the longer he went without breaking Pete- but not close ones. Pete certainly was jealous the Piotr and I shared this former intimacy, and I was at least a little jealous of that my teammates were closer with Piotr than I was.*

*Did that have anything to do with your breakup?* Rachel queried. *You meantioned before that you felt Wisdom was being controlling. Were you blaming him for the diminished state of your friendship with Colossus?*

*No.* thought Kitty, decisively. But the assurance wavered, and she continued, *Or, if I did, I would've been wrong to think that way. I was with Pete by my own choice. He never made me do anything. And the moment he did- trying to keep me away from S.H.I.E.L.D.- was the beginning of the end of us.*

*Yeah, I can totally see that.* Rachel sat listening to the music for a while, staring ahead, wondering if Kitty would continue or if she would need to be prodded more. Deciding to return to the main topic for this discussion, she sent a thought, *It still doesn't make any sense to me. For Peter to come all that way for you, apparently completely obsessed to the point of nearly killing a man he never met, and then just to give it up like that? Are you sure he wasn't just playing the "best friend" card, to stay in your confidence and just be a contrast to Wisdom?*

Kitty chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip, lost in memories of that period. *Not that I can recall. As I said, he spent a lot of his time alone or with the other members of Excalibur. And if he became more and more of "Petey Pureheart", well, you know, that's just how he was.*

*Was he possessed by the Shadow King again?*

*No, that was after the so called Psi War. Shadow King was imprisoned by Psylocke at that point.*

*War Skrull?*

*Will you be serious?*

*Sorry, Kate, I got nothing!* Rachel projected mild exasperation, *If it really matters, you could, you know, ask him.*

Kitty fell silent, but a feeling of hesitancy and an image of Peter's face flickered across her mind. *Yeah, that'll happen. "Gee, Peter, remember that time on Muir when I hated your guts for a week or so? And how I told you that I didn't give a damn why you did what you did or what the hell you were thinking, and that we just had to try to ignore it and move on for the sake of the team? Well, I was wondering, you know, why did you do it, and what were you thinking?" I can't reopen those wounds, Ray. I don't think it's a good place to put him in right now, and I'm not sure it would be a good place for me, either. I know he needs me, and I guess, for the moment, I should just be happy with that.*

*Dammit, Kitty, you aren't happy! Not by a long shot. When I came back from the Savage Land and saw you two together in our room, yeah, I was mad, I admit it. Partly because of my mom, but also because you looked so cozy together. I really thought that you two were already a couple again, and I thought the idea sucked. It was too soon, and I wasn't ready to give you up just yet. But that was ages ago. And if anything, you seem more confused, and much, much less happy. You got pulled back into this life. You're once again fighting for a dream that you isn't yours, not really, not anymore. And now you are allowing yourself to be jerked around by Peter, and you are so better than that. Last I checked, you were Shadowcat, not Shadowpuppy.* Rachel was fuming, her frustration saturating her thoughts. *Girlfriend, you can't let that man take advantage of you like this. Or let him take you for granted at all.*

*Please don't pull an Oprah on a girl from Deerfield, Rachel. It won't play. Kitty replied, *Still, I can't deny that you may have a point.*

*Just one?*

*All right, all right, I concede that you have put quite a bit of thought into this. More than I have, apparently.*

Taking her eyes off the road a moment to glance at her friend, Rachel's face took on a quizzical look. *Kitty, you're one of the brightest people I've ever met. How could you not have thought this through?*

*I've been a little busy, OK? Teaching, giving snot-nosed children detention, saving the world, finding dead ex-boyfriend's alive in basements, you know how it is.*

*Yeah, or maybe you're afraid of what the answers to your questions might be.*

Looking out at the passing scenery, Kitty sent, *You know what scares me the most?*

*Please. I'm a telepath. You're practically screaming it at me. But I think you need to at least think it consciously- to make sure that you've admitted it to yourself.*

*I'm scared that I do love him and that he still loves me, but it isn't enough, that we just both end up hurting each other again. I don't want to end up like my mom and dad. I can't, Ray. I don't know if I could survive that.*

Rachel could only nod sadly. She knew Kitty was strong enough, but could easily see why it would not be worth the risk for her. Heaven knew there were events she would move time and space rather than reliving. *I can’t tell you what to do, Kit. I’m sorry, but you’re on your own here. But I do know you’re the strongest person I know when in a crisis, and I’ve never known you to go wrong when you’ve followed your heart…*

*Clearly, you don’t remember the whole Seth thing very well. Gah, that was so incredibly shallow of me. Sure he had a great mind, was incredibly handsome, and could shake it on the dance floor like nobody’s business, but he was also an evil supremacist who nearly killed all my friends. Then again, that may not have been my heart leading me astray there…*

*Nevertheless, Kitty, you are going to have to make a decision. Quite frankly, I’m too good a friend to let you tear yourself apart like this, and my Summers blood will not allow you to be a liability to the team because your head isn’t in the game. You don’t necessarily need to make it now, and by all means, if you want to involve Peter do so, but you need to figure out just what the bloody hell is going on there between you, and you need to do it soon.*

With a start, Kitty glanced around and realized that they were in familiar Westchester surroundings. They were a few minutes away from home, maybe time for one last song. She was shaken, and felt that old familiar dread in the pit of her stomach. She knew Rachel was right- she was tearing herself up over it, and before Dr. McCoy started prescribing ulcer medication, she needed to do something about it, once and for all. To go visit the road once traveled, or to abandon it forever.

“OK, Ray,” she spoke aloud, “You’re right. I’ve made up my mind.”

---

“The weight, it is not so heavy a burden, my friend,” Piotr spoke. “If I never forget how much I hurt Katya in the past, then it protects her from being hurt again in the future. I will not do that again. I cannot.”

Nightcrawler mumbled a small prayer to St. Jude for intercession on his friend’s behalf. “Love,” he began, “is never without hurt, because life is not without hurt. Pain is a risk any time we open ourselves up to one another. But you cannot just close off your heart to us all and never let us in. You are one of the kindest men I know, you have so much to give, I implore you not to lock it away, only to be expressed through in your art. You have to be strong enough to let yourself live again. To love again. Please, Peter, promise me you’ll try, at the very least, to talk to Kitty about your feelings.”

“I do not wish to burden-“

Kurt cut him off, “Peter, stop making excuses. It really doesn’t become you. I’m asking you, for all our sakes, to just make an effort to talk to her, can you please do that?”

“But-“

“Peter. Please. Just talk to her.”

The large Russian could no longer meet his friend’s gaze, and his eyes focused on an non-confrontational speck of dust on the floor in the hall. “Da, I will try.”

Kirayoshi

04-28-2006, 09:48 PM

Kirayoshi

04-28-2006, 10:35 PM

So, I'm posting a little response to J Harper's latest, and suddenly this story appears? Way to go, Xakko! Finally a decent explaination of Piotr's behavior in Excalibur #92, and some serious soul-searching for Kitty and Peter. Kudos all over the place!

J Harper

04-28-2006, 11:21 PM

J,

You are evil. I think you're aware of this, right?

Your latest little snippet of "Deathless" has managed to, to quote George Clooney in the movie, "O Brother Where Art Thou?"*, "arouse my appetite without properly bedding her down." Soon we will finally get to see what Korshei's plan is. And I can't wait to see how the final battle between the X-Men and Korshei's men goes down.

Catch you tomorrow at Kiotr.com.

*Don't laugh, I loved that movie!

Thanks for the kudos, K. Hopefully the completed chapter will live up to everyone's expectations. I think either it will have people wide-eyed in awe... or laughing in hysterical disbelief. :/ We'll see.

Xakko, you write very, very well. I really need to get caught up on my reviews. A very fine chapter by a very fine writer.

Take care, all.

Jeremy Harper

J Harper

04-28-2006, 11:23 PM

Oh yeah, hopefully I won't be too late to the Kiotr chat. I've been really looking forward to it. Hopefully my mater won't be watching a late, late movie tomorrow night, as she is sometimes wont to do on Saturdays - my computer is in her den, unfortunately. :/

Cheers!

Jeremy Harper

Rachel Grey

04-29-2006, 12:27 AM

Yay, more Kit's Laughing! Nice work Xakkmeister! :D

xakko

04-29-2006, 08:53 AM

Thank you for the wonderfrul comments everybody... I've had that thing in progress for far too long...

Rachel Grey

05-24-2006, 02:51 AM

Bloody wonderful!

Sheer motherfucking genius...

So, some C-list wannabes go after another bunch of super powered lamers who Blow Up Shit Real Good and end up turning a few blocks, including a school, into rubble just for ratings on their F-list reality TV show.

Who's dumbarse idea was this again? Fuck.

So now the oh so smart thinkers over at the White House are bringing back the Mutant Registration Act but expanding it to anyone who has powers. So we've got Registration, we've got O.N.E and their bloody Sentinels. Add in the concentration camps and witness my utter failure as a superhero, an X-man - hell lets take my love life, or lack thereof and add in 'a woman' as well!

Jesus H. Pinklesticks on a bloody tightrope! What am I going to do?! ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!!!!

I hate my life sometimes...

Ontir

05-27-2006, 04:50 PM

I thought we were supposed to keep things PG-13 around here!

Ontir

05-27-2006, 05:05 PM

X- Men: 1969 part 4

There had been a great deal of discussion as to where the device should be built. Many didn't favour the idea of the little town of Salem Centre being turned into ground zero.

"It always comes back to one thing..." said Scott to a speaker box.

"Cerebro!" replied President Nixon. "We need it, if this is going to work"

"And we're more than willing to provide its services..." Jean said.

"Which is why it HAS to be moved to a secure location."

"Mr. President," countered Hank, "I think you can see why we'd be... hesitant to allow a device capable of pinpointing mutants out of our control?"

"Be that as it may, Mr. McCoy, I've classified the device, and it WILL be moved!"

Emma disconnected the phone.

"Emma!" said Hank.

"No," countered Jean, "She's right, there's an entire air-wing, and behind them - Sentinels! They're nearly here!"

"Iron Man, are you hearing this?" asked Tessa.

"I'm nearing your location, and a quin-jet is lifting off now."

"Why would he do it this way?" asked Scott.

"Because," Iron Man offered, "He's paranoid on a good day!"

"...and today," Hank continued, "he's truly frightened."

Meahwhile, in the Oval Office...

"Damn it, Leonid! Don't you threaten me!" Nixon yelled.

There was a long silence, and then the translator spoke, "I make no threat Richard, I will not let my country fall to these... aliens. If you cannot keep the order neccessary to impliment our defense, my agents WILL!"

Ontir

05-31-2006, 04:08 PM

This is a combination "BUMP" and a request that people who enjoy this thread check out my "just for the "L" of it" over on the Never-Ending Board now, because it was moved! It's a Legion fanfic thread. I'm eager to see you there.

Rachel Grey

06-01-2006, 12:28 AM

I thought we were supposed to keep things PG-13 around here!

...We are? Whoops! :eek:

Still, I think it works considering what it's about ;)

TheWolfOfAsgard

06-01-2006, 11:50 AM

I used an English to Russian translator so I hope that it came out right for those who can read Russian.

By A Lake

A chill breeze wafts in from the lake, but he doesn’t feel it. The heat of embarrassment, of nervousness warms him from the inside out. He wants to say something. Feels he needs to say anything before the moment becomes uncomfortable, or at least more so than it already has become.
“Why did you bring me here?” His companion breaks the silence for tyhem both with the soft question. The voice holds a sense of wonder to its tone. “It’s beautiful but not what I would expected from you.”

He grins slightly. The flush begins to creep back up his neck and face. He’s tongue tied by so many emotions. He just grins slightly, a little goofy.

“I don’t mean to imply anything really. It’s just that I never would have expected you to-“

The words trail away. A moment builds between them. Once again his friend breaks it for them.

“Look at me, Peter.”

Peter turns his head. Bright hazel eyes stare back at him in the dying twilight. The breeze ruffles brown bangs across them. “Shane, I –“

“You look like a big dumb jock, you know that?” Shane smiles at the stunned expression in Peter’s eyes. “But you’re not. There isn’t a dumb jock in the world that would appreciate this view. Least not to the point of bringing someone else here to see it too.”

He’s staring out across the lake again. The city on the other side spreads out in a mirror view across from them. Peter can’t look away from him now. The nervous is returning, after a brief departure in the face of what he thought was an insult.

“Why did you want me to see this?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You offer very few answers.”

“You’re cute.”

“You’re fucking hot.”

“You win.”

Peter looks away again. He feels the flush leap up his face. He feels Shane’s stare. Out of the corner of his eye, he tries to catch a glimpse of his new friend but can’t without turning his head.

“You are adorable when you blush like that. And I honestly thought it was an act. But it’s not is it. You really are nervous. I won’t bite, Peter. I’m not going to do anything to you. If you want to just sit here and look at the view, that’s fine, darlin’. Just relax, okay?”

“It’s just that I’ve never…you see I haven’t….And I really….”

Shane laughs. It’s a deep rich sound that sends a shiver through Peter. It is a beautiful sound.

“And don’t necessarily think you’ll have done anything differently tonight. Just sit with me, ok?” He holds out his hand to Peter, who take it and marvels at the difference of size. “Now, I’m going to move a little and then we are going to sit here and watch the sun go down and the city lights come on. And that’s all for now. Understand?”

Peter nods in dumb shock, still unable to look at Shane as he maneuvers himself under Peter’s arm.

“Yeah, this works,” he mutters, settling back into Peter’s chest. “God, you are so warm.”

How does one to respond to that? Peter swallows his heart to fight the nervousness that seems programmed into him now. That feeling has never left since he met Shane earlier in the day. At arm’s length, his body felt ready to vibrate through the Earth. Now with his body in contact with Shane’s, he felt he could shake the heavens down. How could Shane not feel that?

Shane lifts one of Peter’s hands in both his. He turns it over looking at the palm and the back intently before intertwining his fingers between the longer, thicker ones. A small grin is teasing the corners of his mouth. He can feel Peter’s nervousness. The tension in his body, the hammering of his heart against Shane’s back, the way he tries to gulp silently, it all melds together to scream the fact that this big, broad-shouldered cub of a Russian is more nervous than he has ever been in his life.

“You’re a painter aren’t you?”

“How did you guess that?”

Shane strokes the tip of Peter’s fingers. “Still have some paint under your nails.”

“Oh, well, I thought I had cleaned them.”

Shane shrugs. “It’s not a problem. But these hands seem more suited for working in metal.”

Peter tenses when his brain makes the leap in logic that Shane knows about his power. “Metal?”

“Yeah. You should be a sculptor with hands like this. Hell, I can feel the strength in you. Metal sculpting would fit you so perfectly.”

A long sigh escapes from Peter. “I guess.”

“Personally, I’m going to be a journalist. Work for a little indie newspaper. Help with the mutant issue.”

“Help?” Again Peter tenses at the direction the conversation is taking. “What do you mean?”

Another shrug from Shane. “Not sure how really. Just try to show that people are people no matter the things that make us different. It’s those differences that make the world interesting. Even the bad stuff.”

“That’s a great idea for a career. I admire th--“ Peter snaps quiet. The new level of tension that fills his body comes from the feeling that they are being watched. Slowly, he scans the area of forest behind them as far as he can without moving and alerting whoever it is that they have been found out.

“Peter?”

Peter silences Shane with a finger to the lips. Softly, he whispers, “I don’t think he are alone anymore.”

That fact is born out with the appearance of an animal treading slowly from the forest edge to their right.

The base genetic structure came from a dog. Canine is written across its features in broad strokes. But no canine known to man had the mouth this one possessed. Or the width through the shoulders. Or the height. The thing approaching them mixed Great Dane, Saint Bernard, bulldog, and Rottwieler into one massive frame. Slobber leaked from jaws large enough to swallow a small child whole without chewing. All this would have been bad enough without the appearance of two others coming from the spot in the forest as the first.

“What the hell are those?” Shane knew he sounded stupid even as the words tumbled out but he couldn’t stop them.

Peter slid an arm around Shane’s waist and began to stand as slowly as possible. The ‘dogs’ had made no overt act of aggression yet. Peter hoped to keep it that way with slow. Steady movements that wouldn’t frighten them.

“I have no idea what they are. I hope we can keep from finding out.”

“Вы найти вне если вы играете славное.”

Peter froze at the sound of the voice. It came from behind them so he couldn’t see the voice’s owner yet, but didn’t have to see. He knew that voice. He knew that the owner was dead. At least he had known she was dead.

“Отсутствие здравствулте! для меня, маленького брата.”

How many years had it been? A decade? Fifteen? How long ago had his family searched for her before reaching the agonizing conclusion that she was dead.

He stands Shane on his feet wanting to shield him but unsure of what direction he needs to worry about shielding from. Finally, he pushes his date behind him as he faces the ghost from his past. He can only mutter one word, a name. A name that brings a smile to a face that time has done little damage too.

“Illyana?”

Tommy

06-01-2006, 12:29 PM

Author's note. This is a parody of anouther comic book. And if you are easily offended this is probibly not the story for you to read. The first part is okay, but I think the second and third parts are much better. So enjoy.

All Star Phoenix and Kitty the Girl Wonder

Chapter I: Trish Tibly is a Whore

Sitting in a small school desk young Kitty Pryde poured over some math problems. “Funny,” she said to herself, “I should probably not be able to do this at my age. But they are always there to teach me. I learn so much from them.” She went back to her math problems.

Uptown in Salem Center hotshot reporter Trish Tilby was writing her latest article. Well she was more speaking into a tape recorder. And to call her a “hotshot reporter” would be a little much. She was more a guest columnist for Hustler magazine.

While she was “writing” she was prancing around her apartment in her underwear. Obviously she was working hard to put the “ho” back into “whore.” And in the process she was giving then neighbors quite the show.

“So, New York gets a man who can shoot white goo out of his appendages. And what do we get in Salem Center?” she said into the tape recorder. “A damn giant bird damn it. Who flies. How lame is that? This chick dresses up like the burning bush, beats some people up, and tosses their asses in jail and we are expected to swoon damnit! I don’t think so bitch! They get the Spider-Man and we get bird woman. Life is totally unfair.”

Trish sighed, “But we do get Jean Grey. Supermodel and super rich. She is as hot as a stove your mother told you never to touch.”

Suddenly there was a “ding dong” noise from the doorway. Trish leaped up over her kitchen counter and crawled under the sink.

“Ding Dong,” came the sound again.

“What is that horrible noise?” Trish asked as she started blubbering.

This time there was a knock followed by “Miss Tilby? It is Logan. Are you there, eh?”

The crying frantic Trish pulled her self out from under the sink and crawled to the front door opening it.

“Oh Logan!” Trish swooned.

“Miss Tilby! What is wrong?” Logan asked concerned.

“There was this horrible sound and I thought I was going to die!”

“A sound, eh? Well I didn’t hear anything. What did it sound like?”

“It was like ‘ding dong.’ I was so scared.”

“That was the doorbell. But it is a aboot time for you to accompany Miss Grey out for a night on the town.”

“Oh! Right! I just have to get dressed,” Trish said as she removed her bra showing Logan everything.

“I am going out with Jean Grey! I am going out with Jean Grey!” she sang as she got dressed in her closet.

When she was finally ready she accompanied Logan out to the limousine.

“Miss Jean wondered if you would like to go to a high school mathaletes competition.” Logan asked.

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” Trish said leaning back into the limousine’s leather seats.

Soon Trish and Jean were one of seven people seated in the Bleachers of Salem Center High school’s gym. Twelve students were in front of them scribbling on paper. Kitty Pryde ran up to the podium and handed in her answer. There was cheering from her teammates as the announcer told them her answer was correct.

“This girl is amazing,” Trish whispered in Jean’s ear.

“Yes! I have been staring at her for while,” Jean said raising her eyebrow. “She is something fantastic all right.”

Jean thought That fugly bitch, but didn’t add it to the conversation.

“So. Umm. Why are you staring at her?” Trish said fidgeting her hands.

“I have an eye for… talent,” Jean said licking her lips.

“Ladies and Gentlemen the match goes to Salem Center High School!” the announcer said.

Immediately two overweight middle-aged parents ran out onto the court and hugged Kitty.

There was a sound of concussive force and Kitty’s mother’s head exploded. Followed by Kitty’s father’s head.

She is not going to understand, thought Jean, I didn’t. And I can’t know why it was done to her. But she has entered my world, the bitch. And that skank will never leave it.

Outside the high school a large man put a gun into his pocket as he ran away. There was a bright flash and heat caressed his face. A large flaming bird found its way into his skull.

I hope that has some nasty side effect. Oh wait of course it does, Jean thought. Hmm Jacques the Ox. Really really stupid and nasty. Looks like I caught myself a five foot two trout. Perhaps I should have brought my waders. But now I am after bigger fish than trout. Like Sturgeons. Or possibly Marlins. But first I have to find that ignorant slut Kitty.

Outside the High school Trish was attempting to get near Kitty, but several burly policemen were standing in her way.

“Go back home whore!” one said as he shoved her out of his way.

“But that young girl has been through hell and back! And you can’t lead a horse to water but make him drink plenty of fish in the ocean! Just let me look at him.” Trish exclaimed.

“Shut up! You miserable role-model for young women!” The police officer said.

“I’ve seen what you do. It is a little thing called rape. And it is not funny. Not even like the not funny writing on that one show which is totally unfunny.”

The policeman struck Trish in the head with his battalion. “This is for being a total whore!”

A near by police officer came over and punched her in the stomach. “This is for parading around in your underwear at dinner time. That is just rude!”

A random woman who was jogging by came over, grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head into the wall “That was for freaking out over your doorbell. What are you retarded?”

An elderly woman hobbled over on her walker and spit on Trish, “That is just for sucking.”

Trish Tilby managed to drag herself to the Limousine.

“Wow sucks to be you, eh?” asked Logan.

“You could have helped.” Trish said.

“But I didn’t want to,” Logan said as he helped her into the car.

They started following the squad car with Kitty in it.

“Say, do you have some sort of camera?” asked Trish as she started removing her clothes.

“Must you do that?” asked Logan.

“I always write articles in my underwear,” responded Trish with a confused look on her face.

“Well I do have a camera handy,” Logan said throwing it at her head.

Inside the squad car the two cops where attempting to comfort Kitty.

“I realize that you must be really upset,” One said giving her a gentle hug. “Pull over!” the cop exclaimed to the driver. “I think she needs some breathing space.”

They pulled off of the road into a small gulch.

All the cops surrounded Kitty attempting to give her comfort. Suddenly they were broken up by giant flock of birds.

Ha! Jean thought, I set up a little telepathic incentive. Birds like that.

“Oh my god… It is like really weird and stuff here.” The cops said piling back into the car.

Out of nowhere a giant red car slices right through the squad car killing all the occupants. A woman with flaming red hair and dressed all in green stepped out of the car. “Get on your feet you dumb bitch,” Jean said pulling Kitty up by her collar. “You have been drafted into a war.”

TO BE CONTINUED!

Tommy

06-01-2006, 12:31 PM

All Star Phoenix and Kitty the Girl Wonder

Chapter II: I'm the Goddamn Phoenix

Logan closed his eyes as he snapped yet another picture of the hideous woman before him. He had been forced to take pictures of her topless on cars, topless next to fires, topless lying on one of the dozens of bodies that were scattered about.

“This is fantastic!” Trish Tilby said rolling in blood. “I can remember goddamn moment of this evening!”

“Well I should hope so. Otherwise you would have Alzheimer’s, eh” said Logan as he vomited into the nearest bush.

“I remember Kitty, age twelve,” Trish said calmly walking over to one of the dismembered arms and using it as a back scratchier. “She was brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, brilliant…”

Logan walked up and smacked her in the head.

“Someone murdered her parents right in front of her eyes. I saw it!”

“We get it, your memory works, why are you still talking?” asked Logan.

“I saw it! It was brutal! I saw it! It was brutal! It was brutal! It was brutal! It was brutal!”

Logan smacked her in the head again. “Won’t you please shut up!”

“There were cops! They stole her! They stole Kitty! They stole her! They stole they stole they stole…”

“I am not sure how much more of this I can take!” Logan said as he hit Trish in the head a third time.

“And then she came… like something out of that movie with the lady dressed up all fancy. Phoenix.”

“I know I was right here! We watched the whole thing together. Are you brain-dead or just mentally retarded?” asked Logan as he threw his camera at her head.

“With these pictures I no longer have to be just a hustler centerfold! Why I could move up to Penthouse! But I have to get them there really fast!” Trish said her eyes gleaming, “Don’t tell anyone this, but I am really a mutant!” She made a very disgusting face and two wings popped out of her back. “You can call me Gadfly!” she screamed as she grabbed the Camera and flew into the night.

Meanwhile Kitty was stirring next to Phoenix in the car. Welcome to my world Kitty Pryde. You poor pathetic miserable bitch. Welcome to Hell, and Hell’s handbag!

Kitty opened her eyes, “Who the fu…” Kitty started to ask.

Phoenix thought at her causing her to pass out again. “sleep you stupid ugly bitch! And go to hell! Hell I say! HELL! HELL HELL HELL HELL HELL!”

That is not her real voice thought Kitty it is like she is doing some sort of impression of Katie Curic, she is like so totally fake!

“Sleep tight you stupid STUPID BITCH! Oh yeah and HELL! Yes sleep tight my apprentice.”

“Huh? Like what is an apprentice?” asked Kitty groggily.

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t you ever watched goddamn TV? I’ll do the talking here. Hell!” Phoenix screamed at Kitty.

“Like I so totally don’t know who you are, so like why won’t you like tell me?” Kitty asked staring out the window.

“What are you DENSE? Are you RETARDED or something? Who the hell do you think I am? I’m the Goddamn Phoenix!” she screamed, “ I’m going to be the best goddamned friend you could ever want goddamn it. And Hell.”

Suddenly several police motorcycles appeared behind them. Phoenix turned from her rearview mirror, “I’m going to be the best goddamned friend you could ever want goddamn it. And Hell.”

“Whatever!” Kitty said making a “w” with her fingers “Why do you, like, keep repeating everything?”

My parents were murdered, that like totally sucks, Kitty thought.

Damn. Hell, Damn. No matter what I say, no matter what I do this bitch just won’t scare. Phoenix thought.

“Like dude, you should totally pull over! Those are like cops back there! With sirens and stuff,” Kitty said looking out the window.

“Bite me! Bitch!”

Those duchebags aren’t even trying to arrest me. Apparently kidnapping and killing police officers is some sort of “crime.” Someone must have put a kill order out on me! I so rock! Hell, Phoenix thought.

“HAHAHAHAHA! You’re going to love this, kid!” she screamed as she spun the car around facing the cops “Just watch this! I am so going to kill these motherfuckers! HELL!”

Kitty closed her eyes as the car rammed several police officers smashing their heads like grapes.

“Your, like, so totally crazy!” Kitty screamed as her window got all bloody.

“Crazy! You want to see crazy! I will show you crazy!” Phoenix said Finally she is scared. I should have killed more people that first time. I need her scared.

The car spun around once more and Phoenix pulled a leaver. The top begins to expand like a balloon and the car lifted off the ground.

Like, oh my god! We are so totally flying! And she is sitting here laughing. What is happening to me? What is happening to me? Damn that repeating thing is starting to happen to me! Kitty thought.

“DIE YOU BASTARDS! HELL!” Phoenix screamed as she dropped a bomb onto the few remaining cops who were still alive. Everywhere there were scattered body parts and a few people attempting to stop drop and roll the flames out.

Her car turns into a zeppelin? This woman is such a FREAK! I can’t stand her. Kitty started to cough.

“Quit your bellyaching! I don’t need it. Hell!” Phoenix said.

The car started skimming across the clouds.

have I gone crazy? Is any of this really happening? Mom and dad are dead. Their brains smashed all over my feet. Mom and dad are dead. Their brains smashed all over my feet. (I’m stuck in repeating loop!). “Mom and dad are dead. Their brains smashed all over my feet,” Kitty screamed.

*Wham* Phoenix’s hand smashed into her face breaking her nose.

Damnit! Damn it all! What damn thing am I doing to this damn kid? Hell! Who the Hell do I think I am? Oh yeah! I am the goddamn Phoenix that is who. And I am totally torturing this stupid bitch. Just look at her! With her bright sparkly eyes and her soft lovely lips. And I am torturing her. It is a terrible thing to do. But it is the only way. If I don’t do it, she might grieve. And if she grieves she will forgive and accept! And eventually she might move on and become a productive member of society. Oh hell just look at her, with all that blood streaming down her button nose. Nothing matters except the mission. She doesn’t matte4r, I don’t matter. Nothing matters but the mission and hell!

“Like those were cops back there! What is up with that?” Kitty asked.

“You have a lot to learn,” Phoenix said as she punched kitty in the stomach.

“Ugh! Earn like what?”

“Like fighting crime!” Phoenix said as she grabbed Kitty’s hair and slammed her face down on the dashboard.

“AHHHHH! Fighting crime?”

“Yeah fighting crime!” Phoenix grabbed a knife out of the glove box and stabbed Kitty in the arm. “You got some kind of problem with fighting crime?”

“Well it is not like my business or anything, but I suppose not. But isn’t that what like the cops do? And you like killed like fifty of them tonight.”

“You bitch!” Phoenix said. She was about to lean over and snap Kitty’s neck, but she repressed her urge.

For a second I thought she was going to kill me. But then she got all sad and bottled up. Like she is the only person in the world, well from what little I remember of my Psychology class she could very well think she is the only person in the world. Well the only real person. She is clearly lonely, it must be all that killing, Kitty thought.

“You have a lot to learn. And your lesson is going to start here. Never talk to cops in Salem Center. Never let a cop get near you in Salem Center. Salem Center cops will kill you just as soon as look at you. And not in happy fun way I will kill you just as soon as look at you. Do you understand or have I not used the word ‘hell’ enough? Am I wasting my breath? Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?”

“Yeah,” Kitty responded.

“There is only one cop in Salem Center worth a damn and he is not on this case. I know most cops have been all right,” Phoenix said.

“Yeah, including the like forty or so you killed tonight.”

“Most are. Most places. That is why most cities don’t need me. But Salem Center needs me. And maybe she needs you. But you have to be brave.”

Wow. Like she is messed up in the head. She wants me to join some psychotic crusade against crime? What is wrong with her? Although if I say no, then she will probably kill me, Kitty thought “Umm sure… I’ll be brave.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Tommy

06-01-2006, 12:33 PM

All Star Phoenix and Kitty the Girl Wonder

Chapter III: Psylocke Goes Psycho

The Irish Stereotype Bar sits on the corner of Stupid Street and Dumb Avenue. It is a rough place. You wouldn’t drop your sister off there unless she could talk in a ridiculously painful accent. Not if you liked her, and maybe even if you didn’t.

Two motorcycles pulled up outside of it. Off of one jumped a small and delicate man. His friends called him Mastermind. His enemies called him annoying. Off the other came a small young woman wearing a blue checked dress that looked like it belonged on a table more than a person. She was carrying a picnic basket from which a small black dog poked out of.

A drunk stumbled out of the bar muttering to himself “What kind of Asian woman has an English accent… It doesn’t make sense.”

“Somewhere Over The Rainbow, Bluebirds fly. Birds fly Over The Rainbow. Why then, oh why can't I? If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why cant I?” the girl sang.

“She better be hot, Dorothy! She better be fine!” Mastermind said as they walked towards the bar.

The only people out this late were the hookers, cops, losers and the predators.

“She really better be fine Dorothy. I am serious! We have been ridding since midnight and so she better be fine,” Mastermind said.

Dorothy turned towards him and said “She isn't coming yet, Toto. Did she hurt you? She tried to, didn't she? Come on. We'll go tell Uncle Henry and Auntie Em.”

Mastermind opened the door to the bar and smiled as he saw her. “Oh that is fine.”

“I've got a witch mad at me and you might get into trouble!” Dorothy nodded in agreement.

They made their way through the crowds of people eating potatoes and drinking Killian’s Irish Red beer over to the Bar.

“Oh my! It is so round and firm!” Mastermind squealed.

“Who, Toto? Toto's my dog!” Dorothy responded.

Also out tonight are the people who save lives. The firemen and the paramedics. They have jobs that keep them out when they should be asleep. And then there are the Bartenders.

This particular bartender was wearing a VERY skimpy blue bathing suit that covered practically none of her Asian skin. Her hair was bright purple. And she was clearly getting increasingly agitated by the demands of her customers. she started at the end of the bar.

“Hey miss, I would like another potato!” the man asked as he whittled on some wood. Psylocke put the order in and turned to the eight-month pregnant woman sitting next to him.

“I’d like another beer!” the woman said “And I will prey to the good lord that me baby comes out fine.”

Psylocke got the beer and moved on. “Oh don’t mind me!” the customer said “I just be playing with me shalaylee.”

She finally got to the customer right before Dorothy and Mastermind. He was a funny little man in a big green hat. “I’d like some more milk for me cereal,” he said, “but no one will be getting their hands on me lucky charms.” He leaned protectively over his bowl.

Maybe Psylocke is just having a bad night, or maybe it is just something someone said.

“Faith!”

Or maybe it is something someone is about to say. Or maybe it is just the wrong damned time of the month. No, it is something else. She just can’t put her finger on it yet.

“Praise the good lord!”

Whatever it is, something inside her is just aching to break out, something unpleasant.

“Ahh yee wee lass.”

She got the milk and turned to Mastermind and Dorothy. “So what would you two like to drink?” Her accent is English.

“I would like three shots of Jager, Purplie.” Mastermind said. “And for my friend…”

“I'm not a witch at all. I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas,” then Dorothy leaned in and whispered something in Psylocke’s ear.

The music is loud. The sort of stuff you would hear if you went to see River Dance. And the place reeks of clover.

“I am sorry, but we don’t sell Jager here.” Psylocke said “However I can offer you a pint of Guinness?”

“Count me in! I’m wanting some of that action!” Mastermind said. He turned to Dorothy and high fived her. “She’s got a mouth. Damn, she’s got a mouth.”

“Here,” Psylocke said slamming the Guinness on the table. “As for that other service you gents want I leave it to you two boys to provide for each other! Oh snap I made a gay joke! Booyah!”

In the middle of the room someone started doing the highland fling. For this job she left working as a ninja assassin? For this job she left her dead mother and her not quite so dead brother?

“Damn girl that butt of yours looks good,” Mastermind said drinking his pint. “Is that one fine looking butt? I’m axing you, man!”

Dorothy turned to him and said, “Oh, you're the best friends anybody ever had. And it's funny, but I feel as if I'd known you all the time, but I couldn't have, could I?”

Mastermind reached out and grabbed Psylocke’s butt.

“Oh, Thank you so much! We've been gone such a long time and we feel so messy... What kind of a horse is that? I've never seen a horse like that before!” Dorothy said.

“Quiet, man. I am so totally in love. My whole life I have been waiting to get my hand on something like this.”

“I hope it was worth it,” Psylocke said.

“what?” Asked Mastermind.

“That is it! Prepare to meet my deadly hands of Kungfu!” Psylocke leapt from behind the bar and with one kick sent Mastermind’s head flying from his body. She turned and kicked the little man with the cereal in the face. His nose crunched under her heal as fragments of the bone went flying into his brain killing him.

“It isn’t closing time yet gents!” she said as she kicked the pregnant woman so hard her ribs cracked sending a bone through her heart. She picked up her husband and hurled him across the room where he was impaled by the decorative horns on wall. Psylocke ran to the man performing the Highland fling and snapped his neck.

A priest who had been in the corner got down on his knees and started prying to “Jaysus.” Psylocke took mercy on him and only castrated him leaving him lying in pool of his own blood.

It wasn’t the tap on her butt that set her off, no that wasn’t it. It was a silly and stupid accents, the poorly done stereotypes by someone who clearly had no idea what Ireland or the Irish were really like. But more than that it was a woman. A woman who has her thinking different. A woman who stood up and said “I can kill as many people as I want and get away with it.” And that is why when she was the last person left alive in the room (the priest had died from blood loss) she started going through everyone’s pockets and stealing their money.

Suddenly the basement door opened and her poor boss Gambit walked into the room. He gasped as he saw his bartender covered in blood surrounded by a mound of bodies. “What happened mais amis?” he asked.

“I am attempting to rob some corpses. And I am quitting.”

“what has gone wrong with your head?” Asked a shocked Gambit.

“Phoenix”

“Oh mon deux, the woman is insane!”

“what did you just say? Did you use a bad accent?” Psylocke asked.

Outside the dawn was just creeping up over the horizon. Several bums were huddled close to a fire trying to keep warm. There was a crashing sound as Gambit went flying through the plate glass window of the bar and into the fire.

Psylocke pulled Masterminds motorcycle out and drove off into the night. Gambit meanwhile died of his burns.

I’ve kidnapped this stupid bitch and drafted her into my holy war. Phoenix thought as her Zeppelin cruised over a storm. I chose her with care. I did my homework. Kitty Pryde age twelve. I am not sure why I keep having to repeat her name and age, maybe there is something this whole repetitive cycle she mentioned earlier. She was the top of her class. If anyone has got the chops it is she. IF

“Swampy,” Phoenix said to her Zeppelin. The balloon on top unlatched and the car went into a free fall.

“’Swampy’ what the hell is ‘Swampy’?” asked Kitty. “Uhh. We seem to be in a bit of a free fall towards that swamp down there. Isn’t that like going to totally kill us.

I hope to hell I know what I am doing.

As the car dropped the side retracted and out of the back a giant fan popped up.

Damn her car turns into a hydrofoil! Kitty thought.

“You still haven’t told me what an ‘apprentice’ is,” Kitty said.

“Shut up.” Phoenix grabbed a cattle prod and jammed it into Kitty’s side.

“so, uhh, what do you call this thing?”

“The Phoenixmobile.”

“That is totally queer.”

“are you saying I am gay? Because if you are I will shove my tongue so far down your throat…”

“What?” asked Kitty turning to her.

“Shut up!” Phoenix said as she punched Kitty in the face.

Elsewhere in New York City mild mannered reporter Rogue was about to pour some nice milk into her bawl of cereal. On the side of the carton it had a picture of some young woman from Salem Center who had been kid napped by persons unknown. She squeezed the carton spilling milk everywhere. She sighed and went to the front door where she picked up the paper. On the cover was a story about how a young girl from Salem Center was abducted by the mysterious Phoenix. It was written by Rogue’s archrival Monet St.Croix. “Damn,” said Rogue. Then a puzzled look came over her face. She walked back to the ruined milk carton and picked it up to examine it. “If this happened less than ten hours ago how could they have possibly gotten it on the milk so quickly?”

TO BE CONTINUED!

atoningunifex

07-20-2006, 07:38 AM

And it’s my death wrapping around me, cold and dark and alone, and my hands reaching for the light.

But the light burns. So intense and powerful a light and I am no longer alone but instead am one of many, one of all and is it my true gift not to channel this power but to hold myself apart from it? Most who confront it are subsumed but not me. I stand apart and can remain myself. So few others can do this.

But it is still my death wrapping around me and this time perhaps I could just accept it and let go and not hold myself apart and join them All. Cold hands of my death clutching at me. And the light burns but it can not burn, I can choose to not burn.

The cold hands of death and the warm memories of life. The sights and sounds. The great joys and the exquisite pains. So perfect and bejeweled, my memories.

And still I could die and cease and return to the everything.

With great power comes great responsibility. The more things change.

Death recedes, again, and the fire enfolds me and I am I/me/myself and also we/us/All. I swim the charkas of fire and gather and release the colors of the light. And then at the crown, alone, singular and multiple, I am once again a White Phoenix of the Crown.

You think you know me. You know nothing. Nothing at all. And here, where I know everything, I must remember not to hate you, not to feel great disdain for your limitations, your hatreds, your stupidity. As I dance in the White I burn in the Red.

A balance is struck. Complexity increases but perception simplifies. Seeing connections, seeing consequences. And I can stay or return. And if I return I will be bruised in the fall and they, my memory companions, will not understand. They will attempt to put me back into their ideas of me.

They think they know me. They know nothing at all.

If I return I accept limitation. I will be reborn and will die again. Another chance to break them out of their cycle. Is it worth the suffering- and I will suffer in that place of limitations and simplicity. I will suffer the loss of complexity and knowledge. I will be subject to ridiculous passions.

Here I am more. There I am less.

I decide. I will return. The decisions sparks pain, pain between my legs, in my belly, the pains of my new birth. And I fall from my perch, my high seat, and I fall down through the All and I am cut and bleeding as I am stripped of perception and peace.

Back into her. Into that shape. Into that limited soul. Back into my earthly self.

Christ, Jean, let’s try not to get involved with Scott again this time.

Kirayoshi

07-20-2006, 08:10 AM

Nice piece, Atoning. Short, descriptive and loved the punchline.

And thanks for saving me the trouble of bumping the thread up. Have a new one-shot I thought I'd share with you nice people.

What You Are and Who You Are
By Kirayoshi
"Your DNA is what you are, not who you are."
—Gil Grissom (William Peterson), CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

"When a man's an empty kettle
One should be on his mettle,
And yet, I'm torn apart,
Just because I'm assumin'
That I could be kind of human
If I only had a heart—"

—"If I Only Had a Heart"
from The Wizard of Oz
by E. H. Harburg and Harold Arlen

The smell of fresh-baked dark rye bread wafted from the little bakery and across the streets of New York's Brighton Beach as Peter walked past, and he slowed his steps for a moment, long enough to inhale deeply. He recalled something that Hank had told him once, about how the sense of smell is one of the most powerful memory enhancers. Indeed, one whiff from the bakery and fond memories of his childhood, of his mother baking bread on the hearth, flooded his mind, lightening the burdens of his life for a moment.

Peter glanced toward the source of the aroma and smiled; The Little Odessa Market, he thought to himself. I might have known. Scott had taken him here during his first months as an X-Man, sensing that the aloof young artist was feeling homesick. He had since come here frequently during his free time, playing chess with store employee Boris Arkady while his wife Svetlana watched and played referee, or conversing with the locals about recent events in Russia. It has been too long since Peter had visited Brighton Beach, and far too long since he had visited Boris and Svetlana. He turned on his heels toward the bakery; some traditional Russian rye bread would be the perfect addition to his evening plans.

As Peter entered the small shop, he glanced at the shelves, happily noticing the familiar touchstones of his native land; a collection of blue-glazed white porcelain figures lined a glass shelf behind the cash register, along with a handful of egg-shaped ornaments, while the wall behind the counter was dominated by a print of a traditional Russian painting that Peter recognized as a scene from a favorite childhood story, of a confrontation between Ilya Muromets and the witch Baba Yaga. To his left, away from the bakery displays, he sited a shelf filled with Matreshka nesting dolls, painted in myriad designs; from traditionally garbed maidens with gilded bonnets to figures from Russian folklore and fairy tales, from motifs of Father Christmas and winter scenes to contemporary world leaders and screen heroes.
One in particular caught Peter's eye; an eight-inch tall black doll bearing the painted helmet and cape of Darth Vader, a light-saber glowing menacingly in his hand, opened to reveal, in order, Chewbacca, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia Organa, Lando Calrissian, C3PO, Yoda, and finally an intricately carved R2D2 in the center. Peter glanced toward the cash register and asked in his native tongue, "Excuse me, how much does this doll cost?"

A barrel of a man emerged from the back of the shop, a toothy smile emerging from his shaggy red beard. "Piotr?" he shouted joyously, clapping his meaty hands together. "Ha ha, Piotr Nikolaevitch Rasputin! It is you!" The robust balding shopkeeper rushed toward his customer and wrapped his arms around the younger man in a generous bear hug, the greeting of a long-lost friend. "Dear God it's good to see you again! How long has it been?"

After the initial shock of being suddenly manhandled wore off, Peter relaxed as he recognized the shopkeeper. His hair was thinning and the beard was thicker than he remembered, but his generous smile and infectious good nature gave him away. "Boris," he greeted the ruddy-complexioned figure who was gently trying to crush his ribs. "It has been too long. Still working the counter?"

"Why not?" Boris waved his hands toward the cash register. "It's my shop! Leonid went into retirement last year so Svetlana and I scraped together our savings and bought the store from him!"

Peter's eyes widened in shock. "You used to work here as a stocker, now you own the store? Congratulations!"

"Thanks, tovarich," the shopkeeper answered happily. "It's been a challenge, but Lana and I have managed to turn in a tidy profit."

"How is Lana doing these days?" the younger Russian asked.

"Wonderfully, Piotr, wonderfully," Boris smiled broadly. "She's over at the docks with Misha right now, looking over a shipment of pots and pans from Kiev. She'll be saddened to know that she missed you. And you should see how tall Misha has become. He'll wind up looking down at you, mark my words!"

"I regret that I missed seeing Misha grow," Peter chuckled warmly. "You may rest assured; I have no plans to be a stranger."

"Indeed," Boris nodded vigorously. "It has been far too long since I've beaten you at chess! Business is slack for now until the evening, perhaps I can set up the board…"

"As I recall," Peter teased the older shopkeeper, "I beat you the last time we played. Anyway I haven't the time today, perhaps next time. I'm making some purchases right now, and would like a loaf of that rye bread I smelled coming in here. And this set of dolls," he added, pointing to the Star Wars nesting dolls.

"For you, the dolls are fifteen dollars," Boris announced. "And a dollar fifty for the bread, it's on special today. That's the display model, I'll get a boxed one for you."

"Spaciba," Piotr nodded as Boris hurried his bulky frame to a shelf in the back of the store.

"So, Piotr," Boris grinned as he rummaged through the shelves, "is there a reason for your little shopping spree? Or did you simply become a Star Wars fan over the last few years?"

"Actually, it's a gift for someone," Piotr answered. "Her birthday is tonight, and I promised her I'd prepare a traditional Russian feast. That reminds me, can you recommend a good seafood market? I'm planning on grilled salmon steaks and bean soup."

"Ah, a romantic dinner for two," Boris chuckled. "And the lucky lady, she wouldn't happen to be Yekaterina, would she?"

Piotr smiled, blushing slightly. Boris Arkady had always been a perceptive individual. "Da," he confessed, "the woman in question is Katya."

"Ah, young love," Boris sighed theatrically, emerging from the back of the store. "Hmm…I do apologize, Piotr, but I can't seem to find any of the Star Wars dolls."

"Oh, too bad," Piotr shook his head. "Katya would have loved those."

"Let me check with Anya in the back room," Boris suggested.

"Anya?" Piotr asked.

"Yes," Boris announced. "I needed to hire a few people to help keep the shop going. You'll like Anya, she's a sweet young thing. Used to be a dancer, I believe. Anya?" he called out, "Are there any of the Star Wars dolls in the back?"

"I think so, Mr. Arkady," a soft, but haggard-sounding female voice emerged from the back-room, a faint tone that stirred something in Piotr's mind. A shuffling sound followed, and a slight figure emerged from the shop's backroom. "We had a few left from the last shipment, sir," she announced, walking toward Piotr, a small cardboard box in her hands. "Here you go—" she stopped suddenly as her eyes met Piotr's, her frame shuddering with recognition.
Piotr felt his good humor slowly desert him as he eyed the woman at the counter. The woman whom he had once rescued from KGB thugs. The woman who had given him his first kiss. The woman who ran away in terror when she saw his armored form. The woman who told him, "A man who is made of steel can have no heart."

The woman who broke his heart.

"It has been a long time, Piotr," Anya Marakova spoke gently, handing him the box.
Piotr stood rigidly, his eyes glaring at Anya like angry suns.

"Yes it has," he intoned sternly. "Please place the box on the counter, and I will be on my way."

Anya lowered her head and set the package on the counter. Boris watched the terse exchange with gimlet eyes. "Do you two know each other?"

Anya stood silently, not making eye contact with either man. "We met," Piotr nodded curtly.

"Boris, I would appreciate it if you rang up my order."

"Very well," Boris answered. "Anya, would you do the honors?"

"Boris," Piotr repeated, turning his head toward Anya to insure that his meaning was clear, "I would appreciate it if you rang me up."

Anya sighed slightly, her eyes staring intently at the toes of her shoes. Boris watched as his friend and his employee regarded each other with the silence of a battlefield before the war. Whatever had passed between these two, he chose for now not to interfere. "As you wish, tovarich." Stepping behind the recalcitrant cash-register, his fingers tapped the prices onto the clicking keys. "Here's your total," he announced quietly as Piotr gave him a twenty-dollar bill. As he returned the change, he added, "You may wish to check the fish market on Vorhees Street. I hear they got in a shipment of Alaskan salmon flown in today."

"Again, spaciba," Piotr nodded as Boris handed him a paper bag containing the dolls and a loaf of rye bread. Piotr nodded once, before leaving the shop hurriedly.

Continued...

Kirayoshi

07-20-2006, 08:15 AM

continued...

So intent was he in placing distance between himself and Anya that he almost ignored the changing traffic light, until the blare of a car horn shook him from his rancor. Jumping back as a Chevy Impala sped past him, he could half make out the driver's voice shouting, "Wake up, crackhead!"

Piotr shook his head, chastising himself for letting his emotions consume him. Anya was a brief moment in his life. Barely a footnote in his biography. They dated twice, before his mutant nature and her prejudice were simultaneously revealed. He moved on, to happier times. To a vibrant American computer geek with the smile of an elf, the gentle curves of a dancer and the courage of a lioness. Anya meant nothing to him.

But her words still stabbed him. A man made of steel…

He made his way to the fish market on Vorhees Street and purchased a large salmon, requesting that the fish be sliced crossways into inch-thick steaks. The fishmonger happily obliged, and the gentle rumbling of the crowd around him helped bring him out of his sour mood. He relaxed as he paid for the fish and left the market.

Before heading for the bus-stop to return to the Institute, Piotr found himself strolling along the piers near Brighton Beach. He looked out at the harbor, watching cargo boats ply their way to and from the docks, as clouds of seagulls wheeled and dove above the waters. The salt sea air was bracing against his face, and helped to clear his head.

Anya. He wanted to say that he had scarcely thought about her since their sudden and angry breakup. But her words still had power over him, after nearly ten years. He heard her mocking him, time and again in his head over the years. When he told Kitty about an alien healer he hardly knew. When he sat still and said nothing as Kitty needed comforting after watching Illyana die. When he abandoned Xavier's dream for Magneto's false sanctuary. When he pummeled a coarse but decent British rogue for the sole crime of displaying affection to the woman he still loved. When he learned that she had scattered the ashes she thought were his remains over Lake Baikal. Whenever Kitty was in pain and he knew beyond doubt that he was the cause of her anguish…

A man made of steel…

Enough of this, Rasputin, he chided himself. Her words are nothing. She is nothing. You need to get her out of your mind, or else you won't be fit company for Katya, and then what kind of birthday dinner will it be? Resolve strengthening his form, he collected his packages and turned away from the harbor—

Anya Marakova stood ten feet away from him, her arms wrapped around the faded denim jacket she wore as though to ward off the sea breezes. Piotr appraised the figure before him; her hair had been what lyricists once called 'strawberry blonde', a few shades closer to honey than true blond, with pale golden highlights. Now, gray hairs threaded through her hair, which was tied into a bun. Her eyes had been pools of crystal blue, flecked with gold. Now they seemed dull, faded, the light Piotr remembered dimmed by the years.

"Piotr," she spoke plainly. "Boris asked me to speak with you."

"And so you have," Peter nodded, just as plainly. "And having done so, please leave me."

"Please, Piotr," Anya raised her eyes and turned her head toward Peter. "I wish to apologize for...leaving things unfinished between us."

Peter turned his back to the young woman, his eyes again training on the birds overhead. "They must remain unfinished. If you seek forgiveness, then I must disappoint you."

Anya stepped behind Peter and placed a hand on his arm. Peter grabbed her hand, his grip not hard enough to crush but enough to cause pain. "I asked you to leave me," he half-whispered, half-growled, and threw her hand aside. "I will not ask again!"

"How can you be so cruel?" Anya breathed. "I know I hurt you, but—"

"Hurt me?" Peter snarled. "You cannot hurt me. Remember? I am a man made of steel, I have no heart!"

Anya lowered her head in shame. "I said some terrible things to you. I deserve your hatred. It may please you to know that the scorn I expressed for seeing what you are has been visited upon me."

Peter turned slowly to face Anya. There was a blunt quality to the pain in her voice. It wasn't sharp, it was dull, a built-up pain, a burden that her shoulders bore unwillingly for years. He took no pleasure in seeing her so low. Despite what she had said and done to him before, no human deserved the pain she seemed to be suffering.

"What has happened to you?" Peter asked, his tone no longer menacing. "I had expected to find you living a lush retirement, after years as a ballet star."

Anya dared to look into Peter's eyes and sighed visibly in relief that she did not see the hatred she expected. "Things don't often happen as we would have them, Piotr." She slipped her hand inside of her denim jacket and withdrew a billfold, which she opened slowly. She handed the open wallet to Peter, her thumb pointing to a small photograph in one of the plastic card sleeves.

The child couldn't have been more than two years old at the time it was taken. Apart from the almost fluorescent blue skin, she looked like any healthy toddler. Deep blue eyes, partially obscured by locks of coral red hair, peered wonderingly out of her face, and her smile was warm and welcoming. "She's a beautiful child," Peter said honestly. "What is her name?"

"Marina," Anya said. "Two months after I left you, I auditioned for the Manhattan Ballet Company, and was quickly promoted to solo ballerina. I had quite forgotten you as I was swept up in the constant rehearsals, the thrill of again dancing for a major company. Trevor Martin was the lead choreographer for the company, and he and I worked very closely, especially when I danced my first lead role, the Firebird."

"I believe I saw your costume once," Peter nodded, recalling a poster he had seen once in Stevie Hunter's dance class while watching Kitty go through her rehearsals shortly after she had first joined the X-Men. He recalled Kitty asking him why his face turned hard and cold at the sight of the poster. "You looked splendid."

"Thank you," Anya nodded, unable to fully accept Peter's praise. "Two months after we finished our run of The Firebird, Trevor and I got married. Eleven months later, Marina was born."

Peter looked again at the photo, seeing the punchline a mile away. "Marina is a mutant."

Anya gulped back a tear. "She was born with bright blue skin, webs connecting her fingertips and her toes, and gills on her neck. When she was born, she almost suffocated, until the doctor realized what she was and placed her in a tank of water. After six months she was able to breath in the air for up to twelve hours at a time, but she had to sleep in an aquarium."

Peter returned Anya's wallet and stood by silently as she continued her story. "When Trevor first saw Marina, he screamed and fled the hospital. Two days later, his body was found in our apartment, a gun barrel in his mouth. In his suicide note he claimed that he and I were both damned for bringing a monster into the world. Before I could leave the hospital, I was informed that my contract with the ballet company was cancelled, and that I was considered blacklisted by every company in the country. The press would not be informed of my child's existence, but for all intents and purposes, my career as a dancer was over."

"I am truly sorry to hear that," Peter spoke grimly, reminded once again that the world was not a friendly place for those who were different. Whatever anger he bore Anya had completely faded, replaced by sympathy.

"I suppose that this is what they call karma," Anya shook her head bitterly. "The terrible truth was that, for months, I hated Marina. I resented her for destroying my life, my career, my marriage...but that hatred was not something I could sustain. She was a baby. Defenseless, innocent. She was a mutant, true. And whatever else she was, she was my daughter. So she became my life. I worked for a temp agency, for anyone who needed a typist or a file-clerk, or a cashier. A few of my employers immediately fired me when they first saw Marina, but one or two accepted her. And Marina was a joy, no matter how hard things got, she always woke with a smile. We would take walks in Central Park, and although I kept her covered to protect her from other people's narrow-mindedness, she still enjoyed running across the grass, picking dandelions and presenting them to me in bunches." Anya chuckled ruefully at the memory. "Her bouquets of dandelions meant more to me than all the roses I ever received as a ballerina."

continued...

Kirayoshi

07-20-2006, 08:17 AM

continued...

Peter turned his head to Anya, a question in his mind. "Anya," he asked, "have you considered bringing Marina to the Xavier Institute? I know that she would be more than welcome there. And we do have facilities to help her deal with her mutation."

Anya didn't answer at first, she only lowered her head. Peter considered coaxing her to speak, but held back, letting her speak her peace in her own time. Finally she spoke; "Two months after the photo was taken, Marina was diagnosed with an incurable disease. The doctors called it 'Legacy virus'. She died two years ago. She had just turned three—" A sob wracked her slender frame, and she could speak no more.

Peter took Anya's face in his hand, guiding her gaze back to his, his thumb gently wiping a tear from her cheek. "I share your grief, Anya," he intoned sadly. "My sister Illyana, she died of Legacy. I am truly sorry for your loss."

"I wish I hadn't been so pig-headed," Anya began to sob lightly as Peter's arms encircled her waist. "I had let my pride keep me away from you, from your Institute, because I did not wish to face you again. But then it was too late for Marina...I am so sorry, Piotr, for the hateful things I said to you..."

"There's no need to apologize," Peter assured the crying woman in his arms. "I'm just sorry that you had to face this hell alone..." The two said nothing else, they only held each other, bound by their shared grief, as tears fell freely. At length, the storm had passed and Anya's sobs subsided, but she still remained in the friendly embrace, accepting comfort for perhaps the first time since her daughter's death. Peter, for his part, was somehow relieved by this reconnection to his past. A sense of closure filled his heart. He felt the hot wetness on his cheek and realized that he had been crying with Anya. The tears he would not shed when Illyana had died finally fell, cleansing his soul.

"Hey, Big Guy," a familiar voice chimed, breaking Peter out of his melancholy. Startled, he and Anya rapidly disengaged their hug. "Who's your friend?"

Peter turned to the always-welcome voice, seeing the woman he loved standing before him. "Ah, Katya," he blushed furiously. Glancing at Anya, whose cheeks grew crimson as well, he hastily added, "Uh, this isn't what it looks like."

"Oh?" Kitty grinned. "So you weren't comforting a friend?"

"Well, yes, I was," Peter admitted, "but that was all it was, I assure you…"

"Did I give any indication that I was jealous?" Kitty laughed. "Sorry, but you're cute when you think you're busted, anyone ever tell you that?" She walked toward Peter, linked her arm in his possessively and kissed him on the cheek. "Figured you'd be here today, so I thought I'd surprise you. So, introduce me, willya?"

"Ah, yes," Peter coughed slightly, steadying his nerves while Anya chuckled, amused at his discomfiture. "Anya, this is my girlfriend, Katherine Pryde."

"A pleasure, Katherine," Anya smiled warmly, offering her hand.

Kitty shook Anya's hand, saying, "Call me Kitty."

"And Katya," Peter continued, "this is one of the first people from Russia that I met when I first came to New York, Anya Marakova."

Kitty glanced at the woman, recognition lighting her eyes. "Anya?" she asked. "The Anya Marakova?"

Anya nodded once, afraid of what Peter must have told Kitty of the terrible woman who dumped him for being a mutant.

"Oh—my God," Kitty breathed. "I saw you on PBS when I was ten years old, dancing the Firebird! You were the reason I wanted to become a dancer when I was a kid! Wow, this is an honor! I am a huge fan!"

"Many thanks," Anya nodded, touched at this sudden display of emotion. She hadn't even considered that she might still have fans, that anyone would remember her brief career as a ballerina.

"What happened to you anyway?" Kitty asked. "You were ready to take the dance world by storm and then you drop off the map. What happened?"

"Uh, Katya," Peter interrupted softly, "perhaps we shouldn't pry..."

"No, it's fine, Piotr," Anya shook her head. "I have no reason to hide the truth. Kitty, I had a daughter—"

For the second time that day...and the second time in five years, Anya told someone else the story of her fall from stardom, and the birth and death of her daughter Marina. When she finished, Kitty's eyes were as tear-filled as Anya's had been. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss Marakova. I had no idea."

"No one did, Kitty," the former dancer replied soberly. "And please, my name is Anya."

"I'm honored, Anya," Kitty replied. "But seriously, it's not fair that some narrow-minded jerks should kill your career. You were something to watch. I mean, in my ballet classes with Stevie Hunter, I used to wish I could be half as good as you."

"Even so," Anya admitted, "if I wanted to, I still couldn't go back. Dancing is too demanding, and my body isn't quite up to the rigors of ballet

anymore—excuse me, did you say 'Stevie Hunter'?"

"Yeah, Professor Xavier set me up in her dance class when I first came to New York," Kitty smiled hugely. "She's a great teacher. Tougher than a drill sergeant, though, let me tell you."

"It's my turn to be impressed," Anya smiled slightly. "Miss Hunter was good in her day as well. She was one of my idols when I first aspired to dance."

"Yeah, she was my hero back then too," Kitty nodded. "Hey, you ever consider teaching dance?"

"Once or twice," Anya replied. "Why?"

"You should look Stevie up," Kitty stuck her hand in her purse and grabbed a pen and a pad of paper. Scribbling an address and phone number on the top sheet of the pad, she ripped the sheet off and handed it to Anya. "Stevie's been busy with the Dance Theater of Harlem, directing and doing choreography. I looked her up a few weeks ago, and she told me that she was looking for a few teachers. And she would be nuts to pass you up."

"Do you really think so?" Anya's eyes widened. "Would she willingly work with the mother of a mutant?"

"Hey, she's taught a classful of mutants," Kitty grinned. "And I'm one of them." She phased her hand through the guardrail she was leaning on, by way of demonstration. Her arm still phased through the rail, she waved at Anya.

Anya stared briefly at Kitty, who smiled slyly at the dancer. "Look, I'll call Stevie tonight and tell her to expect you. Just call her tomorrow, huh? Trust me, she'll love you."

"Thank you, Kitty," For the first time in longer than she could recall Anya smiled without a hint of sorrow. "I will call her."

"Great, and tell her I plan to catch her production of The Nutcracker next month." Turning toward her boyfriend, Kitty added, "And we'd better head back to Salem before it gets dark."

"A capital idea, Katya," Peter conceded. Turning toward Anya, he added, "It was good to see you again."

"I feel the same, Piotr," Anya nodded. "Thank you both, for everything."

"Hey, I'm glad I met you, Anya," Kitty gave her a brief hug. "You take care."

"I will. And please, take care of Piotr." Affixing his eye with her own, she added, "He has the biggest heart of any man I know."

Kitty smiled knowingly. "Don't I know it!" She stepped away from Anya and turned to head back to Peter's car, but stopped suddenly. "I just thought of something. Peter told me he dated a girl named Anya once, just after he came to America." She eyed Anya suspiciously. "He told me that she broke his heart."

Peter took Kitty's hand in his own, his free hand carrying his shopping bag. "No, she is not the same woman, Katya," he assured her.

Looking at Anya, he repeated himself; "Not the same woman at all."

FIN

Rachel Grey

07-20-2006, 11:28 PM

Yay! Good stuff you guys! :D

I've got a little something brewing in my head but I think it needs to percolate a little longer before I pour it into the cup :)

xakko

08-04-2006, 07:25 PM

“More Thumbscrews”

“So, are you going to share this monumental, life-altering decision with your best friend, or just leave the audience in suspense?” Rachel asked, her voice thick with barely restrained curiosity.

“I,” Kitty paused, and licked her lips, “I’m going to ask him. Talk to him about it.” Her voice carried the weight of absolute conviction, until it suddenly dropped a bit as she added, “Eventually.”

“Kitty!” complained her fiery haired companion, exasperated. “How can you do that to me? Give me hope that you are finally ready to deal with that steel albatross around your neck, and then pull out an ‘eventually’? What are you pulling here?”

“Hey, give me a moment to explain. You’re the one who was worried that I would allow him to jerk me around. If I were to talk to him today- right now- it wouldn’t be as equals. This whole car ride has crystallized the idea that he’s still very important to me- possibly, and I don’t want you to take this wrong, Ray, because I love you dearly and can’t imagine you not being in my life, but it is possible that he’s the most important person in my life right now. And I don’t know what he feels. I think I scared him, coming on so strong after the whole Benetech thing. ‘I think it’s why I’m here.’ No wonder he feels I’m smothering him.”

“You don’t know that, Kitty,” Rachel pointed out, “I mean, has he said it to you? You could just be reading into things.”

Kitty laughed, “Has he said it? C’mon! I’m sorry, Ray, but this is Peter we’re talking about- long dissertations on his feelings have never been his forte. Back when we were closer, yeah, sometimes- when I would let him get a word in edgewise. But seriously, how hard is it to translate, ‘Oh, nyet, Katya, I would not take your free time up so’? And after I’d clearly indicated that I wanted to spend time with him, too.”

Her green eyes rolled behind her sunglasses. “I concede that it sounds a bit like a brush off. From just about anyone else. But we are talking about Petey Pureheart here, not just, like, a normal guy. Do the normal rules apply? Peter couldn’t bluff his way out of a paper bag with four aces-“

“You’ve never played him in poker, I see. Although his best game is gin.”

“You know what I’m saying, Kitty. He really doesn’t lie very well, not about the important stuff, anyway. He gets all stone faced and his eyes won’t meet yours.” She shot a glance over at her friend, “I’m just saying that you need to keep more of an open mind here.”

“I just think that I scared him.” Kitty said, her voice pensive. “He’d been locked away with no contact for a couple years, and his ex-girlfriend starts talking about how she was meant to find him. That’s a heavy trip to lay on anyone, let alone someone who’d been imprisoned and tortured for so long.”

“He’s a big boy, Kit. He’ll get over it. And all in all, everything you’ve done for him, well, he definitely owes you one.”

“So,” Kurt inquired, “does it settle your mind at all, to have made this choice? I know you are still going through quite a lot, that you have much to reflect on, but doesn’t it help to have at least the promise of resolution for one of those things?”

“Da,” came the quiet reply. “Nyet. I truly do no know, my friend. Knowing where I stand with Katya would certainly quiet some concerns I have, but what that answer may be- it terrifies me. Both the not knowing what she will say, what she feels as not being able to properly communicate what I feel in return. It is… comfortable where things stand between us right now. We talk about much. She helps me explore what happened those long months, and I am safe with her. I do not forget to thank her for this, and I try not to impose too much outside the time we have set aside.”

His eyes showed concern. “It would pain me to lose that.”

“I understand that, Peter. But even you know that this situation will soon become untenable. With your history, the illusion of a therapy/patient relationship cannot stand for long. For one, one of the things we all love about our Katchzen is her joy and optimism. It may have taken some hits in the past few years- your death being part of that- but it is still there.” Kurt stroked his chin reflexively, “I feel that she misses that in her life. She’s trying so hard to be an adult, as she did in Excalibur, that she is not taking the time to enjoy those things that help her relax. It is good that she is out with Rachel right now, and I hope she is enjoying herself immensely.”

“And you are thinking- what? That I am preventing her from enjoying herself? Why do think I declined her invitation to coffee today? I see how our sessions must weigh upon her, and I did not wish for her entire day to be so grim.”

“You are missing the point, Peter,” replied Kurt. “She invited you to join he